•M\f ■IW^iillKJaiiiM CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY GIFT OF Roger P. Clark Cornell University Library PR 4461.C66V2 1871 Valentine Vox:the ventriloquist. His lif 3 1924 013 464 874 Cornell University Library The original of tiiis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013464874 =?k 'A m The Boasting of Joseph. VALENTINE VOX: THE VENTRILOQUIST. HIS LIFE AND ADVENTURES, BY HENRY COCKTON. lUTHOR OF "PERCY EPFINGHAM," "THE LOVE MATCH," "SYLVESTER SOUND," ETOp "A yery elegant rolume, and containing a most amnsing antobiugraphy of a man wlio in his time played many part% Et made a great sensation in London, and doubtless will be highly popular here. ' ' — ^V. T. Herald. " A splendid octavo., The hero is a ventriloquist, invested with all the real and all the fabulous marvellous capacity Df such a person, together with all the waggishness of the ripest wit, and all the pathos of the deepest 'sentimentalist. With such scope, and such a hero, the author could but make an interesting volume, and he has done so. This work has many admirers, and will have a great number of purchasers. It is an excellent thing of the kind — superior to fbur-fiftha of Captain Manyatt'a." — New World. " This is one of the most popular works of the day. It appeared, in the first instance, in one of the English Magazines, It is from the pen of Henry Cockton, author of ' George St. George Julian, the Prince. ' It serves up the adventures of a Tentriloquist, many of which are rare, humorous, graphic, pathetic, and sometimes funny." — Saturday Post. |3l)ilabelpl)itt: T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS, 306 CHESTNUT STREET. CONTENTS. OAP. I. — ^The birth and education of Valentine, with the parental peculiarities and premature death of his immediate ancestor, ..... 7 Ihap. II. — The genius and characteristic honor of a great magician : "V^entine inspires the spirit of his art, ..... .9 Ihap. III. — ^Valentine makes rapid progress. — His first grand public display. — Strik- ing developement of political injustice. — A sjinguinary local rebellion subdued, ........ .11 Ihap. IV. — ^Maternal solicitude. — Great-uncle John in convulsions. — ^The chastity of a maiden impugned, ........ IS Ihap. V. — Explains how Valentine started for London ; how entertaining travelling companions can be; how a valiant blacksmith can be a dead shot; how frm may be the faith of a coachman in witchcraft; and how it is possible for a journey to be protracted, ...... 1" Jbap. VI. — ^Peculiar liberality of the gentleman in black. — ^The green-eyed monster prevents the performance of a most disinterested act of friendship, . . 22 ilfiAp. VII. — Introduces great-uncle John's friend, and his affectionate relatives, with a knight of a new order, two invisible burglars, and one most remarkable sweep, .......... 25 !Ihap. VIII. — ^The consultation of an interesting family party, at which it is decided that something must be done, ...... 29 ■".HAP. IX. — Valentine's visit to the House of Commons, . . . .31 ^HAP. X. — In which Goodman is honored with a peculiar visit, and subsequently seized in the most mysterious manner possible, . . . .38 -HAP. XI. — ^The mysterious seizure — a gentleman drowned in imagination — first appearance of Valentine upon the stage of the Italian Opera, . . 38 Chjlv. XII. — ^Valentine's trip to Gravesend. ...... 4S ^^HAp. XIII. — In which Valentine is introduced to three new friends, with one of whom he passes a very pleasant night, . . . . .54 CONTENTS faga Chap. XIV. — Goodman is conduoled to Ms new residence — ^the liberty of the subject illustrated — the commencement of an exposition of a system which cannot be generally known, ..... . . 60 Chap. XV. — Valentine visits the British Museum — imparts breath to MemnoUj and raises a voice from the tomb^ ....... 62 Chap. XVI. — The sale of Goodman's property by Walter, and the extraordinary stop- page thereof by Valentine, ....... 67 Chap. XVII. — ^Valentine visits Guildhall — Becomes acquainted with those ancient and respectable warriors, Gog and Magog, to whom he imparts speech pro tern., and then proceeds to discuss matters of personal importance with the eloquent members of the Court of Common Council, Chap. XVIII. — Shows what a conscience Goodman's brother had. Chap. XIX. — The widow's victim, ...... Chap. XX. — Contains a bird's-eye view of Goodman's unenviable position, • Chap. XXI. — The equalrightites' mighty demonstration, . . j 70 76 79 83 83 Chap. XXII. — ^In which Horace sets-to with the ghost of Goqdman, and Walter burns the spectre out, ....... S6 Chap. XXIII. — Valentine attends a phrenological lecture, and inspires a murderer's skuU with indignation, ....... 89 Chap. XXIV. — Brings the reader back to Goodman, who boldly conceives a particular plan, the execution of which is unavoidably postponed, . . .92 Chap. XXV. — Valentine visits the Victualler's fancy fair, . . . .98 Chap. XXVI. — In which Valentine visits the London docks, ?,nd most reprehensibly induces a wicked waste of wine, . . . . . .103 Chap. XXVII. — Valentine becomes acquainted with a frightful calamity, and has a heart-rending interview on the subject with Horace, . . ' .110 Chap. XXVIIL— 'The masquerade at VauxhaU, . . . . .113 Chap. XXIX. — ^In which Valentine has the pleasure of meeting two persons in whom he takes great interest, and whom he accompanies to a wax-work exhibition, ......... 119 Chap. XXX. — Goodman matures his plan of escape. — The commissioners amve — » He prepares to convince them of his absolute sanity, and is goaded on to madness. — He recovers; and having reorganized his forces, resolutely makes the attack, ........ 123 Chap. XXXI. — ^Uncle John announces his intention of running up to town, and Valentine visits a wealthy individual, to whom he fails to impart much pleasure, ......... I2B Chap. XXXII. — The first concert given by the native talent association, . . 13^ Ci^F XXXIII. — In which Walter and his amiable family have a highly characteristic conversation on the subject of Goodman's release, . . . 139 CONTENTS. T Chap. XXXIV. — Uncle John arrives in town, and with Valentine attends the civic s pageant and feast, ........ 141 Chap. XXXV. — ^Valentine recovers the highly valued card, and proceeds with Uncle • J, John to the exhibition of fat cattle, . . . . . .151 Chap. XXXVI. — The mutual recognition and the interview. — ^The polite invitation, and the dinner, ........ 155 Chap. XXXVII. — Shows how Uncle John and Valentine managed to ascertain that Goodman was confined as a lunatic, and how they also managed to intro- duce themselves bodily into the Asylum, . . . . .160 Chap XXXVIII. — A forcible expulsion, and a totally unexpected escape, . . 167 Chap. XXXIX. — ^Valentine becomes initiated into the mysteries of the anti-legal- marriage association, . . . . . . . .71 Chap. XL. — ^Uncle John has another important interview with Walter, to whom he declares his intentions with force and effect, ..... 174 Chap. XLI. — Valentine bec'oines a little better acquainted with the chareicter of , ; Louise, of whom he takes his first lesson, ..... 17} Chap. XLII. — In' which Goodman is liberated from the Lunatic Asylum, . , 18? Chap. -XLIII. — Contains an account of a breach of the privileges of the Commons' House of Parliament, ........ 188 I Chap. XLIV. — Shows what curious creatures ladies in love may appear, . .191 Chap. XLV. — ^Valentine visits the Zoological Gardens, ..... 1J»5 Chap. XLVI. — ^Wherein Whitely explains the real cause of all his misery, . .198 Chaj". XLVII. — Shows how Valentine tried an experiment in the House of Lords, and failed, ... . . . . 201 Chap. XLVIII. — Returns to Walter and his amiable family, whose position becomes quite alarming, . . - . . . . . . 204 Chap. XLIX. — Goodman holds a consultation with his friends, at which Uncle John , finds his judginent fettered, ....... 207 Chap. L. — Explains the possibility of making a man dig an extraordinary hole . 209 Chap. LI. — In which Valentine argues a point in opposition to the views of many thousands, ......... 217 Chap. LII. — Valentine at Greenwich fair, ...... 220 Chap. LIII. — In which a certain interesting question is proposed, . . 227 «Chap. LIV. — Valentine visits the Royal Academy, arJ Raven astonishes the faculties oi Uncle John, ........ 233 CrJlF. LV. — ^The day is named. — Echo insists npon forming an aUianoe with Llewellen, ......... 840 vi CONTENTS. Chap. LVT. — The preparations for the marriage. — ^A surprise, . . . • 242 Chap. LVII. — Explaining various matters touching the ill-timed recognition, . . 247 Chap. LVIII. — ^The interview of Uncle John and Whitely with Mr. Writallj an attomey-at-law, ... .... 252 Chap. LIX. — In which Valentine proves a good moral physician, . . . 259 Chap. LX. — Valentine visits Ascot races, ...... 257 Chap. LXI. — Describes several interviews, but more particularly one between Wrilall and Raven, ......... 269 Chap. LXII. — Explains a variety of matters of importance to the parties coocemed, 271 Chap. LXIII. — Goodman quits the scene for ever, ..... 2T9 Chap. LXIV. — Horace announces the fact to Walter, .... 281 Chap. LXV. — In which the day is fixed again, ..... 283 Chap. LXVI. — In which another important secret is revealed, .. • . . 29D Chap. LXVII. — ^In which a variety of matters are explained, . ? f . 295 Chap. LXVIII. — In which the history draws to a concludon, , ', , , ItW Chap. LXIX. — Brings the history to a close, ...••• Uti THE LIFE AND ADyENTURES VALENTINE VOX, THE VENTRILOQUIST. CHAPTER I. tni BIRTH AND ED0CATION OF VALEHTINE, WITH THE >'ABtNTAL FECDLIAIUTIES AND FEEMATUEE DEATH OF aiS IMMEDIATE ANCESTOE. In one of the most ancient and papulous boroughs in the county of Suffolk, there resided a genius named Jonathan Vox, who, in order to make a fortune with rapidity, tried everything, but failed to succeed in anything, because he could stick long to nothing. At the age of five-and-twenty, this gentle- man, who was held to be a highly respectable Christian in consequence of his regular attend- ance at church twice every Sabbath day, be- came enamored of the expectations of Miss Penelope Long, a young lady who had an uncle supposed to have made a mint of money some- how, and an aunt who was believed to have another mint somewhere. To the best of Miss Penelope's belief, she had not another relative in the world, and as this belief was singularly enough imparted to Jona- than, he at once became inspired with the con- viction that he could not conveniently do better than secure Miss Penelope, seeing that, if even he were not made wealthy at once, there was wealth in the family, which must at some period or other be his, as neither uncles nor aunts, though they live much too long for the omvenience of many, are immortal. Accordingly Jonathan embraced the very ffirliest opportunity of assailing Miss Penelope's heart, and this he managed to do with consider- ftble comfort to himself, and with no inconsider- able satisfaction to the lady ; for while on the one hand Jonathan had been cast in an insinu- ating mould, on the other, he and Penelope were of the self-same " orderj" a circumstance, which in a town where the eighteenpenny peo- pije cannot associate with the shilling individu- als, without being regularly cut dead by the half-crowners, clearly renders the first advances in matters of this description peculiarly agree- able. Jonathan, therefore, at once manfully com- menced the attack with an original remark, having reference to the weather^ but as he found this a somewhat barren topic, for a man cannot well keep on talking about the weather, and the weather only, for many hours in suc- cession, he adroitly changed it to that of tlie eloquence of the mmister of St. Jiimes's — a sub- ject with which they were both of course per- fectly conversant, and which lasted them, with sundry affectionate interpolations, until pru- dence compelled them to separate for the night The next evening, by appointment, the attack was renewed, and the thing was followed up with appropriate ardor for a period of fifteen years, Jonathan being naturally anxious to defer the consummation of his happiness as long aa he possibly could, in expectation of an event which might cause both Penelope and himself to sport " the trappings and the suits of woe." At me expiration of this period, however, it having been delicately suggested by Penelope, that they had known each other long enough to know each other welL the day was fixed, and in the presence of Uncle John and Aunt Eleanor, Jonathan and Penelope were united. In less than twelve months from this period, Jonathan was generously presented with an in- teresting pledge of affection in the perfect similitude of a son. The presentation, of course, made his heart glad. He kissed his heir, sang to him, danced him on his knee, and would inevitably have killed him, but for the timely interposition of the nurse, who insisted upon taking the child away just as Jonathan was urging him to drink ms pa's health in a glass of hot brandy and water. Now Jonathan, as we have stated, could 8 LIFE ANU ADVENTURES OF nerer, in pecuniary matters, get on, — a circum- sfance -which wSs not attributable solely to his inability to adhere for any length of time to any one pursuit, but also to the fact that, with all his ardent love of independence — with all his eager anxiety to . realize a rapid and a splendid fortune, he was exceedingly improvi- dent, and had a really great contempt for all small sums of money. He was not a man capable of being prevailed upon exactly to ram a twenty-pound note down his gun if he wanted wadding, but he woiild lend twenty pounds at any time, without the most remote prospect of its ever being retiirned, or accept a bill of ex- change for that or any other amount without a chance of its being "honored by the drawer. This kept him perpetually poor. The more money he got, the more he thus got rid" of : in- deed he was always in debt, and that always in proportion to the amount of his income. Uncle John knowing this to be one of the chief characteristics of Jonathan, and con- • ceiving it to be high time to convince him of _Wie propriety of acting with less improvidence m' future, sought, immediately after the christen- ing of his heir, who at the instance of Aunt Eleanor, was named Valentine ■^— to impress upon his mind the expediency of reforming. Of course Jonathan saw the force of the sug- gestion in a inoment. He promised to reform; and he did reform. He was inexorable for a month. He would not lend a shilling; nor would he accept a bill to accommodate any man. He had a family, and in justice to that family he could not consent to do it. At the expiration of the month, however, his resolu- tion vanished. He was uiduoed by a friend to do that which he had often done before, but ■which he had promised Uncle Joho that he would never do again, and when the time came for honoring the instrument, neither he nor his friend could make up the amount, and the consequence was that he was immediately arrested. Valentine was of course then too young to be actively engaged in promoting the release of the author of his being; but it is notwithstand- ing a fact, that he caused him to be released, Seeing that through himj and through him alone. Uncle John paid the bill, and thus set him at liberty. This event had a salutary effect upon Jonathan. He had no more to do with those dangerous instruments. What he lent was lent in specie ; he would not lend his name to any man after that. Now, in obedience to nature's immutable law. Master Valentine gradually gi'ew older; and when he had arrived at the age of nine yeai's, he was placed by Uncle John under the care of the Reverend Henry Paul, a gentleman, who being nnable with any great degree of comfort to support himself, a wife, and seven children npon the 501. a-year which he de- rived from his curacy, took a limited number of pupils, that is to say, of course, as many as he could get, at twelve guineas per annum, and no extras. The academy of Mr. Paul was in the imme- diate vicinity of New-market, and Mr. Paul himself was an extremely benevolent and vir- tuous man. He would snrink from even the semblance of a dishonorable action, and would, rather than be guilty of one, no matter how venial in the eye of tne world it might be, live glorying in the rectitude of his conduct, on starvation's brink. His father had been an eminent merchant, and so successful in the early part of his career, that he had at one time realized a fortune of at least 20O,0O0J. He did not, however, relinquish business. Determined to do all in his power for his son, who after having received a sound preparatory education, was sent to Cambridge; he continued to pu> sue his old course of amassing wealth with as much zeal and energy as if he had been labor* ing to procure the pare means of existencet The year, however, in which his son left Cam- bridge, was a disastrous year to him. A series of unsuccessful speculations completely ruined him. He not only lost every guinea he po> sessed, but was plunged into debt so deeply, that extrication was impossiijle. He therefore became a bankrupt, and in the room in which his creditors met for the first time, the con- sciousness of his position overpowered him, and he died of a broken heart. Mr. Henry Paul was thus thrown at once upon the world without a shilling, and without a friend. He had neglected to make friends while at college, by being subservient to mere rank, with a view to patronage, and had there- fore no prospect of promotion. For some con- siderable time he was literally starving ; but hs at length obtained a curacy, and soon after be- came enamored of an accomplished young creature, who was a_ governess in the rector's family, and just as poor as himself, whom ho married, and thus in a pecuniary point of view sealed the fate of both for ever. From such a man Valentine need not have expected severity, albeit he had a lively ap- prehension of it at first. Mr. Paul regarded his pupils with the most considerate tenderness. Had they been his own children his treatment of them could not have been marked vrith more affection. His chief anxiety was to im- part to them a knowledge of the right coursej and a full appreciation of the advantages of which its pursuit is productive. His censure was embodied in his praise of others; his only punishment consisted in withholding reward. When Valentine had been at this academy five years, during which time he had mada very considerable progress, his father, while trying some nautical experiment in a narrow- belKed water-butt, pitched, to the unspeakable mortification of an extensive circle of friecdS) headlong to the bottom and was drowned. This event was to Valentine a source of deep affliction as a natural matter of course ; and he left school in consequence, nominally for a month, but in reality never to return, for after- the solemn deposit of the remains of the de- parted in the family vault, the afflicted widow, as the only means of obtaining the slightest consolation, kept Valentine at home. His grief, however, speedily vanished. Hs had everything he wished for — was petted and spoiled. Uncle John allowed the widow a respectable annuity, and the widow allowed Val to do just what ne pleased . He was usually from home the greater part of the day, eithei VALENTINE VOX. ehooting, hunting, fishing, driving, bathing, or cricketing, and as he soon bee^nae an adept at almost every active game, he ihvariably had some match or other on hand. Tlras matters went on for the space of four years, when a circumstance happened which influenced his conduct through life so mate- rially, that had it not occurred, the probability is that his adventures would never have been published to the- world. CHAPTER II. THE GENIUS AND CHABACTEEISTIC HONOK OF A GREAT MAGICIAN : VAtEMTINE INSPIRES THE SPIRIT OP HIS ■ ART. When the birth-place of Valentine Was visited by Signor Antonio Hesperio de Bellamoniac. juggler extraordinary to the King of Naples, and teacher of the black art to Gwang Foo Twang, the Grand Emperor of China, it was announcea that a wonderM exhibition of the noble science of legerdemain, of which the signor was for the nonce an Italian professor, would take place in a room at the back of the Bull, an inn cele- brated for the extreme antiquity of its beer. Now the Bull, in consequence of the peculiar celebrity it had acquired, was the nighliy resort of a select number of townsmen, of whom the chief in the estimation of the company was a Mr. Timotheus Ironsides, the reporter and sub- editor of one of the journals — a gentieman whom the signor so delighted the evening pre- viously to the wonderful exhibition, that he voluntarily promised to give him "a lift"-^in consideration of which promise the signor gave him a carte hlanche to send in as many friends as he pleased. 'Well, the hour at which the performances were to take place arrived, and the Signor saw with considerable dismay that he had embark- ed in a most atrocious speculation. There were not more than five-and-twenty patrons of art present, of whom seven only paid the adtmssion fee; namely, the small charge of 3d. and therefore, as the gross receipts amounted to no more than Is. 9d., Signor Antonio Hespe- rio de Bellamoniac determined on starting the next morning for some place in which genius was more highly appreciated, and somewhat more liberally patronized. On mentioning this, his fixed' determination, after the performance, to Mr. Ironsides, that gentleman on the instant pointed out the ex- treme madness of the idea, explained to him that Wednesday was the grand market-day, that his paper was published on the Tuesday, that hundreds of farmers with their wives and daughters would then be in town, and that he was perfectly certain to have an audience crammed to> the ceiling, after the just and irn- Sartial criticism he intended to give. To this le Signor listened with somewhere about half a smile, which was clearly indicative of the existence of a spBcies of incredulity, with which they who are in the habit of gulling others, invariably regard those who, as they imagine, are uesirous of gulling them. He dld'nl see it exactly. He had not the smallesl doubt about its being all correct, and he knew that he vras able to astonish them; but how were they to be caught? What sort of critique could bje written to bring them? These were the questions which the signor regarded, and, very naturally, as of infinite importance. "I'll show you," said Ironsides, "how we'H proceed: step here, and you shall judge for yourself." They accordingly retired to a little back par- lor, in which they remained somewhat more than two hours concocting a criticism on the evening's performance, which certainly was, according to the Signer's own acknowledgment, " a regular flamer.'^ "Now," said the Signor, "can you get this in?" " Certain," cried Ironsides, "my honor !" " I don't doubt your honor," said the Signor : "but have you the power?" "Beyond every species of doubt!" replied the journalist. •'•' Good," said the Signor — " good, very good : the justice of it pleases. Excellent good! Now I'll tell you what I'll do. That there's safe to draw 'em — there can't be two opinions about that. Vot say you, then ? I'll hire the large concert room upon the Market Hill, and you shall go reg'lars in the profits." "Agreed!" shouted Ironsides. "So certain am I that we shall have a good house, that I'll bear half the losses whatever they may be." "That's precisely the game !" said the Signor — " I'm delighted ! — Have you got such a thing as a croWn? I 'spected some remittances this morning, which can't now be here before to- morrow." "With •pleasure!" cried Ironsides, and the money changed hands in an instant. " I want to get some bUls out," continued the Signor, " werry airly in the morning," " Leave all that to me," observed Ironsides, " I'll undertake to do that. I'll have some flamers, my boy, struck off; ay, and posted before you are up." "Good again!" cried the Signor. "You know more about them than I do. • I'll leave it to you entirely — even as a child wiU I go by thy direction.'' '• You'll find no nonsense about me," observed Ironsides, rising and taking the Signor by the hand— "Good night." " Be stirring with the lark, good Norfolk," cried the Signor, as the journalist made his exit " Is this to go down to Mr. Ironsides !" anx- iously inquired the landlord. "Of course !" replied the Signor — " of course. Now a light !" In the space of three minutes Si- gnor Antonio Hesperio de iBeUamoniac — whose real name, it may perhaps be proper to observe, was John Tod — submitted to the embrace of Morpheus with all the Christian -esignation at his command. The next morning Mr. Ironsiaes wrote the placards, and had them printed and posted, with BO much expedition, that before twelve o'clock they illuminated the town. The great magician beheld these flamers with delight, and when ih theeveninglronsidea, whose whole soul was centred in the spec, brought a 10 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF paper down to show him the impartial critique, Ke applauded him even to the very echo, that did, w I ux' not be interrupted." 12 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF '• 0, don't mind Tibbs; go on !" cried Valen- tine . •'Oh! Tibbs; indeed!" observed Mr. Cree- daie, with a contemptuous curl of the lip, " It's Mr. Tibbs, is it!" ■' No ! no !" cried the accused individual, who was a highly respectable grocer, and remarka- ble for his quiet and unassuming demeanor. "I am surprised at Mr. Tibbs," said Mr. Creedale in continuation — "I have until now regarded him as an individuajj — " "No, no!" again vociferated Tibbs, "it arn't me, I arn't spoke a synnable." " If Mr. Tibbs," observed the mayor, " or if any other gentleman be desirous of addressing the meeting, he will have an opportunity of d.oiffg so anon." "Uponinyhonor!"exclaimedTibbs, "I've— " Here there were general cries of "Order, order ! chair !" when Mr. Creedale continued : "Gentlemen; without adverting to any ex- traneous matter, it gives me unspeakable plea- sure to propose — " " A revolutionist !" growled Valentine ^in a heavy bass voice. " That's me, I s'pose !" exultingly cried Tibbs, shaking his head and giving a most triumphant wink. "I know whose voice that is," said Mr. Creedale. " That's the voice of the conserva- tive bully. Yes, that's Mr. Brownrigg." " What !" shouted Brownrigg, in a voice of indignant thunder. " What V echoed Mr. Creedale. "Say it's me again," shouted Brownrigg, "just only so much as say it's me again." •' Mr. Brownrigg," observed the mayor, " will be pleased to conduct himself here with propriety." "What do you mean'?" exclaimed Brown- rigg. "Why fix upon me f" "That is not the first- time," observed Mr. Creedale, " that Mr. Brownrigg has been here with the view of blustering for the conserva- tives; but it won't — " "As true as life !" exclaimed Brownrigg, "I never opened my lips. If I did — " Loud cries of "Order, order! Question! Chair, chair !" drowned the conclusion of the sentence, however interesting it might have been, and Mr. Creedale resumed : — "As I was about to observe, gentlemen, when disgracefully interrupted, it gives me great pleasure to propose Mr. Stone as — " "A dickey !" screamed Valentine, assuming the shrill voice of a female — " Don't have him ! he's a dickey !"* Here the entire meeting cried "Shame!" and the candidate rose to repel the insinuation. "Officers!" shouted the mayor, "instantly turn that depraved woman out !" Hereupon a corps of corporate constables entered with their staves, and rushed to the spot from which the sound appeared ta pro- ceed ; but no woman was discoverable. "Whoop!" cried Valentine, throwing his reice to another part of the hall : and the ofii- * It will probably be necessary here to observe that in Bnffolk a " dickey" u the short for an ass. cers nished to that part with the most praise- worthy precipitation, legally assaulting every elector who stood in their way ; but no sooner had they reached the spot proposed than " the depraved woman" appeared to be laughing outright in the very body of the meeting. Away went the constables, following the sound, and enraged beyond measure at their inability to catch her, when in an instant another " Whoop !" was heard to proceed from the spot they had just quitted. Back went the consta- bles, knocking aside every man whom they came near, and thus creating a scene of inde- scribable confusion. "Turn her out!" cried the mayor, in loud tones of insulted dignity; " turn her out !'' "Blarm me!" cried the fattest of the con. stables, foaming with rage, "we can't find her !" Again loud laughter was heard, in which at length the entire meeting joined on beholding the laudable ardor with which the constables kept up the chase. "You abandoned creature !" cried the mayor, " why don't you leave the hall ?" "Let me alone! let me alone!" cried the 'creature,' "and I'll be quiet" — and imme- diately a scream was heard, succeeded by sounds indicative of the .' creature' being just on the point of fainting. The constables fancied that they were sure of her then, and therefore made another rush ; but without more success. At length the mayor exclaimed, " Let her be : leave her to her own conscience;" when the constables with the greatest reluctance with- drew, and comparative silence was restored. Mr. Creedale then resumed: — "A weak in vention of the enemy — [No, no! and loud cheers] — I repeat — " "You're a fool !" cried Valentine in a singu- larly gruff tone, on which there were again loud cries of " Shame !" and " Order !" " I'll commit the first man," cried the mayor with a swell of indignation, " who again inter- rupts these important proceedings, be he whom- soever he may." " You cEtn't, old boy !" cried Valentine. "Who, who is thatl" said the mayor — "I demand to know instantly who it is that dares thus to—" " Dares!" exclaimed Valentine. "Dares! ay, dares!" cried the mayor; "I'll give five pounds to any man who will point out to me that atrocious individual." The electors at this moment stared at each other, and all appeared lost in amazement. The mayor again rose, and assuming a more tranquil tone, said, " Really, gentlemen, this conduct is perfectly disgraceful. In the course of my experience I never met with anything even remotely comparable to — " " Jonathan Sprawl," cried Valentine ; " he is the man." . , " If," said the mayor, " I thought that — but no, no, I am certain, Mr. Sprawl — " "I assure you," said Jonathan, "the inter- ruption did not proceed from me, on my honor. He who says that it did, is a slanderer and no gentleman: and I tell him. sd rpenly to hie teeth." VALENTINE VOX. 19 "I am satisfied," said the mayor, "quite satisfied, and therefore do trust that we shall now be permitted to proceed." Mr. Creedalej who was still in possession of the chair, again resumed: — "I am not in- clined," said he. " to indulge on this occasion in anything which may tend to create feelings of irritation; but I must be pemitted to say that I am utterly astonished at the conduct of — " "Mr. MaxilU" said Valentine, imitating the voice of Mr. Creedale, the speaker. "Demme!" cried Maxill, who was a short stumpy man, with a remarkably raw-beefy face, " I begs to rise to order. Demme ! I claims the protection of the cheer, and if so be as Mr. Creedale means for to mean as it's me, .why, demme, I repels the insiniwation — [Ap- plause] — I repels the insiniwation, and means for to say this, that all I can say is — [Bravo, Maxill] — all I can say is, demme. is this — " "You're an ass!" cried Valentine, throwing his voice immediately behind Mr. Maxill, " hold your tongue !" Within the sphere of the reader's observation, it has in all probability occurred, that a man, being in nautical phraseology, three sheets in the wind, and writhing under the lash of some real or imaginary insult, has made desperate efforts to reach an opponent through the barrier composed of mutual friends : if so, if the reader should ever have beheld an individual in that interesting position, foaming, and plunging, and blustering, and occasionally striking his dearest , friend, in his efforts to get at the enemy, he is qualified to form some conception of the scene of which "little fatty Maxill" was the hero. He fancied that he had discovered the delin- quent. Nothing could shake his faith in the assumed fact, that an individual named Abra- ham Bullj who happened to be standing at the time in his immediate vicinity, was the person by whom he had been insulted. He therefore sprang at him with all the ferocity at his com- mand; but being checked by those around, who were conscious of Bull's perfect innocence, he, bent upon vengeance, continued kicking and bullying, and dealing out his Jjlows right and left, with the most perfect indiscrimination, until the consta-bles lifted him clean off his legs, and without any further ceremony rolled him into the street. The mayor now fondly imagined that this would have the effect of restoring perfect order; he believed that after such an example as that, no individual, or body of individuals, would dare to offer the slightest interruption to the proceedings of the day ; and having expressed himself quiedy to that etfect, he bowed and waved his hand to Mr. Creedale. That gentleman accordingly came forward once more, and said — " Gentlemen, it is with Unspeakable " "Blarney i" cried Valentine. "Silence!" exclaimed the mayor, with a melodramatic stamp that shook the platform. "The eye of England," said Mr. Creedale, " nay, the eye of *all Europe, [Asia, Africa, and America, added Valentinej] are upon you, and I can only say that any thing more " " Laughable," cried Valentine, assuming iha voice of a respectable plumber who stood neai him. "Good heavens!" exclaimed the mayor, "to what a depth of degradation have we dived ! For the love of grace, permit me to say that anything more disgraceful never came within the pale of my experience. Am I to be sup- ported I (loud cries of yes, yes !) Then, in the name of mighty reason. I call upon you loudly, boldly, emphatically, aijd that with all' the en- ergy of which I am capable, to do so." ("We will, we will !" " Down with the tory myrmi- dons !" '' Down with the rank revolutionary raff!" and loud cheers.) At this stage of the proceedings, the mayor quietly intimated to Mr. Creedale, that it would perhaps be, under the circumstances, expedient to cut it sliort ; and Mr. Creedale having with half an eye perceived the propriety of that suggestion, concluded amidst general uproar, with the following most pointed remark : — "Gentlemen, since you will not hear me speak, I shall beg at once to nominate my friend, Mr. Stone, a man whose equal as a fit and proper person to be a Paving Commissioner is not to be found." Hereupon, there were loud cheers from the liberal party, and hisses and groans from the tories, and when Mr. Leechamp rose to second the nomination, the cheering, and hissing, and groaning were renewed. Mr. Mac Ircling then came forward to pro- pose Mr. Slabb, who had the whole of the con- servative interest ou his side : but the moment he appeared in front of the platform, Valentine cried, "Now for a signal retaliation! now for our revenge !" "Gentlemen," said Mr. Mao Ireling. " You'll not let a rank tory speak, if you are men !" exclaimed Valentine ; and Mr. Mac Ire- ling was immediately assailed with a tremen- dous volley of groans from the liberals, who naturally believed that the conservatives had created the whole of the previous disturbance. "Gentlemen ! — Gentlemen! — Gentlemen !" reiterated the mayor at intervals appropriately filled up with hissing, groaning, cheering, whis- ding, and yelling. " I demand to be heard. I insist — I insist upon silence. ('Order, order! chair, chair !') In the name of all that's gra- cious let it not — let it not, oh J let it not go forth to the world, that the men of this ancient and enlightened borough, in the nineteenth century, in the heart of the British empire ; in the centre, the very bull's-eye of civilization, are slaves to passion, idiots, madmen, and fools, (loud cheers.) Am I a cipher? (hear, hear!) On the instant would I dissolve this most outrageous meeting, were it not that I am determined to maintain inviolate the dignity of the office 1 have the honor to hold, and not to be intimi- dated, frightened, alarmed, or put down by mere clamor, (vehement cheering.) If we are to proceed, in the name of blind and impartial justice, of mighty and immortal reason, of in- vincible and sound constitutional commea sense, in the name of all that is mighty, respec- able, and iust let us do so." LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF This pointed and poetic appeal, delivered as it was, in tones of the most eloquent indigna- tion, had the effect of inspiring the audience with awe, wliich iiiduoed something bearing the semblance of order to prevail. Mr-. Mac Ireling then again stepped forward and said, " Gentlemen, I hope that my conduct has been of a character to command the es- teem of " "The tories!" shouted Valentine. "Heavens!" exclaimed the mayor, with his hands clenched, and raisin^his voice to the highest raging pitch — "by all that is powerful and pure, I'll commit that man who presumes again to utter a single syllable for the purpose of " Valentine here sent into the body of the meeting an awfully melodramatic "Ha-! ha! ha !" which appeared absolutely to electrify his worship, who loudly cried, '•' Officers ! now do your duty !" In vain those respectable functionaries, sweat- ing with indignation, rushed to the middle of the hall, with the laudable view of arresting the delinquent. Loud laughter was still heard, but invariably behind them, whichever way they happened toturn. The perspiration poured down their cheeks, for their exertions were really terrific. They stamped, and puifed, and tore, and shook their fists, and looked eternal daggers at every man in their vicinity. The laughter was heard still ; and away they went again with fresh energy, inspired^ by his wor- ship's reiterated cries of "Officers, now do your duty !" At length, fairly driven to despe- ration, and being in a state of the most ex- cruciating mental 'agony, they resolved on seizing some one, and accordingly collared Mr. Lym, a highly reputable baker, whom they happily discovered in the atrocious act of smiling at the ridiculous character of their ap- pearance. In vain Mr. Lym proclaimed his mnocence ! — ^they had caught nim in th^ act ! and hence proceeded to drag him towards the door with all possible violence. In the space of one minute Mr. Lym was divested of his top coat, under coat, waistcoat, and shirt! — those articles of apparel having been torn com- pletely off by the enraged functionaries in the due execution of their duty. Lym would have left the hall quietly enough, but the radicals would by no means sufier him to do so. They rushed to the rescue ; and on Valentine shout- ing out " Down with the republicans !" in one voice, and " Down with the tories !" in another, a general batde ensued, which was kept up on both sides with infinite spirit, while the mayor, duly mounted on the table, was engaged in denouncing the irregular proceedings with all the indigiiant energy at his command. The voice of Valentine was now no longer needed. The electors were making amply suf- ficient noise without his aid. He therefore mounted the rostrum, partly for safety and pailly with a view to the full enjoyment of the scene, and then for the first time discovered that in- stead of the combatants being divided into two grand political parties, as they ought to have beeUj they were levelling their blows with in- i^iscnminate fury, regardless utterly of every- thing but the pleasure of conferring upon some one the honor of a hit. In one comer of the hall there was a dense mass of electors, of whom the majority were extremely corpulent, hugging and hanging on each other, like bees when they swarm, with such remarkable tenacity, that the entire body formed a most interesting exemplification of a perfectly dead lock. In another corner there were two lines, of amateur gladiators, hitting out as hard as they could hit, but as they all, very^discreetly, closed their eyes to preserve them, and went in head foremost, like bucks, their evolutions were not strictly scientific, although the hardest heads did the greatest amount of execution. In a third corner of the hall, there was a pha- lanx of individuals who formed a complete Gordian knot, and who contented themselves with elbowing and grinning at each other with most praiseworthy zeal; while in the fourth there were two distinct ranks of independent electors, one-half of whom were sUiving to pro- tect their friends, by striking over the shoul- ders of those friends whom they kept with ap- propriate consideration in the front, to receive all the blows. The grand point of attraction, however, was in the centre. Here a circle of about two-and-twenty feet in diameter was strewed with quick bodies, horizontally twisting in and out — sometimes above the surface, and sometimes below — like so many eels in a tub, without even the possibility of any one of them achieving his perpendiciJar. They could not rise. The more desperate, the more abortive were their efforts to do so. They writhed, and kicked, and blustered, and rolled, but still pre- served the true character of the scene, namely, that of a general sprawl. While these really delightful proceedings were being conducted, certain well-intentioned persons, who had escaped, conceiving it to be the commencement of a sanguinary revolution, rushed with breathless haste to the Bull, which they knew to be the head-quarters of a troop of dragoons, then temporarily stationed in the town, and at once gave the alarm., that the re- bellion might be nipped in the bud. Before the awful tale could be told twice, the trumpet sounded on the Market Hill, to horse ! and in less than five minutes the entire troop, headed by a mounted magistrate, gallopped to the scene of action. On reaching the hall, the revolutionists were to the soldiers invisible. A tumultuous din was heard — a din which threatened to burst the casement; but nothing could be seen. The doors were fast. Not one of the rebels within knew how to open them; nor could they be conveniently opened from without. Mr. All- dread, the magistrate, however, in the king's name, commanded them to be instantiy broken down, which command was obeyed with much alacrity by the alarmists. But here another difficulty presented itself; the rebels either would not, or could not come out! Mr. Alt- dread, therefore, determined to surmount every obstacle, in the king's name commanded the soldiers to gallop in. He was for checking tiq rebellion ere it got to a head ! so certain "vraA ' he, that if energetic measures were not Drompi'- VALENTINE VOX. U ly taken, the British empire would be crumbled iiito one chaotic mass oi revolutionary ruin. Now, for a troop of dragoons to gallop pell- mell into a densely crowded hall, was regarded, very naturally, by Captain Copeland, the officer in command, as somewhat of a novelty in mil- itary tactics; however, partly to humor the alarmed magistrate, and partly because' he felt that the more sight of the soldiers would be sufficient to put an end to all civil hostilities, he ordered his men to follow him with all possible p.are, and accordingly in they all went. The eyes of the majority of the insurgents were at this crisis closed, and as those of the rest were fixed firmly upon their antagonists, the quiet entrance of the soldiers, except by a few near the door, was for a moment disregard- ed. Captain Copeland, however, ordered the trumpet to sound, and the trumpeter blew a shivering blast, so loud, that in an instant; as if by magic, hostilities ceased. "Upon 'em!" loudly shouted Mr. Alldread; " char-r-r-r-ge !" The gallant captain smiled • and his men had absolutely the cold-blooded audacity to wink at each other with gleeful significance. " Heavens !" exclaimed Mr. Alldread, utterly astonished at the manifest indisposition of the soldiers to cut the rebels individually into mince- meat. "Why, what do you fear? In the king's name, again I command you to mow the traitors down !" Captain Copeland, perceiving every eye fixed upon him, at once gracefully waved his bright sword until the point rested opposite the door, when the rebels, viewing this as an intimation that they would all be permitted to depart un- scotched, rushed with aE the alacrity at their command into the street, and in the space of five minutes the entirp body of the hah was deserted. A council of war was then held on the spot, at which the mayor was too exhausted to utter an audible sentence, but Mr. Alldread could not withhold the loud expression of his un- speakable surprise at Captain Copeland's pecu- liarly unconstitutional indisposition to promote the circulation of rank rebellious blood. It was, however, eventually decided that no further steps need be taken in the matter, and as the captain wished to spend a merry evening, he invited the mayor and every member of the corporation present to dine with him forthwith at the Bull. ^The invitation was accepted, and as they left the hall, certain straggling knots of rebels who were discussing the cause of the disturbance with great energy, took to their heels and ran to the various public houses they were in the habit of frequenting^ each, of course, with the view of contendmg for the correctness of ,his own version of the origin of the fray. The soldiers smiled as they saw the rebels running; but, although Mr. Alldread in- sisted upon the propriety of the trooj) giving them chase, the party proceeded with due dignity to dmner, after which the bottle went round' merrily till midnight, when the mayor and the rest of the members of the corporation, lit fliieparticular desire of Mr. Alldread, were oted to the doors of their respective resi- dences, under a most formidable military escort. CHAPTER IV. MATEKKAI, SOLICITUDE. GKEAT-TTNCLE JOHK IW COH- VULSIONS. THE CHASTITT OF A >U «S£II lUPnaNEI, Nothing could exceed the delight with which. Valentine contemplated the result of the first grand display of his latent power. He went home in ecstasies, and exercised his voice with so much violence, and imitated the contortions of the constables so grotesquely, that his affec- tionate parent absolutely believed him to be possessed of the same spirit as that which inhabited the swine. Agam and again she im- plored him to explain to her what had occurred; but, inspired with the conviction that his power would lose a great portion of its value if its existence in him became known, he confined himself to a statement of the fact of his having been to the meeting and upset them all. The singular style, however, in which this statement was made, and the loud and irrepressible laughter by which it was accompanied, caused serious apprehensions on the part of Mrs. Vox that her Valentine had eaten of the insane root, and prompted liprto go for advice to Uncle John, whUe Val was doing justice to the cold re- mains of a fillet of veal and. a knuckle of ham. Now, for somewhat more than two-and- twenty years, without a day's intermission. Uncle John had reclined on three well-cush- ioned chairs, with a pipe in his mouth and a glass of remarkably stiff brandy-and-water by his side, from the time that the cloth was removed at two o'clock until five. From this position he never by any chance moved until old Haimah brought up the tea-tray, and it was in this position that Mrs. Vox foimd him. "Well, Pen!" said Uncle John, as the poor lady entered, "come to see me — eh? There's a good girl." Mrs. Vox approached the chair on which his head was reclining, and as she kissed his shi- ning brow a tear dropped upon his nose. "What's that !" cried Uncle John—" What's the matter, my girl! — what has happened? Come, come, sit you down and let's know all about it." "Oh, uncle !" said Mrs. Vox, "do pray, see my Val." "Why, what's the young dog been up to now ?" cried Uncle John. " Once for all," said Mrs. Vox, having taken a deep inspiration, "I believe that he's mad." "Pooh, pooh, pooh — nonsense, child!" cried Uncle John, " Mad ! Fiddledeedee, pooh, pooh, pooh — what has he been after?" " I have told you before,'( said the afflicted lady, " what singular noises I have heard about the house when he is in it." " I know, I know," interrupted Uncle Johfi, "imagination, child, mere imagination — ^po^h,, pooh, pooh — don't be superstitious." " But to-day," continued Mrs. Vox, sobbing— " to-day, uncle, when he came heme, not onlj 16 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF did I hear dreadful noises all over the house, but he made up such horrible faces that he frightened me out of my senses ; and all that I could get from him was, that he had done it-^ that he'd been to the meeting and had upset them all !" ' "The meeting ! What right has he to inter- fere with politics?" cried Uncle John, ringing the bell with itousual violence. " Surely there's plenty of politicians in the town without him ! Upset 'em I^— Here, Hanij^h," he continued, as the old servant entered — "go, and tell that boy Valentine to come to me instantly. Bring him with you : don't come without him. Upset 'em indeed ! What right has a boy like that — he's not twenty yet — " " No," interrupted Mrs. Vox, " he was only nineteen the 14th of last Febmary — " "What right haa a lad like him to go to meetings? I never go to such places; that boy'll be ruined." " But it isn't only that," said Mrs. Vo?, " I shouldn't care, but I'm sure that he's touched: I'm quite certain the poor boy's possessed." "Pooh, rubbish, child, rubbish!" observed Uncle John, " the boy's a splendid boy, a fine high-spirited boy. Id not break his spirit for the world : — ^but hs musta't be .spoiled — ^no,Fhe mustn't be spoiled. If the devil oe in him, why the devil shall come out of him : I'U not have him there ; but we'll see, child — ^we'U see. " Uncle John then proceeded to refill his pipe, and having directed Mrs. Vox to mix a leetle more brandy-and-water, looked earnesdy at the fire, and prepared for the attack. "Well! yoiing gentleman!", said he, knitting his brows and looking desperate. Mrs. Vox turned quickly towards the door, and found that Uncle John was only rehears- ing. Valentine, however, immediately after entered,. and Uncle John commenced: "Well! young gentleman ! Now, sir, what loes all this mean?" "All what, uncle?" quietly asked Valentine. "All what, sir!" exclaimed Uncle John — "Why all this — this — conduct, sir! — that's what I mean."' "What conduct?" said Val, with perfect calmness. "What conduct, sir!" cried Uncle John — "why, your conduct. Are you mad ?" "I hope not," said Valentine. "I j,m not aware that I am." " Don't tell me, sir, that you are not aware of it!" shouted the old gentleman. "Here's your poor mother here fit to break her heart about your horrible noises. I'll have you put into the lunatic asylum, sir ! You want a strait jacket ! — but where have you been all day ? — what have you been after ?" "I've been at the meeting," said Valentine. "The meeting!'' said Uncle John — "pray, what business had you at the meeting?" " Come, uncle, don't be angry," said Valen- !ine, smiling. " I'll tell you all about it : but you'll not be cross, will you?" "'Cross, sir!" exclaimed Uricle John. "I am hot cross : I never am cross." Valentine then drew a chair near the fire, and commenc "^d an explanation of all that had occurred. At first he utterly astounded Unel« John, by the developement of his power, and then proceeded with a relation of its effects upon the meeting. In ten minutes Uncle John had swallowed more smoke than he had done during the whole thirty years he had been a smoker. Seven several times did the brandy^- and-water go the wrong way ; and as he had a perfect knowledge of almost every man pre- sent at the hall, his imagination entered with so much spirit into the scene, and he laughed at the description of their movements so im- moderately, that at length he could neither drink, smoke, nor sit, but paced the room hold- ing his back and chest together — at intervals ejaculating, "Stop! stop! stop!" The more, however. Uncle John laughed, the more spirit did Valentine infuse intoliis tale, and at length in an absolute convulsion of mirth, the delighted old gentleman threw himself upon the sofa, and rolled to and fro like a butt in a groove. " You young dog !" cried. Uncle John, when he had recovered sufficient steadiness of breath to apeak ; " Don't you know, sir, it was wrong, ver wrong thus to ." Here he was seized witi another fit of laughter, so loud and so painful that for relief he moved his body first back- wards and forwards, and then from side to side, while he literally mopped the perspiration from his face, which was, as red as that of the sun, wheuj through a dark hazy atmosphere, he is seen to approach the horizon. Nor did Mrs. Vox fail to enjoy the relation of the scene, for burying her face in her handker- chief, she was equally convulsed, although not quite so loud inthe manifestation of her mirth. " Hold your tongue, you young rascal !" was the command of Uncle John, whenever Val- entine re-opened his lips to relate any incident that had previously escaped him. Valentine, however, was not to be silenced. So long as he found the old gentleman enjoyed it, so long did he keep up the fire, until at last Uncle John declaring solemnly that he could stand it no longer, commanded him, to leave the room, which he did with the view of alarming old H.innah in the kitchen. No sooner had Val made his exit froih the parlor, than it occurred to Mrs'. Vox, that if the thing became known to the authorities, the re- sult might be anything but pleasirig, and as Uncle John fell at once into her views, he be- gan to think of the best mode of avoiding the discovery. At first he thought it sufficient t« enjoin silence upon Valentine ; but subsequently fancying that the "young dog" would deem the joke infinitely too good to be concealed, he thought that as he intended soon to send him to Mr. Goodman, an old friend of his who re- sided in London, the safest plan would be to start him ofi" at once. " But what am I to do ?" inquired Mrs. Vox, anxiously. " Why, come and live with me," said Uncle John. "Now make no objections. He'll be well taken tare of by Goodman, I know, or of course I wouldn't send him." It was accordingly decided that he should start on the Wednesday morning, and whtogil] the preliminaries had been airanged^ UoSlb VALENTINE VOX. Jonn called Vaientine just as he was charging old Hannah with having concealed a child, whose half stifled cries and convulsive sobs, in one of the large dresser-drawers, he had been imitating to perfection. Of course, on being called, Val left the surprised a:.id indignant old maid in the kitchen, to prosecute hsr search; and after having had a few words with Great- Uncle John, on the subject of his journey, with the idea of which he was delighted, the little family separated for the night. The whole of the morning of the following day, being Tuesday, was occupied by Valen- tine and Mrs. Vox in packing up, while Uncle John was engaged for several hours in the composition of a letter to Mr. Goodman; a document written with infinite care, and in a style of course peculiarly his own; and in the evening Valentine and his mother again visited the old gentleman, who employed himself till bed-time in giving Val instructions, having re- ference to his conduct in London. CHAPTER V. IIPLAINS HOW VALEHTIKE STARTED FOR LONDON; HOW ENTERTAIHINS TRAVELLIHe COMPANIONS CAN BE ; HOW A VALIANT BLACKSMITH CAN BE A DEAD SHOT i HOW FIRM MAY BE THE FAITH OF A COACH- MAN IN WITCHCRAFT ; AND HOW IT IS POSSIBLE FOR A lOCRNET TO BE PROTRACTED. There are probably no feelings at all com- parable with those which are experienced by a sanguine country youth, on the eve of his first departure for London. His mind is all excite- ment. The single idea of visiting a place of which he has heard so much, and knows so little, engenders thousands. Asleep or awake, his whole soul is set upon the journey, and were it necessary for him to rise at four in the morning, though he failed to go to sleep before two, he would be just as certain to wake in time to hear the clock strike four, as if the "warning" wire communicated with a galvanic battery sufiiciently powerful to force him out of bed. Valentine, after dreaming all night of the great oity and its glories, rose some hours before his usual time, but not before Mrs. Vox, who had not slept at all, had re-ransacked every drawer and every box in the house, with the view of ascer- taing if anything had been forgotten. About an hour and a half before the time for starting arrived, in rushed Uncle John with a view of expressing his firm conviction, that if Valentine didn't look sharp the coach would certainly go without him, and of explaining, moreover, that the coachman, whom he knew, was like the eternal tide, seeing that he would wait for no man. Breakfast was therefore im- mediately prepared, but during the preparation Uncle John compared watches, and having made them agree, compared them with the house-clock, and then sent the servant, and then went himself to ascertain if the house- clock agreed with the church. All this being trentually arranged to his entire satisfaction, t »• down they sat to breakfast, with the watohea of course upon the table. Valentine had no appetite. An egg however at length was se- duced down his throat by the prehminary in- troduction of a piece of broiled ham, but even this was unconsciously swallowed, while with the coffee in his hand he was pacing the room. He could not keep in his chair ; nor could Mrs, Vox keep in hers, nor could Uncle John keep in his. They were all three in motion, but of course doing nothing, there being in reality nothing to do. A dozen times the girl was despatched to see if the horses were in, and after much feverish excitement it was at last announced that two females were standing by the side of three boxes in the gateway ! That was sufficient. Off went the luggage in a wheelbarrow, on went Val's two upper coats, round went a large lambs-wool comforter, and down went a glass of raw brandy, and all in the space of thirty seconds.- Mrs. Vox had been prohibited from seeing Valentine off; they therefore at once bade each other adieu, while Uncle John, standing at the door, was expressing his opinion that the coach would be gone ; but no sooner had he succeeded in drag- ging Val away, than in spite of the prohibition, Mrs. Vox hurried on her bonnet and shawl, and started round the corner of the street, which she knew the coach would pass, for the pur- pose of catching a last glance of Valentine, and waving her hand. "Now then, look aUve there!" shouted the coachman from the booking-office door, as Uncle John and his charge approached. " Have yow got that are mare's shoe made comforble, Simon?" "All right, sir," said Simon, and he went round to see if it were so, while the luggage was being secured. "Jimp up, genelman !" cried the coachman, as he waddled from the office with his whip in one hand and his way-biU in the other ; and the passengers accordingly proceeded to arrange themselves on the various parts of the coach — Valentine, by the "particular desire of Uncle John, having deposited himself immediately behind the seat of the coachman. " If you pleasCj" said the old lady, who had been standing with her daughter in the gate- way for upwards of an hour ; "will you be good enow please to take care of my darter V "All safe," said the coachman, untwisting the reins. " She shaunt take no harm. Is she going all the way V "Yes, sir," replied the old lady; "God bless her ! she's got a place in Lurmun an I'm told." " Hook on them ere two sack o' whoats there behind," cried the coachman, "I marnt go without 'em this time." " God bless you, my dear ! God bless yon l** exclaimed the old lady, and the tears gushed from her eyes as she kissed her poor giil, whose heavy sobs choked her utterance. " Heaven will protect you : I Know it will, my child. You'll think of your poor old mother ' There, cheer up, my dear — it's all for the best ; I shall be very happy. You are all the world to me ; but indeed I shall be very happy," and the tears burst forth in fresh streams, while she 18 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OK tried to reanimate the spirits of her child by affecting to smile. "Now, all right there 1" cried the coachman. "Good bye, my dear," sobbed the old lady, almost heartbroken, kissing her child again as she stepped upon the ladder. " God bless you ! do write to me soon, be sure you do — I only want to hear from you often; Take care of yourself. Here, my feve," she added, taking a handkerchief from her neck, " tie this , round your poor dear throat. " No, mother, no," said the poor girl, crying bitterly, " that's the only one you have left. I'll be plenty warm enough." "Yes, do," said the old lady, "I'm sure you'll take cold." "Hold hard!" cried the coachman, as the horses were dancing, on the cloths being drawn from their loins. " Whit, wllit !" and away they pranced, as merrily as if they had known that their load was nothing when compared with the load they had left behind them. Even old Uncle John, as he cried " Good bye, my dear boy," and waved his hand for the last time, felt the tears trickling fast down his cheeks. . " No, no room, marm !" said the coachman, shaking his head as he approached the comer of the street at which Mrs. Vox was standing. 1 Valentine's, attention was thus directed to his mother, who was kissing her hand with con- siderable rapidity, when the salute was returned, and the coach passed on. The fullness of Valentine's heart caused him for the first hour to be silent ; but after that, the constant change of scene, and the pure bracing air, had the effect of restoring his spirits, and he felt a very powerful inclination to sing. Just, however, as he was about to commence for his own amu.iement, the coach stopped to change horses, when Tooler, the coachman, of course got down, and as several of the passengers fol- iov/ed his example, Valentine got down too, and as they all went into the road-side house, and called for glasses of ale, why Valentine called for a glass like the rest, and drank it with equal . enjoyment. In less than two minutes they started again, and Valentine, who then felt ready for anything, began to think seriously of the exercise of his power. " Whit, whit !" said Tooler, between a whis- per and. a whisde, as the fresh horses gallopped up the hill. "Stop! hoa!" cried Valentine, assuming a voice, the sound of which appeared to have travelled some distance. " You have left one behind," observed a gen- tleman in black, who had secured the box-seat. ." O let un run a bit," said Tooler. " Whit ! -It'll give un a winder up this litde hill, and teach un to be up in time in future. If we was to wait for every passenger as chooses to lag behind, we shouldn't git over the ground in a formit." "Hoa! stop! stop! stop!" reiterated Valen- fme in the voice of a man -pretty well out of • breath. Tooler, Mr ithout deigning to look behind, re tickled the haunches of his leaders, and glee- fully chuckled at the idea of how he wag making a passenger sweat. .. The voice was heard no more, and Tooilei on reaching the top of the hill pulled up ai;.d looked round, but could see no man running " Where is he ?" inquired Tooler. " In the ditch !" replied Valentine, throwing his voice behind. " In the ditch !" exclaimed Tooler. " Blaxm me, whereabouts?" " There," said Valentine. " God bless my soul !" cried the gentleman in black, who was an exceedingly nei-vous vil- lage clergyman. " The poor person no doubt has fallen down in an absolute state of ex- haustion. Hq,w very, very wrong of you, coachman, not to stop." Tooler, apprehensive of some .serious occur- rence, got down with the view of dragging the exhausted passenger out of the ditch, but al- though he ran several hundred yards down the hill, no such person of course could be found. . " Who saw un?" shouted Tooler, as he pant- ed up the hill again. " I saw nothing," said a passenger behind, " but a boy jumping over the hedge." Tooler looked at his wayjjill, counted tha passengers, found them all right, and remount- ing the box, got the horses again into a gallop, in the perfect conviction that some villanooa young scarecrow had raised the false alarm. " Whit ! blarm them 'ere boys !" said Tooler, " stead o' mindin' their crowsthey are allr.d up to suffen. 1 only wish I had un here, I'd pay on to their blarmed bodies ; if I wouldn't n.^' At this interesting moment, and as if to give.a practical illustration of what he would have done in that case, he gave the oiT'-wheeler so telling a cut round the loins, that the animal without any ceremony kicked over the trace. Of course Tooler was compelled to pull up again immediately ; and after having adjusted the trace, and asking the animal seriously what he meant, at the same time enforcing the ques- tion by giving him a blow on the bony part of his nose, he prepared to remount; but just as he had got his left foot upon the nave of the wheel, Valentine so admirably imitated the sharp snapping growl of a dog in the front boot, that Tooler started back as quickly as if he had been shot, while the gendeman in black drop- ped the reins and almost jumped into the roaa. " Good gracious !" exclaimed the gentlemaa in black, trembling with great energy ; " how wrong, how very horribly wrong of you, coach- man, not to tell me that a dog had been placed beneath my feet." " Blarm their carcasses !" cried Tooler, " they never told me a dog was shoved there. Lay down ! We'll soon have yow out there together !" " Not for the world !" cried the gentleman in black, as Tooler approached the foot-board in order to open it. " Not for the world ! un-un- un-less you le-lelet me get down first. I have no desire to pe-pe-perish of hydropho-phobfei.'^ " Kip yar rut on the board then, sir, please," said Tooler " we'll soon have the varmint out VALENTINE VOX. 19 i ■ s*er am backard in comin' forard to sarve a friend, I'll drive for yar." "You're a. fool!" observed the hostess, in an audible whisper, at the same time tugging with great violence at John Brown's coat-tails, and giving him certain significant sidelong glances of gi-eat import, as affecting his conju- gal peace. John Brown, however, still perse- vered in expressing the pleasure he should de- rive from the performance of this act of disin- terested friendship; for although he in general held^he hints of his spouse in high respect, and understood that in this particular instance she was actuated by a desire to make the most of the party, one of whom had been so liberal in his orders at the commencement, he regarded it as being by no means improbable that Tooler would be in consequence discharged, and that he would be put upon the coach as his succes- sor, which happened to be precisely what for several years he had been constantly on the look-out for. " But do j-ou think sariously," said Tooler, after a pausi., " that yow'd be able to get up by twelve %" " By twelve .'" cried John Brown. " If I don't get in afore the clock strikes ten, I'll be bound to be pisoned. Only jist say the word, and whiles the ladies and gentlemen is a having their snack, I'll be makin' myself a leetle mat- ter tidy." "Come, my good man; you'll agree to it, will you not — come ?" said the gentleman in black, in a tone irresistibly persuasive. "Well, well," said Tooler, with evident re- luctance, "have it as fbw like;" and he pro- ceeded to button up his boot-tops again, while Mary was carefully laying the cloth.- The grand point being at length settled, John Brown left the room, and the hostess, assisted by her handmaids in clean white aprons, placed Ike rump-steaks and onions upon the table. "Now if you please, sir," said the hostess, bestowing one of her blandest smiles upon the gendeman in black, as she gracefully placed a_ chair for him at the head of the table. " Do'ee eat it while it's hot : there's some more inguns doin." "Not any for me, I thank you," said that gentleman with great politeness. " I have not die smallest appetite ; I'll take a glass of sherry and a biscuit." " Oh ! do'ee eat a leetle," urged the fascinat- ing hostess. " It's done very beautiful. Look'eo !" added the tempter, as she took off the cover, and displayed a fine steak garnished with onions, the, sight of which at once drew the rest of the passengers towards the table. " Do have a bit with us sir, do !" cried the passengers in a chorus. " We shall not enjoy it half so much without you." " Why not, my good people V inquired the pastor. " 'Cause," replied the hostess, " you was kind enow to order it !" " f, my good woman !" exclaimed the aston- ished genUeman, peering over his spectacles with a look of amazement. " I ordered, I?" " In course, sir, you did," replied the hostess, as the pleasing expression of her countenance vanished. " Dear me ! my good woman," rejoined the pastor, " you must have been dreaming 1" "I 'peal to the gentlemen and ladies pre- sent," said the hostess, " whether you didn't order seven glasses o' brandy-and- water, and rump-steaks and inguns for nine." " Oh, that's right enough," said one of the passengers, " that wor the order ersackly, you doan't mean to go for to say as how it wasn't, sir, do yer V " Upon my honor, my good people," re- turned the pastor, "believe me, you were never more mistaken in your lives." " Not a bit on't," observed Tooler, " I heerd yow myself." " Goil bless my sojil ! Impossible ! impossi- ble !" cried the pastor, as he strove with great energy of mind to ascertain what sentence in the English language bore the slightest re- semblance in point of sound to "seven glasses of brandy-and-water, and rump-steaks and onions for nine." " Well, whether or no," observed the host- ess, " there's what was. ordered, and I 'speots to be paid for it at all events." " Come," said the farmer, who had occupied a seat at the back of the coach, " let's tackle it together, for I feel rayther peckish," and he and Valentine with two other passengers com- menced ; the rest modestly keeping aloof from the table, lest payment should be demanded of them respectively as a social Tuatter of course, " Yow may as well just have a mouthful as not," said the farmer, " sin' yow do mean to pay" all the same !" " Really," observed the gentleman in black, "I am unconscious of having made such an arrangement." " Well, well," said Valentine, in his natural voice; "suppose we compromise the matter, as there appears to be some slight misundei-' ■>4 LIFE AND ADVENTURjiS OF standin g on the subject : you settle for the steaks, and I'll pay for the brandy-and-water." "Well, coom, that's handsome!" cried the farmer; " and to show that I doon't want to shirk from my share, vrhy I'll be a couple o' bottles o' wine — coom, what say yow noo I" "I cannot, under the circumstances, of course object to join you," replied the puzzled pastor; " but I must be permitted to say that those cir- cumstances are in my judgement perfectly in- explicable : I never in any case like to be posi- tive ; I know that human nature is but human nature, and therefore cannot pretend to claim entire exeiaption from those weaknesses which form its distinguishing characteristics : I may be mistaken : 1 confess that I may ; but I never- flieless hold it to be utterly impossible for any man to give such an order as that without know- ing it." " Oh ! 'pon my loife," said the farmer, " it's a postyve fact." "Of course I'll not presume to dispute it," returned the pastor, whose scepticism on the point stUl developed itself strongly. " All I can say is, that I am totally oblivious of the circum- stances ; but if I did give the order, I bow to your decision." No sooner had this arrangement been com- pleted, than the passengers who had before kept so modestly aloof, lost the whole of their interesting diffiilence. . They made themselves perfectly at home, and drew at once towards the table, at the head of which, of course, sat the gentleman in black, who appeared to have borrowed, for that particular occasion, the well- trained appetite of an untamed elephant. As all social distinctions were, for the time being, levelled, Tooler was invited to join them ; but although he tried with zeal to compete with the rest, his gastronomic powers entirely de- serted him. He ale scarcely anything,, albeit the dish before him was one which on ordinary occasions he especially favored. He expe- rienced, however, no difficulty in drinking. Of the wine and braridy-and-water he partook freely, with the view of drowning the unhal- lowed influence of the witch; but the more deeply he drank, the more strongly did he feel that that influence was still in the ascendant. As soon as John Brown found the party had ordered all the spirits and wine th'fey were likely to order, he entered the room to announce the fact of his being ready^ and to explain the ex- pediency of an immediate start. The bill was consequently called for on the instant, when the amount was divided as per agreement, and paid, and the passengers prepared for the com- pletion of their journey. The moment, however, John entered the room, Valentine was led to suspect that he had Bome unfriendly design upon Tooler. He there- fore watched him narrowly, and as his search- ing eye quickly discovered sufficient to confirm his suspicion, he resolved on thwarting the object of Mr. John Brown, by causing him -to abandon his intention of performing the act of disinterested friendship proposed. Accordingly, Valentine at once left the room, with the view of ascertaining what means were available ; and as he sa-n the hostess standing with a butcher in the bar, whose conversation touched the toughness of a certain leg of raut ton, he awaited in the passagfe the arrival of John Brown. He had scarcely, however, de- cided the course to be piu'sued, when John made his appearance, whip in hand. Valen- tine saw that no time was to be lost, and, there- fore, assuming the voice of the hostess, whis- pered loud enough to reach John's ear : " Go now, my love, go ; and return by-and-bye : you have nothing to fear; John will not be back to-night !" " Indeed !" murmured John, starting back at • the sound of an affectionate kiss with which Valentine concluded. " Indeed !" he repeated, arid bit his lips violently, and breathed with veL-^mence, as the group in the back ground pressed him towards the door, and thus forced him to see the pride of his heart and home in conversation with one who happened to be the identiccd butcher upon whom he had long looked with a peculiarly jealous eye. Valentine now felt that he had struck the right chord^ for the complexion of John turned . as pale as it could turn — ^that is to say, it turned to a pale Prussian blue, as the nearest approach to whiteness of which it was capable, while his huge teeth rattled like a pair of castanets, and indeed his whole frame shook convulsively with passion pent up. Contrary, however, to the expectation of Valentine, John, after turning in the direction of the bar his flashing eyes, which appeared to pierce the wooden partition with more facility than could a paii of the brightest gimblets, conjured up all his corn-age, and mounted the box. The start was a false one, for he dropped one of the reins and his whip at the same time. This, however, was soon remedied ; but they had not proceeded far, before the attention of Tooler was drawn to the excited state of John's nerves. "A'n't yow been havin' a drop o' suffin ex- tra ■?" inquired Tooler, as they rolled from side to side. "Not a drain !" replied John; and the coach gave another lunge. " But the fact of the mat- ter's this," continued he, looking round to ascer- tain if they could be seen from his once happy home — " the fact is, I feels so oncommon poorly, that I'm afeered I shan't be able to go much furder arter all." "V^ell, give me the ribbons, then," said Tooler, who, feeling' somewhat better, began to be ashamed of nis inactive position. ♦'! can manage, I des say. Do yow go back — I'm obleeged to yer, you know, all the same.'' " Well, if you think you can drive," observed John. "Why," interrupted Tooler, whose profes- sional pride had been touched by that remark, " if I can't do it better than that, I can't do it at all !" This was enough for John Brown. He pulled up on the instant ; and after apologizing for his inability to perform his promise, alighted, with the view of acquiring that knowledge which would most grieve his heart, and of disturbing the developement of the assumed illicit loves of his amiable spouse and the cold-blooded butcher. VALENTINE VOX. The moment, -however, Tooler regained pos- nession of the reins, the dreaded influence of the witCih regained possession of his soul ; but Valentine, who had removed to the vacant seat on the box, did all in his power to cheer him, and, as he firmly resolved to annoy him no more, he succeeded^ after an infinite deal of persuasion, in inspinng him with the belief of Its being an immutable ordinance of Nature, that the power of no witch should extend be- yond the radius of forty miles. CHAPTER VII. INTRODUCES (JREAT-UNCLE JOHN's FKIEND Aim PIS AFFECTIONATE RELATIVES, WITH A KNISHf OF A HEW OKDER,. TWO INVISIBLE BHRGLAF.S, AHr< ONE MOST REMARKABLE SWEEP. Mr. Gkimwood Goodman, Great-TJnc'.e .Tohn'n fiiend, to whom Valentine had been coneigned, was a gentleman possessed of some considera- ble, wealth, derived chiefly f/om a series of successful speculations in sperm oil. He was remarkably thin — so thin, indeed, that his heart beat against his bare ribs v/ith an energy which alone might have caused it to bo discovered that that organ is moie inse-jsible to feeling than to sight. If, however, the heart of Good- man was — ^like the hetirts of men in the aggre- gate — physically insensiblo, morally it was by far the most sensible of all the organs he pos- sessed. A tear touched it acutely ; a tale of distres", at once caused it to open : indeed, sor- row in any shape h?.d but to approach, to find itself surrounded by feelings of benevolence, which caused it to dry up its natural tears, and to shed those only of gratitude and joy. In stature, Grim wood Goodman — although he boasted with pride of having stood full six feet without his shoes when a private in the Loyal Volunteers — was, at the time of which we write, about five feet eight. He would never allow that he had sunk so many inches ; but he could not have been more, for he was able to walk under the six feet standard with his military cap on without moving a hair. He had never been married. His relatives — the only relatives of whom he happened to have any knowledge, to wit, a brother, a nephew, and their wives — had disinterestedly taken especial care of that, for in order that the idea of marrying might be effectually banished from his mind, he never visited them, nor did they ever visit him, without the occurrence of those interesting family broils with which the matri-^ monial state is occasionally enlivened. Not that his brother and nephew lived unhappily with those whom they had respectively pledged themselves to love and to cherish: on the con- trary, they enjoyed a greater share of domestic comfort than' commonly falls to the lot of married men; but the arrangement between them was to appear to be steeped to the very lips in domestic misery whenever Gvimwood 'lappened to be present, with the view of de- i.-Viing him from entering into that state of life to which certain isiaids and widows had modestly called him. And the scheme pioved eflectual. He trembled at the thought of em- barking in a business, which they had led him to believe was extremely tempestuous at best; for what deterred him more than all, was the earnest anxiety which they manifested on all occasions to convince him that, although they snarled, and frowned, and growled, and wished each other dead, they in reality lived as hap- f.ily together, if not more happily, than married people in general. He therefore, having no sort of taste for the loving specimens of matri- monial felicity, which they so constantly placed before his eyes, kept aloof, resolved firmly to live a life of single blessedness unto the end. Now, when these peculiarly affectionate creatures heard that Valentine was coming to Loudon, they were thrown, perhaps naturdly, into a feverish state of aJann; for, although they had never seen him, the accounts of "the young wretch" which had reached them, had been singularly flattering, and therefore they held him to be one who, by making a favorable impression on him in whom the whole of their expectations were concentrated, might "rob" them, as they termed it, of some portion of that wealth, for which, through the medium of Grimwood's death, they so ardently panted. They therefore lost no time in meeting, with the view of devising some scheme by which the loudest of their fears might be hushed, and as Mr. Walter Goodman had been deputed by his brother Grimwood to meet Valentine at the inn, it was, after a long consultation, decided that he should represent himself to be Grimwood, secure Valentine in certain private lodgings, and eventually either procure for him a berth on board some man-of-war about to ssdl for a foreign station, or send him out as an adven- turer to seek his fortune abroad. Accordingly, Walter proceeded to the inn at the appointed time, while his hopeful son, Horace, prepared everything for Valentine's re- ception — it being arranged that the moment he arrived he should be hurried away, and that when he had reached his new resideuce, Grin> wood should be informed that he had not ar^ rived at all. Fortunately, however, for Valen tine, the coach was so late, that Grimwood, having despatched the pressing business he had in hand, became seriously alarmed, and on going down himself to. the inn, he insisted upon relieving brother Walter from all respensibihtyj" and, to the bitter mortification of that gentle- man, waited in the coffee-room the arrival of the coach. The design, however, of the affectionate family-party was not to be frustrated thus. No sooner had Grimwood deterraiiuul on waiting himself than Walter started off to meet lae coach, with the view of securing Valentine still ; while Grimwood was seated in the cofl'ee- room, drinking without enjoyment, the pint of claret he had ordernd, and mechanically read ing the Times. Although his eyes were on the paper, his thoughts were on the coach, and ha had just drank his last glass of wine, and bo gan to mai"vel at the possibiUty of a man read ing for hours without bringing his mind to bear S6 LIFE AND ADVEN-fURES OF upon any single sentence, when the clock druck ten. "Waiter," said he to a sleek, round-faced person in pumps, " this is very extraordinaiy — 16 it not?" ii "Why, sir," replied that interesting person, who being extremely fussy, and unable to speak witliout using his napkin, commenced wiping the bottom of Goodman's glass with great energy. '' Why, sir, it is, sir, rayther, sir; but not werry, neither, sir, cos the down coach- man's comin' up, sir, to-day, and he's always extrornary late." "I fear that some serious accident has occur- red," observed Goodman. " Oh, no fear of that, sir ;" cried the fussy individual, who had commenced operations npon the bottom of the decanter ; " it's aU right enough, sir : old Tooler's rather slow, but werry sure — I never knowed him, however, to be (jnite as late as this, I mus say." Relieved somewhat by the fact of the delay not being deemed, under the circumstances, very extraordinary, by the waiter, the old gen- tleman walked to the door of the inn — not ex- actly with the view of accelerating the arrival of the coach, but in order to speculate upon the probability of every vehicle tliat came in sight feeing the one for which he was so anxiously waiting. He had scarcely, however, taken his position on the threshold, when he saw bro- mer Walter, followed by his hopeful son, Horace, busUing about the place in a state of feverish excitement, and inquiring again and again of the porlerfe at the gate if they were perfectly certain that the coach had not arrived. " Waiter ! Horace !" shouted Grim wood; and those gentlemen for the moment shrank back at the sound ; but finding no means of escape, they Mjproached, and after falteringly muttenng BQmething having reference to their astonish- ment, expressed their conviction that as the evenmg was cold, and as the coach might not come in until midnight, he had better go home and let one of them remain to take charge of Valentine when he arrived. " I consider it very kind of you, Walter and Horace," said Grimwood, taking both by the haiid, " to manifest so much anxiety about one in whom I take an interest — I shall not forget it. However, he cannot be long now ; there- fore, let us wait together, and hav3 a glass of mulled wine." Both Walter and Horace tried rard to be excused, but Grimwood resolved o.i securing fliem as firmly as if he had known the source from which all their anxiety sprang. 'They had scarcely, however, taken their seats in the cof- fee-room when thd arrival of the coach was announced, and Grimwood instantly left his affectionate relatives in order to receive Valen- tine in the yard. " It's all up !" said Walter, when Grimwood Bad left. " What a fool I was not to remain at the turnpike: but. Lord, 1 made sure that the infernal coach had passed." " I couldn't imagine what the devil was the matter," cried Horace, " so I pelted down here like the devil to see.'' " Well, it's of iio use now," observed Wal- ter; "we are completely done this time. Bnt never fear, Horace," he continued, after a pause, " we shall be able to manage it yet,'' and both father and son became mute. " Your name, I believe, is Valentine A'ox T" said Mr. Goodman, addressing the youth who had just alighted. " It is." returned Valentine. " My name is Goodman — I am happy to see you. I hope thajt you met with no accident on the road V "Nothing of any very great importance,'' replied Valentine. " Doant arks me any more questions," cried Tooler, as he strove to emerge from the group of inquiring horsekeepers and waiteis, by whom he had been anxiously surrounJedL " It's o' no use — blarm me if I arnt sick and tired o' the very thoughts on't. I have," con- tinued he, addressing Goodman, "to thenk this young genelman for gittin' up at all. If it hadn't ha' bin for he we shouldn't ha done it to-night, any how.". This remark had at once the effect of extorfr ing five shillings from Valentine instead of half- a-orown^ and of creating a very favorable first impression in the miild of Mr. Goodman, wha having seen the luggage secure, presented Valentine to Walter and Horace, who received him with looks indicative of anything but de- light. ^'Now, my young friend," said Mr. Good- man, taking. Valentine again by the hand and shaking it wiEh much warmth, " I am so elad that you are safe; you are faint and cold — 1 know you are. Waiter ! coffee for this gentle- man : — what on earth could have detained you 1 But don't tell me now — you are fatigued." " Not at all, I assure you," said Valentine, who felt himself perfectly at home with the old gentleman, although he. viewed with an eye of suspicion the sinister looks of Waller and Horace. "Come, take a glass of wine," said the warmhearted Goodman, who felt as highly de- lighted with Valentine as if he had been his own son. "My dear boy!" he continued, pressing the hand of his protege, and looking earnestly in his face, " God bless you !" This was wormwood to Horace and his fa- ther. They could not conceal its effects, and therefore, after having addressed certain sneer- ing observations to Valentine, who bowed without replying, they departed with a view of designing some viUanous scheme which might induce the revival of those hopes which ap- peared to them to be on the' point of being blasted for ever. " Well, now," said the old gentleman, when his relatives were gone, and Valentine appear- ed to be sufficiently refreshed, "come, teU. me the cause of this extraordinary delay.'' Valentine gazed upon him earnestly and smiled. He was at first almost afraid to ex- plain the real cause ; but the general expres- sion of the old gendeman's countenance wai so peculiarly fascinating, that it quickly inspired him with confidence ; he felt that he might trust him with the secret of his power, whidi might moreover be to him a source of constant VALENTINE VOX. 27 ■musement, and therefore, after a little hesita- ^pn, confessed that the delay was attributable ebleiy to him. "But," said Goodman, "I understand that tad it not been for you, the coach would not have reached London to-night." ''That is perfectly true," rejoined Valentine, "but it is also true that had it not been for me, it would have arrived here four hours at least before it did." "Indeed!" exclaiined Goodman with an ex- pression of astonishment ; and Valentine hesi- tated again ; but at length, feeling certain that tije opinion he had formed of Goodman's character was correct, he proceeded to explain the whole of the circumstances described in tile fifth and sixth chapters of this history — the tfelation of which caused the old gentleman to be so iirrepressibly convulsed, that his contor- tions alone were sufiiciently ridiculous to e.xcite the mirth of all present, and at length the roorn tang with peals of sympathetic laughter. . "Now — now — my dear boy," observed Goodman, the very moment he had regained sufficient command over his muscles, "be sure 'tjiat you tell this to lia one. We shall have "Bnch amusement ! But keep it, my boy, mind keep it a secret." And here he was seized yrith another fit of merriment in which the whole room again most ridiculously joined, while Valentine congratulated himself on the tpanner in which he had been received by his warm-hearted patron. As soon as the frame of Grimwood Goodman became capable of assuming the semblance of tranquillity, he begari to manifest "impatience to witness the efl'ect of that which appeared to him still to be almost impossible. He therefore strongly urged Valentine to give him a speci- men on the spot, and as Valentine felt that he would be too much amazed for the moment to indulge in those loud bursts of laughter which might tend to create suspicion, he consented to do so at once. "But, be careful, ray dear boy, be careful," said Goodman. " Oh ! there is not the slightest danger of discovery. — Waiter !" said Valentine, throwing his voice into a box in which two extremely stout individuals were eating devilled kidneys. "Yes, sir," cried the person in pumps, throwing his napkin under his arm, and ap- proaching the box in question. "Waiter !" said Valentine, assuming a voice which appeared to proceed from the box op- posite. "Yes, 'sir," repeated the waiter, turning round on ascertaining that that party had no orders, "Waiter!" cried Valentine in precisely the same voice as at first. , " Yes, sir !" exclaimed the sleek functionary, 'JSBturning, " you call, sir V "No," said the gentlemen, "it'edidnot call." " Waiter !" shouted Valentine, throwing his voice to the other end of the room, to which end he of the pumps of course immediately polted. " Now, where is that bottle of Dort V cried . Valentine, bringing the voice about half fray back. "Beg pardon, sir, I'm sure, sir," said ths waiter, addressing the person from whom he imagined the sound had proceeded, " did you order a bottle of port, sir V "No," said the person addressed, "I'm drinking negus." " .Waiter !" shouted Valentine with all the force of "Which he- was capable. "Yes, Sir!" cried the waiter with corres- ponding energy, and again he followed the sound, and continued to follow it until Valen- tine ceased, when the knight of the napkin, whose blood began to boil, approached the fire and poked it with all the power at his com- mand. "Jim!" cried Valentine, sending his voice up the chimney, while the waiter was taking his revenge — " get up higher : I'm roasting.'" " Hush !" said Valentine, assuming the voice of "Jim," who appeared to be half-chdkedi " Hush ! — don't speak so loud." The waiter, who still grasped the instrument of his vengeance with one hand, raised the other to enjoin silence, and walked on tijv toe towards the bar, from which in an instant he returned with the landlord, the hostess, the barmaid, the boots, and in fact nearly the whole of the members of the establishment, who crept with the utmost care upon their toes towards the .fire, when Valentine conducted the following interesting conversation between " Jim" arid "Joe," in the chimney. " It's flaming hot here, Jim, but there — that'll do. Did you ever in your born days see sich a fire V " Hold on a bit, joe, our sweat 'U soon damp it." " I wish he as poked it was in it." " Oh, that would'nt do at any price. His fat ud blaze to sich a hextent, it 'ud do us brown in no time." The landlord approached. " So we've caught you at last then, you blackguard. HoUo !" cried he, peering up the chimney. "Hush!" said the invisible Jim. "Ay, you may say hush," said the host, " but you're trapped now, my tulips : corns down— d'ye hear ?" The tulips did not condescend to reply. " Here, Jerry," continued the host, " run out for the policerhan;" and Jerry, of course, ran with all possible speed. " You'd better come down there, you wag»- bones," cried the landlord. "Hexcuse us," said Jim, "you are werry perlite." " If you don't, I'll blow you bang througo the pot !" cried the landlord. "You haven't enough' powder," said the in- visible Joe. The policeman here entered, and bustling up to the grate, shouted, " Now, young fellows, come along, I wants you." "Do you?" said one of the young- fellows. "It's o' no use, you know," criec the Bolice- man, who held his authority to be contemned, and his dignity insulted, by that tranqtil r». 96 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF mark. "You'd better come at onoej you know, my rum uns." " That's werry good adviee, I des-say," said one of the ruin uns, " ony we doesn't think so.'' " Why, it taint o' no use," urged the police- man, " you an't got a ha'porth o' chance. Here, sire us' hold of a stick or a broom," said he to mo waiter, and the chambermaid ran to fetch one, when another policeman entered, to whom the first said, " Smith, go and stand by them ere chimley pots, will yer," and accord- ingly up Smith went with the boots. " Now then," said the policeman, having got a long broom, " if you don't come down, my crickets, in course I shall make you, and that's all about it." In reply to this acute observation, one of the " crickets" indulged in a contemptuous laugh, which so enraged the policeman, that he on the instant introduced the long broom up the cShimney, and brought down of course a suffi- (Jient quantity of soot to fill an imperial bushel measure. This remarkable descension, being on his part wholly unexpected, caused him to spit and sneeze with considerable vehemence, while his face was sufficiently black to win the sympathies of any regular philanthropist going. "Now then, you sirs !" shouted Smith from the top J "do you mean to come up or go down? Ony say!" As soon as the first fit of sneezing had sub- sided, the policeman below was justabout to give vent to the indignation which swelled his offi- cial breast, when he was seized with another, which in its effects proved far more violent than the first. " Good luck to you," said he on regaining the power to speak, " give us something to wash it down, or I shall choke. It'll be all the worse for you, my kids, when I gets you. Do you niean to come down now? thal's all about St. It's o' no use, you know, for in course we don't leave you. Once for all, do you mean to come down V " You are werry perlite,^' replied one of the kids, " but we'd much rayther not." "Why then," said the constable in disguise, who, as far as the making up of his face was concerned, appeared perfectly ready to murder Othello — "in course we must make you." As this cbservation on the part of the police- man was followed by another contemptuous laugh, that respectable functionary became so indignant that he entertained thoughts of achiev- ing'-their annihilation by virtue of fire and smoke. While, however, he was considering whether a juiy under the circumstances would bring it in justifiable homicide, manslaughter, 01 murder, it was suggested that as there lived in the neighborhood an extremely humane and intellectual sweep, who had become particular- ly knock-kneed in the profession, and peculiar- ly alive to the hardships which the corrupt climbing system inflicted upon the sooty gene- ration in general, had a machine which was patronized by the nobility and gentry, and which might in this instance have the effect of accelerating the process of ejectment. For this remarkable master-sweep, therefore, boots was despatched, while the policeman, bent upon a wicked waste of coals, endeavored to persuade the invisibles to descend by makinz the fire blaze with a fiiry which a couple of young salamanders only could stand. Nothing, however, bearing the similitude of blazes could bring the burglars down, and jus< as Valentine's guardian pro tern, was declai-ing that he must either laugh loudly or burst, a stout stumpy man, who stood about five feet five, upon legs to which nothing stands recorded, in the annals of legs, at all comparable in point of obliquity, was led in by boots, with the ma- chine on his shoulder, and at once assumed the air of an individual conscious of the immacu- late character of his motives, and of the general integrity of his professional reputation. ' " I understand," said he, bowling with aE the importance of which a master-sweep is comfor- tably capable towards the fire — " I understand that you have certain burglarious burglars up the flue; Well ! as the integral integrity of thia glorious and empirical empire demands that al] sich dishonest thieves should be brought when caught to the barrier of judicial justice, ergo, that is for to say, consequently, therefore, they must descend down, and this '11 bring 'em ! It was never known to fail," he added, drawing forth a huge bread-and-cheese knife to cut the cord which bound the machine together, " in anything successfully attempted. It is pattern- ized by the titled nobility, and clerical clergy in oly orders, besides the official ofiicers of the loyal household, and the principal aristocratic members of the aristocracy in high life, and ought to be known in every particle of the globe and her colonies. It was ony t'other day as I was call- ed in to hoperate upon the chimneys of one of our tip topmost dukes, a great agricultural pro- prietor of landed property, and apetiokler friend of mine, wot had heered from some vagabone wot I holds werry properly in contemprtuous contempt, that my machine had turned out a dead failure. 'So,' says he, when I'd done the job, ' Shufflebottom,' says he, 'you're a werry ill-used man, a hindiwidual wot's werry much respected uniwersally by all, and there- fore, it's a werry great pity that you should be sich a wictim of misrepresentation.' ' Why, says I, ' my lord duke, you knows werry well as how I treats all sich wagabones with suitable contempt. But I'm obleeged to you, my lord duke, and I feels weiTy grateful as I alius does feel for any favor as is showed, and I alius likes to return it too, 'specially if them as shows it puts themselves you know werry much oul of the way in the most friendliest spirit, and has their motives in consequence suspected.' '■ "Well, come," said the host, inteniipting this remarkable sweep, who displayed a dispo- sition to go on for an hour, " let us see if we can get these rascals out of the flue." Shufflebottom man-elled at this ungentle- manlike interniption, but after hurling a look of contempt at the illiterate landlord, he intro duced the head of his machine into the chinv ney, and sent it up joint by joint. Of course, during its progress, a considerable quantity of soot descended, but when the brush had reacb» ed the pot, the policeman above grasped it firmly, conceiving it to be the rough haii of VALENTINE VOX. 2& ,«Jne of the burglars, an i pulled it completely .out of Shufflebottom's hand. ,. >'The blaggards is at top !" cried Shufflebot- tom, loudly. They've stole my machine ! — go, ,go upon the roof!" " Come with me," said the policeman, but as.Shufflebpttora hsA not sufficient courage for that, the policeman and boots went up together, .with the view of rendering all necessary assist- ance. On reaching the roof, they oi course discovered the cause of Shufflebottom's great .alarm, and having sent his machine down the chimney again, descended with the view of .deciding upon some other course. It was the conviction of the policeman above, that no bur- glars were in the chimney at aU, for he himself ,Ead been nearly suffocated by simply looking from the top ; but as this very natural idea was .repudiated as monstrous by all below, ShutHe- .bottom, in tho plenitude of his humanity, sug- gested that a sack should be tied tightly over .the pot, -in order that the invisible burglars .might be stifled into an unconditional surrender. As this appeared to be decidedly the most ef- fectual way of compelling them to descend, the policeman urged it strongly, and as the host did by no means object to its adoption, orders were given for the sack to be tied over at once. This humane and ingenious operation had scarcely been performed, when the room was of course filled with smoke, and in less than ythree minutes, every soul had departed with .the exception of the policeman and Shufflebot- tom the sweep, who soon deemed it expedient to crawl out on their hands and knees to avoid suffocation. Valentine and his guardiari, with several other gentlemen, repaired to the bar, when orders were giveti for the removal of the sack, and on jts being decided, that whe i the ^moke had .evaporated, one policeman should jeinain in the room, and another on the loof of the hou^e all night, a coach was ordered, and Goodman with his charge proceeded home irrepressibly de- lighted with the evening's entertainment. CHAPTER VIII. lEE CONSULTATION OF AN INTERESTING FAMILY TAR- TY, AT WHICH IT IS DECIDED THAT SOMETHINS MUST SE DONE. " Well, my love !" exclaimed the affection- «te Mrs. Goodman, as Walter and his son en- tered the room, in which she and Mrs. Horace had been anxiously waiting — " we have been in such a way you can't think, for Julia would have it you had failed." " She was right " muttered Walter, sinking hito a chair, heavily. "Right!'' cried Mrs. Goodman. "What, have you not secured the young wretch ? Hc- lace ! teU me !" Horace shook his head. "Ah!" — said the old lady, playfully patting the cheek of Walter, and giving him a series of matrimonial kisses — " he has not arrived." " But he has," oi..ed Horace, " and uncle has got him !" The_Dld lady sank into her chair. " Dear me !" said Mrs. Horace, who had de- rived a latent feeling of satisfaction from the circumstance of her having predicted a failure, " how could you have been so stupid?" Horace explained, and the old lady wept, and Walter pulled his boots off willi desperate vio- lence. "Then you did see the vrretch?" said tlie old lady, spitefully. "Of course," returned Horace. "What sort of a creature is he?" inquired the jniiior Mrs. Goodman. " Why, I don't know," said Horace ; " a sort of rakish-looking scamp. What struck me more than all was his eye." " Has he but one ?" cried the old lady, some- what revived. " Not exactly," returned Horace, " he has two—" "And they are odd pnes?" interrupted tlw old lady, with confidence, which seemed to be teeming with pleasure. "They are," replied Horace, "the oddesi eyes that ever looked through a man; such piercers! They'd dart through the dome of St Paul's or the earth, and see what was goingon at our antipodes. He'd make the money- fly I — he'd ehow the world how to spend it, if he ever had the chance." The mere mention of money had the effect of arousing Walter from the lethargy into which he had fallen. He drew at orce towards the table, and having placed his arms deliberately upon it, said firmly and emphatically, " Some- thing must be done. I saw," continued he, after a pause, "the impression the young scamp had made upon Grimwood. I watched them both narrowly, and when I perceived the extreme warmth with which Grimwood grasped his hand, and looking earnestly in his face, said, 'My dear boy — God bless you!' — I could not but feel that the boy — the dear boy — stood a very fair chance of becoming his heir." " Great Heaven forbid !" exclaimed Mrs. Goodman, senior, turning up the. yellows of her blood-shot eyes, and throwing one of her arms round the delicate neck of the amiable Mrs. Goodman, junior, to express aflection, while the other was raised as far above her head as pos- sible, in order to express the highest pitch of surprise. "His heir! Good Gracious! What are his claims? — his pretensions? What i« the relationship existing between them ? What right has he to rob us of any portion of that which by every law of nature belongs to us alone ?" To this interesting string of interrogatories, Walter replied simply by remarking, that nona were ever robbed by right. "The question to be considered," said he, " does not apply to the natural right of the one : it has reference solely to the legal power of the other." "But what a monstrous shame it is," saii? Mrs. Goodman, "that a man should have th« power to leave his property to any but his re« latives !" " It is useless to talk about that," observed ao LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF Walter. "He has the power, and that's suf- ficient. The question is, how is the exercise of that power to be in this case prevented 1" " But uncle may not intend to do anything of the kind," said the junior Mrs. Goodman. "Hay not!" cried Walter. "He may not; but what if he should? What if he were to leave every shilling to this fellow : where then should we be ? Why, instead of living in afflu- ence, as we ought to live, we should be at once reduced to a state of destitution." "Ay, that is the point, dear," said Mrs. Goodman senior. " Just look at that ! For my part, I tremble to think on't." " But do you think it likely," observed the Junior Mrs. Goodman, "that uncle has the heart to behave so unkindly?" " There's Ho telling, child," replied Walter. " If he happen to take a fancy to this boy, he may make him the inheritor of all ; and ii he should, my pitiful income from the stamp-office of 2001. a-year, will be all that we shall have to exist upon ; and that, when I go, wiU go too. I must, however, say, what I have said a thou- sand times, that if Horace had played his cards well, he might have been a greater favorite of Grimwood than he is." " Why, what could I do with the old buck?" cried Horace, smoking a black cheroot with unequivocal desperation. " Do '."replied Walter. "WTiy, you should have endeavored on all occasions to please him." " Well, I have !" shouted Horace ; " I have tried just as hard as any fellow could try, and he wouldn't be pleased. Haven't I asked, him fifty times to go with me to the masquerade ? — didn't I bite the best part of Bullhead's tail clean off when he had fast hold of the old boy's boot ? — and when I pitched him into the water the day they rowed for the silver sculls, didn't I hook him out again like a Whitechapel nee- dle? And yet I'm no favorite because I've.uoi played my cards well !" " You have not gone the right way to work," rejoined Walter." "Why, what would he have?" shouted Horace m a rage. " What's the use of blow- ing me about it? If he won't be plea-seil, how can 1 make him? I've done all I could, and if he don't like me, why he must do the other thing." And Horace, finding the cheroot during his speech had gone out, threw it indignantly into the fire, and proceeded to light another. " Well, well," said the senior Mrs. Goodman, " it is useless to dwell upon that subject now. What's done can't be undone, and therefore we should turn our thoughts to what we have to do." " Something! must be done," repeated Walter, "and soon. The will is in our favor now. I know it: I have seen it. How, then, are we to keepjiim from altering that will?" " Yes, that is the question : that's just the very point," observed Mrs. Goodman senior. " It would be such a very dreadful thing, if, after having tried so hard all these years to secure it, we should be robbed of it, just as his constitution's breaking up, I'm sure none could have taken more pains than we have : Done could have taKen more trouble to earn it. Heaven knows it has cost us a world of anxiety. We could not have watched him more closely than we have, if the sum had been fifty timei as much as it is. That's impossible. He has been our thoughts by day, and our dreams by night. He has never been out of our headfi, and therefore the idea of being robbed of it at last is quite shocking." " Let's persuade the old boy," observed Horace, " that he can't expect to sleep very quiet when he's gone, unless he leaves tha whole of his blunt to those who have the greatest right to it." " Pooh !" said Walter contemptuousljii' " Grimwood's no fool !" " Well, I'm sure," remarked the senior Mrs. Goodman, " that he ought to be made to feel that he cannot be so liappy," "Of course he ought," said Horace; "and that's just the way the old boy's to be walked over, too! Why, look at old Thingermybob there — what's his" name ? — Sniggers !— he had left nearly the whole of his dubs to build a jolly lot of alms-houses, for a crew of old women that didn't belong to him at all. Well, what did his son Harry do when he heard of it? Why, he no sooner found that he was to be pensioned off at so much a month, than he sent old Fizgig there — Simpkinson — to talk about the old buffer's ghost, and the result was that Harry got it all." " Well, look at the late Mr. Lucas," said tbo senior Mrs. Goodman, in order to give an ad- ditional illustration of the position assumed: " He had very correctly left the whole of his property to his relatives ; but no sooner did he connect himself with Cantall's congregation, than Cantall got hold of him, and worked up his feelings to a degree which induced him in the first place to build a new chapel and a large house adjoining, and in the next, to will them, with the whole of his other property, to him who' had thus poisoned his mind, and noWj v/hUe the Cantalls are lolling in the lap of luxury, the relatives of Lucas are starving."., ■ " To be suie," said Horace, lighting anothei very black cheroot. "And as the .old boy's not always exactly wide awake, he's to be got over just in the same way. Or.ly make him believe that if he should be guilfy of so dirty and disreputable a swindle, his jolly old ghost will cut about in a most uncomfortable state of excitement, from generation to generation, and we shall nail him as dead as a herring." '• And, you think that he wouldn't see through it?" said Walter, with a sneer. " Not if the thing were managed properly," replied Horace. "It wouldn't of course do exactly for me to pitch the blarney, because I might come it a little too strong ; but a fellov* with a serious phiz, like oil Neversweat — what's his name ? — he who sits behind the black barnacles perched upon the stool next to yours — the fellow who won't die, you know, although aware that you have been waiting about a couple of generations for his shoes." " What, Coggle ?" suggested Mrs. Goodman senior. "Ay, that's the cove — Coggle: a venerable out-and-out old fool, now, like that, who never VALENTINE VOX. 31 had acoye halt a laugh in him, would be able to 'io the trick in no time." " Pooh ! nonsense !" cried Walter, " Well, there could be no harm, you know," (Bid Horace, " in trying it on !" "I tell you," said Walter, "it is not to be done ui that way." •'In what other way is it possible to do it!" aiquired Horace. Walter Goodman either could not or would not explain ; but after supper this really in- teresting family party separated with the mutual understanding that something must be DONE. CHAPTER IX. valentine's visit to the house of commons. Neither Walter nor Grim wood could sleep during the night, but oh !- from what opposite causes ! It were curious and interesting doubt- less to inquire how many causes are capable of producing the same effect ; but as the sub- ject need not be long dwelt upon here, it will be perhaps quiie sufficient to explain that while Wdter was engaged in concocting certain in- tricate schemes of villany, Grimwood, delight- ed with (he almost unbounded prospect of hap- piness which had opened before him, lay stretched in the unrestrained indulgence of those pleasing anticipations which sprang from the conception of innumerable scenes that crowded to tickle his vivid imagination. Having wished for the morning all night, night avenged itself by introducing morning just as Grimwood had begun to wish morning at a distance. His head, however, continued to stick to its pillow with all the tenacity of the polypus until he heard the church clock strike ehoe-ii. when he rang for his water, and rolled out of bed. Now Valentine, who had slept like a dor- mouse all night, and whose usual hour for rising had been six, could not understand this eleven o'clock business at all. He had been five hours awake, and was as hungry as a wolf ; but as Grimwood's last injunction the previous night had been, "do not get up on any account until you are called," he felt bound to act in obe- dience to that injunction, and to await the call with all the Christian patience he could muster. For the first three hours he amused himself tolerably well by endeavoring to understand what the fellows had to dispose of, who kept continually bawling out, "Yarsto!" "Meyare mickrell!" "Clo! clo !" "Weep!" "Ool .ar row-in' an' ool ar' lowin' !" and from nine o'clock till ten. he listened attentively to the strains of a barrel organ with a remarkably shrill whisthng accompaniment ; but when he heard the clock strike eleven, he fancied he might as well give the thing up. He had, however, no sooner turned upon his side to compose himself if pos- sible, for another night's rest, than he heard the knock of Grimwood, who had come to inquire ^3f he would like, to have breakfast in bed. The — «ry knock was suffloient. He felt himself free ; and having answered the qnettion m tho negative, proceeded to dress with ad possible speed. His reception in the parlor was most ardent. The delighted old gentleman pressed his hand again and again, and during breakfast reviewed the occurrences of the previous evenuig with rapture. "Well now, my dear boy," said he, when Valentine had satisfied his appetite, " what shall we do to-day I" " I have but to write home," returned Valen- tine, "and then I am entirely at your disposal." " You have never," said Goodman, " been in the Commons? of course, you have not. Would you like to go 1" " Exceedingly," returned Valentine. " Well then, remember me at home ; seal your letter ; and we'll call upon a member who will take us to-day, I have no doubt." Accordingly, an early dinner was ordered, and Valentine and his guardian proceeded \yithout delay to the residence of a highly dis- tinguished member of parliament. Valentine's spirit had never been broken. His tongue had never learnt to assume the a*- cents of a slave, nor had his soul been taught to shrink from the presence of a man, however high might be his station in society, or how- ever severe and piercing might be his glance. He did, however, feel in some slight degree tremulous on entering the house of this emi- nent senator, of whom he had frequently heard, whose speeches he had frequently read, ana whom he knew to have been distinguished foi years in a place in which pretenders so soon find their level. Conceive then his astonishment on being ushered into the sanctum of this eminent per- sonage, whose indefatigable exertions he had heard so many curse, when, instead of behold- ing in a miijrnificent libra'y, studded with richly bound volumes, a stately individual en- veloped in a long flowing lobe, with whose splendor the carpet alone might be comparable, he saw a stout common-looking person in a sin- gularly short jacket, whose tightness developed to perfection a tremendous swell a posteriori, perched upon a stool with his toes dangling down within half a dozen inches of a piece or old oil cloth, which as some sort of an apology for a carpet had been nailed to the floor. At lirst, Valentine naturally imagined that the creature whom he beheld was the senator's butler, for he saw that he was anxiously casting up, what he felt might be the baker's account, and was just on the point of concluding, that if the consumption of the family were not ini- mense, the baker gave very long credit, when the person in question said, "Seventy-nine — nine and carry seven, how are you? — nine — seven, how do?" And he cocked a stumpy pen into his mouth, and extending his inky hand, added, " Glad to see you : what can I do for you?"' " We want to go to the House to-night," said Goodman. "Yes; will you call forme, or meet me a the lobby ?" " We may as well meet vou." LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF " I shall be down at a rainnte to four. Good day." And Goodman, who seemed to expect notWng more, dragged Valentine out of the studio, as the senator muttered in a sonorous wobble, " Seven : seven nine sixteen, twenty- four, thirty-one, forty, forty-six, fifty-two, sixty- seven, seventy-six, eighty, eighty-three," and was thus going on with amazing rapidity, when the door closed and shut in the sound. "Is that the man?" said Valentine, when he had got fairly out. " It is — the very man !" replied Goodman. " Well, I shouldn't have supposed it possible," said Valentine, who had still in his mind's eye the singular jacket, and that which it set off to so much advantage. " You will see him in a different character to-night," observed Goodman. " He has some- thing important to effect, I can see by his manner." Without being impressed with any elevated notions having reference to the style and ad- dress of a British senator, by the eminent spe- cimen whom he had seen, Valentine was led by his guardian towards home, from which, after having had a somewhat hasty dinner, they proceeded at once to the House. It wanted precisely a quarter to four when Goodman and his charge passed Westmiftster Hall, and as the eminent statesman who was about to introduce them was certain to be neither a moment before nor a moment behind the time appointed,' they continued to walk •pposite the Abbey, endeavoring to discover in the countenances of the various members who approached the House- something indicative of extraordinary talent, until, finding that they were within one minute of the time, they walked through a room, in which they saw two functionaries, who looked as if the mending of an additional pen would very seriously annoy them, and thence into a passage, in which were several hundred hooks, from each of which was suspended a piece of dirty pasteboard, on which the name of some honorable member was written. They had scarcely reached the stairs at the end of this passage when the statesman whom they had seen in the morning arrived. He had exchanged his short jacket for a yellow waistcoat and a blue coat with gilt buttons ; and having hurried them up, he went into a room in which sat a select committee, the members of which were immediately informed that the speaker was at prayers. From this room they pro- ceeded at once into the House, and when their guide had placed them upon an elevated seat near the entrance, they began to look round them. " And is this the British House of Commons?" thought Valentine : " can it be possible that these are our statesmen ?" Whatever surprise the dimensions of the House, or the mean appearance of its members, wiight tend to create, he felt that, as there could be no doubt about the matter, he might as'well direct the whole of his attention to what was going forward. In the first place, the speaker cried " Order, Stder ! order at tUle table ! order, order !" and a mob of honorable members who had been standing round the table, immediately repaired to their seats. It was interesting to Valentino to behold the respect which the members '.aid the speaker. When seated, they kept u^eir hats on; but if they moved but a yard, they pulled them off, and replaced them the moment they were seated again ; and if they passed from one side of the House to the other, they bowed to the chair as they pEissed, if they went over even but for an instant. When a spare individual, who sported a court-dress, and whose only occupation appear* ed to be that of bowing profoundly, and carry- ing a mace, which was nearly as large and ax heavy as himself, had been trotting about for some time behind the bar, " Order, order !" was called again; and a certain brmdle of parch- ment having been placed in the hand of the speaker, he gave a brief, a very brief descrip tion of its title, and then observed, " This bill be read second time many's 'pinion say Aye cont' 'pinion s'no the Ayes have it — this bill be committed many's 'pinion say Aye cont" 'pinion s'no the Ayes nave it;" without the members saying either Aye or No — or attend- ing, in fact, to the matter at all ! The speaker then called the name of an ex- tremely spectral personage, who, albeit the eldest son of a duke, looked as if he had lived' all his life upon chips, and who shuffled up to the table, in remarkably short nankeen trousers, which scarcely reached that part of his leg at which Nature had intended to establish a calf. He had a petition to present, and in describing its character, displayed as much eloquence as Demosthenes ever could display, before he had recourse to the pebbles. " Laid upon the ta- ble," said the speaker ; and a stout red-faced man at once crushed it together, and threw it under the table, as a matter of course, when the noble earl by whom it had been presented returned to his seat, and having cocked upon his head an extremely small hat. put his left leg carefully over his right, with the air of a man conscious of having done all in his power to promote the peculiar objects the petitioneri had in view. "Sergeant!" cried the speaker, when this job had been jobbed ; and the individual in the court-dress bowed three times during his pro- gress towards the table, when, taking up the mace, which had been placed there, bowed three times during his backward retreat, and having said something to a couple of masters in Chancery, who were the bearers of a co\iple of documents from the lords, he and they walked abreast to the bar, when they took fovr steps, and then bowed hke a leash of Manda- rins, then took four . steps more, and agf.in bowed, and then another couple of brace oi steps, which brought them up to the table, at which they bowed again, when, after mum- bling something having reference to something, and putting the documents down, they walked backwards four steps, and then bowed, then took four steps more, and bowed again, when, by way of a finish, they made four steps mora and, having bowed, turned round, and rushes out of the House laughing. VALENTINE VOX. 33 This proiieeding appeared to Valentine to be wipremely ridiculous-, but what tended in some degree to neutralize his disgust was the fact, that not only were the masters in Chancery afraid to walk backwards, without looking be- hind to see if anything happened to be standing in tlie way, but the person in full dress, whom Valentine ascertained to be the deputy-sergeaht, was compelled to retreat, just as if he had been bandy from his birth, because he could not per- suade his sword to keep from between 'his legs. De.-jpiie, therefore, every other feeling which tlus ceremony might naturally tend to create in one utterly incapable .of perceiving its great na- tional importance, Valentine could not repress aiimile, and the moment he had arrived at the conclusion that neither a sergeant-iit-arms, nor a deputy-sergeant, nor a master in Chancery, could do the thing well without having served an - appranticeship to a rope-maker, " order,!'' was again-called; and then the name of a cer- tain honorable' member, who at once rose to direct the attention of the House to ihe continu- ed .existence of a certain abuse, with the bear- ing's of which Valentine was not profoundly conversant. The style of this honorable member was in- flexible — his voice loud and sonorous. He had a certain provincial accent, which, to a refined ear, had a tendency to counteract the effect of whatever eloquence he might possess, and he assumed the tone of a man who had been ac- customed to address myriads willing to hear and to applaud. He spoke frequently of the masses, of paper currency, of the markets, of specie and commercial ruin, of imports and of exports, of America, France, Portugal, China, and Spain; in short he seemed resolved to Ifeave no stone unturned in any quarter of ihe globe, which he conceived might tend to illiis- Irate the position he had assumed. It soon' became manifest to Valentine, tliat whatever degree of importance might be at- tached to ihs opinions of this gentleman else- where,, in that house they had no weight at all; for the few, the very few, who appeared to be attentive, were mingling their smiles with their sneers, while the rest were conversing and joking, and laughing, apparently unconscious of everything but that which had immediate reference to themselves. It was easy to per- ceive that this gentleman was R ipable of far more eloquence than that which he displayed ; but the coldness of the rnerabers whom he ad- dressed, appeared to chill his natural ardor, and he eventually resumed his seat without gaining a cheer. . This seemed to be a consummation that had been devoutly wished, and no sooner had it arrived than the attention of the house was directed to one who, albeit in person e.ictremely small, appeared to be extremely great in the estimation of those who occupied one entire side of the house. He had risen with the view of showing, that the arguments of the honorable member who had preceded him were entirely baseless and absurd ; and, although his tone and deportment were by no means commanding, vjlille his eloquence sank to a great depth be- low mediocrity, his ahem uigand a-ar-ing rep- utation was applauded ■with vehemence, by those "who had failed to devote the slightest at- tention to the arguments to which the refuta- tion applied. When this small but important individual had concluded, a fine portly person 'whose hair was neither auburn nor absojutelj red, and whose forte seemed to lie in the delivery of the bitterest sarcasms clothed in the sweetest tones, rose with what appeared to be a portfolio in his hand, for the purpose of impugning one particular branch of the policy pursued by the then existing government. He appeared to be regarded as an oracle, for the house whefi he rose was as silent as the grave. Every poitlt that he made was cheered with rapture by those who sat on the same side of the house, and whenever he happened to place a strong emphasis upon the conclusion of^ any sentence in which no point was perceptible, he looked round with the view of making his friends 'un- derstand that although they might not exactly see it, the sentence did contain a point, ^vhen they hailed it with enthusiasm accordingly. The moment this political god had resumed his seat, amidst loud and protracted cheering, an honorable member whose countenance had been said to resemble an ugly portrait of Charles the First, and who appeared to hold razors in sovereign contempt, for he clea,rly had not used one for many a day, rose simply to observe that he agreed with every sentence that either had been saidj might be said, or could be saidj against the members of the existing cabinet, whom he held to be the vilest, the meanest, the shabbiest, and most atrocious political scoundrels with whom the Bridsh Empire ever was or ever could be cursed. " I denounce them," said he with a caimibalistio scowl, which he had assumed with the -view of imparting a most withering effe(5,t to the perora tion of his philippic — ■' I denounce iheiu a,-< a gang of degraded poll ical rufTians ; — -i-ho, with a profligate and most unconstituti ously important personage, who might in Greece have been mista;ken for King Oiho tj>- cog. "Does he mean to impute deliberate falsehood to mc ?" crie,d the honorable mem- ber again, as his friends were doing all in their power to exorcise the , rampant little devil that was within him. "The honorable and gallant member," ob- served the speaker, " I am sure, will perceivB the necessity for doing that which the House has a right to demand." But the honorable and gallant gentleman stubbornly kept his seat. Member after member rose to beg of him to withdraw the offensive imputation ; but his inflexibility was heroic ! He knew, of course, that he should be compelled either at once to retract or to languish until he did in the custody of the sergeant, who, with that, pe- culiar courtesy for which he had ever been distinguished, would have been but too happy to afford him every accommodation: but he Uat, that hisrepuiation forcoiurage might be peiilledi TAXiJSJN TIJN Jfi VOX. 36 imleLis hs fin' ly held out till the last. The speaker rose again and again to demand, — in hts peculiarly bland .nanner, — the withdrawal of that expiession which had given so much pain ; but nothing could move the honorable and gal- lant gentleman, until a personage with beauti- fully tinted cheeks proceeded to make a well Mnderstood motion, when he declared, what he eould not before have declared, without involv- ing his honor, that, in imputing deliberate false- lujod to the honorable membei-, he meant nothing at all personally offensive, and here the matter ended. :> An attempt was now made to recall the atten- tion of honorable members to business; but as •the majority of them manifested a strong dis- inclination to attend to anything of the sort, Valentine, on being urged by Goodman, re- solved upon releasing that majority from their legislative functions for the night. > Accordingly, just as a prosy individual, who had evidently placed a written speech ■ in his hat, was trying to pick up the thread of the debate, Valentine, throwing his voice under one of the galleries, cried, " Question !" . " Why, that is the question !" said the hon- orable member, who was compelled again to look at the speech in his hat. ,. "Let it be read by the clerk!" shouted Valentine. * "Order, order, order!" said the speaker. " Ay, give it to the clerk !" cried two juvenile senators. "Q."uestion! question!" and the cry on one side of the House becoming general, the hon. member indignantly resumed his seat. At this moment two honorable members rose together, and the calls for both became general and loud. Both seemed extremely anxious to speak, and therefore neither felt disposed, for some time, -to give way. At length, nowever, one of them yielded; but he had no sooner done so, than Valentine shouted out, "Down!" which shout found at least a hundred echoes, for in an instant nothing but " Down ! down ! down!" could be heard. The honorable gen-, itleman, however, still stood firmly, and folded 4iis arms with a look of defiance which seemed to enrage about fifty other honorable members who had previously*been silent, but who now ■appeared to have caught a very sudden and severe cold, for they began to cough and sneeze with unspeakable violence. No sboner had this coughing and sneezing been added to the loud shouts of " Down !" than several honorable gentlemen favored the company with a little howling; and then a lit- tle yellmg was heard, and then admirable imitations of the languages peculiar to certain interesting zoological curiosities, and then mingling cries of " Order I" " Shame !" and ""Bravo I" and then a very 'violent clapping of hands, and then loud and apparently hysterical laughter, until at length there arose a mass of hideous sounds, to which nothing could be comparable save those which might proceed from a den in which five hundred maniacs were battling with a corresponding number of Very wild beasts. : Valentine had no idea that a storm could have been raised so soon; indeed he never imagined that sucA a storm' as that could have been raised there at all; but as it had been raised, he very quietly proceeded to analyze the body of soiuid by separating the various little interesting noises of which it was eom- Upon one of the benches sat a couple of highly intellectual individuals, who were nam- ing the speaker for the next harmony, by knock- ing him down for " a jolly good song," and be- hind them an honorable member was seriously engaged in whetting the ghost of a knife upon a spectral grindstone. A short distance from him sat a statesman promoting the prosperity of the country in general, and the interests of his constituents in particular, by buzzing through his teeth in imitation of that notorious hurdy- gurdy which won't go to more than one tune, and what that in its infancy might have been, it is utterly impossible to determine ; for, having been played for go many years, it appears now to have been almost wholly worn away. A little further on, a profound politician was contending for the eternal nature of his principles by shout- ing, " Quack ! quack !" with an energetic feel- ing, which any duck in the universe might naturally have envied. By his side sat a senator resolved on upholding the dignity of the crown by playing what by a stretch of the imagination, he had conceived to be a regular trombone, and immediately above hifti one who might have been a Premier in embryo, was drawing a lot of imaginary corks. Several aristocratic individuals under the gallery, who ought to have had " Ears pierced" painted over the doors of their respective residences, were whistling with the shrillness of gods, while a merry old boy who had several slips of paper stuck under the collar of his coat, was playmg what he conceived for that particular occasion to be a Jew's harp, which, as a mere matter of 'justice it must be admitted, he managed with senatorial sublimity and tact. On,one of the back benches sat a row of individuals, who being determined to support the Agricultural Interests by " a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether," had imagined that they were hauling up an extremely heavy anchor, and as each had his arms round the waist of the victim immediately before him, they pulled each other backwards and forwards in a line, shout- ing out with great energy, " Yeo heave ho !" The great point of attraction, however — that which tended more than all to inspire Valen- tine with the conviction that he was then in the midst of the collective wisdom of the nation, inasmuch as those around him knew how to do everything — was a section of politicians who had formed themselves into a sort of a knot, and who not only seemed quite resolved to do all in their power to contribute to the harmony of the evening, but who absolutely did, to a sensible extent, succeed in swelling the general sound. One was striving to obtain justice for Ireland, by braying in the most natu- ral manner possible: another was saving the country from revolution by squealing " A week, week !" in humble imitation of a juvenile pig oppressed: a tliird was avenging the ins'Jts LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF offered to the British flag by an extraordinary effort to crow like a cock: a fourth was sus- taining the integrity of the empire by impart- ing an idea of the sound of a French horn : a fifth was supporting the Established Church by perpetually shouting, •' Yoiks ! TaJlyho !" a sixth, pledged to procure the abolition of mili- tary torture, was showing precisely how cat calls to cat ; a seventh was endeavoring to put an end to the sanguinary civil war in Spain, by converting his own hat and that of a statesman who sat immediately before him into a couple of kettle-drums, which he certainly continued to beat with an energy that "nothing else could match :" an eighth, who had been pledged to the abolition of the slave-trade, was engaged ia giving effect to a popular air : while a ninth was endeavoring to impress upon the house the necessity for an immediate extension of the suffrage by imparting to all around what he conceived to be a highly correct notion of the moral and physical effects of hydrophobia. In vain the speaker, during these irregular proceedings, tried to show that such conduct was not exactly consistent with the character of a deliberative assembly ; in vain he strove to direct the attention of honorable members to the fact that the interests and the feelings of the country in general could not be thus really represented : he thundered forth "Order," and rose twenty times to enforce it in vain : his pre- sence was unheeded, his authority contemned ; and he therefore at length sank back in his chair to view the scene with mingled feelings of indignation and sorrow. Valentine felt for the old gentleman, for he appeared to be shed- ding tears; and being therefore determined to put an end to these proceedings if 'possible, he took advantage of a moment when the throats of those who composed the first assembly of gentlemen in the world displayed symptoms of exhaustion, and sent a most extraordinary cry of "Shame !" into one of the reflectors, which appeared for the moment to be under some supernatural influence, and which caused the majority of the senators below to look up wilh an expression of amazement. As the noise became in consequence some- what subdued, Valentine raised another sepul- chral cry of "Shame !" which was heard with far greater distinctness than the first, and which induced the identical old gentleman who had been playing the imaginary Jew's harp, and who was evidently indignant at this strange in- terruption, to rise with the view of directing attention to an extraordinary fact — one of which he really appeared to have had no previous knowledge — namely, that of there being stran- gers in the gallery ! The very moment this honorable gentleman rose, a loud burst of laughter drowned every other sound ; for the whole house perceived that an humble petition had been cut into slips, and not only secured by the collar of his coat, but stuck firmly with vafers all over his back, reaching even below his expansive, coat-tails. Of this the honorable niember of course wa&'unconscious ; but as his object had been gained in so far as that the noise had been renewed, he very quietly sat down with the view of playing a few more popular and interesting tunes, with the instra- ment which he conceived he held tightly be tween his gums. He was, however, soon intermpted again, foi an honorable member, who had made many ineffectual attempts to obtain a hearing, lakhig advantage of a temporary suppression of noise, rose to move an adjournment. The motion was followed by s"-iouts of "No, no!" and a really extraordinary species of ypUing; but as the honorable member declared that he was detennined to take the sense of the house, — to the utter astonishment of Valentine, who could not conceive where the sense could be found — the adjournment was agreed to without a division, and the immediate rush towaids the door was tremendous. As soon as the coast became sufKciently clear, Goodman and his charge left the house and proceeded homewards; but while the feel- ing which prevailed in the bosom of the fonner was that of unqualified delight, that which reigned in the breast of the latter was one of unmingled and boundless surprise. CHAPTER X. IM WHTCn GOODJIAN IS HONORED WITH A PECUUAK VISIT, AND SUBSEQUENTLY EIIZED IN IHE MCSJ MYSTEKIOUS MANNER POSSIBLE. Without presuming to enter those pecuiiarlj chaotic regions Geology might tempt the inia gination to explore — without, indeed, going ajiy further back than the days of Adam and Eve-r- it may with safety be asserted — taking for a point that interesting period of our hisiory when young Creation beat old Chaos hollow — iliat of all the destructive wars which have afflicied mankind, the War of Attachments has raged with the greatest constancy and fierceness. From the birth of the sun, moon, and stars, to the deluge, from the deluge to the commence- ment of the Chiis'iian era, and from thence lo the period of the publication of these adven- tures, the attachments have been savagely cutting each others' thriJ&ls — scourging, smo- thering, and torturing each other in every con- ceivable variety of forms — in a word, all the evils wilh which mafi has been cursed, aie attributable solely to this War of the Attachr ments. Now, in proportion as Goodman's attachirent to Valentine Increased, his attachment to his amiable relatives diminished : in fact, the one was very quietly smothering the other, whe^ those relatives in turn formed certain new at- tachments which they conceived might pro- mole the great object they had in view. One heavenly morning, about twelve o'clock, when the leaves of the aspen were shivering in the breeze, when the cows were each mo- ment expecting to be milked, and when, Val- entine having been sent to the banker's, Good- man was reading in his library alone, the servant entered with a couple of highly glazed cards, which bore the following remarkable inscrip- VALENTINE VOX, 37 libnS— Dr. Emanuel W. Eowlemout, and Dr. PlONYSlUS DOBB. -"•Dr. Emanuel W. Bowlemout? — Bowle- moiit — Bowlerabut," said Goodman, consider- ai'g— "Dr. DionysiUs Dobb ?— Dobb ?— Dobb ? -^I have not the slighte.st knowledge of these gentlemen. Ask'them to walk in." While the servant was seducing the two doc- tbrsOut of the parlor, Goodman read the cards a'gain and again, conceiving that their names might strike their full-length portraits on his memory. "Good morning, sir," profoundly observed a remarkably short a;id"apoplectic individual, who appeared to have been artlicted with the dropsy from his youth. " Good morning," said Goodman, waving his land towards a couple of chairs, of which the doctors took possession. "My name is Bowlemout," observed the dropsical person — " My friend. Dr. Dobb." Goodman bowed, and plziced the cards upon the table. "You are quite well, I hope?" said Dr. ?manuel W. Bowlemout. " Perfectly," said Goodman, " thank God, I never had a day's illness in my life." . Dr. Bowlemout looked at Dr. Dobb, who eooked his chin upon his stick, and eyed Good- man intendy. " May I," observed Goodman, after waiting in silence some considerable time — "May I inquire the object of this visit V " Most certainly, my dear sir," replied Dr. Bowlemout, looking again at Dr. Dobb, who Still continued to sit like a statue in mourning for some dear friend — " It may, my deai: sir, appear somewhat extraordinary that we should have called upon you thus without a previous introduction: but it is perhaps in these cases q'uite a's well — quite." And Dr. Bowlemout lopked once more at Dr. Dobb, who did conde- scend then to nod, by way of signifying that that observation had met his views precisely. Goodman was still unable to imagine what the object of these gentlemen could be ; but he ventured to suppose that he should know in good time, and therefore waited for its natural aSvelopement with patience, while those gen- tlemen were viewing him with what he con- ceived to be an expression of pity. "Do me the favor," at ^ength said Dr. Bow- lemout, placing his finger delicately upon Goodman's wrist, as his hand rested upon the table — " allow me." ■ "Gentlemen!" said Goodman finnly, with- (irawing his hand, " you have honored me with a visit, and you have, I presume^ some object in view: need I add that I consider it neces- sary for that object to be explained?" - "Why, my dear sir," replied Dr. Bowle- nioiit, " the fact is, we have called at the re- quest of certain intimate friends of yours, who fancy that you have not been looking quite so well of late — to ascertain the precise state of your general health." ■ " Indeed !" said Goodman, smiling, "I ought to be exceedingly obhged to those friends. May I know to whom I am indebted for this extraordinary act of kindness 1" <' Why that, my dear sir, is a. matter of ex- treme delicacy," replied Bowlemout. "You will perceive that they are naturally appre- hensive that theytoight be deemed too offi- cious — too fond of parading their friend- ship." " They," said Goodman, " who imagine that I should fail to appreciate this or any other act of kindness, can know me but imperfectly. There surely can be no serious objection to their names being mentioned V "I really," said Dr. Bowlemout, "do not feel justified in naming them." "No, no, no !" gmffly exclaimed Dr. Dobb. " There is no necessity for that sort of thing.'' "I can perceive no necessity for the other sort of thing," observed Goodman, somewhat piqued at the roughness of Dr. Dobb. " This visit I trust did not originate in any idle cu- riosity V " Oh ! not at all ! not at all, my dear sir ; not at all !" cried Dr. Bowlemout, "God bless me, no, not at all!" "Then, gentlemen," said Goodman, "lam able to inform those exceedingly kind friends through you, that I am capable of forming a judgment on the state of my own health — " "That's the point l^lhe very point !" inter- rupted Dr. Bowlemout, turning to Dr. Dobb, who gave several short nods. "What's the point ■?" inquired Goodman. "That men are not always able to form such a judgment," growled Dr. Dionysius Dobb. "You, for instance, may be afHicted with one of the most serious maladies that are incident to the human frame without being in the slightest degree conscious of the fact. — Have you heard, by-the-bye, from your friend the emperor, lately?" " I am perhaps," said Goo'dman, after a pause — during which Dr. Bowlemout gave Dr. Dobb certain slight but mysterious winks — "1 am perhaps bound to presume that your object is not to insult me V "Oh! dear me, no, not at all!" cried Dr. Bowlemout. " I must say that that question appears to me to be extraordinary — indeed, the whole proceeding is of so strange a character, that I scarcely know even now what to make of it. Have you anything more to say, gentlemen V " Why, there are," said Dr. Bowlemout, " two or thre« points upon which I should like to be informed. You are related, I believe, to the Royal Family?" "Sir!" thundered Goodman, and his eyes flashed with all their wonted fire. " Old as I am, I am not a man to be' insulted with impunity." "Calm yourself: come, come, my dear sir, be cool!" said Dr. Bowlemout. "Cool, sir!" cried Goodman; "do you take me for an idiot ? Think you that I'll consent to be made the sport of fools? Who sent you? Were you in fact sent at all? If you were, why do you liot, like men — '*■ " Mr. Valentine has returned," said the ser- vant, who, after knocking for some time, had entered. — "He wishes ta know, sir, if he may speak with you." LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF " Yes," said Goodman/ " tell him I want him;" and Valentine, wha was then at the door, walked in. ''My dear boy," said Goodman, "I have been grossly insulted ; I never was before ss insulted -a* I have been by these two persons, of whom I have no sort of knowledge." " We simply asked hirri," said Bowlemout, " if he were not related to the Royal Family?" "And why ask so ridiculous a question?" said Valentine, with one of his peculiarly piercing glances. " Because," replied Dr. Bowlemout, " we were informed that he claimed the British crown." "And what if you were thus informed? •What, if even he had such a claim, would it interfere with any claim of yours? What have you to do with the matter? — what is it to you? — Have you," added Valentine, addressing Goodman, "any desire to detain these gentle- menV "None whatever," replied Goodman: "oii the contrary, I wish them gone." " Then you will probably walk with me at once to the door," observed Valentine to the gentlemen in question, who still kept their teats. "We came here, young man," said Dr. Bowlemout, pompously, " to perform a public duty : and we shall go when we please." "Then, if you do," rejoinedi Valentine, "you must please to go immediatriy." "Why?" thundered Dr. Dionysins Dobb. " Because, if you do not," replied Valentine, " I shall be compelled to make you go before you please." ■ At this moment a laughing duet of derision burst from Drs. Bowlemout and Dobb. They Boon, however, found that they had made a slight mistake in their estimate of Valentine's character, for on the instant he seized Dr. Bowlemout by the collar, and without the smallest difficulty brought him to the ground. The moment Dr. Bowlemout was down. Dr. Dobb sprang at Valentine with the ferocity of a tiger, and Goodman sprang at him ; but be- fore he had time to reach him, Valentine, who was then on one knee, caught hold of the legs of Dr. Dobb, and threw him cleverly over Dr. Bowleraout's back. "Keep the fat one down!" shouted Valen- tine. " Don't let him stir ! I'll come back for him in a moment." And he proceeded to drag Dr. Dobb to the door, which he opened, and having thrown him into the street, closed it again, and ran back for the other. " Now, sir !" said Valentine to Dr. Bowlem- out, who was panting for breath, and seemed nearly exhausted, "do you wish to be thrown headlong after your friend, or will you walk?" ' Of the two, Bowlemout decidedly preferred the latter mode of proceeding, and hastened at once to the door; but the moment he had reached the step in safety, he turned round, and scowling at Goodman, cried, with all the breath he appeared to have in his body, " Oh! you shall suffer for this! — we'll have oiir re- venge!" and Valentine pushed him off the ftep, smi closed the door. About half an hour after the departure uf these gentlemen, Walter and Horace looked i^ to invite Goodman to meet a few friends a their house, in the evening. To them he e.xplained what had occxirred, and they expressed their astonishment with extraordinary warmth. He also explaiiied that he .and Valentine were just about to start for Grayesend, at which they appeared to be equally surprised; and after haying ascertained the precise time the boat started, they hastily quitted the house. CHAPTER XI. THE MYSTERIOUS SEIZURE — A GEWTX.EJIAN DROWKED m IMAGINATION FIRST APPEARANCE OP VALEN TINE UPON THE STASE OF THE ITALIAN OPERA, When Goodnjan had adjusted the week's ac- cumulation of papers, he and Valentine walked leisurely towards Comhill, but as he had some little business to transact in the immediate vi- cinity of the Bank, he sent Valentine forward' to amuse himself for half an hour, on the steam- packet wharf. Before the half hour had expired, Goodman had completed the business on hand, and as he felt he that might still be in time for the three o'clock boat, he walked rather briskly towards the quay from which it started. ' He had scarce- ly, however, turned into Fish-street-HiU, when two powerful looking fellows hastily crossed from the opposite side, and placed themselves immediately before him. deavoring to pass them, " a very fine day." " You'd better have a ride along with us, sir," said the fellow, seizing Goodman's right arm. " What do you mean, man !" cried Good- man,, as he strove to wring his arm from the fellow's firm grasp. " Why on'y that we're going to take a quiet country ride, and we wants you to obleedge us with your company, that's all ;" and a coach^ that had been waiting on the opposite side, drew up to the spot on the instant. " In Heaven's name !" exclaimed Goodman, who had become much alarmed, "what can all this mean?" and again he made an effort to disengage his arm, but found it held as firndy as though it had been in a vice. "Come, come, you know, be quiet; it an't o' no us6, you know: none o' your tricks; it won't do," said the fellow. " My good man," cried Goodman, "you are laboring under some strange mistake, — ^indeed, indeed yon are mistaken." " Not a bit of it," growled the fellow, "not a ha'porth! yoiir name's Goodman, an't iti Mr. Grim wood Goodman?" " It certainly is, but" — "Oh! it's aU right! the fus cousin to the Emp'ror of Chany, you know!^-now if so be as you want to be treated like a geneimalij you'll get in at once, without any more bonei!" " But I will not get in !" exclaimed Goodman VALENTINE VOX. 3» " Will," said the fellow, calmly, "there's not (he least compulsion in. life, you know, — on'y you must." "What — what does it mean, sir'! — ^where is your authority for this monstrous proceeding'?" " Oh, we have got lots of authority," cried the fellovv; and his assistant proceed.ed to let down the steps, while the coachman held open the door. " Help ! help !" shouted Goodman, as a gen- tleman passed. " For Heaven's sake, save me fcom these ruffians !" " What's all this about?" said the gentleman, approaching. "It's all right, sir; all quite reg'lar," replied the fellow, first tapping his forehead, and then pl-acing his thumb by the side of his nose, " you understand T" •' Poor fellow !' exclaimed the gentleman in accents of pity. " My good sir, but hear me-^pray hear me !'' cried Goodman. "Go quietly, there's a dear man," said the fentleman, evidently affected. "It is all for le best; these persons will not harm you, in- deed they will not — come, come." " Sir !" exclaimed Goodman — " Oh ! hear me explain ! — stay, stay but for an instant ! — stay, sir, if you are a Chnstian !" but the gentleman, who appeared to be in haste, sighed deeply, while a tear stood in his eye, and passed on. , " Now, are we to clap on a jacket or not !" cried the fellow, vvho began to be impatient. "Good God!" exclaimed Goodman — "wiU no one assist me ? Help ! help ! For the love of Heaven ! — help ! help !" he repeated in tones the most piercing, while he struggled with all the strength at his command. He was, how- ever, but as a child in the grasp of a giant ; for the principal ruffian at once thrust him into the coach, in which Goodman, the benevolent warm-hearted Goodman, sunk back and imme- diately fainted. I While this most extraordinary seizure was being made, Valentine was wailmg with much impatience at the wharf The packet by which ■they were to have started had left, and the la- test, which had immediately after glided like a swan to the spot, was filling fast. It being Saturday, hundreds of persons, consisting chief- ly of merchants, warehousemen, and clerks, whose families annually reside at Gravesend three weeks or a month, hastened down, with the view of joining those families that night, and returning to business early on Monday morning. With these persons almost every seat upon deck was soon occupied. Some began to peniee the weekly journals, some to arrange the papers with which their pockets had been filled, while others, with their arras folded under their coat-tails, were thoughtfully watching the ]piogress of the tide. At length the men on board began to bustle alwut the deck, and the captain mounted one of the boxes by which the paddles were par- tially concealed, and commenced giving orders about the adjustment of certain ropes. As every motion was now indicative of an imme- diate start, Valjntine at once rushed on board, feeling certain that he must have missed Good- man in the crowd He searched tha deck and cabin, however, in vain : and as he looked with anxiety from the side of the vessel, to ascertaia if Goodman were coming, the captain gave hi» cttders to let the boat go. "But one moment!" cried Valentine, ad- dressing the captain. " I expect a friend here in an instant." " Time's up, sir ; can't stop," said the cajv tain. "Now, my lads, come, look alive !" and his people began to unfasten the ropes^ when Valentine leaping upon the barge to which the vessel had been secured, resolved on detaining her a few moments longer. " Captain !" shouted Valentine, making his voice proceed apparently from a little wooden watch-box of an office, adorned with flaming red and blue placards. " Hollo !" cried the captain. " You are wanted in the office '." shouted Valentine. " Why, we're oflF! — who wants me V " One of the proprietors. Here I you must come!" "Blow one of the proprietors!" growled the indignant captain, sotto voce. " Here, old fast a bit ; I wonder what's the matter now." And he jumped from the deck upon the landing barge, and proceeded towards the office, with a countenance expressive of anything -but delight. Valentine again looked most anxiously for Goodman, and just'as he saw some one hasten- ing towards the wharf whom he conceived might be him, the gallant captain returned, and after knocking aside every man who stood in his way shouted, "Who was it said I was wanted 1 I should just like to know," he added, gruffly, on receiving no answer. " I'm. blowed if I wouldn't pitch him right overboard bansr !" and having scrambled to the top of the paddle-box, again gave the signal for starting. Valentine, however, being determined to give Goodman a few minutes more, no sooner heard ihe well known signal given, than send- ing his voice under the stem of the vessel, hft. shouted — " Help ! help ! a boat, a boat ! Help-! help ! help !" — so loudly, that in a moment the persons who were standing on the wharf joined in the ciy simultaneously with the passengers on board. Down dashed the boat which had been hauled up to the stem, with a force which must have killed any man out and out if one had happened to have been there ; while other boats instantly came to the spot, and every available rope was in immediate requisition. The boats darted round and round the vessel, in vain, followed by the eyes of the passen- gers, who appeared to be in a state of great excitement, while the steam was hissing, pant- ing, and snorting with as much angry violence as if it had been perfectly cognisant of'the trick. " Poor soul !" exclaimed a stout old gentle- man, who stood upon the barge, " he hait sunk, I fear, to rise no i.iore !" " Help ! Here, here, here !" shouted Valen- tine, and away the boats flew to the spot from which the sound appeared to pioceed, while the passengers rushed from si ie .o side with the most painful auxie'y. 40 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF "Where, where are you?" cried one of the boatmen. " My good fellow — now, now ! give another haU! — where are you?" S'Here !" cried Valentine. "Starn! stam!" shouted the captain, in haste. '' Look alive !" Ana way went the boats again astern. " Have you got him V he inquired of the men; "have you got him?" But the reply was, " If we could but only see him we shouldn't care." " Make haste," shouted Valentine. "Where ?" cried the captain, " where, where, piy poor fellow — where are you?" "On the wheel," exclaimed Valentine, faintly. ',' Hold on but a moment ! now, now, my lads — now! to the wheel; now, hurrah!" cried the captain, whose eyes at once sparkled with joy, for he felt that he should save the poor fellow at last. "Move a-head!" cried Valentine, assuming the voice of a lad whom he had heard give the order before, and the wheels on the instant dashed violently round amidst a general shout of horror ! The wheels were stopped ; the foam subsi- ded.; but the voice was heard no more. The passengers looked at each other aghast. The eaptain stared at the boy and the boy stared at the captain ; but neither of them uttered a word — indeed, fdr several minutes a death-like -silenpe prevailed, and the general conviction W51S, that the wheel had dasdhed down the un- fortunate man, who had become too much ex- hausted to rise again to the surface. ■ Valentine again looked round for hlsguardian, but again was most grievously disappointed. The vessel was then half an hour behind time ; and as he felt that it would be useless to de- tain her any longer^ he made up his mind to let aer go. The men in the boats were still watch- ing the surface of the river intently ; the cap- tain was explaining to the boy what he had done, and the boy was declaring to the sceptical captain, that the order to- move a-head had not proceeded from him, while the passengers and the persons who stood upon the barge were relating to each other how the poor fellow struggled as they saw him in imagination go down ; and descanting very freely upon all that was known of the characteristics peculiar to a ■jvatery grave. The captain, at length, feeling that nothing more could be done for the "poor fellow," again prepared to start, and Valentine, in order to relieve his mind, sent a loud shout of laugh- ter immediately behind him. The effect was electrical. Nothing could exceed the astonish- ment displayed by- the captain. He turned sharply round, with a bosom swelling with in- dignation, in order to ascertain what manner Gf man he could be who thus had the cold- blooded inhumanity to laugh at so awful a mo- ment as that. "It was only a joke!" exclaimed Valentine. "A joke!" cried the captain, indignantly, "a joke!" " Why, yes, I wasn't overboard at all !" shout- ed Valentine. " I only made believe !" " Made believe I" cried the captain, looking scornfully towards the quarter from whirh tbo sound appeared to proceed. " Who is it tl^t spoke? who only made believe? I'll give 3 crown out of my own pocket to know !-r-for that man, if he was even the king of England, should not remain aboard of my boat another instant. I'd make him go ashore, if I wouldn't — who was it? ' As the inhuman person in question refiised to reply, and as the indignant captain found il impossible to discover the delinquent, he with evident reluctance again gave the signal fonstart- ing, when the vessel was released from her moo> ings, and glided majestically down with the tide. The very moment the boat was out of sight, Valentine started to the residence of the citizen upon whom Goodman had called, on his way to the wharf, and having there ascertained that he had left in great haste, he proceeded home, fancying that something of importance might have occurred to induce his guardian to return. On hearing, however, that he had not returned, he concluded at once that he must have started by the first boat, unseen in the crowd, and after allowing the servant to bring up the tray with some cold beef and salad, he began to think how he should amuse himself until the morn- ing, when he intended to foUow by the earliest boat. No sooner had he finished his meaj and drank a couple of glasses of port, which had been left in the decanter, than Horace arrived in a state of great e.vcitement, to inquire if within the last hour his father had been there ? On being informed that he had not, hise.xcitee ment increased, but on learning that Valentine had just returned alone, he smiled with intense satisfaction, and entered the parlor at once. " Well, my young ancient !" cried Horace, " why, I thought you were off to the aristocratic regions of Gravesend !" "I did start for that purpose," said Valen» tine, "but I unfortunately missed your uncle." " Of course ! Why you did'nt expect any other thing, did you? It's just like the old undeniable. He and my governor in that little particular are just as much alike as two wheel- barrows. Only let 'em slip, and they go in- and-out, in-and-out, like a couple of crocodiles, and if you ever catch so much as a sight of 'em again, why you must have an 6ye likfi a Flaiv ders brick. But 1 say, my little antedilmiaii, haven't you got a glass 01 wine to give a fel- low ? W here does old owe-nothing keep it ?" " Upon my word I don't know, but Arm will get us some, doubtless," replied Valentine, ringing the bell. " Ay, that's the very card," observed Horace, " for I am about fit to drop." And he cocked his legs deliberately upon the table. " I say, my Seraphina," he continued, as Aim entered the room, " here's a dreadful state of mind for a botUe to be in ! come, give it a beUy-fUll self." ^ During the whole of the time the professional gentlemen were making themselves fit to be seen, Valentine wau highly amused at theil ridiculous and most improbable surmises. It was, however, at length carried unanimously, that whoever she was, she was really ''no better than she should be," but how she escaped from behind was a mystery which they all declared their utter inability to solve. The call-boy now entered to summon the choristers, who descended, and the seoor.d ao< commenced. The audience were evidentlj 46 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF piqued about something which might have been easily explained ; but as the immediate object of Valentine was to restore theiti to perfect good humor, he directed his voice into the middle of the pit, and exclaimed in a half-sup- pressed tone, " mind your pockets." No sooner had this simple exclamation been uttered, than a simultaneous movement on the part of the gentlemen proved how extremely anxious they were to profit by the advice which it cohveyed; and while each was ascertaining if all he had brought with him were safe, he cast an eye of unwarrantable suspicion upon every individual in his immediate vicinity. " Ladies ! have a care !" shouted Valentine; and the lustlinf of silk dresses became really unexampled. "My watch!" he continued in ths voice of a female, " you have got it ! my watch ! oh my dear little watch !" ' At this interesting moment the entire pit rose, while the persons in the boxes looked with great anxiety, but, to the perfect amazement of them all, they were utterly unable to dis- cover the lady from whom the said dear little watch had been stolen. "Officers! officers!" cried Valentine, as- suming the same voice ; and officers from va- rious parts of the house rushed at once into the pit. " I've got him !" continued Valentine. " Where !" cried a gentleman armed with a staff. " Here ! officers ! officers !" and those respect- able functionaries followed the sound with considerable zeal and dexterity. " You know that you have it ! you know it too well ! oh, give it me back and I'U let you escape." " No ! hold him ! — ^hold him !" cried an of- ficer, who rushed to the spot from whence the sound had apparently pi-oeeeded, but having reached the point proposed, he was stung with disappe^tment. He could find neither a per- son who had stolen a watch, nor a person from whom any watch had been stolen. The peo- ple around .him were staring at each other with astonishment, he could not obtain even the slightest information, and as the voice was heard no more, it was taken at once for granted, that the felony had been compromised. With this conviction impressed deeply upon their minds, the people gradually resumed their seats, and when order was somewhat restored, another desperate attempt was made to proceed with the opera. ""On the •preliminary chord being struck by the gentlemen in the orchestrg., who had just taken snuff all around with extraordinary vio- lence — ^four of the principal artistes dashed for- ward in a rage to sing an affecting quartette. They commenced with an apparent contempt for the music, and proceeded in an extremely careless style - rent of these adventures to inquire whether the feelings which actuate those who delight in< setting honor, virtue, justice, and decency at defiance, are attribu.able to property, blood, or education, — it may be said with perfect safety, that Valentine,,whe.her naturally or not, was' impressed with no very high notions of Horace, with reference either to the strength of his head or to the soundness of his heart, for having watched his actions narrowly, and viewed the direct tendency of each, he had seen quite suf- ficient to convince him, that circumstances might make him a really great villain, but never could make him a really great man. With this conviction deeply impressed upon his mind, he wound up his watch and went to sleep, and having dreamt of fairyland through- out the nighty he rose unusually early, ate ,a most substantial breakfast, and started at once for the steam packet wharf. It happened to be an extremely hot morning, and as the sun was making desperate efforts to send its bright rays through the vapors whicji mantled the earth, the sparrows resolved to do business while they were able, were hopping about gaily from tile to tile, and from brick to brick, well knowing that when the mist, bad been dispelled, those tiles and those bricks would be too hot to hold them. As he proceeded, the public vehicles were rattling over the stones with remarkable velocV, ty, and while the horses were adorfied with blue and yellow rosettes, widi the view of enabling them to enjoy themselves with ths knowledge of its being Sunday,, each drivei proiully sported his gayest clothes ard the largest bunch of waU-flowers a penny could procure. As Valentine drew near the wharf, crowds of persons were hastening in piecisely the same direction ; some wiih childjen in their aims, some with baskets of proviaions in their hands, aud others who, although with neither children or provi.=ions, appeared just as happy as those who had both. It was interesting to analyze the mass of in- dividuals who crowded the deck of the vessel, for they indicated their social posilions as plain- ly as if each had been stamped with a " di&f tinctive die." There stood the mechanic, the creases in whose coat told plainly not only that it was worn but once a week, but that infinite care had been taken to preserve the pristine- beauty of the nap by keeping it folded in a trunk or drawer. There was, however, a strongly marked difference between the married and single mechanic; for while the former was VALiiiJNTlNE VOX. 4a calculating pvecisely how much the trip would ooet, the latter, in the plenitude of his liberal- ity, was priding himself upon the force with which he sent to perdition all idea of the ex- pense. Nor was the distinction between the married and the single of this class developed by the gentlemen alone: the countenance of the married lady displayed an anxiety about her little household gods, and a strong disposi- tion to show her authority as a wife by finding fault with every trifling thing that occurred, while Ihe single lady had little thought indeed of home, and being resolved to appear highly delighted with everything, laughed very mer- rily at anything or nothing. But the mode of wearing the shawl was alone sufficient to mark the distinction between them; for while the married lady would have hers spread upon her back in order that the whole of the pattern might be seen, the single lady carried hers gra!oefully upon her arm, with the only ostensible view 01 showing that she had such a thing as a shawl iti her possession. ■ Aloof from ihese persons stood those who kept chandlers', butchers', and green-grocers' shops; and each gentleman belonging to this class prided himself especially upon having a handsome turn-out by hia side in the shape of nis "missis," — a lady who not only dresses herself, but superintends the adornment of her husband. He must wear hia chain thus, and his shirt pin thus, and as she allows herself mdy, to tie his cravat, she has, of course, what- ever knot she may happen to fancy. His hair must go so, and his waistcoat so — in a word, there is nothing in which she has not a hand, for although it may be true that she permits him 'to shave his own chin, he must be careful not to place his domestic peace in peVil by spoiling the shape of his whiskers. With re- gard to the adornment of her own person, she exercises of courst;, her undoubted prerogative, by wearing precisely whatever she thinks pro- per. If she cannot procure a couple of red pbsRS sufliciently large, she will establish a brace of becoming sunflowers between her cap and bonnet, the size of which latter affair is inva- riably immense ; anil she will have a long white veil and a plume of feathei'S, whether veils and feathers be worn by the aristocracy or not ; and beyond all dispute when ladies in this sphere are dressed, they are dressed, for therei never did appear in any rainbow a color that they have not got something about them to match. But even these with their husbands did not cojistitute in fact the elite of the vessel ; there were very, very different beings on board : — - the milliners, the shopmen, and the clerks! — but although the clerks and shopmen might be Said to form one class of persons, the difference between even them was distinctly developed, for Ihe clerks had pale faces and delicate hands, while the faces of the shopmen were full and their hands red as blood. There was moreover something in the expression of the eVe, by which this distinction was marked. The eyes of the clerks were comparatively ^niet and unassuming, but the shopinen had really very impudent eyes, and while they ■ 4 E were lost in admiration of the ladies, the clerks appeared lost in admiration of themselves. When the clock struck ten, between five and six hundred individuals had managed to estab- lish themselves upon the deck, and as the band, consisting of a harp, a violin, and a fife, began to play a highly popular tune, the boat started. Ginger beer and bottled stout were ia immediate requisition, and while many of the unencumbered gentlemen were smoking their cigars, Valentine was learning the various orders that were giving by the captain through the boy who stood just above the place ia which the engine was working. The vessel had not proceeded far, when, fancying that he could imitate the voice of the boy exactly, he determined to try the effect of the experiment; and as he had become quite au fait to the orders that were given, the very moment the boat had passed the shipping, he commenced with " Ease ar !" " No, no ; go on," said the captain. " Go on !" cried the boy. " Ease ar !" shouted Valentine again. "Who told you to ease her?" said the cap- tain to the boy. '■' Stop ar !" cried Valentine, and the engine stopped at once. " What are you about, sir !" shouted the captain ; " you'd better mind what you are af- ter. Go on, sir, and let's have no more of that nonsense." ., " Go on !" cried the boy, who couldn't ex- actly understand it, although, he looked round and scratched his head with great energy. At this moment a wherry was seen just a- head waiting .to put three passengers on board, and as the vessel approached her, the captaui raised his hind. "Ease arl" cried the boy who was watch- ing that hand, and as it moved again, he ndded " stop ar !" when the steps were let down, and a man stood ready with a boat-hook ?i 'cured by a rope, whde the waterman was pull.ng away with all the strength he had in him. "Go on!" cried Valentine, just as the boat had reached the side, and the Vfss<-1 dashed away and left the wherry behind her. " Stop her I" shouted the captain very angrily, " what is the ihatter with you, sir, thii morning?" " Stop ar !" cried the innocent boy; and tha waterman, who was very old and not very strong, pulled away again as hard as he could pull ; but as he had to row against the tide, and had been left some considerable distance behind, it was a long time before he could manage to get up again, although he perspired very freely. He did, however, at length suc- ceed in getting alongside; but just as he was reaching the steps again, Valentine cried, "Move her astarn!' — when, as the vessel went back very fast with the tide, she left the wherry some considerable distance a-head. "Stop her! you scoundrel! go on! What d'ye mean,sir ?" shouted the captain indignantly. "Stop ar! — Go on!" cried the boy, who couldn't make it out exactly even then — " ease 60 LIFE AND ADVENTUBES OF at !" —he cried again, as the captain waved his hand — " stop ar !" " Go on !" cried Valentine, in precisely the same tone, and the vessel again left the wherry behind her. As the captain, at this interesting moment, threw his hat at the boy, and as the boy began to rub his head violently, as if it had struck him, the vessel proceeded so far before the order " to go on," had been counteracted, that the waterman, feeling that they were having a game with him, quietly gave the thing up. Now the captain was really a remarkable man, but the chief chaTacteristics of his mind were even more remarkable than those of his body. He had been a most extraordinary Bwearer, but having imbibed a propensity for ftterature and art, a ten months' quiet indul- gence in that propensity had made him alto- gether a different nidividual. Instead of going, Kke a man without a soul, every evening to a neighboring public house to smoke his pipe, and to have his stint, — narhely, seven four- penny-worths of shot gin-and-water, and he always knew when he had that stint by the seven pewter spoons which he had placed in a row before him — he kept philosophically at home, with the view of obtaining a perfect mastery over the subjects of Theology, Geo- logy, Phrenology, and Physiology, and as for swearing! — it will be necessary only to say ihis, that he had sworn that he would never Bwear again. How, then, to express his feelings when irri- tated, became a difficulty which he had every day to surmount. He had not the least notion of bridling his passion ; his object was simply to bridle his tongue ; and as swearing — if use be indeed second nature — had clearly become natural to him, he was frequently in danger of bursting some very important blood-vessel, be- cause he would not give vent to his rage in the language to which he had been so long accus- tomed. He would keep it pent up, and it was pent up while the steamer was dodging the wherry ; but when he found that the waterman had ceased to ply his sculls, and that the oppo- sition vessel would have the three passengers in consequence, his rage knew nj bounds. "You beauty !" cried he to the boy at length, finding that he must either say something or burst. "Oh! bless your pretty eyes! — You miderstand me !" " Ease ar!" cried Valentine. " At it again !" exclaimed the captain ; " oh, you darling, you sweet pretty boy ! Oh, I'll Kive you pepper ! ony let me come down to jou, that's all, you duck, and I'll give you the bijautifuUest towelling you ever enjoyed. Let liur go, sir." " Go on !" whined the boy. " It a'n't me ; I can't help it." "What! Say, that again — only say it — and if I don't make you spin'found and round, like a I \' ing young cockchafer, seize me." And the pii.H boy began to dig his knuckles in his eyes, and ro whine a repetition of what was held to be a falsehood. " Ay, whine away, my dear !" cried the cap- tain, " whine away ! If you don't hold that noise, I'll come down and give you a clout o one side o' the head tliat you never hafl afore !" " Ease ar !" cried Valentine. " What, won't you be quiet V "Stopar!" " What is it you mean, you young — angel? What is it you mean?" cried the captain, as he stood in a sitting posture, with his hands upon his knees, " do you want a good welting T ony say, and you ghall catch, my dear, the bles- senest rope's-ending you ever had any notion on yet. Now 1 give you fair warning. If I have any more of this, if it's ever so little, I'll come down and give you the sweetest hiding that ever astonished your nerves ! So ony look out, my dear ! Take a friend's advice, and look out. Well ! — are we to perceed V "Goon!" cried the boy; and he. still worked away with his knuckles, and screwed up his features into the ughest form they were capa- ble of assuming. " Oh, you young beauty ! — you know what I mean," cried the captain, as he ground his grea,t teeth and shook his fists at the innocent boy, whose eyeswere by this time so swollen, that he could scarcely see out of them at ail. "You stink for a good tanning, and I'll ease your mind, my dear — if I don't, may I be — saved ! So now you know my sentiments." And having delivered himself loudly to tills effect, he thrust his hands triumphantly into his breeches pockets, and directed the whole of his attention a-head. His eye was, however, no sooner off the boy, than Valentine again cried " Ease ar ! stop ar f" but long before the sound of the last " ar" haa died away, the captain seized a rope Hbout as thick as his wrist, and without giving utterance even to a word, jumped down upon the deck with a deep inspiration of the spirit of ven- geance. " Away, boy ! run !" cried Valentine, quickly; and the boy, who was evidently anything but an idiot, darted like lightning among the pas- sengers. The captain, at starting, Was close at his heels ; but the boy shot a-head vvith such skill, and then dodged him round and round, and in and out, with so much tact and dexte- rity, that it soon became obvious that he had been chased in a manner not very dissimilar before. " Lay hold of that boy !" cried the captain, " lay hold of him there !" but the passengers, who rather enjoyed the chase, refused to do any such thing. They, on the contrary, endeavored to shield the boy ; and whenever they fancied that the captain was gaining ground, although he would not have caught him in a fortnight, a dozen of the stoutest would — of course acci- dentally — ^place themselves quietly before him. " Come here !" cried the captain, panting for breath ; " Will you mind what I say, sir? come here !" but the boy, who didn't seem to approve of that course, did discreetly refuse to accept the invitation, and the captain was, in conse quence after him again. At length Valentine raised a contemptuous laugh, and as it had in an instant at least a hundred echoes, the captain's philosophy ope» VALENTINE VOX. 51 ed liis eyes, and he saw the propriety of giving up the cnase. '•' Here, Robinson !" said he, "just give a look out here. Bless his Utile soul, he shall have a quilting yet," and after telling the gentlemen below to go on, he silently ascended the paddle- box again, and Robinson took the boy's place. The vessel now proceeded without intemip- jon, and as Valentine could not conveniently imitate Robinson'^ voice, until he had actually heard Robinson speak, he left fgr a time that particular spot, for the purpose of looking a little about him. The first person he encountered was a stoutly-built black-whiskered gentleman, who was enjjaged in the destruction of a nice little book, by wantonly tearing out the leaves, and disposing of each for two shillings. The re- markable avidity with which these leaves were purchased, led Valentine naturally to believe that they contained some very valuable infor- mation. He, therefore, bought one of them at once, and having easily made himself master of its contents, cried — throwing his voice behind the destroyer — r" Now, where are my seven V " Seven ?" said the destroyer, " yes, three, five, seven," and seven of the leaves were torn out at one pull. "Now then !" said Valentine, assuming the same voice. " Here they are, sir, hete they are," said the destroyer. "Well, hand 'em over, will youi" cried Valentine. "Here, sir; seven, sir? seven?" and the seven >Tere offered to every man near him. " Me and my missis vonts two," observed a fentleman who held his pocket open with one and, and dived the other down to the bottom. "Tip us a cupple, old boy," said another, who sported a hat with a nine-inch brim. "0 pie sir, pa wants flee," said a very little lady with four ringlets hanging down behind rather thicker than her arm. "Well! where are my seven?" cried Valen- tine again, assuming the same voice as before. •' None o' your larks yer know ; cos it wont fit," said the angry destroyer without turning round. " Then I'll just go ashore without paying at all," observed Valentine. " Will yer?" said he who held the book, with an ironical smile, at the same time looking full m the face of an individual who happened to be laughing at the moment. " Then praps you list won't; for I'll jist keep a hextry look out. You call yourself a genelman, don't yeri? So don't I;" and his blood began to boil, and his veins began to swell, and he tore some more leaves out with great indignation. Valentine then at once proceeded to the " sa- oon," but as he found only a few young ladies with their lovers, indulging tenderly in sweet discourse, and sipping from, lime to time dead ginger beer, he left them to open their hearts to each other, and made his way into the "cabin." In this place, the ladies and gentle- men seemed for the most part to have the same object in view, jut were infinitely less senti- mental in Its pursuit. Bottled stout was ap- parently the favorite beverage, but some had a little gin-and-water on the top, and as most of the gentlemen were smoking, each appeared to be then in the full indulgence of the very purest sublunary pleasure, by holding a pipe in his right hand, and clasping the waist of his intended with the left. Their conversation was by no means of a stricdy private character. That which prevailed, touched the lowness of wages generally, and in order to demonstrate the cause of this re- markable state of things, an individual was creating an immense sensation, by showing the absolute necessity for the adoption of universal suffi:age. The noise which proceeded from this highly accomplished orator, drowned the voices of all who wished to get a word in " edge- ways," and if any one presumed to offer an opinion, which happened to be even in the slightest degree opposed to that which he had expressed, a volley of abuse, couched in terms neither, elegant nor grammatical, was perfecUy sure to assail him. At length, Valentine, anxious to ascertain the extent to which he would go in support of hie principles, took occasion to observe in a very grufF voice, as the orator was denouncing every man as a trator, who hesitated to go what he termed "the ole og," with him — "We don't want universal suf&age here." "Ve don't vont huniwersle suffrage !" cried the orator. " Lor sen I may live ! — ^not vont it? Veil, strike me ! — not vont huniversle suff — ^Vell, may I be kicked to the middle o' next veek ! Vy ve vont nothink helse ! I am for hevery man bein alike vithout hextinction ; and I means for to say this, that hevery man as isn't of the same sentiments, ought to be drur out o' society. Not vont huniversle — Veil, may I — but stop, let's ave a little hargriment about that ere. Now then — Vy don't ve vont the suf- frage to be huniwersle ? That's the question I" and the orator winked and gave his head a most significant nod. " Vy don't we vont the suffrage to be huniwersle ?" " Because," replied Valentine^ throwing his voice to the other end of the cabm, — " because every fool like you would have it then to abuse." ^ That was sufficient. The orator laid down his pipe ; took a deep draught of stout ; puUed his coat off; tucked his shirt-sleeves above the elbows, and challenged the voice to a " kipple o' rounds — just ony a kipple !" In one moment the whole cabin was in an uproar.- The ladies were respectively begging their beloveds to abstain from all interference, while the orator's lady clung to his neck, and with tears in her eyes, implored him not to " bemean himself by dirtying his hands with any sich lowbred feller." For some considerable time, the enraged orator was inexorable ; but he was at length prevailed upon to put on his coat, when, although he vowed vengeance upon all who dared to differ with him in opinion, the minds of the ladies and their lovers were once more at ease. There were, however, several married gen. tlemen here whose ladies were languishing on deck, and as Valentine thought this extremelT 52 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF unfair, he went up with a view to their imme- diate re-union. " Do you know," said he, whispering, in an assumed voice of course, in the ear of a highly dressed dame, " do you know whom your hus- band is kissing in the cabin V The lady locked ronnd with an expression of amazement. " Do you know her'?" he continued, and although quite unable to discover who had spoken, she started up at once and went to take a survey. "Don't let your husband drink any more of that gin," said he to another with precisely the same result. " Do you suffer your husDand to treat every girl he meets V and thus he went on until he had sent nearly all the married ladies, whose husbands had absented them- selves, into the cabin. "Ease hor !■' cried Robinson, in a rough heavy tone. " That's the voice to imitate !" said Valen- tine to himself. " Now's the time for me to reinstate the boy," and as he saw a boat making towards the vessel ahead, he shouted with true Robinsonian energy, " Go on 1" " No, no !" cried the captain, " no. no ! you're as bad as the boy !" " Ease hor !" shouted Robinson, " I didn't speak !" " Go on !" cried Valentine, and round went the paddles again, for the engineer himself now began to be excited. " Do you want to drive me mad?" cried the captain. " What d'yar mean ?" shouted Robinson, •' that wasn't me V " What ! what !" exclaimed the captain, " not you ! Oh Robinson, Robinson ! don't you know, Robinson, how very wrong it is for to tell a blessed falsity for to hide a fault?" " I tell you it wasn't me then ! If you don't like to believe me you may call out yourself!" and Robinson walked to the head of the vessel, and laying veiy violent hands upon a rope, dashed it desperately down upon the deck, when, having thus taken his measure of ven- geance, he folded his arms, and seemed to feel a little better. " Will you promise to behave yourself, boy, if I take you on again?" cried the captain. " Yes, sir," said the boy, as well as he could, considering that his mouth was at that moment full of bread and butter; when, watching the motion of the captain's hand, he cried " ease ai ! — stop ar !" for the boat was still approaching. The boy now emptied his mouth as soon as possible, and wiped his lips clean with a handful of oily tow, when Valentine, determined to let the little fellow recover the good opinion of the captain by pursuing the proper course, pro- ceeded to the side of the vessel. In the boat, which drew near, sat an elderly gentleman, and an exceedingly elegant young person, who appeared to be his daughter. Valentine was struck with the extreme beauty of her countenance, and gazed on her intently. He felt that he had never beheld so beautiful a creature before ; and the nearer she approach- ed the side of the vessel — which was still, jihhough the engine had been stopped, going f eiitiy, the more his rapture increased. Just, however, as the person who had the manage- ment of the hook caught the head of the boat, the old gentleman rose from his seat, when the suddenness of the unexpected jerk which is invariably given at that moment, sent him back with so much violence, that he was plunged into the river in an ijstant. "My father!" shrieked the lady, "my father !" and extending her arms, she fel breathless upon him. " Save ihem!" shoutedfifty of the passengers at once. "Let the boat go!" cried the waterman, " let the boat go !" But the hand of the man who held the boat-hook was powerless, and as the bodies clasped together were floating with the tide, Valentine rushed to the stern of the vessel, anil dashed at once into the stream. The force with which he plunged carried him down to a great depth, and his clothes became so weighty that they would scarcely allow him to rise, and when he did rise he found himself still some considerable distance from them; but he struck out gallantly, and reached them at the moment they were sinking to rise no more. The fir^t thing he caught was the hair of the father, whose effort to seize the hand which held him was instantaneous ; but Valen- tine dexterously evaded his grasp, and having caught the dress of the lady, whose arms were still twined round her father's neck, he held them up at arm's length, while the Boats were approaching. The struggles of the old gentleman to seize Valentine now became desperate. His contortions were violent in the extreme. He dashed, and plunged, and struck at him like a maniac, and did at length succeed in winding his legs round the body of Valentine so firmly, that had it not been for the aid which arrived at the moment, they must inevitably have gone down together ; for even when they had been dragged into the boat, the old gentle- man would not relinquish his hold until they had managed to convince him of the fact, that he and his daughter were perfectly safe. The vessel, which had been backing all the time with the tide, now arrived at the spot; and when the poor old gendeman had been assisted on board, Valentine took the young lady, who had fainted, in his arms, and having reached the deck, proceeded at once to the saloon, where every attention was paid to her and her father, w^ith a view to their immediate restora- tion. All being now perfectly secure, Valentine left the saloon for the cabin, and on his way a hundred hands were extended towards him by the passengers, who warmly e.xclaimed, " God bless you, my fine fellow ! Nobly done ! God bless you !" The ladies were deeply affected; and shed tears of joy as he passed, and would have dried his dripping clothes in their bos- ms. On reaching the cabin, he sent one o' the men to the steward for a shirt and whatever other clothes he might happen to have, and while the steward was engaged in looking ont a complete suit, he undressed, and after dryhig himself as well as he could without assistance, he got one of the passengers, who happened to be a master-blacksmith, to rub him down with VALENTINE VOX. 53 ft rough towel until his eif lire body became red as blood. As soon as this glowing operation had been performed, he received a full suit from the hands of the steward. The first thing he put on' was a rough-checked shirt, and then fol- lowed a pair of fine white lambswool hose which belonged to the amiable stewardess : he then drew on a pair of breeches, in which Daniel Lambert himself would not have felt at all -uncomfortable, and then a pair of real epiuggler's boots, which were indeed a decent ;fit, considering : then a waistcoat which had to be doubled over and over again at the back, hut even then all the persuasion in the world couldn't make it come close, and when by way of a finishing touch, he got into the steward's striped jacket — the sleeves of which he tucked up about a quarter of a yard, in order to give his hands a breath of air — his tout ensemble was 60 complete, that a stranger might naturally have been ,led to infer, that if the clothes he then wore did fit him the day previous, he must, have had a very bad night of it indeed. However, thus attiied he returned to the sa- loon, to see how those whom he had rescued were faring. He found the young lady recov- ering fast, and her father giving utterance to many fervent ejaculations; but the moment they were informed that he who had saved them was present, the old gentleman affection- ately grasped one hand, while the lady seized the other and kissed it warmly. "My brave young fellow ! God bless you !' exclaimed the old gentleman, when, conceiving from his dress that he belonged to the vessel, he added, "here, here is my card: call at my house, and I'll reward you ; my brave young man, I'll reward you." iValentine, perceiving his mistake, smiled, but took the card and spoke to the lady, who . although extremely pale, looked more beauti- ful than before. " Come, drink, my fine fellow ! I like you ! — ypu're a trump '" cried a jolly-looking genlle- ■jgnan, in checked trousers, as he held out a glass of hot brandy-and-water. "You did it nobly — bravely! drink it up, my young hero, and then we'U have another. Up. with it, my boy ! — ^it'll keep all the cold out." Of this fact, Valentine had not the smallest doubt, for he found it remarkably strong ; but as he had drank with several persons before, he politely declined taking more than a sip. • The vessel now drew near Gravesend, and Valentine proceeded to take leave of her of whom he already felt deeply en^inored. "You will call and see us, will you not?" said the lady as she pressed his hand, and raised her eyes, which looked like brilliants set m gold. Valentine gazed on her beautiful face, and was silent. "You will" — she continued — " you will prom- ise to calH Papa will, I'm sure, be delighted to see you! — ^Why will you not promise?" "I dg," said Valentine, who, while listening to. the music of her voice^ had been perfectly nnconscipus of a reply bemg expected, " I do, 1 do promise; and when I assure you that nothing could impart so much pleasure" — He pressed her hand, but could say no more, foi her eyes were again turned full upon him, and seemed to be beaming with gratitude and love. "Come, take another sup!" cried the jolly- looking gentleman, again approaching. "It strikes me you look rayther pale; and as for you not taking cold ! — why my missis won't have it at no price." "Not any more," said Valentine, who al- though he appreciated the warmth of his heart, at that moment wished him anywhere but there. ' ' The young lady perhaps will have a drain ■*" continued the persevering pest. " Oh ! have a little, miss! It'll do your heart good. My missis is sure you'll be laid up if you don't, and whatever she says, why of course you know is gospel." The lady, however, gracefully declined, and after many warm acknowledgments, on her part, and on the part of the old gentlemen, her father, Valentine took leave of them, and wejit upon deck. The pier was now in sight, and the mind of the captain had happily recovered its wonted tranquillity ; but the boy, although he had en- deavored to do his duty with the utmost zesd, was by no means sure that the captain did not still intend to keep his promise with reference to the " quilting." It was true, the captain spoke to him with perhaps a somewhat greater degree of kindness than he ever had spoken before ; but this tended to increase the appre- hension of the little fellow, who having heard of the prelude to the crocodile's attack, at once fan- cied that this was but the prelude to aa attack on the part of the captain. He therefore most anxiously watched his every movement, and when the vessel had reached the pier, he trem- bled violently, for the captain immediately de- scended from his post — an operation which he usually deferred until after the whole' of the passengers had landed. Nothing could exceed the steadine=;s with which the boy kept his eye fixed Upon him, and whenever he went witlun reach of a rope, he drew himself up for an immediate start. His fears were however vain; for the captain's admiration of Vaventine's con- duct had effectually subdued every angry feel- ing, and as it became obvious that he had descended with a view of expressing that admi- ration, the boy began to feel a little more com- fortable again. " I am delighted," cried the captain, taking Valentine by the hand, " I am perfectly delight- ed with your hero-like conduct in saving them two feller creturs. There's somethink wery like it in Ossian's Iliad — Ossian's? — of course, it is Ossian's — where a gentleman, I thitik it was Artaxerxes, but that I'm not sure of, dived down to the bottom of the Po to fetch up Peter the Great, who was washing his feet on the bank with Cassius, who was, you know, one of the Grecian gods." " Ahj and did he succeed?" inquired Valen- tine, with apparent anxiety. " I don't think it says," replied the captain ■ "but at all events he never rose again." "What a pity ! Tut, tut !