The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924091167613 In compliance with current copyright law, Cornell University Library produced this replacement volume on paper that meets the ANSI Standard Z39.48-1992 to replace the irreparably deteriorated original. 2001 E F A C E ycry*. feyiuKjkcwh GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. ILLUSTRATED WITH ONE HUNDRED ENGRAVINGS ON STEEL AND WOOD. " De Omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis/ EDITED BY LAMAN BLANGHARD, ESQ^ NEW EDITION. LONDON: BP:LL & DALDY, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 1870. i3 *li^i':•S.^^,, H >''' ;" ■"'■"/,-> _^ library S"^ I-oSnON. PlUNTEl* HV WILLIAM TLOWKS AND SONS, STAMKOltD STRERT AKl) CHARING CROSS. CONTENTS. ** Our Preface" described. My Portrait ..... 1 My last pair of Hessian Boots . . 8 Epigram ...... 13 Love seeking a Lodging . . . . 14 Frank Hcartwell ; or, Fifty Years Ago, 15, 39, 76, 112, 144, 177, 210, 246, 282. Monument to Napoleon Photographic Plienomcna; or, the New School of Portrait Painting . . . Commentary on the New Police Act — Pnnch V. Law . ... Original Poetry, by the late Sir Fretful Plagiary, Knt. " Ode to tlie Human Heart," "On Life et cetera," &c. . . Love has Legs ..... Bernard Cavanagh, the Irish Camclcon . The Ass on the Ladder Omnibus Chat ..... Sceno near Ilogsnorton Chancery Lane Enigma . . . Sonnets to Macready . Large Order to a Homoeopathic Apothe- cary, &e. . . • • . . C4 " My Vote and Interest." A Communi- cation from Mr. Simpleton Schemer, of Doltford Lodge, Crookslcy . . 65 Tlic Census f 2 Love's Masquerading . . . 75 The Livery — Out of London . . . 89 Omnibus Chat . ... 92 Legend (if Van Diemen's Land . . 92 The Girl and the Philosopher . . . 84 The Grave of the Suicide (who thought better of it) . • "h. A Rigid Sense of Duty . . 95 Frights 37 A Peep into a Lcg-of-Bccf Shop . . 100 26 29 33 A Few Notes on Unpaid Letters . PAGE 102 First Discovery of Van Demon's Land . 104 The Muffin Man 120 A Tiger Hunt in England Omnibus Chat . . . . . 121 124 Ingenious Rogueries . 144 The Sister Sciences of Botany and Horti- culture . . . . . 126 Photogenic Pictures, No. II. 127 A Negro Boy in the West Indies ib Legend of the Kilkenny Cats Mademoiselle Rachel . . . . 12S 129 Frights!— No. 11 ISO A Short Cruise at Margate . 132 Epigrams ...... Passionate People . . . . 134 135 Our New Cooks , . . . . 141 A Song of Couti-adictions 143 A Warm Reception . , . . Tca-Tahle Tattle . . . . 151 152 Omnibus Chat . . . . . 155 The Fashions ib. Playbills and Playgoing A Komance of the Orchestra ib. 156 One of the Curiosities of Literature 157 An Incident of Travel , 1.5« Here's a Bit of Fat for You 159 Heiress Presumptive ib. Letter from Mrs. Toddles 160 Flights! — No. III. Haunted Houses, &c. . 161 Little Spitz ; by Michael Angelo Titniarsli 1G7 Last Night of Vauxhall ; by Laman Blanchard . . . . . . 172 A Tale of the Times of Old . 176 An Anacreontic Fable ib. How to Raise the Wind ; by Capiain Marryatt, R.N 18-2 Peep at Bartlioloincw Fair ; by Alpha 188 Omnibus Chat Association of Ideas Boys at School Tho Laceman's Lament The Height of Impudence Mrs. T. again .... The Artificial Floor for Sltating . Duns Demonstrated; by Edward Howard, Author of " Rattlin the Reefer" Tho Second Sleeper Awakened. Trans- lated by AH Just Going Out ; by Laman Blanchnrd A Theatrical Curiosity ... Sliding Scales .... Sketcbea Here^ There, and Everywhere ; by A. Bird. A Stage-coach Race Another Curiosity of Literature A Horrible Passage in My Early Life Two of a Trade Omnibus Chat ... . . The Two Naval Heroes Tar and Feathers . . . . An Acatalectie Monody . . , . Third Meeting of the Bright-ish Asso- ciation for the Advancement of Everything ..... Rum Corks in Stout Bottles . . . A Highway Adventure Bearded like the Pard . . . . Some Account of the Life and Times of Mrs. Sarah Toddles ; by Sam Sly . The Fire at the Tower of London . . ; Miss Adelaide Kcmhle . , . . : Jack Gay, Abroad and at Home ; by Laman Blanchard CONTENTS. PAGE PAGE 191 The King of Brentford's Testament ; bj ib. Michael Angclo Titmarsh . 244 194 The Fire King Flue . . 254 ib. A Passage in the Life of Mr. Joh n I^akey 255 195 Omnibus Cliat . 260 196 The Clerk, a Parody . ib. 197 The British Association 261 Playing on the Piano 262 199 November Weather 263 Mrs. Toddles . ib. 202 Jack-o'lantern . 26.5 204 Christmas. By Sam Sly 266 216 A Snap- Dragon. By Charles Hookey 217 Walker, Esq. . 267 Sonnet to "Some no" . . . ib. 218 The Homceopathist's Serenade- By Dr. 222 Bulgardo . ib. 223 What do you do that for.' 268 225 Lines by a Y — g L — y of F — sh — on 271 226 The Frolics of Time. A Striking Adven- ib. ture. By Laman Blanchard, Esq. . 372 227 A Peep (Poetic) at the Age. By A. 228 Bird .... , 276 A Still-life Sketch . . 277 ib. 229 A Tale of an Inn 278 " Such a Duck !" . , 281 230 The Postilion , 289 ib. " The Horse by the Head" . . 292 A Floating Recollection . 293 231 The Pauper's Chaunt . . 294 23.'! Sketches Here, There, and Everywhere . 295 238 Mrs. Toddles .... . 299 Sonnet to Mrs. Toddles . 300 240 Postscript .... . 304 LIST OF ETCHINGS ON STEEL " DE OMNfltUS HKUUd ET QUIBUSDARI ALUS. FAGR PRiiFACE . ... . . iif face tiHe PORTRAIT OF GEORGE CRUIKSHANK . . . . . . . 1 FRANK UEARTWELL, OB FIFTY YEARS AGO . . . .15 COMMENTARY UPON THE NEW POLICE ACT, NO. I. . .33 COMMENTARY UPON THE NEW POLICE ACT, NO. II. . . . 34 FRANK HEARTWELL'S FIRST INTERVIEW WITH BRADY . .47 ''RUSH TO THE POLL" AN ELECTION SQUIB .... 65 FRANK UEARTWELL AND SAMBO, IN THE HOLD OF THE TENDER . . . 85 FRIGHTS, NO. 1. "FLYING BEADLES " .... .97 FRANK HEARTWELL, BEN, AND SAMBO, AMUSING THE NATIVES . . .110 PORTRAIT OF RACHEL IN THE CHARACTER OF MARIE STUART . . . 129 FRIGHTS, NO. II. "THIEVES." "THE STRANGE CAT " . . .130 RICHARD BROTHERS, THE PROPHET, AT MRS. HEARTWELL's . . . 147 FRIGHTS, NO. III. " GHOSTS " ..... . 161 FRANK HEARTWELL DISCOVERING THE TREASURE . . . .181 A SKAITING PARTY . . . . . . . 197 FRANK HEARTWELL PREPARING TO SWIM TO THE WRECK . . . .214 BREAKING INTO "THE JEWEL ROOM" AT THE TOWER .... 233 PORTRAIT OF MISS ADELAIDE KEMBLE . . . . , 238 FRANK HEARTWELL SEIZING BRADY . . . . . . . 2-32 JACK o'lantern ......... 2C5 FRANK HEARTWELL . ...... 287 LIST OF WOOD-CUTS. PAGE 1. The pccji-show Preface 39. 2. Bast of Sliakspcavc witl] pi))e . . 2 40. 3. G. C. in a. drawing-room 4 41. 4. G. C. and a rabman . . . 5 42. 5. A pair of bellowa . . . . 6 43. 6. My last pair of Hessians . . . 8 44. 7. A p.air of slices . . . . . . 13 45. 8. Love seclcing a lodging . 14 46. 9. Monument to Napoleon . . 26 47. 10. Pliolographic painting . . 29 48. U. The suu painting all the wor Id and . 49. his wife . . 32 50. 12. Love has legs . . 52 51. 13. The ass climbing the ladder . . 54 52. 14. The ass on the ladder . . 54 53. 15. The boy on the ladder . . . 54 54. 16. Ditto . . 56 55. 17. A large order . . . . 64 56. 18. Love masquerading . . . 75 57. 19. Foot-boy and bread . . . . 90 58. 20. Footman and pups , . . . 91 59. 21. Coachman and dumplings . . 92 60. 22. A rigid sense of duty . 95 61. 23. Mrs. Toddles .... . . 96 62. 24. Lcg-of-beef shop . . . . . 100 63. 25. The Flying Dutehm-in . . . 106 64. 26. Kangaroo dance . . . . 109 65. 27. Kangaroo and fiddler . . HI C6. 28. The muffin-man . . . 120 67. 29. The strange cat . . 131 68. 30. The round hat and the cock :d hat 132 69. 31. Sailor chasing Napoleon . . . . 134 70. 32. A passionate man . 138 71. 33. T tree . . 152 72. 34. Emperor of Ciiina cutting oif his 73. own nose .... . . 153 74. 35. Chinese cavalry . . . .163 75. 36 Tea-pot .... 154 76. 37. The fashions . 1.55 77. 38 The boy's revenge . . . . .159 78. Pack The living pincushion . . , \5d M.^. Toddles 100 Materials for making a ghost . .163 The ghost 163 The bell-pnll and the pigtail . .166 Little Spitz ' !67 Last night of Vauxhall — the balloon 172 Simpson a la Shakspeare . . . 175 Cupid with an umbrella . . . 1 76 Love breaking liearts 176 Height of impudence 195 Mrs. Toddles at Margate . . 195 Ditto 196 The Dun 200 The Second Sleeper .... 202 Sliding Scale 217 Mile- stones — on the Rail-road . 222 Butcher's Boy . . . . 225 Tar and Feathers 227 Corks 229 Turnpikeman and the Elephant , 230 Three Figures of Fashion . . . 230 PLan of the Tower of London . 233 Bowyer Tower 235 Camperdown Anchor . . . 235 Lady Jane's Room 236 The Fire-king Flue . . . 236 Grenadiers playing on the Piauo . 262 Fireman playing on a Piano , . 263 Colonel Walker (or Talker) . . 264 Mrs. Toddles in a Fit . . . 264 Such a Duck 281 The Horse by the Head ... 292 Sheer Tyranny 294 Sheer Kindness 294 Pope's Guard 296 Building an Angel . ■ 297 Mrs. Toddles in the Dickey . 299 Mrs. T. and the Colonel dancing. 299 As Broad as it's Long . . 300 OUR PREFACE. We have been entreated by a great many juvenile friends to " tell *em all about our Engraved Preface in No. I. ;" and entreaties from tender juveniles we never could resist. So, for their sakes, we enter into a little explanation concerning the great matters crowded into ** our Preface." All children of a larger growth are, therefore, warned to skip this page if they please — it is not for them, who are, of course, familiar with the ways of the world — but only for the little dears who require a Guide to the great Globe they are just beginning to inhabit. SnnwMAN. — " Now then, my little masters and missis, run home to your mammas, aod cry till they give you all a shilling apiece, and then bring it to me, and I'll show you all the pretty pictures." So now, my little masters and misses, have you each got your No. 1 ready ? Always take care of that. Now then, please to look at the top of the circular picture which represents the world, and there you behold Her Majesty Queen Victoria on her throne, holding a court, with Prince Albert, in his field-marshal's uniform, by her side, and surrounded by ladies, nobles, and officers of state. A little to the right are the heads of the Universities, about to present an address. Above the throne you behold the noble dome of St. Paul's, on each side of which may be seen the tall masts of the British navy. Cast your eyes, my pretty dears, below the throne, and there you behold Mr. and Mrs. John Bull, and three little Bulls, with their little bull-dop ; one little master is riding his papa's walking-stick, while his elder brother is flying his kite — a pastime to which a great many Bulls are much at- tached. Miss Bull is content to be a little lady with a leetle parasol, like her mamma. To the right of the kite you behold an armed man on horseback, one of those curious figures which, composed of goldbeater*s skin, used to be sent up some years ago to astonish the natives ; only they frightened 'em into fits, and are not now sent up, in consequence of being put down. Andnowyo'i see '*the world goes round." Turn your eyes a little to the right to the baloon and parachute, and then look down under the smoke of a steamer, and you behold a little sweep flourishing his brush on the chimney-top, and wishing perhaps that he was down below there with Jack-in-the-green. Now then, a little more to the right — where you see a merry dancing-group of our light-heeled and light-hearted neighbours, the leader of the party playing the fiddle and dancing on stilts, while one of his country- men is flying his favourite national kite — viz., the soldier. In the same vicinity, are groups of German gentlemen, some waltzing, and some smoking meerschaums ; near these are foot-soldiers and lancers supporting the kite-flyer. Now, near the horse, my little dears, you will see the mule, together with the Spanish muleteers, who, if not too tired, v/ould like to talce part in that fandango performed to the music of the light guitai-. Look a little to the left, and you behold a quadrille-party, where a gentleman in black is pastorale-ing all the chalk off the floor ; and now turn your eyes just above these, and you behold a joyful party of convivialists, with bottles in the ice-pail and bumpers raised, most likely to the health of our gracious Queen, or in honour of the Great Captain of tlie Age. And now, my little dears, turn your eyes in a straight line to the right, and you will perceive St. Peter's at Rome, beneath which an- two young cardinals playing at Vlll GT30H(;H CRUIKSIIANKS OMNIliOS. leap-frog, not at all frightened at the grand eruption of Mount Vesuvius which is going on in the distance. From this you must take a leap on to the camel's back, from whicli you will obtain a view of the party sitting just below, which consists of the grand Sultan smoking desperately against Ali Pacha. Now, look a little lower down, and you will see a famous crocodile-catcher of the Nile, said to bear a striking resemblance to Com- modore Napier ; and now, look upwards again to the farthest verge, and you behold the great Pyramid, and a wild horseman chasing an ostrich not so wild as himself. Now, the world goes round a little more, and you see some vast mountains, together with the temples of Hindostan ; and upon the palm-tree you will find the monkeys pulling one another's tails, being very uneducated and having nothing else to do : here, also, you will discern the Indian jugglers, one throwing the balls, and another swallowing the sword, a very common thing in these parts. And now, my little dears, you can plainly see several very independent gentlemen and loyal subjects standing on their heads in presence of the Emperor of ever so many worlds, and the brother of the sun and moon ; and behind these, hiding the wall of China, you will see a quantity of steam, (for they are in hot water there, ) that issues from the tea-kettles. Leaving his Celestial Majesty smoking his opium, and passing the junks, temples, and pagodas, you see a Chinese joss upon his pedestal ; and now you can descend and join that pretty little tea-party, where you will recognise some of your old acquaintances on tea-cups ; only, if you are afraid of the lion which you see a long way off, you can turn to the left, and follow the tiger that is following the elephant like mad : and now, my little dears, you can jump for safety into that palanquin carried by the sable gentry, or perhaps you would join the party of Persians seated a little lower, only they have but one dish and no plates to eat out of. Just above this dinner-party you behold some live venison, or a little antelope eating his grass for dinner while a boa-constrictor is creeping up with the intention of dining upon him ; so you had better make your way to that giraffe, who is feeding upon the tops of trees, which habit is supposed to have occasioned the peculiar shape of that remarkable qua- druped ; and now you fall again in the way of that ramping lion, from whose jaws a black is retreating only to encounter a black brother more savage than the wild beast. And now, if your eye follows that gang of slaves, chained neck to neck, who are being driven off to another part of the world, you will see what treatment they are doomed to experience there, in the flogging which is being administered to one of their colour — that is to say, black as the vapour issuing from that mountain in the distance ; it is Chimborao, or Cotapaxi, I can't say exactly which, but it shall be whichever you please, my pretty little dears. In the smoke of it an eagle is carrying off a lamb — do you see ? — Stop, let me wipe the glasses ! — Ah, yes, and now you can clearly behold a gentleman of the United States smoking his cigar in his rocking-chair. A little behind is another gentle- man driving his sleigh, and in front you won't fail to see an astonishing personage, who has just caught a cayman, or American-crocodile, which he is balancing on his walking- stick, on purpose to amuse little boys and girls like you. At his side is the celebrated runaway nigger represented by Mr. Mathews, who says, " Me no likee confounded workee ; me likee to sit in a sun, and play fiddle all d.iy." Over his head is a steum-vcssel, and at his feet an Indian canoe ; towards it a volume of smoke is ascending from a fire, round which some savages are dancing with feeling too horrible to think of. So instead of stoppingto dinner here, my little masters and misses, you would much rather, I dire say, take pot-luck with that group of gi)>sies above, who are going to regale upon a pair of boiled fowls, which I hope they came honestly by. Talking of honesty, we start upwards to the race-course ; and now goes the world round again, until you get sight of a gentleman with a stick in his hand, who has evidently a great stake in the race, and who is so rejoiced at having won, that he is unconscious of what he is all the while losing in the abstraction of his pocket-book. And now we are in the midst of the fair, where we see the best booth, and merry doings in the shape of a boxing-match ; but as " music has charms," turn your eyes and your ears too some little distance downwards in the drectiou of the organ player and the tambourine, where you will find some jovial drinkers, not far from the harp and violin of the quadrille-party. I hope their music won't be drowned by the noise of that Indian, to the left, beating the tom-tom, while the nautch-girls are dancing as if they couldn't help it, all to amuse the mighty Emperor of all the Smokers and Prince of Tobacco, who is seated, hookah in hand, in the centre of the globe — where we must leave him to his enjoyment, tracing our way back to the jovial driuking-party, where you will see Jack capering ashore, and getting on perhaps a little too fast, while the donkey-boy above him can't get on at all, and tbe fox-hunter, still higher up, seems to be in danger of getting off — especially if his horse should happen to be'startled by his brother-sportsman's gun behind him. And now, my little dears, the gun has brought us round again to the royal guards, where the band is playing, in glorious stvle, God save the Queen ! And thus ends, where it began, my History of the World ! * <^J:. GEORGE CRUIKSHANK'S OMNIBUS. "MY PORTRAIT." 1 RESPECTFULLY bog leave to assure all to whom "My Portrait" sliall come, that I am not now moved to its publication, for the first time, by any one of the ten thousand considerations that ordinarily influence modest men in presenting their " counterfeit presentments " to the public gaze. Mine would possibly never have appeared at all, but for the opportunity thus afforded me of clearing up any mistakes that may have been originated by a pen-and-ink sketch which recently appeared in a publication entitled " Portraits of Public Characters." Tlie writer of that sketch was evidently animated by a spirit of kindness, and to kindness I am always sensitively ailive; but he has been misinformed — he has represented me " as I am not," instead of " as I am ;" and although it is by no means necessary that I should offer "some account of myself" in print, it is desirable that I should, without fatiguing anybody, correct some half-dozen of the errors into which my biographer has fallen. A few words of extract, and a few more of comment, and my object, as the moralist declares when he seeks to lure back one sinner to the paths of virtue, will be fully attained. The sketch, which professes to be " my portrait," opens thus : — (I.) " I believe Geo. Cruikshaiik dislikes the name of arlist^ as being too common-place." I have my dislikes ; but it happens that they always extend to things, and never settle upon mere names. He must be a simpleton indeed who dislikes the name of artist when he is not ashamed of his art. It is pos- sible that I may once in my life, when " very young," have said that I would rather carry a portmanteau than a portfolio through the street? and this, perhaps from a recollection of once bearing a copper- plate, not sufficiently concealed from the eyes of an observant public, under my arm, and provoking a salutation from a little ragged urchin, shouting at the top of his voice, hand to mouth — " There goes a copper plate en-gra- ver! " It is true, that as I walked on I experienced a sense of the un- comfortableness of that species of publicity, and felt that the eyes of Europe were very inconveniently directed to me ; but I did not, even in that moment of mortification, feel ashamed of my calling : I did not " dislike the name of artist." (2.) " When a very young man, it was doubtful wlicthcr the wcakncsss of his eyes "would not prove a barrier to his success as an artist." ' When a very young man, I was rather s/ior<-siyA<^ was there just sufficient leather left to iuterpos.^ oss' between the tender feet of a child, and the hard i^ earth, his mother! ON A WICKED SHOEMAKER. You say he has sprung from Cain ; — rather Confess there's a difference vast : For Cain was a son of the first father While he is " a son of the last." 14 QKOROE CRUIKSIIANKS OMNIBUS. c;-jf?{>o i>-'j«i>it>^ LOVE SEEKING A LODGING. At Leila's heart, from Jay to day, Love, boy-like, knock'd, and ran away ; But Love grown older, seeking then " Lodgings for single gentlemen," Return'd unto his former ground. And knock'd, but no admittance found — With his rat, tat, tat. His false alarms remember'd still. Love, now in earnest, fared but ill ; For Leila in her heart could swear, As still he knock'd, " There's no one there." A single god, he then essay'd With single knocks to lure the maid — With his single knock. Each passer-by, who watch'd the wight, Cried " Love, you won't lodge there to night!" And love, while listening, half confess'd That all was dead in Leila's breast. Yet, lest that light heart only slept. Bold Love up to the casement crept — With his tip, tap, tap. No answer; — " Well," cried Love, ' I'll wait. And keep off Envy, Fear, and Hate; No other passion there shall dwell. If ]'m shut out — why, here's a bell !" He rang ; the ring made Leila start, And Love found lodgings in her heart — With his m.igic ring. L.B. twii|ntA ilAU i. PUlfkul '^^'■n-y ^TjiiiAcmk 1lK,/'-ISi,l FUANK IlliilliTWELL 15 FRANK HEARTWELL; OR FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TII.LKR. CHAPTER I. It was about half a century ago in the closing twilight of an autumnal evening at that period of the season when the falling of the soar and yellow leaves indicated the near approach of winter, that a lady was seated at work in one of those comfortable parlours which, as far as tlie memory of living man can go back, were at all times considered essential to an Eng- lishman's ideas of enjoyment, and which certainly were not and are not to be found, approaching to the same degree of commodious perfection, in any other part of the world. By her side sat a beautiful boy some seven or eight years of age, whose dark glossy ringlets hung clustering down his shoulders over the broad and open white cambric collar of his shirt. His full and fair face bore the ripened bloom of ruddy health, and his large blue eyes, even though a child, were strongly expressive of tenderness and love. The lady herself was fair to look upon, possessing a placid cast of countenance which, whilst it invited esteem and confidence, calmly re- pelled impertinence or disi-es]ject ; her eyes, like those of her son, were mild and full, and meltingly blue, and through the shades of long dark lashes discoursed most eloquently the language of affectionate solicitude and fond regard ; and it was impossible to look upon them, or be looked upon by them, without experiencing a glow of pleasure, warming and nourishing all the better feelings and purposes of the heart. In age she was twenty-six, but matronly anxiety gave her the appearance of being some two or three years older ; her figure was faultless, and the tight sleeve of her gown fitting closely to her arm, and confined with a bracelet of black velvet at the wrist, displayed the form of a finely moulded limb; and the painter or the sculptor would have been proud to copy from so admirable a model. The floor of the room was covered with a soft Turkey carpet, which, though somewhat faded, still retained in many parts its richness of colours. The panelled walls were of oak that had endured for more than one gene- ration; and though time had thrown his darkened shadows over them, as if to claim them for his own, art had been called in aid, if not to defeat his claims, yet to turn them to advantage ; for the blackened wood was polished to a mirror-like brightness, and instead of dispensing gloom, its reflections were light and cheerful. Suspended in the upper compart- ments and surrounded with oval frames, tastefully carved and gilt, were well executed portraits by the celebrated masters of those and earlier days. Between the two windows, where the whole of the light was thrown upon the person, hung suspended a pier looking-glass in a well-carved mahogany frame surrounded by the plume of the Prince of "Wales, bearing the appropriate motto for the reflecting tablet itself, " Ich Dicn ; " and at the corners, in open work, wore cut full-ripe ears of corn in their golden glory, sheaved together with true-love knots. ]6 GEORGE CRUIKSIIANK S OMNIBUS. Ill ono angle of tlic room stood a lofty circular dumb-waiter, its planes decreasing as they rose in altitude and bearing a display of wine-glasses with those long white tortuous spiral columns, which, like the screw of Archimedes, has puzzled older heads than those of childhood to account for the everlasting turns. There were, also, massive articles of plate of various periods, from the heavy spoons with the sainted apostles effigied at the extremity of the handles, to the silver filagree wrought sugar-stand, with its basin of blue enamelled glass. There were also numerous figures of ancient China, more remarkable for their fantastic shapes than either for ornament or for use. The tables were of dark mahogany, the side slabs curiously deviced, and the legs assuming something of an animal form with the spreading paw of the lion or the tiger on each foot. One table, however, that was carefully placed so as to be remote from danger, had a raised open-work, about two inches in height, round the edges of its surface, to protect and preserve the handsome and much-prized tea-service, which had been brought by a seafaring ancestor as a present from the " Celestial Empire." A commodious, soft-cushioned, chintz-covered sofa occupied one side of the parlour, and the various spaces were filled with broad and high-backed mahogany chairs, whose capacious seats were admirable representatives of composure and ease. But there was one with wide-spreading arms, that seemed to invite the weary to its embrace ; it was stuffed with soft mate- rial, and covered entirely with thick yellow taffeta, on which many an hour of laborious toil had been expended to produce in needle- work imita- tions of rich fruit and gorgeous flowers ; it was a relic of antiquity, and the busy fingers that had so skilfully plied the task had long since yielded to mouldering decay. The fire-place was capacious, and its inner sides were faced with earthen- ware tiles, on which were represented scenes and sketches taken from scripture history. It is true that some of the delineations bore a rather incongruous character : the serpent erecting itself on the tip of its tail to beguile Eve ; the apple, whose comparative dimensions was calculated to set the mouth of many a school-boy watering ; and not unfrequently a mingling of the Selectae e Profanis amongst the groups caused curious speculations in the youthful mind. But who can call to recollection the m.any evening lectures which this constant fund of instruction and amuse- ment afforded, without associating them with pleasing remembrances of innocence and peace? Tlie fire-grate was large, and of the old-fashioned kind, somewhat of a basket-like form, small at the bottom, but spreading out into wider range as its side boundaries ascended. Lighted tapers were on the table, together with a lady's work-box, and the small, half-rigged model of a vessel, which the boy had laid down that he might peruse the history and voyages of Philip Quarll, and now, sitting by his mother's knee, he was putting questions to her relative to the sagacious monkeys who were stated to have been poor Philip's personal attendants and only friends. Emily Heartwell was, in every sense of the term, the " beloved" wife ol a lieutenant in the British royal navy, who had bravely served with great rilANK nUVUTWELr, ; OR, FIlTy YEAHS AGO. 17 credit to liiinsolf and advantage to the lionour of his country's flag; but unfortunatolybecoming mixed up with the angry dissensions that had arisen amongst political partisans through the trial of Admiral Keppel by court- martial, he remained for some length of time unemployed, but recently, through the influence and intervention of his former commander and patron, Sir George (afterwards Lord) Rodney, he had received an appoint- ment to a sliip-of-the-line that was then fitting out to join that gallant admiral in the West Indies. The father of Lieutenant Pleartwell had risen from humble obscurity to the command of a West Indiaraan ; and his son having almost from his childhood accompanied him in his voyages, the lad had become early initiated in the perils and mysteries of a seaman's life, so that on partino- with his parent he was perfectly proficient in all the important duties that enable the mariner to counteract the raging of the elements, and to navigate his ship in safety from port to port. What became of the father was never accurately known. He was bound to Jamaica with a valuable cargo of home manufactures; he was spoken off the Canaries, and re- ported all well ; but from that day no tidings of him had been heard, and it was supposed that the ship had foundered at sea, and all hands perished. By some fortuitous circumstance, young Heartwell had been brought under the especial notice of the intrepid Rodney, who not only placed him on the quarter-deck of his own ship, but also generously patronised and maintained him through his probationary term, and at its close, though involved in difficulties himself, first procured him a lieutenant's commission, and then presented him with a handsome outfit, cautioning him most seriously, as he was a good-looking fellow, not to get entangled by marriage, at least, till he had attained post-rank, or was regularly laid up with the gout, when he was perfectly at liberty to take unto himself a wife. But the lieutenant had a pure, unsophisticated mind, sensibly alive to all the blandishments of female beauty, but with discretion to avoid that which he considered meretricious, and to prize loveliness of feature only when combined with principles of virtue rooted in the heart. Ar- dently attached to social life, it can excite but little wonder that on mature acquaintance with the lady wh) now bore his name, he had forgotten the injunction of his commander ; and, being possessed of a little property, the produce of well-earned prize-money, he offered himself to the accep- tance of one who appeared to realise his most fervent expectations ; and, when it is considered that to a remarkably handsome person the younCT lieutenant united some of the best qualities of huinan nature, my fair readers will at once find a ready reason for his suit not being rejected. In short, they were married. The father of Mrs. Heartwell, a pious clergyman, performed the ceremony, and certainly in no instance could there have been found two persons possessing a stronger attachment, based on mutual respect and esteem. An uncle, the brother of the lieutenant's father had, when a boy, gone out to the East Indies, but he kept up veryjittle communication with his family, and they had for some time lost sight of him altogether, when 18 GEORGU CltUlKSIIAKKS OMNIBUS. news arrived of his having prospered greatly, and the supposition was that lie had amassed a considerable fortune. As this intelligence, however, was indirect, but little credit was given to it, and it probably would have passed away from remembrance, or at least been but little thought of, liad not letters arrived announcing the uncle's death, and that no will cvfuld be discovered. The lieutenant, as the only surviving lieir, was urged to put in his claim ; and, though he himself was not very sanguine in his expectations that his uncle had realised a large fortune, yet it gratified him to think that there might be sufficient to assist in securing a respectable and com- fortable maintenance for his wife and child during his absence. From an earnest desire to surprise Mrs. Heartwell with the pleasing intelligence, he had for the first time since their union refrained from informing her of his proceedings ; and on the afternoon of the day on which our narra- tive opens, he had appointed to meet certain parties connected with the affair at the ofiice of Mr. Jocelyn Brady, a reputed clever solicitor in Lincoln^s Inn, when the whole was to be finally arranged, and the deeds and papers placed in his possession in the presence of witnesses. Cherishing not only the hope, but also enjoying the conviction, that in a short time he should be able to gladden her heart, the lieutenant imprinted a warm and affectionate kiss on the lips of his wife, and pressing his boy in his arms with more than his usual gaiety, he bade them farewell for a few hours, promising at his return to communicate something tliat would delight and astonish them. But, notwithstanding the hilarity of her husband, an unaccountable depression weighed heavily on the usually cheerful spirits of Mrs. Heart- well ; and, whilst returning the embrace of her husband, a presentiment of distress, though she knew not of what nature or kind, filled her bosom with alarm ; and a heavy sigh — almost a groan — burst forth before she had time to exercise consciousness, or to mnster sufficient energy to restrain it. The prospect of, and the near approach to, the hour of their separa'jon, had certainly oppressed her mind, but she would not distress her