— what a pity fo be LIFE ANB ADVENTURES OF sure ! Then, of course, he couldn't infonn the world whether he did or not?" " By no means," observed the captain, " and that you see's the mischief of history. No man was ever able to write his own life complete. He's certain to go off the hooks before he has finisned it: that's the misfortune. Jt.tfrikes mej" he continued, looking earnestly a)|^alen- tine, " il strikes me, uiile-ss I am wer^ li^h mistaken, that you have the organ of ^ir- ageousness powerfully deweloped. i should like to examme yom- head. That orgar. there, just above the eye there, seems to be werr*^ full, and when that is combined to the one that is sittivated under the ear, it makes up cour- ageonsness perfect. But I was sure, that you'd got it when you''dived so beautiful. We fin4. It in 3ucks worry strong." " A plirenologist, I perceive." "I take great delignt in the science. 1 can tell a man's character to a hair. I've the whole of the organs at my finger's ends; now this, for instance " "You've a fine sharp lad here," said Valen- tine, as the captain was about to finger his organs ; " he appears to be very attentive." " Yes, he's all werry well," said the captain, " but he au't got no soul. Besides, he don't know exactly how to behave himself some- times. Did you see how he went on this morning?" "Boys, you know, are but boys,'' observed Valentine, and the novelty of that remarkable observation, proceeding, as it did, from so re- markable a man, had so' striking an efiect upon the captain, that he at once consented to defer the promised "pepper," until the conduct of which he complained should be repeated. "Now," said Valentine, "will you dome the favor to allow the boy to carry my wet clothes on shore V " By all manner of means in the world !" re- plied the captain. "Here, boy ! attend to this gentleman. Go and see after his things ; and mind how you behave yourself, sir, d'ye hear?" The boy obeyed with alacrity, and Valentine escaped from the captain apparently with the view of surveying the pier. The passengers were still, as usual, crowding from the vessel. Had they gone in turn quietly they would all have got on shore much sooner, and with an infinitely greater degree of comfort to them- selves ; but they must crowd, and plunge, and show their teeth, and work away with their elbows, as each strove to get before the other. One lady was loudly lamenting over the fact of her bonnet being desperately crushed ; another was endeavoring to recover her reticule, the strings of which she held, while the bag itself was fixed between the hips of two ladifes who were going -with the stream about five rows behind her, while another was looking particularly unamiable at a gentleman who was mnocently digging his elbow into that particu- lar cavity which is just beneath the ear. " For goodness sake !" cried one, " don't equeedge." " Where are you drivin to ?" shout- ed another. " I say, you sir !" cried a third, " jist take your fist out of the small of my back, good luck to you!" They still, however, crowded on, and displ.s.yed as much anxietj la quit the vessel as if she then had been in flames. "Have you lost anything, sir?" whispered Valentine in the ear of a tall gentleman, *hosB efforts to drive past his neighbor.is had been reaUy very desperate. The gentleman in an instant drew back, in- spired with the horrid suspicion of havitig lost something, although it certainly did not appear ihat he had much to lose. In the first place,: ' e felt in all his pockets at once, and then learched them again and again in detail; and then labored to recollect if he had brought any- thing from home, which he had not then about him; but even then, although he emptied his pockets and fbund all quite safe, he was any- thing but sure that he hadn't been plundered. " Do you allow that ?" said Valentine, throW-i ing a whisper into the ear of an old lady, to whom nature, in consideration of her having but a single eye, had bounteously given a double chin. "Mr. Jones!" cried the lady, who perceived two females by the side of Mr. Jones. " I'm ashamed of you. Keep back, sir ; and let them gals pass !" "What's the matter, my dear?" said Mr. Jones. " Don't dear me, sir! I saw. you !" cried the lady ; and Mr. Jones looked as if he at that moment felt that if he had never seen her it- would have been a great comfort. "Hasve you got your pass?" said Valentine, throwing his voice behind the person who was taking the tickets. " I want no passj" he- added, assuming another voice, " I can always pass without." "0! can yer?" cried the black whiskered gentleman, by whom those interesting little slips of paper had been sold. " Then I don't think you can. Jim! be a leetle hextry par^ tickler there, will yer ?" and he winked at Jim ; and Jim winked at him as he stood in the gangway perfectly prepared to take his revenge put of the first man who attempted to pass without a ticket. While the black-whiskered gentleman and Jim were thus odcupied, Valentine went ta the steward^ who lent him a large hairy cap ; and when his clothes had been carefully deposited by the amiable stewardess in a shawl, he, fol- lowed by the boy, took his leave of the philo- sophic captain, and left the vessel, portraying the pleasurable etfects of that astonishment, with which he fondly conceived poor Goodman would view the extraordinary character of hi» dress.' CHAPTER XIII. IN WHICH VAUKNTINE IS INTKODUCED TO THREE NEW FKIENDS, WITH ONE OP WHOM HE PASSES A VEKl PLEASAMI NIGHT. The surprise with which Valentine, on reach ing the residence of Mr. Plumplee, asceitainec that his guardain had not arrived, was as graa as that with which he had intended to inspirt VALENTINE VOX. SB Ooodman/bnt of a character of course diametri- cally opposite. Nor, when the circumstances were explained, was that surprise felt by Val- entine alone : Mr. Plumplee, and Mr. Jonas Beagle, an eccentric old gentleman, who mur- dered his time at Gravesend, with a view to the perfect restoration of his health, which had neverj in fact, deserfed him even for a day, felt and expressed a corresponding amount oi astonishment, while Miss Madonna Plumplee, the virgin sister of Goodman's friend, began at once to indulge in all sorts of conjectures hav- ing reference to the cause, for like most un- accountable occurrences, the Fcope which it afforded for the play of the imagination was unbounded. " Who knows," crifed that amiable person, " he may have been run over and crushed to death, or a thousand things ! — the drivers about London are so horribly reckless. I'm sure it was only the other day I was three quarters of an hour endeavoiing to cross Fleet-street ; — and after all it was an absolute miracle I wasn't killed, for a dog-cart, with a dirty person sitting upon tHe edge, rattled down the street at such a dreadful rate that I thought, be run over I must 1 It is shameful such things are allowed. There sat the filthy creature deliberately smo-' king his pipe, and. taking no sort of notice of the peiil in which he was placing the lives and limbs of people, not even the slightest ! He was^ however, I am happy to say, properly punished, for no sooner had he passed me than tlie wheel, over which he had been sitting, bounced into a hole, when, happily, the entire concern upset, and he was instantly covered with cat's meat and mud." "Oh! I don't expect that any serious acci- dent has occurred," said Mr. Plumplee. " The report of such an occurrence would be certain to have reached home before this morning, for he never goes out without his card case ; and his name and address are printed on his pocket- book, I know." " But,!' suggested Miss Madonna, " he might nave had his pockets previously picked, and then , strangers, you know, would have no clue at all. London is such a place. I'm sure I was read- ing the other day, in one of the papers, of a gentleman who, having lost his handkerchief, went in to purchase a new one, ready hemmed, and he hadn't left the shop five minutes, before he lost that." " And did he go in to buy another V inquired Mr. Jones Beagle. -"It didn't say; but such doings are positively dreadful," replied Miss Madonna. " I'm sure, I've said' it a thousand times, and will maintain it, — the police are of no sort of use. They are never at hand when people are being plun- dered " " For my part," said Mr. Jonas Beagle, "I think he has been kidnapped. The fact of his having been out all night,, looks, I must say, remarkably suspicious. What busmess has a man to be out all night? Nofie whatever, not the slightest; and I hold it to be, therefore, par- ticularly shocking!" And Mr. Jonas Beagle leered wickedly at Miss Madonna, while his Ultle twinkling eyes seemed to indicate that in his judgment Goodman was not quite immacu- late. The attention of Mr. Pltiraplee and his amia- ble sister was now directed to Valentine's dresB. A tailor in the vicinity was applied to at once, but as he had nothing likely to answer the pur- pose made up, the case was stated to the family next door, of which one of the younger branches politely sent in a complete suit, which fortunately happened to fit Valentine to a hair. " Now then," said Mr. Beagle, " for a walk;" and as the conviction had obtained that it was useless to wait for Goodman, who might not arrive until the evening. Beagle, Plumplee, and Valentine left the house, and at once got into a stream of gay persons, who were heavily laden with children and provisions, and who appeared to have made a dead set at a windmill. " Let's go to the Belly woo !" shouted one of these persons, who had one child on his arm and another on his back, while he dragged a third along by the hand. " That's by fur the most delightfuUest place," observed a lady, who appeared to be the mother of those interesting babes, and who carried a handkerchief, in which the shape of a dish was to all distinctly visible. "I prefers the Belly woo 'cause there we can set out at top and see the wessels so nice." "The Belly woo !" cried Valentine; "what's the Belly woo?" "The Bellevue, they mean, a little tavern on the hill," replied Mr. Jonas Besigle, who had no sooner imparted this interesting informationj than he turned into wHkt he called the TivoU Gardens, which appeared to be the principal place of resort. On the right, as they entered, a marquee was fixed for the accommodation of those who preferred a cold dinner for a shilling to a hot one for eighteen-pence : on ,the left stood a. long wooden shed, or grand dining- room, established for the exclusive accommo- dation of the eighteen-penny people, round thfi door of which several polite gentlemen hovered, with it view of solicidng the pleasure of tie company of all who looked as if they really had such a thing as one-and-nine-pence aboUt them, while at the farther end were boxes for the convenience of those who had brought their own provisions ; but as the public-spirited proprietor of the establishment charged, ac- cording to the printed scale, something like three-pence for the loan of a table-cloth, twcf- pence for plates, three-half-pence for a knife and fork, a penny for pepper, the same for mustard, the same for vinegar, the same for salt, and for everything else extremely reasona- ble in proportion, those boxes were not very liberally patronized. Having taken a survey of these gardens, they made for the hill, the summit of which they reached after an infinite deal of panting on the part of Mr. Plumplee and Mr. Jonas Beagle, and which certainly comrnanded a most exten- sive and delightful view of the surrounding country. Mr. Beagle's first task was to point out to Valentine the various features of the scene both rural and naval, and having devel- oped in the performance of this task no incon- siderable amount of descriptive power, he led 66 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF . the way to a favorite spot under the brow of the till towiich he and Mr. Plumplee repaired . ^aily for the purpose of unravelling whatever inotty point might happen to suggest itself at the moment. On reaching this spot they spread their handkerchiefs and took their seats, while feelow th jm groups of persons were sitting up to their 1 ips in thick furze^ and up to their hips in, dusty sand, discussing internally the various viands with which they had been externally ■laden. It was not long before a point of the knotty kind was started, and while Plumplee was engaged in refuting the extremely uncharitable jBOsilion of Mr. Beagle, that practically the world's definition of friendship was that which prompts men to study the interests of others with a view to the promotion of their own, Val- entine was occupied in watching the actions of one particular group that sat immediately below him. It was obviously a family circle, and in the centre stood a large beef-steak pie upon a sheet of the Weekly Dispatch, which had been BJpread with the view of conveying the idea of a table cloth, and "of thereby imparting to the whole thing an unquestionable air of respectabi- lity. The crust of this pie was in proportion as .thick as the thatch of a bam, while the little et-ceteras by which it was surrounded, bore a corresponding aspect of delicacy ; and when all seerhed prepared to commence operations, the cork of a well-washed blacking bottle was drawn, and the company, by way of grace be- fore meat, had a glass of gin round. When this feat had been performed with really infi- nite gusto, the carver walked into the pie, and in the plenitude of his benevolence submitted to each man, woman, and child, an amount of matter which would certainly have taken any but a highly gifted stomach three days and three nights to digest. It was not, however, by any means long before every hand was empty again ; for as the process of mastication seemed quite by the way, they no sooner got a mouth- fiil fairly in than they rinsed it down their throats, as in duty bound, with porter. The purified blacking bottle again went round, and its con- tents seemed to induce renewed, gastronomic vigor: to each was submitted another lump of pie, and when that had been washed away precisely as before, the gentlemen began to un- plitton their waistcoats, and the ladies to unhook their dresses behind, in order to enjoy another small glass of gin without any unpleasant sen- sation of satiety. It now became clearly perceptible that their stomachs were about to assume certain aristo- cratic airs of pseudo-delicacy, for instead of being assisted to legitimate doses, they began to fish out the most tempting little bits they could find, until by virtue of each taking the piece which the others had rejected, the dish was eventually cleared with the exception of sundry little lumps of crust with which, by way of a wind up, the ladies proceeded to pelt the gentlemen, to the infinite satisfaction of all parties con- cemea. This mutually interesting transaction had no ■Doner been closed, than one of the ladies, in order to cap the climax, produced a very small but a very unexpected bottle of brandy, of which each with great pleasure partook of -a glass, for the purpose of keeping all down.- This was evidently, however, intended as an apology for Non Nobis, for the moment the ceremony had been performed the gendeihen proceeded to light their pipes, while the ladies seemed determined that it should that day be known which was able to laugh the longest and the loudest. By the time they had succeeded in torturing their muscles into the merriest possible shape, Mr- Plamplee and Mr. Jonas Beagle, had finish- ed their argument according to an invariably custom of theirs, by each convincing himself that the other was wrong. Having thus brought this highly important affair to a happy issue, Mr. Plumplee applied to his watch, and after making an original remark, having reference to the rapid flight of time, they proceeded down the hill, passed a multitude of donkeys, which, while they bore their patronesses pn their backs, were very delicately touched up behind by their owners; and reached home precisely at the very moment their preseixie became abso^ lutely essential to the continuance of Miss M!fc> donna's tranquillity of mind. The first question asked was of course about Goodman, and as also of course Goodman had not arrived, they at once sat down to dinner, after which Beagle and Plumplee got into an argument touching the lamentable state of things in general, while Valentine and Miss Madonna were amusing themselves at the window by making all sorts of deeply interest- ing remarks on the appearance of the persons who were constantly passing. Towards evening, however, Valentine began to feel uneasy, and expressed a desire to return by the last boat; but Miss Madonna, whose word in that house had acquired the repiitation of being law, very strenuously opposed it It was by no means safe, she contended. The boats in the evening were crowded so densely, especially the last, that to escape being pushed over the side really amounted, in her judgmen.^ almost to a miracle. Any attempt to rerate an argument .so potent as that would of course have been indicative of madness, and there- fore it was decided that he should stop there all night. Now there happened to be only four bed- rooms in the house ; the best, of course, was occupied by Miss Madonnju the second by Mr. Plumplee, the third by Mr. Beagle, and the fourth by the servant; but that in which Mr. Beagle slept was a ^uble-bedded room, and Valentine had, therefore, to make his election between the spare bed and the sofa. Of course the former was preferred, and as the preference seemed highly satisfactory to Mr. Beagle him- self, they passed the remainder of the even- ing very pleasandy together, and in due time retired. Valentine, on having his bed pointed out to himj daited between me sheets in the space of a minute, for as Mr. Jonas Beagle facetiously observed, he had but to shake himself, and, everything came off, when as he did not by any means feel drowsy at the time, he fancied VALENTINE VOX. 87 (hat he might as well amuse his companion for an hour or so as not. He, therefore, turned Ibe tiling seriously over in his mind, while Mr. Beagle was quietly undressing, being anxious format gentleman to extinguish the light be- fcre he commenced operations. '' T^<^Y' for a beautiful night's rest," observed Mr. Jon^s Beagle to himself, as he put out the light wiih a tranquil mind, and turned in with a great degree of comfort. "Mew! — mew!" cried Valentine, softly, throwing his voice under the bed of Mr. Beagle. '■■Hish! — curse that cat!" cried Mr. Beagle. * We must have you out at all events, my lady." And Mr. Beagle at once slipped out of bed, and having opened the door, cried " hisb !" again, empatically, and threw his breeches to- wards the spot, as an additional inducement for the cat to '• stand not on the order of her going," when, as Valentine repeated the cry, and made it appear to proceed from the stairs, Mr. Beagle thanked Heaven that she was gone, closed the door, and very carefully groped his way again into bed. f'Mew! — mew! — mew!" cried Valentine, just as Mi. Beagle had again comfortably com- posed himself. ''What? are you there still, madam?" in- quired that gentleman, in a highly sarcastic tone, "I thought you had been turned out, madam ! — Do you hear this witch of a cat?" he continued, addressing Valentine, with the view of conferring upon him the honorable office of Tyler for the time being; but Valentine replied with a deep heav)' snore, and began to mew again with additional emphasis. ■ "Well, I don't have a treat every day, it is true; hut if this isn't one, why I'm out in my reckoning, that's all !" observed Mr. Jonas $eagle, slipping again out of bed. " I don't muchlike to handle you, my lady, but if I did, I'd of course give you physic !" and he " hished !" again with consummate violence, and continued to "hish" until Valentine scratched the bed-post sharply, a feat which inspired Mr. Beagle with the conviction of its being the ditsluiber of his peace in the act of decamping, when he threw his pillow very energetically towards the door, which he closed, and then returned to his bed in triumph. The moment, however, he had comfortably tucked himself up again he missed the pillow which he had converted into an in- strument of vengeance, and as that was an article without which he couldn't even hope to go to sleep, he had of course to turn out again to fetch it. "How many more times, I wonder," he ob- served, to himself, " shall I have, to get out of this blessed bed to-night ? Exercise certainly is a comfort, and very conducive to health ; but such exercise as this — why where have you got to?" he added, addressing the pillow, which, with all the sweeping action of his feet he was for some time unable to find — "Oh, here you are, sir, are you?" and he picked up the object of his search and gave it several very severe blows in the belly, when, having reinstated himself between the sheets, he ex- claimed in a subdued tone, "Well, let's try again \" Now, Mr. Jonas Bcaale 'vcks a man who prided himself especially upon the evenness of his temper. His boast was that nothing could put him in a passion, and as he had had less" than most of his contemporaries to vex him, he had certainly been able, in the absence of all cause for irritation, to preserve his equanimity. As a perfectly natural matter of course, he in- variably attributed the absence of such cause to the innate amiability of his disposition; and marvelled that men, men of sense and discen> ment, should so far forget what was justly ex pected of them as reasonable beings, as to suf fer themselves to be tortured by excitement, inasmuch albeit as human nature and difficul- ties are inseparable, human nature is sufficiently potent not only to battle with those difficulties, but eventually to overcome them. If Mr. Jonas Beagle had had to contend against many of the " ills that tlesh is heir to," he, in all probability, would have acted like the majority of his fel- low-men; but as he had met with very few, and those few had not been of a very serious complexion, he could affijid to be deeply phi- losophical on the subject, and felt himself com- petent, of course, to frame laws by which the tempers of men in the aggregate should be go- verned. He did, however, feel when he vio- lently smote the pillow, that that little ebullition partook somewhat of the nature of psission. and had just commenced reproaching himself for having indulged in that little ebullition, when Valentine cried "Meyow! — pit! — Meyow!" "Hallo!" exclaimed Mr. Jonas Beagle, " here again !" "Mew!" cried Valentine, in a, somewhai higher key. " What, another come to contribute to the harmony of the evening !" " Meyow ! — meyow !" cried Valentuie, in a key still higher. "Well, how many more of you?" inquired Mr. Beagle. " You'll be able to get up a con- cert by-and-bye ;" and Valentine began to spit and swear with great felicity. "Swear away, you beauties!" cried Mr Jonas Beagle, as he listened to this volley of feline oaths ; " I only wish that I was not so much afraid of you for your sakes! At it again ? Well this is a blessing. Don't yoa hear these devils of cats !" he cried, anxious not to have all the fun to hirasel f ; but Valen- tine recommenced snoring very loudly. " Well, this is particularly pleasant," he continued, as he sat up in bed. " Don't you hear ! What a comfort it is to be able to sleep soundly !" which remarkable observation was doubtless provoked by the no less remarkable fact, that at that particular moment the spitting and swearing become more and more desperate. " What's to be done ?" he inquired very point- edly. " What's to done ? my breeches are right in the midst of them all. I can't get ou{ now : they'd tear the very flesh off my legs : and that fellow there sleeps like a top. Hallo I Do you mean to say you don't hear these cats, how they're going it ?" Valentine certainly meant to say no such thing, for the whole of the time that he was not engaged in meyowing and spitting, he was diligently occupied in snoring, which had a very good effect, and served to fill up the intervals excellently well. 68 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF At length the patience of Mr. Jonas Beagle began to evaporate; for the hostile animals continued to battle apparently with great des- peration. He, therefore, threw a pUlow with great violence into the bed of his companion, and shouted so loudly, that Valentine, feeling that it would be deemed perfect nonsense for him to pretend to be asleep any longer, began to yawn very naturally, and then to cry out "Who's there 1" " 'Tis I ! " shouted Mr. Jonas Beagle. " Don't you hear these witches of cats?" "Hish!" cried Valentine, "why there are two of them!" " Two ! " said Mr. Beagle, " more likely two- and-twenty ! I've turned out a dozen myself. There's a swarm, a whole colony of them here ; and I know no more how to strike a light than a fool." " Oh, never mind," said Valentine : " let's go to sleep, they'll be quiet by-and-bye.'' "It's an very fine to say, let's go to sleep, but who's to do it ?" cried Beagle emphatically. " Curse the cats ! I wish there wasn't a cat under heaven, — I do, with all my soul ! They're such spiteful vermin too when they happen to be put out, and there's one of them in a pas- sion, I know by her spitting, confound her ! — I wish from the bottom of my heart it was the very last spit she had in her." While Mr. Jonas Beagle was indulging in these highly appropriate observations, Valen- tine was laboring with great energy in the pro- duction of the various bitter cries which are peculiarly characteristic of the feline race, and for a man who possessed but a very slight know- ledge of the grammatical construction of the language of that race, it must in justice be said tliat he developed a degree of fluency which did him great credit. He purred, and mewed, and cried, and swore, and spit, until the per- spiration oozed from every pore, and made the sheets as wet as if they had just been " damp- ed for the mangle." " Well, this is a remarkably nice position for a man to be placed in, certainly," observed Mr. Beagle. " Did you ever hear such wailing and gnashing of teeth ? Are you never going to leave off, you devils ?" he added, throwing the bolster with great violence under the bed, and therefore, as he fondly conceived, right amongst them. Instead, however, of striking the cats therewith, he unhappily upset some- thing which rolled with great velocity from one eiid of the room to the other, and made during its progress so singular a clatter, that he began to " tut ! tut!" and to scratch his head audibly. " Who's there ?" demanded Plumplee in the passage below, for he slept in the room be- neath, and the rolling of the article in question had alarmed him: "Who's there? d'ye hear? Speak ! or I'll shoot you like a dog !'' and on the instant the report of a pistol was heard, which in all probability had been fired wilh the view of convincing all whom it might concern that he had such a thing as a pistol in the house. '' Who's there ?" he again demanded": " You vagabonds, I'll be at you !" an intimation that may be held to have been extremely natural under the circumstances, not only becaiise he had not even the slightest intention of carrying so desperate a design into executioii, but be- cause he — in consequence of having supped off cucumbers and crabs, of which he happen-'' ed to be particularly fond, seeing that as tDfiy didn't agree with him, and invariably m^det him suffer, they partook of the naturo of foi» bidden finait — he had singularly enough beeii dreaming of being attacked by a paity of bu^ glars, and of having succeeded in fiightening them away by holding out a precisely similar threat. " Beagle !" he shouted, after waiting in vain for the street-door to bang. " Here !" cried Beagle, " come up here ! It's nothing: I'll explain! For Heaven's sake," he added, addressing Valentine, " open the door ;" but Valentine was too much engaged to pay attention to any such request. At this moment the footsteps of Plumplee' were heard upon the stairs, and Mr. Beagle, who then began to feel somewhat better, cried, "Come in ! my good friend, come in !" "What on earth is the matter?" inquired Mr. Plumplee, as he entered the room pale as a ghost, in his night-shirt, with a pistol in one' hand and a lamp in the other. "It's all right," said Beagle, "'twas I that made the noise. I've been besieged by a co- hort of cats. They have been at it here mak>, ing most healthful music under my bed for the last two hours, and in trying to make there hold their peace with the bolster, I upset tha noisy affair, that's all." "Cats!" cried Mr. Plumplee, "cats! — ^yon ate a little too much cucumber, my friend-! — that and the crabs were too heavy for your stomach ! — you have been dreaming ! — you'vp had the nightmare ! We haven't a cat in the house ; I can't bear them." " You are mistaken," rejoined Beagle', " they're about here in swarms. If I've turn- ed one cat out this night, I'm sure that I've turned out twenty! I've in fact done nothing else since I came up ! In and out, in and out! Upon my life, I think I can't have opened '.hat blessed door less than a hundred and fifty times ; and that young fellow there has been all the while fast as a church !" " I tell you, my friend, you've been dreanv- ing! We have never had a cat about the premises." " Meyow — meyow !" cried Valentine, quietli^ " Now have I been dreaming !" triumphant- ly exclaimed Mr. Beagle, " now have I had the nightmare ?" " God bless my life !" cried Mr. Pluftiplee, jumping upon Mr. Beagle's bed, "they don't belong to me !" " I don't know whom they belong to," re- turned Mr. Beagle, " nor do I much care : I only know that there they arc.' If you'll jtst hook those breeches up here, I'll get out and half murder them ! Otdy hook 'em this way! — I'll wring their precious necks off!" "They're out of my reach," cried Plumpiee. "Hish! hish!" Finding, however, that harsh terms had no good effect, he had recourse to the milder and more persuasive cry of " Pussy, pussy, pussy, pussy ! fit, tit, tit !" "Hish! you devils !" cried Mr. Jonas Beagle^ who besin to be really enraged ! VALENTINE VOX. 50 " Titty, titty, titty, titty ! — puss, puss, puss !" lepeated Mr. Plumplee in the blandest and naost ngductive tones, as he held the pistol by the rauzzte to break the back or to knock out {Jib braips of the first unfortunate cat that made her appearance : but all this persuasion to come forth had no effect ; they continued to be in- visible, while the mewing proceeded in the most melancholy strain. "What on earth are we to do?" inquired Plumplee. " 1 myself have a horror of cats."' ," The samp to me, and many of 'era !" ob- served Mr. B 'agle. " Let's wake that young fellow, perhaps he don't mind them." "Hollo !" cried Plumplee. "Hul-lo!" shouted Beagle; but as neither could make any impression Upon Valentine, and as both were afraid to get off the bed to shake him, they proceeded to roll up the blankets and sheets into balls, and to pelt him with infinite zeal. "Who's there ? What's the matter V cried Valentine at length, in the coolest tone imagin- sble, although his exertions had made hira sweat like a tinker. " For Heaven's sake, my dear young friend," said Mr. Plumplee, " do assist us in turning these cats out." "Cats! Where are they? Hish !" cried Valentine. " Oh, that's of no use whatever. I've tried the hisking business myself. All the hishing in the world won't do. They must be beaten out : you're not afraid of them, are you?" "Afraid of them! afraid of a few cats!" exclaimed Valentine, with the assumption of some considerable magnanimity ; " where are they?" "Under my bed," replied Beagle. "There's a brave fellow ! Break their blessed necks!" and 'Valentine leaped out of bed, and after striking at the imaginary animals very furiously with the bolster, he hissed with- great violence, and scratched across the grain of the boards in humble imitation of those domestic creatures sca,mpering out of a room, when he rushed to the, door, and proceeded to make a very forlorn meyowing die gradually away at the bottom of the stairs. " Thank Heaven ! they are all gone at last !" cried Mr. Beagle ; " we shall be able to get a little rest now, I suppose;" and after very minutely surveying every corner of the room in which it was possible for one of them to have hngered, he lighted his candle, bade Plumplee good night, and begged him to go immediately to Miss Madonna, who had been calling for an explanation very anxiously below. As soon as Plumplee had departed, Valentine assisted Beagle to remake his bed ; and when they had accomplished this highly important business with the skill and dexterity of a couple ot thoroughbred chambermaids, the light was agair., extinguished, and Mr. Beagle very natu- rally made up his mind to have a six hours' sound and unmterrupted sleep. He had, how- .ever, scarcely closed his eyes when the mewing •IS renewed, and as he had not even the smallest disposition to " listen to the sounds so tamiliar to his ear," he started up at once and exclaimed, " I wish I may die if they're all out now! Here's one of them left!" added he, addressing Valentine, hut Valentine naving taken a deep inspiration, answered only by re- spiring with a prolonged gargling sourjd. " He'i off again by the living Jove !" continued Beagle; " I never heard of any one sleeping so soundly. Hollo ! my good fellow ! ho ! — Fast as a forir* year-old ! Won't vou be quiet, you witch ? Are you determined not to let me have l wink of sleep to-night ? She must be in the cup- board : I must have overlooked her ; ai;d yet I don't see how I could. Oh ! keep the thing up, dear! Don't let me rest!" and he fumbled about for his box, and having taken a hearty pinch of snuff, began to turn the thing seriously over in his mind, and to make a second person of himself, by w-ay of having, /inder the cir cumstances, a companion with whom he could advise, and if necessary remonstrate. " Well, what's to Be done now?" inquired he of the second person thus established. " What's to be the next step, Jonas ? It's of no use at all, you know ! we can't go to sleep ; — we may just as well try to get a kick at the moon ! — nor must we again disturb — Hish! you , Jonas ! Jonas ! keep your temper, my boy ! — keep your temper ! Don't let a contemptible cat put you out !" and Mr. Beagle took another pinch of snuff, from which he apparently de- rived a great degree of consolation. " VVhat, at it again ?" he continued, " I wish I had the wringing of your neck off, madam ! You want to put me in a passion ; but you won't ! you can't do it ! therefore, don't lay that flatterirg unction to your , soul ! — Well, Jonas : how are we to act ? Shall we sit here all night, or take up our bed and walk, Jonas ? — eh ?" Jonas was so struck with the ex-pediency of the latter course, that he apparently urged ita immediate adoption; for Mr. Beagle, in the first place, half-dressed himself in bed, and in the next, threw the counterpane, a, blanket, and a sheet over his shoulder ; when, tucking a pillow and a bolster under his arm, said, "We'll leave you to your own conscience, madam ! Good nijrht !" and left the room with the view of seeking repose upon the sofa. Valentine was astonished at the coolness dis- played by Mr. Beagle throughout the entire transaction ; and after reproaching the spirit of mischief that was within him, and striving by way of a punishment, to disUiib his own re- pose, and suocee'l' d too as well as the moidcs of old did when they inflicted the scourge upon themselves — he proceeded to justify himself upon the ground that his object was to learn the true characters of men, and being perfectly satisfied with that justification, went soundly and solemnly to slet-'p. In the morning, of course, nothing but tale* of horror went down. Mr. Plumplee told his with the air of a man, conscious of having been inspired with the spirit of valor j and Miss Ma- donna told hers with great feelmg and ef Bct; but when Beagle began to explain to them how he had been persecuted, thfey forgot their owe troubles and laughed heartily at his, whicn was certainly, under the circumstances, extremely reprehensible, however natural philosophert 60 LIFE AND AD;VENTURES OF may hold it to be for the risible faculties of men to be provoked by the little vexations Mrhich others endure. But where, during the whole of this time, was poor Goodman? — While Valentine is on his way to town — for which he immediately after , breakfast prepared to start — the next chapter will briefly explain. CHAPTER XIV. 800DMAW II: CONDUCTED TO HIS NEW RESIDENCE THE LIBERTY F THE SUBJECT ILLUSTRATED fHE COM- MENCEME:'T of an exposition of a SYSTEM WHICH CANNOT BE GENERALLY KNOWN. When Goodman, who had fainted on being Ihrust into the coach, had been restored to a state of consciousness, he found himself per- fectly wet, for the ruffians, when they per- ceived all animation suspended, became appre- hensive of having carried their violence too far, and, therefore, at once procured a bottle of water, with which they continued to sprinkle him, until he awakened to a sense of his po- sition, when, grasping the arm of the fellow who sat beside him, and looking intently in his fece, he cried, " Tell me, my good man, tell me the meaning of this monstrous outrage V "Oh, you'll know the meaning on't soon enough, don't be impatient," replied the fel- low. " But why have I thus been seized like a felon ■? What have I done ? Whom have I injured I I am unconscious of having offended a single soul." " Don't ask us any questions,'' replied the fellow. "We know nothing at all about it. We've got oar orders, and that's enough." . " But tell me this," urged Goodman, " only this, to what place are you taking me now V " Oh, you'll know fast enough ! — All in good time ! — wait a little, and then an idea'U strike you." " But surely you can have no serious objec- tion to let me know that V observed Good- man. " ! tell the genelman," cried the ruffian who sat opposite. "He a'n't like some on 'em, you know. 0! tell hihi! it can't make much odds you know now !" " It taint reg'lar," cried the other ; " T hn ven't no partiokler objection, ony it taint the thing. Howsever, I don't dislike him, 'cause he is a genelman,' so I don't mind." " Tell me, then," said Goodman, impatiently. " Don t be in sich a hurry !" cried the fellow, " you patients always is in sich a sweat." " Don'^ trifle with me, for Heaven's sake." " There you go again !" cried the fellow,-^ " there you g i ! — why can't you be cool 1 I don't mind telling you ! we're going to take you where you're 'going to be taken care on." " To a Lunatic AsyluirCl — Is it not so V cried Goodman. " You cjuldn't have guessed it much nearer if you-d tried every day for a.month. But it's a werrv niue' place ; werry private and genteel. None o' your public 'uns! — everything slap and respectable !" Goodman had heard much of private Lunaljb Asylums : he had heard of the villanies prac tised therein — villanies, however, which he naa conceived to be mere fictions, coined ip the diseased imaginations of those who haci^ been properly confined, for he had hitherto repu- diated the idea of its being possible for such monstrous proceedings to be tolerated in a country like this. Those acts of barbarity, however, which he had assumed to be fictions, at this moment flashed across his mind in the shape of realities, and prompted him to make a desperate effort to escape, for he felt quite convinced, that if once they secured him un- known to his friends, they in all probability would keep him there, lingering in tortures till the day of his death. He, therefore, in ordei that no suspicion might be excited, assumed an air of perfect calmness, and after having, as he imagined, sufficiently ingratiated himseJf with the ruffians by whom he had been seized, placed five sovereigns in the hand of him who appeared to be the principal, and explained to him that he would give him a cheque for a hundred more, if, instead of driving him to the so called asylum, he would permit him to return. " It's no go," said the fellow. " It can't be done. I wish it could. It's impossible. We're watched. The two doctors is behind with your " Here the fellow checked himself sud- denly. " With whom, my good friend; with whom ?'? inquired Goodman. "Vi^^hy — with — with the genelman as sent for the doctors," replied the fellow with con- siderable hesitation. "And who is that V said Goodman, anxiou* ]y. "Who is it 1 Tell me but that!" "Why, that's against the law !" cried the fellow, — " It's a secret ! howsever, you'll know by-and-bye, I des say." " Are they behind us now ?" inquired Goodr man, attempting to look out of the window. "ifes, yes, they're acoming; sit down, sit down," said the fellow, — and Goodman, whose object was to allay all suspicion, at once re- sumed his seat. "Have we far to go now?" he inquired. " Not far ; we're just at hand ; we shall be there in the matter o' ten m.inutes." Goodman now saw that no time was to be lost, for he had made up his mind to make one desperate effort. He knew that if he once go: fairly out of the coach it would require an ex- ceedingly swift man to overtake him, and em- boldened by that knowledge, he prepared for a spring. " Another five minutes will do it," said ora» of the men, thrusting his head out of the wiiv dow, — a movement of which Goodman took instant advantage, and, making a desperate plunge, dashed clean through the opposite ddot " He's off, by . Stop ! coachman, stoj) 1" shouted one' 01 the fellows. " We shall nevei be able to catch him, for he has no flesh t^ carry." Nor would they have caught him, haa it not most unfortunately happened that in plunging he sprained one of his ankles and fell. VALENTINE VOX. 61 The coach stopped on the instajit, and the "ruffians leaped out; and as Goodman was una- t)le to use both feet with firmness, they easily ~l)vertook him, when one of them struck him a if^ge-hammer blow upon the back of the neck, and felled him at once to the ground. " Is this the way you serve us for all our kindness V cried the fellow, as he kicked him most cruelly in the stomach. "Is this your ^gratitade'?" " Villains!" shouted Goodman, and the cow- ardly scoundrels kicked him more severely. " Dp with you !" cried one of them; " Sam ! hpre, where are the ruffles?" and the fellow addressed instantly produced a pair of hand- cuffs, and began to unlock them. '•I will not be maiicled!" cried Goodman, seizing the haiidcuifs, and holding them up as a weapon of defence. " It is for my personal liberty I fight, and wiU peril my life to defend it. Although not mad, I am desperate now, and the bldbd of him who attempts again to seize me be on his own head !" . The fellows for the moment held back. Ac- i»stomed, as they had been, to deal with des- peration, they for an instant appeared to be appallecf. " Let me have justice \" continued Goodman; "if I am mad, let it be proved be- fore the world ! I win not be stolen from soci- ety thus !" At this moment a coach drew up to the spot, towards which Goodman's eyes were directed with an expression of anxious hope, which the tuffians no sooner perceived, than they sprang at him, seized him by the throat, and kicked his legs from under him violently. •'"Help!" shouted Goodman, as he saw the coach stop, "Help! — murder!" . " We'll help 5 on \" cried a person alighting: ^ Oh ! yes ; we U assist you with a vengeance !" c4ed another who instantly followed; "we'll help you ?" Goodman remembered those voices well, and on turning to the quarter whence they (Same, every hope he had inspired was blasted by the sight of Doctors Bowlemout and Dobb. " In with him !" cried Dobb, with a fiend- like smile. " Your young Dully is nOt here now !" shouted Bowlemout; and he and Dobb seized Good- man's legs, while the two keepers lifted 'his body and'carried him towards the coach door. ;Goodman, however, still struggled with all the strength at his command, and several times succeeded in thrusting the two ' doctors from him ; and although they returned each time to the charge with renewed desperation, every effbit to throw him into the coach proved abor- tive, which so enraged the two keepers, that, after kicking hira brutally in order to compel him to bend his legs, they again seized him violently by the throat with the view of making him insensible by partial strangulation. But all would not do. His struggles were still des- perate. They could not get him in. They ap- plied to the coachmen for aid ; but in vain ; they would render no assistance ; they would not interfere. " Tell him," at length cried Dobb, " that he must come ! It's of no use ; we shall never get r him in ; come, he must !" And as a man who had till then kept conceeJed in the second, coach, was being dragged forth by Bowlemout, Goodman shrieked. "Merciful God! — my bro- ther!— Oh, Walter! Walter! dear Walter, save me ! save me from these murderous men !" Walter approached ; and Goodman strugg ed more violently than before; but instead' of rescuing him from the hands of the ruffians, he assisted in throwing him into the coach like a dog! The very moment he was in, the keepers followed, and the doctors followed them ; when the former at once seized him by the ciillar a)^ stuck their knuckles furiously into his throat; while the latter tied his legs and held them down. "My brother !" cried Goodman — "my bro- ther against me ! God ! — can it be V and (ears of agony rolled down his cheeks, and he sob- bed like a child. " You need use no violence now," he continued. " My brother — my own brother! whom 1 havecheiished, is my enemy: do with me as you please : I shall now make no further resistance !" "No!" cried one of the ruffians, shaking him brutally, "we'll take care you. don't! We've had enough of you for one bout, at all events. We'll take good care we don't have any more of it." And the villain again thrust his knuckles into his thfoat, and continued to shake him like a fiend. The coach stopped. The outer gates of an attractive and well built house opened to admit them, and closed again the moment they were in, when the fellow relaxing his hold, cried, "Now, you old scoundiel, consider yourself booked here for life. You are safe enough now ! Give as much more of your nonsense as you dare !" As soon as the door of the coach had been opened, the doctors alighted, and when- the keepers had unbound Goodman's legs, they left him for a moment alone, still sobbing. "Now, a'n't you coming out?" demanded one of them, at length; and poor Goodman, who felt quite exhausted, made an effort to alight, but before he had descended two steps, the heartless ruffian pulled him violently foiT ward, and dashed him with his face downwards upon the rough gravel path. "Come! up with you!" shouted the ruffian, kicking him over as he would a dead dog.; when,. as Goodman was utterly unable to rise, he proceeded to drag him along the ground, as the blood gushed in streams from his nose and ears. " Act like men !"- cried- the coachman, who sickened at the sight. " If he is mad, damme, don't treat him like a varmint !" "Mind your own business," cried a black- looking scoundrel, who appeared to be the pro- prietor of this it. famous den. " What's your fare?" " Seven shillings !" indignantly snouted the coachman. " Here it is. Now, be off! — ^we want none* of your insolence here." "Lor send I may never have fuch another job as this !" cried the coachman, on mounting es LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF his box. " If I'd ha' knowed it, you should ha' pulled m J up five hundred times, afore I'd ha' taken suijh a fq,re." And he lashed his horses violently, with a view of expressing his indig- nation, and gave the fellow who held open the gates an apparently accidental cut across the cheek, as he drove through. Poor Goodman, as well as he was able, now looked for his unnatural brother, who, however, remained in the coach outside — but no sooner had he turned his head round, than he was dragged into a room, when, another flood of tears having somewhat relieved him, he said faintly to the person to whom a paper in which Bowlemout and Dobb had certified to his in- sanity, was delivered. " Are you, sir, the pro- prietor of this establishment?" " I am !" said that person, with a scowl. " Will you do me the favor, then, to show me your authority for my detention?" "Hold your tongue, sir!" " I merely wish — '' "Silence!" interrupted , the scowling brute : "strip him, and put him to bed!" added he, addressing his myrmidons. "If he dares to show any of his devil's tricks here, why you know how to serve hjm." Goodman was accordingly dragged into a narrow dark cell, stripped and thrown upon a pallet ! when the ruffians, after swearing that they would come and knock his brains out if he made the slightest noise, locked him up for the night. " Heaven's will be done !" exclaimed Good- man, on being left alone. "But, oh God! ami mad ? — I must be — I feel that I must ; for I thought and still think I saw my brother ! that brother to whom I have never been .unkind — -whom I have cherished through life with the most affectionate tenderness — whom I have sustained. — Oh ! it cannot — impossible ! — I am, I am mad I And yet — surely, this cannot be a dream? No! — no! I am awake now I God! what can it be? Not madness? I can re- member every circumstance — can connect and review. — Those physicians ! they spoke of my connection with an emperor ! 1 never imagined myself to be thus connected ! It must be a mistake ! Yet, who sent them ? Walter ! his motive ? — immediate possession ! It must have been ! Oh ! what a villanous system is this ! what man is secure from being seized, confined, murdered ? If I am not mad, I soon shall be !" And thus he proceeded until mental and physi- cal agony induced absolute exhaustion. CHAPTER XV. TAtENTINE VISITS THE BRITISH MUSEUM — IMPAKTS EKEAIH TO MEMHOK AND KAISES A VOICE FROM THE TOMB. On reaching the residence of Goodman, Va- lentine found the old servant in tears, and, as fte became apprehensive of something of a very ■erious character having occurred, he walked immediately into the parlor, and desired her to ibUow him. " Something has happened, Ann," said he, with much earnestness ; "tell me, wnat is it?" Ann sobbed bitterly, but managed to observe, "I don't — know — what — I've— done, sir — I thought — I — gave— -good — satisfaction." " What on earth is the matter?" cried Valen- tine, impatiently. "Master, sir's — ^given me — wa-aming." • " Oh — when did he return ?" " I haven't set eyes on him since Saturday, when he left with you, sir." " Then how can he have given you wam» ing?" " He sent it by his brother,", cried Ann, " Mr. Walter has been here and read a letter he'd just received from master, where he says he's going to be out of town for a time, and tliat I must look out for another place." "And where is he now ?" "Mr. Walter says that mayn't be known." "He read the letter to you?" " Ves, all but where it came from, and — dear me, I'd almost forgot : he wished me to say, sir, that master's kind regards, and as he shoudn't p'rhaps come back for some weeks or a month, he thinks you'd better return to the country, and he'll send you another invitation by-and-bye." "This is very extraordinary!" thought Valen- tine, " I'd no idea of his being even in the slightest degree involved. — When are you to leave, Ann ?'' " To-night, sir." "To-night!" "Yes, sir, this blessed night! Mr. Walter has settled with me and paid me my month, and I'm to leave this night, sir ! — wftuld you believe it ?" "And who's to take charge of the house?" "Mrs. Horace is coming this evening, and she and her husband are going to remahi." " Indeed ! I must see Mr. Walter." " Yes, do, sir. But won't you have nothing to take? — you'll come home to dinner, sir, won't you?' " No, I shall dine out," said Valentine, and he left the house at once with the view of call- ing upon Walter. " Poor old gentleman !" he murmured on his way, " he has been entering into some unsuccessfiil specufetion. What an extraordinary passion is this love of wealth 1 An old man hke tliat now, having plenty, to risk probably all that he possessed wilh a view of gaining more than he could possibly enjoy! How is it that men are never satisfied with that which they have ?" Before he had framed a satisfactory answer to this question he reached the door of Walter's residence. " Mr. Goodman is not at home, sir," said the servant, in answer to Valentine's inquiry. " Nor Mrs. Goodman'*" " No, sir : they went out with Mr. and Mrs. Horace, and I don't expect them home before night." Valentine perceived in a moment by the unsteady eye and the hesitating speech of the girl that what she had stated was not exacdy correct. He did not, however, press the matter farther, but left his card, and bade her say that he would call in the evening. VALENTINE VOX. " Now what shall I do with myself!" thought Valentine, as he walked very leisurely from the house. " I wish that I knew a little more about ,London. However, I must, I suppose, be con- tent to take my chance." And he continued to walk, without knowing or oaring much where. He had not, however, proceeded any very great distance before he came to an old-fashioned reH brick building, on either side of the gates of which a sentinel was walking with a view to the uninterrupted circulation of his blood. " What place is this?" he inquired of one of these national guardians. "Brish Museum," returned the sentinel, marvelling at his ignorance, and walking away as stiffly as if 'he had that morning swallowed his ramrod by mistake. "The British Museum!" said Valentine, without thankirig the soldier for his extraordi- nary politeness'? " The very place I want to see !" And he entered the court-yard at once, and after looking with a curious eye at a crea- ture in a long wooden wig, and at a canoe of great antiquity, vphich appeared to have been constructed by some ingenious wild gentlemen out of the bark of a tree, he reached the hall, when, after having purchased a catalogue of one individual, and delivered his stick to another, he passed a well-stuffed rhinoceros that had "evidently known what it was to have a bullet or two in his body, and proceeded up stairs, at the top of which stood a few very gigantic giraffes, with necks sufficiently Ions to have, enabled them to dine without the slightest in-" 6onvenience in an attic, while standing out- ride the street door. Having surveyed these lofty creatures, he passed through the rooms in which the speci- mens of various animals were so numerous that a student in Natural History might spend the fiill terra of his natural life wirliout acciuiririg a perfect knowledge of their respective charac- teristics! These, however, did not appear to , the majority of the vi.siiers to be the most at- tractive animals in this vast collection. The chief attraction seemed to be centred in the visiters themselves, and from the number of nods pf recognition, and meetings by appoint- ment which came under the immediate cog'ii- Kince of Valentine, he was naturally led to infer that this national establishment was a national place of assignatiotl. He never had lavished upon him at any one time so many really wick- ed glances. The widows were desperately in- tent upon something; they appeared to be tepecially on the qui vive, and as liis eyes met thsirs at every turn, he jumped at once to the conclusion that if they were really virtuous they were really not very discreet, and after taking a good steady look at a lobster, that was pinned very closely to the wainscot, he proceeded to the Gallery of Antiquities below. This' place he found remarkably cool and pleasant. He surveyed, without the slightest mterruption, a legion of litde gods which ap- peared to have been barbarously mutilated in their infancy ; and then turned his attention to a tiumber of young artists, who had obviously inspired the conviction that they were on tie hig h road to immortal fime One was sketching a goddess without a nos^. another was portraying a ram-headed lady : a third was engaged upon a striking colossal fist , a fourth was drawing the fragment of some hero, who appeared to have lost the greater part of himself in some desperate battle; a fifth was depicting an excellent woman, who had not only lost her head and one of her shoulders, but out of whose arm a large piece appeared to have been bitten, and who was represented kneeling behind a tablet well covered with exceedingly interesting hiero- glyphics; while a sixth was enyv.ged upon three very bandy little deities, who looked as if they might have accomplished great things in their time. Having inaudibly awarded to these artists all the praise which appeared to be due to them respectively, Valentine passed on until he came to a fimire of which a number of persons ap- peared to be at that moment lost in admiration. This figure was placed upon a huge block of stone, and although its face was by far the most pleasuig of them all, one side of its head had been chopped off, apparently with some heavy implement, while the left arm and shoulder with the whole of the body below the third rib had been blown clean away. On referring to his catalogue, Valentine found this to be the bust of young Memnon, and a» certain elderly gentlemen who formed part of the group were .conversing on the subject of oracles in general, he listened with consider- able attention to their discourse, and found them to be exceedingly commuhicative men. . " There is nothing," said one of the elderly persons, " that can have so great a tendency to prove the rapid progress of the human intellect as an oracle. If any man of the present age were capable of even dreamingthat a mere mass of stone had the power to speak, he would be set down at once as a natural fool , yet to what an extent did the priests and false prophets, the eugastrimandi of the Greeks, the magicians, the soothsayers, and sorcerers of Home impose, in the remote ages, upon the superstitious multitude !" "Surely," thought Valentine, "those pro- phets and priests knew nothing of ventrilo- quism !" "They were artful cards doubtless," ob- served a tall thin person, who wore a singularly small pair of spectacles; "but how did they manage it? that puzzles me. By what means were they able to carry on their games '?" " It is utterly impossible to say," replied the elderly gentleman who had started the subject. " It is repcrted, you know, of the famous Kire- ber, that) in order to undeceive the credulous people, and to account for certain strange things relating to the celebrated Delphic Ora- cle, he fixed a tube in his bed-chamber, so that when persons came to his garden gate, he could hear them if they but whispered, and by means of this tube he asked questions and gave answers, and that he afterwards removed it to his museum and fixed it in a figure, 8<> that it seemed to be animated, and distinct sounds apparently issued from its month, for he clearly supposed that the pagan priests by ii LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF nsing such, tubes, used to make the supersti- tious believe that the idol itself returned an- Bweris to their questions. And there can be no doubt that it was done by some trickery on the part of the priests, who, when they found their power waning, sought to sustain it by the per- formance of miracles of this kind." " Was this Memnon a vocal god ?" inquired the tall thin gentleman. "Of course he was! and one of the very greatest." " He appears to have been a big one, but I can see no tube, nor any place into which a tube could possibly have been inserted." '■' It was not done with tubes !" said Valentine to himself. " In those days I should have made an excellent miracle-monger; I may as ■well try the effect now ■" when, placing him- self in a favorable position, " Fools," he cried, in a deep sepulchral tone, making his voice proceed apparently from the thick lips of Mem- non, "thmk ye that Memnon was never in- ^ired V The group at once shrank back appalled; some felt quite faint for the moment, , as they stared at the statue and trembled, while the refit looked amazed at each other, but neither of them ventured to utter a word. "Be off!" shouted Valentine through Mem- non. " If they hadn't left my legs behind in Egypt, I'd jump down and kick you out of the place !" "Wonderful!" involuntarily exclaimed the old gentlehian, who had been so severe upon the pious men of old. " Wonderful !" cried Valentine, contemptu- ously, " convince thyself ! Test my prophetic soul ! test it ! Would'st thou know thy destiny ? Speak!" "Ye-yes!" cried the stout old gentleman, who evidently prided himself upon his courage. "Who's afraid'?" "Tip then!" cried Memmon. "Tip! I never did duty without it, and I shan't com- mence now !" The astonished group again stared wildly at each other. " Did you see his lips move V in- quired one. "I thought that I did!" replied another, "I fancied I saw them move." " Fool !" exclaimed Memnon. " Dost thou wish to insult me"? Think'st thou, idiot, the inspired Memnon would condescend to wag his sacred lips like a grovelling mortal ^" At this momrnt an individual who had a re- markably red face,.and whose breath told a tale about his having indulged recently in hot rum-and-water, approached, and when the as- sumed fact of Memnon having" spoken had been communicated to him, he laughed very heartily as a matter of course. "You will not believe it? — Speak to him and be convinced," urged the stout old gentle- man, seriously. " Speak to him V cried he with the florid face ; " Speak to him 1 — Well my old trump, how's your mother ?" " Irreverent wretch !" exclaimed Memnon indignantly; "know thyself and drink less rum !" "Hollo!" cried the gentleman with the highly-colored countenance. "Hul-lo!" and he closed one eye in order to have a good stare at the statute with the other, while his. jnouth was as wide open as a mouth of that size cou)d conveniently be strained. " Are ye satisfied ?" cried Memnon. " Learn to respect what ye cannot comprehend. I want repose. D'ye hear? Be off; and distufb me no more !" And Valentine viewed with silent pleasure the astonishment depicted in the countenances of the group while engaged in conversing on the marvellous nature of that which they imagined they had witnessed. Having heard these amazed individuals de- clare, that although they might meet during; their progress through life with many staunch unbelievers, nothing on earth would ever be able to shake their faith in the assumed fact that the oracle had absolutely spoken, Valen- tine proceeded to survey the Elgin marbles^ and derived much amusement from a coupl@ of highly-gifted connoisseurs, who were loudly and learnedly descanting on their peculiar ex- cellencies. " Well, Jones," said one of these gentlemen, " what do you think of them — eh?" " Think of 'em !" contemptuously cried Jones, thrusting hie hands into his ample coat pockets. " I wouldn't give two-pence for the lot." " You don't know the value of them surely?" "I don't — if they're worth more money.. Did you ever in all your bom days see such rubbish? Why I wouldn't pick 'em up in the street ! I wouldn't own 'em ! If they belonged to me I'd pitch the whole biling into the Thames." " But look, my dear fellow — ^take this for ex- ample — just look at the symmetry" — " Symmetry ! What's the good of that ? H« aint got no head and not above half a body. Where are his legs gone to ? — look at that arm there chopped all to smash at the elbow l. Symmetry! come, that's good. Why I've got a group of goddesses at home that I gave fif- teen pence for, that would, in point of .sym- metry, beat the whole biling into fits !" " But take them as fragments" — "That's precisely what I do take em' as! 1 can't take 'em as anything else ! — and pretty fraarments they are !" " But their age, my dear fellow !" " Now, don't tell me ! Just look at this wo- man here ! Send I may live ! — why there aint above a quarter on her left !" " But you must look at the parts that are re- mainin}i!" " And so I just do ! There's nothing else to look at ! It won't do, you know, at least it won't do for me! — However they can gammon the people to believe that there's anything fine.- in such rubbish as this, puts me out altogether.' There isn't one of 'em perfect, nor anything like it. That fellow there's the best of the bunch, and they've smashed off the biggest part of his corporation ! — to have a post mortal examination I s'pose! Of all the rum rotten trash that ever was scraped together this queer lot bangs all ! — Come !" he addedj seiziiig the arm of his friend and dragging him from the room; " let's go and look at something a loetle worth while. VALENT-NE VOX. 6S "" Valenline derived so much pleasure from the learned observations of this individual and the ■John-BuU-ish, solemn, self-satisfied air with which those observations were made, that he left the Elgin marbles to follow him and his 'friend, with the view of stiU farther indulging iiis taste for the sublime. " This is a pretty good sized coffin," observed Mr. Jones approaching a ponderous granite sepulchre, the "lid of Which was held up by a Strong wooden frame that the whole of the mterior might be viewed. "It would hold a couple of dozen dead bodies well packed ! The water couldn't get in very well here I say, could it? And as to the worms! — ^they might try till they ground their teeth down to the level of their old gums before they'd be able to nib- ble their way through. This is just the sort of coffin that 1 should like to have now — only it would cost so much to carry it to the grave. It would take twenty men, and even then they'd make a muddle of it. Here's another of thetn," he added as he crossed tp the opposite side, '• they appear to be fellows." Now as the lid of this happened to be down, and as it was perfectly obvious that Mr. Jones Kid entered the Museum expressly in order to be astonished ; it recurred at once to Valentine, that it would be a pity to allow him to depart disappointed. He therefore, while apparently admiring with others an exceedingly broad Egyptiaii pedestal, introduced g. quiet groan into the sepulchre, as Jones was engaged in pointing out'to his friend the ridiculous character of cer- tain hieroglyphics. " Hush ! hush !" cried that gentleman, start- ing b&Jck suddenly arid seizing the aim of his friend. "Hush! didn't you hear?" "'"I thought I heard something," observed his friend, whispering. "Hush! hush-sh! Listen!" and Valentine sent in another small groan. " Send I may live ! — 'tis a man !" exclaimed Jones. "Impossible!" cried his friend. "Why, do you know the age of this thing?" , " I don't care a dump about the age ! If it is in its fifty miUionth year it don't matter a button : there's something alive in it now — listen again!" and the violence of his action 'drew several persons round, of course anxioas to ascertain what had caused so much excite- ment. Now Valentine happened to be by no means conversant with the language of the Egyptians, and as he conceived that it might spoil the whole thing if he ventured to speak, he con- fined himself simply to the intioduction of a long drowsy yawn which he presumed to have been well understood in all ages and clirhes. Befor'e he had finished yawning, however, Jones again started up, and addressing an indi- vidual who was sleeping in a chair with a long white wand in his hand, cried, " Here ! he's been hurled Stlive ! — He's just awoke ! — do yoii hear?" ■ The individual with the wand opened his ^es, and scratched his head and approached. :rying. "What's the matter ? — what's all -iBlfr-eh 1" "Why here's somebody been buried alive- here," said- Jones. "Pooh! nonsense! — are you mad?" cried the person with the wand, assuming some con- siderable amount of official dignity. " I don't care a straw what you say," returned Jones, " I know that there's some one in there ! ^-did you never hear of a man being buried in a trance ?" " Why you must be insane," cried the fimc- tionary, "That toiiib has been empty ever since before you and your grandmotnerB and grandfathers before you were bom !" " I don't care a button how long it has been empty ! I'll bet fifty pounds that there's some one in now !" "I Certainly myself heard something," ob- served a gentleman who had been attracted with others to the spot. " Oh nonsense !" — cried the official — " Why it was only cleaned out the other day !" "But satisfy yourself!" exclaimed Jones, really wondenng at the stubborn, cold-blooded incredulity of the man. • "I am — I am satisfied!" cried the official; but another yawn which Valentine dexterously introduced at the moment, caused him to start back amazed. Down went his wand, and away he flew, in order to proclaim as well as he could the fact to his brother officers ; who, in- ferring from the highly excited state of his nerves that something was the matter, returned with him at once, with the view of rendering whatever assistance the case might demand. The very moment, however, that the case was explained, they treated the thing with 'an air of derision. They all laughed as heartily as men could laugh, and in a manner well calcu- lated to be extremely serviceable to them in a phj'sical point of view — inasmuch as it gave them great pain, as they had not had a really good laagh for an age. "Whv, Sin\pkins." cried one, '-upon my soul, I didn't think you'd been so sett?" But Mr. SJmpkins by no means regarded it as so excellent a joke as they appeared to imagine. He took an altogether diii'erent view of thfe matter; for although he felt perfei-tl} sure that the tomb did not contain an Egyptian, as he had seen it but a few days previously open and empty, he was not quite so sure thiM the work- men in closing the lid had not shut in some poor devoted laborer, whom they had either forgotten, or cared not to release. He, there- fore, heeded not their derision ; but being an extremely humane man kept his ear very closely to the tomb, while they were laughing and joking with glee by his side. " For Heaven'^ sake !" at length he exclaim- ed, " be silent for a moment !" But they would not be silent : they continued to laugh very loudly, and very wantonly, until Jones and several others made an earnest appeal to their humanities, begging them to hold their peace^ but'foi- an instant, in order that they themselves might be convinced that the Sbunds were not the offspring of mere imaginiatiou. "Well, let's give these very silly people a chance !" cried one of the men who had beett so Strongly moved to laughter. "Let us liston LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF to the cries and groans of this mummy. Now, hush ! — hush !" And several of those who had been thus enjoined to silence commenced groan- ing very furiously — a feat which not only ex- cited another peal of laughter, but inspired Mr. Jones with much real indignation. "Inhuman wretches !'' he exclaimed, assist me in raising the lid of this tomb, I tell you there's some one inside ; I know it; I'm sure of it; I'll bet any one of .you fifty pounds of it !" And Mr. Jones produced a pocket-book containing a roll of notes, which astonished the official eyes of the functionaries around him, and caused: them respectfully to open their ears. The effect was electric. Their countenances dropped in a moment. A more powerful argument could not have-been adduced, for they began to be- lieve at once that there must be something in it, and, hence, to pay all due attention. Finding that the general impression was that he whom they imagined to be in the tomb, was not an Egyptian, but a laborer, Valentine con- cluded that as a laborer must of course mean an Irishman, he couldn't go very far wrong if he gave them a spice of the brogue. " Oh !— what the blazes will I do, thin !" he cried, " be me sowl I'm clane didd althegidher entirely — ^murther !" " Now, what d'ye think of it !" cried Simp- kins, triumphantly. " Somebody's there, sure enough ;" said one of those who had previously treated the whole thing with contempt. " But how could he get in?" " Never mind a dump," cried Jones, " how he got in; let's try to get him out." " Dirthy wather to ye, lit me thin have a brith of air — I'll be shmudher'd complate wid th' want of it — och !" " But a moment, my good fellow — ^now — ^now give a lift !" And Mr. Jones and the whole of the officials put the palms of their hands to the lid of the tomb, which, however, defied all their ^rength. " Run — run, for the workmen !" cried Simp- kins ; " bring them at once, or the man will be a corpse !" and two wand-bearers started off immediately for the men who were engaged in a different part of the museum. " What a lucky thing it was that I happened to hear him !" observed Mr. Jones. " If I hadn't, the chances are that he'd never have eome out alive. It was the merest miracle in nature I heard him groan." "Why," said Simpkins, " he must have been in five days — the thing hasn't been opened .since Wednesday." " Five days !" exclaimed several of the visi- ters, in a breath, as a violent thrill of horror ran ihrough them. " Five days !" and they made II p their minds to see a skeleton. "Shall nobody thrag me out of this?" cried Valentine. " Will I be shmudher'd at last?" •' Wait a moment, my good fellow, wait but a moment !" cried Jones, putting his lips to the J id of the tomb. '■ In a moment I'm didd widout doubt. I fait! Jhreadful. Arrah thin you devils ! Is it thin at yer aise ye'd be afther shtanthing whin jer say a boy murther'd \: dith ! Take the top off complate, or be the sowl that's insicts o'me — " " Don't be impatient !" cried Jones — " Yott must not be impatient." "It's impatient yer mane? Opin the to{>, then, bad luck t'yer, open the top ! Ain't it just like a baste I've heea thrated, sure ? — Opin flie top !" At this moment the workmen arrived vyilh their tools, and after some slight delay — during which the imaginary Irishman was engaged in calling out very fiercely — ^they succeeded in introducing a lever. This was no sooner done than Valentine, perceiving that the game was nearly up, cried, " It's all completely over wid me now. I'm quite murthered — ^I'm gone — I'm at pace !" — and turned round with a vieyf. to the full enjoyment of the scene. The visiters were in a state of the most pain- ful anxiety : the wand-bearers felt scarcely able to breathe ; while the workmen perspired with infinite freedom, for the weight of the lid was immense. They did, however, eventually suc- ceed in raising it sufficiently to enable them to examine the interior, and this was no sooner accomplished than a dozen simultaneously looked in, very naturally expecting to behold a fellow-creature lying prostrate at the bottom. "Where is he!" cried one. "I can't see him !" cried another. " Not here !" cried a third — " the thing's empty !" "Oh, nonsense 1" shouted several of the visiters who were behind. "Well, you'd better come and find him," said those who had looked, giving way to tb^ incredulous creatures wljo had not. " Where can he be got to ?" inquired M* Jones. " He was never there at all !" cried the very official, who had previously laughed the very heartiest of the lot. " It's precisely what I said ! The idea of a man being in I How could he have got there ?" "Do you mean to say," observed Jones, " that you~don't think a man was in this thing at all.'!' " I do !" replied the official very firmly. "Then I mean to say you know nothing about it ! The go is a rum go certainly, a very rum go; but isn't a man to believe his own ears ? I heard him myself. Didn't you, sir^— and you ?" As several of the visiters bore te*- timony to the fact of their having heard some voice proceed from the tomb, Jones continued, "Of course ! We all heard it ! One may be de- ceived, or two may be deceived, or even three may' be deceived, but, send I may live we can't all be deceived !" " Well where is he now? — ^where is he?" "That's just the very pint that I can't make out; it's in fact the only pint to be con- sidered." And the point was considered — ^veiy deeply considered— but the consideration yielded noth- ing bearing even the semblance of a conjecture ! They could -not conceive how a man could have escaped, nor could they believe that no man had been there. They examined tlie tomb minutely again and again, but faUec- to find even so much as a crack to give weight ^•ALENTINE VOX. 67 to any opinion having reference to the exit of (uiything like a human being. They still, how- o'ver, tried very hard — very, very hard indeed —to reconcile the fact of their having heard ije voice of a man, with the fact of no man being there ; and as Valentine's appetite began to be somewhat troublesome, he left them Bpgaged in unravelling that mystery wluch he ffenectly well knew they were unable to solve. CHAPTER XVI. THE SALE OP Goodman's pkopektt by Walter, AMD THE exthaokdinaut stoppage thereof by VALENTIHE. ' Having dined at the first decent tavern he came to, Valentine started for poor Goodman's house ; but as he found it locked up and en- tirely deserted, he proceeded at once to the residence of Walter, with the view of ascer- taining, if possible, the cause of this unusually Bujdeal change. On leaching the house, he found the servant at the door, and in answer to his numerous en- quiries, the girl told an interesting tale about how Mr. Goodman, her master, had been out Sill the day with her mistress : how Mr. and Mrs. Hoiaoe had been out all day with them ; how they were all out together on some pressing business, then, and how she didn't expect they Would be home before midnight. ." I'll leave a note -for your master," said Valentine ; " I suppose I shall find a pen and ink in the parlor V . " Oh," said the girl, placing herself hurriedly before him, " Missis has locked up the parlor, sir ; she always does when she goes out for ihy time." " Has she locked up the drawing-room too ?" inquired Vjilentine. _ " Yes, sir, — ^there's a tavern over the way, sir; if you'll write a note there, sir, if you please, I'll be sure to give it master, directly lie comes home." : At this moment Walter, of course, quite un- (Bonscious of the door being open, rushed out of the parlor in his morning gown and slippers, and was about to proceed up stairs, when he caught a glance of Valentine in the passage. " Oh ! how do you do?" he cried, making an extremely awkward attempt to conceal the «onfusion, into which he had been thrown. " Happy to see you ! — very happy to see you ! -rrwalk in !" and he gave a most withering look at the girl, although it was clearly by no means ilex fault. On entering the parlor Valentine found the \yhole family engaged in the perusal of a mass of papers with which the table had been strewed : and although they received him with itiiloh affected pleasure, he perceived in a mo- ment that he was an unwelcome guest. "So the old buffer's bolted and left yon in the lurch," observed Horace, trying to con- ceal die iron safe which belonged to GoodmEin. " It'siust like the old out-and-outer." 5 t* "I hope nothing serious has occurred," ob- served Valentine. "Oh, not a ha'porth of it! — serious! — ^noi chance of that ," returned Horace. " But you know he's such a jolly old rum un' there no such thing as holding him any how." "I feared," said Valentine, "that he had entered into some unsuccessful speculation, and had thus become involved." "Speculation!" cried Horace; "well, come, that's rich ! Why, did you ever suppose that a regular old know-nothing out-and-out cove of his kidney had half enough pluck to " " My -dear Horace, how you do talk !" inter- rupted Mrs. Goodman, "when you know that he has been speculating " " Oh ! ah ! exactly !" said Horace, who had evidently forgotten his part. " The fact is," said Walter, " he has bee« dabbling a little^ and that has rendered it in- expedient for him to be seen for a week or two, — you understand?" Valentine nodded, for he did understand what they wished him to understand ; but no more. There is some- thing behind, thought he. These hesitating speeches and secret looks mean something. "And what do you think of doing, my trump V said Horace, as Valentine was steadily watching their actions. " Do you mean to re- main here in this httle village, or do you mean to cut back?" " Why the thing is so sudden, I've not at present made up my mind. Of course I shall eventually return." "My brother," observed Walter, "in his letter to me, states that he should advise you to return at once, and that when everything is settled he shall again be most happy to see you." " Had he written to me to that effect," said Valentine, "I should doubtless have acted at once upon his advice ; but as he has not — and I cannot but think it most extraordinary that he has not — ^I feel justified in looking to my own feelings for a guide." " We ought, I'm sure, to make a thousand apologies," observed Mrs. Goodman, as she pinned thjee pieces of parcliraent together, and marked them ; " but I hope that the next time you favor us with a visit we shall not be so deeply engaged." " Where do you think of holding out untH you cut it?" inquired Horace. " I hardly know yet," replied Valentine. " I'm sorry," said Mrs. Goodman, " that we have not a bed to offer you ; but we shall be truly happy to see you whenever you will favoi us with a call." "My boxes," said Valentine; "I suppose that if I send for them to-morrow, I can have them?" " Most certainly, my dear sir,'' replied Wal- ter, "I'll see that they are safely delivered myself." " Well, ta, ta, my tulip, if you will go," cried Horace. " Take care of yourself, and let's know where you are, yoii know !" Valentine promised to do so, and after taking- leave of the ladies, was attended to the door by Walter, who displayed an extraordinaiy 68 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF degree of politeness ; and left the house deeply- inspired with the conviction that something was exceedingly wrong. As he wandered down the street reviewing steadily all that he had seen, it occurred to him that in a window immediately opposite the house in which he and poor Goodman had resi- ded, he had noticed a card on which was printed "apartments for a single gentleman;" and as he strongly suspected foul play, and felt that by engaging those apartments he should be able to watch the movements of Walter and his family unseen, he went at once to the house — came to terms with the widow by whom it was kept, and after stating the fact of his hav- ing lived opposite — a fact which appeared to be perfectly well known — took immediate pos- session. He had not been seated long at his window, which commanded of course a full view of Goodman's house, when he saw Walter, Horace, his wife and her servant, with two workmen, enter. The moment they were in, the door closed, and soon after the workmen were seen in the drawing-room and then at the windows above, where they appeared to be receiving instructions from Walter, with reference to the removal of certain fixtures, and shortly after- wards quitted the house with him, leaving in charge of it Horace and his wife. As the evening drew on, the shutters were dosed, and all seemed secured for the night, when Valentine, who had had but little sleep the night previously in consequence of having persecuted Beagle with the oats, had a very early supper and retired. In the morning the whole family were at work long before he was up, and throughout the entire day they were busily engaged with clerks, carpenters, and porters with green aprons, examining, tying up, and lotting the fur- niture. Valentine watched their actions nar- rowly, and towards the evening slipped out, took a coach, and called himself for his boxes, without apparently noticing the confusion that prevailed ; and after driving right away that they might not know where he resided, came back to his lodgings unseen. That night about ten a cart came to the door, and when a number of baskets which evident- ly contained plate, china and glass, had been 'deposited with care, it drove off, when Valen- tine watched it to the house of Walter, saw it emptied, and returned. Nothing more was removed that night, but early the following momipg three large vans were loaded with great facility. Wtdter ap- peared to be extremely anxious for them to ,»tart, and when they did start, Valentine fol- lowed and saw their contents deposited at the rooms of an auctioneer. He then knew of course that they were to be sold off at once, and as he saw by the papers that a sale of household furniture was to take place the fol- lowing day at those rooms, he resolved to be there, in order to fathom the thing, if possible, to the bottom. Accordingly, at twelve the next day he start- ed off, and having arrived at the entrance, on •ither side of whioh were exhibited a variety of catalogues and placards — he prot eeded aj> a long narrow passage, and then ascended a small flight of steps, which led immediately into the sale room. In the centre of this room stood a circula. table, round which certain children of leraei were seated with a view of securing aU bar- gains to themselves, while behind them stood small mobs of people of the same persuasion, conversing on the expediency of giving certain sums for certain lots, and of out-bidding any Christian person who might have a. desire to purchase those lots " worth the money." The moment Valentine .entered he looked round for Walter and his amiable family, whom, in a short time, he saw in a state of great con- sternation, which had evidently been induced by his unexpected presence. He seemed, how- ever, to take no notice of themj but apparently diiected the whole of his attention to the actions of those who by constantly attending these sale rooms raise fortunes upon fortunes' ruins. Before he had concluded the minute survey he had commenced, a tall while-faced person- age entered the room, and having jumped upon the circular table-, shut himself quiedy in a juvenile pulpit, made a sort of speech touching the matter in hand, stuck an eye-glass very dexterously between his cheek bone and hij brow, and brought forth his professional ham- mer. He was a remarkably short-sighted per- son, and had to bring his head down within an inch of the catalogue in order to ascertain the exact number of the first lot; and when this had been accomplished to his entire satisfaor tion, he very delicately scratched his head, every whitey-brown hair upon which seemed to be too independent to stand on any but its own bottom, when, after having slightly rubbed his nose, which, albeit it was hooked like the majority of the noses present, was yet of a totolly different caste, inasmuch as in his case the b ook was inverted ; he coughed twice with spiri > gave several a-hems ! and then boldly commenced operations. The first lot was put up and knocked down without even the slightest interruption from Valentine, for although he had made up. his mind to stop the sale, he was compelled of course to wait until he had ascertained precisely how the thing was conducted; but when the second lot came — which happened to be poor Goodman's writing desk, worth about forty or fifty shillings — he felt himself sufficiently oa fmt to begin. "A pound," said a Jew-looking gentleman, " One pound is bid," said the auctioneer. " Thirty shillings," cried Valentine, in an u* sumed voice of course. " Thirty shillings ; a splendid rose-wood writ- ing desk, secret drawers, complete, for thirty shillings." " Two pounds," cried Valentine in a differ ent voice. "Two pounds bid — smng for two pounds!" " Five," said an Israelite. "Five — -two five — for two pounds five"— when as this was the highest legitimate offer, Valentine's voices had it all their own way— " Going for two five 1" VALENTINE VOX. -■ ««Two ijomids ten," cned Valentine. '' Two ten — two pounds ten — any advance on (wo ten?" "Three pounds." " Three bid : three pounds — " = ';' "Ten." "Thank you— three ten ! . This elegant writ- ing desk going for three ten." " Four pounds." " Four pounds bid : four pound. Any ad- vance on four pound V " Four pounds ten." "Four ten in two places; four ten. This most valuable writing desk going for four ten." ''Fifteen." "Four fifteen — four fifteen — going for four fifteen!" "Five pounds." "Five pounds bid: no advance on five pound'?" " Five pounds ten." "Five ten — for five ten — going for five pounds ten ! I'm sure the value of it cannot be generally known . Any advance on five ten V " Six pounds." " Six pounds — this is really a most valuable desk — SIX pound — going for only six pound.'' "Ten." " Six ten — six pound — going for six ten." " Seven bid — seven ' pouiias — any advance on seven pounds'! — going for seven!" — and down went the hammer. The Israelites marvelled exceedingly, and began to reproach themselves for not bidding higher ; feeling perfectly certain that in one of the drawers either notes, gold, or diamonds were secreted. "What name for this writing desk?" inquir- ed the auctioneer. "Goodman!" cried Valentine, assuming Goodman's voice, at which Walter and his family started up amazed, and trembled vio- lently as they looked round the room in the ftdl expectation of seeing Goodman himself. The clerk went to the spot from which the voice appeared to proceed, but no purchaser could be found. "Who purchased this writing-desk?" de- manded the auctioneer; but no answer was re- turned. " Putsh te pargain up againsh," cried an Israelitisli gentleman, " tatsh^te fairesht vay ma tear, tatsh te fairesht vay!" and it was put up agam, and as the Jews bid higher under the impression that it contained something valua- ble, Valentine easily ran it up again to seven pounds, wlyan the auctioneer, whose sight was not sufficiently strong to enable him to see who had bid, stopped to inquire the name of the bidder: " Wno bid seven pounds?" said he. " Goodman V cried Valentine. " Cootmansh againsh !" cried a Jew, " arl for Cootmansh !" The clerk looked again for the purchaser, ■while the violence with which Walter and his family trembled had the eflfect of confirming the suspicion of foul play which Valentirie had 80 :deeply inspired. Had they murdered poor Goodman, thought he, tiey could not be more alarmed at the sound of his voice ; and the idea of their having murdered him absolutely seem- ed to be under the circumstances extremely reasonable. " This is very extraordinary," observed the auctioneer, when he found that no purchaser came forward. " If there be any persons here who have come with the view of creating con- fusion, they had better leave before they are turned out ! — our time cannot be wasted in this way. Put the desk aside," he added, address- ing the porter ; " and let's have the next lot, The next lot, gentlemen, is an elegant silver gilt tea service, milk jug, and finely-chrifed basin, complete. What shall we say for this elegant service ?" From thirty shillings the Jews ran it up to four pounds, and from four pounds Valentine ran it up to ten, when of course, on its being knocked down, no purchaser was discoverable. "What's the meaning of this?" demanded the auctioneer, indignantly. "Who is the purchaser of ihis lot?" "Goodman!" cried Valentine, and Mrs. Walter uttered a loud shriek and fainted. "Cot pleshmahart! Cootmansh? — veresh Cootmansh? Nothing put Cootmansh!" and the whole of the Israelites looked round amazed, as Mrs. Walter was borne insensible from the room. Under any other circumstances Valentine would have rushed to her assistance, but the impression that she must have been a party to the execution of some dark design upon Good- man, caused him to regard whatever pain he might have inflicted as a measure of retributive justice. , Indeed, so perfectly convinced did he feel that the absence of Goodman had been in- duced with a view to the promotion of some villanous object ; that he absolutely saw with delight, Walter struggling with those feelings which his conscience had created. " This is very extraordinary," observed the auctioneer. " If this course be pursued, it will be utterly impossible to go on with the sale." "Veresh Cootmansh!" cried a Jew. "Vat ish he ? Letsh know vat he ish, ma tear ! — tatsh te propersh vay, ma tear, to shettle arl tish." " Will Mr. Goodman step forward ?" said the auctioneer ; and at that moment Walter being unable to stand, fell into the arms of Horace, who, with the assistance of a broker, carried him into an adjoining room. " Te shentilmansh fainted arl avay," cried an Israelite. " Vatsh to pe tun wit tish lotsh ?" "Put it aside,'' said the bewildered auc- tioneer. "The next is a pier glass with richly carved frame. What shall we say for this lot ?" The Jews bid with their accustomed liberat ity, and then Valentine commenced, and when the thing had been knocked down for five times its value, the name of the purchaser wag called for again, and the reply was again, " Goodman." " Shtill Cootmansh !— arl Cootmansh !— he'H puy ush arl upsh," cried a Jew, whose bright sally was received with a loud burst of Israel- itish merriment. "It's of no use going on thus,'" said -the auctioneer, warmly. "I must ascertain the LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF meaning of this," and he bounced out of his pulpit and proceeded to the room into which the trembling, conscience-stricken Walter had been carried. During the whole of the time he was there, the Jews were laughing and joking with infinite glee. One of them, seizing the greasy hat of another, called out, " Mishter Cootmansh, ma tear ! — vill you pid for tish lotsh I" This produced another loud burst of laaghter, which lasted till the auctioneer re- turned. "Well, gentlemen, let us proceed ;" said he, on remounting his pulpit, and the next lot was brought by the porter and put up, and bid for with precisely the same result, when the auc- tioneer really began to exhibit strong symptoms of pent-up rage. At length Valentine cried in a loud com- manding voice, which apparently proceeded from the other end of the room. " Who au- thorized this sale ?" " Mr. Goodman," replied the auctioneer. "Cootmansh againsh! Veil, shtrike ma!" exclaimed all the tribe, in a breath. " He has no authority," cried Valentine. " The goods are not his." "Veil, vatsh tat mattersh, ma tear?" said several of the Israelites, looking towards the spot from which the voice had apparently pro- ceeded. " Te shentelmansh reshponshible, ve shposh, if he shtole 'em !" "Will that gentleman accompany me into the other room 1" said the auctioneer, who was really a respectable man, and who had inferred from the highly excited state of Walter's feelings that something was wrong. " Will he be kind enough to follow me?" he added, going again towards the room in which Walter was still trembling. No one followed, but in he went, and the Jews became more and more lively. They still called for Goodman to bid for the various arti- cles which they held in their hands. " Vill you puy ma stookingsh, Mishter Cootmansh %" cried one of them. " Vat vill you pid for ma shirtsh V cried another. " Heresh a coot pair of beautiful pootsh," cried a third, as he forced the legs of his neighbor upon the table, and displayed n pair of bluchers rather dropsical and airy, while a fourth cried, " Shelp ma ! I'll shell ma own shelf to Mishter Cootmansh !" The auctioneer returned, and having mounted his desk, said, " Gentlemen, I'm sorry to in- form you that this sale cannot proceed." This Bimouncement was met with a burst of much Israelitish murmuring. " I am sorry," he con- tinued, "as sorry as any of you can be; but I will not be a party to anything wrong. — (Cries of " Vy notsh T You're intenlnified, I shposh 1") — "No indemnity, gentlemen, will do for me, unless I am satisfied that all is correct." An observation which was treated with marked contempt by the Israelites generally. "I therefore, gentlemen, will not detain you any longer, and can only express my sorrow that I have taken up so much of your valuable time." The cou"tenances of the tribe at this mo- ment developed much dark indignation, and by degrees their murmurings swelled into a loud Isvfisu yell, which seem^4 to threaten exten- sive destruction. The fact of its being sos- pected that all was not right^- appeared- to possess the sharpest sting, for they looked at the loss of what they thereby might have gained. In vain the auctioneer endeavored to calm them. They would not be pacified. " I'll preak arl te cootsh in te plash !" cried one. "Vatsh you mean by making foolsh of us?" shouted another. " Vy don't you go on wit te sale?" cried a third, and the auctioneer per- ceiving their ragOi likely to increase, left the room, followed by the indignant sons of Israel, who hooted, yelled, and pushed him about, until he had locked himself securely in an office below, when Valentine, who had then no desire to see Walter, or any part of his family, quitted the place with the angry Jewish stream. CHAPTER XVII. VALENTINE VISITS GiriLSHALL — BECOMES ACQijAlNTEB WITH THOSE ANCIENT AND KESPECTABLE WARRIOSS, GOe AND MAGOS, TO WHOM HE IMPARTS SPEECH PRO TEM., AND THEN PROCEEDS TO DISCUSS MATTERS OF PERSONAL IMPORTANCE WITH THE ELOQUENT MEM- BERS OF THE COURT OF COMMON COUNCIL. What a thimble-rig is human life ! — the thimbles being the emblems of fate : the peas the types of its slippery chances. How mortals gamble at this rig even from the cradle to the grave ! They fix intently on a pea, and see it covered : they watch its windings, firmly con- vinced of its being there, or there ; they back that firm conviction with a stake ; and when they lose they lavish curses on their adverse stars ; but should they win, how pleasantly they swindle themselves into the belifef of the fact being attributable solely to their own most ex- traordinary acuteness! — they cannot tolerate the slightest reference to the power by which the thimbles move — that power which holds the pea at pleasure, to place it where it will. A moment's reflection will enable all well-dis- posed persons to perceive that this juggle, which has been so vehemently denounced, really comprehends all human actions, and that its invention — if an invention it may be called — instead of being dated from Alfred the Great, may be traced clearly back, without any mis- take, to "the good old days of Adam and Eve." Now, in this most remarkable " rig," Valen- tine began to take an extremely active part. He congratulated himself very naturally upon the skill with which he found out the Fumiture pea; but there yet was a pea which he had to discover, and that pea was Goodman. His energies were therefore directed to the task of ascertaining under what earthly thimble poor Goodman could be found. Bent upon this object, he, on the morning after the day of the intended sale by auction, started for the city, for the purpose of consulting with Mr. St. Ledger, the merchant upon whom Goodman had called on his way to the steam- packet wharf The Royal Exchange clock, as he passed, struck twelve, and the chimes were VALENTINE VOX. 71 pfeying memly the favorite tune of " See the '«'.onquering hero comes!" as he entered the of- ifice of Mr. St. Ledger, and found that gentle- man not only at home, but disengaged. "I have called," observed Valentine, after 'the usual brief ceremonies had been performed, "to solicit your advice in a matter which, to me, appears very extraordinary." " "Well, my young friend, what is it?" in- quired 'Mr. St. Ledger; "you may command my best' judgment : but why not solicit the ad- vice of friend Goodman?" " It is precisely because I cannot find hiln," returned Valentine. " What ! have you not seen him since you called upon me before?— did you not find him at home V "He has not been at home since; and I there- fore wish to know by what means I can ascer- tain where he is to be found." "Upon my word I can't guess. Have you been to his brother ?" " I have ; and he says that in consequence of some unHUCcessful speculation he is at pre- sent compelled to keep out of the way." "Indeed !" exclaimed Mr. St. Ledger, as he pulled down a thick heavy book, and referred to a certain page with some apparent anxiety. " It's very, very singular," he continued, having idosed the book with an air of satisfaction, that J should have known nothing about it. Specu- lation ! — Oh ! Spanish, of course. Very foolish ! I could have told him all about it ; but if men will act without advice in matters of this kind, they must of course take the consequences. Don't, however, disturb yourself about it. It will all come round right by-and-bye, I dare say. Foolish man ! — foolish man !" " But is it not very extraordinary that — " " God bless my life, not at all ! I know fifty in the same predicament, and in another week -'—-mark my words — we shall hear of fifty more. I faow it ; I'm sure of it ; I'd stake my ex- istence upon it. I saw how it was going from the first." " But the whole of his furniture — " "My dear young friend," interrupted Mr. St. Ledger, "when you are older you'll know more ;" and having made this remarkable ob- servation, he placed his hand firmly upon Val- ■enline's shoulder, and in a lower tone,/added, " Don't say a single syllable about it to any soul. You may injure his credit materially. He may be involved in other matters, you know, and if he be, men will pounce upon him like tigers, as they invariably do, when there hap- pens to be anything like a screw a little loose." " But I fancied that he was a man of some considerable property." "And so he is; but men don't let their pro- perty sleep. Few men are able to pay all de- mands at an hour's notice. You have heard of a run upon the bank ? — Same thing — same thing. Foolish man ! He'd no business to do anything of the sort; but make no stir, no noise, no inquiries : not a word on the subject to any Eingle soul, if you don't wish to injure his credit." Valentine had certainly no wish to do that, arid as he found that he could get nothing more from Mr. St. Ledger, who treated tlio whole thing as a business-like matter of course, he left the office considerably relieved; albei^ when he reflected upon the extraordinary con- duct of Walter in the sale room, as he imitated Goodman's voice, he still felt that there was something at the bottom of the affair which had not entered into Mr. St. Ledger's purely com- mercial calculations. He therefore resolved to keep an eye upon the family, and just as ha had made up his mind to be silent for a time, he crossed a well-built business-like street, at the bottom of which stood an old-fashioned edi- fice, whose front was adorned with a couple of rampant and highly respectable-looking griffins which seemed to be grinning with remarkable energy at an overgrown cauliflower cap which stood between them, and digging their claws into a poor devoted heart which already con- tained a dagger, and which, with the griffins, surmounted the motto of " Domine Dirige Nos." As the gates of this remarkable edifice stood open, and as persons were walking in and out with great freedom of step, he at once passed the portal, and introduced himself into a fair- sized hall with a flag-stone floor, two apologies for galleries, four groups of sculpture upon rather lofty pedestals, and a queerly stained window at each end. As Valentine enterefl, the place seemed to wear a vacant hungry as- pect, but on turning to the western extremity, he perceived a rather interesting couple of full-blown gentlemen on guard, and concluded, that if they had been trained in that haU, it vras clearly no place for the genius of starvation. As these two gigantic gentlemen seemed to form the chief attraction, Valentine approached them with a view to a more minute, survey. The first that he examined sported a pair of white trousers, which he. had outgrown con- siderably, and he stood in his shirt sleeves quite ready for action. His breast was adorned with a broad crimson scarf, and in his right hand he held a long pole, from the top of which hung a ball sludded with intere.sting spikes, invented obviously to puzzle the brains of all with whom they might come in immediate contact. This Eersonage looked down very mournfully, albeit is countenance was very much flushed, and his brows were adorned with a painted wooden circlet, which conveyed to the imaginative the idea of a wreath of laurels. The other was a bolder lookSng fellow altogether, but even he looked as if he had not for some time been quite comfortable in his mind. He wore a green tunic, held a shield in one hand, and a spear in the other, while his sword belt and sandals were so painted, as to impart a correct notion of sapphires, rubies, and pearls. Just as Valentine had concluded his survey of these warriors, two pale thin diminutive indi- viduals approached. They were Spitalfields weavers, and had been conducted to that quar- ter of the world to receive a magisterial admo- nition for hunting an old cow, which, by an extraordinary stretch of the caoutchouc imagi- nation, they had conceived to be a raving mad bull. " Sen I may live. Bill ! My hi, vot a vun- ner !" exclaimed one of these interesting young , 79 LIFE -AND ADVENTURES OF gentlemen. "Jist on'y twig his shanks! Vy it'd lake seven yards and a arf o' thrums on'y (0 majce that 'ere cove a pair o' garters !" . _ " Vitoh is Gog and vitch is Magog ?" inquired his companion, who was an emblem of simpli- city in his way. " Yy him in the smalls to be sure !" replied the other, '■ an they both on enl cuts avay to 4inner ven they 'ears that 'ere clock strike vun." " Yorker !" observed his companion, as with a knowing wink he pointed to his left shoulder. " Tell that to the moreens." "Veil on'y jist vaittill they 'ears it, an' then you'll be conwinced," said the other with a chuckle. " Them 'ere's the on'y two vich Jack the Giant-killer couldn't vop" — an observa- tion which induced his companion to gaze upon the long-bearded giant with mingled admiration and arnazement. "Well!" exclaimed Valentine, imparting a deeply indignant tone to the great Gog ; " what are you staring at — eh?" The greener individual grasped the arm of his guide, and as he was at the moment in the act of shrinking back himself, the additional impetus knocked him fairly down, and his Mend fell heavily upon him. " Away !" cried Gog, through the immediate instrumentality of Valentine. " How dare you insult my friend?" exclaimed Magog, through precisely the same medium ; " Retreat !" and the two little terror-stricken weavers scrambled up with all imaginable alacrity, and rushed to- wards the portal. The moment they had reach- ed it, a personage, evidently high in office, en- veloped in a robe trimmed tastily with fur and embellished with an immense gold chain, pre- ceded by a military individual, with a mar- shal's hat in one hand and a stan in the other; and a graver looking person, who carried a re- markably long sword, happened to be proceed- ing, with unequivocal solemnity, into the hall, from the gaily emblazoned carriage, from which he had just alighted. Against those who com- posed this truly dignified procession, the litde weavers ran, most certainly without premedi- tation, and almost unconsciously, but with so much force, that in an instant the personage adorned with the chain, was on the ground, .and the two little weavers struggling desperate- ly upon him. The grave bearer of the long 8word, and the military-looking individual, at once dropped their dignity and rushed to his assistance, while several minor officials tried to secure the little weavers, who managed, however, to bob through their hands like a eouple of small silver eels, and succeeded eventually in darting right away. The affectionate concern manifested by those around towards the personage who had been so lUiceremoniously placed in a horizontal position was excessive. Their apprehensions for the safety of his person as a whole and for the perfect integrity of each particular limb, were JWispeakable. They could not by any process make up their minds to believe, that he was unhurt; they were perfectly certain that he had been Ln the receipt of some serious injury : aiid it was not until he had earnestlv reiterated his asbiuances that all was quite right, that the procession moved slowly and solemnly acroct the hall, and then up a flight of steps into a long narrow passage. " To what place does that lead !" inquired Valentine, of a person who was standing very thoughtfully with his thumbs stuck firmly in the arm-holes of his waistcoat. " Which I That? Oh, to all sorts of offices, atid rooms, and courts, and places," replied that thoughtfid person. " Indeed !" observed Valentine, gratefully acknowledging the extremely explicit charac- ter of the information ; " is there anything of importance going forward V " Why, I s'pose," said the communicative creature, " there agoing for to hold a Court of Aldermen perhaps, I shouldn't wonder, pr something of that sort, no doubt, but I don't exactly know;" and he walked towards the statue of the great Lord Chatham. In Valentine's mind the idea of an a;lderman was associated with all that is fat. Steaming spectres of barons of beef, venison, turde, ox- tail, and mulligatawny flitted vividly across his imagination the very moment he heard the sound of the name. He expected to see them all with glorious countenances, adorned, of course, with rich purple pimples, and noses resembling fine bunches of grapes, with dou- ble chins, immense backs, and bellies im- measurable, extending in fact, so far forward as to render it impossible for any one of them to catch even a glimpse of his toes, which, as a natural.inatter of course, he conceived must be gouty. He had, from his earliest infancy, been led to believe, by every print which had even the smallest pretensions to a faithful portrayal of aldermanic characteristics, that no kind of menuould in reality be aldermen, unless they were beefy-faced, broad individuals, whose most capacious paunches imparted to them the power of gorging, arid stowing away quantities of matter altogether unexampled. He, there- fore, at once made up his mind to see twenty-four natural curiosities, exclusive of the Lord Mayor, whom, of course, he imagined to be the fattest and jolliest of the lot, and hence proceeded up the passage^ placed a coin into the open hand of a person in a blue stuff gown, and requested to be shown at once into the Court. " It ain't a Court of Aldermen to-day," said that person. " Well, what is it then?" " It's a Court of Common Council." "Indeed! who presides?" " Vy, the Lord Mayor in course !" " On, that wDl do," said Valentine, and into the chamber he went ; but as he saw a small thin-faced personage in the chair — the very personage, in fact, whom he had seen knocked down by the little weavers — he felt perfectly sure that there must be some mistake I He, therefore^ came out at once, and addressitg the individual in the gown, said, "I wanted .to go into the other court !" " Vot other court ?" " Why, the Court of Common Council !" "Veil! that is the Court of Common Counr cill" " Indeed," observed Valentinej with an ex- VALENTINE VOX. 78 fcression of raoredulity ; " when -wil/ the Lord Mayor arrive V " The Lord Mayor has arrived ! That's him in the cheer." Valentine looked at the fellow as if he meant to pin him to the wall. " Do you mean to tell me," said he, " that that little man is the real Lord Mayor V "In course he's the real un, and nothink else," replied the man. " Don't you see his goold chain, and the sword of listioe afore Eim?" ■ "Well," thought Valentine, "this is extraor- dinary." " Has he been ill V he inquired. " liill ■? no ; vot made you think of that ere V- "Simply because he seems to be wasted fdmost wholly away." "Oh, he never was bigger," replied the man. " He was always the same size since I know'd him, and a good size too." Valentine again felt aniazed. " Is it possi- ble," thought he, " that a person so small can be the . Lord Mayor of London ! Why, he is only the ghost of a Lord Mayor ! — the mere skeleton of one ! If the whole of the aldermen at the present day are anything like "the same size, what a strangely degenerate race they must be!" With such reflections as these he re-entered the court, which was really an unique and a Well-arranged place, not certainly quite so large, fcut far more eleganfly fitted up than the pre- sent House of Commons. At the extremity sat the president, who, in spite of the unjustifiable incredulity of Valentine, was the real Lord Mayor, while on either side of the chamber, compact rows of civic senators were arranged on remarkably well-stuffed benches, and they all looked e-xitremely nice and comfortable, ex- cept when they ventured to rise. Valentine could not help smiling at the change which the mere act of rieing induced in the countenances of the honorable members generally. , When sitting they appeared to be perfectly at ease, confidence glowed upon their cheeks, and they Ipoked as fierce as Bdiigal tigers whenever the developement of fieiiceness was deemed essen- tial to the safe conveyance of an idea of oppo- sition to any sentiment advanced; but when they rose tMy be^jne as pale as spectres crossed in Ime, and-'gaoh treinbled with more energy thanma Neapolitan greyhound with a cold. There 'were, however, two or three hon.* orable exceptions, who laid about them, right and left, with extraordinary force and effect, as men who are great among little ones will, more especially when the whole of our glorious insti- tutions are about to crurnble into sanguinary dust, and revolution stares us full in the face without moving a muscle. Valentine had no desire to interrupt busi- ness. He, therefore, waited with patience until all the important questions of the dflyiad been duly considered, when he felt that he'Vight as well enliven the honorable members, or^hom the majority— as was indeed iinder the circum- stances extremely natural — manifested a strong ioclination to sleep. Accordingly, as a prosy mdividual was pro- ceeding to explain how essential to the security ol the City's health it was that a certain Aug^eao stable, which formed a short arm of the Thames, should be purified ; Valentine ventured to cry, " enough !" making his voicb proceed appa> rently from the other end of the court. " My Lord Mayor," said the honorable mem- ber, who was then on his legs ; " it may, my Lord Mayor, be 'enough' for' the honorable members opposite. Everything in nature is ' enough' for them. They would have things remain as they are. They would have, my Lord Mayor, they would, have everything stagnant. Tney would have, not a huge heap of physical filth alone, but one chaotic mass of moral muck, that nature might wallow in reek- ing corruption. They would have, my Lord Mayor, the City covered with intellectual chick- weed, spreading its contagious influence from Temple Bar to Aldgate pump !" — a highly po- etical observation, which was loudly cheered by the honorable members on the eloquent gentleman's side, of whom several cried sotto voce, " Walk into him ! — give it him home ! — sarve him out!" " They would have," con- tinued the speaker, "they would have, my Lord Mayor — " " Sit down !" cried Valentine,. " Oh ! of course ! doubtless :" resumed the interrupted individual, in a highly sarcastic tone. "They would hke me, my Lord Mayor, to—" " Stick to the question !" cried Valentine. "The question," observed the speaker, ■■ is the very thing to which I do stick ! It is solely in consequence of my sticking to the question that makes me — " j "An idiot!" cried Valentine. "Down! Don't expose yourself." ' "Order! order! order!" shouted several honorable members; while several others chuckled at the prospect of a somewhat lively scene. " Will the honorable member who was pleased to make that observation stand forth like a man ?" cried the eloquent speaker, very loudly, and with no inconsidierable wrath. Valentine inquired the name of an honorable member who happened to be asleep in one corner of the court, and having ascertained his name to be Snobson, proceeded, in various voices, to call upon Mr. Snobson for a prompt and unconditional apology. The name of Snob- son was loudly reiterated by honorable mem- bers, who felt sure that Snobson was the man, and that he was then feigning a sleep for the sole purpose of avoiding detection. At length the calls for Snobson became so loud, that that gentleman awoke, and after rubbing his eyes with some considerable energy, begged naturally enough to know why he was called upon, seeing that he had no nw- tion whatever to bring before the court, ffia innocence, however, was felt to be assumed, and it was held that such an assumption ought not to protect him. They therefore called still more energetically, "Snobson! Snobson {"ac- companying that call, with the demand for a most ample apology. Mr, Snobson felt confused. He was a stout stumpy person, but still he felt confused. He u LIFE ANJJ ADVENTURES OF looked pale and red alternately for some few minutes, when his complexion settled down into a yellowish blue ; and as the demand for an apology was reiterated with increased zeal, he at length said, with all due solemnity and point: — "My Lord Mayor, I can't say as I exactly understand the true natur of this 'ere business: but all I've got to say is, that all I can say is this 'ere, wiz. that if I've done any- body any how wrong, I am willing in course to make it right; for there's. no indiwidual in this 'ere court more readier to apologize for the same." '■'Apology! apology!" shouted several hono- rable meifibers. "Votfor? Vot have I done? Tell me that!" cried Mr. Snobson, who really began to get warm upon the subject. "If the honorable member," observed the Mayor, with much precision and dignity, " made use of the expressions attributed to the hono- rable member, 1 am sure that the honorable member will perceive the necessity which exists for its immediate withdrawal." Here the demands for an apology were loudly reiterated by those who were anxious to fix upon some one, it mattered not whom a single straw, so long as he happened to be a political opponent, for party feeling at that period ran high, and as every question brought before the court was made a purely party question, that which had immediate reference to Mr. Snob- son was regarded as an exception by no means. " My Lord Mayor," said the honorable ac- cused calmly, after a pause, during which he had been looking about him as if he had lost some dear friend. " Ven I know the percise natur of the acquisation, I'll perceed for to re- but the same, and not iiiore." "It wont do. Master Snobson! it wont do, my boy!" cried Valentine in a sonorous wob- bling voice, whose tones singularly enough re- sembled those of an honorable member who jippeared to be deriving much amusement from the manifest confusion of the accused. The Lord Mayor, as soon as he had recov- ered from the state of amazement into which he had been thrown by the anti-senatorial style of that wobbling address to Mr. Snobson, rose steadily and solemnly, and looking with due geverity of aspect full in the face of the hono- rable member whose voice had been so unjus- tifiably assumed, said : — " I really am sorry to be compelled to make any remark touching the conduct of any honorable member, but I have a great public duty to perform, which duty I certainly should not perform, were Inol to say that honorable members should remem- ber that they are where they are!" The tail of this stinging rebuke was so point- ed, that it appeared to pierce the soul of the honorable member for whom the whole of its poignancy was designed, for he instantly rose, and placing bis hand with much solemnity upon his heart, said : — " My Lord Mayor. Hif it be imagined it was me, it's a hutter mishappre- iiension, 'cause it wasn't !" " Why you know that it was !" shouted Va- lentme, throwing his voice just behind the |iauord.Dle member who on the instant turned round with the velocity of a whipping-top, anj scrutinized the countenance of every member in his vicinity, with the view of ascertaining who had uttered those words, "Really," said the Mayor, "these proceed- ings are most irregular ;" and the justice of that observation was duly appreciated by all, save Valentine, who, with the most reprehensible temerity, exclaimed, "Mind your own busi- ness!" and that to the Lord Mayor ! "Mind my own business!" cried his Lord- ship, utterly shocked at the monstrous charac- ter of that injunction. "Mind ray own busi- ness!" he repeated in a still more intensely solemn tone ; and he looked round amazed, and held his breath to give his bosom an op- portunity of swelling with indignation, and then turned to the Recorder, and said, "Did yon ever?" to which the Recorder replied, "No, I never !" "Shame! shame!" shouted several hono- rable members, the very moment they had re- covered the power to snout. "Mind my own business!" cried his Lord- ship for the third time, and Valentine, regard- less of the official dignity of the first magistrate of the first city in the world, absolutely cried again, " Yes ! mind your own business !" A thrill of horror ran clean through the court. Every member appeared to be paralysed.' However cold-blooded, however atrocious, however unequivocally vile that observation might have struck them as being, it was one to which they were unable to conceive a suffi cient answer. Several of them made desperate efforts to rise, with the view of protesting against and denouncing its spirit, but every faculty, physical as well as moral, appeared to have forsaken them, and death-like silence for some time prevailed. At length his Lordship, recollecting what was due to himself as a Mayor and as a man, broke the spell which had bound him, and said, " I demand an explanation !" " An explanation V said Valentine. "Ay! an ■ explanation !" cried his Lordship with great magnanimity. " I have been tola by some honorable member to mind my own business. I am, I beg to say, I am minding my own business. I beg the honorable mem- ber to understand that it-is my own business ; and I beg to inform him further, that so long as I have the honor to occupy this chair, the re- spect which is due to the office I have the honor to hold shall be enforced !'' At this moment Valentine had the audacity to make three distinct bursts of laughter ap- parently proceed from three different quarters. "I wishj" continued his Lordship, tugging desperately at his otFicial habiliments; " I wist- honorable members distinctly to understand that I am not to be insulted. The dignity — " "Dignity!" interrupted Valentine, in a tone of bitter mockery, which, under any circum- stances, would have been extremely culpable, "Dignity!" " I repeat it !" cried his Lordship with con- siderable warmth. " The dignity of the office to which I have been elected shall desceod from OS untarnished !" VALENTINE VOX. 73 Before the cheering which this majestic ob- Wsrvation elicited had completely died away, :an honorable member, whose portly person and crimson face met Valentine's views of what an aldevman ought to be, rose for the purpose of moving 'a direct vote of censure ; but no sooner had he explained the object for which he had risen, than Valentine shouted, "Upon whom?" and in a moment there were loud cries of "Name! name! narap '" which seemed to puzzle the honorable member exceedingly. " I am not," said he at length, after having held a conferinoe with those around him, '' in possession of the honorable member's name, but probably some other honorable member will inform me." Valentine had unfortunately heard but one honorable member's name mentioned, and "therefore had no hesitation in calling- out •■'Snobson!" "No, no!" cried that honorable member, starting up and appealing energetically to many other ho-iorable members, who bore instant tes- timony to the fact of his being innocent. " As far as I am personally concerned," ob- served his Lordship, who had been struggling to regain his apparent equanimity, "I should take no further notice of the insulting expres- sion, but I feel it to be my duty as chief magisti-ate." " You a chief magistrate !" cried Valentine, who had really a great contempt for the size of his lordship, albeit he held the office in very high respect. " You are joking !" "Joking!" cried his Lordship with an ex- pressiort of horror. " Do you think that you are fit now to be a chief magistrate 1" said Valentine ; " why, you don't weigh above nine stone two !" An honorable member knitting his brows and looking remarkably fierce, rose to move that the offensive expressions be taken down; and "Mind your own business!" — "You a chief magistrate !" — " Do you think that you are fit now to be a chief magistrate?" — and " Why, you don't weigh above nine stone two" — ^were taken down accordingly. " Now," said that honorable gentleman, " I will not, my Lord Mayor, look for precedents with a view of ascertaining how to act in this ease, for as conduct like that which we have witnessed is altogether unprecedented, no pre- «dent for such conduct can be found ; but I mean to say this, my Lord Mayor, that nothing more utterly disgraceful, more desperately atrocious, more palpably irregular, or more altogether out of the way, ever occurred in this or any other court, either in this or in any Other country, laying claim to the highest point in the scale of civilization ; and all I can say, my Lord Mayor, is this, that such conduct reflects the very lowest and most abominable pitch of shatne upon the honorable member — f" care not whom he is — for he has not the common manliness xo avow like a man the de- testable utterance of language on the one hand W monstrously vile, my Lord Mayor, and so ■^sh and extremely leatherheaded on the oiuer!" ' ' This burst of indignant eloquence was hailed with loud cheers, and as the general impres- sion was that the offending party never could stand such a broadside as that, honorable mem- bers looked round with considerable anxiety for the rising of the delinquent. For several seconds the suspense was profound, when, aa the offender by no means came forth, due con- tempt was inspired for the character of such a man, and an alderman rose with the most per- fect self-possession for the piirpose of express- ing his sentiments on the subject. it was evident at a glance, that this worthy individual was one of the most brilliant of the sparking wits with which civic society is so abundantly studded. He appeared to be per- fectly at home, and after smiling a mset inter- esting, if not a most fascinating smile, ob- served : — " Really this appears to be a very queer business; but that branch of the business which seems the most queer, is that which refers to your Lordship's weight. The honor- able member complains that your Lordship don't weigh more than nine stone two, and his estimate appears to be, as far as it goes, as nearly correct as possible ; but he contends that your Lordship is not a fit and proper person to be a chief magistrate, because you don't weigh more than nine stone two ! Why what in the name of all that's rational would he have a chief magistrate weigh ? Would he like to have every Lord Mayor a, huge moun- tain of flesh, — a human porpoise ? Would he have him elected by weight, with the standard fixed at twenty or five-and-twenty stone V " He ought certainly to have a little flesh upon his bones," cried Valentine, throwing his voice behind the speaker. " Flesh !" cried the worthy and eloquent alderman, wheeling sharply round; "a little flesh ! Upon my word this is very extraordi- nary. An error has been engendered in the minds of the ignorant — an error which has de- scended, in fact, from generation to generation, with the most hereditary regularity, until it has partaken of the character of an heir-loom— that aldermen possess all the external characteristics of gluttons in consequence of their assumed Unconquerable inclination to feed to satiety, when, in point of fact, aldermen, instead of being gorgers, and crammers, and stowers away of immense masses of food, are decidedly the most abstemious body of men in existence. I know — nay, we all know, thai aldermen, like bishops, are, to please the morbid taste of the vulgar, represented as persons wiih red bloated cheeks, mulberry noses, and immense corpora- tions, although the great majority of them are extiemely narrow-bellied, wiih no more incli- nation to obesity than drammers; but when 1 hear an honorable member of this court, who must know all the aldermen personally, contend that a man is unfit to fill the ofiice of chief magistrate because he don't weigh above nine stone two, I must say. that in the annals ot queer affairs, a queerer don't stand upon record." This novel and eloquent speech did not ap pear to give generd satisfaction. It is true, the worthy aldermen present — of whom there were several — held their savory breath, and tried desperately to make their abdominal drumi 76 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF look genteel, and endeavored^— with a virtuous .view doubtless — to swallow the belief that they really were very abstemious men; but the commoners, who had been in the habit of look- ing forward with delight to the grand periodi- cal feasts, keenly felt that if such an inhospita- ble, hungry idea as that of abstemiousness being held to be one of the civic virtues, were to ob- tain, the glowing members of the corporation would be frozen into whole-hog tee-totalers, and the Mansion-House itself would be metamor- phosed, eventually, into a shivering temper- ance den. That so revolting a state of things ought by no means to be promoted, they were perfectly and naturally convinced : they, there- fore, felt it incumbent upon them as citizens, to repudiate the notion with sovereign contempt; and, as Valentine perceived the expression of this feeling to be almost universal, he raised a loud laugh at the conclusion of the worthy al- derman's oration, which was prompdy respond- ed to in tones of bitter irony. " It's hall werry well for the court to be mer- ly," said an honorable member, when the laughter had subsided ; " but touching the hin- sult! vot about that ■? — the indignity showered upon the cheer! — that's vot I mean for to con- tend should be noticed." " Vot a hanimal !" said Valentine, " exasper- ating the h, and contemning the correct pro- nounciation of the wowell." "Such language," cried his Lordship, indig- nandy, '• cannot be tolerated." " Why don't you then make him speak better?" cried Valentine, which was certainly, under the circumstances, extremely reprehen- sible. "Order!" exclaimed the Lord Mayor, "I v/ill not sit here to be thus insulted !" " Shame ! shame !" shouted several honora- ble members simultaneously, while his Lordship conferred with the Recorder. " It's perfectly disgraceful !" cried several others, but the majority were smiling as if they enjoyed it. " I do not," said his Lordship, having taken the opinion of his legal adviser, " by any means envy the feelings of those honorable members whose conduct this day has been so highly dis- creditable, but I do hope and trust that they will reflect upon the course they have adopted, and as I find it impossible to recall due atten- tion to business, I have only to add, that this court is adjourned." His Lordship then rose, and as the honorable members were forming themselves into groups, with the view of expressing their private opinions on the subject, Valentine left them to revel in conjecture, and quieUy quitted Guild- hall. CHAPTER XVIH. SHOWS WHAT A COKSOIENCE GOODMAN'S BROTHEB HAD. It has been said that some .men have no conscience; but if such men there be, they must be dead men ; and as dead men have been (Old to be no men at all, the two positions form a problem, ot which the solution :s not ea^y. It seems plain enough — yet who Knows? — th^il a man without a conscience mustie without a soulj and were the existence of such an animal recorded in natural history, the thing would be at once as clear as crystal ; but as we have no record of any such thmg, the fair inference is, that the first grand position has yet to be estab- lished. Be this, however, just as it may, it is perfectly certain that Walter had a conscience; and one, too, which belonged emphatically to the working class of consciences — a conscience which delighted in the cultivation of moral thorns, which pricked and stung him day and night with much point and effect. His brother's form was perpetually in his " mind's eye ;" his brother's voice as perpetually rang in his ima- gination's ear : nature's sweet restorer was coi>- qilered and kicked about by nature's grim dis- turber, and a very fine time of it he had upon the whole. Nor were the minds of his amiable family much more at ease; forasmuch as they had no precise knowledge as to the whereabouj of Goodman, they were induced by the horrible state of Walter's nerves to apprehend that he had either murdered him, or caused him to be murdered, but dreaded that only in consequence of such an event being calculated to bring down upon him the vengeance of the law. "It's of no use," observed Mrs. Walter, a few evenings after the furniture had been sold by private contract; " it isn't of the slightest earth- ly use, you know, attempting^ to go on in this way. I must have a separate bed. I really cannot sleep with you — I cannot indeed; for you talk, and groan, and sigh, and throw your arms about, and Mckl I'm sure my legs are nothing but one mass, of bruises ; and as for the clothes! — if I pull them on once during the night, I ^ave to puU them on at least fifty limes. I can't endure it — I really cannot if you go on in this way, and so it don't signify talking !"' "It's very unpleasant!" observed Mrak Horace, sympathetically. " Unpleasant, my dear ! — it's really dreadful! I wonder, I'm sure, that I don't catch my death. There was only last night — you know how tired I was ? — well, I hadn't been asleep five minutes when he turned on his right side, and off they all went ! — blankets, sheet, counterpane — everything in the world ; although I pinned them, as I thought, securely to the palliasse, and tucked them well in before I got into bed.'' " That's just for all the world like my Horace, when he comes home a little bit tipsy." "Of course!" cried Horace. "What i« it t don't do ?" " Why you know you do everything that'i disagreeable, then j you turn about and snore, and—" " Now you have said it ! I snore ! — com^ that's good — you won't beat that to-night ! \ never snore ; I'd scorn the action ! If I were ever to catch myself at it, I'd get up and out my own throat. I detest it — I can't snore." " My goodness, Horace !" " I never do it, I tell you ! — Surely, I ought to know !" " But how can you know when you'M asleep V VALENTINE VOX. 77 , " Do you moan to tell me that you'll make nje believe, that if I were to snore away, and grunt like a jolly old hog in distress, I shouldn't wake myself?" "Well," ?aid Mrs. Walter, "I don't know, J'm sure, who it was; but when you slept in the uext room to us, I know one of you used to make a horrible noise." " Why, of course ! — ^that was Poll !", observed Horace ; ' " she's a regular out-and-out snorter." " Why, good gracious, Horace I" r " Well, you know that you are ! It's of no use denying it. Before I got used to it, I couldn't get a wink while you were cutting away in that dreadful state of mind; but, like every- thing else, it has become so natural that I look for it, and can'l close my eyes till you begin." . . "Weil, your faiher never snores," said Mrs. VV'aiter, "I must say that; but he does kick jnost cruelly." , " Well ! some more grog !" growled Walter, ]phose obgequious manners had been changed into those of a bear, and whose countenance developed a fixed and sullen gloom. ,. " Don't drink any more, there's a love !" said Mrs. Walter, "you've had five very strong glasses already." „ "What if I've had five-and-fifty ! I don't care a dump : I want more !" " Well, it must be a very very little, and that very weak." "Here, push it this way ! — I'll mix for my- self. You scarcely take the rawness off the water." And he did mix, but scarcely took the lawness off the brandy; and having mixed, and swallowed the greater part of the mixture, his muscles appear#d to be a little relaxpd, and ite made a very lamentable effort to sing " Mynheer Van Dunk, who never got drunk, Sipped brandy and water gaily ; ' ' He quenched his thirst with two quarts of the first, To a pint of the latter, daily, To a pint of the latter, daily." "The governor's getting mops and brooms,'' whispered Horace to his amiable spouse ; " he's going it ! I shouldn't at all wonder if he opens, byrand-bye, like a porcupine. I say," he con- tinued, addressing his venerable lather, " won't you have a cheroot ? Here's an out-and-outer here !" and he picked out the blackest and strongest he could find, which Walter took, and began to smoke desperately. "Try him now,". whispered the senior Mrs. Goodman. ." Well, how do you like it V '• Not at ail : it's particularly nasty," replied Walter, " but anything to drive the blue devils away. ' Begone, dull care ! I prythee begone from me.' I say, old girl ! let's have a bowl of punch ! ' If any pain or care remain, Let's drown it in a bo— o — owl,' Who cares ? who cares, eh 1 Give us a kiss, old girl! Why don't you sing? Come, let's have a song all round !" " The thing was well managed," said Ho- race, " after all, eh 1 — wasn't it ?" " No ! not at all ! it wasn't well managed ! — he saw me ; — it wasn't well managed !" ,'* I wonder how he liked it " " Ask him !" cried Walter, directing his eyes to a vacant part of the room. "There! ask him ! — there he is !" " Where ?" shouted Horace, as he, his wife, and mother turned to the spot to which Walter still pointed. " Why, there! are you blind? — ^He has been standing up there for the last hour !'' " Good gracious ! how you frighten me !" ex- claimed Mrs. Goodman ; "you make my very blood run cold. " It's just the way you went on last night. You would have it that he was standing at the foot of the bed." " And so he was ! — ^but who cares'?" and he nodded to the space to which he had pointed, and emptied the glass. " Well, why don't you sing? — Here! mix some more grog." "I say, where have you stowed him?" in» quired Horace. ■ " Don't I teU you he's there !" "Oh, nonsense ! but where did you take hiiq; to?" Walter pushed the candles aside, and having closed one eye to make the other more power- ful and steady, looked earnestly at Horace, and said, " Don't ask any questions, and then you'll not have to tell lies. — Now, where's this brandy- and-water? — The treacherous crew! They'd no right to let him out ! They promised they wouldn't, so long as I kept up my payments ; yet there he is now !" and he covered his eyes with his hand, and sank back in the chair, in which, yielding to the combined influences of brandy and tobacco, he soon fell asleep. " He has dropped off," said Horace ; " don't wake him. I never before saw him above half so far jifone." " But how strange !" said Mrs. Goodman, " is it not? There' is, however, one consolation, I think he hasn't rushed into extremes." "No! that's pretty certain," said Horace, "I thought he had at first. But where can he have stowed him ? That puzzles me above a bit. He couldn't have cooked him into a work- house; nor could he well have fixed him in a prison. It certainly is about the rummest thing I ever heard of." " Probably," suggested Mrs. Goodmarj, "he has sent him abroad !" " Kot a bit of it !" cried Horace, " he's some-, where near at hand. Besides, you know, he isn't a fool. He wouldn't be kept there — ^hush !" he added sharply, for Walter at the moment gave a strong convulsive start. " That's the way he goes on throughout the night," gently whispered Mrs. Goodman; "hush, listen ! — he's dreaming !" " There are a kind of men so loose of soul. That in their sleep will- mutter their affairs j" and one of this "kind" was Walter. "Now do your worst!" cried h«, folding hw arms with an air of defiance. " Do your worst ! — I am safe ! — ^The certificate ! — ^that was the authority. — Well, I know it ! what of that?— And so you were ! — you were mad ! — No ! not at all ! — Why for your safety ! — Look to those who certified. — Not a word ! — Do it ! — I'm ready to defend myself! — Cool! very cool! — Never! don't believe it." Having uttered these sen- tences, as if in answer to a series of interrogEMo tories, he curled his lip proudly; but in tossmg T8 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF his head, he struck it against the back of the chair with so much force, that he awoke oh the instant, and started up, exclaiming, "Oh," you shall pay dearly for that ! — that blow shall be your last ! Now !" "Walter!" exclaimed Mrs. Goodman, who, with the assistance of Horace, sustained him. " Walter ! awake !" " Did you not see him strike me ?" '•' No ! no ! he is not here." "How can you tell me that? why there he Btands now? — ^Am I not to believe my own eyes ? Have you all turned against me ? Curse you all ! Why do you hold irte 1 — I'll strangle aim! — Why do you hold me?" and he stared again wildly, and pointed to the imaginary form e bought for half a sovereign, and they'll sign awaty like rattlesnakes." " What ! without knowing whether the man's insane or not?" "Without knowing! — what is it to them? They are called in to certify ; — ^they are paid to certify; — they therefore do certify, and pocket the coin." " You perfectly astonish me !" exclaimed Mrs. Goodman. "That's good! — Astonish you! — Why one- half ihe world would be astonished to leam how the thing is arranged by these medical snobs." " But they examine them of course ?" "Not a bit of it! They will occasionally eertify without even seeing the | patient;' and if ihev ds take the trouble to visit him, they t question him, and harass him, and put him into_ a most uncomfortable state of excitement, in order that they may satisfy their beautiful con» sciences that he is in reality insane." " But isn't that very wrong?" . " Why, it's v6ry convenient. Of course, if we come to the rights of the thing, it is clea* that no man should be confined in any one of these dens, until his case had been fully, and publicly investigated. But then, you "see, thai wouldn't answer ! They would never be able to get a sane man out of the way, however rich he might be, if that system were adopted." "But how do they manage it?" inquire*? Mrs. Goodman. " Why, suppose, now, I wanted to lock up the govemor. Well, I have only to write to the proprietor of one of these pnvate bastiles to this effect : — "'Sir, — I beg you wUl send me two blank forms of order and certificate to-morrow mom- ing, together with two stout keepers, for a very violent patient who is dangerous, and whom I desire to commit to your care, and if you will send also two doctors to certify, it will save a deal of trouble, and much oblige.' . " Well, at. the time appointed, in walk the doctors, who bore the old govemor with a series of out-and-out questions, until they excite him to such a pitch of glory, that he threatens, very naturally, to kick them out of the house ; and he no sooner reaches this point of the compass, than they call in a couple of coal-heaving keep-' ers, who clap a strait jacket, or a pair of handi cuffs upon him, without any ceremony, and bundle him off, with the certificate signed; to the bastUe to which they bdlong." " And would you be justified in doing this bylaw?" "Law! What should I care about law? Law has little to do with private lunatic asy- lums. Once in, the poor devils are booked for the whole distance: it must be, indeed, an ex- traordinary occurrence which enables them ever to get out. There they are, and there they stick, so long as the payments are kept up ; and when they die, why what does it mat- ter where or how they are buried ? If they are murdered, it's just the same thing : no inquest is held upon the body. The coroner has no power there,— not a bit of it, — nothing of the sort." "This really appears to me," said Mrs. Goodman, " to be very dreadful ; but of course they are well treated ?" "Oh! of course!" returned Horace ironi- cally ; " of course I they have every comfort in life, and all' its luxuries. The proprietor is Eaid for each so much a-year ; and of course e don't want to make anything out of theih ! He is generally a mild, out-and-out nice man— a man whose humanities are conspicuously de- veloped — and he spends all the money he re- ceives, no doubt, in administering to their seve- ral necessities, and becomes at once so fond of them, that he never parts with one if he can possibly help it, while the payments continue to be regular : nay, his attachments are so ex- tremely strong, that if one of his patients- should die or escape, he regards it as a very very serious loss indeed." VALENTINE VOX. 7P At this moment the cry of "murder!" was heard from above, and that cry was succeeded by a tieavy crashing fall. Mrs. Goodman gave a shrill scream and fainted; and Horace rushed into the bed-room of Walter, whom he found lying prostrate upon the floor. Ou being raised, he was perfectly insensible, and it was some considerable time before animation could be restored ; and when it was, his delirium con- tinued wild and powerful. Horace, therefore, consented to sit up all night ; and having sent his wife and mother to bed, got a bottle of brandy a.nd a box of cheroots, and then dropped into a large easy chair with appro- priate resignation. CHAPTER XIX. THE widow's victim. As Valentine sat in his own room alone the evening on which the conscience of Walter had developed itself to his amiable family, wonder- ing what had become of the card which had been given to him by the father of the lovely creature, whom he rescued from " Old Fatlier Thames," the servant of the widow with whom he lodged knocked gendy at the door, and hav- ing entered, said, "0, if you pie, sir, misseses compliments, and says she hopes you'll excuse the liberty, but she has a little party to-night, and she will be so happy if you'll join 'em, as she's sure it must be lonesome to be here alone." " Your mistress is very polite," said Valen- tine; "I'll do myself the pleasure, — Oh, have jrou seen a small glazed card about the room?" " No, I haven't, sir — ^least ways, not to my knowledge ; but if I should see" — " I have it !" said Valentine. " My compli- ments to your mistress; I'll be down in five minutes." Although it may probahly be inferred from Valentine's exclamation, "I have it!" that he had it, he had it not ; but simply recollected at the moment that he had left it in the pocket of .the steward's stripetl-jacket, which had been lent to him to go on shore at Gravesend. He knew not the name of the steward, nor did he know the name of the vessel to which he belonged, but then — which was certaiidy the next best thing — he knew the name of the wh^rf from which she started. He, therefore, at once made up his mind to go down to that particular wharf the next morning, with a view to the recovery of the card, and proceeded to join his fair landlady's party in the parlor. Now of all the speculations whose fruits have a tendency to confer immortal honor upon the learned, there is probably not one so di- rectly, so eminently calculated to send a man down to posterity, as that which has reference to the origin of personal names. That there are so inany Smiths, iiiay be easily accounted for, seeing that there are so many Smiths — namely, white Smiths, black Smiths, silver Smiths, gold Smiths, lock Smiths, coach Smiths, gun Smiths, and so on, whose descendants have assumed the pure name, although clearly the MQ of the first Mr. Smith should hare called himself Smithson ; the son of Mr. Smitheon, Smithsonson ; and the son of Mr. Smithsonson, Smithsonsonson ; or, for shortness, Smithscns- grandson. This, however, might have been very fairly objected to, on the ground that such a course, however proper, would, in a few gen- erations, draw the names of the descendants of the original Smith to a somewhat inconve- nient length. But how the thousands, nay^ the millions of names which are to be met within civilized society, were originally got hold of by our ancestors respectively, is a question whicb opens a very wide field for anti(juarian re- search, — a field whose cultivation would doubt- less confer upon mankind, in the aggregate, benefits incalculable. They who might entej this glorious field might meet with a few proper names of a very queer character ; they might, indeed, be for a time, in some slight degree, gloriously puzzled ; but there could be no doubt of their eventual success if they boldly and resolutely proceeded upon the just ana eternal principle, that every effect must have a cause. This profound vein of reflection has been opened by the fact that Valentine's landlady possessed the name of Smugman. That she got it from her late lamented husband is mani- fest, but how did the original Smugman obtain it % The solution of this mystery is not, how- ever, absolutely essential to the progress of these adventures, and therefore it may as well at once be observed, that Mrs. Smugman had been languishing in a weary state of widowhood for nearly twelve months, and that, . however ardently she might have have loved the name of Smugman at one time, she then had an equally ardent desire to change it. Her hus- band had been in the navy, and from the Ad- miralty, she received, in consequence, seventy pounds per annum, to which, in conformity with the general practice, she was entitled so' long, but only so long as she remained a widow — a practice whose tendency is far more immoral than the wise men by whom it was established, conceived; for, as the annuitants cannot legally marry without sacrificing their respective an- nuities, the temptation to marry illegally ig sometimes too strong to be resisted by those who do not in reality prize virtue as it ought to be prized, above all other sublunary blessings. That such considerations, however, entered not into the head of Mrs. Smugman, all are bound to believe, for, independently of her being strictly virtuous, she had her eye upon two most respectable bachelors — namely, Mr. Fox- glove, a quiet bank clerk, and Mr. Crankey, a money-making grocer, the latter of whom she did rather prefer, but in consequence solely of his wealth being calculated to cause the match on her part to obtain the direct sanction of pru- dence. The gentleman upon whom this preference was bestowed was a sour-looking, porcupine- headed person, whose smiles were so forced, that they gave pain to all who beheld them ; yet the widow was conversing with him very affectionately when Valentine entered the room. A variety of greetings and fussy introduction! to the ladies and gentlemen, who were engaged LIFE AND ADVENTURES OP in the purely commercial game of speculation, were immediately consequent on his entree, for the fair widow really felt honored by his presence, and scarcely knew how to lionize him enough. It soon became manifest, however, to Valen- tine, that Crankey by no means approved of these attentions; that he looked dark and dreadful, and scowled very furiously, both at the widow and at him ; and as he subsequently made himself particularly disEigreeable, in- dulging occasionally in certain very pointed in- sinuations having reference to the impropriety of such attentions to young men in general, Valentine resolved on punishing Mr. Crankey for his bear-like behavior. " What a sour old crab, to be sure," said he, making his voice apparently proceed from the speculation table. "I can't say I admire the taste of Mrs. Smugman." "Indeed!" muttered Crankey, knitting his black bushy brows, and looking round the table in question, with the view of ascertaining who it was that had spoken. " My presence," he added, addressing Mrs. Smugman, "doesn't appear to be very agreeable to some of your friends .*' "Oh, nonsense!" observed Mrs. Smugman. " It's nothing but a silly remark. There's no meaning in it : nonsense !" "You should not invite persons to meet me, Mrs. Smugman, who are capable of making silly remarks with no meaning in them." The widow bit her lips, but said nothing. Mr. Crankey, however, was by no means dis- posed to be silent, for he enlarged rather elo- quently upon the fact of his not having come there that evening to be insulted. "Did you ever!" cried Valentine, throwing his voice in the same direction. *' The fellow's a bear !" " Gentlemen,'' said the widow, approaching the table as a burst of surprise had been in- duced, by the fact of a lady having turned up the ace after selling the king for five-pence- halfpenny, " I really must beg of you not to indulge in unpleasant observations." The whole of the speculators stared at the widow, with an expression of amazement. "You must remember," continued th;it lady, " that Mr. Crankey is my friend, as you are all my friends, and I should not like to hear an nnpleasarit observation applied to any one of you." "Mr. Crankey, I'm sure, must be mistaken," observed one of the gentlemen at the table. " 1 have heard no such observation made." " But I have !" growled Crankey. '' Well, all I can say is that I have heard iiothing of the sort," returned the gentleman. " Nor have I," cried the whole of the specu- lators in a breath, which was literally the fact, for they had all been too busy turning up pre- maturely and estimating the value of the best card turned in proportion to the wealth of the pool, to pay attention to anything else. Mr. Crankey was not satisfied ; but the specu- lators were, that Mr. Crankey had been mis- taken, and the merry game proceeded. Valentine had by this time understood the precise terms upon which Mr. Crankey and the widow were, and very naturally felt th^ the sooner such a match were completely broken off, the better it would be for tne lady; and although he clearly recognised the right of that lady to choose and to judge for herself he resolved that she should become that evei>- ing acquainted with Mr. Crankey's disposition,, of which she really appeared to be totally, ignorant. " Come," said the widow, after a very awful pause, during which Crankey looked as black as a thunder-cloud just on, the point of bursty ing ; " what say you to a rubber ?" "Anything you like, ma'ain,'' said Cranli;ey^ "I am ready for anything!" and he hurled at the speculation table a dark look of de.fianoe.^ " Well, come, you'll cut in, will you not?" observed the widow, addressing Valentine, whom she honored with one of her sweetest smiles, which appeared to make Crunkey'» blood boil. Valentine expressed his willingness to jojij them, and when they had cut, he had Crankey for a partner, and their opponents were Wright" man and Foxglove, who really were very quiet gentlemanly men. By the desperate character of his play, it very soon became manifest that Crankey's whole soul was in arms, and he devoted so much attention to the noise which proceeded from the speculation table — applying almost every obser- vation to himself — that in playing the very first hand he revoked. The fact was duly noticed by Mr. Foxglove, who at once enforced the penalty. "Then you mean to play the sJn'rt game?" said Crankey, with much earnestness. " Of course, my dear sir, we play the game !" " Very well. As you please. It makes no odds to me : not a bit," said Mr. Crankey, shuf; fling the cards with unequivocal desperation. " Now, sir ! — It's my deal." " Oh, he can't play !" whispered ValentinCj throwing his voice behind Mr. Crankey as db dealt. Mr. Cranky looked round, and albeit he simply said, " Can't he !" the cojisequence was a misdeal. '■' Who the devil can deal cards, or play, or do anything, with such interruptions as these I'' exclaimed Crankey. "What interruptions?" inquired Mr. Fojf- glove. " Whvj these ungentlemanly observations, these whisperings and titterings while a man is dealing." " I heard no observations," said Mr. Fox- glove. "'But I did, sir ! — I am not deaf, sir, if other people are!" " I told you he couldn't play," cried Valeiv tine, throwing his voice among the speculating people. , , Crankey rose and gnashed his teeth with considerable violence, and grasped the back of his chair with great energy and firmness, and after having taken a. comprehensive view of the speculating group, cried, " Indeed ! if he can't he'll play you any day in the week for what you hke. It makes no odds to me ; frona VALENTINE VOX. 81 », crown to ten pound!" and he jingled what money he had in his pocket, with the view of imparting the conviction that he was a man of some consideiiible pecuniary substance. The entire party looked at Mr. Crankey with an expression of wonder, but as no one accepted the challenge, he hurled a look of contempt upon the specaialors in the aggregate, and eventually resumed his seat. The game was then continued, but Mr. Crankey was so excited that he was unable to recollect a single card that had been played. His opponents were making almost every trick, and the game looked particularly desperate, when as Wrightman was considering which card he should next lead, Valentine made it appear that Mr. Foxglove softly whispered ''diamonds," which happened to be trumps, and accordingly Wrightman conceiving that his partner had a hand which would carry all before It — a diamond was led. " Oh ! that's it, is it V cried Crankey sarcas- tically, throwing up his cards. " I knew it was something of that. I thought we were playing the game !" "And so we are," said Mr. Foxglove, "are we not 1" " Do you call intimations, sir, playing the game?" " What do you mean V said Mr. Foxglove. " Why this is what I mean, sir, — that you had no right to tell your partner to lead trumps, sir! that's what I mean !" " I ttU my partner to lead trumps! — I deny it, sir, flady deny it," and the denial was so palpably barefaced in the eyes of Mr. Crankey. that he was at the moment too utterly astounded to J'eply. " You are making yourself very disagreea- ble," continueti Mr. Foxglove. " I will not de- scend to argue the point, but in order to prove that I did not call for trumps, there are my cards. sir, I have not a single trump in my hand," and the'cards were duly placed upon the table. " 1 have all the trumps," said Valentine, ex- hibiting no less than seven, which would of necessity have carried the game ; but that game was of course claimed by Mr. Foxglove in coa- seqiience of Crankey having thrown up his hand. " Yon are satisfied, I hope," said Mr. Fox- glove. "I presume that you are satisfied. Come, if we are to play the game, for Heaven's sake, sir, let us play it pleasandy. I hate to have any dispute." " And so do I, sir ; but if I didn't hear it—'* " Vou must have been mistaken," interrupted the widow, who began to be really a.'^hamed of his conduct, and to recognise the justice of Mr. Fo.vglove's observations, very much to the satis- faction of that genfleman. " I tell you I heard diamonds called, Mis. Sraugman!" cried Crankey, with a look which seemed to chill the widpw's blood. " Isn't a man to believe his own ears I" " Then it must have been mentioned at the speculation table." "I* don't know where it was mentioned, ma'am, nor do I care ; I only know it was men- tioned, and that's enough fpr trie." "Well," said Valentine, <' shall we hare another game?" "Oh, with all my heart!" said Mr, Fex- glove. " We'll see them once more, Mr. Crankey V said Valentine, and as that gentleman doggedly consented, the cards were again dealt. Mr. Crankey made the first three tricks, but just as he was about to lead off for the fourth, ^'alentine throwing his voice immediately be- hind him, whispered " hearts." "I'm obliged to youj but I play my own game. I want no advice, no instruction,'' said Crankey, turning round with a most unamiable scowl, of course expecting to find some gentle- man at his elbow^ but as he could see no one standing on the right, he twirled round to the left, and as he couldn't find any one near him at all, he led spades in the spirit of opposition. His hand happened to be a good one; and as it enabled him to score seven points, he took a deep sip of brandy-and-water, with a huge pinch of snuff as an obligate accompaniment and began in reality to feel a little better. " I wish to goodness he would go," said Valentine, assuming the voice of a female. " Do you V cried Crankey, inspiring at that moment a fresh stock of indignation. " If you do, madam, why I shall stop all the longer!" and he honored the speculators indisoriminateljr with a purely sardonic smile, and waved his hand very gracefully, and bowed with gresit politeness, and then, with a look of supreme contempt, turned round to examine his cards. "What a comical wretch!" said Valentine, assuming a totally different voice. "A wretch, sir! a comical wretch!" cried Crankey, starting upon his legs. " What do you mean by a wretch?" " For goodness sake what is the matter?" cried the widow. "The matter, ma'am? — ^ihis is the matter! I did not come here to he insulted, ma'am, gi-ossly insulte.d !" '•' Who has insulted you, — who, — who is it? " Who is it, ma'am ? Why, it's one of your friends, that's who it is !" "But which of them?" "What do I care!" cried Crankey, and he turned from the widow and dropped upon his chair, with a force which most.powerfulTy tested the stability of its bottom. Had young love himself been lingering in the heart of the widow, in order to advocate Cran- key's cause at that moment, his retreat would have been perfecdy certain; but as it was — as the widow preferred Mr. Crankey to Mr. Fox- glove only in consequence of his being a little more wealthy, she simply acknowledged his politeness by a bow, aud took no further notice of the matter. " What's trumps?" cried Crankey. "If peCK pie think that I'm. to be insulted, they're mis- taken, — I can tell 'em — as mistaken as eve* they were in their lives !" "Oh indeed !" said Valentine. "Yes ! indeed !" cried the victim, turning again to the speculation table ; " why, 1 coum buy up the whole kit, if that's whatyoumeanP 83 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF " There's the knaye to beat," said Valentine in his natural voice. "I see there's the knave to beat," cried Crankey, dashing down the queen with extra- ordinary force. " Well, well," said Valentine, calmly, " don't be angry with me." "Who the devil, sir, can help being angry? Curse me, if it ain't enough to turn the very sweetest disposition into verdigris. But I won't stand it! They've got the wrong man — ^the wrong man, sir, I can tell 'em !" At this moment a burst of merriment pro- ceeded from the speculation table, and Mr. Crankey immediately started up again, and commenced an active scrutiny, but as he found all, save one, laughing heartily at the fact of that one having given sevenpence-halfpenny for the queen, when he had both the ace and the king in his own hand, Mr. Crankey again resumed his seat, muttering something which sounded not much like a blessing. "Your play, sir," observed Mr. Foxglove. " I know it !" cried Crankey, who could, not then bear to be spoken to. "Hearts," whispered Valentine, assuming the voice of Mr. Foxglove, and the ace of hearts was lead by Mr. Foxglove's partner; which Crankey no sooner perceived than he stated up again, dashed the cards very violent- ly upon the table, and, having hurled upon those around him a withering look of scorn, placed his arms most majestically beneath his coat taUs, and bounced out of the room. His departure was hailed with satisffiction by all ; and the remainder of the evening was spent most agreeably. The speculators played until twelve, then had supper, and then sang some very sweet songs ; and Mr. Foxglove, who was really a very decent fellow, had that night the high satisfaction of hearing the amiable widow acknowledge that he was the absolute master of her heart. CHAPTER XX. COMTAINS A BIRD's-ETE VIEW OF GOODMAN'S UNEN- VIABLE POSITION. Although it may be very profoundly con- tended, that use is second nature, and that af- flictions, however poignant^ lose their virtue in time; although, theorists m illustration, may bring forth the fact of a man having.been sen- tenced to sleep upon spikes so long that, when compulsion had ceased, he still stuck to his spikes when he wanted to sleep, as a matter of comfort; — it seems to be abundantly clear that til ere are certain states of existence which, hinvever much used to them men may become, ithut out all prospect of reconciliation. (yoodman was an universal-happiness man. Hf delighted in contending that happiness was ei;i ally difiused; but from the moment of his i;icii ceration in Dr. Holdem's den, his views on dial subject had gradually changed. It may appear at first sight extraordinary that a man m fixed princiales, like Goodman, should have been so mconsiatent ; but lest hia inconsistency should be deemed reprehensible, it will be per- fectly proper to describe the exact process by which the change in his opinions on this mat- ter had been wrought. It was about eight o'clock on the morning after the seizure, that a fellow, unlocking the door of the cell in which Goodman had spent a most horrible night, shouted, "Now then! up with you! d'ye hear?" Goodman, at the moment, involuntarily shrank from the scowl of this ruffian. He, however, soon recovered his self-possession, and attempt- ed to rise, but found every limb so stiff and sore, that he sank back groaning with agony. " Now then ! Come, none of that rubbish I It won't do here !" " My good man," said Goodman, " pray, pray don't be harsh. I am too ill,— I really am too ill to rise." " We'll see about that," cried the ruffian, catching hold of the edge of the mattrass, and with a sudden jerk flinging poor Goodman upon the floor. "Come, tumble up with you! I'm not going to stay here all day !" Goodman made another desperate effort to rise; but the pain which accompanied that ef- fort, at once caused him again to sink back. "Oh! I'm not going to stand all this here, you know !" shouted the fellow^ as he seized him by the throat and dragged him up. " If I am to be murdered," cried Goodman, "be merciful; kill me at once; — don't! pray don't torture me thus !" " Do what !" cried the ruffian, clenching his fist, and grinding his huge teeth desperately; " Give me any more of it — Say another word, and ril show you what's what in about half a minute." Goodman, finding that he was completely*in the ruffian's power, was silent; and having managed, in a state more dead than alive, to draw on his clothes, was dragged into a room in which a number of persons were sitting at breakfast. As he entered, a chorus of sighs burst at once from the group, and they gazed upon hia countenance with an expression of sorrow. A person of gentlemanly exterior rose, placed a chair for him at the table, and then sat beside him, and having pressed him with much deli- cacy to partake of the refreshment provided, which consisted of lumps of bread and butter and weak tea, he endeavored to cheer him, and did at length succeed in making him feel that he should have at least one consolation, namely, that of his society. " Now then I — come into the garden !" shouted a fellow, when the lumps of bread and butter had vanished ; and the patients — as they were called, but the prisoners as they were — rose, and walked away mournfully : Goodman alone lingered. "Now then! are you going?" cried the ruffian. " I am really too ill," said Goodman fainfly "to walk." "Oh, rubbish!— Be off!— Now then, start .'" " I wish to write a letter !" " Be off into the garder I tell you ! Do yo« hear what I say?" VALENTINE VOX. 83 ; " Yes, yes! — ^but — can I see the proprietor?" " Don't bother me ! — Come, start 1 — ^there, that's all about it !" On his way to the garden he met Dr. Holdem, whom he ventured to address. , " I know nothing," said he, " of your regula- dnns; but, pray do not suffer- your servants to treat me so brutally !" " Brutally !" cried the doctor : " my servants treat jou brutally ! — ^pooh, pooh ! it's all your delusion !" "No, sir!" said Goodman, emphatically; "it is not a delusion. I am, sir," — .i " Hullo ! hullo ! none of your insolence !" in- terrupted Dr. Holdem, — "Be off!" — ^And one ,of his myrmidons seized him by the collar and dragged him away. On reaching the place which was dignified with the appellation of a garden, in which there were about a dozen withering plants, poor Good- man was joined by Mr. Whitely, the gentleman who at breakfast had so kindly addressed him. From him he learned the rules of this dreadful place ; and received advice with reference to the mode in which he might escape much ill- treatment. He advised him to make no com- plaint — to bear whatever indignities might be heaped upon him in silence, and to hope for the means of eventually escaping. " Escaping !" cried Goodman ; " why, can I not write to my friends'?" " No, that is not allowed." "Not allowed? — you have visiting magis- trates?" "The commissioners visit us occasionally. They are compelled to come four times a year, but that is frequently at intervals of five or six months." , " Well, when they do come, and I appeal to .them, they will, of course, see that I am not »ad?" "Ah! that was my impression. There was Biy hope; but the first time they came, the keeper gave me a certain drug, and then goaded me into a state of excitement, which, when I was examined, made me appear to be insane, and that impression has never been removed.'' " God bless me !" said Goodman : " but there are some insane persons in this wretched place ?" " There are some ; but very, very few," re- plied Mr. Whitely. "That is one, I presume?" said Goodman, pointing to a melancholy creature, who was nandcrSed and chained to a log. " He is no more insane, sir, 4an I am," said Whitely; "but having, about twelve- months ago, made an effort to escape, he has been handcuffed and chained day and night ever since." At this moment one of the keepers ap- Sroached, and with a single blow, knocked ovm a man for throwing a stone over the wall. The poor fellow took no notice of this ouirage, but rose to avoid being kicked, and walked away. - " What a monstrous proceeding !" cried Good- man indignantly. " Nothing," said Whitely, " is too monstrous to be peipetrated here. But silence! — ^he's coming this way." ' " So you'll go and tell the doctor you're ill- used, will you ?" cried the ruffian— -with whoiR the doctor had expostulated, fearing, that as Goodman was exceedingly weak, too much cruelty would deprive him of life, and, thereby deprive the establishment of a certain sum per annum. — " You'll tell him I hurt you again— eh? — will you?" he continued, grasping Good- man by the throat, and shaking him with vio- lence — " I treat you brutally, do I? — Brutally !— brutally !— brutally !" At. each repetition of the word "brutally" he kicked him with all the force at his command, and then left him to fall upon the ground in a state of exhaustion. While this atrocious outrage was being com- mitted, many of the inmates came to the spot. Whitely's blood boiled, but he dared not inter- fere; and several of the other sane victims felt equally indignant but equally powerless. A religious enthusiast looked up to Heaven as he pointed to the ruffian's brutal exercise of his power, while two poor idiots dangled their hands, and appeared to be utterly lost in amazement. The moment the fellow had left the spot, shouting^ " There ! now tell the doctor again !" Mr. Whitely lifted Goodman from the ground, and endeavored to console him. He begged of him not to mention the occurrence to Dr. Holdem, as the ruffian would be certain to have his revenge, and labored to impress upon his mind the inutility as well as the danger of com- plaining. Goodman sobbed bitterly, and big scalding tears chased each other down his cheeks as he Eujknowledged the kindness of his friend. At one o'clock they were all ordered in to partake of a miserable dinner, and immediately afterwards turned again into the yard. At five, being tea-time, the same degrading ceremonies were performed; and at eight they were all locked up for the night. There was the same round of wretchedness, day after day, without the slightest employment or amusement of any description. Not a letter could be written : not a book could be procured : nothing calculated to mitigate their misery for a single moment was permitted, from the time they rose in the morning till they were driven, like cattle, into their cells, there to finger for twelve weary hours in darkness, torturing their minds by re- flecting on the monstrous inhumanity of those to whom nature had prompted them to look for affection. CHAPTER XXI. THE EqUAL-BIGHTITEs' MIGHTY DEMONSTBATIOlf. Why are not all men socially equal? Are they not bom with equal rights? Have they not sprung from one common parent, and have they not, therefore, a right to share equally every comfort the world can afford ? If nature herself be perfection, does it not follow that tha4 which is not in accordance with nature must be in proportion imperfect? Why, of couiael 64 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF And hence, as a state of civilization is diametri- ' cally opposed to a state of nature, civilization is palpably the most imperfect scheme that ever afflicted the world. Nature prescribes no social inequality ! — ^yet some nien are wealthy, while others are poor ; and those who toil zealously, day by day, are absolutely, in a social point of view, worse off than those who are not forced to labor at all. . With a view to the correction of this mon- strous state of things, an appropriately organiz- ed body of patriots had a mighty demonstration on Clerkenwell-green, the venr day on which Valentine learnt with much pam that, by some young gentleman — acting upon the same eternal principle of equal right — ^the steward's striped jacket had been stolen. As he strolled towards the place which had once been an actual green, doubtless, but which was a green only nominally then, he was not in the happiest spirits; for although he had previously thought little of the card, or of the lady whose name that card bore, he now began to be unspeakably anxious about the one, and to feel himself desperately in love with the other. On perceiving, however, the mighty masses assembled, he forgot for the moment both, and pushed through the crowd towards a wagon which had been drawn to the spot by an animal, looking about the ribs really wretched, but still, as he then had his nose-bag on, he kept nod- ding his perfect approbation of the arrange- ments^ as far as they went. In the wagon — or to write with more propriety — upon the hus- tings, stood a dense mass of patriots, sweating with indignation, and panting to inspire the mighty masses with a perfect appreciation of the blessings which would, of necessity, flow from a system' of social equality : nay, so in- tense was the anxiety of the patriots present to aavccate boldly their dear country's cause, that when the wagon was full of Ihem, literally crammed, many very patriotically hung on be- hind, which clearly proved to the sovereign people, that there was absolutely nothing which those patriots would not endure, to carry out that essentially glorious down-with-every-thing- no-nothing principle, of which they professed to be so ardently enamored. , When the timehad arrived forthecommence- ment of the highly important proceedings of the day, it was most inconsistently felt by some of the leaders, that they ought to have a chair- man ; but an eminent patriot no sooner stepped forward for the purpose of nominating a highly distinguished Flamer, than certain whole-hog- equal-rightites contended that all of them pos- sessed an equal right to be in the chair : and tliat therefore no one had a right to be placed above another. This was clearly very appro- priate, and very consistent with the eternal equal-rightite principle : but as it was suggest- ed that^hey might, without compromising that principle, so far yield to the grossly corrupt pre- scriptions of civilization, the mighty masses at once recognised the Flamer as their president, and hailed him, as hu pulled off his hat to ad- dress them, with three very vehement cheers. • "My Fellow Countrymen!" said he, con- iieiving doubtless that to address them as " Gentlemen" would be rather too much cf a, joke to tell well — "this indeed is a gloiiouj sight! When I behold the sovereign peopla pouring down like a mighty torrent which sweeps all before it, and which nothing can stem — when I behold the glorious masses with agony groaning beneath the iron hoof of oligar- chiqal tyranny and crushed to the very eaiih by a monstrous accumulation of bitter wrongs — when I behold you, my countrymen, rushing here to burst your degrading chains asunder^ and to shout with one universal voice — 'we WILL BE FREE !" — my heail throbs with delight, my eyes sparkle with gladness, my soul seems inspired, and my bosom swells with joy [iTti- mense cheering!'] What are you, my country- men — what are you? — Slaves! base, abject, spiritless Slaves! — Slaves, in the eyes of the world; of the vilest description : Slaves, with the power to be free ! Arise !■ — shake off that apa- thy which acts upon your energies like an in- cubus. Down with the tyrants by whom yon are oppressed. Arm ! — arm to the very teeth [vehement applause .'] Follow the glorious ex- ample of your brave fellow countrymen in the North ! Join them in the Holy Month. Strike! — and run for gold ! Convert all your notes into specie ! — let that be the first grand step towards the universal paralyzation ! Be resolute ! Be firm ! Act like men who know their rights and will maintain them ! The hour is at hand ! Hurl the bane tyrants into universal chaos !" — "We will! we will!" cried the miehty masses, holding up and brandishing a forest of knives, which glittered picturesquely in ths sun. Valentine no sooner saw this display than he> drew out his knife — the blade of which was full an inch and a half long — with a view to his own safety, by making it appear to those around that he was ready to go the whole hofr; and feeling that he was bound as a loyal sub- ject to put an end to these proceedings if possi- ble at once, shouted, " Soldiers ! soldiers V throwing his voice just behind the chairman — and the mip:hty masses buried their knives in their breeches' pockets, and looked round eagerly for the appearance of the troops. " The soldiers !" cried the chairman, having satisfied himself that none were near. " The soldiers are our frienfls ! And if even they were not, why — why need we care for the soldiers ■? But I know that they are ready to join us to a man ! Let but the Holy Month — " "The Holy what '!" cried Valentine. The chairman contemptuously tamed to the quarter from which the voice appeared to pro- ceed, but scorning the ignorant character of the question, disdained to make any reply. "I say, let but the Holy Month," he continued, " be commenced, and you will see the soldiers — '' " Mowing you down like grass !" cried Valentine. "No, no!" "Not them try it on!" shouted the mighty masses, again brandishing theii clasp knives and yelling like furies. "We have, my fellow countrymen, traitors in the camp!" cried the chairman. "We are surrounded by spies from the Treasurr; but let the degraded hirelings go back to the VALENTINE VOX. er tyrants whom they serve, and tell them from us, that we not only bid them defiance, but hold' them in sovereign contempt!" This burst of courageous indignation was fol- lowed by three dreadful groans for the spies ; arid when treasury tyrants, by whom they were employed, had been similarly honored, the chairman introduced a Mr. Coweel for the purpose of proposing the first resolution. " Keller-kuntrymen ! I'm a hopperative !" snouted Mr. Coweel, who was a powerful man, but very dirty; "I'm for down with all taxes, all pensions, a.^ sinny cures, and all other speeches off' rotten c«."''iption. — I'm hallso for flown with the church ! Why should we have a '. hoUygarkle harmy of fat bishops % 'Why should we pay 'em a matter o' nineteen million o' money a-year to support their kids and konkybines — eh? What is the good on 'em ? Why, I'd—" "Down! down!" cried Valentine, assuming the chairman's voice. "What d'yar mean by down'?" said Mr. Coweel to the chairman. The chairman bowed to Mr. Coweel, and assured him that he had not spoken. " Well, I thought," said Mr. Coweel, " the hobserwation was rather too hunconstitutional for you ; biat as I was a sayin, the hollygarlde Bishops — " ^ "Get down, you fool!" cried Valentine, throwing his voice behind the speaker. "What d'yar mean?" cried Mr. Coweel, " I'll down with you in just about no time, my cove, if yer any ways nasty. What ! d'yer think I care for you ? ' P'r'aps you'd like to take it out on me, 'cos if yer would, yer know, why ony say so, that's ,hall !" and Mr. Coweel looked daggers at every patriot whom he at that mo- ment caught in the act of smiling, and having signified his ability to " lick seventy dozen on 'era, jist like a sack, one down the tother come on," he returned, at tKe suggestion of the Eitriptio chairman, to the Episcopal business e wished to explain. " Well !" said he, again addressing the mighty masses, " I'm for down with all hunconstitutional — " " Silence, you idiot ! I'll kick you out of the wagon!" shouted Valentine, with all the power of which he was capable. "What!" cried Mr..Coweel, turning round with due promptitude — "What'U yer do? — kick me out o' me wagon ? How many on yer, eh I I should worry much like to give you u quilting, anyhow ! — kick me out ! — ^try it on !— kick me out o' the wagon !" At this interesting moment a patriot, who was panting to address the sovereign people, and who was standing about six feet from Mr. Coweel, had the temerity, in the plenitude of his impatience, to cry, " Either go on, or cut it!" "Oh ho!" exclaimed Mr. Coweel, "I've found you out, have I, my tulip? It's you that'll kick me out o' the wagon then, is it ?" and Mr. Coweel aimed, a blow at the tulip, but missed him by about two feet and a half. This miss did not, by any means, impart satisfaction to Mr. Coweel. He was anxious to hit convic- tion into the mind of the tuhp that he was not H the sort of man to be kicked out of a wej^oo. He, therefore, struck out again very forcibly and freely, but every blow aimed, fell more or less short. This seemed to enrage him. He looked very fierce. His elbows were sharp, and he used them : he dug them with so much decision and point, and, moreover, to such an extraordinary depth into the backs and the stomachs of those who stood near him, that really his struggles to get at the tulip became so particularly unpleasant to the patriots who were standing in his immediate vicinity, that, feeling it to be a duty incumbent upon them — a duty which they owed, not only to ^hem- selves as individuals, bnt to society at large — they pinioned his arms, caught hold of his legs, and pitched him among the mighty masses below. A loud shout burst from the sovereign people ! — a shout which was echoed by Hicks's Hall, and reverberated clean through the House of Correction. The masses, albeit they clearly perceived that the principle upon which Coweel tiad been pitched from the wagon was that of purely physical force, could not at the moment precisely comprehend the great fundamental principle upon which that physical force had been developed. They fancied at first that he was one of the spies; but when he mounted the nave of the near hind-wheel, and — after havuig dealt out his blows with really despe- rate energy, and that with the most absolute mdiscriraination — addressed the mighty masses as Britons and as men, denouncing this Uncon- stitutional act of tyranny, and calling upon them, as they valued their liberties, to aid him in turning the wagon upside down — they held him to be a man who simply sought the redress of wrongs, and hence felt themselves bound by every just and eternal principle by which their souls were guided, to assist him in pitching the vehicle over. Just, however, as those who were nearest to the hustings were proceeding with due prompti- tude to carry this design into actual execution, a loud and" warlike shout of "The PeeleiiS! The Peelers!" burst upon their patriotic ears, and induced them to defer their labor of love ; while mighty sections of the sovereign people rushed with due magnanimity from the scene, rolling over those masses who had fallen before them, and forming themselves, in tum, stum- bling-blocks to those of whom ihty had ooura geously taken the precedence. "The Peelers!" thought Valentine— " the Peelers ! — what manner of men are the Peelers, that their presence should generate so much alarm in the minds of the sovereign peopled" His conjectures, however, having reference to the probability of their being either hideous monsters, or gigantic fiends, were very speedily put an end to by the approach of six policemen, who marched with due solemnity of step to- wards the hustings ; and as they approached, those sections of the mighty masses who still kept their ground, were as quiet as lambs. It at once became abundantly manifest, that those six Peelers had arrived with some otieot in view ; and before the Sovereign People had time even to guess what that object mighi be, w LIFE AND ADVKNTURES OF one of the Peelerb very coolly deprived the horse of his nose-bag; another just as coolly returned the bit to his mouth; and a third, with equal coolness, got hold of the reins, when a fourth, who was certainly not quite so cool, did, by virtue of the application of a short round truncheon, persuade the passive animal to move on. At starting, the horse had so tremendous a load, that, iii order to draw it all, he was com- pelled to put out all the physical force, he had in him; but the patriots displayed so much alacrity in leaping out among the Sovereign People, who were roaring with laughter, that before, long before it had reached Mutton-hill, the mighty masses beheld the vehicle perfectly empty, Valentine was lost in admiration of the tact, and tranquillity of spirit displayed by the Peelers. It is true they met with no opposition ; — it is true that they had only to lead the horse on to compel the patriots either to leap out of the wagon, or to have a ride gratis to the Green- yard ; but the cool, the dispassionate, the busi- ness-like manner in which they conducted the whole thing, struck Valentine as being admira- ble in the extreme. The vehicle, on reaching MuttOn-hill, was lost to view ; and as Valentine turned to ascer- tain what the mighty masses contemplated next, he met the full gaze of a person who looked like a decent master blacksmith, and who, addressing him, said, " Are you an Equal- rightite ?" , "I certainly profess to have at least an equal right," replied Valentine, " to ask you that question." " You have a knife about your person, have you not ?" " I have," said Valentine, " what then?" "You had it open in the crowd near the , kustings." ' Well ! and what is th-at to you V The individual, who was a Peeler incog., at once beckoned to his undisguised comrades, who came to the spot, collared Valentine firmly, and proceeded to drag him away. The mighty masses had their eyes upon those Peelers, whom they viewed as their natural enemies. They had previously suspected that they were anxious to capture some one, and as there were but two of them then, they felt, of Bourse, bound by every principle they professed, to oppose with firmness whatever tyrannical movement they might make. When, there-' fore, they saw in the seizure of Valentine the liberty of the subject contemned, they raised a •hout of indignation, and rushed boldly to the rescue. The Peelers saw in a moment — and it really is astonishing how quickly, those fel- lows do see — that the sovereign people meant something. They, therefore, pulled out their truncheons and grasped the collar of Valentine with more firmness still; but in spite of these palpable signs of determination, the mighty masses rushed like a torrent upon them and tried to persuade them, by knocking them down, to relinquish their tyrannous hold. The Peelers were firm. Although down, they held •n. They were resolute tnen, and would not be defeated. They applied their short ti^jlh- cheons, with consummate force, to the ankleti. and shins of tne sovereign people, and that^ too, with so much effect, that they again rose up like giants refreshed, with Valentine stiU in their grasp. The mighty masses once mors rushed upon them, and the Peelers once more shook them off by the prompt appUcation of their tyrannous truncheons to the sacred hatS; of the sovereign people, and to the sacred heads of those whose hats were at their Uncle's. It was in vain that Valentine begged of them to desist. They wouldn't hear of it !, No ! — they returned to the charge, caught hold of his legs, and felt victory sure ! "Let go!" — shouted Valentine indignantly "You asses, let go!" which, however ungiate ful, was perfectly natural under the circum • stances, seeing that between the sovereign people and the Peelers, he was really being torn limb from limb. The mighty masses were however too near the consummation of their hopes to attend to this burst of ingratitude. They wanted him- away, and would have him ! — if it were only to defeat their natural enemies. They therer fore gave another loud "Hurrah !" — and in a moment — in the twinkling of an eye ! — whea Valentine thought that his arms and legs were all off together — they got him away from the Peelers ! A loud shout of triumph rent the air as they held up their trophy aloft ; and having given three cheers for the sovereign people, 'and three gorgonian groans for the Peelers, they converted their high and mighty shoulders intq a species of triumphal car, upon which they paraded him round the scene of action until they were ready to drop ; when he broke away from them, jumped into a coach, and happily made his escape - CHAPTER XXII. IN WHICH HORACE SETS TO WITH THE OHOST OF SOOD« MAN, AND WALTEK BURNS THE SFECIRE OUT. " Come, come ! I say, governor ! come !" ex- claimed Horace, about the middle of the third night of his sitting up with his venerable father, whose delirium continued to be active and strong ; " this won't do, you know — flesh and blood can't stand it." " Hush !" cried Walter, raising his hand as he fixed his glazed eyes on vacancy ; " there !" he continued in a thrilling whisper — " there !— there again ! Turn him out ! turn him out!" There are times at which even the most thoughdess, the most reckless are struck with a feeling of awe; when the blood seems to chill, i and the heart seems to faint, and all physical power appears to be gone — when the soul is startled, and the cheefa are blanched, and each function appears to be under the iir- fluence of some indescribable paralysis. Oh ! it is, questionless, one of the most strikangly beautiful feelings of which human nature w susceptible, and this feeling crawled over Ho race, as he exclaimed, "Pooh! it won't fit, yott know ! it's all out-and-out stuff." VALENTINE VOX. ea "Unconscious of having inspired this amiable •entiment, unconscious of the character of his affectionate son's reply, Walter grasped his arm firmly, and pointing to the spectre, cried, '* Now ! get behind him ! there ! seize him by the throat !" "I say, I say, governor !" exclaimed Horace, shaking his parent with more force than feel- ing, " can't I any how drive into your stupid heEid, that there's nobody here but ourselves? Just listen to reason ; do you mean to tell me that you'll make me believe that you think that if he were really here I couldn't see him? Is it likely? Is it like anything likely? Pooh! rubbish, I tell j'ou ! Shut your eyes, there's a trump, and go to sleep." " I will have him out !" cried Walter fiercely, "out! out!" "Well, well, then 111 tum him out; come, if that's all." And Horace opened the door, and addressing the apparition, said, " Now, old boy ! just toddle off, will you ? you're not wanted here ; come, cut it !" and he walked round the room, and lavished upon the apparition a series of kicks, wliich in a spectral sense were ex- tremely severe, and after grasping him firmly in imagination by the incorporeal collar, he gave him a spiritual impetus behind, and closed the door with an air of the most absolute triumph. His venerable father was not to be de- ceived, however, thus; the pantomime of Horace was really very excellent — he managed the thing with consummate ability, nay, with " artistical" skill; but the phantom was still in the mind's eye of Walter ; to him it appeared to have been untouched! and therefore, when Horace returned to the bedside to receive that applause which the developement of genius ought ever to ensure, he was utterly astonished 10- find, not only that his exertions had not been appreciated, but that Walter still glared at the spectre as before. " Come, I say, he's off now !" exclaimed Horace; "I've given him a litde dose at all svents, if I haven't broken his jolly old neck. He won't come back here in a hurry. I say ! didn't you see how he bolted I I should think he's had enough of it for one night any how, eh? shouldn't you?" Walter took no notice of these appropriate observations. He madB no reply. He appear- ed not to know that a word had been uttered. His spiritual enemy was there ! and his eyes were still wildly fixed upon him. " I will have him out !" he exclaimed, after a pause ; " he shall not be here." " He is not here," cried Horace, seizing the arras of his father; "I wish I could drive a little sense into your head. I say, governor! why, don't you know me ?" Walter turned his eyes for an instant, and then again glared at the spectre ; " I'll not have him here !" he cried, " out he shall go ! If you will not do it, I will," and he made another effort to rise, but Horace held him down; he struggled, and Horace struggled with him, un- til he was struck with an idea that the self-same powe; which caused him to imagine some one there, might cause him also to imagine t'lat he had driven him away, when, in order to gire him every possible chance, he very quietly re- linquished his hold. Walter was no sooner free than he darted towards the space to which he had pointed, and made a really desperate effort to clutch the phantoin, which, however, appeared to retreat, for he chased it round and round with great swilmess and zeal, until he became so ex- hausted, that Horace lifted him. again into bed, exclaiming, " Come, come, it's no sort of use; you can't grab him." /' But I will !" cried Walter, again struggling to rise. " No, no ! I'll tackle him ! stay where you are. I must," he continued in an under tone, " swin- dle the old boy somehow," and he pulled off his coat, and threw himself at once into a gladiatorial attitude, and after having very scientifically squared at the apparition for some considerable time, he struck put with great force and precision, and continued to strike right and left until he found that he had struck his arms pretty well out of ttieir sockets, wheji, precisely as if the enemy had been regularly vanquished, he put it to him whether he had had quite enough, and then, without further ceremony, threw up the sash, and " made be- lieve" to pitch him out of the window. All this was, however, good energy thrown away ; for while he was laboring to inspire the belief that he was breaking the neck of the spectre, that spectre, in Walter's imagination, was still in the self-same position as before. Horace was amazed, when, on closing the win- dow, he found his father staring as wildly as ever. " It's of no use," said he to himself, in despair, as he mixed another glass of warm brandy-and-water, and pulled out another che- root ; " I may just as well drop it — ^he's not to be done. Come, I say," he continued, ad- dressing his father, "it's all stuff, you know! shut your eyes, and then he'll start; he won't move a peg till you do." Walter now lay perfectly motionless. His last effort seemed to have exhausted him complete- ly ; and as he continued to lie, without uttering a word, Horace fondly conceived that he should have an hour's peace, and therefore threw him- self back in the easy chair, and very soon be- came extremely interested in the report of a fight between Simon the Tough un and Konky Brown. Now, those who have had the intense satis- faction of sitting up with a delirious person all night will recollect, that between three and four in the morning, the mind reverts with peculiar pleasure to a cup of strong coffee and a muffin. If the patient then under your special protection be at that hour silent, the silence which reigns over the chamber is awful, and nothing in nature, save coffee with a mnf- fin, seems calculated either to occupy the mind or to arouse the dormant energies of the body. This hour — this dreary, solemn hour had ar- rived, when Horace perceiving that his father's eyes were closed, stole softly from the cham- ber, and proceeded to the kitchen, where the coffee was on the hob. and the mufiins were 68 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF on. the table, with everything essential to a comfortable breakfast. The very moment, however, Horace left the room, his father, who had curmingly watched every movement, arid had only pretended to be asleep, leaped at once from the bed with the fiiU determination to turn out the phantom by which he had been haunted. He first tried to clutch it— then lost it for a time — then stared about wildly — ^then saw it again, and then chased it around the room, until he fancied that he had driven it beneath the bed, when he caught up the candle, set fire to the clothes, and in an instant the bed was in a blaze. " Now !" he cried, " now will you go t Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! I can't get you out I Ha ! ha ! ha! ha! ha! ha!" Horace heard the loud hysterical laugh, and darted up stairs in a moment. Dense -volumes of smoke issued forth as he burst in the door. He could not advance, — ^the whole room was in flames ! "Father!" he cried, "father! fly to the door! save yourself ! save yourself ! father!" The laughter was heard still; but the next moment it died away, and Walter fell. " Fire ! fire ! fire !" cried Horace, and his cries were immediately answered by screams from above. He rushed into the street and there raised the alarm, and the neighborhood re- sounded with the ciies of " fire ! fire !" The police were immediately on the spot; and several laborers who were going to work came at once to their assistance. " My father ! My father's in the room !" shouted Horace. "For God's sake save him — save my father !" and he darted up stairs with the view of rescuing his mother and his wife. His wife had fainted, and his mother was too terror-stricken even to move. " Help ! help !" he shouted; " here !" and a laborer rushed in a moment to his aid and seized, the mother, as Horace caught his fainting wife in his arms, when both were in safety borne into the street. The fire was now raging fiercely. The flames were bursting forth in all directions. Thejrafters had caught, and the crackling was awful. " Who's in the house now V shouted one of the laborers. " My father ! my father !" cried Horace, re- turning. , "Where's the girl? — where's the servant?" demanded a policeman. "Up stairs!" replied Horace, by whom she had been forgotten, and away went the poUce- man ; but the girl could not'be found. " Father ! father !" he again shouted, and at the moment a deep thrilling groan reached his ear. " To the door ! — to the door !" Crash went the windows, and a stream of water poured into the room in which Walter was writhing in agony. No one could enter. That room was one sheet of vivid fire, and the flames, as the water rushed in at the window, were driven vrith violence hissing towards the door. Another groan was heard. It appeared to proceed from a spot near the wainscot. Horace instantly tore down the bannister, with part of which he dashed in the p^nnel. An angry stream of fire burst like lightning through th^ orifice, but there lay Walter ! " He is here !" cried Horace, seizing him eagerly and dragging him into the passige. " He is no* dead ! Help!" Assistance was at hand; and Walter was borne at once into the street; but presented bo frightful a spectacle, that a shutter was procur- ed, upon which he was placed and carried t'? the house of the neare.st surgeon. " The engines now arrived from all quarters, and began to play gallandy upon the flames, w&ich were bursting through the bricks, and streaming in liquid curls from eveiy window. Horace, notwithstanding, rushed jigain into the house. His object was to secure his father's papers. He reached the room which contained them, and burst in the door! — another step would have precipitated him at once into a gulf of hissing fire. The floor of the room had fallen in, and the flames were ascending in forked streams from below. The spectacle struck him with horror. He stood for a moment paralyzed. A crash was heard behind him! The stairs — the stairs up which he came had given way. All retreat was cut off. The flames were gathering round and like hideous monsters ready to devour him. What was to be done ? One hope — one poor forlorn hope — urged him forward ! he dashed through the crackling blaz- ing passage, reached the stairs, and darted up, with the fire following fiercely at his heels. By a miracle he gained the attic. The window was open. He leaped upon the parapet,, and there turning his eyes to the opening heavens, which reflected the flames, .he clasped; his hands, and with fervor thanked God ! A falling beam beneath,him warned him fi-om the spot ; and he crept on his hands and knees along the roof until his blood chilled on touch- ing a human face ? It was that of the servant, who, having escaped through the window, had fainted. He shrank back for the mn'nent, ap- palled ; but on recovering himself he placed the poor girl upon his back, and proceeded over the roofs of the adjoining houses until he reach- ed a stack of chimney's which impeded hia further progress. Here he put his burden down, and turned to the ruins from which he had escaped, and for the first time felt the dreadful effects of the fiery ordeal through which he had passed. He was frightfully scorched. His hair had been singed completely off his head, and the clothes that i» mained on him were reduced to mere tinder. He cried aloud for help, but he could not be heard: he could see the mob below — but he could not be seen. The engines were playing, and the shouts of those who worked them would have drowned the most dreadful clap of thunder. " Look out !" shouted fifty of the firemen in a breath ; and a rush was made to the opposite side. The next moment a tremendous crash was heard. Thereof had fallen in; and the clouds of smoke and dust which ascended witt a roar were succeeded by a shower of blazing laths and sparks which threatened destruction to all around. The effect was terrific. The sky Valentine vox. so itself seemed to be one sheet Of fire descending to mantle the earth. Another shoit burst forth : Horace was per- ceived ! — every object being now distinctly visi- We. An escape-ladder was raised, and a fire- man ascended. " Here .'" he cried, addressing the startled Horace, who had just caught a glimpse of his head, "get into this canvass! Now don't be afraid." Horace carried the poor fainting girl to the parapet, and wished her to be taken down first. "Give me the girl," continued the fireman. " There ! Now you get in, but mind don't go fast." And Horace got into the canvass' tube, and gradually slipped to the bottom. ■ On coming out of this tube he was literally naked, for during the descent, his clothes, which were but tinder, had been rubbed completely off. A blanket, however, was immediately thrown around him, and he was carried at once with the girl to the surgeon's. • By this time the house was completely gutted, and the engines were playing only on the hot E arty walls, that the fire might not reach the ouses adjoining. This effect was produced: those houses were saved ; arid in a short time, Uthoiigh the engines still kept playing, nothing bat smoke could be seen. CHAPTER XXIII. ViLENTINE ATTENDS A I'HRE.NOLOSICAL LEOTUKE, • AND INSPniES A MURDEREr's SKULL WITH INDIO- , NATION. What a beautiful scene is that of Phrenology ! ■In the 'whole range of sciences, where is there one which is either so u.=eful or so ornamental? Fortune-telling is a fool to it. It stands with consummate boldness upon the very pinnacle of fatality. To the predestinarian, it is a source of great comfort: to all who desire to take them- selves entirely out of their own hands — to get rid of that sort of responsibilily which is some- times extremely inconvenient — it is really a positive blessing. When this delightful science shall have made its way home to the hearts of mankind universally, as it must, what a lovely scheme of life will be opened before us ! — what a charming state of society will be based upon the ruins of our present dreadful system of civi- lization ! Then, and not till then, will mankind be quite happy ! Then will perfect liberty obtain. Then will men see the sand-blindness of their ftncestors, and sweep away like chaff the dread- fiil injustice which forms the very essence of purlishment. Then will it be seen that law and liberty are inimical — a thing which has but to be seen for our. statute books to be converted into one monstrous cinder, and placed upon a pedestal as an everlasting relic of excruciating granny. It will then be acknowledged that men are but men — that they are by no means accountable for their actions — that they do thus or thus, simply because they have been predes- tined to do thus or thus — and that therefore they cannot be censured or punished with justice. It will then seem amazing that punishments should have been countenanced — amazing that men should have been made by their fellow-men to suffer for actions over which they clearly had no control — ^nay, actions which they were, in fact, bound to perform ! — for, why, it will be argued, do men ooiiimit murders? Why do they perpetrate rapes and pick pofckets ? Why — clearly because they can't help it ! And what line of argument can be shorter? And as for its soundness ! — why tliat will of course be pel" ceived at a glance. It is lamentable — absolutely lamentable — to think that this extremely blessed state of society stands no sort of chance of being established before the next generation ; and we, who endure the atrocities of the present cramped-up scheme, may with infinite reason envy the sweet feel- ings, the delightful sensations, the charming state of mind, which the establishment of a phrenologically social system must of necessity induce. There are of course some unhappy individuals in existence sufficiently ill-condi- tioned to contend that phrenology never can bring about this unspeakably glorious state of things : and really none can wonder at it ! — ^none can wonder that the cool contemplation of such a delightful state of society should confirm the incredulity of the naturally incredulous — but that it will, when carried out to its legitimate length, be productive of all those e.xtraordinary blessings, reflection — disinterested reflection — .will render abundantiy clear. It is all very well and very natural for lawyers, physicians, and such kinds of people to uphold the present sya» tem, in asmuch as it is by that system they thrive. They perfectiy well know that if a system were established upon these two bold and etemal principles — ^first, that " Whatever is, is right," and secondly, that " They who are bom to be hanged can never be drowned ;" their respective occupations would be gone ! seeing that nature would then be allowed to take the entire thing into her own ample hands. But there are also "phrenologists '' sufficiently weak to maintain that their own immortal science is by no means designed to accomplish the great objects to which reference has been had. These, however, are not pure phrenolo- ^sts. They take an extremely rotten view of the thing, and are mnch to be pitied. The pro- fessors of a science ought never to nnder-rate the advantages of the science of which they are professors. It isn't right ; such a course has a direct and natural tendency to bring the thing eventually into contempt. If nature has im- planted in our skuUs certain organs, containina the genns of certain passions, whose intemsfl workings not only produce an external deve- lopement, but force us to act as they direct or in obedience to their will, we have clearly no right to the reputation of being responsible crea<- tures, and we have but to believe thai we pos- sess no such right, to recognise the injustice involved in aU punishments, and thus to lay the' foundation of that sweet social system which cannot be thought of without pure de- light! Now, with the view of inspiring a due appre- ciation of the blessings with which this delight- ful science teems, a distinguished prcfess(i<< < ' 90 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF was about to deliver a highly interesting lec- ture as Valentine passed an institution to which his attention had been directed by a crowd pouring in. Valentine happened to be dull that evening ; for while he could obtain no tidings of Good- man, he saw no probability of finding out the residence of her of whom he felt more than ever enamored. He therefore, with an hour's amuse- ment for his objectj applied for a ticket, and having obtained one, entered a well constructed room, in which there were seats raised one above the other, and capable of accommodating about four hundred persons; while on the ros- trum stood a table, upon which were placed several peculiarly formed skulls, the nominal relics of some of the greatest scoundrels, fools, philanthropists, and statesmen, that ever had existence. Tho place was crowded, and when the -appointed time had passed without the ap- pearance of the professor, the audience began to manifest that respectable sort of impatience which developes itself in a gentle timid tapping of sticks and umbrellas. The amount of intel- ligence displayed by the audience was truly striking ; and as Valentine was able at a glance to perceive who were really phrenologists, and who really were not, by the mode in which their hair was arranged — for the phrenologists wore theirs entirely off their foreheads, in order that every bump which could be seen might be seen, while the anti-individuals suffered theirs to hang roughly, or, if it woul^ curl, to curl accordingly upon their latent brows — he became extremely interested in speculating upon the extent to which the advocates of the science would be, at once, prepared to go. He had not, however, speculated long when a movement was made upon the rostrum — a movement which was palpably indicative of something. Every eye was of course directed most anxiously towards the door; and when the professor, who formed part of a solemn procession, entered, the applause was exceed- mgly liberal and loud. The members of the committee then seated themselves at a most respectful distance on either side, and when the professor had recovered his self-possession, he coughed slightly, gave several peculiar ahems ! and then in sweet silvery tones said : — " Ladies and gentlemen : In speaking of the science of phrenology, the first consideration which suggests itself is, whether the external developement of man's propensities and pas- sions be the cause or the effect of those pro- pensities and passions. Now. in order that I may illustrate clearly that such developement is the effect, not the cause, I propose to direct your attention to the peculiar organization of the heads of certain well known characters, whose skulls I have here. — Now," continued the learned professor, taking up a very singu- larly formed skull in both hands and looking at it very intently — " this is the head of Tim Thomhill, the murderer." "The whaf!" cried Valentine, dexterously pitching his voice into the skull. The startled professor dropped it on the in- Ktant ; and as it rolled with peculiar indignation upon the rostrum, the audience simultaneously burst into a convulsive roar of laughter. The professor at first did not laugh. By no means; he looked amazed, turned pale, very pale, and slightly trembled, as he stared at the rolling, skull. But when he had sufficiently recovered himself, to know that all were laugh- ing around him, he certainly made a himenta- ble effort to join them. And this gave him courage, for he proceeded to pick up the object of his amazement ; but no sooner had he gat his hand upon it again than Valentine cried, " A murderer V in a tone of great solemnity. '' The professor again started back; but the laughter of the audience was neither so loud nor so general as before, seeing that many had been struck with the idea that there was some- thing supernatural about it. "This is strange, very strange, — extraordi^ nary!" said the professor, with great intensity of feeling — " very, very extraordinary I" "A murderer'?" repeated Valentine, in a deeply reproachful tone, which of course seemed to proceed from the rehc of Tim Thornhill. The audience laughed no more. They did not even smile. They looked at each other with an expression of wonder, and felt that the skull was under some ghostly influence, while the learned professor, albeit by no means prone to superstition, was utterly lost in amazements " Is it possible," thought he, " that this skull can be inhabited by the spirit of Tini Thora- hill? Is it possible that that spirit can have spoken?" He was not prepared to say that.k was impossible, and the assumption of its not being impossible generated the consideration of its probability, which, added to the evidence of his own ears, at length reduced the thing to a certainty, or something very like it. And' this seemed to be the conclusion at which the members of the committee had arrived, for they looked extremely grave and altogether at a loss to give expression to their feelings on the subject. " Ladies and gentlemen," said the professor, after a very awful pause, during which ithap- pened to strike him that he ought to say some> thing; "I scarcely know how to address yoit This occurrence is of so extraordinary a charact ter, that I really don't know what to thinki With a view to the promotion of science — " "Ha! — ha! — ha!" cried Valentine, in a O smithian tone, and at melodramatic invervals^ throwing his voice behind the professor, who started, but dared not look round, — "Ha! — ha! — ha!" he repeated, making the voice appear to proceed from a much greater distance ; and while the chairnum, the professor, and the gentlemen of the committee had scarcely the power to breathe, the skulls on the tabl^ seemed to enjoy the thing exceedingly; for they really, in the imagination of all present, appeared to be grinning more decidedly thflii ever. ' There is nothing in nature which startles men more than a noise for which they cannot ac- count. However strongly strung may b« theilr nerves : hc-:yever slight maybe the sound which VALENTINE VOX. a (hey hear, if .they cannot account for that sound, it at once chills their blood, and in spite of them nets their imagination on the rack. If the voice vchJch apparently proceeded from that skull had reached the ear of a man when alone, the effect would have been infinitely more striking ; »nasmiich,as, if pious, he would have looked for that protection for wfiioh we all think of looking when no other aid is near ; while, if impious, he, with the greatest possible promptitude, ^voul4 have exclaimed, "Why, the devil's in the iJcuU," and run away. As in this case, however, there were nearly four hundred intellectual per- sons present, they sluok to each other for pro- tection, and during the awful silence which for some time prevailed, the more reflecting began to. reason themsdves over the shock thus : — " Why, what have we to fear 1 We never in- jured Tim Thornhi'l. He might have been a very iU-used man ; but we never ill-used him : he might have been innocent of the crime for which he suffered, but we did not cause him to suffer. His spirit therefore cannot be angry with us, unless indeed it be a very unreasonable Sjiirit. What then have we to fear ?" ,,By virtne of this profound course of reason- ing many recovered their self-possession, and as Valentine remained silent to enjoy the effect he had produced, he had time to reflect upon tliat moral weakness of which we are pecuhar- ly, the victims. " It is probable," thought he, " that there are in this assembly many strong-minded men — men whom nothing on earth tangible could appal, who would fight like lions undismayed, apd who have courage to endure the most in- tense physical torture without a groan : yet see how the slightest sound alarms them f — they can stand unmoved while the mighty thunder roars ; yet let them hear but a whisper for wMch they cannot account, and their blood runs Bold and their hearts sink within them." There are, however, some individuals in the world, who, as soon as the shock has subsided, begin to ridicule that which alarmed them, and one of these happened to be the chairman of the committee. He had been startled by the sounds perhaps more than any other man pre- sent; but when he could hear it no longer, he no longer feared it ; and therefore commenced laughing at and pinching those gentlemen who sat near him, and tried to bring the whole af- fair into contempt. This course of proceeding was not, however, relished by those gentlemen much; for although they very naturally shrank back when he pinched them, they preserved a. solemnity of aspect, which was, under the eircumstances, highly correct. He then ap- pioaohed the professor, and labored to convince him that it was " after all, nothing,"^ and did eeriainly succeed in relaxing the rigidity of that gendeman's features. " Pick up the skull !" cried Valentine, who wa.s anxious to see what he would do with it ; and the chairman adjusted his cravat, looked magnanimous, and picked up the skull ! Valen- tine was silent, the,, professor was silent, and 'le audience were silent, while the chairman .i^;d .the skull in his hand, and examined it minutely. He felt that his coarage had excited admiration, and was by this feeling prompted, to show off a little moie. He therefore turned the skull over again and again, and after placing ' its grinning jaws to his ear very boldly, he tossed it up as if it had been a mere ball, and caught it again with considerable skill. This had the effect of restoring the audience to something bearing the semblance of good humor. A smile seemed to be anxious to de- velope itself upon their features, and although it was more than half suppressed, the vauant chairman grew bolder and bolder, and being determined to throw contempt upon their feare, he rolled the skull from one point to another, put his fingers between its huge teeth, and really treated it altogether with unparalleled indignity. " What is the matter with you, eh V said he, playfully patting the skull; "what ails you? Are you not well, Mr. Thornhill ? Dear me, I'm exceedingly sorry you've been so disturbed." The audience now began to laugh heartily again, and to believe what they had wished all along to believe, that they had been very grossly mistaken. But just as they were about to feel ashamed of themselves for having suffer- ed the sounds which they had heard to alarm them, the chairman rattled the skull of Tim Thornhill against that of an eminent philan- thropist so violently, that Valentine, in a deep hollow tone, which appeared to proceed from behind the committee, who were joking with great freedom and spirit, cried " Forbear 1" The. effect was electric. The members of the committee were on their legs in an instant : the chairman dropped the skull, and stood trembling with due energy; the professor turn- ed pale, opened his mouth, and held his breath, while the audience were, if possible, more amazed than before. " Bless me !" cried one, "what on earth can it mean!" "Good hea/- vens !" cried another, " it must be a spirit." " The place is haunted," cried a third. " Let's go!" said a fourth; and "Let's go," had at once about fifty female echoes. There was a rush towards the door. The whole of the ladies departed, and none remain- ed behind but really strong-minded men, who had been induced to do so in consequence of Valentine having shouted, " Surely two hundred of us are a match for one ghost !" This, however, was an excessively wicked observation. It was felt to be so generally, although it had the effect of inducing them to stop ; for however impious might be the notion, thai a ghost, if it felt disposed to tackle theni, could not beat them all into fits, they felt that it was probable that one might appear, and, that in the society of two hundred men, they should rather like to see it. They therefore looked for its appearance with considerable anxiety, while the members of the committee were ex- pressing their amazement in decidedly cabalr istic terms. " What's to be done, gentlemen.'!" at length said the professor; " what is to be done?" Those gentlemen raised their eyes to the ceiling, and shook thair heads, solemnly. The chairman looked very mysterious. He shufflei and fidgeted, and pursed his thick lips, and 02 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF scratched his head violently — ^in fact, his ap- pearance altogether wag nothing at all like ■what it was when he playfully patted the ekuU of Tim Thornhill. At length one of his colleagues — a scraggy individual, whose nose was quite blue, and as round as a ball — rose to observe that he had always maintained, through thick and thin, right and left, that every effect must have a regular legitimate cause ; that although it would sometimes occur that when the cause was ab- sent the effect would be present, it might not be so in that particular instance — and that he would therefore suggest that if the sounds which they had heard did proceed from that skull, it was perfectly probable that if the skull were removed, the sounds would go quietly with it. This was hailed as an excellent suggestion. They all inarvelled how they could have been BO stupid as not to have thought of it before. They felt that of course it was likely — that nothing in fact could be in reality more likely than that the removal of the skull would have precisely that result : they were certain that it would ; they were never so certain qf anything in their lives — ^but the question was, who would remove it 1 The professor did not appear anxious to do so : the chairman did not seem to hke the job at all : ' the gentleman by whom the suggestion had been made thought naturally enough that he had done his share towards it, and his colleagues as naturally im- agined that by urging the expediency of acting upon that suggestion, they had done quite as much as they could under the circumstances be reasonably expected to do. At length the chairman was struck very for- cibly with a bright and novel thought. The por- ter was in the hall 1 He might have heard some- thing about the extraordinary occurrence from those who had departed, but it was held to be very unlikely, seeing that he was not only an Irishman, but a very sound sleeper. The porter was therefore sent for at once, and he came. He seemed rather confused as he bowed most respectfully, first to the professor, and secondly to the chairman, thirdly to the gentlemen of the committee, and fourthly to the audience, for as it was clearly his first appearance on any stage, he felt very awkward, and looked very droU. " Murphy," said the chairman, " pick op that skull, and take it into the hall." " It's the skuU yer mane, sorr? Yes, sorr," said Murphy; and he opened his shoulders pre- cisely as if he had been about to remove some remarkable heavy weight; but he had no won- er got it fairly up, than Valentine, sending his voice very cleverly into it, ciied, " Beware !" "Murther!" qjried Murphy, dropping the skull, and raising his hands with the fingers stretched as widely as possible apart. He ap- peared not to have sufficient breath to give ut- terance to another word, but standing in that attitude with his mouth wide open, he stared at the skull with an expression of horror. "Well, sir? well?" said the chairman after a pause. "What's the matter? Take it up, sir, this moment." Murpfiy stared at the chairman, then at the professor, then at the audience, and then at the skull. He had no wish to be disobedient, ties to the conspiracy of which he was the vic- tim would not escape eventual punishment, little did he think that retribution had already descended upon the head of his unnatural bro- ther. Walter/' he thought, might be living in luxury ; having obtained possession of all, he might be squandering it away, or existing ap- parently at ease; but he envied him not; ha. VALENTINE VOX. on the contrary, pitied him sincerely : he felt that his outraged conscience would afflict him rtith mental torture, but he of course had no conception that he was at that time writhing in Jhe most-intense physical agony. There is a spirit — let us disguise its effects, or labor to repudiate its power as we may — whicn prompts us to cherish a feeling of grati- fication when they who have deeply injured us Buffer those pangs which sooner or later bad actions induce. The entertainment of this feel- ing may indeed be attributed to want of charity ; but as it forms one of the chief characteristics of the human heart, it must be at the same time deemed perfectly natural, and as we are not divine, it may with safety be asserted that lio nifire man ever existed on earth, to whom retributive justice upon those who had deeply injured him failed to impart secret pleasure. Goodman was never vindictive : few indeed could boast of being actuated so slightly by the spirit of revenge : he labored to forgive his enemies; he would have forgiven Walter — freely, heartily would he have forgiven him : still when he reflected upon the misery which springs from the wounded conscience, when he reflected that his brother must absolutely hate himself for doing that which he had done, the reflection imparted that amount of gratification '^hich made him feel that, after all, he was the happier man. This feeling enabled him to bear up with firmness against all those indignities and bru- talities to which he was then subjected : in fact he became in a short time compaialively re- conciled, and he and his friend Whitely, who was his constant associate, resolved to make the best, of their position, by amusing them- Sfelves as much as the bitter circumstances would allow. Gooilinan very often thought of Valentine, whom he. had mtroduced byname to his friend Whitely, and they frequently occupied their minds ail day in C(?nceiving the various scenes he had the power to produce. This was indeed tQ 'them a source of great enjoyment. They bound each other down to imaguie and to de- scribe scenes alternately, and for hours and hours they forgot their cares, and laughed as heartily as if they had been free. Their laughter, however, struck them very often as sounding strangely, mingling as it did with the screams of a female who was shut up alone within four brick walls at the bottom of the garden. Goodman had frequently e.\- pressed a desire to. see this poor lost creature; and Whitely, who was in favor with one of the keepers, succeeded, after much solicitation, in persuading the fellow to take him and Good- man into one of the upper rooms, which di- rectly overlooked the den in which she was confined. From the harsh screams and bitter impreca- tions which proceeded from this den, Goodman was led to imagine that its inmate was an old withered, wretched-looking creature, whose intemperance had reduced her to a raviijg maniac, and whose former life had been spent wnong the vilest and most degraded, Gon- eeire°then, his astonishment, when, instead of a miserable, wasted^ haggard being, he teheld a fair girl, whose skm was as pure as alabaster, and whose hair hung luxuriantly down her back in flaxen ringlets, running round, shout- ing, screaming, and uttering the most dreadful imprecations that ever proceeded from|the lips of the most vicious of her sex. "God!" exclaimed Goodman, "what a sigh* is this !" "Horrible!" said his friend, "most horri- ble!" "Poor, dear girl! my heart bleeds for her. Has she no friends V "Relatives she has," replied Whitely, "or she would not be here." " But she is insane V " Doubtless ; but is that the way to cure in- sanity'? Is it fit that a young creature like that — not yet arrived at womanhood, scarcely eighteen, should be buried within four walls, and not sufl^ered to see a single soul save the wretch who casts her food into her den during the day, and chains her down to her pallet at night % Is that the way, I ask, to effect a cure ? Is it not, on the contrary, directly calculated to increase the diseased But she has not been sent here to be cured ; peor girl ! Eternal shame on her unnatural relatives ! — their only object is to keep her confined." "But suppose," suggested Goodman, "that having done all in their power, they found her incurable I" " Her age," replied Whitely, " forbids the supposition. The malady with which she is afflicted could not have developed itself until she had arrived at the age of fifteen or sixteen, and she is not eighteen yet. The idea of their having done all in their power to cure her is, therefore, absurd. If they had wished to have her cured, they would not have sent her here. It is monstrous that the lovely young creature, in the bloom of youth and beauty, should be subjected, under any conceivable circumstancesj to such horrible treatment as this." '• Hear how wildly she calls upon the skies," said Goodman, " as if she expected aid from there." '■ From there, and from there only, poor girl ! will aid ever come to her." " Well, you two ! have you seen enough on her'!" cried the keeper, on re-entering the room in which he had left them for a moment, as a special mark of favor. •'Thank you, Johnson," said Whitelj', who knew how to manage the ruffian. "How long has this poor girl been with you V " Oh, a matter of two year. That there place was built for her. Nice place for a small party, ain't if? — capital patient, though, — pays more than any on 'em, — mopusses comes in reg'lar as clock-worft." " And has she been always as violent as sho is now '?" " No, she wasn't at first ; but she soon found her voice. — I say, ain't she got a throat '? — Can't she come it when she likesi — and that's in course always, for she never sleeps, she don't. — That's the rummest go, I don't sup- ' pose she's had above a dozen winks the last 94 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF twelvemonth. Shd'a night and day, night and day, eternally howling." "That is her bed-room, I suppose," said Wbitely, pointing to the upper part of the den, for the place was constructed like a pig-sty, one pta being roofed, and the other quite open. " Yes, that's where she — sleeps, I was going to say, — ^but it's where she don't sleep — ony where she's chained down.'' "The character of her disease," observed Whitely, "I suppose, is very dreadful?" •'"No, there ain't much the matter with her. She omv wants a husband ; but as she ain't much chance of meeting one here, why she ain't much chance of leaving us yet awhile." At this moment the poor girl saw them at the vrindow, and her shrieks were truly awful. She raved, and spat at them, and flew round the den, and endeavored to clutch them, and folded her arms as if she had one of them in her em- brace, and then shrieked again horribly. "Come," cried the keeper, "come, come along down ; you've seen quite enough on her now ;" and he led the way back into the garden. During the whole of that day the two friends spoke of nothing but the appalling spectacle they had witnessed, and when the time for being driven into their cells had arrived', they retired with hearts full of sorrow. In the morning, however, Goodman was a different man. His spirits were buoyant, if not, indeed, gay ; and as he shook tne hand of his friend with more than usual ardor, he smiled with intense satisfaction. Whitely was delighted with his altered appearance. He felt that he must have heard some good news, and being well assured that his liberation would be the prelude to his own, he manifested the utmost anxiety during the whole of the time they were at breakfast. On reaching the garden, Goodman again smiled ; when Whitely grasped his hand, and looking intently at him, said, " My dear friend ! you have heard — something?" " No," said Goodman, still however smihng, —"No." "Heard nothing?" cried Whitely, whose hopes at once vanished. " Then why do you smile?" " Because I have thought of something," re- plied Goodman, " which may perhaps answer oar purpose as well." " Indeed ! " cried Whitely, whose hopes again revived. " What is it ?•"' "I can of course confide in yon, and will therefore explain. I have arranged it all in my own mind. I have been nearly the whole of the night bringing the plan to bear. We cannot fail. We are perfectly certain to be successful." " Well, what is it ? what is it?" cried Whitely vrith great impatience. '■I conceived a scheme last night," said Goodman, " which has but to be carried into execution, for our freedom to be at once tecured." " I see — I see," said Whitely, shaking his bead, " an escape. Ah, my friend, don't be- lieve it to be possible." "But I do," said Goodman, "I cannot but believe it to be possible. In the first pla^ej^ how many of these fellows — these keepers af* there here ?" " Six," replied Whitely, " with the man at the gate." "Six; very well. How many pa,tients or prisoners are there who are perfectly sane?"-' ' "Thirty, perhaps; but say tVrenty-five." " Well, say that there are but tw'enty. I am an old man, still I have some strength; yon are much younger, and have more strength than I, and many whom I could point out hava much more than you. Now is it not disgrace- ful that twenty or five-and-twenty strong hearty fellows should suffer themselves to be kept in so dreadful a place as this by half a dozen tyrannous scoundrels, whom, if it were neces^ sary, they could strangle in five minutes ! Is it not, I ask, monstrous, that we, who have health and strength, and' justice on our side, should permit hSf a dozen degraded myrmidons, hired to sustain one of the most frightful sys- tems with which men were ever yet curseffj td tyrannize over and trample upon us, to chaiil us down like felons, and to kick us like brutes, when by simply displaying the strength which we possess, we might at once obtain our liberty?" Mr. Whitely shook his head, and slightly smiled, and then sighed ; but he made no reply. "I admit," continued Goodman, "that, man to rhan, they would be more than a match' for us — that we could not compete with them at all; but twenty-five to six'— that is, more than four to one ! — ^Upon my life, I do think that the fact of out being here reflects disgrace upon us as men. There would not be the smallest ne- cessity for hurting those persons. God forbid that I should injure any man however ciuelly- he may have injured me ; but what, my friend, — what if we were to go in a body to the gates, and to tell them firmly and resolutely to refnse'^ us egress at their peril ? Is it to be supposed that they would make more than the mere show of resistance, or that if they even were to resist us, we could not at once overcome them? Does it not, I ask, strike you as being dreadful, that five-and-twenty men, who have been stolen from society as w^e have been stolen, should continue to suffer these brutal indignities, should be kept here like convicts by a handful of wretches whom we have the power to crush ?" "It does," said 'Whitely, "it does seem dreadful." "Then why do we continue to endure it ?'* " Because — simply because we cannot help ourselves, my friend." " But why can we not ? What is there to prevent our escape in a body, and that too at once ?" "Do you think," observed 'Whitely, with great calmness, "that you and I now could thrash the six keepers, were we to set to work m^fully, and put out our strength?" " Alone ? certainly not. I have already said that man to man they would be more than a match for us : but twenty-five to six ! consider that." "I have, my friend, considered it, calmly con- sidered it, and have arrived at this conolueion, VALENTINE VOX. 96 that if WG cannot thrash the six keepers our- selves, your scheme is, under the circumstances, utterly impracticable." i,-"_But why is it impracticable ?" "Because," replied Whitely, "we should have to depend solely upon ourselves ; we could not calculate Upon having the slightest assist- ance. Our poor fellow-prisoners have been here 80 long, that their minds have become ener- vated ; they have not the strength — the moral courage to join us. I readily grant, that if all, or even a third of them were staunch, we might, by taking these myrmidons by surprise, effect our object ; but their spirits are broken ; they have lost all energy ; they could not be depended upon for a moment ; they have no heart, no resolution. Were we to pro- pose the thing to them, no matter with what eloquence and force, they would shrink from the attempt ; they would not dare to join us ; they would at once agree with you, that our imprisonment, under the circumstances, reflects disgrace upon us as men, and that, if an attempt were made, success would be almost certain ; but they would look at the consequences of a failure, and that would be sufficient to deter them from acting ; for they know by sad expe- rience, that albeit they are assumed to be un- conscious of their actions, they are punished for those actions in spite of that assumption, and that the punishment which would inevitably follow the failure of an attempt like that which you have suggested would be dreadful. I my- self thought of the same plan the day I came here, and felt as certain as you now feel, that it might with ease be carried into immediate exe- cution: but when I had sounded several of those whom I had fancied wore likely to join me, I found their minds so enfeebled, the-ir spirits so low, that if even I had succeeded in goading them on to an attempt, they would in all proba- bility. have deserted me at the very moment whenjenergy and resolution were most essential to success. They have not the courage, my Mend — depend upon it they have not the cour- age. Every man. sir, in an enterprise of that kind, would act like a child." '•■.©oodman was silent, but by no means con- vinced of the impracticability of his scheme. He still felt sure that it might be carried into effect, for " what," thought he, " if the. minds af thesepersons are enervated, is it impossible for their energies to be aroused V As, however, precipitation was in a matter of this kind to be ooftdemned, the subject was for that time dropped; but he still resolved to make every effort in his power to inspire his companions with spirit sufficient to join him and Whitely in affecting tlieir escape. CHAPTER XXV. 'TAIEKTINE VISITS THE VIOTUALLKKs' FANCY FAIB. In the coffee room of the tavern, at which Val- entine oooasionally dined he, saw, a few days •fteT.his display among the phrenologists, a pla- card, which was headed, ** The Licensed Victd- ALLERs' AsYLVMj" and which announced that a Fancy Fair and a Fete Champetee were about to take place under most distinguished pat* ronage. " The Licensed Victuallers' Asylum !" thought Valentine, who had been taught to asspoiate Licensed Victuallers with all that is selfish, grasping, and gross; is it possible that they can have erected an asylum^-that they can have been prevailed upon to sustain the unfortunate, the aged, and the infirm ! And yet why should they not !" He stuck at this question. He couldn't an- swer it. He couldn't tell why they should not be benevolent ; and being anxious to study the character of every class of men with whom he came in contact, he invited a rtraaikably cor- pulent, good-natured looking old fellow, who ha felt could be nothing but the landlord, to have a glass of wine. " What is the nature of this asylum 1" said Valentine, when the old boy had squatted him- self down, which he did without a second invi- tation, and began to pant fiercely, blowing out his cheeks at every pant, as if, conscious of the remarkably precious nature of breath, he wished to retain it in his mouth as long as possible. " Why, sir," said the landlord, whose name was Broadsides, " that, sir, 's the Witlers' 'Sj^ lum, 'stablished by witlers, and a capital 'syluifi it is, sir, too." " No doubt," observed Valentine ; " but what are its objects?" " Why, of course, sir, to perwide a good home for old broken down witlers, and a werry good. home it perwides. We take care of their chil- dren too, poor things ! We've a school for 'em, fit for any nobleman in the land. You should see 'em, God bless 'em ! how happy they are It's a blessing to look at 'em, that it is, a blessing !" " You are going to have a Fancy Fair, I per-. ceive V "Of course, sir! We always do, annally; and an out-and-out thing it is too. You'd be pleased, if you never was there. Ififyou've nothing better to do, I'd adwise you to go. It's a treat, sir. I love it, tlie object is so good." Valentine was delighted with the feeling tones in which the old gentleman spoke, more especially when he alluded to the children ; for tears stood in his eyes, as he said, " Poor things! God bless 'era!'' which, without the slightest effort to conceal them, he mopped, up mechanically with his thick Belcher handker- chief, and seemed to blow away with considera- bly more freedom. " There is much of the pure spirit of benevo- lence in this man's composition," thought Val- entine, " rough as he is ; and if he be in reality a fair sample of the lot, they are mdeed a very good set of fellows." " Say you'll go ?" cried Broadsides, slapping the thigh of Valentine, as if he had known him for years. " Well, I will !" ciied Valentine, rubbing his thigh, and smiling. " Then I'll tell you what it is. I rayther like you; I think you're a good sort, and I'm not often out of my reckoning; if you'll go, I'll drive you down, and give you as good a glaM 1 of wine as can be got when we get there." 98 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF "You must leave the wine to me in that case," said Valentine; "but I hope that I shall not be depriving any part of your family of a seat?" "By no means in life ! My missus and the girls goes the second day, 'cause you know, business must be attended to ; so, of course, I shall be glad to have your company down." It was settled. The morning came, and Val- fflitine went to the house of Mr. Broadsides, who shook him by the hand with the warmth of a friend : introduced him to his wife and two daughters, and after having what he termed a "leetle snack" in the bar, the gig weis brought to the door, and they started, The very moment they were off, the old boy began to talk. He, in the first place, gave the pedigree of his horse, explained how many miles an hour he had done, how many miles an hour he was able to do then, and how about twenty years ago, when he was younger, he trotted from London to Brighton within the six hours, and that, without sweating a hair. He then spoke of the peculiarly good qualities of Mrs. Broadsides, as a woman of business; he explained that she was " an extraordinary good wife and an excellent mother," but that she had a "particular nasty temper," and that that was all he had to complain of. He then touched upon the virtues of his daughters, whom he described as "the best girls any- where — none could be better, let them come from where they might;" he showed very clear- ly what treasures they would be to those who might have the good fortune to marry them ; fXiS. after having dwelt upon their peculiar characteristics for some considerable time with great eloquence and pride, they reached a road-side inn, at which he put up his horse, and then waddled by the side of Valentine down a lane, which led at once to the Asy- lum. A scene of gaiety presented itself the mo- ment they reached the gate ; and after passing the marquee, in which toys of every descrip- tion were set out for sale, they entered the building, which was really very extensive, and reflected great credit upon the victuallers" as a body. Broadsides was recognised at once by a num- ber of jolly-looking persons, who woie their hats on one side, and ^ their hands in their pockets, and never took them out, except in- deed for the purpose of greeting their friends. After an infinUe deal of nodding, and slapping, and squeezing through the passage, Valentine and Broadsiiles proceeded up stairs to the board- room, round which the names of the donors and the amounts of the donations were em- blazoned in letters of gold. " That," said Broadsides, pointing to a well- executed portrait which hung at one end of the room, " that, of course, is the founder of the institution." Valentine could not resist the temptation; he therefore threw his voice into the picture, and said, " How are you ? how do?" Broadsides started; and the expression of his countenance was singularly droll. " Didn't you hear?" he cried, seizing the arm of Valentinei who replied that he heard something. " Something !" he continued. " It's the pio tur !" and he began to blow away with great energy. " Don't be alarmed ! don't be alarmed '." said Valentine, again throwing his voice towards the portrait, and the founder seemed to smile as Broadsides nodded, but in a way that seem- ed to indicate that he didn't understand it all. " I say, Bowles ! Bowles !" cried Mr. Broad> sides, seizing the arm of a friend who had just entered. "I say, heie; look at thatpicturl — I just heered it speak !" " Heered it what?' cried Mr. Bowles, with a smile of incredulity. "Speak!" returned Broadsides, and M». Bowles laughed ver) heartily. "As true as I'm here, it's a fact; I heered, him, as plain as I ever did when he was alive !" " Why, what are you talking about, you jolly old fool ?" said Mr. Bowles. " Have you been having a drain already this morning? What have you got into your stupid old head ?" " I don't care a farden about what you say I tell you I heered the pictur speak as plain aa flesh and blood !" "But how could it?" " I don't know how it could ; I only know that it did, and that's enough for me." Bowles slipped Mr. Broadsides on the back, and told him in friendly terms, that he was an out-and-out old ass; and moreover observed, that he should see him again, he supposed, by*-" and-bye. " Well, this is sartny about the rummest go," said Mr. Broadsides, when Bowles had left the room, "that mortal man ever heerd tell on.'l " By no means," said Valentine, through Ha/s. medium of the founder; "did you never hear of a spirited portrait?" The idea of a spirited portrait appeared to strike a light into the soul of Mr. Broadsicfei He had heard of a spirited portrait, and felt thsU he never knew, till then, to what species tha term legitimately applied. He fancied, how- ever, that he saw it then clearly ; and, ahhouglf he did not exacdy tremble, he felt very queer. "Did you know him?" inquired Valentine, who feigned great amazement. "Know him!" replied Broadsides. "Him, and me were buzzum friends! Many's th«, bottle of wine we've had togelher !" " Well, then, you've no reason to fear him." " Fear him !" cried Broadsides, " he wouldn't hurt a hair of my head. It isn't that — it's only the rumness of the thing, you see, that gets over me.'' And Mr. Broadsides sat down, and gazed upon the portrait, until he fancjed that he could see the benevolent founder's lips curl and his eyes sparkle, as they were wont, when the original received an unusually large order " Well, shall we see what they are doing be low?" said Valentine. "Yes — yes!" replied Mr. Broadsides, whose eyes were still fixed on the portrait. " Yes : the only thing, you see, that puzzles me is;, that it isn't his voice ;" a fact which was certainly by no means extraordinary, seeing that Valea. VALENTINE VOX. w dn0 had never, of course, heard the founder ftieak. "But I suppose," continued Broad- wdes, "that spirits don't speak in the same tones as resular flesh and blood." " Good day," observed Valentine, throwing his yoice again towards the portrait. " God bless you ! good day," said Mr. Broad- sides, who, after taking another long gaze, caught hold of the arm of Valentine and wad- dled from the room. Now, when Broadsides had got about half way down stairs, it struck him again as being very extraordinary. He therefore stopped short; and after blowing out his cheeks to the fullest extent, and looking with considerable earnest- ness at Valentine, said, " Well, this is out of all doubt, the most singularest thing I ever met with in all my born days," and having delivered himself of this remarkable sentiment, he and Valentine slowly descended. . On reaching the end of the passage which led through the building, Valentme found that, although the Fancy Fair was confined to the front of the Asylum, the chief attraction was behind; for a. spacious lawn opened before them, which was literally crowded with gaily dressed persons, promenading with great pro- priety, and looking very happy, while at the bottom of the lawn there were several well- constructed marquees, which were uniformly pitched, and had a striking effect. "Well, now, this exceeds my expectations," said Valentine, waving his hand towards the scene which so brilliandy opened before him. "Yes," observed Broadsides, "yes, yes; very pretty, very pretty; but that pictur — I can't get that out of my head ; that gets over ^e above a bit." " Oh, never mind the picture," said Valen- tine. "What are they doing here'?" and he dragged Mr. Broadsides, who looked very solemn, towards one of the marquees before which a crowd of persons were standing. In tliis place there was a very great variety of toys; but the attraction was an affair which was termed "the wheel of fortune," out of which, by paying the small charge of one shil- ling, any lady or gentleman was entitled to diaw a slip of paper, the number emblazoned upon which referred to some valuable little article in stock. An interesting child about seven years old turned the wheel, and when a bluff individual — who kept continually recom- mending 'he ladies and gentlemen present to " try their luck, for as they was all prizes and no blanks at all,' they couldn't do nothing but win" — had looked at the papers drawn, he called the numbers, and another individual with a list in his hand named the articles to which the numbers respecti\ely applied, which ai'ticles were delivered to the individuals who had had the extraordinary good fortune to gain them. When Valentine had ascertained how this biisiiiess was managed, he could not be silent ; he felt himself bound to play some of his highly reprehensible tricks. He therefore imitated the voice of the bluff individual to such perfec- tion, and called so continually certain nuriibers which had never been drawn, that at length 7 that individual became extremely angry witfc the other individual, who kept as continually naming little articles which had not been won. "Now then," said the former, "twenty-two." "No, twenty-seven," cried Valentme, as- suming his voice. " Twenty-seven," said the person who held the paper. "Twenty-seven — '! " Twenty-two !" cried the bluff individuaL " Mind what you're about." "But you said twenty-setien," said his as- sistant, who didn't at all like to be spoken to thus before company. ^ " I say that I said twenty-TWOj sir,'' shouted the bluff individual, looking particularly black. "Twenty-two," said his assistant, "is a shav- ing brush," which article was at once handed over to the lady by whom it had been so ap- propriately won. Valentine perceived that if he went on in this way, he should probably destroy that good understanding which had previously existed between these two persons, and as he had no desire to do that, especially as one of them clearly felt compelled to put up with the blus- tering insolence of the other, he took the arm of Mr. Broadsides, who still kept harping upon the "pictur," and walked to the principal, marquee. " Oh, ho !" cried Valentine, on entering; "all who drink here wUl not go home sober to- night!" which, although it was unheeded by Mr. Broadsides, was certainly a very natural exclamation, inasmuch as the marquee in ques- tion was lined with flaming pink-and-white festooned glazed cambric, which had so ex- ceedingly dazzling an effect, that a single pint of wine drank there, would have excited a man as much as a couple of bottles would, drank in a quiet-colored room. "Come," said Mr. Broadsides, "row let's have a little bit of summut to eat hpn».— Herej waiter ! Now, what have you got T' and an ugly little rascal, who was the courterpart of Fieschi, and who personated the character of a waiter for that particular occasion, replied, "Fowls, sir, ham, sir, fowls an'l ham, roast beef, ham and beef, sir, tongue ami ron st duck.". Fowl and ham were ordered t'oi two, and part of a leg with part of a wint; were even- tually placed upon the table. "What d'ye mean by bringing us these two mites?" cried Mr. Broadsides, indignantly dig- ging his fork into one of them with the view of inspecting its dimensions more closely. " Fowl and ham for two, sir, you ordered," said the waiter. "D'ye call this fowl and ham for two* Bring us a whole un, and plenty of ham, not two tiny dabs like them!" Fieschi looked if possible more ugly than before^ as he took away the dish, the contents of which looked, after having been disturbed, ■by no means calculated to impart satisfaction to any man's stomach. He soon however re- turned with what was by courtesy termisd a whole fowl, particularly small and very skinny. But Such as it was. Broadsides pushed it to- wards Valentine for the purpose of dissection, and Valentine not being a family man, thoi"^'** 98 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF the shortest way of carving up the animal would be to cut at once right across the breast bone, and thus to divide the thing equally : but he had no sooner made the first cut, which ef- fectually severed the body in twain, than Broadsides cried, " Send I may live ! What are ybuaf? Here, give us hold" — and called upon Fieschi to bring him a skewer. Fieschi ac- (iordingly produced a skewer which he said he had "drawed from a buttick o' beef," with which Mr. Broadsides stuck the fowl again to- gether, and then proceeded to cut it up very scientifically into a number of pieces — which Valentine fancied unnecessarily small, as it would be all the same in the long run which was about to take place in the course of five minutes — Mr. Broadsides observing, as he dex- terously took out the small bones which young ladies in farm houses pull to ascertain whose fate it is first to be married, that he had been "head cook in the principalest tavern in Lon- don, and never in all his experience seed a chicken attempted to be carved in sich a fash- ion as that." He contended, that half the beauty of it was in the carving, while Valen- tine thought it all consisted in the eating ; but as the experience of Broadsides enabled him to get the better of the argument, he felt satis- fied, and called for a bottle of wine. "Have you got a bottle now," said he, "at an fit.to drink ?" " G^ital wine, sir !" replied Fieschi. "'V^^11, bring us some of the decentest you have, d'ye hear?" — and a bottle of sherry was accordingly brought, which Broadsides no sooner tasted, than he began at once to spit, and to blow, and to make up such a very ex- traordinary face, that Fieschi imagined that he had by mistake brought forward a bottle of vinegar. " Do you call this wine t" cried Broadsides, spitting and blowing still with remarkable en- ergy- "Beg pardon," replied Fieschi, putting the cork to his nose, " it smells like wine, sir." " Smells like wine," echoed Broadsides, con- temptuously. "It has nayther the smell nor the taste of wine. It's enough to give an ele- phant the deliberate tremens. Give my com- pliments to your master, and tell him that my name's Broadsides, and if he can't send me a Jittle better bottle of wine than that, he'd better set to work at once and drink it himself. Here, leave this now as it's opened, and go and fetch ?'iraething a little matter fit to go into a Chris- tian's stomach. — Did you ever taste such vinef" he continued, addressing Valentine, ^^ ho thought it very fair wine, and said so; but Roadsides declared that "if he ever brought U|> such a bottle of wine as that to any customer ol' his, he'd go and cut his throat." The name of Broadsides appeared to have a g'- at effect upon the master of Fieschi, for he not only sent a bottle of wine of which Broad- B«li'.* approved, but ordered Fieschi to bring the other bottle away ! This act of liberality bad in return a great efiect upon Broadsides, who praised the last bottle before he had tasted it, and toid Fieschi to let the other remain. Keschi. however, respectfully insisted upon obeying his master's order, and Broadsides Id return insisted upon Fiescni's master coming to take a glass with him as soon as he had a moment to spare. "Now, this is very decent, considering,** said he, "but lor ! it ain't no more like wha.t'i in my cellar — but then, lor, how can you es» pectit!" By this time Valentine had demolished his share of the chicken, and had even commenced the process of flaymg the back bone, when another was produced, which Mr. Broadsides instructed him how to carve properly, and he eventually did it to the entire satisfaction of that gentleman, who declared that after that, he "would be fit to cut up anything in the world, at'any table in life.'' Now, when Valentine and Broadsides had finished their meal, Mr. Bowles came into the marquee with three remarkably red-faced friends, to whom Broadsides, although he knew them well — was introduced as " the man wot heard the pictur speak." " I just did," said Broadsides, " and no mis- take !" Upon which Mr. Bowles and his red- faced friends began to laugh very heartily and very loudly. " I don't care a dump," he con- tinued, "about what you think, or what yon say. If I didn't hear it speak, why, I never heerd nothing." " You always was a rum'nn," observed Mr. Bowles. "I don't care for that," returned Broadsides " Come, I'll tell you what I do now, I'll bet you a rump and dozen I heard it now, come !" This favorite and highly approved method of settling an argument, seemed for a moment to stagger Mr. Bowles, for he felt that he could not prove that Mr. Broadsides didn't hear it,' and that if the onus of proof even rested with Broadsides, he had the evidence of his own ears at least, to bring forward, while he him- self could produce no evidence at all; think- ing, however, subsequently that the affirma- tive could not be proved, he said, " Done," and Valentine throwing his voice behind Mr. Bowles, cried, " You've lost." "How lost?" shouted Mr. Bowles, turning sharply round. " Who says I have lost V His red-faced friends stared at each other, but neither of them spoke. "Who says I have lost ?" he again inquired. " Who's to prove it ?" " I," cried Valentine, sending his voice abovew " I ! — the spirit of Hodgson !" "Now will you believe me?" cried Broa(i- sides, triumphantly; "now am I a stupid old ass?" Mr. Bowles looked amazed, and so did the red-faced friends of Mr. Bowles. They stared, first at each other, and then round the marquee, and after Mr. Bowles had expressed his decided conviction that the thing was "onaccountably rum," he and his friends at once sat down, and having thrust their hands to the very bottom of their breeches pockets, began to look par- ticularly solemn. "Isn't it queer?" said Mr. Broadsides, who was the first to break silence. "Queer!" replied Bowles, — "Here, give Ui some wine, and don't say a word more about it.** VALENTINE VOX. 99 And Mr. Bowles lie\ped himself, and -hen pjished ihe Bottle round, and when his Jriends had filled their glasses, they said with due Bolemnity, " Here's luck," and the wine was eut.of £igtLt in an instant. "ji.nother bottle was ordered; and when F'lesohi liad produced it, Mr. Broadsides begged leave to propose, as a toast, "The immortal memory of the Founder," which, of course, was duly honored in silence. A pause ensued. They were all deep in thought : they were turning the circumstance over in their minds, and were, apparently, ]ust about coming to the conclusion that the sounds were imaginary after all, when Valen- tine, throwing his voice into the folds of the pin^-and-white cambric, said in tones of appro- priate solemnity, " Gentlemen, I rise to thank you for the honor you have conferred upon me, apd beg, in return, to drink all your good healths." Mr. Broadsides, Mr. Bowles, and his red- feced Mends, held their breath. They stared at the cambric with an expression of astonish- ment, but for some moments neither of them Uttered a word. At length, Mr. Bowles broke silence. " Well," said he, " this beats all my ac.quaintance. I'm not going to stop here, and that's all about it." . The friends of Mr. Bowles seemed to like this idea; and as Broadsides did not appear to heby any means opposed to such a proceeding, the bottle was emptied, and when the amount of wh^t was termed the " damage," had been paid, the whole party left the marquee. On reaching the lawn again, where they began to breathe with infinitely more freedom, the firing of cannon was heard, and ■ several persons in the crowd exclaimed, " The chil- 2ten ! the children !" Again and again the can- non were fired, and the visiters rushed to the . sides of the lawn, round which the poor chil- dren were to pass. The band by which they were preceded drew nearer, and nearer, and all hearts seemed gay, although the eyes of the old people glistened with, tears. At length, a policeman marched out of the passage which led through the Asylum. He was followed by the band ; then came a double row of octogenarian pensioners, whose appear- ance was osculated at once to upset all the tee- total doctrines in the world, at least, as far as those doctrines have reference to longevity; then came the gentlemen of the board, with their J>lue rosettes and smiling faces : then came the •shildren, and then the schoolmaster! whose ^ead, albeit remarkably large, and attached to E body weighing at least sixteen stone, seemed inclined to repudiate the idea of its being im- possible to find out perpetual motion. Thus formed, the; process.^n marched loraid the am- ple lawn, and the children appeared to impart great delight to the bosoms of their benevolent patrons. " I don't know how it is," said Mr. Broad- sides, when they had passed; "but them chil- dren there always makes me feel, I don't know how;" and a couple of big tears, as he spoke, dropped into his white waistcoat-pockets. " f say, Broadsides," said Bowles, who at that momient approached' with Lis red-faced friends, "what fools we all are!" " What about?" said Mr. Broadsides. "Why, about that there voice, there," re- plied Mr. Bowles. " I see it all now. Why mightn't it have come from some vagabor e at the top ?" and Mr. Bo*les gave Mr, Broadsides a dig in the ribs, and laughed again loudly, and his red-faced friends joined in full chorus. Mr. Broadsides dropped his head on his left shoulder, thoughtfully ; but after a time an idea seemed to strike him, and he exclaimed, " So it might 1 some wagabone mi^ht have been a top o' the tent; but how could he get in the pictur?" This, in return, seemed to puzzle Mr. Bowles ; but after scratching his head for some conside- rable time, he cned, "Well, I don't care; — I won't believe in any of your supematteral nonsense. I say there must have been some blaggard outside. Will you make me believe that a ghost could return thanks in that there way? Ain't it out of all reason ? Come, let's go and see where the vagabone could have stood." And he dragged Mr. Broadsides to the back of the marquee, when Valentine^ fancying that if he remained with them the wine would go round perhaps a little too fast, left the spot, and proceeded to another marquee, in wmch the whole of the provisions were dispensed. The person who presided over this large es tablishment was a man whom nothing seemed to please. He cut about among the bottles in such a dreadful state of mind, freely sweating, and loudly swearing that everybody robbed him, and laboring apparendy under the horrible apprehension that he was working very hard to make himself a ruined man. The good which he did himself was, indeed, very trifling; but he jumped from one end of the tent to the other With the velocity of a grasshopper, push- ing aside all who happened to come in his way — scolding some for putting too much spirit in the grog, and others, for not putting in enough — declared that one hadn't paid him for a botdfe of stout, and that another wished to swindle him out of a plate of boiled beef, — in short, he seemed -to be, on the whole, a most unhappy individual, although a decidedly good-looking man. "Well, old boy," said Valentine, throwing his voice behind this remarkable person ; " and how do you get on V " On !" cried that person, " good luck to you', don't say a word to me now, whoever you are. I shall go raving mad; — everybody's robbing me; everybody's at it; I don't believe I've got a single honest man about me." "Do you see," cried Valentine, "howyoui wine's goir.g Taider the tent there V "Under the tent!" cried the busy person, " where ? Here, Tompkins ! Smith ! Lucas ! run behind, and knock dovim those vagabones, d'ye hear! " ' ' ' three waiters, "that the- couple of dozen, at least; and nobody'll look out, nobody'll assist me, although I am sur- rounded by plundering thieves ; nobody'll moTd hand or foot; I must do all myself." 100 LIFE A'Ni) adventur:es of " There's nobody behind !" cried Lucas, re- tuming; and Tompkins and Smith bore testi- mony to the fact. ■ "I tell you they've been forking out the wine ! but you're all in a gang. 1 expect to see you all, by-and-bye, as drunk as devils. If I've lost one bottle, I've lost five dozen. But let 'em come again, — only let them try it on ! I'll keep my eye upon 'em, — I'll sarve them out, the warmmt !" and he placed an empty bottle near a hole in the canvass, and a carvmg-knife upon a hamper beside it, with a view of having a cut at the "ery next hand that happened to be clandestinely introduced. Vfilentine, feeling that it would be cruel to tease this unhappy man under the circum- stances any longer, left the spot, and proceeded across the lawn with the view of mspeoting the female visiters, of whom all were well dressed, and some very beautiful, but none in his judgment one-half so beautiful as the fair unknown whom he had saved to lose, he feared, for ever. There was in the crowd one who, with soft sleepy eyes, which when opened were brilliant and full, bore some slight resem- blance to his idol ; but even she was not com- parable to her of whom he felt so much ena- mored, for while her features were irregular, and her figure inelegant, her voice, which he heaiid as he passed, contrasted harshly with those sweet silvery tones which he so well remembered. His ear was, however, at this moment as- sailed with a difi'erent species of music, for the band commenced the overture to Der Frei- schutz, with the wild unearthly phrases of which he had before felt enchanted." He had scarcely, however, reached the lawn in front of the Asylum, on which the band was sta- tioned, when he was startled by a remarkably heavy slap on the shoulder, which on turning round he found to proceed from Mr. Broadsides, who had evidently been taking more wine, and who exclaimed, '' Well, old t^ow, why, where have you been poking to 1 We've been run- ning all over the place to find you. Come, let's see what's agoing forrard here;" and taking the arm of Valentine, he at once led the way into the booth termed the "Ladies' Bazaar," in which all sorts of toys were exposed for sale, and the avenue was crowded, but they never- theless stopped to inspect every stall. " Will you buy me a work-box please, Mr. Broadsides," said Valentine, assuming a female voice, which appeared to proceed from a very gaily dressed little lady wno stood just beside him. . Mr. Broadsides chucked the little lady under the chin, and said, " Certainly, my little dear, which would you like V " Sir .'" cried the little lady, tossing her head proudly, and turning away wiUi a look of indigr nation. Broadsides blew out his cheeks with an energy which threatened to crack them, and after giving a puff which nearly amounted to a whistle, he tossed his head in humble imi- tation of the little lady, and turned round to Bowles. " IIullo !'' said that gentleman, " can't let the girls alone, eh? still up to your oJd tricklf shall tell Mrs. Broadsides." • Now, although Mr. Bowles had no intentioi whatever of carrying this threat into actual exU" cution, the bare mention of that- lady's name caused Broadsides to blow with more energy than before. " Why," said he, " didn't you hear the cretur ask me to buy her a work-box.?'^ "It's all very fine," replied Bowles, "but-.il won't dn, old boy, it won't do." i-;)s " Well, if she didn't, I'm blessed I'irejoined Broadsides, "and that's all about it." ' " Mr. Bowles, howe-Ver, sliU very stoutly main- tained that if she had, she would never have bounced off in that way, and as that was an argument over which Sir. Broadsides could not veiy comfortably get, he seized Valentine's arm and pressed back through the crowd. "' Well," said he, on returning to the lawn, " how do you find yourself now V . i^ "'Why," replied Valentine, "particularly thirsty ; can't we have some tea V " Tea is a thing I never do drink," said Broad- •sides ; " but if you'd like to have some I'll tell you what we'll do ; we'll give one of the old women a turn, you know, instead of going down to that there tent." Valentine, of course, was quite willing to do so ; and as the charitable suggestion was ap- plauded by Mr. Bowles and the only red-faced friend he had with him, they went into one of the little rooms in the Asylum, and after Broad- sides had warmly kissed its occupant, who was remarkably old, but remarkably clean, he at once ordered tea for half a dozen. "There are but four of us," observed Mr. Bowles, as the delighted old lady left the room to make the necessary preparations. " Oh ! never mind," said Broadsides, " it'll be all the better, you know, for the old woman. She don't have a turn every day. You wouldn't believe it," he continued, " bui that old cretnr, there, when I first knew her, kept one of the best houses of business in London !" " Is she a widder V inquired Mr. Bowles. " Now she is, but she wasn't then; old Sam was alive at that time." "And when he died I suppose things went to rack and ruin V "Oh, that occurred before he went home. He was the steadiest man anywhere, the first seven years he was in business, and made a mint o'money ; but when he lost his daughter, a beautiful girl^ just for all the world like my Betsey, he all at once turned out a regular Lushington, and everything of course went sixes and sevens. He always made a pint of getting drunk before breakfast, and ruination in one way, of course, brought on ruination in another, until he was obliged for to go all to smash. Poor Sam died very soon after, thai time you see, because he couldn't eat. , It don't matter what a man drinks, so long as he can eat, but when he can't eat, he ought to leave off drinking till he can. That's my sen- timents." "There's a good deal in that," said Mr. Bowles, " a good deal." " Well, dame," said Broadsides, as the vridov le-entered the room; "why, you are looking VALENTINE, VOX. 101 ifounger smd younger every day. It's many fears now since you and me first met." t-yfAhl" said the poor old lady, with a sigh, ,*I've gone through a world of troubles sin' ten : but, God be praised fov all his goodness, J'm as happy now as the days are long.?' *' That's right, my old girl," said Mr. Broad- sides, " that's right ! I say now, can't you get hs a botde of decent port any where about here?" ■ .''I dares to say I can," replied the old lady, and she put on her bonnet, and having received 9. sovereign, trotted out. ' ' Mr. Bowles now began to roast Mr. Broad- sides about the little indignant lady and the work-box;- but that gentleman turned the tables ^n Mr. Bowles by reminding him that when he lived at Brixton, and was at a party in Kenning- ton, he insisted upon seeing a young lady home, not knowing where she lived ; and when the favor was granted, he had to walk with her, at twelve o'clock at night, into Red Cow Lane, sear Stepney Green. "Is that a fact?" inquired the red-faced triend of Mr. Bowles. (. '" Oh, that's true enough," replied Mr. Bowles, <'and all I could do, I couldn't get her to ride." ' Hereupon Mr. Broadsides and Valentine, and the red-faced gentleman, indulged in loud laugh- ter, and Mr. Bowles very heartily joined them, and when the old lady entered with the wine, she laughed too ; but the sight of the bottle soon subdued Mr. Broadsides, who in an instant began to uncork it. "Keep the change, old girl, till I call for it," said he, and the old lady saia that he was a very good man, and hoped that God would bless him, and that his family might prosper. > -Valentine had to make tea; and Mr. Broad- sides sat at another little table over his wine, ■Which he drank very fast and very mechani- tjally, for his thoughts were on the mysterious occurrences of the day. Valentine, however, tvould not let him rest; for taking advantage of an unusually silent moment, he introduced un- der the table at which he was sitting an exact imitation of the squeaking of a rat. ft "Hallo !" cried BroadsideSj starting up in a moment, and seizing the poker, and in doing BO, knocking down the shovel and tongs; "only let ine come across you." "What's the matter with you, now?" ex- Cfeimed BJr. Bowles. " Shet the door, shet the door !" cried Broad- Sides to the widow, who had entered on hearing ■the rattling of the irons. "Here's a rat — a rat!" and the old lady dropped upon a chair, and wound her clothes in an instant round her legs as tightly as possible, while Broadsides ■Was anxiously removing eVery article of furni- ture in the room, and searching in every cor- ner with the pokei in his hand. "Lor' bless us!" cried the widow, "I didn't Enbw' there was a rat in the place," and an- other squeak was heard, ' Upon which Mr. ^roadsides jumped upon achajr with all the alacrity at his command, which was not very considerable, and looked very fierce. The laughter of Mr. Bowles and his red-faced fiiend at tha;t moment was particularly hearty, for they were not afraid of rats ! but Mr. Broad- sides was, and so was the old lady, who contin- ued to sit in an interesting heap. "Only let me come across him !" cried Broad- sides again, and doubUess had a rat appeared, it would have stood a fair chance of giving up the ghost, for Mr. Broadsides shook the poker with great desperation, and looked altogether extremely ferocious. " Come down from that chair, do, you joUy old fool," cried Mr. Bowles; " as true as life, I shall bust !" and another roar of laughter pro- ceeded from him and his friend, in which Val- entine could not help joining. Indeed he laughed so heartily, that all alarm subsided, for as he couldn't squeak for laughing, Broadsides eventually descended from, the chair. "They're nasty things, are rats," said he, " particularly nasty things. I can't abear 'em," and he began to give an account of the ferocious charax!teristios of those litde animals, describing the different species and the different parts at which each of those different species took it into their heads to fly ; and while he was draw- ing the line between me grey rat and the black rat, the old lady, still holding her clothes down very tighdy, mauEiged to rush, vpith great pre- sence of mind, from the room. Mr. Bowles and his friend, however, conti- nued to laugh, and as the squeaking had ceased, Mr. Broadsides laughed too, while Valentine, who then had a stitch in his side, slipped away in a dreadful state of muscular excitement. The very moment he got out of the place, he met ■ one of the red-faced friends of Mr. Bowles, walking between two gaudily-dressed ladies, one of whom was remarkably short and fat, while the other was remarkable only for her decided skeletonian characteristics. To these ladies Valentine was formally introduced j the short fat lady, as the wife of the red-faced gentleman, and the tall thin lady, as Miss Amelia Spinks. "We are going to have a dance," said the red-faced gentleman, "will you join usT" " With pleasure," replied Valentine, looking into the little laughing eyes of the short fat lady, who mechanically drew her arm from that of her husband^ and Valentine as mechan- ically offered her his. Thus paired, though by no means matched, they proceeded across the lawn, and having reached the dancing booth, they paid the ad* mission fee, and entered. The place was dreadfully hot, as were indeed all who were in it, for they not only danced with all their souls, and with all their strength, but, in consequence of the place being so crowded, they bumped up against each other's bustles at every turn, while the professional gentlemen, in a sort of box, were scraping and blowing away, like North Britons. Valentine solicited the hand of the short fat lady for the next set. "Oh dear," said that lady, "I'm so werty horkard; but is it to be a country dance?" Valentine hoped not, from his soul, under the circumstances, and was gratified to leam that country dances were there repudiated, as vnl- gan He, however, ascertained that they wer» 102 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF going tff Lave a Spanish dance, which certainly was the next best thing ; and, having commu- nicated that interesting fact to the lady in question, he prevailed upon her eventually to stand up. The gentlemen now clapped their hands with due energy, with the view of intimating to the musicians, who were sweating like bullocks, that they were perfectly prepared to start oflF, and after a time those professional individuals did consent to sound the note of preparation. ' • Now in order that all might be in motion to- gether, every third couple were expected to lead off, and as Valentine and his partner hap- pened to form a third couple, they of course changed sides, and the dance commenced. " I do hope," said she, when they had got to the bottom, "that we snail have to go all the way down again, it is so beautiful." But un- fortunately for her the music ceased the next moment, and the dance was at an end. And ihen, oh ! how she did run on ! Nothing was ever half so lovely, one quarter so nice, or one hundred and fiftieth part so delightful as that Spanish dance. She was sure there never was Bttoh an elegant dancer in this world as Valen- tine, and she did sincerely hope to have the pleasure of seeing him often at " the Mountain and Mutton Chops." And Valentine was very happy; and the red-faced gentleman was very happy; and they were all very happy, and laughed very merrily, and perspired very freely. • " Come," said the red-faced gentleman, hold- ing forth a glass of hot brandy-and-water. " Drink, sir : I'm happy to know you as the friend of Mr. Broadsides, and you're worthy of being the friend, sir, of any man — drink !" VSentine sipped. He fancied that hot brandy-and-water would not be exactly the thing after the work he had had to perform, and therefore went for some ices and sundry bottles of lepionade for himself and the ladies, who, during his absence, were lost in admiration of his pleasing companionable qualities, which certainly were very conspicuous. The next dance was called the Caledonians ! "Now," thought Valentine, "I am in for it beautifully." " I shall have you again for a partner," said he, "of course V ■ ' *' Oh dear me, yes. I shall be so happy," cried the little fat lady, starting up, "but you must teach me, you know; and then I don't mind." Nor did she. Had it been a minuet er even a hornpipe, it would not have been of the slightest possible importance to her then, Bo long indeed as Valentine consented to in- struct her. The music commenced. "Hands across, back again to places," cried a person who offi- ciated as master of the ceremonies in a voice BO pecidiar that Valentine fancied that he might as well imitate it as not. The first figure was accomplished; and the little fat lady who would not stir an inch without being led by Valentine, went through it very well ; but iust as they were commencing the second, Valen- tine, assuming the voice of the M. G. cried, fL^ete '" and those who happened to hear him, began to do L'ete in defiance of the master ol the ceremonies, who shouted, "No, no! Ca1» donians! — ^not the first set !" The error, after some slight confusion, wail rectified, and they went on advancing and 're- tiring very properly; but when they arrivedat the "promenade" Valentine cried., "CAossej croisez!" and those who obeyed, met thoso who were promenading with great energy o' mind, well knowing that they were right, an/ so violent was the contact, that in a moment a) least fifty couples were on the ground ! Th« promenaders had the worst of it decidedly, foi they galloped round at such a rapid rate, tha« when one couple fell in a set, the others roUe'a over them, as a purely natural matter of course. The confusion for a time was unparalleled, arid the laughter which succeeded amounted to a roar, but Valentine gallantly saved his httla partner ; for, suspecting what was about to oc- cur, he seized her by the waist, and drew her at once into the centre, where he stood viewing the tumult he had thus reprehensibly induced with feelings of intense satisfaction. Of course the fallen parties were not loiig before they scrambled up again, and when they had risen, the brushing on the part of the gentlemen, and the blushing on the part of the ladies, were altogether unexampled, while the musicians, whose eyes were firmly fixed upon the notes, worked away as if nothing had hap- pened, until they had completed the tune. ' "Why did you call chassez-croisez '" shouted several of the gentlemen, in tones of reproach. "We were all right enough until you inter- fered." The master of the ceremonies assured those fentlemen, individually and collectively, that e did not call out " chassez-croisez" at all,, and that somebody else did. Valentine now thought that it would be a pity to distnrb the clear current of their enjoy- ment again. He, therefore, permitted them, without interruption, to go through the various figures prescribed, and made the fat little lady perform so much to her own satisfaction, and that of her husband — who appeared to be ex- ceedingly fond of his little wife — that at the conclusion, their pleasure knew no bounds. Every dance after that, she stood up for, and she and her husband appeared to be so grateful to Valentine, and made him feel so conscious that the highest possible pleasure is involved in the act of imparting pleasure to others, that he really felt happy in giving her instructions, although she did work him most cruelly. In- deed, so much did he enjoy himself, that he continued in the booth until the band struck up the national anthem, when finding that it was past ten o'clock, he took his leave, and went to look after Broadsides. That gentleman, he ascfirtained, after having searched for kim in all directions but the right one, had started ten minutes before with Mr. Bowles. He therefore immediately left the gay scene, and having found that every vehicle about the place had been previously engaged, he set off on foot towards town. He had not proceeded far, however, before he arrived at & spot, on one side of which was an open field, VALENTINE VOX. lOB ■nd on the other a row of houses, whioh stood back some distapoe from the road. All was silent, and dark : it appeared so especialhr to ^im, having just left the glitter and noise of the fair. He, however, walked on pretty briskly ; ,but just as he had reached the termmation of this field, two fellows stood immediately before JUra. He could see them but indistinctly, but he heard them with remarkable distinctness pry, "Stand ! your money, or your life !" <'Ohj ho!'' muttered Valentine, "that's the game, is.it!" and he drew himself back with the view of striking out with freedom, but the fellows, as if conscious of his object, seized him in an instant, and one of them, holding to his head something, he couldn't tell whether it was the muzzle of, a pistol, or the end of a bludgeon, nor did he much care, cried "Out with it ! quick ! — and your watch !" , Valentine did not like to part with his watch ; nor was he very anxious to part with his money ; he, therefore, finding the rascals particularly impatient, and by no means disposed to wait until he had consulted a friend, — shouted, throwing his voice behind him — "Here they are ! — here are the scoundrels I — secure them !" The fellows,, on the instant, relinquished their hold, and turned round with unspeakable velocity ; and just as the last man was darting away, Valentine presented him with a souvenir, in perfect similitude of a kick, and proceeded towards home without further molestation. CHAPTER XXVI. IB WHICH VALENTINE VISITS THE LONDON DOGES, AND HOST KEPKEHENSIBLY INDUCES A WICKED WASTE OF WINE. As a matter of Christian courtesy, Valentine .called upon Broadsides the following morning, and found that gentleman undergoing the con- .nubial qperation of having his ears pierced painfully by the amiable Mrs. Broadsides, in .Consequence of his having returned from the Fancy Fair, in her judgment, a little too affec- tionate and merry. The very moment, how- ever, Valentine passed the bar-window. Broad- sides felt somewhat relieved, seeing that, strange as it may appear, he had been waiting all the mpming for me entrance of some friend, whose presence might cause his lady's tongue to sound somewhat less harshly. He, therefore, on the instant, started up, and, having grasped the hand of Valentine, observed that he really was B very pretty fellow, for running away the pre- .vious evening; and^ having made this truly remarkable observation, he caused him at once to sit down in the bar, and slapped his thigh with all the force of which he was capable, and wished, very particularly, to know how he. fell himself then. "Why, he's not like somebody I know," ob- served the highly sarcastic Mrs. Broadsides, volunteering an answer to the question • pro- posed. "He can go out and have a day's pleasure without making a beast of himself, and that's more than some people can do." And she looked very spitefully at Mr. Broad- .sides, and bottled some bitters, and having driven the cprk against -the edge of the bar very violently, began to darn up an extraordi- nary hole in Mr. Broadsides' speckled worsted stockings. "Why," said Valentine, addressing Mr. Broadsides, "you were all right when yon came home, were you not?" "Right, sir!" cried the lady, "he never is right. Go where he may, and. when he may, he always comes home like a beast. It's won- derful to me — it really is wonderful, that men can't go out without diinking and swilling, and guttling, to such an extent as to make them- selves stupid. What pleasure, — what com- fort, — what enjoyment can there be in it? That's what I want to know ! We can go out^ and be pleasant and happy, and come home without getting tipsy : but you ! — there, if I wouldn't have every man who gets in that state, kept on brown bread and water for a mouth I'm not here ! What, if I were to g9 out, and come home like you, reeling !" , . " Oh, that would be a worry di^erent thing," observed Broadsides. " Not at all ! Don't tell me I We have just as much right to get tipsy as you have. It's just as bad for one as for the other, and flo worse. If a woman gets tipsy, she's every- thing that's drfeadful. Oh ! nothing's too bad for her: it's then the fore-runer of all sorts of wickedness. But a man ! — ^he has only to get sober again, and nothing more is said or though' about the matter. I say that like many, othei things, it's as bad for the man as for the woman, only tlie mischief of it is, it isn't thought BO^ that's all." During the rapid delivery of these interesting observations, Mr. Broadsides was scratching his whiskers, and fidgeting, and winking, and nod- ding towards the door, with the view of in- spiring Valentine with the conviction, that by leaving the bar, their mutual comfort would, in all probability, be very materially enhanced. It was some time, however, before he was able to make these peculiarly cabalistic signs understood; but he was at length successful, and Valentine, acting upon the natural sugges- tion, directed a pint of wine to be sent into the coffee-room, and invited Mr. Broadsides to join him. " You had better stay here," said the lady, addressing Valentine, " I don't allow every one to be in the bar, but I don't mind you; and it shall be more comfortable here than in that cold room : it has just been scoured out and is still very damp." Valentine apparently felt flattered. He had not the smallest objection to remain ; but Broad- sides most certainly had, and this was no sooner perceived by his lady, than she inquired, with bitter earnestness, whether he had any particular wish to have another fit of the gout? This affectionate interrogatory setded the busi- ness. They remained in the bar; and Valen- tine, with appropriate solemnity, inquired if Broadsides were really very bad when he re- turned. " As sober as a judge, sir 1'.' replied that gen- deman. "Good gracious.!'' exclaimed the lady, a* 104 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF Broansides left the bar to look after a boiled chicken. "How can jrou say that, when you know that you were as tipsy as tipsy could be ! " 'Well," cried Valentine, throwing his voice immediately behind Mrs. Broadsides, "that's a good one." The lady, on the instant, wheeled round, ex- pecting, of course, to see some person there ; but as this expectation was by no means re- alized, she felt, in some slight degree, alarmed, and looked very mysterious, and then turned to Valentine, of whom she inquired if he had heard that extraordinary remark. Valentine, who seemed to be reading most intently, took no apparent notice of this natural question, but added, with his eyes still fixed iipon the paper — "I intended it for you. It could reach no farther. Why, I ask, are you a scold I" The tones in which this observation was Made bore, in the judgment of Mrs. Broad- sides, some resemblance to those of the voice of the waiter^ who happened to be standing a short distance from the bar, counting his money again and again, scratching his head with great violence, and endeavoring to recollect whether - two very hungry individuals, who had con- sumed nine chops and six kidneys the previous night had, in reality, paid him or not. ' " What's that you say, sir '>■" inquired the lady, with a sharpness which quite confused all his calculations. "Me, mum!" cried the waiter, turning round with great velocity, "J didn't speak, mum." " You did speak ! I heard you, sir ! Let me have no more of your impertinence, I beg." The waiter felt confused. He couldn't un- derstand it ! He twisted his napkin and swung it under his arm with great energy of mind ; but he could not unravel the mystery at all. He did, however, eventually venture to observe Jhat, upon his soul, he had. never opened his lips. "How dare you," cried the lady, "tell me that wicked falsehood, when I heard you as plain as " " No ! you heard me, mum !" cried Valen- tine, throwing his voice with reprehensible dex- terity into the mouth of the waiter. " Don't I say so !" continued the lady, " I know it was you, and yet you the impudence to tell me to my face, that upon your soul you didn't open your lips 1" "No more I did! 'twasn't me!" cried the waiter, whose blood really began to bubble up. " If it wasn't you, who was it then, sir 1 That is what! want to know !" cried the lady; but the waiter couldn't tell her. He looked extremely puzzled, and so did his mistress, who at length began to believe that it couldn't have been him, and while, with their mouths ■wide open, they were giving each other a lingering look, which plainly signified that it must have been some one; Valentine, who seemed to be still intent upon the paper, cried in a deep hollow voice, which appeared to re- eede gradually — " Farewell ! treat him better. He's kmd to you : be kind to him !" ' -Now, whetner the tender conscience of the hdy was piensed by these pointed remarks: whether she felt it impossible to treat BroaJ^ sides better, or was anxious to keep him in a blissful state of ignorance of better treatment having thus been enjoined, a liberal and highly enlightened public will in all probability be abfe to guess, on being informed that not a syllabi© having reference to the mystery was breathed when Mr. Broadsides returned to the bar. It was, however, easy to perceive that an impression had been made upon the mind of the lady, for al- beit she appeared to be thoughtful and gloomy, her tone was considerably changed, when ip reply to Mr. Broadsides' inquiry, as to whether she inteniled to go with the girls to the fair, she said — " Well, dear, I don't much care if I do." "That's right, my good girl!" exclaimed Broadsides, absolutely electrified. "J love the old woman when she's pleasant and happy \". and he rewarded her at once with a smacking kiss, which might have been heard in the midst of a storm. "But," said the lady, "how long shall yon be gone V "Oh, not above a couple of hours : but don't wait for me ; run away now and make your- self tidy, and go off at once. I'll make it aU right before I leave. — I'm going down to the docks," he continued, addressing Valentine.. " You never were there, I suppose ? What say youl you mayjust as well run down with me." Valentine consented; Mrs. Broadsides left the bar ; and the waiter, who had evidently.nol got quite over it, brought in the tray. " That's the best wife in the world," ob-, served Broadsides, " that of mine. It is tru^' there ain't none on us perfect, but if she could, but get over that temper of hern, sir, she'd be perfection, andnot a ha'porth less." " But you were of course tipsy last evening?** said Valentine. "Why as to the matter of that, perhaps,! was, you see, a little bit sprung, — I don't deny it ; I might have been a small matter so, but, lor! that makes no odds in the least. I've been married now two-and-twenty year, and I don't suppose that during that period of time I ever came home dnink, or sober, withoufc being, according to the old woman's reckoa. ing, a beast. But lor ! piactice makes perfect, and use is second natur. She has done it so long, that shi^ has brought the thing at last to such ■perfection, that I railly shouldn't feel myself quite at home without it. Bui she's a verry good sort; and you know there's always some- thing; and the best thing a man can do, is not to look at either the dark or the bright side alone, but to mix 'em up together, and see then, what a sort of a color they produce. They say that whita is the union of all colors, and depend upon it, woman is the same. They're^ in the lump, the union of all that's good and bad; yet the mixtur you see is so particular pretty, that we can't get on at all withorft loving 'em, no how." Valentine agreed with this practical philoso- phy, and in due course of time, which was not inconsiderable, Mrs. Broadsides descended fulU dressed — not indeed in an aristocratic sense, for in that sense the term " full-dressed" may signify, when interpreted, the state of being VALENTINE VOX. iOB llJSatly half naked ; but in a really legitimate Berise fall-dressed, swelled out to an enormous (Bftent at every point ; and as she was an ex- ftfetnely stottt lady, and rather tall for her age, which fluctuated at thalJ interesting period of bar existence, between forty-five and sixty, her tOfWi ensemble was particularly • fascinating — a feet of which she appeared to be by no means Bficonscious. She sported, on the occasion, a lilac satin dress, with four full twelve-inch flounces, which were delicately edged with Crimson fringe, a yellow velvet shawl, striped with crimson, to match the fringe of the flounces, and trimmed with bright emerald bulhon ; a pink-and-blue bonnet of extraordi- tt&ry dimensions, with a bouquet of variegated fttificials on one side, and a white ostrich Elurae tipped with scarlet on the other; and a >ilg white veil. Sweetly flowered all over, and 60 arranged as to form a sort of festooned cur- tain, which hung about six inches over the front. Nor will it be improper to speak of the iewelry, with which certain poiats of her per- Boh were adorned, for she had on a pair of really ' Bi:obdignagian ear-drops studded with Lilliputian spangles, an elegant mother o' pearl toecklace with a cross attached in front ; a massive gold chain, which hung completely Qvier her shoulders, and which communicated with an immense gold chronometer on one side nf her waist, and on the other to an extraordi- nary bunch of about a dozen seals of all sorts Snd sizes ; an eye-glass attached to a chain made of hair, which enabled it to hang down in front quite as low as her knees ; an average ^'three ringson each particular finger of each particular hand, and a scent bottle adorned with a chased gold top, which peeped for a breath of air just out oi her heaving bosom. -Thus equipped, she had a small glass of bran- dy-and-water warm, and when the two young ladies had pronounced themselves ready, Val- TBntine submitted a glass of wine to each, and then handed them elegantly into a decent hackney coach, the driver of which had ttgaged to take them there and b.iiig them ■Back for twelve shillings and two drops of something to drink. "Now," said Mr. Broadsides, the morhent they had started, " we'll be off," and after hav- ing given certain instructions to his servants, he and Valentine walked to the stand, and got into a low sedan-chair sort of a cab, which, GB Broadsides very jusdy observed, might have been kicked into very little bits if the horse had felt disposed to be handy with his hind legs. They sat, however, in the most perfect safety, for thej"- happened to be behind one of those podr devoted animals which have not more Bian half a kick in them, albeit in the space of half an hour he brought them to the entrance of the London Docks. "Well, here we are," said Broadsides, as they passed through the gatesj at which certain iOffioial individuals were looking with pecjiliar euspicion at every person who passed out. "Them are the sarchers which saroh all the laborers afore they go home, which I don't like the principle of, 'cause it is treating them aU just as if tlwy was thieves." * " And I suppose by that means thej are kejrt honest V observed Valentine. • " Why I des-say it keeps a good many from stealing; butthat's altogethera differentthing you know from keepingthemhonest. Honesty's hon- esty all over the world. If a m&n has the incli- nation to steal, he ain't a ha'porth the honester 'cause he can't do it. That's my sentiments." " I suppose that, notwithstanding, there is a great deal of smuggling going forward !" " I believe you ! The men do a pretty good- ish bit in that way; but the women are by fax the most reglarest devils, 'cause, you see, them at the gate can't so easily detect 'em. They wind long bladders, filled with spirits, round their bodies to such an extent you'd be su!» prised. But they can't smug quite so much away at a time now, 'cause in consequence you see of the alteration of the fashion. But when the balloon sleeves and worry large bustles were in wogue, they could manage to walk away gallons at a time." "Indeed!" said Valentine, "but how?" " Why, you see, independent of the bladders which they wound werry comfortably round 'em, they could stow away nearly half a gallon in each sleeve, for as them sort of sleeves re- quired something to make 'em stand out, they werry natterally fancied that they might just as well have the bulgers blown out with rum and brandy as with air, so all they had to do was to strap their little water-proofs carefully round their arms, and their sleeves look as fashiona*' ble as life ; and then as for their bustles, why that you know, of course, was werry easily managed, for they had but to tie their big but gers with different compartments round theii waists, and they could stow away a gallon of stuff any hour in the day, and then walk through the gates with it hanging on behind, just as natteral as clock-work." Valentine smiled; but Broadsides laughed so loudly at the idea, that his progress was for a very considerable time impeded. He did, however, after having blown out his cheeks with great vehemence to check the current of his mirth, succeed in regaining the power to waddle onwards. "There," said he, stopping at the window of one of the little shops whioS are let to certain merchants who deal in ship's stores, and directing the attention of Valentine to a row of little canisters, labelled "Roa^ Beef," "Beef and Vegetables," &c., "Thai there's the stuff to make your hair curl ! That's the sort of tackle to take out on a long woyage ! There's a pound on it smashed into about a square inch. Of course the merest mite on il will fiU a man's belly. He can't starve any how, so long as he's got a quarter of an inch of that in him. But come, we must keep on mov- ing,_ you know, or we sha'n't get half over the business to-day." I' Are those empty?" inquired Valentine^ pointing to several hundred casks which wei6 lying to the left of the entrance. "Empty! Full of wine, sir — full, sir, every man jack on 'em. But, lor ! that's nothing to what you'll see below. Why, they've got in the wault about a hundred thousand pipes ; and the rent, if we awerage 'em at five aca twenEjr 106 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF shillings a-year-a-piece, will be sometMng like a hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds, while the Walue, if we take 'em all round at five and forty pound a pipe, will be nearly five million of money! — five million, sir! What do you think of that?" Valentine thought it enormous, and said so ; and Broadsides expressed his opinion, that Eng- land could never be conquered, so long as she possessed such an immense stock of wine. " What," said he, " has made the British nation so glorious? What has made our generals and admirals so wiotoriousi Wine, sir, wine, and nothing but wine ! Wine, sir ! — as sound as a nut. That's my sentiments ;" and the eloquence with which those sentiments were delivered, threw him into such a state of perspiration, that he stood at the entrance of the vault for some considerable time with his hat ofi", in order to wipe himself dry. "Lights!" shouted a man, as they eventual- ly descended; and two very oily individuals fired the wicks of two circular lamps, which were stuck upon sticks about two feet long ; one (rf which it was the custom to give to each per- son to carry in his hand round the vault. Broad- sides then drew forth some papers, and having arranged them to his own satisfaction and that of the clerk in attendance, a cooper was called, who conducted Ihem at once into the far-famed place which contained, according to Broadsides, a hundred thousand pipes of the essence of Great Britain's glory. Valentine was for some time unable to see anything distinctly, but the lamps, which were stationed in various parts of the vault, and which burned very dull and very red; but Broadsides who had long been accustomed to the place, was not nearly so much affected by the gloom. "I say," said he, holding up the lamp he had in his hand, "only look at the fungus!" and Valentine saw, suspended from the arches, huge masses of cobweb, which had the appearance of fine black wool. Some of these cobwebs were hanging in festoons from point to point, about as thick as a man's leg, while others hung in bunches about the size of a man's body, and formed altogether an extra- ordinary mass of matter, which certain learned members of the British Association would do well to examine with appropriate minuteness, with the praiseworthy view of reporting there- on at the next merry meeting. " How much of this rail is there down in the wault V enquired Broadsides of the cooper, as he pointed to the iron plates which were planted along the middle of each avenue, for the pur- pose of rolling the casks with facility. " Nine-and-twenty mile," replied the cooper. "Twenty-nine miles!" cried Valentine, in amazement. " Nine-and-twenty mile, sir ; and I'll be liound to say there aint a foot over or under. Here we shall find them," he continued, on reaching the arch under which were some of the wines that Mr. Broadsides wished to taste ; and while the cooper was looking for the par- ticular casks, Broadsides called the attention of Valentine to one of the ventilators. " There's a glorious battle!" said he, "did you ever behold such a shindy? It's the foul air fighli ing with the fresh. One you see wants to coma in, and the other one wants to get out : neithei oil 'em seems inclined to wait for the othei^ and thus they go on continually at it in that state of mind, you see, world without end,"; " This is No. 1," said the cooper, at this mo ment bringing an ale-glass full of wine. ' Broadsides took the glass by its foot, and held it up to the light, and then shook it a little, and spilt about half, and then smelt it and turned up his nose, and then tasted it, and spurted it out again, and having made up an extraordinary face, he proceeded to blow out his cheeks to an extent which made it appear that he might at that time have had in his mouth a remarkable couple of overgrown codlings. "That won't do at no price," said he, after a time, "just walk into six," and a glass of No. 6, was ao- cordingly drawn, and when he had shaken- it and smelt it, and tasted it as before, he pro nounced the whole lot to be "pison." " I suppose," observed Valentine, while Broadsides was occupied in bringing his'mouth into shape, "that you frequenfly make persons tipsy down here ?" "^They frequently jnake theirselves tipsy," replied the cooper, "when they come down to look and not to buy, you know — ^to swiU and not to taste. There was yesterday, for io- stance, three young bloods came in with an order to taste five and twenty quarter casks, and sure enough they did taste 'em. They mate me tap every cask, and swallowed every glaas that I drawed, and when I'd gone right clean through 'em they tried to everpersuade me to begin the lot again at the beginning. Now, there ain't above four of these 'ere to a pint, eo they couldn't have taken in less than three botk ties a-piece. I warned 'em of the consequence^ for I saw they knew nothing at all about it, but the fact was, they came for a swiU, and a swill they most certainly had. They didn't, houfc ever, feel it any great deal down here, but pro haps they didn't when they got out! I knew how it'd be, so I went up the steps just to watch them, and lor ! directly they smelt the fresh aii^ and saw the light of the blessed heaveuj they all began to reel just like so many devils. I thought that bang into the dock go they ■must, and if they'd only seen the water, in of course they would have soused, for they ran right bust against everything they tried to avoid." " Then persons don't feel it much while they are down nere?" obse'rved Valentine. "No," replied the cooper, "very seldom, unless they happen to have had a glass of ale before they come down, and then they just do if they drink at all any ways freely. The other day, now. a lushinglon of this kind came in with two others, and I attended 'em ; and when they had tasted, and tasted, and tasted, until I thought they'd all drop down dead drunk together, this gent slipped away, and his friends very natterly fancied that, finding his stomach a little out of order, he'd started off home, and as I couldn't see him no where about, why, I natterly fancied so too ; but the next morning, just as I we.nt into No. 5, north, for a sample, who should I see, but this identical indiwidual VALENTINE VOX. mfl if&&ag xa. the sawdust with his head upon a .pipe, as comfortable as a biddy, and snoring ^wav like a trooper. I woke him, of course, ,,and he got up as fresh as a daisy; but in order (to avoid all row, you see, I made him keep behind till a party came in, and he slipped out yf\X\). them without any body knowing a bit about the matter." , "I pre|sume you don't drink much your- iplvesl" observed Valentine. ,. ,,",Why, that, you^ee, depends upon circum- ; glances. The old hands don't: the smell's enough for them ; but the new aad weiTy green ;iins are continiii/ sucking like infants. It's a long time before sich as them can be weaned. It was only the Saturday night before last, that one of this sort got locked down. We didn't know a word about the matter, and the vault wasn't of course going to be opened again be- ,fore Monday; but he got pretty sober in the eourse of Sunday morning, and after having spent a few happy hours at the grating, he gave a wiew hoUer to one of the outside watchmen, who sent for the key, and got him out very jquietly. But it cured him. I don't believe he has had so much as a suck since then." '} Well, come," said Broadsides, " now I am here, let's see how my extra-particular get's on." This happened to be under the opposite arch, and while the cooper was in it with Broadsides, Valentine, who was looking very intently at some cobwebs, perceived a tall dark figure march past him in a manner which struck him as being extremely mysterious. He was angry, very angry with himself for being startled, although he couldn't help it; and after having reproached himself severely in consequence, ^e walked to the opposite arch. " A tall per- son passed just now," said he to the cooper. .•^Whowasit?" " One of the watchmen. They walk in and . out in the dark to see that no indiwidual pays twice. There's lot's on 'em about. You'll see him again by'n bye." . "Very well," thought Valentine, " if I do, I'll jstartle Aim," and while the cooper was broach- ing the extra-particular, he looked round the vault with an anxious eye. " Now then," said Broadsides, handing him a glass, "just tell me now what you think of that." Valentine tasted, and found it so splendid, that he almost unconsciously finished the glass. "That's something like, ain't it? That's what I call wine ! It's as sound as a nut. Let's have another glass," and another glass was drawn, and while. Broadsides was smelling it, and shaking it, and spilling it, and tasting it, .and spurting it over the sawdust, and making it.go through all sorts of manoeuvres, the watch- man passed again. "iii/us/i .'" cried Valentine throwing his voice among the casks, which were near him. "He's here !" The watchman stood perfectly still. He would scarcely allow himself to breathe. He vas a man who reflected upon the imaginary xhearsal of his actions — an extremely cautious tunn, and' his name was Job Scroggins. In- iUtead,.therefore, of rushing like a fool to the spot, he, with admirable tact, held up his hand to eiijoin §ilenoe, and fried with great optical energy to pierce the extremely dense glooai of the vault. This he found to be impracticable. All was dark, pitch-dark, in the direction from which the voice appeared to proceed. No- thing could be distinguished. Twenty men might have been drinking there unperceived. Scroggins therefore having formed his plan of attack, said in a delicate whisper to the cooper. " If you stand here, we shall nab 'eni," ana crept very stealthily round to the opposite side of the arch. Now this was precisely what Valentine wan^ ed. He wished but to excite the suspicion of the watchman that persons were having a clan- destine treat, to enable him to keep up the game. Job Scroggins had therefore no sooner got round than Valentine sent a faint whisper very near him, the purport of which was that Harry was a fool not to get behind the casks. "Hallo I" shouted Scroggins, in a voice of thunder, on hearing the faint expression of that affectionate sentiment. " Get behind ! get behind !" cried Valentine, " we shall be caught !'' " Hallo !" again shouted Job Scroggins, 'rrith all the energy at his command. " What are you about there ? D'ye hear?" " Hush !" said Valentine, " hush ! not a word.^' "I hear you, my rum 'uns ! Come out of that, will you ! Here Jones !" "Hallo !" shouted Jones. " What d'ye want?'' " Come here !" cried Scroggins. " Here, quick ! — No. 9 ! — We'll nab you, my lushing tons ! — we'll find you out !" and he tore away a stout piece of scantling, while Broadsides hand- ed the glass of wine to Valentine^ and tucked up his sleeves to assist in the caption. " Now, then," cried Jones, who had been engaged in the fortification of two pipes of port, and whose nose glowed with ineffectual fire. " What's the row !" ■ "Here's a lot of fellows here," replied Scrog- gins, " swilling away at the wine like devils." " Where ?" cried the fiery-nosed cooper with extraordinary fierceness. " Here !" shouted Scroggins. " Lights ! lights !" "What's the matter? Hallo!" cried two voices in the distance. "Here! Nine! Lights! lights!" reiterated Scroggins, who appeared to be in a dreadful state of excitement just then. "All safe now. Lie still," said Valentine, throwing his voice behind a lot of quarter caska which stood to the left of Job Scroggins. " Ah, you're safe enough I" exclaimed Job, in a tone of bitter irony. " Pray, don't alarm your blessed selves! you're quite safe — to be nabbed in less than no time. Now then there, look alive — now quick !" he continued, as two additional coopers approached the spot with lights. , " If you get away now, my fine fellows, why, may I be blowed. There, you go behind there, and you stand here, and you keep a sharp look out there. Now then, if they escape, we'fl forgive 'em!" • Haying stationed the coopers wilh lamps in their hands at various parts of the arch, Job Scroggins stole gently between two distinpt 108 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF rows of pipes, and Valentine, wishing to ren- der all the assistance in his power, preceded him. Just, however, as he had reached the darkest part of the arch, he cried, in an as- sumed voice, of course, " Let's drown him," and threw the glass of wine he held in his hand over his head so dexterously, that the whole of it went into the face of Mr. Scroggins, who was looking about behind in a state of anxiety the most intense. " Here they are ! Here are the thieves !" shouted Scroggins, wiping his wine-washed face with the sleeve of his coat. " Look out there ! — ^look out !" and he rushed past Valen- tine with great indignation, and peered with considerable fierceness of aspect into every cavity sufficiendy large to admit the tail of a eonsumptive rat. ' " Hush !" cried Valentine, sending his voice right ahead; and away went Scroggins to the spot fi'om which the whisper appeared to pro- ceed, while the coopers were looking about with great eagerness, expecting every moment to soe the thieves rise. r- " Quiet, Harry ! quiet ! They'll catch us," whispered Valentine. ' " Catch you !" cried Scroggins, " to be sure we shall !" And he pokeH his stick with in- finite violence between the casks, and rattled it about with consummate desperation, and look- ed ! — as the lamp was beneath his wine-stained face, it imparted so ghastly a hue to his fea- 6ires, that really he looked like a fiend. " Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha !" cried Valentine, merrily sending his voice right under the arch adjoining. Away went Job Scroggins backed up by the coopers, who struck their shins cleverly against the corner casks, and stumbled over the scant- ling, one after the other, with infiniite presence of mind. " Away, away !" shouted Valentine, throwing his voice towards the spot they had just left ; and Jot) Scroggins rushed back with the coopers at his taU, of whom the whole were inspired with the spirit of vengeance. "Stand there!" shouted Scroggins: "they must pass that way !" and he poked his thick etick between the casks again desperately, and flourished it about with unparalleled zeal. "It's all up with us, Harry: we're blocked right in," whispered Valentine, despairingly. "Forgive us!" he added, in a nifTprent voice, as if Harry had really become very in uch alarm- ed — " Forgive us ! we'll do so no more : have mercy !" Mercy! If there be in the English language one word, which tends more than another to soften a truly British heart, that word is beyond question, Mercy. There is magic in the sound of that soft, soothing word. A true English- man's sympathies swell when it is breathed, and his anger is strangled by that string of be- nevolence, which he winds with pride round his compassionate heart. Tears of blood, flow they never so freely, are not more effectual in catting the throat of vengeance, than the magi- cal sound of this beautiful word, for the moment it strikes on the drum «f the ear, tlve spirit of Ate is kicked from the soul, and benevolence rises great, gloiiou% ' and iiee, in- loveliness, even surpassing itself. About this it is cleat there can't be two opinions; and hence, none can marvel, that when the word reached, the soft sensitive ear of the true-hearted Scroggin^ he should have exclaimed with all the fervor of which he was capable : — " Mercy ! Mer,cyl — You don't have a squeak !" " Come out !" he continued ; " you guzzling vagabones ! — mercy indeed ! — vrith a hook !" "We have not drank a great dealj'? said Valentirie imploringly. '"We haven't, jndeeJ. You shall have it all back if you will but fo|i- give us." . , Scroggins smiled a sardonic smile. " This is how the wine goes," said Mr. Broad- sides. ,t " And then we get's blowed up sky-higjj( for the 'fioiency," added the fiery-nosed cooper. "Now then! are ypu coming out or not!" shouted Scroggins. Valentine sent forth a laugh of defianc'*, which caused the heaving bosom-of Scroggiflf to swell with the essence of wrath. He might have been somewhat subdued by humility, although that was not extremely probable then — still he might by such means have been softened ; but when he reflected on the mon- strous idea of being defied ! he couldn't stand it ! he wouldn't stand it \ He flew to the spot from which the laugh had apparently pro- ceeded, and struck the surroundnig casks with peculiar indignation. " Will you come out or not," he exclaimed, " before I do you a mischief?" i- "No," shouted Valentine. "Then take the consequence," cried Scrogv gins, who looked at that moment remarkably fierce. "Now then," he continued, addressing the coopers, " we'll give 'em no quarter : we'll have no more parley : we'll drag 'em out now, neck and eels!" Previously, however, to the effectual accom- plishment of this extremely laudable object, it was obviously and absolutely necessary to find them — a remarkable fact, which struck Scrog- gins and the coopers with such cousurtimate force, that they set to work at once, with the view of effecting this highly important prelimi- nary, and displayed an amount of zeal, which really did them great credit. " They're somewhere about here, I knowy,' observed the fiery-nosed cooper. " Oh, we shall find 'em ! we'll have 'em !" cried Scroggins; "and when we do catch 'em^ they'll know it !" •• The highly sarcastic tone in which these words were uttered, was clearly indicative of something very desperate ; and as the coopersj who were beginning to get very impatient, were running rounds the arch with unparallelee energy, Valentine, unperceived, threw the glsiss he had had in his hand upon a pile of pipes under tlie gloomy arch opposite, and immedi- ately cried : " There's a fool ! now we can't get another drop." " Here they are !" shouted Scroggins, on heafr ing the crash. " Now then, boysT hurrah! w« shall nail 'em !" This soul-stining speech put the coopers on their mettle, and ik&y rushed towards ue areb •VALENTINE VOX. 109 ^th 'uriprecedented spirit; but before they reached the spot in which the broken glass was l^g, Valentine — who did not exactly oompre- llend the precise meaning of the words : " now Tee'll nail 'em," albeit he fancied, that if poor tfflllappy persons had really been there, mey would have stood a fair chance of being mer- 6jlfessly4iammered--cried, "Now, let us start: we can get no more wine !" "Stop there, you^vagabones!" cried Scrog- gins, Vehemently, thinking to frighten them out of their wits. " We are cocksure to catch you, you know ! You may just as well give up at once !" ' They had now reached the spot in which the glass lay smashed into a really extraordinary number of little pieces. "Here we have hocklar demonstration," he continued ; " here's where the vagabones was." " Stoop down," whispered Valentine. "Come out .'" cried Soroggins. " It's o' no nseyfiuknow; we see you!" An observation which, how laudable soever its object might teive been, involved a highly reprehensible falsehood. "Now then ! — crawl gently," whispered Val- eiitine. — " Come on !" - Soroggins leaped over the pipes in an instant, and looked round and round with an expression of surprise. "Have you got 'em V inquired the fiery- nosed cooper. ^ "Got 'era !" echoed Scroggins; "I only just wish I had, for their sakes. 1 'stablish a trifle or two in their mem'ries to sarve 'em for life. I'll warrant they wouldn't forget it a one while." Valentine now sent a slight laugh so very near the legs of Mr. Soroggins, that that gentle- tiian spun round with the velocity of a cock- chafer, and felt very angry indeed with him- self when he reflected that the " Lushingtons" Btijlwere at large. "Where can they be crept to?" he cried, in amazement. " They're not a yard from me, and yet — why, where the " ■ " There's no room for two men to hide their bodies here," observed the fiery-nosed cooper. • " They must be particular small," said Mr. Broadsides. "They must be particular active," said Soroggins; and Valentine sent another laugh very near him. Job Soroggins looked savage — undoubtedly savage ! He shook his red head with extreme desperation, and ground his great teeth with maniacal zeal. "Where can they be hid 1" he exclaimed, with great emphasis. "Blister 'em ! Where can the scoundrels be got to V , He paused' for a. reply, and fixed his eyes upon his companions, and his companions fixed their eyes upon him, ifhile Broadsides scratched his head with his right hand, and rubbed his chin ve.-y mysteriously with his left. At this interesting moment an intelligent cooper, who had theretofore searched without Uttering a syllable, ventured to offer a rational iUggestion, the purport of which was, that they certainly must be somewhere. "Somewhere!" cried Scroggins, very an- grily : " We know they must be somewhere ; but where is that somewheru'? That's the grand pint !" The intelligent cooper, who offered this sug- gestion, was silent, for he saw that Mr. Sorog- gins looked ready to eat him: and Scrog^nl was a big man, and had an excessively carnivo- rous aspect. Silence was, therefore, a species of wisdom, which the little intelligent cooper displayed, and the search was resumed with increased perseverance. But Valentine himself now became some>' what puzzled. He scarcely knew how to pro- ceed. He was anxious to send the invisible " Lushingtons" off with eclat, but the question was, how could he get them away? While, therefore, the watchmen and the coopers were hunting about in all directions, poking their sticks into every kind of cavity, asking thenv- selves all sorts of queer questions, and answer- ing themselves in all sorts of queer ways, he was quietly conceiving a design to carry into immediate execution, with the view of thick- ening the mystery in which they were involved. He had not, however, to puzzle himself long, for, being blessed with an exceedingly vivid imagination, he had but to give it full swing for a time, and a host of ideas would dart across his brain with about the velocity of lightning; and, although it occasionally happened that they rushed in so wildly, and upset each other so wantonly, and caused so much confusion, that he was really Compelled, in self-defence, to kick them all out together ; in this particular instance they entered in the most orderly man- ner possible, and, after playing at leap-frog clean down each other's throats, the most pow- erful remained, having swallowed all the rest; and that Valentine seized by the collar at once, with the view of making it perform that parti- cular office for which it had been created. This was, however, a desperate idea, it being no other than that of introducing his voice into one of the pipes of wine, in order to see how Job Scroggins and his companions would act; but Valentine, resolved not to repudiate it in consequence of its desperate character, held it fij-mly, and just as the energetic Job, after rutt^ ning round and round with great fierceness of aspect, and vowing the most extraordinary spe- cies of vengeance, had paused to regain a little breath, and to wipe the perspiration from his face, with the cuff of his bob-tailed coat, ha pitched his voice dexterously into an extremely old cask, and cried, " Wasn't it lucky we founa this one empty, eh?" Job Scroggins stared; and so did old Broad- sides, and so did the fiery-nosed cooper ; and they drew near the cask from which the sound had apparently proqeeded, and listened again with an expression of amazement. "Keep in the head," whispered Valentine, very audibly. "They're here !" shouted Scroggins, snatch- ing an adze from the fiery-nosed cooper. " Look out I — now they're nailed !" and withi- out a single moment's reflection, without coiv- sidering whether the cask were full or empty, without even giving the slightest notice to tnosa who were with him, he smashed in the head 61 110 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF the pipe, and the wine, of course, rushed out in torrents. " You fool '." cried the fiery-nosed cpoper, as the stream dashed the lamps from their hands, and extinguished the lights. "Help! help!" shouted Scroggins. " Silence, you ass ! hold your tongue !" cried the fiery-nosed cooper. " Hoist the cask up on end !— Now !— Stick to it !— Now !— All togeth- er! — Hurrah!" In an instant the thing was accomplished, for Valentine, who was really very sorry for what had happened, put forth with the rest all the strength at his command. "Now, don?t make a noise," said the fiery- nosed' cooper ; " get a light from the lamp there — quick !" And Scroggins, who was then in a dreadful state of mind, groped his way at once out of the arch, while the rest were, of course, in total darkness, and up to their ankles in wine. It was not, however, long before Scrog- gins returned, and when he did, (he very first question asked was, — "What cask is it?" "All right — ail right !" said the fiery-nosed cooper, after having examined it minutely. "It's one of them old uns that's been here so long." "What, one of them three !" cried his com- rade. " Well, that's werry lucky as far as it goes. It'll never be cleared. It was oidy t'other day I was saying that I'd bet any money the warrants was lost." " Come, that's most fortunate," thought Va- lentine. " But what are we to do V cried the greatly- alarmed Scroggins. " How are we to hide it ? — ^There's such a rare lot on it spilt !" " Now don't make no noise," said his fiery- nosed friend: "I'll cooper it up, and you get aU the sawdust you can, — now be handy I It's an awful puddle, surely; but the sawdust '11 soon suck it up.'' And he began to repair the cask, while the rest were engaged in scraping sawdust together and mixing it up with the wine, and then throwing it, when it became perfectly saturated, under the scantling to dry. By dint of great labor, — for all, including Broadsides, who pufied away frightfully, as- sisted, — in the space of twenty minutes the pool became pretty well absorbed ; and as the fiery-nosed cooper had by that time completed his job, the pipe was carefully placed upon the scantling again, and when more fresh sawdust had been strewn over the spot, the place looked BO much as if nothing had happened, that it might even then have been passed unnoticed. "Well," cried Scroggins, "it's well it isn't no worse ; but if I'd only ha' caught them 'ere warmint, whoever they are, if I wouldn't have earyed 'em out, blister 'em, blow me !" " But did you ever hear of such a fool," ob- eerred the fiery-nosed cooper, "to smash in the head of a pipe, when he knew we hadn't got an empty cask in the place 1" "Why, you see," said Mr. Scroggins, in ex- tenuation, "I didn't then give it a thought. It was a mad go ; I know it, — a werry mad go ; but, you see, I was so savage, that I didn't know rayly what I did j and I fancied I heered ibA two wagaboaes inside." " And so did I," said his fiery-nosed fri^nd^ " but then I know'd it couldn't be." " They must ha' been behiiid that 'ere pipe,"' continued Scroggins; "I'm sartain they must, and I ony just wish I'd ha' caught 'em, thafi all ; if I wouldn't ha' given 'em pepper ! — ^may I never set eyes on my babbies again !" During this extremely interesting colloquy, Broadsides and Valentine were industriously^ occupied in wiping their sticky hands and faces, and making themselves sufiiciently decent to pass without exciting special notice. Tliey found this, however, a difficult job, for the wine had spurted over them freely; but when they had carefully turned down their collars, and buttoned their coats so closely up to their chins that scarcely a particle of their deeply-stained shirts could be perceived, it was unanimously' decided that they might venture. 'j^' " But you want to taste the other pipe of port, sir, don't you ?" observed the cooper. " The stink of them lamps," replied Breads sides, "has spylt my taste for a fortiiit : besides^ I don't care a bit about it; I only came to taste, • what I wouldn't have at no price, them dx pipes of pison." The business being therefore at an end, the fiery-nosed cooper polished Valentine's bobts with his apron, when Broadsides gave the men half-a-crown to drink his health, and he and ' Valentine — 'who gave them half-a-sovereign,— ; were ushered very respectfully out of the vaullj and after passing the gates without exciting more than ordinary attention, got into a cal^ and rode home. CHAPTER XXVn. VALENTINE BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH A FRISHTFCl CALAMITY, AND HAS A HEART-KENDINQ INTEKVIEW ON THE SUBJECT WITH HOKACE. There is a remarkable bit of sublimity — a powerful, pale, universal reflector, which is sometimes above us, and sometimes below us, and sometimes on a hue precisely parallel with us — a reflector of which the composition is ui>' known, but which is ycleped by our sublunary philosophers — a moon. That this moon will be ever cut up into stars, may rationally, notwith* standing the idea originated with our o^vn im-- mortal Shakspeare, be doubted ; but there can be no doubt that as it derives its pale lustre from the sun, so mankind in the aggregate d* rive their lustre from money; and albeit the connection between the moon and money may not at a glance be perceived, except, indeed, by superficial men of genius, and philosophers steeped to the very Ups in learned mud, that there is a connection between them will be acknowledged by all, when- they reflect upoK the fact of the moon being silver by pre- scription. Now, money is said to b© the devil ; and if it be, it is beyond all dirpute an extremely plear sant devil, and one of which men are so ardently enamored, that they absolutely wor- ship it as if it were a god. No mattei of wh3| VALENTINE VOX. Ill in^teilal this money may be compose^ — ^no matter whether it consists of precious metals, piSeoious stones, or precious little bits of paper, for every convertible representative of money Is^equ^Uy preoigus; its accumulation and distn- butipn in reality constitute the principal busi- ness of men's lives. Some despise it for a time ; tliey never despise, it long : they soon suffer for the . indulgence in that bad passion. Others will do anything, however dishonorable, to ob- tain it. If a man has money, he's all right; if he ha,s none, he is all wrong. It matters not what hermits and monks may say, if an honest man be poor, his fellow-men despise him; while a wealthy villain, in the world's estima- tion, is a highly respectable member of society, and hence the penalty onpoverty is greater than thatwhich is attached nS^any absolute crime. Nor is this all, as the saying is : nothing like Ml. It's astonishing the spirit of mdependence the possession of money mspires, and equally astonishing are the dejection and humility which the nonrpossession of it induces. If a man has no jitoney, his mind is iU at ease ; he cannot feel, comfortable any how — it amounts to an absolute physical impossibility for him to hold up,his head like a man who has lots. He can't do it ! It's of no use to physic him with philoso- phy ! All the philosophy in the world is insuf- pQient to cure his pecuniary disease. He can't understand your philosophy then, and he won't understand. He knows better. He knows that he has got no money ! — a species of knowledge which affects alike body and soul. And yet, notwithstanding money is so valuable — so pre- cious, that its absence teems with misery and humiliation j notwithstanding it is so dear, so highly prized when it is wanted, that we risk even our lives to obtain it, how thoughdessly we waste it! how freely we squander it away, when it is gained, as if its possession inspired the belief, that we should never want another five-pound note so long as we had the ability to breathe ! Beyond all dispnte — for there can- not exist two opinions on the subject — in this little matter a man is an ass. ,Now, all this is very profound, but Valentine really knew nothing about it. He only knew this, that in a pecuniary sense he was getting remarkably short, and that it became absolutely necessary to write to Uncle John for a. fresh supply. A blessed position for a man to be placed in is that, in which he has but to say, I want so much," and so much is sent as a njatter of course. This was precisely the posi- tion of Valentine ; but before he wrote home, he was anxious to see the Goodmans, in order to ascertain if they could, or would, give him any further information With respect to his benevolent old friend. Accordingly, on the morning of the day on 5which he intended to write to Uncle John, he Bet off for the residence of Walter, and was certainly somewhat startled on being unable to discover the house in which he had lived. On arriving at the spot where the house had stood, he ooiSd see but the foundation, and a few burnt beams : but on making inquiries at a shop in the vicinihr, he not only ascertained what had happened from a peraon who gave him a really heart-rending account of the occunence, but was informed that Walter and his family were at that time Igdgingin a house directly op- posite. Thither of course he immediately went, and having sent up his card, paced the parlor into which he had been shown with considerable anxiety ; for, possessing a heart in which the kindliest feelings of our nature had been implanted, he deeply sympathized with those of whose dreadful suffenngs so frightful ^^ picture had been drawn. He had not, however, dwelt upon the calamity long, when a person dashed mto the room, and exclaimed, "Hallo, my young trump ! don't you know me V Valentine in a moment knew the voice, to be that of Horace; but his person he certainly would not have known. "Good God!" said he, grasping his hand, " is it possible V "It just is," cried Horace, " and no mistake about It. Don't I look a beauty, eh? Did you ever see such a Guy? But thank Heaven for aU things," he contined, pulling off a large wig, and displaying his head, the black skin of which had just begun to peel. " It's a comfort,' no doubt, if you can but just look at the thing in the right light." "And how is your father?" inquired Valen- tine. '■' Why," replied Horace, with great solem- nity of aspect, " he's as much like a joUy old cinder as possible. He's frizzled aU up intc one lump of coke. I'm rummy enough, but lor! he's out-and-out! There's no mistake at all about him." " But he's out of all danger, I hope ?" "Oh! yes; he's getting on like a brick. I thought he was booked though at one time, far of all the unhappy looking bits of black crack- ling! — did you ever happen to see a smoked pig? Because if you ever did, you have seen something like him. You wouldn't believe him to be flesh and blood. You wouldn't know him, in fact, from a joUy old piece of burnt cork. He stood it, however, throughout, like a trump, and I'll back him after this against any regular salamander going." " And the ladies, how are they?" " Why, they're only toUolish. You know what women are. They don't like the look of the governor at all, and certainly he don't look panicularly fresh." " Well," said Valentine, rising, " I'm really very sorry for what has occurred, and if you think that I can be of service to you in any way, I hope you wiU command me. I'll not detam you now." " I wish you would, old boy," said Horace, with much earnestness. " You'd be doinsr mB a very great favor. The fact is, our out-and-onl old fool of a doctor won't let me have more than one glass of wine a day, which of course w particularly rotten, more especially now I'm getting all right again. ' But the old. fool won't listen to reason ; nor will the two women, wjio are of course on his, side, and who keep the blessed wine locked up, just as if body and soul could be kept on decent terms with each other, by that nasty lush which he expects me to swallow by the pailful. Upon my soul, that little vrretch of a boy, to whom he gives about .12 two-i LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF TO-pence a month, to carry out all Ms poison, IS everlastingly at the door with his basket /uH of some infernal tincture of filth. I've kicked him right bang into the road three times; but he still comes and comes. I'll half murder him some day." " But of course it does you good ?" "Is it rational to suppose it? Is it anything like rational to entertain the idea, that such hog-wash as that can do any fellow good? It's the nastiest muck that ever was concocted to disorder the bowels of a Christian. Do you happen to know what asafcetida is ? Because, if you do, you know what sort of physic I swill, for they shove a lot of that into every blessed botde. ' I'm certain it's that : there can be no mistake, I should know it a mile off; that, and liie smff they sell to poison the bugs, constitute 'the mixture as before,' and an extremely plea- sant mixture it is, if you can but get it down. Now, I want you, therefore, to do me this kind- ness ; if you'll stop — if it be only for a quarter of an hour, I shall take it as an especial mark of friendship, for I can gammon them out of some wine for you, and that's the only way in which I can see my way clear to get a glass for myself; for of course I can't stir out of the house with this jolly old smoke-dried counte- nance, tattooed and scored like the nob of a Chocktaw Chief. It's worse, ten to one worse, than having the sraaU-pox. The measles are a fool to it; and as for the itch! — ^there, you may believe me or not, as you like, but if aU the infernal tribes of wasps, bugs, musquitoes, fleas, and every other kind of vermin in nature, were marching about me in everlasting legions, they couldn't produce an itch like it. I'll defy them to do it! and yet that old donkey that scours ia.6 out, has the face to tell me that I ought not to scratch it ! I'm regularly drowned about seven times a day, in what he christens lotion — the nastiest, greasiest, slipperiest muck that ever made a tom-cat sick. It doe? me no good; it only makes me itch more, as I tell the old fool, who however takes no sort of no- tice at all of what I say, as if I didn't know about my own feelings best ! If I seriously ex- postulate with him, he only laughs and directs them to ' rub it iu ; nib it in ! Oh ! never mind; rub it in !' And they do rub it in like devils. But don't go just yet, there's a trump," he added, and rushed from the room quife delight- ed with the idea of having an additional glass of wine. " What an extraordinary creature !" thought Valentine on being left alone. " How dreail- f ally he must suffer ; and yet how his spirits sustain him. Most men, if in his present state, would be lying in bed, increasing by dwelliilg upon their agony, and groaning as if groans alone were capable of effecting a cure." " All right ! all right !" cried Horace, bouncing into the room • " I've done the trick. I've gam- moned them both, that you've been walking a very long distance, and feel most particularly faint. So it's to come down direody. They wouldn't tru.st me with il, though; I suppose they fancied that I should walk into the de- canter on the stairs. But no matter— come in ! tNow I look upon this as very friendly." The servant at this moment entered ■with tlm wine ; and Horace observed that there was no' mistake about her. " If you please, sir," said the girl, addressing Valentme, "Missises compliments, and she'd take it as a particular favor, if you wouldn't allow Mr. Horace to have more than half a glass." "Why, you out-and-out, know nothing^ wretch ! what d'ye mean ?" cried Hoiaca "Is this your gratitude? Didn't I carry yon over the tiles? Be off! — I hate the sight of you !" and he pulled off his win; and threw it at her with great energy, as she darted like lightning from the room. "You see !" he co»- tinued, as he picked up his wig, " this is just the. way they serve me day after day. If I hadn't the temper of an angel, they'd drive me into fits. But come ! — May we never want nothing." Having earnestly delivered this beautiful sentiment, and emptied his glass, he smacked his hps with really infinite gusto, and r* plenished. " Bring me a bottle of wine, there's a trump!" said he. "Do, if you have any charity in you. You haven't an idea what a favor I should esteem it. It is the handsomest present you could possibly make me. Yon could call to-morrow, you know, and bring it snugly in your pocket. But don't let them sea it ; if you do, I'm done. It would be to ms the highest treat in nature. Success to j'on, old boy!" he continued, again emptying his glass. " You don't know how happy I am to see you!" "Well, now," said Valentine, " how did thig dreadful calamity occur ?" "Why, you see," replied Horace, "the old governor was a little bit thick in the olear,;an4 they fancied that somebody ought to sit, up with him. Of course, I saw in a twinklingj,, who that somebody must be ; I knew th^t-, being a pleasant job, I was to have it; and I wasn't at all out of my reckoning. I did have it, naturally ; I had it for three blessed nights,, and as I went to bed immediately after break- fast, I snoozed very soundly till supper tima came. Well, you see, on the thiiil night the fjovernor was unbearable, for what must he dp but take it into his jolly old sconce, that Unote Grim was in the room ! It's a fact, upon ray soul ! He would have it that he was standing at the foot of the bed, and nothing could drive it out of him. I tried all I knew to swindle the old ass into the belief that I had pitched him neck and crop out of the window ; but no ; ho wouldn't have it ; he fancied he saw him there still ; and after cutting away like a jolly old lunatic for two or three hours, he dropped off, as I thought, to sleep. Well, as soon as I saw his eyes closed right and tight, I left the room to get a cup of hot coffee, which I knew was all regular in the kitchen, and I suppose that as soon as my blessed back was turned, the old ass jumped out and set fire to the bed-clothes, for on running up again, which I did like a wheelbarrow, I found the room in flamesj and him laughing like a fool fit to split. I callejl to him again and again, but he took no notice; I VALENTINE VOX. 118 pr.t it to aim whether he didn't think he was a donkey, but he made no reply ; I couldn't drag him out ; I couldn't get at him ; I couldn't even get into the room, and it was not until the whple house was one flake of fire, and he was ss black as an old tin pot, that I was able, by smashing in the panel of the wainscot, to- lug him into the passage, and thence out of the house. I ran up again after that, to lay my fist npon a little lot of documents ; but lor ! the room was full of blazes, and to add to the comfort of my position, I wish I may die, if the jolly old stairs didn't fall the very moment I wished to descend. Well, up to the attic I flew, and out upon the tiles I bounced like a ball. It was there, that I met with that girl whow you saw — who certainly did startle me a little above a bit — and there we were forced to remain, till one of the firemen — who was a trump every inch of him — came to our assist- ance. Well! having caught hold of the girl, with about the same coolneSs, as if there had been nothing the matter, he cocked me into a sort of a long cotton stocking, and down I ulipped gradually fcom the parapet to the ground. But the friction! — Oh! — don't men- tion it ! My skin was like the crackling of a roast, leg of pork over-done ; and as for my pool" old toggery ! — the fire had made it so par- ticularly rotten, that I came out as naked as a new-born devil. I didn't, however, feel much more then ; but in the morning, when the ex- citement had gone a little off', perhaps I didn't ! Talk of Fox's Book of Martyrs ! I'll bet ten to one there wasn't a martyr among them that suff'ered a tithe of what I did. It made me so savaf!;e ! But don't let us talk any more about it. Every evil is pregnant with good : the off- spring of this, is the feet of its being over, and thatis'an absolute blessing." 'Valentine listened to all this with the utmost attention , but that which struck him with grenter force than all the rest, was tho fact of Walter having endeavored to burn the appa- rition of his brother out of the room. " What could possibly have induced him," thoiight he, "to have recourse to such an expedient ? One would have thought that the notion of his brother being present, instead of exciting angry feelings, would have been calculated to com- fort and con.sole him. But everything tends to confirm my belief of his being the victim of some foul play." There was a pause; but it was not of long dura,ti6n, for Horace again replenished his glass, and gave as a toast : " the knock-kneed quaker." f' Have you seen or heard anything of your uticle?" inquired Valentine, with considerable earnestness. Horace looked at him intently, as if he wished to read the motive which prompted the question, and then answered, "No, I can't say that I have; I believe that he is all right some- where, but where I don't know, nor does any one else but the governor." "Then," thought Valentine, "when the governor is convalescent, since his imagination i» so s»«ceptible of apparently supernatural in- fluences, I'll wring the secret from him by ap- parently supernatural means." "Wliat, are you off!" cried Horace, as Va- lentine rose. " I have letters to write, which will take mo some time." " Well, if you must go, you know, why you must: but mind, don't forget me, there's a charitable soul. You've no idea what a rehef this glass or two of wine has been to me to- day. If you can't bring a bottle, you know, bring a pint. That thief of a doctor, I knowj wants to rattle my life out, with his nasty messes; therefore, don't forget to bring me some, there's a good fellow." Valentine promised that he would not, and after wishing him well over it, and requesting to be remembered up-stairs, he left the house, with the view of writing forthwith to Unola John. CHAPTER XXVni. THE MASqUEKADE AT VAUXHALZ.. Moralists declaim against masquerades; they contend that they are things which ought not to be countenanced ; they will not hear a syllable advanced in their favor, although it is manifest that they who denounce them, are ex- tremely inconsistent, if they fail to denounce the whole world, inasmuch, as the world is one grand masquerade, and all who live in it are maskers : from the king to the mendicant, »ll are masked, and their actions form neither more nor less than one grand social system of mummery. Deception is the primary object of all, and there is nothing they seek to dis- guise more than that. What man can tell what another man is ? He may guess ; he may make up his mind that he is this or that; biit he is able to discover his true character no more, than he is able to discover the seat of ihe soul; for while each assumes a character lie wishes to sustain, all strive to appear to be that which they are not. Masquerades are therefore the typas of the world, and are, with the world, to be applauded or censured equally. Each is a iiiiiiiature world of itself, in which goodnes:*. v. op, folly, and knavery mix with the most absyjute indis- crimination, and whether our view be compre- hensive or limited, we see that the object of all is disguise. Independently, however, of this high consid- eration, masquerades are an exceedingly pleas- ant species of entertainment, and the only wonder is, that in private life they are not to greater extent upheld. When men say, that vice invariably attends them, they say but that which is applicable to all entertainments ; but if they be properly conducted, a more really dfelightful kind of amusement can scarce- ly be conceived. Now, Valentine had heard much about mas- querades, but of course, as they are confined to the metropohs, he had never been at one. Having an anxious desire, however, to witness tne scene, he embraced an opportunity which a " carnival" at Vauxhall afforded, and ha"-"- 114 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF pufchased on the ei^ning appointed a ticket, and a very extraordinary nose, which he placed in his hat, that it migiit not be spoiled, started eff in higK spirits alone. It was a beautiful evening, and as the moon shone brightly and the air was refreshing, he made up his mind to walk at least half the dis- tance; but. he had not proceeded far, before his attention was attracted towards a really magnificent-looking creature, in a splendid Grecian dress, who was holding a conversa- tion with a dirty-looking cabman. Valentine thought the association odd, but as- he heard, in reply to the cabman's remark, " It's a hateenpenny fare" — the Grecian beauty say, " I . have but a shilling," the mystery was solved in a moment. "I can lend you some silver," said' Valen- tine, " how much do you want?" "I — feel obliged," said the Grecian beauty, who seemed greatly confused, " I want but ai^tpence." Valentine placed half-a-crown in her hand, and walked on until he came to the coach- stand, at Kensington Cross, when, fancying he had walked far enough, he jumped into a cab, and was whirled to Vauxhall in the space of five minutes. There was a crowd round the entrance, con- Bisting of about a thousand persons, who had assembled for the purpose of catching a glance of the maskers; and as Valentine had seen at the bottom of the bills, an announcement to the effect, that no person would be admitted without a mask, he fancied it proper to put on his nose before he alighted from tne cab. "Oh I oh ! there's a conk ! there's a gmeller ! Oh ! oh !" exclaimed about fifty voices in ehorus. Valentine felt flattered by these notes of ad- miration, and having bowed to the crowd, pass- ed in. Now when their Royal Highnesses, Rieza Koolee Meerza, Najaf Koolee Meerza, and Saymoor Meerza, of Persia, were in London, they went to Vauxhall on an ordinary night, and this is their description of the place and its glories :' — " In the evening we visited a large garden, beautifully lighted up, and the fire- \yorks we saw here made us forget all others that we had already seen. A garden, a heaven ; large, adorned with roses of different colors in every direction, the water was running on the beautiful green, pictures were drawn on every wall. Here and there were young moonly- faces selling refreshments. *There were burn- i g in this place about two millions of lights, each giving a different color; the lanterns and li^hjp are so arranged as to make poetry, in su'h a manner that they have no end. On evoryside there appeared the moon and the su 1, with the planets, each moving in its orbit; a d in. every^ there were about 10,000 Frank mi ions, walking and gazing about, where the ro^es and their tribes were admiring their beau- tiful cheeks. Each was taken by the hand; such a company in such a place says to the BouL ' Behold thy paradise !' '' Now, however absurd this description may ■nm— however ridiculous it may in reality be, it portrays the feelings with which Valentine was inspired, when the brilliant scene opened before him. He felt absolutely enchanted, and gazed upon the spectacle in a state of amazo- ment the most intense. He beheld the appap- endy interminable festoons of variegated lamps, and heard the merry shouts and martial musie in the distance. His whole soul was inspired, and he felt that peculiarly thrilling sensation which modern philosophers so beautifully de- scribe, when they say of a mortal, that "he don't know exactly whether he is- standing on his head or his heels." He puUed oif his nose, but that made no difference : he was still com- pletely lost in admiration ; and when he did at length manage to find himself again, he saw around him groups of gaily dressed creatures, who appeared to have come from all quarters of the globe, with the view of imparting life and spirit to the scene. Greeks, Germans, Chi- nese, Russians, Dutchmen, Turks, Persians, Italians, apes, bears, sylphs, wild Indians, and devils, were the most distinguished foreigners present ; while the most distinguished natives were beadles, clowns, pantaloons, soldiers, sailors, sweeps, jugglers, barristers, knights, jockeys, beef-eaters, firemen, nuns, footmen, widows, harlequins, ballad-singers, romps, ana old maids. The Persian princes saw the " full- moons" in petticoats only ; but Valentine beheld a great variety of them in trowsers, and after having reviewed them for some considerable time, his astonishment somewhat subsided ; he began to feel himself again, and replaced his nose, and havirig got into the middle of a stream of mortals and immortals, who' were foUowjM the sound of a beU, he soon found himsfslf within a really elegant little theatre, in which a poor man was mouthing what were termed " imitations" of some of the most popular actors of the day. Valentine listened to the commencement of this pitiful business with an expression of contempt. He felt it to be a dreadful waste of time w^hich ought not, on such an occasion, to be tolerated; and, therefore, throwing his voice just behind the poor creature, said solimn- ly in the notorious jumping wobble of the par- ticular actor whom the man was pretending to imitate, "Sir-r-r, do you-er expect me to en- dure-er this insult 1" The fellow turned round very sharply in the full expectation of seeing his prototype behind him ; and although he was in this litUe partictv lar disappointed, the confusion into which the idea of his being there had thrown him, made him look so exceedingly droll, that the audi- ence began to laugh very naturally and very merrily. * " Enough ! enough !" shouted Valentine, and the shout had at- least a hundred echoes, which bad the effect of oohfiising the poor man still r lore ; and although he tried desperately hard to recover his self-possession, every Kiithful imitation he attempted drew forth such ludi- crous e.Kpressions of ridicule, that he eventually shuffled off the stage with a look of scom which was highly theatrical, appropriate, and telling. The audience, however, remained to see some other dreadful business — a fact whicli VALENTINE VOX. 115 Valentine hell to be, under the circumstances, monstrous. He therefore rushed from the theatre with the laudable view of hunting up the individual who had the management of the bell, aiid having happily found him with the- instrument under his arm, he made up his mind to get hold of it somehow. '•^Well, old fellow." said he, sitting down, in one of the boxes, "do you ever drink brandy- end-water ?" "Always, sir, when I can get it," replied the witty bellman. " Well " said Valentine, throwing down a shilling, " then run and get a glass and bring it hot." The unsuspecting individual placed his bell upon the table, and trotted off at once with an expression of pleasure the most profound, which happened to be precisely what Valentine want- ed; for he immediately laid hold of the noisy instrument in question, and taking it with him into one of the dark walk nisar the back of the theatre, coihmenced ringing away with unpar- alleled fury. This suited his views to a hair. The effect was instantaneous throughout the gardens : all were in motion — a living stream issued from the theatre — ^in fact, from all quar- ters the rush towards the spot in which he rang the bell so furiously, was sufficiently tremen- dous to realize his fondest anticipations. He beheld with delight the mighty torrent coming towards him in full expectation of seeing some- thing grand ; but as they approached, he slipped away through the shrubbery which led to an- other walk equally dark, where, holding the bell in both hands, he began to ring again with all , the energy in his nature. Back went the crowd, thinking naturally enough that they had 'taken the wrong direction, and as Valentine kept ringing as if he wished to raise the dead, their curiosity was excited to an extraordinary jiitch, and they increased their speed in propor- tion. The stream turned the corner; and down the walk it rushed, when Valentine perceiving a somewhat short cut into the middle of the ^rdens, walked very delibei'ately in that direc- tion, deriving at the same time considerable iinusement from the fact of the people still rush- ing down the walk, of course wondering what cm earth was to be seen. By the time this particular walk became full, he had reached the Open space in the centre of the gardens, and having jumped upon one of the tables yrhich- stood just behind the grand orchestra, he ti/ecommenced ringing as furiously as before, 3Phe crowd for a moment hesitated, as if they 'jfeally doubted the evidence of their own ears ; Ijut having satisfied themselves as to the quar- ter from which the sound of the bell proceeded, they rushed back at once, and there Valentine stood, still ringing away with all the force at his command. He did not attempt to move an Inch from the spot, nor did he mean to move nntil he had drawn them all round him, which he had no sooner accomplished, than perceiv- ing the hoax, they simultaneously burst into one roar of laughter. Determined to keep up the spirit of the thing, he now began to issue a formal procla- mation ; but the crowd were so convulsed and made so deafening a noise, that his own voice was drowned in the general clamor. "Hurrah! now my lads!" shouted the leader of a press-gang — " Now, then ! bear a hand !" and a doZen stout fellows, whom' he led. raised the table upon which the Herald Valentine was standing, with the praiseworthy intention of bearing him in triumph round the gardens. Anything but that would have met his views precisely; but it did so happen that he had been borne in triumph before ! — ^the equal- rightites had borne nim in triumph round Clerkenwell Green — a fact of which he had so lively a recollection, that, he seized the very earliest opportunity of leaping from the table, when, pulling off his nose, that he might not be recognised, he mixed with the crowd, who seemed to enjoy the thing exceedingly. His first object now was to restore the bell to the individual who had the really legitimate management thereof; and having accomplished this to the entire satisfaction of that individual, he proceeded very leisurely towards the spot in which Neptune was represented sitting ma- jestically in his shell drawn by fiery-looking steeds, out of whose extended nostrils issued streams of living water. This group looked extremely picturesque, and while it was being admired by Valentine, a httle fellow dressed as a school-boy, with a hoop in his hand, ap- proached with a child who had a skipping rope tied round her waist. " That, my little dear," said the school-boy, " is Neptune, the god of the sea," and the tonei in which this information was conveyed had the effect of even startling Valentine, who thought it a most extraordinary voice to pro- ceed from a boy ; and yet he was dressed in every particular Uke a boy, and had on an ex- ceedingly juvenile mask. " It's very pretty, isn't it '!" observed the lit- tle girl. "But what does it mean'?" The school-boy began to explain to her Neptune's transformations and their object ; but Valentine no sooner perceived his design, than throwing his voice towards Neptune, he exclaimed, "Wretch !— Forbear !" TJie boy trembled, and dropped his hoop, and then fumbled about his pockets, and event- ually drew out a pair of gold spectacles ; but the moment he hfted up his juvenile mask to put them on, the child shrieked and ran away, for he displayed the shrivelled .face of a decre- pit old man, who really appeared to be an octo- genarian. * Valentine naturally felt disgusted, and drew a little aside ; when, as he took no apparent notice of what had occurred, the boy pulled off his cap, and exhibited a little head per- fectly bald, and having lifted his juvenile mask up higher in order to see through his specta- cles with greater distinctness, he examined the group with an expression of amazement. "Shame !" cried Valentine, sending his voice in the same direction, " You wretched, wretch- ed old man ! Are my actions fit to be ex- plained to a child ■?" The "boy" trembled again violently, and while looking and shuffling about in a stato 116 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF of great alann, he placed his foot upon the edge of the hoop that had fallen, and as it rose an the instant it came in contact with his shin with so much force that he absolutely groaned with the pain it occasioned. • " Away !" cried Valentine, through Neptune, "Reform ! ere it be too late !" and the "boy" hobbled away as fast as his feeble legs could carry him towards a spot in which the lights were most brilliant. Here he got into one of the boxes to look at his old shin, and while he was rubbing away with great energy, and cursing both Neptune and the hoop very pro- foundly. Valentine entered the same box and sal down unperceived. "Have you hurt yourself much, ray little fellow?" said he at length. "Ohl never mind, my man. It will soon be well ! Don't cry ! Let me rub it with a little cold brandy- and-water. Here, waiter ! some brandy-and- water, cold — quick!" The very moment, however, the " boy" be- came conscious of Valentine's presence, he left off both rubbing and cursing, and limped with considerable dexterity into the next box. " That poor little boy has hurt his leg," said Valentine, on the brandy-and-water being pro- duced. " Just see what you can do for him, will you?" and he and the waiter proceeded at once to the box in which the little boy was rubbing his shin, still in great apparent agony. "Here, my little man," he continued, "let the waiter rub some of this in for you, there's a good boy. I'm sure you must have injured yourself very much." The good little boy left off rubbing again, and having muttered something which sounded very much like a naughty exclamation, he limped across the gardens with his dear little hoop. "You'll excuse me, sir," said the waiter, who had been laboring very laudably to sup- press a fit of laughter, " but how werry green you are, . sir ! Why, that little boy's a hold man !" ' " I know it," said Valentine, " I was anxious to mak&-him ashamed of himself, that was all." "Ah!" exclaimed the waiter, shaking his head very piously, " you'd never do that, sir ; he's too far gone. He's a lord, sir, and nothing can shame him. He's always here after the werry little gals, and the leetler they are, sir, the better he likes 'em." As Valentine made no farther observation, the waiter of course left him, and he continued in the box until the fireworks were announced, when he proceeded at once to the gallery, in order to have an uninterrupted view. " Oh! oh ! oh !" exclaimed at least a hundred voices, as the first splendid rocket ascended with a roar ; but, albeit these ironical exclama- tions were perpetually uttered, they failed to divert the attention of Valentine, who really taoright the whole exhibition magnificent. He had never witnessed anything at adl comparable in point of grandeur, and hence the only thing which failed to delight him, was the fact of the last device shooting itself away. The very moment the fireworks were over, •J — ^ w.w> a fres^ importation of noi"" A. mob I of sweeps, and a legion of recruits were intro- duced, and. the clamor they raised was decidedly terrific. The sweeps had ipparently been boiled for the occasion, and then very delicately tinted with soot; while the recruits were pre ceded by the " merry fife and drum," which had an effect so enlivening, that Valentine almost unconsciously marched with them, until he came in front of a place which was called the g, and pavilion, and which commanded a view of the greater portion of the gardens. "That's a delightful place to sit in," thought Valentine, " 1 may as well go up at once ;" and accordingly into the pavilion he went, and found it thronged with very droll-looking crea- tures, apparently full of life and spirit. Having seated himself in one of the boxes in front, so as to have a full view of the scene, he again took off his really extraordinary nose to look round him with more perfect freedom. Immediately beneath him, some remarkable characters were having a quadiille, and this had a very curious effect, inasmuch as all dis- tinctions appelared to be levelled. A dustman was dancing with a Persian princess; a wild red Indian with a nun ; a learned judge with a nut-brown gipsy : and a sweep in his May-day habiliments with a sylph; while the style in which each of them moved, was so strikingly characteristic that they appeared to have studied to make the scene as grotesquely ludi- crous as possible. " Most potent, grave and reverend signnrs," said a scraggy creature, stalking into the pavi- lion, in the character of Othello, with a remarka- bly short pipe in his mouth, " that I have ta'en away this old cock's daughter — ." He was about to proceed, but as he had placed his heavy hand apon the head of a very fiery old genrieman, he received in an instant a glass of champagne in his sooty countenance — an insuh which the '-'valiant Moor," put in his pipe, and stalked out with appropriate solemnity ti, smoke it. "What did yoii order, sir?" inquired one of the waiters, addre'ssing Valentine. "Nothing; what have you to eat?" " Ham and chicken, sir, roast — " " That will do : let me have it as soon as possible," said Valentine, who in the excite- ment had altogether forgotten his stomach, which now began to hint at the fact of its being empty. He had scarcely, however, time to reflect upon this circumstance, before the dishes were placed before him, and having ordered some wine, he commenced a very pleasing operation, to which the gay scene imparted an additionEd zest. As the place in which he sat was so consfii- ciious that those who passed the pavilion could scarcely fail to see him, it was not long before he was recognised by the identical Grecian beauty, whom he had seen in conversation with the cabman, and who entered tlie pavilion at once. " I have to thank you," said she, removing her mask, " for your kindness to me this eve- ning. It is more than I could have expected from a perfect stranger." VALENTINE VOX. 117 "Oh, the cab!" said Valentine, recollecting die circumstance; "don't name it. You' have been here of course ever since V " I have," she replied, " I have been looking ife vain for a person whom I fully expected to Bee." " You must feel very faint V observed Valen- tine, " sit dovcn and have some supper." " I'm extremely obliged, but — I fear I shall be intruding." " Not at all ! not in the least ! sit down." And she did so,- but with evident timidity. ' " There i^." thought Valentine, " in the midst of this sceiie at least one heavy heart — a heart probably susceptible of all the most amiable feelings of our nature, yet blasted by the con- sciousness of guUt." And he gazed with a feeling of pity upon the beautiful creature be- fore him, and as he gazed, he perceived the tears trickling down her cheeks, which she, appeared to be most anxious to conceal. - Fancying that his steady look had somewhat embarrassed her, he assumed an air of gaiety —although he did not at that moment feel gay -^and began to direct her attention to the most grotesque creatures that came wiihin view. He could not, however, extort from her a smile. She appeared to feel grateful, exceedingly grateful, for all the attentions shown, but her features were as rigid as marble. She ate but litde, and was silent, except indeed when it became necessary for her to answer the direct, questions of Valentine. "You are not in good spirits this evening?" he flfbserved, after having for some considerable time tried to divert her. " I never am," she replied faintly, " I have dot been for many, very many dreadful months." There was something irresistibly touching in the heart-broken tones in which these words Ivere uttered ; but as Valentine was anxious not to increase the pain she evidently endured, he at once waived the subject, and tried again to cheer her. "Is that the earl 1" inquired a person who sat behind Valentine, pointing to a small sallow consumptive-looking creature, who was leaning against the side of ttie pavilion, as if he had not (the power to stand without support. The Grecian beauty started, and appeared much confused. "Why do you tremble V inquired Valentine. " 'Tis he," she replied, '' he who has been the cause of all my affliction." And the tears again sprang into her eyes, and she sobbed, while endeavoring to conceal them. Valentine turned towards the earl, and looked at Mm with an expression of contempt. "But for him," continued the miserable girl, " I should still have been virtuous — still pure." "Is it possible?" said Valentine, "that a wretched-looking creature like that could have robbed you of virtue V " It was his title," she replied, " it was that by which I was fascinated — not by his person." " But how came you first to know him?" in- quired Valentine. " Come, come, tell me all," and having at length succeeded in somewhat subduing her emotion, he prevailed upon her to explain to him, brieflj", the circumstanceB out of which her affliction arose. " My poor father," said she, " is a clergy- man residing nearly a hundred miles from Lcm- don, and the disgrace which I have brought upon him, afflicts me more, far more than all besideB. By him about six months suice, I was taken to our election ball. The earl was there ; I danced with him: he paid me marked attention throughout the evening, and called the follow- ing day, and on becoming acquainted with the circumstances of my father, who had then an exceedingly limited income, he exerted his in- fluence in his favor, and the result was, my father's preferment. I was^grateful — we were all, of course, exceedingly grateful to him for this act of kindness, and he became a constant visiter ; but his object — although, alas ! it was not then parceived — was my ruin, and that he eventually accomplished. I eloped and came with him to London, where he engaged a house for me. and was for a few short weeks most attentive and kind, but after that his visits gradually became less and less frequent, until at length he deserted me entirely." "And is your father aware of your present position ?" " He is not ; I have not dared to write to him." " Do you think that he would not receive you agam, if you were to explain to him how you are situated, and that you are anxious to return V> " I fear not: I much fea:r that he would not; but having heard that the earl w^ould be here to-night, I borrowed this dress, which is like one he gave me, and came expressly in order to prevail upon him, if possible, to give me a sum sufficient to enable me to return to my poor disgraced father, that I may throw my- self in penitence at his feet, and on my knees implore forgiveness." "How much do you require for that pur- pose V said Valentine, whom the relation of these circumstances had touched most acutely. " I could manage it with even thirty shil- lings," she replied, "even that would enable me to return." Valentine instantly drew out his purse. Fe had but two sovereigns and some silver. He gave her" the two sovereigns, and urged her not to speak to the earl, but to go home at once and prepare for her journey. The poor girl appeared to be overwhelmed with gratitude. She a thousand times thanked him with eloquence and warmth, and having blessed him and kissed his hand fervently, left the pavilion unseen by the earl. Valentine now tried to shake off the feeling which the tale of this beautiful girl had in- spired. He replaced his nose, walked again round the gardens, went to look at the hermit, and astonished the persons who were standing around^ by sending his voice into the moon-lit cell, and making the old anchorite apparently repeat certain passages in Byron's Corsair. Still he felt somewhat dull, and returned towards the theatre, and as he found that the maskers were dancing there merrUy, he joined them at once, and having engaged an active partner, in the similitude of a little Stmai.9 118 LIFE AND' ADVENTURES OF niidsliipman, he became again one of the gay- est of the gay. Having enjoyed himself exceedingly for about an hour here, his ears vrere suddenly as- sailed by a series of extraordinary shrieks, which apparently proceeded from the pavilion, and as several of the females nished in to in- form their friends that " Slashing Soph" was having a glorious set-to with a broom girl, he ran with the stream which at once issued forth, towards the spot. . In front of the pavilion a crowd had assem- bled: a ring was formed, and the spectators stood a dozen deep. He could still hear the shrieks, mixed with loud exclamaiions of " Cut away. Soph ! — Pitch into her broomy !" and so on, but could not obtain even a glimpse of the belligerent powers. " I will see who she is !'' shrieked a female in the centre. "That voice!" thought Valentine, "that voice !'' He instantly elbowed his way through the crowd, and beheld in " Slashing Soph," the ' Grecian beauty ! He rushed to her at once and drew her back • but she desperately resisted every effort to hold ner. " Let me alone !" she exclaimed, " I can lick her! — I'll murder her| — Let me alone !" "Foolish girl! I will not!" cried Valentine firmly : but he had no sooner uttered the words, than she turned round and struck him in the face with donsiderable violence. He indignantly relinquished his hold, and she no sooner found herself free, than she sprang at the broom-girl, who was backed by a dustman, and tore her cap and mask in an instant to tatters. The broom-girl, althougl^ a much more formidable-looking person, stood HO chance whatever with her, for she stood up firmly, and struck fairly out nght and left, like a man ; and while she did so, indulged in the most horrible language that ever proceeded &om human lips. Valentine was so utterly disgusted, that he pressed at once out of the ring, and on ap- proaching a female in the character of a nun, he inquired if she knew the Grecian beauty. "Know her!" exclaimed the nun, "what. Slashing Soph ! — ^who don't ? Why, iWe known her ever smce she wasn't higher than six- pen'orth of ha'pence. We were brought up together — only she happened to have a better education than me, and that has made her the most artful card that ever walked on two legs." " But her parents are respectable, are they not V said Valentine. " Her father was, no doubt," replied the nun, " foi her mother made him pay pretty hand- somely for her. Why, she's the daughter of old mother Maxwell, don't you know V Most certainly Valentine knew nothing of the Bort : he knew, well knew, that he had been duped, and that was all he did know about the matter. " But what was the cause of this bat- tle V he inquired. "Why, you see," replied the nun, "about an hour ago. Soph got together a few of the girls, and stood champagne all round, and then biaftdy-and-water. She had just been playing modest, she said, to a sensitive young focH( whom 'she wheedled out of a couple of sovo reigns, to enable her to return to her father, and she laughed so heartily as she explwned to them how she did it, and drank so freely, that when she had spent all she had, she becime so quarrelsome — as she always is when she has been drinking — that she pitched into tl?<) very first girl she could lay hold of, who h^n^ pened to be this poor Broomy, as harmless » creature as ever lived." " But he who gave her the money must havj been a fool indeed !" observed Valentine, by no means expecting a reply very flattering ta himself. " Why, I don't know so much about that," said the nun, "When she makes a dead set at man, she never leaves him until she has ac- complished her object. He is down to every: move on the board, who is able to get over Soph." At this moment another fight commenced. The dustman, who had backed the broom-girl, becoming excessively indignant at what he considered an unwarrantable interference on the part of an ape, thought proper to strike that gentleman, who at once returned the blow with full interest thereon, and at it they went with appropriate desperation. The ape being by far the more active of the two, had decidedly the best of the battle, a fact which so enraged a very singular looking Scotchman, that, de-' termined to take his revenge out of some one, he began to hammer away at a tall thin mili- tary individual, who was conversing with a. lady in a Turkish dress, and this a sailor re- garded as so strikingly unfair, that he rushed upon the Scotchman, and beat him most cruelly. This in return had the effect of arousing the pugnacity of many others, and in a short time the battle became general. Nor was it con- fined to this particular spot, for as a gentleman in the character of Punch, while leaning over the front of the pavilion, had amused himself by pouring a quantity of wine into the mouth of a mask which its owner had raised, ex- pressly for the purpose of kissing a flower-girl, the individual thus operated upon, was so in- dignant at the outrage, that he rushed up at once with the laudable view of deliberately pummeling Punch in the pavilion, which he did so unmercifully, that, as some cried " shame !" and others, cried "bravo!" two parties were immediately formed, and the fight became general there. From the pavilion, the battle gradually spread over the gardens, and a series of running fights were kept up with great spirit. The peace- ably disposed shrieked with fear, and ran about in all directions with desperate energy. Some sought refuge in the theatre, but even that soon became a gladiatorial arena, while others rushed into the bar, near the entrance, and the rattling of punch bowls and glasses became awful. Boxes were broken down, and benches were pulled up, trees were shorn of their branches^ and tables were smashed — ^in short, everything which could be made available as a weapon, was with the utmost avidity seized by the more desperate, while at the extreme end of the VALENTINE VOX. 11 ^qtvlenB, the more rational were engaged in the mteresting occupation of pulling down the va- riegated lamps, and pitching them dexterously at eaph other, which had a very good eflfeot, inasmuoh as each lamp contained, a quantity of dl, with which those whom they struck were pro- fusely anointed, and contrasted very amusingly with the furious onslaught made by those, who appeared to feel that they were bound by some just and eternal principle to do all the serious ' mischief in their power. Valentine wisely kept aloof from all this. He saw the combatants dealing out desperate blows with the most perfect indiscrimination, and had no disposition whatever to join them, for their weapons were employed, in some in- stances, with frightful efiect. The men were shouting and swearing, while the women were screaming : some were struggling on the ground, while others were trampling over mem; some were climbing into the pavilion, while others were leaping from it upon the heads of those below ; in fact, they fought so fiercely, and yelled with so' much fury, that had a corresponding number of maniacs been let loose, they could neither have made more noise, nor have battled with more desperation. The police did all in their power to quell the riot, but were incapable of accomplishing much ; their authority was utterly contemned, for their numerical strength was but small. They did, however, eventually, by dint of great exertions, succeed in getting hold of the Grecian beauty, whom they dragged out of the Gardens, with the view of locking her up; when Valentine — who by no means regretted this proceeding, and who had seen quite enough of the madmen who were battling they knew not why nor with whom — left them, while they were still very desperately at it, with just suf- ficient money in his purse to Carry him home, aud no more. CHAPTER XXIX. IK WHICH VAI.EHTINE HAS THE PLEASURE OF MEETING TWO.PEHSONS I« WHOM HE TAKES &EEAT INTEREST, AND WHOM HE ACCOMPANIES TO A WAX-WORK EX- HIBITION. ''It is!" exclaimed Valentine, one calm de- lightful evening, as he turned into Grosvenor- square. "It must be the dear, sweet girl whom I rescued !" And this was unquestion- ably, under the circumstances, an exceedingly natural exclamation; for he at that moment met a most elegant creature, whose glance, as she passed hiin, appeared to pierce his soul. Hb stopped on the instant ; and breathed ex- tremely hard. His blood thrilled through his veins : he heard his heart beat violently, and felt altogether particularly odd. "1 am sure," he continued, "qiiite sure 1^ and — and — why what an idiot I am !" and he began to be really very angry with himself for entertaining a feeling so essentially queer ; still he had not the power to shake it off. " Val ! Val !" he exclaimed, addressing himself in the second person singular, " what, what are you about ■? Do you mean to remain standing here like a statue V The person thus addressed, appeared to repudiate the idea; for he instantly commenced an irregular rush towards the oo- ject of his adoration. With what graceful dignity , she moved !