husbrind by openly yielding to the manifestation of grief that might render their parting more keenly painful. She had vigorously exerted all her forti- tude to bear up against the anticipated trial which awaited her, of biddinor a long adieu to the husband of Iier affections and the father of her child ; but the pressure which now inflicted agony was of u different character to what she had hitherto experienced. It was a foreboding of calamity as near at hand, an undefined and undefinable sensation, producing faintness of spirit and sickness of heart ; her limbs trembled, her breath faltered, and sJie laid her head upon his shoulder and burst iuto con- vulsive sobbings, that sliook her frame with violent agitation. I am no casui'st to resolve doubtful cases, but I would ask many thousands who have to struggle with the anxious cares, the numerous disappointments, and all the various difficulties that beset existence, whetlier they have not had similar distressing visitations, previous to the arrival of some unforeseen calamity. Wiiat is it, then, that thus operates on the faculties to produce these symptoms ? It cannot be a mere affec- tion of the nervous system, caused by alarming apprehensions of the future FllANK llEAKTWELL ; OR, I'lPTY YEARS AGO. 19 for, in most instances, nothing specific has been known or decided. May it not, therefore, be looked upon as a wise and kind ordination of providence, to prepare the mind for disastrous events that are to follow ? The lieutenant raised the drooping head of his wife, earnestly gazed on her expressive countenance, kissed away her tears, and then exclaimed, " How is this, Emily ? what ! giving way to the indulgence of sorrow at a moment when prosperity is again extending the right hand of good- fellowship ? We have experienced adverse gales, my love, but we have safely weathered them ; and now that we have the promise of favourable breezes and smooth sailing, the prospect of renewed joy should gladden your heart." " But are you not soon to leave me, Frank ?" returned Mrs. Heartwell, as she strove to subdue the feelings which agitated her, " and who have I now in the wide world but you ? " Tiie lieutenant fervently and fondly pressed her to his heart, whilst with a mingled look of gentle reproach and ardent afi^ection he laid his disengaged hand on the head of his boy, who raising his tear-sufifused eyes to the countenance of his mother, as he endeavoured to smile, uttered, " Do not be afraid mama, I will protect you till papa comes back ! " The silent appeal of her husband and the language of her child promptly recalled the wife and the parent to a sense of her marital and maternal duties — she instantly assumed a degree of cheerfulness ; and the lieutenant engaging to be home as early as practicable, took his departure to visit his professional adviser. The only male attendant (and he was looked upon more in the charac- ter of a humble friend than as a servant) on the lieutenant's establishment was an attached and faithful seaman, of some five-and- thirty years of awe, who had undeviatingly adhered to the fortunes of his officer from the first moment of his entering into the naval service. He had served under Rod- ney from boyhood, first in the Prince George ninety-eight — then in the Dublin seventy-four ; and, subsequently, when the admiral hoisted his flag, he accompanied him in his career of glory, and was present in those memorable engagements which ultimately raised the British ensign to its proud supremacy on the ocean. Possessed of a lively and contented turn of mind, Ben Brailsford was always cheerful and gay — his temper and his disposition coincided — there was, at all times, a pleasant smile upon his cheek and a kind word upon his tongue, and, in point of fact, his only faults were an occasional indul- gence to excess in his favourite beverage — grog, and his still more excessivt; loquacity when spinning a tough yarn about his favourite commander, Rodney, though it not uufrequently happened that one helped on the other. I have already remarked that young Frank — for he was named after his father — was by his mothers side, and questioning her upon the subject of Philip Quarll's monkeys — ^but though desirous of imparting instruction to her son, yet her spirit was too much bowed down even to attend to him ; besides, this was a matter of natural history with which she was but little acquainted, and, therefore, he was referred to honest Ben, as the best authority to answer his inquiries. Ben was accordingly summoned, and smoothing down his hair over his forehead with his hard horny hand c2 "^^ cr.OHGB cbuikshank's omnibus. as he entered the room, ho " liopedas madam was well and master Frank all 8liip-sha])e." " I am tilinking of your master's departure, Ben," returned the lady, " and therefore cannot he very easy in my mind, wlien I consider the risks to wliicli he will be exposed on the turbulent ocean, both in the storm and in the battle." " Bless you, my lady,'' returned the seaman, '' what's the vally of a bit of a breeze, where there's skill and judgment to read the face of the heavens, and good practical seamanship to ease her with the helm, when the wild seas break over us — and as for a fight, why its pretty sharp work whilst it lasts, but wlicn it's over and the grog abroach — not, my lady, as I ever gives way to more than does me good — but as I was a saying, when the action's ended and the grog sarved out" — and here he cast his eyes towards a well-replenished liquor-case that stood in the corner, and from which he had often been supplied — " why we shares it along with our prisoners, and drinks to the mortal memory of them as is gone." " But it must be a dreadful spectacle, Ben, to witness the dead and the dying mingled together," said the lady, with a shudder, " the slain and the wounded in one promiscuous heap." " Bless you, my lady, that comes o' not knowing the jometry of the thing," returned Brailsford, in a tone and expression that evidenced expe- rience ; "they aren't by no manner o' means in one permiskus heap, for as soon as we find an onfortinate shipmate has let go the life-lines — and its easy diskivered by pressing the hand over the heart and feeling for the pallypitation— just for all the world Master Frank, as you'd listen for the ticking of a watch in a noisy place — and if so be as you don't find that there's not never no wibration, but all is motionless, from the main-spring having been carried away, so that tlie wheels have run down, why we knows well enough that the doctor's knife and all his medicine chest wouldn't get him to lend a hand to run out another gun, or rouse aboard the main-tack ^so we launches him out at the port as expended stores, and we turns-to with a hearty good will to avenge his death." " But do they serve the officers so ? " inquired Mrs. Heartwell, whose cheeks had become blanched during the plain recital of the seaman; " surely there is some funeral ceremony, some — " and she paused. " Bless you, my lady, what's the odds so as you're happy," responded Ben, scratching his head, whilst a good-humoured smile mantled over his face ; " but the real truth of the thing is, that the officers being a sort of privileged class, expect a cast of the chaplln's wadee mecum — that's the parson's Latin for prayer-book. Master Frank ; but to my thinking a poor dev — that is, I means an onfortinate as sticks his spoon in the beckets for a full-due and loses the number of his mess, whilst sarving his country heart and soul — has rubbed out a multitude of sins whilst sponging his gun in the regard of dooty." " I dearly love my country, Ben ; I should be unworthy the name of Englishwoman if I did not," returned the lady with fervour,as in the course of conversation she endeavoured to overcome her depression ; " but why fight at all ? " Tills query to one of Rodney's tars would have been quite sufficient, had the law been administered then as it is in the present day, to have sub- FRANK nKARTWEI.L ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 21 jectcd the questioner to a commission of lunacy ; and Ben gave his mis- tress an earnest look, shading his eyes with his hand that he might not be deceived by the glare of the lights. At first he thought she was in joke, but finding from the unchangeableness of her countenance that she was serious, he replied — " Well, my lady, in regard o' tbe upshot of fighting, it ien't for an onedecated tar like myself to dilute upon the religion of the thing ; but, bless you, my lady, suppose as you had the EKglish ensign h.oistcd on the staff, or, for the matter o' that, at the gaff-end, and an enemy was to dare to presume to be so onveterate bould as to fire a sliot at it ; " he warmed as he proceeded, " why wouldn't you, my lady, open your ports and run out your guns for the honour of ould England's glory ? And when your guns are run out, why what's the use on 'em if you don't clap d match to the touch-holes and pour in a reg'lar broadside ? " " Oh, it must be horrible work, Ben," said Mrs. Heartwell, as the pic- ture of her husband, mangled and dying, was visibly presented to her view ; " you throw the supposed dead overboard without being certain that life is extinct — " " Avast, my lady, avast j we never does that — ^no, no ; a sliipmat* or a messmate aren't so easily expended," returned Ben, with a solemn shake of the head. " But there's a sort of nat'ral inkstink amongst us tars — a kind of cable-splice with each other, so that we knows at once as well as any doctor as ever sarved his time at pill-building when the strands are drawn, and the craft has slipped from its moorings ; that is, my lady, jist as this here, we can tell in a moment when a shipmate or messmate has broke adrift and got beyond hail ; bless you, they're all distinct afore we gives 'em a launch, and as for the wounded, wliy they're carried below to the cockpit to get dressed, or to have their precious limbs lopped off like old junk, condemned as onsarviceable. But what's the odds, my lady, so as you're happy ? " One of Ben's peculiarities, and which long habit had rendered perfectly familiar to him, was the general use of the expression " What's the odds so as you're happy ? " and as he mostly contrived to lug it in whatever the course of conversation might be, it often happened that it found utterance on very inappropriate occasions. The idea of happiness connected with the amputating of a limb would never have entered the mind of any other person than Ben ; but his mistress was too much accustomed to the humane and generous disposition of the worthy seaman to suppose that he was in- dulging in levity, or ridiculing distress ; she was perfectly aware that all Ben intended to convey was, that " a contented mind~might be supported under every trial and misfortune." Young Frank had listened, as lie always did, very attentively to Ben's explanations and descriptions, and though the delicate sensibilities of the lad were very naturally wounded by the recital of naratives of deeds of blood and violence, yet when the seaman entered upon details of chivalrous enterprise connected with the necessity of asserting his country^s honour, his youthful heart would glow with earnest desire to be enrolled amongst the brave of his native land. His mother had discouraged his unmatured but ambitious aspirings; her maternal solicitude had looked forward with 22 OEORGK CRl'IKSIIANKS OMNIBUS. sickening dread at tlic tliouglits of lior only child being exposed to the perils of the ocean. She had endured the long-suffering of anxious care and hope deferred during the absence of her husband, and her very soul dwelt with increased alarm and apprehension on the probability that not only would an additional weight of anxiety and distress encumber the every-day circumstances of life should her boy become a mariner, but there was also the certainty that in his departure she would lose one of the principal props to animated existence ; the dear little companion of her leisure hours, with whom slie could unreservedly converse upon a subject that was ever uppermost in her thoughts, — his father. Then the idea ol loneliness preyed upon her mind ; and, there is something so cold and chilling in the thoughts of being left alone in the world, cut off from con- nexions that were once eminently endearing to the affections, to sit hour after hour, and day after day, communing with one's own sad heart, to pass the nights in sleepless retrospection, as visions of past enjoyment flit in pleasing array before the imagination, and then to turn the mind's eye to the obscure but dreaded events of the coming future, where all is darkened by gloomy forebodings ; there is a keen and horrible distress in such meditative contemplations, that is calculated to w-aste the stoutest frame, and to unsettle the soundest reason ; and happy indeed are they who seek for consolation from whence it alone can be obtained. Although Mrs. Heartwell experienced more pain than pleasure at Ben's recitals of storms and battles, yet she not unfrcquently provoked him into narratives of danger and of death, for the purpose — as she hoped — of deterring her son from entering upon so hazardous an occupation as that of a seaman. But whilst she partially succeeded in awakening the acute sensibilities of the lad as to tlie difficulties to be encountered, so also was the pride and curiosity of an adventurous spirit aroused, and young Frank grew more attached to the interesting accounts of foreign lands, and deli- neations of distant countries, than frightened at the tales of the battle and the breeze. Philip Quarll had been laid aside whilst Ben stood conversing with his mistress — whom he at all times honoured with the appellation of "my lady," — but now the seaman was requested to sit down and explain the nature of the monkeys, the book was resumed, and Frank inquired " whether Ben had ever seen an ape wild in the woods." "Why, yes. Master Frank," responded the seaman, as he seated himself near the table, but at a respectful distance from his mistress. " I have seen 'em hanging on by the eye-lids amongst the trees." " Hanging on by the eye-lids, Ben ! " repeated Fralik, in surprise ; " why how could they do that ?" " Why to be sure. Master Frank, they warn't exactly holdino- fast by the eye-lid«," returned the seaman, smiling ; " but we uses the term as a figure o' speech, meaning as it's next to dancing upon nothinf." This did not much mend the lad's knowledge of the matter, but as he was eager to hear something of the monkey tribe, ho inquired " And how much bigger, Ben, is a Chimpanzee than an ape ?" " A what. Master Frank — a Jem Pansy ? " demanded the seaman, looking at the picture of Quarll with his attendants. " Do they call them FKANK UEARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 23 Jem Pansics ? well, to my thinking, it arn't natral to give a cliristcn- liko name to such oncivilizcd brutes as haven't got no rational faculties." Frank explained, and the two were soon in deep and earnest conversa- tion upon the relative qualities and characteristics of monkeys, whilst Mrs. Heartwell continued her work, occasionally listening to their discourse, but her thoughts principally engrossed by contemplating the coining sepa- ration from her husband. The ancient clock, which stood on a bracket at the first landing of the stairs, struck nine, and the lady, who had for some time been growing more and more uneasy at the lieutenant's stay, directed Ben to have the supper things in readiness, and when he had left the room, Frank was desired to prepare himself for bed. Kneeling at his mother's feet, with hands closed together, he repeated his evening prayer, im- ploring the Divine Being to bless his parents — the servant lighted him to his room — and weary nature soon found refreshment in the sweet repose of undisturbed .slumber. Another hour passed awaj', and the anxious wife grew more restless and uneasy ; she laid her watch upon the table, and though the hour was late, yet she felt impatient at the tardy movement of the hands, hoping that each succeeding minute would bring her husband home. But still he came not, and time continued to progress, unheeding both the joy and the sorrow that accompanied his eventful career. In vain did she strive to subdue the fluctuating emotions that, like the undulating swell o( the ocean giving warning of an approaching tempest, seemed to indicate that a severe trial was at hand. Every foot-fall in the street had excited hope, which died away with the receding sound ; and the almost bj'sterical and sudden gush of delight was succeeded by a revulsion of sickening uncertainty and fearful surmlsings. Why or wherefore, she could not tell. But midnight was drawing near, the weather which had been fine became tempestuous, the winds howled and the rain beat against the windows, and the streets were deserted, except by the ancient watchman, whose slow and heavy tread could not be mistaken for the eager springi- ness of vigorous strength prompted by ardent affection hurrying to the home of the heart. Mrs. Heartwell tried to compose her mind by reading, but the effort was futile ; the constant changes in the course of her thoughts disconnected the sentences, and the visions which torturing apprehen- sions conjured up were infinitely more vivid than~tlie incidents recorded on the printed page. At length, weary nature claimed her due, and she fell into uneasy slumber , but though the mortal frame bad yielded to fatigue, and strove to gain refreshing energy by reposc,_tli'e intellect was still awake and powerful to witness the conflicting occurrences that filled up the scenic representations in the dramatic shiftings of her dream. And oh, how fearfully confused were the visions of Jlrs. Ileartwell's restless sleep ! She saw her husband struggling with the waves as the lio-htning flashed and the wild tempest howled above his head, and she rushed into the vortex of the dark and bubbling waters to try and snatch him from destruction. But vain were her endeavours to approach liini they were hurled hither and thither upon the crests of the foaming billows, but could not grasp each other's hands; and then the scene sud- denly changed, and she beheld the lieutenant wounded and bleeding on the deck as the stream of life was ebbing fast away. They were sur- 24 OEOROE CULUKSI.'AMK's OMNIBUS. rounded by the thunder and the smoke of battle; dark and vindirtive, and gore-stained countenances -were peering upon her through the curling vapours, and there was one amongst them more dark, more vindictive, more sanguinary than the rest, but the thickened and dense atmosphere was constantly throwing it into obscurity, so as to leave no especial tracings on the memory. She tried to get to her husband, but still that mysterious being constantly debarred her progress; her lirebs became paralysed; she could seethe lieutenant most distinctly, though the rest were enveloped in gloom ; and as he looked at her with his sight fast fading away, the dim eyes were still expressive of the inseparable mingling of anxious solicitude and fervent tenderness. Once more the picture changed ; she was in her own dwelling, in that very parlour, clasped in his embrace as the fervid kiss of affection was impressed upon her lips. She would have cliided his delay, but the delight that glowed within her bosom and the sound of his voice in cheerful greet- ing dispelled the anguish she had endured, and stifled the language of reproach before it could find utterance — She was again liappy in his society. The lieutenant took his usual seat, by the fireside opposite to his wife, and she was gazing upon him with feelings of gratification rendered more rich and delightful from the previous suffering she had experienced, when suddenly his features assumed a rigid and swollen aspect, a livid liue was on his cheeks, his limbs were stark and motionless, as he sat stiffly erect, whilst his eyes almost starting from his head were fixed intently upon her. " You are ill, Frank," was her imagined exclamation, as she essayed to rise from her chair but could not. " Oh do not look upon me thus — speak, speak to me," but the figure remained immovable — not a muscle of the face was stirred, and again that dark mysterious countenance, with its undefined outlines and misty filling up, appeared between them. "Oh, wli.at is this, Frank ?" uttered she, in a voice shrill and piercing through the extremity of agony ; and bursting the bonds of sleep, she sprang from lier chair at the very instant that Ben opened the door of the room, and looked round it in surprise. " Where is he, Ben, where is he ? " de- manded the agitated woman, as she stared wildly on the vacant seat. " Bless you, my lady," responded the seaman as he stood within the half- opened door, " I thought as Muster Heart well were here, seeing as he hailed me jist now in tlie kitchen, and Fve come to see what his pleasure is ?" A thiill of horror instantaneously seized upon every portion of Mrs. Ileartwell's frame — a sensati«n that for the moment struck at the very seat of vitality, and was carried through the entire system. " It cannot be," at lengtli siie uttered ; " no one lias opened the doors — the servants are all in bed :" she gasped for breath as she falteringly continued, " Fa- tlier of Heaven, in mercy relieve me from this dreadful state. Yes, yes, it must have been — it is nothing more than a dream," and seating herself upon the sofa, she buried her face upon the pillow, and burst into unre- strained and irrepressible tears. Ben had implicitly obej'cd the instructions of liis mistress in seeino- the supper materials prepared, and at tlie accustomed hour tlie maid-servants went to bed, leaving the gallant seaman alone in the kitchen to the onjov- nient of liis pipe and a well-filled stiff glass of cold grog. Unaccustomed to scrutinij.e the conduct of his superiors, Ben gave himself but little FUAKK HHAIiTWKLL ; OK, FIVLY YKARS AGO. 2.'i trouble or consideration for the unusually long-continued absence of hb master ; and if a thought did obtrude it was merely to conjecture that the lieutenant might have fallen in with some old messmates or friends, who, in the height of enjoyment over their social or festive intercourse, had induced him to stay out beyond his ordinary time for returning. It is true Ben reasoned upon deductions based upon what he himself would have done under similar circumstances ; for though the worthy tar had practised a little of the amiable towards Sally the housemaid, yet he was iniacquainted with, and consequently could not well account for, the secret and hidden springs that prompted the undeviating attention of Mr. Heart- well in studying the comfort and happiness of his wife as intimately con- nected with his own. lien sat smoking and cogitating upon the station he should probably occupy when again upon the element he loved to control, and his spirit rose as he contrasted the busy routine of duty on board a smart ship at sea, with the idle and quiet of a calm life on shore even with Sally to sweeten it. He fancied himself once more at the weather wheel, as with a predominant feeling of pride he kept the given point of the compass without vibrating from the direct course he was ordered to steer ; and then in his watch below with his brother tars keeping up Satuiday night with grog, and jest, and jocund song; and as he made repealed applica- tions to the jorum of strong beverage by his side, his fancy peopled the vacant space around him with messmates and shipmates till both pipe and glass were emptied, and he unconsciously resigned himself to the close embraces of a sailor's Morpheus. . He, too, had been dreaming, but it was of the mere ordinary concerns of the forecastle or main-top, without experiencing a single terrific sensa- tion except when the supposed sonorous hail of the first lieutenant throi.gli his speaking-trumpet afforded a convincing testimonial that something nore was expected in the exercise of their duties than the playfulness of childhood. But Ben heard it fearlessly, for he not only knew what he had to do, but he was also well versed in the most approved method of doing it, and ever active and obedient, he performed his task with alacrity and skill. Whilst thus involved in all the intricate mazes of visionary specu- lation, he thought he heard the well remembered sound of his master's voice calling upim him ; and springing to his feet, he rubbed his eyes as lie gave tlie usual responsive " Ay, ay. Sir," and found the lieutenant stand- ing before him. But the delusion almost instantly ceased — the figure receded and disappeared, and as the door of the kitchen was shut, Ben concluded in his mind that it was all moonshine as to the appearance, that he really had heard his master's call, and hurrying up stairs he entered the parlour at the u^oment when his mistress awoke in such thrilling agory. The flow of tears relieved her overcharged heart, and without question- ino' the seaman she sent him below again, and prostrating herself before her Maker, she offered up an earnest praj'cr for fortitude to undergo afflic- tion, and tranquillity of nnnd to meet every dispensation that might occur • — it was the poor dependant created, supplicating the higli and Almighty creator ; it was the weak and the defenceless imploring the aid of the Omnipotent. The appeal was heard and answered — tlip broken and the 26 GEORGE CRUJKSKANKS OMNIBUS. contrite spirit was not despised ; and Mrs. Heartwell arose from her knees strengthened in the confidence that He who spread abroad immea- surable space and displayed the firmament as his handy work — who fed the young ravens when tliey cried, and clothed the lilies of the field in all their beauty, would not desert her in the i.j-'r of tribulation. 0^ c-jj... ■-'^ri;rn;;rxi^';4i^^.« M-«>is»^s^S MONUMENT TO NAPOLEON! On the rernuval of Napoleon's remains, I jncpartd the altove desicjn for a nionuuicat ; but it was not scut, because it was not wanted. Tliere is tliis disadvantage about a design for- his monument; — it will suit nobody else. Tliis could not, therefore, be converted into a tribute to the raeniojy of the late (listingnishcd iiliilosoplier, M uggeridge, head master of the gtummar- srbool at Birchlcy ; nor into an cmbcllishuient for the mausoleum of the deparU'd hero Fitz- Hogg, of the Pipeclays. It very often happens, however, that when a monument to a gieiit man tunis out to he a misfit, it will, after a while, he found to suit some other great man as well as if his mcasnie had been taken for if. Just add a few grains to the intcllectu:il (lualities, subtract a scruple or so from the moral attributes — let out the philanthropv a little and take in the learning a bit — clip the public devotion, and throw an additional handful of virtues into the domestic sr.ilc — qualify the squint, in sluu-t, or turn the aQuiliue into a MONUMENT TO NAPOLRON. 27 nnul — these slight modifications observed, and any licro or pliilosophcr may be fXtcd to a huii Willi « second-liand nionuoieotal design. The standing tributo " We ne'er shall look upon bia .ike again," is of cour&o applicable in every case of greatness.] •* Is this the man of thousand thrones. Who strcw'd our earth with hostile bones! And can he thus survive !*' So Byron sang, in accents of astonishment, long before the object of it was even once buried. Is the note of wonder less called for, and less natural now — now that the world has lived to witness, not only the first, but the second funeral of its Imperial Agitator ? Is this Napoleon le Grand ! and looked Alexander after this fashion — barring the decorations of his bony extremities ! Agitator still ! Aye, Agitator even in thine ashes thou must be called — whatsoever name else thou mayst be destined to survive ! Whether Boney, Bony party, Buonaparte, Napoleon, Emperor ! Whether in the future, as in the past, thou shalt be addressed by any one of that astound- ing collection of titles which the most metaphysical and admiring of thy biographers once gathered from the public journals and set forth in start- ling array — as Monster, Tyrant, Fiend, Upstart, Usurper, Rebel, Re- gicide, Traitor, Wretch, Villain, Knave, Fool, Madman, Coward, Impostor — or these again with suitable adjectives to reinforce them, as Unnatural Monster, Sanguinary Tyrant, Diabolical Fiend, Corslcan Upstart, Military Usuiper, Wicked Rebel, Impious Regicide, Perfidious Traitor, Vile Wretch, Base Villain, Low-born Knave, Rank Fool, Egregious Madman, Notorious Coward, Detestable Impostor ; — or this other set of epithets, which, in more countries than France, and not unsparingly in our own, have since been associated with thy name — as Conqueror, Potentate, Preserver, Genius, Liberator, Law-giver, Statesman, Ruler, Regenerator, Enthusiast, Martyr, Hero, Benefactor — these again being reinforced as before, thus — Invincible Conqueror, Mighty Potentate, Glorious Preserver, Guardian Genius, Generous Liberator, Enlightened Law-giver, Magni- ficent Statesman, Wise Ruler, National Regenerator, Sincere Enthusiast, Devoted Martyr, Triumphant Hero, Beneficent Benefactor : — by tliese names, by any one of them possibly, thou mayst not be e-specially distinguished in after times ; but as Agitator at least thou must be hailed while language lasts ! .^It may justly be doubted whether the figure thus looking down upon a pyramid of skulls, is indeed " the man of thousand thrones " — ■ whether he does " thus survive." The design is one of those that " show men as they ought to be, not as they are." That opening of the cofiin at St. Helena opens up a world of curiosity, of wonder, and alarm. All the spectators were awed and astounded at the absence of the great Dictator of the Grave — Change ! All the beholders were stricken to marble, or melted into water-drops, to see Death looking like Life ; to survey tlie pale and placid features of the Emperor, expressing the serenity of repose, not the workings of deca}' — to witness a sign of power beyond that which ordinary clay may boast, and to feel that a " divinity did hedge " indeed the hero-king, in preserving all that was mortal of the 28 GE0KGI5 CUUIKSUAKK's OMNIBUS. exiled chief from the ravages of the worm. There lay the Emperor Napoleon — (he was recogn-ised then by the authorities, and should the parties meet ip the Shades, even George the Fourth can no longer style him General Buonaparte) — there lay the Emperor — not simply in his habit as he lived, but in the very flesh which he took with him out of Lonsjwood. There was the positive and unwasted substance — and there too was the seeming spirit. The eyes only were wanting to give i^ reality and consciousness. The Mighty Watcher had fallen asleep, bu who could say that be never again was to \?ake up ? The restless A'^isionary had sunk, torpid, into a dream of years. The Monarch had abdicated the throne ef Life witlvout finally crossing its confines. At best, the spectacle presented an extraordinary compromise with the insa- tiate Destroyer. The Archer had for once half-missed his aim. Now, it will be remembered that Fauntleroy was considered to bear a decided resemblance to Napoleon — a very respectable " likeness-done- in-this- style" sort of portrait — and Fauntleroy, as we all hear, is said tsi be alive still ! Somebody has remarked — in fact we remarked it ourselves — that on d'lt is French for " a lie ;" and so it may be in this particular : still the coincidence is curious. Even the likeness of Napoleon is asso- ciated with things living; but Napoleon himself has been seen, recog- nised, identified — looking like life itself — sleeping, sightless, but not dead. We have all been reminded lately of the manner in which bis return from Elba was announced in the Moniteur. It will bear repetition here: — " 1st announcement — The demon has escaped from banishment: he has run away from Elba. 2d — The Corsican dragon has landed at Cape Juan. 3d.- — The tiger has shown himself at Gap — the troops are advancing from all sides, in order to arrest his progress — he cannot possibly escape. 4th — The monster has really advanced as far as Grenoble — we know not to what treachery to ascribe it. 5th- — The tyrant is actually at Lyons. Fear and terror seized all at his appearance. 6th — The usurper has ventured to approach the capital to within sixty hours' march. 7th — • Buonaparte is advancing by forced marches — but it is impossible he sliould reach Paris. Stli- — Napoleon will reach under the walls of Paris to- morrow. 9th — The Emperor is at Fontainbleau. 