— with what elegant ease did she hang on the arm of him who, as a natural matter of course, was her father ! Her air was, in the bright imagination of Valentine, that of a sylph, or of an angel ! — there was poetry even in the folds of her train as it swept the ground clean at each fairy-like step. He approached her ! and experienced that peculiar heart-sinking sensation in a greater degree than before. He passed ! — and felt that he had never in the whole course of his life walked so awkwardly. He could scarcely walk at all ! and as for keeping on the same row of flags ! that became at once an absolute impossibility. And tlien, where were his hands 1 — His right was sometimes in his breast; then it wandered to the arm-hole of his waistcoat — then up to his stock — and then into his coat pocket — while his left was, if possible, more restless still. He could not tell exactly how it was, but he had never found his hands at all troublesome before. He drew off his gloves, and then drew them on, and in doing so, spUt one of them clean across the back. Well, then, that wouldn't do : he pulled it off again, and carried it in his hand"; and after fidgetting forward in this most undignified fashion for a very considerable distance, he made a dead set at some celestial body which his vivid imagi- nation had established in the heavens for that particular occasion, and stopped with the view of making a few profound astronomical obser- vations thereon, until the beautiful creature came up. This he held to be an admirable ruse, and therefore looked — and looked — and felt so droll ! — She was a long time coming ! — a very long time. He must have shot a-head very fast ! — He became quite impatient — ^he ventured to look back ; and found to his horroi that she had vanished! Which house could they have entered } It must have been one of them ! Did they reside there T It was then too late for them to be making flying calls 1 Well ! what was to be done ? Was he to re- main there till midnight, or, to give a look up in the morning'? He stood still, and turned the thing over in his mind, and eventually ar- rived at the conclusion, that it would be, under the circumstances, best for him to walk up and down for an hour or so then, when, if they did not come out, the probability would be, that they did reside there, in which case he would simply have to come every morning until he saw her, which he argued must, in the natural course of things, be very soon. The instant, however, he had arrived at this remarkable conclusion, a most extraordinary idea struck him ! They might have turned down the street he had just passed over ! — They might ! — He flew to the corner of that particular street, and there they were walking very lei- surely in the distance. " Well of all the stupid idiots," thought he, " — but no matter. I pass them no more until 1 see them safely housed." And he followed them straight ; and walked much more steadily, and ISO LIFE AJSiD ADVENTURES OF felt himself very Cv,nsiderably better. " And have I discovered you at last ?" he exclaimed, as he viewed the graceful creature before him ■with a feeling which amounted to ecstasy. His heart told him that he had ; and he begap to consider how he should act when he had saeoeeded in tracing them home, and continued to be occupied with this important considera- tion until he saw them step into a house, near which stood a long line of public and private carriages. He hurried forward and reached thei spot. It was not a private house. " Some concert," thought he, "and I am not dressed. Well, have I not time to run home?" He looked round for a cab ; but before he called one, he inquired of a person who was standing at the entrance, wlrat place it was. "The Wax-work Exhibition, sir," replied that person. . " Excellent !" thought Valentine; "nothing could have been better;" and he passed through the hall and ascended the stairs, and having given some money, he scarcely knew what, to a little old lady who sat on the left, he proceeded at once into a fine lofty room, in which a variety of life-like figures were ar- ranged in strikingly picturesque groups; while from the ceiling were suspended innumerable lamps, which imparted an additional lustre to the scene, which, on the whole, looked ex- tremely imposing. Without, however, giving more than a cur- sory glance at these figures, he walked round the room, and, of course, soon found himself immediately opposite the fair one, for a sight of whose beautiful features, he had so long, and so ardently panted. Her veil was down ; and as she held it in her hand, it was fluted, of course, treble, and it was, moreover, one of those tiresome thick veils which ought not, in any Chris- tian country, to be tolerated. He could not see her face. Her eyes he could perceive, and they ap- peared to sparkle brilliantly, but that was not enough : he wished to see her entire face, and that he could not do. Well ! how was he to act ? He looked at her father again and again, and he certainly appeared to be a different man ; but then, men will look different under different circumstances, and he had to consider that when he saw him before, he had just been rescued from the muddiest part of the Thames. His altered appearance was therefore held to be no proof at all of his not being the same individual. But that was of very little moment. The object of Valentine was to see the fine features of her — and his panting heart told him in language the most intelligible that it was her — of whom he was so deeply enamored; yet those features continued to be concealed by this villanous veil. " Patience, Val, patience," he whispered to himself: "she may presently raise it. And she might have done so ; but as he perceived no B)'mptoras of the fond hope involved in that act being realized, he felt himself bound by every principle of love and manhood to have recourse to some quiet manoeuvre. But what could he do? He considered for a moment. An idea flashed across his brain. They were e:rainini!ig every figure minutely : they would not suffer one to escape notice. Well, cordd he not himself represent a wax figure, "and thereby attract their especial attention ! It wa» then the only thing he could think of: he de- termined to do it, and being thus determinedj he placed himself firmly by the side of a life- like representation of some diabolical person, at which he appeared to be looking most i&- tently. He had scarcely been standing in this posi- tion a moment, when a company of ladies drew near, and gazed upon him witn an expression of wonder. "Bless me," said on?, "Did you ever see anything so perfectly natural:?" "Why, it seems absolutely to breathe," said another. " Well, I declare," said a third, in a some- what merry mood, " I don't know what they will bring things to next, but I suppose they will be brought, by-and-bye, to such perfection that we shall be having for husbands wax men, by mistake." Valentine felt that it would do, and therefore kept his position, while the ladies were first looking about him to see if he were ticketed, and then referring to their catalogues respect- ively, in order to ascertain what distinguished individual he could be ; but as he soon bedame anxious for them to depart, he turned his eyes full upon them, when they shrank back almost as much alarmed as if he had absolutely risen from the tomb. He could not avoid smiling at the astonishment displayed, and as the smile had the effect of destroying the illusion, the amazed ones, after indulging in a few highly appropriate exclamations of surprise, sotto voce, passed on. The very moment they had left him he perceived the approach of her whose attention he was anxious to attract, and thet©i- fore stood as before, like a statue. " That's very good ! — excellent, indeed ! Is it not ?" observed the father of the lady, waving his hand towards Valentine. " Who is it?" The lady referred to her book, and Valentine stood with a firmness which really, under tlie circumstances, did him great credit. Being unable to find anything like a description of him in the catalogue, she again raised her eyes and looked earnestly at him, and as she found it impossible to see him with sufficient distinct ness, she lifted her veil I In an instant Valenr tine turned his eyes upon her, and beheld— ^lot her in whom all his hopes were concentrated ! no, nothing at all like her ! It was a lady with dark, piercing eyes, it is true, but with a face thickly studded with scarclet carbuncles. "You did it excellently well, sir," observed the old gentleman, smiling, and tapping 'hira playfully on the shoulder ; " Upon my life, I imagined you to be a real figure." Valentine of course felt flattered — ^highij) flattered ; but was really so enraged that ho would scarcely be civil. He did, however, manage to force up about half a smile, of a particularly wretched caste, and walked at once to the other end of the room. He had never bafore met with so serious a disappointment and he felt so exceedingly vexed, that he coula with pleasure have quarrelled with any man breathing. He threw himself carelessly upoa VALENTINE VOX, 121 ode of the seats, and looked upon all around him 3S if they had been really ^ mate orthodox artists in the universe were to form themselves into one grand corporation, with the view of upsetting it in toto, it would not interfere with the indisputable fact, that Valentine was pleased with the whole exhibi- tion, and fancied that as he had taken one of the figures for life, he ought, in justice to iaxor self, to extend the deception, in order to witness its effect upon others. Now this singular fancy had no sooner been conceived, than he observed at the upper part of the room a little ancient individual, who was obviously, in his own estimation, a decided Narcissus. His hair was powdered, and his coat was powdered too: a white cravat sus- tained a very highly glazed collar, which ap- peared to entertain the design of sawing off both his ears; and while his waistcoat was white, tod his hat was white, he sported white cords, and white tops to his boots, and carried in one hand a pair of white gloves, and a scented white handkerchief gracefully in the other. Valentine of course became highly amused with the bearing and dress of this respectable individual, whose politeness was so excessive, that when persons approached in an opposite direction, he would bow and slip aside to allow them to pass, — an operation which he had to perform about ten times per minute. He nevertheless looked at every figure most intently, and as Valentine almost unconsciously drew near, it struck him that he might, peihaps, for a moment inspire the belief that there were fewer inanimate objects in the room than there really were. Accordingly, just as the ancient Narcissus was about to examine the representa- tion of an elderly gentleman standing alone, Valentine, throwmg his voice towards that elderly gentleman, exclaimed, ''Ah! glad to see you 1— how do V Narcissus gazed very curiously, and bowed very profoundly, and then with a sweet smile, observed, " upon my honor, you have the ad- X22 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF vantage of me— really— I beg pardon— but pos- itively I" — " What! have you forgotten me quite?" said Valentine. " Why, where have I had the pleasure of meeting — tut! — bless my life and heart, how stupid to be sure ! — I know those features; and yet, for the life of me, I cannot call to mind" — " Do you mean to say," observed Valentine, " that you don't remember me V Naicissus dropped his head upon his shoul- der, and tried with all the energy of mind he possessed to recollect where he had met that gentleman before. " Why, I know you," said e, " as well as possible ; and yet, do you think that I can call to my recollection? — bless my life and soul, what a memory I have ! — Now this is really very extraordinary. But wait — wait a bit," he continued^ raising his hand to enjoin silence: — "at Brighton? — Why ta be sure ! — Mr. Pringle. My deai friend how are you'^ I hope I have the pleasure" — Narcissus paused, — and very properly; for albeit he held out his hand with the view of grasping that of Pringle with affectionate warmti, Mr. Pringle by no means displayed a corres- ponding amount of affection. Narcissus looked utterly amazed ! He was perfectly unconscious of having offended Mr. Pringle; and therefore felt quite at a loss to account for that gende- man's coldness. He could not at all understand It. He felt that an immediate explanation was due, and was just on the point of demanding Buch explanation with appropriate firmness and force, when a remarkable idea flashed at once across his mind, of which the substance was, that Pringle was not tLe man he took him for, — that he was, in a word, a man of wax ! He therefore pulled up his fiery indignation, and examined the figure before him more minutely, and having eventually satisfied himself on the particular point, at issue, he took off his hat and exclaimed, " Well ! 1 never !" — and the fact of his having indulged in this extraordinary excla- mation was, under the peculiar circumstances of the case, an extremely natural fact; and here the matter would have ended, but for the lays- tery ! — he had distinctly heard a voice ! His eyes might have been, and evidently had been, deceived: he was fully prepared to admit that; but he certainly was not prepared to admit that his ears had been deceived at the same time. And yet, whence could the voice have pro- ceeded? The thing was inanimate ! It could not have proceeded from that : it was impossi- ble ; and yet he had heard it ! He examined it agairi fiom head to foot very minutely, and drew his hand across his chin very lightly, and very thoughtfully : but he cmild not get 'over it, and Valentine, leaving him lost in conjecture, adjourned to a seat in the centre of the room. Now, on the left of this seat there was a figure which he had not seen before, but which was nominally an exact representation of the beautiful Madame St. Amaranthe, of whom the wretch, Robespierre, became enamored, and whom he eventually destroyed for being sufficiently virtuous to reject his addresses. This figure was lying at full length on a couch; and it certainly did look as much as possible like a lovely little creature asleep. It was p(!t» fectly evident that the sympathies of those whft stood around were very strongly excited, and as they were descanting very freely upoh the character of the sanguinary monster of whom Madame St. Amaranthe was the victim, Valen- tine threw a series of well-directed sobs b^ neath the veil with which the figure was cov« ered, when in an instant the persons who were standing around simultaneously shrank back appalled. " My goodness !" crjed a remarkably stout matron, " if it isn't alive, I%n not here !" '•'Gracious, Ma!" exclaimed one of her ii> te resting daughters, "How excessively ridicu^ lous!" "Don't tell me, child," rejoined the affeo tionate matron, " when I heard the poor deai sobbing, fit to break her heart." Valentine here introduced a short cough, ana after that a long yawn, which, seeing that the arm of the figure was placed above the head^ had a strikingly natural efiect. " Thercj there ! I knew it was alive ! I said so!" continued the old lady, who, being di^ posed to render all the assistance in her powei, was about to remove the veil. "You reely mustn't touch, mam, if, yon please," said a girl who was stationed near ths couch, and who began to explain to an indivic dual in her immediate vicinity how extraordv nary a thing it was, that notwithstanding there was an announcement on almost every figuiB to the effect, that visiters were not to touch) touch they would, and nothing in nature could keep them from touching. " Depend upon it, dear^" said»the matron^ In a whisper, " it's all an imposition ; it's alivB, dear, and that's the very reason why we mustn't touch, to see whether it is or is not." This acute observation, on the part of the old lady, induced her exemplary daughter, who was dressed with extraordinary gaiety, to toss her head proudly, and to curl her lip contempt- uously, and to exclaim very pointedly, " Dear me, ma ! how excessively vulgar, to be sure !" "You may say what you please," rejoined the matron, " but I know what I know ;" ani having made this highly appropriate and self- satisfactory observation, she looked at Madame St. Amaranthe very earoestly again. " Where are you pushing ?" cried Valentine, assuming the shrill voice of a scolding woman, and throwing it towards the figure of a little old lady, in a black silk cloak, which stood at the foot of the couch. "You are very polite^ I must say," observed a rough individual, turning very sharply around, "where did you go to school? You'd bettei have the whole room to yourself, marm ! Well, I'm sure! — what next?" and he looked very fiercely, and felt very indignant, until he di* covered his mistake, when he laughed very heartily, and the people around, of course^ joined nim very freely. At this moment, however, the two persons viho had been the immediate cause of Valen* tine's visit to the exhibition walked past, and the sight of them plunged hiin into misery again. He fe't it ietshed, particularly wretehei VALENTINE VOX. 123 His dearest aopes had \,een dashed from the eminence to which they had been raised, and that eminence was so'high that they appeared to have reached the very depths of despair. ••Am I never to see her again," thought he, "never?" He rose and left the room; and as he proceeded towards home, two lines of a song which he had hei.rd in infancy suggested themselves, and whicL ran somehow thus: — " Shall I never aguir. hear her voice, Nor see her luved form any more ?" And the peculiarly interesting interrogatory in- volv'd was &i< approfriale, that he involuntarily hummed the poetics^ reply, nanc oly, " No, no, no, I shall never see her more ! No, 110, no, 1 shall never see her more 1 No ! no 1 no ! 1 shall never see hc:r more !" :hapter XXX. 9O0DMAN MATUKES HIS PLAN OF ESCAPE. THE COM- MISSIOKERS AKKIVE. HE PREPARES TO COMVINCE THEM OF HIS. AESOLDTE SANITY, AND IS SOADED ON TO MADNESS. HE RECOVERS J AND HAVINS RE- ORGANIZED HIS FORCES, RESOLUTELY MAKES THE ATTACK. Notwithstanding Whitely labored to in- spire his friend with the conviction that the design he had conceived would be impractica- ble, Goodman, who saw no other prospect be- fore him than that of perpetual imprisonment, if that design were not carried into actual exe- cution, had been busily occupied, maturing his scheme every day since that on which the im- portant subject was broached. He sounded all in whom he felt that confidence might be placed, anil with pleasure found all whom he sounded willing to join him. Still Whitely felt doubtful of success. He saw twenty men, of whom the majority were young and muscular, prepared to make a simultaneous effort to regain that liberty of which they had been with really cruel injustice deprived ; yet, although there were but five or six keepers to be conquered, he believed that the minds of the twenty had ■ becorhe so enfeebled, that their spirits had been, by brutal treatment, so broken, and their native resolution so completely subverted, that however delighted with the project they might be, however anxious they might seem to carry it into effect, when the moment for action ar- rived, they would shrink back dismayed, and thus secure to the six ruflians a signal triumph. The process of organization, notwithstanding, went on, — the day was fixed ; but in proportion as Goodman became more resolute and san- guine of success, his friend Whitely became more feverish and fearful. The day arrived ; and on the morning of that day, they ascertained that two of the keepers ont of the six were to be absent, in all proba- bility with the view of seizing another victim. "Now," exclaimed Goodman, on hearing this news, " we are safe ! Nothing could have been more fortunate. Everything, my friend, is in our favor. There will now be but tur of these men to overcome, and, if taken .., surprise, there may be but one. What, therefore, think you now T Why if even the hearts of two-thirds of our companions were to sink, success would be certain." Whitely shook his head mournfully, and sighed, and slightly trembled. "My dear, dear friend," continued Gopi man, " be firm. Upon my life, I doubt yonr resolution more than that of any man to whom I have spoken on the subject. Consider the monstrous character of our position. Considei how we have been kidnapped — stolen from society ; consider also, that unless we do make our escape thus, imprisonmeut for life is in- evitable." " I do," returned Whitely, " I do consider all : but I cannot avoid looking at the conse- quences of a failure." "A failure!" exclaimed Goodman; "It is madness to think of it. Think of success, my dear friend, not of failure. Suppose we admit the possibility, or even the probability of failure ; what then? Is not the chance of regaining our liberty worth all the risk ? Are we, or are we not to make the attempt 1 If we are, why thei^ perish the thought of a failure ! Why should we think of it? What was ever achieved by entertaining the thought? What would have been our national character if the consequences of failure had preyed upon our souls? We have been, as a nation, invariably successful, because we have invariably felt sure of success, even under the most adverse cij'cumstances. Had it not been for that, we should have been in the world's estimation a nation of cowardt Why speak of a failure, then, now ? In a case like this, which entirely depends upon indivi- dual firmness and resolution, we must succeed, if we believe we shall succeed ; but we cannot succeed if we fear that we shall fail. Come ! come ! be a man. Think of twenty opposed to four; and the cause of that twenty indisputa- bly just: think of this, and feel ashamed to dream even of a failure. If we be but firm, our freedom will be achieved : I feel perfectly certain of that. All depends upon us. We are to lead, and have therefore the power within ourselves to inspire our companions with the courage of lions, or to cause them to cringe like spaniels again. Shall we not make the at- tempt?" "We will!" cried Whitely, with unusual firmness, grasping the hand of Goodman as he spoke, "We will! — come what may, the at- tempt shall be maHp." Goodman was delighted. He felt far more sanguine than ever. He went round to his companions, spoke to them cautiously one by one, lest suspicion should be excited, and found them all impatient to commence the attack. Twilight, however, Avas considered the fittest period for the commencement of operations. Goodman was then to give the signal by draw- ing forth a sheet which he had cut into strips, with which the principal keeper was to be bound, when, having obtained the keys, they were to rush to the door which led to the resi- dence of the proprietor of the asylum, and which they had but to pass to be free. This was well understood by them all, and all were anx-ious for the day to wear away ; but just as . they were about to be summoned to what, by 124 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF an extraordinary stretch of the imagination, was conceived to be a dinner, it was announced ;that the commissioners had unexpectedly ar- rived, when, of course a general rush was made by the servants of the establishment, ■with the view of getting things in order for the mockery of an inspection about to take place. "Now," said Whitely, the moment he heard of their arrival, " as far as you are concerned, this attempt need not be made. The com- missioners were not expected: the keepers have therefore no time to excite you ; and as you are the only 'patient' whom they have not yet seen, you are perfectly sure to be called .before them. Be firm ; be composed : for Heaven's sake, my friend, say ndthing which m%y develope the smallest degree of excitement. Appeal to their judgment. Be calm — quite calm. The keepers may wish you to take a glass of wine before you enter the drawing- room : if they should, be sure that it is drugged ; be quite sure 1 — on no account touch it. Re- member, my friend, the way in which they excited me, and thus made it appear that I was really insane, which the commissioners believe to this day. Therefore do not touch anything before you see them, as you value your lib- erty." This caution was received with gratitude by Goodman, who felt sure that he should be able to convince the commissioners that he was a perfecdy sane man, and therefore at once be- gan to think of the best mode of commencing his appeal; but while he was thus engaged in the full conviction of success, the proprietor was occupied in giving instructions to his head- keeper ; for he also felt certain that Goodman — whose mildness and perfect self-possession he had ample opportunities of witnessing — would, if fair play were allowed, succeed in establishing his perfect sanity ; and he did not forget that, in such an event, he should, of course, lose one of the most profitable patients he had. Accordingly, Goodman had scarcely time to decide on the commencement of his address, before the head-keeper entered the garden, and • addressing him, shouted, " Now then, — here, — ynu ! — This way, here, you're wanted !" " Success ! success I" exclaimed Whitely ; " Be calm ! God bless you ! My dear friend, ,God bless you!" And as the friends shook hands, the tear which stood in Wiii ely's eye portrayed the feelings of his heart with far more eloquence than words. "Now, then!" shouted the keeper, "how much longer are you going for to make me keep waiting here, hay'?" Goodman joined him at once with the utmost firmness. He felt that all depended upon his tranquil bearing then, and hence determined not to notice any indignity that might be offered. Instead, however, of being introduced to the commissioners, who were appropriately taking wine in the drawing-room, the keeper led him to the cell in which he slept, and in which he found another keeper loaded with an arm full of chains. "Now then," cried the principal ruffian, '■ come, strip ! and look alive.'' "Am I not to see the conmiissionerSj'' in quired Goodman, calmly. " And no mistake, you are. They're a coir|f ing here directly. So you'd better look sharp !* "Pray," said Goodman, humbly, yet ear- nestly, " allow me to see them as I am." "Strip, I say, and be quick! d'ye hear, met come ! I'm not going to stand all tnish "ere dilly dallying. Sam ! here, just lug off his coat." And the fellow threw the chains upon the ground, and tore the coat off accordingly. "My good men, pray tell me your object in " " Silence !" interrupted the ruffian ; " Hold your mouth, or I'll make yer !" The very moment the coat was off, the_y slip ped on a strait waistcoat, and then threw him down upon the bed; and while one of them was fastening an iron collar round his neck, and locking the chain attached to a stanchion, the other was engaged in pulling off his shoes and stockings, and chaining his legs firmly to the bottom of the bed. Goodman remained silent. "Let them do what they please," thought he, " I shall still have the power to speak to the commissioners. Let them load me with chams, I must not be ex- cited." The sleeves of the strait waistcoat, were now tied to the bedstead, on either side ; his bare feet were chained securely ; he was unable to move hand or foot, he had not even the powei to raise his head. "Now," said the principal ruffian, address-, ing his assistant, " do you go down, and let me know when they're a-coming." The fellow obeyed, and the moment he had done so, the keeper deliberately drew a feather from his breast, and having straightened it, and looked at 'it with an air of the most intense satisfaction, knelt down at the foot of the bed. " What, in heaven's name," thought Good- man, " is about to take place ? My good man," he exclaimed, in a state of great alarm, " what, what are you going to do with me?" Scarcely had the last word been uttered when the miscreant began to tickle the soles of his victim's feet ! "Oh! oh!" exclaimed Goodman; "Oh! Do not! Pray do not! Oh! — God! I cannot endure it! Mercy! Murder! Murder! Mur- der!" and he struggled and shrieked, and the more he shrieked and struggled the more quickly was the feather applied. The blood rushed to his head. He stramed horribly. The torture was exquisite. His cries might have pierced the heart even of a fiend, yet that wretch still kept up the dreadful process. " My God ! My God !" exclaimed Goodman, " What agony !" These were the last words he consciously uttered, for his veins began to swell, and hia face became black, and his eyes appeared to be in the act of starting from their sockets. The room shook with his convulsions. He raved with maniacal fury ! In a word, he had been goaded to madness. " They are here ! they are here !" cried the assistant, rushing into the roon. "All right; I've done tte trick," said the VALENTINE VOX. 129 miscreant, concealing the feather, and throwing ft blanket over the feet of his ™tim. The commissioners entered ! Goodman was a maniac !— laughing and raving, alternately — torturing his features into shapes the most hide- ous — writhing with frightful energy to get loose, and screaming horribly. " Here is the poor man," observed the hu- mane proprietor, with an expression of the purest sympathy; "Poor gentleman! Really, it is enough to make one's heart bleed to see him." " Dreadful !" cried one of the commissioners. " Dreadful, indeed !" exclaimed another. " Poor fellow ! Is he often thus'?" inquired a third. " Not very often so out-and-out bad, sir," re- plied the bmtal keeper; "only about twice a week; and he's much to be pitied: there ain't a patient I pities more than him." And he winked at the proprietor, and the proprietor winked at him, as the commissioners drew near to the bedside, while poor Goodman was touting, " Villains ! Murderers ! Fiends !" He was mad ! — raving mad ! The commissioners were satisfied. Accustomed as the)'- had been to suf.h scenes, this struck them with horror, and they prepared to leave the room. '• It's shocking when they are so," observed the Christian proprietor, " truly shocking. Take care of him, Johnson ; treat him tenderly, poor man !" " I will, sir, depend on't,"replied the keeper; and the commissioners quitted the scene, much affected. The very moment they had left, the miscre- ant burst into a loud roar of laughter, and con- gratulated himself on the success of his brutal experiment. He had tried it before frequenriy ; and although one of his victims had died under the dreadful operation, while another had been struck wiih paralysis, and a third had been re- duced to a sta;e of idiotcy, in which he contin- ued lill_ death, it had occasionally so far failed as to induce almost immediate exhaustion, which h^.d been found not to answer the pro- posed end so well. In this case, however, he had been perfecdy successful, and therefore, after haying remained in the room until the commissioners had quitted the asylum, he left his raving victim with a fiend-like smile to re- ceive the applause of his infamous master. Poor Goodman's dreadful paroxysm lasted without a moment's intermission for more than BIX hours; and when consciousness returned, his exhaustion was so absolute, that he instant- ly sank iirto a deep heavy sleep — a sleep, in- Ceed, so profound, that although the two keep- ers divested him of the chains, the strait waist- coat, and the iron collar, and even completely undressed him, he did not awake. About twelve o'clock, however, that night, he was aroused by a series of desperate pinches, and, on opening his eyes, he perceived the proprietor — who had become apprehensive of losing a patient for whom he was so liberally paid — standing over him. " Wa-ater !" he gasped, after a violent effort to unoleave his tongue &om the roof of his mouth; and the proprietor gave him a cordial. which ia a short time considerably revived him. "How horribly! — oh! how horribly have I been used !" said Goodman, faintly, as soon aa he had recovered the power to speak. "1 hope you did not authorize this dresidful treat- ment?" he continued, as the feverish tears roll- ed upoA the pillow on either side as he lay. "Dreadful treatment!" exclaimed the pnv prietor, with an expression of utter amazement " What dreadful treatment V Goodman briefly, but warmly explained. " Pooh ! It's all your delusion," exclaimed the proprietor, — "It's all your delusion!" "Delusion!" echoed Goodman, in a mourn- ful tone. " That man, that desperately wicked man well knows that it is no delusion. May God in his mercy forgive him !" he continuedj and again the tears gushed from his eyes; his heart was full, and he sobbed bitterly. "Johnson!" said the proprietor in an angry tone, " have you been ill-using this patient?" " Me, sir ! Me Ul-use patients ! I never ilt uses 'em: on the contrayry, I always treats 'em in the kindestest manner. How ever pa- tients can get up sich 'bom'nable lies, puts me out altogether : but then they know nothing, you know, when they're that way. The com- missioners seed that there warn't no m ttake." "The commissioners!" cried Goodman, "Then they have been here. They have seen me, in all probability, raving. They are satis- fied that I am mad ! Oh, villany ! — Monstrous villany !" "Come, come! none of that! none of that!" cried the proprietor; "compose yourself, and don't run away with such fancies. I tell you, it's all your delusion, and nothing but delusion: CO to sleep: go to sleep." And thus he left him. ■ " Now,' ' said the ruffian, when his master had left, "do you want any other little thing afore I go ; cos if you do, you don't have it. I ill- uses you, do I? Never mind. I'll sarve you out foi; that, one of these here odd days, mark my words; now, you mind if I don't!" And he slammed the door of the cell, and having locked it securely, poor Goodman was left to his reflections for the night. For one entire week he never quitted his cell ; which, independently of the acute physi- cal pain he endured, was, of itself, a dreadful species of torture, for neither a book nor a pa- per of any description was he allowed ; not a soul was ne pennitted either to speak to or to see, with the single exception of that savage ruffian, the very sight of whom induced an ia- voluntary shudder. Meanwhile, his companions in misfortune were marvelling what had become of him. The keepers would, of course, give them no in- formation. They could not hear .of his being still in the asylum, nor could they hear of his having obtained his liberty ; but when four or five days had elapsed, the impression became general that, feaving succeeded in convincing the commissioners of his sanity, he had been quietly suffered to depart. At the expiration of the week, however, he again appeared amongst them, and the feelmgg 126 LIFE ANDf ADVENTURES OF which were excited by his reappearance, were those of mingled pleasure and regret. As far as they were coneemed, they were delighted to see him ; for the goodness of his heart, which was at all times conspicuous, had won their affections ; but as far as regarded himself, they beheld him with sorrow. Their gladness was, however, soon permitted to preponderate; for although he was feverish and .physically weak, his strength of mind had been unimpaired by the monstrous outrage to which he had been subjected, and being, if possible, more firmly determined than before to effect an escape, they viewed him as their liberator, and placed implicit confidence in his judgment and resolution. He aroused their enthusiasm lay an explanation of what had oc- curred, and they looked upon success as a mat- ter of course. There was, however, one whose enthusiasm he could not excite, and that was Whitely — the horrible consequences of a failure having again taken possession of his soul. ■ "My friend," said thaft gentleman, when Goodman had labored to warm him again with his eloquence, "let us now trust entirely to Providence. He never deserts those who put their whole trust in Him." " I believe it," said Goodman, "I firmly, religiously believe it: I do trust in Providence, and have implicit confidence in His goodness : it is hence that I believe that our enterprise will be successful, being, as it is, indisputably based upon Justice; but be assured that it never was intended that a man should trust in Providence and be inactive, — that he should Buffer those faculties with which he has been endowed, to lie dormant, looking to Providence for the accomplishment of that which Provi- dence has given him the power to achieve." " If we believe," rejoined Whitely, "that He who works . the universe, guides even the worm ; that He permits the varied ills of hu- man life, and forms the varied moulds in which the minds of men are cast, and that in His judgments He is merciful and just; how can we believe that He will ever desert those who put their whole trust and confidence in Him 1 We have suffered; we suffer still; but did suffering increase in power with its age, we must have been goaded to death or to mad- ness: but even in our position, we see that pain and pleasure cannot be divorced, for there is no wound which can be inflicted, at which we do not feel the God of Nature administering, at least, the balm of hope. Man never despairs. He cannot do so wholly. He looks to Him with confidence, even in the last extremity. In Him, therefore, let us confide. Let us look to Him for aid. Let us hope !-rstill hope ! — and be resigned." "My friend," said Goodman, solemnly, "the presence of resignation in such a case as this of necessity supposes the absence of hope. When liberty is wounded, men mil hope ; they mourn, and mourn, and call her virtues up, and pant and pray for her recovery — the slightest change reanimates their souls while they be- lieve that sue yet may be restored :. it is when die becomes to us dead, when we are sure that •he is gone, never, never to return, that hope gives place to resignation. 1 feelj with you, that they who firmly confide in Hun will noi do so in vain; but that feeling by no mean* prompts the conviction that all human exertion is therefore unnecessary, or that all such exe> tion, of necessity, amounts to opposition to Hij will. We look to Him for aid ; but is it, there- fore, our duty to lie dormant ? That, indeed, would be illustrating with a vengeance the apa' thetic faith of the fabled wagoner, who called for the aid of Jupiter. We must put our oum shoulders to the wheel, my friend. Aide toi. et U del t'aidera." It by no means required all this to convince Mr. Whitely of the fact, that trusting in Provi- dence did not suppose it to be the duty of man to remain iiActive ; but being anxious to induce Goodman to forego his design, he had recourse to everything bearing even the semblance of an argument which might tend to subvert hia resolution. Finding, however, that this was impossible, he again declared his readiness to join him, and promised to think no more of a failure, but to act with the resolute firmness of a man feeling perfectly sure of success. Accordingly, the next day was fixed upon as the one on which the attempt should be made, about twilight ; and Goodman, by calling into action all the eloquence at his command, »iu> ceeded in inspirmg his companions with so much courage, that they were to a man as de- termined as himself. The morning came; and on being turned into the garden, they all seemed to have the impression, that it was for the last time. They breathed more freely, and stepped more lightly, and smiled at each other with an air of satis- faction the most absolute. The day appeared to wear away but slowly^ for they held as little communication as possible with each other, lest the keepers should have their suspicion aroused. Twilight approached ! and all, save Goodman and Whitely, who remained firm as rocks, were in a state of the most feverish excite- ment. Their hps were pale, and their hearts" heal violently. They walked round and round, and to and fro, with hurried steps, tugging at the sleeves of their coats, trying the firmness of the muscles of their arms, and grinding their teeth with apparent desperation. They could not control the developement of their feelings. "Be firm!" whispered Goodman to each as they passed him, "be firm !" and each replied with a look of resolution. "Now," said Goodman, addressing Whitely, as the ruffian who had tortured him, entered the garden. " The time is come ! Every eye is upon us. See ! all are prepared. They will rush to our aid in an instant. Not a man will keep back ; not one of them — I know it ! Now, all is understood. The very moment we have him down, we bind him; when, having obtained possession of his keys, we rush to that door which leads into the house, and we are free, my friend — ^free ! Once commence, we must, of course, break through aU opposv tion." The friends shook hands "I am ready," VALENTINE VOX. 127 ■aid Whitely. The Keeper approached, with his hands in his pockets, whistling snatches of populai tunes. Every eye was fixed on Good- juan. The keeper passed ! and Goodman, in sh instant, drew the cord from his breast, and having thrown it over the head of the ruffian, brought him heavily to the ground. "Now!" cried Whitely, "Nov)!" and his companions rushed like lightning to the spot. "Help! Murder!" shouted the keeper, ttrug- gling desperately, and dragging down several of his assailants. "Stop his mouth!" cried Goodman. "Bind his legs ! Now his arms ! The keys ! the keys !" he shouted, holding them up, and his compa- nions gave a deafening cheer. _ .Such a cheer had never before been heard within those walls. The poor insane people appeared perfectly electrified, and began to kugh and shout, and to perform the most extra- ordinary antics, dancing, capering, and rolling about the garden in a state of ecstatic delight. . Two keepers rushed out ! The insane peo- ple ran into a corner; but Goodman's compa- nions were firm. "Down with them!" cried Whitely, and the keepers were dashed to the ground on the instant. Another appeared ! " Offer no opposition ! " shouted Goodman, " stand aside !"' But the fellow at once sprang at him and seized him by the throat, which Whitely no sooner perceived, than with one well-aimed blow he struck the ruffian to the earth; and another shout, louder than the first, fB-inspired them. ,"To the door!" cried Goodman, "to the door! — follow me !" and they darted through the asylum to the door which communicated with the residence of the proprietor. At that door, a gigantic keeper, armed with 'a bludgeon, stood waiting to receive them. " Stand back !" he crieil, " stand ! I'll dash the brains out of the first man that dares to come near me !" Goodman spranjr at him on the instant, and the uplifted bludgeon descended upon the head of Whitely with so much force, that it 'brought him to the ground. "Villain!" cried Goodman, seizing the in- strument, which he eventually wrenched from the ruffian's grasp. " Go on !" shouted Whitely, " I'm ntA hurt ; ' go on ! — Now ! — the keys !" They were lost ! — " No matter !" cried Good- man, and he dashed in the door at one blow with the bludgeon. "Hurrah!" again shouted the prisoners. * Aniother door had to be passed . The proprietor, on hearing the shouts, had darted to that door, which he opened the very moment it was about to be dashed down. "Stand aside!" cried Goodman; "Stop us Bt your peril!" and he and Whitely' sprang through the house and were free ! None followed. " Let us go back," cried Goodman, "to their assistance." " Not for your life !" — exclaimed Whitely ; « Coime on !" On they went — still none followed ! — ^not one ! The very instant they had passed, the pro- prietor, with desperate energy, forced to the door and looked the ej)ring! In vain the prisoners dashed up against it. It defied all their efforts. They could not make it yield. They eventually succeeded in kicking in the weakest portion of the lower panel, but at the moment three of the keepers, armed with pitchforks, came round, and, by striking at the legs of the patients through the aperture, lamed all who stood within their reach. "Back! back!" they shouted, "back!— if you value your souls j" and having stuck their forks into the flesh of the patients until they retreated in despair, they threw open the doon rushed upon them with savage desperation, and in less than ten minutes they were in a state of the most absolute insensibility, handcuffed and chained ! "Where's Johnson? Where's Johnson?" cried the proprietor, when this had been ao complished. " Where's Johnson ?" He was still in the garden, where he lay bound and bellowing "with rage, while half a dozen idiots were dangling their hands and dancing round and round him with infinite glee. His brother ruffians now heard him. He was instantly released, and on being informed of the escape of Goodman and Whitely, he and the giant rushed into the stable, twisted the halters into the mouths of two horses, atid, taking a rope with them, gallopped off at once without either saddle or bridle towards town. - The two friends had got some considerable distance, when, being exhausted, they crept behind a hedge'. They heard the horses team- ing along the road, and saw the keepers urgiin^ them forward with looks pf desperation. They approached; and the two friends would scarce- ly allow themselves to breathe. They passed! — at full" gallop. "Bravo!" said Whitely. •' now, now we are secure. N«w let us be off.'' "No, no!'' cried (Joodman, "not yet; not yet : they are not out of sight." "Be guided by me," rejoined Whitely; "I know every inch of the road. Let us once get across this field, and we shall be far more safe than we are here. Come, come ! there's not a moment to be lost." _ ffoodman yielded :" they started off, and the keepers saw them in an instant. "Quick, _quick! we are perceived!" Cried Whitely. The keepers turned ; leaped their horses over the hedge, and were in the field before Goodman had got half across it. ,_ - " Come oij !" shouted Whitely : " come on !" " They must catch us," cried Goodman, "let us stop to take breath, and meet them firmly man to man." '• Come on ! come on !" reiterated Whitely, "Turn!" shouted Goodman, "we shall bo exhausted : we shall not be able to cope vnth them. Turn!" Whitely did turn. " Be resolute," he cried ; "give me the stick : I am stronger than you." The next moment the keepers were on the spot. "As you value your lives," exclaimed Whitely, "keep off!" The keepers alighted with an expression of contempt, and at once rushed upon thera Whitely aimed a desperate blow at the hea4 128 LIFE AND ADVENTUKES OF of Johnson, and struck him to the ground, and at the same instant, Goodman was felled by the giant. " Fly and sare yourself! Fly !" shouted Good- man, as the giant knelt upon him. "Never!" cried Whitely, "until you are free." And he rushed upon the gigantic ruffian, who caught him as he rushed, and held them both down together. "Now, now!" cried the giant, "bring the ropes ! — ^bring the ropes !'! Johnson rose and shook his head. Whitely's blow had confused him. He did, however, manage 1o stagger up to the spot, and the giant, while kneeling upon Goodman's neck, bound Whitely hand and foot. " Now for the horses ! Bring the horses ! — here !" shouted the giant Johnson staggered towards them and fell. Goodman could not be bound. They had no more rope left. To secure him, the giant, therefore, gave him a blow upon the head which stunned him, and ran for the horses him- self. He soon brought them to the spot, and threw Whitely across the back of 6ne of them, just as he would have thrown a sack of oats; and having placed Johnson behind, he threw Goodman in the same way across the back of the other, and mounted himself; and thus the tv/o fi:iends were carried back to the asylum as nearly as possible dead. CHAPTER XXXI TOOLE JOHN ANNOUNCES HIS INTENTION OF BDNNras UP TO TOWN, AND VALENTINE VISITS A WEALTHY INDIVIDUAL, TO WHOM HE FAILS TO IMPART MUCH PLEASUF.E. On the morning of the day on which the oc- currences recorded in the preceding chapfei- took place, Valentine received a long-expected letter from Uncle John, which ran as follows : " My Deab Boy. — I wish to know what it is you mean, sir, by wanting more money? Have you any idea how much you have llfcd t Does it happen to strike you that you are living at a-minous rate 1 I dare say that you have been at some expense in endeavoring to disco- ver friend Goodman ; and you are a good boy, no doubt, for your pains, poor fellow ! But do you think that I am made of money, eh ? I shall send you no more, sir ! — not another shilling. It puzzles me however' you get rid of so much. When I was your age, a hundred a-year wonld have enabled me to live hke a prince ; and here you have been living away at the rate of four ! What do you mean, sir 1 Do you think that I pick money up in the street ? An extravagant dog ! Why, you'd beggar the Bank of England, and so your mother says, and I perfectly agree with her ; and she insists upon your keeping an account of every shilling you spend, and how you spend it, that we may know that you spend it pro- perly. No doubt you get sadly imposed upon, and hving in London is very expensive I date •ar ; but these extravagancies must be check- ed, and they ought to be cheeked : your mother says that they ought to be checked ; and I am exactly of her way of thinking. Mark my words, sir, extravagance is the root of all evilj and I therefore don't feel myself justified i^ encouraging you in anything of the sort, by supplying you with the means of being extra- vagant. But don't return. I'll not allow yon to come back until you have found Goodman, I am quite of your opinion that there has been some foul play. I'll be bound to say that it is so; but I'm not at all satisfied with your exertions in the matter. Do you suppose that if I were in Lon- don I should not have discovered him long be- fore this? You don't go the right way to work about the business. I'm sure you don't. Yon can't. And now I come to think of it, I'll run up to London myself. I'll soon find him out. It is all very well to look, and look ; but it is always ray plan to po to the fountain head at once. You will see me some day,about the week after next. I don't exactly know which dayj but as you have nothing much to do, you can be at the inn where the coach arrives, every evening till you see me. " Your poor mother has not been so well the last two or three days. She caught cold the other evening coming from the Beeches. I knew she would, because she always does; and I said sOj but she wouldn't believe me, and now she tinds out her mistake. She send* her dearest love, which is more than you de- serve, and accept the same from, " My dear boy, " Your most afiiectionate Uncle, "John Long." " P.S. — ^I have said, that I'll not send you up another shilling, and I'll not break my word ; but, if you should — mark! if you should — want any money, before you see me, you can go to Mr. Pledger ; you know his address, and as there is a balance between us of sixty pounds or so in my favor, you may get him to give you five pounds, if you like, but on no account draw more than twenty — mind that. " Expect to see me about next Wednesday se'nnight. Be sure, my dear boy, that yon meet me at the coach. God bless you. — J. L." The portion of this afiectionate epistle which gave the greatest pleasure to Valentine waa the announcement of Uncle John's intention to visit London. He knew that, whatever might be said about extravagance in the body of the letter, there would be something in a pecuniary point of view rather pleasing in the postscript ; Ijut he did not expect that the old gentleman could ever have been prevailed upon to come up to town. It was precisely what Valentine^ wanted him to do, and he was theiefore de- lighted with the announcement; and having ascertained from the widow, Smugman, that she would, with much pleasure,,and moreover could, with great convenieneef and comfort, provide the accommodation required, he began to think of Pledger, who resided at Bermon jsey, and of whom he was to receive not more than twenty pounds. Valentine had frequently heard of Mr. Fled- ger. He had heard of his being the owner i)t VALENTINE VOX. 129 an immense number of houses, and conse- quently a man of considerable wealth. He knew that Uncle John became acquainted with the existence of such an individual through a triend to whom he had sold some property in Essex, of which Pledger became subsequently possessed, in consideration of his paying to Uncle John the balance of the purchase-money dug, and this was all that he knew of Mr- Fledger. He had however heard, in addition to 'nis, that there was no chsCnce of catching tha' gen- tleman at home until the evening, and naving accordingly waited until the evening- aew near, he started off, with his heart and purse equally light. It struck him, however, as he passed down Regent street, that the distance to Bermondsey was rather too gi'eat for him to walk ; and being anxious on that particular occasion to act upon tlie most approved principle of economy, he decided upon patronizing an omnibus as far as the Elephant and Castle, He, therefore, hailed the very first that came up, and jumped in; but, before he could reach a vacant seat, the conductor, who perceived at that moment an opposition omnibus approaching, slammed the door, when, as the horses, knowing the signal, at once started off, he was forcibly tlirown backwards upon the knees of the pas- sengers, who permitted him to slip Very quietly upon the straw. This was pleasant. . He thought it very pleasant ; especially as the people at that in- teresting moment began to laugh very loudly and very merrily. He scrambled up, however, by no means disconcerted, and having at length reached a seat, he waited patiently until the burst of merriment had subsided, when being detiermined to take his revenge out of the con- ductor, he shouted, "Ho!" throwing his voice towards that person, who was perched upon a board by the side of the door, where, with one of his arms hooked in a strap, and the other raised high in the air, he perpetually bawled, "Cus-allJ Ei'phantCas-a».' Cas-aK.'" "Ho!" shouted Valentine, louder than be- fore. "Hold hard!" cried the conductor, and the rehiole stopped. Of course no one attempted to move. "Look alive, sir, please," he con- tinued, as the opposition omnibus passed htm. " Any lady or genelmaii want to get out V "The Circus!" cried Valentine, in an assumed voice, of course. ."The Cirkiss! Why couldn't yer say so?" observed the conductor, and he slammed the door to with additional violence. It thus became clear, that this course of pro- ceeding was one of which he did not exactly approve. He, notwithstanding, cried, "Hold ha^d," on reaching the Circus, and descended from his perch to re-open the door. "Now then, sir! The Cirkiss!" he continued, "what genelman. wants to get down at the Cirkiss V To this natural question no answer was .re- turned, a fact which struck the conductor as being most extraordinary! he didn't know exactly what to make of it ! he couldn't under- stand it .at all ! « "You'll not forget to put me down at the Athenasura Mub," observed an elderly gentle- man who sat near the door. "The Athneem ! — you said the Cirkiss just now! 1 wish people could know their own minrls !" cried the conductor, who was not per- haps the mildest individual in existence, and "ho had possibly been prompted to make that observation by the fact, that at that particular instant, another opposirion omnibus passed him. "It was not I," observed the elderly gentla- mauj who evidently prided himself upon the strikmgly grammatical construction of his sen- tences. " It was not I who said the Circus : it was the gentleman whom you previously ad- dressed." Long before this highly appropriate speech, short as it was, had been brought to a conclu- sion, the conductor had closed the door, and the horses had started off again ; while the pas- sengers were looking veiy earnestly at each other, with the laudable view of ascertaining who it was that had signified a wish to alight at the Circus. They were utterly unable, however, to get at the fact which at that particular period of time interested them so deeply. They had their suspicions ; and the object of those suspicions was a cadaverous looking person, with black wiry whiskers, who appeared to be fast asleep at the further end of the vehicle ; but that, of course, according to the general impression, was a feint. "Now," said the conductor, as he opened the door on arriving at the corner of Waterloo- place, " p'raps this ere'll suit yer V " It is here that I wished to alight," replied the Athenseum gentleman emphatically. "Well, come, that's a blessing anyhow," rejoined the conductor, who was by no means an ill-tempered man, but occasionally very sar- castic. " What is that you say, sir?" cried the Athe^ naeum gentleman, whom the conductor's ironi- cal observation had failed to propitiate. " Why, ony that it's a comfort you're suited at last." " I beg," said the gentleman of- the Athe- naeum, handing over his sixpence, " that vou win not be impertinent, or I shall be uiiaei the disagreeable necessity of taking your num- ber." This roused the indignation of the conductoi, ■who very promptly, and very loudly cried, "Take it! D'yer want to stop the buss a million o' times, while all the other busses is cuttin past us?" The gentleman of the Athenasum looked per- fectly amazed, and was about to give expression to his sentiments on the subject; but before he had time to commence, the conductor having intimated that that wouldn't agree with his com- plaint, banged the door, hopped with infinite alacrity upon his perch, and renewed his "Cas-aJt.' El'phant, Cas-a!i.'. Cas-aJL'"— and continued thus to shout until they stopped at Charing Cross. In front of the house before which tlie " buss" stopped, stood a person enveloped in a peeu- \vny constructed great coat, a small pocket on 130 LIFE AND ADVENTURES Of one side of which had been made foi the re- ception of a watch, upon the face of wnieh he gazed, on the average, about twenty times per minute. He held a paper in his hand, and a pen in his mouth, and appeared to have been established in that particular spot for the express purpose of proving to all whom it might con- cem, that time would fly away, despite iiis eflForts to keep it. " You're behind Bill again, Bob, and Joe too . this time," observed that individual, addressing the conductor. " Behind Bill knd Joe !" cried the conductor, "and no wonder, nayther. An old file has been havin' a game with me a comin' along, makin' me pull up at one place to tell me he wanted for to stop at another. I should ony iust like to've had a fair kick at him ; that's all me harm I wish him. I'U warrant he wouldn't be able to sit in my buss a one whUe, with any degree of comfort ;" and having delivered him- self thus, he proceeded into the house with the Tiew of drowning his cares in a pint of porter. After remaining in this spot for about three minutes, — during which time the passengers had been engaged in the expression of the most conflicting opinions, having reference immedi- ately to the subject which had so much con- fused them^the individual with the -watch cried, " All right !" and the conductor resumed his professional position. "Downing-street, please," said Valentine, assuming the voice of a female. " Yes, marra," said the conductor, who ap- peared to have got over it a little ; but the pas- sengers looked round and round with great curiosity. They had not perceived the lips of either of the ladies move ; but that was attri- buted to the fact of its being dusk. At all events, the suspicion which attached to the in- dividual who sported the wiry whiskers, was not, in this particular instance, strengthened, and the omnibus went on until it arrived at the corner of that street, the offices in which are considered so extremely eligible. The door was opened. The conductor stood holding it in his hand. "Now, marm!" said he, when he found that no one offered to alight. "Downing-street, marm, if you please! — Is tills 'ere another game V' " Please bring a lamp to find a purse in the straw," said Valentine. " Well, this is pleasant !" observed the con- ductor, " we shall get the buss along by-and- bye, p'raps, no doubt ! I wish people ud just keep their pusses in their pockets. I aint got no lamps," — which was a fact; although one of which Valentine had no previous knowledge. " I don't care !" said he, " I'll not get out vrithout my money." " Then you must go a little furder till we gets to the shops," cried the conductor; who, after having shouted " All right !" began to mutter Bway desperately, and to give indications of something being, in his view, decidedly " all wrong." Having tnmed the corner of Bridge-street, he C"tely procured a lantem, and, on opening the r, cried, " Now, then, where's this pu«?" "Here,"' said Valentine, throwing his voice to the extreme end of the vehicle ; and the con- ductor thence proceeded, treading, of course accidentally, but not very lighdy, upon the tops of the passengers during his progress, when having at length arrived at tho spot, he knelt down and searched with great perseverance among the straw. " I can't see it no where about. It isn't hem^ marm !" said he, raising his eyes to the lady at whose feet he had been so diligently prose- cuting the search. " Are you sartin you drop- ped it?" " It does not belong to me," replied the lady addressed. "Then it's yours?" inquired the conductor, 01 the lady who sat opposite. '' Oh ! dear me, no, it's not mine !" "Well, there's no other lady in the bnss!" cried the conductor; " it must belong to one on yer, any how! Who does it belong to, ony say? Who told me to pull up at Downyig street?" "Not I," said one of the ladies. "Nor did I," said the other. " Well, then, what d'yer mean V cried the conductor. " This here's a nice game, and no mistake!" And he looked very fierce,, and grumbled very naturally ; and as another oppo- sition buss passed as he retired, he gave it as his opinion, that in this, his extremity, it was enough to drive a man to make a hole in the water. "What's in the wind now. Bob?" shouted the driver. " What's in the wind !" echoed Bob. " I've a nice load this journey, and no mistake about it They're only havin' a lark." " A lark !" exclaimed the driver. '•' We cant stop for larks !" and with great impartiaUty he lashed both his horses, apparently that one might not laugh at the other, and they flew over the bridge as if unable to forget it. " Marsh Gate !" cried Valentine, " stop at the Marsh Gate !'?„. The conductor descended fi'om his eminence to the steps beneath the door, and having, intro- duced his head into the omnibus, in which he saw his " nice load" in a convulsion of laugh- ter, said, with a droUeiy of expression which was of itself irresistible, " Now, is this another game, or ain't it, ony say? Does anybody want to get out at the Mash Gate ?" "Did I not say the Marsh Gate!" replied Valentine, assuming a tone which seemed to be indicative of some slight degree of anget "Oh! very well, sir, very well! I «ny asked ! There ain't mnch harm in that, I suj^ pose n> They reached the gate in question, and the omnibus stopped. , " Mash Gate !" cried the conductor, " now then, sir. Mash Gate I — ^What, another dodge!", he continued, on perceiving that no one attempted to move; "On! it's afl very fine, but I don't stop no more, you know, for nobody : that's all about it ! — All right !" The conductor kept his word. He would -«ot stop. Valentine tried him in vain. An inili- vidual was anxious to get out at the Obelisk; but although this was perfectly legitimate, ha could make no impression at all upon the jBOIh VALENTINE VOX. 131 duotor, -who amused himself by quietly inform- fag that individual that he would take him right on to the Elephant and Castle, without any extra charge j and having reached his destina- tion, he inquired very deliberately if they were 'perfectly satisfied with their evening's enter- tainiTient, and, moreover, wished particularly to know if they were going to return that same 'Bight, because, as he explained, if they were he Would rather — if it made no difference at all to Ihera — ^that they patronized some other " buss." This sally had the effect of inducing him to ' believe, that he really had the best of it after aU, and as Valentine was by no means anxious to diminish the pleasure with which this belief very Evidently teemed, he passed through the merry group of passengers, who continued to iBugh with extraordinaiy zeal, and proceeded along the New Kent Road, until he arrived at an inn, ycleped the Bricklayers' Arms. . Not being weU acquainted with the locality of the place, he entered a shop to make the necessary inquiries; and on being informed that he was to take the first turning to the left, and the second to the right, and then to keep straight on till he got to me top, he went down a street which led to the bottom of the Grange Road, and which appeared- to be a spot to which the whole of the laboring poor of the 'f&etropolis had sent all their children to play. He had never before beheld such a dense mob of infants. They were running about in le- gions, shouting, laughing, crying, fighting, pelt- ing each other with mud, tumbling into the gutter, and scraping the filth off their habili- ments with oyster shells and sticks. Some of the young gentlemen, larger than the rest, had, with bits of ragged packthread, harnessed others, whom they were driving in the imagi- nary similitude of teams of prancing horses: Bome were valiandy tucking up their sleeves, and giving expression to their anxiety that cer- tain other young gentlemen, by whom they had been assaulted, would only* just hit them again ; some were squatting near the base of a highly popular piece of architecture, while others whom they had chosen as the most elo- quent meriibers of the corporation they had formed, were importuning every passenger for a slight contribution, and begging of him ear- nestly to " remember the grotto." By far the most striking and apparently pleasurable species of amusement, however, was the perpetual (thaking of two bits of slate or broken crockery, which by being placed ingeniously between the' fingers, did, by dint of zealous exertion, "produce a rattling which might in the dark ages have been taken for the soul-stirring mu- sic of the Spanish castanets; but, beyond all dispute, the great majority of the young ladies and gentlemen were bawling, and running, and rolling about, without any specific object, ap- parently, in view, save that of promoting the circulation of their blood. Valentine had never in the course of his life seen so many little children together. He eould scarcely get along for them ! really it was like walking through a flock of sheep. He did, however, succeed eventually in wa- ding through the gwaim; and having reached a certain point, which appeared to be their boundary, he had nothing to do but to walk on and snift, for the air appeared to have a scent different from that of any air he had ever be- fore inhaled^a remarkable fact which he waa inclined to attribute to the children, but which was in reality attributable to the tan. On arriving at the top of the Grange Road, he inquired for the residence of Mr. Fledger, and was directed to a dirty, old, dilapidated house, which stood fifty feet from the road, and which appeared to have been erected in a hole. The gate was split in divers directions, and the rails which once adorned it were crumbling de- liberately away. Nearly the whole of the win- dows were broken — ^the apertures being filled up with old rags — ^while the tiles, the majority of which had already fallen off, appeared to threaten to split the heads of all who had the boldness to venture beneath them. As everything, therefore, indicated penuiy and want, it was but natural for Valentine to suppose that this could not be the residence of the wealthy Mr. Fledger, and hence, on per- ceiving a little shop almost immediately oppo- site, he crossed the road at once to inquire again. "Can you tell me," said he, addressing a person behind the counter, " where Mr. Flecker lives?" "Fledger! over the way, sir," replied that person. " I mean the Mr. Fledger," said Valentine, emphatically ; " the rich Mr. Fledger." " Well, that's it; you can't make a mistake." replied the man. "There is only one Fledger in Bermondsey." " Oh, indeed ! — ah, thank you," said Valen- tine, who began to be extremely apprehensive about the sum of twenty pounds, which he thought it most unreasonable to expect that he should ever get there ; and it must be conced- ed, that appearances were decidedly in favor of the irrational character of such expectation. Across the road, however, he went, and having opened the gate, of which the timber was paj>- ticularly rotten, while the hinges were remark- ably rusty, he walked over the space in front of the house very firmly, and knocked at the door very boldly. "Who's there?" demanded the cracked voice of a female, after a pause. "Is Mr. Fledger within?" inquired Valen- tine. " Yes ; what do you want ?" cried the female. "I want," replied Valentine, "to see Mr. Fledger." The mild tones in which this appropriate in- formation was conveyed seemed to allay the suspicions of the female inside, for after draw- ing a few bolts, and removing a few bars, and turning a few keys with very great apparent difficulty, she opened the door as far as the chain would allow it to be opened ; and having taken a survey through the aperture thus esta-, blishedj she made certain inquiries which had immediate reference to the business in hand. " I wish to see Mr. Fledger," repeated Va» lentine ; " my business is with, him." "Well, so I suppose,", returned the female, 132 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF BOittewhat piqued ; and having again examined him minutely, and being eventually satisfied that there was nothing very desperate in his appearance, she closed the door for the purpose of anhooking the chain, and Valentine was ad- mitted into a most filthy passage, where he re- mained in the dark, untU the woman had taken in his name and that of his uncle. " Well," thought he, " thip is rathet a black beginning, but there may be something a little more Uvely inside." " You may come in !" shouted the miserable looking woman, as she returned with her rush- light ; and Valentine was accordingly ushered, with the smallest possible ceremony, into a truly wretched den, which appeared to be the kitch- en, parlor, bedchamber, scullery, and all. " Sit down," said Mr. Pledger, whose fea- tures bore some slight resemblance to those of a respectable fiend, newly white-washed. " Well, what is your business ?" " I have received," replied Yalentine, " a letter, in which my uncle states, that on apply- ing to you I shall receive twenty pounds." " Ah," said Pledger, pursing his lips, " 1 have no authority for paying you that sum. I caii't do it without an order." "Will not this be a sufficient authority?" said Valentine, producing the letter, and point- ing to the postscript. Pledger coolly drew his spectacles from his foiehead, and cocked them upon his nose. ^'Five pounds," said he, having read the im- portant postscript." ■ " Or not more than twenty," added Valentine. "Twenty is the sum that I want." "Ah; but this you know isn't an order. It should have been an order to me to pay the bearer, and so on." "But will pot my acknowledgment do as weU?" " No. How do I know that you are the per- son to whom this letter is addressed 1" " Do you take me for a swindler V exclaimed Valentine, fiercely. " Do you think that I should make application for this money, if I were not the person to whom this letter is ad- dressed V " I cartnot tell," was the laconic reply. " You cannot tell !" echoed Valentine, whose Wood began to boil. " Do I look Uke a swin- dler f" Pledger opened' the drawer of the table at which he sat, and after searching for some considerable time, produced a coin, which he breathed upon, and rubbed very deliberately : he then drew forth another from his pocket, and having placed them before Valentine, said, "Did you ever see two coins look more like each other V "That has nothing to do with me!" cried Valentine, very angrily: "I came to you on business." "I see that you are too hot to. answer this question. I will answer it for you. They seem to have been struck from the self-same die — to be equally valuable. To all appearance they are precisely alike ; and yet one is a counter- feit f Sirj I took that for an honest shilling: I waa deceived. What follows t Why, that if I take you for an honest man, I may be 3qnal:y deceived. As nothing looks so much like .a bad coin as a good one, so no man looks so much like an honorable man as .in accomplished vil- lain. Were it not for the resemblance they bear to each other, villany could never, to any great extent, succeed." Valentine felt that he was correct in this particular, and therefore became more subduod "How, then, am I to know," continued F-Jod ger, "that you are an honest man — that you are really the person you represent yourself to be?" " The possession of this letter, I should think, would be sufficient — " " Not at aU ! not at aU ! You may haUte sto- len that letter — mark me well !" he contihued, on perceiving that Valentine was again getting up in his stirrups, " I say you may have stolen it ; How am I to tell that you have not?" Valentine indignantly crushed the letter in his pocket, and rose. " Don't be rash !— don't be rash, young man ! — don't be rash ! I'm an older, a much oldei man than you. I have lived long enough to know that no one can thrive in this world, who does not look upon and deal with every man as a rogue, until he has proved him to be an hon- est man. I don't mean to say that I believe you are one ; but I do mean to say, 1 can't tell that you are not." " Then, of course, you' refuse," said Valen- tine, with impatience, "to let me have this money?" " I did not say that. I am dispo. inquired Valentine, throwing his voice very dexterously into the chimney. " I'm ruined.! I'm ruined !" cried the miser. "I'm ruined!" and he darted, like lightning, across the room; and having found the box, of course, where he had placed it, he drew it forth, and hugged it fondly to his heart, shout- ing, "Thieves! Fire! Murder! Thieves! Thieves !" His sister at this moment foJowed his e» ample: "Thieves! thieves!" she cried, open- ing the window, which overlooked a field ; bu» as the room was at the back of the house, and they dared not go in front, the wind carried, their voices from the road, and they gradually died away, unheard. "Where are the pistols?" shouted Valentine. They were lying upon the table. He seized one in an instant, and having cocked it with an air of invincible valor, let fly up the chimney. Of conrse nothing but soot descended ; but it did the chimney good, for it was previously choked as nearly as possible up to the pot;. it therefore cured that completely, and this was all the good it could do ; but the bravery in- volved in the act so excited the admiration of the miser, that he almost relinquished the box to embrace him. "Do you think that there could have been any one there ?" inquired Valentine, very mys- teriously. " I heard a voice I" cried the miser, " I'm sure I heard a voice ! Didn't you?" he con- tinued, addressing his sister. " Of course I did !" replied that respectable female, with infinite promptitude and spiritj "do you think that I'm deaf? It's my belief there's a man in there now." " If there be, he's a dead man," said Valen- tine, " if the pistol I discharged contained aball." "Oh yes! oh yes!" cried the miser, "oh yes ! and a capital ball it was too. It's a pity It was fired off" for nothing." " It is a pity, when you come to think of it,* said Valentine. "That powder, too: powder costs a, deal of money ; it's very expensive,' very." " Well," said Valentine, apparently in the act of dej)ailing — an act which he had really no intention to perform, without having the sum of twenty ptainds in His pocket — " I suppose that I can be of no more service now?" " Stay, stay !" cried the miser. " Pray do not go yet. Stay a quarter of an hour longer; but a quarter of an hour !" " I really cannot," returned Valentine, " if I'm to come up here again in the morning." " Well — stay ! — I'll give it you now — I'll give it you now. Only stop." Of course Valentine stopped ! He had notthe least intention of going, until he had gained possession of that which he came for. He there- fore sat down again, without a second invita- tion, and displayed a very laudable anxiety to come to the point at once. " You mean, of course," said he, "to pay me now in full." " Well, well; but you must take me off" dis- count." " What ! sixtjf per cent ?" exclaimed Valen- tine. "No, no!" said the miser, "I'll be satisfied with ten. You must take me off' ten?" " As the money is dite, I don't feel myself i'ustified in consenting even to that. But, per- laps," he added, rising again, " I had better look up in the morning." "No, no," said the miser, still dreajilfaUy alarmed; "I'll not trouble you; no, I'll not trouble you. But really you must take me oflf VALENTINE VOX. 135 Arf' It's a regular thing, you know, quite — quite a regular thing." " Well, you'd better settle that with my uncle, when you see hiin. He understands more about the business than I do." " Well, well ; I suppose I must. — ^Hush !" he exclaimed, and having listened most attentively for several seconds, he opened the box. All was silent. He would not suffer one of tlie sovereigns to click against another. He drsw them out one by one, very carefully, and very reluctantly j and having counted them over 'agam and agam, locked his box and said, " There, there are twenty." Valentine had been in the habit of counting money only when he paid it away ; but in this particular mstance he felt that, as a matter of common justice to himself, he ought to adopt the same plan when he received it. He there- fore did count it : he counted it twice as the sovereigns were lying on the table, and the result was a natural result, under the circum- stances, seeing that there were but nineteen. "There's one short," said he, eyeing the miserable dog, " only one." '" Dear me, I thought I counted twenty, I'm ^ure !" cried the wretch, with a villanous smirk, and he counted them again, and again, for the show of the thing, and then added, " Why there are but nineteen ! How singular !" " Very !" said Valentine sarcastically, "Very !" and he looked at the wretch as he reluctantly drew forth the twentieth, with an expression which seemed to confuse him a little. He nevertheless counted them over again, being firmly determined not to suffer him to reap, even from sleight-of-hand villany, the smallest advantage ; and having satisfied himself as to the correctness of the sum, he surveyed the wretched group with a feeling of disgust. There sat the miser, whose soul seemed to have sunk beaeath the weight of his iniquities, trembling and groaning under the lively appre- hension of losing that which to him was intrin- sically valueless, seeing that, with the means of procuring all the luxuries, he denied himself even the common necessaries of life ; and while his sister, the very type of sordid wretchedness, sat, with her elbows upon her knees, and her chin upon her hands, in a chair, the ragged horse-hair of which, that once formed its plump bottom, hanging down to the floor, the poor girl, whom fate had doomed to live beneath the same roof, lay miserably huddled up in one comer of the room, starving, absolutely starving iu the midst of wealth ! Valentine sickened at the sight, and therefore put on his hat. "Must you go?" said the miser. " I must," replied Valentine^ '• Well, well !" said the miser, seizing the pistol that was loaded, " do carry this for me till you get to the door. My hand trembles. I'm sure I can't take a true aim." Valentine carried the pistol accordingly, and after an infinite deal of listening, they reached the outer door, which was no sooner opened than he fired the pistol oif, which so alarmed the trembling wretch, that he closed the door wstantly, sluitting his unsuspected tormentor outside. "What shall I Jo with the pistol?" thought Valentine. ' He had not to think long. He dashed itat once through ttie window, and departed; while the feelings wtth which the inmates were in- spired by the rattling of the glass, were Ques- tionless very lively, but not very gay. CHAPTER XXXII. THE HKST CONCEKT GIVEN BY THE NATIVE TALBKY ASSOCIATIOM. Valentine had from childhood been ea- tremely fond of music. He was unable to play upon any instrument; he knew nothing of the technicalities of the science, nor had he the slightest wish to know. The enchanting effects were suflicient for him; he cared not to study the minutias of the cause. Having had, however, an ardent desire at one period to become acquainted with musical men, that desire had been gratified to no inconsiderable extent, and he for some time enjoyed their society, being delighted with their apparent simplicity of soul ; but the charm which their companionship primarily imparted was quickly broken, when their prevailing characteristics were laid open to his view. He found them reckless, gay, improvident, polite, but not one was he able to point to as being a really virtuous man. He was awaie of course that virtue in classes was difticnlt to be found, but although in every other class he had perceived it shining brightly in the actions of individualSj he had never had the pleasure to meet a pro- fessionally musical man, whose private charac- ter would bear even a superficial investigation. As men they were indolent and dishonorable ; as husbands they were faithless ; as fathers they were heartless; as friends they were envious and insincere. Valeiiiiiie had in aU probability been unfor- tunate in his introductions to these musical peo- ple, seeing that doubtless he might have been in- troduced to some who were really good men j^jut having been in a position to analyze the char> acters of many from the highest to the lowest in the profession, it was but natural for him to infer from the result of his experience, that however kind, generous, and amiable they might appear, they were all at heart equally hollow. This consideration, however, by no means subdued the ardor of his passion for music, and he was anxious to do all in his power to promote its cause, by the cultivation of a musi- cal taste among the people, it being, to him at least, manifest, that nothing could have a more powerful tendency to soften their tone, to coun- teract their bad passions, or to induce that re- finement in popiilar pleasures which is so abso- lutely essential to a high stale of civilization. It is true, that when this was placed in juxtapo- sition with the view which he entertained of the private characters of professionally musical men, they at first appeared inimical : but when he looked at the mode of life so peculiar to thoM 136 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF •reatuies, ■when he saw the temptations to vice i suid.dishonpr with which thej were perpetually assailed, and perceived that if their miods were not indeed too weak to make any resistance to those temptations, they exhibited no inclination to resist ihem; when he found that every thing bearing even the semblance of domestic happiness was their abhorrence, and that all they had to talk about, or cared to talk about, or even seemed to have the ability to talk about, was music mixed up with intrigue, he very soon became convinced that their characters were not formed by music, but in spite of its Softening iafluence, by their pernicious commu- nication with those by whom vice and dishonor in every shape are applauded. Now it happened, that at this particular period of our history, a great outcry was raised about what was then yclept native talent. The court was denounced ; the aristocracy was denounced ; the whole country was denounced because native talent failed to be patronized with commensurate liberality. Cargoes of foreign artistes were imported from time to time, and exported with wreaths of laurel and purses crammed with British gold, to the great discouragement of native talent. At the Royal Concerts none but foreigners were engaged ; at the soirees of the nobility none but foreigners were engaged, while every theatre in which foreigners were not engaged was empty ; in fact, native talent appeared to be in such a dreadful state, that they who possessed the real and recognised ability to snatch it from contempt, crossed the Atlantic — it being well ttiuicrstood that the Americans upheld native talent, which was certainly much to their credit — while our citizens gloried in being jammed in tVie pit, or stewed to rags in the gallery of the Opera, to hear that which they could by no means understand, with the view of having it in their power to speak with en- thusiasm of the brilliancy of the prima donna, and the surpassing richness of the primo buffo, and to explain how they adored — You know vochee poke afar; and how deeply they were enamored of Dye pitch her my balsam core. Such being the lamentable state of the case then, certain highly influentiad and remarkably staunch musical individuals, entertaining an extremely laudable anxiety to rescue native talent from the impending doom of extinction, Conceived the idea of establishing a Native Tal- ent Association, with the view of getting up a series of native talent concerts, at which nothing of course but native talent should be developed ; and having perfected their project, they pro- ceeded to carry it at once into execution, in order to prove that, although foreign talent might then be the rage, native talent was of an infi- nitely superior caste, and, therefore, ought to be more lilierally patronized by a truly enlightened British public. Accordingly, the first of the series was an- nounced, and Valentine having purchased a ticket, attended. The room was crowded. He at first saw no prospect at all of obtaining a seat; but having secured one at length near the orchestra, he commenced a perusal of the pro- gramme which had been (jiven to him at the door. It began with a prospectus^ and tliali prospectus read well : very weU ; — it promised muen, it is true ; but it promised no more thao might with ease have been performed. Ho was therefore delighted with the prospectus j but how great was his astonishment,- wRen, on looking below he found that nothing but Ger- man and Italian pieces were to be sung ! " Is this," thought he, " intended to develope native talent ! Why, at best, it can be but the native talent of imitation ! Here we have a selection of Italian and German music to be sung by English singers, after the fashion of the Italians and tke Germans, and that with the view of in"- spiring an appreciation of native talent !" He of course, and very naturally, felt that this ought not to be ; and as he wished most sincerely to promote the cause which its more active advo- cates, doubdess with the best possible inten- tions, had labored with so much zeal to injure, he felt himself bound, as one who possessed the power to warn them with effect against the course they were pursuing, to impress upon their minds that the act of imitating the singing of foreigners, however excellent that imitation might be, developed native talent no more than the act of imitating the language of foreigners-, and that instead of inducing a higher apprecia* tion of native talent, its tendency was to depre- ciate it, seeing that it raised foreign talent in public estimation. This to Valentine appeared to be indisputa- ble; and while he was endeavoring to decide upon the course which under the circumstances he ought to pursue, the band commenced the overture to Zauherfiote, and certainly went through it very well. The audience applauded vehemently, and demanded an encore, .which was of course extremely grateful to the feel- ings of the performers in the aggregate ; and while they were taking snuff with due gusto and effect, the conductor very quietly winked at the leader, who as quietly winked at the conductor in return. ., Having inquired of a polite old gentlemati who sat in his immediate vicinity, Valentine, ascertained that the projector of the scheme was the identical individual who on this occa- sion wielded the baton, and as he felt that he was, therefore, the man whom he ought to ad- dress, he fixed his eyes very intently upon him. Now the visage of this individual was ex- tremely long, and strongly marked, and pale in proportion. His hair was black ; and while it was parted in front with the utmost nicety, 't. hung in wild ringlets upon his shoulders. He had on an undeniable black satin stock, figured delicately with very little lilies, and studded with three reraarJtably suspicious-looking Brob- dignagian brilliants. An eye-glass attached to a piece of black ribbon was stuck with con- summate ingenuity between his left cheek bone and brow ; and a gold colored chain of surpass- ing circumference was really very tastefully ar- ranged over a white satin vest. His coat was of course a full dress coat, an indigo blue coat, with black velvet collar, silk faciugs, and figured pilk buttons, and whUe his left hand was adorned with a delicate French white kid glove, the taper fingers of his right were embellished with a VALENTINE VOX. 137 ^rariety of rings^ which he positively felt him- self bound to display as much as possible. Valentine could not avoid smiling as he in- spected this elegant, fantastic, and really fasci- nating creature ; but as the overture vras novir again brought to a conclusion amidst thunders df applause, he was on the qui vive. A rattling Italian buffo song stood first upon the list, and as he perceived a professional genius stepping forward to do execution on the same, he very naturally conceived that it was then the time for action. Well! the symphony commenced; and as the pi:ofessional gentleman, whose uvula ap- peared to be down, was a-hemming with unpre- cedented violence, Valentine, throwing his voice behind the exquisite conductor, who was then «t the piano-forte, ran up and down the scale in such a singularly unprofessional fashion^ that all eyes were directed towards the spot in an instant. "Hist! hist I" hissed the conductor, looking Tery sharply round, " Hish ! hish P' But Val- entine kept on — changing the key for the ex- press accommodation of each parficular roulade — with a perseverance, which under any other circumstances certainly would have been highly reprehensible. The conductor became indignant, and cried "hish! fe'sfe.'" with greater vehemence than before. It seemed perfectly clear to him, that there was some one very near hira in a truly provoking state of inebriety. But who was it ? He could not tell. He took the glass from his eye, for as he could see better without it, he thought it highly probable that that might have theretofofe prevented the discovery upon which he had set his soul. But no, he saw the in- strumental people looking with amazement at tech other, and the bosoms of the vocalists swelling with scorn; but he could see nothing more: nothing more. He tried back: he re- commenced the brilliant symphony, and the Btout vocal genius, who felt much confused, for he could not at all understand it, asrain plucked up his courage and his collar to begin, when Valentine introduced a very admirable imita- tion of the French-horn. In an instant every eye was upon the French-horn players, who were aealously engaged in amputating their 1 Instruments, with the laudible view of pouring , out the concentered perspiration, which the performance of the overture had induced. It could not have been them. That was clear. The conductor looked at them ! — No : their in- struments were in bits. This was held to be most extraordinary ; but Valentine did not stop to wonder much at it, but proceeded to give ex- cellent imitations of a variety of little instru- ments, until the conductor became so enraged, that he started from his seat, and looked round with an expression of indignation, the most powerful his strongly marked features could portray. The harmony produced by Valentine ceased, end allwas silent. The audience were amazed ; they were utterly unable to make it out ; but as anon they began to hiss with unequivocal ieal, the conductor, who looked as if he couldn't ffiauy stand it niuch longer, bounced down upon his stool, and struck the chord with an energy altogether unparalleiel in musical annals. The vocal genius became nervous. The truth flashed across his mind, that in this world men have not the choice of their own posiK tions. He would clearly not have chosen that in which he then stood, for it certainly was a most unpleasant position. He slightly trembled Valentine saw that he trembled, and pitied him — nay, he was eventually so far melted as to suffer him to go through his Lar^o Factotum. The style, however, in which he accom- plished this song was particularly droll. It was abundantly manifest that the genius did not know the meaning of a word he had to utter, and equally manifest was it that he didn't tvant to know : all he cared a single straw about, was an imitation of the voice and gestures of the particular prime buffo, whom at the opera he had heard sing the piece with great applause, and as the gestures which he labored to imitate were remarkably extrava- gant, the whole exhibition was a caricature of the most gross and ridiculous caste. This Valentine held to be monstrous, and fell it to be incumbent upon him to express his ex- treme dissatisfaction, when the features of the genius — who during the applause had smiled blandly as he bowed — underwent a most extras ordinary change as he retired. "Native talent!" cried Valentine, throwii^ his voice into the middle of the room; "is this the developement of native talent?" . The conductor stared wildly, and so did the whole of the gentlemen in the orchestra ; but although two or three individuals criedj " silence !" in a veiy authoritative tonej the majority of the audience were so powerfully struck with the novelty of the question, thai they glanced at the programme, and looked at each other very mysteriously, and really began to consider it an extremely proper question, and one which ought therefore to be answered. '■' English music ! English music !" again, shouted Valentine, and the audience now re- sponded to ihe shout with loud cheers, which caused the conductor to shrug his shoulders and pass his taper fingers through his curls, and to open his eyes very widely, and to look altog*; tner remarkably odd. He, however, said no- thing; -but began to play the symphony of an Italian scena, as Valentine repeated his demand for English music, the propriety of which was acknowledged by the audience again. Several gentlemen who were stationed near the orchestra, and who appeared to be members of the native talent committee, now conferred with the conductor, who, after the conferencoj came forward and said, with due emphasis^ " Ladies and gentlemen : if there be any pe> son in the room at all dissatisfied with the per- formances, his money will be returned on aj^ plication being made at the doors." This was fair, very fair : nothing in fact could have been fairer, but this was not at all what Valentine desired: he wished to make them understand that mere imitations of the Italians could not tend to the developement of native talent, and therefore cried, "No: the money is not what we want: we simply want Engii»a 12» LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF music !" and as this was again hailed with loud dieerg, the conductor again conferred with the gentlemen of the committee, and during the oonferencBj Valentine was occupied in assuming various voices, and sending them in various parts of the room, expressive of an anxiety to <^en the eyes of those gentlemen, that they might clearly see the course which they ought to pursue ; and eventually their eyes became opened : they appeared to be enlightened on the subject as if by magic ! — but what was to be done ? — the singing people had studied those pieces for the occasion, and although they had questionless the ability to sing others, it was field to be unsafe for the experiment, without notice, to be tried. They therefore pretended to be still completely blind to the propriety of the suggestion, a course which Valentine held to be remarkably stupid, inasmuch as they had but to announce that the error would in future he rectified, and the concert might have gone an without any further interruption ; but as it was, as the committee were still stubborn, and as the conductor, who didn't like it, as the se- lection had been left to him — 'began to look extremely big, and to shake his head angrily, and to purse his lips contemptuously, and to frown and pitch the music about the orchestra, and knock down the stands in the fulness of his rank official pride, of course Valentine felt de- termined to bring him to his senses, and there- fore again loudly demanded a display of native tajent. " Ladies and gentlemen !" said the conductor, Klepping Eigain in front of the orchestra, after indulging in an additional series of really un- becoming airs, — "If any rival society has em- ployed noisy persons to interrupt the perform- ances of the evening — " " No, no !" shouted Valentine, " no, no ! We are simply anxious to promote the cultivation of native talent !" And as loud cheers followed this appropriate explanation, the conductor felt It to be a duty incumbent upon him to be Sig- nally savage, and he retired to the piano forte, and struck a variety of chords with unprofes- sional violence ; and after amusing himself in this way for several seconds, he commanded a female to come forward in order to sing the next scena. The lady did not much approve of the tone which the conductor had assumed in this particular instance ; but she, nevertheless, glided very gracefully forward with a dirty piece of music in one hand, and in the other, a lace-edged handkerchief pinched precisely in the middle ; but she had no sooner reached the front rail of the orchestra, than Valentine intro- duced a highly correct imitation of the trom- bone. This the conductor very naturally conceived to be dreadful, and he therefore began to per- spire with rage. He thought it quite enough — and so it was quite enough — that the audience were against him ; but the idea of his own in- strumental performers having joined in the op- position made his blood bubble up ! He there- fore instantly turned towards the professional Individuals who performed on the delicate in- strument in question, and discovered them in the very act of enjoying a quiet pinch of snufi' together in the utmost amity. The tromboni nevertheless did apparently continue to sound This he thought more extraordinary still ! Hd couldn't tell, he didn't know, what to make of it, at all. It was clearly not the men whom ha had suspected, and yet — well: the trombone ceased, but at that particular moment anothei most unpleasant sound broke upon his ear J The majority of the audience were roaring with laughter ! — and that too at him ! This ho held to be extremely inconsistent with the character of a British audience, and he conset quently felt quite confused. " Go on ! go on !" exclaimed several voices in the distance ; but albeit these highly appro- priate exclamations were benevolently intended for his especial solace, they in reality did not console him at all. The professional lady, whose plume waved proudly about a foot and a half above her for© head, now became extremely fidgety, and fell very awkward and very warm, and was about to retreat, when the conductor stmck a chord with unexampled desperation. " Retire !" said Valentine, throwing a whis» per just behind the fair artiste ; and the lady, to whom the whisper appeared to be most wet come, bowed and blushed, and retired accord- ingly. " Madam !" cried the conductor, as she passed him, " remain." " You requested me to retire," said the ladyt "No such thing! No such thing, madam. No such thing !" But the lady, who felt much confused, without appealing to notice the* hasty observations, passed on. The conductor now imagined — and perhaps it was but rational for him to imagine — ^that il was a regularly planned thing — that all in the room had conspired against his peace. He therefore bounced up again with the view of conferring with the committee, who saw plainW that a very wrong course had been pursued; but then he didn't see it, and couldn't see it,, and wouldn't see it ! The committee, howeve^- at length insisted upon his expressing their sen* timents on the subject, when he accordingly but with infinite reluctance, came forward and said : — " Ladies and gentlemen : it appears to be the opinion of the committee of n^anage- ment, that the fact of English artistes singing nothing but foreign music, tends rather to create a morbid taste for such music, and to enhance it in the estimation of the public, than to pro- mote the cultivation of native talent, which id of course their chief aim. I am, therefore^ ladies and gentlemen, directed to state, that aa- this appears to be also your impression, ladies and gentlemen, if you will be kind enough to permit the performances chosen for this evening to proceed, as we are not exactly prepared' on so short a notice to change them, especial care, ladies and gentlemen, will be taken, that in future, at these concerts, English music alone shall be sung." The audience cheered this announcement It was all they required; and as Valentine wished for nothing more, the performances pro« ceeded without the slightest additional inter, ruption; although every piece tended to oaor VALENTINE VOX. 139 ^nce him ajid them more and more that the Tiew he had taken of the subject was correct, Inasmuch as if it even were admitted that those pieces were well sung, it must also be admitted that the Italians sang them better, which alone had the effect of inspiring the conviction of. their superiority, instead of a due appreciation of that style in which the English excel. : Valentine was therefore quite satisfied. He felt that he had inflicted some pain by the con- fusion he had created ; but he also felt that he had thus succeeded in accomplishing an ex- cellent object, namely, that of promoting the cultivation of native talent, by inducing Eng- lishmen, instead of imitating, and thereby en- Isincing the value of foreign singers, to leave foreign talent to itself. CHAPTER XXXni. ro WHICH WALTEB AND HIS AMIABLE FAMILY HATE A HIGHLY CHARACTERISTIC COHTEESATIOM OH THE SDBJECT OF Goodman's Aelease. Although Walter had been gradually reco- vering from the effects of the fire, he was still extremely weak, and continued to be occupied night and day by Nature, whose efforts to restore him to his pristine complexion were ac- companied by a certain cutaneous excitement which he held to be particularly disagreeable. His appearance at this time was indeed very singular : the skin on one side of his face being black, while on the other it was as sanguine and shiny as that of a fair-haired boy. This rendered it natural, perhaps, for him to amuse himself by prematurely peeling off the dead akin by inches, in order to re-establish a facial uniformity. This was not, however, the most interesting part of his active occupation : by no means. While under the regimen originally prescribed by the physician, his mind was comparatively at ease ; but no sooner was he permitted to take somewhat more generous food, and a glass or two of wine every day, with a view to the restoration of his physical Strength, than his vivid imagination began to revel again in the creation of the most extraor- dinary phantasms, which failed not to afford him perpetual entertainment. Nor were the minds of his amiable family at this time unoc- cupied: their nights were spent in dreaming, and their days in relating those dreams to each 'Other, for the purpose of ascertaining and es- tablishing the most approved interpretation thereof. The house of Walter was therefore a Tery busy house; but the business of its in- mate's was unhappily not of a character calcu- lated to increase their joy. On the contrary, their spirits were dreadfully depressed: even those of the volatile Horace — albeit he still retained his vulgarity — sank several degrees below par; for while confinement did not meet Jiis views, three somewhat severe attacks of ; )ver, induced by his going out too early, and ■'nking too freely, had convinced him that SUCH confinement, how unpleasing soever it might be, was absolutely essential to his per- Sact restoration. say it; Of course, every member of the fainily was now acquainted with the manner in which Wal» ter had disposed of poor Goodman; and the female portion failed not to ascribe the whole of their recent misfortunes to that. "I am sure," said Mrs. Horace, one evening when the family, for the first time since the accident, were having tea in the parlor, " I am perfectly sure that we shall never have a m(v ment's peace of mind until uncle is released from confinement." " I am quite of your opinion, dear," observed Mrs. Goodman, " for we really have had no- thing but misfortune and misery since ; and I am fully persuaded, by the truly frightful dreams I have had of^ late, that we can expect no comfort, no happiness, no peace, so long as he remains where he is." " Then, I deserve all I've got, I suppose !— You regard it as a species of retributive justice,*' cried Walter, with a scowl. " No, no, my love ! I did not say that." " Didn't say it ! I know you didn't sa but you mean it, nevertheless." " All I mean to say is this," rejoined his wife, with unusual firmness; "that the horrible dreams I have had of late convince me that until he is released, we shall have nothing but misfortune ; and it really is very dreadful that he should be thus imprisoned, you know, when you come to think of it." " The only question at issue," said Horace^ " is this, — will the old boy's release tend to im.» prove our position? That's the only. point now to be considered. Never mind about dreams, because they are all rubbish, and may be pro- duced by pickled salmon or stewed cheese; let us look at the thing as it stands, thus : — what will be the effect of his release upon us?" " Why, this !" replied Walter; " we shall be at once reduced to a state of absolute beggary." " Well, in that case, you know," rejoined Horace, " there can't be two rational opinions about the conclusion at which we ought, as reasonable beings, to arrive." " Well, I'm sure," said Mrs. Horace, " that for my part I had rather be poor and happy, than live in such continual misery as this." "Poor and happy!" cried Horace: "it's all very fine. I might say the same thing: 1 might say, oh, I'd much raiher live poor and happy : yes ! — but who's to do it? Had we been reared with the heavy hand of poverty upon us, we should probably not be much startled by her slaps, bncause a thing, you know, is nothing when you are used to it ; but fancy yourself now in a state of destitution ! I know that I should be walking into the jugular or perpetrating some other sanguinary business! while you would be flying off the Monumerlt! or pitching head first over Westminister bridge; and then how would you bring it in? — ^not 'poor and happy !' " " But I'd work the very flesh off my bones, rather than continue to live as we do now." "Work the flesh off your bones!" echoed Horace contemptuously. "How could you get it to do ; and if you did get it, how could you do it ? and what do you fancy you are fit| for ? I might say that I'd work Uie very fledl 140 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF off mjr bones ; bat who'd eittploy me ! That's the point ; and then what could I do f While thousands upon thousands, who are capable of performing the various joUy little offices of life are unemployed, how can I, w^ho know nothing at all about anything, hope to walk over their heads? I know better, you know: it's all stuff." • "It certainly would, I must confess," said Mrs. Goodman, " be a very dreadful thing to be reduced ; but do you really think we should be so utterly destitute I" "Nobody can doubt it for a moment," re- plied Horace: "for what resource have we? VVhat have we got to fly to ? The governor has given up his berth, which I have said all »tong he ought not to have done; and then vrhat are my prospects ? I have no profession I — we have nothing to look to." : " But don't you really think," said Mrs. Goodman, addressing her husband, " that we might manage it so as to set him free, and yet *e as well off at least as we were ?" "How absurdly you talk!" replied Walter. " Why, any one would think you were an idiot ! What on earth have I to hope for from him ? Suppose, for a moment, that I were to release him ; what would be the consequence I He knows that I placed him where he is; the house in which he lived of course is clean gone, and I have sold all his flimiture. Well! he comes out. I am the first man to whom he applies. He cannot proceed criminally against me, because the certificate of the doctors had the effect of taking from me the whole of the responsibility of the seizure; but he demands the restitution of his property, and how is it possible for me to meet that demand? A great portion of that property is not now in my pos- session ; he has, therefore, but to bring an action against me, and my ruin is complete. But let us take the most favorable view of the case. Suppose he insists only on the restoration of his papers. They are restored ; and he, as a mat- ter of course, instantly discards us. What, then, are we to da? I have no property, no income. We must etarve. Any assistance from him were altogether out of the question. He would have, of course, nothing whatever to do with us. How should we act in that case? We could not act at all; we should go to the dogs." "Of course!" cried Horace. "And that's the very bottom of it. We can't be such fools as to believe that he wouldn't at nnci' out iis dead. He might not, as the governor sa\ s, proceed, you know, legally; but — ^blister this itching !" — he added, rubbing his back against the chair very violently, and making up a very extraordinary face. " I shall rub all the flesh 9K my bones: I know I shall; and now the old governor's at it! — Well, what was I say- ing ! — Coiae, come ! I must rub if you do. If it were not for you, I shouldn't do it at all. YoE put me iri mind of it. Come, I say, governor ! Give it up, come ! I cannot think of anything while you keep rubbing away thus." And really the process of itching is a yery extraordinary process. It amounts to a contagion. Mankind itch by virtue of sympa- thy ; and it is highly probable that most living f^oBophers have observed that the power of sympathy is extremely comprehensive , 'btit whether the profound cbservations of those philosophers have extended to this interesting particular or not, it is nevertheless true, that of this most extraordinary power, men are ab- solute slaves. " But do you not think now," observed Mra Goodman. " that if you were to acknowledge that you have acted very wrong, and were to throw yourself as it were at once upon his generosity, that — '■" " Pooh !" exclaimed Horace. "Generosity! Fancy the governor throwing himself upon any- thing like the old boy's generosity ! How would he have to go to work? I'll just tell you, and then you'll know how it would sound : — ' My brother' — ^he would have to say^ pulling the longest possible phiz, ' my dear brother, J cocked you into a madhouse, in order, of course, to swindle you out of your property. You are not mad, my brother ; you never were mad — I know that remarkably well ; but not- withstaiiding, into the lunatic den you were thrust, as indeed you are in all probability^ aware. Now, I really am sorry, particularly sorry; I have sold the old house, sold the whole of the furniture, pocketed the pecuniary chips they produced, and as a matter of course, spent those chips liberally. My conscience, how- ever, told me that I had done extremely wrong, and that I ought to release you. I acted upon the suggestions of that unhappy wretch of a conscience, and released you accordingly; and now, my dear brother, having acknowledged my error, I throw myself upon your generosi- ty.' Now I know the old boy pretty well : 1 know him to be occasionally rather of the warmest; but leaving what he would be likely to do for a moment out of the question, I'll just explain to you how I should act in a case of the kind myself: — In the first place, then, 1 should secure all the papers, and having se- cured them, I should say, 'Now, I tell yoo what it is : you're my brother — more's the pity — ^but as you are my brother, why I don't want to ruin yodr prospects in life ; but if you don't leave the room before I can lift up my foot, I'll do my best to kick you into the autumn of next year; and if ever I catch you near my house again, I shall consider it my duty, on purely public grounds, to hunt you at once from society.' ' But I throw myself upon your gene- rosity!' you would exclaim, 'I am sorry for what I have done, dear brother : I cannot say more!' 'Be off!' I should cry with certain highly appropriate epithets, ' and never, by any chance, let me see you again !' That I should hold, without any disguise, to be about the most generous act of my life." " You are right; you are right," said Walter, " quite right. No, no, no ; it won't do. I am sorry, and that's a fact, sincerely sorry I went so far; but I cannot now retreat: he must re- main where he is." "As a natural matter of course!" cried Horace. " It would never do now. Let him be. The old boy, I've no doubt, is as happy as a Hottentot, and what can he want more t The idea of his being locked up there as an old lunatic is rather of the rafherest, certainly; but he'll soon get over that. And then they VALENTINE VOX. 141 Wouldn't have such laws. Blister the laws! J(hey make it positively dangerous for a man to pe safe. Therefore, henceforth, lay all the (blarae upon the Jaws, and let him remain, I don't suppose — I can't suppose he wants for any comfort : I dare say they treat him as a friend of the family : at all events we must not Jjrlng upon ourselves an uncomfortable load of starvation, that's clear." " Well, I cannot but feel," said Mrs. Good- man, " that we shall never be happy again — that we shall never have anything but misery and ill luck." , " And what sort of luck would that be which Induced us to a state of destitution ?" rejoined Horace. " It strikes me that such luck would be extremely rotten ; ii would not, at all events, be particularly briUiant ; and as for your mise- ries ! compare them with the miseries with which abject poverty teems, and then say no more about it. We of course have no practical knowledge of those, miseries ; but it occurs to me that they must be unpleasant in the extreme. It is true that if we were thus reduced, the old governor, by trotting out daily with a broom, might manage to pick up a few odd coppers ; and it is also true that, by driving a cab, I might possibly obtain enough to buy bread and cheese ; but ■vyhen I take into calm consideration all the rotten ramifications of the business, I really (Jon't think that it would answer our purpose 80 well." " No, no, no !" cried Walter, " it will not bear 8 thought. Come what may, he must remain where he is." And to this opinion, all of them eventually subscribed ; for, although their dreadful dreams were recounted, and interpreted according to the best book of fate, when the miseries which they had to endure then, were fairly weighed with those which Goodman's release would entail,: it was found that the former at once kicked the beam, and were therefore, of course, to be preferred. CHAPTEE XXXIV. WHOLE JOHN ARRIVES IN TOWN, AND WITH VALEN- TINE ATTENDS THE CIVIC PAGEANT AND FliAST. On the evening appointed for Uncle John's ^ival, Valentine went to the inn, and thevery. first man whom he recognised there was the waiter who had exhibited so laudable an anxiety to expel the invisible burglars. Of this person he inquired how they eventually actecl on that remarkable occasion; and from him he ascertained that it was generally deem- ed the most extraordinary thing in nature, inas- much as, notwithstanding one policeman pa- raded the leads, while another was stationed at the coffee-room door throughout the night, those burglarious individuals could not be cap- tured. " In the morning," continued the waiter, "we all thought they were still in the chim- Uey, you know, and to tell you the truth, you know, I had a hidea that, having been smother- ed in smoke, we should have found 'em a couple of corpses, you know; so what did vre do, but we sent for a chimbley sweeper's boy, who went up for to see into the merits of the case ; but no, not a bit of it ! — they were not there — ^they were nowhere ! However they managed to cut away, you know, as they must have done some how or another, is a mystery which can't be exploded." ' Valentine smiled at the recollection of the scene; but as the waiter was about to give ad- ditional particulars, the coach ratded into the yard. • There sat Uncle John upon the boi by the side of Tooler, and Valentine, without waiting for him to alight, at once leaped upon the wheel and grasped his hand. Uncle John was for a moment unable to speak. His heart was far too full of joy; and as he pressed the hand of his nephew with the warmth of affection, his eyes swam in tears. " I am so pleased to see you 1" «aid Valei^ tine. " My boy ! — my boy !" cried the affectionate old gentleman, gazing upon him, as well as he could through his tears, with an expression of ecstasy, — "God bless you! God bless you!— ' Why how you have grown!" he continued, after a pause. " Your poor mother would scarcely believe her own eyes !" " She is well," I hope V "Oh, yes: quite well! — quite well!" — and while he answered, he continued to gaze upon his "boy" in the fulness of affectionate pride. He was then so happy that it singnlarly enough did not occur to him that he was still on the box: nor would it in all probability have occurred to him for the next half hour, had not Tooler ad* dressed him on the subject of his luggage. ''Well," said Valentine, when his uncle had alighted, "what sort of a journey have you had?" " You young dog, sir !" exclaimed Uncle John, " I never had such a journey ! My hfe has been in jeopardy all the way. I have as near- ly as possible fallen off that" box twenty times! How (lare you serve a man as you served poor old Tooler the day you came up, sir? He has told me all about it. I know that it was you ! He has kept me for the last forty mUes in one continual roar. The idea! — and then for him to fancy" — here he again began to laugh with so much energy and spirit, that it was with ditS-- culty he managed to point out his ancient port« manteau and trunk. This feat was, however, eventually accomplished, and the coachmait came up ostensibly with the view of expressing hlB mSst anxious solicitude, having reference to its being all right. " Well, Tooler," said Valentme, " how is the witch?" " Oh ! — Ah ! — Yow were the young genel man as were wi' me, sir. How d'ye duel We were puty nigh makin' a muddle on't tha) time, sir, wam't we 1 — ^the baggage !" " Have you seen her of late V "Oh blarm her, no, not very lately; nor don't seems to want. She out to be swum, sir ! — that ud cule her !" " Get away, yOu young dog!" said Uncle John, as he pla<:ed a half-crown in Toder'a hand;j when as Valentine smiled, and as Unde JoLa 142 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF laughed, Tooler stared precisely as if he was unable to tell the meaning of it exactly, while Valentine, who had no disposition to enlighten him on the subject, directed one of the porters to call a coach, into which he and his uncle got with the luggage without any unnecessary delay. On arriving at Valentine's lodgings, they found that everything required had been duly prepared by the attentive little widow ; the fire was blazing brighdy : the tea was quite ready, and a ham which had been cooked for that particular occasion, stood prominently forward, embellished with an infinite variety of devices which had been cut out of carrots and turnips with surpassing ingenuity, and truly artistical taste. Uncle John looked carefully round the room, and having expressed himself satisfied with the whole of the arrangements, drew the Bofa near the fixe, and sat deliberately down with the air of a man having no other object in view than that of making himself quite at home. After tea, Valentine presented him with a meerschaum, which he had purchased ex- pressly 'for that occasion, and which Uncle John examined and appeared to prize more highly than any other thing in his possession. But before he commenced smoking, he insisted that Valentine should enter into a compact of a serious character, the spirit of which was, that the conversation should be-confined that even- ing to the extraordinary case of Goodman, for as he had already laughed enough for one day, he contended that he could not endure the re- lation of any reprehensible tricks. This was accordingly understood and agreed to, and on the subject of Goodman's absence, they there- fore conversed. Uncle John felt quite sure that he should be able to find hira, being de- termined, as he explained, to go at once to head-quarters ; and with this conviction strongly impressed upon his mind, he eventually retired for the night. Now it happened that on the following mom- ing he had occasion to go into the city, and it also happened that that very morning was the morning of the eighth of November. For the city therefore, immediately after breakfast, he and Valentine started, and on reaching Cheap- side, they heard Bow-church bells ringing very merrily and firing very fiercely, and hence na- turally imagined that some civic business of importance was about to take place. They had not proceeded far before they heard a lively flourish of trumpets, and saw a long line of pn- vate carriages approaching, some of which were eactremely gay, preceded by certain official in- dividuals on horseback, having under their immediate surveillance a little legion of consta- Ues, of whom the majority were zealously oc- cupied in striking the noses of horses attached to vulgar vehicles with their staves, and com- manding their drivers in a duly authoritative tone, to get out of the way, down the back Streets at once, if they wished to avoid the con- ^quences of their official displeasure. Of course Valentine inquired into the raean- ijig of all this, and was informed that the newly ^ected Lord Mayor was about to be sworn into oiffice : he also ascertained that none were ad- Boitted into the Guildhall to witness the solemn ceremony, but those who had orders. ' • i should like to be present exceedingly," said he; "bul then where are these orders to be procured?" " Probably," suggested Uncle John, " we sfaatt be able to get them of Clarksan, upon whoi» we are now about to call." To Clarkson's they therefore hastened, and after the business in hand had been transacted, Mr. Clarkson sent out for an order at once. " But you should go to the Lord Mayor's din- ner," said that gentleman, when the messenger had departed. " That indeed would be a treaty if you never were there." " Is it possible," said Uucle John, " for any but members of the corporation to be admitted without a special invitation V " Oh, dear me, yes ! You have but to pro- cure a ticket of an alderman, or one of the common council." " It unfortunately happens, that I have not the honor to be acquainted with any one of those gentlemen,'' rejoined Uncle John ; " but could I not purchase two, for me and my nephew, by applying at head-quarters?" \ " They are not to be purchased there." " I'd give ten pounds for two of them, to any man, with pleasure." " In that case," observed Mr. Clarkson, "yon have only to put an advertisement to that effect into one of the morning papers, to be gratified. The common councilmen frequently dispose of them in that way. But, now I come to think of it, it strikes me that there is a chance of my being able to get them without any such e* pense. It is certainly rather late ; but I'll try-f- I'U do my utmost. Leave your address. I think that I may almost venture to promise'." " My dear sir !" cried Uncle John, " you can't conceive how much obliged to you I should feel. Why, it would be to us the highest treat in nature! Val, write the address." This was accomplished, of course, with great alacrity, and the messenger having returned with the order, Uncle John again explained how highly he should esteem the promised favor, and proceeded with Valentine at once to Guildhall, descanting with due eloquence on the politeness of Mr. Clarkson. On reaching the entrance, they found it evt- rounded by a number of constables, who were watching, with apparently intense interest, ce^ tain groups of ratner suspicious-looking young gentlemen, who wore their hats over their eyes, that the back of their heads might be suff^ ciently well aired, and one tastefully-inverted curl immediately over each temple. Without entering, however, into the spirit, of the inte- rest thus createdj Uncle John submitted ths order to a person m attendance, and they pro- ceeded at once into the body of the Hall, which then assumed an appearance very different from that which distinguished it when Valentine inv parted apparently speech to the civic gianti. On this occasion, a great variety of banners, shields, and other insignia, were displayed with appropriate taste in all dkections ; and while 6b the left a number of workmen were engaged, some in making all the noise they deemed es- sential to the manufacture of tables and fornM| and others on taking the mock men in stauH VALENTINE VOX. 143 wit of blankets, witli the view of placing them in the various niches of the Hall ; on the right atood between three or four hundred persons, who were occupied in looking, with great appa- rent curiosity, at about fifty solemn individuals, tn gowns trimmed with fur, who were sitting wrttn appropriate grace and gravity on either side of an open space, at the upper end of which stood a large arm-chair, bemnd an an- cient and dirty little table. "Who are those gentlemen?" inquired Va- tentine, of a person who stood near him. "The common councilmen,'' replied that person ; " they are waiting for the Lord Mayor and aldermen, who are now in the council- chamber, up them there steps." ■ At this interesting moment, sundry high ofR- dal personages ran down those steps, and after bnstfing backwards and forwards, and looking very mysterious, ran up them again with great presence of mind. This proceeding appeared to be indicative of something, for it mstantly caused many otherfe to busde, with equal dex- terity and tact, and doubdess, with an equally high object in view. ; At length an extremely important personage Diade his appearance, and every eye was in an faistant directed to the steps down which he had majestically glided. The noise" of lie "porkmen ceased — a procession approached. A Seath-like silence pervaded the hall : the sus- pense was truly awful. 'I'he style in which the inighty individuals who composed this proces- sion stepped out, was. inconceivably grand! Solemnity was the chief characteristic of each look — importance was perched upon each am- ple, brow. Their air was noble ! They seemed to feel the weight of their respective responsi- bilities, albeit they bore them with dignity and ease. Some were adorned with violet gowns, richly embellished with massive chains of vir- gin gold ; but although some had gowns with- out any such embellishment, and others had no gowns at all, all who formed the procession Iboked equally immense, and equally resolved ■to inspire spectators with awe. t Well ! on arriving at that part of the Hall, in which the grave common councilmen were (dtting in all their glory, the civic king, who was about to abdicate, proceeded majestically to the chair. He really appeared to know that b was for the last time, but he nevertheless kept up his spirits, and absolutely smiled upon all around with surpassing grace, although it was, beyond dispute, an extremely trying mo- ment. It may have been in all probability observed, that when mortals do anything for the last time — conscious of its being for the last time — they feel it ; but who that hath not been a tod mayor himself, can appreciate the feelings which rack a lord mayor on his resigning in toto that which had for years been placed upon the pinnacle of his ambition? It was suggest- ed, some few years ago, that it was hard that the Mayor should lose his title with his office ; ■nd it IS hard, very hard, particularly hard ! — Uie title ought to be retained. To be addressed sa *' my lord," for twelve calendar months, and «8 " sir" for ever ^ter, is monstrous ! But this matter will be seen in the right light by-and- bye, and posterity will hold the age in which we now live to be one of the dark ones in con- sequence. However, be this as it may, there is one thing quite clear, and that is this — that the Lord Mayor, in this instance, sat for the last time in the state chair, with truly admirable resignation, and that the Lord Mayor elect, who was a much stouter man, sat beside him. Such, therefore, being the state of the case then, an individual, who was at that time yclept the common ciier, walked solemnly in front of the state chair, and made an extremely profound reverence, with the mace upon ha shoulder. He then took thren very graceful steps, and made another low reverence, and then three steps more, when having made ano- ther reverence of a character still more pro- found, he ingeniously made the mace stand upright before the table. Qn. this highly appro- priate piece of unspeak^le solemnity, beina accompUshed to the go'tire satisfaction of aU concerned, a grave -Jfersonage, who rejoiced in the extraordinary title of Town Clerk, marched in front of the stite chair, and after taking nine well-measured steps, halting three times of course, to make three very distinctly marked reverences, which were quite as low as those that had been made by the Town Crier — ^Iib happily arrived at the table, when the Lord Mayor elect most majestically rose with a view to the reception of the oaths. Those oaths were administered; and when the Lord Mayor elect had placed his signature in a journal expressly provided for that purpose, the old Lord Mayor left the chair, and after solemnly approaching the new Lord Mayor and taking him affectionately by the hand, he smiled a peculiarly gracious smile, said an en- couraging something, handed him, with unex- ampled elegance, to that seat which he had for twelve months occupied with honor to himself and advantage to the city, and sat beside him amidst a loud clapping of hands, which was at once very solemn and very enthusiastic. The worthy aldermen then rose with all the dignity at their command, for the purpose of congratu- lating the new civic king, and shaking hands with his lordship individually, and warmly, and when tliis had been gracefully and satisfactor rily accomplished, the Chamberlain — a person, on the subject of whose solemnity of aspect two rational opinions could not be entertained stood in front of the new Lord Mayor and mads a reverence, and having measured the distance with his eye, took four steps — in consequence of his steps being shorter, although his legs were longer than those of the Common Crier and the Town Clerk, who in three steps got over the same space of ground — and mad*" another low reverence; and then he took fou- steps more, and having made a third reverence, equally profound, he presented the late Lor Mayor with a sceptre, and the late Lord Mayoi having nothing then to do with it, handed it over to the new Lord Mayor, when the new Lord Mayor returned it to the Chamberlain, who placed it upon the table and made a fourth low reverence, and took four steps backwards to make a fifth low reverence, and then f»ur 144 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF steps more to make a sixth low reTerence, when he held out his hand for the seal, and having advanced and retired in like manner, taking the same number of steps, and making the same number of reverences, he gracefully held forth his hand for the purse, with which the same solemn ceremony was performed, with this addition, that the new Lord Mayor did shake the purse with the view of ascertain- ing what was in it — a proceeding which shocked the grave personages present, who obviously held it to be a species of levity which was, un- der the awful circumstances of the case, repre- hensible in the extreme. This feeling, however, lasted but for a mo- ment, and the Chamberlain had no sooner finished his task, which he appeared to hold in high admiration, than the junior clerk advanced ui the self-same fashion, but with somewhat less grace than the Chamberlain had displayed, and having taken the sceptre, seal, and purse from the table, retired, stepping backwards as s matter of course, and making six profound averences altogether, when another individual ieaiing a sword, which seemed to be within an inch or two as long as himself, advanced and presented it to the late Lord Mayor, who presented it to the new Lord Mayor, who returned it to the individual who had submitted it to their notice, and who retired with it backwards, having made the prescribed number of reve- rences with a tact which the junior clerk must have envied. This was all very solemn and very interest- ing ; but Uncle John conld not appreciate its importance ! " What," said he in a whisper, "what in the name of reason is the use of it? What does it all mean?" Valentine was not then prepared to explain either its use or its connection with the name of reason^ but he suggested that the probability was that it meant something,- and hinted at the possibility of those reverences being absolutely essential to the preservation of the city's charter. It struck him, however, at the same time forci- bly, that a sufficient number of reverences had not been made, for he remembered that at the House of Commons they made eighteen bows — that is to say three to every four steps — whereas here they had made but six, which amounted to a clear taking off of two-thii-ds of the solemnity. Thus, however, this part of the ceremony was accomplished, and the late Lord Mayor, when the bearer of the sword had retired, rose again to shake hands with the new Lord Mayor, T^en the Aldermen rose for the same solemn purpose, then the whole of the common coun- cilmen, and then the great officers of the various companies, and then all the rest of the function- aries attached to the corporation: in fine, his lordship was shaken by the hand by about three hundred individuals, and as they all shook as if they were anxious to shake his hand off, his lordship, immediately after the operation, very carefully placed his right hand, in his bosom with a view to the eventual restoration of his ■wrist, when the whole of the ceremony being fliUs completed, he and the late Lord Mayor, pieceded by the officers, and followed by the aldermen, left the hall in the same solemaf styl» as that in which they had entered. Uncle John, however, still thought the whola of the ceremony — with the exception of tha process of administering the oaths — most ab- surd. He did not approve of it : he could nol approve of it : he held it to be the most fool- ishly ridiculous piece of mummery he had evei beheld; biif Valentine suggested that men should not denounce or even deem that absurd, the utility and meaning of which they coulu not understand. " In those reverences," said he, ■' for example, there may be more, much more than meets the eye. Upon them, the rights and privileges of the citizens may for aught we know entirely depend. But mde, pendently of this, it is abundantly clear that in denouncing these proceedings as mere foolery, we denounce by implication as fools, all by whom these proceediijgs are upheld, and we must not allow it to escape us, that we are now in the very first city in the world, the most ei> lightened spot upon the face of the globe, the very centre of civilization. We therefore ought not to suppose it to be likely that these ceremo- nies, however ridiculous they may appea^' would be upheld if there were not somethii^ in them of a solemn and useful character." Uncle John was by no means convimed of the soundness of this argument, which he faa- cied at the time had been seriously adduced. He felt still that the ceremony was foolish, and although he would not go so far as to say thai those grave and enlightened looking persoi> ages whom he had seen were really fools, he contended that they ought to repudiate tnoati absurdities as things which were utterly be- neath them. " But," said Valentine, although he quite agreed with Uncle John, " if we even admit that these ceremonies are in the abstract ab- surd, are we sure that it is not expedient to uphold them ? Authority must not be stripped of its trappings ; and as the world still consents to be deceived by ornament, the universality of the deception forbids the supposition of its maintenance being utterly vain." "There is certainly a little more in that," said Uncle John, " and I suppose we should find it the same at head-quarters ; but I must say that in this case the thing has been carried a little beyond bounds, for instead of those ceremonies having the effect of inspiring the people with awe, they have a tendency oijy-to excite their contempt ; and so that question's settled.'' And as Valentine permitted it to be thus settled, they at once left the hall ; but as Uncle John, on reaching Cheapside, nould stop to inspect, minutely, the contents of almost every shop window, their progress was indeed but slow. They did, however, eventually ar- rive at St. Paul's Church Yard, and as they perceived, on passing the north door of the Cathedral, that it was about half open. Uncle John expressed an anxious wish to enter the noble edifice, and having ascended the steps, they saw the door-keeper just inside, with a piece of cold meat .on a thick slice of bread is one hand, and a clasp knife of really assassin- ating dimensions in the other. VALENTINE VOX. 145 , "Can we be admitted'?" inquired Valentine of this person. "Tuppence each!" said the fellow, as he unhooked the chain which held the door. . "Two-pence each!" cried Uncle John, with an expression of indignation. " What do you moan, sir^ Here is my card; I demand ad- mittance!" "It's. tuppence each!" repeated the door- keeper emphatically ; and Valentine drew out his purse. " By no means !" said Uncle John, restraining him, '' by no means. It is not the money but the principle at which I look. It is a mon- strous principle — a principle that I never will encourage ; it being neither more nor less than that of converting the House of God into a twopenny exhibition. It is perfectly disgrace- ful," he continued, addressing the door-keeper. "Your conduct shall be known, sir, at head- quartejs !" The fellow replaced the chain, laughed, and took another mouthful of bread and meat, as Uncle John descended the steps with Valen- tine, descanting with due eloquence upon the monstrous character of this truly impious spe- cies of extortion. They now proceeded home, where they found that Mr. Clarkson had already sent the tickets, with a most polite note, in which he strongly recommended them to see the pro- cession. This they thought extremely kind. Uncle John at once declared that he should never forget it, and a very considerable portion of the evening was in consequence occupied with a discussion, the object of which was to decide which had the preponderance in the world^good or evil. In the morning, immediately after breakfast, th^' started for Guildhall, and London seemed to have poured the whole of her artisans into the city. It was then, and had been for the three preceding centuries at least, a grand day for the sight-seers of the metropolis. The streets through which the glorious pageant had to pass, were densely thronged with men, women, and children, splashed up to their very- necks, while the windows of the houses on either side were filled with gaily dressed per- sons, who amused themselves by making the roost pleasing observations upon those who were moving below them in the mud. The nearer thuy got to Guildhall, the more dense the crowd became ; but as Uncle John insisted upon going to "head -quarters," they turned into King Street, and tried with despe- ration to thread the mortal labyrinth there established. Uncle John was, however, very soon out of breath, for he met with all sorts of obstructions; and as those obstructions in- creased, and were likely to increase as he proceeded, he wisely resolved upon seeking some spot, in which he might stand compara- tively free from annoyance. "What a shame it is, that women should bring children in arms," said he, on hearing a female, who had an infant at her breast, scold- ing two men for " squeedging her babby." On looking round, however, he saw that by far the greater portion of ihe women were similarly 10 K circumstanced, and hence, assuming that the fact might have some direct, or indirect, con- nection with the privileges peculiar to the city, he said no more on the subject ; but passed on at once to a place, in which thej felt the mighty pageant might be viewed without any serious pressure. " The sight must, I should say, be magnifi- cent to draw such a multitude together," ob- served Valentine. "Magnificent!" exclaimed Uncle John, "I have always understood it to be the most gor- geous affair the imagination of man can con- ceive ! But we shall see. I don't pretend to understand the utility of it exactly ; but I ex- pect it will be splendid. We shall see." The crowd now increased about the spot in which they stood, and all were naturally anxious to get in front. "Vill you be so obleeging as to let my little boy stand aforS you, if you please," said a woman, addressing Uncle John. " By all means, my good woman," and he immediately made way for the little boy ; but the moment the space was opened, the good wonian herself, duly followed by a knot of tall coal-heaving creatures, rushed in, and thus placed Uucle John in a position in which he could not see at all. He therefore, made an observation, of which the purport was, that such a proceeding was by no means polite : and the coal-heavers heard this remarkable obser- vation ; and it struck them as being so novel and so good, that they enjoyed it exceedingly, and laughed very loudly. ValentinCj therefore, drew Uncle John to another choice spot, in which they waited with due patience for some considerable time, ma- king other observations of an equally remarka- ble caste, and being occasionally enlivened by sundry loud cries of " Here they come !" At length they saw a mighty rush, a'ld heard the trembling trumpets sound ! The effect was electric ! The crowd was seized with an uni- versal thrill ! The glorious pageant was on the move ! The band approached ! — the drums rolled! — ^the earth seemed in convu'.-;ioMs! An immense individual on hoaebuck now darted about, spurring his proud steed so hard that already had he fretted him i to such a dreadful state of perspiration, that his neck, back and haunches were covered with white steaming foam. "That's a fool!" said Uncle John, as this person gallopped backwards and forwards with the view of making himself as conspicuous as possible. " He ought to blush. That horse is not his own ; or if it be, it's the first he ever had, and he hasn't had it long. He seems to me to be quite new in office : hence he thus frets and stews that poor animal in order to show his official assiduity." " It's essential to the progress of the pageant, no doubt," observed Valentine. " Depend upon itj the procession couldn't get along without him. Behold with what elegance he bows ! — • and see those respectable coal-heavers there, how gracefully, with a nod of recognition, they wave their lily hands. He has, doubtless, thie honor of being extremely intimate with tiioie 146 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OV gentlemen." — And away the great officer gal- lopped again, as Uncle John boldly declared it to be his unbought and unbiassed opinion that the animal must very soon drop down dead. A mounted military band now passed, play- hig fiercely; then came a mighty host of dis- tbguished individuals in blue and yellow caps, and pink calico gowns, most appropriately headed by an extremely dirty streamer, the arms magnificently emblazoned upon which might, in ancient times, in all probability, have been sensible to sight. The first of these war- like creatures groaned beneath the weight of a mighty scaffold-pole, of which the circumfe- rence at its base was about twenty inches, and to which were attached three other long poles, borne by three other creatures for the purpose of keepmg the mighty one steady: but despite all tlieir efforts — which were really very des- perate, and very laudable — every slight gust of wind which caught the glorious streamer, made them stagger like warriors in the last stage of lively intoxication. " What do they make those poor men carry such an enormous thing as that for?" inquired Uncle John. " Doubdess,'' replied Valentine, " with a view to the maintenance of the peculiar rights and privileges of the city." — And other hosts passed with other long streamers, looking equally ancient and equally glorious ; and after a line of glass-coaches — ^the drivers of which were adorned with cockades of extraordinary dimensions — there came a mighty warrior clad in complete steel, with a countenance v/hich, while It expressed true nobility of soul, was embellished with whitening, burnt cork, and vermilion. He was mounted, of course, on a warlike charger, which appeared to be en- deavoring to understand the precise meaning of a piece of steel which had been strapped in front of his head, with the view of impart- ing to him the semblance of an unicorn ; but the warrior himself really looked very fierae, very noble, and very unoom.fortable. " What is that fellow for?" inquired Uncle John, with really reprehensible irreverence. "In all probability," replied Valentine, "to fight for the peculiar rights and privileges of the city." "To fight! — and there's another in brass! Do they look like fighting men ? A cane would be sufficient to unhorse them, and what would they have it in their power to do then?" This was clearly a very ungracious observa- tion, for the noble warriors tried tp look as des- perate as possible as they passed, with the yeo- men of the guard — with remarkably lo\v crowned hats, and equally remarkable high |daited frills — on either side. The late Lord Mayor followed, leaning back in his carriage, and[ looking very grave and very gloomy. His chief object was to conceal himself from the crowd as much as possible, and this is acknowledged universally to be a developement of sound discretion. Late Lord Mayors are seldom popular with the mob. In the performance of their high functions, they •ra sailed upon to punish so many, tliat were \ppf to make themselves at all conspicuous. they would be sure to be popularly recognised, and recognitions of that kind are at all times, and on both sides, extremely disagreeable. The late Lord Mayor, therefore, passe>l h; solemn silence, without apparently wishiag to provoke any unpleasant recollections, and waa followed by six individuals who sported very highly polished pumps, and very delicalb French-white silk stockings, and who, as fhpy walked on the tips of their toes, appeared tD be in a 4readful state of mind, although the tact and dexterity with which they all hopped from stone to stone, were traly amazing. ■ They took no sort of notice of the admiration they inspired ; and as for raising their eyes from the mud ! — they wouldn't have looked at their own mothers. Their whole souls seemed centered in the one great and glorious object of avoiding the innumerable little puddles in the road, and (o this all their moral and physical energies were exclusively devoted, while they bore um- brellas — expecting rain as a purely natural matter of course — with the view of imparting to all around, the conviction, that a smart shower only was required to render their hap- piness complete. On that great occasion, however, this waa denied them. They, nevertheless, passed on in peace, and were immediately fofidwed by the chief object of attraction, The Eight Honorable the Lord Mayor! There sat his Right Honorable Lordship, in that extremely unique and notorious macnibe, yclept by the vulgar the " civic state carriage." scarcely knowing what to make of it, and lock- ing as fascinating, and bowing as grotesquely as possible, while two important personages sat looking out of the windows, apparently with the view of exciting loud laughter, their promi- nent characteristics being really so droll. " Hooray !" exclaimed a mob of very dirty individuals on the left of Uncle John ; " Hoo- ray!" His Right Honorable Lordship smiled graciously, and bowed with excessive dignity, and looked very happy, and very healthy. The sight was glorious ! — ^but as this machiue wound up the pageant, it had no sooner passed than Uncle John began to swell with indignation. "Is it — can it be possible?" he exclaimed, " that this trumpery, pitiful^gingerbread busi- ness, should have induced so many thousands of persons to leave their homes to be knocked about, insulted, and covered with mud ! Why, it is beyond dispute the most vile and con- temptible piece of mummery I ever witnessed. Is this, forsooth, your most enlightened city in the world ? What is the object of it — what does it all mean ? As true as I'm alive it's the most paltry, the most absurd, unmeaning, tin-pot piece of foolery, the most ridiculous, disgrace- ful — I've been robbed !" he continued, thrusting his hand into his pockets. " I've been nlnsr dered ! — ^they've stolen my handkerchief.'' " Nothing else ?" inquired Valentine. Uncle John felt in the whole of his pockets at once, and then searched them seriatim, and then said : " No — ^no — nothing else. But then what could I expect? If the object were to draw together mmtitudes of thieves, it were n^ VALENTINE VOX. 147 teriy impossible to conceive a better plan. No- thing in life could be more directly calculated to give the pickpocketing scoundrels full Bv^ing. It is fit for nothing else in the world. The authorities, and those who uphold or even fail to denounce it, ought to blush." " But how can you conceive it to be possi- ble," urged Valentine, '■' for the dignity of the city to be upheld without it?" "The dignity of the city!" echoed Uncle John contemptuously ; " don't tell me that the dignity of the city can be upheld by such an atrocious and trumpery mockery as this. It is an absolute disgrace to the city. It tends to bring everything bearing the semblance of dig- nity into contempt. It is amazing, that the peo- ple at head-quarters should sanction so childish an exhibition. There is not a spark of reason in it — nothing to save it from ridicule, or to (Jualify contempt. It is pardonable certainly under the circumstances that «)c came; but if it were possible for any man living to prevail upon me to witness such a display of tom-fool- ery twice, I should never forgive myself — never! If they must go to Westminster, let them go like men — but come along, my boy, come along." " But you'll go and see the pageant on the water?" said Valentine. " I see the pageant on the water !" exclaim- Uncle John; "No, no; I've had enough of it, more than enough;" and having called the first coach that came in sight, they at once proceed- ed home. Valentine was highly amused at the indigna- displayed by Uncle John. He regarded it as a sort of compensation for the disappointment he had experienced, and he could not disguise from himself that he had been disappointed; for instead of the procession being magnificent, as he certainly expected it would have been, he held it to be a most senseless affair, and wondered quite as much as Uncle John, how the grave authorities of the city of London could uphold a species of mummery so wretched. " Well !" said Uncle John, on reaching home, * we win go at all events and see the end of lliis business ; but if the banquet be conducted in a similar style, I shall set down the great corporation of London at once as a great corpo- ration of fools." And having thus expressed his sentiments on the subject, he began to bus- tle about, and continued to be particularly busy until the time for starting had arrived, when tliey sent for a coach, and set off for Guildhall, with no very magnificent anticipations. On entering the hall, Uncle John was, how- ever, so stnick with the dazzling splendor of the scene, that Valentine could scarcely get him along. "Well," said he, "this is indeed Tery brilliant. It makes up for all. They could produce nothing better than this at head.- Quarters." Valentine assented at once to this opinion, but urged him again to proceed, and after an immense deal of pulling and persuasion, he succeeded in seating him at one of the tables, when he explained that he was at that moment perfectly happy. This was pleasant ; and when the ceremony of receiving the distuiguished g'lests had been duly accomplished, the tables began to crack beneath the weight of immense tureens : and when grace had been said with due solemnity and force, the guests commenced opeiations in the twinkling of an eye. Uncle John, however, at first felt quite ner- vous. The scene had so excited him, that it was not until he had been challenged by sev- eral gentlemen, with extraordinary politeness and grace, that he was able to enjoy himself a: all. JiThe wine, however, very soon braced up his nerves by placing him on somewhat better terms with himself, and he began to feel per- feody at home, and succeeded in eating an excellent dinner, and freely expressed his senti- ments on the chief characteristics of the ban- quet, and conversed with much eloquence and warmth with several exceedingly communica- tive persons, who politely pointed out the most distinguished of the guests — an operation in the performance of which, most men experience peculiar pleasure. Well ! in due time the Lord Mayor commenc- ed the list of toasts, and the speeches, cheers, and glees which succeeded were so eruivening and appropriate, that they seemed to impart universal delight. But it happened that at that particular period of Britsh history, the Ministers of the Crovni were extremely unpopular with the party to which their immediate ofiicial predecessors belonged — a fact which is of so striking and extraordinary a character, that it becomes high- ly correct to record it in these adventures. They were remarkably unpopular with that particular party ; but as it was usual on such occasions for the Ministers of the Crown to be invited, aU who happened at the time to be in London, notwithstanding their extreme unpo- pularity, came, and moreover the health of those Ministers of the Crown was placed on the list of toasts. Now Valentine knew something of the power of party spirit. He knew that principle and honor were perpetually sacrificed at its shrine. In the town in which he was bom, he had wit- nessed it rising upon the ruins of Kendship and affection : and had found it in the metropolis to be equally powerful and equeiUy pernicious. The little experience he had had of its effects, had hence inspired him with the conviction ol its being alone sufficiently powerful to subvert almost every generous feeling by which men are actuated; but he wondered if it were possi- ble for its developement to be induced mere, where so many of the first men of the ag»— men distinguished for wealth, probity, and wisdom — had assembled, and where loy and good fellowship seemed to be in me as- cendant. He looked round : they all appeared happy. The dark passions were subdued, fenvy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness seemed, for the time being, by common consent, to be ex- tinguished. They had assembled for no party purpose; but with a view to the cultivation of those feelings which impart a zest to life, and which bind man to man. Every heart seemed open — every hand seemed ready to giye and to 148 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF receive the -warm pressure of friendship. It appeared to be a moment peculiarly adapted for the reconciliation of friends who had become enemies, their hearts seemed so ardent — their feelings so pure. Notwithstanding all this, however, Valentine determined, for his own satisfaction, on trying the experiment. He inclined to the opinion, that the slightest manifestation of party-spirit would, at such a time, be treated as so great an indignity, that it would instantly be drowned in enthusiastic cheers, in which men of all parties would readily join; but in order to test the soundness of this opinion he resolved, never- theless, when the time came, to manifest some slight disapprobation, just sufficient to make it understood, and no more. Accordingly, when in due course the Lord Mayor rose, with the view of proposing the health of the Ministers, Valentme, the very moment their names were announced, sent a sound along the table, which amounted to no more than a murmuring buzz. In an instant the demon of party arose ! That sound, slight as it was, was hailed as the signal for confusion. Every countenance changed as if by magic. They of the Ministerial party applauded with unparalleled vehemence; while they of the Op- position hissed and groaned like tortured fiends. The Lord Mayor knit his brows and pursed his lips, and looked very indignant. His exer- tion s to restore order were desperate, but ineffec- tual. In vain he denounced it as an irregular proceeding. Innumerable were his efforts to convince them of its being one of which he did not, and could not, and ought not to approve. The Opposition would not hear him. The party tocsin had been sounded, and it proved the knell of peace. They who a moment before seemed so happy and so joyous, were now in fierce contention, their bosoms swelling with fparty spite. At length, however, the action of the Mayor was so extremely energetic, that it produced an effect which enabled him to make a few ad- ditional observations, which were really very just and very much to the purpose; but the moment the Premier rose with his colleagues, with a view to the simple acknowledgment of the toast, the frantic sounds which assailed them were comparable only with those which Valentine had heard in the House of Commons. Had the Ministers been fiends, the Opposition could not have expressed a greater amount of -indignation : had they been gods, the Ministeri- alists could not with greater enthusiasm have cheered them. They nevertheless still kept their ground, and that with just as much calmness as if they had .been used to it. The Premier slightly smiled at his colleagues, and his colleagues smiled slightly at him. This seemed to enrage the Opposition still more; but the louder they mani- lested their sentiments on the subject, the louder were the sentiments of the Ministerialists ex- pressed. Thfe Lord Mayor again rose, and the t)pposition seemed to groan even at him, when Uncle John deeming that most atrocious, started dp and cried '-' shame !" with an expression of indignation which nothing else could match. Valentine,. however, immediately drew hii> down, and begged of him earnestly not to inter- fere; but Uncle John could not endure it. •'Thu ingrates !" he cried, " thus to groan at head- quarters after having been swelled out as they have been, and that with all the delicacies of life ! It's really monstrous i" "It is, it is, I know it is," said Valentine, "but don't interfere." Uncle John shook his head very fiercely ; he was very indignant; and the Lord Mayor said something which could not be heard; but which appeared to be generally understood to be very severe, for it had the effect of some- what subduing the most noisy ; but the moineiil the Premier opened his lips to address them, the Opposition recommenced operations, and the conflict between them and the Ministerial- ists became far more desperate than ever. "Silence! Yovl wretches !" exclaimed Uncle John. " Uncle ! uncle \" cried Valentine, pulling him down; "tliey'll take you for one of the Opposition !" '■'Let them!" returned Uncle John. "Let them take me for one of the Opposition ; I am one of the Opposition; but I'd scorn to oppose men in this cowardly way." The Lord Mayor again rose, and with most indignant emphasis, said, " Really ;" — ^but as this was all the Opposition suffered him to say, he at once resumed his seat, with a look very strongly indicative of anger. It became quite impossible now for Uncle John to remain quiet. He kept fidgeting about, grinding his teeth, and biting his lips, and ex- claiming as he clenched his fists, " Oh ! I should like to bo at some of them dearly !" He put it to those around him, w^hether it were not most disgraceful, and their affirmative replies made him infinitely worse. Had they wisely dis- sented, they might have calmed him at least in so far as to induce him to a,rgue the point; but as the case stood, Valentine found it im- possible to restrain him. "If," said the Premier, with really admirable coolness and self-possession, taking advantage of a temporary lull : " If the gentlemen will only be silent for one moment — " No ! — They would not be for one moment silent : they re- commenced groaning like furies, and this of course again induced thunders of applause. "Where are these groanersV thought Va- lentine. He could hear them disiinctly enough, but couldn't see them. "Are they all Ven- triloquists V His attention was at this particular moment directed to an elderly individual whose mouth Was apparently closej. He watched him nar- rowly. He was straining at something. His face was remarkably red, and while his eyes appeared to be in the act of starting from their sockets, he was obviously perspiring with infii nite freedom. Could he be a groaner? He was! He was then hard at work: no man could have been more zealous, although he kept his eyes fixed with surpassing firmness upon the table, as if watching the evolutions of some very minute natural curiosity, and appa* rently DPticing no other thing. VALENTINE VOX. 149 " Shame !" cried Valentine, throwing his Toice dexterously behind this indefatigable •>erson, who turned sharply round, being duly pprehensive oi detection, but as, contrary to his lively anticipations, he saw no one there, lie Very wisely returned to his interesting task, which really seemed to afford him unspeakable pleasure. " I see you," said Valentine, throwing his Toice again just behind the individual in ques- tion, and again he looked round with an ex- pression of intense interest: but as of course he could see no one near him, he appeared to regard it as by far the most astonishing circum- stance that ever occurred to him during the whole course of his life. " I see you !" re- peated Valentine, which was really the fact : he saw him in a state of amazement the most remarkable he ever beheld. The individual seemed not to know at all what to make of it. He felt that surely he could not be mistaken, that surely he had heard some one speak, and that surely he was at that moment under no direct or indirect supernatural influence ! — and yet, where was the man who had addressed him 1 This was a mystery which he had by no means the ability to solve, but it had the effect of inducing him to be silent, although the groaning in otiier quarters was as fierce as before. The Opposition, however, were not alone to be blamed. The Ministerialists themselves were highly culpable. Had they left the groaning people to pursue that great course, which appeared to inspire them with so much delight, unmolested; had they been content ■With giving at the commencement, three glori- ous rounds of enthusiastic cheers, and then leaving the gioaners to themselves, the confu- sion might thus have been avoided. But this they would not do. They would have a bat- tle. They seemed to be prompted by some eternal, aiid essentially cabalistic principle, to beat them. They would make more noise ; and they did make more noise : they made ten times more noise than the groaners. It was i they who would not let the Premier speak : it was they who drowned the voice of the Lord Mayor. The groaners could never have stopped the speeches themselves, and of this, the Ministerialists appeared to be conscious, for they lent them throughout their most power- ful aid. It is a fact, which may in all probability be held to be extraordinary, that the slightest sound of disapprobation, if persevered in, is sufficient to create in an assembly, however honorable and enlightened, universal confusion ; but there is yet another fact, which is not per- haps of quite so extraordinary a character, but which is this — that constant straining, to state it shortly, will in fulness of time produce ex- haustion ; and the moment a practical illustra- tion of that fact was in this particular instance afforded, the Lord Mayor, who was a manly and rather a handsome individual, again rose, and said very properly^, and very energetically, " that he and the sheriffs had not been treated aa they expected." "Of course not!" exclaimed Uncle John, who very seriously thought, that as everything had been provided in a style the most delicate, and the most sumptuous, from the two hundred and fifty tureens of real turtle to the several hundred thousand plates of pippins, such treat- ment was monstrous in the extreme. The Lord Mayor said no more : he resumed his seat with dignity, but still with an expres- sion of noble indignation, and that expression was hailed with loud cheers; but the moment the Premier — who with his colleagues still manfully maintained his position — re-opened his lips, the Opposition, who felt themselves bound to produce the next harmony, favored the com- pany with a little more groaning. The Min- isterialists again knew their cue, and they again set to work as one man, and did really succeed in the production of the greatest amount of noise that ever issued from a corresponding number of human throats. Nor were they content with vocal music. By no means. They beat the tables with all the energy of young drummers, while Uncle John was striking that at which he was sitting with the force of a Cyclops. The glasses danced with peculiar animation, and shook out the wine that was in them that they might do it with all possible effect ; and while the pippins seemed to fancy that they had been magically metamorphosed into mar- bles, the dishes they had deserted rattled after them fiercely, with the apparent view of con- vincing them that such was not the fact. The Lord Mayor now appeared to be some- what raoie tranquil. It seemed to have struck him with peculiar force, that it was perfectly useless to manifest anger. There fee belliger- ents were : some were hissing, some were groaning, some were shouting, and some were laughing, while others were indignantly fidget- ing about and explaining what they thought of the matter on the whole. It was impossible therefore for his lordship to do any good by being angry. He could not hy such means quell the ridt. He seemed lo feel this forcibly, and hence, quite conscious of having done all he had the power to do, he very wisely made up h's ramd that it wap a duty incumbent upon him as a magistrate, as a mayor, and as a man to endure it all with the most perfect resignation. The Premier stood like a smiling statue. He was anxious to have it distlncdy understood, that if they conceived him to be tixe man to sit down, before he had said what he had to say, they were dreadfully mistakeii. He; there- fore, stood as firmly as a rock, and continued thus to stand, until the majority of those who were engaged in the conflict, displayeo une- quivocal symptoms of exhaustion, when taking advantage of that interesting moment, he managed to say something, which appeared to have some slight rfeference to the army and navy, and resumed his seat boldly and in- stantaneously, amidst an unexampled burst,- composed of hisses, cheers, and groans. This, however, in a very few minutes TOb» sided, and the glorious conflict was over. The Opposition party prided themselves on havino produced it, and the Ministerialists, with equd pride, felt that they had had the best of it oa 150 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF the whole. The Lord Mayor expressed his sentiments on the subject to those around him, and thoae around him expressed theirs, with due eloquence and point: in fact, every man present — not excluding the professional indi- viduals in the orchestra — was on this subject warmly contributing to the universal buzz, which for a long time pervaded the Hall. Valentine really was very much annoyed at having tried the experiment. He contended within himself, that he ought to have known that party spirit was sure to develope itself, whenever an opportunity arose ; it mattered not, whether it were in the senate, the ban- queting hall, or the church. He was, there- fore, by no means content: for although he was perfectly conscious, that they who had permitted themselves to be so powerfully in- fluenced by party feelings at such a time, and on such an occasion, ought to blush ; he felt, nevertheless, that he had awakened those feel- ings; that — although it had all been accom- plished by a murmur — he had converted a joyous happy scene into one of malicious con- fusion. The mischief however, had been done, and as he thought that it was, therefore, extremely impohtic to vex himself any more about the matter then, he turned, with the view of di- verting the current of his thoughts to some more agreeable subject, and found Uncle John fast asleep J He had been beating the table with so much energy, and shouting — order ! Bilence ! and shame ! — with such extroardinary zeal, that he had become quite exhausted ; and there he sat with folded arms, his soul sealed to the consciousness of care, and his lips pouting perfect contentment, while, as he nodded, nature gave him an occasional jerk, with the sublime view of keeping him up. ." Uncle !" said Valentine, shakijigthe sleeper, who murmured and nodded, and went to sleep again. "Uncle !" he continued, " do you know where you are V The sleeper was unable, at that precise mo- ment, to tell whether he really did or not, but he opened his eyes in order to satisfy himself on the subject, and then said, " Why bless me ! I'd no idea that I was asleep ! not the slightest ! I hope no one noticed it 1 Dear me ! it's highly incorrect; very wrong: very wrong. But I'm aU right now — as wide awake as I was in the morning. Well ! they have settled it, I see : you have had no more disturbance V "No," replied Valentine; "but look at the people : how dull they all are ! The Lord Mayor has been laboring very hard to restore them to good humor, but without any sensible effect. They have made up their minds now not to be pleased." And this really appeared to be the case. They seemed to be dissatisfied with every- thing. Toasts were proposed, and speeches were made; but neither speeches nor toasts oould reinspire them. Of course the Lord Mayor could not, under these circumstances, feel very happy. He did all of which he was capable with a view to the restoration of those harmonious feelings which existed before the disturbance commenced ; but •s be failed in this — signally failed — h& left the chair as soon as he could with due :egard unte his dignity and before twelve o'clock, every guest had departed. The matter was, however, by no means al- lowed to rest here. The effects of the dis- turbance were terrific ! — it induced a paper war of the most desperate character — a war wlueh raged with really unparalleled fierceness for weeks. The Opposition journals hailed it as a glorious and indisputable proof of the surpass, ing unpopularity of those ministers whom they had with extraordinary acuteness discovered to be totally unfit to rule the destinies of this mighty empire. "How," they exclaimed, "can those atro- cious, and disgusting political anthropophagi dare to drag on their disreputable, dirty, and degraded official existence after this unexam- pled — this mighty demonstration of universal scorn? It is an insult to the whole British nation ! — a gross, comprehensive, unmitigated insult ! — an insult which cannot, and shall not be endured ! What can be in reality more contemptibly atrocious than the conduct of men who have the brazen . audacity — ^the un- blushing impudence — to pretend to rule a deeply reflecting people, who cannot regard them but with loathing and disgust? Caa anything reflect more di^race upon a mighty and highly enlightened nation, than the ex- istence of men as ministers, so utterly con- temptible, so justly abhorred? How, then, with any show of decency, can they for a mo- ment retain office after such an universal burst of popular execration ? Yet are they in office still! Conscious of the whole country being against them ; — conscious of being the laugh- ing-stock of Europe ; — conscious — they cannot but be conscious — of being despised and con- temned by all the intelligence, all the wisdom, all the wealth, respectability, and virtue of this great nation ; these abhorrent, these im^ becile, shabby, contemptible, political jugglers still cling, with the tenacity of polypi, to power, that they may dip their unhallowed fingerg into the public purse to enrich themselves and their execrable satellites ! Englishmen ! will you suffer this humiliating state of things any longer to exist ? Britons ! are you prepared to become the slaves — the vile, crawling, abject slaves— of that detestable clique, of which the members now bid you defiance 1 If there be a single drop of the patriotic blood of your fore- fathers thrilling through your veins, you will arise, and with one universal and simultaneous burst of indignation, denounce these degraded pohtical reptiles — as they were denounced at Guildhall, — and hurl them at once from that position in which they now have the impudeaea to stand !" While the Opposition journalists were en- gaged in the manufacture of these highly ap- propriate philippics, they on the Ministerial side were contending with extraordinary force and ingenuity, that the disturbance in questioi^ instead of being, as pretended, a striking proof of the unpopularity of the ministers, in reali-y proved that they never were so popular, seeing that whereas it all originated with a disap* pointed alderman who had under his immediate VALENTINE VOX. 151 Kurveillarice just forty individuals, about twenty yours of age; from whom the whole of the groaning proceeded, it would not have been worth any disappointed aldennan's while ' to have organized those groaning individuals, if the pbpiSarity of the Ministers had been on the wane, or if it had not in fact been increasing. And this was held to be an extremely strong argument — one which absolutely earned con- viction on the face of it; and as the Opposition journalists; in their presumptuous effbrts to answer- it, tried desperately to shake it to its base;, it was again and again repeated with additional tropes, and hereupon the fierce jour- nalists fell foul of each other. The Ministerialists commenced the attack; they undertook to prove, with mathematical Erecision, that they of the Opposition were laokguards ; and the Opposition journalists be- ing equally chivalrous^ assumed to themselves the province of reducmg to a dead certainty, that they on the Ministerial side were natural fools. And strange to say, they both eventually succeeded lo their own most entire satisfaction, but — which is still more strange, they were utterly unable to obtain acknowledgments of success from each other ! — hence, at the happy termination of»the struggle, they ostensibly held the same views on the subject as those which tliey held when the struggle began. It is a duty, however, which the historian owes as well to himself as to the public, to state that these amiable and truly ferocious journalists in all their conlentions for the one grand point were sincere. They who were on iie Opposition side of the question, did most sincerely think that the statesmen who were at that particular period in office, ought not to retain it — that they ought to make way for the Statesmen whom they had supplanted, and who i^with a species of patriotism not often to be met with, but as admirable as it is rare — were absolutely ready again to take upon themselves the cares of office, and thus to sacrifice, to an extent altogether unknown, theirprivate comforts and conveniences to the public good : they did most sincerely feel that this glorious opportunity was one which ought not to be lost — that the country owed those patriots a debt of gratitude amounting to something very considerable, for offering, without the slightest solicitation, to come forward at that truly awful crisis, to snatch the British empire from the jaws of destruction, and thereby to save those institutions which were crumbling into one uiidistinguishable mass of revolutionary dust. And equally sincere were the Ministerial journalists, when they de- clared it to be their decided opinion that the Ministers ought by no means to resigTi — that the government of the country could not by possibility be confided to men of whose princi- ples and general conduct they could so highly approve — that they were just the very men whom he people should support through thick and thir», as the only men papable of meeting the exigencies peculiar to that period — and that they could have no manner of confidence in those who then formed the corrupt and purely factious Opposition. Hence they labored night flfui day to inspire the people with a due ap- preciation of the importance of sustaining th« Ministers, as the only chance left of averting Ji most sanguinary revolution, and hence theJT were indefatigable in their efforts to dissemi- nate the belief that every act of the Ministers developed surpassing soundness of judgment and perfectly unexanjpled intellectual vigor- while every act of the Opposition displayed an extreme narrowness of soul and a dearth of judgment really pitiable. The sincerity of those journalists being then so conspicuous and extensive, it can scarcely be deemed marvellous, that the contest on that occasion should have been so extremely de* perate as it was ; but that which in all proba- bility will, in the present day, appear more ex- traordinary than all, is the fact, that notwith- standing the choicest epithets were culled on both sides with due care, and applied with due ferocity, the contest failed to affect in any way the stability of the government, for whue the zealous exertions of the Opposition did weaken it by no means, it derived from those of the Ministerialists no additional strength; and the result of the glorious war was, that while on the one hand, the Ministers were recommended never again to accept an invitation to the grand civic feast; on the other it was boldly and powerfully urged, that as Ministers they surely never would. From this struggle Valentine certainly, did derive much amusement, and when he had explained to Uncle John, that the whole affair originated with his own slight murmuring buzz, that gentleman — albeit he very properly con- demned the thing at first — viewed the progress of the batde with feelings of delight. .Morning after morning, and evening after evening, did he study the various modes of attack and de' fence; but although he laughed heartily and constantly at the arguments based upon argu- ments that were themselves based upon no- thing, the contest failed to increase his admira- tion of 1 hat uncompromising zeal, which forms so pecuiiaily the characteristic of the fourtll estate of the realm. CHAPTER XXXV. VALENTINE EECOVEES THE HISHLT VALUED CASD, AND PROCEEDS WITH UNCLE JOHN TO THE EXHI- BITION OF FAT CATTLE. Albeit Uncle John had come to London ex- pressly to go at once to head-quarters, with a view to the discovery of Goodman ; he was in town more than a month before he managed to find time to take even the preliminary step. He had formed highly laudable resolutions every evening, with a species of regularity which was really of itself truly striking; but every morning, with precisely corresponding regularity, there had arisen fresh temptations sufficiently powerful to set those highly lauda- ble resolutions at defiance. "I never saw such a place as this London," he would observe; " upon my fife, I don't appear to have time to do a thing : I keep going on and on in a per- petual state of fever, driving here, there, and everywhere, racing and chasing, and bobbing in and Out, and really seem to do nothing after 152 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF all. I can't understand it. It's a mystery to me. The place seems to have been designed expressly to worry men to death." And it reially is an absolute fact, that he did feel occa- eionally vbtv much confused — nay, it would sometimes happen that a temporary derange- ment of his intellects would develope itself — and hence it will not be deemed in the long run extraordinary that every day after dinner he should fall fast asleep with his highly-prized meerschaum in his mouth. Now as it is not very generally known, it cannot be very incorrect to obsenre that Uncle John was one of those remarkable men who invariably make a dead stop in the street when they have anything striking to communicate, to look at, or to learn. This practice at first an- noyed Valentine exceedingly, for although his uncle never stopped dead in the road, but flew over every crossing with as much of the facility of a greyhound as he comfortably could, whether carriages were or were not within view; he would frequently do so in the midst of a mortal stream, when they who happened to be behind could not avoid running forcibly against him. Sometimes a butcher's boy would poke his hat off with his tray, and then a heavily laden porter ■would send him staggering a dozen yards or 80, and then a carpenter, shouting politely "by'r leave," would cut a piece out of his coat with flie end of a saw, which invariably disdains to be wholly smothered in a basket; but even these natural results failed to cure him of the practice : he would adhere to it in spite of them ; but certainly the most remarkable stop he ever made was precisely at the bottom of Holborn Hill. " Nowthere's a place !"said he onthatmemo- rable occasion. " Did you ever ? How people can breathe in such holes puzzles me ! Let's go and have a look at them ; come ; I dare say the poor creatures are all fit to drop; pale, emaciated, spiritless, and wretched. Shall we go?" " Oh ! with all my heart," said Valentine ; and they entered the hole which bore the sem- blance of a great commercial alley, the ancient nouses on either side of which seemed as if they had been striving for a century at least to lean against their neighbors opposite for sup- port, and had still a trembling hope of accom- plishing that object before their tottering frames tad quite crumbled into dust. Instead of being spiritless and wretched, however, the inhabi- tants were all life and jollity — ^laughing, singing, joking, and chatting as gaily as if they had been m the Elysian fields. Some were vending old shoes, some fried fish, and some tenth or eleventh-hand garments; but the real aristocracy of the place were those who exhibited an infi!- nite variety of handkerchiefs pinned upon sticks, and so arranged that each windowless shop formed a most attractive pictvire. Into these shops from time lo time sundry young gentlemen darted, and taking off their hats as became them, produced from the interior in some cases three und in some half-a-dozen bandannas which they seemed to have been fortunate enough to pick op in the street just before. " Can't I sell you one to-day T" said a black- eyed Jewess, whose tightly-twisted nngleti like well-tarred cords, lashed her bosom. "1 should like to deal with you," she continued, addressing Uncle John with a perfectly heart' winning smile. " They don't appear to me to be new," ob served that really unsophisticated gentlemait The Jewess tamed her black eyes full upon him, and seemed in an instant to have read the whole history of the man. "I think we can do a little business together," she observeds, " Just step inside here. There's no harm done, you know : I have something particular to show you." Uncle John looked at Valentine as if he did not understand it exactly ; but as Valentine, who did understand it. but smiled. Uncle John at once followed the fascinating Jewess, who pro-, ceeded at once to a drawer, and producing a bundle, said, " Now, I've something here that'll do your eyes a world of good to look at." " The bundle was opened, and the first thing which struck Uncle John was the liandkercbief ' he lost in Cheapside while looking at the Lord Mayor's pageant. " Why," said he, " what's this ? Why that's mine !" " That's what every gentleman says when, he sees a hankecher at all like his'n," replied the Jewess. "But how did you come by it?" inquired Uncle John. " Oh, I took it in the regular way of business^ of course." " But it's mine," exclaimed Uncle John. "Nowwhata mistake thatiswhen it's mine," said the Jewess. '' But how do you know it ever did belong to you? Do you think they never make two hankechers alike ?" " ni soon convince you : mine are all mark- ed," said Uncle John ; and while he looked at each comer with very great minuteness, the Jewess smiled, and eventually asked him if he were satisfied. " No, I am not," said he ; "I am not by any means. Although I can't find the mark, I still believe it to be mine." And as he round, it absolutely struck him that the whole of those handkerchiefs which then met his view had been stolen! — an extraordinary idea which at that moment made him so indignant, that he prepared to leave the shop. '■ But come, we can deal for all that," said the Jewess. "Here, take it for three-and-sij, and say you've got a good bargain." " What, compound a felony !" exclaimed Uncle John. "Well, here take it for three," said the Jewess, " and I shan't get a ha'penny by yon." Uncle John looked remarkably fierce, and said very severely, '•' It's my fii-m belief that these things you have here were not honestly come by," and having pointedly delivered himself to this effect, he turned his back upon the Jewess, who was laughing very loudly, and quitted tha shop. " It is really my opinion," he continued, addressing Valentme. " that the whole of thosa things have been stolen." " Why, of course. That is well understood." "Indeed!" cried Uncle John, and as ha stopped short to wonder that things which were VALENTINE VOX. ISS well understood to have been stolen, should be unblushingly exposed in open day, the attention «Jf Valentine was fixed upon a jacket which hung at an old clothes shop opposite. "It must be the same," thought he, " surely ! — but then there's no chance of the card being in it." "Anythings in ma vay to-day I" said a Jew who had been watching his countenance. "Anythings to puy or to shell V "Let me looic at that jacket," said Valen- tine. " What are you about V cried Uncle John. "I merely wish to see that jacket." " What, are you going to set up on your own Bccount, Val, as a barber 1" Uncle John smiled, and felt much amused ; But Valentine smileci not at all : he took the Jacket with great eagerness from the hands of the Jew, and searched the pockets. They were empty ! His hopes were again blasted. He searched them again, and again : and at length found — a hole! He revived. The card might have worked its way through it. He extended his search zealously between the striped material and the lining, and eventually in the corner he felt something closely doubled up. He. drew it forth: it was the card of him whom he had rescued ! — the father of her in whom his dearest hopes had been centred. He saw the name of Raven distinctly : he could also make out the greater part of the address. At that moment how pure was his happiness ! He felt so delighted, so joyous! Uncle John looked amazed, and the Jew, whose first im- pression was that the card was at the very least a fifty pound note, looked quite as much amazed ss Uncle John. " What is the price of this jacket ?" inquired Valentine. "Vy," said the Jew, "it shan't be tear at a Cffown. The card sheems to be vorth arl the moneesh." " I want but the card," said Valentine, giv- itig the sum demanded. "I'll make you a present of the jacket." "Nothing elsh in ma vay?" said the Jew, who felt very much dissatisfied with himself for having asked so small a sura. "No, nothing," replied Valentine. "Noth- ing," and he hurried his uncle out of the lane Bs soon as possible. " Now what's all this — what's all this busi- ness'?" demanded Uncle John, having made a dead stop at the corner. " I am happy," cried Valentine, " perfectly happy ;" and he entered at once into a minute explanation of the circumstances connected with the much valued card. " Well, and what do you want to see the girl again for V inquired Uncle John. " You can do nothing more for her now." " But she wished me to call," observed Val- entine; "and so did her father, and therefore I must, as a matter of mere courtesy." "Courtesy! Fiddlesticks!" rejoined Uncle John. " It's ray opinion that )-ou'd not be so anxious about the business if it were but a matter of meie courtesy. Did you ever see the girl before 1" "No, never!" " Then it's my firm belief that you l.ad better not see her agam. You'll only make a fool of yourself. I don't at all like these romantic affairs — they never coffe to any good. It was all very well for you to save a fellow-creature. I admire your spirit and your motive ; but, take my advice, and don't go." " But she is so sweet a girl," observed Val- entine. " Sweet ! pooh ! so they are all : I never heard of a girl being saved who was not. B^ sides, how do you know who she is, or what she is ■? that's the point." " I don't know — of course I can't tell. I am hence the more anxious to ascertain." " Well, I know how it will be — I see it all plain enough. But you can't go to day, that's quite clear." " But why can I not ?" "What! have you forgotten that this is ths last day of the cattle show 1 I wouldn't miss that for fifty pounds." " But it surely is not necessary for me to gp with you ?" " Not necessary ! How do you think it pos^ ble for me to find my way about in this wilder- ness alone ? Besides, I may be run over. A thousand things may occur. How can you oi I, or anybody tell what may happen !" Of course Valentine could not pretend to any knowledge of what might occur ; but he never- theless wished the fat cattle were drowned in the Dead Sea. He had, however, one great consolation — he had recovered the card; and as they rode towards the place at which the cattle were exhibited, he felt twenty times to ascertain if it were secure, and eventually de- termined to wait, with all the patience at his command, till the following morning. "Now," said Uncle John, on arriving at the place of exhibition, " I expect to have a treat) Val, — a glorious treat !" and having entered^ they found the place crowded with all sorts of people, from the nobleman down to the butcl^ er's boy without a hat. To the pifrs on the left Uncle John first di- rected his attention. He was a great judge of pigs, and there lay the poor animals, grunting, and snoring, and panting, and squeaj^ing, white the connoisseurs around were engaged in the pleasing occupation of slapping their haunches and pinching and twisting their tails, with the ostensible view of ascertaining how much noise it was possible for them to make. They had, of course, been made so fat that thej ability to stand was out of the question al*.i.> gether; yet, although they were all in the finest state of corpulency, they looked as ui> comfortable as pigs could look by any conceivr able possibility. " Now, there's a pig for you !" observed Ut^^ cle John, as he pointed to a black lump of flesh, which appeared to be particularly unhappy. "That pig weighs — now, what shall I say? — it weighs above fifty score !" "You're wrong!" cried Valentine, throwma his voice towards the head of the pig; "I'U bet you a bottle of wine I don't weigh above forty !" Uncle John pursed his lips and kmt hi* t54 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF brows, and then looked at the pig's head in a very straightforward manner, and then cocked his hat on one side, and scratched his head with great freedom, and feh altogether in a confused state of mind, until he turned towards Valentine, who happened to be smiling, when he saw in the twinkling of an eye what it was, and cried, Ufting his stick, "You young dog! there ! if I didn't think that pig spoke, I'm not here !" and Uncle John roared with laughter. " What a fool !" he continued. " The idea of a pig offering to bet a bottle of wine he didn't weigh forty score !" and again Uncle John burst out very merrily, until at length, screwing his countenance to a very solemn pitch, he gravely added, " But he weighs ^fty score tor all that." Well, they now left the pigs, and went at once to the other side, where the first class oxen were arranged, with backs as broad as those of full-sized elephants, and withal so re- m.arkably flat, that had they happened to have rolled upon those backs, they would have stood no more chance of getting up again, without mortal aid, than a turtle, on being placed in a c»rresponaing predicament. And they appeared to be perfectly cognizant of this, for whenever nature called upon the beasts to lie down, they obeyed her Ccdl as cautiously as Christians. " What is the use," inquired Valentine, " of fllttenins these creatures up to such an extent?" " The use !" cried Uncle John — " the use ! Why, the use of it is to see how fat they can he made." " But what is the use of seeing how fat they can be made ?" " Why, of course, to ascertain which kind of cattle will fatten, and which kind will not." " Is that the only good accomplished?" " The only good !" exclaimed Uncle John. "Is not that good enough? What would be lie use of throwing away a lot of fodder upon cattle that won't fatten at all?" "There is," said Valentine, as gravely as possible ; " a society in this wilderness, as you are pleased to terra it, for the prevention of onielty to animals. Now, the officers of that society, I think, ought to take special cogni- Kance of this exhibition, for in my view there cannot be a species of cruelty more refined than that of fattening animals up to a state in which they are conljielled to gasp at least a hundred and twenty times per minute. Just notice those poor distressed creatures, how they pant ! Can any man believe that they are not in great pain ? Suppose, for instance, that you and I were in the power of graziers who felt disposed to e.vperimeiitalize upon us ; what a sweet state of mind we should be in if they succeeded in making us in proportion as fat as those beasts !" "The grazier who could succeed, Val, in making you fat, would deserve a gold medal, thickly studded with precious stones. But we are men, and they are beasts ; that makes all the difl'erence. The cases are therefore by no mBans analogous." Valentine did not suppose that they were; but he conceived that. Uncle John might have been brought to explain more distinctly why beasts were thus fattened to an extent which T«udered their existence a burden, and hence, following the example of Undo John with tftft pig, adhered firmly to his first position, that tOB Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to An>> mals were bound to interfere. Now it really was interesting to observe how the farmers and the butchers felt the various popular parts of the animals as they stood ; but more interesting still was it to notice how ihs far more fashionably-dressed individuals, hav- ing stolen a few lessons from the butchers and the farmers, felt precisely the same parts of those animus, and looked quite as learned as the butclw ers and the farmers themselves. One in^vidnlaflj an external pink of the purest water, made hin>- self particularly conspicuous in this way; flrsi performing the operation of nipping the ani- mals, and then giving his judgment upon each to two ladies, who were of his party, with infr nite eloquence and point. Valentine was highly amused by this exquisite pretender : he felt ha proceedings to be ridiculous in the extreme, and flierefore watched him very narrowly until he reached the ox which had gained the first prize, and which he began to feel, of course, with consummate dexterity. " Now, donH pinch !" cried Valentine, thrown ing his voice towards the mouth of the ojb, which, as if to complete the illusion, at thitf moment turned its head round; "it's of no use! — ^you donH understand it!" The exquisite started back greatly confused, while the ladies were excessively alarmed at the announcement. " WelL dang my boottons!" cried a countrj^ man, ".if ever I heerd tell o' the like o' thatP "It is very extraordinary," suggested the e» quisite. "Strornary! I never come across such a thing afore in all my boom days. Tljat's woot he goot the prize for, dang me, I shouldn't wonder, I'll be bound to say — no doot." Uncle John could keep silent no longer. He burst into a roar, which so powerfully convulsed him, that he felt himself bound to hold on by the tail of the next ox. This seemed to awaken the suspicions of the pink. He' could not, it is true, understand it exactly; but he was satisfied that the animal had spoken by no means. His courage there- fore retumed, and being positively brave, he placed his hand upon the animal again. " Don't I there's a good fellow I — pray don'tP" said Valentine, throwing his voice as befoiek " You've no idea how sore I am round about the tail." And this doubtless was precisely what thB animal would have said, if it could in reality have spoken ; for as he had been at the exhv bition some days, his most popular points, that is, being inteipreted, those points which true judges mvariably assail, must have been exr tremely tender; but whether these were tha words which the animal would in such an event have uttered, or not, it is perfectly certain that they had the effect not only of inducing tha exquisite to withdraw his hand on the instant, but of inspiring those around him with wonde» " Here, Bill I" cried a butcher, addressing hig friend, " p'raps this aint a rum start ! sen I m^ live if this hox carn't talk reg'lar." VALENTINE VOX. 15S " Do vot?" cried the gentleman to whom this Impoitant communication had been addressed. " Vy, talk lijce a brick, and as reg'lar as a Christian.'"' "Yes — over!" said his friend, with an ex- pression of incredulity. " But I tell yer I heered him — so there carn't be no mistake." " Vot ! do you mean to go for to think that you'll gammon me into that ere?" " Veil, arks these ere genelmen ! — don't be- lieve me arout you like ! — ^they all heered him." And the butcher proceeded to accumulate such collateral evidence as he felt must establish the thing to the entire satisfaction of his incredulous friend; but as Uncle John still roared with laughter, and kept holding on by the tail of the next ox with such unexampled firmness that the animal must have felt that the design was tD pull out that ornament by the root, it was deemed right by Valentine — ]ust as the butcher was eloquently entering into the details of the affair — to leave the interesting group to solve that which of course was regarded as a mystery by all. It was, however, by no means the work of a moment to release the ox's tail from the grasp of Uncle John. The poor animal stood me tugging with really exemplary patience; and being too fat to kick,' looked round simply, as if anxious for a brief explanation of the cir- cumstances connected therewith ; but he clearly must have felt that if an assault of such a char- acter had been made before he was fattened, the assailant would have had his reward. By dint of great exertion on the part of Val- entine, however, Uncle John was eventually eevered from the tail; but before they had reached the place in which the sixth and seventh* classes were exhibited, loud cries of ■' A bull ! a bull ! a bull broke loose !" were jcieard, and an awful rush was made towards the pigs. Some terror-stricken gentlemen leaped ,with due agility upon the broad fiat backs of the catde, others mounted the frames near the horns of the beasts, which those beasts were by no means inclined to submit to, and hence used the weapons with which nature had provided them, with no inconsiderable force and effect ; but by far the greater portion of the alarmed connoisseurs rushed with all discreet haste . .towards the entrance with countenances strongly expressive of the most lively apprehensions, while the females were screaming, and the male alarmists shouting, " A pole axe ! — a pole axe there ! — ^let him be killed !" As soon as the place from which the terror- isls had so unceremoniously decamped became clear, Uncle John, who had slipped with sur- passing dexterity behind an ox, followed Val- entine in, and beyond all dispute there was a ehort-horned heifer endeavoring with all the Eeal and ingenuity of which she was capable to dip the halter over her head, having evidently been pinched until her popular points had be- come so sore that she had made up her mind ' > endure it no longer. Two laborers however •ist bravely approached and effectually frus- traied her ladyship's design — a striking fact vhich was duly and oromptly announced, and as the alarmists were returning with fippro- priate caution. Uncle John ascertained that it was time for him to start, when he and Valen- tine left the exhibition, highly pleased with the varied entertainment it had afforded. CHAPTER XXXVI. THE MUTUAL KECOSWITIOIT AND THE INTEBVIEW— THE POLITE INVITATIOH, AMD THE DINNEK. It may, as a general thing, be stated that men spend their most miserable hours in bed, when they are anxious to go to sleep and can- not. They turn and turn, and with every turn thoughts of a most uncomfortable character are engendered; yet although they pray heartily and fervendy for the morning, their heads realty seem to be sealed to their pillows, when that which they prayed for arrives. Such, howevej, was not the case with Valentine. It is true he turned over and over continually throughout the night, but his thoughts were of' the most pleasing character, being of her whom he felt that he loved : it is also true that he wished for the morning, but when it arrived, instead of finding him apparendy sealed to the pillow, it found him knocking violently at Uncle John's door, and exerting all the powers of suasion at his command to induce him to get up at once. He really marvelled that men should lie in bed so long. It was then eight o'clock, and although his own time had been heretofore nine, it then struck him as extraordinary that it had not been seven, and having eventually extorted a pro- mise from Uncle John that he would rise on the instant,* he returned to his own room to dress. Now, it has been said that all is vanity; and if vanity be thus contradistinguished from pride, that whereas pride prompts us to esteem ou»- selves highly, vanity stimulates us to win the esteem of others — it is quite clear that vanity is not a bad passion, but on the contrary one which ought fondly to be cherished. But it has also been said, and that too by an ancient phi- losopher, that man is too proud to be vain, and if he be, it is abundantly manifest that vanity is not quite so general a thing; but assuming this to be wrong, that is lo say, assuming that men are in reality vain, and that vain men are in the abstract essentially wicked, it still appears to' be quite consistent with leason to contend that if there be a time at which the developeraent of vanity is venial, it is that at which men are about to see those whom they love, and by whom they therefore hope to be loved in return. They are then the most anxious to win the esteem of others; and if this be the true definition of vanity, it follows that Valentine himself was most vain on the memorable morning in question. He was never so long dressing before. He was indeed so extremely pardcular that he even as- tonished himself; but eventually, conceiving that Uncle John must be out of patience,|he gave a last long lingering look at the glass, and went down into the parlor. Uncle John was not there. He too must have been more than usually particular that morning, for in general he was dressed and down in less than five mi- 156 LIFE AND AbVENTURjES OF nutea \'V ell, Vaientine waited : he waited ten minutes, and thought that sufficiently horrible ; but when he had waited a quarter of an hour, he darted at once up to Uncle John's room, and knocked as if the house had been in flames. "Ay, ay," cried Uncle John, whom the knocking had awakened from a dream which had reference to some astonishing turnips which he had seen at the show the day before ; and immediately after he had said "Ay, ay," he gave a verj', very long cosey yawn. "What, are you not up yet 1" cried Valen- tine. Uncle John instantly rolled out of bed and Cried, "Up! yes, of course!" which of course was the fact. " I'll be down in five minutes," he added, with truly remarkable presence of mind; and within the five minutes he wasdown. "What a time you have been!" observed Valentine, seating himself at the table. "I've been dreaming," returned Uncle John, "of those turnips. I thought that you under- took to swallow one six and thirty inches in circumference whole." "And did I do it?" "To the utter astonishment of all beholders it slipped clean down like a pill." " It must have appeared that I possessed a most extraordinary swallow ; but do you think of going out this morning at all ?" "Why no, my boy, really I don't think I can. This racing about day after day knocks me up altogether." " Then I'll return as soon as possible. I shall not be gone long." "Gone'? Why, where are you going?" "To call on those persons I named to you yesterday. Don't you remember?" Uncle John it was clear had forgotten all about it ; but he now recollected the circum- stance, and shook his head gravely. " I know," said he, " that if I endeavor to persuade you to keep away from that girl, you will be the more anxious to go ; that is perfectly clear. I shall therefore say no more about it. You are at liberty to go, sir, but remember, if you associate you rself with any creature who can be picked op on board a steam-packet, I disown you — at once, sir, I disown you." "Uncle!" said Valentine, in a tone of re- monstrance, " can you suppose — " " I'll hear nothing more about if." interrupted Uncle John, " I see clearly hou it will be. You'll make a fool of yourself, sir ! — hni so hy all means, and if you are not. back in less iluiii two hours, I shall go out without you. I can't live in this hole of London without a little ex- ercise; no man can do it. Therefore, two lonrs, mark ! I'll not wait another moment." It will hence be perceived that Uncle John was rather angry ; but he notwithstanding shook hands with Valentine, and explained be- fore he left that, as he had great confidence in his judgment and discretion, he felt sure that he would commit no act oi folly that would shake it. The concluding observation he deemed high- ly politic. " Suspicion," thought he, " is the parent of the thing we suspect; but let any one feel that full confidence is reposed in him, and he will think and think a long time befora he betrays it." Without hearing another discouraging word^ therefore, Valentine started for Bryanstone» square, but on his way felt as if within the hour he sliould know if the germ of his life's happiness would strike root or wither. He had never before conceived it to be possible for the slightest imperfection to characterize hei' in whom his hopes were concentered. His im^ pression had been that he had but to see her again to be happy. Uncle John had placed his thoughts in a doubting direction : yet where the grounds were that could justify doubt, really Valentine could not conceive. " If she be not," thought he, "what I feel that she is, why — why then must I strive to forget her : but I'll not do her the injustice to suppose that she is not. I feel convinced that I am not mistaken." And with this conviction firmly impressed upon his mind, he reached the house. It was a large one ! rather awfully large : he could not help feeling that he should have liked it somewhat better, had it been a little smaller ! — he had had no idea of its being such a size ! It could not be the right onel He must have made a mistake, either in the name of the square, or in the number ! He passed it, and drew forth the card. No ! — all was cor- rect ! " Surely," thought he, " this must be the same card ?" And he really began to feel not quite sure even of that; but in order to put an end to all doubt on the subject, he went to the door and knocked boldly — albeit, there was something in the sound of the knocker a littbe too aristocratic. "Mr. Haven," said he, when the door had been opened, in a tone more than usually de- cided and severe. "Not at home, sir," replied the servant, whose livery was of the gayest description. " What time is he usually at home ?" inquired Valentine, drawing forth his card-case. " About this time, sir, generally,'' said the servant. " He is seldom out before one or two." Valentine having left his card, thereupon turned from the door; but his eye was at the moment attracted by one who had. darted to the window, and who recognised him instEintly! What was to be done? The recognition was mutual ; yet ought he — she bowed to him ! — that was sufficient : he returned : the door had not been closed ; but before he had time to say a syllable to the servant, an angel, in the pet- feet similitude of her whom he had saved, seized his hand, and led him into the room. " I am so glad to see you !" she exclaimed. "Indeed I scarcely can tell how delighted I am !" — and she led him to a seat, and sat very, very near him; and they gazed upon eacQ other, and looked very pale, and felt really very awkward and stupid. Valentine could not get over it at all ! — but he had always been a fool in the presence of la» dies. He would have met Satan himself, in the shape of a man, without a nerve being fluttered; but if one of his majesty's most luP nute imps had appeared in the semblance of a woman, that imp would in limine have beawik him hollow. VALENTINE VOX. 157 ; It. will not, therefore, by any means be deemed very extraordinary, that the lady, in .this instance, should have been the first to re- cover : in fact, the recovery of Valentine was rather remote, when she exclaimed, '• Oh, how I do wish that papa would return ! He would, iadeed, be so happy to see you. He has been talking about you every day since ; and we did BO wonder you had not called — there he is !" she continued, starting up, as a knock came to the door. And it really was a most undeniable knock. It was like the commencement of the overture to Semiramide. She therefore could Bot by anypoBsible chance have been mistaken. It seemed, too, as if the servant knew some- Uiing of the tune ; for the last bar had scarcely been executed, when he flew across the hall, with an apparently just and well-grounded ap- prehension of an immediate encore. Valentine now heard the voice of authority, which was also the voice of Mr. Raven ; and as Jiis daughter glided gracefully to meet him in the hall, he cried, "Well, Louise ! — anything turned up fresh V " This is the gentleman, papa, who preserved tts," said Louise, as he entered the room. "Ah! my brave fellow!" exclaimed Mr. Kaven. " How are you % Glad to see you — very glad — right glad ! — God bless you ! — But' why have you not been before V . Valentine — ^whom the presence of Mr. Raven had relieved from all embarrassment — now ex- plained all the circumstances connected with the card ; and as he dwelt with considerable emphasis and eloquence upon his anxiety to regain it and the pleasure its recovery had in- duced, Louise watched his countenance with the earnestness of love ; and every word, every lone, sank deep into her heart. " God bless you ! — God bless you !" exclaim- ed Mr. Raven, and something like a tear stood in his eye as he spoke; and he shook the hand of Valentine again very warmly, as he added, "You don't know — you can't know — how anxious we have been to see you ! But come, come ! — ^you'll dine with us to-day, as a matter of course?" " I should be happy — most happy — ^but my nncle, is in town," observed Valentine. " Well, bring your uncle with you, of course !" said Mr. Raven.. " Give my" compliments, and tell him I shall be happy to see him to take pot- Juok. I'll send my carriage for him at five.'^ " Pot-luck !" thought Valentine — " that's very extia,oxdinary." He had heard of pot-luck be- fore, certainly ; but never in immediate connec- tion with a carriage. However, he fancied that all this would tend to astonish the nerves of Uncle John ; and therefore having acknowledg- ed the politeness of Mr. Raven, he rose and took leave, as the bell rang a peal that would Iiave inspired a whole village with spirit. "Well, what think you now, Val? — What fliink you now ?" said he, addressing himself in the second person singular, t^e moment he had left the house. " She is indeed very beau- tiful — very ! But what sort of people can they be.? She is elegant in her manners — very ladylike indeed — but her father is clearly not very loSn&i and yet what a superb style they five in ! He must be some one of importance — ^yet I cannot remember to have heard the name associated with distinction!" He was puzzled — greatly puzzled. He conceived that Mr. Raven had scarcely the manners of a gen- tleman, and certainly not those of an ansto- crat! Still he found it hard to associate vul« garity with the style in which he lived. What he had been, or what he could be, therefore, Valentine was unable to conceive. It was a mystery altogether; and one in which he con- tinued to be so mentally involved, that he had reached home before he even thought that he was near. " Well, ray boy,'' said Uncle John, who as Valentine entered was sitting with his heels upon the mantel-piece ; " well, have you seen her?" " I have," replied Valentine. " Ah ! she's a lovely girl, isn't she ? fascina- ting, interesting, beautiful! eh?" " She is, indeed !" "Of course!" cried Uncle John; "I could have sworn it ! She is all that is grateful and elegant, highly, very highly accomplished, with a German or perhaps a Grecian nose, and a re- markable couple of beautiful black eyes of course blazing away like brilliants. That's the girl ! Is she a milliner?" " No, she lives with her father." "Is her father a cobbler, or does he keep a snuff-shop ?" " I can't make out at all what he is. I am unable to imagine what he can be." " He lives by his wits, perhaps ; a gambler, or something of that sort?" " No, I don't think he is," said Valentine, carelessly. " Don't think he is ! Pray, did you see him ?" " Oh, yes ; he has invited you and me to go and lake pot-liick with him?'' "Pot-luck!" said Uncle John; "I expect it would indeed be pot-luck, and very poor pot- luck too. What is he poing to have, Val, pickled pork and cabbage ?" " I don't at all know what he'll give us ; but of course you'll go ?" " Go,— I go ? Decidedly not." "But his carriage will be here for you at five." "His what!" cried Uncle John; "his car- riage !" The idea struck him as being so amusing and so good, that he laughed very heartily ; he really could not help it. " What sort of a carriage is it, Val?" he inquired; " what sort of a carriage, my boy ?" " Upon my life," replied Valentine, " I don't know what color it is, never having seen it : but if it corresponds at all with the liveries, anil I dare say it does, it's a dasher !" Uncle John looked at Valentine earnestly. He thought there was something in it — cer- tainly he did go so far as to thiiik that ; but then he really could not go one single step further. " Now," said he, " is this one of your jokes? Because if it is, you had better tell me, that I may know how to act. Is it, oi is it not, a joke ?" "Upon my honor,'' said Valentine, "no."| 158 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF And to the utter astonishment of Uncle John, he explained all the circumstances just as they occurred. "Why, what an extraordinary piece of busi- ness to be sure !" said Uncle John, with an ex- pression of amazement. " But I'll go ! — oh ! I'll go ! although I'm sure to make a fool of my- self. I'm sure of it ! I know nothing of aris- tocratic etiquette, which changes, I'm told, about twenty times a month. It may, for ex- ample, be the fashion to take soup with a fork, and I'm just as likely as not, you see, to catch up a spoon." " Oh, you'll be able to manage it very well. Besides, these are not very, very aristocratic people." "I don't know so much about that," said Uncle John — "you can't judge. Sometimes that which is in others deemed the essence of vulgarity, is in them held to be the very acme df refinement. They do it, I suppose, to show off their independence — to prove that they can do that which, but for them, others would never dare attempt. I recollect that, at our last elec- tion dinner, we had Lord George Rattle^ who is considered, of course, the very perfection of refinement, and every eye was, in consequence, upon him. Well — he cocked the knife in his. mouth, and took the wing of a fowl in his fin- gers, and placed his elbows upon the table, and picked his teeth violently. Why, such prooeed- mgs had been considered by all rather unpar- liamentary, if not indeed vulgar in the extreme : but then, what was the consequence ? Why, at the next public dinner we had, there was Boarcely a fork used ; the flesh of the chickens was gnawed off the bones, and while almost every man placed his elbows upon the table, there was really such a picking of teeth, you would have thought that all the crickets m all the bake-houses in the empire had assembled in honor of the occasion. But 111 go ! — of course, that I have made up my mind to." And he commenced at once bustling about, with the view of making himself as tidy as possible. Well, five o'clock came, and a carriage rat- tled up to the door. Uncle John ran to the window, and was amazed ! It was one of the very gayest he had seen, not excepting even that of the under-sheriff. The widow Smugman was struck almost dumb ! she could scarcely announce its arrival. " Are you ready V said Valentine, address- hig Uncle John, who really felt fidgety him- self at the moment. "Yes, quite ready — quite," was the hasty reply, and they descended, of course with due dignity of aspect, and entered the carriage forthwith. " I don't think that fellow could look at a man," said Uncle John, as the carriage drove off, " without touching his hat. It comes, how- ever, natural to hira', I suppose. A little less of it, perhaps, would be as well. Bat what will the widow think of a carriage like this, lined with rose-pink satin, driving up to her door ! Why, she'll be about as proud of it as if it were her own ! Did you see how astonished (he looked ? Upon my life, she must suppose Qtai we are highly connected." And it really was an elegant carriage ; hot then no man could see it without feeling sure that display was the hobby of its owner. Tbo horses, too, were of the most showy character, and, as they seemed to be unable to go at a leas rapid rate than that ot ten miles an hour, they of course very soon reached the house, before which they stopped almost as instantaneously as if the pole had been absolutely driven against an unyielding stone wall. " They must have gofte upon tlieir haunchea I don't myself see how they could ." At this moment Uncle John was interrupted by an unexampled knock at the door, which was ii> stantly opened, when he and Valentine alighted with all the dignity of which they were cap» ble, and were shown at once into a magnificent drawing-room, in which the really beautifill Louise and her father received them with great cordiality and warmth. Louise looked more lovely than ever; and as Valentine was comparatively free from en> barrassment^ he certamly did appear to great advantage himself. This imparted mutual pie* sure, and they chatted very freely and with in- finite gaiety, while Uncle John was made to feel i'ust as much at home as if he had known M& laven for years. This was pleasant — ^they all felt it to be pie* sant; and when dinner was announced, M*. Raven looked at Valentine, as he bowed add waved his hand towards Louise, and then sei» ing the arm of Uncle John, observed, " We two old fogies will go down together," an observa- tion which was certainly remarkable in itselt Now the first thing which struck Uncle John, as he entered the dining-room, was the plat^ It was really of the most massive and gorgeous description, and displayed in such style, and moreover in such extraordinary quantities, that he could not but think that Mr. Raven must possess the wealth of Crossus. There was, however, one thing which, in Uncle John's judgment, spoilt all ; and that was the restless anxiety of Mr. Raven to inspire him with the belief that he was totally unprepared to receive him. " I beg that you will excuse us to-day," he would observe : then, " You see we are quite in the rough ; then, "I'm afraid you'll not be able to make a dinner" — then, " You see we have only a snack ; as, of course, we didn't expect to have the pleasure of your company." And these apologies were so coi»- stantly reiterated, that Uncle John — who had never in his life sat down to a more sumptuous dinner — was heartily glad when it was ovei, for he didn't like to say, "Oh, don't mention it;" or "I beg that you'll not apologize"— or " Really it will do very well;" or indeed anj^- thing of that sort, because he felt that that would not convey quite enough; nor did he like to say, "Upon my life, I never sat down tD a more splendid dinner," because he felt thatthal might convey a little too much ! — ^he therefore said nothing, in reply to those apologies; bol labored to put down the nuisance by bowing. Of course Valentine could not help noticin* this; but he was then far too deeply engaged with Louise, to think much about tne motiW which prompted the annoyance. It was pOt VALENTINE VOX. 159 fectly manifest that he -was not annoyed. On the contraiy, he had never felt so happy be- fore: nor, indeed,, had Louise. They were really delighted with each other; and their eyes ! — ^It will probably be useless to say how mey looked; but that they met as if 'the two pair had been under the absolute guidance of dhe soul, :3 quite certain. Mr. K?ver., immediately after dinner, com- menced drinVLig with great freedom ; and this had the effect of causing him gradually to throw off that sort of restraint, which his wealth and the style in which he lived had im- posed. He became very communicative in- deed, and very joyous, when Valentine, who nad taken special care of his own faculties, discovered the real character of the man. "Come, come ! you don't drink !" cried Mr. Raven; slapping Uncle John heartily upon the shoulder. " Come ! never -mind the young nil's — leave them to themselves, while we two old codgers enjoy ourselves, eh 1 You're just the sort of fellow I like ! None of your stiff, ■jpstart penniless men in buckram, for me ! You're iusf the man after my own heart! so let's both be jolly, eh T let's both be jolly !" 1 Uncle John had no objection. " But," continued Mr. Raven, with truly awful solemnity, " 1 feel that I have one great duty to perform. Louise, my girl, fill up a hamper — a bumper, my girl, for this toast ! I rise," he continued, very slowly and very em- phatically, " I rise to propose the health of one to whose brave and noble nature we — I and my girl — owe our present existence. That young man," he added, pointing to Valentine and looking at Uncle John, " saved my life, he eaved the life of my child ! — God bless him !" Here Valentine rose to take the hand extended towards him, the owner of which was for some time unable to proceed. "I can't," he at length added, "give expression to my feelings, my feelinsrs won't let me ; but if ever I forget him, may I be forgotten ! If ever I cease to be grateful — God bless you !" He could then say no more, but sank back in his chair, and having wiped away the tears which almost blinded bum, emptied his glass and replenished. The pride of Uncle John at that interesting moment was quite beyond conception. His Opinion of Valentine had previously of course been very high; but at that moment, really, in his judgment, he was the most splendid fellow (hat ever lived, and in the warmth of his feel- ings he expressed himself precisely to this affect, and Mr. Raven entirely agreed with him, when Valentine acknowledged the toast in 6, highly appropriate speech, and shortly after Louise, though reluctantly, retired. " There," said Mr. Raven, addressing Uncle John the very moment Louise had left the room, "what do you think of that girl, eh? — what do you think of her for a pawnbroker's daughter?" "Upon my life," said Uncle John, "you ought to be proud of her." " Proud, sir, I am proud ! Why that girl, when I was in business, kept the whole of my books, sir! — what do you think of that? and never made an error of a penny ! Would you believe'^? She wan worth to me more than fifty clerks put togethei She worked like a horse, and now see what she is !" "She is indeed very elegant," observed Uncle John. "I believe you!" exclaimed Mr. Raveik "Talk of your aristocracy! I'd back hw against the first lady in the land, although shB is but a pawnbroker's daughter." " You have of course been out of businesg some years?" " Five, sir, five years come Christmas. I'd a long spell at it, a very long speT ; but I'vb done the trick, although I did commence as a poor ragged boy!" "Nothing," said Uncle John, " can be mc» pleasing than the reflections of a man who has been the architect of his own fortune." "Of course not!" exclaimed Mr. Raven, who was highly delighted. "Of course noi. I glory in it. I feel that there's the more credit due to me, eh ? Why, when I began life I hadn't, if you'll believe me, such a thing as a penny in my pocket, nor scarcely a rag to my back, yet see now what I am ! I began as a boy to run of errands, clean knives, shoes, and windows, — ^in short, to make myself generally useful. I did so ; and worked my way into the shop, and then married the governor's daughter and had a share in the business; and then I got it all, and now I can buy up one-half of your beggarly aristocracy, and be even then a rich man !" " It must be a very profitable business," olv served Uncle John. " Yes it is — it is profitable : there's no deny- ing that. But people make a mistake when they suppose that the profits are chiefly do- rived from the poor. The little sums tell up, no doubt ; but fortunes are made by supplying the wants of our proud peacock beggarly aris- tocracy ' That is how fortunes are realized"; when you come to fortunes ! Why, I've had in one morning in my little room no less than ten ladies of title ! — in one single morning, sir !— What do vou think of that ?" "You astonish me !" exclaimed Uncle John^ and it really is a fact that Uncle John was astonished. He had never before heard of such a thing in his life. " Some," continued Mr. Raven, who was now fairly warmed upon the subject — "some brought me their cases of jewels ; some wore them and took them off before me, while others brought with them the most valuable portion of their plate." " But did they go into the shop?" "No! — bless your soul, no; they were somewhat too cunning for that. They would come to the private door, and whenever they came they were sure to be trembling on the very verge of ruin. Of course I understood it! I knew what it meant. I used to tease them sometimes — you know — ^pretend to be poor — just to hear what they would say. It wouldn't do, however, to carry on long^ because they'd go right clean off into hysterics. I have had them, sir, crying and fainting, and begging and praying !_ ' Now, upon my word,' I used to say, ' money is very scarce, but how much will do for you V 'Oh I' they would almost screamr^ 160 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 'I must have a hundred pounds, or I'm ruined. I'll leave you my jewels, which cost a thousand -7-I must nave them again to go to Lady Tonti- no's ball — and I'll give you for the accommoda- tion thirty, forty, hfty, sixty pounds, or anything you like to name. — Dear, dear Mr. Raven, do oblige me !' " " I wonder," said Uncle John, " they were not ashamed of themselves." " Ashamed !" cried Mr. Raven : " your beg- garly aristocracy ashamed ! Catch them at it ! Sir, they are ashamed of nothing! — they've got no shame in them. I've seen such scenes, and heard such tales ! — ^they've made my hair stand an end, sir, right up on end! — they have almost made me vow that I'd never again put the smallest faith in woman ; and I surely never should, but that I knew these tricks were con- fined to our beggarly aristocracy. They'll do anything to cheat their husbands — anything in the world ; they glory in it — absolutely glory in it ! But, really, I couldn't help laughing some- times. There was old Lady Lumley — she's dead now; she died about the year , but that's of no consequence — well, she would come, say an a Tuesday, bustling into the room, in such a fidget and so out of breath, you'd have thought she had not got another moment to live. ' Well, Mr. Raven,' she would say, ' I've got into another dreadful scrape, and I must have your,rfcar, kind assistance ; I lost all my money last night. I positively never saw cards go so cross. There really must have been cheating ; but I'm going to meet the same party to-night, and unless I have a hundred pounds now, 1 shall never be able to recover my loss. I'll leave my suite of brilliants : I am sure not to want them till Friday; but I have no doubt at all of being able to call for them to-morrow.' Well, I'd lend her the hundred, and after calling me a ' dear good creature,' and the rest of it, although if I passed her in the park, or else- where, she'd turn up her aristocratic nose and wouldn't know me ; she'd trot off delighted to her carriage, which she invariably left at the corner. The next morning she'd call again, not to take away her diamonds, but to beg of me to let her have another hundred pounds. She'd have lost the hundred she had the day before, and peihaps two or three hundred be- sides, which had been given to her by the earl for some very special purpose. I'd let her have another hundred, for the diamonds were worth three thousand at least ; I believe they originally cost five; and the very next morning she'd hustle in again,— the earl had missed them ! They were his first gift, and unless she could have them to wear that night, she would be for ever ruined ! She would bring, perhaps, a suite of torquoise, pearls, or anything else she might happen to have worn the night before to deposit, until she could bring back the diamonds. And thus she went on — and thus they all go an, paying in the long run at least a thousand per cent, for their money ; and I've had in my house at one time, sir, jewels, which couldn't have cost less than five hundred thousand pounds." "But of course," said Uncle John, "they eyentually reueemed them V "By no means, sir, is it a matter ofconrsB — ^by no manner of means. They would go on and on, getting deeper and deeper, until they could not pay the money advanced, and then of course would come another jewel robbery.' "Why, I'm utterly amazed!" cried Uncle John. "Amazed, sir ! Why, sir, I have known no less than three most mysterious jewel rol> beries to be blazing away in the papers i^ one single week, when the identical jewels have been in my possession. Rewards have been offered for the apprehension of the of- fenders, the servants have been searched, the houses have been turned upside down, and the track of the villains distinctly chalked out, while the creatures themselves, the very creatures from whose hands I received them, have been running about from place to place, to give color to the thing, apparently in a state of the most absolute distraction. Those lovely brilliants, those beautiful pearls, those amethysts, those rubies, which they would not have lost for the world ; their birth-day presents and their mai^ riage gifts, were, alas ! all gone, the cold- hearted robbers had not left a gem ! These are the tricks, sir — these are the tricks; and this is how fortunes are made — when you come to speak of fortunes, not by taking in a string of flat-irons for twopence, or lending a shilling upon a chemise ! But come, let us sink the shop and talk of something else. But yon wouldn't have supposed it, though, would you V " I should not, indeed," said Uncle John. " Upon my life I could scarcely have conceived it to be possible." At this moment a servant entered with a conv munication from Louise, which v.-as found to be the prelude to the introduction of coffee. This induced Uncle John at once to look at his watchi and to declare, when he had discovered to his a-stonishment that it was already past twelve, that he had not an idea of its being so late. He however had coffee, and so had Valentine, who had been throughout an attentive auditor, draw- ing inferences, and balancing conclusions, as Mr. Raven proceeded, and at length fully made up his mind to this, that he ardently loved Louise, but could not have a very high opinion of her father. Uncle John now developed strong .symptoms of impatience, and a servant was accordingly despatched for a coach, and when its arrival had been announced, he and Valentine look leav* of Mr. Raven, who was then, as in fact he had been throughout the evening, on very high terms with himself indeed. CHAPTER XXXVII. SHOWS HOW IJKCLE JOHH AHD VALEMTINE MANAQEl TO ASCERTAIN THAT GOODMAN WAS CONFIHEP AS A LUNATIC, ANP HOW THET ALSO MANAGED TO II»- TKODUOE THEMSELVES BODILY INTO THE ASYLU* "Now I say, governor, what's to be dona with this old guy?" inquired Horace, alluding to Uncle John, the morning after he and Valen- tine l^ad dined with Mr. Raven- "Hehasbeeo VALENTINE VOX. 161 herb a series of times, you know, and I suppose he"li commence a new series to-morrow. Now I thiuk you'4 better see him. You can't keep on ' not at |fcme' for ever ; besides^ it looks rot- ten, precisety as if you were anxious to avoid him, which don't do, you know, and never did ; therefore ray undeniable opinion upon the mat- ter is, that you'd better mjike a formal appoint- ment, it will look more like business." " But what am I to say to the man 1" cried Walter. " Say to him ! stick to your original text — pecuniary uncomfortables — unexampled short- ness of chips — a horrid accumulation of re- spectable duns striking his monetary system with paralysis. You know how to do it." " But he's Grimwood's greatest friend," said Walter. " He has come to town, depend upon it, expressly in order to get him out of those Eecuniary dffioulties in which we have stated e is involved. He will therefore insist upon knowing where he is. He will put it to me yisliether I would rather see my brother kept in a state of embarrassment or completely disen- cumbered. That's the way he'll put it. I'm sure of it, and what can I say then?' Can I say, No, let him be ; don't give him any as- Kstance ; all will come right by-and-bye ? It strikes me that that wouldn't look quite the thing !" " Then I'll tell you what had better be done. I've just thought of it. Suppose we were tq write a lot of letters, you know, dating the first, for example, at Penzance, there, out by the Land's End, signed of course 'Grimwood Goodman,' all regular, inviting the old buffer to run down, and when he gets there let him find another dated Great Yarmouth, with a similar invitation, and when he gets to Great Yarmouth let him find another addressed to him stating that business, which pressed im- mediately, compelled the undiscoverable to go to York, where he should be inexpressibly de- lighted to see him, and then when he reaches York let him in a precisely similar fashion be seduced over to Shrewsbury or Welsh Pool; and ttas keep him cutting about the country until hff gives the thing up as a bad job — eh? don't you think that that would be about the sort of thing 1" " Horace," said his father, " you are a very ingenious fellow; but you are always making the one litde mistake of supposing that every other man is a fool." " Well, but don't you think it would answer to make him go to the extremes of east, west, north, and south? I don't know what your sentiments may be upon the matter, but my impression is, that there's nothing in life so well calculated to make a man give up a chase of this description." " And you fancy he'd go from place to place in that way?" " Go ! — of course he'd go, — can there be two opinions about it?" " Psha ! nonsense ! We might get him, no doubt, to any one of the places you have men- tioned; but what if we did? Why, he'd find out at once that it was a hoax, and then his 11 o* suspicions — ^for that he has suspicions now is quite clear — would be stronger than ever." " Well, have it your own way, — of course you always will. You never were, you know, guilty of being influenced by those who were anxious to advise you for your own good. My opinion is, still, that this dodge might be man- aged ; but if you won't do it, why, then the next best thing is to put a bold face upon the matter, and see him at once. It is perfectly certain that he'U never leave London until he has seen you, and he may come across you when you are quite unprepared." " There is certainly something in that," said Walter, " and as of course, I'm never safe, if I leave the house but for a moment, I begia to think that it will perhaps be bettar to see him here, when I'm perfectly cool and col- lected." ^ " There can't be half a doubt about it. You know your old nerves are not worth so much as twopence when they are taken by surprise." " Well, give me the pen and ink : I'll write to him now : I'll be at home this evening at seven? — say eight." A note to this effect was therefore written and despatched; and when Uncle John and Valentine, whom Raven and Louise had en- gaged in conversation that morning for nearly two hours, returned, they found it lying upon the table. " Well, come," said Uncle John, having read the contents, "I'm to see this man ai last. We shall now, perhaps, hear something about Goodman." " I fear not," said Valentine, looking at the note. " His object, I apprehend, is to tell you the tale he told me, and if it should, there will remain but one way in which it is possible to get at the truth. But then that depends so much upon you." " Well, my boy ! Well ! Am I not to be trusted?" " Scarcely in this matter : I'll explain to you why. This man is very nervous. He conjures up spectres and so on : he actually sit fire to his house, with the view of burnint!' out the phantom of his brother, a circumstance which tended, more than anything else, to confirm my suspicions of foul play. Now, i f I thought that you could keep your counlcirance, let what might occur, I'd so frighten that man, that, if there be anything wrong, we should be perfectly certain to have a full confession." "There's no danger," said Uncle John, "of my being unable to do that. The thing is too serious — far too serious." " But can you look steadily at the object, and at nothing but the object, however ridiculous may be the circumstances connected with its attainment ?" " In such a case I can : I feel that I ean — and will." "Then," said Valentine, "it shall be tried. We shall see how he will act : we shall hear what explanation he will give ; and if that ex planation be not satisfactory^ — and I cannot suppose for a moment that it will be, — ^why then we must work upon his fears, and I have not the smallest doubt of the result. There a IG2 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF only one drawback; Horace, Jiis son, who is Serhaps quite as reckless as he is vulgar, will oubtless be with him. It will not be very easy, I apprehend, to alarm him ; but our point will be gained, notwithstanding, provided you look at *he object alone." "I'll Jo it!" said Uncle John, firmly. "I'll do it! I'll not move a muscle, except indeed it be with the view of expressing surprise." Very well. This point being thus satisfacto- rily settled, they sat down to dirmer, and at half-past seven precisely they started for Wal- ter's residence, where they found him and Horace with a pile of documents before them, with which they appeared to have been deeply engaged. " Ah ! my old tar !" exclaimed Horace, seiz- ing Valentine's hand as he and Uncle John entered the room, — " Why, what have you been doing with your body for the last half century ? We haven't seen so much as a bit of you for an age !" " You are so seldom at home !" observed Valentine, significantly. " Sir," said Walter, addressing Uncle John, " I'm proud to know you. Take a seat. I am sorry that I should have been so unfortunate as to be out whenever you have done me the honor of calling : but I have been so much en- gaged with my brother's business that really I've had scarcely a moment to myself." " Have you heard from him lately?" inquired Uncle John. " The other day," replied Walter. " Last — what day was it, Horace? — Thursday? — Fri- day?' " Thursday, you know,'' said Horace. '•' Don't you remember? — The day you went to Lin- coln's Inn." * " Ay ! so it was, of course ! — ^it was Thurs- day. 1 had forgotten." " He was quite well, I hope !" "Why, yes: as well as you might expect, you know, under the circumstances. His difii- culties have been and are still very pressing and. very vexaiious. When a man once gets back, sir, it's a long time.before he gets forward again." " That is true," said Uncle John ; " very true. But what is the nature of those difficulties, may I ask?" "They are of an exceedingly complicated character: indeed, so complicated are they, that I fear we shall never be able to arrange them with any degree of completeness. These papers which you now see before you all re- late to the various speculations in which he has been engaged. My son and I have been work- ing at them constantly, almost night and clay for the last month, but we really can make nothing of them." "Well, I've known him for a number of years," said Uncle John, "but I never before knew that he was a speculating man. I know he used not to be." " No : it's only within the last year or two that he has been mad enough to engage in them, and some of them are really of the wild- est descrir>iou that can possibly be conceived. It vrould hav« been indeed a happy thing could he have been satisfied with that which he had. But he was led into it — blindly led into it." " But what kind of speculations were they ?" "Speculations, sir; some of tHftn of a d* scription so absurd, that you'd think that the man must have been insane to have anything to do with them." " But what is their nature ?" " Upon my word they are so various and so mixed up together, that it is perfectly impossi. ble to explain. There is only one thing quite certain, which is this, that he's an utterly ruined man." "That is indeed most unfortuuate; Init if such be the case, why does he continue to keep out of the way? — ^why does he not meet tba thing boldly? Is he in town ?" " Oh ! dear me, no : he left immediately: he wouldn't stop an hour after he found how things were." " I suppose," said Uncle John, — " in fact, I believe you have explained to my nephew*^ that he is anxious for his present place of re- sidence to be kept a profound secret. Now, sir, we are friends of long standing: I have known him now nearly forty years; and during the whole of that period, our confideiice in each other has been of a character the most imfilicit and unreserved. I therefore feel that he cannot object to my knowing where he is ; my convic- tion, in fact, is strong; that he cannot be anxioas to remain concealed &om me." . " My dear sir," said Walter, " if there be one friend whom he respects more tham another, it is yourself; but he has enjoined me most strict ly to communicate the secret to no one, not even to you." " 'Tis false !'' cried Valentine, assuming the voice of Goodman, and making it appear to proceed from the passage. " Hal-lo !" exclaimed Horace. " Wliy, what's o'clock, now?"— and seizing one of the candles, he rushed towards the door, — while Walter trembled from head to foot. "What's that?" quickly demanded Uncb John — looking eamestly at the tremblinff wretch before him. "What's that?" — he replkted in a whisper, which seemed absolutely lo sfjito to the wretch's heart. Walter started : he was speechless : his eyes glared wildly; and although they were directed stealthily towards the door, he had not the courage to turn his head. " Who are youV cried Horace, on reaching the passage. " Come in ! — don't stand 8hive^ ing there in the cold ! — Oh, there's nobody"— he continued — as he banged the door with vio- lence. " It's nothing but fancy." " It's a very extraordinary fancy," observed , Uncle John, " if fancy it be ; and very myste- rious in its effects." " Why, governor! governor!" cried Horace, shaking his father — an operation wlioh was perfectly unnecessary — seeing that he wa« shaking quite sufficiently, witbout such assist- ance. "Why, what are you about? are yoo mad?" The .bbod of Walter appeared to be freezing in his veins; his lips became livid; while hil eyes seemed glazed with an unearthly filBH VALENTINE VOX. IBS and he looked altojifether very horrible. H sion of amazement the most intense. " But one word,." said Uncle John, addressing Whitely. " But one single word !" Mr. White- ly, however, fearful of being seen by the keep- ers, did not turn his head. He had but just recovered from the dreadful effects of the treat- ment he had experienced on being recaptured ; he therefore dared not again excite the ven- geance of the keepers, well knowing that if aii- other brutal attack were made upon him, it would be utterly impossible for him to survive it; and hence he walked away with a heavy bursting heart, without taking, however, the slightest apparent notice. " Do you also know my ftiend Goodman V demanded Uncle John of the poor insane crea- turls, who were by this time beneath him. " Hooray !" they cried, dangling their hands and dancing about, and looking altogether as delighted as possible. " Sir !" cned Uncle John, again shouting after Whitely, and putting one leg over the wall, in order to get as near to him as he could. " Sir ! but one word ! — Is he mad V The energy with which Uncle John put this question, and the anxiety which he manifested to receive a reply, were so excessive, that he at once lost hi| balance, and fell over the wall. Valentine, who had seized the tail of his coat, and thus split it completely up the back, as he was falling, now saw two brutal-looking fellows running fiercely towards the spot. He therefore instandy leaped from the wall to join his uncle, and to protect him, if possible, from the keepers, who appeared to be inspired with the spirit of vengeance. CHAPTER XXXVin. A FOECIBLE BXPULSIOK, AND A TOTALLT UHEXPECTEB ESCAPE. As Uncle John, in falling, threw his arms round the neck of a poor idiot who, conceiving himself to be the king of the universe, had embellished his cap with a variety of young onions, he alighted without sustaining any very serious injury, although his weight drove his majesty, the monkrch of the world, with gteaX violence against a friend who was perfectly clear only upon the one grand point of his having been swindled out of his privileges as the Lord High Chancellor of England ever since a certain antediluvian era, the chief characteristics of which it appeared had been washed from his memory by the Flood. Before, however. Uncle John could rise, one of the keepers had seized him by the collar, with the laudable view, as he promptly explained, 168 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF qf lettitg him know the difference ; but Val- entine in an instant sprang at the throat of the ruffian, and compelled him to relinquish his hold. " No violence !" he exclaimed ; " it will not do with us." "No, it won't do with us, sir !" echoed Uncle John, inspiring courtge from Valentine, al- though it must be confessed, that he even then felt rather frightened than not. "There's the law against violence ! the law, sir ! the kw!" "What's the law to do with us? •\^at right have you in here V demanded the keeper. " 1 overbalanced inyself," said Uncle John, " I overbalanced myself. Do you think that I should have tumbled if I could have helped itl" " But what business had you on the wall?" " To look for Goodman !" cried Valentine. " Goodman, whom you are murdering !" "Valentine! Valentine!" faintly exclaimed an emaciated form whom the noise had at- tracted to the window of his cell. "It is Goodman!" cried Valentine. "My friend! my dear friend!" cried Uncle John. "But one word !" The form sank back, and was seen no more. "My good man !" said Uncle John, addrpss- ing the keeper, "if you are a Christian, you will let me see my friend. Let me have but a word with him ! and I'll give you all the money I've got." "What! coi'ruption !" exclaimed the imma- culate keeper, alternately looking most virtu- ously indignant and wistfully glancing at the well-filled purse which Une^e John very promptly held forth. " Do yer want to cor- rupt me 1" " Let me speak to him but for an instant !" "Come along!" cried the keeper; "we'll werry soon see what you're made on.'' "Now then!" shouted Valentine, making his voice apparently proceed from the other side of the wall. " Let's attack them at once ! Now, down with the ruffians !" " Hal-lo !" cried the principal keeper, look- ing round with an expression of amazement. " What, more on yer !" he continued ; and as at that moment the person to whom the shed belonged peeped over the wall to see how things were going on, he raised an alarm which in an instant brought four additional keepers to the spot. " Look out ! We're attacked ! There's a mob on 'em coming !" cried the fellow, as his Bcowhng companions approached. "Where are they?" demanded a ruffian, who looked as if he had that day returned from transportation. " Over the wall !" was the reply ; and a lad- der was procured, while Valentine, still in a feigned voice, kept shouting. "Let's see how many on 'em there is!" eried the creature who looked so much like a returned convict ; and he ascended the ladder and looked anxiously round, but the only man whom he could see was the owner of the shed, whose person was perfectly well known. " Have you seen a mob o' pipple any wheres abo'at here ?" he in^ lired of this person. " No," was the reply, " there's been nothing of the sort." " There's none here !" said he who occupied the ladder, looking round. " Lknow better !" cried the principal keeper: "I heard 'em!" " I tell yer there ain't then ! can't yer btv lieve me ?" " Well, come, let's secure these ere two aa we've got !" and while the principal keeper and two of his companions seized Valentine roughly, the other three fastened, like tigers, upon Uncle John. "Keep off!" cried Valentine; "we'll go where you please, and before whom yon please, but we will not be dragged !" Iij an instant one of the ruffians seized him by the legs, while two others secured his arms and lifted him bodily upon their shoulders, and as Uncle John was favored with a precisely similar lift, they were carried struggling despe- rately but ineffectually across the garden, while the sovereign of the universe, and those idiotic subjects whom he termed continually, and with all the characteristic regularity of nature, " my people," were dancing and shouts ing, and performing the most extraordinary antics, apparently with the view of rendering it obvious to all that they were absolutely filled with delight. The keepers now reached the house with their burden, and as Holdem, the proprietor of the Asylum, had just returned from town, they threw Uncle John and Valentine before him.- " Hollo, hollo, hollo ! What's all this?" cried Dr. Holdem, whose grateful impression at the moment was, that he had been blessed with two additional patients. " Won't they be quiet J What's the meaning of it, eh ?" "Why, these two owdayshus indiwiduals," replied the chief keeper, " is the leaders of a whole mob o' rabble as is come here to let out the patients." " What !" exclaimed the doctor, with an ex- pression of unlimited astonishment. "And how did they get in ?" " Why they shied 'emselves over the wall; the big un come fust, and the tother un ful- lered.'' " And what have you to say to this mon- strous proceeding?" cned the doctor, with highly appropriate scowl. " Pray, what is your ob- ject?" "This:'' said Valentine; "you have in con- finement a friend of ours whom you have cruelly ill used." "How dare you talk to me in that fashion?" interrupted the doctor. " Dare !" said Valentine, " you shall find that we dare do more than talk. Our object was to see that friend, whose name is Gooaman, and who has been wickedly incarcerated here as an insane man. We applied for permission to see him, and as that was refused us, we mounted the wall." " I admire your impudence ! But are yon aware that in trespassing thus upon my premises, you have rendered yourselves liable to be pun- ished most severely ?" "But that was an accident!"' cried Unda VALENTINE VOX. 160 'Ibhn, "I overbalanced myself, and fell into the g^den by accident." . "Indeed!" said the doctor, sarcastically- ""Indeed! And did you overbalance yourself, and slip down by accident!" "No," replied. Valentine. " I did not. But we are quite prepared to answer for what we have done, before 'a magistrate, at once, or in any other way, for 1 presume the thing will not be allowed to drop here." " I have a great mind to give you into custo- dy, and have you both dragged off like felons." " Do so," said Valentine, " that we may have an opportunity at once oi^ explaining publicly all the circumstances connected with our pre- sent position. Let us be taken without delay before a magistrate. It cannot but tend to pro- mote the object we have in view." " Upon my word, young man, you treat the matter very coolly. But pray how many did you bring with you V "None," replied Valentine. " Oh !" exclaimed the pure and incorruptible keeper, apparently shocked at what he believed to be a falsehood. " What ! none ? when I heered a whole mob on 'em a hoUerin'? Oh!" " We came alone," said Uncle John. " There ■was no mob with us." " Well !" said Valentine; " are we to be given Hito custody, or how do you mean to act?" " As I please !" replied the doctor. " I shall act as I please. If I thought you were worth poVder and shot I should pursue a very dif- ferent course ; but as it is, I shall simply have you Ijundled out of the place, believing you to Oe a couple of characterless vagabonds." "Vagabonds! characterless vagabonds !" ex- claimed Uncle John, whose indignation had fained the ascendancy over his fears. " What o you mean, sir? Here is my card!" But before he had time to produce it, the six keep- ers seized him and Valentine as before, and having carried them to the entrance, threw them completely into the road. The moment Valentine recovered himself, he flew at the chief myrmidon, and certainly did administer unto him one blow which made him wink and shake his head, and screw up his featuresj until they portrayed great intel- lectual confnsion. As, however, Uncle John on the one hand dragged Valentine away, and flie doctor on the other ordered his men in at once, the gates were closed before the intellects of the fellow were perfecfly restored, or doubt- less Valentine would have felt the full force of his vengeance. "Thank Heaven, we are out!" exclaimed Uncle John, when he saw the gates closed. "I really at one time began to feel alarmed." " Alarmed at what ?" inquired Valentine. "Why, suppose they had kept'us in there with the rest?" " Surely you did not suppose they would do " Why, my boy, I didn't know what to think. But if they had kept us in, it would have been VBty dreadful, seeing that not a single friend trould have known that we were there." " You now see precisely the position in which ioB victims of this horrible system are placed. Their friends are not suffered to know that they are there ! But we were quite safe, for none are kept but those who are paid ion. No, aU that I was afraid of was, that they would have taken it into their heads to half murder us, for those fellows are very powerful, and we should have been able to do nothing with the six. As for taking us before a magistrate, I felt sure that they would not do that. Their object is secrecy : it would never do for them to make a stir." " Well, well, we ought to be thankful that things are no worse. But poor Goodman ! My heart bleeds for him ! The vile wretches ! But we'll have him out, my boy ! We'll nevei: rest till we have him out." " I fear that it is now too late,'' said Valen- tine. " My impression is that on seeing us he sank to rise no more." " I hope not, ray boy," said Uncle John. " I hope not," and as he felt for his handkercnief to wipe the tears from his eyes, he became cognizant of the fact of his coat being split from the* waist to the collar. " Why, my boy ! why, what on earth! — why, what's this?" said he, turning round and pulling the tails of the coai before him. "What is it?" " Why it looks something like a small slit," replied Valentine. " It is by no means bad cloth: if it had been, it certainly would not have had two tails now. It was done when you fell from the wall." "Well, well," said Uncle John. "Well, never mind that. I don't care a straw about that." And as he spoke they came within sight of the cab, which they had ordered to wait their retum. The driver was standing with the door in his hand, and seemed somewhat confused when they appeared, for he hastily closed the door, mounted his box, and drove towards them. " We have kept you a long time," said Un- cle John. " No sconsequence at all, sir ; .1 knowed yon was genelmen," replied the man, who looked anxiously inside the cab before he opened the door to allow them to enter. "Beg pardon, sir," he added, as Uncle John was stepping in, " but de yer know, sir^ as yer coat's a leetle damaged m the back, sir?" " Oh ! yes," said Uncle John good humoredly. " I met with an accident." "Beg pardon; I didn't know as you was awares on it, that's all," rejoined the man, who then mounted his box, and made his horse understand that he had not only a whip, but the power to use it. " We'll go and see that wretch of a brother to-riight," said Uncle John, after a pause, during which he and Valentitie had been completely lost in thought. " That's the first step, my boy-" that's the first step : we'll work him !" " My friend !" said a voice which appeared to proceed from under the seat of the cab. " Valentine ! Valentine !" cried Uncle John, starting up as if some dog had bitten his calt "My dear boy! you should not! you really should not, particularly at such a time as this !" " Upon my honor," said Valentine, " it was not I that spoke." XTO LIFE AND ADVENTURES OP "Not you!" said Uncle John. "Bless my fife, it was some one !" " My Mend !" repeated the voice, and Uncle John again started, for at the moment, he felt something touch his legs. Valentine therefore examined the cab and found Aouched beneath the seat poor Whitely. " Do not be alarmed, my good friends," said he, "it is only the poor creature whom you ^oke to in the garden." " I'm right glad to see you, sir," cried Uncle John ; " but come out of that hole, you'll be Braothered ! There's plenty of room." " I thank you," said Whitely, " but I am much safer here. They may suddenly pass by and see me." "Well, sit between our legs," said Uncle John, and then I'll defy them to see you. You'll be cramped to death there." "No, indeed I'm very comfortable," said Whitely, although there was scarcely sufficient room for a dog. He was, however, at length prevailed upon, although with great reluctance, to sit at the bottom of the cab. "And how did you manage to escape?" in- quired Valentine. " I owe it all to you," said Whitely, grasping his hand. "Our poor friend had told me of your power as a ventriloquist, and therefore when I heard what appeared to be voices in the distance, I felt quite sure that it was you. You will remereflber that a ladder was brought into the garden immediately after the shouting was heard. It was by that I- escaped. The man who ascended it to look over the wall, in- stead of taking it away with him, simply threw it down to assist his fellows in carrying you into the house, when, taking advantage of. the confusion that prevailed, I raised the ladder, and having reached the top of the wall unper- ceived, drew it over to the other side, and thus alighted in safety. I had not proceeded far before I saw this vehicle, and having ascer- tained that it was waiting for two gentlemen, I begged of the man to allow me to He concealed beneath the seat, in order that if it had hap- pened that the cab was not waiting for you, I might still have been safe ; but when I heard you mention our friend's wretched brother, and thus knew you were alone, I ventured to speak, feeling perfectly sure that you would not only not betray me, but pardon my intrusion." " My dear sir !" cried Uncle John, extending his hand, " I'm glad to see jou. I only wish that I had found my poor fnend here as well. But we'll have him out ! we'll have him out before " " Hush 1" cried Whitely, trembling with great violence, and crouching again beneath me seat. " I hear them coming ! they are be- hind us ! For God's sake don't suifer them to seize me again." At this moment the sound of horses' hoofs ■were heard in the distance ; and Valentine on looking back perceived two persons on horse- back tearing along the . road at full gallop. " Don't be alarmed," said he, " don't be alarm- ed; let what may occur, you are safe." But Soor Whitely trembled from head to foot, while 18 perspiration poured down the face of Uncle John, who was sea cely less frightened than Whitely himself. The horsemen now gained upon them fas(> and their excitement increased in proportion. " These men may be after our poor friend," said Valentine, addressing the cabman; "if it be necessary you will stick to us?" " And no mistake," replied the man ; " I doii^ stop for nobody. Keep him snug. They should't ketch us at all, ony the wust on it is. I carn't git this ere hold oss along. PhitI — keame up !" he added, as he pulled out of the road. "Here they come ! fit for to break theii blessed necks, good luck to 'em !" They were now just behind, and Uncle John perspired more freely. They passed ! Two butchers were testing the speed of their horses to decide a bet of some given quantity of'beeu "Thank Heaven!" exclaimed Uncle John, much relieved. "All right, my friend; come forth, all safe." Mr. Whitely, however, remained where he was ; he neither moved nor uttered a word. " There is no danger now," said Valentino, endeavoring to rouse him. He still, however, continued to be motionless, and silent. " Come, come, my friend !" said Uncle John, who thought it strange. " Are you not well, my friend? are you not well?" As Whitely made no answer, Valentina gently drew him forth. He was inanimate ! " Good God !" cried Uncle John, " the man has been frightened to death." "No, he's not dead," said Valentine; "I feel sure that he's not dead. He has fainted-^ only fainted. Pull up at the first house you come to," he continued, addressing the cabraaa " All right, sir ! there's one close at hand." And in less than three minutes they were b^ fore it. Valentine now darted into the house, and having procured a glass of water, applied it to the temples and palms of poor Whitely; but without any sensible effect. No pulse was perceptible ; not a muscle moved ; some brandy was brought, and when that had been zealously applied for some time, he inspired, as Valentiila exclaimed, " He's alive !" Uncle John now began to breathe with some- what more freedom. He had been dreadfully apprehensive of Whitely being dead; but whea he saw the first symptom of reaniraation quickly followed by other signs of returning consoiou* ness, he felt for the moment quite happy. " My friends !" said Whitely at length, loofc ing up. " Am I still safe ? God bless you, my dear friends, God bless you !" " Will you go with us into the house, till yon revive ?" inquired Valentine. " No, my good friends, no ; let me remalti here, I shall not be out of danger, until I reach town. Pray proceed, I am quite well now; 1 am indeed quite — quite well now !" Uncle John and Valentine accordingly read- justed themselves, and having given ihstnuv tions to the cabman — who drove off as fast at his horse could go — they stopped no more, till they reached the house of the Widow Smugi VALENTINE VOX 171 The widow was utterly but very naturally aftonitthed, when on answering the knock she !p,w Uncle John and Valentine assisting a poor ^feebled creature, who looked like death in a dveseing-gown, out of the cab. She had, how- ever, an extremely high opinion of those gen- tlemen; and hence, when Uncle John intro- duced Whitely as his friend, she expressed herself happy to see him. " Now then,'* said Valentine, placing Whitely upon the sofa, " you must banish all your fears; you are quite secure now." Whitely, however, was unable to rally. He tried with all the power at his command ; but sank back in a state of exhaustion, in which Uncle John attended him, while Valentine was rewarding the driver of the cab with a liberality altogether unexpected. The diinier was now immediately served up, hut of this poor Whitely was unable to partake'; he was, however, after a time prevailed upon to have some slight refreshment, and was then placed in Uncle John's bed, completely over- whelmed with gratitude. The attention of Uncle John and Valentine was now turned to the course which they, under the circumstances, ought to pursue. The escape of Whitely was held to be a grand point gained. "We can take him with us," said Valentine, "and convict poor Goodman's un- natural brother at once." " So we can," said Uncle John ; "that's quite right. So we can; and we will! but it can't be done to-night." -^ ^ " No ; but I think that I had bet*eil>^go to-night, and make an appointment^ if possible, for to- morrow. Whitely is uninjured ; he has only been alarmed, and will therefore be himself again doubtless in the morning. What do you think? Shall I go?" "By all means, by all means. Tell him I wish to have five minutes' conversation with him before I leave town, which is the fact you know, of course ! I do wish to converse with him before I leave town. But I'll leave it to you, my boy; you know how to manage it. Go ; go at once. I'll remain at home, and see after our friend. We must have him restored by to-morrow." Valentine accordingly started, leaving White- ly in the care of Uncle John, who threw him- self at once upon the sofa, and went soundly to sleep. CHAPTER XXXIX. VALEKTIVE BECOMES INITIATED INTO THE MYSTERIES OF THE ANTI-LEGAL-MAKRIAGE ASSOCIATION. On reaching Walter's residence, Valentine was informed that he and Horace were out, but were certain to be at home at nine o'clock or half past at the very latest. It was then but Just seven ; and as Valentine conceived it to be - laroely waith while to return to Uncle John, walked leisurely on, without having any object in view, save that of strolling about for two hours He had not, however, proceeded far, when his attention was attracted by a flaming pla- card, on which was inscribed THE UNIVERSAL ANTI-LEGAL-MAEKUGK ASSOCIATIOW 1 NOTICE ! A Professor of surpassing eminence will (fe- liver a Lecture on the Natural, Social, and Uni- versal Community Principle this evening, pre- cisely at Seven. " The natural, social, and universal commu- nity principle !" thought Valentine. " What do they mean ? The universal anti-legal-marriage association ! Anti-legal-marriage association ! I must look in here." And having paid the admission-fee, he was shown into a room in which a number of persons^ of whom the majority were gaily attired females, had as- sembled. The professor had not arrived, and therefore Valentine had time to look round before the lecture commenced. He thought it strange, very strange, that the persons whom he saw there should patronize or in any way counte- nance such a, thing as an anti-legal-marriage association. What the natural, social, and universal community principle might be, it is true, he could not very clearly comprehend; but what was meant by the term, " Anti-legal- marriage," was BO plain, that it could not be misunderstood. Apd yet, was he to infer from the presence of those persons, that they were opposed to the institution of marriage % Impos- sible ! They appeared to him to be the very persons by whom marriage would be held to be one of the greatest sublunary blessings. He changed his position, in order to command a fuU view of the countenance of each. The females, he thought, looked particularly wicked ! He really never saw eyes- rolling about with such extraordinary restlessness before. Such smiling, such leering, such glancing he beheld ! He was perfectly puzzled. He could not under- stand it ! And yet they seemed to understand each other very well f Had anything like a mutual dead set been made ; had one pair of eyes been brought to bear upon another, with the view of being employed with reciprocal firmness — the object would not have been quite so inconceivable ; but as it was, as they wan- dered about with sufh peculiar inconstancy, as if the design of their owners had been to in- spire the souls of all at whom they glanced with affection, Valentine could not tell really what to make of it, although he did think it just possible, that they had assembled for the purpose of quizzing the professor. The bare possibility of this being their object, was. however, repudiated on the entrance oi that gentleman, for he was cheered, loudly cheered, and with an enthusiasm which for- bade the idea of its being ironical. No, it was plain that they were perfectly sincere, and therefore Valentine became more than ever im- patient for an explanation of this natural, social, and universal principle, of which it was clear they were deeply enamored. "My friends," said the professor, after pro- ving to the apparent satisfaction of the ladiea that he knew as well how to use his eyes a» 172 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF the best. " My fnends ! the last lecture I had the pleasure to deliver to the members of this peculiarly wide-spreading association, had refer- ence to the assumed free agency of^ man, and as r proved to demonstration that man is not a free agent, consequently not a responsible agent, and therefore no agent at all, I propose now to show that human laws, in opposition to the laws of nature, ought not to be upheld [loud dieers.'] My friends ! it is on all hands admit- ted that nature is perfection, yet the state of society in which we now live is essentially and purely artificial ! What is the inference ? Why, that, being essentially and purely artificial, it is essentially and purely the most imperfect state of society that ever obtained. To be perfect we must be natural. That I hold to be as clear as the proposition of the great Huxley, in his Wonderful Heart, or the Liver of Love, that to be natural, man must be perfect. It hence fol- Ibws that the nearer we approach to nature, the nearer we are to perfection, and that that state of society is, in reality, the most perfect which is, in reality, the most natural. [Ap'plause.'] Now look at our present social system ! Is there anything natural about it? Have our natural feelings and passions fair play? Is not their developement checked at every point by human laws diametrically opposed to tlie laws of nature ? Look for example at those unnatu- ral laws to which I have so frequently directed attention — I mean the laws rfelating to marriage ! What is marriage? Is it not a most unnatu- tal bond? See with what consummate tight- ness individuals are tiepl ! It is indeed a Gor- dian knot : there's no end to it ! — ^nor can they cut it. My friends ! just look at its operation for one moment: A man marries — not natu- rally, but legally marries — well ! in a month he becorries tired of his wife, yet is he by law sompelled to keep her ! She may not at all suit nim : they may quarrel perpetually, nay, they may fight! — Still, keep her he must till she sinks into the grave ! Why, is not this monstrous? But even this is not all. He may see some one whom he likes infinitely better — some one more interesting, amiable, and ac- complished, yet he cannot marry her, because, and solely because he is married to another I Surely such an unnatural state of things ought no longer to exist ! What, I ask, does a man commonly marry a woman for? The law, it is trtie, says, 'for better for wor.-t;.' \Lou,d laagAfcr] But it is because she is hand.-ome? Well, her beauty fades : she no longer posoes.jes that for which he" married her ; still must he keep' her ! Does he marry her because he be- lieves her to be engaging and sweet-tempered ? A month after marriage she begins to let out in a style of which he cannot approve by any means — yet must he stick to her still ! Is it for her wealth that he marries her? Well : he ob- tains full possession of that wealth, which he may either spend or lose, but in any case is he compelled to keep her, even after that for which alone he married her is gone ! Why, my fripnds, this appears to be so truly diaboli- cal, that the only wonder is that a system so repugnant to the perfect laws of nature should not lure been blown up centuries ago. But let us take the case of a woman — ^for women, I contend, have natural rights as well as men. She marries; and why? Because she believes that the man whom she marries will be kind. Well, she finds that he is not : still must sho bo his ! Does she marry because she believes that she shall be happy? She finds that she is not, but she must be his still ! Sickness may over- take him; he may become poor; he may have no other prospect than of staBvation! yet let what may happen, to him she must stick ! Is this just? Is It rationsd? Does it bear even the semblance of any principle by which lueii of intelligence should be guided ? My friends ! legal marriages have cursed every country into which they have been introduced. They are the bane of society. ■ They utterly spoil both women and men. Women would indeed be very different beings were it not for the institu- tion of marriage. It destroys their amiabilityj poisons their sweetness, and renders them inso- lent, cross-grained, and vicious. When legally married, they know that they are secure, and that very knowledge prompts them at once to show off: whereas, were they as they ought to be, naturally; married, the absence of that secu- rity would induce them to preserve all theii natural sweetness of disposition, all their amiat bility, in short, all which renders their society charming. Nor would men, were it not for legal marriages, be so tyrannous, haughty, and overbearing. The security which those legal marriages impart, has a precisely corresponding effect upon them. Hence, I say, let none but natural marriages be sanctioned, \loud cheers.'\ If persons be unable to live happily together, let them part and marry, as nature prescribes, those with whom they are able to live happily. Why should we, as intelligent beings, adhere to social wretchedness when we have the purest social felicity within our reach? We should tolerate natural marriages only !" — At this interesting point the enthusiastic pro- fessor was interrupted by Valentine, who, con- ceiving' that he had gone far enough, cried— making his voice apparently proceed from an. individual who was deeply engaged with a lady from whom he had just received a card — " And pray what are natural marriages?'' " Natural marriages !" exclaimed the profossoi with a look of astonishment the most absolute, "What are they?" "Turn him out! Turn him out!" .^honied several gentlemen, by whom the natural, social and universal community principle was up- held. " What are natural marriages?" repeated tho professor. "Ay!" said Valentine, assuming the same voice ; " I simply ask you what they are ! Do you mean those pecmiai' broom-stick solem nities ?" " Broom-stick solemnities !" exclaimed the professor, with an expression of contempt the most supreme, and again the universal-commu- nity-principle-mongers expressed their strong disapprobation. " Well, tell us," said Valentine -when the noise had subsided^ "what it is you really mean ?" VALENTINE VOX. 173 " Ay natural marriages," said the professor, ■ddressing the person from whom he imagined the voice had proceeded, "by natural mar- riages I mean those which are in conformity with the law of nature ! — marriages by which parties are solemnly bound to live with each other as long as they like." Loud applause followed this clear explana- tion. The ladies waved their handkerchiefs and screamed with delight; but as during their enthusiasm, Valentine perceived that the ma- jority of them wore that golden shackle by which they appropriately conceived they had been enslaved, he at once became perfectly disgusted. He now distinctly saw what the social community principle meant! — he saw that it struck at the very root of social virtue and fidelity. " Is that gentleman satisfied?" inquired the professor. • "Perfectly," said Valentine, " perfectly satis- fied that immorality forms the basis of the principle in question." - " Immorality !" exclaimed the professor, who really appeared to be utterly shocked. " Im- morahty ! That principle forms the basis of the new moral world ! It is the present corrupt system of legal marriages that is based upon immorality. With natural marriages immorality has nothing to do, seeing that that which is natural oaunot be immoral. Is it natural, I would ask, for two persons whose dispositions and feelings and passions are inimical, to be bound to each other for life % Is it not on the contrary natural for them to part with the view erf forming alliances more to their taste ? I contend that it is monstrous to bind two rational beings together when their sentiments and views are diametrically opposed. Disagree- ments should prompt them to separate at once, and form other unions in the pure course of nature." "How often V inquired Valentine. " How often ! As often as they conceive that their happiness will be thereby enhanced. Why should a man be bound to a woman whom he once might have loved, when circumstances have led him to love another better? Why should a woman be tied to a man for whom she might once have had an affection, when her natural passions prompt her to repudiate him, and turn to one upon whom she has set her soft heart ? I say that the law which prohibits this indulgence in those passions which are im- planted in us by nature, is an infamous law, and one of which the existence reflects indelible disgrace upon us as rational and intelligent creatures." At this point the professor was again enthu- siastically cheered, and so perfectly were his sentiments in unison with the views of his amiable satellites, that when Valentine inquired if they really expected that their principles would be adopted by any but the most vicious and depraved, their indignation knew no bounds. He had certainly heard yelling before — yelling too of a really extraordinary character — in sun- dry places and on divers occasions ; but never •—not even in the House of Commons! — had he heard any species of yelling at all compara- ble with that which proceeded from tlie mem- bers of the anti-legal-marriage association. The j were not very numerous, it is true, but being extremely energetic they fully made up for the absence of any numerical strength, and as the room in which they were, was comparatively small, their shouts, groans, and shrieks were absolutely stunning. " Who is he ! Where is he ! Drag him forth !" they exclaimed. The ladies were espe- cially anxious to see him. " That's the man in the comer 1" cried the professor, prompdy pointing to the individual to whorn the lady had given, her card, and the association doubtless would have pulled hirn to pieces had he not had the presence of mind to declare his perfect innocence; for nothing but the tones of his voice would have con- vinced them that the professor had made a mistake. " Wretches !" cried Valentine, throwing his voice immediately behind the professor, who turned with all the velocity of which he was capable, and reaUy appeared to be somewhat alarmed. "Who's that?" cried the professor. "Who was that ?" None could tell. He looked firmly and with an eye of suspicion at every member in his immediate vicinity,,but no ! — they were equally amazed with himself. " Who was it V he re- peated. " Who was it, I ask V " One," replied Valentine, in a tone of great solemnity, making his voice appear to proceed from the ceiling. "One who sees that you are faithless, abandoned, and profligate — one by whom vice is abhorred." In an instant every eye was directed towards the ceiling. The gentlemen became very ner- vous, while the ladies felt dreadfully alarmed, which was not at all wonderful, seeing that su- perstition and immorality invariably go hand in hand. It was held to be very mysterioSs ! They could not make it out ! They were filled with apprehension, and as the ladies clung to their natural protectors, the gentleiVien started, and shrank from their touch, so cowardly a slave does vice make the human heart. The professor, who looked quite as pale as the rest, however, felt himself bound to say something. He tner&fore rose with the view of addressing, his satellites, when Valentine cried, " Down ! I denounce you as a villain. But for you and wretches like you, hundreds who are now depraved, would have been roap- ing those blessings of which virtue is the germ." J&e professor seemed utterly paralyzed: an(Riis satellites stared with open mouths round the room with an expression of terror. "Let UB go," said one of the females, ad- dressing her friend — "pray, pray let us go; I'm very frightened !" "Go!" cried Valentine. " Repudiate these proceedings, if you be not quite lost to every sense of female delicacy and virtue. Be not blinded by sophistry : spum those who, to gratify their own bad passions, would place you on a level with the beasts of the field. Be yiituona 174 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF and happy in the perfect assurance, that from virtue alone real happiness can spring." The females now tremblingly rushed to the door; and so exceedingly terrified were they, that scarcely one minute had elapsed before they had vanished from the room. The pro- fessor was utterly astounded, and stared at his male disciples, who in return stared at him. HatJ any man come forward to deliver that ad- dress, which had just been delivered by Valen- tine, he would have contested every point with warmth, eloquence, and firmness; but as his opponent was apparently invisible, he could not say a word. He seemed perfectly lost, and BO indeed did they all, and as Valentine, who in straining to give efiect to his epeeca had become very warm, he left them at once in a state of great amazement to solve that which they manifestly felt to be a mystery of no in- oonsiderable depth. CHAPTER XL. nWCtE JOHN HAS ANOTHEK rUPOKTANT INTEKVIEW WITH WALTES, TO WHOM HE DECLARES HIS IKTEN- TIOMS WITH FOKCE AHD EFFECT. With those feelings of satisfaction which commonly spring from the consciousness of having promoted the cause of virtue, Valentine returned to the residence of Walter, and found bim and Horace at home. " Well, my young rattlesnake !" cried Horace, as he entered, " and how do they bring it in now ? Come to an anchor ! Is there anything extra o'clock? How's the ancient?" Uncle John was the gentleman to whom he alluded, and Valentine said that he was perfect- ly well; but was struck with the extremely wretched aspect of Walter. He was the very type of misery. His cheeks were hollow, and his lips were parched, while his eyes swam dimly in their sockets, by which they were al- most entirely concealed. " You are not so well this evening?" said Valentine. " I am not, indeed," said Walter, faintly ; " I am not, indeed." "No, the governor don't look particularly spicy !" cried Horace. " But then, you see it s all his own fault ! he won't be ruled ! If I've told him once, I have told him five hundred times, that he'll never be well till he gets beast- ly drunk. I am sure of it ! — nothing can alter my opinion upon the point. If he were but to get into a profoundly elaborate state of m6ps and brooms; he'd be as right as a Roman. But then he won't do it ! You may as well talk to atumij,." " I wish I was dead !" exclaimed Walter. " Of course ! that's a species of donkeyfica- tion you never will get over, if you live a thou- sand years. You wish you were dead ! And what would jou do, if you were dead?" Walter sighed. " Are you engaged to-morrow evening 1" in- quired Valentine, taking advantage of a tem- porary pause. " Not that I am aware of at this momnnt, replied Walter. " My uncle," said Valentine, " is anxious to have five or ten minutes' conversation with yon, before he leaves town." "What," cried Horace, "is he going to cut it ?" . "If you will-say," continued Valentine, "at what hour it will be convenient for you to see him, he will be here; he'll not occupy mucK of your time." "Will eight o'clock suit him? If not, say nine." " Eight will suit him well. He will be hew at that hour." " But, I say," cried Horace, " are you going to toddle back with him ?" " I am not sure of that ; but at all events 1 shall see you again before I leave. Good evening." "Well, remember me, you know, to the old tar," said Horace. " He's perhaps about the rummest and roughest old reed that ever did come to town. But I don't dislike him. Good night!" Vafentine now left the house, and he was no sooner gone, than Horace put it to his father very pointedly, whether he did not consider himself an idiot. " What did you want to sigh away for," said he, " like an old distressed alli- gator, right before him? And why couldn't you let that old Rufus trot ofi) without having him boring here again ? You know that yoa have got just as much nerve as nothing !" "I was anxious to make him think that I was not afraid to see him," replied Walter, "and thus to allay any suspicion that may have been excited." " Well, but you know that you are not at all fit to be seen. Besides, there is more in the wiiid than you expect. I know, by that fellow's mai>' ner, there's something o'clock. I shouldn't be a bit surprised to hear that he has found it all out." "How could he?" " Why, you told him all about the place yon^ self! How do you know that he has not been there ?" " And if he has, is it likely that they would give him any information ?" "Wellj if you'll take my advice — but you never will, you know, and hence it is that you're invariably wrong — but if you wish to ha secure you'll remove him to some other crib, aiii then no one will know a bit about it." " But how can that be done ?" " Whvj don't you see ? Old Neversweat— what's his name? Holdem, has cormection with another den a hundred miles off. Well, can't you make arrangements with him to send the old boy there in another name ?" " But, why in another name ?" " Because then they may search all the books in the universe without ascertadning where he is. They may go to Dr. Holdem's — 'Is Mi Goodman here ?' ' No, he has left !' ' Wherai is he?' _' Can't say.' They may apply to the commissioners, and get a sight of the registei^ They look for the name of Goodman. Good- man tecu at Dr. Holdem's. Discharged such * VALENTINE VOX. 175 date. Don't you see ? Suppose he is entered as Jonathan Soroggins. Who is Jonathan Scrog- gins? They may see the name of Soroggins. iTiey know no such a man. He may call him- sfelf Goodman down there, it is true ; but then they'll call him Soroggins, and if he insists upon tt'that Goodman is his name, they will rational- ly conclude that he is laboring under some rtcMig delusion, and hold it to be an invincible proof of his being incurably mad. To be se- rfire, therefore, aJl you have to do is to send him away under some assumed name, when, tf they ever find him out you may safely for- give them ; discovery in such a case being an ntteily impossible thmg." " There is something in that, certainly," said Walter. " There certainly is something in that. But had we not better, m the first place, see what their object is in coming here to-morrow V " Why, as far as that goes, there is no earth- ly use in doing that which is useless: that's as (Jear as cream ; and his removal will be use- less, in the event of their having no doubt &out its being all right; but if they have the least suspicion of anything wrong, take my ad- vice, and pack him off at once." Walter saw in a moment the force of this SOggestion, and as security was his object, it was eventually decided, that if anything should transpire to convince hira that the secret had in reaUty become known, Goodman should be re- moved in the name of Soroggins to some dis- tant Asylum, and thus placed for ever beyond the reach of his friends. By the time these two amiable persons had arrived at this decision, Valentine had reached home, where he found Uncle John still asleep on the sofa, playing loudly upon his nasal organ, that notorious tune of which Morpheus alone can be really enamored. ,By dint of great exertion on the part of Val- entine, Uncle John awoke, and when he did Swake, he said with gi-eat presence of mind, "Ah — yes — -well;" and yawned, and then added, " What, not off yet I Come, come, you had better start. I'll see after Whitely : I'll take care of hira." "Will you do me the favor to look at your watch V said Valentine. Uncle John did him this favor, and then ob- served that the thing'had stopped ever since eleven that morning. " You are really a very watchful attendant," said Valentine. " Why, you have been asleep nearly five hours." "Nonsense," cried Uncle John, "Nonsense! I haven't had halt-a-dozen winks." " It was half-past six when I left, and it's now past eleven." " Tut ! bless my hfe and soul ! Why, I couldn't have believed it. Have I been asleep all that time t Dear me, how very neglectful! — Our poor old friend ! Let's go and see how he gets on." They accordingly went into the bed-room softly, and as, much to their satisfaction, they found Whitely asleep, they returned with equal caution to the room they had just left, when Valentine dwelt upon his mterview with Walter. " He is now extremely ill," said he, after an explanation of all that had occurred ; " my fiifti impression is, that he is on the very brink of the grave. If, therefore, Whitely cannot go with us to-morrow, it will be better for me and Horace to leave the room, while you explain what you know, and how you mean to proceed, if poor Goodman be not immediately released.'* " I see — exactly," said Uncle John. " I see precisely what you mean. It will be better- much better." And Uncle John wap engaged in rehearsing his part from that time till he iw- tired to bed. In the morning, Whitely found thai his nerves had gained considerable strength : his fears were calmed, and he paced the loom firmljt He felt that he was free : and that feeling, ho'W*- ever limited may be the space i.i which he dwells, will prompt a man to be content to re- main within it, where the knowledge of his being confined even to Europe, would generate within him a wish to go beyond. As, h.ovf- ever, he did not feel equal to the task of meet- ing Walter^ and as moreover his presence on that occasion was not absolutely necessary, Uncle John and Valentine left him, and at the hour appointed found Walter and his son deep- ly engaged with a pile of dusty documents as before. When a variety of common-place observa- tions had passed between them, Valentine en- gaged the attention of Horace, while Uncte John intimated to Walter that he wished to say a few words in private. " Horace," said Walter, " entertain yonr young friend. We wish to be by ourselves a short time." Horace looked at his father with unspeak- able significance. He clearly did not think it, safe. However, feeling that he could not with any show of politeness remain in the room after that, he rose, and taking the arm of VaV- entine, said, "Come; let us leave these old inqpmprehensibles together." ''Mr. Goodman," said Uncle John, when he found that they were alone ; " my object in coming- here this evening is to speak upon a subject which concerns you deeply. It has reference, sir, to your brother, whom yester- day I saw! — I perceive," he continued, as Walter started and trembled, " I perceive that you did not expect to hear that; but I saw him, sir, yesterday at the asylum you named, and there discovered him to be, sir — not mad 1 — but an enfeebled, emaciated martyr to thai foul, that iniquitous system, the existence of which is a national disgrace." "Not mad!" said Walter, hurriedly, "Not mad ! I have proofs !" And having opened hia desk, he drew forth a printed paper which he placed with an air of triumph before Uncte John. "There, there, sir," he continued, " there you have the certificate of two eminent physicians, Drs. Bowlemout and Dobb. Thai will be perfectly satisfactory. I presume V "Not at all," said Uncle John ; " not at all. I am happily not ignorant of the mode in which these things are managed, although I could not till recently have conceived it to be possible that men could in a country like eura lesort to practices so monBtroos." 176 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF "Do you mean, sir," said Walter, "to insi- nuate that I have had recourse to monstrous practices?" " Mr. Goodman ! I have no inclination to have any angry words: but I am not a man to mince a matter of this kind. Your brother is incaroe- lated in a lunatic bastile as an insane man ; he is not insane : never was insane : you incarcera- ■ttl him ! — I ask you why ?" " There is my authority !" said Walter, point- ing to the certificate. " Sir !" cried Uncle John, " I am not a child. I know that these things, — though potent in de- priving men of liberty — are to be purchased with ease ; and you know that if I were villain enough [ could bribp two professional scoun- drels to certify to your insanity to-morrow. What proof then is that of the madness of my friend ? Under the present iniquitous state of the law of lunacy, it is, it is true, held to be a proof — a legal proof — a proof sufficient to in- demnify those into whose hands the victim may be placed, but in reality it is no proof of madness at all. Who are these men, Drs. Bowlemout and Dobb ? where are they to be found?" " They are eminent physicians," replied Wal- ter, " attached to Dr. Holdem's asylum." " I thought BO. But ycm, did not apply to these eminent physicians! — you did not engage theml You applied to Dr. Holdem : Dr. Holdem sent them to my friend : they saw him once, and then signed that certificate. That was the process. And why did you apply to Dr. Holdem V " Of course, because I believed my brother to be insane." " But why did you not in the first place apply to two physicians ofknown respectability t It does not follow as a matter of course that you applied to Dr. Holdem, because you believed that your brother was insane. But if even you had that belief, what induced it? — ^Why did yon think that he was mad ?" '' Why," said Walter, " because he acted strangely." " Because he acted strangely ! Are we to pronounce every man to be mad who acts strangely ? Why, every man living acts strange- ly at times. We have all our eccentricities. We are all apt to deviate from the straight beaten path, and every such deviation is an eccentricity. Eccentricity is the parent of all that is eminent. No man ever yet raised him- self into eminence who was not eccentric. But are we to pronounce all such men to be mad ? That were in itself indeed madness, and yet you have not only pronounced your own brother to be mad, but have stolen him from society with a view to his perpetual imprison- ment, because he acted strangely !" " Stolen him from society !" exclaimed Wal- ter ; " I don't understand you." " Then let me explain ; for I am anxious to make you understand me. Your brother is not mad. Nor is he in the vulgar acceptation of ' the term eccentric. He is as free from eccen- tricities as you are, unless, indeed, it be those eccentricities which characterize a benevolent heart. He is a perfectly sane man ; and yet you have caused him to be kidnapped — carried away secretly — dragged by brutal ruffians, to a lunatic asylum, with a view to his .being con- fined there for life. Now let me be unde^ stood. Your brother is my friend, The loia of ten thousand pounds will not ruin me. I am prepared to spend ten thousand pounds to effect ms liberation, and to punish those by whom he has been incarcerated, and ten thou- sand more when that is gone. I am no idle boaster. I am resolved to see him either des^ or free ; and in order to carry into effect thaj resolution, I will willingly spend every shilling I have. If, therefore, you vnsh to avoid being harassed; if you wish to avoid being held up to public scorn ; if you wish not to have your life embittered, and your death ao celerated by the knowledge of being univer- sally execrated and denounced, you will coiv sent, without delay, to his liberation; for be assured, that if you will not do this, my friend- ship for him is so pure, and so firm, that all that can be done shall be done ; every available means shall be had Tecourse to, with the view of exposing and punishing the parties to this nefarious transaction ; and if once I begin, sir, nothing shall stop me. But let me appeal to your sense of justice — to your- feelings — to your conscience. Let me reason with yoo calmly. Like me, you are an old man — a very old man: we are both sinking fast into iud grave : we must both soon appear before Him to whom all hearts are open, and from whom no secrets are hid. Now, assuming that I know your real motive for proceeding against your brother as you have done : assuming that your object was the possession of his property"— -, "But that was not my object," cried Walter J " that was not my object !" " I simply say, assuming that youi object was the possession of his property, how inhumai^— how unjust — how unnatursd do the means by which you have sought the attainment of that object appear ! He is your brother ! — ^your own brother! Nature, therefore, prompts him to look to you for afiection. Persecution at your hands is abhorrent to every principle wnii^ claims an alliance with nature ; and yet have you bitterly persecuted him ! You • have de- prived him, in his old age, of liberty, — ^yon have placed every comfort beyond his reach, — you have subjected him to a species of brutality the most horrible; — you have banished him from all society, save that of poor idiots and raving maniacs; — and solely with the view of obtaining possession of that which, if it prove not indeed an immediate curse to you, sir, you can never enjoy." " But I tell you again, that that was not my object. My object was to keep him from harm. "And in order that that object might ]» effectually accomplished, you placed hira in the power of ruffians by whom he has been nearly murdered." " Nearly murdered !" exclaimed Walter. . " Sir, if^your brother be not already dead, hfi is dying. He, a short time since, tried to escape, and on being recaptured, was subjected to treatment of so brutal a character, that hi* recovery is held to be almost impossible. Hu- manity, thereft>re, cries aloud for his release VALENTfNE VOX. 177 J appeal to you as a brother — as a Christian -as ti man — whether his continued incarceration be not now the veiy acme of brutality and injustice. Put it to yourself, sir. Suppose that you were placed in tno position he occupies, writhing \vilh physical agony on the very verge of death, and morally tortured with the consciousness of li'avitig been placed in that position by a bro- ther — a brother, too, whom you had ever treated with the utmost kindness, and who was always at hand in the hour of need. Would you not think it dreadful ? — would it not be sufficient to di5ve you mad indeed? But assuming for a moment that you believed him to be insane, let me ask if you thought that his madness was iiiburable V " I certainly did not." "Then why send him to such a place as this, when you knew it to be directly against the interest of the proprietor to allow him to be cured V " I did not know that, nor do I know it now." " You know, I presume," that the proprietor established that asylum lor profit : you know that his object is to get as many patients as he can, and to keep them as long as he can ; — you know this, and yet you are anxious to induce the belief that you do not know it to be directly opposed to his interest to allow them to be cured ! His design is not to cure, but to keep them, seeing that in proportion as they are ciired, so in proportion do his emoluments de- crease ; it being from them only that his in- come is derived. This is no mere assertion, sir, based upon theory ; but a straightforward, practical, self-evident truth. Why then, I again ask, if you really were anxious for the restora- tion of your brother, did you place him in a private asylum?'' " I did all for the best. I was told that he wo lid have every attention." " But do you not see that the interest of every pioprietor of a private asylum runs counter to his duty ?" " It certainly, I must confess, seems feasi- ble." " Can you then hesitate to release him?" Walter remained silent. " I wish you to understand, sir," continued Uncle John, " that I am not in the habit of hold- ing forth threats ; but as I have, sir, the means at my command — means of which you litde dream, for you cannot for a moment suppose that I derived any part of my infonnation from the proprietor of this asylum ; but as I have, sir, the means of proving not only that your brother is not mad, but that the possession of his property was the object — ^the sole object at which you aimed, those means shall be publicly employed forthwith, unless you consent to restore him to society. I wish it to be an act of yours. I wish to nave it appear that you are vriilling to make all the reparation m your power for the injury you have inflicted, and the agony you have caused him to endure. Again, therefore, I ask will you release him?" " But what can I do with him then ?" cried Waller. " I will, take care of him. I'll undertake to keep him secure from all harm. If he be in- 12 sane, let it be fairly and openly proved. What objection can you possibly have ? If your ob- ject be to see him taken care of, and treated with a view to his restoration, and not the pos- session of his property, pray tell me what ob- jection you can have to his being released ?" , This Walter could not tell, and therefore kept silent. "Liberate him then," continued Uncle John, firmly, "and I will strive to allay any ill feeling that circumstances may have engendered. But you know his benevolent, charitable disposition; you know that he is of a most forgiving nature. If, however, you will not, his liberation can and shall be accomplished, without your assist- ance, in which case — I speak to you now as 4 mere man of the worlilj looking solely to your own interest and security — I will urge him to banish every feehng consanguinity may have implanted in his breast, and to proceed — as » matter of justice to society — against you with all possible rigor. Your own interest, there- fore, if nothing else be sufficiently powerful, the very consideration of your own security must prompt you to consent. Will you do it ?" " I will !" said Walter. " I will. On Monday morning, the first step shall be taken." " I may rely upon you in this ?" "You may. Go with me yourself. Call early on Monday morning, and we'll proceed to the asylum together." "Very well. Reflect upon all that I hava said. I depend upon yo\x firmly." Uncle John now pushed his chair from' the table, and Tyiped his forehead, for he had been so extremely energetic that he was then in a state of steaming perspiration. " Will you ds me the favor to ring for my nephew ?" said he,, and the bell was accordingly rung, when as Valentine and Horace were summoned, they promptly re-entered the room. " Why, what in the name of all that's incog, have you two unhappy old conspiraioi's been up to?'' cried Horace. "Plotting agninsl the jolly old state ? Are we to have anolher Guy- Tawkesification ?" "Good night," said Uncle John, a.< he rose to take leave. " 'What, are you off?" cried Horace, with a look of amazement. " Good night," repeated Uncle Juhn, coolly, as he drew towards the door. " Well," cried Horace, " you are about the rummest old " " Horace !" ciied Walter. " Well," continued Horace, " I was only going to say ! — ^because look here ! — directly I come down, you cut it — that's all ! But, if you will go, you know, why you will, and no mis- take at all about it ! And having thus delivered his sentiments upon this subject, he saw Uncle John and Valentine out with all the politeness which characterized him commonly. " Well," he continued, on returning to the room, " and what has that old fool been gam- moning you about ? — the one subject, though, I suppose ?" " Yes," said Walter. " Heaven only knows ■where he obtained his information, but he knowi| all about it, from beginning to end." 178 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF . " What ! has tha,t avaricipus old breeches- fpcketed crocodile — that what's his name? [oldem, been splitting V "Not he! you may take your oath that no- thing has been got out of him." " From whom then, did the old fool derive his information? " Can't tell ; can't guess," said Walter. " He says that he has the means at his command of proving every circumstance connected with the afl&iir; and I believe him, for he stated to me all that I knew to be true." " Then no time must be lost in removing the old nominal." '•' He can't be removed now." "Why not ■? What's to prevent it ?" " You may depend upon it, that this information has been derived from the fellows attached to the jisylum. It would be therefore quite use- ■iess, if even it were possible, for him now to be removed. Besides, I have solemnly promised to release him." " You have done what !" cried Horace. " Do you mean to tell me — Oh! we are all up the flue ! — ^Do you mean to say you have given that promise 1" " I have." " Then we may as well just go and smolher ourselves in the thickest possible mud upon the face of the earth. It's all up ! There's no mis- take at all about the matter ! If you release him, I'd strongly advise you to sell out, and cut away as fast as you can pelt over to Van Diemen s Land or New Zealand, and egtabUsh yourself among the blacks." " But if I do not release him, he will be re- leased, and I therefore may as well make a virtue of necessity." " Well, you kriow my sentiments. Do as you like : but if you do that, mark my words, ybu'll make a mull of it ! What do you want to release him at all fori" " The thing is done," said Walter, " and can't be helped now !" " No, the thing is not done ! it can be helped now !" " But he is coming on Monday morning to go with me to the asylum." " What ,of that !" cried Horace, " what of that ! Can't you go down to-morrow and tell Holdem all about it, and have him removed in the night! It matters not a straw about to- morrow being Sunday; all days are alike to them. They think nothing of Sunday there. All you have to do is to trot down in the morn- ing, and explain to Holdem how the matter stands ; and if he don't, before midnight, remove the old nominal to a far distant den, I'U be bound to — ^to swallow him whole." " But what am I to say on Monday morning ?" " What are you to say on Monday morning ! Why, don't you see ? When you go the bird has flown ! ' Bless my life ! Why, where is Mr. Goodman ? He is nowhere to be found ! Who saw Mr. Goodman this morning? Here, Figgins, Jenkins, Hoggins ! have you seen Mr. Goodman ? Go, ana search for him again ! Search every room in the asylum. I saw him last nighi. poor man! and he seemed a little Ji^tter. Weli. have you found him? not found him ? Bless my life ! how very extraordinaijr.l He must have escaped!' WSat then can be done ? How can you be involved ? Vou went expressly in order to release him. What could a man do more ? He has escaped ! He!s. not there ! Let his friends find out then where he is if they can." Walter looked in the fire thoughtfuUv. H» mind was by no means made up. " I'll think of it," said he at length ; " I'U think of it. Say no more now. Go and sit with your wife ana mother ; go, leave me." Horace, feeling quite certain of gaining his point, accordingly left Walter musing alone. CHAPTER XLI. ViLENTINE BECOMES A LITTLE BETTER ACQVAmTIO WITH THE CHAEACTEK OF LOUISE, OF WHOM HI TAKES HIS FIRST LESSOH. The next morning, Valentine, Uncle Johq. and Whitely went to church, and nothing coulH surpass the pure fervor with which Whitejf offered up thanks to the throne of Mercy for his deliverance. He had not been at church before for many weary years ; and hence, al- though he had prayed constantly to Him in whom all his hopes were concentred, the sacred place at once awEikened the sweetest recolleo tions of his youth. All the miseries he had en- dured 'were forgotten. His heart was full of joy, and he wept like a child. Each prayei>-r each response brought fresh tears into his eyesj and while the solemn swell of the organ struck awe into his soul, the voices of the children singing the praises of the Most High, seemed to him so celestial, that he felt, during the sep- vice, as if in heaven with the angels, and leflipr spired witli the purest happiness a mortal can know. He and his friends, however, had scarcely reached home, when the carriage of Mr. Raven dashed up to the door, and when the widovr— who would tiust no one to answer double knocks — had communicated some interesting intelli- gence, having reference to the fact of Valentins and his uncle being at home, Mr. Raven him- self alighted, and, according to instructioni^ was shown at once into the room. "Ah! how do, my friends? How do; how do ?" cried that gentleman, shaking them both by the hand at once. " I've come, you see, without any aristocratic ceremony: come to press you ! must go ! I want you to spend the whole day with us. Come, you're not engaged.?" " Why, the fact is," replied Uncle John, " we have a friend staying with us who" "Come, now, none of your aristocracy! can you not bring your friend with you ?" "He is not sufficiently well," said Unci? John, who was about to explain in continuation, when Mr. Raven, addressing Valentin^, said, " Well, I must have you, at all events. Louise is in the carriage : you had better get in at once, while I see what I can make of my ol4 friend here." Of course Valentine did not remain very long in the room after that : on the cohtraryi he went at once to take leave of Whitelj, wn» VALENTINE VOX. 17» nad retired on the approach of Mr. Raven, and whom he urged to accept the invitation if it were pressed, and then without even the slightest unnecessary delay, proceeded to the carriage to join Louise. Uncle John, to the utter astonishment of Raven, now briefly explained Whitely's case, and begged of him at the conclusion to believe that he should have been indeed happy to re^ turn with him; but that he was anxious not to leave his poor friend so long alone. "But why can he not come with us?" in- quired Mr. Raven. " He will be just as well there, you know, as here. We'll doctor him up. We'll take every possible care of him. Will you go and try to persuade him to come V '■ By all means," said Uncle John, who went at once for that purpose; but Whitely most earnestly begged to be excused, and at the same time endeavored to prevail uponr Uncle John not to remain at home on his account one moment. "Well," said Mr. Raven, when Uncle John had communicated the result, " then I tell you what I'll do with you. Suppose we split the difference. We dine at six : wiU you join us then?" "I will, with pleasure." " That's all right ! Now we'll be off. When, your poor friend is well enough to come, I shall h^ happy to see him. But these are your laws, my friend ! — the laws of your beggarly aristoc- racy ! — framed on purpose to swindle their own, flesh and blood ! But they'll come down ! mark my words, they'll come down, and that before many more years roll over their heads ! However, six precisely !" " I'll be punctual," said Uncle John, and he saw Mr. Raven to his carriage^ expressly with the view of shaking hands with Louise, who looked so beautiful and so happy, and smiled so sweetly, that really, while her hand was in his, she made him feel that he should have fallen in love with her himself, had he seen her about forty years before. The carriage of course was not long rolling home ; but had it been dragged by a couple of ci'abs, the time would not have seemed long to Valentine and Louise. They could not keep their eyesx)ff each other one moment. Every instant they met, and then dropped, and met again, and although Mr. Raven tried to fix their attention upon the beggarly characteristics of certain aristocratic equipages which passed fijem on the way, the attempt was in every case a failure, although he was doomed not to know it. They now reached home, and Valentine as- sisted Louise out of the carriage with all possi- ble grace, only being unaccustomed to the business, he stood as a mere matter of chance on the wrong side, and thus took the thing en- tirely out of the hands of the servant. The importance of this was however but slight : it iSily proved to Mr. Raven, that he did not be- long to the " beggarly aristocracy," and as he led Louise into the house very fairly, he thereby recovered his ground. It was not very long before Louise again joiiied hira, and although Mr. Raven was anx- ious for him to sit over a biscuit and a glass of wine, and chat about the aristocracy, sue very soon had him away. He had not seen those beautiful pictures : he had not seen those funny Dutch chairs : he had not even been in the library ! Oh I he must come : She had so miich to show him, and so much to say, that she robbed Mr. Raven of his society in a short space of time, and they ran about the house like brother and sister. She called him plain Valentine, and taught him to call her Louise; and they seemed to understand each other perfectly; and were both very happy in that understanding; and thus they spent the first three hours, occasionally looking in upon Mr. Raven just to see how he got on with his " beg- garly aristocracy," and then starting off again upon some fresh expedition. As the time flew away, however, Valentine thought that this really was an opportunity' which ought not to be lost. They were then m the drawing-room, and the beggarly aristoc- racy's natural enemy was below. He there- fore went to the window, while Louise was looking over an annual with the view of find- ing a piece of poetry which she held in very high admiration, and began to weigh the im- portance of the first sentence he wished to utter with as much minuteness as if indeed immortality hung upon every word. " Why, what is the matter V cried Louise, when he had been standing in this position for some time. " Why on earth are you so serious? I know what you are thinking about," she con- tinued, smiling archly, as her laughing eyes sparkled with pleasure. " I think that I could guess pretty nearly !" "Indeed!' Tell me what you imagine my thoughts were now, come !" " Nay, I will not tell that : but it strikes me that I could if I felt so disposed." And she ran away to look for the poetry again, with as much anxiety as if that really bore upon the point. " Louise !" said Valentine, after a pause, and e flew to the window at which he was stand- she ing ; but as her hasty approach 'drove away all his courage, he simply stated it to be his un- biassed conviction that appearances were de- cidedly in favor of rain. "Oh!" said Louise. "And is that all you called me for?" "Why," returned Valentine, recovenng him- self a little, " I certainly had something else to communicate, and have still, but — " " Anything very particular ?" " Very." "Wefl, tell me at once what it is. I am im- patient to know all about it." " Louise, I am really so awkward, so stupid, that I wish to become at once a pupil of yours.'' " And pray what am I to teacn you? " How to win your afieotions." "Indeed, I know nothing about it," said Louise. " I have had no experience in matters of that sort." And again she ran away, but only pretended this time to look for that ex- tremely beautiful piece of poetry. "But," said Valentine, "I really wish you vould give me a ]ktii instruction !" "But how C4ff ' ^ow is it possible ta 180 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF teach you that of which I myself am igno- rant T" "Many begin to learn only when they begin to teach ; and I really think that if anything can justify that practice, it is a case of a precisely similar character to this." " Well," said Louise, sitting down upon the, isofa, " as you seem to be so very, very anxious to learn, I will give you a lesson." And Valen- tine at once left the window, and sat beside her. " In the first place then," she continued, ■ playfully, " you must be a good boy, and come very, very often. Secondly: whenever I ex- pect you, and you find it impossible to come, you must send me a note to that effect — " " Exactly; and how am I to begin it?" " Why, how would you begin it?" " My dear Miss Raven ? or my dear madam?" "Neither, sir! Were you to address me as 'my dear madam;' or even as 'my dear Miss Raven,' I would instantly tear off that part, and send it back in a very sharp note. My dear madam, indeed ! My dear Louise ! or my dearest Louise ! or something even stronger than that ; and then go on to say that so and so, whatever it may be, you know — precludes the .possibility of your having the pleasure or the •happiness, and so on, subscribing yourself Yours." ■ " I see : et cetera, et cetera.'" "No, sir ! not Yours et cetera, et cetera; but Yours^-you-may say, dear Louise ! here again if you please ; but at all events, Yours ever faithfully and affectionately ; and then sign •yonr own Christian name at full length. Well! that is in the second place. Thirdly : you must never say a word in my favor, that you are not quite convinced that I shall believe to be true ; for, although ' a little flattery some- times does well,' we cannot bear to believe it to be flattery — but' in this little particular, you may go to some extent before you fall into any very serious error. Fourthly : you must never — Good gracious !" she continuedj suddenly start- ing from her playfully energetic position, and looking down as pensively as possible. Valentine slightly turned his head, and saw Uncle John and Raven in the room. , They appeared to be delighted ; but Louise and her pupil felt really so confused ! What could be done ? It is true, there was the Annual lying by her side ; but then, what is an Annual in such a case as this ? "Your most obedient." said Uncle John, holding his spectacles to his eyes, and bowing v^ry profoundly. Louise looked up and smiled : all her courage returned, and she ran to shake hands with Uncle John. " I thought that we should find them at last !" said Mr. Raven. " You are two very, very naughty creatures," said Louise ; " I have a great mind not to for- give you. How long, pray, have you been be- ind tliat screen ?" " 1 have but just come,'' said Uncle John. " But this moment ! You have heard n othing, .. then ? You are sure you have heard nothing ? — quite sure?" " We simply heard you giving your pupil ji lesson." " Now, that is too bad of you, really ! I wag simply explaining" — " Yes, yes ! we are aware you were simply explaining," returned Uncle John. " Well, sir ! and pray have you nothing to say, for yourself?" Valentine smiled and took the hand of Loiiise, but was silent. "Well," said Mr. Raven, who had been highly amused, " when you have finished the fourth division. — It is, I belipve, the fourth?— Yes; well, when the fourth division is finished, we, perhaps, may have the honor of your, com- pany below. That's rather aristocratic, I think !" And Mr. Raven really laughed very merrily, and so did Uncl&John, whose arm he took, and left the apt pupil and his preceptress together. " Dear me ! how very awkward to be sure !'' said Louise. " What tiresome people, to come in just then. But, gracious ! how odd you did look!" "I have not the slightest doubt of it; bul then, even you somewhat changed !" " Did I ? Well, I dare say I did. But we must not remain here. You run down at once, and I'll follow immediately." "Very well," said Valentine; "tut first let me whisper one word in your-ear. They may be even now behind the screen." "Well, what is it? quick !" said Louise, and as she held her ear towards him, he kissed her ! — absolutely kissed her ! — which was very extraordinary. Yet what's in a kiss ? Really, when people come to reflect upon the matter calmly, what can they see in a kiss ? The lipa pout slightly and touch, the cheek softly, and then they just part, and the job is complete. There's a kiss in the abstract ! view it in the abstract ! — take it as it stands ! look at it philosophically ! — what is there in it? Millions upon millions of souls have been made happy, while millions upon millions have been plungeQ into misery and despair by this kissing ; and yet when you look at the character of the thing, it is simply a pouting and parting of the lips. In every grade of society there's kissing. Go where you will, to what country you will, you are perfectly sure to find kissing ! There is, however, some mysterious virtue in a kiss after all, and as every one knows what kissing is, it perhaps wilLbe just now sufficient to state, that the peculiarly sweet kind of influence which it has was by no means unfelt by either Valentine or Louise, although they actually, in less than five minutes after, sat at the table. and in the presence of Raven and Uncle John, looking precisely as if nothing of the kind had occurred ! During dinner the "lesson" was a scarce of great amusement : for both Uncle Johtf and Raven rallied Louise and her pupU at every point. " In the first place," said Raven, " shall 1 send you some soup ?" This kept them merry for some time. " Secondly," said Uncle John, "shall I have the pleasure to take wine with you?" This also told well, and so indeed did every VALENTINE VOX. 181 dirisibu of the' subject, even up to the nine- teenth; but as ValentLie and Louise took up the weapons of their assailants, ihey eventually beat them completely out of the field. " Well" sail! Mr. Raven, immediately after dinner, "and what is your opinion of the state of things in general V "Do you allude to the state of the country?" inquired. Uncle John. " The country, sir, I blush for the country. I blush, sir, for those who rule the destinies of the country. My firm impression is, sir, that the country is going to pot." "Indeed! Really I have heard nothing at all of it ! I am soriy to hear that." " Sorry ! and so am I, sir, sorry ; but how can it.be helped? Look at the state of things in general! Everything is in the hands of our beggarly aristocracy ; and when that is the case, sir, what country can prosper?" " But how long has this country been in the hands of the aristocracy?" "How long? It always has been in their . hands, ever since it was a country." " That is to say, that they have always had the government of it — the ruling of its des- tinies?" "Precisely." " Then by that I am of course to understand that they have made this country what it is ?" " To be sure they have, they and they alone, sir, have made it what it is." " The envy of surrounding nations, and the admiration of the world !" " But we have not to thank the aristocracy for that !" , '■ If they have made this country what it is, they have made it great and glorious beyond all other nations of the earth; and if they have made it so great and so glorious, they cannot in the long run have mismanaged much." " But what would this country have been, sir, had it not been for them ?" " It is utterly impossible for me to tell." "Greater," continued Mr. Raven, " ten thou- sand times greater and more glorious! But, waiving this subject, just look at the set ! Can you conceive a more arrogant haughty upstart set of wretches ? Why, nineteen, sir, cut of every twenty are paupers, viewing the country as their parish, and living upon the rates." "But there is great wealth amongst them I" " No doubt of it ; but what I complain of most is that they who have it will not even support their own children. They must quarter them upon the public: they must make them national paupers. In their view the provision for one son in each family is sufRcieat : aU the rest, — it matters not a single straw, sir, how many there may be — ^must be provided for out of the public purse.' That is what I look at! and I mean to contend that it is monstrous that this country should be taxed for the support of a legion of aristocratic locusts who suck the pecu- niary blood of the people, and who, while they suck, tyramiize over and trample them to the earth. Look at them ! See with what aristo- cratic contempt they look down upon a man who by dint of honest industry, has realized suflScient to buy a thousand of them up ! They will prey upon him, borrow of him, gamble with him, cheat him, but they will not associate with him. Oh, no; his veins are untainted by aristocratic blood, the impurity of which is notorious. They will dance with a dustman, drink with a sweep, shake hands with a pugilist, a jockey, or a black-leg ; but he comefe too near them, his wealth cuts them out, he can buy them all up ! — they'll do neither with him. The whole system is rotten, sir, rotten at the core. If we have an aristocracy at all, sir, let it be a monied aristocracy: an aristocracy of wealth. He who has most should stand first: the richest man should be king. That, sir, is the sort of aris- tocracy to establish ; not a beggarly aristocracy, composed of mean, stifF-neoked hereditary paupers. What would become of the crew, were it not for the public purse? Why, they'd run about as bare, sir, as unfledged birds: they would not have a rag to their backs — ^not a rag ; but as it is they make John Bull stand Sam, and John Bull is an ass; but when he does kick — and kick he will, mark my words, soon — down comes your beggarly aristocracy." To Uncle John all this was highly amusing; he of course, saw in a moment how the matter stood between the aristocracy and Mr. Haven, and felt disposed to humor him, seeing that he cared to converse upon no other topic ; but to Louise and her pupil the thing was really tire- some in the extreme, and therefore Valentine no sooner lost his fair preceptress than he re- solved upon changing the subject at once. " You see, sir," continued Mr. Raven, having' refilled his glass, " when we speak of an aris- tocracy, as an aristocracy — " "Ahem!" cried Valentine, throwing his voice near the legs of the speaker. " Hullo ! Who have we here ?" cried that gentleman, looking most anxiously under the table. "Who are you?" " One of the aristocracy," said Valentine. " One of the aristocracy ?" and again Mr. Raven looked under the table, but really could spd no one there. " One of the aristocracy ?" he repeatt'tl, looking earnestly in the face of Uncle John. "I heard some one," said Uncle John, "say, 'one of the aristocracy,'" and he also looked with great apparent anxiety beneath the table, although he perfectly well knew from whom the voice had proceeded. " Ahem !" repeated Valentine, throwing his voice this time beneath the easy chair in which Raven was sitting. " Oh, you're here, are you ?" cried Mr. Raven, starting at once upon his legs, and upsetting the chair in question. " Why, where on earth ! — where can he be !" he continued. " He must be somewhere !" And he looked round the room with an anxious eye, and turned the chair up- side down with the view ot making quite sure that the invisible one of the aristocracy was not in reality perched upon the frame. " I don't see him," observed Uncle John, with an air of mystery, which did him great credit. ' " Nor do I," said Mr. Raven, "but then be must be here ! — Again I ask, who are you?" " Again I say, one of the aristocracy I" 182 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF This was indeed held to be very strange. The idea of one of the aristocracy being con- cealed in his room, struck Raven as being about the most extraordinary thing in life. He had heard of nothing — read of nothing in history, either ancient or modern^-at all to be compated with it, and therefore said, "What do y»u want?" " To converse with you upon that great topic," said Valentine. " What right have you here 1 But come out, and let's have a look at you !" And he quietly winked at Uncle John — which wink seemed to signify that he simply wished to see him — that was k\l. ■ " Pray be seated," said Valentine. " I will not be seated till I see who you are." " Come, come, now be ealm." " Calm ! I will not be calm. What business have you here, sir 1 — ^who are you V "One of the aristocracy!" said Valentine, with an emphasis which implied that he had said so before. Raven thought this indeed most mysterious, but he cried with great energy, " Will you come out?" " Not till you are perfectly tranquil." "Tranquil! I'll summon my servants and expel you with the utmost violence !" " You have not the power. The power is all in the hands of the aristocracy." "We'll see about that!" and he rang the bell .with due desperation, and then paced the room with an air of some considerable dignity and importance. A servant now entered. "Bring William and Thomas with you," said Raven. "Tell them to come instantly, with John, and coachman too, if they are below." The servant, looking venr droU — for he did not understand it, — ^proceeded rather mysteri- ously to obey orders. " I'll guard the door," said Uncle Johii, who enjoyed it -very much, but kept his cotmtenance pretty well ; "and Val ! suffer no one to dart mrough the window !" Each now took his station, and Raven still walked about chuckling at the idea of how he would trounce, when he caught the invisible one of the aristocracy. The servants entered. They all looked re- markably odd. They had done nothing ! Why were they carpeted T "Now, you fellows," cried Raven, who drove them like slaves, and ruled them with a rod of iron, because he didn't belong to the aristocracy, "search the room! there's some vagabond here ! — find him out !" A change came over the countenances of the servants. There was nothing to be charged against them, and as they naturally at the mo- ment held that to be a blessing, they com- menced a strict search, with unparalleled zeal. They looked under every chair, and into every crevice sufficiently large for a mouse to be con- cealed, but of course no human being could they see, and they expressed themselves even- tually aiii precisely to that effect. " You must find him somewhere," said Raven. " I know he's in the room !'' And again they looked about with the t.firi03l minuteness, until they positively began to ba- lieve that their master must have made a sliglit mistake ! "Ahem!" cried Valentine, seeing them to- gether in one corner, and throwing his voice dexterously into the corner opposite. " Ahem I" " Now then !" cried Raven, " now, — now — secure him !" and away flew the servants to the corner of the room from which the voice had apparently proceeded, prepared both to clutch and to torture the very first man whom they saw. But they were able to see no man — no ghost of a man. Their master had evidently made no mistake ; but then, where was the vagabond in question ? They found it impossible to tell. They could not so much as conceive. ■, " You'd better come out !" cried coachman^' desirous of conveying an idea of mercy being extended in the event of a voluntary surrender. " It'll be all the worse for you if you don't !" " Do you think so V said Valentine, making his voice appear to come from another quarter of the room, and away the servants rushed to that particular quarter, but, of course, with ho greater success. Where, where could he be? He was no- where above — ^he must be beneath the carpet, and coachman was proceeding to pull the car- pet up, but the rest, acutely feeling that they, in that case, should have a most unpleasant job in the morning, put a veto upon the proceeding in the similitude of a hint, tliat if they heavily trampled over every part of it, it would have a more immediate effect. They acted upon this suggestion — ^they did trample over it, and assuredly if any one had been beneath, he would have known it: but, no ! they met with no lump — 'no obstruction-^ the carpet was perfectly smooth. They now began to feel that all must have been mistaken, and they looked at each other with the view of imparting some idea of what they felt, and there really appeared to be a per- fect unanimity establishing itself among theni, when Raven cried, "Come! look about! look about ! I'll have him found !" The servants obviously had an idea at this moment that it was all very well for Mr. Raven to say, " I'll have him found ! I'll have him found!" but where were they to find him! That was the grand point at issue. They did, however, recommence their search with the most praiseworthy diligence, looking again in every quarter in which they knew tteit they had looked, as well as in every quarter in which they conceived that they had not. : Again they relaxed. They really felt it to be of no use. They were tired and very warm. Their collars and cravats were dirar- ranged ; in short, their exertions were upsetting each particular thing which their nature had taught ,them the expediency of keeping tidy; " Come ! come !" cried Mr. Raven, on notic- ing this natural disinclination on their part to do more than the existing circumstances reaUy required. "I'll not have you give up. He's about here somewhere. I ivill have him found." VALENTINE VOX. 18S - •Ahem!" repeated Va.entine, finding that tho) required some slight additional " spur to prick the sides of their intent," and they were all alive again in a moment. But they now looked angry and desperate ; and, doubtless, if they had discovered any one then, they would ■have handsomely rewarded him for all their trouble. Theyonlywanted to find him. They wanted nothing more ! They knew, at that in- teresting moment, of no other wish than that ! But, unblest souls ! even that was denied them ! They could not discover the object of their search, although they really did run about the room with an energetic zeal, altogether un- exampled. They stopped again to blow a little after a time. But Eaven wouldn't have it ! He loudly insisted upon their keeping up the search, and as Valentine cried " Ahem !" again at this point, they flew across the room with renewed despe- ration, upsetting every chair which stood in the path of their flight. " What on earth is the matter !" cried Louise, darting into the room at this moment. " Good gracious ! what in the world can it be V ■ Raven seized the arm of Valentine, and tell- ing him to take her away, promptly hurried them both out of the room. The game was up. The real " One of the aristocracy" was no longer present. Still, al- though they heard no more ahemming, they, for a long time, continued to prosecute the search. ' Uncle John tried to calm Mr. Raven ; but nothing could banish from his mind the convic- tion that some one was still in the room. He thought it strange — of course, he thought it very strange — but then he felt it to be im- possible for them all to have been deceived ! He wouldn't believe it : he couldn't believe it ! But what was to be done ■? There were the servants panting with unspeakable energy, and really looking greatly fatigued : they had searched every corner — every crevice J— every hole — and yet could not find one of the aristocracy ! Why, it was marvellous ! Raven himself felt it to be marvellous; and, having eventually explained that he felt it to be so with great promptitude and point, he dis- missed the sweating servants, who were really quite knocked up, and sat down with a subdued spirit to argue the case with Uncle John. "Well, what do you think of this'!" said he ; " What do you think of this? It strikes me as being rather of the ratherest !" " I certainly heard a voice," said Uncle John ; " I don't think that I can be mistaken in that." " Mistaken ! I'd take my oath of it ! I have, it is true, heard of imps and such cattle ; and I have also heard that they are in the service af the aristocracy ; but I never had faith in the existence of such things ; and yet, what in the world bould it have been ! It is pretty clear now that there is no one in the room but our- selves ! What think you ?" "Oh, that has been- abundantly proved!" said Uncle John, and he looked with an air of mystery again round the room, which vvas then in a state of thb utmost confusion! " Well ! I've seen and heard of many mar- vellous things in my lifetime ; that's clear ! but this beats all that I ever saw or heard of! Dear me, though, what straaige unaccountable things there are in nature to be sure ! I have heard of haunted houses; but I never heard noises in this house before !" At this rrioment, quitte a novel idea seemed to strike him, for he at once seized the poker and thrust it up the chimney, which clearly contained his last hope. "No! — ^no!" he continued, having brandished that instrument with infinite tact and dexterity in vain. "Well! this is extraordinary! I will liot believe it to have been any supernatural thing; and yet, what on earth could it have been 1 I'd give any money to know what it was." "You have no parrot in the house, I pre- sume V said Uncle John. " Parrot ! — bless your life, no ! — nothing of the sort ! Besides, where is the parrot in nature that could articulate 'one of the aristocracy' with so much distinctness 1 — No! that was no parrot I" Uncle John, of course, kept the whole thing a profound secret ; and as he did so, Mr, Raven could make nothing at all of it. The more he tried to unravel the mystery, the more entangled, in his judgment, it became ; and when he had so confused himself with conjectures — some of which were of a very extraordinary char- acter — that he declared that he would puzzle himself no more about the matter, he most ap- propriately apologized for the way in which the peace of the evening had been disturbed, and, shortly afterwards, Valentine and his uncle left the house, inexpressibly delighted. CHAPTER XLII. IN WHICH GOODMAN IS LIBEBATED FROM THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. On the following morning, Horace, who had been quite unsuccessful the previous day in convincing Walter of the perfect soundness of his advice, tried again to make him feel that, if he did not adopt the precise course he had suggested, their prospects would be gathered within the dark pale of ruin. " I suppose that you have been turning that point again over in your nob 1" said he, alluding in the first place to the proposition for sending Goodman to a distant asylum in a fictitious name, and in the second to the head of his honored father : " I suppose you have deemed the point worth another thought 1" " I have," replied Walter. " Then of course you mean to go the whoie quadruped V Walter looked as if a^ slight interpretation were essential to a perfect understanding of that question. "I say," continued Horace, really marvel- ling at his father's dense stupidity; "I say, of course you mean to do as I suggest, and have him taken ofi' at once V "Most decidedly not," replied Walter; '.'I have considered the matter in all its bearings; I have looked at it in every conceivable point 184 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF of view, and having done so, I have arrived at the fixed detetmination to set him free." " Then of course," said Horace, " we may- just go and groan. We have not half a chance. We must go to the pups. In my view, there's nothing now; stares us in the face but lean, leaden-visaged, lantern-jawed starvation." " And what have we had for months staring us in the face but the most appalling wretch- edness ?"' " Wretchedness ! pooh ! Don't talk to me about wretchedness. Have we nothad raoneyf 1 will not contend that they cannot co-exist ; but he who is wretched with money is a fool, while he who is not wretched without it must be mad. Look at the wretchedness involved in starvation. Stop till we haven't a dinner and can't get one ! then behold how enviable wUl be our position ! What multitudes of friends we shall have pour- ing in!-'- what lots of assistance they will be anxious to offer ! what mobs of grouse, phea- sants and fawns will be sent when they know that our pantry is empty !" "Ay, ay! that is all very fine; but you look at the dark side of the picture." " The dark side ! — Show me, if you can, that that picture has a bright one I He must pur- sue one of two courses ; he must either discard you and prosecute the matter no further, or pro- ceed at once against you for the recovery of that portion of his property which, of course, you are utterly unable to restore. It matters not a straw, therefore, which he may choose ; either must mvolve us in beggary." " But suppose we can persuade him that we believed him. to be insane V " I can't suppose anything half so absurd." "I've no patience with you, Horace!" ex- claimed Walter, pettishly. " A more rash and unreasonable fellow never lived ! One can't reason with you at all I" " Oh ! of course not: I knew that last year ! — But do you mean to think that you'll make me believe that you fancy yourself that he can be led to suppose that we entertained any such impression ?" "I do!— ^ Can we not say that we were strongly recommended, in the first place, to nave the advice of two eminent physicians, and in the second, to place him under the care of Dr. Holdem, — understanding that he was a most humane man, — when those eminent physicians had pronounced him to be insane?" "No doubt of it ! — Of course we can say all this, and^ust as much more as we please. But that is not the grand point : — the question is, will he believe it V • " My firm impression is, that he will : for as his friend, — Valentino's uncle, — has promised to do all in his power to allay whatever ill-feel- ing he may entertain towards us, we have but to play our cards well to win the game." " VVin the game!" echoed Horace. "How ever any man, in the possession of all his blessed faculties, can cut away and stake his future prospects in life upon an argument so palpably roUen, is a thing which altogether surpasses my weak comprehension. But of oou'se you must have your own way!" "In Ihia" said Walter, firmly, "I will. I have borne enough already. I'll endure do more. Whatever may be the result of his lib- eration, liberated he certainly shall be !" " Oh, well ; pursue your own course : I havB nothing to do with it." " Yes, Horace, you have : you have much to do vrith it. It will be useless for us to opposB each other now ; but by acting in concert, we may succeed, at least in averting a great por- tion of that calamity which you hold to be in- evitable." " "Oh! if that's it; if that's what you mean! why, of course I shall stick to you as tightly aa mortar can stick to a brick. My only oWect was to show that the speculation was any- thing but a safe one ; but as you are resolved "to enter into it, and nothing can change you, why the oracle must be worked in the best manner possible. Of course I must be as anxious for his liberation as you are V "Precisely; nay, more so: you must for months have been doing all you could to per- suade me to release him; but while I felt na- turally anxious to do so, 1 reluctantly sacrificed that natural feeling to that which I conceived to be essential, as well to hi.s immediate safety, as to his eventual restoration." " I see !" cried Horace, " I see. It is not a bad move by any means." "So that if even he should," continued Wal- ter, "be in the first instance bitter against me, the probability is that he will do something for you, which will at all events be one point gained." " And a grand one !" cried Horace, " a grand one. I'll work it. He shall be utterly amazed at the constancy and zeal with which I have been in the habit of advocating his cause." " Here they are," cried Walter, as a coach rattled up to the door, containing Uncle John- and Valentine. " Come, you had better go with us." " Of course !" cried Horace, " I have to play ' the first fiddle, and in a case of this kind it's ' no fool of a fiddle to play." Valentine now entered to ascertain if they , were ready to join Uncle John in the coacn,' ' and on being informed that they were, he waa about to return, when Horace arrested his pro- gress. " You are just the very fellow I want," said he, unhooking what appeared to be a piece of coarse frieze from a peg in the passage, — " Just help me to get into my new pea. It's a rum un. There's no mistake about it." Nor was there. It had two sleeves, two gaping pockets, and sundry large horn buttons in front, which comprised its entire shape and make, and so exceedingly convenient was the thing upon the whole, that it might have been put on upside down, and worn with the tail round the throat, and the collar luxuriating about the knees, without making any material difference in point of fit. " Well, how do you like it ?" said Horace, when Valentine had succeeded in getting a» much of it on as the maker originally designed for that purpose; "what do you think of it?" "Why it's ugly enough," replied Valentino. "Thai's the beauty of it," said Horaca. VALENTINE VOX. 185 I " Nine and si^ ! Lined with this blue business all regular. There were enly two of them left. 1 wanted^ the governor lc have the other, but no, he wouldn't bite : I did all that a man could do to inspire him with a nigh appreciation of the difiference it would make in his personal ^sppearance ; but it was no go : the Goth wouldn't have it." ,By this time Walter had entered the coach, nnd as Valentine and Horace immediately fol- lowed, they were the next moment whirled from the door. As they proceeded, Walter, Uncle John, and Valentine felt strongly disposed to b,e silent; but Horace displayed the most restless anxiety to explain to Uncle John how inexpressibly delighted he had been to find that that which he had been so long and so ardently striving in vain to effect had at length been ac- complished. " The very moment I heard of his incarceration," said he, whispering very mys- teripusly in the ear of Uncle John, " I begged of the governor to have him home again that we might attend to him ourselves, for although :ou know he might have been a little far gone, lB might not have been dangerous, and if even he had been, we could have engaged a private keeper; but you see " "Young man," interrupted Uncle John, " it gives me no pleasure to hear any person speak against his father." " You mistake, " rejoined Horace, " I was about to. observe that his argument was, that as uncle would be much better treated in an asylum, he osuld not in justice to him consent " 'fl see it all; I see it all," said Uncle John. "I see it all. — I require to have nothing ex- olained. Y'ou are doubtless an intelligent, and very amiable youn^jnan; but, excuse me, I lave something of importance to think of." This certainly was not what Horace ex- pected. He did not anticipate that a commu- nication of so much interest and truth would have been received with so much coldness and apparent incredulity. He, nevertheless, looked oijt of the window, and having examined the horses which drew thsm, obseived that he would bet any man ten pounds to a tin pot that he would buy a much better pair of trotters for five and forty shillings any market day in Sraithfield ; and as this observation absolutely fell unheeded to the ground, he declared that he was not going to try to strike life into a lot of, dummies, and, therefore, the whole of the remaining distance was accomplished in silence. They now reached the hateful bastile where Uncle John and Valentine anticipated a storm for which their companions were quite unpre- pared. The bell was rung; the -gates were opened, the coach was ordered to wait, and they entered. Walter sent in his card, and they had scarcely reached the receiving room when the doctor himself made his appearance. To Walter he was particularly obsequious, and to Horace, who nodded knowingly, he was scarcely less polite ; but when he recognised Uncle John and Valentine his countenance changed as if by magic, and he stepped back and looked at them with an expression of fierceness which was doubtless designed to be appalling. "Why these are the ve.f men," said he, " these are the very persons who burglariously entered my asylum, for the purpose of stimu- lating my patients to break loose !" " We had no such object," said Valentine. " Silence !" exclaimed Dr. Holdem, in a tone of authoritative thunder. " Silence I" said Valentine, contemptuously; "you are the keeper of an asylum, it is true; but recollect that I am not one of your pa- tients !" The doctor looked at him scowlingly through his beede brows as if he only wished that he had been ! "Do you know these fellows V said he, addressing Walter. "Oh yes; they are friends of my brother." " Friends of your brother ! They are enemies to society. They wish to let maniacs loose upon society! They came the other day and got over my wall, and would have set every mad- man I have in the place free, had my servants not been on the alert to frustrate tlieir impudent design." " It is false," cried Valentine, " you miserable mass of wickedness, you know it to be false !" "How dare you," cried the doctor, "how dare you talk in this manner to me V " I say again and again tliat it is false ! We had no such design, and you know it." " We told you at the time," said Uncle JohU) " that it was purely accidental." " Purely accidental ! It was purely acciden- tal, I suppose, that you assisted one of my best patients to escape \ — a raving maniac f — one whom I had had for a number of years, and who has never been heard of since ! that I sup- pose was also purely accidental ?" "By one of your best patients," said Uncle John, with great point, " I presume you mean one of those patients for whom you were best paid ?" " What do you mean, sir I What do you mean by that gross insinuation % I am not to be insulted with impunity, and I will not by any man, sir ! — not by any man !" and he struck in an instant an extiuordinary attitude, and squared at his antagonist, with grace it must be granted, but with a peculiarly cold-blooded aspect; while Uncle John,, whose knowledge of the science of pugilism may be said to have been equal with that of the doctor, had his eye upon his man, while he held his hat in one hand, and doubled up the other into a striking gladiatorial fist. " Well done, old pigswig !" cried Horace, giving the doctor a patronizing pat upon the shoulder, " you have been taking lessons lately, I see ! Now keep up your nob, and hit straight forward from the armpits. You have nothing to do but to go in and win." Ihe doctor scowled at the enemy with due darkness, and firmly maintained his appalling position. He would not move a muscle, so perfectly conscious did he feel that his piotiv resque attitude, being in the abstract terrific, had a tendency to strike an immense amount of awe into the soul of Uncle John. "We did not come here to fight!" cried Valentine, who had been standii^ between the belligerents, watching the out-stretched arm 186 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF of the doctor very sharply ; " we came here to liberate our friend Mr. Goodman." The doctor dropped his imposing guard, and looked earnestly at Walter. The last words of Valentine had so far unnerved him as to render him for the time being quite indisposed to do battle. "I would speak a word with you," said he to Walter. '' Do me the favor to step into this room for one moment." " If you desire," said Uncle John, " to do justice to your brother : if you desire to keep' faith with me : if you desire to have allayed whatever feelings of enmity injustice may have engendered in his breast, you will hold no pri- vate communication with that man." " I desire nothing," said Walter, " but that which is perfectly open and straightforward." "Then you can have no objection to this matter being arranged in the presence of us all." " None whatever ! None whatever ! Deci- dedly not. Dr. Holdem, I am anxious to re- move my brother forthwith." " Am I to understand that you wish to re- move him now V " I wish to take him back with me this morn- ing." " What ! as he is V cried the doctor ; " he is not fit to be removed. It will not be by any means safe to remove him." " Is he so ill V in'^uired Walter. " 111 ! In his paroxysms, which have of late been unusually powerful and wild, he has been knocking himself all to pieces." "Indeed," said Uncle John, who found it difficult to control his indignation, " let us see him. We shall then be able to judge of his fitness to be removed." "I have nothing whatever to do with you," (aid the doctor; " I have no knowledge of you in the; transaction. With this gentleman only I iujfe to deal." "Then be pleased to let him be brought," said Walter, " that we may see if we can with gaiety take him with us." " Well, well ; if you insist, I have but to pro- duce him, and if contrary to my judgment you deem it safe for him to leave, you are of course at perfect liberty to take him." "Thus," said Valentine privately to Uncle John, as the doctor left the room, " thus any man whom avarice or malignity may prompt can take the whole of this odious law of lunacy into his own hands ! He can liberate, you see, as well as confine ; and yet the law, in art en- lightened age too, is the instrument with which he works !" "It is monstrous!" said Uncle John, "truly monstrous. It is amazing that such a law ehould be suffered to exist." "If one political faction could incarcerate the other," rejoined Valentine: "if the little band who make up the majority of the House ol' Commons : if twenty or twenty-three mem- bers were to be seized just before a division on some party question, though they were liberated within the hour, a speedy remedy would be found ; but I fear that until we can drag faction into it in some way, until we can make faction feel thai its interests are either mediately or immediately involved, the glarin» evil will znl be removed." "We shall see, my dear boy," said Uncle John. " We shall see. The thing caniiol have been properly tried. We shall see." "What an everlasting length of time this old unhappy pigswig is !" cried Horace. " I wonder whether nature has implanted in him the smallest idea of his being able to fight I I should like to be clear upon that point, because It is one of great public interest, inasmuch as if she has, the fact ought to be exhibited al the British Museum among the rest of the natural phenomena forthwith. I say, Val ! whal wouldn't I give to see him sot to in a regular ring with his match! The magistrate, who would interfere to put an end to such sport ought no longer to be in the commission of the peace. It would be one of the most interest- ing battles that have come off since knives, pikes, and daggers have been popularly patron- ized as an improvement upon British bone and muscle." The door now opened and the doctor re-ap- peared. He was followed by three of his myrmidons^ who supported in their arms a pale emaciated creature of frightful aspect with hollow eyes, which seemed glazed witn the film of death. It was Goodman ! " My God !" cried Uncle John, as the tears gushed forth in torrents — "why — why!" He was unable to articulate another syllable : his utterance was choked. Goodman feebly pressed his hand and th^ of Valentine, and having kissed them, held them still, and faintly whispered, "God wil bless you, my dear friends! — God will blesS you !" but he seemed to be unable to shed a tear. The ruffians now placed him upon the sofa| and as Valentine naturally imagined that if Walter and Horace approached he might spum them, which they still had the power to resent, as he was not yet free, he suggested to his uncle the policy of keeping them off' if possible until the whole thing had been arranged. • With this view Uncle John on the instant joined Horace, and urged the necessity for an immediate removal. "Then you think he is fit to be removed?" said Dr. Holdem. " Decidedly," replied Uncle John; " and the sooner the better. It is the only thing that cad, in my judgment, save his life." "And do you think that he ought to be r^ moved in that state V said the doctor, addres* ing Walter. " Why, I really cannot say," replied Walter, displaying a strong disposition to waver. "I wish to be guided. If you think that he ha4 better remain a few days longer where he is, why, perhaps it would be better." "My firm impression is," — said the doctor— "and I have had some experience in jheS matters — my firm impression is, that if yon take him with you now, he will expirej beibie you reach home." This settled the irresolution of Walter. It decided the point at once. His death was the very thing he most desired, for the will was in VALENTINE VOX. 197 Ma favor then ! He therefore turned to Uncle Jonn with alaiirity, and asked him what he thought had belter be done, when, finding him to be still strongly in favor of a removal, he said, " Well, it shall be so; I am anxious to be glided entirely by you. Dr. Holdem, we have Secided on taking him with us." "Very well," eaid the doctor; "very well. Do as you please ; but remember you will have tilled him, not II^^Here," he continued, ad- dressing one of tht keepers, "Jell Jones to make out Mr. Goodman's taill immediately." "The amount, without the items, will be suf- ficient," suggested Uncle John. "The amount of the balance!" cried the doctor. " Bring it with you. Be quick." " Will you allow one of your men to tell the coachman to drive into the gates, that he may take up at once at your door?" said Uncle John. " No, I shall not," replied the doctor : " I shall do no such thing. Nor will I allow the coach to come inside my gates. If you will take him, take him outside, and the sooner jou are all gone the better. Now then, here is my bill," Ee added, taking a slip of paper from the hand of his servant, and passing it on to Walter. "Bless me '."cried Walter, on looking at this document, " I had no idea of its being so much as this. Why, it was but the other day I paid up. However, I'll send you the amount in the morning, — of course that will do ?" "By no means. I trust no man. The ac- count must be setUed before I part with the pa- tient. He is the only security I have for its discharge." " Horace," said Walter, " what money have you about you V " Come, I like that," said Horace. " That's good. It's about the richest thing I have heard for some time. Why, you know I've no money. I never have ! — you always take special care of " What is the amount of it?" inquired Uncle John. " Thirty pounds and- sixpence," said Horace; " I had no idea of its being more than seven or eight." " How much did you bring?" "Just ten pounds.' ' " We shall be able to manage with that, no doubt. Val, my boy, give me your purse." Valentine threw it from the sofa upon which he was sitting with Goodman, when thirty sovereigns and a si-tpence were placed upon the table. " Now," said Uncle John, " we will be off." And he placed one of poor Goodman's arms round his neck, while Valentine placed the other round his, and having joined hands, they lifted him carefully up and carried him slowly to the coach. The moment they had ealered, Horace pre- pared to follow, wliich Goodman no sooner perceived, than he shrunk back, and begged that he might not be suffered to come near. " Your brother -wishes to be with us," said ' 'cie John, as Walter stood upon the step. Well," said Walter, "but where am I to ide ? — with the coachman ?" "If you do," crii*' Hoiacej "where am I to ride?- That's the point at issue! But I sup- pose I may hang on behind or tie myself tD one of the spokes of the wheel, and be twirled round and round to town in that way. Of course I may do what I please with my body!" And he went at once to look at the state of things behind, but as he found the foot-board studded with formidable spikes, he returned on the instant and exclaimed, " Now you must get inside. It's all spikey behind, — so you see if you ride with the jarvey there'll be no room for me, unless I crawl into the boot, and con- sent to be smothered between two nose- bags." "Do not detain us," said Uncle John^ ear- nestly. " Indeed, sir, you must not detam ua. Surely there are plenty of other conveyances by which you can ride to town ?" " There's short stages passes every quartern a nour," observed the coachman, as he put up the steps and closed the door. " There's vun on em come# along now." " Dear bless me !" observed Horace, "you don't say so, Mr. Jarvis ! Do you mean it?" The coachman looked at him ; but, taking no further notice, mounted his box to obey the orders of Uncle John, to drive back with all possible speed. " Well, if this isn't gratitude," cried Horace, as the coach dashed away, " I don't tnow what it is. I did expect — I won't deny it — I did ex- pect to be cocked on the box with the jarvey, but I did not expect to be mulled out of it alto- aether. This is what you get, you see, by doing an act of kindness! But never mind^ here is the stage : we shall be in town now as soon as they are. That's one consolation." Before, however, the coach reached the point at which they stood, it very suddenly struck Walter that he had not a shilling! He had brought but ten sovereigns out with him, and those he had given to Uncle John towards the payment of Holdem's account. " Don't hail the coach," said he, "don't stop the coach. We can't ride. I've no money." " No what \" exclaimpd Horace, almost petri- fied. " No money ? — But come, I say, gov- ernor ! you don't mean that ?" "All that 1 had went to settle Holdem's bill." " I wish that Holili^m's bill were in Holdem's breeches-pocket, and that his bjeeches-pocket were dangling just half-way down his throat. Here we have arioth^jr proof of what men get by acts of kindness !- -Well ! never mind. We must tramp it. It isn't more than seven miles, or seven and a half, I suppose. Come along. But, I say; are you quite sure you haven't such a thing as a little sixpence, just to get us the ghost of a bait on the load ?" "I haven't a penny !" replied Walter. "Well, this is a blessing! There can't be two rational opinions about it ! It's a pure un- adulterated blessing; one of those which pecu- liarly spring from an act of human benevo- lence. But, come, let us make a beginning !" And they did make a beginning; and they walked on and on with the most exemplary perseverance for six miles and a halt when they miraculously met with a four-wheeled cab| which tort them in triumph to the door. 188 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF CHAPTER XLIII. OOKl'LIirS AN AOCOUHT OF A BKEACH OF THE PBIVILEOES OF THE COMMOMS' HODSE OF PAKLIAIUENT. CoNTRAKT to the expressed conviction of the delicate and disinterested doctor, when Good- man arrived at the house of the widow — who was delighted to see him, for more reasons than one — he was not only alive, but, so powerful.is the iiifliience of the mind over the body, much belter than when he left the asylum, and that which tended to reanimate him still more, was the sight of his valued friend Whitely, of whose escape he had been, up to that hour, uncon- scious. Notwithstanding these favorable symptoms, however, Uncle John at once sent for a cele- brated physician, ami a general practitioner of some eminence. These gentlemen came promptly. They tnet at the house. Uncle John unreservedly stated the ca*, and when they had duly e.vamined the patient, they de- cided that his frame had been so shattered, and his fine constitution so cruelly undermined, that although there was no immediate danger, his complete restoration would amount almost to a miracle. The fact of there being no immediate danger, satisfied Uncle John for the time being. For the rest, he hoped ! — and he was a man with whom hope had great weight. He begged of thi^m, earnestly, to pay all possible attention to his friend, and to call into action all the talent they possessed, and they in return gave him ceitain instructions, which he took great delight in having performed to the very letter. Of couise, as the patient was excellently well nu'sed, having Uncle John, Whitely, the widow, ana her two servants constantly attending to him, Vale.itine was not much required at home. But if even he had been, it is questionable whether Louise would have spared him for two consecutive days, so imperative had she be- come, and so firmly did she insist upon his visiting her daily. It was therefore, perhaps, fortunate that there was no real necessity for his running counter to her wishes in this re- spect ; and as there was none, no man could have been more constant in his attendance upon her who had obtained full possession of his heart. Now, it happened at this memoiable p'^riod of British history, that the majority of .he Om- mons' House of Parliament, being composed chiefly of men of extraordinary sapience, and being, therefore, greenly jealous of their digni- ty and importance, moral, legal, and political, sought to establish to all eternity — First: That the virtue of their WiU was superior to that of the Briiish Constitution; and Second: That hav- ing elevated themselves above the Law, they had a clear and inalienable right to denounce and to repudiate the decision of any old fool of a judge who, in the due administration of the Law. had nothing whatever but the Law for his guidance. The marvellous wisdom involved in ^se two eternal principles will be seen by the enlightened at a glance ; but the particular spe- cies of diablerie which caused the full devel- opement of that beautiful spirit, which formt the very essence of those two eternal principles, it will be highly correct to explain here, that the present stiff-necked generation may under- stand that if anything analogous should occur during their brief existence^ they must not pre- sume to set up their dark views m opposition to the bright views of those who compose by pre Boription the fijst assembly of the first genUe- men in the world. In the first place then, at the period in ques- tion the libel laws in England were so extreme- ly comprehensive, that anything was a foul and malicious libtl at which any man chose to take ofl'ence. Of course the truth or falsehood con- tained in that libel had legally a great deal to do with the matter, inasmuch as its truth was adduced in aggravation, and vice versa — it be- ing held that " the greater the truth the greater the libel," truth having the greater tendency to provoke a breach of the peace, so that the libel which was most strictly true was the fonlest and most malicious, while that which was real ly the most venial was the libel which contain- ed the most infamous falsehoods. That such laws were just, may be rationally inferred from their existence ; biit, independentiy of this po- tent and indisputable proof, confirmation may be gathered from the recognised fact that in- numerable petitions had been presented to the Commons' House of Parliament, piaying for their revision in vain. It is manifest, therefore, that the members of that day, in the fulness of their wisdom, conceived that the existing law of libel was so equitable and sound that it ought to be neither repealed nor revised. Such being the admirable state of things then, a philanthropic publisher — who, having an eye to the improved morals of the rising generation, was unlike the generality of pub- lishers, inasmuch as he published works which others would have contemptuously rejected--r^ found his celebrated name set forth in a certain report on the state of certain prisons, as the publisher of a certain book found in a certain ward in Newgate, in which certain young gen- tlemen had been with a view to their edification confined. As this was most true, it was of course a most foul and malicious libel, and the philan- thropist accordingly brought his action thereon, and as this did not succeed to his heart's con- tent, action upon action was brought for the «^lf-same libel, notwithstanding the publishers of the libel were the servants of thp House of Commons, and the Members of the House of Cotjimons had declared by resolution that they were privileged to authorize the publication of whatever libels they pleased and upon whom- soever they pleased, and that, therefore, he who dared to bring an action for any such au- thorized libel, and all concerned with the plain- tiff in such action, were guilty of a breach of the privileges of the House of Commons, and would be mercifully dealt with accordingly. Notwithstanding this, however, the plaintiff in this case proceeded. He had at length oV tained a. comfortable verdict, and absolutely went on to executi w. The servants of this House of Commons of course would not pa> '• VALENTINE VOX. 189 Iheii chattels were therefore seized by the She- rift and deliberately and ignominiously sold! What, then, under these afflictingcircumst'anoeB, did the majority of the House of Commons do? Why, stung to the very quick by the contuma- cious temerity of the wretches, they sent the plaintiff to prison ; they sent the plaintiff's at- torney topnson; they sent the attorney's son to prison, and the attorney's clerk to prison; they also sent the sheriffs to prison, and here they stopped. But why? Why did they stop at this point? Why did they not imprison all conoprned in this villanous proceeding, from the judge to the broker, including the jury, counsel, officers, and all? This strong disin- clination to do more than was absolutely essen- tial to the vindication of their dignity is attri- butable only to their proverbial forbearance. But that which made the matter worse, as fiir as the sheriffs were concerned, was the fact of their setting up a plea of justification ! They pleaded, forsooth, that they were compelled to act as they ditl act by law 1 which was perfect- ly monstrous, inasmuch as they were bound by an absolute resolution in direct opposition to the law to act in obedience to the will of those who had set themselves above it. They, moreover, pleaded that they could not have acted in opposition to the law without violating their oaths ; which was more monstrous still, for what were their oaths? — what were they when compared with their manifest duty to the majority of the Commons' House of Parlia- ment ? They were bound to obey the behest of that majority, as their imprisonment proved. The mere fact of their behest in this case being directly opposed to the law had nothing ■ftrhatever to do with the matter. They were privileged to trample upon the law if they liked : they were privileged to establish what- ever privileges they pleased. Their power to .create privileges for themselves, with the view of meeting every conceivable exigency, was unlimited, and the only wonder is that that high-souled majority, when they found them- selves vilified and denounced in all quarters, did not start a privileged periodical, wherein to lampoon their opponents right and left, and to choke — if they dared to bring their actions — to choke with the contumacious both Newgate and the Tower. Nearly all who composed that majority would have contributed to such a periodical. They might have got it up whh- out any assistance of a literary character, and brought it out daily ; while, being a privileged publication, matters would not have been minced in any sensible degree. This is clear- ly what they ought to have done under" the peculiar circumstances of the case, and the fact of their having abstained from the pursuit bf such a course shows the extent' of their noble forbearance. Now this question of privilege, as it was termed — although it was in reality no question at all, there being no question about anything being a privilege which the majority chose to designate a privilege — was one which the anti- aristocratic Mr. Raven entered into with infinile spirit. He happened to be on terms of close intimacy -with one of the Sheriffs, and theii ia carceration was a source of great comfort to him, seeing that as he viewed it as an act of purely aristocratic tyranny, he entertained a lively hope that its tendency would be to bring the abhorred of his sonl, the aristocracy, down. In this, however, Mr. Raven made a shght mistake. The aristocracy had little or nothing to do with it. There were members of the aristocracy m the majority, it was true ; but then all their political associations were with the democracy ; and, although they were joined by certain eminent men who had placed themselves politically in the aristocratic ranks, they were chiefly men of plebeian origin, whom Mr. Raven usually held in high esteem. The fact, therefore, of its being an essentially democratic movement proved the purity of its character, by affording a strong guarantee that there was nothing in it bearing the semblance of tyranny, it being proverbial that democrats cannot, in the nature of things, be actuated by anything like a tyrannous spirit. Mr. Raven, however, did not care to look at the matter in this point of view. He contended that aU power w;as in the hands of the aristo- cracy, and that, therefore, every exercise of power was an act of aristocratic tyranny. " I am going to see these victims of your beggarly aristocracy, these martyred incarcerated she- riffs," said he to Valentine, a few mornings after poor Goodman's liberation. "Will you accompany me ?" "Oh yes ! I shall feel great pleasure," said Valentine ; " I should like to see them much." The carriage was ordered, and they soon after started, Mr. Raven having put on his most haughty frown and screwed his lips into an ex- pression of contempt the most superb. " What do you think of this question?" said he on the way — "this unparalleled barbarous question !" " Why," replied Valentine, " ray impression is, that while on the one hand the particulai publication complained of ought not to be held to be a libel at all, on the other if the servants of the House of Commons are to be privileged to write and publish what they please of any man with impunity, as we possess no security against the malignity of such servants, they may assail in their reports the reputation of -any hon- orable man, and plunge him andjAis family into inextricable ruin." As this was an extremely narrow view of the matter, Mr. Raven agreed with every word, and contended, moreover, that the Commons' House of Parliament had no constitutional right to create for themselves just what privileges they pleased, which was in the abstract particularly stupid. The carriage now stopped, and they alighted, and were ushered, with others, by a remarka- bly thin individual, into the presence of two dark joUy-looking gentlemen, who were in fact the martyred sheriffs. They did not appear to be much cut up : on the contrary, they looked rather waggish, as if they would hot have cared to intimate privately and confidentially, that as a whole, they rather liked it than not. One of them, it is true, seemed to want a change of lair, for his breath was rather short, and't» 190 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF wheezed sonietunes sligMy; but with this sin- gle exception they appeared to be perfectly easy in their minds, and absolutely induced the belief that they derived from their position a rery considerable amount of secret satisfaction. Of course, they spoke firmly and boldlv on the subject. They declared that they would never give in ! They had, by some strange perver- sion of reason, deluded themselves into the conviction, that in acting in direct opposition to the supreme will of the majority of the House of Commons, they had actually done no more than their duty ; and such being the case, they gave pointed expression to their fixed and im- jnovable determination to suffer death rather than yield to what they denounced as a most tyrannous exercise of unoonstitutidnal power. They couldn't do it ! They wouldn't do it ! — their principles wouldn't let them ! They felt of course grateful to those affectionate friends who had done them the honor to visit them there, in the dark foggy day of tribulation ; but as for surrendering to the tyrannous majority of the House of Commons ! — they wouldn't. Of, course, as these strong and undutiful expressions reached the ears of those who composed the majority against whom they were directed, no merciful consideration could be hoped for from them. They were daring expressions, remarkably daring. The noble and jealous majority, who felt that they ought to be treated with the utmost deference by those whom they had incarcerated for a breach of their privi- leges, strongly disapproved of those expressions ; and hence when, a few days afterwards, a meet- ing was convened by the contumacious sheriffs to take into consideration the circumstances con- nected with their imprisonment, and to adopt euch proceedings as might be expedient to effect their liberation, a deputation from that noble majority, composed of half-a-dozen of the most pojiular statesmen — backed by a legion of in- aividuals, each of whom had been secured by a small retaining fee to advocate privilege for ever! — marched into the hall in which the meeting wcis to be held, about an hour before file regular proceedings were to commence. Having thus obtained possession of the place, they determined, instead of waiting for those lardigrade creatures whose province it was to fead the business of the meeting, to commence and carry on the proceedings themselves, and therefore one of the deputation stepped forward to propose that another of the deputation should be requested to take the chair. This produced some slight disapprobation, forasmuch as there were already a few " friends of fair play" in the room; they protested against the under- sheriffs — whom the sheriffs had deputed to attend — being thus by a dignified manoeuvre forestalled. "Gentlemen!" said the proposer, addressing the retainers, " is it your wish that our old and tried friend should take the chair?" In the midst of a slight senatorial yell, the question was nominally seconded and carried with surpassing unanimity, and the old and tried friend vaulted into the chair in the due course of-nature. "We are met here to-day," said that states- man, " to discuss a vital principle of extraordi^ nary vitality." "You have not been elected to the chair!" cried one of the friends of fair play. "Haven't I?" said the statesman. "N&m mind, I am in it !" and he winked at the Sena, tors around him. " I am not going to make a long speech," he continued. "Has any gentle- man a resolution to submit to the meeting?" " I have a resolution !" cried a remarkable senator, who took great delight in beholding dead bodies, and prided himself especially upon the statesmanlike quality of making faces of a character peculiarly grotesque. "I have a resolution to propose." ... One of the friends of fair play here protested'^ against the irregularity of the proceedings. •' i "Why, your honest and straightforward»<' chairman," exclaimed the remarkable senatoi, " asked if any one had a resolution to proposes I answer, yes, I have one." " I beg to rise to order," said a gentleman, who was at that time well known in the city. "Order!" cried the remarkable senatoj, "why, there's no disorder now, except that which you make !" ' The gentleman, however, insisted upon si^ gesting, that, in their eagerness to do business, they had forgotten to read the requisition, which, just for the sake of quieting that gentleman, wa» borrowed and read. "Now," said the senator, who was still on his legs, "we have everything regular, and " " But," interrupted an enemy to privilege;^ " we want fair play !" " Why, the gintleman who calls for fair play," cried one of the deputation, who boasted of having tropically a tail with seven million sup pie joints, " is ugly enough to be angry ! Did ye iver now say sich an ugly baste! Be nie soul thin, he's ugly in the extrame." This sound and unanswerable argument iir favor of the privileges of the House of Coibk mens, and consequently in favor of tlie incar- ceration of the Sheriffs, had an electric effect, and again cleared the way for that remarkable- senator, who was still in possession of the chais. " We have to consider," he resumed, " w« have to consider, in the first place " " Down ! down !" shouted tiie friends of fair play. " Indeed !" said the senator, with an express sion of contempt. " Down ! down ! Don't ypu wish you may get it? Down ! who's to do it? Who'll put me dovra ? that's what I ask : who'll put me down? Down ! It won't do ! It's no go ! It's been tried on before." "Are you a freeholder?" demanded one of the friends of fair play. " Am I a freeholder ? there's a pretty fellow ! there's a most sensible animal ! Why, the fel- low must be a natural fool to " Here there were loud cries of question. " Question !" cried the senator. " The ques? tion is too much for you ! You have too much stupidity to understand the question. I am not at all surprised at a lot of idiots bawling out 'question! question! question!'" And the senator, screwing up his legislatorial mouthjf VALENTINE VOX 191 gave mteresating imitations of the various tones in which the word question was capable of be- ing uttered. An elderly gentleman on the hustings-here had the unblushing audacity to call "Order !" i' I wish," said the senator with infinite pro- priety, " that I had a strait waistcoat for that - sumed upon the existence of those feelings, an^ appeared to take delight in wounding, playing with, and tyrannizing over them, he naturally felt that if the spirit by wliich she was actuatf 4 102 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF were not promptly checked, it would eventually acquire too much strength to be subdued. The more he tried, however, to accomplish the task he had proposed, the more impatient she became. He remonstrated calmly, and spiration stood like dew upon her brows, which were icy cold, and she looked pale as death. For a moment he felt paralyzed. He knew not how to act. He gazed upon, and kissed her; but no sign of reanimation appeared. He reached the bell, still bearing her in his arms, but the rope seemed useless." He tried the other. The shock was far too great for that ; it came down as instantaneously as if it had been held by a single thread, but before it descended he had unconsciously made suffi- cient noise to alarm all the servants, of whom four rushed at once into the ro'im, in a state of great excitement. Of course, they were all stunned on behold- ing Louise, like a dead individual, in Valen- tine's arms; but the attitude of the coachman was the most picturesque, although many might have admired the repose of the porter, an extraordinary-looking, sentimental^oundrel, whose comprehensive mind teemed with ho^ rid suspicions, and whom the scene struck physically tranquil. "My goodness me, what is the matter!" cried the lady's maid, in whose peculiar ap'on had been established two remarkable pockets, which were always as open as the day. " My dear miss! — come! — ^poor thing! — R'.in and fetch the Eau de Cologne," she continned, ad- TALENTINE VOX. 195 Jressing one of the servants : " it is lying on ray table — a long, narrow bottle, all neck! You will find it — but stay ; I'll run myself." "You had better remain," said Valentine; "you had better not leave." "Tell Susan to get it then: tell her to make haste ! I hope to goodness her papa will not return before she recovers ; if he should, there'll be such a to do ! My dear young lady ! — ^look up ! I never saw her so before. I never did. I cannot think what it could be. I cannot con- ceive. Susan ! Susan ! What a time the girl is, to be sure. But there's no getting anything done unless one does it one's self. Coaonman, see after Susan. What can she be about?" Siisan entered, and the Eau de Cologne was applied to the nostrils, the terhples, and palms of Louise, who eventually sighed, and thus at once dispelled Valentine's fears. That sigh was the prelude to her recovery. Her bosom began to heave with its usual freedom; the blood gradually returned to her cheeks, and she looked round with perfect self-possession. " Lead me to my room," said she, faintly, to the servants, who carefully raised her from the sofa. " I am better, much better ; but I shall there be more quiet and at ease."