10th — Yesterday evening his Majesty the Emperor made his public entry, and arrived at the palace of the Tuileries — nothing can exceed the universal joy ! " What would be liis reception now, were he — as he escaped so strangely from Elba, and worked his way still more strangely from under the willow of St. Helena — were he to wake where he is ! The peojile cried Vive I'Empereur as the coffin that held him was borne by. And truly the Emperor yet lives in Franco ! [As for mc, who liave skelctonistd hiii! prematurely, paringdown the Prodiey even to his liat and bools,! hove but" eunied out" a principle adoi>ted almost in my bovhood,for I can scaiccb remember the time when I did not take Borne patriotic pleasure in persecuting the great Enemv of England. Had lie been less than that, I should have felt compunctiou for mv cruelties • having tracked him through snow and thiough fire, by flood and by field, insultinir, degrading, and deriding him ever} where, atid putting liini to several humiliating deaths. All that time, however, he went on "overing" the Pyramids and the Alps, as boys "over" posts, and ]i!aying at leap-frog with the sovereigns of Euiopc, so as to kick a crown ofl^at every spring ho made — together witli many crowns and sovereigns into my coffers. Deep, most deep, in a perSBnal view of matters, are my obligations to the Agitator — but what a Debt the eountrj owes to him !] PHOTOGRAPHIC PHENOMENA, OR THE NEW SCHOOL OF PORTRAIT-PAINTING. *' Sit, cousin Percy ; sit, good cousin Hotspur !" — Henry IV. " My lords, be seated." — Speech from the Throne. -INVITATION TO SIT. Now sit, if ye have courage, cousins all ! Sit, all ye grandmamas, •wives, aunts, and mothers ; Daughters and sisters, widows, brides, and nieces ; In bonnets, braids, caps, tippets, or pelisses, The muff, mantilla, boa, scarf, or shawl ! Sit all ye uncles, godpapas, and brothers. Fathers and nephews, sons, and next of kin. Husbands, half-brother's cousin's sires, and others ; Be you as Science young, or old as Sin : Turn, Persian-like, your faces to the sun ! And have each one His portrait done, Finish'd, one may say, before it's begun. Nor you alone. Oh ! slight acquaintances ! or blood relations '. But sit, oh ! public Benefactors, 30 oisoiitjii chuiksiiank's omnibus. Wlioso portraits are hung up by Corporations. Ye Rulers of the likeness-loving nations. Ascend you now the Photographic throne. And snatch from Time the precious mornings chiiui'd By artists famed (In the Court Circular you'll find them named). Sit too, ye laurell'd Heroes, whom detractors Would rank below the statesman and the bard ! Sit also, all ye Actors, Whose fame would else die with you, which is hard ; Wliosc Falstaffs liere will never Slenders prove. So true the art is ! M.P.'s, for one brief moment cease to move ; And you who stand as Leaders of great Parties, Be sitting Members ! Ye intellectual Marchers, sit resign'd ! And oh ! ye Authors, men of dazzling mind. Perchance with faces foggy as November's. Pray sit I Apollo turned R.A. The other day, Making a most decided hit. They say. Phoebus himself — he has become a Shee I (Morning will rank among the Knights full soon) And while the Moon, Who only draws the tides, is clean outdone, The Stars are all astonishment to see Earth — sitting for her portrait — to the Sun ! II. THE PROCESS OP THE PORTRAITCRE. It's all very fine, is it not, oh ! ye Nine ? To tell us this planet is going too fast, On a comet-like track through the wilderness vast : Instead of collision, and chances of splitting In contact with stars rushing down the wrong lino. The world at this moment can't get on — for sittino- : And Earth, like the Lady enchanted in Coinus, Fix'd fast to her chair With a dignified air, Is expecting to sit for a century there ; Much wondering, possibly, half in despair. How the deuce she's to find her way back to her domus, " Keep moving," we know, was the cry long ago ; But now, never hare was " found sittinc," I swear Like the crowds who repair To old Cavendish Square, And mount up a mile and a quarter of stair. In procession that beggars the Lord Mayor's show ! rUOTOORAPIIIC PHENOMENA. 31 A nd all are on tiptoe, the liigli and the low. To sit in tliat glass-coverM blue studio ; In front of those boxes, wherein when you look Your image reversed will minutely appear. So delicate, forcible, brilliant, and clear, So small, full, and round, with a life so profound, As none ever wore In a mirror before ; Or the depths of a glassy and branch-shelter'd brook. That glides amidst moss o'er a smooth-pebbled ground. Apollo, whom Drummond of Ilawthornden styled " Apelles of flowers," Now mixes his showers Of sunshine, with colours by clouds undefiled ; Apelles indeed to man, woman, and child. His agent on earth, when your attitude 's right. Your collar adjusted, your locks in their place. Just seizes one moment of favouring light. And utters three sentences — " Now it 's begun," — " It's going on now, sir," — and " Now it is done ;" And lo ! as I live, there 's the cut of your face On a silvery plate. Unerring as fate. Worked off in celestial and strange mezzotint, A little resembling an elderly print. " "Well, I never !" all cry ; " it is cruelly like you 1 " But Truth is unpleasant To prince and to peasant. You recollect Lawrence, and think of the graces That Chalon and Company give to their faces ; The face you have worn fifty years doesn't strike you ! III. THE CRITICISMS OF THE SITTERS THE MOltAL, " Can this be me ! do look, mama !" Poor Jane begins to whimper ; " I have a smile, 'tis true ; — but, pa ! This gives me quite a simper." Says Tibb, whose plays are worse than bad, " It makes my forehead flat ;" And being classical, he'll add, " I'm blow'd if I'm like that." Courtly, all candour, owns his portrait true ; " Oh, yes, it's like ; yes, very ; it will do. Extremely like me — every feature — hut That plain pug-nose ; now mine's the Grecian cut 1 Her Grace surveys her face with drooping lid ; Prefers the portrait which Sir Thomas did ; Owns that o'er this some traits of truth arc sprinkled ; But views the brow with anger — " Wliy, it's wrinkled !" 32 Oi;(inGI5 CnUIKSIlANK's OMNIBOS " Like me .'" cries Sir Turtle ; " I'll lay two to one It would only be guess'd by my foes ; No, no, it is plain there are spots in the sun, Which accounts for these spots on my nose." " A likeness !" cries Crosslook, the lawyer, and sneers ; " Yes, the wig, tliroat and forehead I spy, And the mouth, chin, and cheeks, and the nose and the ears. But it gives me a cast in the eye !" Thus needs it the courage of old Cousin Hotspur, To sit to an artist who flatters no sitter ; Yet Self-love will urge us to seek him, for what spur So potent as that, though it make the truth bitter ! And thus are all flocking, to see Phoebus mocking. Or making queer faces, a visage per minute ; And truly 'tis shocking, if winds should be rocking The building, or clouds darken all that's within it. To witness the frights Which shadows and lights ^Manufacture, as like as an owl to a linnet. For there, while you sit up, Your countenance lit up, The mists fly across, a magnificent rack ; And your portrait's a patch, with its bright and its black, Out-Rembrandting Rembrandt, in ludicrous woe. Like a chimney-sweep caught in a shower of snow. Yet nothing can keep the crowd below. And still they mount up, stair by stair ; And every morn, by the hurry and hum, Each seeking a prize in the lottery there, You fancy the " last day of drawing " has come. L. B. [All the World and his Wife must recollect that they are not figuring before a mere mortal artist with whom they may all the while laugh and chat. Hero you must sit mute and motion- less. You may wink ; you may pcrbajis just put on a smile ; but vou must not la-ich ; for if you do, one half of your head will go off !] la.U-'^t^I?, '■>^>;^^^l\■■^':'' U trundic. a. I-I oofi. ' 33 PUNCH V. LAW. I WAS dozing over the last half-dozen glasses of a bowl of punch (the rest of the club having departed) when the waiter at the British came into the coffee-room • to remind me that it was Saturday night, and that in obedience to the New Police Act it was absolutely necessary that I siiould take my departure before Sunday morning — the door roust be finally closed at twelve o'clock, and it then wanted but five minutes. This appeal, and a " Now, Sir, if you please," a few times repeated, were not more than half heard ; sleep seized me irresistibly, and in twenty seconds more I was dreaming that I had fallen fast asleep, with the punch-bowl for a nightcap. " Come, move on — make way here, will you though ? — ^move on, you sir ! No Punch and Judy now ; it's unlegal by the law ; ain't yon awoi? o' the New Police Act what's put it down ?" Such was the arbitrary order which in my dream Serjeant Higginbotham of the X division issued, as he pushed his way into the centre of a crowd of urchins assembled round that little stage on which Punch was playing off his antics in unapproachable style. As the words fell from his lips, they smote my heart with the fear that a revolution in the country must inevitably follow. Punch to be put down by Act of Parliament ! Judy to be snatched away for ever by a vote of both Houses ! Mirth, fun, jollity, to be legislated into nothing — in the passing of a clause, or the twinkling of the Speaker's eye ! Impossible ; put Punch down in one place, lo ! he is up again in another ; stifle his voice in the east,'and bark ! you hear him the next minute squeaking in the west, like the piping shepherd-boy, " as though he should never grow old." This was consolatory to Uiy feelings ; but yet methought, the mere intent, the bare threat of the legislature to banish the people's own Punch, their time-honoured favourite, would paralyse all London at first, and then all London would be seen on its legs rushing to the Queen's palace to petition ! To my astonishment, not a soul in that crowd took the smallest notice of Serjeant Higginbotham's imperative command to be off. Punch Went on squeaking and rapping away ; the troop of brtys, girls, and miscella nies around, continued to grin, laugh, scream, and stretch their necks to stare over one another''s heads as though they never could look enough • and what was more, the policeman, who had penetrated into the midst of them, and of whose presence they appeared so singularly heedless, stood there, grinning, laughing, screaming, and stretching his neck to stare too. There indeed stood Serjeant H., his truncheon dropping from one hand, while the other was tightly pressed against his side, where he seemed to be in imminent peril of a split. That truncheon he had scarce uplifted, when the laugh seized him, and his arm fell powerless. Serjeant Higgin- botham, six feet high, was a little boy again. How he laughed and roared. I heard his " Ho ! ho !" for days afterwards, and can even now see the tears run down his cheeks, fringing his whiskers like dewdrops on a bush. Close by was a youngster flying his kite contrary to law ; on the approach of a policeman, he let go, turned to run, caught a glimpse, of 34 OEORQB CRUIKSIIANk's OMNIBUS. Punch — and there he stood fascinated by the fun. His pursuer, who was close behind him, was just about to catch hira by the collar, when he too stopped short, and with distended jaws almost doubled the horse-laugh of the side-aching Serjeant. Up came a sweep with the illegal cry of ' we-weep ' on his lips, but he could not break the law by giving utter- ance to the cry — ^for laughter. Presently came by a genius playing an organ, and another blowing a trumpet — ^the policemen heard not the unlawful music, and it suddenly ceased, stopped by the irresistible and all- absorbing Punch. A boy came next trundling his hoop, with 46 D trundling after him ; in two minutes they were standing side by side, laughing from ear to ear. A dustman had just raised his voice and got out, " du — ■" when his bell seemed to stop of itself, and " My eye !" was all he could articulate. A lad behind a hackney-coach jumped down, scorning a three-miles ride, under the influence of the prevailing risibility. All were drawn insensibly into the vortex of laughter. Every violator of the new law, albeit aware of having fallen under the vigilant observation of the police, lost on the instant all sense of responsibility, all inclination to shun the danger of apprehension, and joining the crowd, became utterly uncon- scious of any law but the law of nature, and supremely blessed in ignorance of the very existence of a constable. More astounding still was the suddenness with which tlie rush of policemen from all quarters, pursuing the offenders, came to a standstill. Each in turn followed his intended victim into the charmed circle, gave up the chase in the moment of success, and surrendered himself captive to Punch instead of taking a prisoner. "And those who came to seize, reraain'd to laugh." At length, half the trades, half the schools, all the idlers, and all the policemen of the metropolis, seemed gathered there together. And there they all stood spell-bound, wrought upon by one common emotion ; shak- ing their sides against one another, and sending up a roar, compared with which the thunder of the Danish kettle-drums and cannon of old was a dead silence. Here, metliought, is a lesson for legislators ! They would put down that which puts down nuisances, and turns public disturbers into the happiest and most harmless of mortals ! And they would suppress it by agents who came in contact with the enemy only to join his ranks, " for we have all of us one human heart." Put down Punch ! Fifty Parlia- ments could never do it ! There''s a divinity doth hedge him. Punch for a time can suppress kite-flying, hoop-trundling, bell-ringing, and trumpet-blowing — which the law cannot ; how then should Punch him- self be put down ? Immortal puppet ! the true friend of the people, and the promoter of good-humour among all her Majesty's lovinc subjects ! Such tcoulcl have been my reflections ; but the accumulated roar of the laughing throng awoke me — when I found that the waiter was suorinc very loud in the lobby of the coiFee-room. The house had long been shut for the night; and having violated the law, I was obliged to content myself with a broiled bone and a bed at the British — witli an extra tumbler of punch ! 35 "ORIGINAL POETRY:" BY THE LATE SIR FRETFUL PLAGIARY, KNIGHT, HRMBHR OF THE DKAMATIC AUTHOlls' ASSOCIATION, FELLOW OF THE PARHAaSJAN SOCIETY, &C. Nowjirsi printed from the original copies in the handwriting of that popular Author. EDITED BY LAMAN BLANCHAKD. We have considerable pleasure in discharging the duty imposed upon us, of transcribing the MSS. which one of Sir Fretful Plagiary's numerous living descfindants has placed in our hands, and of submitting to the public the following specimens of " something new." Whatever may be thought in other respects of these, the latest emanations — 'or, as some with equal correctness perhaps would say, effusions- — of an immortal genius, we unhesitatingly pronounce them to be original. These poems hear no resemblance to anything ever before offered to the public. Now this is a declaration which cannot fail to awaken in the reader''s mind a strong suspicion that the ideas are mere imitations, and the language a mere echo, of the thoughts and expressions of other poets. In this solitary instance the acute reader will be mistaken in his supposition. There is no one line that can be called an imitation — no phrase that can be pro- nounced an ec?M. Line after line is equally emphatic, interesting, nielo-- dious, and — -original. This fact we might establish by citing at full length a remarkably novel and curious production of Sir Fretful's, which, with the fineness of Shakspeare and Dryden united, opens thus :— " farewell .' thou canst not teach me to forget ; The power of beauty I remember yet." But we prefer proceeding at once to a strikingly harmonious, and singu- larly analytical composition, bearing the designation of an ODE TO THE HUMAN HEART. Blind Thamyris, and blind Maeonides, Pursue the triumph and partake the gale ! Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees, To point a moral or adorn a tale * - Full many a gem of purest ray serene, Thoughts that do often he too deep for tears. Like angels' visits, few and far between. Deck the long vista of departed years. * The printer's devil Iiad taken upon himself to make the following addition to these linos :- — Blind Thamyris, and blind Maeonides, (Something like Milton). Pursue the triumph and partake the gale ! {Rather like Pope), Drop tears as fast as the Arabi.'m trees, ( Whr/, this is Shakspeare). To point a moral or adorn a tale. {Oh .' it's Dr. Johnson). To tlie sncceeding lines the same authority had added in succession the names of Gray, Wordsworth, Campbell, and so on throughout the poem. What does ho mean ? Does he mean to say he has ever met with any one of these lines before ? d2 36 GBOBGE CKUIKSUANK's OMNIBUS. Man never is, but always to be bless'd ; The tenth tratif^mitter of a foohsh face. Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest, ^ And makes a sunshine in the shady place. For man the hermit sigh'd, till woman smiled. To waft a feather or to drown a fly, (In wit a man, simplicity a child,) With silent finger pointing to the sky. But fools rush in where angels fear to tread. Far out amid. the melancholy main ; As when a vulture on I mans bred. Dies of a rose in aromatic pain. Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast. Look on her face, and you'll forget them all; Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, A hero perish, or a sparrow falL My way of life is fall'n into the sere ; I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear. Who sees through all things with his half-shut eyes. Oh ! for a lodge in some vast wilderness ! Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. Fine by degrees and beautifully less. And (he ere man can say ' Long live the Queen.' If in the above any reader should be reminded of the " long resounding qiarch and energy divine" of poets past or present, it can only be because our illustrious and profusely-gifted bard has clustered together more remarkable, and we trust they will long prove memorable, lines, than any one of his predecessors has in the same space given an example of. That poem can be of no inferior order of merit, in which Milton would have been proud to have written one line, Pope would have been equally vain of the authorship of a second, Byron have rejoiced in a third, Campbell gloried in a fourth, Gray in a fifth, Cowper in a sixth, and so on to the end of the Ode ; which thus realises the poetical wealth of that well-known line of Sir Fretful's, " Infinite riches in a little room." But we must not, by prosaic comment, detain the impatient reader from other specimens of the striking originality of this writer's powers. Among some fragments thrown loose in his desk, we find the following : When lovely woman stoops to folly. And finds too late that men betray. There's such a charm in melancholy, I would not if I could be gay. Again : There's a beauty for ever unchangingly bright. For coming events cast their shadows before ; Oh ! think not my spirits are always as light. Like ocean-weeds cast on the surf-beaten shore. We have pronounced these (two stanzas to be original ; and they are : but with reference to the first -of them we admit that a distinguished livin" ORIGINAL POETltY. 37 critic, to wliom it was shown, remarked that it did remind him a little of something in some other author — and he rather thought it was Goldsmith ; a second critic, equally eminent, was forcihly reminded by it of something which he was convinced had been written by Rogers. So much for criticism ! To such treatment is original genius ever subjected. Its traducers cannot oven agree as to the derivation of the stolen property ; they cannot name the author robbed. One cries, Spenser; another, Butler ; a third, Collins. We repeat, it is the fate of Originality. "Garth did not write his own Dispensary," says Pope jeeringly ; Campbell has had his Exile of Erin vehemently claimed by a desperate wrestler for renown ; and at this very time a schoolmaster in Scotland is ready to swear that the author of the " Burial of Sir John Moore" never wrote a line of it. But we now pass to another piece by Sir Fretful ; and this, whether its sentiments be of a high or a low order, its imagery appropriate or incongruous, is entirely his own : — Lives there a man with soul so dead. Who never to himself has said, " Shoot folly as it flies ? " Oh ! more than tears of blood can tell. Are in that word farewell, farewell ! 'Tis folly to be wise. And what is friendship but a name. That boils on Etna's breast of flame? Thus runs the world away : Sweet is the ship that's under sail To where yon taper cheers the vale. With hospitable ray ! Drink to me only with thine eyes Through cloudless climes and starry skies ! My native land, good night ! Adieu, adieu, my native shore ; 'Tis Greece, but living Greece no more — Whatever is is right ! We have thought it expedient to point out briefly the peculiar beauty of some of our author's lines ; but it cannot be necessary to point out the one peculiar and exclusive quality of his writings — his perspicacity — his connectedness. His verse " flows due on to the Propontic, nor knows retiring ebb." You are never at a loss to know what he means. In his sublimest passages he is intelligible. This is his great beauty. No poet perhaps is so essentially logical. We close our specimens with anothei short poem ; it is entitled, "ON LIFE, ET CETERA." Know then this truth, enough for man to know : Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, Who would be free themselves must strike the blow. Retreating lightly with a lovely fear From grave to gay, from lively to severe, 38 cEoiiGE cuujksuank's omnibus. To err is liuman, to forgive divine. And wretches hang that jurymen may dine Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. All are but parts of one stupendous whole. The feast of reason and the flow of soul. We ne'er shall look upon his like again. For panting time toils after him in vain, A nd drags at each remove a lengthening chain ; Allures to brighter worlds, and leads the way With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay ! Leaving this great poet's samples of the mighty line, or, as it is some- times called, the lofty rhyme, to " speak for themselves," we conclude with a word or two on a subject to which one of his effusions here printed has (thanks to what are called the critics) unexpectedly led — we mean the subject of Literary Loans, or, as they are more familiarly and perhaps felicitously designated, Literary Thefts. A critic of high repute has said, " A man had better steal anything on earth, than the thoughts of another;" agreed, unless when he steals the thought, he steal the words with it. The economising trader in Joe Miller who stole his brooms ready made, carried on a prosperous business. Some authors steal only the raw material ; or rather, they run away with another man"'s muse, but for fear of detection, and to avoid the charge of felony, leave the drapery behind — a jiractice which cannot be too severely reprehended. It is the uamo principle on which, according to Sheridan (Sir Fretful's friend J) gipsies disguise stolen children to make them pass for their own. Now Sir Fretful, alluding to Sliakspeare in a poem which has never yet been published, says very nobly — " Hereditary bondsmen, know ye not He wants that greatest art, the art to blot !" If we might dare to parody (Scott said it was a sin to parody — " We are seven") any one line sanctified by the genius of a Plagiary, we should say that too many of his descendants want that greatest art, the art to steal. They steal — but not with integrity. There may be, nay there is, such a thing as honest theft — equitable robbery — prigging with justice and honour. We hold that in all cases of literary borrowing, or robbery (for it comes to the same thing), it is ten million times better to rob or borrow without the least disguise, equivocation, or mutilation whatsoever. Take the line as you find it. Don't crack it as you would a nut, picking out the idea, appropriating it to your own purpose, and leaving only the husk behind. You will never get an artificial shell to grow x-ound it ; it will never be the nut it was before. Take it whole. Prudery in these cases is often worse than folly — it is sliabbiness. It is folly, when, after stealing a fine symmetrical thought, a vphole morning is spent iu disguising, distorting, and deforming it, until at last all that remains of it merge into the unprofitable moral — " of no use to anybody but the owner." It is sliabbiness, when, as is the practice of prose- writers, a splendid passage is purloined, and a bargain is struck with conscience ; when, just for decency's sake, six words of the sentence are publicly attributed by inverted commas to the right owner, while all the rest assumes the PRANK IIEARTWELL J OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 39 character of originality. We may give an example in the' following passage from Burke's Reflections on the Revolution in France, vyhich we will suppose to be thus printed — But the " age of chivalry " is gone ; that of sophisters, economists, and calcu- lators has succeeded ; and the " glory of Europe " is extinguished for ever. The unbought grace of Hfe, the "cheap defence of nations*," the nurse of manly sentiment and heroic enterprise, "is gone !" * Burke. This cunning practice of acknowledging a few words borrowed, with a view to divert suspicion from the many you have stolen, is like confessing a lawful debt of sixpence, due to the man which you have just plundered of fifty pounds ; and this practice. Sir Fretful Plagiary, to his immortal honour, scorned to adopt. Could his original and abundant genius have stooped to steal, he would have stolen conscientiously; he would have taken the whole passage outright ; instead of spoiling everything he laid his hands upon, and making (as Dryden says) " the fine woman end in a fish's tail." War is honourablCj manslaying is not ; pillage is legalised by custom, which cannot be said of picking pockets. Thus, as it is more honourable to pillage than to pilfer, so is it to seize upon a whole line, or even a couplet, than to extract the essence of it surreptitiously, or sneak off with a valuable epithet ; and it is the more honest, because every author has a better chance, after the robbery has served its purpose, of getting back his own. Had this principle been in operation from the beginning, what con- fusion it would have prevented ! what discords between authors ! what perplexities in settling their claims to disputed metaphors, and their rights in contested ideas ! From the mere want of this common honesty in purloining, it is impossible, in many instances, to come to an equitable adjustment. It is a wise poet that knows his own conceit — or to prevent mistakes, let us say, his own idea. He sees his private property trans- ferred to the pages of another, and cannot swear to it. There is no saying which is yours and which is his. Tuum rhymes to suum, and always wiU. FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLKR. CHAPTER II. Time progressed, and though Mrs. Heartwell still laboured under unaccountable agitation and alarm, yet there was a counteracting influence that difi'used itself through her frame and buoyed her up with hope. Honest Ben more than once or twice entered the room, and with diffi- dence inquired v/hether his mistress had any commands ; he asked no intrusive questions — he made no observations — the matter was something beyond his comprehension, and it never for one moment entered into hia thoughts to speculate upon causes and eSects ; yet desirous of affording 40 GEORGE CKUIKSIIANK's OMNIBUS. j^ll the comfort and consolation which suggested itself to his mind, he took especial pains in making some excellent coffee, which he carried up to the distressed lady. " You are kind and considerate, my good friend," said she whilst accepting the proffered refreshment. " I wish Mr. Heartwell was here to partake of it with me. Surely something unusual must have happened to detain him." " No doubt on it, my lady," returned the seaman ; " an ould messmate or shipmate mayhap, or an extra glass of grog or two.'' The lady shook her head as she mournfully replied, " No, no, those would not be inducements strong enough to keep your master away from his home." " Bless you, my lady," responded the seaman earnestly, as he busied himself about the parlour ; " as to the strength of the deucements, all I can say is, that they mixes 'em strong enough when they pleases— though half-and-half ought to satisfy any reasonable man. But there, what's the odds so as you're happy?" " You must prepare yourself, Ben, to go to Lincoln's Inn, and see if your master has been detained by business," said the lady, disregarding, or perhaps not observing the poor fellow's mistake. " You know the office of Mr. Brady," " Yes, my lady," returned the seaman ; " and I'll make sail as soon as ever you pleases to give orders." " "Wait then a little longer," added Mrs. Heartwell, as she looked at the watch : " go down now, and I will ring for you presently." Accustomed to implicit obedience when afloat, the seaman still ftdhered to it now that he was ashore j and therefore again descending to the kitchen, he awaited the expected summons. Drearily a ad heavily the minutes passed away, and yet as the fingers of the dial moved progressively over the divisions of the hour into quarters — marking the march of time^they seemed to have flown too quickly, for they afforded additional evidence that some calamity must have befallen the individual whose continued absence had caused increas- ing pain. Yet there the mourning watcher sat, suffering the extreme trial of human patience — waiting for those who came not. Several times had the silent contemplations of Mrs. Heartwell been disturbed by the loud ticking and sudden stopping of a clock or watch. At first she scarcely heeded the noise, but the frequent repetition drew her attention more strongly to it, and she sought for the cause : it could not be the dial, for the vibrations of that were clear and continuous — it could not be her own watch, the sound was so different ; but to satisfy herself, she wrapped it in a handkerchief and placed it in the table-drawer. Again the ticking came ; it seemed to fill every corner of the apartment, sometimes heard in one place and sometimes in another ; and when Mrs. Heartwell fancied she had found the spot from which it emanated, it suddenly ceased, and then commenced elsewhere. She rang the bell for Ben, who promptly answered, and stood within the open door, *' Did Mr. Heartwell take his timepiece with him ?" inqiiired ihe. FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 41 " Yes, my lady," responded Ben ; " I saw the chain and seals hanging down as he went out at the door." " Is there any strange watch or clock in the house that you know of ?" demanded she again. " No, my lady, not as I knows of," replied Ben, much surprised at the question, and somewhat fearful that grief had unsettled the reason of his mistress. " Hark then, Ben, — listen, and tell me what is that," exclaimed she energetically, as the ticking was loudly renewed. " There must be a clock somewhere to produce such sounds." Ben did listen as the eyes of his mistress were intently fixed upon him, but the tar shook his head and was silent. " It must be some trick," said Mrs. Ileartwell ; " can you hear it distinctly ?" " It's easy enough to hear,'' responded the seaman with another slew shake of his head ; " and though it's some years since I heard it afore, yet there's no mistaking that, my lady." " What is it then ?" demanded the excited woman in a tone assuming peremptory command ; " what is it that produces so loud and peculiar a noise?" " Bless you, my lady,'' returned the seaman solemnly, as he folded his arms across his breast. " Them sounds are out of all natur, for the works were never made by mortal fingers — there's no living hand as winds 'em up — no human spring as sets 'em a-going — that my lady is the death- watch : " and then Ben added his usual expletive, though his countenance was ruefully sad, " but what's the odds so as you're happy ? " Mrs. Heartwell was perfectly aware that what had generally been called " the death-watch," was nothing more than a small insect, and the noise it produced was caused by striking its proboscis against hollow wood to release itself from confinement ; but her nervous system was greatly relaxed and her mental energies impaired through the violent agitation she had undergone during the night. For several minutes, therefore, a superstitious dread came over her mind — ^it was the first time she had ever heard the (supposed monitor of the shroud and coffin, and Ben's impressive manner as he announced its alleged character threw an additional weight of gloom over her already oppressed spirits. But reason was not long in resuming its sway, though it could not utterly banish feelings which had been excited by such a visitation, especially acted upon as she was by previous apprehensions of some direful but unknown calamity. The tapers on the table were nearly consumed, and the re-assured lady directed Ben to supply others in their places : she then walked towards the window, and unclosing one of the shutters, the bright gleams from a beautiful daylight mingling with the fading light of the newly-risen moon streamed full upon her. Hallowed and tranquillising are the efi^ects of a lovely dawn ; darkness has fled before a mighty conqueror — the face of nature is again unveiled, and smiling beauty colours every feature with its rosy tints ; the sorrows of the heart are for a time absorbed in the universal peace which prevails". 