^ Valentine ofTered his hand, which she pressed and kissed warmly, and as she left him, he fondly conceived that her gaze developed a pure and affectionate heart. " She still loves me," said he, on being left alone. " She can not conceal that; but as her peace of mind as well as my own is involved in this struggle, I must not yield now. It is lajiiientable that she thus allows angry passions id disguise the beauty of her natural affections, bpt more lamentable still would it be if those pkssiohs were allowed to gain a permanent mastery. It is clear that my impressions were false. She has no wish to break off the con- liection. Her object is simply to contend for her own supremacy, with a view to the es- tablishment of a species of domestic despotism, which all experience proves to be pernicious ; nay, utterly destructive of the happiness both of her who is the ruler, and of him whom she rules. I feel that I am as little inclined as most men, to be a domestic tyrant, but this spirit must he checked ; and as I imsigine that I possess sufficient influence to check it. I con- sider myself bound to exert that influence by all the means at my command." Being unable to ring the bell, he now desired the peculiarly sentimental porter, who was still engaged in turning up the yellows of his eyes Ja the hall; to make the necessary inquiries, and having at length ascertained that Louise had completely recovered, he at once left the house, with a firm determination to carry the object he had proposed to himself into effect. CHAPTER XLV. ' TALENTINE VISITS THE ZOOLOGICAL OAKDEHS. The next morning Valentine called and left his Cardj having learned that Louise was quite well. It is true, that he was not exactly satis- fied with having done this simply. Had his feelings been unfettered, had he consulted them alone, he would have seen her; but as prudence suggested that the better course was that which he had pursued, he started off for a long walk instead. He, notwithstanding, a thousand times wished she had been with him, and as the morning was delightfully clear and calm, he actually turned, on arriving at the gates of the Regent's Park, with a view of retracing his steps. Prudence, however, again inte):posed, and compelled him to walk on alone. This was harsh on the part of Prudence, and her dictates are often particularly harsh, al- though it happens — ^bymere chance of course — that she is almost invariably right in the long run, seeing that she looks beyond the enjoy- ment of the passing hour. It is, however, a striking fact, and one which cannot be too ex- tensively known, that that which lexicogra- phers generally call Irresolution, is^ frequently mistaken for Prudence ! It is strange, that so pernicious a mistake should be made — that the one should be taken for the other ; yet it is so, yea, even as a bitter bad shilling is frequently taken for a good one. For example : a man is anxious to know himself, and goes to an accom- pUshed Phrenologist, who finds an extraordi- nary bump about the middle of each parietal bone. " You have a deal of caution," observes the professor, as he gropes about in vain for some counteracting organ. " A deal of cau- tion," and assuming the " science" of Phren- ology, for the nonce to be in this small particular correct, that man would be considered a pru- dent man, by those who confound prudence with irresolution. But see such a man in the street. He wants something : he wants it very- much, but he doesn't know whether to have it or not. He has a very strong desire to enter a house. He goes up to the door, stops to hesitate a little, and then turns away to think it over again. Well, shall he go in ■? Eh? Yes — and yet — no. But then, let — him — see ! and he walks back again. He can't make up hjs mind. He wants to go in! — ^but, perhaps — no; and again he walks away a few paces ; and thus he will amuse you by trotting to and fro, knit- ting his brows and scratching his head just as long as you like to look at him. Catch such a man taking unto himself a wife, or entering into anything like a speculation. You cannot do it. He is not to be caught. He has not a single spark of the spirit of enterprise in him. He must " see his way clear ;" and even then he won't move, for "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." A perfect specimen of this peculiar species would be a blessing to himself and an honor to his country, for he would never voluntarily stir, because he would never be able to make up his mind to do it. A perfect specimen, however, perhaps never existed. Hypochondriacal jndividuEUS approach the nearest to perfection in this respect, their disease heing the fruit of irresolution legiti- mately ripeiied into rottenness. Mighty minds must therefore hold it to be mainrellous, that prudence should be so gener- I ally confounded with irresolution, and al£ougli 196 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF it is perfectly possible that Valentine might not have thought of this as he walked round the park, it is clear that he was guided at the lime by real prudence, and was sad only because he then felt it to be harsh. Having reached a gate, which he found on inquiry to be that of the Zoological Gardens, it struck him that as he .never had been in, he might as well spend an hour in viewing the "wonderful" animals, as they are termed, solely because they are in this country rare, which is partial and unjust^ seeing that fleas, which are not rare in civilized Europe, are equally wonderful, their physical organization being equally perfect. Caring, however, but little for this, he went up, to the lodge, and having tendered his shil- ling, was asked for a ticket. " I have no ticket !" said Valentine. " You can't be admitted without," said tne man. " Well, where am I to get one V " Oh, an^here !— ^at any of the shops. But you can pass with the next party." At this moment a person approached, and, having tendered a small slip of paper, with' a shilling, walked in, when Valentine put down his shilling and followed, which made all the difference. On entering the grounds, the first thing that attracted his attention was a pole, established in. the centre of a well, at the bottom of which three melancholy bears were crawling round and round, as pensively as possible. Two of these gentlemen had very decent coats to their ' backs, but the third was rather ragged, in con- sequence, probably, of his prospects having in early hfe been blighted, by circumstances over ivluch he could-have no control. Sound the verge of this well stood sundry- individuals, of, whom the majority had pur- chased buns, biscuits, and cakes, wherewith to treat the animals generally, and who were having recourse to every species of suasion, with the view of inducing one of the bears to mount the pole. Biscuit after biscuit was thrown into the well, and bun after bun, in little pieces; but, as the bears swallowed all ,jWithout even looking up to express thanks, the generous donors became disgusted with their sjngratitude, and stopped the supplies. This had a very sensible effect, for, almost immedi- ately afterwards, one of the bears climbed the pole, and leaned back, with his mouth wide open, to receive whatever might happen to be' J)ut in, which went instantaneously, without mas- tication, down into the general stock. At this mo- ment, how pure was the delight of those around ! They experienced such happiness ! — nothing could surpass it ! They only, by whom buns to bears have been given, can know the soft plea- sure of which it is the source. Every person who had a bun gave it to bruin in many little pieces, that the pleasure might be multiplied just as many fold. Sometimes half a dozen would be at it together, in which case the gentlemen below stood a chance, although a poor one ; for, as a general thing, the one on the pole caught all, without either trouble or care. , "Now then!'^ said Valentine, throwing his voice into the widely-extended mouth of th» animal — "You are not half quick enough: come V Tl^e feeders started. Upon them the effect was striking. It shook all their nerves, and they looked at each other with an e.vpres5ioi\ of. wonder. Was it possible ? They turned the matter over in their minds. No, surely ihey must have been deceived. Pooh ! Bidiculousi Absurd I — And yet had they not heard It ? — and could they not believe their own ears ? While they were thus trying to solve ihia mysterious piece of business, the bear, finding that nothing was put into his mouth, thought that he might as well climb to the top of the pole as not ; and, having done so, he placed his paws over the ball and appeared to be exceed- ingly anxious to ascertain the true cause of the mental confusion of his feeders. He looked at their, steadily, and they looked at him; but they did not appear to understand each other, even then, exactly ! " What are the odds," said Valentine, throw- ing his voice into the animal's mouth, as before — " what are the odds, that I don't spring light in amongst you 1" No odds were offered ! Nothing of the sort ! They flew, in an instant, from the spot like un- civilized beings, while bruin stuck firmly to the pole, wondering what on earth could be the matter. The thing appeared to him to be utter- ly inexplicable. He couldn't make it out I Ha seemed perfectly puzzled ! He looked at the people, as if anxious to induce them to coiae back; but no! — they continued to keep at. a most respectful distance, until he conceived it to be useless to waste any more of his valuable time there, when he descended with the of communicating the circumstances, as lar, at least, as he understood them, to his brolhei bears below. ., The veiy moment he had descended, the people began to explain to each other theii views on the subject, with eloquence and force, starting all sorts of curious conjectures, and bringing old Msop to illustrate the point, with remarkable tact and erudition. As Valentine, however, like bruin, conceived it to be useless to waste any more of his valuable time there, he left the amazed ones, before even the bold- est of the group had reinspired sufficientcourage to return to the well, and pursued his way along the most frequented path. As he proceeded, an infinite variety of ugly animals met his view ; but, regarding them, as he did, as creatures formed by his Creator, he perceived points of beauty in them all. " Would you like to have a ride, sir V inquired a man who had charge of a female elephant, which seemed to stand in awe of a litde rafged switch, — " she's as tame as a Christian, and goes along as steady as life." " Does she trot 1" inquired V alentine. ' " Why, it aint, you see,. exactly a trot, cause she ony makes a shufiie on it, cause she's so big about the pins; but she'll do a good eight mde an hour !" "Well, mount," said Valentine; "I'U have a ride by proxy." The keeper simply said to his charge, VALENTINE VOX. 10? "Come," when the elephant dropped upon her knees ; and, having allowed him to mount, rose, and enuffled along the path, with a gait pre- cisely like that of an exquisite walking upon nis toes. . This was a source of great amusement to sundry young ladies, whose presence caused Valentine to wish that Louise had been there ; but as — after having rewarded the keeper of the elephant — he went into the place in which the monkeys were exhibited, her absence no longer annoyed him. There had been, just previously to that peri- od, a remarkable mortality among monkeys. The sharp, easterly winds had swept off the tender creatures by wholesale, and the cages were, in consequence, comparatively empty. The few that remained, however^ did not, by any means, fail to excite the admiration of the ladies, who watched them as anxiously as if they had been children, and applauded their playful manoeuvres with really affectionate warmth. " Look at that little dear!" said one, pointing to a ragged little gendeman, sitting in a singularly graceful position, while two little fiiends of his were hunting up the fleas about his dear litUe person, and biting off their heads as they caught them, with infinite dexterity — " Isn't he a love 1 Pretty creature ! Look ! Bless him, how patiently he sits !" ■ "Disgusting," said Valentine, directing his voice behind her whose admiration had thus been so strongly excited. "Are you not ashamed?" ' It appeared that she was, for she dared not look round, but dropped her veil hastily, and quitted the place with her friends, when all the other ladies who were present had at once the good sense and propriety to foUowtheir example. Valentine now went to see the giraffes, and ■found them exceedingly beautiful creatures; but his attention was soon arrested by what, at first sight, appeared to be a little, emaciated, withered old man, who had recently experienc- ed some appalling domestic calamity, or in con- sequence of bad debts, or a falling off in busi- ness, expected every day to have the docket struck against him, with something like four- pence in the pound flitting scraggUy across his diseased imagination. He according approach- ed this diminutive individual — who, as he sat with remarkable gravity in a chair, appeared to have made up his ramd to begin life again with a blanket — but as he found the cage in which that individual was confined, duly label- ed " Pithecus Satyrus: Orang Titan," all his sympathy vanished. And yet the little animal looked most vmhappy. Indeed, it was abun- dantly manifest, that he had not only caught an extremely severe cold, but had something then pierising upon his mind, with sufficient weight to impart to his whole countenance an expres- sion of sadness. "Now there's a striking specimen of the ani- mal creation," observed a grave person in specta- cles, accompanied by a friend from the country, whom he felt quite determined to astonish. " Do you know now, whenever I look at these creatures, I always feel puzzled ! Did you ever see any living thmg look so much like a man? Look at his hands, look at his eyes, look at his lips, look at his cheeks, nay^ look at his general aspect ! Talk to me about mstinct and reason ! Draw the line ! — draw the line, I say'; show me the ditference — distinctly point out to me where the one ends and the other begins, and m then, but not till then, give in. Here we have, without doubt, the ' connecting link of Nature's extraordinary chain. Just look at him picking his teeth with a straw! Is there any other thing besides man, in the comprehensive scope of creation, that understands how, why, and when to do that? And then see how he folds that blanket around him ! Is there any other animal on earth besides man that under- stands what a blanket is for ?" " As to that," observed the friend of this gen- tleman, "I suppose he keeps that on because he finds it warm." " Not a bit of it ! Not by any manner of means, because in a blanket there's no warmth to . find. He knows there's no warmth in a blanket. He knows that a blanket would warm him no more than it would a lufip of lead. No ! — he keeps it on solely because he is cog- nizant of its virtue being to check the evapora- tion of perspiration. And does any man mean to tell me, that a creature that can, ay, and does do this, being moreover conscious of what he is doing, is utterly destitute of reason ? Will any man contend that the creature before us don't know as well what he's about as we do- or that he ever does anything — for that's the grand point — without having a reason — mark, having a reason, for doing what he does? Why, the very idea is absurd ! Few men who have lived since the ancients have studied this sub- ject more deeply than I have. You may, there- fore, with safety depend upon this, that fhat animal there is a species of man. It is true he is not in every particular precisely like either you or me, but then show me, if you can, in the whole scope of the universe, two men that are precisely in every particular alike. Show me two — ^but two — that look alike, walk alike, think alikp. act alike, laugh alike, frown alike, or feel alike, precisely, and then I'll give in." "Now, if so be as these things here could talk. I'd then say somelhi'ig to you." " Talk, my dear sir ! — '.hey can talk. They can talk in their own language." " Ay, yaye ! — ^but not in ours !" "What do you mean by that?" cried Valen- tine, sharply, making his voice appear to pro- ceed from the animal in question — "do you wish to insult me ?" The mouth, hands, and eyes of the amazed country gentleman were, in an instant, wide open, while his learned friend started from the rail upon which he had been leaning, and established his spectacles more firmly upon his nose ; but the creature in the blanket displayed more astonishment than either, for, after having turned his head right and left rapidly, being startled by the sound of a human voice so near him, he muttered, and chattered, and sprang from his chair, and having reached the highest branch of the stump in the cage, sat and grinned with extraordinary fierceness. " What do you think of that?" said the spec tacled individual; but his friend could not teb 106 LIFE, AND-ADVENTURES OF at all what to think of it. He shook his head, aud scratched it, but made no reply. " Why," said Valentine, throwing his voice as before — " why don't you acknowledge your error like a man, instead of standing there scratching your head like a fool 1 Do you hear me?" Again the alarmed animal leaped from branch to branch. The thing was altogether new to him. He had never either heard of, or met with anything like it. The idea of a voice thus hovering about his ears, without being able even to guess where it came from, was reaUy too much for his nerves ! He did not approve of it at all, but shook his head, and showed his teeth, and, at length, made such an extraordi- nary chattering, that the man who had the care of him entered the place, wondering what could be the matter. " You'd better stand a leetle furder off, marm, please," said the man, as he drew near the animal's cage. "If you don't, the giraffe there'll nibble off the lohole of them green leaves of youm, and they does him no good." In an instant the lady to whom this was ad- dressed placed her hand upon her bonnet, and found her wreath gone. " Now, what's the matter. Jocko ?" said the keeper. " What have they been doing to you, eh?" " Oh, we've been doing nothing," observed the spectacled individual. " I was merely con- f ersing with my friend, when the animal ia- C[uired if we wished to insult him." '■' The animal ? — what — ^Jocko — ^what — ^insult him !" cried the keeper, who felt qnite disposed to laugh loudly — " and so you heard him speak, sir, eh, did you? He talks very well, sir, con- sidering, don't he?" " It's wonderful ! — ^really I never heard^'d no idea of that species of creation being able to talk in our language." '■' Lor bless you, sir !• — did'nt you?" " Never ! I couldn't have conceived it to be possible. If I hadn't with my own ears heard nim, no power on earth coula have made me believe it." " No, I dare say not. There aint many that would." " I'm astonished, absolutely astonished, that the fact is not maide more generally known. It ought to be disseminated throughout the whole scope of creation. Nothing but that was jrequired to settle the point of the connecting link for ever." " That's just my sentiments to a hair." "And who taught him, my friend?" " Why, that I can't say, sir, exactly." "He deserves well of his country, be he whomsoever he may." " Jocko perhaps can tell, sir, if you ask him." "Dear me, I shouldn't wonder. I never thought of that. My-litde man," he continued, addressing the animal, as the keeper, who was able no longer to bear it, burst into a loud roar of laughter, of which, however, the querist took no direct notice. " My little man, who taught you the English language ?" "Indeed, I shall not tell you," said Valen- tinej through Jocko. " I feel most indignant." "Hullo!" cried the keeper, whose couni^ nance changed as if by magic, as Jocko again jumped about and looked perfectly bewildered. " What's the. meaning of all this ? Is the cres^ tur bewitched?" _ , He went round to the door at the side of thS. cage, and having opened it, said, " Why, Jocko !',' " Don't speak to me," cried Valentine ; " I'vi been grassly insulted. Away ! — or I'll be re- venged on you." As Jocko flew towards Um, in all probabilitjr for protection, being alarmed whenever Valen- tine spoke, the keener closed the door in an instant, and said, " Well, this beats all my ac- quaintance !" Vts now no longer addresseq. the spectacled gentleman in tones of roguish sat; casm, for he felt that however absurd it migtt have appeared, he could not then dispute the apparent fact of the animal having spoken; " Why, how in the world is this?" exclaime'iS, the person in spectacles. " How comes it that you axe so greatly surprised?" The keeper felt himself compelled to ac- knowledge, that he had been, as he termed it "roasting" that gentleman, never having heard the animal in his life speak before ; which wai all very well, and cleared the way, of course, as far as it went ; but the chief point, the grani consideration, the assumed fact, of his haviiif then actually spoken the English language, with the . accent and the emphasis of an Eng" lishraan, remained. Various were the guesses of the gentlemaa in spectacles — ^his friend from the country wai too much amazed to say a word — and bold were the assertions of the keeper touching Jocko's being victimized by witchcraft; but, although they both displayed great imaginatiya power, and no inconsiderable amount of inge- nuity, the more they labored to unravel the mystery, the more entangled it became, and as Valentine now began to feel that he hajl been sufficiently amused by their ridiculoui conjectures, he quitted the gardens and waUtea home to dine. CHAPTER XLVI. WHEREIN WHITELT EXPLAIHS THE REAL CAUSE 0» ALL HIS MISERY. From the moment Whitely mentioned th» fact of his having been dishonored by her in whom all his hopes of happiness on earth had been centred, Uncle John had experienced an irrepressible anxiety to know the whole of the circumstances involved, from first to last. Wo may hear of the occurrence of such deep mis- fortunes daily, pass tliem over with a word, and think of them no more ; but when so great a calamity befals either a friend, or one of whotn we have some knowledge, however slight it may be, our curiosity as well as our sympathy is awakened, and we regard as deeply interest- ing each minute point. No idea of the real cause of Whitely'S abject wretchedness had theretofore entered the ima- gination of Uncle John. He had attributed fhs VALENTINE VOX. 199 lact of hin' being then a foriom broken-spirited creature, to the brutal treatment he had expe- rienced in the asylum ; but had never thought of Inquiring how or by whom he had been placed in that asylum, until, on glancing at the note of Louise, Whitely mentioned the subject in tears. But even then, Uncle John regarded any further allusion to the matter as a point of extreme delicacy, seeing that his impression was, that Whitely's calamity had driven him to absolute madness, which had, of course, justi- fied his incarceration: still, being extremely anxious to know all, he resolved on givmg Whitely the very earliest opportunity of per- forming the direct promise he had given, that all should be explamed. Accordingly, after dinner, on the dav of Va- lentine's visit to the Zoological Gardens, he started the subject of the character of Louise, with a view of bringing the matter round. " Well," said he, " how was Miss Eaven this morning?" " Quite well," replied Valentine. , " Ah ! quite recovered? — ^And did she let out again, Val?" " Oh, I simply lefl my card." "What! did you not see her? I'll tell you what it is^ my boy : you'll play with that poor little girl till you lose her. You ought to have gone in by all means. You ought to have made her — without taking the slightest notice of what had happened, — put on her things to go for a walk. That's the way I used to do, when I paid my addresses to the girls ; and it's the best way too, you may depend upon that. What do you think her state of mind has been to-day, now, to bring the matter close ? Why, there she has been, poor thing! sitting alone, sighing, and moping, and fretting her little life ,but ; whereas, had you taken her for a walk, it would have cheered her up, and made her so happy, that nothing could be like it. It's all very fine, and very flattering, to be able to break a girl's spirit and tame her down to no- thing, but what is she fit for when your object has been accomplished? What is she fit for as a wife? She's fit for nothing! she is not even fit to be trusted ! All she can do, is to adminis- ter to the despicable vanity of him, by whom the sickening milk-and-watery namby-pamby- ism of slavish obedience is exacted. It strikes me I'm about right there, my friend?" he added, addressing Whitely, who was paying great attention to every word. " Quite, quite right," replied that gentleman. "Thousands have been plunged into misery and despair, through breaking the spirit of those whom they love, and thus depriving them at once of that shield which is essential — no mat- ter how innately virtuous they may be — to the resistance of powerful temptations." " So you see, my boy," resumed Uncle John, " that you must not expect to have it all your own way. But there's another thing to be thought of: It isn't always that a man can break a woman's spirit, if he tries ; and when he fails in the attempt, she either rewards him before marriage, or setfles with him afterwards in full of all demands. Besides — and that's another thing to 'aok at — you'll not find every woman fool enough to marry a man who dis* Elays a disposition to reign supreme : so you'd etter look out, Val, you'd better look out!" •' But I am quite sure," said Whitely, " that Valentine has no disposition to play the tjrrant." " And so am I," said Uncle John, " so am I. But he's such a proud, independent dog ! — ^I'm sure he'll lose her : I'm sure of it, if he don't mind what he's about. And she's a beautiful girl, too ! a most beautiful girl ! Yoa never saw her, I believe ?" " No, I should like to see her much," replied Whitely. " Well ! you have only to say when you'll go ! — By the way, it is strange — I have often thought of it since — that you should have been so much struck with her handwriting !" " It is strange," said Whitely, " and yet it is, after all, probably attributable to the fact of my not having seen a lady's writing before for years." " Very likely. But then, hers is not a com- mon hand by any means. Where is that note, my boy ?" Valentine produced it. " I should know this hand from a million, there is something so peculiar in the formation of the letters. It is what I should call a. re- markable hand. There is nothing, you see," he continued, as he gave the note to Whitely, " there is nothing, you see, formal or stiff about the style : all is perfectly free." " It is not a common hand, which makes the resemblance the more extraordinary. Fifteen years since, I could have swbm, conscien- tiously have sworn, to this being the handwrit- ing of her who was my wife. But alas !" — Whitely paused, and both Uncle John an Valentine watched him intently. In his eye there was no tear, but his heart's wound ap- peared to have been re-opened. " Had you been married long," said Uncls John, at length, " when the unhappy separa- tion took place ?" " Five years, only : five short, happy, happy years." " You will, I am afraid, think me too curi- ous ; but ever since you alluded to that lamen- table afiair, I have felt deeply anxious to have the circumstances connected with it explained. It will, however, be too painful to you, per- haps, to relate them V " No, my friend, no ; the relation of our woes is sometimes a relief : but I shall weary you. Calamities which strike to the very hearts of those who bear them, have indeed but little effect upon men by whom their force has been happily unfelt." "You need not, my friend, be at afl appre- hensive of wearying me. I feci too deep an interest in the subject to be wearied. You are a native of London, I believe ?" " Yes ; and no man ever had or could have had a fairer prospect of a long life of happiness before him than I had from the period of my marriage, up to the time when every earthly hope was blasted. My father died while I was a minor, leaving me that which I ever re- garded as a competence, but I remained single for some years after I had attained my majpp- 200 LIFE, AND ADVENTURES OF ity. At length, I met her in whom my heart would permit me to see nothing but perfection. She was an orphan, and was living at the time as companion to a lady, who had known me from childhood. A more amiable or a rnore interesting creature never breathed : I believe her to have had, then, a heart as free from . guile as that of an infant. We married ; and for ngarly five years, lived 'in the pure and vininterrupted enjoyment of each other's soci- ety, ^hen a viper, an illiterate, low, cunning inisCTeant whom — were he now before me — I could strangle, poisoned the mind of her whom I valued more highly than my life, and eventually, induced her to leave me." " Wa.s he a friend, as the phrase goes ? a villain in whom you had confided V "A perfect stranger ! — whose assumed name was Howard : his real name I never could learn." "Well, but how did they bring it about? How did she meet with him I" , " I know not. For some months previously to her leaving -me, I observed an extraordinary change, not only in her manner, bnt in her language and style of dress. I not unfrequently Baw about her person, jewels, which to me ap- peared to be of immense value ; but havins: the most implicit confidence in her honor, I took no further notice than that of expressing my ad- miration of their beauty ; and on being asked whether I did not consider them excellent imi- tations of the most precious gems, I was satis- fied in attributing their display to that species of vanity which, in a woman, is to some extent venial. At length, however; they bcname so brilliant and so numerous, and were worn with so much ostentation, that I felt myself bound to look into the matter more closely. With that recklessness which impunity generates, even in those who are the most tremblingly apprehensive of detection at the commence- ment of a career of vice or crime, she would leave these sparkling gems carelessly about, and feeling then quite justified in doing that, which under any other circumstances I should have held to be a pitiful act of meanness, I on one occasion took them to a jeweller, and hav- ing learned their -real value, my suspicions were aroused. Still T did not, I could not be- lieve her to be false. I felt, indeed, sure that she had been tempted, nay, that she was then on the brink of destruction; but so implicit was the confidence I had been accustomed to repose in her, had she then simply stated that her eyes had been opened, and thenceforth con- cealed those jewels from my sight, I should have felt quite convinced that she had re- turned them to the villain, and should have held her to my heart more fondly than ever. She was not, however, sufficiently subtle for this. Instead of striving to allay my suspicions by the invention of falsehoods, the very moment I alluded to the subject — although [ did it with all possible calmness and delicacy •—she assailed me with a violent burst of pas- sion, of which I never before supposed her to be capable. She would submit to no dictation in a matter of this kind ! She would not suffer any sorh unmanly interference ! She would wear what she pleased : she would recsin what, presents she pleased, and that, too, from whomsoever she pleased! — and, having ex- pressed herself loudly and indignantly to this effect, she bounced with a look of contempt from the room, leaving me in a state of amaze- ment. My friend ; that very night she left me ! — left me without another word ! — taking with her our two dear children — the sweetest innocents that were ever sent as a blessing to man. Had she allowed them to remain, I might have borne the rest in silence. Conscious of her guilt, I might not have pursued her; but, as it was, I made every possible exertion to discover her retreat, with a view to the restora- tion of my children. For weeks, for months 1 was unsuccessful. I searched in every place in which I conceived it to be even remotely probable she had concealed herself; but no; every effort was unavailing, every hope of re- covering ray little ones withered. I became a wretched being; 1 felt that I had for ever lost all that 1 cared for on earth ; and was then recklpss even of life. At length, however, I received information of her havifig been seen in the neighborhood of Knightsbridge, and to Knightsbridge I went accordingly, day after day, walking through and throngh the place from morning till night without success, until nearly a month .had elapsed, when I saw her one evening at a winrlow, with ray children by her side. The recosinition was not mutual, and I did not then wonder at it much, for I had ber come quite -careless of my dress and person, and looked, if possible, more wretched than now. I went, however, instantly to the door, and knocked loudly. 1 knew not for whom to inquire, but the fact of her being in the house was sufficient, and having said, I know not what, to the servant, who seemed satisfied, I, made my way at once into the room, at the window of which she had been standing. As 1 entered, she was drawing down the blinds, and turned instantly to welcome, not me, but the villain whom she expected. On perceiving me, however, she stopped, as if struck with para- lysis. She knew me in a moment ; but uttered . no word. I demanded my children, and she dropped upon her knees, with the view ol pressing them more closely to her bosom. It was a sight I could scarcely endure. I could not attempt to tear them forcibly from her, for they clung to her as firmly as she clung to them. Still, stiU I was resolved to have my children. I demanded them again : she made, no reply ; she was pale, deadly pale, and trem- , bled violently, but would not give utterance to . a word. I spoke to them, to my children, to my own dear little ones; I called them by name : — I was not their papa : their papa would not be home till by-and-bye ! Maddened at this, I determined at once to separate thein from her ; but, before I could acoomphsh this object, the very miscreant rushed into the room, when I turned to fix upon him. I sprang at his throat, but I had lost my wonted strength. He shook me ofi", and, having reached a case of pistols that happened to be then upon the table, he seized one, and presented it firmly at my head. In an instant my wretched wife VALENTINE VOX. 201 Itew to him, in order to induce him not to fire ; but, having by this time got the other pistol in my grasp, I Qalled upon her loudly to stand aaide. 1 could have shot him dead, with less remorse than I would a dog; but I could hot shoot even him through her ! Again, therefore, and again, I called upon her to stand aside. She would not. She would cling to him still! — when, taking a deliberate aim over her shoul- Qer, ne fired, and I fell. The ball entered my breast, but, though utterly powerless, I was not insensible : I remember all that occurrpd from first to last, as distinctly as if it had happened but yesterday. It will, however, be sufncient to state, that I was lifted upon a bedj where I remained for nearly three hours bleedmg — ^that Iwas visited then by two persons, for whom the itiiscreant had started soon after I had fallen — and that, having dressed my wound, which they prbnounced not dangerous, they removed me at once to a lunatic asylum, as one who had m^de a desperate attempt upon his own life ! While on the way I knew not at all where I ■^jas going ; and if I had known, it would have been useless, for I had then no power to offer any resistance ; but the moment I entered the asylum I saw' through the infa- micius scheme, and considered myself a lost man. With all the strength that remairied to me, I demanded to know by whose authority they had acted. The demand was regarded with utter contempt. I begged earnestly then, as a favor, to be informed. As a, favor they showed me the certificate. My friend, — it had been signed by my wife ! — God forgive her ! There' was I, stolen for ever, as I imagined, from society, a poor, wretched, broken-hearted creature, writhing, moreover, with physical agony, without a friend with whom to com- municate — without a single soul who cared for me knowing where I was; and there I remained for nearly fifteen years, subjected to every con- ceivable species of brutality, deprived of every- thing — even of my name ; for, as they insisted from the first upon calling me Whilely instead of Whitbread, I adopted it in order to avoid annoyance, and have ever since answered to the. name of Whitely, as if it were really my own." "To say," said Uncle John, "that I am amazed, were, indeed, but a weak expression of what I feel. But what became of her, my friend 1 what became of her V " While there — shut out, as I was, from the world, as completely as if I had been in my grave — it was utterly impossible for me to [earn ; nor have I, since my escape, been able to ascertain whether she is, at this present moment, dead or alive. I have inquired of the fe\V that remain on earth by whom I was known, but can obtain no information either of her or of the children. It is my children my friend, fOr whom I am anxious : I care but lit- tlej indeed, about what has become of her ; but my soul yearns to hear of my children." "Well, who knows!" exclaimed Uncle John — " you ihay hear of them still ! You may see them — they may yet be a comfort to you, my friend, and a blessing. Who knows ! — But your propertj : what became of thati" "Not a vestige remains. It consisted entirely in houses, of which every one, I have ascer- tained, was immediately sold. I have claimed them all, andthe answer in eaoti case has been the production of the title. He who was my solicitor is dead; but I have learned, from a man who was formerly my servant, that the sales were efiected, in every instance, by that wretch whom I hope to meet again, before I sink into the grave. I should know him were I to see him even now. Never shall I forget his scowling, villanous aspect." • " Have you no knowledge at all of who he was, or what he was?" " Not the slightest. I should say that he was a dealer in diamonds, or a jeweller^ oi some- thing of that sort. That he was wealthy there can be no doubt; but, although he was dressed in the highest style of the day, he was the vilest, the most vulgar, low-bied scoundrel I ever met with." "The jewels! — the jewels did it all!" cried Uncle John. " But I am, nevertheless, aston- ished that so intelligent, so accomplished ■ creature, should have connected herself with a fellow so illiterate." " My friend," said Whitely, " be astonished at nothing a woman may do, when she yields up her virtue. If once she be guided by the spirit of wickedness, she will elope with a sweep or a satyr. Every quality, which she before highly prized, becomes nothing in her esteem then. The very loveliest will cling to wretches the most shrivelled and withered: the most highly accomplished will connect themseljves with boors. Then - all considera>- tions of intellect and honor are lost: every feeling is merged in the mere gratification oi their infamous passions, for when a woman be- comes wicked, she is wicked indeed." "That is true," said Uncle John — "very true." And this was all he. did say; for the circumstances related by Whitely had so amazed him, that he ran them over and ovei again in his mind, while Valentine, upon whom they had made a deep impression, had no dis- posi.ion to break that silence which throughout the remainder of the evenin_g prevailed. CHAPTER XLVII. SHOWS HOW VALENTINE TRIED AN EXPEKIMENT IB THE HOUSE OF LORDS AND FAILED. If he who was the 'first to abuse his fellow- man, instead of knocking out his brains with- out a word, laid thereby the basis of civilization, it as naturally as possible follows, that the more highly civilized we become 'the more bitterly abusive we must be ; and if this bright deduction be perfectly sound, we may infer, without straining the imagination mr.ch, that we are nowfast approaching the very perfec- tion of civilization, which of course, is a very great blessing. Now, in a land of liberty like this, in which every pubUc man, being held to be public pro- perty, is abused precisely as the generous pub- 202 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF lie please, it is by no means an unusual thing for public men to be considered queer creatures in the aggregate, by those who have derived their information on the subject from gentlemen who write satires, draw caricatures, and ful- minate political philippics, and hence it will not be deemed droll that Valentine — when about to pay a visit to the House of Lords — should have expected to behold some of the oddest in- dividuals on the one hand, and on the other, some of the basest and most- palpably black- hearted villains that everjbreathed. He knew that the artistes in question were worshippers of virtue : he knew that at that particular period they were a peculiarly patri- otic species of people in the lump; "but al- though he made a liberal allowance for all this — ^taking off, perhaps, something like seventy per cent. — he yet thought that if, in their repre- sentations, there was a sufficient resemblance to identify the men, the peers of the realm still must be a most remarkable-looking lot. Well ! — Shaving been engaged all the morn- ing with the solicitor, into whose hands poor Goodman's affairs had been placed, he happily made sufficient interest to procure a peer's order, and went alone down to the House. There was an air of what Raven would have designated "beggarly aristocracy" about the va- rious persons in attendance ; but, without hav- ing recourse to a phrase so harsh, it may be stated with perfect truth, that they were on ex- cellent terms with their own individuals, and seemed to have an amazingly high sense of their position, regarding haughtily as dirt all but peers, to whom their nature compelled them to cringe most servilely. Of course, Valentine smiled as he passed, at the excessive self-importance of these gentle- men; but the smile had scarcely quitted his lips, when he found himself actually within the House of Lords ! — which was very surpri- sing. Instead, however, of being, as he ex- pected to have been, introduced into a gallery, he discovered 'himself on the floor of the House, and was shown into something which teemed to be a superior sort of witness box in a corner, while behind the bar stood a number of persons, who looked as if they were about to be tried for high treason. In the body of the House there were three individuals, two sitting at the table in wigs, and one with a dress sword standing beside them. There were no peers then present. It was not five o'clock. But they entered in a body, when that hour arrived, with as much punctuality as if they had been waiting to hear the clock strike. As they entered, Valentine looked at them earnestly, but he really was unable to see many of those oddities whose ap- pearance he had been led to expect, nor could ne discover any creatures whose countenances were indicative of any peculiar blackness of heart. On the contrary, they appeared to be plain, mild, unassuming people ; and — with the exception of the Lord Chancellor and the Bishops — were dressed with remarkable sim- plicity. Their manners, too, were gentle and courteous. There was not even the slightest attempt at display. They conversed in the most familiar strain; and, indeed, lookeu a* much like other men as possible. About the period at which Valentine arriveti at this striking conclusion, the business of tho nation commenced. In the first place, a tall and startling person approached the bar, and, addressing the Lord Chancellor, delivered him- self precisely to the efiect that somebody had got something. He then produced a little gen- tleman — who singularly enough happened to have some important documents under his arm — and made him bow three times wiih due distinctness and humility, before he took his oath that all he meant to say was tnie. "What have you got there?" inquired the Lord Chancellor. The gendeman commenced a little speeolt that was understood by his lordship before it was delivered, which was fortunate, seeing that had it not been for that, it would not have been understood at all. "Have you examined them?" demanded the Lord High Chancellor. " Yes, my lord." This was said boldly. " Do you find them correct ?" " Yes, my lord," replied the little gentleman, who spoke up again like a man; and, having delivered the documents in question, retiree^ highly pleased at the fact of the job being done. The peers now commenced the presentation of petitions, which is beyond all dispute the most interesting portion of the busine^ of the House, although it seems highly rational to suppose, that there would be fewer to present if they, by whom petitions generally are got up and signed, knew the astounding effect they produce when presented. " My lords," a noble peer will observe, with surpassing tranquillity, "Petition — Norwich— against — destruction — ^glorious constitution." ' " 'Tetion," the clerk at the table will then echo — " 'Tetion — Norge — 'struction — glgrse constitution." ■ , Such petition — in every section of which there may be an argument sound as a nut — is then crushed together carelessly, and thrown under the table, though heaven and earth may have been moved to obtain signatures therela While the peers were thus engaged in the performance of this solemn duty, there was a movement at the door near which Valentine stood, most strikingly indicative of something. Several persons ran in, apparently in a state of great excitement; and, having glanced round and round, ran out again, for the purpose of bringing in others. The majority of them hap- pened to have papers in their possession, but they all looked as if they had discovered some horrible plot against the State, and were ex- cessively anxious to communicate to the House all they knew about the matter. In this state of feverish anxiety they continued for some time ; but, having at length got themselves tfy gether, they' poured some great secret into the ear of the person with the sword, who nodded, as if he was not at all surprised at it, and then approached the bar as before. " My lords !" — said he, " a message from the House of Commons !" The Lord Chancellor rose and at once wa^ VALENTINE VOX. 20? 4J.ed_.t3wards,tl],ena, and placed the respectable- looking carpet-bag he had in his hand upon the bar; and when one of the gentlemen of the |Iouse of Commons had delivered to him a do- cument, and advised him, as it seems, not to drop itj he waddled back to his seat as they re- fced three paces in really admirable order. ^ As soon as this job had been accomplished, the jerson with the sword went again to the I5,ar,'^nd said, " My lords ! — a message from the House of Cgmmons!" The Lord Chancellor snatched up his carpet- bag again, and bowled down to the bar. as be- fore, and having received another document from another individual, bowled back with that sweet satisfaction, which springs from the con- sciousriess of having faithfully performed a great duty. ' "My lords! — a message. from the House of Commons !" cried the person with the sword, 'he very moment his lordship had returned to /^u table, and again the Lord Chancellor took up his bag — without which he appeared to be unable to stir — and again rolled down to the honorable members. Valentine thought it a little too bad to make his lordship trot backwards and forwards so ofljen, v/hen they might just as well have put the whple of thgir documents into his carpet- bag at once. He did not, in fact, like to see a Lord Chancellor played with, and run off his legs in this way, and hence — ^perceiving that his lordship had too much politeness to say a \vord about the matter himself, although he evidently felt it very deeply — he threw his .voice behind the deputation, as they were bow- ing, and said, " Why could you not have sent them all in togetlier?" The members seemed starded as they turned to look round, and the person with the sword cried " order !"^and looked very fiercely at the strangers behind the bar, of course oonoeiv- ingjl;that one of them had spoken. The mem- bers, however, eventually again reached the ))ag, and, haying placed, the third, document upon it, Valentine, making his voice apparendy proceed from the lips of the Lord Chancellor, whispered intensely, " I say ! — have you got any jnore V " One more, my lord — only one more," repli- ed an honorable member, as the Lord High Chancellor looked at the person who stood, embellished with a bob wig, behind him with the mace. His lordship, however^ took no fur- ther notice, but bundled back again to his seat. " My lords ! — a message from, the House of Commons!" again cried the deputy sergeant, and again the Lord Chancellor snatched up his bag and came down to the bar with due pre- sence of mind. " Now, is this the lastl" inquired Valentine, pitching his voice towards the mace-bearer. " Yes, my lord, this is the last." " Well, come, that's a comfort." . The Lord High Chancellor again looked "i.'p vely at his attendant, and his attendant look- liv Tavely at him. His lordship, however, Willi siiiking forbearance, said nothing, but hav- ing bowed very profoundly, returned to his sack. The members of the Commons now left the House, laughing, and the person with the sword distincdy intimated to the strangers, that if they did not keep quiet, they should not remaia. Several of the most prominent protested their innocence, and all the rest were very re.ady Id do the same thing; but that was perfectly al> surd, he knew better, and therefore advised them most strongly to mind what they were about. At.this moment a noble lord rose, for the pur- pose of directing the attention of the House to some measure designed expressly for the pro- motion of the love of religion. He commenced in a quiet conversational tone, as if anxious to reserve all his power for his points; but, al- though he spoke fluently for nearly an hour^ he ended as coolly as he began, while the only kind of action in which he indulged was that of occasionally tapping the palm of. his lefi hand with two of the fingers of his right. , , The very moment Ms speech had been brought to an end, another noble lord started up to denounce it, and in doing so his violence was so excessive, that at times he was utterly unable to express the indignation with which his bosom swelled. He looked frightfully at the noble lords opposite — showed his teeth, foamed at the mouth, and eventually worked himself up into a passion so terrible, that the noble lords opposite actually smiled!. This made him still worse. He became quite hot : and the more indistinct his articulation grew, the more rapidly he rattled away. "I wonder," thought Valentine, as he lis- tened to this vehement denunciation — " I won- der if it be possible to produce a scene here at all like the one I witnessed in the House of Commons?" On reflection he felt that it was not; but, being anxious to try the effect of an attempt, he cried " Question !— Down !— Down !" throwing his voice behind the fulminating peer, who turned in an instant and stopped. The thin^ was really so unusual, that the noble lord seemed quite struck ! Had it proceeded from noble lords opposite, why then, indeed, he might not have felt so much amazed, although, impious as they all were in his estimation, hie had never heard anything so indecent even from them ; but the idea of being thus inter- rupted by noble lords on his side of the House — by his own noble friends — his own party — was shocking! — he held it to be, indeed, a heavy blow and a great discouragement, and, seemed anxious to n;ove that the journals of the House be searched for a precedent, when the noble lords around him said, " Go on — go on." " Sit down !" cried Valentine, assuming a totally different voice. " Order ! — order ! — order !" cried the peers on both sides; for, although they had all had enough of the eloquence of the noble lord then on his legs, not one of them would even by his silence seem to sanction an interruptiolj at once so unusual and inconvenient. The noble lord then resumed. He seemed to feel a little better, although he obviously could not forget it. "My lords," said he, "in the aiinpls — " "Monstrous!" cried Valentine — "Why d^ you hear him?" 204 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF "Older, order, order!" cried the peers simul- ♦fineously — "Order, order, order!" and again they looked round, with the view of ascertain- ing which noble lord it was. This, in the House of Commons, as Valen- tine had proved, would have been, quite suffi- cient to produce a litde yelling; but — albeit party feeling, at that particular period, ran quite • as high there as it did in the House of Com- mons — he could ivot get a single peer to join him. He was, on the contrary, opposed by them all. Not one would lend his countenance to any such proceeding. They were absolutely ehocked at the interruption, and Valentine at length became convinced that no storm could be raised. This was the only failure he had ever expe- rienced. In every other place his success had been signal, but there even Faction itself refused to aid him; even Faction ! — from which he had ever before derived the most prompt and effect- ual assistance. But, although it was impossible to raise an actual storm, was it equally impossible to shake their dense gravity? Valentine put this great question to himself^ and conceiving it to be a point which might as well be ascertained, he resolved at once to bring them to the test. There were several members of the House of Commons at the bar. They had been run- ning in and out continually, in order to hear what was going forward, but at that particular time there were about a dozen present, when Valentine, assuming th6 voice of the Deputy Sergeant/eried, "My lords! — a message from tlie House of Commons!" The Lord Chancellor left the Woolsack, as a matter cff course ; and, with characteristic dig- nity, approached the bar, with the man in the bob-wig behind him. He thought it strange, very strange, that he should have been trou- bled agaih, but he thought it stranger still, when, on reaching the bar,, he found that the members of the Commons had no message to deliver. " It is a mistake, my lord," said the Deputy Sergeant, who had been startled by what ap- peared to be the sound of his own voice. " It must have been one of the strangers." " Let the strangers withdraw, '_' said the Lord High Chancellor, which settled, the business at •once, for the strangers were accorUiii'ly ordered to ■withdraw; and as Valentine happpiif-d to b^ one of the strangers, of course he withdrew with the rest. CHAPTER XLVIII. BETUEKS TO WALTEK AND HIS AMIABLE FAMILT, WHOSE POSITION BECOMES QUITE ALAKMINS. " What is that, governor ? — what have you got there V demanded Horace, as he perceived the bright countenance of his honored father fall, while perusing a remarkably legal-looking letter, which had just been delivered by a legal- looking clerk. " A six-and-eightpenny touch!" Walter made no reply His heart was full, and he sighed as he handed the letter to Ho- race. "Of course," said Horace, with elevate brows, having made himself master of the contents. " I don't know what you may think of it, governor, but to me it appears to be very much like the beginning of the end !" " I knew," said Walter, " by my dream last night—" "Oh, blister your dreams! — your dreanu have done it all. We should not have heen placed in this blessed position, but for your pre- cious hypochondriacal dreams. I knew how it would be, the very moment you took to dream- ing. I saw the whole business, and told yon all about it, directly I perceived that you were phantomized like a fool. So you can't blame me. You would have your own way. Yoo would be guided by your own morbid nob, and what's the consequence? Why, after having lived in a state of speotralization, frizzled up to cinder, and reduced to helpless wretchedness, here you are, with palsied nerves and a shat- tered constitution, without twopence in the world to call your own ! Had you hstened to reason; had you taken my advice; had yon kept the thing daik, or even, ■ after yoi) nad thrown a light upon it, had you sent the old man to another den in another name, which you ought to have done — " " It matters not," said Walter, " what ought to have been done : the question is, what's to be done now V " Well, what's to be done now ? I may just as well sneeze as say a word upon the subject. What is it you mean to do ? What do you pro- pose?" ^ " I don't really see how I can help myself." " Don't you ?" " The property must be given up !" " Governor ! — Oh ! but it's just like you. Do you want to descend into the region of rags? Do you want to s?e mother and yourself in the workhouse, and Poll and me bawling duets in the street ? Because if you do, youll do that.'' " Why, vhat else can I do ? " What else can you do ! Start off to Ame^' rica. Van Dieman's Land, Nova Scotia, or any other place upon earth, and -take all you have with you." " Of what use would it be to me in either of those places?" " Can yon not turn it into money ?" " Not a quarter of it, unless I commit forgeiy." " Well ! — what is forgery compared with sta^ vation? But without Siat — turninto cash all you can, aqd let's start. They can't stop us — they can't do a single thing with us in less than two months.*" " But the letter says, that all must be deliver-, ed up immediately !" "I know it: wliat of that? You will not give it up, and vfhat then? They bring their action : yon will defend it, and lot it go to trial Why, before it can be tried, we can be ten thousand miles off, as jolly as possible.^' "I will not leave my country," said Walter. " You will not leave your country ! Well; that is a start ! Why, what need you care im.' your country ? D o y on imagine that your cotaw try cares about you? I mean to say^ that it's ■ very uncomfortable country to live xn, without VALENTINE VOX. 205 eitlier money or friends. You'll not leave your country !" " Besides, Horace, I feel that I cannot be so great a villain." '■'That's another go! Thus, little viUains are the greatest, because they are villains to themselves. No man should commence a ca- reer of villany, without being prepared to go through with it; should he halt, he and his fam- ily must suffer. I know you have no wish to be a .villain, nor have I ; but then you see, if eiroumstances prescribe acts of villany in spite of ourselves, what are we to do? Just look at the thing as it stands. We must either be vil- lains, and live in a style of comfort, or honest men and starve. There is no middle course." " Yes, Horace, thijie is a middle course, and that course must be pursued. Existing circum- stances, you must remember, have been cre- ated by ourselves, and can, therefore, afford us no iiistification. The property must be given up !" " You have made up your mind — I hope to be forgiven for calling it a mind — but such as it is, you have made it up to that ?" ("Horace !^- Do you know whom you are speaking to T" "Yes!" replied Horace, with an expression of bitterness — " I am speaking to one who con- fined his only brother in a lunatic asylum to gain possession of his property, and who is now about to reduce himself and family to beggary, because he has not the courage to retain it." Walter shed tears, and if, to a man who will io that of which he cannot bear to be told, a word even from a stranger be sufficiently gall- ing, what must have been the feelings of this father, on being thus reminded by his son that he was a villain ! "It were folly," resumed Horace, " to mince the matter now. You have gone too far to re- treat, without involving us "all in ruin. I would not nave said what I have said, governor, but that I am anxious to bring you to a sense of your position . You restore this property. Well ! — what will be the consequence ? Rags. What shcdl we have to live upon? Nothing. You have given up youi;J)ertn, from which we de- rived the only means we had of keeping body and soul at all peaceably together, while there Isn't a single creature in the world from whom We' have any right to claim assistance. As to friends ! — they are all very well, and very plea- sant, when you are rich, but a man has no friends when he is poor. They are too wide awake : although blind before to his vices and crimes, their eyes become marvellously open. Independently, therefore, of being beggars, we shall ha,ve — for this "affair is quite sure to be known — we shall have the pleasing conscious- ness of being regarded as scoundrels and thieves by the world — so completely and so suddenly does poverty change a good fellow into an un- rivalled, unsighdy rogue. . Look at the thing in this light, governor, and then you'll perceive what' madness it would be to give up all with the view of satisfying that time-serving hypo- crite, conscience.'' " But do you think," said Walter — " do you s really think my brother would ever allow us to starve ?" " Why, what else," returned Horace, '' havo we the smallest conceivable right to expect? Can you expect affection from him now ' or da you suppose that he can be deluded into the belief mat he ought to be grateful to us for having delivered him from the asylum ? But even supposing that he would not allow us to starve — that is, supposing he wouldn't mind giving us a pound, if he saw us all shivering on starvation's brink — what if he w6re sudden- ly to die — and I don't think he's got a great deal of life in him, which makes me so mad, for ^in less than a month we should have had to put on mourning, when all would have been secur- ed — but what, I say, if he were to die, where should we be then ? Do you think it at all likely that he has allowed his old will to re- main as it was ? Is it likely at all that he'll leave us a shilling?" " We cannot know what he may do." " But is it likely ? It isn't as if he were now well affected towards us. See how I — even I — am treated when I call, as I have done twice a-day ever since, and that with all the regur larity of the clock. He'll not see me. He's ' much the same, thank you,' but never to be seen. If I could only get at him, to tell him how affectionately anxious 1 have been on his account, and how dreadfully delighted I should be to see him perfectly restored, I should make something of him ; but as it ia, I may just as well get up that chimney, and smother myself in soot twice a-day, as go there. I meet with no sort of politeness, no ceremony, not a biL They answer me at once, wiLhout quitting the door. I did make the old woman go up this morning, but even then Mr. Goodman could not be seen : he fell obliged by my calling so frequently, but would feel more obliged if I wouldn't call at all. So you see, we are bound, in strict justice to ourselves, to take care of our- selves. Ue^U not leave us anything. It isn't to be expected." " I think he will," said Walter— "I still think he will. Knowing him so well as 1 do, I can- not believe that he will allow us to becoma utterly destitute." " How ever a man can thus struggle to de- ceive himself," said Horace, " is to me a per feet mystery. There isn't a shade of proba/- bUity about it. And if even there were, what madness it would be to run the risk I Look at it in this point of view. Of course, you will admit that he may not leave us anything, and if he should not, what then can we do?" Horace paused, for he felt that he had made a deep impression; but Walter, whom con- science had tortured so remorselessly, would not be convinced. He had proved the benevo- lence of his brother's disposition : he knew well the, goodness of his heart: and although he was unable, for an instant, to disguise from himself: the fact of his having .injured him deeply and most unnaturally, he still felt persuaded that the injury would be forgiven, and hence eventu allyiaid, " I will trust him." " You win ?" cried Horace, starling up in a 206 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF lage-^" i am to understand this to be your fixed determination 1 You are detennined, quite de- termined to pursue this course I" " I am," said Walter, firmly. " Very weM ; very well ! I now know how to act. It is high time now for me to look to myself. rU not be ruined by you ! I'U not be dragged down to the lowest pitch of penury, m have some of those papers." " You shall not !" cried Walter. "But I will!" " 1 tell you not one shall be touched !" " And I tell you I'll have them !" "Why, you insolent scoundrel! — what do jrou mean, sir? — ^what do you mean?" " That all the papers that can be converted into money I'll have !" " You shall not have one of them, sir !" " Who will prevent me ?" " I will ! Attempt even to touch thenu and I'll knock you down, rascal!" cried Walter, who, as Horace smiled contemptuously, rose in an instant. "Now, keep off," cried Horace; "you had better not come near me ! I don't want to hurt you ! Keep off!" Regardless of this warning, Walter rushed at him wildly^ when Horace caught his arms, and having pinioned them, threw him at once upon the sofa. " What in the name of goodness is the mat- ter !" cried Walter's wife, who rushed into the room at this moment — " what is it? — what's the meaning of it? — ^what's it all about?" " Why, this old cripple " " How dare you," interrupted Mrs. Walter — "how dare you call your father an old cripple, sir? — are you not ashamed of yourself? Let him get up, sir, this moment !" "Oh, he may get up! — ^but I'm not, you know, going to be pommelled !" " But what is the cause of it ? What does it ail mean?" " Why," said Horace, " the meaning of it all is simply this : he has taken it into his head to reduce us to beggary, and, because I won't have it, he must try to knock me down." " But bow? — By what means? " Why, by stripping us naked of everything we have, that he may send all back to his brother !" " Well, but surely you can talk this unfortu- nate matter over without fighting! — Come, my dear, draw to the table, and let us see what can be done. ' " I will not be thus treated," cried Walter, " by my own flesh and blood. I will not be insulted by that villain !" " He who taught me to be a villain — " " Horace, Horace !" exclaimed Mrs. Walter, " recollect yourself, sir." " Well, why can't he be easy? I don't want to quarrel. I'd rather go and have a roll in the mud, ten to one ; but it's a hard thing — " "Well, well, your father did'nt mean it, I know. — Come, let us talk the matter over calmly. What is it, my dear, you mean to do ? Have you made up your mmd to restore all to your brother?" "I have." " Well then, now nly dear, let as considw how shocking that will be. In the first place, how are we to live? — " " Of course ! — ^that's the way to put it." " Be silent, Horace : let us be quite calm and cool, for the thing now begins to assume s serious aspect. If, I ask, this property of yom brother be restored to fiim, now— that being now our only means of support — ^how are we to live?" "We must do the best we can,"' replied Walter. ' ' " Do the best we can ! Yes, dear, but whai can we do ? You have no profession : Horace has no profession; and, therefore, I really cannot see how on earth we shall be able'to manage !" " Then you also think that he would do no- thing for us?" " Why, my dear, place yourself in the same position : \yhat would you do under similar .cir- cumstances ?" " But he's a different man to me altogether What I would do, therefore, can afford no cri- terion." " But, granting that he is a different man, what grounds have we for believing thai he will not discard us ? We have no grounds for any such belief. On the contrary, since hig liberation he has given us every reason to be- lieve that he will. He may be, and doubtlesa is, of a generous and forgiving disposition; but you see, my dear, the question is, will he, under the circumstances, feel himself justijm in doing anything for us? If he should riolj Heaven only knows what will become of us, m how we shall manage to exist." " Depend upon it he will never allow us to starve !" "No, dear, perhaps not; but how dreadful will be our sufferings before we reach the poiiJl of starvation !" "Besides," said Horace, "if I may speak— he'll be dead in about a fortnight; andthere> fore as we have it, we may as well keep it as not. What I look at most is, that that felloW'^ that Valentine— should be enriched by our follyj for, of course, he'll have it all, there's no doiibt about that, and therefore fl»thing can be clearer than that by giving it up to the old man we in reality give it up to him." "Exactly," said Mrs. Walter; "and, as I have said again and again, it will indeed be a shocking thing if, after having tried all these years to secure it, it should be left to a person who has done nothing for it, aiid who haa therefore no right to it whatever." " But how do we know that he will die so soon? — ^how can we tell ?" "Very true, dear; we cannot exactly tell; but then it appears that the chances are in our favor." " And do you think that he'd die and leave us nothing?" " Why, he might not, my dear ; but if M should ? What in the name of goodness should we be able to do then? There should we be starving, — ^I know we should starve, for we cannot work like those who have been used to it all their lives, — ^there, I say, we should be BtarviAg, while others who have no earthly VALENTINE VOX. 207 right to it are living luxuriously upon that which we clearly ought to have. Why, my dear, it would be terrible ! For goodness sake look again at the matt«!r before you decide." " Then you too would have me continue to be a villain V " Nay, my dear, that is a most unkind word ; and equally unkind is it of you to suppose that I wish you to be anything of the sort. Heaven Knows 1 am sorry — as indeed we must all be — truly sorry that you were induced to go so far ; but as it is, I look solely at the circumstances which at present exist, and I really, my dear, cannot see how under those circumstances, you can act as you propose without reducing us to absolute wretchedness." " I wish that I was dead !" exclaimed Wal- ter; "I heartily wish that I was dead !" " Nay, that is mere folly." "Just like him," said Horace:" he never could grapple with a difficulty in order to sur- mount it. The very moment it appears he must wish himself dead." " Well, well ; wishing that will not at all mend the matter; nor shall we do much good by dwell- ing upon the point. The question is, will it be better under the present unhappy circumstances to retain what we have at all hazards, or by giv- ing it up at once to run the risk of involving ourselves in utter ruin ? For my part — although I should be but too happy to advise the imme- diate restoration of all if it were possible to do it with safety to ourselves — I do not perceive how it can be done now without the result as far as we are concerned being dreadful. We are placed, you see, my dear, in so peculiar a Bpsition. I would go myself at once to your brother; but then what could I say? I could not ask him to compromise the matter. 1 could not say to him, 'Indeed we are truly sorry for what has occurred, and will restoie all that be- longs to you if you will kindly undertake to allow us so much a-year !' — nor can I ask what he intends to do for us when we have made an unconditional surrender. I might indeed say, 'I do hope that you will consider our unfor- forttmate position : I trust that our destitute cir- cumstances will induce you to save us from ab- solute want;' but although I might say this, and dwell with great feeling upon each point, the very moment he alluded to the cause of my appeal I should be dumb, so that you see, my dear, we cannot act in this case as we might in any other. We must of necessity take one of two courses, that is to say, we must either retain what we have, and defend the possession in the best way we can^ or give up all, and be thereby reduced to destitution." "I tell you," cried WaUer, "that it isn't at all likely that we shall be thus reduced." "But, my dear! what security have we against it ? We have none. We can have none. It is a terrible risk, and one which ought not on any account to be incurred. Now, if I niight advise, I should say, dear, convert all you can into money at once, restore all that is not available, and retire to some distant part of the country. We could assume another name, and I am sure that we should live very happily ; at all events, we should not have starvation be- fore our eyes, which is really very shocking, dear, when you come to think of it ! How- ever, I will not- tease you any more now ; we will leave you to yourself, and I do hope and trust — indeed I feel quite convinced — ^that when you have thought the matter over a^in, you will see how really absolute the necessity is for reversing your expressed determination." Even when he feels most sincerely anxious to do so, how exceedingly difficult is Jl for a man who has quitted the path of honesty to return i Like a liar, whom the first falsehood prompts with a show of necessity to lie on, he creates, by the first crime, circumstances which urge him to proceed in his criminal career. Walter^ base as he had been, was most anxious to maks all the reparation in his power. He would have given up all and trusted solely to his brother's generosity, but the circumstances which his crime had created induced him to pause. CHAPTER XLIX. GOODMAR HOLl'S A CONSULTATION WITH HIS FB lEMDS, AT WHICH UNCLE JOHN FINDS HIS JUDGMENT FET- TERED. While Walter was brooding over the proini» nent points of the interesting conversation de- tailed in the preceding chapter, with the view of conceiving, if possible, some medium course, the pursuit of which, while it in some degree satisfied his conscience, might meet at least half-way the views of his amiable family, his deeply injured brother was engaged whh Va- lentine, Uncle John, and Whitely, in a discu^ sion which had reference to the propriety of framing a fresh will. Goodman felt the hand of death upon him. It did not press painfully, nor with sufficient weight to justify the appre- hension of an immediate dissolution; but his frame had been so shattered, his constitution so undemiined by the brutal treatment he had experienced, that he had become quite con- vinced, that, although human skill might enable him to linger on for weeks or even months, that hand would never more be removed till it had crushed him. This rendered his spirit quite calm. Every harsh, every irritable feel- ing was subdued. He held it to be pecuHarly the time for the forgiveness of injuries, and hence his benevolence reigned in the ascendant. Thus actuated, he could not deal justice to Walter. He felt that it did not, in fact, come then within his province to do so : nor did he desire to leave him to his own conscience, as it is termed, seeing that that would be in effect to desire that he might by his conscience ba tortured. He was anxious to express his for- fiveness — to make it manifest that he believed im to have been actuated, not by any innats vileness, but by some evil influence, over which he might not at the momerit have had entire control. He did all he possibly could tf» invent excuses for him, with Jhe view of estab- hshing a show of justification; but as this wa» an object he was utterly unable to accomplish, he began to look not at what Walter had been, 208 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF but at what he, might become. He conceived that his repbi.tatice might be sincere, that he might henceforth be virtuous, and that there- fore, he who had the power to save him from those temptations to dishonor, with which a state of utter destitution teems, would not per- form his duty as a Christian, if he permitted the exercise of that power to be withheld. It was while in this charitable frame of mind that poor Goodman solicited the advice of his friends, more with -the view, as is customary with those who seek, advice, of having the satisfaction of inducing them to think as he thought, than of acting upon their suggestions. He could not but feel that they would at first be inclined to be harsh — that they would re- Eudiate the idea of his pursuing the course he ad proposed, and hence, when he inquired if they did not think that he was bound to let his will remain substantially as it was, he was not at all surprised at their instant reply being, "Certainly not!" " WKat !" exclaimed -Whitely, " would you reward the wretch, who sought to rob you by means so unnatural, with wealth T Would you give him the power of living in luxury, who deprived you not only of liberty but of health, the greatest blessing of life? Reflect upon what you have endured, — upon the dreadful position in which you were placed — upon the monstrous brutality to which you have been subjected — and upon the result of that brutality, oven up to the present time. Who induced all this % Why, he whose unnatural malignity and sordid avarice you now wish to gratify, by leaving him all that you possess !" "Whatever he may have been," observed Goodman, " however wrong he may have acted, I cannot forget that he is my brother." "Nor ought you to forget it, for that in- creases his guilt a thousand-fold. You ought to regard him as a brother, who violated every feeling by which he ought to have been actu- ated,, with the view of injuring you, and who thereby sacrificed all claim upon your affec- tions. In a case of this description the admira- ble precept which urges us to return good for evil, may in practice be carried too far. You, for instance, would set a most pernicious ex- ample, inasmuch as you would show that, however infamous may be the conduct of a man, however foul and unnatural may be his designs, he may practise his infamies with im- punity upon a brother, if that brother possess a benevolent heart. Were he a brother of mine I would discard him utterly: if I did not, I should consider that I had failed in performing ray duty to society as a man." "But what if I were to discard him?" said Goodman. "What would become of his family ? Ought the innocent to sufler for the guilty V "You cannot tell that they are innocent. His family may be as guilty as himself, and in this case the probabihty is that they are. But even supposing that they are not, what would become of justice if men were not to be pun- ished for crrnies, lest the punishment should be felt by those with whom they are connected I If, having no proof of thoir suUt, you could punish him without involving them, you would be bound, of course, to do so ; but as Am ■ it under the circumstances impossible, justice de- mands that you should act as if they were not concerned." " But would not that object be to some ex- tent attained," suggested Valentine, "if, in- stead of the property being left to Walter, it were secured to his wife, and the wife of Horace V "It might," returned Whitely, "it might thus be attained ; but it could be so only in the. event of the women being unfaithful. If they continue to be virtuous, it will be of slight int- portance, it will matter not whether it be left to him or them ; it is OJily in the event of their being wicked that he can suffer from such an arrangement ; and considering how frequently women, whose principles of virtue are not fixed, feel the fact of their being, in a pecuni- ary point of vi^w, independent of their hus- bands^ to be an additional spur to an indulgence in vicious practices, I never should, in any case, feel myself justified in advising such an arrange*i. ment to be made. No ; rather let the property go to him and leave his punishment to Heaven- than secure it so as to operate thus as an addi- tional incentive to vice." " But do you not think," said Goodman, "that he has been punished sufficiently already.?" "Certainly not," replied Whitely. .. "Ho ought to be hanged. I am not vindictiTe; I hope I am not cruel; but a man like that, sir, deserves to be burnt alive." "He has endured a far greater amount of torture," rejoined Goodman, "than was evei yet endured at the stake. He has been burnt alive. He has been burnt untU reduced to a state of insensibility, and then, when death could have given him no additional pang, he has been compelled to suffer those exquisite agonies which must iiecessaiily have accom- panied his gradual restoration. And this I attri- bute entirely to the fact of his having so deeply injured me ; for his mind was in consequence so diseased at the time that he fancied he saw me in the room. I therefore cannot— even looking at him only — feel myself justifie4 in inflicting upon him the additional punish'; meut of utter destitution, and when I look at , those who must be involved! in his ruin, aud who have been innocent even of the kiiowledgfli of his offence until the last, I still think that I cannot, consistenfly with my duty as a Chris- tian, do aught else than that which I propose. But what is your opinion, my friend?' he con- tinued, addressing Uncle John. "You have been silent ! Do you think that I shall be justi- fied in reducing my brother and his famuy to abject wretchedness and want? Is it not your impression that he has been sufficiently pun- ished?" "Why," said Uncle John, "you see I am placed in a peculiar position. I promised your brother that I would strive to allay whatevei ill-feeling recent circumstances might have engendered : I promised this on condition that he would liberate you at once from the asylum. It was a sort of contract between us : but now that he has performed his part, I find it exceed- ingly difficult to perform mine. I !iad mu«b VALENTINE VOX. 909 iather, thereiore, that this affair should be gottlecl without me, fo^ while I cannot oon- •oieiiliousiy say anything in favor of the man, 1 am bound by my promise to say nothing against him, and. even then I am not quite sure that I shall have done in reahty all that my promise conveyed." " Why," said Goodman, " you promised nothing more than that you would strive to allay any ill-feeling that mi^ht have been en- gendered : and, most certamly, whatever ill- feeliog might have existed has already been allayed. All the difficulty is, therefore, at an end : as I have no ill-feeling whatever towards him now, you can have no ill-feeling to re- press : so that all you have to do is to avoid saying anything calculated to excite an ill- feeling, and you will have performed your promise faithfully." "My promise conveyed more than that," raid Uncle John. " I don't at this moment recollect what I wished him to understand ; but I am sure that h conveyed more than that. I am not quite certain that I did not mean not only that I would do what I could to repress ill-feel- ings, but that I would do all I could to effect an absolute reconciliation. I should like to be plear upon that point: I should like to know what he imagined I meant at the time." , " But, my friend," said Goodman, " that has ijothing to do with your opinion on the point now at issue." " Why, it may not have anything to do with it, certamly; but, at present, I am inclined to believe that it has; because, you see, if I ex- press an opinion to the effect that he has been already sufficiently punished, I may perhaps be e.'^pressing an opinion which I do not con- scientiously entertain, while, on the other hand, by stating it to be my opinion that he has not, I may be acting in opposition to the spirit of a contract which, no matter with whom it may have been made, ought of course to be strictly adhered to." " Well ! I certainly should like to have your opinion upon the subject before I decide ; be- cause I cannot but feel that it may, and doubt- less will be, the last important act of my life. However, as you do not at present feel justified in. stating what your real opinion is, my deci- sion had better be deferred." " Yes : that will be much the better way,'-' said Uncle John, who had really no desire to give an opinion upon the point; for although he felt convinced that in reality Walter did not deserve the slightest consideration, he could not satisfy himself that if he stated that as being his conviction, he should be doing under the circumstances that which was right. The matter was therefore left open, and Goodman was highly pleased to find that his friend had given that promise to Walter, for he feared that some powerful argument might be adduced to prove that, after w^hat had hap- pened, he ought not to leave the will as it was, m favor of him by whom he had been injured BO unnaturally and so deeply. As far as forgive- ness went, he forgave him from his heart. The only point upon which he was anxious to be ■atia&Mj.'was the justice of the coarse he pro- U s* posed to pursue. And yet again he conceived that — although if the thing were made public it might perhaps be deemed a bad example — in a private case like this he could not do much wrong in doing that which his benevolent feel- ings suggested. Besides, he felt that, even if he were justified in taking the administration of justice in this particular case into his own hands, it was not a time at which he ought to administer it harshly, and. harshly he could not help feeling it would be administered, if he deprived not only Walter, but his family, of all they had to depend upon m the world. He knew that they had no other means of existence; he knew, that if he left them penniless, they must either starve or plunge into the voitex of infamy ; and know- ing this, he could not reconcile the act of driv- ing them into temptation, with his duty either as a Christian or as a man. He therefore even- tually resolved not to renew the painful subjects He had authorized the recovery of the property, and that authority there was no sufficient rea- son to withdraw ; but he hoped that no act on the part of Walter — that no argument of Uncle John or Whitely — that nothing, in short, might occur to induce him to alter the will. CHAPTER L. EXPLAINS THE POSSIBILITY OF MAKING A MAIT DIO All EXTKAOKDINAKY HOLE. As Valentine had not seen Louise for iiv» days — as he had called five times and left his card without finding her "at home," — and as he had received from her no communication whatever — he began to think that Uncle John was right ! — that he really had suffered his spirit of independence to carry him a little too far. And yet, what had he done? It is true he absented himself for two entire days; but then he was calm, quite calm, while she was bursting with passion. He did not retaliate ; he simply said. " Well, I will go, if you wish it !" He had said nothing more, and yet, never since then had he been able to see her! He did think that this was not strictly com-ct. He was not at aU satisfied with it : he felt ihat he had been somewhat ill used I For what could she expect? Could she expect him to submit to every species of indignity? Could she expect that he would ever suffer himself to be her slave? He loved her, fondly loved her, and she knew it; but never would he consent to become the puppet of her caprice. No, he would call once more — ^but once ! — and if she was denied to him, the course which manli- ness suggested was clear, and he made up his mind to pursue h. He would not surrender his spirit as a man ! nor would Louise yield her spirit as a woman ! They were playing the same game : they had both the same object in view, and they were now equally sxae of achiev- ing that object; for although Louise had there- tofore felt herself somewhat overmatched, shs had a weapon now in store for him, in tho shape of a Welshman whom she meant to 210 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF nse so as to enable her to obtain a signal tri- nmph! In the wann hearts of lovers whose affections are fixed, and whoUre really so attached to each other that they seem to be scarcely able to exist but in each other's society, there must be some beautiful feeling in operation while they strive to make it appear that they are perfectly free. The general motive may perhaps be highly laudable ; but with the ladies it is some- tiines inscrutable, seeing that they will laboi to make men believe that it would be a matter of very slight importance indeed, if they were to do that which, if done, would snap their dear heart-strings. This course is, perhaps, in many instances, pursued with the view of testing the strength of man's affection ; but this was not the object of Louise : she wished to obtain the mas- tery to begin with; and she played a very dangerous gam-e; for wliile Valentine's love was of too manly a caste to be inaccessible to reason, he had not had sufficient experience in these delicate matters to know how to make ladies when they are conquered be- ' lipve that they are really victorious. It was unfortunate, perhaps, that he did not know this; but that he did not is nevertheless a fact. He was much too serious about the mat- ter. When he called -for the last time, in the event of Louise being denied to him, he seri- ously meant it to be for the last time : he would not have called again without a special invita- tion ! It may therefore be held to be on all hands fortunate that when he called Louise was at home. This he had scarcely expected ; but Louise ■ expected him, and had laid her plans accord- ingly: she had directed him to be shown ' into the breakfast-room, which overlooked the . garden, and the moment he entered this room, f he saw her leaning upon the arm of a tall young ■fellow, with whom she appeared to be on the most affectionate terms ! Valentine looked — of course he looked! — and his aspect was severe. She gazed at the fellow, and smiled, and chatted gaily, and seemed particularly playful ! Valentine pulled apiece clean out«of his glov^. Who was it? What right had he there ? He couldn't tell: he could only guess! He paced the room, and knit his brows, and pursed his lips, and breathed hard through his nostrils, and thrust his hands firmly to the very bottom of his pockets. There they were ! — oh, yes, there thej' were ! — ^th'ere comd scarcely be two sound opinions about it ! He had a great mind to go to them : he had a great mind to ascertain at once what it meant. And yet — ^Well ! why did she not come ■? He rang the bell— with violence he rang it ! — he was not in a sweet temper at the time. "Does Miss Raven know that I am here V he inquired of the servant, as he entered. " Beg paidon, sir ; — quite forgot to tell her, sir : — dear me, beg pardon." "Why, you thick-headed fool!" exclaimed Valentine — and it certainly was a very harsh exclamation — ^but before he could get any fur- ■ tiler, the servant — who cmly acted up to ms in- structions — ^had vanished from the room. " Now.-' thought Valentine, " I shall see how the heartless coquette will conduct henell when she is told tnat I am here." He stood firmly in the middle of the room and kept his eye steadfastly upon her. Ths servant entered the garden: he addressed her, and retired. She turned, she did not withdraw her arm : she did not even tremble ! She smiled and looked up at the mortal, and said some- thing to him, and then, instead of leaving him there, led him playfully into the house. Valentine now took his seat upon the sofa and tried to look as calm and collected as pos- sible. They entered the room, and she abso- lutely introduced the long wretch to him as Mr. Llewellen. Valentine looked at him ! — he was too big to eat — but he was not too big to be annihilated I "Are you not well?" said Louise. " I am not," replied Valentine. "What is the matter?" " Nothing of importance ; I shall be able no doubt to survive it. Oh, I shall survive it !" "Inteet, then, look you, these pleak wints plow nopotty coot," observed Mr. Llewellen. Valentine's tongue itched to mimic the mor- tal ; but, although he felt that it was perfectly impossible to treat him with anything Eke com- mon civility, he thought that it might perhaps be better not to insult him in any direct man- ner, then. He therefore bowed very distantly, and looked rather contemptuously at Mr. Llew- ellen, and then turned abruptly towards the window, at which Louise was engaged in mak- ing an effort to suppress a hearty laugh. He knew neither what to say nor how to act. He could not speak before that fellow Llewellen, and as to speaking to him ! — he would not deign to do it. A pause therefore ensued — a long pause — during which both gentlemen looked particularly stupid, while Louise did not dare to turn her head. At length, however, Llew- ellen — who had been no more fascinated by Valentine than Valentine had been fascinated by him — happened to think, strangely enough, that he really was not wanted ; and no sooner had he conceived this extraordinary idea, than, inspired with the spirit of independence, he stalked from the room. This, of course, was precisely what Valentine wanted. The absence of that tall wretch— for as a wretch he most uncharitably looked upon him then — was a thing which he had strongly desired ; and yet he did not take immediate advantage of his absence. He wanted Louise to speak first, and she would not speak first She still kept at the window, and appeared to be lost in admiration of Llewellen, who was then busily occupied in pulling up the weeds. The very moment, however, Valentine per- ceived that Llewellen was again in the garden, he felt himself bound to break silence. "1 have to apologize," said he, with a bitterness both of emphasis and of aspect, "for having disturbed you. Had I known that you had been thus affectionately engaged, I should certainly not have intruded." " Why, what do you mean ?" " You know what I mean. Who is that feV low — that creature — that Llewellen '" " Llewellen ! oh, he is a very old friend." VALENTINE VOX. 211 "Indeed!" •' Oh yes, I have known him from infancy. We were play-fellows together." " And are p!ai/-fellows still, I perceive !" "Why, vi^e cannot forget the very many happy hours we spent together in phildhood. Besides, he is such an afTectionate creature, and SI fond of me !" "I have not the slightest doubt of it; and j-ou appear to be equally fond of him." " Why, you surely are not jealous V "Jealous!" echoed Valentine, smiling very bitterly. " What ! of him ? He is a nice, com- pactly-built, intellectual-looking animal for a man to be jealous of, certainly !" . " Why, what is the matter with him ? Real- ly, I cannot see much to complain of. He is taller than you, and m_uch stouter, and I am sure that he possesses a good kind heart." " In your eyes. Miss Raven, he is perfection, na doubt. But look you, pleas you, the pleak wint is plowing upon his potty. It may, look you, too him no coot. Inteet, his plut may pe chilt : it may set fast his pones !" "You are satirical," said Louise; "you al- ways were; but your satire has malice in it now, I am afraid. Come, why are you so cross with him ? What has he done to.offend you V "Oh, nothing — nothing," replied Valentine, carelessly. . "Why will you not be friendly with him, then?, You are angry, perhaps, because you saw us walking in thesSgarden ; but surely there was no harm in that." "Oh ! of course not. There can be no harm in anything Miss Raven does. There can be no harm in clinging to him as if you loved him dearly. There can be no harm in allowing him to play with your hand, your hair, your shin, or your waist !" " I cannot help his being fond of me !" " Propriety, Miss Raven, might suggest that fOTi are not exactly bound to encourage his libndness. But that, of course; is nothing to vae. I have no voice at all m the matter, •Jthough I must say, that had you dealt some- "what more justly, it might, perhaps, on all hands have been quite as well. However, I feel that I am in the way here, now, and shall therefore at once take my leave." "You are a very cross, unkind creature!" said Louise. " I did intend to press you to dine with us to-day ; but I am not quite sure that I shall do so now." "I beg that you will not trouble yourself. I would not stay if even you were to press me. You have some one else to press ; therefore my presence cannot be required." . "Of course, it must be as you please. I have not the slightest influence over you, I am aware ; but I certainly did hope that we might have spent a very happy day together, in mutual forgetfulness of all that has passed. But I perceive that you are of a most unforgiv- ing disposition, and perceiving this, I cannot but observe in my own vindication, that you were the cause of all that transpired at our last interview — that your neglect urged me to Hty wluit I did." " Of what passed at our last interview, Miss Raven, I have not since I entered the honM even thought." " Then, why are you so angry 1 because I walked and chatted with Llewellen in the garden f Do you know who he is 1" " No : nor do I care." " If you do not care to knosv, why I do not care to tell you. But I think that you would like to know, nevertheless, and I will tell you — that is, provided you ask me prettily." " Miss Raven, you treat me like a child, and as a child I will be played with no longer. I perceive that you are faithless, and unworthy the love of an honorable man; I therefore take leave of you for ever." "If you are an honorable man.'' said Louise, who now became somewhat alarmed, " if you possess any one of the feelings of a gentle- man, you will sit down at once in that chair, and explain to me clearly what you mean by those words. To whom have I been faithless? Why am I unworthy the love of an honorable man I" "You have been faithless to me !" returned Valentine, " and I have this day proved you to be a coquette." "I deny it!" cried Louise; "I have been faithless to no one : nor have I ever been a co- quette ! But are you really serious ? Do you really mean to sayut licensed victualler's legs — which •eemed to have been actually built for the purpose, the knees, although the ankles were close, were so very wide apart — in order to get the notes which he conceived the tune de- manded ; but, with the exception of these two individuals and the captain, whose arms went up and down as perpetually as if he had been engaged to play the character of a windmill, — all on board were firmly fixed. On passing London Bridge, a scene presented itself of a character the most imposing. This was and still is the grand starting-place for steamers ; and thousands were on the various wharfs panting for a chance to get on board of them, and thousands more were already on board, laughing and looking so happy ! while the water, as thick as respectable pease-soup, looked at the time as if Vesuvius had been beneath it, so furiously did it boil. Billingsgate was abandoned ; but the beau- tiful esplanade of the Custom-house was ponged. At the Tower Stairs, which used to be embellished, on these happy occasions, with the stars of the east, the elite of Whitechapel and Spitalfields, nothing could be seen save a few grim withered old watermen sitting upon the bottoms of their wherries, which they had rowed indeed they knew not how oft; but which were now fast turning into touchwood, and mournfully bringing to each other's recol- lection the bright cmracteristics of those truly blessed times when they were able to carry eight at eightpence. ,. ,Below these justly celebrated stairs, no striking point presented itself on either side, and the thoughts of the passengers were turned towards their stomachs. It is a beautiful fea- ture in the character of Englishmen, that they are never truly happy but when they are either eating or drinking. The rapid action of their digestive organs seems to be essential to their enjoyment of any scene, however exciting in itself. They must set them to work upon some- thing, or their hearts are not at ease; they can- not feel comfortable, their thoughts* revert to pecuniary affairs, and their spirits evaporate. It is hence that, on this giCy occasion, the per- sons upon deck became duH, when they disco- vered that they could get nothing either to eat or to drink. It is true there was plenty below ; but the cabin was so choked up that they could not insinuate themselves by any means down its throat. They were therefore compelled, — and the idea of being compelled to do anything, is one which a Briton cannot bear, — ^to defer the commencement of their pleasures until they reached Greenwich, which was a pity, inasmuch as a little sour stout, or even a little ginger-beer, would have made them feel joyous and happy. They, however, made up for the mortifica- tion they had endured, the very moment they landed, by pouring into the various pubhc- houses in the immediate vicinity of the pier ; wheit, having obtained a supply of the essence of mirth, their features relaxed, and they were all life and spirit. Valentine and Llewellen mide at once for the Park, and as they entered, it presented a scene of surpassing gaiety. Little indeed of the green sward could be seen, while the hill which rose before them appeared to "be one moving mass of hats, bonnets, scarfs, ribbons, and shawls. The efiect was striking. Every color that art could produce was displayed, and in the sun all harmonized brilliantly. Such was the appearance of the mass, but when analyzed, its softness and beauty were lost. As Llewellen was excessively anxious to be active, and as Valentine was not in a contem- plative mood, they mounted the hill without delay, and before they had reached the sum- mit, partook freely of the pleasure with which all around them' appeared to be inspired. It was delightfnl to view their manifestations of hap- piness, for on all such occasions the poorest enjoy themselves the most. Give a poor girl a holiday, place anything like a sweetheart by her side, let her have some pink ribbon — and plenty of it, that the ends may hang well over her shoulders, — with a little white handker- chief to carry in her hand, and when in the Park, princesses might envy her feelings. " How peautiful all the kirls look !" exclaim- ed Llewellen. " Can't we have a came with them, look you ? Hur want to see more of them roll town the hiU." " I've no doubt we shall see plenty of them do that by-and-bye. They are not yet suffi- ciently excited. But the people appear to be flocking this way. Let us join them. There is sure to be something worth seeing, or the at- traction would not be so strong." " Hur ton't think we shall too much petter," said Llewellen, "put we'll co." They went accordingly down the avenue which leads to Blackheath, and which was thronged by persons, of whom the majority were in much better circumstances than others whom they saw, and who appeared to be ex- ti'emely anxious that those others should know it, ihey did walk so stately and looked so se- vere. The heath was covered : not alone by human beings, for there were donkeys beyond calcu- lation, and forty-year-old ponies, and marquees, and cockshies, and innumerable other great attractions, which combined to swell out the importance of the scene. Llewellen felt as if every limb hung upon wires. He could not keep quiet. He ran about like a young lunatic : now getting his hat filled with gingerbread-nuts to pelt the children of the gipsies — who have always swarms of those little articles at command — and then pnll- ing the girls about and kissing — ay, absolutely kissing them, and that too in the face of the sun ! He did not know at all what to do with himself and at length declared that nothing could or should content his soul until he had had a ride on one of the ponies. " Hur'U kiff you," saio he, " fifty yarts, look you, out of five hunden, ant peat you, ant you shall have which you please. There!" he' added, pointing to a poor little pony, " he's a Welshman : I know he's-a Welshnjan : hur'll let you take him." Valentine looked at the little animal; and- he 222 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF might have been a Welshman, but he must have been foaled in the middle ages. "Phot say youT" cried Llewellen, who was then all impatience. "Will you accept my 9hallenchT" " I will, if you'll ride that nice white one," said Valentine, pointing to a dirty little wretch of a mare that m point of years loolced at least a thousand. "No, no: that's too pat; there's nothing in her : there's no blut in her potty ; no pone." "Why she's all bone ! — what would you have 1 — Take her ; and I'll not have the fifty yards you offered." "Well: hur'll try her speet!" And he mounted when Valentine mounted the Welsh- man ; and they made a fair start. The Welshman went a-head, foi: there was a little stuff still in him ; but the other, with all Llewellen's jockeyship, could not be prevailed upon to believe that it was necessary for her to go. The strongly exciting moment of starting, indeed, did stimulate her into a trot; during which, the active energies of Llewellen caused the saddle to slip off, although he managed, by dint of great dexterity, to stick on ; but after that great event the mare would not stir an inch : she would not even make the slightest effort to go along, knowing perhaps that if she did, such effort would be unsuccessful; inas- much as the saddle was dangling between her legs, while her rider sat firmly upon the girth. Of all this Llewellen was utterly unconscious, until Valentine pointed it out to him on his return. His firm impression was that he had left the saddle behind him !' He could not un- derstand at all the motive of the mare, and wondered that all around him should be roaring with laughter. He very soon however dis- mounted after that, and acknowledged that Valentine had won. This calmed him a little for at least ten min- utes, during which time he walked very quiet- ly along ; but he broke loose again very soon after that, and ran about as much elated as before. '•' My little tear, phot shall I treat you to, look you?" he inquired of a smart servant girl, who was rather a shrewd little creature in her way. " Phot win you have for a fairink ?" " That thimble and pincushion, please," re- plied the girl, as she pointed to the articles stuck upon a stick. " Which of course you shall have, my little tear," said Uewellen. " Year, yer har, sir ! Three throws a penny, and six for tuppence !" cried a fellow wno ap- proached at this moment with an armful of sticks. " Hur want these two little thinks, look you : phot's the price T" " Gan't sell 'em hoff the sticks, sir ; it's three throws a penny." " Oh, nonsense ! Hur'll kiff you photever price you ask. Hur shall preak them, if hur throw, look you !" " Oh, no yer von't, sir ! D'yer vomt them petickler 1" " Why, of course ! snt must have them for tbii latr." " Werry well, sir ! year's three throwi < penny: yer safe to bring 'em dovm !" " Oh, hur'll pring them town ! — there's no tout apout that!" cried Llewellen, and he at once took three sticks and repaired to the placd appointed. The first he pitched gently, lest he should in- jure the little articles, but missed them: thd next he delivered with a sweep, and down they came in an instant. "Hin the ole, upon me soul!" cried the fellow, who danced to the spot to stick them up again. Llewellen did not understand this proceeding, and expressed himself exactly to that effect/ when the proprietor explained to his own satis- faction that, in order to obtain them, it was al> solutely necessary for them to fall out of the hole. " Very well !" said Llewellen, who threw the third stick, which, however, went wide of the mark. " Ow worry near, sure-ii/ .'" exclaimed the active proprietor, who seemed to pride himself especially upon the performance of the most extraordinary antics. "Try agairi, sir! — safe to get 'em! — no mistake, sir! — Tfear's three more !" Llewellen now took a most deliberate aim, holding the stick horizontally in the middle to make sure : and again the little articles fell, but again they dropped into the hole. Con- ceiving that this was not exactly the way to win them, he seized the next firmly at one end, and with a slashing sweep sent it whizzing ai them! — he struck the stick upon which th^ little articles were perched, but those articles dropped as before into the hole. What could be the meaning of it ■? Did he not throw with sufficient force? He threw the next more forcibly ; but, alas ! with the same result. " Try again, sir I — yer carn't be off gittin 'em. — Ave another shy !'' Llewellen had another " shy," and another, and anothef ! — ^The little articles ivould fall into the hole. He therefore changed his tactics in toto; for he had begun very calmly to reason upon the matter. " If," thought he, " I roll the stick just over the hole, the litde articles will fall upon the stick, and, of course, will not allow them to go in !" which, in the abstract, was a very ingenious idea, and he proceeded to act upon it, but found that the practical part of the business was not quite so easy as he had anti- cipated. The difficulty was in persuadingtthe sticks to roll "just over the hole." They "would- n't do it. He tried again and again ; for he felt, of course, that the theory of the thing was very excellent; but no — it was not to be done — at least it was not to be done by him; and hence he had recourse to the slashing mode again.-' " That's your sort ! — ^yer cam^t do better; S&; that'll beat the worjdl" exclaimed the pro- prietorj who informed his victim every time he gave him fresh sticks, that " a faint heart nevot yet won a fair lady." Llewellen now threw with desperation — hs swept all before liim, and at length die liltlo thimble on falling into the hcde for about th« VALENTINE VOX. ga fiftiethtime absolutely leaped out again! _ Well! that was something. He seized the prize and presented it to the lady, and then wished to puichase the pincushion. Oh ! the proprietor would not take any money for it ! — it was in- valuable to him!- Uewellen went, therefore, ■gain to the sticks, which he threw as if he wished to knock a house down. "Throw them perpendicularly," said a worthy mechanic, who was pained to see so much money wasted upon a thing which was not worth three farthings. "You will never get it fairly down by striking at the stick." The proprietor looked at this mechanic with an aspect indicative of anything but friendship. He wished him dead and buried; for Llewellen, by acting upon this highly correct suggestion, went alarmingly near the pincushion at every throw, and did eventually knock it off! when the proprietor gave another sweet look at the mecnanic : and, conceiving that he had robbed him of a little fortune, felt bound to inform him diat, for " two pins," he'd show him the diffe- rence between them. liewellen of course was delighted. He picked up the cushion in an instant, and the very next instant discovered that the cause of its remarkable tendency towards the hole, was involved in the fact of its being laden with dirt. Considering, however, the various conflicting drcumstanoes of the case, he did not explain to the man his private sentiments upon the point; but presented the prize with great deli- cacy to the lady, whom he moreover loaded with gingerbread-nuts, of which she appeared to be remarkably fond, and then left her. , " Hur tit pekin to think," said he to Valen- tine, as they walked from the spot, " that hur never sheult be apel to kit it at all, look you ! There's a pair of peautiful plack eyes!" he added, directing attention to a dirty young wo- man, whose features were certainly of the most handsome caste. " Phot is she V . "A gipsy," replied Valentine, as she ap- proached them. " Shall I tell you your fortune, good gentle- man?" she inquired, addressing Llewellen, whom, at a glance, she perceived to be the greener of the two. " My fortune, pless you ! — my fortune is mate !" "But I can tell you something much to your advantage. I can tell you the lady you love, and who loves you — the color of her hair — ^the first letter of her name, and something besides, youll be much pleased to know." " Inteet, then ! — phot is it, look you?" "Let me see your hand." Llewellen at once held it forth, and the gipsy moceeded to examine the . palm with great mtensity of feeling — to trace the cabalistic lines in all their varied ramifications, and to look altogether mysterious. "There is great fortune here, good gentle- man," she observed, after this minute prelimi- nary examination, — " great fortune. Just cross your hand with silver." "That of course is indispensable," said Taleatine. " The charm is in the bD rer," rejoined the gipsy- And it is a mysterious fact that therein lies the charm, bi all matters of this kind there is infinite virtue in silver. Of course Llewellen acted jiuite up to her instructions, when she examined the palm again very minutely, and looked occasionally into his eyes, with the view of giving some ad- ditional effect to the thing. "You will be married," she observed, in a low tone of voice, "before the present year is out, to the lady you love." " Inteet ! — ^that's coot. Put who is she ?" '■' Her name begins with an L : she is hand- some, rather tall, very rich, has dark brown hair, and a delicate complexion." " Peautiful ! — Well ! ant how many chiltren, look you?" " I can only count eleven ; but you may have more. I can't take upon myself to say to one." " Oh, that's quite near enough ! Eleven will too. WeU?" " I see nothing more but that you will always be prosperous and happy." "Her name begins with an L!" thought Valentine. " Handsome, rather tall, rich, dark hairj and delicate complexion ! — Why, that is Louise !" " Shall I tell your fortune, good gentleman," said the gipsy, who had a splendid eye to busi- ness. " No," said Valentine, abruptly. "Oh, too!" cried 'Llewellen. "Too, too have it tolt." "Not I! — Come!" said Valentine, taking Llewellen's arm. " I can tell you something whichj if it does not please you, good gentleman, will put you on your guard !" And this was very ingenuous on the part of the gipsy, and reflected great credit upon her powers of perception; for she saw in a moment that what she had said to Llewellen had not imparted much pleasure to Valentine, and felt that, under the circumstances, a warning was the only means available by which he could be caught. " Beware !" she exclaimed, as she followed him. "Beware of false friends!" And this had its effect ; but not the effect she desired, for he still kept on. " It is strange," thought he, as they passed through the gate from the Heath into the Park, " very strange : and yet how is it possible that she can tell? Phoo! Absurd! — and even if she could, it would not foUow of necessity that it should be Louise. L is the first letter of Laura, Lucy, Lucretia, Lydia, Leonora, and many other names which do not occur to me at the moment; and why should not one of these be handsome^ rather taU, and rich, with dark hair, and a delicate complexion ? But tbe idea of her being able to tell is ridiculous !" And so it was: truly ridiculous; but it was notwithstanding an idea which he could not re- pudiate. It continued to haunt him, and to make him feel very uncomfortable. In vain he brought reason to bear upon the point : al though he tried very hard to persuade himMlf 224 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF that he ought to feel ashamed of allowing such an absurdity to vex hira, he could not avoid feeling vexed at it still. " Phot is the matter, look you 1 Phy are you go tuUV inquired Llewellen, whom Valentine, in spite of himself, again regarded vpith a feel- ing of jealousy. "Dull!— Am I dull?— Well, we shall see more to enliven us presently." "Oh! too let us mount the other hill!" ex- claimed Llewellen, on reaching the Observatory. " Look you ! What thousants of people there are !" "Now then!" cried Valentine, determined to shake off all thought of the gipsy and her prophecy, if possible. " Let's have a run." "Apove all things !-r-come on!" cried Lle- wellen, who started off at once very swiftly. Valentine stopped to watch him. He had had some experience upon Thetford hill, and there- fore felt that Llewellen would not loiter long. Nor did he. No man ever made so much haste. His strides gradually increased in length as he descended, until they became amazing. He seemed to fly down. No swallow could have beaten him. He lost his hat, but would not Sjtop to pick even that up, he was in such a hurry, and when he happily arrived at the bottom, he flew over about five hundred yards of level ground before he deemed it expedient to stop. He then ,sat down upon the grass and panted freely, while Valentine descended. But he did not do it half so fast : his was no run at all ! — ,it was, in fact, nothing more than a most dis- graceful shuffle. He did, however, get down eventually, and having secured Llewellen's hatj reached the spot from which its owner had no immediate disposition to move. "Hur tit peat you there," he cried, "look you ! Put in truth, hui tit not mean to come town so fast.", " Have you hurt yourself at all V "Oh no, not a pit : put hur might just as well have run against a tree, as not, for hur tit not see phe.e hur was coink. Hur lost sight of everythink, look you ; put hur thought hur could not too much petter than stretch out my leeks." " Well, come. Shall we mount the other hill, as you proposed V "Oh yesl— hu _ iur'm quite retty," said Llew- ellen, who rose from the ground on the instant, and It may be believed that, profiting by expe- rience, he actually did not run up that hiU so fast as he ran down the other. On reaching the top, they at once perceived that as far as life and gaiety were concerned, it was incomparably the more attractive hill of the two. It was less aristocratic than the other. The people were more free and merry. They laughed more loudly and chatted more cheer- fully, giving a more extensive scope to the de- .relopement of their feelings, and all was in con sequence jollity and joy. The grand point of attraction, however, was the slope of the hill on the other side, where thousands of comfortable creatures were seated enjoying the juvenile revels below. Some had gin m little bottles, to which they applied their lips. occasionally; others hai somewhat larger bottles of beer ; others were eating cakes, gin- gerbread, and oranges, while others were glanis ■ ing, and — it must be written — kissing! It was pleasing to distinguish the lovers from the rest of those who formed this extensive amphitheatre of happiness. They sufiered nqj " concealment, like a worm i'the bud, to prey, on theirda.ma.sk cheeks!" they knew better! They loved ; and were not ashamed to let the world know it ! — while the warmth with which they loved did develope itself in this, tliat, whereas the ladies sported the hats of the geit- tlemen, the gentlemen embellished themselves' pro tem, with the upper habiliments of the ladies. And, oh ! how dearly a lady loves to put on the hat of her lover ! — ^how well it be- comes her ! — how charmingly she looks ! — al- though, it must be admitted, sometimes a little rakish. Still, she loves it ; and there was not a single lady that sported a hat on this memo- rable occasion, who tried to conceal this fact from either her lover or herself. They all, oil the contrary, made the very most of it : they felt that they looked most bewitching ; and so they did ; which is more than can be said of their lovers, seeing that gentlemen in bonnets, caps^ scarfs, shawls, and tippets, do not look bewitching at all. * The great game going forward below, howw ever, commanded the special attention both of, Valentine and Llewellen. They saw from foui to five hundred lively little youths with theii mouths widely extended, giving the very sharp* est possible look out for the oranges that were thrown from the brow of the hill. For each orange thrown there were at least a hundred candidates, and the beautiful spirit of emul^ tion it inspired, imparted a high degree of pleas- ure to all around. If well directed, one orange caused fifty youths to fall, which of course was about one of the purest delights in nature. Scarcely anything, in fact, can be conceived more delightful to a generous and intellectual mind, than the process of a mob of little eager individuals rolling over each other down a hill after an orange, which is of course crushed by him who has the joy to fall upon it. It is use- less to throw them at the heads of the little mob, for they are caught by the dexterous, and cause no fun : they must be rolled down rapidly to produce the eff"ect desired, and wheneve'r that effect is produced, what a thrilling sen^ tion of delight doth it impart ! Of course Llewellen was at it in a moment, and Valentine very soon joined him. They threw an immense number, and with so much dexterity and tact, that they gave great pleasu^ to all around, save one ; and that one was the lady who had supplied them with ammunition. They had used all her oranges, for which she had had her own price ; but, as she happened to have a lot more at home, she left the spot with her empty basket, growling gruffly at he> self for having been such a fool as not to bring them out with her. "Well," said Valentine, as soon as he found that no more ammunition could be obtained, "have you anything like an appetite?" " An appetite ! pless you, hur never was ap huncrv! I coot eat, look you, anything in lh» worlt ." VALENTINE VOX. 23§ "Then we had better return to the town at once, a id eee after dinner : we shall be able no doubt to get something," I'hey accordingly descended the hill, and left the park; and after having been stopped by a variety of ladies in long white aprons, who informed them that they could have at their establishments respectively excellent accommo- dation for tea, with all the fascinating smiles at their command, they sought and found a de- cent inn in the middle of the town, where they ordered whatever sort of dinner could be imme- diately placed before them. - In less than ten minutes the table was cover- ed. As they had ordered nothing hot, they had everything cold; but they nevertheless enjoyed it, and ate like giants. The window of the room into which they had been shown commanded a fine view, not only of the opposite houses, but of the street in which those houses were situated, together with the people with whom it was thronged. To this window they, therefore, repaired to enjoy their Wine, and Valentine felt quite resolved to return to town as soon as it became dark, as he had promised. Llewellen was of course qnite op- posed to such a proceeding; but as Valentine was firm, his opposition was not urged beyond a certain extent. There, then, they sat, sipping their port and smoking segars highly pleased with the scene before them, until twilight ar- rived. It may, by some few, have been remarked, that a man's feelings vary. It is strange and mysterious, no doubt, that they should ; but that they do, is a sound philosophical truth which no sophistry can shake. They will vary ; and as if wilh the view of proving to demonstration that they will, Valentine, who had before felt Btf firmly resolved not to look at the fair, now proposed a walk through it. 'Of .course Llewellen was delighted with this iroposition, and "plest the peautiful wine" that :iadinduoed it. " Let's ring the pell for the pill," said he, " ant we'll co off at once, my poy, look ybu." The bill was therefore ordered, and on its being discharged, they started direct for the fair. The space between the booths was densely crowded. They could scarcely get along; but, being in, they went forward with the struggling stream. The pleasure of being in such a place is doubtless great, although involved to some considerable extent in mystery; but Valentine and Llewellen having resolved to go through it, disdained to retreat. They kept on, and were driven past many great attractions, at which they had not time even to look until they arrived at the top, where a rash was made, and in an instant the crowd was wedged in ! " Now, then, take care of your pockets," said V^alentine, who still stuck close to Llewellen, and who understood tlje movement exactly. " They -must be clever, inteot, to kit anything rut of me,- said Llewellen, with a chuckle wnich denoted security; and by drawing the tails of his_ coat forward, he covered all his pockets at once with his hands. The mass now moved to and fro for some la hi moments very gently; but presently the women began to scream, and, singularly enough, the very instant they left off screaming, the pres- sure relaxed, and all were able to move. " Too let us CO into that show," said Llew- ellen, when the mass had given way, " I shoot so like to CO into one." " Very well," said Valentine, " I am quit* willing. W^e may as well go up at once." Up accordingly they went, and on reaching the place at which the money was taken, llew- ellen could not find his purse. " I told you," said Valentine, on being in- formed of this interesting fact, '■ to take care of your pockets." " And so hur teet !" cried Llewellen, " until the kirls pecan to scream ! There were two litde tears' just pehind me, nearly smnttert: of courseiher teet all hur coot for them 1" " And while you vre'ie doing all you could for them, the litde dears robbed you of your purse." " Phot, the kirls !" '•Of course ! They are the most successful and dexterous pickpockets we have. When- ever you hear them scream in a crowd like that, look to your pockets. They do not scream because they are hurt: the fellows whom thej are witb.^rotect them." "The litde tevils. Oh! hur wish hur hat known it ! Put never mint, you are all right, that's a plessing." The entertainments of the evening were va- ried and attractive. In the bills — at which they glanced, while a brigand was bawling, "AU in! all in!" — it was announced that the per- formances would commence with a serio-histo- rical tragedy, called Tke Speechless Spectre ; or, the San^inary Stab: after which there would be an infinite variety of comic singing: the whole to conclude with the celebrated panto- mimic pantomime of How arc you ojf for Chips ? This promised a highly intellectual !• eat ; and on reaching the interior of the theatre— which they did, by diving through a large liole in a blanket, which appeared to have been esta- blished expressly for the purpose — they found ' the house crowded to the ceiling.'' ') he aristocracy, of course, were duly separa- ted from the democracy. There we e botn pit and boxes; and, as in theatres of la;<;-er dimen- sions, they convert the worst part of ihe pit into stalls; so, here, as the crowd poured in, they stuck up an additional plank, and called it boxes; which boxes were immediately filled with the elite, to the imminent danger of their necks. When all had been thus satisfactorily ar- ranged, the curtain rose, and the tragedy com- menced. An individual who appeared to have, for several months, repudiated the practice of shaving, stole in, and after bouncing about the stage like a maniacal individual, and making a variety of desperate attempts, stabbed a lady who was sleeping upon a plank, placed so as to convey the idea of a couch, and who gave a loud scream, and all was over. This finished the first act ; and then came the second. The murderer entered with a number cf his associ- ates, dressed in a variety of styles, from that of LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF the duke to that of the dustman — ^forhe evidently kept all sorts of society — and when he had said something which appeared to be highly satis- fiactory to them all, two sweet ladies entered : but no sooner had he taken the hand of one di them, than the elements let loose their fury ! — the thunder roared ! and the lightnings flashed ! and thp rain came down in torrents! Oh! dreadfii were.the feelings of the mureterer then ! A gong was heard ! — aH nature shook ! — from a hole in the earth, white smoke arose, and the Speechless Spectre stood before him! The murderer trembled ! — of course he trembled ! — he must have been in a horrible way. He tried to speak ! in vain he tried ! but while he was trying, an infinite host of merry devils ran up to him with links, and dragged him down into the bowels of the earth, as the blue fire blazed and the elements crashed ! Thus ended the historical tragedy ; the moral of which was, that in nature there is such a thing as retributive justice. The comic singing came next, and then the pantomine ; and as the performances concluded in less than ten -minutes from the period at whibh thisy com- menced, it will be highly ' correct to state, that the attention of the audience was kept all alive from first to last. As they came out on one side, hundreds who had assembled on the stage in front, were .waiting to go in at the other: which was pleasant to. all concerned in the speculation, and tended to show the highly intellectual character of the age. " Now let us 00 into that lonk pooth, look you," said Llewellen, " in which they were tanoink." " It is getting rather late," said Valentine ; " I think we had better return." " Well well ! put only just to look !" Valentine consented; and after struggling back through the crowd for some distance, they reached the entrance of a brilliantly illuminated booth, which at that paiticular period was called the Crown and Anchor. On the right as they entered, rows of benches, and planks in the similitude of tables were established for the accommodation of those who loved to pick per- riwinkles and shrimps, while discussing gin- and-water in mugs; while on the left about five hundred couples were engaged in the performance of an extremely picturesque coun- try dance. To the left, therefore, Valentine and IJew- dlen went at once, and found the dancers look- ing all hot and happy. The freedom with which they perspired was perfect, while they seemed to breathe nothing but dust. As in his innocence Valentine conceived that the place must be ventilated somewhere, they went to the upper end, but there they found it hotter still and more dusty. They very soon, however, became accustomed to the thing ; and while Llewellen was seeking a partner, Valen- tine sat upon one of the tables to look on. It may here be remarked that this booth, at that period, was a celebrated place of assigna- tion; and that the ruin of thousands of poor weak gills might be dated from their first intro- ctioD therein. It was not a place for the amuse- ment of the lower classes of society— at iuaa( not as far as the men were concerned. The clubl of the West End, and the counting-houses of the city poured forth their hundreds on these oc- casions in search of virtue to corrupt; and as they invariably introduced those whom they meant to destroy, there, it at length becama difficult indeed to find a female who wished to preserve her virtue, if even she happened to have any to preserve. Valentine was not aware of this when he entered, but it soon became manifest that that was not the place for really innocent enjoy- ment. Llewellen, however, had diametrically opposite ideas on this subject, at that moment. He had managed to get a partner, and she waa a flamer : her face was as red as the sun as'it declines, and her dress was as red as her facew She was tall and stout, very hot, but very active, and when she laughed, she did it feirly from ear to ear. With such a partner, at such a time, of course, Llewellen could not but feel merry, and as he was not a small man, it really was an awful thing for those against whom they came in contact. While they were thus happily engagedj a large party of gentlemen — each of whom had a nice penny trumpet, w^hich he played in the most engaging manner possible — marched round the booth. Oh, it was such sport, and they looked 60 interesting, and felt so happy! Some of them had masks on, while others were attired as fresh-water sailors, but the style in which they dressed was of little importance, the thing was so truly delightful: for they not only looked most valiant, but made "most healthful music." "Now, my tear," said Llewellen, when the dance had concluded. " Phot will you have, to trink ? Put first allow me, look you, to intro- duce you to my frientl" The introduction took place with due formal- ity, and Valentine felt himself, of course, highly honored : and as the lady, immediately after the introduction, declared that she pre- ferred brandy-and-water to any other thing, of course, brandy-and-water was immediately ordered. '' I.t is rather warm work, I should imagine," observed Valentine, addressing the flame of Llewellen. "It is indeed warm," said the lady, "but then I don't mind it." "Have you been dancing much this even- ing T" " Ever since they commenced." "You- have friends with you, of course V - "No; I expected to meet some here, bat they have not yet arrived." The waiter now brought the brandy-and- water, and the lady, having taken a very fair sip, politely passed it to Llewellen. " Too you call this pranti/-and-water I" cried Llewellen^ after having put his lips to it. " Yes, sir. brandy-and-water, sir, you ordered, I believe, sir." " Put this is pranty-and-water without pranty look you." " They never give you anything better here," said the lady. " If you want a glass of good VALENTINE VOX. 287 bianay-aiifl-water you must go to one of the houses out of the fair." " Well, come Ihen, let's oo ; hur can't trink this"' " Oh, with all ray heart !" said Valentine, who was really very anxious to get out of the place. "Now, my tear, are you retty?" " Don't take her with you," said Valentine, having drawn LleweUen aside. "Phy notl She's a coot kirl-! hur knows she's a coot kirl." ' " I am quite at your service," said the lady, who at this moment took Llewellen's arm. " I am afraid that we are taking you from that which you much enjoy," observed Valen- tine, with great consideration. " Not at aU !" cried the lady ; " I can return if I wish it. I should like a breath of air above all things." Of course there was no help for it then; and as such was the case, why they left the booth "together. The space between the gingerbread stalls was not quite so much crowded as before, and "the consequence was that LleweUen was pulled into almost every one of them expressly for the _ purpose of pressing to buy niits. '' The seductive arts of the ladies who attend these stalls surpass nature. They are so zealous, ■ their importunities are so fascinating, that it is ' almost impossible to resist them. Llewellen on two occasions felt compelled to make a pur- chase. They laid violent hands upon him ; they 'would not let him pass; and as it was perfectly immaterial to the lady whom he was with, how many nuts he bought for her, for of course she had them all, she with admirable forbearance 'abstained from pressing him forward when she conceived he was most in danger of being seduced. ■They did, however, eventually get out of the fair ; and when that important" feat had been accomplished, Llewellen's lady led them to an inn, in which the people were singing very loudly. Valentine was not at all anxious to 'enter, but as Llewellen explained that he could not with any degree of propriety refuse to give the lady some brandy-and-water, after having induced her to leave the booth, expressly in order to point out the place, they went in. " Oh, do come into one of the rooms to hear them sing !" said the lady. "Of course !" said Llewellen; and they en- tered a room in which between two and three hundred persons were sitting. In the mouth of every man there was a pipe, and in the mouth of every woman a gingerbread nut. And they were all getting tipsy; and they looked upon themselves as being just as good as the best, and cared for no man ! Why should they ? This question they wished very much to have answered. " Silence for the next harmony !" was now loudly commanded, and a gentleman volun- teered to sing a song for a lady who had been called upon in vain. Ho commenced. It was a plaintive ditty, and he had an extremely small voice ; but at the end of the verse, to his utter amazement, he had a chorus which broke forth like thunder. In vain the little volunteer expostulated with them : in vain he explained that the song had no chorus ; a chorus they would have ! and they had it throughout, and as it harmonized sweetly, Valentine and Lle- wellen at once left the room. " Well," said Valentine, as they walked to- wards the place from which the coaches started, "what do you think of Greenwich Fair?" " Phy, I think it very coot, look you, very coot inteet." " Then, of course, you do not think that it ought to be suppressed V " Suppressed ! No; do you think it ought to be suppressed?" "As far as the fair is concerned, I most cer- tainly do." " Put surely you are not one of those who would take away the innocent pleasures of the poor !" "On the contrary, I would extend them : but the suppression of this fair would not at all in- terfere with the innocent pleasures of the poor. Let them assemble on these occasions as usual : let the beautiful park be thrown open to them as now : let them enjoy themselves there ; and there the poor do enjoy themselves who seek only pleasures which are innocent." "Put the shows," said Llewellen, 'the shows !" " If they are fond of dramatic entertainments let theiri go to the theatres. They t;an see there far more intellectual and attractive performances than any that can be seen at -the fair, andjthat too at the same price. The fair itself is a mere nursery of immorality and crime, and as its suppression could not in the slightest degree diminish the innocent pleasures of the poor, my firm conviction is that it ought to be sup- pressed as a glaringly dangerous nuisance." They now entered a coach, and as it started immediately, Llewellen immediately dropped off to sleep, and did not wake until they arrived at ChElring-cross. CHAPTER LHI. IW WHICH A CEKTAIN IHTEKESTINS QUESTIOH IS PKOPOSED. When Valentine called the next morning, upon Louise, he found her in the very act of lecturing Llewellen with severity ; she had him on the sofa, and nothing could exceed the in- tensity of feeling with which she insisted upon his rriaking a full confession of all the circum- stances connected with their visit to the fair, but more especially those which had direct reference to what they did, whom they saw, and what induced them to keep out so late. At first Llewellen made an extremely clear and straightforward statement; but as ladies in general conduct matters of this kind in the spirit of the celebrated Spanish Inquisition, bo Louise in this particular instance, almough pro- fessing the discovery of truth to be her object, would not believe truth when it appeared, be- cause its appearance did not meet her vieirg. Llewellen was therefore subjected to a Tery 228 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF searching cross-examination, during which she managed so to confuse his faculties, that at length he knew neither what to say, what he meant to say, nor what he had said ; and as, under these peculiarly pleasing circumstances, she, with infinite presence of mind, recapitu- IMed the evidence and proved it thereby to be one chaptic mass of contradictions, he started up the very instant Valentine entered, exclaim- ing, " My tear poy ! hur'm so clad you're come ; she's pin patchering me apout this pisiness until hur ton't know inteet t' cootness phelher hur'm standing upon my het or my heels." " What business?" inquired Valentine, as he approached Louise. "Don't come near me, sir, until you have explained your conduct." Valentine looked at Llewellen as if he really did not understand it exactly; but Llewellen on the instant threw a light on the subject by exclaiming, " It's apout the fair, pless you ! hur never was so patgert in all my porn tays." "Oh, the fair!" cried Valentine; "just so. Well, let us sit down and explain all about it." " Hur'U have no more to too with the pisi- ness," cried Llewellen, approaching the win- dow. " Hur've hat quite enough. Hur'll leave you to it : Cot pless you ! hur wish you joy !" " Now, then, Louise, what am I to explain 1" " Your conduct, sir, at that wicked fair. I know that it's a wicked place : I'm sure of it !" " You are quite right : it is a wicked place, and I may say that perhaps Fred and I were two of the most wicked persons that were pre- sent." At this point Llewellen turned and looked quite bewildered. "His conduct," continued Valentine, "was probably more dreadful than mine ; but I con- fess to you that mine was bad enough." " Coot !" cried Llewellen, whose countenance relaxed. » " I know," said Louise, " that you are a very clever creature ; but I am not to be induced to believe that you are better, because you choose to represent yourself ironically as being worse than you really are." " Oh," cried Llewellen, " we were poth pat poys." " Hold your tongue, sir. I was not address- ing you." " If you wish to know seriously," said Valen- tine, " how we passed our time there, I can assure you that we did so most innocently and pleasantly. We saw thousands of happy peo- ple in the park, and thousands more upon the river, upon the heath, and in the town, and as it was on the whole a most enlivening scene, I uhall never regret having visited Greenwich." " Upon my word," said Louise, " your expla- nation is very lucid and very minute. I ought, I am sure, to feel obliged to you for being so explicit, foi I find that I can make nothing of either of you!" Louise, however, did not despair. She pri- vately made up her mind to subject Llewellen to another severe cross-examination the very first opportunity, feeling certain of being by such means enabled eventually to elicit the tmth. The subject was then dropped, and IJevei> len — who did not much like the idea of Valen. tine being let off so easily, after what he him- self had endured — began to whistle, which act being invariably indicative of a desire on his part to go out, Louise well understood, and therefore cried, " Fred, Fred ! If you want to go out again, go ; for goodness sake, don't annoy us with that dreadful whistling ; really, one may just as well be in Smithfield." " Come, my tear poy I" cried Llewellen. " We've cot leave to co." . "You have, sir; but Valentine wishes to re- main." Which was an absolute fact : he did wish to remain ; for although he was not inclined to put the smallest faith in the gipsy's prophecy, he found that it had made a deep impression on his mind, and was therefore most anxious to have a little strictly private conversation with Louise, on a subject which bore directly upon the point. Of this, however, Louise was entirety unconscious. When she suggested that Valen- tine wished to remain, she did so on speculation merely ; but albeit that speculation answered her views as far as the wish of itself was con- cerned, it signally failed to realize the hope she entertained of getting rid of Llewellen. He was as anxious to go out as any man could he; but then without Valentine nothing could in- duce him to stir from the house. Where he went, his "tear poy" also must go, which, on that occasion, Valentine as well as Louise thought particularly disagreeable. "Fred, I wish you would fetch Poodle's Poems from the library," said Louise, who had conceived a vague notion that Valentine was anxious to communicate something in privMej " Pootle's Poems. Phery coot," said Llew- ellen, who proceeded to the library in search of them, at once. " Do you feel at all disposed for a walk I" inquired Valentine. " Quite : I should enjoy it : but then we shall have that pest with us." '" Oh, we shall be able to get rid of him. Yon can send him somewhere when we get out ; let me see — oh ! send him for some ribbon or any- thing of that sort." "The only question is, will he go?" "No doubt of it. If he'll go for Poodle's Poems, he'll go for anything. Let him walk with us, for instance, as far as the Horse- Guards, and then we can tell him where to find us in the park." "(Well, what will be the best thing to send him for? Let me consider," said Louise ; and while she was engaged wi.h this high consideration, Llewellen re-entered the room. " Infeethurcaii't find Pootle's Poems," said he. " There's Cow- per's ant Pyron's, putt tevil of any Poode's." " You are a very stupid creature" said Lou- ise, who could scarcely keep her counleuance. "Phell! putt there are no Pootle's Poerai!, look you. Is it a pig pook ?" . " No matter. It's of no importance now." "We are going for a walk," said Valentine; " will you jom us?" "Of course; putt just come with me, my poy, while Louey is putting on her pcnnet, and VALENTINE VOX. 229 lee if you can't find this Pootle's pook. In- teet hur can't see it, look you !" "Oh, never mind; the book is not wanted now. You will not be long, Louise V "Scarcely a moment." "I stiy, Bred," said Valentine, when Louise had left the room. "What was the matter this morning V "Oh, Louey was porins; and pothering me apout tne fair, ant although hur toll her every- thing putt apout the cockshy pisiness and the pooth, she questioned me just like a parrister, look you, until hur titn't know inteet phot hur was apout. Put hur say, my poy^ phere shall we gol Hur wish that little tevil, look you, woultn't CO with us." " Oh, we must take her out, you know, some- times, poor girl!" "Yes, yes: putt she is such a pore. Hur say! phill this blue coat too to walk with a laty, look you?" " Oh, that will do ; but run away and put on another if you like." " Phery coot. Hur'll not pe half a eecont." " Yon need not hurry yourself. You know how like an hour a lady's moment is, doubt- less." Immediately after Llewellen left the room Louise entered, and Valentine thought that he never saw her look so really beautifiil. He took her hands and pressed them, and ga?ed upon her fervently and exclaimed, "My own Louise !" and — kissed her ! Louise blushed deeply, but was silent. " Phot too you think of ray new pottle-oreen V eried Llewellen, as he bounced into the room, and buttgned his coat, and looked over his left shoulder, and turned round and round with the view of displaying his figure to the best ad- vantage possible. "Ton't you think it looks pherry peautiful and smart?" "Oh, very," said Valentine, but Louise said nothing, although she wished him at Wales then, more heartily than ever. " , Llewellen was amazed that she failed to pronounce upon his bottle-green coat, seeing that generally she took particular interest in those matters, and made him wear just what she pleased; and very few articles of dress, indeed, had he, with which the expression of her pleasure had been unqualified. At any other time, she might have given her opinion upon the subject with some freedom ; but her thoughts were then engaged on a matter of greater moment, and Llewellen therefore natu- rally attributed her silence to what he conceived to be a fact, that his new bottle-green was a thing with which no fault whatever could be found. They now started ; and, as they walked to- wards the point they had proposed, Louise and Valentine were both extremely thoughtful — not dull— but in the silent enjoyment of those happy feelings which spring from reciprocal love. Gticasionally their eyes met, and then they would smile, but with such an expression ! — the soul of each seemed to commune with the other. "Oh, Fred!" exclaimed Louise, suddenly etarting, as they reached the Horse-Guards, as if something of importance had just occurred to her; "will you do me a favor? "Anything m the work!" " Run, then, there's a good creature, and de- sire Bull the butcher to send home that beef." "Phot! isit for tinner?" " Desire him to send it immediately." " Phery coot; phere toes he live ?" " At the top of this street you'll see a church, and then inquire of any one. Come back to us. We shall be in the Park : but keep on that, the south side of the water." Llewellen promised to be back as soon as possible, and started off in search of the undis- coverable butcher. "Poor Fred!" said Louise, as they entered the Park. " Upon my word it is almost too bad." And so it was in reality : and therefore, as he had been directed to keep on the south side of the water, they immediately proceeded to the north. If any doubt had remained in Valentine's mind having reference to the feelings of Louise with respect to Llewellen, this proceeding would at once have dispelled it : but he spurned the gipsy's prophecy, and utterly repudiated the idea of Llewellen being in any shape his rival ; still he felt that he might as well make "assurance doubly sure" by virtue of coming at once to the point. Louise knew that a crisis was at hand — and the quickness with which ladies geneiall)' dis- cover these things is really very surprising — she knew as well as Valentine himself knew that something relating to something which had not before been menrioned was about to be communicated, and therefore she clung to him more closely than ever, and waited with breath- less impatience for him to .speak, for as the subject was one of deep interest, she conceived it to be entitled to the most profound attention. For some considerable time not a syllable was breathed : they walked upon the grass very slowly, and felt very oddiy ; but although the impatience of Louise did prompt her to peep in order to ascertain what was going on next door, not a single word on either side was ut- tered. Valentine knew that he had to put a question ; but how was that question to be put ? He felt puzzled. He had conceived it to be a mere matter-of-fact kmd of thing, which caused simple people only to feel embarrassed ; but he now found that if indeed such were the case, he was one of the most simple creatures breathing. It is not perhaps to be with truth asserted that men who are anxious to marry for wealth or oonvenience merely, experience these feelings of embarrassment at such a time in any great degree. They in general find no difficulty at all about the matter : they manage the prelimi- naries like men of business ; they put the grand question as a, purely commercial matter of course, and come to the point without any un necessary nonsense. It is however questionable whether any man who sincerely and tenderly loved ever did or ever could do tne thing quite so coolly. It is perfectly certain that Valentine could not, for he felt very droll, and thought himself very stupid. 230 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF " Louise ! " said he at length. " Shall we sit down, Louise ?" Louise looked at him archly, and smiled, and then said, "Why — I have no objection !" Very well ! This was quite satisfactory as far as it went ; and they did sit down, but were BUent again ; which Louise thought particularly tiresome. She wished he would say what he had to say, really, and yet she felt half afraid to hear it : she knew not why she should have this feeling, but this feeling she certainly had, deapite her natural anxiety to give him every encouragement to begin. Still in silence they continued to sit — she playing with the fringe of her Lilliputian parasol, and he wringing the necks of the buttons oi his waistcoat with his watch-guard — until he began to think that this never would do, when he summoned all his courage and spoke ! "Louise," said he, softly. "Upon my word I am very stupid." ^ "What a number of new and interesting observations you have, made this morning!" exclaimed Louise, playfully, conceiving that she might perhaps encourage him in that way. "You have really become more entertaining than ever. One would imagine that you had something on your mind which pressed very, very heavily !" "I certainly have something on my mind, Louise, which markes me feel very, very awk- ward. Can you not guess what it is V "Now how is that possible T Can you guess — I know you are very clever — but can you guess what is passing at this moment in my mindr' " I think that I am sufficiently clever for that ! You are thinking of precisely the same thing as that which occupies my thoughts !" " Dear me ! what an extraordinary coinci- dence ! But what were you thinking of 1" " The day," replied Valentine, taking her hand. " Oh ! the day ! Well, it really is a fine day. The sun, it is true, is rather warm, but then the breeze is extremely refreshing." " You are a rogue, Louise. You know that I do not mean this day, but that on which we are both to be made happy." " That on which we are both to be made happy ? Are you not happy now T" " Not nearly so happy as I hope to be then. I expect, Louise, that that will be indeed a happy day." " Well, I'm sure I hope it may be ; but what particular day do you mean V '[The day," said Valentine, earnestly, "on which we are to be united." " Oh !" said Louise, between a whisper and a sigh, and she began to pick the fringe of her parasol again ; for although she had deemed it incumbent upon her to accelerate Valentine's arrival at that interesting point, conceiving that nothing at all could be done if both were em- barrassed at one and the same time, she now found that it was her turn to feel rather droll, and it really was a moment of very deep interest. " Louise," said Valentine, who now began to feel a little better ; " Louise : when is that happy day to be '" Louise was silent, but she tugged at the iringf with more violence than ever. " I need not, my dearest," continued Valen tine, " explain how sincerely, how fondly I love you : I feel that you already know it all. Tell me, therefore, — come ! when — when is it tp be V "Indeed," said Louise, " I know nothing a( all about it." " Do you prefer May to June V "Keally— I — it is such a curious question^!',' " Perhaps it is, but I think it one which might be very, easily answered." " But I don't know how to answer it. Upon my word, I — I have had no experience in such matters — 1 never had to answer such a ques- tion before." "Indeed, I never for a moment supposed that you had ; but what can be in reality more simple ? Assuming — ^I will, if you please, put it so ! — assuming that you were about to be- come a dear little wife, in which month, May or June, would you prefer being married ?" , , "Why, I don't know, — I cannot tell, really; but I think that if I were ever to be placed, in that dreadful position, I should perhaps like June rather better than May." "Louise! — let us come to the point: we have known each other long enough to know each other well. I know yon to be a tiresome little creature, upon whom the happiness of my whole life depends, and you know me to be the most handsome — I think the most hand- some — and perhaps the most affectionate fellow that ever breathed, — ^who will study to do all in his power to make you wretched. Under these frightful circumstances, now, what say you, — slall we, my sweet girl, be married in June V "Marry? — ^I marry T^n June I — ^how ever could such a fancy have entered your head?" " I cannot pretend to be able to explain the exact process ; but most certainly you intro- duced it among other strange fancies which I occasionally entertain when inclined to give a party of that description. But, Louise, are you conscious of the fact that you have not yet given me an answer?" "I really — I don't at all know — I — ^how can I possibly — ^it is such a question — you have taken me so much by surprise — ^I don't know how to give an answer, really." " Let me teach you — say ' yes.' It will save a world of trouble. Say ' yes,' and ha'se dons with it. Take my advice, and say ' yes.' " " But do you think now, really, that this is a strictly proper question to put to me ?" " Why, I think that I thought so, or I don' think I should have proposed it." " Have you forgotten that I have a father?" " By no means." " Have you ever named the subject to him ?" " Never directly. But of course he is pre- pared to receive the dreadful blow. He has, I have no doubt, been waiting some considerable period for us to inflict it." " But do you not conceive that he is the first person to whom such a subject as this should be named ?" " Why, Louise, I, like you, have had but lit* VALENTINE VOX. 231 tie experience in these matters ; but I really thought that he was the second : I did indeed. If, however, you imagine that in the present afflicting state of things, he ought to be the first, I will first obtain his answer, provided you pro- Biise me faithfully now, that if he should say yes — and I shall strongly advise him to do so — your answer will be the same." " Why, I am bound of course to act in obedi- ence to my father's wishes : you would not, I feel sure, in the event of such an answer being returned, have me act in opposition to him !" " Believe me, not for the world ! It is then understood ; if he should say ' yes, let it take place in June,' you will also say ' yes, let it take place in June ;' that is to say, in other words, that you are perfectly wilhng that it should take place then, if he has no particular objection. That is it, I apprehend?" " You are a very teasing creature ; I'll have nothing more to say to you on the subject." " Until I have obtained the consent of your father?" " Indeed, I'm not going to answer any more quuBtions. You inveigled me here, I perceive, exj.ressly in order to tease me, and now, if you please, we'll return." It was natural, — perhaps, highly natural, — that during this brief, but, to the parties con- cerned, deeply interesting conversation, Llew- ellen should have been edtogether forgotten, or notliing •ould have been urged to excuse their oblivion in this particular; for they actually thought of him no more than if he had not been at all in existence, until they rose to returuj when they happened to see him on the opposite side deeply engaged in the delightful occupation of feeding the ducks. There is in all probability no species of plea- sure at once so exciting, so generous, and so pure, as that which springs from the strictly ■philosophical process of feeding these acute and deeply interesting birds. They are so highly intelligent, so sensible ; they know as well when they have got a bit of biscuit in their bills as possible! They will swallow it, and enjoy it, and dart after more, and fight and plunder each other like Christians. It is de- lightful to observe the dignity with which they assert their claim to whatever they can get. It feally affords a great social lesson ; for al- though in the Park the majority are foreigners, they insist upon having equal rights with the natives ; and as the natives are not sufficiently strong to put them down, they accommodate themselves to those republican principles which have of late years in spite of them obtained. Under all these circumstances, then, it will not be deemed marvellous that Llewellen's at- tention could not be drawn to the opposite side of the water ; and as such was the case, Louise and Valentine were compelled to go round, where they surprised him in the very act of playing with a mob of little Muscovites, that -by dint of zealous dillying he had seduced upon land. " Where on earth have you been !" cried Louise, as they approached him. " Phere have you pin V retorted Llewellen. " Hur've pin pack here a long time ! Phell !" he continued, with a mournful expression, " there'll pe no peef for tinner to-tay ! Inteet hur can't find the putcher, look youl" "What!" exclaimed Louise. " No potty knows Pull, the butcher, at all 1" " Did you ever !" " Phell, liur ton't care^ hur tit all hur coot to fint him out; hur phent into all the shops; but no, — ephery potty laught phen hur inquirt, put no potty knew any thing about any putcnei named Pull." " This is always the case," said Louise ; " I don't think, Fred., that I shall ever ask you to do me another favor while I live." " Hur can't help it. Hur knew you't co on ; put hur tit all hur coot, and phith the tirection phich you cave me, the tevU himself cootn't fint Pull, the putcher." " Well, come, Louise," said Valentine, " say no more about it. It is not, I presume, of any very great importance. You had better, per- haps, show Fred at once where Bull lives, and then he wUl know where to find him." "Yes, too, Louey, come; hur shoot like apove all things in the worlt to know phere he's to be fount, for hur huntit him in ephery tirec- tion. It phill not take you much out of the phay, look you — come !" " Indeed, sir, I shall not do anything of the sort," said Louise, pinching VEdentine's ana very severely; "if people -are so extremely stupid as to be actually unable to find out the shop of a butcher, I really don't feel myself bound to take any trouble with them at all. As to you, sir," she added, addressing Valen- tine, " you ought to be ashamed of having made such a suggestion : I beg that the subject may not be renewed." Llewellen now conceived that she was indeed very angry, and tlierefore said nothing more about it ; and as Valentine had no desire to in- duce him to suspect that he had been played with, the propriety of adopting the suggestion he had oflered was not urged. They at once proceeded home; and, although the lovers, were not quite so silent as before, they were still very thoughtful, and would, to common observers, have appeared very dull. Of course Valentine felt himself bound under the circumstances to dine there that day. It is true he thought at one time that it might perhaps be better to excuse himself, in order that both he and Louise might reflect upon what had happened, before he took the next step ; but having considered the matter for a moment, he felt that this would be quite un- necessary, seeing that while he had firmly made up his mind, he had not thp smallest doubt that she had as firmly made up hers ; and that therefore the subject might as well be named to Raven without any further delay. He accordingly consented fo remain, and continued to amuse himself in the garden with Llewellen until they were summoned to dinner, when he found that in honor of the occasion Louise had taken pains to look more than usually attractive. Her manner was however much altered; she was far more reserved, spoke but little, and felt in some slight degree embarrassed. 232 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF ^ You are not yourself to-day, my girl," said Riven, on noticing this change ; " wno has been putting you outf" " Oh, pless you, she has only pin plowink me up," said Llewellen, " pecause hur cootn't fint, look you, Mr. Pull the putcher !" " Indeed, sir, you are mistaken," cried Louise, " and I beg that you will be silent." " What, have you been changing your butch- er, my girl V inquired Raven. " No, it is only his stupidity — he gets worse and worse." " Well, but I thought Scraggs supplied us V " Of course," replied Louise. ' " Putt you said Pull ! Titn't she say Pull, my poy ? Oh! hur'U take my oath she sait Pull." " Did you ever know any one so stupid 1" " Perhaps," observed Raven, " he was think- ing of bull beef!" " Oh ! as likely as not," cried Louise. " Putt too you mean to say that you titn't say Pull?" J :i 3 " Good gracious, hold your tongue, Fred, and don't be so silly !" "Putt hur say, Louey, look you — too you mean, Louey — too you mean to say that you titn't tell me Pull V " I mean, sir, to say nothing more on the sub- ject. I am ashamed of you." "Doubdess," jobierved Raven, "the mistake wiginated in ihe remarkable similarity of the names." "Phot, petween Pull and Scraggs!" cried Llewellen; "phell, cootness knows! — putt is it Eropaple; is it, look you, at all? — oh!— pesites ur know Scraggs, look you ; putt she sait Pull !" ■' You had better say no more about the mat- ter," said Louise, " I'm sorry you expose your- eelf in this way." "Never mind, Fred," said Raven, "mistakes will occur ; let me send you a little more iish." Llewellen had no objection to a little more fish, but he had an objection — a very serious ob- jection — to its being supposed that he had mis- taken the name of Scraggs for that of Bull. He would not however suffer that circumstance to interfere at all witn his dinner : he ate heartily — fiercely ; but he made up his mind to have the thing satisfactorily cleared up anon. The dinner therefore passed off without any further allusions being made to the affair ; and when Llewellen b-gan to exhibit strong symp- toms of a very deep anxiety to renew it, Valen- tine happily started a subject which precluded the possibility of its being hedged in. In due time Louise made her exit, and as she had previously intimated to Llewellen that she had something of importance to communi- cate to him in the drawing-room, he almost immediately followed, leaving Raven and Val- entine alone. Of course Valentine perfectly understood this arrangement, although he had had nothing whatever to do with it. He knew for what purpose Llewellen had been withdrawn, and he also knew that his absence would m all probability be prolonged, inasmuch as Louise, if she could but get him near the piano after dinner, had the marvellous faculty of playing Um to sleep. He therefore made up his mind to speak to Raven on the subject at once. Ht felt certainly rather awkward at the moment, and scarcely knew how to begin ; but being en- couraged by the conviction that the consent which he was about to solicit would not be vith- held, he conquered his scruples and commenced. "Mr. Raven," said he, replenishing his glass as if about to propose a toast, which invariably fixed Raven's attention, it being a practice of which he was particularly fond — "Mr. Raven: the uniform kindness with which you have re- ceived me, and for which I shall ever feel deep- ly indebted, induces me to hope that you will entertain that which I am now most anxious to propose." 1 " Certainly ; by all means," said Raven, who filled his glass, and listened attentively again. ' "The affection which exists between Louisg and myself," continued Valentine, " I believe to be mutual and firm." " I have no doubt of it," said Raven, " no doubt of it in the world." " And as you have never appeared to dis- countenance the growth of that affection, I am encouraged to believe that you have no desire to check it now." " None at all, my boy : not the least in hfe." "Such being the case, then, ray present ob- ject is to obtain your consent to our union." ■ "My dear boy," said Raven, "you have it} I give it freely, and at once. I will not disguise from you how highly I admire your character, and as I feel thai as a husband you will be faithful and affectionate, take her, and may every earthly blessing throughout life be yours. God bless you both !'' h' added, raising the glass to his lips, as the teats stood and sparkled in his eyes. " But I am sure you will be happyt I am quite sure of that. She is a good girl: I know that she is a good girl, and as a wife will be all that a man can desire." He then drank off his wine, and having in- stantly replenished, proposed the health of Louise in a bumper. " Louise and I," said Valentine, when with heartfelt pleasure he had done honor to the toast, " had some little conversation on the sub- ject this morning, but as with very great pro- priety she suggested that you were the first person to whom I ought to speak, she left it in your hands entirely." "Just like her!'' exclaimed Raven, highly pleased with the fact. "She is the best and most amiable girl in the world." " Now I was thinking," said Valentine, " that June is a very pleasant month." " So it is : but I must leave all that to be settled between yourselves. Only tell me when it is settled. Let me see — June — oh ! yes. I wish you would give my compliments to youi uncle, and tell him I shall be happy to see him when convenient. Perhaps he will dine with us to-morrow t Just ask him." Valentine promised to do so ; and after drinking a few more appropriate toasts, they left the table to join Louise. "My girl!" said Raven, as he entered the drawing-room. " Come here," Louise approached, and he placed hei hand in Valentine's^ and blessed them, and then VALENTINE VOX. 233 trent to pommal Llewellen. That gentleman ■was soundly asleep on the sofa : but although U was usually very difRcult to rouse him under thise peculiar circumstances, Raven, being then in high spirits, soon succeeded in waking Ilim'up. " Now don't you think^ Fred, that you are a very pretty fellow !" cried Raven, when his efforts had been crowned with success. " Inteet coolness knows hur've pin asleep !" said Llewellen, which with hira was an occur- rence of so extraordinary a character, that he felt quite confused. " Putt " he added, " it phos all Louey's fault. Sne setucet me up here, and phootn't let me co town aoain, look you !" Louise, doubtless, at any other time would have given free expression to her opinion on the propriety of this observation ; but she was then too much enMged, having coffee to dis- pense and certain feelings to conceal, to attend to anything so really unimportant. Her reserve was remarkable. She scarcely said a word. She looked, and blushed, and occasionally smiled, but she did not by any means feel self- possessed. Valentine, on the contrary, was buoyant and merry; he chatted with Raven, and rallied Llewellen with unusual spirit, until the evening became far advanced, when he took leave of them, and left the room with Louise, who appeared to be somewhat anxious, on that particular occasion, to see him safely out. " My dearest love," said he, stopping near the drawing-room door, "I need not perhaps state that your father has freely consented to our union. With me he thinks that June would be a very pleasant month; but as he leaves that entirely to you, pray think of it : I shall see you in the morning. Oh, Louise ! I have felt, and still do feel, so happy ! My dear girl, good night." Louise was silent, but she returned his em- brace with affectionate warmth, when he once again bade her adieu, and departed. CHAPTER LIV. TiLENTIWE VISITS THE KOYAL ACADEMY, AND BAVEN AST0MISHC3 THE FACULTIES OF UNCLE lOHW. On reaching home, Valentine briefly ex- plained the substance of all that had occurred to Uncle John, who was in consequence highly delighted'. He had passed a mournful evening ; for Whitely, who now despaired of obtaining the slightest clue to the discovery of his chil- dren, had been his only companion; but when Valentine arrived with his " glorious news," he at once made up his mind to have an additional flass, and resolved moreover that Whitely and 'alentine should join him. He found it how- ever extremely difficult to prevail upon Whitely to dg this, for that gentleman cherished his sad thoughts as if he loved them, and appeared to have a horror of everything likely to cause them {n be even for a moment dispelled: but eventii- sliy Uncle John succeeded in induciiig him, ia honor of the occasion, to yield, when ifespair ijy degrees was supplanted by nope, and after an hour's enlivening conversation lie retired comparatively happy. In the morning — after having held a deep consultation with Uncle John, who felt that ha had that day to perform a great duty — ^Valeiv- tine proceeded to' call upon Louise, whom he found still embarrassed, but affectionate and gentle. She appeared to have been completely disarmed; and although she flew to receivB him as he entered, she was silentj and subse- quently, whenever her eyes met his, which did not unfre'quently happen, she blushed, and seemed greatly confused. " Hur say, my poy," whispered Llewellen, embracing the first opportunity of drawing him aside. " Phot is the matter phith Louey ? She hasn't plown me up all the morning !" " You have not offended her, probably.'' " Oh, cootness knows it, that's no rule to CO py: there's something pesites in the wint." "Don't despair," said Valentine, encour- agingly. "You will have it no doubt by-and- bye. — Louise !" he added. "No, no, no!" interrupted Llewellen. "In- teet hur ton't want it ! — No, no ! hur ton't want it !— pe still!" " I was about to ask Louise if she felt ii>- clined to go to the Royal Academy this morn- ing." ■ " Oh, that's another pisiness ! Hur shoot like that apove all things in the worlt." " Well, shall we go, ray love V "I should enjoy it much," replied Louise, sofdy. "Run away, then, and prepare. And Louise ! — tell your fattier that my uncle will do him- self the pleasure of dining here to-day." Louise left the room ; and the moment she was gone, Llewellen said, " My poy, you mate me tremple. Hur was afrait that you were coing to tell Louey phot hur salt, pecause then she woot have pecan, look you. at once. Putt hur say ! — ^phot's the matter ? Pelie ve me, she titn't say a wort all the tijne we were at preak- fast. Is there anything wrong?" "Nothing," replied Valentine. '-'Everything is perfectly right. You will soon know the cause of tms change in Louise." " Phot ! Are you coing to pe marrietl" " Married ! how came you to think of thaf?" " Phel, hur titn't know, look you. However, hur ton't CEire a pit, if there's nothing coing wrong." As Louise returned shortly after this, they proceeded at once to the exhibition. Llewellen was a great connoisseur : he could tell in a mo- ment if a picture pleased him, and wouldn't pretend to admire what he didn't. To such a connoisseur the exhibition of the Royal Acade- my did, at that particular period, present many charms which few others could see, and hence it will not be held to be very extraordinary that Llewellen was highly delighted. He looked at the portraits. Very good ! As far as the like- nesses were concerned, why of course he knew nothing, and didn't mean to care ; they aU ap- peared to be very pleasant people, and that was sufficient for him. The dogs, however, attf acted 234 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF his particular attention : he was at once almost lost in admiration of them. " How phery font people are kitting of togs !" he observed. " It would appear so, certainly," said Valen- tine. " One would imagine that we were a na- tion of dog-fanciers." , " How do you account," inquired Louise, " for 80 many being painted?" " Young artists are advised to direct attention to that particular branch," replied Valentine, " it being assumed that all who are anxious to have portraits of their dogs can afford to pay handsomely for them." "Then if things co on so, phe shall have no- thing putt tog painters py and py, look you !" "See how highly they are admired," said Valentine, directing the attention of Louise to two ladies and a highly rouged gentleman, who were extolling the sublimity of a portrait of a bloodhound. " Dear me !" exclaimed one of the ladies, " what a love ! — is he not?" " Foine animal ! foine dog ! foine oreachor !" cried the highly rouged gentleman; but he had no sooner got to the "creachor," than Valentine made an angry growl proceed apparently from the bloodhound, which caused the admirers of the "creachor" to start back- amazed. " Why, what ! — ^why ! — why ! — aloive !" ex- daimed the highly rouged gentleman, with an aspect of horror. "Don't be alarmed, my love," said Valen- tine, whispering to Louise, " it was I that made the noise." " You ! why it appeared to be the dog !" "Exactly; I'll explain to you presently. Take no notice now." In a state of the most intense astonishment did the highly rouged gentleman look at the ladies whom he had accompanied, and then at tlie bloodhound. He couldn't make it out! He had heard it, surely ! Oh ! the ladies fhem- eelves had borne testimony to that, for while one of them said " Did you ever!" the other ex- claimed, " Well, I never !" which of course was conclusive. But then the " creachor," was not alive ! and if the " creachor" was not alive, why — what then? He couldn't tell; he only knew that he had heard the " creachor" growl. He looked again, and approached him gradu- ally, until he was able to make a very minute inspection indeed. It certainly was not alive ! He touched the "creachor" — ^notnear the mouth it is true, but he absolutely touched him. "Keep your hands off the piotchors," said Valentine, throwing his voice behind the of- fender, " how dare you touch the piotchors !" The highly rouged gentleman turned, and really felt quite frightened ; but as he saw no one behind him that looked like a man who had the courage to speak to him in that style, he naturally felt himself bound to give the ladies a little idea of his valor. Perceiving a very quiet- looking elderly gentleman on one of the seats, he therefore marched up to him boldly, and said, in a tone which conveyed a great d.eal of indignation, " Did you speak to me, sor?" The old gentleman looked at him over his ■pectacles very inquisitively, and after having carefnlly examitied the animal, replied, "I don't know you, I don't understand you." " I ask if you spoke to me just now in that alv rupt andpartioularly ungentlemanlike manner ?" " Decidedly not." "Ohj" said the highly rouged gejUemaij, " oh !" and the ladies, becoming alarmed,' drew him at once from the spot, but he turned tn look again at the " creachor." " [s it possible," said Louise, " that it wa» you in reality ?" " Quite. But, Louise, you must keep what I am now about to impart to you a most profound secret." Louise promised to do so, and to her ultei amazement, he proceeded to explain to her his power as a ventriloquist, while liewelleii was particularly engaged with a painting, in the sub- ject of which he appeared to take the deepest possible interest. This painting told a plain t^e of heartlessness on the one hand, anil weakness on the other, — a tale of seduction and its wretched results; and while he sympathized deeply with the victim who was there repro. sented sitting in abject misery upon the steps of a mansion, with her infant at her breast, while the tears trickled fast down her cheeks, he shook his fist at her seducer with an ener- getic action which seemed to intimate that he could, with a great deal of pleasure, knock his head out of the canvass. "Oh, do," said Louise, when Valentine had explained, " do try the effect upon Fred." "Well, but you must be cautious; I shall have an opportunity presently. But see how excited he appears." "What on earth is the matter?" inquired Louise, as they approached him. " Inteet, now," said Llewellen, addressing Valentine, and pointing to the seducer, "that's a creat scountrel, look you !" "A what!" cried Valentine, whose voice seemed to proceed from the figure alluded to, "a what!" "A creat scountrel!" repeated Llewellen, nothing daunted, for he was very indignant, and looked at the figure very fiercely. He, however, recollected himself the next moment, and-turned to look alternately at Valentine and Louise. "'Why, what in the name of goodness are you about?" exclaimed Louise. Llewellen, without immediately replying, examined the painting very closely ; but having satisfied himself that it was really a painting, and that no one could possibly be behind it, he thought it better, under the circumstances, not to subject himself to the rallying sarcasm of Louise, and therefore, having said "hur'only thought soraepotty spoke," moved away. " Dear me," cried Louise, " how excessively natural it seems. For' goodness sake don't teU any one about it. We shall have such spdirtl. I'll assist you. But do you not move your liprf at all?" " Can you see them move?" said Vale^ine^ sending his voice behind her. 9 Louise turned in an instant. " GooQ gl* cious !" she exclaimed, " that person overheard us !" YALJi-NriNK vox. 335 ^ "Of course," said Valentine, throwing his roice as before. , ,^'vLet us go," said Louise, "he'll insult us." " tnsult you !" " Oh, do let us go into the next room !" " Why, tnat person has not spoken," said Valentine, in his natural voice, smiling. " He has npt said a word." " But you don't mean to say that it was you?" ." Why, of course !" "Well, I never! — but you know — you must not frighten me!" "Oh! any one else !" "Nay, it will not be fair to frighten me! you would not wish to do it, would you ? No, let that be clearly understood." "Very well. Of course, what you say now amounts to law !" . " No, no, not so. At least," she added, play- fblly, " not yet." "Is Mr. Llewellen in the room?" cried Val- entine, throwing his voice to the opposite corner. ,^ " Coolness !" said Llewellen, turning to Val- ,entine, " toes he mean me ?" "Mr. Llewellen of Caermarthen!" cried Valentine as before, and looking at the same ,time steadily at the victim. "Yesm!" cried Llewellen: "some frient of mine, no tout. Who t'cootness can it pe ?" As Llewellen walked anxiously towards the spot from which the voice appeared to proceed, every eye was upon him. The thing was so unufcual ! The idea of calling out a gentleman's name in such a manner, and in such a place ! [t was evidently held by all to be extremely moorrect, and even Louise exclaimed, " What a vulgar person to be sure !" " Do you Teally conceive him to be a vulgar person?" inquired Valentine, with a smile, which clearly intimated something. "Why — gracious, Valentine! — surely that was not you then?" " Why, is it at all likely to have been any one else V "Oh! how glorious. Well, I thought it very singular ! — Now, let us hear what he'll say. But you should tell me ! You should let me know beforehand! I should enjoy it so much more if you were to do that. Here he comes." " Hur can't fint any potty," said Llewellen, as he approached with a countenance remark- ably vacant. " Inteet t'cootness, now hur shoot like to know pho it coot pe ! — Phot are you laughing at, Louey ?" he added, as Louise covered her face to conceal her convulsions. " Have you really no idea who it was?" in- quired Valentine. 'S Pless you ! not the least. It was some frient, no tout. Hur shoot like now to fint him apove all things in the worlt." And again he looked round and round the room, in the Kvely hope of seeing some friend from Caermarthen. "Louise," whispered Valentine, "this will -ever do ! you'll spoil all if you do not keep ■ countenance." 4 'es — I know, but I really could not help it. He did look so silly — ^poor Fred !" ' "How do you like that style of painting?" uud Valentine, alluding — 'more with the view of restoring the tranquillity of her countenance than anything else — to a flaming red and blue lightning subject, which appeared to have been done by some eminent artist, while looking- through a pair of kaleidoscopic spectacles — "Do you admire it?" " Why, upon my word I cannot understand it !" repued Louise. " Nor can I, nor can any one else, I should say, with the exception of the artist himseli But do you admire the style?" " It is so indistinct and glaring." " There is an infinite deal of something about it : it may by possibility be very sublime^ but I should say its chief merit consists in its be- ing altogether incomprehensible." " Well, well," said Louise with impatience, " never mind ; I've no doubt that it was meant to be very poetic ; but do, there's a dear, tease Fred." The fact is, after Valentine had intrusted hen with the secret of his power, Louise took but little interest in the paintings : it had at once so delighted and amazed her, that she looked at them only as a medium through which that power might with efiect be developed; and as it was but natural that Valentine should, under existing circumstances, be anxious to please her by all the means at his command, he went up to Llewellen, who had been running about in all directions in search of his undiscoverable friend, and looking steadily at him, said, in the most cordial manner possible, " Ah ! Lie vvellen !" The voice apparently proceeded from behind him, and he turned on the instant and scruti- nized the features of every man whom he saw. But no ! no friend was visible ! He could not see a soul of whom he had the slightest know- ledge ! which in the abstract was very remark- able. " There's somepptty having a came with me," he observed, when he had satisfied his con- science that every creature behind him was unknown to him. "Inteet, t' cootness, hur shoot like to fint him out \" And it was not by any means extraordinary that he did wish to do so, more especially as he felt in some slight degree displeased ! "Now, now," said Louise, "make that pic- ture appear to speak to him : do !" " No, no ; it's too bad," said Valentine. "Be- sides, he will begin to suspect." "Never mind," said Louise, "he will not suspect us. Do. there's a dear : once more : corno, only once !" " VVell, well ; you must draw his attention to it." " Oh, I'll do that. — Fred, I want you to give me your opinion upon this portrait. Now what do you really think of it ? Be candid." "Phell, look you, hur ton't know : hur ton't pretend to be a jutch ; putt hur should say it's phery peautiful." " Do you really," said Valentine, assuming the voice of a female, and making it appear tc proceed from the canvas, — "Do you really think me beautiful ?" Llewellen started, and then looked at the portrait in a very steady, straightforward, un- flinching manner, and then looked at Louise^ 236 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF and then at Valentine^ and then at the portrait again. At length, being unable to make any- thing at all of it, in the fulness of his heart he exclaimed — "Inteet t' cootness, hur think now' the tevil's in the pictures!" " For shame !" cried Louise. " How dare •you make use of that wicked expression V "Phell, hur ton't care, Louey; he's in the room somephere, look you, that's my pelief. Titn't you heari" " I heard you say that the portrait was very beautiful." ' " So hur tit ! — so hur tit ! — ant then it asked if hur tit think it peautiful !" " It ! what, the portrait ! Why, you do not mean to be so ridiculous as to imagine that the portrait spoke, surely !" " Hur ton't care a pit apout the pisiness, look you, Louey, putt cootness knows hur heart somepotty speak! Titn't you, my poyi — titn't vou?" " I heard some one speak : that's quite cer- tain ; but it couldn't, by any possibility, be the painting!" "Absurd !" cried Louise. "Now really, Fred — give me your candid opinion — do you not yourself think that you are getting very stupid V "Hur ton't care phot you say: you may call me stupit if you please, putt if hur titn't hear that phery picture ask me plain plank phether hur tit think her peautiful, pless me !" " But how is it possible? How could itV " Hur ton't pretent to know how it coot ; but it tit ! Coolness knows, am hur not to pelieve my own ears'?" ' It does seem hard that a man cannot always with safety have the firmest and the most im- plicit faith in the evidence of those useful and ornamental organs ; but it is, notwithstanding, a fact, that in all such cases as those in which ventriloquism is concerned, such evidence is perfectly certain to be false. However direct it may be, however specious, however strong, it is sure to mislead the inquiring mind, so inva- riable is its perversion of truth — so stubborn its adherence to error. Of all this Llewellen was utterly' ignorant, and hence he stuck firmly to his faith. He of course thought it strange, unaccountably strange ; but no reason which he could bring to bear upon the point was sufficiently powerful to shake his conviction; no species of ridicule — nay, not even the manifest impussibility of the thing itself — could induce him to rppudiafp, or even to doubt, the evidence of these laise witnesses, his ears. This was a source of great enjoyment to Louise. She rallied him cruelly, not only at the exhibition, but as they returned. He was a martyr ; and with the characteristic firmness of a martyr he endured it. On reaching home, however, Louise became thoughtful again. Knowing that Uncle John was to dine there that day, her thoughts re- verted to the cause of his being specially in- vited, and, although she was as happy as any aflfeotionate little creafure under the circum- stances could be, she could not but feel in some slight degree embarrassed. From Valentine this was concealed as much as possible. She naturally did not wish him ii know all; she therefore left him immediately on their return with the full determination-;- and it really was a very important determination — not to make her appearance again until Uncle John arrived. The interim would doubtless have been somewhat tedious to Valentine if matters had taken their usual course ; but the moment she had left him. Raven entered the room, and, actuated by his characteristic love of display begged Valentine as a favor to take the carriage for his uncle. Of, course, anything calculated to please the bitter enemy of the aristoorany, Valentine had then no inclination to oppose. The carriage was therefore immediat?^ ordered, for Raven suggested that although it was early, his old friend might like to have an airing before he dined : which was very ^ffep- tionate. Matters being thus arranged. Raven left the room with dignity, when Llewellen claimed the privilege of going with Va,lentine, on the ground of his being a great favorite of Uncle Johiii " Hur too like him," said he, just to strengthen his claim, " pecause hur pelieve hira to pe a coot tempert, kint, and penevolent olt soul, ant hur know he likes me pecause phenever hur speak to him, look you, he smiles." This was held to be conclusive, and as in a very few minutes the carriage was announcedj they proceeded to put Uncle John in a fidgeL This, strange as it may appear, was the effect which the sight of that carriage invariably had upon him.' He was sufficiently feverish wheri it came to the door on any ordinary occasion, but whenever it was sent expressly for him it threw him at once into a dreadful state, of mind, for he held it to be beyond all doubt or dispute entirely out of the regular course. Fortunately, however, in this particular in- stance he was sitting with Whilely in poor Goodman's room, when it dashed up to the door, and was therefore unconscious of the fact until Valentine announced it. "But, dear me," said Uncle John, pulling out his watch with great promptitude and tact, " why, it wants a full hour and a half of tha timet". Whifely enjoined silence, for Uncle John's lungs were very powerful, and Goodman was asleep. They therefore repaired to the draw- ing-room, in which Valentine had left Llewellen, a fact of which both Uncle John and Whitely,- were unconscious, "Ah! Mr. Llewellen!" exclaimed Uncle John, "I hope you're well, sir, I hope you're, very well ! Allow me to introduce to you my friend, Mr. Whitely." " Hur'm prout to know you," said Llewellen. extending his hand. ': Hur've heart of you I' cootness knows how often." Whitely during the salutation looked at h:ra intensely! He seemed to be struck with Lle- wellen's appearance, and yet there was nothing in it very extraordinary. Still he inspired on the instant some feeling which caused him to turn pale as death ! Neither Uncle John nor Valentine noticed the agitation into which he had been thrown, but VALENTINE VOX. 23i Llewellen diJ, and therefore said, "You are not well, ray frient f Come for a rite. Inteet t' coolness it will too you all the coot in the work!" Whitely tremulously begged to be excused, and almost immediately after retired from the room. "Now then, my tear olt friend; come, let us have a clorious rite pefore tinner, and then Jrou'U pe aple to keep me in countenance, for, ook yon, nopotty can eat at all here ! — hur ton't know t' oootness how it is people manaohe to live phithout eating.", " But bless my life !" exclaimed Uncle John, ^Tm not dressed ! You have taken me quite by surprise !" "Oh, never mint that, look you! — never mint that. We can wait phile you tress ! Coolness knows it, our time is not so precious !" Eventually, Uncle John consented : for, al- though he thought it hard that he could not be suflfered to go quietly, he was pressed so warmly, not only by Llewellen but by Valen- tine, who explained how highly Raven would be pleased, that he felt himself bound^ as a disagreeable matter of courtesy on this one particular occasion to yield. He therefore left the room to make himself tidy, and Valentine ordered up the tray, it being questionable whether he could by any other means hold Llewellen in a perfect state of hap- piness. He had not the smallest doubt of being able to effect this great object in that way,' and the correctness of his judgment in this particular was abundantly proved by the result. The very moment Llewellen saw a ham and three ribs of beef, that very moment did his eyes'begin to sparkle with pleasure, and he set to work like a new man. . " I think you will find that a decent glass of sherry," said Valentine, placing the bottle before him. " My poy," cried Llewellen, " too let's have some peer !" The beer was ordered on the instant, and when that was produced his views were met to a hair. Nothing could have been better. He slashed away, and ate with so much energy and gusto, that really any stranger would have imagined that he had been experimentalized upon by the poor-law commissioners, from ^hom he had just escaped. The only thing which at all interfered with his enjoyment was a lively apprehension of Uncle John's return. Every sound made him start; every footstep alarmed him ; he trembled whenever he heard a door bang. His apprehensions, however, were perfectly vain. Uncle John it is true was in a very great hurry, but it is also true that he could not make haste. He had a ten minutes' hunt for a particular stocking, which, as a matter of con- venience, he had thrown over his shoulder, and a period of ten minutes more was occupied in looking for a waistcoat he had on. Under these afflicting circumstances, Lle- wellen was in no actual danger of being inter- rupted. But then he did not know that : which Was a pity. Had he possessed the slightest cognisance of the real state of things at that period in Uncle John's dressing-room, doubtless he would have been, although equally ener- getic, more cool ; but working away as he was in the dark as to the actual state of the case there, it was but natural that he should have the unpleasant idea that courtesy would com- pel him prematurely to give in. It was not however until some time after he had said to himself privately, " Now hur ton't care if he toes come," that Uncle John actually made his appearance. " I have to apologize," said that gentleman, who was in a very great heat, " I have to apolo- gize for keeping you so long." "Hur peg you'll make no apology at all," cried Llewellen, which was really very good of him, considering; "hui've not pin itle, look you ! Hur'd recommend you to have a pit ! the peef is peautiful !" Uncle John very gracefully declined, and having miraculously found a pair of gloves, he searched the whole of his pockets at once, with the view of ascertaining if any important little matter had been forgotten, and then declared himself to be quite at Llewellen's service. " Put hur must pit your olt frient coot py," cried Llewellen. " He is now in a sound sleep," said Uncle John. " Tear t' cootness, how ott ! Toes he alphays CO to sleep in the mittle of the tay V " Do you mean poor friend Goodman ■?" " No, look you, Mr. Phitely I" "Oh," said Valentine, "he is not asleep; I'll go and tell him." He did so, and found him in tears, which he hastened, but in vain, to conceal. "My good friend I come, keep up your spirits !" said Valentine. " Llewellen wants to bid you good day." " I look at that young man with pleasure," relumed Whitely, "but that pleasure is accom- panied with a bitter, bitter pang." " Then do not see him. I'll tell him I have said good day for him." " Yes, do, please — -yet — oh no, I'll bid him good day." And he dashed away a tear which stood trembling in his eye, and went at once to shake hands with Llewellen. " God bless you !" said he, " I shall see you again V "Oh! yes; hur shall alphays pe coming. Putt hur wish you't co phith us for a rite ! In- teet it phoot too you a creat teal of coot." Again Whitely begged to be excused, and after having again shaken Llewellen warmly by the hand, he saw him into the carriage, and they started. " Home !" cried the servant, as he mounted behind. " Phot a set of stupit togs to be sure !" cried Llewellen, pulling the check-string with vio- lence. The carriage stopped in an instant. "What a pity it is," said Uncle John, "that fine horses like those should be pulled upon their haunche* like that." 238 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF "Titn't hur tell you the park !" cried Llew- ellen, as the servant reappeared at the door. " Co rount the park and then home." Correct orders were then conveyed, and they dashed towards the park ; and as they proceed- ed, Uncle John, although he had been put out of his way very seriously, could not help think- ing that a carriage was rather a comfortable sort of thing than not ! He was cool and col- lected then, and had the whole of his faculties about him, which was pleasant ; and he en- joyed himself exceedingly, and thought, as he rode rouiid the ring, that the park was in reali- ty very delightful. " Phoot you like to co rount once more ? We have plenty of time," said Llewellen. " If we have plenty of time, I really should," said Uncle John ; " for although I have walked in the park frequently, I had no idea of its being so pleasant a drive." Llewellen therefore at once gave the neces- sary orders, and they went round again, and then "home.'' It is a singular thing, perhaps, to place upon record, and yet it is an absolute fact, neverthe- less, that every time Valentine saw Louise now, he fancied she looked more lovely than before. Especially so was it in this particular instance ; for on reaching the drawing-room, he really did believe that he had never beheld any creature so beautiful. She was calm, very calm; except indeed when Uncle John held her hand for a moment, and passed a high compliment, to the justice of which her heart cheerfully subscribed; and when Valentine led her to the window to converse with her alone, she really felt that she never was so happy. Raven's reception of Uncle John was of the most cordial character, and Uncle John did not fail to appreciate it highly; nor did he omit to explain how much he had enjoyed his ride, which pleased Raven perhaps more than any- thing else. Llewellen was of course quite shut out; but he was not inactive : he had got the little deli- cate Neapolitan greyhound, — which used to be the very first favorite with Louise — upon the sofa, and while, instead of allowing him to bound with delight, he roUed him over and over, as if he had been but a surfeited pug, the little wretch looked at his tormentor with all the intelligence of which those stupid tilings are possessed, for he really didn't like it. ■ Dinner was now announced, and Uncle John took Louise with all the grace he had in him, when, as Raven took Valentine, Llewellen, who couldn't take the dog, — and the dog did'nt want him ! — went down with his appetite alone. During dinner Raven proved that he was in the highest possible spints, which Uncle John of course was delighted to perceive; but as nearly the whole of his observations had indi- rect reference to the coming event, Louise was sadly embarrassed, although Valentine and Uncle John too did all in their power to neu- tralize the effect of innuendos which opened oven the eyes of LleweEen. Still Raven kept on: it was seldom indeed that he was in a happy vein ; but when this did occur, no trifle oould stop him. It will hence be infened that Laoise was not sorry when dinner was ovei^ having the power to leave when she pleassi^ but it strangely enough happened that Raver. then dropped the subject, much to the mortifi- cation of Llewellen, who, having had but litth time to attend to it while anything remained on the table to eat, now prepared himself to listen to any observation which might have a tendency to show him a light. It was there* fore particiUarly annoying to him, privateljiii that no such observation was made ; for up'iBDL the time Louise rase to retire, they continued to converse exclusively upon matters in which he took really no interest at all. "Now, then," said Raven, when he saw Louise move ; " now run away, all you young people : we don't want you here !" Valentine, of course, started up in an instanf: but Llewellen, who really did not understand it, looked round very naturally for a little exr planation. The very moment, however, Valen. tine beckoned him, he rose, and permitted hin> self to be led from the room in a state of mental darkness. "Well, my old friend!" exclaimed Ravenj when he and Uncle John were alone. " In the first place, we'll drink the health of Val and Louise ! — God bless them both : may they be happy !" Uncle John most heartily responded to this toast, and made an addition directly touching the little consequences of their union. He then gave the health of Llewellen, whom he lauded as one of the best-hearted fellows that ever lived ; and when Raven had made a very slight^ but a highly eulogistic, addition to that, he said, "Now let us drink our noble selves, and then to business." " Valentine," he continued, when this toast had been appropriately honored, " has doubtless told you that he has had a little quiet conver- sation with me on the subject of his marriage with Louise." Uncle John nodded an affirmative. " He has also told you that the result was my free and unconditional consent to their union ? Very well. Now I admire the char- acter of that boy. Were he my own flesh and blood, I could not love him more. He is a fine fellow, a noble, firm, affectionate fellow, and Louise is about the best girl that ever breathed. They love each other fondly and firmly: I know it ! and they are worthy of each other. And as they are about to be united to each other, now ! what can we do for them V " What 1 have," said Uncle John, promptly, "I have made up my mind to divide with them. I have been thinking of this matter all the morning, and as I calculate that I cannot be worth, on the whole, more than sixteen thousand pounds, and as I shall have no one then but his mother to provide for, I'll give them eight thousand at once to begin with." " My friend," said Raven, grasping the hand of Uncle John. " If you have maue up your mind to do that, I havo made up my mind that you shall not. You shall not, my friend, do anything of the sort ! — and if we are to have a quarrel about the matter, we had better at once fight it out. I don't wish to say anything in disparagement of your circumstances, but I VALENTINE VOX. 239 will say this, that I can afford to provide for them better than you can. I'll at once give them tvrenty thousand pounds. I'll not give them a single penny more, because I don't wish to epoil them by tempting them to launch into a sea, of aristocratic extravagancies. No: I'll give them that — which is as much as they onght to have, and as much as I will consent to let them have to begin with — and if you will not allow me to do this alone, why the only alternative is, you must fight me !" "If I were—" '■Stop," said Raven, "stop. Before you speak let us have a glass of wine." This interruption was indeed a great relief to Uncle John, who had been so startled by Raven's generous pjoposition, that he scarcely at the moment knew how to reply. "Now," continued Raven. "What have you to say against it^" " Why, I hardly know what I have to say, with the exception that I cannot consent to do nothing. I think with you, that they ought not to have more than twenty thousand, but why can you not give twelve and let me give the testl" "I'll not have it!" "Well, then — come, I'll meet your views if I can ! — you shall put down fifteen and I'll give the odd money." "I tell you, my friend, I'll do nothing of the sort. I have made up my mind to give the whole, and the whole I will give ! I, of course, do not wish to deprive you of the pleasure of doing something! — IVlake them a present! — [■'11 let you do that!" " Well then, I'll give them a house to live in." "Nonsense!" cried Raven ; "young people don't like to be tied. If you give them a house to live in, they'll want to remove the second quarter ! Now, I'll tell you what I'll do — I'll conciliate you. if possible ! — I'll consent to your furnishinp; a house for "them, but, to nottiing more will I consent, I'm determined." "Mr. Raven!" said Uncle John, "really your generosity has surprised me." "I am not a man," said Raven, with dignity and pride, — " I am not a man to boast of my wealth and resources; but I may be permitted to state in justification of the tone I have as- sumed, that as this sum of money is to me a mere flea-bite, I feel that I have a right to in- sist upon giving it alone. But come, the thing is now settled. I am to have my way and you are to have yours."' "No, no: not exactly!" "To the stipulated extent ! — therefore with- out saying another single word upon the sub- ject, I'll give you — what? — Health and pros- perity to the forthcoming branches, and may they be numerous and strong." " With all my heart !" cried Uncle John, " with all my soul ! and may we live to see the lovely little cherubs playing around us and strewing with flowers our path to the grave." A pause ensued ; but it was not of long du- ration. The glasses were replenished, and Baren said, " Now, sir, I'll give you — on! of ooune — ^their grandmamma I" "Again, with all my heart!" cried Uncle John, "she is one of the best wcmen in cre- ation — a natural woman ! if — " " Those are the women for me !" exclaimed Raven. "None of your rouged stuok-up beggarly aristocracy ! — a natural woman wiD beat them all into fits." . " If ever there existed a really good woman in the world, she is one !" "We must have her up!" cried Ilaveii. " We must have her up in time. This aff'air you know must not take place in hur absence. Apropos, we've not drunk our absent friends!" "Our absent friends!" echoed Uncle John, promptly. " And may," for he wuald make an addition to every toast — "may they always be as firm — as firm — may they aiwaj s be as firm as the rock of Gibraltar!" "Bravo!" cried Raven; "very good, very good ! And now Irise to propose the health of one whom I highly esteem, whom I love, and will cherish — of One to whom I owe ray present state of existence — of one — of— of a — brave — of a brave — who — of one who — who — I'll tell you what it is. my old friend, — if I go much further I shall stick in the mud ! I am no publie speaker; not a bit of it; but I do with all sin- cerity propose, and I know I feel sure — at least, I know you will with equal sincerity, drink the health of Valentine !" " Let me see, I think we drank that before ?" " Did we ? M'eW, I believe we did, now you have mentioned it; — you are right. But never mind ! — ^let us drink it again. And yet, if my memory serves me, you know — if my memory serves me, we only drank them together ! so let's have them separately — Valentine ! — ^he's a fine noble fellow ! I drink his health with all my heart ! and success to him !" Of course, after this Uncle John proposed Louise, and then Llewellen, and then every other toast which had been previously drank, until really he did begin to tliink that the things around him were getting particularly restless ! Happily, however, the real state of the case did not fail to strike him, and he addressed him- self to Raven as nearly as possible to that eff'ect, and suggested that albeit they were perfectly right then, the probability was, that if they drank much more they should not be quite so right, and as this correct suggestion accorded precisely with the views as well as the feelings of Raven himself, that gentleman promptly rnade another suggestion which had immediate reference to coffee. In vain Uncle John made one more suggestion, which touched upon the abstract propriety of having it below: Raven would have him up ! and up they went. At first, Valentine feared, from the somewhat studied stateliness of his walk, that Uncle John was not exacdy so carrect as he had seen him ; but he found that he was merry, not tipsy — ela- ted, nothing more. Immediately after coffee, notwithstanding, he conceived it to be proper to send for a coach, and Uncle John, as he gracefully took his leave, declajed openly and warmly,_ that he never spent so happy an evest- ing in his life. 840 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF CHAPTER LV. TEE DAY IS NAMED. — ECHO INSISTa TJPON .FORMING AN ALLIANCE WITH LLEWELLEN. " He is a prince, my boy ! — nothing less than a prince !" exclaimed Uncle John, while in the coach ; and this was all in the shape of expla- nation that could be obtained from him until ihey reached home, when he entered at length into the matter. That Valentine was delighted when he heard, not only of Raven's generosity, but of the high estimation in which he was held, is a fact which it were useless to attempt to conceal. Everything now shone brightly before him : he knew of no joy which he could not possess; with love on the one hand and competence on the other, he felt that he and Louise had but to live and be happy. '■' Now the very first thing," said Uncle John, when he had explained aU clearly — " the very first thing, my boy, that you have to do, is to get the day fixed, that we may know what we are about. There are many important matters to attend to, which cannot be done in a day. There's the house to look after: there's that to prepare : there's your mother to run down for, and!^ a hundred other things which require time and study. Therefore let the day be fixed, that we may know how much time we have to do it all i-i '' •Valentine promised to prevail upon Louise to name the day if possible in the morning, and accordingly when he and Uncle John called to- getherj he remained with that object in view. Louise was still veiy gentle, and although rather tiniid, very happy; and as Valentine had, ihe previous evening, imparted the secret to Llewellen, that gentleman correctly felt that his presence was not on all occasions absolutely wanted. He therefore left them together on the morning in question the very moment they began to converse, and as this was what Valen- tine deemed strictly proper and very agreeable, he reverted to the subject at once. " My dearest Louise," said he, " aU is now happily settled with the exception of one point, which rests with you entirely. The day, my Louise ! — when is it to be ? Indeed it pains me to tease you, appreciating as I do that delicacy of feeling by which you are actuated; but you know, my dear ^irl, that I must be importunate until I can prevail upon you to give me an an- swer. Come, settle it at once ! Why, you silly girl ! — why do you tremble ? Smile, my Louise, and be joyous as I am ! I know that we shall be happy 1 Do you not believe that we shall ?" " I do — I do indeed," replied Louise. "Come, then, why are you so pensive? Look up, my girl, and settle the point at once. Do vou think that I would be so teased when I comd put an end at once to it, and that with a single word 1 Well, well, let me manage it for ■ou. Now attend to my instructions. It is to le in June: I will therefore commence with the first of the month, and go on until I reach the day on which you would like it to take place, when you must kiss me and say "yes," or. to simplify the thing, say "yeS;" and then I I will kiss you. Now, ihen : ifould you likei it to be on the fii et of Ju 13 ?" ' " Yes," said Louise ; Ijut in a Tphisper so sofi that, had it not been for the hisiiing of the s, i| must have been mistaken for silence. The moment Valentine heard it he pressed her to his heart, and pjiid his debt in the coiii above alluded to with the most usurious interest " Now, my love," said he, " you must be cheerful and gay ! I have to tease you no* more : all is settled now : come ! baiijsh thai melancholy look, Louise, and smile ! Where is Fred? I must get him to put you in spirits. I will not allow you to be dull. Shall we find him in the garden ? 'i'es, there he is, come.*'' Into the garden thfiy accordingly went, and Valentine, making his voice appear to proceed from various quarters, shouted "Llewellen J— Llewellen ! — Llewellen ! — ^Uewellen !" Llewellen promptly turned towards every point, and then exclaimed, "Tear t'cootness now, phot an extraortinary echo !" " Did you never notice it before?" inquired Valentine. " Cootness knows it, never." "You try it: sing." "Tol, lol, lol, lol!" sang Llewellen, very oo> rectly jumping up an octave. " Tol, lol^ lol, lol !" echoed Valentine faintly, thereby making it appear to proceed from an imir ense distance. " Phunterful ! Phell. I never tit ! — ^pecause there are no mountains, no lulls, look you, here !" " What is that to me ?" said Valentine, as- suming a female voice, which appeared to come from the adjoining garden. " Pho is that ?" inquired Llewellen. " Some- potty belonging to next toor! — hur'U see pho It is !" And he instantly ran for a ladder, which he placed against the wall, and then cautiously mounted with the view of peeping over. " I see you," said Valentine, in the same as- sumed voice. "Hur ton't care!" cried Llewellen, as h« showed himself boldly. "Get down: don't expose yourself there. If you wish to say anything to me, I'll come over to you. Now," continued Valentine, having drawn his voice cleverly within the gai-den, " now what have you to say ?" Llewellen stared with an expression of the most intense amazement. There was no one in the garden adjoining! he could not see a soul, and yet he heard the voice as plainly aa he ever heard anything in his life ! Of coarse Valentine and Louise stood as if they were astonished, which was perhaps, under the cir- cumstances, venial. "Come down!" cried the voice, "don't stand there !" Llewellen was not a man whom a trifle could alarm, but it must be recorded that the blood left his cheeks. He however desoeni^ed, and feeling secure in the integrity of his inten- tions, stood firmly again upon the face of thfl earth. "Now what have you to say?" inquired tlw voice. VALENTINE VOX. 241 . ".Who are you V demanded Llewellen. *'liear ine, don't be alarmed! I'm only goho !" "Echo! putt t'cootness, phere are yen's Hur bau't see yon any phere apont." " See me ! How can you expect to see me, when yon know that there is nothing of me left but my voice V Llewellen held this, as far as it went, to be conclusive. He clearly could not see a voice, and as there was nothing else ef Echo, it fol- lowed of course that there was nothing to see. But although this sufficiently accounted for the invisibility of the nymph, Llewellen could not understand the exact meaning of her imme- diate presence ; nor had he ever either heard or read of her having the power to converse. " Speak to her," said he to Valentine. " Inteet it's phery ott !" " I'll have nothing to say to him," observed Echo ; " I have this moment taken a regular fancy to you, and to you ,only will I speak." " Converse with the lady," said Louise, " she will not harm you." ■ "Putt, look you, hur ton't unterstant !" " Freddy," said Echo, " I love you ! Speak to me, my dearest ! converse with me ; do, there's a duck !" "Oh, speak to her, Fred!" said Valentine, " speak to her." " Putt pho am hur to speak to?" "Oh, hear what the lady has to say, and make suitable replies. Shall we retire?" " Not for the work !" " Well, come then, say something as a matter of courtesy !" " Putt her ton't know phot to say ! luteet hur ton't know phot she wants !" "I remain here," said Echo, " expressly for the purpose of telling you how dearly I love you." " Phell ! you have tolt me so pefore ! Is there anything pesites?" " Cannot your heart suggest the rest?" " No ; inteet it cannot." " Oh ! Fred ; you cruel creature !" "Oh, hur won't slant pothering here with a thing hur can't see !" cried Llewellen, who was about to bounce into the house, when Louise, taking his arm, said, " Do obtain permission for me to speak to her." " Phill you allow this laty to speak to you?" said Llewellen, who appeared to be rather pleased with the notion than not. " By all means," replied Echo. "Do you really love my cousin?" inquired Louise. " Oh, most fondly, and he knows it. He'll break my voice, the cruel creature ! and when that is gone, I shall be no more ; I then shall have nothing left to lose." "Hur ton't care. Let her lose her voice : inteet the sooner it's cone the pelter." "But would you marry him?" inquired Louise. J " Would ? I will ! I'll unite myself to him at once. He shall carry me about. I'll mock his every word. I'll ride in his pocket. I'm ill!" As the last words were thrown behind Lle- 16 X wellen, he thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat very fiercely, and turned round ana round as a cockchafer might under circum- stances .of a corresponding character, for h« Couldn't tell at all what to make of it. " Hur'm in a mess!" he cried; "oootness knows it, hur'm in a mess !" " How marvellous !" exclaimed Louise, with appropriate solemnity ; " how excessively strange !" "Well," said Valentine, "you have a wife that will stick to you at all events." " Stick to me ! Putt I won't have it." . " Well, but how do you mean to get rid of her ?" "How am hur to kit rit of her?" " By smothering her voice ! I cannot con- ceive a better plan. It is sure to be effeotuaL Sew up your pocket, and smother her voice !" " Coot I"- cried Llewellen, and on the instant he grasped the tails of his coat with surpassing tightness, in the perfect conviction that Echo must be in one (pf them, he didn't care which. " Now then," said Valentine, " pull the coat ofiF. But be sure you don't relinquish your hold ! If you let go for an instant, she'll be out." Llewellen was about to act upon this excel lent suggestion, but he had no sooner made the attempt than he was struck with an idea, which prompted him to ask how it was possi ble for him to take off his coat while he kept fast hold of the tails ? which was indeed a highly correct question to put. " Kif me a lift, my poy, look yon," he added, " because hur can't kit it off at all now myself.'' Valentine, wishing to meet his views to soma extent, pulled the collar of the coat off his shoulders. " There, now, you catch holt of the tails," said Llewellen, "ant then hur can pull out my arms." "No; although I suggested the murder, Pll have nothing to do with its execution." " Phill Louey, tear?" "Not for the world !" cried Louise. " Cootness knows it, now, that is too pat *'" "Let me out!" exclaimed Ech); 'let me out !" "Not a pit of it, matam," cried Llewellen, who, grasping his. tails yet more timily, hast- ened out of the garden with the view of ob- taining the assistance of one of the servants ; and as he walked with the collar ox his coat below his elbows, both Valentine and Louise were convulsed with laughter, he really did look in their view so ungraceful. "How ridiculous these things appear," ob- served Valentine. "Without having actually witnessed them, should we not regard it as al- most impossible for men possessing any sense at all, to be placed in positions so absurd ?" " It appears to be so natural," said Louise. " Upon my word I am not at all astonished at its effect being to make people look so very sUly." " They are taken by surprise, you see I Were they to reflect for a moment they would doubtless repudiate the notions which alarm, them; but they are called upon to act on the 242 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF instant : Ihey are astounded at once ; they have no time for thought. I have seen men — coura- geous, strong-minded men — men whom nothing on earth visible could appal, so shaken at the moment by sounds for which they could not ac- count, as to appear to be the veriest cowards in " Oh, I've not the slightest doubt of it !" re- turned Louise. " Now, this echo : why, I really should havp been alarmed myself! — although conscious of its having but a merely mythologi- cal existence, and of its being in reality nothing more than a repercussion of sound, upon my word, at the moment I shouldn't know what to make of it : I am sure I should be frightened ; I am certain that I should ! But poor Fred ! Oh, do let him carry his wife in his pocket. Don't let her voice be smothered just yet. It will be so glorious !" This put Louise in high spirits, and her live- liness continued throughout the day. It is true that occasionally the thought of her position would intrude to cast over her beautiful fea- tures a slight shade of meditative gloom ; but Valentine, whenever he perceived this, dis- pelled it, and then all was sunshine and hap- piness again. CHAPTER LVI. THE PKEFARATIOlfS FOR THE MAKKIASE. A SUKFRISE. Business 1 — business was now the order of the day : and it is a highly popular fact that business must be attended to. Uncle John pronounced himself to be up to his eyes in it ! Valentine, Raven, Louise, and all concerned, were now plunged into the depths of business. As the day — that day to which lovers in gene- ral look forward with joy — had been fixed, all felt that no time was to be lost. The prepara- tions — especially those which had fallen to the lot of Uncle John — were considered immense, for he had made! up his mind fully, firmly, and without any supererogatory deliberation, not only to do his duty, but to astonish the nerves of Raven, if possible. He felt strongly that he had but a fortnight to do it all in, and it took him a week to look after a house. He never •had such a job ! At the full expiration of that time, however, he got one, and then he did think he saw his way pretty clearly. Louise at this period felt dreadfully embar- rassed. She had no female friends. The so- cial position of Raven, since he retired from business, had been so peculiar, that they had Eved, although in midst of wealth and splendor, almost secluded from the world. He scorned to associate with any below the aristocracy, and the aristocracy looked upon him with con- tempt. Hence his bitter hatred of them in the aggregate, and hence the embarrassed position of Louise. She had no one to advise with, no one to confide in, but her maid. There were but two ladies in the world with whom she had ever been on anything like terms of intimacy, and they were both absent from town. She was therefore left entirely to her own resources, which she naturally at that period felt to b^ Teiy distressing. Valentine — although every effort was mad* to conceal it from him — was not Jong under- standing the state of the case precisely, and the moment he did understand it he felt him- self bound to do all in his power to relieve her. " Louise," said he, embracing the very first opportunity that presented itself, "Louise, I feel very much hurt." " Dear Valentine !— at what ?" "Nay, I do not know indeed that I shall ever forgive you." " My dear boy ! — wlnr what on earth is it?" "My mother," said Valentine. "You have not invited her. You do not know, my love, how happy she would be, if you were to send for her at once to spend a week with you, to advise with you, to relieve you of any little difficulty you may be under; to do, in short, anything for you." " Dear Valentine !" cried Louise, as the tears sprang into her eyes; for she in an instant peN ceived his object. "You do not know now much I love you for this. Oh ! that would in- deed make me happy. I knew not how to mention this, my love; but believe me, my dearest boy, that situated as I am, nothing could delight me so much." " You are a good girl, Loiiise : she shall come up at once. I will send her a letter by this night's post, and run down myself for her m the morning." " There's a dear ! — But you will not be lonft my love, before you return?" " I'll be back, my Louise, as soon as possible. She does not at present expect to come up be- fore the thirtieth : but I'll manage that ; and at Fred is now only in the way here, I may m well take him down with me." Most gladly did poor Louise consent to this arrangement; and Valentine, who would not detain her, went at once to communicate with Llewellen. That gentleman at the time was in the library, reading "Fox's Book of Martyrs," with an aspect of terror, and when Valentine, without any ceremony, entered, he gave a sudden start, and felt strikingly queer. ' ' i "Tear t'cootness!" he exclaimed. "You ' mate me tremple ! Hur've pin reating apoiit these colt-plooted intivituals, until inteet hui pecan to pe frightent, look you !" " Dear me !" said Valentme, gravely. "Bui I hope it's all over?" " Oh, it's all over now : putt, upon my wort, phen hur reat apout these tevils puming poOi peoples' pellies, ant the like of that, hur pluA for their prutality.'- " Well, never mina them now : I have some- thing to say to you, Fred. To-morrow, I am going into the country." | " To-morrow !— Oh ! phot for ?" . ' "To bring my mother up. I start early itl the morning." "Then inteet htlr'U lie in pet all tay. Hm won't kit up! It's no use at all, look you! Hur've nopotty to speak to : Louey is pusy, anl ephery potty's pusy : and if hur co out, hur ton'l know where to co to." " Would you like to go with mo ?" VALENTINE VOX. 241 ' " Phoot her like !—^my tear poy ! Apore all things pesites in the worlt." " _Well then, be it so : we'll go do wn together ; but it is upwards of seventy miles !" " Hur ton't care a pit apout the miles, if it's seventy millions. You say hur may co?" " I shall be glad of your company !" " That's enough. Hur'li pe retty ; if hur sit up all night." " Oh ! we shall not have to start before nine ; so that if you call on me about eight, we'll have breakfast together, and be olT." ■ " Hur'U pe there, my poy : oh ! hur'li pe there. Hur'U kit lots of cicars, ant wo shall have such a peautiful rite. Too you phont any coats? — peoause inteet hur've cot three of the pest in the worlt." ' " Well, you had better bring two : you may find them both useful. But I must be off to tell my uncle : for he has no idea of it yet." "Illir mustn't co phith you?" "Oh, yes: come along." To the delight of Llewellen, they accordingly started, first to book tlieir places, and then 1o search for Uncle John, whom they eventually found at the house, in the midst of the work- men, as dusty as any private gentleman need be. "Ah ! Mr. Llewellen," he exclaimed, "here we are, you see, up to our eyes in business. — It will be a different place though to look at this day week," he added, privately. " I intend to have all this done up, and air this. Before I have done with it, Mr. Llewellen, it shall be fit for any prince ! — ^mark my words." Valentine, drawing him aside, now explained to him what he proposed to do in the morning. "I am right glad to hear it, my boy," cried Uncle John, t' I was thinking of the same thing myself this very day, for there are many little matters that I find I can't manage : by all means, Val, bring her up !" " But I want her to be with Louise." " Well, well ; so she can be, my boy ; so she can; but she will also be able to give me a little advice if I should want it ! You had bet- ter run and get my cheque book. The bank ■vvill be closed, you know, before I get home." " I have quite enough money," said Valen- tine. " Well, but your mother may want some." " I have plenty for both." " If you are quite sure, why, be it so. Have you anything more to say ?" "Nothing." "Very well; then run away with you. Mr. Uewellen, I'm going to turn you out. I shall be home at six. You will dine with us, Mr. Llewellen ?" " " Inteet hur shall pe most happy." " You will not," said Uncle John, taking his hand — " you' will not be more happy to be there, Mr. Llewellen, than I shall be to see you. But be off with you — come, you have no business here !" Being tlius fairly turned out of the house, Val- entine took Llewellen home with him, and gave him some cold beef and beer to amuse aimself with, while he wr-te to his mother, when they went for a stroll until six. At this hour Uncle John returned, and declar- ed himself knocked up as nearly as possible ; but as he felt an immense deal bettor during dinner, everything passed off with unusual spirit. Whitely and Llewellen became great friends; they paid the riiost marked attention to each other : they seemed to be happy in each other's society, and conversed together with as little restramt as if they had been intimately acquaint- ed for, years. The entertainments during the evening were various. Valentine related how Echo had determined on marrying Llewellen, and Llewellen related how the portraits at the exhibition had mysteriously spoken, and how loudly he had been called by some particular friend of his, whom he was utterly unable to find ; and as all this was perfectly well under- stood both by Whitely and Uncle John, they were kept in one continued roar of laughter. Poor Whitely had not spent so happy an evening for many, many years ; he forgot all his cares until Llewellen had left, when the thought of his boy buried gaiety in gloom. With all the justly celebrated punctuality of the sun, Llewellen reappeared in the morning at eight, and he and Valentine sat down to breakfast; but strange a-s it may appear — and perhaps it was one of the most extraordinary things that ever occurred to him — Llewellen couldn't eat ! He had no appetite ! A most substantial breakfast had been provided— a breakfast which was after his own heart, and to which he would at any other time have done the most ample justice ; but while he tried hard, and marvelled greatly what on earth could be the matter inside, all he could do was to get down five small cups of cofiee, three eggs, and a few extremely delicate slices of ham, which could not altogether have weighed more than a pound. With this, however, he felt himself bound to be content ; and as Valentine finished about the same time as he did, they took 'eave of Uncle John and Whitely, and started. As the coachman was about to mount his box when they arrived at the inn, they at once took their seats and were off, and no sooner had they got quite clear of the smoke than Llewellen sang every song he could think of. He was in the highest possible spirits, and enjoyed him- self exceedingly : he got down every time they changed horses to have a glass of " peautifd peer," and offered his cigar case ever and anon to every creature upon the coach. In due time — to his unspeakable satisfaction — they reached the house at which the coach stops about seven minutes to enable the pas- sengers to have what is technically termed down there "dinner," which customarily con- sists of a roast leg of mutton, bread, potatoes, and cabbage. Llewellen was not, however, at that particular period dainty, and therefore at once set to *ork upon the mutton. He ought to have paid for six. Being resolved to make up for what he deeiried his lost breakfast, he made the look of the joint vanish as if by magic. The passengers were amazed: bul said nothing, which was in all probability much less than the host said when ne looked at tha remains of the departed. They now resumed their journey, and mirtb and good humor again began to flow, and con- 244 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF tinued to flow on unlil" they arrived at their place of destination, when the passengers — who usually then Wess tlieir stars, — seemed to thiuk it a pity to part. It was of course not long after this before Valentine felt that he was in the arms of his mother. In the arras of no other creature breathing could he have had those feelings which he experienced then. The poor lady, it is true, could scarcely speak, but she expressed so much rapture, and smiled through her tears with so much visible joy, that Llewellen, as she welcomed him eloquently and warmly, really felt he possessed a somewhat sensitive heart. "Well, now, my dear, tea is quite ready,", she observed, as soon as this burst of affection was over; "I'm sure you must feel very faint. I hope," she added, addressing Llewellen, " that you willmake yourself perfecdy at home." "Inteet t' cootness you have mate me at home alretty," replied Llewellen. " I'm delighted to hear it ; come, draw to the table. Well, and how did you leave Miss Raven, my love ? I do so long to see her, you can't think !" " She is quite well ; all are quite well," re- plied Valentine. "Of course you will be able to go up with us to-morrow ?" "To-morrow! impossible! my dearest boy, consider ! I have not the least thing ready ! I've been preparing ever since I received your letter this morning ; but as for going to-morrow ! indeed, my dear, the thing is altogether out of the question. Besides, it is not proper that you should return to-morrow. I would not have you do it for the world. To come down one day and go up again the next ! It would really be sufficient to throw you on a bed of .sickness. I am certain, my love, you couldn't bear the fatigue.- No; what I was thinking of is this : that if I can arrange things to-moriow, we can go up the next day ! — that will be plea- sant if we can manage it so." " You are not then quite sure even of that?" " Why, I tliink it can be done. At all events,. I'll try. You have given me no time to pre- pare ! The thing was so unexpected ! But I think, notwithstanding, that I may venture to say that I am sure we shall be able to go then." ' During this short colloquy, the chickens were fast disappearing. Llewellen was at them, and doing full justice to each particular joint. " I am glad to see you eat," said the widow, very innocently ; " Valentine, my love, pray help Mr. Llewellen to some more ham." " Mr. Llewellen," returned Valentine, "likes to help himself, mother;" which was a fact. " Cootness knows it, these chickens are peau- riful," observed Llewellen. " I am very glad you like them." " Inteet hur enjoy them much, look you ; i«nt as for the peer ! they ton't prew such peer in Caermarthen." " We are famous for beer here," observed Valentine ; " how old is this, mother V '' Two years, my love." " Two years olt ! Tear t' cootness, now, is it two years olt I Phy, town phere hur come from, they prew it on the Saturtay, and trink it on the Montay ! Two yeara ! phell inteet now, g is very excellent." And it was very excellent, and Up drann a great quantity of it. and he enjoyed himself over it during the whole of the evening, whid was spent very happily by all. The next day was occupied chiefly by Valeri- tine in showing Llewellen the ancient architec- tural beauties of the town, and by the widow, ip making preparations for her journey, which she looked upon as being trenjendous, and the fp^- lowing morning they started. , . f| As a pure matter of courtesy to the lady,— by whom he felt that he had been most kindly treated, and ■ whom he really admired very much, — Llewellen had insisted upon riding in- side. This Valentine knew was an ordeal which, as he went through it, he would feel very sev-erely, and for the first forty miles he most certainly did, for he could neither smoke the beautiful cigars he had with him, nor get out every time they changed horses, for beer ; but when they had dined, he felt nothing inore of it, for he instantly fell fast asleep, and slept soundly until they reached town. As Valentine had duly advised Uncle John of their intention to come up that day, he con- siderately met them at the coach and conduct- ed them home. Here everything essential to their immediate comfort -was prepared, and ■' they had tea together, and were really very happy. The widow thought that Uncle Juhn looked, if anything, somewhat more pale ^lian he was wont; but as he assured her that he never was better in his life, she was perfectly content. "But do I look paleT" he inquired. "Do you really, now, think I look pale V " Why, I do not mean to say that it i. " I'll manage it. Leave that to me." "But," urged Whitely, "how is it to be done?" " If it cannot be done in one way, it can :n another. We can even indict all concerned for a conspiracy:" "But what witnesses have we to sustain such an indictment ?" " Witnesses are to be found : affidavits are to be had. Leave the whole thing to me, and it shall be done. If the worst comes to the worst, we can harass him so, that he will be but too happy to compromise the matter, by coming down handsomely." " And what, may I ask," said Uncle John, " would you consider a handsome sum in such a case?" " Why, as he is a rich man, I'd make him come down with a couple of thousand pounds. I'd let him off for very litde less." " But were he to offer to put down at onoa such a sum as — say ten thousand pounds — '!'3 " Oh, such a sum as that is altogether out of the question. It's a large sum, sir, recollect, is thai of ten thousand, — a sum which is not to be picked up every day ! But whatever sum he might oner, however large. I'd take care to harass him well before I consented to receive it." " But if, after having discovered that yoni object was to harass him, he were to defy you, and refuse then to compromise at all, what sott of position would my fnend be in then?" " Money," said Whitely, " is not the primaiT object. I want to punish him, it is true, and he deserves to be punished severely ; but mjr chief aim is to compel him to produce, or M VALENTINE VOX. 255 least to give me Bome sufficient clue to the dis- covery of nvy children." '• Putiish him first," said Mr. Writall, " settle that matter first, and then make him produce the children." "But," suggested Uncle John, " were he to propose now, not only to put down at once — say ten thousand pounds — but to give, with re- apect to the children, all the information in his p(jwer, would it not, under the circuipstances, be advisable to accede at once to such a pro- pisition V " Why, as I said before, ten thousand pounds, you know, is an-amount which is out of all rea- son ; but, if a good round sum were to be of- fered, together with the required information, 1 have no hesitation in saying, that it would be advisable to do so, but not before proceedings had been commenced, in order that he might know that we are really in earnest." "I, of course, can compel him to produce my children'?" "Of course. And yet there is some slight difficulty there. I should advise — nay, now I come to reflect on the matter, if he be obsti- nate, he might be taken on suspicion of having murdered those chililren!" "Murdered them!" bried Whitely, with a shudder. " But," said Uncle John, " how can we prove that he ever saw them V " Oh, that could be proved ; but as far as the murder is concerned — why, I confess, that it is somewhat difficult to secure witnesses as to itlurder ; but even they are to be had." "What may you mean by securing wit- nesses?" . " It is a practice, sir, well understood in the profession. At all events, assuihing that we should fail in this, the threat alone of charging him with murder would be sutfieient to induce him to come down with a little more." Again, Whitely and Uncle John looked ear- nestly at each other, and after a pause of some seconds they rose. "I will reflect, sir,'' said Whitely, "upon all you have explained, and let you know my de- cision in the morning." " Very well, sir," returned Mr. Writall, who was evidently surprised at the fact of the con- sultation being so abruptly put an end to. " Very well, sir. If the case, sir, be placed in my hands, it shall be properly managed. It is my pride, sir, that I never yet suffered a client of mine to be defeated." Uncle John and Whitely then took leave of Mr. Writall, with whom they were not highly pleased. He had, indeed, supplied them both with food for reflection ; but while one of them looked upon him merely with contempt, the other regarded him with inefiable disgust. " I cannot say that I am even yet convinced of the incorrectness of my view," said Uncle John, after having walked for some time in silence. " But where could he get all the wit- nesses from V "My friend," replied Whitely, "that is a Jegal scoundrel. Those witnesses are villains who can be got to swear to anything in any case, to the raia of any man." "Is it possible?" " Quite. They are to be had at all pricesj from ten shillings up to ten pounds, either to appear and give evidence, or to make affida- vits. Such witnesses he proposed to secure in my case, for clearly none others exist." Uncle John was amazed. He could scarcely believe it, and thousands, who possess far more knowledge of the profession than he did, would have been quite as incredulous, on l.eing told that the practice of "hard sweaiiiij;," more especially that branch ycelped " aflichivit mak- ing," had become quite a trade. This, however, did not shake thp purpose of Whitely; he still was for law; but, as during ihe consultation with Writall, cejtain doubts had arisen, he resolved on having the opinion of some eminent counsel, upon whose judg- ment and integrity he might safely depend. CHAPTER LIX. Ilf WHICH VALENTDfE PKOVES A OOOD MOBAL PHISIOIAN. That, under any conceivable circumstances^ Louise would have felt the postponement of her marriage severely, is a fact which must not be concealed, but under such serious ciN curastances as those by which the postpone- ment had been induced, she naturally held it to be indeed terrible. It was not, however, the mere disappointment which retarded her recovery from the shook she had received* when the physical effects of that shock had been subdued, its moral effects continued in painful operation ; for she could not but feel that the disgrace of her father would inevitably, to some extent, reflect upon her. For three weary days she had not beheld him whom she had taught herself to adore; but although she had felt this to be of itself very sad, and had panted for the time when she might again see him, when that time arrived her spirit shrank from the interview, as if she feared that he could not be faithful to her then without dishonor. Eventually, however, at the earnest solicita- tion of her dear kind friend, whom she regarded as her mother, she tremblingly consented to see him ; and when he entered the room in which she was sitting, pale as death, she rose and flew to him, as if all cause for sorrow had vanished; but, after having embraced him, and passed her hand fondly over his^brow, and gazed upon him with an expression of rapture for an in- stant, the sudden flash of joy was extinguished, tears gushed from her eyes, and she sobbed like a child. "My own Louise!" exclaimed Valentine, pressing her fervently to his heart. "Look up, my sweet girl ! You see I am firm, Louise ! — you see I am firm!" But, as he spoke, hia voice faltered, while the tears were fast rollinjg down his cheeks. He could not bear to see her thus afflicted. He could firrMy endure any- thing but that; that alone had me powui to i;n man him. 256 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF A pause ensued, during which he endeavored to conceal his emotion, and -led Louise to a chair, while his mother, whom the interview had deeply affected, was sobbing as if her heart were about to break. At length, however, they all become com- paratively calm; and wlule Valentine was standing with the hand of Louise in his, pouring eloquent balm into her deeply wounded heart, the widow sat down beside her, with the view of imparting that solace which she deemed most effectual, and soon after quitted the room. "My dear girl," said Valentine, the moment they were alone, " come, you must not be so sad; you must notj my. love, indeed." "Valentine," said Louise, with the most im- pressive earnestness, "I Jove you — dearly, fondly — ^you know how I love you : but tms unhappy interview must be our last !'' " Wny, yon sUly girl : what do you mean?" " That I never will consent to bring dishonor upon you." " I believe it ; I am sure of it : I know you never will." " But this I should be doing, if, after this hour, I consented to receive you as before." " Louise, knowing the .purity of your mind, and the beautiful delicacy of your feelings, I cannot but be conscious that this lamentable jiffair appears to you in the darkest colors in which It can appear to innocence : thus let it appear still, my good girl: thus may it ever appear ! I would not have those colors brighter in the eyes of one so pure. But, my love, even assuming all we have heard to be true, and looking at it without the most remote reference to any extenuating circumstances, how can my alliance with you bring dishonor upon me ? I will not affect, for one moment, to be incapable of perceiving your views; and that they spring from an amiable source is quite manifest. But how can this act affect me ? It is not an act of yours : nor is it one over which it is possible for you to have had even the slightest control. It is one of which you possessed no knowledge until now ! — How then can you or I be disgraced or dishonored V " Disgrace will attach to the name," said Louise. , " That name will no longer be yours !" " But will it not be said, and with truth, by the malicious, that you married into a family whose character was tainted V "This, indeed, by the malicious might be said : but not with truth. If the character of a family could be said to be tainted, because the acts of any one of its members are impure, few families, indeed, would be in a position to boast of their characters being without a stain. But let the malicious say what they will : they must be ingenious indeed, if they show that any disgrace that may attach to the name you npw bear, can reflect i« the slightest degree upon me. But, my sweetest girl, no such dis- grace will attach even to the name. The thing will not be known. I have the most perfect confidence in the success of those efforts which my uncle is now making, with the view of pre- vailing upon Whitely to consent to some private arrangement If it be thus arranged, and I have not the smallest doubt that eventually iU will be, unless we ourselves publish the niatteri to ,the_ malicious, their ingenuity cannot be» brought to the test." " StiE I fear," urged Louise, "that you may-' be annoyed: and that such an annoyance, as that would interfere with your happinesaj and cause you to regret — " " Louise ! if you did not at this.moment look • so delicately beautiful, I really do think thati should scold you. Why, you little trembling* creature ! — who is to annoy me if the thing be not known V " But we are by no means sure that it will not be known !" " Well, even if it be : I am sorry to say that the world does not atiach so much importance to an affair of this description as you du. But if this be the case, the ihiijg must not be knowii'li. I'll go and tell Whitely all about it. 'I will give your compliments to him, and tell him that if ^ he will consent to aii arrangement you wiH have me: but that if he will not, it's all over." . Louise slightly, but very sliglidy, smiled. ' " You will think," continued Valentine, " that I view this matter with levity, although, indeed} I do not ; ^ut it really is useless to grieve ana mourn, and be miserable about it. Were we to rim about the streBts,-and fill the air with out'' lamentations, we might astonish the people: certainly, and perhaps we might amuse them ; but we could not alter the case as it stands.; The thing has been done, and we are bound to make the best of it : but I question if even Lie wellen- him self can instance a case in which any disagreeable position was rendered more pleasant by an indulgence in excessive grief "^j " You are a dear good soul," said Louise, ar- ranging his hair as he set on a stool beside her. " I'm glad you think so," said Valentine; "I ought to terminate my engagement with eclati' I ought to make a decent impression on this my last appearance, as it must be the last !" '• - " I would not lose you for the world !" cried Louise, as she kissed his fine brow and ap-' peared to forget all her troubles ; '' yet." she added, with intensity of feeling and expres- sion, " I would rather lose you, the world and all, than render you unhappy ! But, my love, this sad affair : you say that there is a urospect of its being settled privately V "A very fair prospect. In fact 1 have npi doubt whatever of its being thus arranged. Whitely holds out at present, it is true ■ but I'm convinced that we shall eventually in luce him' to consent." " Poor man ! I had no thought of my dear father having acted as he has. I could not have believed it if he had not himsell told me • that it was true. Poor Mr. Whitoly ! how dreadful his feelings must have been ! But she must have been a very wicked creature ! I am sure that she must have given my father great^t encouragement, or he never would have ior- gotten himself so far. Of course that was the cause of Mr. Whitely's insanity V By this question Valentine perceived that sha did not know all; and, therefore, being most anxious not to throw any additional light upon VALENTINE VOX. sst _ sr.bject jrhich would tend to sink Raven in hei estimation, he replied that Whitely had never been insane, and, that he had been con- fined in a lunatic asylum by some person, who wislied to get him out of tne way : which was ijie fact. " Then it is not so dreadful," observed Louise, " IS it would have been had. he been driven to madness by that." "Of course not," said Valentine; "that would hava been a different thing altogether." " But oh ! you gentlemen, you gentlemen ! — you are terrible people ! But did Mr. Whitely treat her kindly?" " Upon my word, I don't know." " Perhaps not ; he might have been very un- kind to her; perhaps very harsh; and yet noth- ing could justify her conduct. She must have been bad. I am convinced that if she had not been, she never could have induced my father to bring upon us this dreadful calamity. But )vhat became of her'? It is a delicate question perhaps for me to put, but did you ever hap- pen to hear what became of her?" " Indeed I never did." " Perhaps she went over to America, taking the poor children with her." "Perhaps she did: but let us dismiss this painfnl subject. I have been thinkingj Louise, of a. certain matter to which it strikes me I never alluded before, but in deciding upon which you can render me very material assist- ance.'' " Indeed ! Then, I am sure that I shall be most happy to do so." " Your politeness is proverbial. Well, then : when do you think — I vvilJ put it in that form as being the least unintelligible — when do you think that that ought to be done which was to have been done on the first of the month?" "The first of the month? — Oh, indeed, my dear Valentine, we must not think of that." " But that happens to be the very thing of which I cannot help thinking !" " But — I — I don't — really I don't — we must wait till this sad affair is settled." " Why should we, my dearest ? Why should we wait for that ? We have nothing to do with the settlement of it." " My dearest love, pray do me the favor to say no more about it at present. It is useless, I find, to oppose you on any subject. You cheat me of every purpose. I really don't know how it is : but' no one else could ever do so '." The widow at this moment entered the room, and was agreeably surprised to see Valentine smiling. "I beg pardon, my dears," she observed, " I only came for my bag. Well, come !" she addied, gazing with pleasure at Louise. " Dear me, how much better you look ! Well, really now, what an extraordinary change !" And it is a fact well worthy of being placed on record, that the change' thus noticed was particularly striking. Louise looked herself again ; sadness disappeared ; her eyes sparkled with all their wonted brilUancy, and she felt that a heavy load of sorrow had been removed from her heart. And thus for hours she con- tinued to feel cheered by the aff'ectionate elo- 17 Y* quence of Valentine, who sat with her uiitil the widow turned him out of the room, deeming it quite inconsistent with her duty as a nurse to allow him to remain with her patioat any longer^' CHAPTER LX. VALEHTIME VISITS ASCOT RACES. Valentine was now unremitting in his atten- tion to Louise, whose spirits, by virtue of his enlivening influence, were, in a great degree, restored ; but nothing could shake the resolu- tion she had formed, not to fix another day for the celebration of their marriage until her father's unhappy^ affair had been privately ar- ranged, although, when a fortnight from the day of the discovery had elapsed, Whitely's consent to such an agreement had not been obtained. Uncle John, day by day, had endeavored to in- duce him to adopt the mode proposed, but in vain : he could not be, by any means, prevailed upon to yield : he had made up his mind to take the opinion of a certain distinguished member of the bar, who happened to be then out of town, but had promised that the moment he had obtained that opinion he would one way or the other decide. Now, it may not perhaps be improper to men- tion, that Llewellen, during the whole of this time, was a singularly miserable man. He felt wretched. His appetite was falling oS' fright- fully; and although- he was utterly unable to explain what was physiologically the matter, his feelings convinced him, that internally there was something uncommonly wrong. He ap- plied to the physician who attended Louise, but the physician, instead of prescribing, looked at him and smiled. He applied again: he drew him aside the very next time he called, and [jut out his tongue and held out his Wrist, and describ- ed the diagnosis of his complaint very pointedly, and then indeed, he had a prescription ; to take a run round his hat fifty times without stopping, and to repeat the dose five times a day, keep- ing his fore finger all the time stric ly upon the crown. And an e.vcellent prescriiitioii it was. It was, however, one which ^e thcmght might be dispensed with, although it did induce hini to believe that a little exercise of some sort might not prove pernicious. But then, what was he to do? He had no one to go out with! Valentine was constantly engaged with Louise. He could not go out alone ! he would not go out alone ; and the consequence was, that his case was getting daily worse arid worse. At length Louise, conceiving that a day's re- laxation would be of service to Valentine^ sug- gested the propriety of his having a rural stroU ; and as it happened, a strange and inscrutable coincidence, to be the Ascot race week, hb hinted to Llewellen that he did think it possible that he might go and see the cup run for. in which case he hojied to have the honor of his company. For some few seconds Llewellen could not believe that Valentine really meant this ; but when, as with a vivid flash of lightning; hewas 268 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF struck with the conviction that the thing in reality was as it was, he was in ecstasies, and ran about the room, and performed a variety of -extraordinary evolutions; some of which were- of a character strikingly original. "Is Louey coing tool" he inquired. " No, I cannot persuade her to do so." "Very Veil," said LleweUen, who was not at all sorry on this account, " phen to we co, my poy, phen are we to start?" " In the morning ; but as we have no convey- ance of our own, we must be off rather early." " As early as you please ! Well now t'coot- ness knows it, look you, this will pe peautiful ! Put how apout preakfast? Shall hur come as hur tit pefore V " That will be the better way." " Very well. And phot coat shall hur put on 1 Must hur CO in sporting style 1 Hur've cot top .poots and preeches." , " No, no ; go as you are." " Very coot," said Llewellen, to whom Val- entine's every word was law. "Very coot, hur'U pe retty. Inteet t'cootness now tnis is a plessing." And he absolutely felt it to be one, and that feeling prompted him to run about so -much, that he ate that day a respectable dinner. In the morning he awoke about four, and fearing that Jie might oversleep himself some- what, as he had to be with Valentine at half past eight, if he suffered his head to remain upon the piUow, he rose, and embellished him- self deliberately, and whistled like a lark, and sung severEil new songs, and then wended his way into the pantry, to see if any little article therein had the power to tempt him ; and hav- ing discovered a variety of things rather deli- cious, he laid a substantial foundation for a breakfast, and took his departure for the day. It was then nearly six ; and as he walked from street to street, he really couldn't tell ex- actly what to make of the silence that prevail- • ed. It struck him as being rather awful. He looked acutely up and down : not a soul could be seen : there he was, walking about with his hands in his coat pockets, a solitary individual in a wilderness of houses. He didn't like it. His intellects were, in some degree, confused. Was it a dream 1 Had all the people emigrated during the nighf? Was he in some deserted city? It all at once struck him that the people were not up yet; and when he looked round, he really didn't wonder at it. Presently he heard a few human beings singing, and the chorus he discovered to be strictly to this effect: " For we're all jolly good fellows, For we're all jolly good fellows, For we're all jolly good fellows ! — And so say all of us." But although he could hear them with a dis- tinctness which, to him, at that time, was pe- ctdiarly refreshing, he was unable to see them until he arrived at the corner of the next street, when he beheld four gentlemen coming towards him, arm in arm, with a striking irregularity of step, appearing to be very happy, but looking, indeed, very pale. ' Ah ! old fellow !" exclaimed one of these .gentleman, "how are you?" " How to you too?" said LleweUen, in retnm. " Come, tip us your fin, old fellow ( you^rs one of the right sort!" Hereupon tlie whqle party shook him cordially by the hand, wUkIi was very affectionate. " I say, is there any house open about here ?" " Well, inteet now, I think all the people are in pet, look you \" A loud burst of laughter immediately followed the announcement of this thought, whick, was very remarkable; but, as Llewellen inferred from sundry vague observations, which W reference to leeks and toasted cheese, and other purely unintelligible matters, that th-i genUemen were, to some extent, tipsy, hrf passed on, and the last he heard of them was an exceedingly loud declaration in song, thai they wouldn't go home till the morning. The fact of his having met with this interest- ing party, notwithstanding, relieved his mmd a little ; and as he walked on, a few sober per- sons appeared, some with baskets of tools, some with hods, rules, and spades; but the whole of them carried cotton handkerchiefs, containing something destined for the stomach; still, time seemed to move as if engaged in some politi- cal conversation, while walking arm in arm with a tortoise. *t At length' Llewellen, — which is really very singular, — found himself standing before the house in which Valentine dwelt; but the blinds were all down, no sign of life appeared.: the house could not have been in less of a bustle, had all the occupants been dead. He would not, however, then leave the street; he walked up and down whistling, until he saw the girl open the parlor shutters, when he knocked at the door, got into the house, went at once up to Valentine's room, was admitted, and wi4 happy. Valentine was not long dressing ; nor was it long when he had dressed, before they had breakfast; and when that had been disposed of satisfactorily, they started for the Railway terminus at Paddington, with the view of going by one of the early trains. On reaching this place, a train was just about to start, and im- ' mediately after they had entered one of the carriages, they were off at the rate of some considerable number of miles an hour. " Time," observed Llewellen, " must put his best foot forward, to keep up with us now." " He'll not allow himself to be beaten," re- turned Valentine. " Let us go at whatever rate we may, he'll be there as soon as we are." " T'cootness knows now that's very extraor- ■ tinary inteet, phen you come to reflect upon it, look you." "It is extraordinary, that while he goes at all paces, he should preserve, with perfect steadiness, his own pace still." " Ant will wait for uopottv.'' " Nor will he be hurried !" Llewellen was done. He tried very hard to come again, but failed, although he did not' entirely give the thing up until they had ar- rived at Slough. Here they alighted; but they had no sooner done so, than down came a pelt- ing shower of rain. "Hascot, sir ! — course, yer honor! — take yei there in no time ! — ^slap wehicle ! — ^hex'fenl VALENTINE VOX. 299 'oss ! — ride, sir-^ridb !"— exclaimed a number of extremely anxious persons, placing them- gelves before each other alternately, as if amonj^ them no question of preoedetice had been settled. " What's the fare V inquired Valentine, of one of the most forward. " A guinea an edd, sir ; ad no bistake at all about the haddibal." Valentine looked to windward; and as he saw at a glance the black cloud coming up, leaving all fair behind, he decided upon stand- ing under shelter for a time, during which the individual, whom he had addressed, came up and stated, confidentially, that he would take them both for a pound. This offer was not ac- cepted. The cloud passed over and the sun ^g'aJri shone brightly, when the fellow again approached and offered to take Ihenl for half- Et-crown a head ! conceiving, however, that the walk would do them much more good, they declined even this, and passed on. ' In due time they reached Windsor, where they stopped to have some slight refreshment, anci then started again ; and having enjoyeq their walk exceedingly, up that' delightful avenue, called Queen Anne's Drive, the course opened before them, and a brilliant scene it was. Llewellen's rapture was unbounded when he beheld it ; while Valentine had never seen anything to equal it in splendor. ' Having sufficiently dwelt upon the specta- cle at a distance, they drew near the course and viewed each attractive feature w^ith admi- ration. For some time Llewellen was dumb witfa'frtilhusiasm, but when they approached the Grand Strand, he let his tongue loose at btice, and it rattled away in Welsh with amaz- ing rapidity. It did, however, after the first eloquent burst, happen to strike him, that al- though the Welsh language was beautifully 'flowing, and, moreover, comprehensively ex- Lpressive, it was rather unintelligible to those who knew nothing at all about it; and this idea had the effect of inducing him to descend into that which he was unable to speak with equal force arid purity. For some considerable time they promenaded the course, studying — and it was, indeed, amus- ing, as well as instructive, to study — the distin- guishing points which mark those who move in each social sphere, from the highest to the lowest — from that of royalty to that of beggai'y. '.' Well, inteet," observed Llewellen, " phot a horse-racing nation this is, look you !" "it .is the first in the world, certainly; but we must not suppose that the whole of these persons are here with the view of seeing the races solely." " No, inteet % Phot pesites too they come for?" " The great majority to see and to be seen by each other. They themselves form the principal attraction." "Then, look you, it must pe py their own attraction they are attracted ! " "Very good, I don't know that we shall make anything better of it." " All the worlt comes pecause all the worit comes," added Llewellen, who then rt'ally did think that he had dune very well. The horses entered for the first race now appeared, and Valentine and Llewellen at once made their way towards them, for the purpose of seeing them saddled. They experienced, however, some slight difficulty here, for hun- dreds were rushing at the same moment with the view of seeing the same ceremony per- formed. They did, however, eventually, by dint of perseverance, manage to get to the point proposed ; and the sight of the highly-trained beautiful creatures, that seemed to be anxious to exhibit their symmetry and action to the best possible advantage, well repaid them for the temporary inconvenience of a rush. At various points groups of sharp-featured, hard-mouthed, sporting individuals, were en- gaged in giving and taking the odds, with as much profound earnestness as if, indeed, bet- ting not only formed the principal business of their lives, but the only great object for which they had been born. It was pleasant to behold the sensation created by the appearance of a rich and inexperienced young fellow, as he ap- proached these acute old characters. They eyed him, and wriggled round and round him, apparently bent upon seaiching his very soul to ascertain in what way it was possible to take him fairly in. It was evident that they viewed it as a general commercial matter, and as they all seemed most anxious to do' business, Valen- tine, making his voice appear to proceed from the lips of a likely-looking personzige, ciied •" Fifty to one agai'nst the saint !" "Done, my lord, in thousands!" cried one of the sharpest, producing his book on the in- stant. " I'll take you, my lord," said another. "I'll take you over again,'' cried a third; and his lordship, on being thus suddenly beset, looked at them as m}-steriously as possible. " Is it to be in thousands, my lord I" inquired the person who had first addressed him; and who had already half entered the bet. "Is what to be in thousands'?" demanded his lordship. ' ' Why, the fifty to one your lordship offered." " I never offered fifty to one." " Beg pardon, my lord ; but really I fancied — indeed I^-some gentleman offered that bet !" when, as they certainly were, under the cir- cumstances, wonderful odds, he looked round with extraordinary sharpness for him who had offered to give them. By this time one horse only remained to be saddiled for the Castle stakes, and he was in- deed a noble animal, and seemed actually to know it. His owner was standing by his side, apjjarently lost in admiration of his beauty, while the little old jockey, who had adjusted the saddle upon his own bapk, as if he intended to mount himself, was twisting about, and looking knowingly at every point, as if powerfully struck with an idea that he should win. •" I'll bet a hundred to one against that horsej'' cried Valentine. " He's sure to be last." "What, my oss! I'U take you!" cried the little old jockey, turning' round with astonishiDgi 280 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF prompiirade and spirit, while the owner of the animal looked at him from whom the voice Beamed to proceed, with aa expression of inef- fable contempt. This person was a farmer, and one who would not have offered any such odds; and he said so distinctly, and with consummate point, as the jockey observed, that if he meant any- thing, he had better then put his money down. This threw the innocent farmer into a state of perspiration, which poured upon a gentleman who sat under the rail, bobbing at a cherry with unspeakable delight. / The horse was now saddled; and when the jockey had mounted, they all repaired to the starting-post at once. Although it was not the grand race, great anxiety prevailed : it was manifest that thousands upon thousands of pounds had been staked upon the issue even of that. " Hux say, my poy, every potty's petting," said Ilewellen; "can't we have a petl" " Why, I think we might manage even that," replied Valentine. "Well, phot shall it pe?" "Oh, anything you please; I am not at all particular." " Very coot. Hur'U pet you the pest tinner to pe hat, that the horse that was last sattled wins." " Very well," returned Valentine, " let it be so. He ought to win; that seems quite clear: but a race is not invariably won by the best horse," " Phot, ton't you think the jockeys will win, if they can V "Undoubtedly they will, if they can get more by winning than by losing." " Tear now, t' cootness, are they not to pe trusted V " There are but few of them whom / should feel at all inchned to trust. Human nature, as we find it developed in jockeyism, certainly is not quite perfect." " Put, look you, if one of those fellows were to keep a horse pack, wouldn't he therepy lose his character V " Oh, not at ail ; he may struggle with despe- ration; he may apparently do his utmost to urge the horse on, and get applauded for doing his utmost, without allowing him to win." " Phy^ then, it all depends upon the jockey !" " Entirely, if he be on the best horse ; he has the power in his own hands ; and prizes are sometimes afloat, too brilliant to be resisted by even the honor of a jockey." " Then, look you, when we pet upon a race, we in reality pet upon the honor of the fellow who happens to rite the pest horse !" " Precisely. It amounts Ijut to that." All was now ready ; the course was clear ; the signal was given, and the horses were off. "Here they come; here they come !" shouted the mass. " Hats off, there, hats off! — Hurrah ! — Go along ! — Cut away ! — Now ! now ! now ! Blue lor a million ! — Stripe ! Fly ! — ^There's a pace ! — Now, then ! — Beautiful ! — In to him ! ,r— Out and out ! — Bravo !" The race was decided, and the next moment III un the course knew which had won. The excitement was no sooner raised than subduea The thing was over in a minute. No specion of pleasure can be of itself more fleeting, thaii that of a race. The horses are off; they pass, they are in ! — the eye can scarcely rest upoji them before the issue is known. "Well, my poy," said Llewellen, "hur've cot to stant the tinner. To you think that little wretch tit his pest ?" " He appeared to do all in his power." " Well, perhaps he tit, look you; put t'coot- ness knows it now — hur tit think that he titn't. But come along; shall we have tinner now. or phen V "Oh, not yet! Let us wait until after the cup race, and then we can take our own lime." "Very coot: yes, that will pe petter. But hur say, my poy, let's co into one of those pooths, and win some money." " Let us go in and lose some, you mean, of course." " Phot, don't they play fair?" " Upon my wori I'd not undertake to prove that they do ; but if you do play, you had bet- ter, at once, make up your mind to lose." " Well, it won't matter much if hur too losea litUe." " But why do you want to play at all? You have plenty of money; quite as much as you want : you have no use for more. But you are certain to lose." " Well, never mind : Hur'll only lose' a sovereign ; a sovereign is nothing !" " Fred," said Valentine, pointing to a poor withered heartbroken creature, who seenied to have travelled far to beg, but knew scarcely how to do it, for she had evidently seen more prosperous days, " would a sovereign be con- sidered nothing there?" Llewellen drew his purse, and having taken out a sovereign, placed it in the hand of the poor old creature, who looked at it, and then looked at him, and then burst into tears. From her soul she seemed to bless him, but she had not the power of utterance then. " Will not that do more good than if you had given it to those swindlers?" said Yalenline. ■ " Hur feel it will," replied Llewellen, " huj feel it will. Put hur say, my poy, let's co in only to look." "Oh, by all means! All I object to is the encouragement giveu to such pernicious scoun- drels!" "Phot, are they all soountrels, look you?" "There's not a commonly honest man amongst them. They have no honor to Jieep them honest ; in fact, they know nothing of the feeling of honor !" "Then they must pe pat (ellows, pecausa they want put to pe poor, to pe retty for plunter." "They' profess to be as honest as they can afford to be, Fred, which has a most compre- hensive meaning. Well, it matters not, I sup- pose, which we go into : let us go into this." They accordingly entered, and found eveiy- thing arranged in brilliant style : the place was elegantly festooned; the ground was carpeted; there was a table on either side,, and one at the top, while a temporary side-board stood neal the entrance, on which there were sheriyi VALENTINE VOX. 261 eJiampagne, soda-water, and brandy, for those {(layers who might descend to call for a glass iH£ either gratis. On each table an immense amount of money appeared: piles of notes, twaps of gold, and imperial pecks of silver : but as the upper appeared to be the principal table, they made their way to it at once. The person who presided at this table was one of those excessively amiable creatures who appear to have no real enemy but the law. His countenance was screwed into an inflexible grin ; every muscle appeared to be at its utmost jBti'etch. Men laughed when they looked at him — ^laughed when they lost: he defied them -to help it — he would make them laugh. Had he picked their pockets in the most literal man- ner, they could scarcely have felt offended with the man ; while, if even they had given him in charge, he would have made the police laugh too heartily to hold him. Valentine watched him for a time with some interest, for he found him to possess — although he did grin perpetually — the keenest eye to business he ever beheld ; and as he could not help wishing to a.scertaia if it were possible to make him look serious, he made up. his mind, having no great respect for the profession, to try. " Nou<, my leetle roley poley," cried, the pre- siding genius — his custom always when he sent round the ball — " off agin, my little hinnocent ! — there's a leetle beauty! — make yer game, genelmen's sons! — ^make yer game !'"' •' Hush !" cried Valentine, with a desperate hiss, which he dexterously sent beneath the table. " Hul-lo !" in a, sweet tone, exclaimed the laughing creature. " Bless yer leetle heart ! Are you ony there? — nothink more? Veil, come now, that's worry reasonable at the price 1 say, Bill, my affectionate ! — here's ony a hin- ^di^idual which is anxious for you to take him . by the scruff (^f the neck, and to shy him bang out of the booth." ;- "Varel" cried the affectionate Bill, whose -.general aspect, was not quite so amiable as that of his friend. " Vare is e V ; " Qh, ony under- the table here ! apd nothink less." " Hunder the table !" cried the affectionate, darting round with something like ferocity. "Don't go for to wring the blessed neck of the genelman : don't mercycree him, not by no manner off means." " Hullo, I say !" cried the affectionate, peer- ing beneath the table with remarkable acute- ness; "now, hout o' that, will yer? — vortd'yer TO.-]- 1 there?" " Hush !" whispered Valentine ; " hush !" " Ony a kipple !" exclaimed the laughing genius, "and no more !" - " Vort d'yer mean I" cried the affectionate Bill, who now got completely under the table, and looked about him with praiseworthy zeal. "Vy, there's no coves here!" he added, ad- dressing his friend. " Aint there ! I des say there aint. No, praps I didn't hear 'em ! No, it aint a bit likely I did ! How unforVnate I'm deaf!" "I tell yer,. it's pickles !" cried the affection- ate Bill. " There aint nobody here. Can't yer believe me J Look verself." " Not if I know it. What, don't you see th« dodge? Dqn't you see, if I was for to take my leede eyes off the tin, their pals wouldn't p'raps borrow a trifle? Oh, no! I donH s'pose they would." "Carn't yer kiver it up?" cried the affec- tionate. " Keep close ! — keep close !" whispered Val- entine. " There aint no one there, you think, don't you?" cried the genius, and in an instant his affectionate friend resumed his search, while he himself kept rather a keen eye upon the specie, expecting every moment an attack upon the bank. But the affeolionate certainly could see no one there ! — not a soul ! — which was in- deed somewhat striking, &nd he said so, point- edly, and without the slightest fear of contra- diction, and he felt himself, in consequence, iuslified in declaring that there, was no one there, which, however, failed to shake the con- viction of his friend, who intimated boldly that he wouldn't believe him if even he were to swear till he sweat. " Do you think," he added, with an ironical grin, " that you'll go for to gammon me into that air I I'm hinnocent, I know, but 1 wasn't born yesterday, exactly." Valentine now introduced a remarkably slight chuckle, which, slight as it was, caused the laughing genius to come at once to a deci- sion. " I'll see after you now, my leetle dar- lings!" said he, as he gathered up the cloth with which the table was covered, to render the bank more secure. " Til see what you'ro made on, and no mistake in any indiwidual pint. Now," he added, -^after havmg made all safe, "let's see the color q^ your complection." He stooped, and looked round the interior, with one fist duly prepared for the delivery of an extraordinary blow, and one foot just as ready for the prompt administration of an equally extraordinary kick. But where were they for whom these favors were designed ? He really couldn't see them ! — he couldri't see one of them, — not even one ! He wished he could ; and if he had, the immediate conse- quences to that one — lf>t him have been whom- soever he might — would in all probability have been unpleasant. "Where are you, my darlings?" he inquired, in the most insinuating manner. " Ony say ! I shall, indeed, be worry happy to see you ! I'm sorry you should cut your little interesting sticks." "'Vale, can you see 'em?" spitefully de- manded the affectionate. "Not exact. Praps I wouldn't give a small trifle if I could. How they managed their luckies though, cert'ny, gets over me a leetle above a bit." " They couldn't do it !" cried the affection- ate. " How could they go for to get out if they was in ?" "That's the peticular dodge as walks over me, rayther. Howsoever, the hinnocents aint here now ! — that's about as clear as mud ! — still the go's oncommon. But never mind : I've ony lost the pleasure off lettmg 'em know that T wouldn't have given 'em imthink by no 202 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF means. But, to business," he added, readjust- ing the cloth. "Now, genelmen's sons, make yer game ' — make yer game ! Here's fortun at yer feet, and you've ony got for to pick it up — make yer game!" During the whole of this time, the shining countenance of the genius presented one im- mutable grin. A frown never came over it for an instant : not a cloud even approached it -^a fact which went far to induce Valentine to suppose that his face was incapable of any other expression than that of unadulterated glee. He was not, however, quite convinced of this, and therefore, in order that he might not, on a point of so much importance, enter- tain a false impression, he resolved te bring the matter once more to the test. The genius was still actively engaged with the ball, lavishing upon it the most endearing eulogia, and making it abundantly clear to all around that he appreciated highly its innocence and beauty. Nor was this unnatural. He was winning very fast, and the stakes were rather heavy, and as it strangely enough happened that the more he won, the more rapturous he became, he had just attained the highest pitch of ecstasy, when Valentine sent beneath the table an extraordinary laugh. "Hullo!" cried the genius, who kicked out fiiriously, and by virtue of doing so injured his shin. "Bill, coTTie here ! Here they are again ! Ony let me jist ketch 'em, the warmint !" His countenance fell! — This was not to be borne. He was reaping a harvest of plunder, and his time might be valued at ten pounds per minute. It was cutting. He couldn't bear it ; and as the laughter still continued, his rage rose to a high pitch of frenzy. No endear- ing terms were applied to the invisibles then : they were no longer darlings — no longer little innocents: he no longer blessed their little hearts; but on the contrary, his epithets proved to all around that, like the rest of his patronized caste, he was a most depraved ruffian ; when, as Valentine was more especially satisfied Of this, he and Llewellen left the booth, duly im- pressed with the conviction of its being mon- strous that the practices of these degraded wretches should be so extensively encouraged. During the time' they were in this den of "honorable" thieves, the second race had been run; they therefore established themselves in a, commanding position to see the grand race af the day. In this all the interest appeared to be centred. Thousands were waiting the issue with an anxiety the most intense ; and although thousands more cared but little about which might be the winner, it was the grand race, and that was sufficient to rivet the atten- tion of all. "Well, my poy !" said Llewellen, "let us have another pet : Come, hur'll pet you a pottle of wine." "About what?" " Oh, anything you please. Hur ton't know one of the horses. Come, how is it to pe?" " Why, one of us had better take the two first horses against the field." " Very vrell ! Which shall have the first 1" " Oh, it matters not ! You take them." " Very coot ! Now look out : the two lin* are mine." The horses started. It was an excellent start.- They were all off together, and seemed to fly; It was a long and most beautiful race,' and beJ ing on all hands admirably contesteaj4he ex- citement was well kept up till the last. • Tiia favorite Won by half a length, and when the result became known, it was interesting to disj criminate between the winners and the losers. Sunshine on the one hand, and clouds on the other, marked those of each class with unerr- ing distinctness. It seemed to be impossible to make a mistake. , No man could suppose that they who sported heavy overhanging; brows and compressed lips, were the winners'; or that they were the losers who looked round and smiled. Some, it is true, can bear to lose better than others ; for there are men who can- not lose to the extent even of a pound without feeling remarkably wretched ; but although there are many who make a point- of kindling up their countenances, in order to make it appear when they lose that they feel jusf ' as joyful as if .they had won, the amiable hy- pocrisy is perceptible at a glance, so sure are they to overdo the thing with a smile which is truly expressive of nothing but pain. Valentine lost of course, but his loss was so inconsiderable that he scarcely gave it a thought; yet even he did not appear to be so. highly pleased quite as Llewellen: for although it is possible for a man to avoid the expression of pain when he loses, he cannot avoid ex- pressing pleasure when he wins. As soon as the excitement produced by the race had subsided, Llewellen became impadent for dinner, and as his importunities increased in earnestness every moment, they entered' a booth in which various kinds of provisions were displayed in the most tempting manner pos- " Now, my poy," said Llewellen, " pefore we pekin, too let's have a pottle of peer, for inteet cootness knows it, hur feel fit to trop." A botde of stout was therefore obtained, and while Llewellen was whetting his appetite with that, Valentine ordered the dinner of an ex- tremely fat fussy attendant, who obviously prided himself much upon his agility. It ap- peared that he had never learned to walk : ruil he could with any man in England of his size; but he was clearly afraid to trust himself out of a trot. His pace was about eight miles an hour, and out of that pace, when in motion, it was manifestly impossible for him to get. When called, he seemed starded: his legs were shocked: they could no more have kept still when a man shouted " Waiter !" than they could if they had been at the moment power- fully galvanized. He was, in short, one of the mostperfect pieces of mechanism everproduced in the shape of a man ; while the state of ex- citement in which he revelled was, in the ab- stract, distressing. While dining, Valentine watched the extra- ordinary movements of this automaton with a high degree of pleasure. It was the first of the speciesne had ever seen, for a regular waiter is a different thing altogether. There is Utfis VALENTINE VOX. •bout him to excite admiration. He is all Ktaich and method. When sober he seems to know exactly what he is about. Nothing can get him into a run: he wouldn't do it to save the soul of any man upon earth. But here was one of the " occasional" hands, whose assiduity is at all times striking. They can no more be got to walk, than the " regulars" can be got to run, wherein lies the difference between the two classes. No sboner had Valentine brought his mind to bear upon this highly impressive distinction, than an over-dressed personage marched into the booth with a rather remarkable degree of pom- posity, and having looked very severely upon all around, took his seat with an immense air, removed his hat, of which the shape was rather recherche, adjusted his ' ourls, raised his stock, and called " Waiter !" The occasional on the instant flew to him, as if a flash of forked lightning had been pricking him behind,, and rather trembled to behold the immense one who, as he frowned, said with much regal dignity, " Waiter ! or — er, bring me some lunch." " Weal an am sir, chicken sir beef roast an tiled?" " Well-or-mi! bring me a dish of ham an beef. And-or — " he added with great deliberation, waving his hand with theatrical elegance — " You may-or — " He was about to say more, but the occasional was out of sight, and had tliey both kept on, by the time the one had finished, the other might with ease have got a mile or two below the horizon. As the occa- sional, however, had not so far to go, he soon shot back with the dish of ham arid beef that had been ordered, and when the great man had given another order for some stout, he set to work with considerable spirit. It was then five o'clock-^a fact which would not, perhaps, have been placed upon record, but for the circumstance of the individual iii question having called for a " lunch" — and as Valentine thought that he did not look much like a man who had been in the habit of dining at eight, he felt curious to know whether that dish of nam and beef was or was not to be in reality his dinner. But then the question was, how could this knowledge be got at : how could the interesting fact be ascertained ? Valentine considered for a momentj and having conceived a scheme which he imagined would be effectual, he re- solved to embrace the first opportunity for carrying it into execution. * By this time the immense one had about half emptied the dish, and as the occasional was assiduously hovering near him, Valentine, imitating the voice of the pompous personage, who at the moment was raising a glass of stout to his lips, cried, " Waiter ! take away, waiter ! •—cheese !" In an instant the occasional seized the dish and plate, and before the immense one, who was drinking, could speak, he had reached the other end of the booth, and shot the contents of both into a bucket of kitchen-stuff. " Waiter 1 waiter!" shouted the immense one, half choked, for the last gulp of stout had been excessively violent; — " Waiter !" " Comin, sir ! — comin, sir !" cried the occa- sional, who shot back at once with a small slice of cheese. " What do you mean, waiter, by taking away my dinner before I'm half done ?" " I beg pardon, sir, really sir, I thought sir, you told me." " Told you !— Not a bit of it !— Bring it back instantly ! — What do you mean?" Bring it back 1 The utterance of these awful words made the occasional look unspeakably blue. Bring it back ! It was all very well; but liow was he to get it ? He wasn't going to pay out of , his own pocket for half a dish of fresh ! A thought struck him ! — He glided like a sound substantial sylph towards the bucket and fished the pieces out, and having scraped them into cleanliness, he placed them pictu- resquely upon the dish, and then did " bring it back" with great presence of mind. "Another time, waiter," said the immense one, " remove not a gentleman's plate till he is done ;" and having delivered himself with some striking dramatic action to this effect, he re- commenced operations, and appeared to enjoy it much. Valentine was now of course satisfied on the particular point propos.ed ; but the actor — for an actor he evidently was — continued to behave in so ridiculous a fashion, that had Valentine met with him in any other place, he would doubtless have worked, him into a high state of frothy excitement. " Garshong !" cried the great one, when the ham and beef had wholly disappeared. " Gar- bhong!'" he repeated, being anxious to make a hit, as there were several persons near him — " Garshong !" The occasional heard him, but conceiving very naturally that some other gentleman had been called, he of course did not feel it to be his duty to interfere. " Waitor !" at length shouted the immense one, disgusteil with the fellow's profound igno- rance of the French language — " Some frum- midire here !^-cheese !" '■Yes, sir, beg pardon, sir; cheese, sir, and what else?" " Nothing, you unintelleotual individual,',^ replied the great man, who looked round for some applause ; but to his horror, he " hadn't a hand." When, therefore, the cheese had been produced, he set to work upon it at once in a somewhat savage manner, which Valea- tine no sooner perceived, than assuming his voice, and making it appear to proceed from his lips, he cried, " Waitor ! a bottle of the best champagne !" The occasional started off at a rate which rather exceeded his usual eight miles an hour, to execute this order, and on his return very naturally placed it before the great one, who seemed somewhat struck. "Waitor, what's this?" he demanded. " Champagne, sir." " I want it not ; why bring it here ?" " You ordered it, sir." 964 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF "-Fellow ! what do you mean'? I ordered it not." • • " I'd be sorry to say, sir, you did, if you didn't." " Am I to inform your master of your inso- lence T Away with it. Do you hear!" •'' Beg pardon, sir, but I've paid for it. I'm SMeedged to pay for everything as I has 'em." " And what's that to me ? Let me have no more of it, I desire." "Very well, sir; only you ordered it, sir, that's all. I shouldn't have brought it if you hadn't." "Waiter!" cried Valentine, in his natural voice. "Yes, sir," said the occasional, who ap- proached rather gloomily. "What have you there'? — gooseberry wineT" " Champagne, sir : the best in the world." "It is good'?" "Excellent, sir! the finest ever made." " Then open it." ; With all the alacrity in life, the occasional drew the cork, and as he evidently felt much better, he was off for another glass like a shot. - The immense one now prepared to make his exit. He did not appear to feel happy. The production of the champagne had unsettled him somewhat, but having made up his noble mind to leave with eclat, he cried, " Waiter ! now then, what's the damage ?" '• " Am an beef, sir, cheese, sir, bread, bottle ^tout — seven an six." "What!" exclaimed the great one, inspired with amazement. ■ " Seven an six, sir," repeated the occasional, coolly. * " Seven and sixpence ! Seven and six ! What, for a lunch'?" "That's the charge, sir, for what you've had." "WTiy, they never charged me seven and sixpence for a lunch at the Clarendon !" "Werry like, sir; some stablishments cuts Hverry low; but, sir, we gives the best of eve- rythink here." -, "Extortionate ! seven shillings and sixpence for a lunch! Why, I never in my life heard of so gross an imposition." "It aint a imposition, sir. It's nothink but the reg'lar charge." " Silence, sir ! don't talk to me ! I say it is an imposition — a vile imposition ! The idea of seven and sixpence for a lunch ! There's the money. I'll post you all over the course." The waiter took up the silver, which had been thrown down with great indignation, and having counted it slowly three times, looked with singular significance at the victim. " Well ! why look at me '? ■ Is it right V "Seven an' six, sir. Waiter^ sir, please." "Not the ghost of a copper, if I know it." "We has nothink, sir, ony what we gets," urged the occasional; but the immense one, contemning this powerful argument in favor cif a gratuity, frowned darkly, and marched fiom the booth. "He is some creat man, I suppose," said Llewellen, who had been watching his move- ments for some time with interest. "No doubt," returned Valentine, "in hjf own estimation he is the greatest man of the age." " Putt is he no potty inteet ? Ton't you think he's a gentleman, look you V "Did you ever see a gentleman act liko him 1 — But come, let us be off, or we shall lose the last race." "Very coot, hur'm quite ready.'' The waiter was called, and when they had settled with him to his entire satisfaction, they returned to the course full of spirit. All but the last race had been decided, and Valentine began to amuse himself again by offering the most extraordinary odds upon record. The betting men were perfectly amazed. They perspired with anxiety to take the odds offered, but their utter inability to discover him whom they so eagerly panted to victimize, was a thing which they could not at all understand, and which therefore created a singular sensation. To Llewellen all this was uninteresting, of course. Had he been in possession of Valen- tine's secret, his rapture would doubtless have been rather alarming ; but being in a state of utter ignorance on the .subject, he naturally held it to be extremely dull work, and there- fore endeavore(V to prevail upon him to min- gle with those who seemed somewhat more lively. Valentine consented, and as there weie yet no symptoms of an immediate start, he proceeded to initiate him into the variotiB systems of swindling which characterize race- courses in the aggregate. Llewellen was abso- lutely astounded when practices, of which he had never had the most remote conception, were explained, and when Valentine had pointed out to him divers illustrations of the truth of what he had stated, he began to look upon all who thus permitted themselves to be victimized as fools, although on many occasions he found it difficult to abstain from becoming a victim himself. This was made more particnlarly rnanifest while they were standing at a "prick in the garter" table, at which a gentleman had a long piece of list, which he wound round and offered any money that no man could prick in the middle. This seemed to be simple, very simple, indeed, and the gentleman who pre- sided labored zealously to convince all around that, althouffh he would bet all he had that none could do it, his private impression was, that nothing on earth could more easily be done. Several gentlemen — who were perfectly unknown to him of course! — tried and won divers sovereigns off hand, which had the effect of inducing Llewellen to beheve that the con- ductor was most intensely stupid, and ought not to have been trusted out alone, and so firmly did he entertain this belief, that he pitied the man, and was about to stake a sove- reign himself solely in order to convince him that, as he had not the most remote chance of winning, he had better shut up shop and go quietly home to his wife and family ; but Va- lentine, tK e moment he perceived Llewellen'* object, did, without the slightest ceremony, drag him away. The next respectable group they met with, had been attracted by a thimble-rigging gentle* VALENTINE VOX. 265 «Ban, who seemed to have set his soul upon losing every sovereign he had — and he dis- played about forty — so bungling and awkward he appeared. In Llewelleii's view he didn't half juiderstand his business. It was perfectly riaicUiOus to suppose a man incapable of dis- t»vering the pea; an infant might have told where if was ; the only thing which seemed to him to be extraordinary was, that a man with eyes in his head should be sufficiently blind to make any mistake at all about it. The thing was so palpable, so singularly clear: the im- possibility of being deceived was manifest even to the meanest capacity. " Why, my poy !" said Llewellen, " can't you tell pliere it is every time V - " Yes," replied Valentine, " I can tell, but you can't." " Pless your soul ant potty ! Hur'll pe pount \o tell ninty-nine times out of a huntret." " Where do you suppose it to be now V ".Why, under the mittle thimple, of course." " It is not under either of the thimbles ; de- -liend upon it, Fred, the fellow has it in his hand." " Putt, my dear poy, hur saw him place the ihimple right over it." " He appeared to do so : but as he placed the thimble down he took the pea up : he has it now between his fingers, and were he to raise the one nearest to us, he could make it appear to have been under that." Llewellen held this to be impossible, and be- gan to argue the matter aside with great spirit. He contended for the absurdity of the idea of a fellow like that being able to deceive him, and expressed himself anxious to haye one trial for the sole purpose of convincing Valentine of his error. "How strange it is," said Valentine, "that men will not be guided by the experience of others." " Putt, my coot fellow, in such a case as this, it is only my own experience that tan satisfy me that vrhat you conceive to be correct, really is so. Shall hur try? — Just to convince you?" Valentine smiled, and Llewellen took a sove- reign out of his purse and went close to the table. It was in an instant perceived that he had been caught, and the thimbles were ad- justed, when, with the most perfect confidence, he threw down his sovereign, but on raising the thimble beneath which he felt quite sure the pea was, he discovered, as a mere matter of course, that beneath that thimble the pea really was not. On this highly important discovery being made, the respectable individuals who were ■ Standing round the table began to laugh very loudly, as if, indeed, they looked upon it as an extremely good joke; but Llewellen, after hav- ing made a series of mysterious faces, while he yet held the thimble between his finger and thumb, made no sort of remark upon this gene- ral manifestation of merriment, but left the spot with Valentine, wiser than before. " You are right, ray poy, quite right,'' said he. ' t'oootness knows h! Putt phy tit they laugh so particularly phen hur tost? Phen the others lost they titn't laugh at all !" "No, the others were confederates; each has a share of the profits of the speculation; they have nothing to laugh at when they win or lose among themselves ; they laugh only when they happen to catch a gudgeon like you, Fred, and that they should laugh at such a time is not amazing." " Well, inteet, now hur never was pe'bre so much teceived. Hur was as sure that that little fool of a thing was there, as hur ever was of anything in my life. Putt, however, they will have to kit up very early in the morning inleet, to kit anything like another sovereign out of me." " You have made up your mind, then, not to patronize them regularly ?" " Never more, my poy — never more," said Llewellen, who after having shaken his head with sufficient solemnity to convey an idea of the firmness of his resolution, became as mer- ry on the subject as if he had merely seen the process performed upon some other victim. The horses were now about to start for the last race, and the friends took their station. They had another bet, of course ; Llewelleii would have a bet, for as they had made up their minds to walk back to the railway, he suggest- ed the propriety of stopping to have one more bottle of champagne at Windsor, and coffee at Slough, which suggestion was unopposed, and the race commenced, and it singularly enough happened to be as much like all other races as possible. The horses started ; they ran the dis- tance, and on reaching the winning-post one was ahead. It is inscrutable, perhaps, that this should be invariably so ; but that it is so invariably, is a fact which no man may dispute. Immediately after the termination of this race, all around became one scene of bustle and confusion. Thousands of horses were put to simultaneously, and every creature seemed anxious to quit the scene as soon as possible. Had a hostile army appeared . in the distance they could not have been in more eager haste to retreat, while each charioteer seemed to have made up his mind to break the necks of all under his immediate protection. Valentine and Llewellen walked coolly from the course, noticing everything worthy of no- tice, and, accompanied by thousands, reached Windsor, where they stopped, as they had pre- viously proposed. They then went on to Slough, and alter having had coffee, returned to town by one of the trains, highly delighted with their day's recreation. CHAPTER LXI. DESCEIBPS SEVERAL INTEEVIEWS, BUT MOKE PAB- TICULAKLY ONE BETWEEN WKITALL AND RATEH. Another week elapsed, and nothing had been decided. Whitely, who had resolved not to act in any way until he had taken the opin- ion of Sergeant Talbot, was waiting for the ser- geant's arrival in town, although Uncle John urged him again and again to delay the thing no longer, but to take the best advice he could immediately procure. In the mean time, Ra- 266 LIFE AND ADVENTUEES OF Ten confined himself almost exclusively to his room. His spirits continued to be dreadfully depressed, and he had become so excessively peevish, tliat the servants absolutely trembled to go near him. He had never bees a very uffectionate master, and they knew it ; but the way in which he treated them then was in their view insufferable beyond all precedent ! and it was very harsh. There was, however, one of them to whom he was particularly mild, and that was Joseph, the sentimental porter, whose comprehensive faculties, Valentine, who viewed him as a most superb hypocrite in his way, had ever gloried in distressing. Eaven's conspicuous kindness to this fellow had always appeared to be inex- plicable. No one in the house could at all un- derstand -why he should be petted, — for petted he had ever been, albeit he was a most decided wretch in appearance, and remarkably insolent if he happened to be put at all out of his way. His fellow-servants hated him heartily, foras- much as they did very strongly suspect him of having on sundry occasions told divers abomi- nable tales about them, with the view of de- precating their value as confidential individuals in their master's estimation ; but they never did hate him so intensely as then, for while Raven's special behavior to him was rendered by con- trast more striking, he had become a great man, and boasted not only of the money he possessed, but of the. fact of his having a certain person under his thumb ! which they held to be very mysterious, particularly as he often conde- scended to explain to them, that he might if he chose, have the best place in the house, and would, but that the one he then occupied af- forded him more leisure for reflection. All this was intended exclusively for the kitchen, but it soon reached the ears of Louise through her maid, who conceived it to be her duty on all occasions to be as communicative as possible, and the moment she heard of it, it became known to Valentine of course, for he and Louise were nov^ as one : they lived in each other's hearts: they seemed to have but one soul, and while in him she found a perfect realization of her dearest hopes, he loved her 80 fondly that " If Heaven had made liim Bueh another world Of one entire and perfect chryaolile, He'd not have sold her for it." "It is very extraordinary," she observed, after explaining the whole matter, "is it not I What on earth can he mean by his boast of having a certain person under his thumb ?" "Oh, servants will talk," said Valentine, •who was anxious for Louise to think nothing more of it. " We ought not to examine such matters too closely ; it were indeed a most un- profitable task to analyze everything ihey •ay." " But whom can he mean by a certain per- son 1 Surely, he cannot mean papa? And yet the way in which papa behaves usually to him has frequently struck me as being most strange. I cannot endure the creature myself; I never by any chance speak to him ; but papa is con- tinually leaking the man presents. Upon my life, I think there is something very mysterious ibout it." "vDo not distress yourself, my loire,'' sauf Valentine. "The probability is that the man knew the secret which hasjuslbeen discldsed,' and presumed upon it, as such fellows willi* but now that the thing is no longer a secret, Hi. power is of course at an end." -' "That was it! — no doubt of it. Well, now,* it never struck me. I have always thought it singular that he should have been treated with so much consideration; but this ftccounts for it at once." "If I were your father I'd kick him oiit of the house. I'd not have such a fellow about * the premises." " Nor would I ; for he is a very idle person, and moves like a sloth, except indeed it be to promote any species of^ mischief. I'll speak to papa arbout him. I should like to have the matter cleared up." "You had better not mention the subject to him at present. It will but annoy liim. Let us wait till things are settled." " Well, perhaps under the circumstances it will be as well to do that. But I do think il very bad conduct, and I am sure it ought not to be concealed from papa." Valentine now changed the subject, fni although he affected to treat (he thing lighlly ' before Louise, he felt that the mystery had (lot yet been solved, and that therefore it was a matter upon which she ought not to be per- mitted to dwell. A few days after this, Sergeant Talbot re- turned to town, and Whilely lost no time in going to consult him. He explained to him how the case stood precisely: every circum- stance was mentioned : he kept notliing back,;, and the result was that the sergeant, after due consideration, declared that there was no law in existence by which Raven could be reached, "He is, in fact," said he, "shielded by the law. It is his panoply ; it affords him the most complete protection. It is of course disgrace- ful that it should be bo ; but the law, as it at present stands, Mouis a man to incarcerate another, however sane, under the plea of insa- nity. It protects him in the act ; no malice can be shown, and if even it could, the signa. tures of the medical men exonerate him ; their certificate is his indemnity, and they are in- demnified in turn by the law, which assumes that at the time such certificate was signed, the victim was, in their judgment, insane. For this, then, you have no redress ; and as far as regards the collateral villanies — the seduction of your wife, the disposition of your property, and so on — you are not in a position to adduce a single particle of proof; you have not the slightest evidence to bring forward ; not a wit- ness; not a document of any kind to show. My advice to you, therefore, under the circum- stances, is to come to an arrangement with thi» person, and make the bfst terms you can." " But is it not," said Whitely, " a duty I owe to society to expose such a villain V " It may be ; but have yoti the power to do it? And if you have, can you afford to do it t These are two highly important question* to be considered. An attempt to expose him effectually would in all probability cost five hundred pounds ; and if you failed in that VALENTINE VOX. 267 •ttenipt-.-and fail you most assuredly would — you would subject yourself to an action for »landei, which would cost you at .east five hundred pounds more." " But can I not compel him to restore, or at least to give me some information respecting my children ?" " No. What if he were lo say that he knows nothing pf tjiera: how can you prove that he does 1 Nay) how can you prove that he ever saw those children f You have no such proof: in law, his worrl, of course, would h6 held to be equal in" value with your own." "But do you not think that if I were to threaten a public exposure in the event of his withholding this information from me, it would have some effect 1" " As a man of the world he would despise such a threat. No ; as he appears not to be quite lost to every sense of justice — for clearly if he were he would not have offered the compromise as a sort of reparation — you can stipulate for such information being given : that is to sa,y, you can promise, pt ovided it be given, to consent to a piivate arrangement. But let me, sir, strongly recommend you to avoid mis- taking perhaps a natural desire for revenge, for •any sense of public duty. They are perfectly distinct, but often confounded, so specious an excuse does the idea of such public duty afford for indulging our most vindictive passions. Men frequently inflict upon themselves. irrepar- able injury by falling into this very error; in your unhappy case this mistake would amount to utter ruin." Whitely was convinced. He now plainly perceived that Raven was beyond the reach of lii>v, and therefore immediately after his con- sultation with Sergeant Talbot, he decided upon giving his answer to Uncle John, who had been anxiously waiting his return. "Well, my friend," said Uncle John, as Whitely entered the room, "have you seen him^" "Yes," replied Whitely, who appeared to be unusually depressed. " And what is his opinion 1" " He has proved to me, my friend, that you were right, — that I cannot with any degree of safety proceed. I have therefore no alterna- tive : I must consent to an arrangement, pro- vided I receive from him such information as may lead to the recovery of ray children." " All the information he can give respecting them you may make up your mind, my friend, to have. I'm quite sure he'll do it. He can now have no motive for withholding it from you. What, then, shall I propose? Shall I say that in the event of his giving you this in- lormaiion, you will accept the sum he offered?" "No," replied Whitely; "I will receive no- thing from him but that which is my own. I cannot, of course, tell what my property real- ized ; bat as he can — for I have not the smallest doubt that he sold it and took the proceeds — let ^ return to me that which it produced: I 'e nothing more." ii he did sell it, as you imagine, he must be a very bad man, indeed, and one with whom I should not hke to have any dealings. How- ever, as I have gone so far, I'll not retreat. I'll go to him at once, a.id depend* upon it, all that I can do to promote your views and interests shall be done." " Of that I feel convinced, my dear friend," replied Whitely; "I leave the whole matter with the most perfect confidence in yqur hands." Uncle John then started ; and at about the same time a person called. at Raven's house, and having ascertained that he was within, sent up his card with an intimation that he wished to speak privately with him on business of im- mediate importance. " Mr. Writall !" said Raven, on looking at the card ; " I don't know him. Writall 1 — Welt^ let him walk up." When the servant had departed to fetch Mr, Writall, Raven endeavored not only to remem- ber the name, but to conceive what this busi- ness of importance could be. In both points, however, he failed, and Mr. Writall was for- mally ushered into the room. "Mr. Raven, I presume," said Mr. Writall, with all his characteristic pomposity; " I hopej sir, you are well." ' "Be seated^ sir," said Raven, witfiout reply- ing to this affectionate interrogatory, and Mr. Writall accordingly took a seat and coughed three times in order that his throat might be clear, and drew out his handkerchief gracer fully and wiped his noble brow, and then said, " Mr. Raven, my object in calling upon you, requires perhaps some little preliminary ex- planation in order to its 'being distinctly under- stood. I am a solicitor, sir, and among my clients I have the honor to number Mr. Whitely, of whom I believe you have some slight know- ledge." Mr. Writall here paused to watch the effect of Whitely's name being mentioned ; but Raven, who was reposing in an easy chair, said, "Well, sir?" without displaying the slightest emotion. "My client, sir," continued Mr. Writall, "having of course entered into that unfortu- nate affair, to which I need not perhaps more particularly allude, has placed the matter en- tirely in my hands ; but as I find h'm resolutely bent upon vengeance,, and as I make it a point never to promote the purely vindictive views of anj' of my client.s, I have called upon you, conceiving you to be a man of ttie world, to as- certain whether the thing cannot be arranged, you know, privately between us." " Has Mr. Whitely authorized you to call ?" inquired Raven. " Decidedly not. No, he has not the most remote idea of ray calling." ^'Then in plain terms," said Raven, "youi object is to sell him V "Why — er — not exactly," replied Mr. Writall, who at the moment felt somewliat confused by the prompt way in which this matter-of-fact question was put. "Most de- cidedly, not exactly." "Am I to understand," said Raven, point- edly, " that you regard me as a mere man »f the world?" "Most decidedly," replied Mr. Writall. 268 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF "Very well, then 5 the plainer you speak to me the better. Let there be no disguise ; no beating about the bush; let everything be perfectly plain and straightforward. What is It you propose V "Mr. Raven, you have saved me a world of trouble. I'd rather do business with one man like you, than with fifty who have no idea of the nature of things, and whp are laden with Bcr-uples, and doubts, and apprehensions. It is pleasurable in the extreme to transact — " "Well, sir," said Raven, impatiently, "let us come to the point. You have, you say, the management of this affair for Whitely ?" " I have ; and he certainly has been — " "No matter what he has oeen; that has no- thing whatever to do with it. The question is, what proposition have you now to make to meV " In a word then, to be plain, for I find that we perfectly understand each other, I am pre- pared to undertake — of course for a considera- tion^^either to put him upon the wrong scent, by bringing actions which cannot be maintain- ed, or to induce him to agree to whatever pro- position for a private arrangement you may feel disposed to make." '• Is it your impression that any action which may be brought against me, can be maintained V " Why," said Writall, with an air of mystery, " that is a question which you cannot at pre- sent expect me to answer. It would hardly be honest to — " " In this business," interrupted Raven, " we had better not speak about honesty." " Well, I agree with- you ; perhaps it wotild be better to put that altogether out bf view ; but you see, as far as I am alone concerned, it would not be quite prudent to explain just at present my own private feelings upon that point," " I understand you. Nor is it essential that you should. Your disinclination to answer the question is a sufficient proof to me that you do not think that any action can succeed." "Why, I don't know that." ," As a lawyer, you must know that no law can touch me !" "Well, even assuming it to' be so, of course you are aware that you are in a position to be seriously annoyed." "Now you speak! T am quite- aware of that, and am anxious to avoid -it. I wish to take no advantage of your client ; on thff con- trary, I am willing to give him the sum [ pro- posed, provided he will give me an uudert.ik- ing that he will let the unhappy,-affair drop for ever. If you can induce him to dp this, you and I may come to terms ; if not, why, he must take his own course, and the matter as bstween you and me will be at an end." " I will undertake at once to induce him to do this." " You of course have the power!" " Beyond all dispute." " Very well. As his legal adviser you ought to possess the power to do it ; and in the event of its being done, what would you consider a fair remuneration?" "Why — you see — I can scarcely tell. I'd anuuh rather leave it to your liberality." "Leave nothing to my liberality, tet ta come to terms at once." " Well, should you — as it's rather an irregu- lar thing — should you consider, now, a handrert pounds too much?" " No ; I'll give you a hundred pounds, ami the sooner you earn it the better." " Depend upon it, sir, it shall be done." "Very well; then set to work immediately, and let me either see you or hear from you as soon as his consent has been obtained." "That I'll do," said Mr. Writall, and a pause ensued, during which he looked mysterinu.-.ly at Raven, who at length inquired if anytliiiig more need be said ? " Why," replied Mr. Writall, with great de- liberation, " of course you are aware that in oases of this kind — I can speak to you because you are quite a man of business, a man of the world, and perfectly understand the nature of things — I therefore say, that of course, you are aware that in all such cases it is usual, you un- derstand, to pay in advance." " Oh ! it is usual ? Well, I'll not dispute the matter with you. I take it for granted that it is so, for I should say that few men know better than you, whether in all such cases it be usual or not ! But if you imagine that I shall pay you in advance for this service, 1 may as well tell you at once that you are mistaken. Yon give me credit for being a man of business, a man of the world, and yet you would deal with me as with a natm-al fool. Were I to pay vou in advance, what security should 1 have that this service will be performed?" "Oh! I'll undertake to do it! — I pledge you my honor it shall be done !"' " Your honor, Mr. Writall, is ? thing to which I should never dream of trasting. You are a great rogue, Writall ; you know it, and you evi- dently hold me to be almost as great a rogue as yourself." Mr. Writall smiled at this, and would have laughed heartily, had not Raven conlinu' ed: "Let us, therefore, in this business, deal with each other as rogue deals with rogue. When the thing has been done, I'll paVj but not before." " Well, sir, I like every man to be candid ; 1 admire him who tells me at once what he means : but when you speak of security, what security have /, that when I have effected the object, the money will be paid ?" " I am always to be found !" " And so am I ! I am always to be found, and you object to trust me ! Besides, what it you are always to be found? You well know that I could not attempt to recover, were you inclined to be dishonorable, without compro- mising my reputation as a professional man. No ; I'll tell you what, as one of us must trust the other, we had better split the difference thus : you pay me now half the money down, and I'll trust to your honor to pay me the rest when the work has been accomplished. You understand ?" "Oh, perfectly! I uriderstand! But it will not do, Writall. I should be sorry to mislead you on any point, and therefore I tell yon a? once, that it will not do. You a re as honestj 1 have no doubt, as you appear to be : I a:» quite VALENTINE VOX. 2ei> dispc^ed to go so far as that, although I am, oound to admit that that is no great distance.) It is, however, as well that you should know this, in order that you may be well assured I shall not pay you until you have accomplislijed the object proposed." " Well, sir ; that is certainly as it should be — plain, and much to the purpose. But, as you see, I am Entirely in your hands, or, as it were, at your mercy, what say you to advancing five- nnd-twenty' pounds or so, just to go on with, or rather as an earnest of what you intend to do when I have performed ray part of the con- tract? Surely you cannot with any show of reason object to that." " Bring rae in writing your client's consent to my proposal, and I'll mstantly give you a cheque for the amount; but before that is brought to me PU not advance a shilling." " But," urged Writall, who seemed deter- mined not to give the thing up, " do you con- ceive that to be under the circumstances quite fair? You will not trust me to the extent of one quarter the amount; yet I must trust you to the extent of the whole ?" - " Why, surely I am safe for a paltry hundred Jjounds !" ; ^' iiife, my dear sir ! You are safe, I have no doubt, for a hundred thousand! But that has nothing whatever to do with it ! I would trust you in the regular way to any amount, because I perfecdy well know that I should in that case be able to recover. But you see, this is an altogether different thing ! It is not like a regular transaction. It cannot even appear in my books. It depends entirely upon your honor, and if you should — mark, I only say, if you should — when I have done what is neces- sary, be indisposed to pay me, I should be utterly unable to compel you to do so, without exposing myself, and thus destroying my repu- tation, which of course I would not do for a hundred times the amount. So that yOu see I have no security at all [" At this moment. Uncle John knocked loudly at the door, when Raven, who knew his knock, exclaimed, " That's fortunate !" and rang the bell to desire the servant to show him up. "Here is a friend," he continued, " to whom the whole affair is known. He will be my surety." " Is he a man upon whom you can depend ?" inquired Writall. "You must remember, my character is at stake in this business, and that the most profound secrecy must be observed." "Fear nothing from him," replied Raven; " I would trust him with my life. Your charac- ter is as secure in his hands as it is in mine." Mr. Writall did riot much approve of the idea of introducing a friend ; he felt fidgety for the moment, but on being reassured that his secret would be safe, he had just succeeded in calm- ing his apprehensions as Uncle John entered. The very moment, however, he saw him, the expression of his face was at all points pecu- liar. He recognised in him Whitely's friend at a glance ; but as there was no possibility of escape, he bridled himself up, and facing the enemy like a rat in a corner, made up his mind to the worst. Uncle John bowed distantly as Raven intro- duced him, and wondered very naturally what had brought him there. He had scarcely, how- ever, taken his seat, when Raven proceeded to enlighten him on the subject with all possi- ble gravity and effect. " This gentleman," said he, " who is Mr. Whitely's legal adviser, has called to make a proposition to which I am inclined to accede : notbecause I am desirous of taking the slightesl advantage of Mr. Whilely, but because I con- sider that man to be his friend who will induce hira to consent to a private arrangement, in- stead of foolishly having recourse to law. Mr. Writall has -offered to do this, and I am disposed to accept his offer, conceiving it to be the best possible course he can recommend his client to 'pursue." Uncle John was surprised. He scarcely knew what to make of it. He looked at Writall and Raven alternately for some few moments, and then exclaimed, " Why, what a shameless man he must be who, while acting as the solicitor fsr one party, betrays him by offering to meet the views of the other !" " We are aware," said Mr. Writall, " that this is not a regular transaction." " A regular transaction \ Why, you eught to be, struck off the rolls !" " Strike me off"! Who's to do it? What can you prove?" " Are you not rather hasty, my friend ?" ob- served Raven, addresising Uncle John. " This proceeding is dishonorable ; Wri'.all knows it to be dishonorable, and were it calculated to in- jure Mr. Whitely, it should not have my coun- tenance; but as it must tend to his good, don't you think that it would be better to sanciion it rather than induce him to resort to law, in which he must of necessity fail ?" " You don't know that man,'' said Uncle John ; " you don.'t know what lie is. Of course you are lo pay him for this service ?" " He has offered to do it for a hundred pounds, which sum I have consented lo give him." " You have not yet done so, I hope ?" " No, I have told him that I decidedly object to pay in advance." "Then he did want the hundred pounds down? Of course! — ^just what I expected." " Did you, indeed ?" said WriiaJl, with a sneer. "Dear me, how very wonderful ! So it was what you expected — eh? — Was it?" " Why, what a disreputable 'man you must be !" said Uncle John. " How disgraceful is your conduct ! You have had the audacity to come here for the puipose of robbing this gen- deman, when — " "Rob, sir! — rob! What do you mean?" cried \Vritall, who, finding that it was now all over with him there, felt that the best thing he could do was to brazen it out; " Do you mean to s^ that / wish to rob any man ?" / "I do, distincdy," returned Uncle John;, " you came here for the express purpose of gel- ing a hundred pounds of Mr. Raven, under the pretence of being Whitely's solicitor, when you perfectly well kno-ff that you are not." 270 LIFE -AND ADVENTURES OF " You are " (this was a very bad ex- pression). " You infamous man !" cried Uncle John, very indignantly, " how dare you apply such an epithet to me, when I never, to my know- ledge, told a falsehood in my life ? I, say again that you are not his solicitor. He never called upon you but once, and that was when he was accompanied by me, and when you disgusted him by offering to procure false witnesses to prop up his case !" Again the gross epithet was applied by Mr. Writall, which made Uncle John look remark- ably red. " Did you go with Mr. Whitely to the house of this man ?" inquired Haven. " I did ; at his request : he being anxious to prove to me that his intentions were perfectly honorable and straightforward." > " Leave the house !" said RaVen, pointing to the door. " Leave the house !" echoed Writall. " That is rather a cool way of addressing a man." " Do you wish me to have you thrown into the street?" " " That is still more cool ! Thrown into the street ! Very rich ! I should like to see the fciUow that could do it !" " You bad man," said Uncle John, rising. " Do you mean, sir,Ho leave the house quietly?" "What if I don't?" " Why, in that case, you impudent person, I must make you." " Make me ! You, make me ! Why, that's about the most spicy thing I've heard yet !" " Y6u would soon be glad to retreat, sir, if ray Valentine were here." "Your Valentine! Who's she? Did she send you anything very inflaming on the four- teenth of February, eh ?" " My friend, ring the bell. — Now, sir, do you mean to leave the room ?" Writall placed himself firmly upon the edge of the table, and cried •'' No ! — not untQ I think proper. What do you mean by telling lies about me, you abominable old slanderer?" Uncle John was now excessively riifHed, and approached him more nearly. " Touch me !" cried Writall, " only touch me! — ^lay so much as a finger upon me, and I'll give you a little law. Do it! — now here I 4m ! — do it ! — you can't well miss me ! — I'm big enough and near enough! — why don't you do it ? I only wish you would." " Now, sir, am I to summon the whole of my servants !" said Raven, as one of them entered. " Don't distress yourself," said Writall, " I beg. I should be sorry to give a gendeman of your refined feelings, the slightest unnecessary trouble ; but if you think to intimidate me, sir, Vou are mistaken. I go, because^ and solely because, I have no wish to remam ; but I am not, sir, a man to be intimidated ! — of that you may take your oath. Good morning to you, 'gentlemen I Privacy is your object ! Oh, every- thing shall be kept stricUy private ! The time will come, sir, when you will curse the day on which you insulted me /" Mr. Writall then screwed his thick lips into the best expression of superb contempt of which ttiey were capable, and having frowned at'them both with inimitable darkness, stuck his thuiabi into the armholes of his waistcoat, and matched with a series of swings from the room. '• Uncle John now proceeded to describe the interview which he and Whitely had had with this " limb" of the law, and concluded by stat ing that he did not feel justified in enteringbe" fore into this explanation, nor should he have felt justified then, had not Whitely at length consented to a private arrangement. • "Is that a fact?" exclaimed Haven, on hear- ing .this. "Is it a fact ?" " It is. I have just left him. He came to a decision this morning." " I am very glad to hear it ! My friend, I owe you much. Well, how is it to be? What does he propose ? What will he consent to ?" " He has authorized me to say, that he will consent to receive the sum his property realized, provided you will give him all such information as may lead to the' recovery of his children." Raven paused, but as it immediately struck him that he might betray the feeling by which that pause had been induced, he said,' " Well, my friend, and what did his property jealize''' " He cannot tell ! He says that of course "you know, as the sales w^ere effected by y<)^x■.'' " Effected by me !— Why, who could have told him this monstrous falsehood ?" "He received his information from a man who was formerly his servant.". " And where is that scoundrel ? Where is he to be found?" "That Whitely is unable to tell. He saw him but once, and desired him to call, but he has not yet done so/ He told him distinctly that you — that is to say, he with whom his wile eloped — sold the property, and took the pro- ceeds." " I should like to see that villain ! Believe me, my friend, it is a most groundless false- hood. I had nothing whatever to do with it: I knew nothing of it, as I hope for mercy ! N6, no : I'm bad enough, it is true, but not quite so bad as that." " Well, I thought that it was rather :" " Rather, sir ! — But where were the title deeds at the time?" " In the hands of his solicitor." "And where is that solicitor?" "He is dead." " He was some such solicitor, I apprehend, as the one who has just left us. Besides, look at the absurdity of the thing ! Is it likely that he or any other solicitor would have given those title deeds to me ?" " Why, when I come to look at it, I certainly must say that it does not appear to be probable. It never struck me before, and I am sure that it never struck Whitely. I'll name the point to him : I have no doubt he'U see it at once." " I hope that he will, for I declare most solemnly that what I have stated is true. But, to the point. What does he consider thif pro- perty to have been worth?" " About six thousand pounds." "Very well. The sum I proposed then will cover the whole. I will give him that sum." VALENTINE VOX. an ,. 'Hewill oot consent to receive more than the value of his property, i Know." " Then let it be thus settled. He shall have what he considers its value to have been." , " Well, then, the thing is arranged so far ! — JJow, about the children." "On that subject," said Raven, "he must not expect that I can give him the slightest in- formation." . " Ah ! That's the grand point. That is the very thing about which he is* most anxious. Can you give him no clue ? The man w horn he saw, hinted that Ae could obtain information which might lead to their recovery ! If he can do so, what a pity it is he has not called, is it not '. — Although I must say that after what yon have told me, I am. inclined to believe that he knows nothing of them." " What sort of man ivas this ? Have you any .ideal" "Not the slightest. Whitely never described him; but I'll get him to do-so." , "I wish you would. I should like to know much." ■ "Then," said Uncle John, "the thing amounts to this: that you will send him a cheque Tor this sum on his giving you an un- dertaking that he will trouble you on the subject no more, and that, unhappily, w^ith respect to the children, you cannot give him the slightest information." '•You see, ray friend," said Raven, "it may be supposed that I ought to know all about them ; but yoa are a wan', that the woman who E roves unfaithful to her husband, seldom pri.Iej I erself much upon her fidelity to- another. I " Very tjue," said Uncle John ; " very vnp '' I "The subject, of course, is painful for :n', to | enter into; but 1 have staled enough ir, jou to understand all." "I see, I see! Well! You ca-.iPjt Jo im- Dossibilities, and therefore this r.iVA b'' rj bar to an arrangement. I shojld ha'/e haen far more pleased if you co-jJd '•la-.e p'iv-cn this in- ibrmalion, but as y.v c.p.iot, '/chy you cannot, and nothing rr.O'-Jr jr rvj\i'.J ii-.ve perceived that, as far as the oKi'Ir'-n were concerned, those answers eviucod s*'jdle'I prevarication. CHAPTER LXII. ■XPLilNS A VARIETY OP MATTERS OF IMPORTANCE TO THE PARTIES CONCERNED. • Llewelien,- a few days after he accom- [Nuiied Vals itine to Aso )t, relapsed into wretch- edness; and as his appetite again most sig- nally failed, he began to suspect that he was somewhat consumptive — a suspicion wliich was to a lamenta,ble extent confirmed, on read- ing a highly popular work upon consumption, which induced him to feel the very symptoms described. Under these unhappy circumfttnnces he took to writing poetry, and in the shoit space of two days, did really succeed in compos'nij the bur- den of a song, which he sang aloud Irom morn- ing till night for inspiration, thus : — Peautiful peer, Peautifiil peer, There's no tritili in Nature lilfe peautiful peer ! But having miraculously accomplished tha burden, he was utterly unable to do any more. The rhymes puzzled him frightfully. They wouldn't come. Let him drink what he might, or pull his shirt collar down ever so low. he couldn't get them; and hence, having gone through a whole quire of paper without any, even the most remote prospect of success, he gave the thing up in a fit of despair, and took to beauing out Valentine's mother. Nor was this at all amazing. He had no one else to go out with ! — and certain it is that no one else could have appreciated his politeness more highly ; for he had always been a most especial favorite of the widow : she had al- ways e^iteemed him a well-behaved, good- heartej creature, and therefore did not at all disapprove of his practice of taking her about: ir. point of fact she rather liked it than not ! And so did Valentine ; and so did Louise ; for, a!ih.dugh Louise loved the widow dearly, while Valentine possessed a strong feeling of friend- ship for Llewelien, in the view of the lovers their presence was not at all times agreeable, and more particularly now that ValentinOj in order to raise the spirits of Louise, walked out with her daily. Now, it happened that on the morning on which Writall had an interview with Raven, Llewelien and the widow went to see the in- dustrious fleas, and they had no sooner started, than Louise and Valentine left the house, with the view of having their customary walk in the park. On their way, however, the atten- tion of Louise was attracted to the window ol a linen-draper's shop, in which was displayed a peculiar style of shawl, which she admired very much. " Dear me," she exclaimed, " how exceed- ingly elegant I I should so like to look at it ! Would you mind going in with me 1" " Oh ! not at all," replied Valentine ; and they accordingly entered, and were instantly addressed in the most obsequious style by an extraordinary individual, the business of whose valuable life seemed to consist in walking up and down the shop, with great presence of mind, placing chairs for those who entereo, with infinite grace, and calhng "Forward !" in a highly authoritative tone, and with an ex- pression which obviously signified something. " What can we have the pleasure V said this remarkable being, addressing Louise with a most winning smile. Louise briefly explained, and when the elegan* 872 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF creature had placed her a chair with all the tranquil fascination at his command, he cried " Forward !" as if he had been addressing some dog that had had the unhappiness to introduce himself clandestinely among the silks. In an instant an exquisitely dressed young- man — who had clearly been used to this style I of address, for he did not throw anything' at the head of the individual, nor did he indeLd appear to think a very great jieal about it — approached Louise with characteristic polite- ness, and having ascertained what it wa.i she wished to see, he produced it with all imagi- nable alacrity, and displayed it to the best advantage possible. While Louise was listening to the voice of the charmer, who spake eloqiiently^ blandly, and with much poetic feeling of the mnumeia- ble beauties which peculiarly characterized this unparalleled article, Valentine was watch- ing the conduct of the individual who vpalked the shop with some interest, for he had never before seen the tyrant and the slave by any one man so conspicuously developed. To those who entered he was the cringing, smirk- ing, eel-backed creature ; but to all over whom he presided, he was the tyrannous scowling despotic bully : he would crawl and lick the dust from the feet of the former, and the next moment frown down and trample upon the latter. " Allow me," said he, addressing a customer who was leaving, " allow me to have the hap- piness of sending that small parcel? I beg that you will.' I will do so with infinite plea- sure !" The customer declined, and was bowed out with the utmost humility by the creature, who immediately walked up to him by whom she had been attended, and demanded to know why he had not sold her a dress. "The lady didn't want one," replied the young man; and Valentine thought this a veiy good reason, substantial, conclusive, and per- fectly sound ; but diametrically opposed to this view was the creature. "Not want one!" he cried, as if no reason could have been more dead and rotten. " Do I keep you to sell merely what people wantl Any fool, any idiot, can do that! I expect you to serve them with what they don't want, sir ! — that, sir, is what I keep you for !" and he scowled with great fe- rocity at the delinquent, who never raised his eyes, but having rolled up some material that was before him, walked silently away. "Why, what kind of men can these be," thought Valentine, "who thus endure the de- grading tyranny of so pitiful a slave t Have they neither soul nor sense ? What can they be made of? They seem to have been decently educated : they talk very well, although they dress very absurdly, and have some of the most remarkable heads of hair tonsorial art ever designed ; but they cannot possess a par- ticle of manly spirit; they cannot have the independent feelings of honest men, or they never could bear to be thus tyrannized over and treated like convicts!" " Why don't you show the six quarters, sir, do you hear V cried the creature, addressing one of his slaves^ foi he oleurlj- conceived 'it to be much to LiS ow.i iiite\-dst m (iegruae hit young men m the cye^ of thcje ■vhorn they v/ere f5ervi»ig. ■ "^ " It s'i,riLes me that I must have a word with ynu," thought Valentine, who was really dii- ^osied with the fellow's behavior; and he had no sooner satisfied himself that the piarsuit of such a course would not be at all incorrect,' than throwing his voice behind him some dis- tance, he said, " Who is that ridiculous persot in the middle of the shop 1" The person alluded to turned with great promptitude and frowned. Ridiculous Jierson above all things in thu world ! Hi tlidn't like it. In the spot from \Ahich the voice appeared to proceed there hapjjened not to be a soul, which puzzled him a little, but he notwith- standing walkeea Q's of course, sir! — ^Which should I mean <" This seemed to be conclusive, i\n- Mr. Hig- ginbottom immediately produced the P'ses Q's, w-hich Jubbins submitted to Valentine's inspec- tion. "This, sir," said he, "is the most elegant lot imaginable, and dirt cheap, sir! — two and eleven pence three farthings." "They a,ppear to be cheap,'' said Valentine, " but I am ignorant of the value of these things." "The value, sir, is seven and nine. Had they been purchased in the regular way, sir, I couldn't have sold one for less, but having picked the whole from a bankrupt's stock, we are enabled to put them in frightfully low. The size, sir, is alarming for the price, while the texture is magnificently delicate ! — billow me to say a dozen V "^ I have plenty at present," said Valentine. " Were you to purchase them to put by, sir. 274 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF tlieyi would pay you good interest for your money." " I have not a doubt of its being a splendid investment," said Valentine ; " but unhappily, at present, my capital is tied up." Mr. Jnbbins smiled sweetly, and said, "But, upon honor, I hold this to be an opportunity which seldom presents itself: in point of fact, I don't know that we are not running counter to our interest in pushing them; but let me say a dozen ? Half a dozen ? I assure you, they are an article seldom to be met with. It is a eaorifioe of upwards of seventy per cent., which is very distressing." " So it is : so it is," said Valentine. " Did the person of whom you bought them fail for much ■?" " About forty thousand pounds." "That is rather a large sum for a man to fail for, especially as he had about fifty thou- sand pounds worth of cambric handkerchiefs in stock. What do you suppose the value of the entire stock to have been when tie failed ?" " Why," replied Mr. Jubbins, who did feel a little confused — for he happened to remember that he had purchased the fifty thousand pounds worth — " I scarcely can tell. It is difficult to form a judgment, very difficult, very." "Of course he will be able to pay a very decent dividend V "Ye.s, a very fair dividend, I should say — I've no doubt of it, very. — Then you'll not al- low me to tempt you with a dozen V " No, I think not, to-day." " Anything in Irish linens, or gloves of any kind?" " No, they never allow me to purchase those things : they imagine I am not to be trusted." Again Jubbins smiled ; but as he understood the stale of the case precisely, he said nothing more about the matter. " Well, now I have indeed tried your pa- tience,'" said Louise. " Dear me, what a quan- tity of things I have purchased ! There now," she added, addressing the clever creature by whom she hail been tempted to spend twenty pounds, although she had no idea of purchasing anything but the shawl, "you must showjne nothing more : you really must not, indeed." "Has the lady seen those satins, sir?" in- quired Mr. Jubbins, with a scowl. "I cannot look at anything else," said Louise; "no! let me have my bill as soon as possible, or yon can send it with the parcel any time after four." Louise then presented her card; and after observing to Valentine, that she was sure that he had lost all patience, they were bowed out of the shop most grEicefuUy by Mr. Jubbins, who, notwithstanding all the young man had done, was exceedingly angry with him, because he had not introduced " those satins.'.' 'f What singular creatures they are !" observed Valentine, on leaving the shop. " They are, indeed," returned Louise : " and their polileness is so excessive, that you posi- tively feel yourself in a measure bound to pur« chase the things they introduce to you, whether )rou really want them or not." "But \Nhile admiring their politeness, did you notice the brutal conduct of those t^nuv nous, slave-driving dogs, their employers ?" " Oh, yes ! that is generally conspicuous. But what I object to most is, their interfereaca with him who is serving me. That is very an- noying, and whenever it occurs, I have done: no matter how many articles I may want, I take those which I have purchased, but will have nothing more." They now proceeded to the park, and had a most delighful walk ; and while sitting beneath their favorite tree, Llewellen and the widow unexpectedly approached them. " Hur knew we shoot fint them," cried Llew- ellen; " titn't hur tell yoif they were sure to pe here ? Oh, Louey ! such peautiful fleas ! Trest, ant armt, ant mountet on horse-pack like Christy ians. Oh! too co and see 'em apove all things in the worlt!" "What sort of horses are they?" inquired Valentine. "Fine cattle, Fred?" "Horses? Fleas! — every horse is a flea, look you, pritled ant sattlet, ant all !" " We must go and see these warriors on flea- back !" said Valentine to Louise. " Do; by all means, my love," said the wi- dow; "they are wonderful creatures! — such active, intelligent little dears. I'm quite ia love with them, really ! Do go there this eve- ning : I should so like to see them again." "This evening!" said Llewellen, looking archly at the widow ; " have you forgotten your engagement this evening?" "The promenade concerts!" cried the wt dow ; " dear me, how very stupid ! Oh ! is not that kind of Mr. Llewellen? He is going to take me to the promenade concerts !" "Upon my life! Master Fred," observed Valentine, " if you continue to go on in this way winning the heart of my mother, I shall feel myself bound to demand an explanation of your intentions !" The widow blushed, and patted Valentine playfully on the cheek, and Llewellen informed him that all had been settled, and that he was therefore quite ready to explain, which was very agreeable and highly enjoyed. " At all events," said Valentine, addressing Louise, "it will be our duty to accompany them to the conceit this evening." "Too CO, py all means!" said Llewellen; and as this invitation was backed by the widow strongly, it was decided that they shovlld all go together. 'While they were thus happily engaged. Uncle John was endeavoring to prevail upon Whitely to allow the assumed impossibility of Raven giving the required information about the chil- dren, to form no barrier to an immediate settle- ment. He had already succeeded in convincing him that Raven had had nothing to do with his property ; but he found it extremely difiicult to induce him to believe that he knew nothing whatever of his children. "The only thing," urged Whitely, "which tends to justify sucn a belief is the assumed fact, that she became so abandoned as 1o leave even him for another : but even in that case it seems scarcely probable that being lost, as she must have been, to eveiy sense of decency, a» VALENTINE VOX. 378 well an to every proper feeling, that she would have taken the children with her." "\Vhy, I don't know that," said Uncle John. "It is very clear to me that her affection for those children was very strong : ray firm im- Eression is, that had it not been, she would not ave clung to them "so tenaciously when she left you; and as it is but natural to suppose that, as they grew older and more engaging, the strength of that affection increased, I am inclined to believe it to be extremely probable that she did take them vyith her ; for clearly if her affection for them did thus increase, she would have been less disposed to part with them then than before." "Very true; very true: but this is merely assumption." - "I grant it : but it is a very natural assump- tion. Besides, what motive could he possibly have in withholding this information, if he really possessed the power to give it f Upon my life ! I car not conceive what motive he could have. See can scarcely be supposed to have eared much about them, and if he had provided for them, he would surely be proud to let you know it, in order that you- might not deem him quite so depraved as you do. But even assuming that he could give you such in- formation as might lead to their recovery, his refusal to do so ought not to prevent an imme- diate arrangement, at least in so far as pecu- niary matters are concerned ; but feeling as I do, quite convinced that he is utterly unable to do so, I cannot see why you should hesitate for a moment." " Well, my friend, if I give him an under- taking to annoy him, as he terms it, no more, it must be with this proviso, that if I should at any time discover that he absolutely does know where they are to be found,! am not to be precluded from demanding of him such infor- mation as may be essential to their being re- stored." ■- " Most decidedly. You will still have the right to do so. I look at the spirit of this ar- rangement. You agree to it on the assumption that he does not know where the children are : should you at any time discover that he does, yourright,withreference to them, will, of course, stand the same as if no such arrangement had been made." " Very well. Let this be, on all hands, dis- tinctly understood, and I am ready to sign the undertaking." Uncle John now opened his desk, aud they began to draw out an agreement, but how to introduce the proviso, without leading Raven to suppose that ihey believed him to have told a direct falsehood, was a task which puzzled them exceedingly. In the first place they drew up a " sketch" — which, of itself^ would have done very well — and then their labor com- menced ; but they stuck to it zealously, amend- ing and erasing, until their interlineations stood perfectly unincumbered by a single word of the original, when, on being summoned to dinner, they left 't thus, to be tackled again when they had. done. Whitely was by no means scrupulous about tjjie matter : he was an advocate for its being done as plainly as possible; but Uncle John, judging from the sensitive- character of his own feelings, contended for the correctness of its being done with so much delicacy, that while it had the force of a law, not a word should be introduced at all calculated to inflict the slightest wound upon the feelings of him whom it bound. On this, as on all other occasions, Whitely wished to meet the views of Uncle John, and immediately after dinner they again set to work^ and did eventually succeed in accom- plishing their task in every point to their entire satisfaction. Two fair copies were then drawn up, and when both had been signed by Whhely, Uncle John left m order to obtain the signature of Raven. The party which had been formed in the morning for the concert, prepared to start soon after dinner, and Uncle John happened to arrive in great spirits at the momeint they were about to le^ve the house. "Any news 1" inquired Valentine. " Yes, my boy ; good news : come here," said Uncle John, taking his arm and leading him into the parlor. ".Please let me come too !" said Louise. " May she come, Val ? Well ! yes, you may. But I mean to set a price upon the information I have to impart. I intend to have a kiss for it." "Oh, that you shall! I will pay you with pleasure! What is it?" "All's settled!" exclaimed Uncle John; "all's settled." "Bless you," cried Louise; "you deserve two for that. But are you sure — quite?" " I have the agreement now in my pocket with Whitely's signature attached." " Well, this is indeed great news. Oh, I feel so delighted !" "Of course," said Valentine, "Mr. Raven knows nothing of it yet." "He' expects it, and I have come as soon as possible to put an end to his suspense. But vrhere are you all going?" " To the promenade concert." "Very well, let your minds be at ease. Now, be happy, both of you : there, run away; I must be detained no longer." Valentine and Louise shook him warmly by the hand ; and^ having kissed each other fer- vently, they rejoined the widow and Llewellen, and proceeded to the theatre in which the con- certs were held. As they entered one of the boxes, the first piece was being performed ; and the action of the conductor was so extremely striking, that he riveted their attention at once. He was a small man, and singularly thin; his cheeks were hollow, but his eyes were full ; and while at certain forte passages they appeared to be anxious to start from their sockets, he closed them at each piano phrase, with the view of conveying to the performers an idea of how mild were the moonbeams contrasted with thunder. The performers, however, seemed not to take the slightest notice of I his eloquent gestures ; for' they worked away I like blacksmiths, with their eyes fixed firmlf S76 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF upon the music, with the single exception of the individual who did the drums; and even he, having thirty or forty bars' rest, seemed to be counting his one, two, three, four; two, two, three, four; three, two, three, four, up, with extreme depth of thought. Having sufficiently admired the poetic action of the condnctor — who, had the whole of the instruments been mute, could have rendered the thing, by virtue of his pantomime, effective, so distinctly and so delicately was each phrase expressed — ^the happy party left their box for the promenade. The place was crowded, but to the majority the music was but a secondary consideration, which indeed is invariably the case in England, and speculators generally would do well to imdoratand that patronage here is extended, not in proportion to the excellence of an entertain- ment, but precisely in proportion to the facilities which it affords for the display of wealth, fashion, and beauty. On this occasion the display of these three attractive articles was in a measure magnifi- cent ; but if any one could be said to surpass the others, it was fashion. The dresses both of the ladies and of the gentlemen had been made in conformity with the most extraordinary conceptions, while the hair was so arranged — if an arrangement, as far as the gentlemen were concerned, it could be called — that it covered the ear's as completely as if, at that particular period of British history, it had been no uncommon thing for those useful and orna- mental organs to be nailed, for political offences, to posts. As the space behind the orchestra was the only spot which could be promenaded with comfort, thither Valentine and Louise repaired, And walked for some time in silence, but with feelings of pleasure, listening attentively to the various pieces, which were admirably perform- ed, and which seemed to inspire general de- light. "Valentine," said Louise, at length, "why are you so silent V " I apprehend it is because I am so happy !" "Are you happy? Well, so am livery, very happy. I could cry, I am so happy ; and I shall cry, I am sure of ij, unless you make me laugh. Now do, there's a dear, put some poor unfortunate person in a fever. You will, to please me ; will you not %" " Oh ! I had better astonish the whole house at once !" "But you must not startle me ! You know that is a thing which is perfectly understood." "Of course ! I am sure you will be an excel- .ent wife, Louise ; you are so fond of looking at home. But listen." At this moment the band was playing a set of quadrilles, in which an echo was introduced by dint of establishing an individual in the one sailling gallery to do the refrain out of sight. This had a good effect, and on its being re- peated, Valentine sent an echo into the slips, and then one into the upper boxes, and then one into the dress circle near the prr scenium, •nd then another, most dexterously, into the chandelier! This of course produced aeveul rounds of applause, and the demand for an encore was universal ; but the conductor stood struck with amazement: he could not even guess what it could mean, and his first impulse was to send round to the various parts of the house from which the sounds had apparently proceeded, with the view of setting his face against every echo save the one which he him- self had' established. On turning the matter again over in his mind, however, he could not-r- as the thing was effective and bad brought down thunders of applause — see why it should not be repeated. He therefore gave the usual signal, and the band recommenced, and when he came to the echo, he listened with a pecu- liar expression for the invisible auxiliaries; but what was his dismay when Valentine, instead of following the established orthodox echo, in- troduced, in various parts of the house, snatches of popular tunes, and thus produced fits of laughter ! " Ha !" said, he gutturally, grinning like a griffin in great anguish, and holding his ears as if a couple of wasps had introduced themselves clandestinely therein — "Perdu!'' whereupon the whole house was in a roar. " Bravo ! bravo !" shouted the audience. " Encore ! encore ! encore !" " Not if I know it," the conductor seemed to say confidentially to himself, for he looked very droll, and almost buried his head between his shoulders; but although his indisposition to repeat the thing was manifest ; although it was evident generally that he wished to intimate that he had had no hand in the matter, the en- lightened audience still continued to demand an encore, which, to his own private feelings, was very afflicting. He sent an emissary up to the slips, and another into the upper tier of boxes: and while he planted sundry confiden- tial fiddlers as spies upon the dress circle, he himself strained his eyes with the bright and lovely hope of discovering one of the individu- als among the multitude of promeuaders. In this he was, however, unsuccessful ; and as the audience still remorselessly demanded an en- core, he did, in his extremity, shake his head with much significance, and having given the signal, the band made a dash at the next piece This silenced the majority at once, and they would with due patience have waited for a repetition of the novel echo, had not the mino- rity, who, having somewhat more refined and experienced ears, on perceiving that this was not the same piece, shouted, " No, no ! — En- core ! encore ! — No, no, no, no !" which had the effect of inducing the whole house to join them. The band, notwithstanding, kept on. The conductor was firm. He would have no more ad libitum echoes: he 'had already had quits enough of them, and hence resolved within hia own mind that, come what might, he would go through the piece then in hand as completely as if nothing whatever had happened. The audience, fortunately for him, were in an excellent humor; they had enjoyed the echoes much, and that they did wish to have them again is a fact which ought not to be dis- puted, but when they saw the distress of tha VALENTINE VOX. 877 conductor, who was an accomplished, and withal a very amiable man, they pitied him as an individual, and soon became calm. "Dear me!" said Louise, when the storm had subsided, " how very, very cleverly that was done, to be sure ! Poor man ! — what odd faces he made 1" "They were rather droll," said Valentine. " I wonder what he thinks of it. I should like to know his strictly secret feelings upon the point." The band ceased : the first part was con- cluded, and shortly after, a small thin man, in an old hat, came close to the spot with several persons whom he knew. He seemed power- fully excited, and looked very fierce, and said in answer to a question which touched upon the echo, "Sare, I sail give you five pounce with great plaisir for to discovare sem . tam pepel." "They ought," said one of his friends, "to have their instruments taken from them and broken about their heads." " Instrumence ! — say vas ton wisout instru- mence ! Say teed him wis sare mouse, and pe tam !" This caused Louise to laugh so immoderate- ly, that Valentine was compelled to remove her from the spot, and when the conductor had given sufficient vent to those feelings of indig- nation which were plainly effervescing within him, he gave one desperate shrug, which seemed perfectly conclusive, and then left the inquiring group to cool himself with an ice. ■ " My poy," said Llewellen, on coming up with the widow, after a very long absence, "teet you hear that wonterful echo?" " The whole house heard it, I apprehend/' replied Valentine. " There is a numerous family of the Echoes, it appears. They are all relatives, you will remember, of your mvisible wife." " His invisible wife !" cried the widow ; " has Mr. Llfiwellen an invisible wife V " Yes, the mother of the whole family. She became enamored of him in the garden, and would have him." The widow, who now saw it all, exclaimed, " Gracious, my dear, and was that really you V' Louise instantly placed her finger upon her lips to enjoin silence ; but Llewellen, who was struck with the singularity of the question, had a very strong desire to know what it meant. "There is some creat secret apout this, — some extraortinary secret. — Too tell me phot it is? — Pless your soul, too? — Inteet hur shoot like to pe tolt, coolness knows it !" " What secret do you allude to ?" inquired the widow. " Hur ton't know inteet then ; putt " " This is not a place for telling secrets," said Valentine. "Come, come, let us go in and have some refreshment." " Apove all things in the worlt!" cried Llew- ellen. " Oh ! that is the pisiness. — Phot have they cot?" "We shall see by the carte," said Valentine. "Well, my poy, you order all: hur'm font, yon know, Of anything in the worlt." " Order ices," whispered Louise, " and let us see how Fred will like them. We have had none at home shice he came up, and I don't think they ever gave him any in Wales." Ices were accordingly ordered : and when Llewellen took his, he looked at it for some time studiously. " It's a mighty little trifle," said he, at length. " Cootness knows it." And having taken the whole of it up with the spoon, he put it bodily into his mouth. It was, however, no sooner in than out. He shuddered, and dropped it with- out a second thought. "Is it too hot for you?" said Valentine, gravely, although Louise and the widow were convulsed. "Hot!" cried Llewellen. "It makes me shiver to think of it ! — Cruel cold ! — My whole potty's freezing, look you ! — Ant my teeth ! — Oh!" " Did you never have an ice before ?" " No, never, — cootness knows : ant hur never wish to have one again." " Well, what will you have ?" " Anything in the whole worlt putt that." ■ "Well, as I have been so unfortunate, I must leave you now to order for yourself. — Tljere is the garcon-.". "Phot's his name?" inquired Llewellen. . "Upon ray word I don't know. — You had better call ' Waiter.' " Llewellen "did so ; and a foreign individual, whose mind seemed to be intendy fixed upon something, approachedi him. " Waiter," said Llewellen, in a confidential tone ; "have you cot any peer?" The foreign individual dropped his head up- on his right shoulder, and shrugged up his left, but said nothing. "Not coot," said Llewellen, who misunder- stood altogether what the action of the French- man was designed to convey. " Is it not coot in potdes?" The Frenchman employed the same gesture as before, with this addition : he extended hia cli in, which was naturally a long one, and look- ed most intensely mysterious. " This is a very honest fellow," thought Llew- ellen. "It isn't often one meets with a man who will refuse to sell an article which is not quite the thing to ^ stranger. Well," said he, " never mint. You're a coot fellow to tell me, for hur hate pat peer apove all things in the worlt ; putt let me have some pranty-and-vrater, look you; warm." The Frenchman again give a national shrug- "Phot!" said Llewellen, "is that pat too? Cootness knows it !" , " Ve sal vas, monsieur," said the waiter, who prided himself especially upon the purity of his English. "Ve sal nevere is eau de vie non monsieur." " Phot to you say ?" inquired Llewellen, as Valentine, Louise, and the widow were laugh- ing convulsively. "Come, let's have it at once." " Mais I sal vos non comprendre a tall vons." " Yes," said Llewellen, " hur'U pe pount it's all light, olt poyj so you'd petter run away now, and fetch it." And as he waved his hand precisely as if he wished him to be off, 278 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF the puzzled Frenchman took the hint at once, and started. "Well," said Llewellen, addressing Valen- tine ; " I shall pe all right at last." " What have you ordered V " Some peautiful pranty-ant-water, look you ! ant coolness knows it !" " He'll bring you no brandy-and-water." " luteet then hur'U wring his plesset neck, if he ton't." " If he brings you anything, he'll bring you ■an ice." " An ice ! — Oh ! it freezes ray plut !" "If he don't bring you that, he'll bring nothing." " Phy, hur ortert it, look you !" "And he told you, as plainly as he could, that they hadn't got it ; and you sent him away." '• Oh, hur'U see apout that," said Llewellen. " Here, waiter !" " Gargon !" cried Valentine, throwing his voice a short distance from him. " Oui, monsieur." "Gargon! — Gargon! — Gargon!" cried Val- entine, at apprc|)riate intervals, and in three distinct tones. " Oui, monsieur, oui !" cried the Frenchman, who seemed in some measure perplexed. " If hur ton't make an effort, my poy," said Llewellen, " hur shall not, hur see, pe aple to get anything, look you ! Phot am hur to oiter V " Why, as you want something warm, ask him ^why he has not bjought the glace. . Tell him you want a glace, distinctly, and then he'll understand you." "There's a coot fellow," said Llewellen. "Now! waiter!" "Oui, monsieur?" . "Come, come, you have not prought my glass ! There, never mind making those faces : — hur prefer pranty-ant-water; putt pring me a glass of anything, no matter what", if it's putt a coot glass." The Frenchman bowed, and looked as if he sawhis way now pretty clearly, which rather delighted Llewellen, who, when he had left, said : " Well, hur have mate him unterstant me at last !" " I'm glad of it," said Valentine. " But if he should make a mistake, vou had better tell him what you mean in WelSh." , The Frenchman now returned with a straw- berry ice, which he presented with characteris- tic grace, to Llewellen. Llewellen looked at it ! — he knew what it was in a moment ! — and then he looked at the Frenchman. His blood was a little up : he felt, indeed, very angry, and proceeded to explain, with due severity of as- pect, the precise state of his feelings in Welsh to the Frenchman, who was perfectly amazed, and on perceiving that Llewellen was very in- dignant, he let loose in French, and thus made a duet of it, which was interesting, because highly calculated to bring about a good under- etandmg between them. Valentine, however, when he fancied that the thing had gone quite far enough — for Lle- wellen was turning very red, while the French- man was grinning and gnashing his teeth fiercely — shouted " Gargon ! — Gargon!— Gar- gon!" when the Frenchman, hearing himself thus imperatively called, screwed up his hps^ and with a ferocious look of scorn, left the spot much excited. / " Tit you ever in all your born tays," said Llewellen, " hear anypotty chatter like tlMt little wretch T" " I was afraid you would come to blows,." said Valentine. " Plows ! hur coot eat him, cootness knows it." " You are always getting into some scrape," said Louise. " Well, Louey, it wasn't my fault. Phen a fellow prings an ice for warm pranty-and- water, it's enough to make a man's plut poiU" '•' It's too bad,?' said the widow, who sympar thized with Llewellen ; " it is indeed ;" and she looked at the carte, and then consnlted a female attendant, and in a short time some ponch a la Romaine was produced, which she presented to Llewellen, who, having tasted it, was in ecstasies, and called tier an angel. " Now," said Valentine, when Llewellen had finished his punch, which he indeed highly relished, " a little more music, and then we'U return." Llewellen, who was blessed with a most happy disposition, had now forgotten all his troubles, and on their return to the body of the theatre, he chatted and laughed in the merri- est mood, and enjoyed the scene perhaps much more than any other person present. The pleasure which Louise felt was probably of itself not less pure, but its brightness was occa- sionally dimmed by thought, which was pei>- fectly absent from the mind of Llewellen. Could she hope to be always as happy 1 Should she always experience in Valentine's society the same degree of pleasure ? Would he always be the same kind, good, dear creature — always as anxious to inspire her with de- light? These were questions which would suggest themselves constantly; for although she had no reason to suppose that he would ever change; although she tried on all occa- sions to repudiate the notion; she was still apprehensive, because, and solely because, she neither knew nor could conceive more perfect pleasure than that which she invariably experi- enced when with him. Her fears on this subject, however, were vain. Valentine was always himself. He never thought of assum- ing another character: he never desired to make himself appear to be that which he really was not. This, of course, it was impos- sible for her to know ; and as she thoiight on the subject most, when she felt most happy, she, on this occasion, while clinging fondly to Lim, gazed occasionally upon him with an as- pect of sadness. " My poor girl," said he, " are you fatigued?" "Oh, no; not at all." " You look so sad !" " I am so happy !" said Louise, and as she spoke, a tear glistened in her eye. They now went in search of Llewellen and the widow, who were perfectly certain to go astray the very moment the attention of Valen- tine happened to be directed to some other quarter, and having eventually discovered them VALENTINE VOX. 279 engaged in a close examination of certain plants which were placed round a fountain, valentine gave them the word of command, and they followed him and Louise out with all due obedience. Theythen entered a coach, and at once pro- ceeded home, and it may be said, that no party was ever more happy. They were on the high- est possible terms with themselves and each other, and it is not quite certain that both Louise and the widow did not, on their way home, Bhed tears of joy. The very moment they arrived at the house, Louise, as usual, inquired for her father, and on being informed that he was still where she had left him, and that it was supposed that he was asleep, as they had heard nothing of him for more than two hours, she ran up at once to his room, and as, on reaching the door, she heard Joseph, the porter, say, in a loud and threaten- ing voice, " I'll not go for a shilling less : and If you. don't give me that, PU blow up the whole affair!" — she, without the slightest ceremony, entered the room, and was sti-uck with amaze- ment on finding him seated at the table with her father. " Hush !" whispered Raven, the moment she appeared. " How dare you, sir, thus address your mas- ter !" cried Louise. "Mind your own business, miss!" said the fellow ; " master'll mind hisn, and I'll mind mine." ' " You iiieolent man ! how dare you speak to mel Leave the room, sir, I desire !" The fellow did leave the room ; but with a ar.eer, which*to Raven, was one of great sig- innoance. "Why, papa, why do you allow yourself to be thus insulted by one of your own servants'?" cried Louise. "My dear child !" said Raven, "do not dis- tress yourself. I shall soon, very, very soon get rid of him now !" '■'But how dare he presume even to sit in your presence ! Father ! have you anything to fear from that man?" "'Anything to fear from him, my child ?" '■ If not, why keep him in the house? ' If he knew of that, which is now no longer a secret, and kept it faithfully, reward him ; but do not allow him to remain." " My child, have I not said that I am about to get rid of him ? But why do you imagine that lie knew of that secret V "Because he was continually boasting of the power he had over you : nay, he boasts that you are in his power now !" " Indeed ! to whom does he make that boast?" "To the servants. He is constantly telling them that he could command the best place in the house : that he could force you to do any- thing for him he pleased, and that, to use his own expression, he has you under his thumb." Raven pressed his lips and breathed verj' hard, and having drawn Louise closely to him, tissed her with much warmth. "Dear papa," she continued, "tell me, pray tell me, vrhat mystery is this?" " Mystery ! What mystery, my child V " I teas that there is more than has yet tran- spired, and if so, do disclose it ; but if there bo not, I do beg of you, father, to discharge that man, for there is in him something which, while I look at him, I feel that I have reason to fear.'" " Fear nothing, my child. You are correct in supposing that he knew my secret; he did know it; he knew it from the first; had it not been so, I never should have kept about thfl house so pernicious a scoundrel. But you have nothing to fear from him now." " Have you, papa ? You will not object to answer me the question. Is there no other se- cret ? Has all been explained ? Has that man the power to make known any circumstance you are anxious to keep unknown?" "My good child," said Raven, "you shall know all anon. He shall quit the house to- morrow. Go, my girl: go, there, leave me. But, Louise, not a word of this to Valentine ! You will promise me that?" Louise did so, and kissed him ; but she left with a heavy heart, and a mind teeming with fresh apprehensions. CHAPTER LXni. GOODMAN • QUITS THE SCENE FOR EVER. Unconscious of all that had occurred between Louise and her father during their interview, Valentine in due time left for the night. He did indeed perceive, on her return to him, that she was agitated ; nay, he perceived that she had been in tears ; but as she frequently wept for joy, and as, since her father's secret had been proclaimed, her smile had always beefl seen through a soft veil of sadness, her appear- ance failed lo make a deep impression; and, therefore, after having playfuIJy delivered a lecture on the physical operation of tears upon beauty, he gave his sweet pupil the prelimina- ry kiss, when, as usual, at lingering intervals, they twenty times reiterated — as if they had really become enamored of the words — '' Good night!" As in the early part of the evening Uncle John had explained to him that Whitely had consented to a private arrangement, Valentine hastened home, being anxious to ascertain if that which formed the only bar to his immediate union with Louise had been entirely removed. < A mournful scene, however, awaited his ar- rival : poor Goodman was dying. He had been tempted by that fallacious strength which declining nature, struggling to the last, seldom indeed fails to summon on thfe near approach of death, to make an efibrt to walk across the chamber; but no sooner had that effort been made than he sank upon the floor in a state of absolute exhaustion. This occurred about an hour before Valentine arrived ; and as, immediately on his arrival, he was in- formed of the fact, he proceeded at once to his good old friend's room, in which, besides tha attendants, were Uncle John and the physician. 280 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF As he entered, Goodman smiled : his appear- ance seemed to cheer him. He took his hand, 'amd pressed it feebly, but with earnestness, and kissed it. There is before the eyes of men on the brink of' dissolution a glassy film, which Death im- parts that they may have a brief prospect of -eternity, when some behold the acigels of light, while others have the demons of darkness be- fore them. This film then glazed the eyes of Goodman ; but his spirit was calm, and his look serene: resignation was seated on his brow: Death had no terrors for him. Having gazed for a few moments at Valen- tine with an expression of pleasure, a slight cloud seemed suddenly to pass over his coun- tenance, and he looked round the chamber, and then gently drew Valentine nearer, when, whispering in his ear, he said, " My brother : I should like to see my brother: do you not think that he would come to me now?" " He would be but too happy," said Valen- tine. " I will go to him instantly." , " Do, my dear boy : Heaven bless you ! Tell Kim I am anxious to say farewell ; but haste, for I feel that my hour is come." Valentine again pressed his hand, and left the room, and then proceeded without delay to Walter's residence, in the full conviction that fraternal affection would overcome shame, and that the summons would be instantly obeyed. He reached the house : no light was to be seen. It was late, certainly, but earlier than Walter was wont to retire. He knocked ; no answer was returned: he knocked again and again; still no one appeared. At length, how- ever, after knocking and ringing with sufHoient violence to have aroused the seven sleepers, he heard one of the upper windows open, and on looking up, saw the head of a female, who half screamed, " Who^s there V "I must see Mr. Goodman immediately," cried Valentine. "Open the door." "Go away, tipsy man!" cried the female; " there's no one of that name lives here." "My good woman," said Valentine, having satisfied himself that he had not mistaken the house, " he did live here : can you tell me where he is to be found ?" "I know nothing about him. I'm only in the house to take care of it. The family that left last week are gone a long way in the coun- try ; I don't know where — but they're gone." The female then disappeared and closed the window, when Valentine went to the public- house opposite — to which he knew that Horace had been in the habit of going — and there learned that Walter and his family, after having sold everything off, had indeed left town; but how they went, or where they were gone, he could not ascertain. He therefore immediately retraced his steps, and being anxious of course to keep everythnig from Goodman at all calculated to give him the slightest uneasiness, he made up his mind on the way to conceal from him all but the naked tact of WaUer being absent. As he cautiously returned to the chamber, the eyes of Goodman were closed as if in death; but they were reopened the very moment ho entered, and turned inquiringly towards him, as he drew near the bed. , " He will come ?" said Goodman, feebly, for he was sinking very fast — " he will come V^ • "He would," returned Valentine, " I am sure that he would with pleasure ; but unhappily he is at present out of town." " Well, well. The meeting might have been painful to him — yes, it might have given him pain. You will not fail to let him know that all — all has been forgiven ? I should have been pleased — much pleased-:— but for his peace — for his peace — it is perhaps — as well." Valentine now sat beside him, with one hand in his : and while the physician, who ex- pected his death every moment, was watching his countenance with the utmost anxiety, Uncle John was in an easy chair, blinded with tears, though his sorrow was silent. Goodman was his oldest friend : he had been his com- panion in infancy; and while his name was associated with his earliest- recollections, theii friendship in manhood had been cemented by the knowledge of each other's integrity and goodness of heart. He was, therefoje, much affected, and wept bitterly, albeit still in si- lence. Philosophy, at such a time as this, has no effect; nor can religion and philosophy con- joined check, when over the bed of death, the tears which gush from the reservoir of Nature, We must weep. But why 1 The dying do not weep! — they may be calm, serene, free from pain, happy — most happy .in the enjoyment of the prospect of celestial bliss — still we weep! Is it to lose them? They lose us! But in their view, then, they lose us but for a time; while in ours we lose them for ever. We therefore weep: we weep to be left in the world without them, while the fountain of their tears is dried up with the sweet hope of meet- ing us " -where the wicked cease from trou- bling, and the weary are at rest,'' in the realms of peace, to part no more. " Hush ! — hush !" exclaimed the dying man, in a thrilKng, startling whisper, after having gazed on vacancy for some time in silence — " Hark ! — do you not hear ?" The physician raised his hand to enjoin a- lence. "Hark! — hark!" he continued, with an ex- pression of rapture, raising his feeble hands and straining his eyes upwards. A sigh escaped — a heavy, lingering sigh : it .was his last— he breathed no more ! His eyes were still fixed, but his spirit had fled ! Thus died the benevolent, amiable Goodman, the victim of a monstrous, a barbarous system, which has long been a foul and pernicious blot upon civilization, and of which the existence in full force still, reflects the deepest disgract upon us as Christians and as men. VALENTINE VOX. 281 CHAPTER LXIV. BORAGE ANNOUNCES THE FACT TO WALTEK. Neaklt a fortnight elapsed after the moum- (ill occurrence detailed in the preceding chap- ter, before Valentine was relieved in anjr sen- sible degree of the sadness that scene had induced. His knowledge of poor Goodman had been in reality but slight — ^the seizure hav- ing been effected so soon after his arrival — but his death still had made a deep impression upon his mind, for he had seen sufficient of him to feel well convinced that no man ever did or could possess a more purely benevolent heart. Louise, too — albeit, under the then existing circumstances, it was but natural for her to par- take of any feeling which gave him pain — was affected more deeply than might have been an- tieipated, considering that Goodman was a man whom she had never even seen. She^ how- ever, knew his history : she knew of his cruel incarceration, and of the brutal means by which his death had been induced, and that know- ledge was accompanied by the ever constant thought that the self-same means had been employed by her father. She therefore felt it very acutely, as indeed they did aU; for while Uncle John mourned the loss of his friend as if, indeed, he had been a, brother, Whitely became still more inveterate against Raven, and Raven himself appeared to have lost his own esteem. -There was, however, one who felt it more deeply still : and that was Walter ! Horace had been left by him in town to watch the progress of events, and to report from time to time ; and as he was in constant communication with the servant by whom Good- man was attended, and whom he had promised to marry " when the old man was dead," he of course was informed of that event as soon as possible ; and no sooner did he hear of his death, than he called to inquire particularly after his health. Of course, on receiving the only answer he could receive on that occasion, he was perfectly struck with amazement ! He had made up his mind to be suddenly struck : it was part of the plan he had deliberately laid down, — and after na,ving, in his own peculiar style, expressed his concern to the widow Smugman, whose grief was exces9ive,^he thanked her for feeling so much for his uncle, and begged of her to pre- vail upon Valentine to see him, that he might know if there was anything in the world that he could do. The affected widow — who began to look upon Horace as an individual who had been scandalously libelled — of course consented, and proceeded to the drawing-room, in which Val- entine was sitting with Uncle John, with the view of inducing him by her eloquence to see him whom she termed " the poor afflicted young gentleman." Valentine, however, needed no such induce- ment : the very moment he heard that Horace wa.5 below he came down, and was by no means displeased to perceive that he was not dead to every proper feeling, for he had made Aa* up his face for the occasion, while the lones faj which he spoke resembled those which are subdued by real grief. The interview was but short. Valentine ex- plained to him all that had occurred, but dweh emphatically upon Goodman's earnest wish to see his brother before he died ; and when Horace had ingeniously got at the fact that the will had not been altered — which, indeed, was the only thing he cared to know — he promised to communicate immediately with his father, and with that view at once took his leave. The country is beyond doubt the most un- pleasant place to which a man with a stinging conscience can retire. Such a man must keep in town if he expects even partially to drown his thoughts: the country cannot caJm hh troubled breast : its tranquillity affords no peace for him. This Walter felt strorigly. The peace which he there saw around him so strikingly con- trasted with the perpetual agitation within him, that it drove him almost mad. Drink was the only means of excitement which he found available there. Whether he walked abroad or remained at home, to him it was still the same : everything appeared to be tranquil but his conscience, and by that he was tortured so perpetually that the very day on which Good- man died he made up his mind to return to town; not only with the view of escaping the torture which the peaceful character of a rural life induced^ but in order to see his brother, and to solicit his forgiveness. Upon this he had fully and firmly resolved, and was on the point of explaining that resolution to his wife, and to urge her to prepare immediately for their de- parture, when Horace arrived to announce his brother's death. "What has happened?" inquired Walter, as he entered. "There now, sit down," said Horace, "and don't be in a fever. Take a drop of brandy, and give me ditto, and then, as soon as I've got off my benjamin, I'll tell you all the news. I can't before." Walter trembled. He had no conception of his brother's death, but he felt that something might have occurred that would plunge them at once into ruin. "Well," said Horace, having adjusted him- self to his entire satisfaction, " we seem to have made a bit of a mull of this business, after all." "What business ?" cried Walter, impatiently. " Why, the old buffer's gone, and — " " Gone ?— dead 1" "Why, of course!" replied Horace. "Come, come," he continued, on perceiving the strong effect the announcement had upon Walter; " There, that's quite enough ; you do it on the whole pretty fairly ; but now, — come, — cut it. It's all very larly slobbered away. It is true we haven't had much luck : that must be admitted by univeik sal nature. That fool of a fire was the first go — that cost a litde above a trifle. Then there was the buying of that Spanish, only just as it was on the point of dropping down to nothing Had we waited but half-an-hour longer, we shouldn't have been in time for that. Then the loss of the governor's mysterious pocket-book containing those notes — that was another nice blessing. I never saw such a sweet run of luckj it beats all my acquaintance. And then again, you see, buying that house full of fiirniture at the very highest price, and then selling it at about the very lowest to come down here, and now we shall have to buy another house-full, at the very highest. You see all these things tell!" " They do indeed. We have had neither a moment's peace of mind, nor anything but mis- fortune, since your uncle was taken to that , place." VALENTINE VOX. 283 ^ "It ■« as a badly managed business; nay, the whole thing has been most miserably muffed, and I don't care who knows it. However, we must make the best we can of it now." " I am veiy sorry we disposed of that furni- ture. Had we delayed the sale but a few days, you see there would have been no necessity for sellmg it at all." " That's the beauty of it !— That's the very thing I look at ! We are always just in time !" "But then who could have supposed it? Who could have, supposed that your uncle, after all, would have been so considerate, so good? I am sure, for my own part, I never expected it. I never supposed it to be at all probable. I fully made up my mind when you mentioned the property, that the whole had been left to that young man, to whose arrival in town I attribute all our misfortunes, and that we should have been in consequence compelled either to quit the country, or to remain here concealed, to avoid being ruined by actions at law. But, say what you will, Horace, your uncle must have been a good man." "Oh! he was a decent old fellow enough, I .. dare say. I should have liked him perhaps better had he liked me better, for there is always a great deal in that ; but as he didn't much care Sibout me, why I didn't care much about him. But Where's the governor? It wiU never do, you know, to allow him to get into a state of confirmed uncomfortables. I must say I don't like the look of him sometimes." " I fear that he never will be himself again." " Well, you'd better see after him, you know. He may give us a little more of his hanky- panky business, and set us all in a blaz^, as he did before. There's no accounting for buffers tha,t see apparitions." Mrs. Walter took the hint and left the room, whon on entering the little back parlor, she found Walter seated at the table, with his eyes fixed on vacancy, and groaning with intense mental anguish. She spoke to him — ^he start- ed, but returned no answer. She tried to rouse him from his revery, but in vain. From tliat horn- his misery became appalling. CHAPTER LXV. IN WHICH THB TAY IS FIXED AGAIN. When a month from the period of poor Good- man's death had passed without a smgle sylla- ble on the subject of the marriage having been inentitaied, Valentine very naturally felt, that as -everything which might have been consid- ed a bar to its immediate celebration had been effectually removed, it would be absurd to de- fer the renewed of that subject any longer, par- ticularly as he began to be very impatient. He «iw Louise daily; he dined and conversed with .?■ dally ; and he could not but feel that they : ; as well be married as not ; nay, he thought it would be better, inasmuch as their minds would be more at ease, and they would feel far more settled, and so on. Accordingly, having satisfied himself ihat nothing could be more correct, he resolvod to* revert to the subject at oncej and as at the time this unimpeachable resolution was formed, He and Louise were in the drawing-room alone, he closed the book he had in his hand, and drew up to the table at which she had been working for some time in silence. It is a curious fact in natural philosophy, that ladies, in almost every case of interest, clearly understand the designs of iheir lovers. The process by which they arrive at this clear un- derstanding is inscrutable, of coursej but that they do possess the faculty of perceiving it at once when an interesting proposition is about to be made to them, is a fact which experience has placed beyond dispute. It is hence that at such a time as this they are never off their guard, for, let a man go round and round, and beat about as his apprehensions or his natural diffidence may prompt, they well know that his design is to come to the point, and that soonei or later to the point he will come ; and hence it was, that in this particular instance, Louise no sooner perceived Valentine draw mysteriously up to the table, than she began to work away at an extraordinary rate, and to feel her cheeks glowing with " ineffectual fire." " Louise," said he, " I mean to be merry again. I have been solemn already too long: for although the mournful scene which caused me to be sad, made an impression which I sincerely hope may never be obliterated, still, I hold it to be the very reverse of wisdom, to cherish gloomy thoughts until they obtain so great an influence over the mind as to tinge every feeling of pleasure with sadness." At this point he paused ; but Louise kept on working with great intensity and zeal without offering the slightest remark, or even raising her eyes for an instant. "Louise," he continued, "you are very in- dustrious to-day !" " That is rather an equivocal compliment," said Louise. " Am I not always industrious V "Your mind is always active, I admit; but I never saw you work quite so fast, I think, before ! , Shall you be long about that busi- ness?" " What business, dear ?" "Why, that muslin affair.— What is it? — Oh ! by no means ! — I have no wish to know ! — But you'll not be long about it, I presume?" ■' Oh! no. But why do you ask ?" "Because, when you have completed it- whatever it may be — I should like to have a little conversation with you on a subject of some interest." " Can we not converse while I am working quite as well ?',' " No, my Louise, not quite, for your eyes are then fixed upon the work when I am anxi- ous to have them fixed upon me." Louise bowed, and having set the work aside was all attention. " You heard me say just now," he continued, " that I mean to be merry again. Louise, we must both be merry." "I fear," said Louise, "that I shall never again be habitually cheerful." 