42 GEonGE crdikshank's omnibus. and even the dying who cannot expect to See its close, rejoice in the opening glory of another day. The weary watcher as she looked \ip to the heavens felt relieved and comforted ; a prayer rose spontaneously from her heart to that Being who had sent light from ahove to cheer her in the dreariness of night ; and now with humble adoration she poured forth her gratitude at being spared to witness the early beau?s that illumed the east, and called man forth to his daily labour. Ben was again summoned — the servants were called up from their beds — Mrs Heartwell went to the pillow of her sleeping boy, but his repose was so calm, his rest so undisturbed, that she would not awake him ; but imprinting one gentle kiss on his fair forehead, she descended to the parlour to commence active operations in search of her husband. The seaman was despatched to Lincoln's Inn, as the first essay, and after an absence of about an hour, he returned to report that he had waited some time at the door of Mr. Brady's office, till the porter had told him the office would not be open till nine o'clock, and he thought it best to come and let his mistress know. " It is fast approaching that hour,'' said the lady. " Be quick and get your breakfast ; 1 will go myself, and you and Frank shall accom- pany me." " I wants no breakfast, my lady," returned the seaman. "I'm rigged and ready at once, if so be as you wishes to get under weigh " — " No, — do as I direct you " — responded the lady, firmly. "Frank is not yet ready — we have had our meal whilst you were away, and you must not be deprived of yours." The tar made his bow and descended to the kitchen, where the servants were assembled, and each endeavoured to catecliise Ben on the events of the night ; but he could tell them nothing, for he had nothing to tell, and even Sally failed in drawing forth any communication from the seaman. When Frank entered the parlour, he ran and kissed his mother, but looked astonished at beholding his father's vacant chair — he gazed earnestly in his mother's face, and though she strove to smile upon her boy, yet fatigue and anxiety had left too visible an impression on her countenance — With the intuitive quickness of childhood Frank became instantly aware that something was wrong, and throwing his arms round his parent's neck, lie burst into an agony of grief, whilst she strained him to her heart, and the tears of the mother and the child ran mingling down together. As soon as emotion had subsided, Mrs. Ileartwell briefly informed the lad that she feared something had happened to his father, and that she was about to make inquiries after him. The returning confidence and self- command of the mother produced not only a soothing influence, but also an animated spirit of Investigation in the son ; the mind of the child was fresh and vigorous from a night's repose — he had cherished no harassing fears, had endured no torturing suspense, and therefore, young as he was, his courage was aroused, and he longed to set out on the search which his mother had proposed. His desire was soon gratified, and a very short time beheld Mrs. Heart- FRAKK HEARTWELL ; OK, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 43 •well and Frank, followed by Ben, proceeding from their residence in Ormond Street towards Lincoln's Inn. The streets were not mncli crowded, for the worthy citizens were at that time accustomed to reside under the same roofs with their shops and warehouses, and consequently were always on the spot ready for business. Not that they are negli- gent in the present day, for no class of men are more punctual than our merchants and tradesmen ; but the extension of commerce has com- pelled vast numbers to convert their dwellings into storehouses ; and the City is, to a certain degree, deserted in the evening for the rural suburbs with their handsome mansions — delightful villas and cottage retreats. Man has a natural love for the country — the green fields — the pure air — and the fragrance of flowers — these are the works of the Creator, and our grateful admiration should be mingled with the worship which is his due. The clock had not struck nine when they passed through the spacious area of Lincoln's Inn Fields, the trees in which had already become leafless, and gave an air of desolation to the dingy scenery. What a crowd of reflections do our Inns of Court give rise to — and yet how few who pass through them ever bestow one though on the thousands who are toiling daily, and many nightly, within those walls to render perfect and secure for others the property which without the aid of the law would be unsafe ! A writer in an American work has remarked, " what a happy country that would be where there were no lawyers ;" but he must first people it with immaculate beings, to whom the ten commandments would become as a dead letter, and every one of the inhabitants must enjoy equality. To suppose such a thing is an absurdity — human passions and human prejudices will prevail, and it is to govern the one and guide the other — to protect the right — avenge the injured, and to punish crime — tliat laws were framed ; and men indefatigably devoted themselves to study all their bearings that they might be carried into full effect. An honourable, useful, and manly profession is that of the lawyer ; and though there are some unworthy members amongst the fraternity — (and what community is without them ?) — yet, taken as a body, they bear a character of which England is justly proud. Exactly at nine they reached the chambers of Mr. Brady, and at the same moment a tall, stout, boney man took a key from his pocket and opened the door. " Mr. Brady is not yet come, madam," said he, observing that Mrs. Heartwell was about to address him. " His business-time is half-past nine, and )'ou will find him punctual to the moment. Would you like to wait, or will you call again ?" " You are, I presume, in Mr. Brady's service ?" said the lady, as she passed within the door. " His assistant, madam — his clerk — his confidential clerk," responded the man, stifiiy bowing and assuming a pompous manner. But Mrs. Heartwell heeded not his conduct, lier mind was too much engrossed by other matters, and she earnestly remarked, " You are then acquainted with all Mr. Brady's employers — " " His clients, madam, I suppose you moan," interrupted the person 44 GEOKGE CKUIKSUAnK's OMNIBUS. addressed, as be bent a keen look on the interesting countenance of the lady. " Oh yes — ^I necessarily know his clients well — " " Then," returned she, " you perhaps can inform me whether Mr. Heartwell " — ^her voice became tremulous with emotion, but by a sharp struggle she mastered her feelings and repeated " whether Mr. Heartwell was here yesterday ? " " Lieutenant Heartwell of the Eoyal Navy, madam, I presume," said the clerk, obsequiously bowing. " Have I the honour to address his worthy lady ? " " He is my husband, sir," answered the lady, proudly, for there was something in the manners of the man that excited unpleasant sensations — a smirking attempt to please that but ill accorded vyith his look and appearance. " "Was Mr. Heartwell here yesterday ? " " Most assuredly he was, madam," responded the clerk. " I hope nothing unpleasant has occurred." " Confound the lubber, he seems to know it," mumbled Ben, whose keen gaze had been fixed upon the man. " I wish my lady ud let me ax him a bit of his catechiz." " At what hour did Mr. Heartwell quit this office ?" inquired the agitated woman. " At what hour, madam ?" repeated the clerk, casting his eyes up to a clock that hung, or rather stood, in the comer ; " why really I cannot call to recollection the precise hour — I was so busily engaged upon the will of Mr. Checkwell, the rich banker, who was not expected to live many hours — indeed he died this morning, and if that last testament had not been made out as quick as it was, so as to enable him to sign it, all his property would have gone amongst his poor relations — but now he has bequeathed it to a favorite niece " — and the man smiled — " he will be a fortunate fellow who wins her favour — two hundred thousand pounds and — " " Oh, what's the odds so as you're happy 1" exclaimed Ben, peevishly interrupting him. " Jist tell my lady when the leftenant hauled hb wind out of this." " Hauled his wind out of this ? " reiterated the clerk, giving the worthy tar a sidelong glance of contempt. " Speak English, my friend." Ben was about to reply in no very gentle terms, but his mistress raised her hand, and the tar was silent. She then turned to the clerk. " I have put a plain and simple question to you, sir ; will you oblige me with an answer : " Wliy really, madam, I beg pardon — but the question has escaped my memory," responded the man, as if desirous of gaining time. " I asked you at what hour Mr. Heartwell quitted this place," repeated the lady, her heart swelling almost to bursting. " Oh — ay — I trust you will excuse me. I remember now," answered the clerk, as he retired to his desk ; " but the will, madam, the will of Mr. Checkwell occupied my whole attention. Yet let me see : it must have been eight o'clock. No, it was later than that ; but Mr. Brady can inform you most correctly, I have no doubt : he will be here in a few 3)inutes. Will you walk in, and the young gentleman with you ?" and. FRANK HEARTWELL ; OB, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 45 rising, he opened the door to an inner room. " There are chairs : as for my friend here, he will perhaps remain in the outer office." Mrs. Heartwell entered a spacious apartment, the windows admitting an unohstructed light, which was thrown upon a large oblong table, bearing innumerable packages of. letters and documents tied up with red tape or green ribbon, according to the rank of the client. The walls of the room were nearly concealed behind law-books and japanned boxes with painted initials on their fronts — though some bore in full the names of highly respectable firms and companies, and one or two displayed the titles of noblemen. On the floor were pieces of carpet resembling ancient tapestry, and there were three chairs of dark oak, the seats cased with leather, the original colour of which it was impossible to detect. The lady, with her son by her side, retired into a part of the apartment that was somewhat obscured by shade ; and here, as she sate awaiting the coming of the individual on whose knowledge seemed to rest her future happiness or misery, her thoughts reverted to the previous evening when her husband was in that very same apartment ; and as there were two chairs placed at a part of the table that was cleared from papers, she con- jectured that one had been occupied by the lieutenant ; and small as the matter might seem in the estimation of others, she would have given much to have known which of the two it was. Then arose other contempla- tions : one of the chairs was doubtless for the clients — the other, at a more respectful distance, for the suppliants who came to entreat for delay against the execution of the law, or to appeal for the extension of mercy from his creditor. Oh ! how many sorrowing spirits grieving over blighted hopes and desolated prospects — ^liow many breaking hearts, crushed be- neath the torturing pressure of affliction that verged upon despair — how many upbraiding consciences, filled with remorse at past deeds of shame or extravagance — ^had been there ! Parents, who had reduced their off- spring from affluence to poverty, through crime or indiscretion — husbands that had wasted their substance, and brought their wives to want — ^ruined merchants and tradesmen who had borne a good name in the world, but, surrounded by difficulties which they could not master, were compelled to have their names announced in the Gazette. What a wide field for reflection was there ! At length Mr. Brady arrived ; and, after a short consultation with his clerk, the door of his room opened, and Mrs. Heartwell beheld a gentle- manly-looking man of about thirty years of age, whose firm-set frame gave evidence of strong muscular powers. His limbs were large, but yet in just proportion to the rest of his body j and a handsomely formed pair of legs were well displayed in tight black silk stockings. His features were of a repulsive cast : a round, bullet-head, with high cheek-bones and protruding bushy eyebrows that frowned above a pair of large but piercing black eyes, which, like the rattlesnake's, had something of fascination in them. There is a world of language in the human eye that carries with it its twn translation ; and when Mrs. Heartwell saw the bright orbs of the lawyer as he looked round the room, a strange thrill came over her bosom — an indefinable sensation that sickened her very heart : she had never, 40 GEORGE CRUIKSIIANK'S OMNIBUS. to her recollection, seen Mr. Brady before that moment ; yet the piercing keenness of his eyes was vividly pictured on her memory — they vyere familiar to the mind as having at some former period occasioned much distress, but where or when, or with what connexion, baffled remembrance was utterly at fault. The lady tremblingly arose as the lawyer approached ; but her agitation was considerably diminished when a voice, soft and gentle, and sweetly harmonious, requested her " to be seated," and she again resumed the chair ; whilst Frank, overawed by the presence of Mr. Brady, took up a position nearly behind his mother so as scarcely to be seen, though he commanded a perfect view of all that was going on. The lawyer retired to the corner of the table, against which he reclined with his left hand resting on the corner ; he raised his right to his chin, and fixing his eyes on the distressed lady, seemed to devote himself to mute attention. Mrs. Heartwell told her name and related the cause of her visit, which drew forth no remark nor a single token that she was heard, till the nar- rative was ended, and even then he continued for a minute or two in deep and unmoved silence. At length he uttered in accents of soothing kindness — " I trust, my dear lady, that you will not distress yourself unnecessarily. Affairs may not be so bad as you anticipate ; and yet — " he paused for a moment, and then inquired, " Had Mr. Heartwell no friends in your neighbourhood on whom he could call in his way home ? " " We have but few acquaintances, sir, and but fewer friends," returned the lady mournfully ; " besides, I am certain that my husband would not have willingly remained away from home all night." " Was Mr. Heartwell at all addicted — you will excuse my putting so plain a question, nothing but the urgency of the occasion would compel me — but was Mr. Heartwell at all addicted to drinking, — ■! mean so as to become inebriated ?" inquired the lawyer. " No, sir, never — never," said the lady firmly ; " a better husband, a kinder father, a more sober man never existed — and these very qualities do but increase my fears for his safety." " I am gratified to hear it," responded the lawyer. " Mr. Heartwell transacted business with me yesterday to a very large extent ; we had some wine together, and what with his good fortune and the generous liquor, I must own he was somewhat elevated when we parted." Mrs. Heartwell paused for a moment or two before she responded. The affection she had always cherished for her husband had produced un- bounded confidence in all his actions : she knew that sailors were fond of the social glass, but she had never seen him indulge to excess, nor wit- nessed anything that could induce her to suppose that he had done so ; and the thought that Mr. Brady implied, that he was drunk, went with thrilling anguish to her very soul, for it wounded her pride whilst it in- creased her fears. " Oh, do not say so, sir," said she ; " do not say he was intoxicated ; indeed he was ever too guarded to yield to intemperance." " You are labouring under error, my dear lady," said the lawyer mildly ; " I did not say that he was intoxicated, but merely elevated — a single glass of wine when joy is overpowering the heart will oftentimes (Ztffi'iU ^uA: iKsffllc ^^-'^/■/^y/z^/y/c'// a//,/ ^h///^ /A^r^y^£l/w/.'. /^/"^ ^V/;'/ J^/,/./^ PRANK nRARTWELt ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO 4; produce the semblance of inebrioty. I know you are not aware of the whole fact, for he mentioned his intention to surprise you, and great was his gratification at the thoughts of it — the property of his uncle exceeded his expectations — the whole was converted into gold, and notes, and securities, to the amount of many thousand pounds ; lie received it in this office from an agent of the bank, and at nine o'clock last night, both him- self and the bags were deposited in a hackney-coach — the number of which, I dare say, can be ascertained — though, probably, my clerk, wlio is very particular in all matters of business, may recollect it — and the coachman was ordered to drive to Ormond Street." The lawyer touched a bell, and the clerk entered. " Pray, Mr. Shipkins, do you remember the number of the coach in which Mr. Heart well left here last night ?" "Four hundred and seventy-five," replied the clerk; "coachman, red face, carbuncle nose — small eyes — drab box-coat, with seven capes ; each cape bound with scarlet, — ^he held the light whilst we put in the bags." The superior nodded, and the clerk withdrew. " Thus far then, my dear lady, it will not be difficult to trace your husband's progress ; but it is necessary that we should claim the assistance of a magistrate." Whilst these explanations were going on, Mrs. Heartwell felt almost crushed beneath the weight of perplexity that appeared to accumulate at every step. The mention of many thousand pounds as being in the possession of her husband had conjured up fearful visions ; but when, in addition to this, she found that he .was sent away in a coach alone, and that too in at least a state of elevation, her mind was wrought up to a pitch of indescribable anguish ; she sprang from her chair, and wildly exclaimed, " It is but too plain, sir — it is but too plain ! You send him in a coach with large sums of money. When he left me he mentioned his intention to surprise me — he would have returned — delightedly returned ; but he has never been home — Oh my God, sustain me— he is dead — he is murdered!" and sinking back into her chair, she buried her face in her handkerchief, and sobbed hysterically, whilst little Frank clung to his mother, and fixing his tearful eyes upon Mr. Brady, who he supposed had caused her distress, he observed a twitching spasm con- vulse the lawyer's face, and a peculiar cast in one of his eyes, which had so fierce an expression as to terrify the lad, and which from that moment was never forgotten. The whole did but occupy a passing instant — the lawyer's face resumed its usual expression as he uttered, " No, no, no ; do not think that, my dear lady — do not give way to so horrid a thought. But come, no time should be lost." He started from the tabic and put on his hat. " We will walk to the nearest coach-stand, and proceed to Bow Street." In accordance with this proposition they left the office ; and Ben was despatched back to Ormond Street for the purpose of ascertaining whether anything had transpired during their absence, and with instruc- tions to join his mistress with all expedition at Bow Street. The mother and son, with Mr. Brady, hastened to Lincoln's Inn Fields, where they found the very coach 475, in which the clerk had stated that the lieutenant had quitted the office the night before. The quick eye of Frank was the first to detect this ; and he directly pointed it out to his mother, who at 48 GEORGE CRUIKSHAKK S OMMBUe. the first glance saw that the coachman perfectly answered tlie description given by Shipkins ; and ahe would have instantly questioned him but f(;r ivo request of Mr. Brady, who cautioned her to take no notice lest it n)ight excite his suspicion. He called him oflF the stand to receive a fare. " To Bow Street Police OfiBce," said the lawyer, as the coachman stood waiting for orders ; and the door was closed, the box motmted, and ofi he drove. But who can describe the sensations of the agitated wife as she entered and took her seat in the very vehicle in which it was alleged that her husband had been conveyed from the office of the lawyer ! her whole frame trembled and her heart grew sick. Mr. Brady was not idle — ^lie examined every nook and corner of the interior of the carriage in which the lady assisted him, and every spot on the padded cushions raised a horrible terror in her breast as she fancied that it might be blood ; but they discovered nothing that could in the slightest degree elucidate the matter. On reaching their destination, the coachman was directed to wait for the purpose of conveying them back again. The doors of the office were thronged with a miscellaneous assemblage of characters, principally of the lower classes ; but there were also many well-dressed persons in the crowd, for the notorious pickpocket George Waldron, or, as he named himself, George Barrington, had that morning been brought up for examination, charged with stealing a purse of money and a gold watch from the person of a gentleman in Drury Lane Tlieatre, and numbers of curious individuals of all ranks were desirous of beholding a man who by education and manners was the finished gentleman, but in habit a confirmed thief. Through this crowd the lawyer and his party pushed their way into the outer office ; and what a scene was presented there ! — squalid poverty in rags — maudlin sensibility awaking from intoxication, and feverish from the night's debauch — the bucks of fashion, as the dandies of that day were called, still labouring under the influence of liquor, and detained to answer for a midnight spree — ^the detected pickpocket glory- ing in the mechanism of his profession, and only ashamed that he should have practised the art so clumsily as to be caught : these and numerous others occupied distinct portions to themselves— attended by the various peace-officers and watchmen, who hoped to profit, and largely too, by their earnest zeal in protecting his Majesty's liege subjects from let, hindrance, and molestation. The first object of Mr. Brady was to detain the coachman ; and on applying to one of the superiors, an officer was promptly set to watch his movements, with orders to take him into custody should he attempt to drive away. But the jarvey did not manifest the slightest intention to depart, for he sat apparently contented on his seat eyeing the dilferent groups, and perhaps moralising on the instability of human affairs — for men of sedentary habits are generally found to be moralists, however humble their pretensions. The urgency of Mrs. Heartwell's case procured an immediate admission to the office where the magistrates were sitting ; but as they were at that moment busily engaged, the party was requested to stand aside till tho hearing was disposed of. FRANK HEARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY VEARS AOO. 49 At the bar was a tall man of very genteel appearance, whose habit and demeanour might readily have introduced him to society as a highly respectable clergyman. He appeared to be about thirty years of age ; his countenance was sedate and indicative of benevolence ; but there was at the same time an arch look in his small sharp eyes that evidenced pleasantry and wit. His hair was frizzed out and powdered according to the fashion of the times, and a queue with a plentiful expenditure of black silk hung down behind. His left hand was raised to his face, and displayed amazingly long fingers ornamented with rings, and he bowed occasionally in the most graceful manner to Mr. Bond, the sitting magis- trate, when he had to reply to questions that were put to him. At the entrance of Mrs. Heartwell, he had turned and cast a rapid but sharp glance at the lady ; and for the moment his dark sallow complexion assumed a more sickly hue ; but finding that she was a stranger, he politely inclined his head, and resumed his position. This was Barrington, the notorious pickpocket ; and near him stood, in remarkable contrast, a smart well-made dapper little man, sprucely dressed, with silver buckles in his shoes, both of which were brightly polished ; his head combed smooth and straight, so that not a hair was misplaced or out of order, but with a " natty curl " on each side — much in the same way as in after years the friseur was accustomed to ornament his brown wig ; — his eyes were keen and hawk-like ; and diminutive as he was, there was a something in his manner which strongly marked him as a man not to be trifled with. This was the afterwards celebrated Townsend. On the bench with the magistrates, were two or three noblemen and gen- tlemen in high life, who had been summoned to give evidence ; and amongst them was the well-known Major Hanger and General St. John, who de- posed to " the previous capture of the pickpocket at the Theatre, his being taken to the lobby and searched, and the purse and watch found upon him." " Pardon me, General," said the prisoner, respectfully bowing ; " your memory has not served you correctly — neither purse nor watch was found upon my person, for this very simple but convincing reason — they had never been there." " I remember now," resumed the General ; " they were not found upon your person, but upon the floor close to where you were taken into custody." " And I saw you drop them," exclaimed Major Hanger, hastily inter- rupting the witness. Barrington bowed his head in the most bland manner, and gracefully waving his hand, uttered with much seeming good-humour, " One at a time, gentlemen, if you please — it is neither fair nor honourable to try and crush a man whom misfortune loves to sport with." It is not necessary to go through the whole of the examination, which proved that from the Theatre, Barrington had been conveyed to the Brown Bear in Bow Street, where he contrived to escape from the charge of the constable, and since then had been levying contributions in different parts of the country, assuming a variety of characters as best suited his purpose. He was subsequently detected in a northern town, mingling in the first circles, and dexterously carrying on his depredations; from thence he was conveved to the metropolis. Tiie charge was considered suffiicently 50 CK0RGI5 CRDIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. proven to commit ; and tliis " king of thieves" was removed from tlie bar without evincing outwardly the slightest want of self-command. As soon as he was gone, and the buzz arising from the conversation of the noblemen and gentlemen had subsided by their taking their departure, the next case was about to be called, when Mr. Brady earnestly solicited the private hearing of the magistrates for a few minutes, on a charge of some magnitude, involving, as it was supposed, the life and property of an officer in his Majesty's navy. This was not spoken aloud, but only within the hearing of a few of the officers, and the request was promptly granted ; Mr. Bond passed into a private room, where Mr. Brady having stated the case, Mrs. Ileartwell was called in to give her deposition, which narrated every circumstance relative to the lieutenant's quitting his home the afternoon before, and promising " to be back early, and that he would then communicate some- thing that would delight and astonish them." The lawyer and the magistrate looked earnestly at each other, for the former had mentioned that the circumstance of the officer having to receive considerable property had been concealed from the wife. ^' Were you not at all acquainted with the object to which your husband alluded?" inquired Mr. Bond. " Not to its full extent, sir," replied the lady ; " I knew that he had business to transact with Mr. Brady, but was not informed of its purport, though I supposed it was in some measure connected with the decease of an uncle in the East Indies." " My client," remarked the lawyer, " mentioned that his wife was not cognisant of the transactions between us ; and he expressed great delight at the idea of communicating to her the intelligence that he was now able to raise his family to affluence." " I must beg of you to compose yourself as much as possible, madam,' said Mr. Bond with kindness ; "the affair is certainly mysterious, but my best assistance shall be given." The magistrate then went on with the examination, and Ben having in the mean time arrived, made his statement, corroborating that of his mistress — the lawyer also gave his testimony, and ultimately, the coach- man was brought forward. His deposition went in substance to state, that " his name was Gervase Simpson, and on the night before, he had been hired off the stand in the ' Fields ' shortly before nine o'clock, to take up a fare in Lincoln's Inn — that he went, and a middle-aged man brought out a light, which he held, whilst four or five small, but appa- rently heavy bags were put into the vehicle ; the light was then taken away, and a navy officer came out with another gentleman ; the former getting into the coach, and the latter bidding the navy officer 'good night,' told the deponent to drive to Ormond Street, and then he believed went in again. That he accordingly drove to Ormond Street, and felt the check-string pulled ; he drew up, dismounted, and opened the door — the navy officer alighted, and having removed the bags, paid him his fare, and went down the street; but deponent took no further notice of his proceedings, remounted his box, and drove to the stand in Charles Street, Covent Garden. He then got another fare to the Borough, and afterwards went home to the stables at Newington." FRANK HEAltTWlXL; OR, FIFTV YEARS AGO. 51 " All tliis, if true, can easily be traced," said tlie magistrate j " it cer- tainly is extremely mysterious — And the lieutenant did not go to his resi- dence, nor has he been seen since ? Was he a man of sober habits and reputable character ?" " Most unexceptionable in both,'' replied the lawyer ; " it is true that he had taken a glass ortwoof wine, buthe was perfectly master of hisactions — though I cannot altogether account for his leaving the coach where he did.^ " Pray," said the magistrate, addressing the coachman, " had you suf- ficient light or opportunity to observe the person of the officer T' " Vy not exactly, your vurship," answered Jehu ; " it vas wery dark in Linkun's Inn, and them lamps arn't much good, only to blind people ; but I saw the glittering of his buttons and his hanger, and could jist make out he vas a tall man ; but he vhipped in in sich a hurry, that I hadn't much time to notice ; nor did I think of anything of this here kind happening, for as long as I'm civil and gets my full fare, your vurship, I seldom troubles myself about other consams." " But in Ormond Street," urged the magistrate, " there you possibly had better light and more time — what took place there ?" " Veil, your vurship, I've tould you all as I knows," responded the witness. " The lamps in Ormond Street arn't never no better nor the rest in regard of lighting — they're pretty much like an ould watch- man's eye. I seed as he was an officer of the navy, but arter he tipped the fare, and there was somut handsome over and above the reglar, I was too busy reckoning my money to take much notice — he went off with the bags, some on 'em he had got tied up in a handkercher ; but what he had in em' I never guv a moment's thought to." " Was the officer sober ? " inquired the magistrate. " Veil, your vurship, it arn't ezactly clear vot sobriety is," answered the coachman ; " he might or he might not, for I took no perticklar notice, only he seemed to valk avay steady enough. He guv me five shillings ; I said ' Thanky, yer honor,' and he says ' Good night,' and that vos all." " Should you know the gentleman again ?" asked the lawyer, bending his keen gaze upon the man. " ^yj ysSj I think I should, if I vos to see him as I did last night,'" responded the coachman ; " but daylight alters people's looks, and I shouldn't like to svear." • After other questions of no very material consequence, the magistrate decided that " the affair should be put into the hands of an experienced officer, who should thoroughly investigate the whole, and he would be ready to attend to any information as soon as it was obtained ; but if no further light was thrown upon the transaction, and the lieutenant still remained absent, then he must request Mr. Brady to be in attendance at eleven o'clock the following morning, accompanied by his clerk, the bank agent, and all the evidence he could procure. In the mean time he recommended that intelligence should be given at the other offices, and diligent inquiry made at the hospitals; though in the first instance it would be best to commence the investigation in the neighbourhood of Ormond Street. Mr. Brady promised strict attention, and the parties withdrew. e2 62 LOVE HAS LEGS. Strolling about from bower to hall. Love paid Lavinia a morning call. An hour soon went — she chatted and sang — He staid — till at last the dinner-bell rang. He staid, still charm'd ; and rather alarm'd, Lavinia felt she must ask him to stay. " To tell you the truth," cried the radiant youth, " I'm here for life, 1 shall ne'er go away." Love's fire shot through her in one wild flush. Till her heart itself might be seen to blush ; Love saw, and finding it faithful and kind, Exclaira'd, "O Beauty, how long I've been blind!" More grateful grew he, more fervent she, More watchful, sensitive, warm, and fond ; So much like light was he to her sight. She could not trust hira a step beyond. StiU more she cherish'd him year by year. Till at last each joy came tinged with fear ; She fear'd, if he stroll'd where wild flowers meet. Lest thorns might pierce his delicate feet ; Or a reptile's sling beneath his wing She fear'd, if he lay in the greenwood asleep ; Or walk'd he awake by the moonlit lake — In dread of an ague, how would she weep ! LOVE HAS LEGS. 53 She chatted and sang to Love no more, Lest music and chat should pro\ e " a bore; " 15ut she hung on his steps wherever he went. And shut from the chamber the rose's scent. She slept not a wink, for fear he should think She dream'd not of Love — so her eyes grew dim ; She took no care of her beautiful liair. For she could not s])are one moment from him. Love's bright fireside grew dark with doubt. Yet home was a desert if Love went out ; In vain were his vows, caresses, and sighs ; " O Love," cried the lady, " I've given you eyes ! And ah ! should some face of a livelier grace Than mine ever meet them ! Ah ! skould you stray !" Love, wearied at last, was in slumber lock'd fast ; — " Those wings! " said the watcher, " he might fly away One awful moment ! Oh ! could she sever Those wings from Love, he is, hers for ever ! With trembling hand she gathers the wings — She clips — they are off"! and up Love springs. " Adieu ! " he cried, as he leapt from her side, " Of folly's cup you have drunk the dregs ; My home was here ; it is now with the deer ; Thank Venus, though wingless. Love has legs ! L. B. BERNARD CAVANAGH, THB IRISH CAMELEON. Bernard Cavanagh is the name of a person who is now raising considerable sums of money in Dublin by professing to work miracles — the greatest of them all consisting in his ability to live without any food whatever — which he is now said to have done for several months. Crowds flock to him to be cured of their lameness, deafness, &c. — Irish Papers. M 4 R VELLOus Erin ! when St. Patrick's feat Thy hills, vales, plains, and bogs from reptiles freed. He little dream'd what monsters would succeed ; Sinners who drink not, saints who never eat ! And is there one, in whom the piece of meat Which Paris raves about, no care can breed ! One who can never know a time of need, Though corn be trampled by the tempest's fe^t ! Poor fellow ! what enjoyment he foregoes ! Nothing but air, a scrap of summer cloud, Fog with the chill off, is to him allow'd ; A fine thick mist, or rainbow when it shows; But ah ! for him no kitchen's steam up-flows ; No knives, forks, spoons, or plates, a piled crowd. No dishes, glasses, salts, make music loud ! Sad sinecurists all — mouth, ears, and nose ! THE ASS ON THE LADDER. *' For lowliness is young Ambition's ladder." — Julius Ccesar, At the end of the second volume of a Hebrew MS of the Bible, written on beautiful vellum, is the following p:issage, in fine large Hebrew characters : — " I, Meyer, the son of Babbi Jacob, the sciibe, have finished this book for Rabbi Abraham, the son of Rablii Nathan, the 5052nd year (a.o. 1292) ; and he has bequeathed it to his children and his children's children for ever. Amen. Amen. Amen. Sclah. Be strong and strengthened. May this book not be damaged, neither tliis day nor for ever, until the ass ascends the jladdeu." After which the accompanying rude figure is drawn. — Pettigreio's Bibliotheea Sussexiana, part I. vol. i. It would appear from the curious sen- tence copied above, tliat no longer ago than five centuries and a half, the feat which is pictured to the spectator in a fac-simile of the original drawing was regarded as an event of extremely improbable occur- rence. The inference indeed may be,' that it was deemed an impossibility. The prayer of the inscription is, "May this book be nndamaged for ever." — May it be preserved " until the ass ascends the ladder!" " Till Birnam wood shall come to Dun- sinane," is the unlikely occurrence which the weird sisters specify as the omen of Macbeth's fall; and "That will never be!" is the cry of the confident thane. In modern days we wish a man " good luck till he 's tired of it ;" or " prosperity till the sky falls." Tlie despairing and love- lorn damsel in the ditty sings — ■ " When fishes fly, and swallows dive Young men they will prove true." TUB ASS ON THE LADDER. 