884 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF " That, my dear girl, is the effect of the very influence to which I alluded, and against which we must take care to guard. I am glad, how- ever, to find that you fear jou never shall, be- cause, as that implies a wish that you may, I have no doubt you will. Cherish that fear until you prove it to be groundless. Entertain it till then, and you are safe. But I have no fear of the kind: I have not even a doubt that you will be, and that soon, the same light-hearted, animated, merry litde tyrant you were three months ago." Louise shook her head, and sighed. " You do not think so, of course," he con- tinued ; " I don't see how you can 1 But, my good girl, we must not hug sorrow to our hearts as if we loved it. We shall have enough of it without courting its society. It will come often enough, without any invitation, and stop long enough, without being either welcomed or fos- tered. We must give it no encouragement : if we do, it will stick to us, and make itself so perfectly at home, that after a time we shall not be able to get rid of it at all. They are the wisest people who turn sorrow out at once, for it really has no engaging qualities : it is always looking wretched, and groaning about some- thing. How ever rational beings can love such a companion, I cannot conceive." "Its visits," said Louise, "are, unfortu- nately, not confined to those by whom it is beloved." "Of course not. It will force itself any- where : it is eternally trying to extend the circle of its acquaintance ; but having gained an introduction, the length of its visit depends entirely upon the treatment it receives. If you meet it with spirit, it will be too much shocked to remain long; but if once you fall into its views, it will love you too dearly to leave you. Now I perceive, my dear girl, that it is getting rather too fond of you : its affection for you, indeed, is becoming very ' conspicuous, and as such is the case, would it not be wise to make it understand that on your part there is no reciprocity of feeling ? . What is your opin- ion upon the point f" "Upon my word," said Louise, "I cannot Bay." "Are you enamored of sorrow?" "No." " You have no desire to be wedded to it for life?" ■ " Certainly not." " If you knew how to remove the heavy burden from your heart, you would do so wil- lingly?" " I would." " Then the thing shall be done. I will un- dertake to show you how to do it. But let us have a clear and distinct understanding. Yon engage to be guided by me ? You promise to act upon my instructions to the very letter?" Louise paused, but at length said, " I do." " Very well. In the first place then — (now, I expect the most implicit obedience) — ^in the first place, let me see, this is the sixth : yes ; well, then, decide upon what day, between this and the twentieth, we shall take full pos- session of our house." "Oh! that's an entirely different thing!" ex- claimed Louise. " We were speaking on th« subject of sorrow !" "We were; and as I have made up my mind to entertain no sorrovi' at that house, the sooner we take possession of it the better. Re- member, you have promised obedience ! — be- tween this and the twentieth." " Nay, but this is a snare ! You can hardly expect me to feel myself bound by a promise into which I have been entrapped! But, seri- ously, my love, pray let us defer it a little longer." " Well, my dear girl, I will consent to defer it — ^provided yon can prove to me that it ought to be deferred." " Would not the mere expression of my wish on the subject be sufficient?" " Why, that depends entirely upon what form of government we are under. If it be an abso- lute despotism, of course the wish would have but to be expressed to be obeyed; but if it be but a limited monarchy^ the consent of others must be obtained before it can have the force of law. But I thought you were my pupil — my subject for the time being. I thought you promised to obey me. Was it not so ?" " I certainly did promise ; but — " "That is sufficient! Your wUl, then, of course, is quite out of the question : my will is the law to which you have promised obedience: nevertheless, if you can show me any just cause or impediment why we should not take posses- sion of that house before the twentieth, I am perfectly willing to yield ; at the same time I think that I am quite safe in making that pro- mise, believing that no sufficient reason can be adduced. But vrhat have you to urge ?" " I know of nothing which you would con- sider a sufficient reason ; but I don't, my love, feel — exacdy^ — prepared." " Well, surely you will ha , plenty of time for preparation before the twentieth ! Consider, an immense deal can be done in fourteen days. Besides, look at that furniture ! Now, I should be very sorry indeed, to see that fall into decayj and is it likely that it will not all be spoiled if we drive this affair off much longer !" " Oh ! but I hope it is well taken care of" "It may be; I say it may be; but yon know what servants are when they have no one to see after them. But independendy of that, I don't like to "see the house as it is now. We should feel more at home there — much more at home. I admire the house. And shall we not be happy in it, ray love ? Yes, 1 feel that we shall, and you feel that we shall, too. Let us, then, be happy at once. I am not at all particular as to tlie day ; any day between this and the twentieth. The earlier, the better, of course. Come, my Louise, we must have no more gloom, no more melancholy thoughts oi afflicting apprehensions. To-morrow — I will not press you too closely now — but to-monow let me know the day on which our happiness is really to commence, and then we'll make sorrow fly before the prospect !" Louise was silent. Valentine had drawn his chair quite close to hers, and had both hei hands m his ; and although she endeavored tn VALENTINE VOX. 289 fix her eyes firmly upon her dress, tiiey would almost every moment meet his, which of course she coaldn't help. "Louise," said he, after a pause, during which he gazed with the highest and purest feelings of admiration upon her, "what say you ; shall we go this morning and look at our house, and see how the furniture stands, and so on V " Oh, yes ! I should like it indeed." "Then we'll go, my dear girl: run away and prepare." Louise now raised her eyes, and before she left the room fixed them firmly upon him, and said that he was a dear good creature, and that she loved him more and more ; for which, of course, Valentine appropriately rewarded her, and a heavy burden seemed to have been removed from the hearts of both. "Oh, Louey!" exclaimed Llewellen, who happened to enter unperceived at the very mo- mffit their lips accidentally met, — " Oh!" Louise blushed, and darted from the room with all possible speed. " Well, Fred !" said Valentine, precisely as if nothing at all had happened, " what's the news?" "Well, cootness knows it, now, that's the first time I ever frightened Louey ! Hur'm so clat ! Won't hur tease her now, look you !" " Tease her V said Valentine ; " what about V Llewellen made a very droll face, and gave flve or six very deliberate nods as if he quite understood it. " Why, you don't suppose, Fred, that it is very extraordinary for a lady to receive a kiss from him to whom she is just on the point of being married V " No," said Llewellen, " no ! It isn't extra- ortinary, that; put, look you, there's a tifFer- enoe petween kissing phen nopotty's apout, ant kissing phen somepotty's hanty; ant cootness knows Louey woultn't have hat me seen her for t?ie work: so hur'U roast her to teath apout it, look you ! Putt her say, my poy, woultn't you like to have a walk ? Hur've pin reating those plesset pooks pelow till hur'm plint." " Louise and I are going to look at the house." "Oh! apove all things in the worlt! Hur may co, hur suppose V "Of course ! — that is to say, if Louise has no objection ; but I know she will put her veto up- on it at once if you say another word about the kiss." " Oh, very well j hur ton't care so long as hur can CO, only hur shoot like to tease her a pit apout that." . " But her spirits, poor girl, have of late been depressed, and you ought not, you know, to take any advantage — " "Not for the worlt!" cried Llewellen, with much feeling, "not for the worlt! For hur love Louey, look you; were she my sister, hur coultn't love her more." Valentine grasped his hand, and shook it warmly; and, having said that he was a good fellow, strongly recommended him to go and brush his hair, not because it was at all disar- ranged, but in order that Louise, when she re- tained, might not feel at all em'barrassed. " Hur ton't think hur can maEe it .ook much pelter, look you," said Oewellen, after Having surveyed it in the glass. " Phot's the matter with It, ray poy? Ton't you like the co of it?" " Oh, go and give it a brush : it will look all the smoother, especially behind." "Very coot: hur'U make it co peMer if hur can." " That's right ; but be quick ; don't keep us waiting long. Eun away, Louise is coming." Llewellen was oif like a shot to arrange his hair, and Louise the next moment returned. "Oh! where is Fred ?"she inquired, having looked stealthily round. "Gracious! — what did he say ?" '■' What did he say ! Why, he said that he should like to go with us." "Yes, yes; bnt about — you know what I mean. Did he make any remark?" " I believe- that he said • Oh !' or something of that kind, playfully, before you left the room." '■' Dear me, what a fidget I was in." Llewellen now entered, with his hair in the best trim. He had altered the "go," and it looked rather tidy. "Will it too?" he inquired, addressing Val- entine. " Ay ! now it looks more like the thing !" '• Hur wish, Louey tear, you woult puy me some pears'. grease, will you, Louey? — there's a coot kirl !" Louise promised to do so, and they left the house, and at the suggestion of Valentine called for Uncle John, whom they found alone, and in rather low spirits. He was. however, pleased to see them, for their appeaianee was cheering; more especially that of Louise. " We are come," said Louise, after a most cordial greeting, " to steal from you those gloomy thoughts which Valentine thinks we have all enleriained long enough." "And 1 believe that he is right, my dear," returned Uncle John, "I believe that he is right." " I am glad that you think so too," said Louise. " You will accompany us? We are going to look at the house." " Too come," urged Llewellen ; "it's a plesset deal petter than peing here, and cootness knows it." " Oh ! I'll go with you with pleasure." " But I thought^' said Louise, " that my dear friend was here ?" " She has been here ; but we shall find her there : I have just sent her to see that everything is going on right." " Well, that is fortunate. I hope she will not have left." " Shall hur co pefore," said Llewellen, " and tell her you are coming?" "Yes, do," replied Louise, "there's a dear fellow, do." •Llewellen started off, and they followed him leisurely, and on the way Valentine hinted to Uncle John that between that day and the twentieth they should be in possession, which pleased Uncle John, although it slightly, but very slightly, embarrassed Louise. " I do not see," said the old gentleman, "Ow 2S6 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF sliglitest necessity now for delaying the thing any longer; on the contrary, I think that as every obstacle has been removed, any further delay would be folly; for of course we shall all feel unsettled until it takes place." Valentine was delighted to hear his uncle speak out on the subject, and Louise was by no means unhappy about it, albeit she was silent. On arriving at the house, they were received by the widow, who with Louise at once pro- ceeded to make a most minute inspection, ■while Valentine, his uncle, and Llewellen, were having a glass of wine. This inspection, how- ever, did not occupy the whole of the time the ladies were absent, for Louise, embracing the earliest, opportunity, opened her heart to her affectionate friend, and having explained the substance of all that passed between her and Valentine that morning, it was decided then that the fifteenth should be fbced, and the widow was deputed to announce the fact to Valentine, in order that he might immediately communicate with Rji-ven. Accordingly, on entering the drawing-room in which the gentlemen were enjoying them- selves, the widow drew Valentine aside, and to his great satisfaction, imparted to him the re- sult of their private conference; but Louise at the time felt so excessively awkward, and trembled with so much violence, that she dared not attempt to raise the glass of wine presented by Uncle John, to her lips; nor was it until Valentine, on rejoining them with a srriile, be- gan "to converse on general topics with the highest consideration for her feelings, which he on all occasions studied, that she was able to reassume her self-posseseion. On recovering herself, however, she began to explain how much delighted sne waa with the whole of the arrangements, and soon made it manifest that she really did feel that the sooner matters were settled the better. The object propowd having been thus ac- complished, Valentine, Louise, and Llewellen, left the house in the occupation of Uncle John and the widow, who remained to give addi- tional instructions; and as Valentine was re- solved that Lniiise should be gay, that she might feel as little embarrassed under the cir- cumstances as possible^ he suggested that they should go to a certain scientific exhibition, which be had seen advertised in the papers that morning. Louise — always peculiarly happy to visit exhibitions with her Valentine, who had the power to render them all sources of infinite amusement — applauded the suggestion, and they proceeded to act upon it at once. ■ On passing Langham Church, however, Val- entine's attention was attracted by two persons who were in earnest conversation at the comer. He sav.- at a glance that one of these persons was Whiluly ; but being anxious that the thoughts of Louise should not revert to the affair with which his name was associated, he of course took no notice, and they were about tn pass on, when at the moment Llewellen exclaimed, "Look you !— Is not that Mr. Phitely?" Louise in an instant turned her eyes, and •aw not only Whitely, but Joseph, her father's kte portei- "Too you know the other, LoueyT" added Llewellen "Apove all other people in the worlt it's that lazy scountrel Joe, ant cootneas knows it !'■ " Don't appear to notice them," said Valen. tine. " The fellow is, perhaps, merely trying to get another situation." " Phitely ton't live with you now, I pelieve f* " No, he left about a fortnight ago." They passed on, and Llewellen again ex- pressed his wonder that Whitely should corv- verse with a fellow like that; but Louise neither said a single word upon the subject, nor felt at all surprised ; indeed, as she knew that Raven's secret had been known to the man, she viewed it as a thing to be expected that whenever he and Whitely happened to meet, they would speak on the subject as a matter of course. To Valentine this was unknown, and hence he thought far more of the matter ; but he ap» peared to be as gay as before, and conversed in as lively a strain, and kept Louise constantly smiling until they reached the exhibit'on, being anxious for her to think as little as possible about that which they had seen, and which on his mind had made a deep impression. On entering the exhibition, the first thing which attracted their notice was the process of spinning glass by steam, which Llewellen pro- nounced to be "wonterful beyont all things in the worlt," and when informed that the glass thus spun could with silk or thread be manu- factured into various articles of dress, he d* clared in a confidential whisper to Valentuie, that he would have a pair of "peatrtiful preeches" made of it, but that, if he " tit hap. pen to tumple town, then they would certainly preak into pits." They then proceeded to the principal room, which was crowded with models, and scientific apparatus, which Llewellen minutely examined, and upon which he made divers extraordiilary remarks. ' " Valentine," whispered Louise, " I don't think that Fred has ever been galvanized. I wonder how he would like it !" " We'll see," said Valentine ; " there's a wire in that basin : drop something in, and ask hiin, as a favor, to get it out." " Oh, that will be glorious; but what shall it be 1 — my purse 1" "Anything: a ring will be better; he'll be some time getting at that." Louise drew off a ring, and let it fall into the basin, and when Llewellen, who had been looking at the model of a steam-boat, approach- ed, she cried, " Oh, Fred, I've just dropped my ring into the water; can you see it?" " Yes," rejjlied Llewellen, " there it is at the pottom. Wait a minute ; ril get it !" He drew off his glove, and put his hand into the water, but it was out again, of course, is. an instant !-— the shock, being perfectly unexpect- ed, astonished every nerve he possessed. " Why, Fred, what's the matter ?" inquired Valentine. Llewellen couldn't tell. He stood and looked at the water with great intensity of feeling, and with a very remarkable aspect ; but what VALENTINE VOX, 287 h was ijiat had thus travelled through his sys- tem with the velocity of light, he was not in a position to say. "My poy," said he, at length, "do you see anything there in that pasin f" " I see a ring at the bottom." "Putt nothing alrve', look you? — nothing (flive ?" " No," replied Valentine, gravely. "Nor can I — ant yet there was something which made my plut curtle, and shook every pone in my potty." " Come, Fred," said Louise, who had been convulsed from the first, " you said you would get me my ring." "So hur tit, Louey, — yes, ant so hur will — putt cootness knows it I" Hereupon he put his hand into the water again, and as it was out in an instant, as before, he demanded to know what it was. " Phot is it V he cried, — " Phot in the name of Saint Tavit can it pe ? Hur never saw water aUve pefore T Just try it, my poy : just try it." " Is it hot V "Oh no, cootness knows it's not hot, putt so queer ! — too try it." "Nonsense," said Louise, affecting to be serious. " I suppose that I must get it out my- self." "Not for the worlt 1" exclaimed Llewellen, — " not for the worlt ! it will shake you to pits ! No, hur'U get it out presently, putt inteet her tpn't know phot to make of it at all." He now tried very cautiously with one of his tingers, and the result caused him to feel a deep interest in the thing, and he became less alarm- ed ; still he could make nothing of it. "Now," said Louise, "did you ever see so gilly a creature ! There has he been for the last ten minutes dipping for my ring, and hasn't got it up yet !" " Hur ton't care phot you say, Louey : there's a mystery in this pusiness, cootness knows, ant hur'U get to the pottom of it, look you !" "Well, I wish you would, for at the bottom lies the ring." "Hur ton't mean that : but hur say, my poy ; try it, too try it 1" "On! I've no objection,'' said Valentine, who quietly removed the wire, and drew out the ring, without the smallest inconvenience. " Well," said Llewellen, " how very extra- ortinary ! Put titn't you feel something that mate you treraple'!" " No," replied Valentine, as he shpped the wire in again. "Well, hur can't pear to pe peat ! — hur'U try h again, look you !" He did so, and on finding that, as a matter of course, the effect upon him was the same, he became quite distressed. " How very remark- able," he cried ; " how very troll!" " Oh! Fred, Fred !" cried Louise. " Hur ton't care, Louey, the water's pewitoh- ed.. You try it ; only try one finger 1 If Valen- tine can stant it hur can't, and hur'm sure it will shake you to pieces." " I've no particular desire to wet my fingers," Mid Louise, as Valentine again removed the wire, unperceived, "but in order to show whajt a very silly creature you are, Fred, I will." She then at once introduced her little hand into the water, and held it there, of course, with perfect steadiness, which so amazed LleweUen, that he scarcely knew how to express what he felt. "Now," said Louise, "f do hope you are satisfied." But Llewellen was iiot, by any means; and he was about to explain, with great force, that he was not, when Louise play- fully told him to say no more about it, and with gentle force led him away. At that moment a man in a diving-dress was about to enter a basin at the uppoj' end of the room, about twelve feet in diarnetc^r, and eight feet deep. They therefore drew as near as possible at once, in order to have a good view of the operations, and when he had got beneath' the surface, he appeared to walk about with very great deliberation and safety, his move- ments being marked by the water w^ich con- tinually boiled above his head. Having been down for some time, "he ascended, and when a box had been handed to him with the view of giving a practical iUustration of the power of voltaic electricity, he went down again, but he had no sooner done so, than Valentine, having whispered to Louise, threw his voice towards the diver, and cried, "Pull me out !" In an instant ,the men who were in atteiv dance, threw ropes to the diver and held a life- preserver above his head, and would doubtless have proceeded to great extremities in order to save him, had he not, on perceiving through the glass in his helmet, a very unusual bustle above, reascended the rope ladder to see what it was all about, in the perfect conviction that something ^ was decidedly wrong. He had scarcely, however, got above the surface, when he was seized \iy the attendants, who exhibited the most laudable anxiety to render him every assistance in their power, which astonished the diver more and more, and he shook his head at them and seemed by his gestures to be demanding an explanation ; but it had no effect ; they led him with great hu- manity to the edge of the basin and made him sit down, and having carefully removed his helmet, they anxiously asked him how he felt himself then. Of course, the diver didn't know what to make of this display of affectionate zeal^ and very naturaUy begged to know what it meant, for being totally unaccustomed to such con- siderate attention, it rather confused him that not. "What's the matter?" said he, "anything broke V> "What was the matter with youV inquired one of the men. " The matter with me !^-n6thing." " What did you call out for then V "I call out! How came you to think of that? I didn't caU out!" Here the spirit of incredulity seized them ali, and they asked him distinctly if he really meant to say that he had not uttered the words " Pull me out." LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF " Of course I do," he replied. " Why should I -K-ant to be pulled out? If I'd felt queer, couldn't I have come out of my own accord in about the space of half an instant V The men said no more : but they looked at each other as if they felt^omething very acutely. The helmet wils now readjusted; and when the submarine explosion had taken place, the diver again went down for a short time, and having completed his task, reasoended. " Any lady or gentleman for the diving-bell?" shouted one of the attendants. " The diving- bell!" " Have you courage enough to go down, Lou- ise," said Valentine, hardly expecting that she had. "I have courage enough to go anywhere ■with you," replied Louise. " I fear nothing when you are with me." Valentine smiled, and pressed her hand. "Would you like,'' said he, "to go down with US, Fred 1" "Apove all things in the worlt!" replied Llewellen. " Hur should like it, if only to say that hur hat pin town, look you !" The necessary tickets were therefore pro- cured, and they entered the bell, which would have held five persons, but they were alone; and the moment they were seated they were launched into the middle of the basin, and began to descend. The pumping then com- menced; and they began to experience a singu- lar sensation, which gradually increased as they descended, until it became one of abso- lute pain. Their ears seemed to be completely stopped up one moment, and the next to have a passage directly through them, while their heads felt as if they were quite prepared to split. "Oh! I shall tie!" cried Llewellen, "ant cootness knows it." "Nonsense !" said Valentine. "Oh ! put hur can't preathe !" Valentine knocked for more air, and they immediately felt more oppressed ; he then knocked for less, and, although they felt in some degree relieved, the sensation was still very painful. " Oh, my poor het ! — it will pust !" cried Llewellen. " We are ascending now, my love," said Valentine, who regretted exceedingly that he had brought Louise down; for, although she exhibited no signs of fear, he well knew that she must be in pain. i "Oh I my potty's as empty as a putt !" cried Llewellen ; " ant my het ! Oh ! my het !" " We' are very near the surface now," said Valentine. "Only let me once more get apove it!" cried Llewellen — " hur'll never get pelow it in a tiving-pell acaiti." And he shook his head, and gave some extraordinary winks; and ap- peared to be altogether very uncomfortable. The next moment they got above the surface, *nd began to breathe freely again ; and the in- stant the bell had been landed, Llewellen rushed out, holding his ears, and looking very mysterious. The persons who stood round smiled, of course, but the knowledge of tha^ fact did not hurt his private feelings : he Ihoughl of his head — he then cared about nothing in nature but that. "You are in pain, my poor girl," said V* lentine, having handed Louise from the bell. "No, I don't feel much, now," replied Loi> ise; "I have a tingling sensation in my ears but it isn't very painful." " I am indeed very sorry that I induced yon to go down ; but I had no idea of its having this effect." "Oh, it will very soon go off! Do you fdel much of it?" " Very little. But look at poor Fred !" Llewellen was at that time standin" with his hands to his ears, and his elbows on the 'frame, looking very severely at the water. His ex- pression was that of a deaf individual, and the whole of his intellectual faculties appeared to be in a most distressing state of confusion. "How do you feel now, Fred?" said Valei>- tine. " Better ?" " Fetter !" cried Llewellen ; " my het's in a roar ! It's tangerous, look you ! — ^very tanger- ous, indeed !" Valentine admitted that it was dangerous; and that ladies especially ought never to go down ; for although in the bell there were in- structions to knock once for more air, twice for less, and so on, nine persons out of ten, when they experience a difficulty in breathing, sup- pose that they have too little air when they have too much, and knock for more ; indepeni ently of which, his decided impression was, that its tendency in many cases of weakness was to produce instant death. An announcement was now made, to the effect that something was going forward in the theatre of the institution ; and as Valentine and Louise had nearly recovered from the effects of their diving experiment, they playfully ral- lied Llewellen ; and having insisted upon his keeping his fingers out of his ears, proceeded with him in the direction pointed out. As they entered the theatre, it was perfectly dark, which rather alarmed Fred, who display- ed an inclination to retire. "Is this another scientific experimental pusiness?" he inquired; "pecause if it pe, hur can't stant it, my poy, hur can't inteet." " It is only the microscope," said Valentine, and the next moment the disc appeared before them, exhibiting a mass of unhappy little wretches, that appeared to he in a frightful state of excitement. They darted about, aiid drove against each other, and lashed their tails, and kicked as if conscious that they had rot another minute to live, and were therefore re- solved to make the most of tte time allowed them. Llewellen was delighted. He at once forgot his head, and took the deepest possible interest in the evolutions of the little animals, which were somewhere about a million times less than they appeared. "Phot are they?" he inquired; "Phot are they all about ? They appear to nave pins is their tails, look you !" VALENTINE VOX. 299 liisten," said Valentine, and at the moment an individaal began to explain, that what they saw was merely a drop of Thames water, and that the animals therem were so minute, that the idea of being able to see them with the naked eye was about the most ridiculous that could be conceived. "Oh!" exclaimed Valentine, sending his voice some distance from him: " How then can they see each other ? Are their eyes strong- er than ours?" This was done of course merely to create a sensation, and that object was in an instant achie ved ; and the lecturer paused, but disdain- ed to reply to so strikingly irregular a ques- tion. "Well!"- said Valentine. "But I suppose you cannot tell." The lecturer scientifically struggled for some time with his feeliri^s; but at length said with very great solemnity, " What is it the gentleman wishes to know?" "Whelher," replied Valentine, "'their eyes are more powerful than ours?" " Beyond doubt !" said the lecturer, in a very severe tone — " infinitely more powerful in their sphere. Eyes are not powerful in proportion to their size. If they were, the eagle would be able to see a far less distance than the ele- phant, and assuming that the elephant has the power to distinguish objects at a distaijoe of twenty miles, the ant would be able to see no- thing beyond half a millionth part of a quarter of an inch." JHere the lecturer was applauded, and by the light of the lamp beside him, it was percepti- ble that he felt a little better. " What a very silly person he must be,'' ob- served Louise, "to ask so ridiculous a ques- tion !" -"Very," returned Valentine; when, aiBsum- ing the same voice as before, he added, " Who is.it that says I am a very silly person ?" "Good gracious!" cried Louise, "I had no idea of his having overheard me." "Who is it?" again demanded Valentine, when many began to laugh, and many more cried, " I ! — :! ! — I ! — We all say that you are a very silly person." "How dare you laugh at me !" cried Valen- tine, and t'he laughter recominenced. " I know," he continued, "I well know the laugh of one excited individual : it is that of Fred Llewellen, who has just been down in the diving-bell." " Oh !" cried Louise, "it is you!" " Hush !" said Valentine. " Tit you hear ?" cried Llewellen ; " tit you hear ? Co phere hur will, hur am sure to pe known." " I know you," 'cried Valentine. " Silence ! — silence ! — Order ! order !" shout- ed severaj persons, who began to feel indignant. "Am I to be insulted by a Welshman?" cried, Valentine, in a very scornful tone, "Is it likely?" "Phot to you mean, sir?" pointedly de- manded Llewellen, for his blood began to boil. "Phot to you mean ? — Who are yea?" "Gentlemen," said the lecturer, soothingly, 1» sb " it -will be porfectly impossible for us to pro- ceed unless you are silent." " Do not be brow-beaten, Fred," said Louise, in a very wicked whisper. "Too you think to prow-peat me?" shouted Llewellen, whom Louise had thus inspired with unlimited courage. " If you too, you are mis- taken. You're no gentleman, sir !" "What!" shouted Valentine, at the same time patting him encouragingly on the shoulder. " Hur say you're no gentleman !" repeated Llewellen, under the influence of the liveliest indignation. "Gentlemen!" said the lecturer-:— "Gentle- men ! I would put it to your own good sense whether this ought to be. Is it dscent? Is it correct ? Is it a thing which ought to be tolera- ted for one moment ? You re ally must be silent, or we cannot proceed." " He may be silent," cried Valentine, "but I will not : I'll have satisfaction \" " It is to you, sir, I more particularly address myself," said the lecturer. " You are the ag- gressor." " Do you tell me that to my teeth ?" said Val- entine. " I'U have satisfaction of you !" Loud cries of "Turn him outf — turn him out !" now proceeded from every quarter, and when the noise and excitement had reached the highest pitch, the shutter of the skylight was suddenly removed, and about three hundred persons were discovered ih a state of great anxiety. This unexpected and instantaneous introduc- tion of light had a striking effect. The noise ceased on the instant, but all appeared to ba panting to catch a glimpse of him who had created the unseemly disturbance. " Which is the gentleman," inquired the lec- turer, "who is so anxious to have satisfaction ?" No one answered. The question was re- peated more emphatically; still no one an- swered. " As he thought proper to insult me person- ally," said Llewellen, " hur shall pe clat if he'll make his appearance, that hur may invite him to walk quietly out." " He durst nqt show himself," cried several voices. "Who says that?" demanded Valentine, promptly, making his voice appear to proceed from the other side of the theatre. "I!" cried Llewellen, looking towards the quarter from which the sound apparently pro- ceeded. " I say that you tare not show your- self." Another pause ensued, and every eyo was directed towards the spot ; but although a low muttering was heard distinctly, no one ap- peared, with the view of asserting his dignity as a man. "My impression is, that he's a plaokoart!" cried Llewellen ; " a tirty plackcart !" " That's enough !" said Valentine, throvring his voice as before ; " that's enough ! I'll be with you !" The effect which this had upon those who were ic the quarter from which the voice seemed to come, was extraordinary. They 290 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF looked at each other in a state of amazement, and marvelled not only that they were unable to Bee him there, but that they could not discover him while he was speaking. "Now then!" shouted Valentine, throwing his voice towards the door, " are you coming 1" This puzzled the audience still more. They had seen no one making his way out, and they felt sure that if any one had, they must have seen him. It was a mystery to them; they couldn't understand it. Llewellen, however, without waiting to see what effect this had upon the audience generally, started out the very moment he heard the summons, with all the alacrity at his command. Valentine and Louise followed, and the majority of the audi- ence, who seemed to take particular interest in the matter, followed them, and found Llewel- len very naturally looking about the entrance for the person by whom he had been chal- lenged. "Well, have you seen him V inquired Val- entine. •' No, cootness knows it ; hur'm afrait he knows petter than to let me." "Now then ! — Here I am !'' cried Valentine, throwing his voice among the crowd. Llewellen again looked about with great acuteness, and the crowd, who sympathized with him, assisted him in his efforts to discover the individual, but in vain ; he was there, there could be no doubt of that, but he evidently badn't the courage to stand forth. " Now, phot can you too with such a fel- low I" said Llewellen, appealing to Valentine. "Phott can you too with him? If hur couit see him, hur shoult know petter apout it; put as he won't pe seen, phy cootness knows, hur ton't know phot's to pe tone !" "Treat him with contempt," said Valentine, in his natural voice. "He is quite beneath your notice. I thought, from the first, you'd ^e unable to discover him. Now, let us be off." " Putt we had petter not co justtirectly, my poy ! He will say that hur was afrait, and run away!" " Not he," returned Valentine ; " but we shall walk out leisurely, and if his courage should come up, he can follow us to the door." They then proceeded towards the entrance, and on the way Llewellen — the thought of whose head had gone out of that head altoge- ther — turned to see if the invisible individual had plucked up sufficient courage to follow; but no one did so — no one approached to an- nounce himself boldly like a man, which Llew- ellen could not but think strange ; but still more strange did he consider the fact of his invisible enemy having addressed him by name^ Of course Louise vas delighted with this lit- tle adventure. She thought it, indeed, too bad that poor Fred should have been teased to so great an extent; but he was soon made per- fectly happy by her and Valentine, who felt themselves bound to applaud the invincible courage he had displayed. CHAPTER LXVI. IN WHICH ANOTHER IMPOKTAMT SECKET IS IlEVEir.S!>, On the following morning, when Valentine called at the usual hour, he jUst presented himself to Louise, and then proceeded to the library, having ascertained that Raven wa» there alone, with the view of communicating with him on the subject, which then almost exclusively occupied his mind. It was the first time that he had sought a private interview with him since the unhappy recognition took place. He had seen him — he had dined with him indeed almost daily since then, but as he had on all occasions appeared to be anxious to avoid being with him alone, Valentine had, of course, never thrust himself upon him. The time, however, had now arrived when it was absolutely necessary for him to do so ; and as he entered the library. Raven appeared to know his object, for he threw aside the paper he was reading, and having shaken his hand warmly, pointed to a seat. " Well, Vaientine," said he, " so you have come to have a little private talk with me at last. Of course I know upon what subject, at least I presume that it is on that of youi marriage?" "Exactly," returned Valentine. "It is thought that, if it meet your views, the fifr- teenth will be a very correct day." " The fifteenth, my dear boy, then let it te, by all means ; and the sooner the fifteentll comes, why the sooner I shall be happy. I hope that this time nothing may occur to caaso the slightest disappointment." " I hope so too. I have no fear of that." "Nor had you before, and yet you see — " "Nay, nay," said Valentine, gently intep- rupting him, " don't let us revert to that subject; let us shun it; let us forget it. The thing is over now — setded — let it rest." "There is one consideration, and only one," rejoined Raven, " which enables me to recur CD it with pleasure, and that consideration has reference directly and solely to you. When I intimated to jou ambiguously, that that which did occur might happen, you promised that come what might, you would be faithful and firm to Louise. You have kept that promise nobly : you Imve been firm : I am convinced that you never wavered for an instant, but fell as a man ought to feel, that whatever might be my errors, she was pure, poor girl ! and I admiiB you for it." "I apprehend," said Valentine, "that in that instance far less credit is due to me than yon are inclined to award: for I' much question whether, if even my head had made an effort to shake my firmness, my heart would have allowed it to succeed. But let me suggest thai we bury this matter for ever — that we never, in any shape, or on any occasion, allude to il again. Come, let us change the scene. We have been looking already too long at the dark side of things ; let us turn to the bright one^ fol a bright one there is ! The day of our manii)g0 must not be one of gloom." VALENTINE VOX. 291 "Yon are a fine fellow, Valentine — a noble fellow : there is none of tha,t sickly, sentimental aristocracy about you. You see things at a glance, as they are. I have the highest opinion of your judgment." V The fifteenth then," said Valentine, " is to be the day?" "The fifteenth. Exactly. And as your wish is to avoid all allusion to that affair, I had better not enter into any explanation." "Thai will be by tar the better way. I should like things to go on now, precisely as if nothing of the kind had occurred.'' "Well, it's useless to make ourselves misera- ble eternally about , that, which being done, can't be helped. It was a sad affair, certainly. However, it's passed, and we'll say no more about it. Will your uncle be here to-day ?" " It's very likely he'll call." " If he should, let me see him. We have not to go over the same ground again, exactly; but — don't let him go away without looking in upon me." Valentine promised that he would notj and as the object for which he had sought the inter- view had been acoomplished, he was about to leave the room, when Raven, as if a thought had just occurred to him, said, " Valentine ! — Mr. Whitely has left you, has he not?" " Yes," returned Valentine. "Ha {0 you seen him lately?" "Not to speak to him.'' " I am not very anxious to know, of course ; but you have seen him?" "Why, I just saw him, yesterday." "Yesterday! Oh! indeed, so recently as that? Then he intends to remain in town, I suppose ?" " Upon my word, I am unable to say.'' "Oh! it's a matter of no importance. I merely thought that he intended to go into the country : that's all." Valentine looked at him intently. He was half inclined to mention the fact of his having seen Whitely with Joseph; but as it struck him that its tendency could only be to reproduce un- pleasant feelings, he abstained, and left the room. Louise and the widow now began to be ex- cessively busy again; for, although it is true that everything, from the most important even to the most minute, had been previously pre- pared to their entire satisfaction, it is equally true that when they came to' look again calmly over everjrthing, everything required to be slightly altered. They therefore became as full of business as before ; nay, their minds were more constantly occupied, seeing that whereas, in the making of matters, a great deal had been left to the judgment of other persons, the alterations were effected under their imme- diate superintendence, it being absolutely ne- cessary for those alterations to be in accord.anoe with their mutually improved taste. In this business, of course, Valentine was shut entirely out of all confidence. Generally he stood in the position of family counsel, for his opinion was solicited in cases of emergency, and acted upon without another thought; but in this particular case he was not applied to at all! — a fact which did not, however, disturb him. Uncle John, having been deeply engaged about the house — the appearance of which in every point, may be said to have been the sub- ject of his " thoughts by day, and his dream-j by night" — did not, as was expected, call the day on which Valentine had his interview with Raven. On the following morning, however, having been infonned that Raven had expressed a wish to see him, he did call, and found him in unusually high spirits. He had just received a letter, it appeared, dalted from a vessel which had that morning sailed. He did not, however, enter into the subject of this letter ; but he seem- ed to feel that the whole of his troubles were at an end, and shook the hand of Uncle John with extraordinary warmth. "My friend," he exclaimed, "we shall no* sink beneath this blow now." " I hope not," said Uncle John — " I hope not." " It must all be forgotten, my friend, it must all be forgotten. We have had these aristo- cratic miserables too long. We must now turn and dwell upon the prospect before us." " I am glail to perceive," said Uncle John, " that you huve come to that wise detennina- tion." " A weight," cried Raven, striking his breast with violence, " a dead weight has been re- moved, and I feel myself again. Oh, my friend, you don't know what I have sufl"ered ; you can't know : but as Valentine says tlte marriage-day must not be one of gloom, it shall not be : it shcdl be a joyous day. I have not felt so happy for years !'' "I am right glad to hear it!" said Uncle John ; " I hope sincerely that that happiness will be lasting." "It's sure to be now," said Raven; "quite sure to be now ! But to business," he added, and he proceeded to open a secret drawer in his desk, and to deposit the letter therein. It was perfectly evident to Uncle John that something had happened more than Raven cared to explain. He felt sure that the fact of the marriage-day having been fixed again, had not alone elated him thus. Since the day of the recognition, he had been a wretched being; he had kept himself almost entirely secluded, and had worn the aspect of a miserable man : yet now he was in raptures ; his eyes sparkled with pleasure, and he spoke of happiness, as if he had then felt it for the first time. In the judgment of Uncle John there was far more in this than appeared, seeing that Raven had not dined, and therefore could not be supposed to have been under the influence of wine. How- ever, he felt that he had no right to pry into the matter, and that as no explanation was of- fered, it was a thing which Raven had no desire to explain. "Valentiiie," said Raven, having settled himself down, "has informed you, of course, that his marriage has been fixed for the fii- teenth?" "Yes; that is to say, this day week." 302 L'.FE AND ADVENTURES OF " Precisely. Well then, my Ji end, this day week must be a day of peifect happiness ; and as happiness must be the prominent feature, what can be done to secure itV " Why," replied Uncle John, deliberately, " I doh't exactly see that we can do much more towards the accomplishment of that object, than we have done already \" " I have done nothing. I want to do some- thing. I must do something. What can I AoV "I really don't know what you can do! I know of nothing that requires to be done. There is everything prepared for them — every- thing ! As far as their own personal happiness is concerned, it of course depends now upon themselves; we have at least the satisfaction of knowing that we have done all we could to promote it." " You have that satisfaction : but I have not. I have as yet done absolutely nothing. I wish you would suggest something. What can I do?" " Well now, do you know," said Uncle John, " you couldn't possibly have asked me a more puzzling question !" " Of course the transfer of the sum we be- fore fixed upon has been arranged, and the little marriage presents have been prepared, and so on. It strikes me, however, still, that I ought to do something more !" " Well, I am sorry I am unable to assist you in deciding upon what that something is; for jpon my honor, I can't conceive what it can le ! No, my friend, be .assured that nothing more can be done. We start them fairly, and I should say that few, indeed, ever had a brighter prospect of happiness before them." "That I feel," rejoined Raven ; " nor have I the smallest doubt of that prospect being re- alized. Still I should like, you see, to bring the affair off, as the beggarly aristocracy say, with eclat! Now let us put our heads together. How is this to be done V " For my own part,'' said Uncle John, "I am inclined to believe the less display we make the better." " Well, what would you suggest ? Some ar- rangement must be made. How do you think we ought to.proceed ? — on the day — I mean the day of the marriage'?" "Why," said Uncle John, "I don't know what your views on the subject may be, nor what arrangements you have in contemplation, but I would suggest, that on returning from church, we should have some slight refresh- ment, and that the young people then should start off to spend the honeymoon, leaving us happy in viewing the prospect of their happi- ness, and in the conviction of having done our duty." "What, then, are we two old fogies to be loft dreaming at home 1" " I dare say that they would rather be with- out us than with us !" " Well, now, do you know, I don't think so ! I think that they would enjoy themselves more if we were all to be actively happy together. The consciousness of havijig performed one's duty ia all very well, and very pleasing; but that is not exactly the thing : it doesn't meet my views of what a wedding-day ought to De at all. My impression is, and always-has been, that on such a day as that, we ought not to he becalmed! It ought to be a joyous day; a merry day — a day upon which we can all dine,' drink, and be jolly together !" " Well, what do you propose V " Why, to act upon your suggestion in all but one point. Let them leave by all means to piass the honeymoon at Brighton, or wherever else they may please : they shall have my carriage and four, or six if they like : immediately after the ceremony let them be off! But let us go with them. Let us start immediately after them : let us race them down ; let us have a joyous, glorious day of it ; and a glorious night too!" " Well, of course," said Uncle John, " I can have no objection. I should like to be with them." . " Of course you would! I know you would! Why should they go moping down there alone 1" " They would not be exactly alone ; they would have the bridesmaids and the old lady, and " "What are they? What can they do ? How can they of themselves form a really happy party t They have all the elements of happi- ness in them, but they want a couple of young fellows like us to inspire them with spirit Just imagine the party dowii there. There they are, after a fifty miles' ride, say, at dinner. There's only one man amongst the lot, and that man's the bridegroom. Why, what can he do with them? How can he keep them from sighing themselves down into a state of senti- mental misery? He can't do it! I'll defy him to do it. But even if he could, look at hiia, mark his position. Give him the best of it; say that the dinner passed off' well, and that they were all full of gaiety and joy, which of course they wouldn't be, but say that they were. Well, an hour after dinner the women retire — of course they retire, and when they do, look at him ! There's a lively position for a bride- groom to be placed in ! — there's jollity ! — there's joy ! He sits there, silently sipping his wine ; not a creature to speak to; perfectly alone. Why, such a position is monstrous for a man to be placed in at such a time as that. Come, let us go with them." " On ! with all my heart !" said Uncle John; " I should enjoy it : but I didn't know how far such a course might be correct." " Why, you see, our arrangements wouldn't interfere with theirs. Besides, why should we follow the beggarly aristocratic fashion of divi- ding families at the venr time they ought espe- cially to be together ? Let us accompany them. I am sure that they will be much more happy with us than without us. They are sure to he merry then; but if we let them go alone, my friend, mark my words, neither tor them nor for us, will it be a joyous day." " Well, then, let it be so ; let us all go to gether. There can be no doubt about our being more merry in that case." ' "None, whatever. You see, I'm not one of VALENTINE VOX. 293 your beggarly aristocracy; I haven't fifty thou- sand dowagers, and toadies, and hangers-on, to give a sumptuous dinner to on such an occa- sion; with the exception of yourself, there's scarcely a man whom I'd care to break bread with in any place, much less at ray own table ; and although I have no doubt that you and I should eujoy ourselves, and be in a measu re jolly, )t wouldn't, it couldn't come up within a mile of my notions of what ought to be the glorious clviracteristics of a wedding-day. As, there- lore, you are willing to fall into ray views, I would suggest that it be proposed to the young people — who w^iU agree, I know, to anything of the kind — that immediately after the cere- mony — which ought to be over early, say ten — they take my carriage and four horses, and start, say for Brighton, in the lively expectation of being passed by us on the road; that we drive there all together, and then stop a week or a month, or in fact, just as long as we think proper." "Very good," said Uncle John. "And if the bride and bridegroom wish to leave us after a few days, why they can start off and go where they please." " Exactly ! They may start the next day, if they like. All I am anxious for is, that we may have the wedding dinner together." Very well. It was decided that this plan should be proposed forthwith both to Valentine and Louise ; and Uncle John was deputed to make the proposition, before he left the house, which he did, and they were both much de- lighted. Valentine, however, was not exactly at ease ; he had nothing to do ; all were busy but him, and they would not allow him to assist them. He could scarcely be said to be uncomfortable, or annoyed, but he felt fidgety and impatient, and looked at his watch very often, and walked about without an object — in a word, he was unsettled. Such being the case, having plentj' of time for thought, he conceived the idea of getting up a dinner at the house, that Louise might officiate as mistress before her time. He thought that under the circumstances it would tell extremely well, more particularly as they should not be able to give a dinner there for some considera- ble time, and therefore, as all kind of restraint had worn away, — for the party to be invited felt as if they were already one family, — he named the subject to Uncle John immediately after he had communicated the result of his interview with Raven, and that gentleman not only had no objection to the course proposed, but applauded the notion highly, as one calcu- lated to be a source of great amusement and delight. The next step was to obtain the con- sent of Louise, and with that view Valentine returned to her at once. " My love !" said he, " I want you to be my wife before we are married." "Oh I of course," said Louise, with a playful expression, "by all means. What have you got for me to do? I have not much time, you know, to spare ; but I'll do it if I can. What IS it ■"' Bb* " Why, I am' anxious that we should give a party at our house to-morrow, in whictt case, you, of course, must be there to receive oni guests." "We? Of course, you mean that you and your uncle will give a party V " No ; I mean that you and I should give the party, Louise.'" "What, already?" " Ay ! a sort of preliminary party, just to let them know what we can do." " But will it be correct V " I should say that there will be nothing at all incorrect about it." " Oh, well, if you think that, I should enjoy it amazingly. Oh! it will be glorious! — the idea is so new. I am sure that it is yours. I need not ask you that. Did you ever hear of such a thing before?" " I confess that I never did ; but I don't see why that Should prevent us from doing it !" "By no means. On the contrary, it will be all the better. I shall enjoy it the more. The novelty of the thing will be delightful ! But, understand, sir, I must not be teased too much. Oh ! my Valentine, do not suppose that I am inclined to treat the great subject of' our mar- riage with levity. Indeed, indeed, I am not; but I am so happy ! oh, so happy I I feel that the .time is past for it to be necessary to con- ceal my feelings from you." "My own Louise!" exclaimed Valentine, with fprvor; "I know that the native purity of your heart is to be equalled only by the cor- rectness of your mind. Fear not, my love, that I can entertain a thought which can tend to diminish my estimation of either. My object in proposing this is to render you, if possible, more happy still!" "I know it; I feel it, oh, believe me I am quite sure of that. Well — well!" she added, playfully, " and whom shall we invite ?" " Why, it must of course, under the cii-cura- stances, be confined to ourselves." ^ " Why, of course ! — What a silly thing I am ! Well, then, let me see, there'll be papa, and — oh ! six altogether. Well, have you any invita- tion cards? If not, I have some — beauties! — they have been printed — perhaps more than a thousand years — I can't say : at all events we have had them ever since we cairie here, and not one of them has ever been, by any chance, used. I'll go and hunt them up immediately. Get the envelopes ready, and we'U despatch them at once." Louise then ran for the cards, and on her return they were prepared and enclosed ; and when Valentine went to the house with the view of giving the necessary instructions for the dinner, he despatched them with all due formality, by one of his own servants. This, as Valentine expected, delighted them all ; but not one of them was so much delighted as Raven. He was in ecstasies ! He declared to Uncle John confidentially — ^for lie spoke to no one else on the subject — that it was, beyond every species of doubt, the best thing he ever heard of. " We must go full dressed," said he. " Whs* 294 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF can %ve wear to astonish thenf ? Let me see. That, perhaps, doesn't much matter; but we must go full dressed. We must keep the thing up. We must do it in style. I'll call for you in the carriage at a quarter to six." The thing being thus arranged, he did call with the widow and Llewellen, and when Uncle JohK had joined them, they proceeded full of life and spirits to the house, where Valentine and Louise, with due dignity, received thera. Valentine had ordered the best dinner that could be —on so short a notice — prepared; leav- ing the thing, of course, entirely to the cook. But, although it was really excellent, the din- ner itself was quite a secondary consideration with them : it was the fact of theii- having been thus invited which rendered their enjoyment so rich, for they really were in raptures the whole of the evening, and left inspired with the high- est and purest delight. On the following morning, however, as Va- lentine and Louise were in the drawing-room, conversing in a most happy strain, each point- ing out to the other the various bright little fea- tures of the prospect in view, which had before been overlooked or indistinctly perceived, a coach drove up to Ihe door, and Whitely, with an expression of mingled pleasure and indigna- tion, alighted. "Good gracious!" exclaimed Louise, as her heart- sank within her. "What can be about to happen now !" " Be calm, my sweetest girl; be composed," said Valentine. " Look !" she exclaimed, starting and burst- ing into tears, as Joseph also alighted. " Val- entine ! Valentine ! — my dearest love ! Some dreadful mystery is about to be revealed !" " My Louise ! — Come, come, my sweetest ! — Courage ! Why inspire these fears on specu- lation, my love?" " What can they want here V " Oh ! Whitely may be dissatisfied ; he may wish to have the terms of his engagement slighdy altered — a thousand things may have occurred to induce him to call." "But why bring that man with him? Oh, my Valentine ! I cannot but anticipate the dis- closure of some dreadful secret." " Well, my Louise, let it be disclosed ; and let us meet it boldly, whatever it may be ; not ti'emblingly sink beneath it, as if a conscious- ness of guilt made us imbecile. Be firm, my Louise; I know that you can be firm; let it come ! Let it be even the worst that can befal us, my love, it shall not subdue us without a struggle. But, rny girl, it may be nothing of importance after all ! Come, let us wait the re- sult of this interview with patience." a ' By this time Whitely and his Companion had been shown into the parlor. The latter was unknown to his successor, who therefore made no distinction between them, but bowed to both as he left to take Whitely's card to Raven, who was at the time in a pleasing revery, almost buried ia an easy chair. The very moment, however, Raven saw the card, he started, and turned pale as death, and then fixed his eyes wildly upon the carpet, until after a time he seemed to become agaiS conscious of the presence of the servant, when he made a strong effort to rally. "This person," said he, waving his hund, and affecting ati air of supreme indifference, "may walk up.— Be a man!" he continued, muttering to himself, when the servant had left him. " Display the spirit of a man ! What have I now to fear? What danger is thera now?" He rose, and struck hi? breast, and breathed deeply, and tried to subdue every feeling of fear, and succeeded at least in recovering hia apparent firmness by the time Whitely was ushered into the room. " Well, sir !" said Raven, with marked delibe. ration, '-'and what is your business with rae ?" Whitely stood and looked at him fiercely im a moment, and then said with a sarcastic smila, "Are you at all astonished to see me ?" " I am," replied Raven. " I am astonished. 1 thought that you were to annoy me no more?" " I did undertake to annoy you no more ; but with this proviso, that if at any time I discov- ered that you had not dealt fairly and openlj with me, the undertaking should be cancelled. I have discovered this ; I have discovered " " Well, sir ! what have you discovered '" "That you are a more consummate villain than I even supposed you to be before." " Sir .'" shouted Raven, as he rose from his seat, fiercely, " I can endure much : 1 have en- dured much; but if you suppose that I am to be trampled upon, you are deceived. Have you come here expressly to insult me? Is that your only object in coming?" " No !" replied Whitely ; " my object in com- ing here is to claim my children! — my child- ren ! — villain !" At this moment Valentine, Llewellen, and Louise, nished into the room. " what in the name of Heaven is all this?" demanded Valentine, as Louise flew to Raven, and tried to calm him. " What does it mean ?'' " He is a madman \" cried Raven — "A mad man !" " What js this?" said Valentine, addressing Whitely. " Why, why are you here ? Is fi fair — is it just — when the thing was understood to have been for ever at an end ?" '■'Valentine," said Whitely, looking at him with a most intense expression, '■' I respect you : I always have respected you highly! — do not destroy that respect by interfering hotly in this matter while in ignorance of its merits. I have come to claim my children ! They are here ! These are my children !" The effect produced by this announcement was electric. A thrill ran through the veins of them all : but Louise clung still mere closely to Raven, who agaiii and again declared that Whitely was mad. " No !" cried Whitely, " I am not mad. They are my children. They know me not ; of course they do not know me, although there was a time — but that is passed." •'Mr. Whitely," said Valentine, "are you acting advisedly in this matter — Wha,t proof have you?" VALENTINE VOX. 295 "Ay!" cried Raven, "what proof has he? Let him produce his proof!" "I have proof— ample proof; and will pio- duce it !" cried Whitely, who instantly rushed from the room. During his absence not a syllable was spoken. They were dumb with amazement, and re- mained in a state of breathless suspense until he returned with his witness. The very instant Haven saw this man, he Started, and looked at him as if he had been a gpeotre. " Don't you know me V said the fellow, with a sneer. " Devil !" cried Raven, " is it you 1" " It's nobody else ! What, you're caught then at last ! You thought I was off to America, didn't you 1 I hope you received my affection- ate epistle, because " " Silence, fellow !" cried Valentine. "Fellow!" " Ay, fellow ! — State what you know of this matter, and no more." " I shall have my revenge on every one of r)u, before I've done with you, it strikes me. owe you all a grudge — ^the whole set of you !" "Now," said Whitely, "suppress whatever feeling of enmity or anger you may have, and answer me distinctly, and with ti'uth. There stands ' Miss Raven' — there ' Mr. Llewellen ;' ■whose children are they?" "Yours!" Here Raven rose suddenly, as if about to seize the witness, who, placing his foot against the door, cried, " Come, keep off! keep off! I know what you are up to : I won't be turned out!" " No one' wishes to turn you out," said Val- entine. "Don't they! I don't want nothing from you. I speak nothing but the truth, and he knows it ! and that's what cuts him to the quick." "Now, sir," said Whitely, "attend to me: Tou say that these are my children ?" "01 course they are, and he knows it." " Slate how you know them to be naine." " Why, wasn't I with 'em when they were infants, and haven't I been with 'em all along ? Whose should ihey be ? He never had no child- ren. He never had no wife, but your wife which died of a broken heart; and didn't she take 'em with her when she left home ? I can't bo mistaken in 'em, it strikes me !" " Have you no other proof than this man's fford !" inquired Valentine. "Are you your- etelf sure that he has not invented this tale for the gratification of some malicious feeling?" " Certain," rephed Whitely. ''Of course, be is certain!" cried the man. " And if he wasn't, I could make him. It ^on't depend upon me ; if it did, he'd stand me out in it. I can produce both documents and witnesses; but look at him! That'll tell you whether what I say is truth or not. Only look at him ! That's quite enough ! He hasn't fot so much as the face to say they're his. He nows that what I say is right. lie don't deny it; he hasn t denied it yet. Let him deny it, tliat's all ! Lbi him deny it !" "Father!" exclaimed Louise, in agony. " Father !— I feel that yon are my father BtiD; you have always been like a father to me J is it — no! — I'll not oelieve it." " Let him deny it ! Let him deny it !" " Say but one word," cried Louise ; " but one word to silence for ever this slanderous maiu Is it true ?" Raven sank into his chair, exclaiming, " My dear child, it is!" CHAPTER LXVII. IM WHICH A VAKIETT OF MATTEKS AKE EXPLAINED. As this confession at once sealed the lips of incredulity — albeit Louise clung to Raven still, as if she felt it even then to be impossible— Valentine, whom nothing could depnve of self- possession, on the instant begged of Whitely to retire with him, ia order that the effects of the sudden disclosure might in some degree sub- side before any other decisive steps were taken. To this Whitely consented, and they quitted the room, leaving Louise with her face buried in her hands by the side of Raven, who ap- peared to have reached the very depths of de- spair, while Llewellen stood at his back, as motionless as if he had been absolutely petrified. On reaching the drawing-room, Vjilentine and Whitely, with the view of considering what course would be the best to pursue under the circumstances, drew to the table, while the sentimental Joseph, in order to listen without being suspected, went to one of the windows, where, having drawn a hymn-book from his pocket, he seemed to be lost in religious con- templation. " Well," said Valentine, " of course there can be no doubt now about the correctness of that which this man has disclosed. Raven him- self having admitted it to be true : the only question therefore is, what is best to be done ?" "That is the only question," said Whitely; " I wish to do nothing with rashness — nothing without due consideration." " I am sure of it : I am also sure that, how- ever great may be your contempt for the feel- ings of Raven, you will avoid doing anything which may inflict an additional wound upon those of poor Louise." "I am of course anxious, most anxious, to act with strict regard to the. feelings of my own dear child," said ^Vhitely. " Being quite certain of that," rejoined Val- entine, "it is with confidence I suggest that the immediate departure of Louise from this house ought not to be insisted upon." "What!" exclaimed Whitely, "leave her here, and that with the wretch who would have kept her for ever from me ?" " For the present ! — until she becomes more calm! — until matters can be arranged! Yon would not surely insist upon her leaving at once, without having time allowed to sake the slightest preparation ? But I wish you would speak with my uncle on the subject. Will yoo. 296 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF remain here till he comes ? I will send for him instantly." 5' I'll wait for him with pleasure. Before I act in this matter I'd rather, much rather see him." Valentine therefore rang the bell, and having written a hasty note to his uncle, requesting kim to come' without a moment's delay, he desired the servant to take it with all possible speed, it being a matter of the highest im- portance. While the servant was .waiting for this note, he caught sight of the sentimental Joseph — not- withstanding that pious individual was so deep in the beautiful spirit of his hymns, that he kept the book strictly up to his eyes; that those or- gans might not vainly wander — and having be- come assured of its being the Joseph, and no one but the Joseph, he took the note, and promised to make all possible haste ; but before he left the house, he communicated what he had seen to the rest of the servants, who undertook to' keep a remarkably sharp look-out till he returned. . Valentitie, as soon as the note had been de- spatched, begged Whitely to excuse him, and returned to Louise, whom he found in tears on the sofa with Llewellen, while Raven, with his hand over his eyes, still sat in his easy chair, motionless. " This," said Louise, extending her hand to Valentine as he entered, " Oh ! this is a heavy blow indeed !" " It is," returned Valentine, as he approached and sat beside her; "it is a heavy blow, my dearest girl; but we must not sink beneath even this." Louise moved her head mournfully, and sighed. "Courage, my own Louise, courage !" con- tinued Valentine. "Retire for the present; come,- let us seek my mother; with her you will be more calm : come ! — come ! ' He raised her from the sofa, and led her gently to the door; but they had no sooner reached it than Raven cried, "Louise!" — when on the instant she turned and flew into the arms extended to receive her, exclaiming, "My, father!— Oh, be my father still !" For some time she remained clasped in Ra- ven's arms, but neither uttered, nor attempted to utter, another word : she sobbed aloud, while the tears gushed down his furrowed cheeks, and they both seemed -to endure the most intense mental anguish. At length Valentine approached with the view of prevailing upon tliem to separate until they had become more tranquil, and eventually succeeded in inducing them to do so, having declared again and again that he would not allow Louise to be taken abruptly from the house. "I rely with the utmost confidence upon you,' ' said Raven. " I feel that whatever I may be, or may appear — for I appear, in this case, to be worse than I am — you will not suffer her to be torn from me yet." Valentine repeated his assurance, and left the room with Louise. The widow had heard nothing of this revela- tion. She had indeed been informed by one of the servants that there had been something of a stir; but of the cause she continued to ba in the most perfect ignorance until Valentine explained it on bringing up Louise. Howgreaf her surprise was, then, may be imagined. ShS confessed that she in reality knew neither what to think nor what to say, and when Valentine had intirhated to her that, until the whole mattej had been explained; the less she thought and said about it the better, he left her and Louise, to rejoin Whitely and his pseudo-sentimentw companion. Oh the stairs, however, he encountered Lle- wellen, who was in a truly wretched state. The whole of his irftellectual faculties ap- peared to be deranged : he looked like a mor- ally disorganized man. " My tear poy," said he, '•' here's a plosset pusiness ! — here's tooings, and coolness knows it ! Putt phot's to pe tun, my poy, phot's to be tun 1 Too step here, ant- just tell me phot hur'm to<*oo." Here he took the arm of Valentine, and hav- ing led him into an apartment with an expres- sion of vacant wonder, resumed : — " Now phot's to pe tun ? How am hur to act T Phot can hur too, look you ? I never tit ! — oh ! my tear poy, too tell me how hur'm to proceet." " Haf e patience for a short time, Fred,, and I shall know how to advise you. At present there is but one thing I feel myself justified in recommending you to do, and that is to keep silent." "Putt it is such a pusiness! Am hur pount to pelieve that Mr. Phitely is really my father?" " Why, I think there can be but little doubt about it now." "Well, putt inteet, now, look you, cootnesa ; knows, it will peso very ott to call him father, inteet !" " I have no doubt it -will seem rather strange at first ; but you will soon get accustomed to that." " Very coot, my poy; putt hur'll not pelieVE it ! Haven't hur another father town at Caer- marthen'!" "I should say that the chances are, if Mt. Whitely be your father, that you have not." " Putt hur toii't pelieve that he is my. father. Hur'll write town to Caermarthen by this pies- set tay's post, and ask my own father — that is, my father Llewellen — phether'he is my father or not. If he says that he is, hur shall know phot to too: hur'll not pelieve Phitely, nor 'ten thousand Phitelys pesites ! Hur'll write town this plesset tay, look you !" " Wait, my dear fellow ; have patience,'' said Valentine ; " at least, for a day or two, wait !" " Well, well ! if you, think it will pe pett« to wait, phy, hur'll too so." " Be-fore the day is at an end, we shall dout)t- less know more — much more than we do now." "Very well; then hur'll tefer writing, look you ; put hur ton't inteet like to pe pount to pelieve that any potty's my father that chooses to say so without any particle of proof, ant cootness knows it. Putt hur say, my poy," ha VALENTINE VOX. 287 added, with a singular expression, "phot a very troll 00 it will pe if Louey shoot pe my sister ! — hur say, if she shoot ! If that phere all, look you, hur shootn't care a pit apout that, for hur al- ways tit love Louey tearly ; putt hur won't pe- lieve Phitely'S rny father peoause hur shootn't mint if Louey phere ray sister." ■ " No ; that would be scarcely worth while. I confjso la you that at present I have very little doubt about it myself; but we shall see. In a few hours, the thing will be placed beyond dispute." A coach at this moment drew up to the door, with the servant who had been sent for Uncle iohn upon the box. "Now," cried Valentine, "we shall soon know all. Here is ray uncle. I must go and explain to him before he sees Whitely; but immediately after our interview, I'll let you know, Fred, precisely how the mat- ter stands." He then ran down, and raet Uncle John in the hall, and having led him into the parlor, related what had occurred with air possible brevity. Uncle John was astounded at the in- telligence. "Is it possible !" he exclaimed, "is it possi- ble! Is it — can it be possible! Whitely's children — not his ! He has not kept faith with me ; I've been deceived ! He led me to be- lieve — What could be his raotive ? Not ljis,.but Whitely's children, after all! Are they to- gether v' " No. Whitely is in the drawing-room with the man whom he brought as a witness. He is waiting to see you. I begged of him to do so, being anxious for you to prevail upon him not to insist upon the immediate removal of Louise, because, as that must not be, his refusal to con- sent may create a disturbance which it would be of course better to avoid." " Of course, ray boy ; of course : yes, I'll go to him at once. Come with rae. Bad conduct; bad, very bad conduct." They now reached the drawing-room, and Whitely rose to meet Uncle John as he entered. End they shook hands with all their wonted warmth. " Why, ray friend," said Uncle John, wiping his brow with great energy, the perspiration the intelligence had caused being very profuse, "I have been amazed ! absolutely amazed !" "And well you may be," cried Whitely; "well you may be amazed; but not at the falsehood of a villain! — no, that is not amaz- ing!" " I couldn't have believed it !" rejoined Uncle lohn ; " I really couldn't have believed it !" " I don't see that we had any right to expect that what he stated was the truth. It is now, however, useless to dwell upon that. The ques- tion is. having (thank Heaven !) discovered my children, how am I to proceed I As I explained to Valentine, I wish to do nothing rashly. Be- fore I act, I am, therefore, anxious to have your advice." "Upon my word," said Uncle John, "I scarcely feel competent to give any advice at all ; I seera bewildered : the thing appears like a dream. Did Eaven himself enter into any explanation V "Not the slightest; nor was any e.tplanation demanded. It was sufficient for me that hs confessed that the children were mine." " But I cannot conceive what induced him to wish to keep them from you ! What object could he have ! — what motive ! Until 1 have some explanation from him, I shall not feel myself justified in advising you how to act. You are not, I hope, in haste ; let me go to hira at once, and hear what he has to say upon the subject. I shall then be better able to judge. Shall I do so?" " By all means, if you wish it," replied Whitely; "I am in no sort of haste; I can wait." " I'll detain you but a very short time," said Uncle John ; " I'll be back as soon as possible. Valentine, remain with Mr. Whitely till I re- turn." He then left them, and after having sent ttj Raven to request an immediate interview, which was granted, fie proceeded to the room in wliich the secret had been revealed, and in which he found Raven apparently half dead. Their meeting was awkward. Raven him- self seemed ashamed to advance, while Uncle John felt that if he offered his hand as a friend, he should be a hypocrite. They therefore re- garded each other with coldness; but Uncle John, the very moment he had taken a chair, said, " My good friend, how came you to mis- lead, to deceive me? While conducting the arrangement which it gave me great pleasure to conduct, I did expect, I had a light to expect, that acting as I was in the capacity of friend to both parties, both parties would treat me with fairness and candor. I am, however, sorry to find that you were not candid with me — ^that you induced me to believe that which has been proved to be false." "It is true," said Raven, "that although I was guilty of no direct falsehood, I led you to believe, when I said that I would not. that I meant that I could not give any information on the subject of the children : that I admit, and I was prompted to this species of prevarication by a mo.st powerful raotive ; but as I have ever regarded you as one who woidd scorn to press heavily upon a fallen man, harshness from you is what I diSi not expect: it is, sir, a tmng which I win not endure." " I have no desire to be harsh," said Uncle John ; " I have no right to be harsh ; but I have a right, when a man misleads me, to let him know that I feel myself aggrieved." " Even assuming that you have this right," rejoined Raven, " is it correct, is it generous to exercise it just as you see a man's spirit broken down?" " Heaven forbid that I should augment any man's affliction, but — " "Had I been lost," resumed Raven, "to every sense of generosity and of justice, or dead to every virtuous feeling, viewing the world as it is, and, like a man of the world, holding its opinion in contempt; all this would have been avoided. I should not have been placed in so humiliating a position ; but as — by virtue of endeavoring to conciliate those who never could be eonciliated, instead of putting at 298 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF once a bold face upon the matter, and setting them at defiance — J am in this position, unkind- ness at the hands of those from whom I expected friendly advice and assistance, has a tendency to make me callous, and to incline me to treat the world as the world treats me, with disdain." " Mr. Raven," said Uncle John, gravely, " I do not think that you will feel yourself justified in saying that I ever behaved in an unfriendly manner towards you." " It is unfriendly to speak with harshness to me at such a time as this. At any other time I could have borne it. It is only when a man is in an extremity that he needs a friend, and that is precisely the time when he finds him- self deserted. All that I have done since the first false step was taken the whole world may know ; with that single exception, there is no act of mine of which I need be ashamed, having been prompted by generosity on the one hand, and on the other by the purest affection. How- ever, I have no wish to explain; I find that all are against me." " I api not against you ; none who were pre- viously for you are against you. I spoke to you ou the subject ratber sternly, I admit; but why ? not because I wished to be against you, but solely because I conceived it to be a pity that you were not more ingenuous, more candid." " I was as candid as under the circumstances I could be, or at least could feel myself justified in being. The fact of those children being Whitely's I wished from my heart to conceal. I promised her who was their mother — I pro- mised her on her death-bed that I would keep from them all knowledge of her shame, and for ever would it have been kept from them, had it not been for that atrocious hypocritical villain, whom I have pampered for years, and who of course sold the secret after having sworn solemnly to presei-ve it in consideration of my having given him a sum sufficient to keep him independent for life." " Then," said Uncle John, " their mother i.« dead?" " Yes, she died soon, very soon after she left her husband ; for although she had every pos- sible comfort, and was treated by me with the utmost tenderness aad affection, the step she had taken weighed so heavily upon her heart, that it was not long before that heart was bro- ken. Her children I loved as dearly as if they had been my own, and had they been niy own they could not have displayed a greater affection for me. That dear girl, Louise, was especially fond of me : I need not add that I doted upon her, I dote upon her still; I love her with all the fond intensity of an affectionate father, and must continue thus to love her till I sink into the grave. She has been more than a child, to me ; she has been an angel ! May the angels hover round and protect her for ever! Oh, my friend, it may have been thought that my com- merce with the world would have destroyed the best feelings of my nature ; but if you knew how purely, how devotedly, I love that affec- tionate girl, you would not be surprised at my Laving descended to prevarication in order that she might stUl be, in her view, as well as h the view of the world in general, my own dea» child. As my own, I have cherished her fondly tenderly : she was my comfort, the fountain of my joy : it was my delight, and the^ highest defight I ever experienced — to' promote hai happiness; and yet, on the very eye i of my Eleasurable task being perfected — just as thai apginess was about to be permanently secured, she is proclaimed to be not my own child, ami torn from me for ever ! It is this which atHicts me beyond the power of expression. Nothing could have affiicted me more ; no calamity which could have befallen me could have struck so deeply into my heart, for I now feel completely alone in the world, deprived foj ever of her who was my solace — my child !" Here Raven was much affected, and so in> deed was Uncle John, who, scarcely knowing what to say, remained silent. At length Ravei^ with considerable emotion, resumed :-r- " It may have been wrong," said he, "nay, I cannot but feel it to have been wrong, very wrong, even to wish to conceal those children from their father. I cannot justify myself, noi can I on any grounds be justified; still, in ex- tenuation, it may be said that I did not conceal them wantonly, or with any crael aim, my ob- ject for such concealment — ^besides that of fos* tering that fond devoted girl as my own — being the performance of my promise to her broken- hearted mother, that her children should if pos- sible be kept for ever in utter ignorance of hei disgrace. This was the great object I had ia view, and that object would assuredly have been attained, had it not been for the treachei7 of that pernicious miscreant. But the die la cast— "I am alone !" Raven again paused, but Uncle John stiH knew not what to say. He could not tell what Raven really was. He could not believe him to be an absolutely heartless villain ; for, not» withstanding his condr.ot towards Whitely him- self had been villancus in the extreme, he, in the view of Uncle John, had certain redeeming points, to which he was not indisposed to attach due weight. He therefore did not feel justified in saying anything which could be construed into an opinion upon the subject; but, at length, finding that Raven was not about to proceed, he, conceiving that he ought to say something on the occasion, inquired why Fred had inin^ fancy been separated from Louise. "I parted them," said Raven, "I brouglB them up, not as brother and sister, but as cousins, in order that the secret might be the more effectually preserved. I regarded it as being highly probable that when Fred became a man his curiosity would prompt him to go back, with the view of ascertaining certain matters having reference to their origin, which Louise would not think of herself, or if she did she would not have those facilities which would he at his command. I therefore sent him ii4fl Wales, and placed him under the care of a kind, quiet creature, who brought him up a» his own son, and a good fellow he has made of him; a better hearted boy never breathed: still the loss of him, my friend, I could endure • 1 VALENTINE VOX. 290 have not, of course, tliose feelings for him that I have for Louiso ; she has ever been with me, — she has ever been my joy, my sweet companion, my pride : I cannot Dear to part with her : I feel that I shall not long survive it ; but at all events she must not te torn from me yet." " We shall be able to arrange that, I have no doubt," said Uncle John. " Valentine has already spoken to Whitely on the subject. I'"!! return to him, and urge it still further. I think that I may say you may be sure that that at least will be arranged." " Now that I am in your hands again," ob- served Raven, "my mind is more at ease. You will do the best you can for me, I know." "All that can be done shall be done, be as- sured of that. I will go at once, and make the best arrangement I can." Uncle John then returned to the drawing- room, where Valentine and Whitely were still engaged in earnest conversation, while the sly sentimentalist, with the utmost attention, was listening at the window with the hymn-book in his hand. It was abundantly evident to Uncle John, as he entered, that Valentine had been applying the balm of reason to Whitely's inflamed pas- sions with success, for he was perfecdy calm, and spoke with the utmost composure. " Well, my friend," said he, when Uncle John had taken a seat beside him, " are you now in a position to give me advice ?" " I now feel that I am," replied Uncle John. " But in the first place, in order that you may judge> for yourself, I'll not only relate the sub- stance of what passed between, us, but will re- peat it word for word, as nearly at least as I can remember." He did so : he went through it faithfully : he made no effort to color any fact: the points which related to Raven's great affection for Louise were extremely effective ; but that ef- fect was produced without design. Whitely was throughout most attentive. He weighed every word. Sitting in a studious at- titude, his head resting upon his hand, not a single muscle moved, nor did he utter a sylla- ble until Uncle John had concluded, when he exclaimed aloud, "Had he not been the sedu- cer of my wife,- 1 could have honored him ! — had he taken the children of a fallen woman, not being himself the cause of her fall, and thus cherished them until the feelings of a father had been engendered, I would have worshipped — ay, worshipped that man! — but, being the se- ducer, the murderer of rfly wife, his love for them prompts m,e to hate him the more ! But I will be calm — I will still be calm ! — he has rob- ben me of their affection — tbe dear love of my own children — still I will be calm." During this burst of passioo brief as it was, the sentimentalist at the window placed the hymn-book upon his knees, and rubbed his hands in a state of extasy. He was in raptures, , ' would have gloried in it had Whitely, in a ; '<■ -sm of rage, rushed into Raven's room, ttviii . 'Jier strangled him or stabbed him to the heart. Whitely, however, as if to cut the sen- timentalist to the soul, resumed his former at- titude, and after a pause, said, tranquilly, " Well, my friend, what do you advise ?'^ " Why," repliea Uncle JohUj " I should say that for the sake of poor Louise, and for her sake alone, things ought to remain for the pre- sent as they are. You of course would not think of compelling her to quit the house at an hour's notice. Ifmler the circumstances, that would be on your part impolitic, seeing that it might tend to shock her ■ feelings, and thus to create an unfavorable first impression. No, let what is to be done be done gently. For a day or two, say, let no stir be made in the matter ; in the interim, you know, something may strike iis : at all events, nothing can be gained either by harshness or precipitation." " In that I quite agree with you," said Whitely. " Well, my friend, well ! — I will be advised by you : for the sake of my child, I'll allow her to remain for a day or so. in order — " " You're a fool, sir, if you do, sir f" exclaimed the sentimentalist. " Come here, sir,'' said Valentine. "D'yer think I'm afeared, then, to come?" cried the fellow, closing his hymn-book, and bouncing up to the table with great ferocity of aspect. " Now, sir,'' said Valentine, " why will Mr. Whitely be a ' fool' for allowing his daughter to remain here for the present?" " Why will he!" cried the sentimentalist— " why -will he ! What ! d'yer think I'd let her stop with him? No, not another hour! I'd drag her away at once ! I'd break his heart ! That would do it ! I know it ! I'm sure of it ! Oh ! I'd let her remain with that son of Satan ! not—" "Joseph," said Whitely, with much coolness, " I don't think that I shall want you again to- day: you can go now, but let me see you early in the morning." " Very well, sir ! Oh ! veiy well ; but yoa take my advice, sir ; don't you let her stop : if you do, you only study the comfortabuities of a man which has a soul as never can and never ought to be saved." "At ten in the morning," said Whitely, "I shall expect you." This quiet way of repudiating the advice of the sentimentalist did not e.xaclly meet his ap- probation; he, notwithstanding, on the instant prepared to depart, and having delivered him- self finely of "Oh ! very vrell !" he raised his extensive cravat, and left the room with the air of an individual slightly oflisnded. " Is that the man \Vho was formerly in your service?" hiquiieJ Uncle John. "Yes," replied Whitely, "and I believe him to be one of the vilest and most contemptible scoundrels that ever had existence, although in this case I have been of course competed to employ him. However, to revert to the great subject, — for to me it is great, indeed all in all, — I am willing to follow your advice, that is to say, I'll consent to allow my children lo remain here a day or two longer, or until they shall have recovered from the sudden effects of the. disclosure, provided, my friend, you feel sure, quite sure, that there will be nothing like eon- cealment." 300 LIFE ANi) ADVENTURES OF " I do feel sure, said Uncle John, " so sure, that I would willingly stake my life that nothing of the sort will be attempted." " And so would I," cried Valentine ; "indeed, I might perhaps be justified in declaring in the name of Louise, that if under the circumstan- ces such a propositbn were made, it would be spurned." "I am satisfied," said Whitely. "Thus, then, let it be. I shall probably see you in the course of to-morrow 1". " At any time," replied Uncle John ; " but if you are not engaged, let us dine together to- day. Walk home with me, and then we can talk matters quietly over. It will be much better : come, what say you V Whitely consented, and they almost imme- diately afterwards left the house, much to the gratification of Valentine, with whom Whitely shook hands with unusual warmth, on being accompanied by him to the door. While descending the stairs with them, Val- entine heard a most singular uproar below; but the moment they were gone, his ears were assailed with half-stifled cries of " Murder ! — murder ! — Fire ! — fire ! — Help ! — help ! — Fire !" mingled with certain shouts of indignation and of derision. As all this was extremely irregular, Valen- tine, without the slightest ceremony, hastened below, and on arriving at the door of the kitchen^ beheld a strikingly effective and deeply interesting scene. Joseph, the sanctimonious and sentimental Joseph — who, on being dismissed by Whitely, had been silently seized by the servants, who were anxious to settle certain matters with him privately — was at that particular period before the fire, between the reflector and the dripping utensil, in the central pool of which his devoted smalls had been immersed; and while the coachman held him tightly by the collar, and looked at him very fiercely indeed, the cook shook him with great ability with one hand, while with the other she held to his noble breast a sacrificial spit, which rendered it im- possible for him," without being pierced, to move forward, and as for stepping back ! — why, the fii'e was very large, and veiy clear at the bottom, while at the top the flames ascended with a roar. It was an affecting sight. In the martyrology of the middle ages, there is nothing at all like it described. The idea of an indi- vidual, a tidy individual, — an individual, more- over, of sentiment 9,nd feeling, being pinned in this position, — ^the tails of his respectable coat being scorched, even after his smalls had been saturated with hot mutton fat, is appalling; and if the idea, the bare idea, is appalling, what must the reality have been ! And yet there stood Valentine coolly at the door, while the victim was being thus roasted behind and assaulted in front by two creatures, neither of whom had the slightest respect for his feelings, and who were stimulated by the applause of the butler, the footman, and two house-maids, who were absolutely base enough to glory in the scene ! Why, it was monstrous ! — almost as monstrous as the outrage itself! And why was that outrage committed t Why simply because this individual had in the pj'e» itude of his politeness undertaken to pay ir.to a certairi Savings' Bank certain sums of money, belonging to those two creatures, which money, while lost in the contemplation of the world?! unrighteousness, he had altogether forgotten to pay in, albeit every sum, without a single ex. oeption, had been entered in their books with the utmost regularity ! It was for this, for- sooth — this omission, this oversight — that he, a respectable person, was pummelled^that he was made to sit with white kerseymere sraalh first in a dripping-pan's well-supplied pool, anu then in an adjacent scuttle of coals— that hp was throttled, half-strangled, and shaken, by the coachman, and. scarified, nay, almost sacri- ficed by the cook, while, the perspiration start- ing in a state of alarm from every porfe. he was being roasted behind into v actual crackling! Again, it may be said to have been an affecting sight. It was touching in the extreme to hear him implore them to desist. He spoke to them with all the ardor of a righteous man upon the subject. He besought them for their ovni deaf sakes to give in : he assured them, with a beau- tiful expression, that if they did not they could never be saved; but he couldn't reach their hearts — he could make no impression; they still kept on, until he caught a glimpse of Vat entine, to whom he on the instant cried aloud for aid. "Oh! save me, sir! — save me!" he ex- claimed, in the most touching tones, and with a heart-rending aspect, " save me, or 1 drop !" " What is all this ?" cried Valentine, coming' forward. " Why are you here V "They dragged me down here, sir; I didn't come down o' my own accord." " Well ! why do you make so much noise?"' " Oh ! they've been a-murdering of me, sir; they've been a-using me shameful! They have indeed !" Hereupon the ill-used individual burst veij correctly into tears. "What is the meaning of all this V inquitea'"* Valentine of the coachman. "What is it all about?" The coachman and the cook on the infant set to work, and explained it all with amazing . clearness, consideringi they made a duet of it throughout. " You are a scoundrel !" said Valentine, ad- dressing the sentimentalist, which was highly reprehensible ; but he said, " You are a scouni- drel !" and then added, '■' Do you mean to return this money V "You haven't heered the merits of the case," cried tlje grossly ill-used man, while with a knife he was endeavoring to scrape the greaS^ ' off his clothes, and thereby to restore the rei spectability of his appearance. " You received this money to pay in, did yon not?" " I certingly did." " And you did not pay it in." " Why, that's where it is— that's the pointP-^ " Exactly !" said Valentine, " that is the point Instead of putting it into the bank you put 't VALENTINE VOX. SOI Into your pocket. There's no mistaking the point ? Now, villain, I mean to take this mat- ter entirely into my own hands. The sura you have thus stolen is twenty-five pounds." ^ " I didn't steal it ! — nor it ain't twenty-five pounds! But I'll give 'era the twenty-five pounds! Lor bless us! I ain't destitute of twenty-five pounds !" "I know that you are not," said Valentine; " but we shall want a hundred pounds of you to settle this affair." 'A hundred pounds ! You won't get a hun- dred pounds out of me, I can tell you." ''Oh, yes, we shall !" said Valentme. " Coach- man ! 1 want you to run to Mr. Whitely — " "Mr, Whitely has nothing to do with ray private affairs." '' Oh I but in this case he will have a litde to do with iliem. ^'oil have a cheque of his now in your possession. That cheque shall be Stopped." ' " But it shall not be stopped ! And if it is, I c;an recover: I can recover, sir, by law." " Law ! That is well thought of ! — an ex- cellent suggestion. It will be the shorter way. Oh ! never mind the money. Coachman ! fetch me an officer." "An officer! What for?" " Merely to take you into custody." " But I've committed no crime ! It's only a debt — it ain't a robbery !" " We shall see wha't it is, when we get be- fore the magistrate ; and since I have taken the mattei' in hand, be assured that if it be a transportable offence, you shall be transported. Fetch me an officer." "Oh! for the love of grace, sir, don't send for no officers! I don'^ like officers; I don't, sir, indeed, sir ! I'll give cook and coach- man the money back with pleasure." " You shall give, sir, fifty pounds to each of them. By doing so only can you induce me not to proceed according to law." " But fifty pounds a-piece, that is to say, a hundred pound, sir, — consider, sir, what an enormity!" " Well ! it is not of much importance. It will be better that you should pay in person, jperhaps, after all." '■'But I'd rather not, sir! much rather not." " What is the amount oi that cheque V "It's only a hundred and fifty, sir: only a hundred and fifty." " Very well. Mr. Raven had provided amply for you when.you betrayed him : you will there- fore take your choice : either give one hundred pounds out of that cheque, to those two persons whom you liave robbed, or take the conse- quences of being pursued, as I will pursue you, with the utmost rigor of the law." " But fifty, sir ! fifty between 'em ! — surely that will content 'em ! they wouldn't like to press upon me too hard !" " Nothing less than the sum I named shall they receive. Decide at once : if you hesitate — " " No, no, no ; I don't hesitate, only it is very hard , I'U send them the money to-morrow." " You are not to be trusted. No, that will not do." " Well, as soon as I get the cheque cashed, cc sir, I'll come back, upon my word and ho- nor." " I have no faith in either your word or youl honor. Besides, I am inclined to take the re- sponsibility entirely off your hands. Give coachrhan the cheque. It will save you a deal of trouble. Let him get it cashed, and then the thing will be settled." " I'll not give him the cheque ! I'd rather die than be tlius plundered of my money. I won't do it." "Very well. We now see the value of your word and honor. You have taken your choice. We'll have no further parley. An officer shall be sent for at once, and I'd have you under- stand, that if once you get into an officer's hands, the thing must go on ; — a compromise then, will be out of the question." The fcruelly ill-used individual did not like this by any means. He wept bitterly and sob- bed like a child, but having a natural torror of being brought to justice, and being ignorant of the amount of punishment that would be inflict- ed upon h*m, in the event of his being unable to convince the court that in keeping the mo- ney he had no dishonest motive, he eventually drew forth the cheque, and gave it to the coach- man to get cashed, and while doing so, it was really heart-rending to see him. The coach- man was, of course, in the highest possible spir- its, and so was the cook ; but the rest of the servants were not, perhaps, in such ecstasies as they would have been, had it happened that they had been plundered as well. They were not, however, displeased ; on the contrary, they enjoyed the thing much; and endeavored in their way to solace the victim , who was at that time a most intensely miserable man. As the coachman had been ordered to take a cab to the banker's and back, he soon return- ed with three fifty pound notes, which he placed in" the hands of Valentine, who, in the name of the victim, gave one to cook, another to coachman, and the third to the victim himself, at the same time intimating to him that he was then at perfect liberty to go. Of course, the state of the sentimentalist's mind at that period was extremely afflicting: his heart was wounded to an unfathomable depth, while the feelings which reigned in the ascendant were those of agony. He, notwith- standing, without delay, took the hint that he might leave, for, having deposited his note in a bag, he looked at his enemies with unspeak- able ferocity, and stepping into the area, from which he d.eclared, with great solemnity, that they should suffer for what they had done, and that he would have his revenge upon them allj and having delivered himself freely to this ef- fect, he rushed up the steps in a statebordering upon madness. Valentine — who felt that although the settle- ment of this matter had taken up some time, that time had not been altogether wasted — now returned to Louise, whom he found with the widow, still in tears. " Come, my dear girl," said he, taking her hand ; " this, indeed, must not be ; I must not have you trembling as if you were on the very brink of despair !" 902 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF "Oh! my dear Valentine!" exclaimed Louise, again bursting into tears; "you are the only one on earth now, to whom I can with confidence look for protection !" "I know it," said Valentine, assuming a gaiety, with thi view of relieving her, to some extent, of her sadness. " I know it, my Louise, and I shall presume upon it accordingly. I have you now in my power, and shall, there- fore, of course, make you act precisely as I may oommand." " I am not afraid of you, my dearest," said Louise, with much emotion. "The more I might feel myself in your power, the less I should fear your tyranny, my love." "Have you so much confidence in me? Well, I believe it. You are a dear good girl, but you want more courage." " But, consider, ray dearest boy !" cried the widow, "consider what an awful thing it is! It is not like one of those common occurrences which may be borne without a pang, because their character is ephemeral. It is a permanent thing, my love, you must remember, and a dreadful thing it is to be permanent, when yoi^ come to think of it I" " That is a very correct observation of yours, mother. You are perfectly right. But I can't see very distinctly why we should either caver ourselves with sack-cloth and ashes, or lie down and die, because a circumstance occurs over which we had and could have no control! Resignation, mother — ^your own favorite resig- nation — is a great Christian virtue, I admit; but I hold that it does not become us as Christians to sink under every trouble which may assail us, seeing that we are morally and physically formed to oppose thgm with success. It is our duty to grapple with troubles as they rise : if we do so boldly and at once, they are perfectly sure to be overcome." " Yes, my dear boy. that is all very well ; but we cannot help feelmg: when troubles like these come so suddenly upon, us, we cannot but be shocked : it is natural." "I admit it; but it is not natural for a shock to continue. It soon ceases to be a shock. We have no control over it: we cannot grapple with it. But we have control over, and there- fore ought to grapple with the effects of that shock. A shock no sooner comes than it goes, leaving its effects for us to manage, which ef- fects can be managed, and ought to be man- aged : he who allows them in any case to obtain the mastery over him, must never presume to boast bis moral strength." ■' Yes, my dear, this mode of bidding de- fiance to Fate, by standing erect, and with a bold front, exclaiming, ' No circumstance shall ever bow me down to the earth; no series of troubles shall ever break my spirit; nothing shall ever prevent me from grappling with an enemy who will be sure to conquer me if I fail to conquer him !' — this, I say, is all very conect, and very laudable in you men, and nothing more than we have a right to expect; but with us it is totally different, my dear : we haven't the strength, we haven't the nerve to bear up against these things: we are more sensitive: ourfeelingsaremoreafcute^ omheaili are more easily wounded, more delicate, mom tender, more susceptible of sad impressionti this boldness is not to be expected from us." . " I have often," said Valentine, as the widow took the hand of Louise, and pressed it, and- held it in her lap, " I have often thought it a pity that it should .be the fashion to cultivate female weakness." " The fashion to cultivate female weriknesal' The fashion, my love ! — the idea I" " Doubtless, m your view, it seems very al>- surd; but if you examine the morally enervap. ting tendency of the present sysiem of female education, you will find that weakness in every point is cultivated studiously, and that ther* fore the application of the term 'fashion,' is correct. But, we will not dwell upon thii Whatever your physical weakness may be, your moral strength — although enervated by education, is naturally equal with ours. Yea have the power to meet troubles — for troubles form our text — ^with equal firmness. If yon repudiate the exercise of that power, of coursB weakness will prevail." " But this of ours," said Louise, " can scarcely be called one of the ordinary troubles of life — a mere casualty!" " Granted. If it were, its importance would be diminished. If such things were to happen every day,' we should think but httle of the'mj but troubles, my love, are the emblems of cowardice : you no sooner oppose them thaii they take to their heels; but if you fear them^ or try to run from 'hem, or sink before them. or exhibit the slightest irresolution, they will tyrannize over, trample upon, and torture yoii Meet them boldly, my Louise, and behold no» they fly !" " But how is this to be met ? How am I to meet this ■?" " I can tell you, and will, if you promise to act upon my advice." " Well, I never saw any one take things so coolly in my life !" exclaimed the widow. " whatever may occur, however serious, how- ever momentous, you look at it as calmly as if you had expected it : nothing seems to disturb you — nothing seems to put you out." " Many things disturb me, mother ; but I look at whatever diffioulty may occur as a thing which ought promptly to be met, and I accorct ingly make up my mind at once to meet it." "What, then, in this instance, would yoa propose?" inquired Louise. " You promise to be guided by me ?" "I have so much confidence in you, iny love, that I do, without a moment's Lesitatioll. I place myself entirely in your hands. I will go by your directions; whatever you direct me to do shall be done." "Y'ou are a dear, good, confiding little crea. ture, my Louise ; but I believe yon know that I knew that before. Now attend : Mr. White'y is your father — there can, of course, be Sib doubt of that now — and as a father, you are called upon to regard and to love him. Very well. Now, although we have frequently heard of such things, and have frequently seen VALENTINE VOX. 303 them represented on the stage, I hild it to be imposBible for you at once to. inspire those feel- ings of affection for him which a child ought to feel for a father, and which, although they may be indeed engendered in infancy, time and constant communication alone can estab- lish. But your position is one of even greater difficulty than that : your affections as a child having been engrossed, cherished, and ripened by the love and fostering care of another, you ere called upon suddenly to transfer those af- fections from him whom you have ever be- lieved to be your father, to one of whom you had previously no absolute knowledge." "Precisely so," interposed Louise. "It is (hat which I feel most acutely. It is, 'indeed, (he very difficulty which I fear is insurmount- able " , " A moment's patience," said Valentine. " That is the point to which we are coming. It is abundantly clear, that, if under these cir- cumstances you were to leave this house — in (Tther words, that if you were to leave Mr. Eaven, to live with Mr. Whitely, you would feel, to say the least of it, excessively awk- ward." " Oh ! I should be wretched ! — perfectly miserable !" "Exactly. However highly you might esteem Mr. Whitely; however sincerely you might respect him, or however anxious you might be to love hira; you would be conscious that you possessed not those feelings towards him which a child ought to have towards a parent — for those feelings must be established by degrees — and that very consciousness would render you unhappy." " It would indeed ; I might perhaps, in time, teach my heart how to love him ; but to love him at once, as I feel that as his child I ought to love him, would be im|)ossible, and the im- lossibility of doing so, to me, would be dread- E? " This, then, is the difficulty which we have now to meet. It is manifest that you will not be permitted to remain here much longer. It is scarcely to be expected, that Mr. Whitely vsdll consent to that : I confess to you, that if I were he, I would not myself. The question, then, resolves itself to this. I'll put it plainly, because I conceive that, in all such cases, plainness is much to be preferred. Will it be better, under the circumstances, for you to live ■with Mr. Whitely, or — with me I" Louise blushed, and dropped her head. " Nay," continued Valentine, " I do not ex- pect you to answer this question. I have un- dertaken to answer it for you ; / have to decide, and really, to give expression to that which 1 most sincerely feel, I do think that, all things considered, it will be infinitely better for us to marry at once, when, without the slightest an- noyance, you will be able to imbibe and to cherish, by degrees, those feelings for Mr. Whitely, which, of course, you will be anxious to entertain." ' Valentine paused ; but Louise was still silent. "What think you, mother?" he at length continued. " Do you not think that that wiU be the better oou" se to pursue 1" "Why, my dear," returned the widow, "that, you know, is an extremely delicate question for me to answer. It would certainly, at once, do away with that which we con- ceived to be the greatest difficulty to be ea- countered." " Of course," rejoined Valentine. " What 1 propose then, is this : that the fifteenth be still the happy day, — that we, Louise, be, as we had previously settled, on the fifteenth, united. This is what I propose, and as I can see no ob- jection at all to it, I hereby direct you — seeing, that you have promised to go by my directions — to prepare for our union on the fifteenth instanl. not ouly that you ir^ay escape that position of embarrassment which we have just been con- siderinsr, but that we may no longer be sul> jected to ihose disappointments and delays which we have found so particularly disagreeable." Still, with downcast eyes, Louise was silent; her heart beat an approval, which her tongue, however, refused to express. " Having thus," resumed Valentine, with a smile, — "Having thus, then, given my direc- tions, my task is for the present at an end ; unless, indeed — for 1 have no desire to be des- potic — you can give me a single reason why those directions should not be implicitly obeyedL Am I," he added, after a pause, " to under- stand by your silence, that you know of no such reason V "My dearest Valentine !" exclaimed Louise, fervently, " I am at your disposal. I said that I would be guided by you, Valentine ; I will 1 But do not — pray, do not wish me to take this step before the consent of Mr. Whitely — I mean, of my father — has Ijsen obtained." "Of course, my love, he must be consulted: I would not, on any account, proceed without first consulting him." "There's a dear!" "Although I, on one occasion, did speak harshly to him, in order to protect Mr. Raven, I believe that he has ceased to think of that; and I feel quite convinced, that when I point out to hira the peculiar position in which you will otherwise be placed, his consent to our immediate union will not be withheld. He dines to-day with my uncle. It may, perhaps, appear too precipitate if I name it to him to- day; but when I join them in the evening — they will, no doubt, have been conversing on the subject — I will invite him to dine with ma to-morrow, at our house, when I will lay the whole matter before him ; and I have not the smallest doubt that, for the sake of your feel- ings, which, I am sure, he is anxious to study.j he will readily give his consent. Do not, there- fore, for a moment, anticipate an unfavorable answer from him ; feel certain, as I do, that we shall have to encounter no opposition, and act precisely as if he had consented already." " I will do so ," said Louise, " you have made me comparatively happy: you have, inde^d, proved to me that difficulties, when promptly met, vanish, and have thereby taught ine a les- son which, if acted upon, must smooth the path of life." " It is the grand secret, my love,'' returned Valentine. "But I wish it were a secret no S04 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF longer: if it were but universally known, the happiness of mankind in the aggregate would be very materially enhanced, for it would then be apparent to all, that although men are ' born to troubles,' they are also born to surmount them." " Well, now, really 1" exclaimed the widow, " upon my word, this appears to be compara- tively nothing, my love, now !" "The difficulty," said Louise, "does seem to be, in a measure, overcome. I shall not, at ail events, be placed, in that distressing position, if, indeed, we are not opposed." " Expect no opposition from Mr. Whitely," said Valentine ; " I am convinced that he will gladly agree to anything calculated to promote your happiness." " Do you think so V " I am sure of it ! he has proved it already." " He is a good creature : 1 feel that I almost love him now." " Proceed with your preparations," said Val- entine, rising from his seat; " you have nothing to fear, nor have you any time to lose. You will remember this is the tenth ! The fifteenth will soon be here, Louise, and then, my love ! — and then!" he added, embracing her, and ga- zing upon her with the fondest affection — " But you know the rest ! I'll now detain you no longer: for the present, adieu !" And again he embraced her, and having given the widow, who was more than ever proud of him, a filial kiss, he left them in tears, but they were not tears of sadness. During the whole of .this interview, Fred was in. the library, waiting with the utmost impa- tience for Valentine to communicate to hira the result of his conference with Whitely and Uncle John. He was very, very wretched ; for al- though his case differed from that of Louise, inasmuch as hte had never regarded Raven as his father, he had the feelings of a son for Mr. Llewellen of Caermarthen,whom he believed of course to be his bona fide father still. When, therefore, Valentine, on leaving Lou- ise, related to hira all that had passed, as well between him and Whitely as between Raven and Uncle John, he felt and looked more be- wildered than before. "Phot!" he cried, "tit my uncle — that is, Mr. Raven — tit he confess it himself, inteet? Tit he say my father — I mean Mr. Llewellen — cootness knows it, hur ton't know phot hur'm apout ; hur ton'l know phether hur'm stanting upon my het or my heels ; it's like a tream ! — putt tit he say that my father was not my fa- ther, ant that my name was Whitely, ant not Llewellen, look you? Now tit he say that V " He did," replied Valentine ; " and it is of course perfectly certain that he would not have said it had it not been true." " Oh ! there's not a pit of tout at all apout it, if he said so : it's evitent he woot have teniet it if he coot : putt t'cootness, now, phot am hur to too ■? It is such an extraortinary pusiness I" "It is an extraordinary affair; but we must manage to get over it, Fred, in some way." " Well, how am hur to act, look you ? Only tell me phot hur'm to too, and hur'U too it !" "Well, we shall see. Shall we go and have a dinner together, somewhere?" " Apove all other things in the worlt ! You are not then coing to tine here to-tay ?" " Why, I think it will be as well for me not to see Raven, under the circumstances: you uiv derstand V "Oh, perfectly !-^ant hur tecitetly aciee with you. Phere shall we CO?" " Why, as we have just time to run down to Greenwich, I'll give you some white bait. It will be a change of scene. We'll have a quiet dinner, and then immediately return. 1 wish to go home early to join my uncle." ' Fred was highly pleased with this proposi- tion, and as they started at once, he seemed at once to forget all his troubles. It is true, that on the way, the fact of Whitely being his father did occasionally occur to him; but the thought seldom occupied his mind more than a mo- ment: forasmuch as he was not a deep thinker, the appearance of almost every new object was sufficient, for the .time being, to engross his at- tention', while Valentine, being himself in high spirits, made him as gay as if nothing of an ex- traordinary character had occurred. On arriving at Greenwich, they proceeded without loss of time, to that which is decidedly the best house in the town, and ordered dinner} and until it was produced, Fred amused him- self at the window by throwing sixpences into the depths of the mud — it being happily low water — ^that sundry particularly iiiteresting and ragged young gentlemen might dexterously dive after them, and then turn ingenious soin- ersets, to show that they did themselves a plea- sure thereby. And it was extremely glorious to behold the developement of pure joy which accompanied their agreeable evolutions — evo- lutions by which less gifted individuals would have been smothered, but which seemed to be the principal business of their uninsured lives. They were in raptures as they picked up the sixpences, and translated them freely from the mud to their mouths, as well to cleanse as to secure them, while — actuated by one of the purest and most beautiful feelings of our nature — they plunged with surpassing grace for more. Fred enjoyed it exceedingly. It was the very thing for him ; indeed, he entered so fully into the spirit of the scene, and was so much de- lighted with its chief characteristics, that when, dinner was produced, he rather regretted it than not, a thing which never did happen to him by any mistake before. Once at the table, however, he quite forg(rt the mud larks, having transferred the whole of his attention from them to the scene before hira. He ate, and ate, and praised everything he ale; but when he came to the " phite pait," oh ! — and goodness knew it — ^he never did in all the world taste anything so delicious. Were they "tittlebats?" He made this inquiry, but to him it was a matter of the slightest importance, as he shovelled them into his mouth with th« fork with at least as much spirit as grace. When he had quite given in, when he fell and expressed himself perfectly sure that he was done, Valentine recalled his attention to VALENTINE VOX. as he subject of the position in which he then - nished reflects great credit upon somebody's judgment and taste." Uncle John bowed aud smiled : he felt that remark to be particularly agreeable. " Mr. Whitely," said Valentine, with some de- liberation, " this house, as you are aware, was taken and furnished for one special purpose." " I am aware of it," returnea Whitely; "and as I guess your object in introducing the sub- ject now, I will say at once that I hope that that purpose will be eventually fulfilled." " As I view this," said Valentine, " as a con- sent on your part as the father of Louise, to our union, I am, anxious, in connection with this subject, to appeal at once to your feelings as a father, and to your judgment as a man. Of course, Mr. Whitely, I need not explain to you the position of that good girl, Louise ; you un- derstand her feelings eis well as I do : of that I am quite certain. But first allow me to ask you what you intend to do with her when you take her from Raven's house ?" " I mean to give her to you : — ^to enjoy for a few months her sweet society alone, that our affections as parent and child maybe developed and cherished, and then to give her to you." " Give her to me now," said Valentine, with great fervor of expression ; "forego the pleasure which you anticipate from her society beforo marriage, and give her to me now." Whitely was for some time silent; but after weighing the matter deliberately in his mind, he said, " If I should oppose your immediate marriage — I do not know that I shall, but if I should — you must not attribute that opposition to any objection on my part to you as a son-in- law ; for I candidly confess to you that I have none : you must ascribe it solely to my desire to cultivate previously those feelings of affec- tion which I am of course anxious should exist between me and my child." " Precisely," said Uncle John ; " I understand your motive, and I appreciate it highly. Al- though not a father myself, I can enter into your feelings as a father ; and I must say, that the anxiety you have expressed is very natural, very." "You see, my friend," said Whitely, "I have been dieprived of the affections of my children from their infancy. They have beeir unconscious even of my existence. Others have taken that place in their hearts which I ought to have occupied, and hence my desire to resume my natural position with regard to them must by all be understood and respected." "Of course," said Uncle John; '-'and I am sure that Valentine sees the matter in precise!}^ the same light.'? 306 "I do," said Valentine; "I do understand that desire, and I respect it. Heaven forbid that I should wish it to be in the smallest de- gree diminished. But ■why are you anxious to cultivate those feelings of affection previously to our Mirriage V "Because," replied Whitely, "after marriage I apprehend her affections will be devoted to you." "I hope they will: I am sure that they will: but not exclusively ! That kind of affection to which I as her husband may be supposed to be entitled will not, I submit, interfere with her affection for you. Women, I apprehend, do not love their parents less for loving their husbands more. If that were the case, marriage would be destructive of the love which exists between jarents and children, and he who gave his daughter in marriage to the man whom she loved would be thereby surrendering the affec- tions of his child,' — a thing of which he never dreams." "I see that," said Whitely; "I dearly"Bee that." " Take it in another point of view," continued Valentine : " assume that Louise loves me — which I believe from my very soul — ^is it to be expected that, in the event of her remaining for some time single, her love for me will be diminished in proportion as her affection for you shall increase, or that, foster her affections lor you as you may, she will love me in con- sequence less^" " Decidedly not." " If, then, her affection for her father would not interfere with her affection for her lover, why should her love for me after marriage in- terfere with her love for youT But waiving that point — for under the circumstances it is not the grand one — ^let us look at her feelings in the matter, without reference to our own. She leaves Raven, whom from infancy she had looked upon as her father, to live with you, who have been, up to this time, a stranger. Conceive what her feelings must be in such a Eosition, while striving to transfer her affections om one to the other ! Must it not be one of great embarrassment ? Must she not feel awk- ward in the extreme ■? If so, why should she be placed in that position at all 1 I am per- fectly sure that whatever feeling you may have of a selfish character — if I may in its mildest sense use the term — is so natural, that you can- not repudiate its entertainment ; but I am also Bure that you are inclined to study her feelings in preference to your own." "In that you do me but justice," said Whitely. " Do you not conceive, then," said Valentine, * that she would rather escape the position to which I have alluded than embrace if! — that she would rather — ^to speak plainly — be mar- ried^ and then imbibe and fondly foster those feelmgs of affection for you gradually, than be compelled to wait until you have become satis- fied that her affection as a child has been firmly edtablished'i Which do you think she would prefer?" I "Why, I must confess," replied Whitely, LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF "that I think she would prefer entering iiiio the marriage state at once. I must say ttat under the circumstances it would be but natu- ral for her to give that the preference." "But, independently of that," continued Va- lentine, " as a matter of expediency, I would urge the adoption of this course, without the fear of being regarded as an advocate pleading for myself. Your great immediate object is or course to gain the affections of Louise. Very well. How would you proceed to accomplish this object 1 Is it easier or more effectually to. be done by opposing in limine that step in which she believes that her happiness is involvedju. than by allowing that step to be taken, and thereby proving not only that you have her happiness at heart, but that you are willing to sacrifice your own strictly personal feelings with a view to promote it"? Will you not, by giving your consent,, be laying the foundation of her love'? — in other words, will she not rather love you for giving that consent than ftr withholding it ? I do not mean to say that I believe for one moment that^your opposition would have the effect of engendering in her mind any species of dislike, but I do think that, as matters now stand, the surest and the speed- iest way to win her affections is by giving your consent. It will strike her at once as being an act of kindness : it will prove to her that your great object is to see her happy : it will force the conviction that you fondly love her, and will thereby inspire her with fond love for you." " I am inclined to agree with you," said Whitely ; " I am quite inclined to agree with you. You have put it very forcibly and very correctly. I did not see it in that light before. Having set her mind upon marriage, ceitainly my consent would be more pleasurable than my opposition, however mildly, or with what- ever arguments it might be urged. There is no absolute necessity for any further delay: that is quite clear ; and as, by withholding my consent, 1 now perceive that I should be study- ing my own feelings alone, it shall not be with- held. I give it freely. I have so much confi- dence in you, that I will willingly accede to whatever you may propose. She has had, poor girl, sufficient trouble already. I feel now that I ought not to disappoint her in this matter again. Let the day be named — no matter how early — you will meet with no opposition from me." " I felt certain," said Valentine, " that I should induce you to take this view of the mat- ter ; but I am not, on that account, less happy in having succee(ied." "Upon my life, though," observed Uncle John, "I didn't see it in that point of vievr; much as I desired the settlement of this affair, I thought that another delay of a few months must have taken place, as a matter of course." "That was certainly my impression," re- joined Whitely, " but I perceive the force and justice of Valentine's observations, and I therer fore need not ask if Louise is — I will not sajj anxious, but, willing for the marriage to tak« place immediately.'-' ' " Oh !" cried Uncle John,, playfully, "ilej VALENTINE VOX. 307 hive sef.tled it between them, there is no doubt of that. It waa all arranged, ray friend, before we knew a word about the matter." " As far as the consent of Louise is con- cerned," said Valentine, "it certainly was: after much persuasion on my part — for I had far more difRoulty with her than I have had with you ; Louise did consent, but only on the condition that I succeeded in obtaining the con- sent of her father." "Did she make that a sine qua nonV in- quired Whitely, with much feeling. "Indeed she did; and urged it with great earnestness." "God bless her ! God bless her !" exclaimed Whitely, with a broken voice, as the tears jparkled in his eyes, " God bless her !" " She is a jewel," said Uncle John, "ajewel! you are a happy fellow, Val — a happy fellow." "I believe him to be worthy of her," said Whitely; "I am sure of it. Well," he con- tinued, addressing Valentine, "and when is the day to be V " Why, as the fifteenth was fixed before the secret wa-s revealed, I thought it would be as well not to alter the day. I therefore propose that the ceremony take place on the fifteenth." " Well, be it so, I have no obje6tion to urge. The fifteenth will soon be here, but the sooner the better, perhaps. Let it be the fifteenth. I have, however, one stipulation to make : she must not marry from the house of that man." " Of course not," said Valentine ; " I antici- pated that, and have arranged it in my own mind thus : that on the morning of the four- teenth, she leaves Eaven's house with my mother, to take up her abode here ; that we dine here together on that day, and that the next morning you accompany her from here to church." "That will do!" said Whitely; "that will do- I quite approve of that arrangement; it will do very well." It was accordingly thus settled ; and imme- diately after the settlement had taken place, Fred returned in high glee. Louise had intro- duced him to Miss Lovelace, a young lady who was to be one of the bridesmaids ; and of all the most peautiful kirls he had ever seen in the work, with the single exception of little sister Louey, she was the most peautiful, and cool- ness knew it ! This, of course, was quite sufficient for Va- lentine to go on with. He seized it with avi- dity, and rallied poor Fred in a style which produced roars of laughter. He assailed him at every point, and Fred met him in a manner too droll to be resisted. He again and again declared that he feit himself in love, and didn't caie if the whole world knew it ! Thus the remainder of the evening was spent very mer- rily^ and at eleven they all left the house much delighted. • Valentine, however, was determined to com- municate to Louise the pleasing result of his consultation with Whitely, without delay. He had therefore no sooner seen Whitely and Uncle John home, than he walked with Fred to fiaven's, and found that Louise had been expecting his arrival, her heart having told her that, however late it might be, when the party broke up he would call. When, therefore, he entered the drawing-room, she flew to meet him, and with a look of intense anxiety, read the expression of success in his countenance, and was happy. "Why do you look so intently at meV in- quired Valentine. "Is it to see if I have been taking too much wine 1" "No," replied Louise, vvith a playful move- ment of her head. "It IS not that. Yon know why I look at you so earnestly. You know that it is to read that which I feel that I do read, the fact of my father having given his consent. It is so, is it not?" "My dearest gii , it is," said Valentine, who then sat beside her and explained to her all he deemed it necessary for her to know, and having impressed upon her how worthy Whitely was of her affection, he drew one picture of happiness, and left another behind him. It was then past twelve ; but as the night was calm though dark, he decided on walking home, notwithstanding he knew that Uncle John would not retire till he returned. He had scarcelyj however, left the house, when an emaciated form with an aspect of madness, hurried past him muttering incoherently to himself, and theii suddenly stopped, and then hurried on again, and then again stopped, and turned, and then again hurried on, alternately laughing and groaning. Valentine, when the form turned, felt a sud- den thrill. He had certainly seen that figure before ! who could it possibly be ! Resolved on being satisfied, he quickened his pace. Again the figure stopped. He passed it, and on reaching the next lamp, turned, that the light, by falling upon the face of the man, might aid him in discovering who he was. The form came on, groaning and gnashing his teeth as before, and on reaching the lamp stopped again, as if struck. The light fell full upon him ; it was Walter ! — mad ; obviously mad T His sunk- en eyes glared, and he looked like a fiend. " Just Heaven !" thought Valentine. " This, indeed, is a dreadful retribution ! Do you liot know me?" said he, addressing Walter, and taking his arm. " You can't prove it !" cried Walter, fixing his eyes upon Valentine, wildly. " You have no proof. I must be acquitted. I did not mur- der him ! — ^let me go." " Do you not remember Valentine ?" " Yes ! he was the cause ! the only cause !— I know him : I know him." " He is here : he stands before you : I am he.'' Walter again glared upon him, and seized his arm, and having passed his hand over his eyes several times, shook his head, and said, "No — ^no — ^no. Youarenot! Letmegohomei — home." "I'll go with you," said Valentine. "Te£ me where you live." " I told you before. Let me go. I must not be detained! You have no proof, I tell yon ! Ha, ha! No proof! — ^ro proof! Doy^urworst! No -proof! — I'll' noi be detained!" •JOS LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF Having suddenly disengaged his arm from Valentine's grasp, he hurried on, still muttering wildly to himself, and occasionally giving a maniacal chuckle. Valentine now scarcely knew how to act; should t.e give him in charge of the police, or follow him? He had spoken of home. He might then be going home, Valentine knew not at all where he lived, but eventually deci- ded on allowing him to proceed without inter- ruption, resolved, however, not to lose sight of him until he should enter some house. He ac- cordingly kept a few paces behind him, but in order to do so, he was compelled to walk as fast as he possibly could, and sometimes, indeed, to rnn, for Walter's pace could not have been much less than six miles an hour. On reaching Bloomsbury Square, Walter sud- denly stopped, but as ou turning sharply round, he saw Valentine approaching, he kept on, and got into Holborn, where he increased his speed, being evidently anxious to avoid all pursuit. ■ Valentine, however, kept up with him, mar- velling at the extraordinary strength he dis- played, and expecting every moment, of course, that he would either tum or stop at some house ; but he still kept on and on, until he reached the bottom of Holbom-Hill, when he turffed up Farringdon street, muttering and laughing, and clenching his fists, and striking, out with in- creased energy. "Well," thought Valentine, who began to feel fatigued, " it is impossible for him to keep on at this rate much longer," when, conceiving that the fact of his keeping behind him, might accelerate his pace, and perhaps, deter him from going in even when he reached home, he crossed the street and walked on the opposite side. Still Walter kept on. He passed Fleet street, and when he had done so, he looked sharply round, and as he could perceive no one behind him, he slackened his pace, but stopped not until he had arrived at Chatham Place, where he made a dead stand, fixing his eyes upon the ground, dropping his hands listlessly, and mut- tering aloud. Having stood in this position for some few moments without raising his eyes, he suddenly started off again, and proceeded over the bridge at a rapid rate, apparently most anxious to get home. Just, however, as he had reached the centre arch of the bridge, he turned into one of the recesses and leaped upon the Beat. In an instant Valentine flew towards him, and called to him by namp! The wretched maniac heard him, but uttering a dreadful yell of defiance, sprang over the balustrade, and Valentine but rejiched the spot in time to hear the water opening tq receive him with a roar. How was it possible to aid him? How could he be saved 1 " JPolice ! police ! help ! help !" shouted Valentine, darting to the stairs, .and a person on the instant ran towards him. . "A gentleman has thrown himself from the bridge," cried Valentine. " How can we save him?" " I fear we can render him no assistance," Kid the stranger. " There's no waterman near," Valentine rushed down the steps, ^nd the stranger followed. The tide was running dowp ' it was nearly low water: every boat wa» aground, and nothing could be seen moving upon the river within hail. " What, — what can we do ?" exclaimed Val- entine. " Nothing !"' replied the stranger. "Nothing nothing can be done ! He's lost." The tide glided smoothly on. Scarcely a ripple could be seen. Once Valentine saw, or imagined he saw, the head of a man rise above the surface, but in an instant it disappeared, and was seen no more. Still he lingered at the water's edge, his eyes fixed upon the stream, while dwelling upon the frightful catastrophe, almost in a state of uncon- sciousness, until the stranger aroused him, when, with a heavy heart, he proceeded home, and by relating the sad event, filled the ming of his uncle u ith horror. CHAPTER LXVIII. IN WHICH THE HISTORY DKAWS TO A COKCLUSION, Nearly the whole of the following day, Val- entine was endeavoring to aseertain if the body of Walter had been foraid; but his efibrts were unsuccessful. He took a boat at the Tower Stairs, and was rowed a coneideraole distance down the river, stopping to make in- quiries at every point, but could hear nothing of him; nor could he communicate with his family, not knowing where they resided. He could, therefore, do nothing; and although he strongly felt that it would have been better had he arrested Walter's progress on perceiving hia inadness, and placed him at once under re- straint, he could not reproach himself under the circumstances, seeing that he had done thai which at the time appeared to him to be most advisable ; still the dreadful event made a deep impression on his mind. From Louise, of course,.this was concealed. Whitely was informed of it, but it went no further : the preparations for the marriage, there- fore, proceeded as if nothing of the kind had occurred, and Valentine, in the presence of Louise, appeared to be as gay as before. As Raven had been informed of its having been decided that Louise should leave his house the day previously to that of her mar- riage, his spirits now became more than ever depressed. He was indeed a wretched being. He felt that, although in the midst of wealth and splendor, he should be thenceforth alone in the world, without a child to love him, — without a friend to esteem him, — \vithov.t a single creature near him with whom he cared to associate; excluded from all society— an outcast. Sometimes he would shut himself up in his room for hours, and seek relief in tears; some- times he would bitterly rail at the world; at others he would sit and gaze upon Louise with all the fondness of a father, for that he loved her dearly no doubt could exist. To him thi|, VALENTINE VOX. parting was a heavy blow indeed. It blasted every prospect, withered every earthly hope ; not a flower could he perceive in his path from thence to the grave. As the dajr of parting approached, his wretchedness )n;reased, and when the thir- teenth arrived, lie sent to beg of Unole John to look in upon him, if even it were but for a quarter of an hour. Unole John went accordingly the moment he received the message, and found him dread- fully dejected. His eyes were dim and half closed ; his cheeks were hollow, and his lips livid ; he was spiritless, nerveless ■ Despair seemed to have ifiarked him for her own. " My friend," said he, " if I may still call you so, I am a miserable man.- I cannot bear to part for ever with her whom from infancy I have reared, loved, and cherished as my own. I am childless, friendless, helpless. I have been actively battling for more than half a cen- tury with the world, but my spirits never de- serted me, my strength never failed me, till now. What am I to do, my friend ? Give me your advice." " Why, upon my life," said Uncle John, " I don't see what advice I can give you, unless, indeed, it be to raise your spirits, and to bear up against the calamity." " Which is precisely what I feel that I can't do. I seem to have no moral strength, no courage, no nerve, as if I were the only man in the world by whom a wrong had been in- flicted. Other men can commit crimes, and tbink comparatively nothing of it. The fact doesnot afflict them ; they are not bowed to the earth hj the' reflection ; they can stand erect, and bid the world defiance : yet I, who in a moment of passion, folly, frenzy — call it what you will — committed an act of which thousands upon thousands around me have been guilty, am thus struck down ^nd tortured." " It must not be imagined," observed Uncle John, "that he who, having committed a criminal act, braves the world, is not afflicted; He may feel it the more, for that feeling is usually most acute rhich a man takes most pains to conceal. 1 hold it to be impossible for any man capable of reflection in its popular sense, to inflict any serious injury upon another, or to commit any crime, which in his heart he acknowledges to be a crime, without being afflicted. Some men may show it more than others, but that is no proof that others feel it less." " Well, but my friend — now — do you — Oh ! I remember the time when my pride would have swelled, when my heart would have re- volted at the idea of asking any man's forgive- ness ; but my spirit is now so subdued, I am now so humble, that if you think that he whom I have injured would forgive me, I would solicit his forgiveness — ay, even on my knees." " Why, as far as his forgiveness is con- cerned," said Uncle John, pausing — " But what do you mean by forgiveness^ As Christians we are tanght to pray for forgiveness of our trespasses ' as we forgive them that trespass egainst us ;' but the forgiveness which we pray for is so perfect that it compfeherids reception, and reconciliation. Do you mean by forgive- ness, in this case, reception and reconciliation?" " I would willingly give all I possess in the world to be thus forgiven by that man." " You mean of course for him to be recon- ciled to you, to associate with you, to receive you as a friend 1" "I'do." Unole John shook his head with a very, very doubtful expression. " You think it impossible V said Haven. " Most certainly I do. I have heard of men, who, actuated by the vilest and most sordid motives, have received and associated with the seducers of their wives, but I never heard of a virtuous rnan becoming reconciled to, or re- ceiving him, by whom the wife of his bosom had been corrupted. Inasmuch, therefore, as I feel that Whitely loved his wife, fondly, pas- sionately loved her, and as I know him to be a strictly honorable man, I do think it impossible, utterly impossible, to prevail upon him to re- ceive you now as niB friend." " I am satisfied," said Raven, " quite satisfied now. But without such a reconciliation on hia part, might I not be allowed occasionally to visit his children'!" "Why, that may be managedi It maybe managed without any formal consent on his part. He will not be always with them." " You see, my friend, I know that you see and understand the position in which I am placed. I have studiously kept aloof from all society : I am a man of no family ; I have not, to my knowledge, a single relative in the world, I have formed no connections, no friendships : I have not a single creature to care for me, with the exception of yourself, Valentine, Fred, and Louise : there is, it is true, one besides whose favor I would conciliate — I mean Valentine's mother, but I feel that I must not think of that. If therefore 3''0U desert me, if I am henceforth deprived of your society, and that of those with whom you are connected, the world will be to me a perfect wilderness ; I shall indeed be alone." i " You speak like a man without hope," said Uncle John. "You will not be deserted. I will not desert you : Valentine wiU not desert you : nor is it at all likely that you will be de- serted by Louise, whom you have treated with so much kindness and affection." " My friend — and you have proved yourself to be a friend indeed — we are all fallible : not that I wish to shield myself under this general proposition ; but we are all of us occasionally led into temptations, which we feel at the time to be too strong to be resisted. This was niy case, at the period from which the birth of all my troubles may be dated ; I yielded to the temptation into which I had been led ; but although I cannot expect, that he whom, by thus yielding, I wronged, will so perfectly for give me as to receive me as a friend, I do think that — having proved that I am not only sorry for having acted as I have done, but anxious to make all possible reparation — others may with- out dishcnor." 310 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF " I woulil rather," said ITnCle John, " asso- ciate with a man, who, hke you, not only feels, but acknowledges that he is sorry for having committed an offence, than with one who treats that offence with levity, and affects to hold the opinion of the world in contempt." " Then will you come often and see me, not- withstanding what has occurred ?" " I will," replied Uncle John. "You 'will coriie and dine with me?" "Frequently. I think of living entirely in town now." "I am very glad to hear it. I think I need not say that I shall be at all limes most happy to see you. When my poor girl is gone, I shall feel, I well know that I shall feel very wretched." " Come, come, you must bear up against it." " I will as well as I possibly can, but this is a dreadful position for an old man like me to be placed in." " Well, well : we must make the best we can of it. These things always seem to be greater in anticipation. You will feel it, no doubt ; but we must endeavor to let you feel it as little as possible." " My dear friend ; I have no right to expect this kindness from you." " Yes, you have : you have a right to expect kindness from every man, who professes to be your friend. But let us say no more about it. Although we cannot do all, something may be done, and you may rest assured of this, that all I can do I will." Raven, whose spirit was indeed subdued, again and again thanked him, and the gratitude which he warmly expressed was unfeigned. He did feel grateful to hiin, very, very grateful, for the loneliness of his position pressed heavily upon his heart, and none appreciate kindness so highly as those, whom society in general spurns. An act of friendship then, shines forth as an act of friendship indeed. The veriest wretch feels it : it strikes to his heart's core : he would fly through fire and water to protect or to serve him who treats him with common kindness, when he feels that he is treated by all but hirh with scorn, or who extends the hand of friendship when all other friends are gone. The conduct of Uncle John may, in this par- ticular instance, be by some rigid moralists con- demned; but let those who would condemn him point out what save penitence can be offered for injuries which cannot be redressed : and if, on discovering their inability to do this, they still condemn him, they must deny that that Heavenly attribute. Charity, ought ever to enter the soul of a just man. He viewed the crime of which Raven had Deen guilty — and none could have had a great- er horror of that crime than he had per se — with due reference to the proverbial fallibility of man's nature : nothing could have induced him to palliate that crime; but, although he regarded it not alone as a personal offence, but bIbo as an offence against society in the aggre- gate — when he saw Raven spiritless, bowed to ttse very earth, and broken-hearted, he would not trample upon him: no!- -prompted by ihe voice of nature, he extended his hand to raise him, with those charitable feelings which he felt that he could not repudiate either as a Christian or as a man. But notwithstanding he thus benevolently sought to inspire him with sufficient strength to bear the pang of parting with Louise, Raven was still much dejected. He felt, indeed, greatly relieved while Uncle John was with him ; but when he had left, he sank again beneath the dread of the morrow, and when the morrow came, it found him as wretched as before. Having passed a restless, rniserable night, he rose early, and tried to raise his spirits, but in vain : on being summoned to breakfast he burst into tears. Louise, who, as usual, presided at the table, rose to meet him as he entered the room, when he took her hands and pressed them, and gazed upon her mournfullj', and kissed her pale brow, and gazed upon her again; but neither. uttered a word : their hearts were too full to speak ; they sat down in silence, and scarcely, during the time they were at breakfast, was that si- lence broken. Fred, who, like the rest, felt miserable, was the first to leave the table, and soon after him Louise and the widow retu-ed, leaving Raven in sadness alone. " With whom shall I breakfast tormorrow," thought he, ''and to-morrow, and to-morrow? Henceforth I shall be desolate. What comfort, what joy can I hope for now? This, twenty years since, or even ten, I might have borne:! had eneigy then — spirit — ^nerve : I could have struggled with it then ; but to be left thus now, in the vale of-years, when I most need the com- fort which those whom I have cherished alone can impart, when my faculties, both moral and physical, are withering, when 1 am sinking, fast, sinking into the grave, is — just, just; I ad- mit it to be just, but — dreadful." Pursuing this sad train of thought, he sat weeping like a child — for all his manhood seemed to have left him — until the clock struck twelve, when he started "up, and paced the room, trembling with violence. It was the hour appointed for the departure of Louise, and soon afterwards she entered the room to take leave, accompanied by Fred and the widow. " I know, my dear child," said he, with a tremulous voice, as she approached him in tears, ■' I know — your object — ^in coming to rrie now. It is — it is — yes — I am getting, my deal child, a feeble old man — bowed down — ^bowed down by affiiction — Well, well — ^the grave — ^the cold grave — God forgive me ! — God forgive me!" " Father !" exclaimed Louise, passionately, " if you are not my father, I feel that you have been to me all that a father shoidd be — ^fot mercy's sake, do not — do not — ^father!" she added, falling upon his neck, " my heart will break !" '' My child !" exclaimed Raven, whose utter- ance was half-choked, while tears of agony gushed from his eyes — " my sweetest, loveliest VALENTINE VOX. 311 childj ym must not be unhappy ! Wretched- ness is mine — ;I alone must be wretched ! The only comfort, the only comfort I can hope for now is to see you happy — to see you happy ! You will not deprive me of that ! — No, you will not ! — Bless you ! Come — come," he conti- nued, albeit scarcely able to articulate a word. " come : to-morrow, you know, to-morrow ! /ou only leave this for a happier home ! But you will iiot forget me 1 You will think of me sometimes ■? You will not forget him who loved you from childhood so fondly, so dearly? — You will not despise me ? No, you will not despise me?" " Never !" exclaimed Louise, fixing her eyes earnestly upon him, although they swam in tears ; '' my heart tells me that, whatever may have happened, whatever may occur, I can never despise, I can never forget, I can never cease to love him by whom from infancy I have been treated with so much affection." A^ain Raven blessed her, and pressed her to his heart, and endeavored to cheer her, al- though tears were trickling fast down his cheeks, and he continued to sob bitterly. " I'll no longer afflict you, my loveliest girl," said he. "No! I'll no longer aniict you. This parting is sad, very sad. You would say fare- well to me : yes, farewell you would say : it may be the last — the last time. I am sinking, I know I am sinking ; my strength has deserted me ; I am getting very feeble ; I shall not sur- vive it long: no, I feel that I can't survive it long. But," he added emphatically, raising his eyes with great fervor of expression, "in the midst of my affliction I have one comfort, one consolation, which is, that whatever I niay have been, whatever I am now, I have done towards her of whom I am now to be deprived all that a parent could conceive to be his duty to a child, and that she leaves me now with a heart as guileless, and a mind as pure, as when in infancy I fondly adopted her as my own." At this moment a coach drew up to the door, and Fred — who had been standing at the win- dow, apparendy firm as a rock, while engaged in closing his eyelids as his eyes became full, that the tears might fall straight upon the car- pet unseen — announced Valenthie's arrival. Kaven took Fred's hand, and pressed it warmly, and then drew Louise aside. " My dear girl," iiaid he, producing a smalj pocket-book, and placing it in her hand, " be- fore you leave me, my love, take this: give it to Valentine. He vyill take care of it for you; but promise me — it may be my last request, Louise — ^yes. my dear, it may be ray last-^pro- mise me that you will not name it to your father I knovr that you wiU not refuse to take !t — for my sake— I know you will not : but it need not be mentioned to him, my dear: it aeed not. You promise ?" " I do," replied Louise, " I do." " God bless you, my child ! — God bless you ! And now," he added, in broken accents, as Valentine entered, "farewell! — farewell! Be happy ! May Heaven protect you all !" — when, placing Louise in the arms of Valentine, he turned, and sobbing aloud, left the room. His utter prostration of spirit touched them nearly. Even Valentine was deeply affected ; but as upon him devolved the task of restoring them all, his feelings were studiously coa- oealed. He assumed an air, not of gaiety, but of calmness; and as he felt that the sooner they left then the better, he hastened their de- parture as much as strict delicacy could sanc- tion, and soon succeeded in gettmg them into the coach. Here he allowed their feehngs to have free vent. He did not attempt to check them; but on arriving at the house, he sooa subdued them by explaining how ill they would accord with the feelings of Whitely, and how calculated to induce him to believe that Eaven still held that place in their affections which ought to be occupied by him. ■ Louise saw, at a glance, the justice as well as the expediency of acting upon this sugges- tion; which Valentine no sooner perceived, than he began to talk in a hvelier strain, and thus by degrees raised her spirits. Having partaken of some refreshment, Lou- ise and the widow, who were inseparable, left Valentine and Fred, playfully intimating that they hoped to have the honor of their company at six. Before, however, Louise left the room, she gave Valentine the pocket-book which Ra- ven had presented to her ; and having explained to him the promise she had given, told him tc see when she was gone what it contained. He did so : it was the cover of a pocket-book merely ; but he found therein twenty one-thou- sand-pound notes, and a packet, apparently of parchment, sealed and addressed to him, with instructions that the seal was not to be broken .until after Raven's death. " I scarcely know," thought Valentine, "that we ought to receive this ; and yet, were we to return it, it would perhaps break his heart! Well, well; we shall see." " Hur never tit !" cried Fred, as if he had that moment awakened from a dream. "As true as coolness! — Well,. now, inteet, look yon, really, ant in truth," now : hur never — cootuees knows it 1" " Did you speak?" inquired Valentine, as if he had not been quite positive about the matter. "Hur was only thinking apout the treatful scene petween m^y uncle — that is, Mr. Raven — ant Louey. Hur titn't like to let them see me, although, cootness knows it. Putt hur say, my poy, howtull he must pe now, without anypotty apout him ! Hur wish he was coing to tine with us to-day, after all ; hur too inteet." "Fred," said Valentine, "to-day you must on no account suffer his name to escape your Ups." " No, hur know, hur know ! — it's only to you. Putt as true as hur'm alive, hur wish he was coing to tine with us." " You would rather that he should dine with us than Miss Lovelace ?" "No, cootness, no: hur'd rather have her than five thousant Mr. Ravens. Putt is she coming, my poy? — ^is she coming?" " She wHl dine with us, of coui'se." "Hur titn't know that, now. Inteet, thet., hur titn't.' Hur'm very clat you tolt me." S13 LIFE AND ADVENTtJEES OF " Are you really in love with that girl, Fred?" " Over het ant ears ! Putt isn't she a peauti- fal creature V " She appears to be a very sweet girl. But i shall know more about her in the morning. f shall have tc kiss her to-morrow, you know : all day long I shall be at it." " Phot ! kiss Miss Lovelace V " As the bridesmaid, of course." " Is that the etiquette of the pusiness? If it is — oh! hur wish hur was yon! Ant yet hur ton'tjpeoause then hur shoot pe marriet to Louey, ant shoot have to love nopotty pesites. Putt hur ton't think hur coot kiss Miss Lovelace ! Hur think hur shoot pliish too much, ant trem- ple. However, hur'm very clat you tolt me she .was coming, pecause hur must co ant tress a little for tinner." "Of course! That is indispensable. 'But will you first go with me?" " Anyphere in the worlt !" replied Fred. "Let us start, then," said Valentine; and they left the house at once, and proceeded to a jeweller's, where Valentine purchased several rings, but especially one which he was anxious for Louise to present to Whitely. They then Called upon Uncle John, and while he was dressing, Valentine summoned the widow Smug- man, and commissioned her to purchase a bride cake — the richest she could meet with — and an extraordinary quantity of white kid gloves, which were to be sent to the house forthwith ; and when Uncle John considered himself suf- ficiently beautified to accompany them, they fehtered a coach and drove rouncl for Whitely, who was delighted with the idea of their call- ing for him under the circumstances, and join- fed them without delay. On arriving at the house, they were received with much elegance by Louise, who introduced them to Miss Lovelace, the only stranger pre- sent; and then addressed herself almost exclu- sively to her father, whom she thereby made perfectly happy. Fred inanaged — ^he would have been indeed puzzled to tell how — ^but he did manage, to get to one of the windows with Miss Lovelace, and while Uncle John and the widow were on the sofa conversing about sun- dry domestic arrangements, Valentine was giv- mg various insti'uctions to the servants, but more especially for-the cake to be produced in the event of its arriving in time for the dessert. He was, however, but a short time absent, and soon after his return to the drawing-room dinner was announced, when Whitely of course took Louise, and Valentine Miss Lovelace, which Fred thought particularly hard. He sat, how- ever, next to her at table, which was a great consolation; but then he couldn't eat! He managed the soup very fairly ; the wine too he managed: he also disposed of a litde fish, but after that he had no more appetite than an infant. He could not tell at all what to make of it. He was more than half inclined to become alarm- ed. He did fancy at one time the breast of a chicken ; but as it happened that on its being placed before him he caught the eyes of Miss Lovelace, the breast of the chicken remained imtOLched. He held this to be somewhere about the oddest thing in life; but that whieli he considered more particularly odd, was the fact that Miss Lovfllace arranged it so that hei eyes met his every moment. He had no idea that her immediate object was to give him every scope to take wine with her. No : that indeed was the veiy thing he was anxious to do, and he tried to do it several times; but the very moment her eyes were turned towards him with an encouraging expression, he avert- ed his and looked extremely stupid. To his purely private feelings this Was very distressing, while it was not very pleasant to Miss Loveljwe, for she certainly did I'ry very hard to give him courage, and thought it very odd that it should be without success. At length, being quiie out of patience, she gave the thing up, when lie became more composed ; still he never in his life made so frightful a dinner! — the quantity he consumed was really out of all character trifling: indeed so trifling, t,hat when his appe- tite returned with the tranquilHiy of his mind, he cherished serious thoughts of temporary starvation until the cake was prod-iced with the dessert — according to the instruoiions of Val- entine, who conceived that while its produc- tion could not be very incorrect, as ih^.y we»e by themselves, it would at least have novelty to recommend it — when he fully made up lor lost time by setting to work upon it with unex- ampled zest. "> There was, however, one at the table ■\i hose enjoyment was superior to that of any other person present, and that was Whitely. His pleasure was of a peculiar character. He felt intensely happy : his felicity was tranquil, but his heart was filled with the truest, the purest delight. He addressed himself chiefly to Louise, with whom he felt more than ever charmed, and when she had retired, his burden was his child, whose name he appeared to be uivible to pronounce without shedding tears of joy. As they had all to be up early in the morn- ing — ten being the hour appointed for the cere- mony to take place — they sat but a short time ovor their wine. Nor did they remain long on rr'oining the ladies. They all, indeed, seemed m-'st unwilling to leave,, for they all felt most happy; but certain considerations which had reference to th" repose more especially of Louise, induf'pil them to take their departure early, vhen Uncle John — suddenly recollecting that, although the health of the bride and the bridegroom had been drunk, it had not been drunk properly — would have them all hime with him, and with him they remained till past midnight. In the morning at nine precisely, as had been previously arranged, Valentine and Uncle John — who had risen at half past five with the view of being in time — called for Whitely and Fred, and then proceeded in the highest possible spirits to the house which contained the fait bride. It has been said by some philosopher, either ancient or modern, that a woman never looks so beautiful as on the morning of her niarriago with him whom she loves ; but as it seems per- fectly unnecessary to say that which has been VALENTINE VOX. 813 iaid perhaps several times before, it will, in all probability, be sufficient to state that on this happy occasion, Louise looked more lovely than ever. Slie was dressed with extreme neatness, Bifd that very neatness imparted to her appear- ance an additional charm, while from her eye softly beamed fond affection, and she smiled with surpassing sweetness upon him by whom she knew that she was tenderly beloved. "Well, now inteet," said Fred, addressing Miss Lovelace, as Valentine and Louise were exchanging such terras of endearment as those which lovers in general under the same sweet circumstances are prone to exchange ; " phot am hur to too, look you, phen hur'm in church ? Hur've peen looking over the pusiness, put cootness knows hur can fint no instructions inteet neither for you nor for me, loolc you ! — phot have we poth cot to too V "Why, unfortunately,", replied Miss Love- lace, as her merry eyes twinkled, " we have to do nothing but to sland and look on " " Tit you say unfortunately V inquired Fred with much emphasis. " Why — I think — yes — I'm quite inclina^i to believe that I did. But do you wish to have something to do ■?" "Teoititly ! — ant something to say." "And so do I. What a remarkable coinci- dence ! Suppose we insist upon having some- thing to say ! — suppose we are married at the same lime !" " Oh ! apove all other — putt too you mean — cootness knows ! — too you really mean that?" " Why" — said Miss Lovelace, archly hesitat- ing—" not — exactly." " Now that is too pat ! — pecause if you teoi- titly tit, inteet the pusiness shoot pe tone !" "Your politeness is conspicuous. I appre- ciate it, believe me. But I am strongly dis- posed to think, do you know, that if we defer our marriage it will perhaps — taking all things into consideration — be as well !" "You are a very creat tease to me," said Fred, " ant cootness knows it. You first raise tny hopes, ant then tash them to the crount." Had Fred studied for a month to make a for- hial declaration, he could not more effectually have imparted to Miss Lovelace the knowledge of how matters stood. She, however, disdained, of course! to make it appear that she knew anght about it, and continued to address him in the most playful style, without apparently giving it a single thought that, with her play- fulness, she was dealing destruction to his peace. The time for starting now arrived, and the carriages dashed up to the door, when WKitely took the hand of Louise, and having fondly embraced her, he blessed her with fervor and led her forth with pride. On arriving at the church, Valentine saw a itigure anxiously hurrying into one of the cur- tained pews near the ahar. He merely caught a glimpse of that figure, but he knew it in an instant to be Raven. He was, however, silent on the subject, for as he alone had seeri him, he was anxious of course that to all besides, the fact of hj.s presence should remain unknown. Dd Having been courteously received oy the officiating minister, they proceeded to the altar, and the ceremony commenced, and during its Erogress the firmness of Louise never de.serted er for an instant. Whitely shed tears, and so did the widow and Uncle John : the eyes of Fred sparkled, and so did those of IMiss Love- lace : but Louise was as firm as Valentine him- self : her hand never trembled, her voice never faltered : the purity of her heart and mind sustained her, and both were as calm as they were pure. The ceremony ended, they repaired to the vestry, but whde at the altar Valentine fre- quently heard a ^•arious oooasioiis, by clivers strong arguments, to prevail upon her to learn that peculiarly euphonious •and liquid language, but in vain ; ,she had a horror of the " buz^" of it ; she could not endure it : she pointedly declared tltet it set her teeth on edge, and he was there- fore compelled to give it up. Still Fred was not unhappy — far, very far from it. He loved his little Caroline, and she loved him : neither ■would have been separated from the other for the world ; but she would go occasionally to rather alarming lengths, with the view of establishing her ascendancy upon a sound sub- stantial basis. "Toes Louey," he inquired of Valentine, .with a singular expression, in the early part of his matrimonial career, " toes Louey ever pounce apout, my poy, and plow up, look you?" "Never!" replied Valentine. " Not phen you are with her alone 1" , "Never!, She is always the same gende creature, always amiable, always calm." " Well, inteet, then, cootness knows. Carry's, not a pit like her. Hur ton't mean to say that she's anything pat, look you ! — No, she's a coot kirl ; at heart a very coot kirl inteet ; putt hur must say that if she were a little more like Louey hur shoot like it all the petter." "Why, Caroline always appears to be very amiable and kind; and 1 am sure she is fond (rfyou, Fred." "So she is, my poy; yes, so she is! Ant she pehaves herself like a princess phen aproat ; it's quite peautiful to pe -with her; putt phen she gets home, it is not inteet so peautiful !" ".What ! does she scold, Fred V " Scolt ! Hur pelieve you. Hur ton't wish to say a single wort against Carry, nor woot hur say a wort to any other creature preathing; put if hur coot putt make her unterstant that it woot pe most tecitetly petter if she were always as milt as Louey, hur shoot like it, look you, apove all other mings in the worlt !" Fred however never did succeed in prevail- ing upon Caroline to understand this. His very inability to pronounce his b's formed an in- superable bar to his perfect success, although this was not so great a thing as might have been expected, for notwithstanding the ex- istence of this bar she was very well consider- ing, when she had her own way; but when- ever he wished to have his, or offered the slightest opposition to her will, it became strict- ly necessary for him to look out. They visited Valentine constantly. He was poor Fred's adviser, although he never inter- fered : Caroline needed no adviser ; she found that she could manage matters very well with- out ; but although they dined with Valentine, Louise, "^nd Uncle John, twice and frequently three times a week, she nerer by any accident exhibited there the pre-eminence she had ac- quired, which made things pleasant to all, and uius year after year their social intercourse continued to be uninterrupted. One morning, as Valentine and Louise, hav- ing sent the carriage on, were pursuing their way towards Pall Mall, their attention was at- tracted by an extraordinary looking cabman, who while bowing to them and smilir.g, and raising his hat, seemed to be in a state of general ecstasy. Valentine shook his head with a view of intimating to him that hifl services were not required ; but the fellow — about whom there was a great deal of style, for his cravat was tied in the newest knot, and while he sported an imperial beneath his nether lip, an eyeglass appeared by the side of hi« badge — was not satisfied with this, but con- tinued to smile and to raise his hat with un- exarfipled grace, and at length drove up to them, when Valentine recognised him at once — ■ it was Horace. " What, Horace 1" he cried, smiling with an expression of amazement. "This is the dodge, sir: this is the dodge," observed Horace ; " I hope you are in a state of salubrity. Haven't seen you for several gene- rations." "Why, how long have you been at this work ?" " A blessed six months, come the seven-and- twentieth." " Well, call upon me,'' said Valentine, giving his card • ", we'll talk things over and see what can be done." " Let me drive you home,'' said Horace. " Do let me drive you. I want a bit of felicity just at this time, and that will be about tho thing. It's much better than pedesti-ianizing over the stones. Besides, it will make me happy." "Well!" said Valentine, "be it so;" and when he and Louise had entered the cab, the horse dashed away in the highest style of whioh he was capable. On arriving at the house — and they were not long doing the distance — Horace leaped from his seat with amazing alacrity, and performed one of the most recherche knocks upon record. "Come in," said Valentine, on alighting; "the servant shall hold your horse." "You are very polite," returned Horace,; "but he never stirs without me, except upon the stand. But you may," he added, address- ing the servant, and waving his hand with an air, " you may give an eye to the animal !" "Now, then," said Valentine, when he and Horace had entered the parlor, "let us have a glass of wine. How are they all at home?" "Polly is pretty salubrious." replied Horace; " but the old lady's no great things. She has never been able to gel over the fact of the governor having walked into the water. You heard of ' that affair, I suppose?" "Unhappily, I saw it." "You did!" "I happened to be on the bridge at the very time." "What, did he leap off the bridge"? How was it ? Do tell me : we never could learn. All we know is, that he was picked up at Lime- house Hole, dead as-— but how did it happen ?" Valentine explained, and with so much feel- ing, that he even drew tears from the eyes of Horace I "After all," said Horace, when Valentine paused; '■ it's of no use for a man to go crooked 316 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF in this world. Things are sure to come round ; •t's sure to come home to him; he's sure to be served out in some way. That property of ^uncle's — you know all about it? What good did it do us? Why, it flew like blessed chaff before the hurricane ! Twenty shares in this dodge, fifty shares in that, and a hundred shares in the other : safe to turn up something out-and- out: safe! And so they did: they all turned up swindles, the dirtiest swindles, and thus the money was dodged away. The day on which we missed the old governor, an execution was in the house, and there were we without the money even to buy a. leg of mutton. Of course, every stick was walked off with the utmost reg- ularity : we hadn't a bed to lie upon, nor a grid- iron to cook a mutton chop. The governor was buried by the parish, because as we didn't happen to hear of it in time, we couldn't own him, so that expense was spared ; but starvation looked us right full in the face, and starved we must have been beyond all dispute, had it not been that the old lady luckily had a whole mob of pawnbroker's tickets — for everything portable had been pledged — which tickets we gradually sold, and for a week or two, managed to get a bellyful of victuals withlhe proceeds. I endea- vored, of course, to obtain employment, but the fools to whom I applied made a point of setting up a loud laugh, as if they derived the most ex- alted satisfaction from the idea! I knocked several pf them down, and got fined for the as- sault, but that was' a luxuiy I was soon obliged to cut^ for the fines walked into the tickets most amazmgly ! I was willing to do anything in the world, but was able to get nothing in the world to do. I tried it on at the wharfs: it was no go there : stronger men were standing about un- employed. I answered a lot of advertisements for clerks: no character, no recommendation. I tried to get a birth as a groom. ' How long did you live in your last place V That settled it. I told them all as plainly as a man could speak, that I'd do my very utmost and try all I knew. But no, the fools would not have me ! What then was I to do ? I would not come any felonification. I made up my mind to that, come what might; although it certainly was a very rotten position for a fellow to be placed m without two-pence half-penny in his pocket, and without a friend whom he could borrow two-pence half-penny of: for all those trumps whom I used to meet and treat with brandy- and-water, cut me dead when I became a little seedy : it was wonderful how suddenly they became short-sighted : they could not see a bit beyond their noses : it was quite an epidemic amongst them, and I had some thoughts of ap- plying to the- opticians for employment, con- ceiving that the spectacle trade must of necessity be looking up ; but then, what did I know about the spectacle trade or any other trade ? what did I know about anything? Nothing. Look at the way in which I was brought up ! Train up a child in the way he should toddle — you know the' rest, but what was I fit for? That's where I felt it!_ What could I do? I should not have cared if I alone had had to grub my Wiiy thiough it : I shouldn't have cared if I'd had no one to look to but mvself. I'd have trotted into the army if that £ad_ been all, oi gone on board a man-of-war, or walked over to Australia or New Zealand, or any other un- cultivated feature on the face of the earth. I'd have got a crust somewhere for myself; but there were the women ! — ■ what were they to do? That was the pull! I couldn't leave them! They suffered enough as it was, for I couldn't earn a penny, nor they couldn't earn a penny. They had strong thou^ts at one time of taking in mangling, but we hadn't enough money to get a machine. We hadn't sufficient even to buy a board — 'Mangling done here' — although that might have been advertised in chalk upon the shutter; but the machine was the thing; let them have tried all they knew, they couldn't have mangled without a machine. Nor would the washing dodge do, for they hadn't a tub, while there was not a creature under the cano- py of heaven who would give them credit for a ha'porth of soap. I tried to raise money on my own personal security; but that was no go, they wouldn't have it, although I offered them anything per cent. And thus we went mud dlipg on, week after week and month aftei ihonth — I out &om morning till night to get sufficient for a meal, and they at home morr thaii half naked, praying for my success- Sometimes I took home a six-pence, but morp frequently nothing. They knew the momen. I entered, whether I had anything for them o' not. If I had, their eyes brightened up lik» brilliants as they kissed me ; if not, they kissed me all the same, and I heard no complaint but that involved in a sigh, which they would have suppressed if they could." " That was very sad, very sad indeed," ob- served Valentine. " Sad !" echoed Horace; " there, if you'll be- lieve me, I was sometimes ready to go and crib a mutton-chop! — I was, indeed! And 1 should have done it frequendy, when I saw them at home starving; I know I should ; but that I had firmly resolved, that as an act of dis- honesty had brought us to that, I would never, while I lived, be engaged in another." "And to that resolution you adhered?" "I did, and ever will. I cannot have gieater temptations than I have had, and I know now that I can resist them." " But why did you not apply to me ?" " Pride was the first cause, inability the se- cond. I was too proud to do so till everything was gone ; and by that time you had left the house in which you used to live, and I suppose they thought you didn't want to be troubled with me at all, for I couldn't persuade them to give me your address." "That was wrong of them; very, very wrong." " Fortunately, however, soon after I called, which was not till every other hope was with- ered to a stalk, I managed to pick up a few sixpences by assisting the grooms to rub thei. horses down, and so on, which carried me for «. long time over the ground — indeed, until one of the grooms turned livery-stable keeper, wjen, fancying that I knew, perhaps, some- VALENTINE VOX. 31T filing about a Horse, — and I flatter myself I do, — he did the handsome, and put me on a cab, which suits me very well; and I have been at it ever since, and the women are of course fathering together a little flesh again, although don't suppose that the old lady will ever get over the governor's death. ' How ever he could dream of cutting out of the world in that way, I can't for the life of me imagine." " But of course you believe him to have been insiiine at the time 1" "Why, to tell you the truth, — and it's useless now to disguise it, — he was never in his right senses after that unblest kidnapping affair. His mind was always diseased, always wander- ing. His imagination was always on the rack. He was continually conjuring up some spectral nonsense, continually fancying that his brother stood before him. But that which hurt him more than all, was the fact of his brother hav- ing left him the whole of his property precisely a.i if nothing had occurred'. That was the thing ; that was his real death-blow. After that he took to brandy, of which he drank enormous quantities, sufficient, I should say, in a week, to sew up a whole regiment of soldiers. But it never made him drunk ! That was the most remarkable point of the compass. It made him mad, doubtless, and desperate in his specula- tions, for of all the extraordinary — there, I do firmly believe that, if a company had been started for the restoration of rotten eggs, he would have taken a hundred shares at a premium. However, he is gone, and per- haps the less that is said of his errors the better." "Well," said Valentine, "touching your pre- sent position: you must be doing something better for yourself than driving a cab. Turn the thing over in your mind, and let me in a day or two see you again. If there be any Kind of business into which you would like to enter, let me know, and if I see the slightest prospect of your being successful, I'll lend you sufficient money to commence whh, and you shall undertake to return it to me when you grow rich. In the mean time," he continued, writing a cheque for a hundred pounds, "give this to your wife, and tell her to hope for better days." For some time Horace looked as if unable to believe what he heard; but when Valentine shook hands with him, and gave him the cheque at the same time, his feelings of gratitude overcame him, and he burst into tears. "I don't know what to say!" he cried, at length. " Say nothing," returned Valentine. " Let me see you again soon." Horace wiped his eyes with the dow of his cravat, and prepared to depart ; but before he left the room, he grasped Valentine's hand, and with the most intense earnestness and feeling, said, " In the names of my poor wife and mo« ther, I thank you." Valentine frequently saw him after this. He assisted him in every possible way, and Horace lost no opportunity of evincing his gratitude. He purchased for him the lease of some livery- stables, which were a source of considerable emolument, and had the gratification of seeing him prosper by virtue of indefatigable zeal. And to Valentine — who gloried in acts of bene- volence — it was a high gratification indeed. Being exceedingly wealthy, he had the power at his command to do an immense amount of good ; and he never permitted an opportunity for the exercise of that power to escape him. The more happiness he imparted to others, the more happy he felt. He was esteemed by a.1, who knew him: he was honoredj beloved. With his beautiful, devoted Louise, his sweet children, his good mother, and Uncle John — who was always in a state of rapture, and sel- dom, indeed, whether at home or abroad, with- out a child upon his knee — he continned to live I in the purest enjovment of health, wealth, i honor, and peace. THE END. Dd* T. B. FE E The Books in this Catalo^e are the Best and latest Publications by the most Popular and Celebrated Writers in the World. They are also the most Beadable and Entertaining Books published. Suitable for the Parlor, Library, Sitting Room, Railroad, Steamboat, or Chamber Reading. Published and for Sale by T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, PhUad'a. 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The Diary of an Old Doctor. Complete in two vols., paper cover. Price One Dollar ; or in cloth, $1.25. The liawyer's Story; or, The Orphan's Wrougu, Two vols. , paper cover. Price $1.00; or in cloth, for $1.25. MRS. ANN S. STE:PHSNS' WORKS. Mary Der^rent. This is Mrs. Ann S. Stephens' laj>t new work. Complete in tvo volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar ; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.25. Fashion and Famine. Two volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or in one volume, cloth, fur $1.25. The Old Homestead. Two volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar ; or in one volume, cloth, for $1.25. The Gipsey's Legacy; or, the Heiress of '^rcenhurst. Two volumes, paper cover. Price Oo* Dollar ; or bound in one volume, cloth, for $1.25. Copies of any of the above Works will be sent by Mail to any one, Free of Postage, on receipt of Frine. 2 Published and for Sale by T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philad'a. Copies of any of the following "Works will be sent by Mail, Free of Postage, on receipt of the Price. CMARIiKS DICKENS' "WORKS. Fourteen Different Editians in Octavo Form. •'PETERSON'S" are the only complete and uniform edi- tions of Charles Dickens' Works ever published in the world ; they are printed from the original London Editions, and are the only editions published in this country. No library, either public or private,. can be complete Without having in it a complete sett of'the works of this, the greatest of all living authors. Every family should possess a sett of one of the editions. The cheap edition is cortlplete in Sixteen Volumes, paper cover ; either or all of which can be had separately, us follows : liittle Dorrit, Price 50 cents. PiclETriGlE Pa-perSf 60 " Dickens' New Stories, GO " Bleak House,, 50 " David CopperAeld, 60 " Dom'bey and Son, CO " NiCliolas Ifficklel>y, £0 " Gliristmas Stories, 60 " 3}Iartin Cliuzzle^vit, , , 50 " Barnaliy Rudge, 50 " Old Curiosity Sliop, SO " Sketclies TUy "Boz," 60 " Oliver Tavist, 60 " Tke Ttvo Apprentices, 25 " Wreck of tke Oolden Mary, 25 " Perils certain KnglisU Prisoners, 25 " A complete sett of the above Sixteen books, will be sold, or sent to any one, to any place, /ree of postage, for §6.00. *♦* LIBRARY OCTAVO EDITION. Published in Seven Different Styles. This Edition is complete in SIX very large octavo volumes, With a Portrait on steel of Charles Dickens, containing the whole of the above works, handsomely printed, and bound In various styles. Vol. 1 contains Pickwick Papers and Curi- osity Shop. " a do. Oliver Twist, Sketches by **Boz,» and Barnaby Rudge. " 3 do. Nicholas IVicklehy, and Dlar- tin Cliuzzlewlt. « 4r do. David Copperfield, Domhey &> Son, & Curistmas Stories. " 6 do. Bleak House, and Dickens' New Stories. « 6 do. lilttle Dorrit. In two books— Poveityand Eiches. Price of a sett, in. Black cloth,......; $9.00 " Scai'let cloth, extra, 10.00 " littw Library style, .'. 11.00 " Half Turkey, or Half Calf, 13.00 " Half calf, marbled edges, French,... 14.60 " Half calf, real ancient antique, 18.00 " Half calf, full gilt backs, etc 18.00 ««* ILLUSTRATED OCTAVO EDITION. THIS EDITION IS IN THIRTEEN VOLUMES, and is printed on very thick and fine white paper, and is profusely Illustrated, with all the original Illustrations.by Cruikshank, Alfred CrowquiU, Phiz, etc., from the original London edi- tions, on copper, steel, and wood. Each volume contains a ■ aovel complete, and may be had in complete setts, beauti- fully bound in. cloth, for Nineteen Dollars a sett ; or any volume will be sold separately at One Dollar and Fifty cents each. The following are. their respective names: I^lttle Dorrit. Plck^vlck Papers. Barnahy Rudge. Old Curiosity Shop. Bleak House. Oavld Copperfleld. Domhey and Son. Nicholas Wicklehy. Christmas Stories. Martin Chuzzlewlt* Sketches toy "Boa." Oliver T-wist. Dickens' IVew Sto- ries. Price of a sett, in Black cloth, in Thirteen volumes, ...$19.00 " Full Law Library style, 26.00 " Half calf, or half Turkey, 29.00 " Half calf, marbled edges, French,... 32.50 "" Half calf, ancient antique, 39.00 Half calf, fall gilt backs, etc 39.00 DTJODECIMO ILLUSTRATED EDITION. Complete in Tioenty-Five Volumes. The Editions in Duodecimo form are beautifully Illustrated with over Five Hundred Steel and Wood UlvMrations, from designs by Cruikshank, Phiz, Leech, Browne, Maclise, etc., illustrative of the best scenes in each work, making it the most beautiful and perfect edition in the world, and each work is also reprinted from the first original London editions that wei'e issued by subscription in monthly numbers, and the volumes will be found, on examination, to be published on the finest and beat of White paper. This edition of Dickens' Works is now published complete^ entire, and unabridged, in Twenty-five beautiful volumes, and supplies what lias long been wanted, an edition that shall combine the advantages of portable size, large and readable type, and uniformity with other standard English authors. This Duodecimo edition alone has been gotten up at au ex- pense of over Forty-Five TltoitsandDollarStTuMt the publish- ers trust that an appreciative public will repay them for th« outlay, by a generous purchase of the volumes. All they ask is for the public to examine them, and they are confident they will exclaim, with one voice, that they are the hand- somest and cheapest, and best illusti-ated Sett of Works ever published. This edition is sold in setts, in various styles of binding, or any work can be had separately, handsomely bound in cloth, as follows : FickwiekPapcrs. Two vols., cloth,... .PWce $2.50 INlcholas ATlcklehy. Two volumes, cloth, 2.50 David Copperfield. Two volumes, cloth, 2.50 Oliver T-wist. Two volumes, cloth, 2.50 Bleak House. T^vo volumes, cloth, 2.50 liittle Dorrit. Two volumes, cloth, 2.50 Domhey and Son. Two volumes, cloth, 2.50 Sketches hy "Boz." Two volnmes, cloth,.. 2.50 Barnahy Rudge. Two volumes, cloth, 2.50 ISartin Chuzzlewit. Two volumes, cloth,... 2.50 Old Curiosity Shop. Two volnmes, cloth,... 2,50 Christmas Stories. Two volumes, cloth, 2.50 Dickens' New Stories. One Volume, cloth, 1.25 Price of a sett in Twenty-Five volumes, hound in " " Black cloth, gilt backs, ^m.W " ** Full Law Library style, 40.00 " " Scarlet, full gilt, sides, edges, etc., 45.00 " " Half calf, ancient antique, 60.00 « ** Half calf, full gilt back, 60.00 '* " Fall calf, ancient antique, 7.^.00 ** " Full calf, gilt edges, backs, etc.,... 75.00 PEOPLE'S DUODECIMO EDITION. PiMislied in Eight Different Styles. This Duodecimo edition is complete in Thirteen volume^ of near One Thousand pages each, with two illustrations Copies of any of the above Works will be sent by Mail to any one, Free of Postage, on receipt of Price, Published and for Sale by T. B. PETERSON & BROTHEES, Philad'a. Copies of any of the following V/orks will be sent by Mail, Free of Postage, on receipt of the Price. to each, volume, bat is not printed on as thick or as fine paper as the Illustrated Edition, but contains all the reoMng matter that Is in the Illustrated Edition, printed from large type, leaded. The volumes are sold separately or together, price One Dollar and Fifty cents each, neatly bound in cloth ; or a complete sett in this style will be scfld for $19.00. The following are their names : IVicliolas Nickleby. Cliristinas Stories. Old Curiosity Shop. Slcetches liy «Boz." Oliver Tw^ist. Dickens' JVe-w Sto- liittU Dorrit. Piclt-vvick Papers. Blartin ClitizzleTvit. Bariia1>y Rudge. Bleak House. David. CopperHeld* Dombey and Son. Price of a sett, in Black cloth, $19.00 " " FqU Law Library style, 24.00 " " Half calf, or half Turkey, 26.00 " " Half calf, marbled edges, French,... 28.00 " " Half calf, an cieut antique, 32.00 " " Half calf, fnll gilt backB, 32.00 " *' Full calf, ancient antique, 40.00 " '• Full calf, gilt edges, hacks, etc 40.00 HUMOROUS ILIiUSTRATED WORKS. major Jones' Courtship and Travels. Beau- tifully illustrated. One volume, cloth. Price $1.25. Blajor Jones' Scenes in Georgia. Full of beau- tiful illustrations. One volume, cloth. Price $1.25. Sam Slick, tKe Clodcmalcer. By Judge Halibnr- ton. Illustrated. Being the best funny work ever writ- ten by any oue in this vein. Two vols., paper cover. Price One Dollar ; or hound in one volume, cloth, for $1.25. Simon Suggs' Adventures and Travels. Illustrated. One volume, cloth. Price $1.25. Humors of Falconbridge. Two large volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar ; or one vol,, cloth, $1.25. Frank Forester's Sporting Scenes &» Char- acters. Illustrated. Two vols., cloth. Price $2.50. Dow's Sliort Patent Sermons. First Se- ries. By Do vr, Jr. Containing 128 Sermons. Complete in one vol., cloth, for One Dollar ; or paper cover, 75 cents, t>ovr's Sliort Patent Sermons. Second Sc- ries. ByDcvPfJr. Containing 144 Sermons. Complete in one vol., cloth, for One Dollar ; or paper cover, 75 cents. Do^v's Sliort Patent Sermons. Tliird Se- ries. ByDo^v, Jr. Containing 116 Sermons. Complete in oue vol. , cloth, for One Dollar j or paper cover, 75 cents. American Joe Miller. With 100 Illustrations. One of the most humorous books in the world. Price 25 cents. cook: BOOKS. BEST IX THE IVORIiD. miss liCsJie's Neir Cookery Book. Being the largest, best, and most complete Cook Book ever got up by Miss Leslie. Now first published. One vol. Price $1.25. IViddifleld's New Cook Book; or. Practical Re- ceipts for the Housewife. Recommended by aU. One volume, cloth. Price One Dollar. Mrs. Hale's IVctv Cook Book. By Mrs. Sarah J. Hale. One volume, bound. Price One Dollar. Miss I Gambling Exposed ; a full Exposition of all the va- rious Arts, Mysteries, and Miseries of Gambling. By J, H. Green, the Reformed Gambler. Complete in two volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar ; or one vol., cloth, gUt, $1.25. The Gambler's liife ; or, The Autobiography of the Life, Adventures, and Personal Experience of Jonathan H. Green. Written by Himself. With a Steel Portrait of the Author, and other Illustrative Engravings. Two vola« paper cover. Price One Dollar ; or one vol. cloth, gilt, $1,23. Secret Band of Brothers. Compiled by J. H. Green. Beautifully Illustrated from original designs, by Parley and Croome. Two volumes, paper cover. Price One Dol- lar ; or in one volume, cloth, gilt, for $1.25. {In Press.) Tlie Reformed Gambler ; or. The &.ntobiograph]^ of the Reformed Gambler, J. H. Green. Written by ^10? self. Complete in two volumes, paper cover. Price Qaa Dollar ; or in one vol., cloth, gilt, for $1.25. {In Press.) ' Copies of any of tlie atove Works will te sent by Mail to any one, Free of Postage, ou receipt of PricOt 4