55 And one of tlie same ballad-family sets out with the afiFecting declaration, that — ** When gooseberries gro-w on the stem of a daisy,'' the singer's passion will be no more. These, and a thousand examples of the " Not till then," are but versions of the Hebrew assumption of impossi- bility, expressed in the grotesque fancy of " the ass on the ladder." But it is clear that Meyer the son of Rabbi Jacob was not in Moorfields last year ; it is certain that Abraham, the son of Rabbi Nathan, little dreamed of what would be doing at Piralico in the nineteenth century; for whether at Mayfair or at Bethnal Green, at Wapping or at Islington, one or both must have seen tlie impossibility realised, in the elevation of the donkey, before the upturned wondering eyes of a crowd of lingering mortals in the public thoroughfares. Lest there sliould be some who never saw the modern street-mounte- bank, going forth like Leporello with his ladder, and like Sancho with his donkey, we must describe his performance. His greatest feat consisted in balancing upon his chin a ladder with an ass on it. All other tricks performed, and all eyes and mouths opened, curiosity on tiptoe and incredu- lity on the stretch, forth came the wooden machine, and with legs twisted through the staves, up went the animal. " Who," exclaims the minstrel, " Ah who can tell how hard it is to climb !" But what poet ever found a steep so difficult as that gradus ad Parnassum to the seemingly dislo- cated donkey ? To the topmast round, you would see him clinging like Sliakspeare's giddy sea-boy on the mast ; and surveying the mountebank who had taught him to be such an astonishing ass, with a look that seemed to say, " You're another!" Then would his master send round the hat upon its last and greatest voyage of discovery ; then would the halfpence therein be rattled harmlessly in the vacant faces of boys with vacant pockets, and then would the irresistible appeal be heard, " Come, good gen'lemen, be liberal, be liberal — tuppence more, and up goes the donkey." Then bending up each corporal agent for the terrible feat, up indeed would go the ladder, donkey and all; high up in air, until its lowest stave rested fairly and firmly on the protruded chin of the mountebank, where it stood poised, fixed, moveless — the astonishing type, or rather the exact model, of the balance of power in Europe. The amazement now should be transferred from the balanced to the balancer ; for what is the difficulty of such a gradus ad Parnassum to the ass, compared with the sore trial of the man below, who has made the bridge of his nose a pons asinorum ! But in rivalship with the donkey, the human being shrinks into insignificance ; the grotesque patience of the brute beats the strength and dexterity of the man hollow ; the gazers are all wrapped in ecstasy to see how the ass hangs on, not how the cunning mountebank balances him. The sympathies of the crowd, men and boys, are triumphantly borne off by the four-legged performer, and every one of them goes away more convinced of the uncommon cleverness of the ass, and consequently on better terms with himself. But the obstinacy of the long-eared animal is proverbial ; and in nothing is it more strikingly exhibited than in the fact that he ivill cat if he can. So was it before the days of -^sop's ass, that cropped a thistle and was 56 GEORGIi CltUlKSUAKK S OMNIBUS. torn in pieces for confessing it ; and so lias it been before and since tlie bour wben Sterne's ass consumed the macaroon wbicli curiosity and not cbarity presented to him. It is possibly this expensive habit that has led the mountebank, of late, to cast oiF the donkey, and to substitute a boy for him, in the feat of the ladder. The performance to this hour is the same, with that exception — a two-legged juvenile for a four. Perhaps tlie mountebank was jealous of the ass ! Can we assume that, in the nature of a mountebank balancing on his chin a ladder surmounted by a long- eared brute, there is no roum for vanity ? Can we imagine a donkey- balancer incapable of feeling annoyed, when he sees his subordinate — the agent througli whom his own abilities are to be demonstrated — creating peals of laughter by doing nothing, trotting off with the spoils he did not win, and cropping every thistle of fame that belongs to another ? There is no mind too shallow for vanity to take root in, no talent too small for it to twine itself round, no competitor too contemptible to pique and wound it. " AVhy, Edmund Kean couldn't get a hand of applause, with such a noisy brute as that in the piece !" said an actor in the drama of the Dog o/Mon- targis, when the quadruped was howling over the murdered body of his master, and breaking the hearts of the audience. At all events the Boy has taken the Ass's place on the ladder. The ' change may have arisen out of that tenderness for the brute creation which is too amiable a feeling — when in excess — to pass unadmired. Tiiere is a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals ; and to risk a donkey's life on a ladder, for the sport of a heedless crowd, might be dangerous to the mountebank. In this age, society at large knows what is due to donkeys; we can all enter into their feelings. But as there is no law, and no moral principle, against the elevation of a human urchin, even to the top stave of the ladder, there is no reason why the sport should tiot continue. Philosophers will explain to you, that a boy is a free agent, and has a right to be balanced on a human chin, if he likes ; but a lonkey has no will of his own at all — except — except when you 've hired him for an hour, at Ramsgate, and are endeavouring to persuade yourself that you 're trotting liim out of the town. The last boy we saw balanced was worthy of the chin that sustained him. Tiie mountebank to be sure was a miracle, and could have bahiiiced anything. If the books of the Bank of England were to get into disorder, every sum confused, and every figure out of its place — he could balance them. But the boy was at least two miracles rolled into one a more than Siamese prodigy— a boy, and yet an ass too. He looked more like one than the reality, his predecessor. He evidently felt the TUB ASS ON THE LADDER. 57 past importaTico of his elevation, high above his compeers. He seemed quite conscious that every inhabitant, not of that simply, but of the next parish, was gazing at him in profound amazement. He turned no glance whether of contempt or benignant pity, on the open eyes and mouths around, but looked unutterable things at the knocker of a door opposite. ** Si> stands the statue that cnchant6 the world !" This, however, .was only at the commencement of tlie performance, while the spectators were being coaxed to contribute, and while several among them, not knowing exactly what they were doing, were giving a half- penny. But when the ladder was deliberately hoisted up, and fixed on the chin, then came the utter liopelessness of presenting a true resemblance of the ass's face — the boy's we mean ; — of the conscious pride in its own blankness, of its self-complacency, tinged with a slight touch of fear, amounting only to a pleasurable excitement ! He was a boy picked out of the crowd around, — yet he was matchless. You saw at once that he was not employed by the mountebank — that he was not j»a£(i for bei no- balanced. Tliere was something in his look that distinguished him at a glance from the hired professor. It might be supposed that, the boy not being hired, there would be a little difficulty in procuring a substitute for the ass : not so ; only blow a trumpet or beat a drum in the street, and you are surrounded in less than no time with able and willing volunteers. This boy entered into the soul of the ass's j)ai-t ; be did not hug, and hang on the ladder mechanically, or like one who had done the same thing a dozeu times before, that very day. There was the freshness of the young aspiration, the delicious novelty of the first grand step in life — in the attempt. It was young Ambition (as Brutus says) just mounting his ladder. He was animated by the glorious intoxication of getting up in the world. He looked direct forward ; not at, but through, the brick wall opposite, into futurity. If one of his schoolfellows had called out, " Master 's a coming;" or, " Here's your father with the cartwhip ;" or, " B 11, I'm blessed if here am't the woman what we stole the apples on ;"• — no, even these notes of alarm would have failed to disturb his equanimity— or his equilibrium. " Have a slice o' cold pudden. Bill?" might have communicated perhaps to some part of his frame a momentary touch of human weakness — we can't say positively — boys are but men ; — but nothing short of such an appeal to the weak side of his nature could have disturbed his rapt and lofty musings. Since the days of the Hebrew with which we set out, when the Ass on the Ladder was but a fiction, history has recorded the doings — we had almost said the sayings — of scores of wonderful quadrupeds. We have had gifted horses, who should have been elected F.H.S.'s; learned pigs, who should have been chosen LL.D.'s ; humane dogs, who merit statues like Howard's ; and industrious fleas, who do the work of hot water in jnitting lobsters to the blush. But such an ass as the Lad on the Ladder eye never beheld but that once. His face spread before our curious and inquiring giize, like a map of the world, and we traced iu recollection an infinite variety of character. What it more immediately suggested was the expression in the face of a successful candidate at the moment of 58 GEORGE CRUIKSIIANKS OMNIBUS. "cliairing," elevated in some fantastic car, surrounded with banners bearing patriotic mottoes and devices, and accompanied by roaring ragga- mufiihs. It also conjured up a vision of a youthful aspiiant, fresh from the office or the shop, strutting in Richard, or fretting in Hamlet, be- fore eight long sixes, and a full bench of aunts, in a private theatre. The ass on the ladder brings to memory a thousand other spectacles. When we behold an orator (to listen is impossible) flourishing his arms on the hustings, and ever and anon placing his hand upon his crimson waistcoat, or declaiming for an hour together before a private company to the exclusion of conversation, in full force of lungs, but in virtue of no mental superiority, we are forcibly reminded of tlie ass on the ladder. When we see a sprig of fashion, who only obtained liis nobility yesterday, and whose worth, if put up to auction, would be dear at the price of a mushroom, insolently claiming precedence of the untitled bearer of an ancient and honourable name ; or when we observe the high-born, starched up to the eyes, sneering at humble birth, however associated with merit, and cutting modest respectability for a parvenu ; in these cases we cannot help thinking of the ass on the ladder. When we see a vulgar jack, in virtue of his office raised to the rank of gentleman, treating a poor suitor, who asks for his own, as if he were a beggar asking alms ; or a sleek-headed, rosy-gilled idiot, who lives only in his own breeches-pocket, pretending to patronise talent because he doles out, for its exercise, what scarcely keeps its possessor from starving, we are very apt to call to recollection the ass on the ladder. When a connoisseur, influential by position, sits down to decide, iu just ten minutes, upon the merits of a work of art or science, which has cost the producer years of anxious study and ceaseless labour ; or when a military despot lives but to harass, irritate, and torture the sensitive and honourable minds of those ill-fated officers, who, superior perhaps in everything else, happen to be below him in rank and fortune, — we immediately recur for a parallel to the ass on the ladder. When we see a millionnaire, who has crawled along the road to riches until he can't stand upright, grasping with usurious hands at the little still retained by those who helped him to rise ; or when a sudden pufi" of fortune has blown an adventurer into power and affluence, and we see him so giddy that he doesn't know liis own poor relations, and actually can't recognise in broad daylight the struggling friend who lent him five pounds three months before, — then, and under all similar circumstances, we are sure to think of the ass on the ladder. When we bL'hold a gentleman turning jockey or stage-coachman, quitting the legislature for the stable or the cockpit, winking at the worst vices until he becomes himself tainted, and devoting his time and money to the destruction of his own health and the demoralisation of his hangers- on ; or when we see a barrister, bullying with conscious impunity a trembling, blushing, inexperienced witness (perhaps a woman) until common sense becomes confused, truth begins to contradict herself, and honesty steps out of the witness-box, looking very much like a rogue, — w!iy, who can fail to associate with spectacles like these, the ass on the ladder ? OMNIBUS CHAT. 59 But it is not merely in the army and on the stage, at the bar and in literature, in the walks of commerce and in the world of fashion, that we daily detect some living prototype of the long-eared animal in the ascendant. If public meetings exhibit them, public schools do so no less abundantly. Tliere is a great deal of ladder-climbing going on at the universities ; and not a proctor in the precincts of learning but could tell many tales of asinine ambition. "Who more irresistibly calls to mind the ass on the ladder than the noble knocker- wrenclier, or the gentlemanly bell-destroyer, when brought up — ^many staves up the ladder now — before a magistrate, and indulgently allowed to take his choice — a fine of forty shillings, or a month at the treadwheel ? When tlie noble and gentle- manly sport extends to the pummelling of police-officers, only stopping within an ace of manslaughter, then the animal may be said to have reached the topmost stave — an elevation where every kick with which he indulges himself in his playful humour adds incalculably to his own imminent danger. The higher the ascent, the greater the ass. We have seen many instances, more melancholy than ludicrous, of asses falling from the very top. For ourselves, we must candidly confess to a painful consciousness of having been — occasionally, and for not many days together — yet of having been, ere now, beyond all mistake, upon the ladder adverted to. Nay, emboldened by the virtuous frankness of this self-criminating admission, we even venture to put it to our (male) readers, whether they cannot recollect having had their own feet, at some time of their lives, on the first round of the ladder ; whether they do not feel sensible of having placed just one foot on that lowest step of the ascent — one only — for we would not dare to insinuate that they ever got farther, lest they should turn upon us with the mortifying, and perhaps not altogether mistaken discovery, that we ourselves, even in this moment of moralising, have reached the top of it ! OMNIBUS CHAT. The " Omnibus " had hardly started off, on the first of the month, from the door of Messrs. Tilt and Bogue, and taken a westerly direction up Fleet Street, commencing without the loss of an hour its monthly tour in search of the picturesque, when it was stopped for the purpose of taking in a passenger. This was at the corner of Bolt Court, out of which classical and celebrated avenue tumbled radier than walked a gentleman stout and elderly, with a bluff good- humoured countenance, all the pleasanter for an air of sternness which was evidently affectation. Having got in, he seated himself immediately opposite to us, that is to say, at the left-hand corner of the vehicle next the door, and at once began, as though he had been the ghost of Dr. Johnson, and possessed the unques- tionable right in that neighbourhood to take the lead in conversation. " Sir," he said, " you have made a fair start, but a start is not a journey. Now there's a fact for you — and it's a fact which the producers of Number ones are deplorably prone to forget. With me. Sir, first numbers go for nothing. Some people will tell you that your No. I. is a proof as fur as it goes of what you mean to do in this new vehicle of yours. Sir, some people are very fond of a ' proof as far as it goes.' But how far does it go ? If you see a man in a black rioat to-day, and vou meet the same man in i blue coat to-morrow, it's ' a proof as far as it I GO GEORGE CRUIKSIIANKS OMNIBUS. goes,' that he is the possessor of tliree hundred and sixty-five coats, or one for every day in the year. But still, sir, you have made a fair start. Let me warn you against stoppages ; never stop but vfhen you have to take up or set down. Don t overload your vehicle. No racinp;, but go quietly. All of which means, don't cut knotted oaks with razors, and when you have a ' wee crimson-tipped flower ' to paiiit, don't make a great red flare of it. Above all, sir, never follow advice, how- ever excellent, when it is offered to you in a long speech ; for the man who would presume to take up two minutes and a half of your valuable time at one sitting, deserves to be put into a Mile end omnibus by mistake, when he's bound for Uurnham Green direct." We had scarcely time to thank our gruff but good-humoured adviser — whom we at once set down for a chip of that respeciable old block, the Public in General, and identified as a specimen of Middle aged People in Town and Country — we liad barely time to assure him that his last important suggestion at all events should be especially remembered, w hen a voice burst forth from the further end of the vehicle, where in the dim light the spe.iker was only just visible. He was a very oung man, evidently of the last new school, and in a tone of jocular familiarity le called out, " I wish that gentleman from Bolt Court would explain the pheno- menon of a new work being started with a preface so totally unlike the prefaces of all new works published during the last, half-century, which invariably begin with ' Dr. Johnson has observed.' " The elderly passenger appealed to, frowned ; hut in less than a minute the frown gave way to a smile, and without further noticing the challenge, he said, " Dr. Johnson is not responsible for a ten-thousandth part of what during the last half- century has been observed in his name. His mimics are calumniators, and they have distorted his sentiments as remorselessly as they have disfigured his style. Since subjects of caricature are not prescribed in the present company, I may safely put it to the vote whether any exaggeration is more gross than that which commonly passes in the world for exact imitation. There are people who can trace resemblances in the most opposite and unlikely forms. Old ladies, stirring the fire, and tumbling the bright cinders into new combin.itions, will often hit upon a favourite coal and cry, ' Well, I declare if that isn't like Airs. Jenkinson.' And no doubt the resemblance is quite as perfect as that between the ridiculed manner of .lohnson, and the rumblings of his sneering mimics. He, with a full measure of language but not an overflow, with nice inflexions, a studied balance, yet with a simple elegance not destroyed by his formality, opens a story — stay, I can give you a graceful passage of the Doctor's, and in the same breath you shall hear how it would come spluttering forth from the clumsy pen of his imitators. " ' nil. JOHNSON niMSKLF. ** 'Ye who listen witli credulity to the whis- pers of fancj-, and pursue with e.igcrness tlie phantoms of hope ; who expect that age will perform the promise of youth, and that the deficiencies of the present day will he supplied bv the morrow ; attend to the Historj' of Rassclas, Prince of Abyssinia.* " ' DR. JOHNSON IMITATED. " ' Ye who listen with ignorant credulity to tile whispering bhandishments of fancy, and pursue with inconsiderate eagerness the en- clianting and seductive phantoms of hope; who idly expect that grudging age will per- form the rash but generous promise of thought- less youth, and that the glaring deficiencies of tlic present day will be providentially sup- plied by the inexhaustible provision of the morrow ; attend to tiie moral history of Rasselas, Crown Prince of Abyssinia.' " " There is much truth in what ynu observe," said a quiet modest-looking passenger on our left to the talkative Johnsoiiite, who deprecated long speeches; " much truth ; and perhaps as you dislike exaggeration in whatever professes to imitate, you might be entertained with one of my 'Photographic Pictures,' warranted accurate. I am, sir, yours respectfully, H. G A. Now as there happens to be one of the.>:e pictures distinctly present to my eye at this moment, though the scene is far from Fleet Street, I think I can copy it to the life, and if you ple.ise we'll call it — OMNIBUS CHAT. Gl " A Scene near Hoqsnorton. " A ditch frequented much by water-rats. With velvet-headed rushes bordered ; Two little boys who fish for tittlebats With sticks, and crooked pins, and bits of thread ; Three willow trees that stand with drooping boughs Upon the banks, and look disconsolate ; A bull that flings his tail up as he lows — He's coming at those boys, as sure as fatel A church spire peeping frc"a amid the trees, With vane in semblance C. a fiery cock ; And Farmer Stubbles lolling at his ease. Across a gate to view his fleecy flock ; A barn that seems just ready to fall down. And would, but for the shores that stay its falling ; And, where yon row of elms the green slopes crown, Is Thomas Noakes, with hand to mouth, outcalling To Simon Simpson in the fields below. And telling him to mind that precious bull — lie's fresh from town, poor lad, and does not know What danger lurks amid the beautiful ; Here a tall oak its branches flingeth out. As if it said — " I am of trees the king ! " And there an aged hawthorn spreads about Its crooked arms — a queer misshapen thing ; Far off you see a mill — more trees — some houses — Look at this frisking colt, why what a kicker ! — Feathers and parasols ! -here come the spouses Of Dr. Dobbs, and Mr. Trench, the vicar. The Smiths, the Joneses, and Jemimah Prescot — I'm off, before they nail me for their escort ! " The reciter, who wore an air that bespoke him of the country, was here addressed by a metropolitan gentleman seated in his vicinity, who announced himself as a brother initialist, A. G. K. " Well, sir, Simon Simpson, ' fresh from town,' was not more awkwardly situated than I once was, in this very lane here, when fresh from the country. You see the vehicle has just turned out of Fleet Street, and is making for Holborn ; so if you like to listen, I'll give you my im- pressions on first finding myself in " Chancery Lane. "I meditated the desperate design of hastening to Holborn by the first street which led thither; a desperate design, indeed, as I knew not the street through which I should have to pass. As ill-luck would have it, " Chancery Lane" was the first that offered, and well does it deserve the name ; dark, narrow, crooked, long, and tedious is this Elysium of the Law ! On every side I beheld long and careworn faces, and, as is generally the case with legal suits, I might easily have got through it alone, had I not been prevented by the many passengers, like the numerous little cases put into causes to protract and swell the client's difficulties Perhaps it may be thought that I could have stepped into the middle of the street, and so have managed to walk on ; not so — the vehicles were as numerous nearly as the passengers, and there was no resource but to wait. On this, I began to look around me, to see if I could discover anything that could take away the tedium of stoppage. I gazed on the persons nearest to me; from the youngest to the oldest — from the poorest to the richest, there was the same invariable careworn look. " First there came the young office-boy, groaning under a large bag of parchment and what not ; then the unfortunate articled clerk, desponding at the idea of five years in so gloomy a place, wherein his youth's best years were to be spent. The needy clerks, who received a stipend, came next ; their little all had, with the characteristic theatrical mania of lawyers' clerks, vanished the night previous at the Adelphi, or adjacent tavern. But not alone did these wear a look of gloom : the fishermen, the snarers, even the attorneys themselves, looked vexed ; the st'ippage of the way teased them sadly. It was five minutes past the time when 62 GKOROE ORUIKSIIANK's OMNIBUS. that little bony wretch, the office boy, should have been screwed down to his com- fortless stool, far from the apparition of a fire, from the phantom of heat ! Last of all came the client : it will easily be surmised why he looked gloomy. " The sun never shines there — the houses take care of that ; in fact, the very 'fretwork 'of the heavens seemed of a parchment yellow; the air breathed of briefs ! No merry laugh is heard in Chancery Lane ; no girl trips gaily along ! No ! the moaning of the dupe is heard there ; the decrepit, grief-worn widow totters there, to find that her hope of subsistence is faded in useless expense. I have spoken of the numerous conveyances in the street. The horses were half- starved, the people within seemed bailiffs ; and the omnibus proprietors (unlike our ' Omnibus ') looked anxiously for in-comers. " Chancery Lane is, indeed, a fit place for the law : the houses overhang the street — the smoky windows, ay even the few shops seem impregnated with it. 1 turned to a book-stall to relieve my aching gaze, when a massive row of calf-bound volumes frowned upon me ; I looked in a fruiterer's stall, — dry musty raisins, bitter almonds, olives and sour apples met my view. I then cast my eyes at a perfumery-shop ; the wax dummies were arrayed in judge's wigs and black legal drapery. In despair I turned to a tailor's : a figure arrayed in black, on a wooden mould, appeared ; but it was swathed in a barrister's gown. There was another figure with finely-cut clothes certainly ; but allegorically , I suppose, it had no head. Such is Chancery Lane. My associations with it are none of the pleasantest.- What are yours ? " 'I'his question, addres.'^ed to everybody, was answered by nobody. We had now advanced to the upper end of Chancery Lane; and, passing those biuldings on the left, in which Equity presides over the affairs of suitors, a passenfter, who introduced himself under the designation of Sam Sly, and in whose eye there was a pleasant twinkle not ill associated with the appellation, observed in an inward tone, as if he were speaking to himself, "A poor devil who has once got into that court, must soon feel himself in the position of the letter r." As Mr. Sly's remark was not intended to be heard at all — so at least it seemed — it of course attracted general notice ; and as there was a disposition manifested to know " why," Mr. Sly politely explained, " Because, though far advanced in Chancery, he can never get quite to the end of it. By the way," he proceeded, "all law is but an enigma; and talking of enigmas, I happen to have one — yes, here it is. Rather an old- fashioned sort of thing, an enigma, eh ? True, but so are epics, you know. Am 1 to read ? oh ! ve^y well, since you're all so pressing ; " — and then to the following tune Mr. Sly trolled out his ENIGMA. " A delinquent there is, and we ever shall scout him. For roguery never would flourish without him. We're lovers of peace ; but regardless of quiet, This knave is the first in a row or a riot ; A strange, paradoxical elf, we declare. That shies at a couple but clings to a pair. Though at first in the right, still he's found in the wrong; And though harmony wakes him, yet dies in the song. Three fifths of the error that poisons our youth, Yet boasts of a formal acquaintance with trutli. Though not fond of boasting, yet given to brag; And though proud of a dress, still content with a rag. He sticks to our ribs, and he hangs by our hair. And brings with him trouble, and torment and care ; Stands thick in our sorrows and fioats in our tears, Never leads us to Hope, but returns with our Fears : To the worst of our passions is ever allied, Grief, Anger, and Hatred, Rage, Terror, and Pride. Yet still, notwithstanding, the rogue we might spare If he kept back his old ugly phiz from the Fair." We had by this time stopped at the end of Drury Lane to take up a passenger, who now appeared, emerging from that very dirty avenue, witji an exceedingly OMNinus CHAT. 63 Kmall roll of MP. under his arm. The new-comer's eye was evidently in a fine frenzy rolling, and it was at once suspected from one end of the vehicle to the other, that he had just been writing a German Opera for Drury-Jane Tlieatre. " Gentlemen," said he, the instant he had taken his seat, " you're all mistaken. Through that miserable cranny I have been picknig a path to the theatre for the sole purpose of taking off mv hat to the statue of Shakspeare, over the portico, in celebration of the event wliich renders its presence there no longer a libel and a mockery. You guess what 1 allude to. Mr. Macready has become the lessee of Drury ; and the noble task which he assigned to himself in the manage- ment of Covent Garden, he purposes here to complete. The whole public will rejoice in the renewal of his experiment, which should be hailed in golden verse. I wish 1 could write sonnets Hke Milton or Wordsworth. Here are two, such as they are, addressed to the regenerator of the stage." TO WILLIAM CHARLES MACREADY, ON HIS BECOMIKG THE LESSEE OF OLD DRURY. I. Macready, master of the Art supreme. That showa to dazzled and else guideless eyes (As doth Astronomy the starry skies) The airy wonders of our Shakspeare's dream ; Com'st thou again to shed a wakening gleam Of morals, taste, and learning, where the gloom Most darkens, as around the Drama's tomb ! t)h, come, and show us yet the true Extreme ; Transcendent art, for coarse and low desire ; The generous purpose, for the sordid aim ; For noise and smoke, the music and the fire Of time-crow n'd poets ; for librettos tame. The emulous flashings of the modern lyre — Come, and put scowling Calumny to shame ! II. What though with thee come Lear, himself a stor.n Of wilder'd passion, and the musing Dane, The gallant Harry and his warrior-train, Brutus, Macbeth, and truth in many a form Towering! not therefore only that we warm With hope and praise ; but that thy glorious part Is now to raise the Actor's trampled Art, And drive from out its temple a loose swarm Of things vice-nurtured — from the Porch and Shrine ! And know, Macready, midst the desert there. That soon shall bloom a garden, swells a mine Of wealth no less than honour — both most hare To meaner enterprise. Let that be thine — Who knowest how to risk, and how to share ! L. B. Hereupon, a bard started up in the very remotest corner, and interposed in favour of the epigram, seeing that such oddities as sonnets and enigmas were allowed to pass current. Immediately, and by unanimous invitation, he produced some lines wriiten in the album of a fair damsel, whose sire has but one leg, and complains of torture in the toes that he has not *' The heart that has been spurn'd by you Can never dream of love again. Save as old soldiers do of pain In limbs they left at Waterloo." We expressed our acknowledgments, and then heaved a sigh to the memory of an old friend, who, having suffered from the gout before his limb was amputated. 64 GEORGE CKUIKSHANK S OMNIBUS. felt all the pain, just as usual, at the extremity of his wooden leg, which was regularly flannelled up and rubbed as its living predecessor used to be. But here our reflections were broken off by a stoppage, as if instinctively, at a chemist's shop, the door of which, standing open, afforded a fair view of the scene which follows. On the subject of homoeopathy we profess to hold no opinion ; but, con- sidering that it prescribes next to nothing to its patients, it must be an excellent system for a man who has next to nothing the matter with him. It is comical, at all events, to think of a doctor of that school literally carrying his " shop " in his pocket, and compressing the whole science of medicine into the smallest Lilliputian nut-shell. Imagine a little customer going with A LARGE ORDER TO A HOMCEOPATHIC APOTHECARY. Little Girl. " Please, sir, I want the hundred-thousandth part of a grain of magnesia." Young Chemist (Whose hair would certainly stand on end, were it not so tightly poramaded down, at the simplicity of the little innocent in asking for as much medicine as would kill or cure a whole regiment of soldiers). " Very sorry, miss, but we don't sell anything in such large quantities ; you had better apply at Apothecaries' Hall." And he follows her to the shop-door to see whether she had brought with her a hackney-coach or a van to carry away the commodity she had inquired for ! Driver. I sa^, Tom, here's that there elderly lady a coming, as wanted to go with us at oui tirst start. Cad. Ay, well, it's no use. Bill — she's too late agen — vo're full — ah RIGHT GO ON ! Y0&.I- a. fih^o An- Ele-olXoT^ Sc^, 05 "MY VOTE AND INTEREST." A COMMUNICATION FROM MR. SIMPLETON SCHEMER, OF DOLTFORD-LODGK, CROOKSLEY. CnooKSLEY doesn't return mombers to Parliampnt — I wish it did. I'm sure I took pains enough ten years ago to procure for it — all my property being situate there — the privilege which was at that time accorded to other towns of consideration and respectability ; for although the popula- tion doesn't much exceed three hundred and sixty, I took upon myself to make a return of our numbers to the then Secretary of State, which ought to have prevailed in our favour ; for I proved that the population amounted to within a dozen of seven thousand, merely by including the churchyard, which I well might do, as part and parcel of Crooksley itself, and adding the affectionate wives, virtuous husbands, and filial prodigies, now no more, to the estimate of the living inhabitants ; also, by anticipating the returns of christenings for a few succeeding years ; whicli was easily done by guessing, on the authority of Blandish (our medical man, witli whom I was at that time friendly), what number of children extra the various increasing families within the boundaries of Crooksley were likely to be blessed with. Not the smallest notice, however, was taken of my memorial ; and Crooksley to this hour does not return a single representative. I read an advertisement the other day in our county paper, of some new patent strait- waistcoats ; which advertisement was lieaded thus : — " Worthy the attention of the Insane !" Now, if Crooksley had been enfranchised, that is the very heading which might have been affixed to an advertise- ment for an independent candidate to represent it at the present crisis — " Candidate wanted — worthy the attention of the Insane !" for a place more unlucky in its elections, more ill-omened and perverse in all its contests, more predestined to choose the wrong candidate, or more wilfully bent on self-destruction by scorning the advice of its best friends and patrons, / never lived in, since the day I sold my stock and good-will, and retired from the Old Jewry for ever. To every other place with which I am acquainted entrance is obtained by regular roads ; to Crooksley, I verily believe, there is no egress what- ever but by cross-roads. I'm thinking of selling Doltford-lodge — cheap. The first contest that ever took place in Crooksley — for it is odd enough, but tliey never could get up a contested election until I, having retired from business, went to settle there in the enjoyment of concord, harmony, and peace, — the first contest occurred several years ago. It was a struggle — and well do I remember it — for the office of organist. No sooner was the place vacant — almost, I might say, before the bellows of the departed liolder had lost their last breath of wind — than up started half-a-dozen of the nobs of Crooksley, with Dr. Blandish at their head, and down they came to me at the lodge with a flourishing testimonial to sign — a testimonial in favour of Miss Cramper, as a fit and proper person to fill the post of organist. r 66 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. Miss Cramper ! And who was Miss Cramper, I internally aslced my- self. But I couldn't answer the question. I knew, in fact, little about her, except that she had lived long in the place, had decent connexions, not over rich, and happened to be a capital musician ; the best organ-player, I must admit, that anybody ever heard in or out of our village. But with this exception she hadn't a single claim, not a pretension that I know of, to the post of organist. She was not asthmatic — she had not nine children, seven of them solely depending upon her for support — nor did she even pretend to have lost her eyesight, " or any part thereof," as Knix the lawyer says ; for she was ogling Blandish all throughout the inter- view, as if she looked upon Mm to be the first-fiddle in Crooksley — Humph ! Well ! I confess I didn't like the proceeding ; and so, after assuring the requisitionists, in the friendliest manner, that Miss Cramper should certainly have my vote and interest — in the event, I added, more to myself, perhaps, than to them — in the event of no candidate coming for- ward to oppose her, — what did I do but I brought forward a candidate of my own ! It so happened that I had taken down there with me from the Old Jewry an elderly warehouseman, whom I couldn't well send adrift, and who was of no earthly use to me, either in the house or in the grounds. Now, poor Joggins, besides being bent double, chanced, very luckily, to have eyes like an owl, and there were the strongest hopes of their becom- ing speedily weaker ; so that here at once was a qualification. In addition to that, he had had two sons : one, a waterman, drowned by the usual means, collision with a steamer, was easily elevated into a British seaman dying in defence of his country ; and the other, for whom I had obtained a situation in the new police, was, of course, one of the brave devoted guardians of his native land. To crown our good-luck, Joggins had been very fond of playing the flute before wind got so very valuable to him, and really did know something practically of that enchanting instrument, so that his qualifications as an organist were more than indisputable. Yet, strange to say, his nomination was the signal for violent oppo- sition ; and a tremendous conflict ensued. I was determined that Blandish, though backed by the vicar, should not carry everything before him with a high hand, nor become, what, ever since the part I had taken relative to the enfranchisement question, he was striving to be, the dictator of Crooksley. My own influence was not slio-ht, and a powerful party rose up, notwithstanding our adversaries w-ere earliest in the field. The walls were everywhere placarded, families were ever3-- wherc divided by circulars. "Vote for Joggins," "Vote for Cramper j" " Joggins and grey hairs," " Cramper and Musical Accomplishments ; " " Joggins the veteran parent of our brave defenders," " Cramper and Female Virtue ;" " Joggins and the failure of eyesight." " Cramper and Organic changes :" these were among the changes rung throughout the village, and a mile or two round it, for upwai-ds of three weeks. I called public meetings, at which T took the chair, and personally carried the resolu- tions; and I started a Crooksley Chronicle, of which I was at once the editor " MY VOTE AND INTEREST.'' G^ and all the correspondents. In both capacities I defied our antagonists to prove that their candidate had any one of the qualifications by which ours was so abundantly distinguished. I dared them to prove that there were any brave defenders on the other side; that there existed any ocular weakness ; that there was a single grey hair or any symptom of decrepi- tude : while, on the other hand, I showed triumphantly that the legiti- mate candidate for the ofiice of organist was a veteran flute-player, utterly and hopelessly incapable of any exertion whatever, and unobjectionable by the excess of his infirmity. Blandish was so alarmed at the progress we made, that he began to give out in reply that Miss Cramper was considerably more advanced in years than had been insidiously suggested; that her eyesight was anything but vivid ; that what seemed to be her own hair might not bear exami- nation ; and possibly he would have proceeded to other intimations tend- ing to balance her claims with those of Joggins, had she not stopped him with the declaration that she would rather lose her election, rather retire from the contest, than sanction such gross misrepresentations of fact. Truth, she said, was everything, and it must prevail ; her hair was her own, and her eyes piercers, she thanked Heaven. But notwithstanding this electioneering attack upon his own nominee, I saw that Blandish was on the very best terms with Miss C ; and as the interest he took in her success could not solely be attributed to grati- tude for her attendance at all his evening parties, to play his guests into patients, by provoking headaches that demanded draughts and powders in the morning, I issued, the day previously to the poll, a placard contain- ing surely a very inoffensive query, thus — " WHY is Blandish the patron of Miss Cramper ?" Tlie " why" was in very large capitals. Now will it be believed that this, though it asserted nothing disrespectful, and merely put an innocent question, immediately created a very strong sympathy throughout Crooksley in favour of our adversaries, and that the popular feeling was instantly shown in tumultuous cries of " Cramper fur ever !" So it happened, however. The result was, that the venerable Joggins had virtually lost his election before the expiration of the first hour of polling. I then, feeling that every vote was wanted, went forward to record my own ; when perceiving Blandish (he had a horse- wh'p in his hand), I turned back with the view of bringing up a batch of electors from a distant part of the village ; and on my return all was at an end, and so my vote wasn't wanted ; for Joggins, the old idiot, had resigned. I had a disagreeable encounter afterwards with that Blandish, who is, I really think, fonder of carrying a horsewhip than any man I know ; but gloriously was I at a subsequent period revenged ; for I shammed a long illness, sent off to a neighbouring town for an apothe- cary, and paid him thirty-seven pounds odd for attendance whrch I never required, and medicine which I never tasted ! Poor Blandish was so irritated, that he fell really ill himself, and took his own mixtures for three weeks. About a year after this we had another election in Crooksley. The gravediggership became vacant. The Blandish party, who had the churchwardens with them, wanted to get in young Digdum. the son of F 2 08 GUORGR CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. the late official ; and lie would liave walked the course sure enough, if I hadn't brought forward little Spick the cross-sweeper to oppose hira. Party feeling never ran so high, I think, as on this memorable occasion. Everj'- body felt the cause to be his own, and put forth his energies as though the issue of the struggle depended upon his exertions. It was like a life-and- death contest ; and you would have tliought that the consequence of being beaten was the being buried alive by the victorious candidate. I'm sure tliat if it had been to keep ourselves out of "apartments furnished" in the cliurchyard, we Spickites could not have toiled harder. Nor were the Digdumites idle. On our side we had ranged, besides myself, who acted as chairman o. the committee, Lawyer Knix (who handsomely volunteered his gratuitous services at two guineas a day) ; Fobbs, the landlord of the Crumpet and Spade ; Tipson, of the Vicar's Head ; (both of them very fond of an oppo- sition, and always ready to furtlier my views in bringing forward a candidate, and in keeping the poll open to the latest moment allowed by law ;) then we had the crack printer of our town, whose charges were very moderate ; several of the neighbouring gentry, friends of my own ; and one Swarthy Sam, a character who had no fixed abode in Crooksley, nor indeed anywhere else, and had not, therefore, a vote to give — but who kindly took an interest in the contest, and who proved a most valuable agent, for he particularly knew what he was about in a row, could drown by his own unaided lungs the voice of the most stentorian speaker on the other side, and would tear down, I do think, more of the enemy's placards in an hour than they could stick up in a day. On their side, th(!y had the fat churchwarden, and the stately master of the workhouse ; the skeleton of a schoolmaster, the parish-lawyer (Knix was independent), and various other paid functionaries or hirelings. Well, there wasn't one of them that didn't wish himself well out of Crooksley before the contest was over ; for we left nothing of their ])rivate history unraked, I can tell you. The " Crooksley Chronicle" came again into play, and I wrote letters — in Junius's style — only under the various signatures of Vindex, Justitia, A Spickite, Philo-Spickite, "Veritas, An Admirer of Crooksley, Anti-Digdum, &c. &c. We also raised with remarkable success, a cry of "No brickdust, no pigs' bristles!" in conjunction with the cry of " No Digdum." It did not in point of fact moan anything in particular, as far as we were aware, but it vexed the Digdum party amazingly, and made Spick surprisingly popular*. The best of the fun was that wc had forestalled them iu takino- posses- sion of loth public-houses — the Crumpet and Spade, and the Vicar's Head — for our committee-rooms ; so that they had only a little bit of a beer- shop to assemble in. This drove the Digdum party to distraction. They made incredible exertions to get us out of the Vicar's Head ; and a depu- tation came privately to our worthy host's good dame, and offered if Digdum were returned, to bury her husband for nothing— for poor Tipson • Our respectable correspondent must li.ivc visited llie English Opera in liis younger davs, or else Charles Mathews inuft have paid a visit to Crooksley.' He must also have seen the piintcd addrcfscs circulated lately in Dcptford during a contest for liic otEce of gravedigwr, wlieie the proceedings were as outrageous as these that ho describes. " " MY VOTE AND INTEREST.'' 69 was sadly apoplectic ! Such were the too-powerful temptations (for so in some instances they proved), such the demoralising practices, to which our depraved and desperate opponents had resort. They went to Clank tlie blacksmith, and promised, if lie would but vote for Digdum, thev would see him and all his family buried with pleasure free of charge ; but Clank was not to bo seduced, for having once had a turn-up with Sv/arthy Sam in the skittle-ground, he preferred being on the same side with Sam, you see — not caring to fall out — and to say the truth, they were not a few that had similar feelings. Sam was a capital canvasser, and it wasn't everybody that would like to say " No " to him. At l.ist dawn'd the day, the important dai', '* Bijj; witli the f.ite of Dijjdiiiu or of Spick.'* Every soul in Crooksley was out of doors ; the excitement was intense ; seventeen pots of beer and best part of a round of beef were consumed at the Crumpet and Spade alone before ten in the morning. Every chaise, fly, and hack in old Wheeler's yard was in requisition. Both parties were particularly well satisfied with the result of the canvass, and assembled at the place of nomination with equal confidence. Our flags bore the seve- ral inscriptions of " Spick the opponent of Corruption," " Spick and Span," "Spades are trumps," &c. ; theirs had, "No Cross sweeper," " No Sweeping Changes," " Digdum and the Rites of the Departed," &c. &c. Blandish nominated Digdum, and then I proposed Spick in a neat and appropriate speech. Well we gained our election — that is, we gained it by a show of hands ; but the other party took the mean advantage of demanding a poll. There was instantly a rush of upwards of a dozen on their side, and very near a score on ours. To keep up the advantage we had gained was the thing. Unfortunately some of our safest voters were now drunk, having received eighteen-pence a piece to attend the nomination of candidates ; and instead of flocking to the poll, off they went to the Vicar's Head, or the Crumpet and Spade, swearing they wouldn't vote at all unless supplied with pots round ; which Fobbs and Tlpson very readily drew for them : I having desired those disinterested persons in the morning not to stand very nice about a measure or two of ale, and they promised me they would not, as I was to pay. And this, in fact, I shouldn't have minded ; but, unluckily, the worthy electors got so drunk that they absolutely forgot what colours they fought under, and went and voted for the wrong candidate. This turned the scale against us. What was to be done ? I had already got some of the Digdumitesaway; a tenant of mine, seven miles off, having engaged to "coop" them, that is, to make tliem " fuddled," and to prevent their return in time. A few more must be pounced upon. Swarthy Sam (that invaluable election-agent) undertook to inveigle them and manage the business. We got a vehicle or two ; and partly by cajolery, partly by intimidation, and a display of the enemy's colours, off we carried in an opposite direction to the poll a batch of Digdum's supporters. Away we drove, Sam conducting us, througli by-lanes and across ploughed-fields, I may say, so that I hardly know where I was. Deaf to all remonstrances. 70 GEORGE CRUIKSHANk's OMNIBUS. on we went, till, feeling pretty secure, I pretended it was time to turn back or we should all be too late for the poll, and jumped dowu to consult privately with Sam as to the expediency of further stratagems ; when — to my inexpressible astonishment and confusion, as you may well imagine — my swarthy vagabond of an agent, whom I trusted on account of his bad character, and because nobody else would, indulged his lungs with the most vociferous roar of laughter I ever heard, to which the entire party added a chorus. In one instant the whole line of vehicles wheeled round and galloped off towards Crooksloy, leaving me staggering helplessly into a deep ditch on my left, overcome with rage, mortification, and dismay. They all arrived in time to vote for Digdum, Sam and all, who went up arm in arm with Clank, the blacksmith. As for me, I never found my way back until hours after the poll had closed ; and as I approached the scene with a foreboding heart, the first person I encountered was the defeated Spick — Spick the rejected of Crooksley — who bitterly assailed me as the sole cause of his total " ruination," having spoiled his trade of cross- sweeping by exciting everybody against him, and reduced him to a con- dition that promised his successful rival immediate employment in his new profession. " I shouldn't ha' minded," he said, with a sneer, " your not guving on me your wote, but what I complains on is, you would guv me your hintrest !" After this, as you may well suppose, I grew rather disgusted, and a little sick of exercising one's public spirit and disinterested philanthropy to no purpose ; so I permitted Dr. Blandish to triumph on one or two occasions, rather than subject the town to the inconvenience of a con- tested election. I allowed the boy Bratts, whom he patronised, to get elected into our Juvenile Asylum without opposition ; and when Soppy put up for the situation of turncock, full in the teeth of Blandish's pet candidate, though -he came to me and implored the favour of my vote and interest, I gave him neither. I did not poll for him, nor did I solicit a soul in his behalf; yet Soppy won the election by a considerable majority. Indeed Blandish has been disgracefully beaten on more than one occasion when I had disdained to interfere at all ; though whenever I have interfered — when I have canvassed my very heart out, and talked the teeth out of my head — ^bribing here, treating there — threatening this man with tlie loss of my custom, and tempting the other with all sorts of seductive promises — hang me (for it puts me in a passion !) if he hasn't been triumphantly successful. There was the election of a contractor to supply leather-shorts to the charity school. I decided to take no part in it ; but when I perceived which way the election was sure to go, when I saw which man would beat to a dead certainty, I changed my mind, threw all my influence into the scale of the popular candidate, gave him my entire support, and would have given him my vote — only he resigned on the morning of the election not having a chance of winning ; for directly I took up his cause, he began to lose ground : — odd enough, you will say, but it so happened ; although I set a barrel flowing at Tipson's, promised old coats at Christ- mas to two dozen ragged but independent electors, and gave at least half that number of the better class permission to shoot on my property. " MY VOTE AND INTERKST." 71 The last great battle that I fought was on belialf of widow Bricks candidate for the office of housekeeper to our Infirmary. Here Dr. B. was "top-sawyer," as they say; this was carrying the war into the enemy's country. All Crooksley was astonished, petrified almost, at my boldness ; but I was lucky in my choice of a candidate, the Bricks having been resident in the place as long as Crooksley itself had been in exist- ence, and the widow being left with eleven small children ; while the Doctor's candidate hadn't the smallest scrap of ofispring to go to the poll with. So to the work of philanthropy I went ; and notwithstanding a hint from the Blandish faction, that if beaten the Doctor would certainly resign his office in the institution, I was successful beyond my hopes. We elected the eleven little Bricks upon our committee, and took them about with us upon our canvas — a procession singularly imposing and irresistible. Nothing could equal the popular enthusiasm ; and the greatest possible efiect was created wherever they appeared, for we kept tliem all without their dinners up till bed-time, to make them cry ; which is the only method of melting the public heart, since a constant drop, we are told, will wear away a stone. The eldest of the Bricks, a boy, had a turn for spouting ; and we made him address the people from the window of the Vicar's Head, by reciting " My name is Norval," which he had heard done by some strolling- players. This was amazingly successful; but unfortunately the mob consisted chiefly of non-electws, for it was only the subscribers to the institution who had the privilege of voting. Voters, therefore, I made in scores, simply by paying their subscriptions for them. As fast as Blandish could extract promises from the old subscribers, I produced new ones ; the list of qualified electors exceeded anything ever heard of in the annals of benevolence. I spare you the speech I made at the nomination of candidates ; merely remarking, that I wasn't aware there was so much virtue in woman as I discovered in the widow, and that I never knew there were half so many charms and graces in infancy, as I detected in her eleven little angels — who all stood in a heartrending row upon the hustings, crying lustily, for they had not been allowed a bit of breakfast on that important occa- sion. The effect was seen as the voting proceeded ; the compassionate rushed to the poll and voted for Bricks, I may say, like bricks. Still our opponents mustered strongly, and I was compelled to make a good many people benevolent that morning who had never spent a shilling in charity in their lives. The numbers for a considerable time were pretty nearly balanced ; the excitement grew more intense, the shouts of " Vote for Bricks and Babbies," grew more veliement as the day advanced ; till towards the close of the poll, the Blandish faction appeared a little a-head of us, but at last they were exhausted ; they had polled their last Samaritan — the Doctor himself had given his vote — while I had purposely reserved mine. Now, mine alone was sufficient to win ; mine alone would decide the contest in the widow's favour; for, having trebled my usual subscrip- tion, I had a right to six votes, and six would give us just a majority of one. With a heart swelling with conscious triumph, exulting in the cause of charity and the defeat of our factious adversaries, I walked up to the ballot-box (wo voted by ballot), and tlicre wliat do j'ou think occurred ? 72 GEOHOE CUUIKSHANk's OMNIBUS. Directing a haiiglcty look to tlie Doctor's generally rod face, now pale witli rage, I was not sufficiently cautious in distinguishing between tlie Y for " Yes " and the N for " No," painted on tlie front of the balloting- machine ; and inconsiderately turning my hand to the left instead of the right, I dropped the six cork marbles into the enemy's box — hang me, if 1 didn't vote against Widow Bricks. Dr. Blandisli danced for joy, an^ I really thought he never would stand still again. Not another shilling will his infirmary get from me. If Crooksley were to return four members to Parliament, / wouldn't be one of them. THE CENSUS. Important days to all householders in the United Kingdom, were Sunday and Monday, the 6th and 7th ult., and especially perplexing to those whose ideas of reading and writing were at all circumscribed. Nor was the discomfort confined to the said illuminated members of society. Ladies of a very certain age bridled up at being obliged to tell the num- ber of summers that had passed over their heads : notwithstanding the loop-hole of the "five years" which the gallantry of the commis- sioners allowed them. Elderly gentlemen also, who wore dark wigs that hid those auricular tell-tales of the d-devant jeune homme, the ears, inwardly execrated the system of exposure to which the census paper gave rise, and willingly ran the risk of a fine " not more than five pounds, nor less than fortj' shillings," rather than be classed as old bachelors. From returns into which the commissioners have allowed us to peep, it appears that of the middle-aged population of these kingdoms, one in three has grown five years younger since the date of the last census ; one in seven two years yoimger ; one in twelve remains of the same age ; one in thirty-eight, is five years older than at the period referred to ; and one in five hundred and sixty has attained the full age that might have been anticipated from the lapse of years. We believe it has been distinctly ascertained by these returns that the hio-hest age among the unmarried ladies in this country is twenty-nine — the average age is twenty-one and seven-eighths. The widows willing to marry again, are mostly quite juvenile ; and it is a remarkable fact that many are younger now, as widows, than they appear to be in the previous return as wives. Indeed the effect of the whole calculation is to show, perhaps in compliment to our young Queen, that her subjects are the most decidedly juvenile people in Christendom. Nor was the designation of the respective professions and callings of our fellow-countrymen a task of less difficulty. Commonplace and even jdebeian, as is the simple question " Who are you ?" widely as the interrogation was diffused a short time back by the gaiii'ms of London, it is a query we opine, in common with the cool audacious Mr. Dazzle, that would puzzle half the world to answer properly-. Some are all profession — others are not any. Tliousands live bj' their wits — thousands more by the total absence of tlicni ; many whom the world THE CENSUS. 73 gives creilit to for working liard in an industrious itat for their income, privately lead the lives of gentlemen ; and many gentlemen wliom we envy on account of their ostensible otiose existence, labour perchanoe in secret much harder than ourselves. Numbers would shrink if tlicir employment was known, and numbers more would be extremely mdig- nant if any other than their own was assigned to ihem. The schedule stated that the professions of wives, or sons and daugh- ters, living with and assisting their parents, needed not to be inserted. There was no mention at all made of the professions of faithless lovers, election candidates, and false friends ; probably these were imagined to be of so little value as to be utterly beneath notice. But although the commissioners were pleasantly minute and clear in their instructions for filling up their circulars, they will still be wide away from the real statistics of the population, when all the bills are returned and the totals properly added. What industrious enumerator, we would ask, did, with praiseworthy indefatigability, leave a schedule at the temporary habitations of the thousand individuals who on the Monday in question were located upon Ascot Heath, in anticipation of the ap- proaching races? Who dared to penetrate into the mysteries of the yellow caravans there collected, or invade the Bohemian seclusion of the tilted hovels ? What account was taken of the roadside tent-holders, and the number of the families of these real " potwallopers ?" Is the following paper relating to these people, which has fallen into our hands, the mislaid document of a careless enumerator of the Sunning-hill district, or is it an attempt to play upon our credulity : (copy.) Name, (if any) of the House, or of the Tillage or "I Hamlet in which it stands. J Name of the Street or other part of the Town, (if in ^^ a Town), and No. of the House. J Caravan, N(. 987,654. Winkfield Lane. Name and surname of each Of what Profession, person who abode or slept Ape Age Trade, or Employ- If bom in If bom in A of ment, or if of In- the Ireland, of June G. Males. Females. dependent means. County. .e. Bill Soames . . 45 Shoman. No don't Kno , mary Soames . . . 38 Wife — vurks the barrul horgaiioutsidc No No Gipsy Mike .... not Nown None. No No vcrespcr- tickler Plielim Conolly . . . 35 Black vild ingian. not sai'tin never Kiio\v(5 Sarali Cooper , . . 24 tellin offfortuns. No Young Chubby ababby 2 ired fur the Races. St. Giles's BruruDiagim Harry , . 40 keeps a Thimblo-rig. Yes But there were many, many others, who were excluded from the privi- lege of registering their names amongst the population of their country. The unfortunate individuals who slept throughout the night in the stonj' precincts of the police-office lock-up cells, were deprived of this honour. Even admitting that the police had received instructions to take down the names of the stray-flocks under their charge, the ends of the commissioners were still defeated, for it was not probable that the Hon. Clarence Pierce- ficld, who had kicked the head waiter at the Cider-cellars, for telling 74 GKOllGE CRUIKSIIANk's OMNIDUS. liim not to join in the glees so loudly — who had thrashed the cabman in Holborn — who had climbed up behind King Charles at Charing- cross, and who, finally, upon being pulled down again by the police and taken into custody, had given his name as Thomas Brown, — it was not probable, we repeat, that this honourable gentleman would see any occasion to alter the name in the schedule, or Tecant his alleged profession of " medi- cal student." His rightful appellation found no place in the paper, no more than the hundreds who slept out altogether that night, from the wretched, shivering, poverty-stricken occupiers of the embryo coal-cellars of future houses in the neighbourhood of railway termini^ to the tipsy gentleman who tumbled by mistake into a large basket of turnip-tops and onions in Covent Garden-market, and slept there until morning, dreaming that he was the inhabitant of an Eastern paradise, with houris ptlting roses at liim. Even the ill-used Mr. Ferguson, whom everybody has heard of, but nobody knows, failing in all his attempts to procure a lodg- ing for the night, found no place in the strictly-worded schedule. The real name of Mr. Ferguson is Legion, yet he found a lodging nowhere. And many returns of the erratic youth of respectable families must prove, that their very fathers did not know they were out, to say nothing of their mothers : on the other hand, probably many more would be found wanting in the real numbers, were circumstances narrowly inquired into. It is fortunate for the correctness of the statistics that Sunday was the day fixed upon for enumerating the population. Had it been any other, the numbers who slept in tlie hovbse would have materially swelled the lists. The House of Commons might have furnished an imposing array of names every night in the week to begin with. The various literary institutions and scientific meetings of the metropolis, on their respective nights, would not have been behind hand ; and even the theatres, might have sent in a tolerably fair muster-roll of slumberers, according to the nature of their performances. We presume that the guards of mail-coaches, drovers who were goinc to the Monday's markets, watchmen of houses, newly-buried relations, and medical men attending Poor Law Unions, will be allowed a future opportunity of registering their names ; for none of these individuals were ever known — at least we believe not — to sleep or abide one night in their houses. Are these hardworking and useful classes of society to be accounted as nothing — ^to be placed in a scale even beneath " persons sleeping over a stable or outhouse," who, although not worthy to be inserted along with their betters in the schedule, are, at all events allowed a paper to themselves ? The care that arranged the manner of enumera- ting the population ought to have put forward plans for taking the census of the always-out of-doors portion of the English on the night in question, hackney-coachmen included ; and a space might, at the same time, have been appropriated in the schedule for " those who were not at homo, but ought to have been." We will not dwell upon the material difference this important feature would have made to the calculations in many points. We give the commissioners a peep at the fallacy of their plans, and we leave it to them to remedy it. All we have to add, in conclusion is, that we sent in our own name according to the prescribed ordinancf, but it was not Rocket- LOVE'S MASQUERADING. BY LAMAN BLANCHARD. Love never less surprises Than when his tricks are tried ; In vain are all disguises, Himself he cannot hide. He came, the Masquerader, To conscious Kate, one day, Attempting to persuade her He then was — far away ! " Ah Love ! she cried, unfearing, " Take any shape you will. Strange, distant^ or endearing, This heart would know you still." Then Love came clad like Sorrow ; His rohe was dark as night ; But like a golden morrow, FlashM forth his forehead's light ; She knew him, as with languor He play'd the wounded dove : Then i^erce he frOwn'd — 'twas Anger ! But still she knew 'twas Love ! Then came he wreathed like Pleasure; In vain he cried, ** Rejoice !" And sang a laughing measure — She knew him, by his voice. He tuned his tongue to railing, Performing Envy's task ; His scowl was unavailing, She saw him — through his mask. Like cloak'd Revenge then stealing. With poniard bare he came. His limbs, his looks, concealing — Yet still he seem'd the same. Then he, his thoughts dissembling. With Jealousy's wild air. Stood raging, watching, trembling, — Yet Love alone stood there. Next came he garb'd like Malice ; Yet wore his cheek the rose. No poison crowns his chalice. With wine it overflows. And then as Joy, arrayed in Rare colours from above ; He failed again — the maiden In Joy saw only Love ! Then casting off his splendour. He took black Hatred's guise ; But all his tones were tender. She knew him — by his eyes. In all he fail'd ; when glancing Like Fear, afraid to stir ; And when like Hope, half-dancing- For Hope was Love to her. " In vain," she cried, " your powers. Take any shape you may ; Are hearts less wise than flowers. That know the night from day ?** 7J FRANK llEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS A(}0. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CflAl'TER III. A RIGID search after Mr. Ileartwell was instituted under the super- intendence of two of tlie most efficient officers of the Bow Street establish- ment. Tiie evidence given by tlie coachman was proved to be strictly correct, except that a small portion of time was unaccounted for between the period of his having — as he stated — set the lieutenant down in Ormond Street, and his arrival at the coach-stand in Covent Garden, which according to the deposition of the waterman was much later than would have been required to traverse the distance between the two places. But Simpson's explanation was that, having by request driven his fare very quick to Ormond Street, he merely walked his horses to Charles Street in order to cool them. Nothing whatever having been elicited that day which was calculated to throw any light on the mysterious affair, Mr. Brady with his witnesses appeared before Mr. Bond on the following morning at the time appointed, when the officers made their reports, and were instructed to persevere. The Bank Agent deposed that he had paid over to the lieutenant at the office of Mr. Brady, and in the presence of the lawyer and his clerk, a thousand guineas in gold, and bank-notes to the amount of fourteen thousand pounds, besides securities and deeds, relating to property sup- posed to be of considerable value in the East Indies, all which had loelonged to the lieutenant's uncle, who had died without issue and intes- tate : he produced the receipt for the charge he had delivered, and stated that he had earnestly advised the lieutenant to deposit the whole in the hands of his professional man to invest for him to the best advantage ; but though Mr. Heartwell perfectly assented to the propriety of such a step, yet he expressed himself so desirous of displaying his newly acquired furtune to his wife, that as a matter of course he (the agent) offered no further argument against it. Sliipkins, the clerk, corroborated the statement of Mr. Brady ; but in addition, mentioned that the lieutenant had declared that it was his intention to resign his appointment to the seventy-four for the purpose of remaining at home with his family, but that it would be necessary for him in tlie first instance to visit Portsmouth. Tlie officers used their utmost vigilance, and the Secretary of State offcired a large reward to any one who could render information of the fate of the missing officer. Bon was despatched to rortsmouth to make inquiry whether his master had been seen in that neighbourhood, or on board the ship ; but no clue was obtained. Days — weeks — months passed aw.iy, and Mrs. Heartwell experienced an unmitigated state of anxiety and susjiense. Yet though doubts pre- vailed that she should never behold him again, she determined never to olotlio herself in the semblance of mourning till she had proof that ho was dead. FRANK HEARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 77 Young Frank partook of the feelings of his mother ; but the ehasticity of boyhood does not long retain the acutenesa of sorrow ; the delightfii clianges which Nature is constantly presenting to the ardency of youtli aud " All is beautiful, for all is new,'' superseded the grief which preys upon more advanced age, when the heart knoweth its own bitterness ; and whilst the mother was pining and weep- ing over her heavy affliction, Frank forgot in the joys of amusement that there was anything like unhappiness in the world. He was a bold, free- hearted, jovial lad, who loved to frolic over the gardens and grounds round the British Museum. Nor was Ben inactive in either promoting the mirthful indulgences of the lad, although there might be a little mischief in progress, or seeing tliat fair-play was exercised when pugnacity or wrong led to pugilistic encounters. It is true that the fond parent in her solicitude would expostulate, and on some occasions reprove ; but the ready acknowledgment of error which Frank always made when in the wrong, and the argument of Ben, " Bless you, my lady, you can't never go for to rig out an ould figure-head upon young shoulders — besides, what's the odds, so as you're happy ?" soon produced reconciliation and pardon. It has been said '■ Sweet are the uses of adversity ; " but it is hard to contemplate the approach of poverty with its train of evils that no mortal influence can subdue ; and such was the case with Mrs. Heart well. Daily she saw her resources decreasing — the pay of the lieutenant was stopped ; she could not claim her widow's pension, for she had no proof of her husband's death ; there were no relations to whom she could apply in her distress for assistance or counsel. Mr. Brady had sent in a heavy bill for law business, and pressed for payment ; difficulties in short accumu- lated on all sides. One, and only one, of her former associates continued to visit her; and this was an elderly man of unattractive manners, who claimed a distant relationship. He seldom spoke but when addressed ; and his remarks were generally of a caustic and misanthropic cast, render- ing him an object not only of dislike to many, but of fear to some. He was poor, but how he lived no one knew ; and yet on more than one occasion he had spoken of important affairs even in the state, that displayed a tolerably accurate knowledge of persons and things far above his station in society: in short, he was a mystery that set conjecture at defiance. Such was Mr. Unity Peach ; in age between fifty aud sixty ; a large round face, with a great bushy wig upon his head, and one eye covered over witli a black patch, the other grey and cold without expression ; lie was stout made, short, and with limbs like a giant, though he com- plained of feebleness and debility. He seldom uttered one word of ciieering kindness, yet when asked for his advice he would give it ; and it was seldom known to fail in its beneficial results. To Frank and the seaman he was an object of aversion that they did not care at all times to conceal; yet, with a perversencss that seemed congenial to his character, if there was any individual to whom tlie old man could be attached, it was Ben Brailsford. " You are hurrying on to ruin," said Mr. Unity Peach one da}', in 70 GEOKCK CIIUIKSIIANk's OMNIBUS. reply to a question from Mrs. Heartvvell; "large house — lazy sailor — miscliievoiis boy." " But I would willingly quit the house, sir,'' returned the lady, " and strive by some means or other to provide for myself and child." " Let lodgings — keep a school — make the boy a shoemaker — send that Jack Tar to sea," was the response. " I have hitherto been guided in my conduct, Mr. Peach, by what I have supposed would be satisfactory to my husband could he witness my actions," replied the lady ; " and yet — oh yes, I see there is no other resource, though I should prefer removing from this neighbourhood." " Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall," quoted the old man ; " Go on and starve — no help for it." " I wish I liad some friend to counsel me," exclaimed the afflicted woman, as the tears gushed from her eyes. " Bah ! — ^nonsense ! — friends, indeed ! Won't take counsel — good morn- ing ; " and Mr. Unity arose to depart. " I meant no reflections upon you, Mr. Peach," returned the lady. You have at times advised me, and well too — but indeed, sir, yoUr harshness " " I know it, — I know it," bitterly replied the old man, interrupting her, whilst a malicious grin played upon his swarthy countenance ; "you hate me — you all hate me." " You do me great injustice to suppose such a thing," responded Mrs. Heartwell, mildly ; " I would wish to entertain respect and esteem " " Bah ! folly ! " uttered Mr. Unity, preventing the concluding remarks of the lady. " No such things in the world as respect, esteem — all deceit." " I have a better opinion of my fellow-creatures " " Better opinion ! " interrupted the old man, with a taunting sneer. " Yes — right — husband murdered — lawyer threatening — abandoned in trouble — sinking in poverty — eat up with pride — idle boy — saucy sailor — fellow-creatures indeed !" At this moment Ben entered, and though deference and respect for his mistress kept him silent, yet the clenching of his fist and the indignation of his look plainly evidenced that he would, if he durst, have given Mr. Unity Peach a thrashing. Nor did the old man seem insensible to what was passing in the worthy seaman's mind, for he turned upon him a glance of contempt and defiance that but ill accorded with the angular inclination of his body, which betokened weakness and decrepitude. Mrs. Heartwell, endeavouring to suppress her agitation, turned with a look of inquiry to Ben. "Why, my lady, I don't perticklariy want anything," replied the seaman somewhat confusedly, as he fidgetted about the room in his accustomed way when ho had any communication of importance to make. " Has anything occurred ? " asked the lady with impatience. " Bless you, my lady," ejaculated Bon, whilst a flush spread over his cheekf:, and a tear stood trembling in his e3'e ; " I ounly wish I was rouling in gould and I'd soon capsize the lubbers ; but ounly speak the word and I'll do it now, though the unconscionable scamps have boarded us in the smoke." FRANK HEARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 79 " Of whom are you speaking ? " demanded Mrs. Heartwell, as a thrill of sickly apprehension passed through her lieart. But the seaman had not time to answer before the door of the room was opened, and in walked a corpulent but athletic man, whose very appearance announced his calling to be that of a sheriff's officer; whilst close behind him came his assistant, though he did not venture beyond the door-way. " Werry sorry, ma'am — werry sorry," said the officer, producing a writ of execution, " I al'ays likes to be civil to ladies, but must do my dooty you know — mustn't I, sir ?" and he turned to Mr. Unity Peach, who, bent down and leaning heavily on his stick, which he seemed to grasp convulsively, nodded assent. " What is all this ? " demanded Mrs. Heartwell, looking first at the officer and then at Mr. Peach, and then at Ben, who, though it was the height of summer, had got hold of the poker, and was busily stirring the white pa]ier uhavings that ornamented the grate. " Oh, it's not werry much, ma'am," replied the officer, displaying the official document ; " it's only a writ as I've got to sarve, and in course must trespass upon your family for board and lodging till the matter's settled — that's all." " I do not understand it, Mr. Peach,'' said the distressed lady ; " pray explain it to me." " Bailiff ! " replied the old man, pointing to the officer in an introduc- tory manner ; " come to seize furniture — some of your fellow creatures : " and then, mimicking the manners of the official, he wound up with the same exclamation — " that's all." "That's all, ay, and enough too ! " mumbled Ben as he made the room echo with rattling the poker in the grate ; " I ounly wish my lady 'ud give the word, I'm blessed if it should be all ; I'd larn 'em to seize furni- ture ; and it arn't best for their health that they clap a flipper upon it whilst I'm here." " Go to sea," muttered Mr. Unity Peach. " Work for your living — don't lazy away your time here ! " " I tell you what it is, ould genelman," exclaimed Ben, all the feelings of the tar aroused within his breast. " You're an oncantankerous scamp with your spiteful tongue. But bless you, my lady, ounly say the word and I'll clear the decks of the whole boiling of 'em afore you can look round you ; " and the seaman flourished the poker in a menacing attitude at the officer and his follower, but the next instant he felt his arm restrained as if it had been fixed in the gripe of a blacksmith's vice, and by his side stood Mr. Unity Peach. " Put that poker down," said the old man in a tone of command as he grasped the seaman's wrist ; " obey the laws." " All werry right, sir," uttered the sheriff's officer ; " not as I'm afear'd of being attackted, but arter all there's nothing like obeying the law, and it shows as you're a man of sense. I must do my dooty, howsomever unpleasant. There's the writ, ma'am." "At whose suit ?" demanded Mr. Peacli, who quietly took the weapon from Ben's hand, and replaced it within the fender. " At the suit of Muster Jocelyn Brady," replied the officer, " attorney- 80 6E(iROE CRUIKSUANk's OMNIB0S. at-law, Lincoln's Inn. Debt and costs one hundred and seventeen pounds, six shillings, and oiglitpence." "The villain !" uttered a voice, half suppressed, from some part of the room, but from whom it proceeded it would have been difficult to say. Poor Mrs. Ileartwell was almost overwhelmed, and Frank coming in from school and staring wildly at the spectacle, added to her distress. On seeing his mother's tears, he threw his arms round her neck and kissed her ; and then, turning round with flushed cheeks and a fierceness that he seldom manifested, demanded of the officer " what business hehad there ? " This Mr. Peach explained in as few words as possible, but not without instilling venom into what he did say, to the great anger of Ben, and the increased dislike of the boy. But there was no avoiding the instrument of the law, nor any means to get rid of its agent. The execution was served, and the bailiff remained in charge. The almost heart-broken Mrs. Heartwell waited upon the lawyer, but he refused to see her ; the furniture was sold ; and it racked her heart to part with things which time and circumstances had endeared to her ; and now she, who had been within a few minutes of attaining afHuence, was reduced to the verge of destitution. A small, ready-furnished apartment received the mourner and her son ; but her money was gone, she knew no one to whom she could apply. Ben had expended every shilling that he possessed ; but the worthy fellow would not desert his mistress ; he got employment in a rigging gang to fit out East Indinmen, and, reserving a bare subsistence for himself, he devoted all that he could spare to the use of Frank and his mother. Kor was this all ; for after his hours of labour were over in the week days, and each Sunday, he was constant in his attendance, to perform every kind office that he could without failing in the respect he had ever manifested towards his mistress. Nor did Mr. Peach forsake the afflicted lady, though his visits were not so frequent as before ; and he was incessant in his complaints of bad health, decaying strength, and growing poverty. " Mrs. Heartwell procured needlework, and toiled day and night to keep Frank at school, and to obtain him food and clothes. Nor could she even have done this but through the generosity of some unknown friend, who regularly transmitted her thirty shillings a month without note or comment. She believed her benefactor to be a kind and wealthy lady who had formerly taken an interest in her welfare ; but it was evident the donor did not wish to be o])enly known. Thus progressed another twelve months. Ben and Frank were in- separable companions as often as they could be together ; and though jMr. Peach was constantly persuading his mother to bind the lad appren- tice to a shoemaker, he still continued improving in his education, and the hard-toiling seaman often went without indulgences himself that he might secretly supply his young friend with pocket-money. At length to her great astonishment, Mrs. Heartwell received by post under a blank cover a note of the Bank of England for £100. Tears of jo3'ous gratitude filled her eyes. The following day was devoted to recreation — the first she had known since the loss of her husband. And now came the con- sideiation as to the best mode of employing the gift to the most ad van- PRANK HEARTWELL ; OR, PrPTY YEARS AOO. 81 tageoua use. At first the feelings of the mother directed her sole attention to young Frank, and she thought of appropriating a large portion to putting him out in tlie world ; but Mr. Peach, who was consulted on all important occasions, advised her to take a respectable house, furnish apartments, and let them to a respectable tenant : nor did he forget to insist upon his usual proposition of making Frank a cordwainer. In every particular, save the last, the advice was followed. CHAPTER IV. Never was there a more instructive lesson issued to the nations of the earth tlian that which marked the origin, progress, and termination of the French Revolution, with all its concomitant circiimstances and final results. England with free institutions, and increasing in population, industry, and commerce, had set a bright example of what may be achieved under constitutional means ; and as the English were ardent lovers of liberty, it cannot be supposed that they were indifferent to its extension on the Continent. Nor were they inactive at home ; the changes in France had caused a feverish excitement amongst the working classes here, which interested traders in politics were not slow in turning to their own advantage. In order to counteract and defeat the evil machinations of such men, the government took into pay a number of individuals to act as spies in the camp of the disaffected ; and as their wages depended upon the continuance of commotion, it very naturally followed that in numerous cases they were the secret promoters of agitation. But the political movement was not confined exclusively to the lower ranks in life ; many of the middle grade had joined in it, and amongst the active disseminators of revolutionary principles was Mr. Jocelyn Brady. But he moved in an elevated sphere, and was looked upon and treated with confidence by his party, both high and low. His legal practice was reported to be extensive, and he was said to be possessed of considerable property. He had both a town and a country residence, and he gave excellent dinners. But he was unrelenting in his avarice, vindictive when offended. The principal associate of Mr. Brady in most of his political transac • tions was a Mr. Acteon Shaft, an acute intelligent man, whose grey hairs proclaimed him to be of an advanced age ; and to him the lawyer was greatly indebted for much of the information and knowledge he obtained. Mr. Shaft had travelled far, and had visited foreign courts, and though his manners were rather uncouth, yet there was a charm in his conversation that rendered his society courted by men of talent. He was an ardent lover of rational liberty, and his generosity was the theme of universal praise. Why two men so opposite in temper and disposition should form com- panionship must remain amongst those anomalies which every day's experience displays ; even the pure metal requires a base alloy before it can be converted into sterling coin. But to return to Mrs. Heartwell, whc had once more a comfortable residence, and devoted herself in every way to the improvement of her son. Frank, on his pari, was most affection- ately attached to his mother, whom he revered with an intensity of feeling that was trulv gratifying to her heart, and she was pleased to see that he G H2 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. evinced a kindly and generous feeling towards his fellow-creatures. He was mirthful, but inoffensive, mild and forbearing, except when aroused by severe injury to himself or others, and then his rage was uncontrollable. The first lodger that occupied Mrs. Heartwell's apartments was a Monsieur Polverel, a French deputy, who under the specious pretext of visiting and studying the institutions of England, availed himself of the opportunity to disseminate the doctrines of "liberty and equality;" nor was he long in finding an enlarged circle of congenial spirits — mem- bers of revolutionary clubs and corresponding societies, who, though advocating " equality," took especial care that no one below a certain rank should be admitted to their meetings ; and the minister of liberty from France, Monsieur Polverel, finding that his black servant was accustomed to go out during his absence, actually locked him up in his room whenever he himself went in an evening to enjoy festivity amongst his friends, and to preach up the blessings of freedom. Ben and Frank, however, could not reconcile such tyranny to their minds, and a duplicate key being procured, tlie door was speedily thrown open, and forth issued Sambo to join in their amusements, and many hours did the youth listen to the negro's narratives of his native place — Port au Prince, in San Domingo — but care was always taken that he was again placed in confinement before the time of his master's return. Monsieur Polverel was one of those finicking, all legs-and- wings sort of Frenchmen who when in conversation throw themselves into attitudes not inaptly resembling the wooden harlequins of children whose members are put into motion by pulling a string, only that his body was more elongated and had something of the greyhound build ; his head was very large, and when he stood erect he looked like a beadle's staff with a globe on the top ; in fact, it would have been no diificult task to have doubled him up like a two-foot rule, or to have put his body between his legs like a clasp knife. Although a leveller, and affecting to despise distinctions, his clothes were richly ornamented and his fingers were brilliant with costly rings. When he passed an evening at home without company, he generally contrived to get Frank and Ben, and the negro into his room, where, in broken English, he propounded to them the doctrines of republicanism. Sometimes Mr. Peach was admitted, and the discussions, whilst they afforded mirth to Frank, and offence to the seaman, tended to open the understand- ing of the youth to subjects to which he had hitherto been a stranger. Frank had now passed his thirteenth year. His predilection was for the sea ; but his mother, who still had numerous difficulties to contend against, and looked upon her child as her best hope and encouragement, endeavoured by earnest persuasion to prevail upon him to settle on shore. In this she was supported by Mr. Peach ; but the lad's longings could not be overcome, though he was deterred from pro- claiming them, and thus balancing between affection for his parent and the desire to become a sailor, he remained undetermined and inactive. It was about this time that, to the great regret of Mrs. Heartwell, and the almost mconsolable grief of her son, Ben Brailsford was pressed ; and disdaining to be anything but a volunteer in the service of his king and country, he entered for a ship-of-the line, then commanded by the FRANK IIEARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 83 Honourable Keith Elpliinstonc (afterwards, Lord Keith). He wrote to inform them of this event, lioped that he should make prize-money wished Frank was witli liim on the quarter-deck as an officer — expressed sorrow at parting witli them, but wound up all with his old expletive " But what's the odds, so as you're happy ?" The youth fretted, and almost sickened at the loss of his old and faith- ful associate ; he neglected his studies, became melancholy and restless, and adhered closer to Monsieur Polverel, so as to be noticed by a distin- guished visitor to the deputy, no other than the Duke of Orleans, who had been prevailed upon to visit London, by Lafayette, in order to get him out of the way of doing mischief. Frank became a great favourite with the Duke, who treated him with much kindness, and made Mrs. Heartwell a very handsome present to assist in promoting the lad's welfare; and ultimately offered to take him to Paris and provide for him; but this was declined — the mother could not part with her child. The beheading of the King of France excited a general feeling of horror and indignation throughout England. War was declared. The utmost activity prevailed in the dockyards ; and a naval armament was put in motion. The aristocracy, the clergy, the corporate bodies, the landed proprietors, the merchants, the bankers, became alarmed, and took the lead in the re-action that ensued. The Sectarians looked upon the French as infidels, and hailed the approach of war as the mighty engine which was to restore religion and morality. In this state of things the situation of Monsieur Polverel was not of the most pleasant description. He was well known to the French emigrants who crowded the metropolis ; and on his returning one afternoon from a republican party, he was pointed out as a disseminator of those principles which had compelled them to abandon their country. A crowd collected, who vented their abhorrence in groans and hisses. He quickened his pace, but his pursuers increased as they progressed, till the deputy was urgently persuaded to run, by hearing the clattering of stones along the pavement, and feeling more than one or two hard blows on his back. Now it was that the length of his legs rendered him good service, and a chase commenced that caused roars of laughter to the spectators, who clapped their hands and shouted with delight. On reaching Mrs. Heart- well's he knocked and rung violently, but Sambo was locked up, and the maid-servant being busy, was in no great hurry to let him in. Frank, however, had been looking out at the window, and instantly suspecting the cause of the uproar, he ran and opened the door, and the Frenchman had just time to enter as his assailants were ascending the steps. It was at first feared that they would attack the house, but on being assured that Monsieur Polverel had taken his departure by the back way, the mob again set out in pursuit, but the deputy distanced them ; for without waitinof for bag or baggage, he hurried to Dover as fast as a chaise-and- four could convey him, and at this latter place he received a no very gentle intimation that his presence on British ground could be entirely dispensed witli ; and elated was Monsieur Polverel when he once more found himself within the gates of Calais. Nothing could exceed the joy of Sambo at his master's departure — the G 2 84 GEORGE CRDIKSIIANK's OMNIBUS. door was no longer locked upon him — he was free. Since Ben's departure Frank had greatly attached himself to the negro, whose good humour and constant willingness to oblige rendered him a favourite in the house. Other lodgers came to Mrs. Heartwell's ; and as Sambo had become useful, his services were retained. Frank continued at school for a few months longer, when a new scene opened before him. He had heard of a seventy-four to be launched at Deptford, and never having witnessed a ship-launch, he went, accompanied by Sambo, to see it. But the press-gangs were abroad, and they both fell into their hands; for such was, at that time, the demand for men and lads to complete the complements of the ships of war, that respectable shopkeepers, who had formerly been to sea, were impressed at their own doors, and youths of " gentle blood" forced away by the gangs if found near the water-side. Sambo would have resisted when he saw that Frank was seized, but the youth saw how unavailing it would be, and desired him to desist. He told the officer that he was the son of a lieutenant in the navy, and requested to be allowed to return to his home ; but this was positively refused. He then entreated that some one might be sent to apprise his mother of his detention, and the officer promised that it should be done, and the lad, who suffered most on his parent's account, became more appeased, till on being put on board the Tender, off the Tower, a spectacle presented itself that filled his very soul with disgust. The receiving-ship was an old sloop of war, and in her hold were not less than three hundred human beings crowded together on the shingle ballast, without a single seat except the bundles which some few pos- sessed, and sat upon for safe protection. . Here were crowded together seamen and landsmen, pickpockets, the refuse of the streets, and shabby- genteel gentlemen. Many a countenance was marked by sorrow, but the principal portion was composed of wild, reckless, and even lawless, men. The gratings were over the hatchways, above which sentinels were placed, and the atmosphere in the hold was hot and fetid. Several of the im- pressed men were in a state of intoxication, which produced repeated quarrels ; and though there was scarcely room to move, Llows were exchanged, and heavy falls upon the shingle or against the timbers in the side caused swollen and blackened eyes, and severe contusions. Some had received cuts and injuries in their contest with the gangs, and lacerated faces presented a hideous and sickening spectacle. There was but little light during the day ; but when night arrived, only a solitary lantern shed its feeble rays, and the prowling thieves commenced their work of plunder upon their unfortunate fellow-captives. Resistance was vain ; cries of distress arose, but they were quickly subdued ; two or three held down the victim whilst his pockets were rifled : the means of obtaining liquor were thus in the power of the abandoned; nor was it scantily, though stealthily supplied ; and drunkenness increased the disorder that prevailed till a general fight took place, which was only quelled by an armed party of seamen being sent down to preserve order. Horrible, indeed, was that night to poor Frank. To sleep was impos- sible. The noise was almost defeaning ; and his heart sickened at the oaths and imprecations he was compelled to hear. A miscreant hadforci- r^Y^ CiWuUiJw FRANK HEAUTWELL ; OR, FIFTY YEAKS AGO. S5 bly grappled with him and demanded his money ; but Sambo, who had patiently borne with the jokes and the taunts, and eTCn the mischievous pranks of his fellow-captives, would not endure this ; he manfully resisted, exclaiming, " Me young massa good massa for me ! Ye nebber for do him harm while Sambo here ! " Nor did the youth tamely yield to the plun- derers : his spirit was aroused, and placing himself in attitude, he not only repelled the attack, but with determined resolution he stood up to his assailants, whilst the negro dealt out sturdy blows and kept them in check. One fellow was struck down, but another immediately came on, whom Frank met with vigorous boldness ; and thanks to tlie instructions of Ben, his opponent found that he had both courage and science to con- tend against ; and having no love for fighting, and seeing Sambo come to the assistance of his young master, he drew back. But the thieves com- menced another desperate attack. One of them rushed in and seized Frank by the throat ; another gathered up a handful of shingle to throw in his face ; whilst a third drew a large knife, and laj'ing hold of the youth's long hair, was about to inflict a deadly wound, when a stout old man-of-war's man, who had been leaning against the mast, suddenly seized the cowardly rascal by the wrist, and twisting his arm round so as nearly to throw him on his back, exclaimed, " Avast there, you lubber ! do you call that English fashion ? bright blades again a countryman's fist ? drop the knife, and let the lad alone — drop it, I say ! " and another twist compelled the fellow to obey. The seaman gave him a kick in the stern that sent him flying away amongst the crowd, and then springing to Frank's rescue, the robbers were driven off. " What cheer, what cheer, ray lad, eh ?" said the tar, taking the youth's hand ; " you tackled to 'em bravely, the picarooning vaga- bones. But here, keep under my lee, arid no soul fore and aft shall mislest you. Have you ever been to sea ? " . " No," returned Frank, placing himself by the side of the seaman, " I have never been to sea, but I am the son of a sailor ; my father was a lieutenant in the navy." "Indeed!" said the tar, " and pray what name did he hail by? — the son of a British ofiicer ought to have better usage." Frank felt the justice of the latter remark, but he did not allude to it, and merely replied, " His name was Heartwell." " What ?" exclaimed the seaman, looking earnestly in the youth's face, " Heartwell, — Muster Frank Heartwell as was in the ould Robust?" " Yes, he was the senior lieutenant of the Robust," responded the youth, who had through Ben's means made himself acquainted with his father's history. " Then I sailed with him," rejoined the tar, " and a better officer never had chai'ge of a quarter-deck. And what's become of him, my boy ?" The youth briefly related the circumstances of his father's disappear- ance, and a conversation ensued, the seaman fully performing his promise to preserve Frank from further molestation ; he also praised the negro for standing up for his young master, and Sambo remarked, " Ah Massa Frank, dis no laand o' liberty board a ship." StiU Frank's \vretchedness was great ; he reflected on the delightful dictures of enjoyment from universal freedom and equality which Mon- 86 GEonoE cruiksuank's omnibds. sieur Polverel had powerfully delineated, and he contrasted them with the scene hefore him, where the defenders of their country were treated worse than brutes by the hand of power. It is probable that he would have sunk under the infliction, but the hope that he cherished of seeing his mother come to his rescue. Yet even that hope was mingled with many misgivings, lest the officer should not have communicated with her, and he might be sent awaj' without being able to acquaint her where he was. The morning came, a cutter was hauled alongside the Tender, and Frank and Sambo, with about one hundred and fifty others, were put on board ; her sails were set, and with a fair breeze she was soon gliding down the river. But Frank, though aware that they were on the move, could see nothing of the proceedings ; the impressed men were all confined in the hold, and so crowded together that to sit down was impossible. At length they reached the Nore, and the impressed hands were trans- ferred to a gun-brig that immediately got under- weigh for the Downs. Confinement was now at an end, the men were permitted to be on deck, and the refreshing breeze came delightful to the wearied frame of the youth. Provisions were also served out, and by the time they had reached their first destination he had in a great measure recovered his proper tone. But the brig did not anchor here ; a signal was made for her to proceed to Plymouth, and without delay she made sail through the Straits of Dover. The noble white cliffs and the beautiful scenery of the coast delighted Frank. The sun sparkled upon the waves of the blue ocean, and threw its golden gleams upon the fertile land of his nativity, whose lofty barriers rose in grandeur to defend its shores, and whose " wooden walls" floated in pride to protect its commerce. Tl>e horizon was studded with the white sails of distant vessels, and the ships as they approached or passed, hoisting their ensigns, gave a bright break in the picture. Still the thoughts of his mother's uneasiness operated on Frank's heart, and he determined to write to her as soon as they got to Plymouth ; but even this satisfaction was denied to him, for when abreast of Torbay a seventy-four came out and received a draft of hands from the brig, amongst whom was the disappointed lad and the negro, and without com- municating with the shore she spread her canvas for the Mediterranean. This preyed upon the lad's mind, but no time was allowed him to indulge in dejection ; he was ordered to go to the purser's steward and get supplied with sailor's apparel, which having dressed himself in, he was mustered before the first lieutenant, who questioned him as to his abilities in order to give him a station. Frank at once told him he was the son of an officer, and had never been to sea before ; he named his father, and as the circumstances of his disappearance were pretty well known, Mr. Evans not only took the lad by the hand, but declared him- self an old friend and messmate of Mr. Heartwell's, and the emotion he evinced plainly indicated what his feelings towards him were. He was requested to stand on one side till the muster was over, when the lieu- tenant introduced him to the captain, a noble and generous-minded seaman, who listened with attention and commiseration to Frank's nar- rative, inquired whether he wished to continue in the service, and finding the lad was desirous to do so he sent for the clerk, and the rating of mid- shipman was entered against the name of Frank in the muster-book. PRANK HEARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 8^ It would be impossible to describe the varied feelings of Frank at this favourable change in his fortune, which he regretted he could not at once communicate to his mother. On the passage out, however, they fell in with a corvette homeward bound, and the newly-made midshipman having a letter ready written describing the events that had occurred, he was enabled to send it by this conveyance, and his mind became more tranquil, and his heart more buoyant. As for Sambo, he was very soon reconciled to his lot, especially when he saw that his young friend and master was made an officer, and treated with kindness and respect. The negro was stationed in the main-top, and showed himself desirous to learn his duty. History has recorded the events connected with the occupation of Toulon by the allied forces ; and here it was that Frank first beheld a scene of warfare. Splendid was the spectacle to his young and ardent mind. There lay the combined fleets of England and Spain, their bright colours and floating pennants flashing in the sun ; whilst in the back- ground rose the almost perpendicular mountains of granite, relieved at the base by the white batteries and buildings of the town. As they approached the noble harbour, the smoke from the cannon and musketry proclaimed that active hostility was going on ; and Frank felt his heart swell at the thoughts of being engaged with the enemies of his country. They had scarcely moored the ship, when reinforcements were de- manded for the shore ; and a party of seamen and marines was landed under the command of Lieutenant Evans, and Frank was permitted to accompany him on duty in the town. Here he had indeed opportunity of beholding all the pomp, the circum- stances, and the cruelties of war ; for scarcely a day passed that did not bring with it a skirmish with the enemy. It was not, however, till several weeks had elapsed that Frank was engaged in hostility. It w^as on the night of the sortie made by General O'Hara against the masked battery that had been constructed by Buonaparte to play upon Fort Malbosquet. Armed with a cutlass, a brace of pistols, and a pike, the young mid- shipman accompanied his party to the attack. He felt that he was now an officer in the service of his country ; and though his heart palpitated at the thoughts of going into battle, he determined not to flinch. The night was dark ; and silently and stealthily they proceeded up the mountain. This enemy had suspected the design, and were in readiness to receive them ; and then began the terrible afiray. Frank kept as close to Mr. Evans as he could ; he had in some measure become used to the peals of musketry, but not to the consequences of the murderous dis- charge ; and his heart quailed when he beheld body after body rolling down the declivity, and heard the shrieks of the wounded as they lay bleeding on the ground, or fell from crag to crag mangled and dying. This dread did not last long, for he was hurled into the very thick of the melee, and desperation lent strength to his arm. Encouraged by Mr. Evans, who cheered on his men, he rushed forward with the advance, his spirit rising as the strife increased. For a short time he was sepa- rated from the lieutenant, but the tide of contest ranging back, he once more joined him at the moment that he had been brought to the earth bj' a blow from the butt of a French musket ; and the soldier was about to 88 GEORGE CRUIKSIIANk's OMNIBUS repeat the stroke, when Frank with his pike charged with the utmost violence he could muster against the man ; the sharpened iron entered his breast so as to throw the soldier off his balance, the blow descended short of the intended victim, and the weapon was shattered to pieces. But the French soldier was not defeated ; and snatching at the pro- strate officer's sword he possessed himself of it, and prepared to take ample revenge on the stripling who had no other weapon to oppose to his gigantic strength than his cutlass. Frank gazed at his powerful adver- sary and believed his last hour was come ; but he determined not to abandon the lieutenant. One thought — one moment's thought of his mother intruded — a pang of bitterness and anguish passed through his heart ; and then placing himself on the defensive, and purposing if possible to elude his enemy by activity, he saw him advance. At this instant, however, a British corporal interposed, and lunged at the French- man with his bayonet; but the brave fellow had been previously wounded and his strength was failing him ; still his spirit was indomitable, and a sharp conflict ensued, Frank occasionally getting a cut at the Frenchman, whose superior fencing gave him an admirable command of his vyeapon ; and the youth with horror saw the sword of Mr. Evans passed through and through the body of the corporal : it was done with the rapidity of light- ning, and the gallant man fell to the ground with one deep and parting groan. A laugh — a horrible laugh of triumph issued from the enemy as he now considered his young victim safe to satiate his revenge. The body of the lieutenant lay between them ; and as he began to give tokens of returning animation, the soldier seemed undecided whether he should attack the youth or give the officer the coup-de-grace. Frank beheld him advance — he would not retreat, but with cool determination parried the thrust ; but the superior strength of his opponent prevailed ; his guard was beat down, and the sword that had so recently taken life was again wet with blood ; the youth was borne backward on its point, and in all probability another second would have stretched him lifeless by the side of Mr. Evans, had not a bold athletic seaman flung himself against the soldier, who promptly recovered his blade, but not till he was staggered by a blow from the tar, who shouted in a voice that Frank instantly recognised, " Ware hawse, you lubber — puckalow that — what's the odds, so as you're happy ?" — it was Ben Brailsford. A cry of delight burst from the youth as he incautiously hailed his old companion ; for Ben was not aware who it was that he had preserved ; but on hearing the well-remembered tongue of his young friend, he turned suddenly round. The Frenchman instantly perceived his advantage, and made a pass that must have dangerously wounded if not killed the worthy seaman, but that the tar, intuitively sensible of his error, sprang on one side, and the sword of his antagonist did but graze his arm. For several minutes the conflict was desperate ; Ben was unskilled in the practices of scientific fencing, but he was perfect master of the guards and cuts ; and the Frenchman's vigour began to relax through the wounds he bad received, and the excessive exertions he had undergone. At last finding resistance futile, the soldier dropped the point of his sword in token of surrender, and the seaman, after disarming him, hastened to the side of the youth, wl»o had fallen to the ground inanimate. 8& THE LIVERY— OUT OF LONDON. At my friend the squire's, when he lived down at Grassby Farm in Clieshire, I was a constant visitor ; and for nothing was that pleasant hospitable house more remarkable than for the eccentric animals that found their way into it, whether as guests or as servants. Of both classes, in the course of a very few years, there were several queer specimens. I laugh as I recal them to mind. Delightful Grassby, what joyous hours have rolled away there ! Well content should I have been to have remained a welcome guest there for ever, if I could but have secured the privilege of dining as sparingly as I liked, and of taking just as few glasses of the old ale or the old port as suited »n«, rather than my friend. But with the old-fashioned notions of hospitality prevalent there, the comfort of " enough " was out of the question. It was a word never used at the squire's table. If you desired to taste a second or a third dish, good bountiful Mrs. N. sent you a second or third dinner ; and not to eat all that was placed before you, though already long past the point where appetite and desire cease, was to break through every principle of their establishment, and violate all their simple ideas of etiquette and good breeding. If you left the remaining wing of the turkey, they would be wretched for the rest of the day — " You didn't like it," " you were not comfortable." After a year or two, Mrs. N. did so far relax, and mingle mercy with her hospitality, as to say when placing two ribs of roast beef upon one's plate, " I hope if there's more than you wish for, that you won't scruple to leave it." The reader will be lucky if he can secure as much indulgence as this, at many country-houses where old fashions and principles yet prevail, and my Lady Bountiful reigns supreme. Consequences the most alarming sometimes ensued from this sense of the necessity of consuming whatsoever was placed before you by your host. A travelling acquaintance of the squire's (one Mr. Joseph Miller) paid him a flying visit one morning ; and as he could not possibly stay one moment, and insisted upon not taking any refresh- ment at all, he was let off with a tankard of ale, and some of the finest cheese in the county. The traveller threw upward a look of despair as he saw about half a magnificent " Cheshire " introduced to his notice; but as time was precious, he went to work, and ate with vigour for half-an-hour, when the post-boy knocked to remind him of the necessity of completing that stage in a given time, or the journey would be fruitless. The answer returned was, that the traveller " would come as soon as he could ;" and upon the cheese he fell again with increased energy. Another thirty minutes elapsed, when he paused to gaze, with evident symptoms of exhaustion, on the semicircle of Cheshire, not yet visibly diminished ; a second rap now summoned him, but, his reply was an anxious, hopeless look, and the faint ejaculation " Wait !" Tlie attack on the cheese was once more renewed, but by no means fiercely. " Gad," cried the squire, at last, " had I guessed you could ha' 90 CEOllGE CllUIKSnANKS OMNIBUS. staid 80 long, we'd a hastened dinner a bit." " So long ! " exclaimed the traveller in a tone of despair ; " let me tell you such a piece of cheese as that isn't to be got through so soon as you think for ! " Another case, and a still more piteous one, was that of a young and simple damsel from a neiglibouring county, who brought with her to Grassby Farm the established consciousness (prevailing still over a large portion of the country) of the unpardonable rudeness of sending away any- thing presented by the host. Accordingly, one day at dinner, when cheese was sent round, and a plate containing several pieces was handed to the young lady, she presumed it to be meant for her, and as in duty bound devoured the whole supply. It so happened that she did not visit at the squire's again for some considerable time ; and then, when remon- strated with for not calling upon her friends at the farm, she said, " Well, I will call, I shall be delighted to dine with you again ; but — pray don't give me so much cheese ! " All who entered the farm seemed alike under the influence of one dreary and imperative necessity ; that they must take whatever was offered them — which never failed to be too much. A French gentleman one evening underwent with exemplary politeness the martyrdom of drinkintr sixteen cups of tea, simply from not knowing that he was expected, when tired, to put the spoon in the cup. This at last he did, by mere accident, or good Mrs. N. would have gone on pouring out for him all night, to her great felicity. Never but once— only once — was tliat excellent lady convicted of a fit of moderation in the arrangements of her table, and that was when some fine London acquaintances had been persuading her to transform a rustic lout of a stripling into a page, and assuring her that thick pieces of bread at dinner were quite barbarous and vulgar. She did so far forget her original nature, as to decorate the boy with roley-poley buttons, to turn his Christian name of Colin into the surname of Collins, and to admonish him on the subject of bread thus — " Collins, don't cut up so many loaves when we have company at dinner ; I don't like very small pieces, but then there shouldn't be too many ; you should count heads ; you must know how much bread will be wanted, and cut accordingly. Now mind!" Kind, hospitable dame, how was she punislied for her precaution ! When the next dinner-party assem- bled, and a dozen persons had taken their seats at the table, CoUius proceeded to hand the bread round after the provincial fashion of twenty years ago ; but by the time he reached his mistress, the last person of the dozen, the bread was gone. " Collins," said she, in a low discreet whisper, " some bread, some more bread." CoUins's THE LIVIiRV OUT OF LONDON. 91 ■whisper in reply was meant to be equally discreet, but it was more audible. " Please, ma'am, I did count heads, and cut twelve bits, but that 'ere gentleman has took two pieces !" Collins, the page, was but the folly of a day ; he speedily disappeared ; yet there remained for some time in the heart of his mistress a lurking desire to engraft a few of the best London usages upon the more substan- tial country customs, and if not to keep pace with the spirit of the present age, at least to emerge out of the deep recesses of the past. Robin, the successor of Collins, was a victim to this spirit of innovation. He was a rustic of one idea ; which was, to do whatever he was ordered as well as he could. If told to make haste, he would simply start off at the top of his speed ; if told to fly, he would assuredly attempt with his arms and coat- flaps an imitation of the action of a bird, and fly as well as he was able. He imderstood all instructions literally ; Robin had no imagination. To bring in everything upon a waiter, was an order he could easily comprehend ; mistake was impossible. " Well, I declare ! " cried Mrs. N. to some visirors oiie morning, " yon haven't yet seen my pets ; " (some pups of an illustrious breed, that had just seen the light;) " Robin, bring in the pets — they are miracles." There was considerable delay, however, in the execution of this order ; and more than one inquiry went forth, why Robin did not bring in the pups. At last, when curiosity was at its height, and expectation on tiptoe, Robin did contrive, after a " to do" outside the door, to make a formal appearance vrith the pups, and to explain the delay : — "Here be pups, ma'am, only dang it they won't keep on waiter." Where the squire picked up the Imperturbable who came next, I never understood. At this distance of time it is not unreasonable to doubt whether he was in reality a human being ; he might have been a talking automaton. He never appeared to have " organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions ;" he seemed to be simply a thing of clock-work. " Master wants a bit more mufl&n," or " The ice has broke and master's drownded in the pond," would be uttered by him in exactly the same formal tone of voice, with exactly the same stiff and deliberate air. It was all one to him whether he had to announce — " There's a cricket- match on the common," or " the French have landed." Never shall I forget his walking into the room one day, an hour after dinner, and fixing himself beside his master's chair while the squire was telling us one of his sporting stories which were sometimes rather long ; waiting patiently until the close for the signal to proceed, and then when the Squire had turned round leisurely to know what he wanted, saying in his slow tone, " When I went up stairs, sir, a little while ago, the house was a-fire ! It's burning now." 92 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK S OMNIBUS. But I ought to relate one more example of the manner in which the patience of the Squire's lady was tried, by the rusticity of her attendants, during the short season of her attempt to elevate her household arrange- ments into something like fashionable dignity. One day, when the Squire had sent off, upon some frivolous errand, every servant in the house ex- cept cook and coachman, in dropped a very important visitor who proifered his company at dinner, to the consternation of the lady : hospitable as she was, she was in a dilemma ; but it could not be helped. The services of the coachman were duly called into requisition to wait at table, greatly to his chagrin, for he detested the duty, and whenever he chanced to be called upon to perform it, was sure to find some means of letting all the room know that he did. He abhorred indoor work, and took a pride in proclaiming himself to be coachee. On this occasion, having some apple- dumplings to bring in (vulgarities to which the Squire was considerably attached), the coachman, not qualified by daily practice for the duty, let some of them slip off the dish ; but recovering himself, he contrived to balance the dish as he held it out, and to steady the rolling dumplings therein, with a " "Who-o, whoo-oo, whiU!" Neither the Squire nor his lady ever affected the "gentilities" after this, or allowed their honest hearts to be disconcerted about trifles ; and with this last "tray" of domestic awkwardness, I for the present take my leave of the Livery Eus IN Urbe. OMNIBUS CHAT. " Easy travelling this, sir ; smooth roads, no turnpikes ; no dirt thrown about, no splashing. Pleasant for me, who have just arrived from Van Diemen's Land," ( we all looked up at our new visitor V. D. L ) — '- yes, sir, where they are ' mending their ways,' as you are here, only not quite so fast ; haven't got to Indian-rubber roads yet, though advanced beyond the point at which the traveller in ray legend was obliged to stop." This allusion being evidently preparatory to the production of a story, V. D. i,. was invited to explniu, which he instantly did by chanting the following LEGEND OF VAN DIEMEN'S LAND. Long time ago, when public roads In far Van Diemeu's Land, Were only fit for frogs and toads, Composed of pools and sand ; OMNIUUS CHAT. 93 (For folks had not tried newest modes Of making wood-ways grand) ; And narrow wheels, and heavy loads, Made ups and downs on every baud ; Long time ago. When things were so, By some arch wag it was averr'd The following incident occurr'd, — It chanced, on one of old October's days, A traveller was travelling along. And, as he jolted in his strong-sjiring'd chaise, *' Beguiled the tedious minutes " with a song ; When, lo ! a hat upon a pool he sees. That did not seem to feel the " balmy breeze," But in the middle kept its place ! As if it had resolved, with honest pride, Not to be driven down upon the side. When it might hold the central space. The traveller got out, and took it up, — Most strange ! — a head beneath the hat appears. Whose hair had of the puddle ta'en a sup. And now was weeping dirty-looking tears : — ■ ** How ?" said the traveller, *' why ! how is this? You've sunk a precious depth, my friend, in mud ; How did you * come to go ' so much amiss. As walk in muddy water — in cold blood ? — • Ye gods ! why, sir, yon must have been like lead, So deep into this puddle to have gone." " If 7'm so deep,^' the other gruffly said, " Where, where, must be the horse that I am on ?" " Accidents of that sort will happen in the hest regulated countries," remarked a modern Traveller, who had now, with an air of subdued jollity, taken his place amongst us, and who was distinguished among his familiars as Illustrious Tom, " though I can't say I ever witnessed such an adventure in Cheapside. But you call to mind a home-adventure, a scene at Bolton. Most towns, you must know, in almost every county, can hoast of their little evening coterie, in which the affairs of the nation are more or less learnedly discussed, and where the wags of the place play off their jokes, practical, comical, or serious. It generally happens, too, that these congregated sons of smoke (for smokers they all are) take up some district name; as the ' Bolton Trotters,' the ' Wigan Badgers,' the ' Item Dolls,' the ' Corporaiion of the King's Arms Kitchen,' the ' Quarter of Hundred Bricks,' or a hundred other names that might be mentioned ; and all these coteries are composed of about the same materials, the doctors, lawyers, retired tradesmen, country squires, and budding wags. It may be my province by and by to detail a few of the farcicalities which I have either taken part in, or heard related by some old Brick- Badger, Trotter, or Doll. For the present, here is a tale, related to me with many a deep sigh by an old one, whose trot is now reduced to a most miserable shamble. " It had been a stormy November day, when a commercial traveller alighted at the door of the Swan Inn. It was almost dark. He was a gentleman from Leeds, in the cloth trade, and had ridden over the moors— not as the young ones do now wlio drive — but on a strong Cleveland bay cob, wrapped in a good Devon kersey coat, that would defy all weathers, much better than your nasty Mackin- toshes. Well, sir, there was a good deal o' guessing, among us who were having a bit o' trot, at who he was. The waiter was called in, and ' thowt he was a new chap,' — \,e didn't know him In about an hour he made his appearance, and begged to he allowed to join us. He was a strapping Leeds win'er, and no toy to ])iay with, I assure you. 1 he trotting was very slow for a time, when the hold wag, Jem Brown, went in to win, and filled his pipe. Mr. A., the lawyer, sat on one side the fire; the traveller, in what was called Travellers' Chair, on the other. Up got Jem to ring the bell, and then, as he passed by him — ' You must S)4 GEOBGK CUUIKSUANK's OMNIBUS. have had a rough day,' says Jem ; ' didn't I see you ride in about an hour ago? ' Mebby ye did, I come in about that toime/ was the answer. ' On a bay cobr says Jem. ' Eigh, a did.' 'A clever little hack, I be bound,' says Jem again. ' Eigh,' rejoins the traveller, 'the fastest in any town he goes inta.' ' Wew!' says Jem, ' I'll upo'd him a good 'un, but that's going ow'er far.' ' I'U bet a pound on't,' says the traveller. ' Nay, I never bet money — but I'll bet brandies round, I've a faster.' 'Dun,' says the traveller. 'Order in the brandy, and book it,' says Mr. A. Down went the bet, and down went the brandy, and the horses were ordered out. The traveller was soon mounted, and sure enough it was as nice a tit as onny man need wish throw a leg over. The traveller began to be impatient, when Jem at last made his appearance at the door, pipe in hand. What's that your fasthoss? let's see him walk.' On he went. ' Here, come back, and rx)me in, for ye've lost.' ' Lost, how .'' ' ' Why,' says Jem, ' mine's been stuck fast at Bolton-moor clay-pit this three days, and gone dead this after- noon.' ' A fair trot,' cried the whole party, amidst a roar o' laughter, as Jem retreated out o' the way of the strapping and irritated loser. (Now it was on the same evening, and at the expense of this same sturdy Yorkshireraan, to provoke whom was no joke, that a joke was played off, which is commemorated in an oil painting that now hangs up in the commercial room of the Swan. Mr. A.'s leg was covered with a black silk stocking ; the traveller's was cased in stout leather ; when a bet was laid that the wearer of the silks would hold his leg longer in hot water than the wearer of the leathers. The experiment was tried in boiling water. In two minutes the Yorkshireman was in agony, while the lawyer looked on with astonishing composure — for his was a cork leg.") " But a Yorkshireman may be a philosopher," observed C. E. W., « ho now interposed a remark, "and philosophy ean stand every description of hot water, save that which love brings us into. Practical jokes are of many kinds ; a kiss is very often but a practical joke ; and as an appropriate successor to your tale of the silk stocking and the boot, let me give you the story of THE GIRL AND THE PHILOSOPHER. As Kate went tripping up the town (No lassie e'er looked prettier), An ** unco chiel " in cap and gown (No mortal e'er looked grittier) Accosted Kitty in the street, As she was going to cross over. And robb'd her of a kiss — the cheat, Saying, " I'm a philosopher !" " A what ?" said Kitty, blushing red, And gave his cap a toss over ; " Are you ? Oh, phi !" and off she sped. Whilst he bewail'd the " los-oph-er !" " The learned lover, sir, who bewailed the ' los-oph-cr' (said a visitor, who now favoured us with his company) was the last man in the world to die of love. No man ever died of love, who did not kill himself j and no man ever killed himself, who knew what philosophy was. True philosophy may buy prussic-acid, but, like Tantalus, taste not a drop ; true philosophy saunters to the Serpentine, and then saunters back to supper and a cigar. This,'' said Dr. Bulgardo, L.S.D., "I shall endeavour to illustrate in a poetical tribute to THE GRAVE OF THE SUICIDE (WHO THOUGHT BETTER OF IT). Mt eye grew as dull as a half-scallop'd oyster, And soon would my death in the Times have rejoiced her ; So to Battersea-fields, for no meadows are moister, I hurried to drown both myself and my woes. Down life's sunny stream many seasons I'd floated Till pleasures now bored me, on which I had' doted ; So I vowed that my death should by lovers be quoted Where the pale, sentimental asparagus grows. A RIGID SENSE OP DUTY. Alas ! I exclaim'd, with a half-broken hiccup, The soft crumbs of comfort no more can I pick up ; My sorrows are raix'd as it were in a tea-cup. Without any sugar to take off the taste. But sorrows are often inflicted to try us ; Kind fortune, invisibly, often stands by us ; And now on the roof of the famous eel-pie house The blinker-eyed goddess was luckily placed. She kindly assured me my views were mistaken, That really by Betty I wasn't forsaken ; So I walk'd back to town and got into the Faken- ham coach, to return to my Betty again. Four lovers already had tried to divert her Attentions from me, but their eagerness hurt her ; She said that sae knew that I wouldn't desert her. And now is the suicide gayest of men 1 96 A RIGID SENSE OF DUTY. At one of our sea- port towns there stood (and, we believe, doth stand there still) a fort, on the outside of which is a spacious field, overlooking a delightful prospect of land and water. At the time we are speaking of, a Major Brown was the commandant ; and his family being fond of a milk diet, the veteran had several cows that pastured in the land aforesaid ; a sentry was placed near the entrance, part of whose duty it was to prevent strangers and stray cattle from trespassing therein. Upon one occasion, an Irish marine, a stranger to the place, was on guard at this post, and having received the regular orders not to allow any one to go upon the grass but the major's cows, determined to adhere to them strictlj . He had not been long at his post, when three elegant young ladies pre- 9G OEOROE CRUIKSIIANK S OMNIBUS. sentcd themselves at the entrance for the purpose of taking their usual evening walk, and were quickly accosted by the marine with " You can't go there ! " " Oh ! but we may," uttered the ladies with one voice," we have the privilege to do so." " Privilege," repeated the sentry ; " fait an' I don't care what ye have, but you mustn't go there, I tell ye ; it's Major Brown's positive orders to the conthrary." "Oh — ay — yes — we know that," said the eldest of the ladies with dignity, " but we are Major Brown's daughters." " Ah, well, you don't go in there then anyhow,'' exclaimed Pat, bringing his firelock to the post, " you may be Major Brown's daughters, but you're not Major Brown's cows." The answer to Mr. Sly's Enigma (in last No.) is a liquid*, which forms the tJiird part of Rum, the fourth of Port, the fifth of Shrub, the sixth of Brandy, the suveiiLh of Madeira, the eighth o{ Burgundy, the ninth of Bordeaux, the tenth oi Maraschino. It is a letter which is not seen in the alphabet, forms no part of a syllable, and yet is found in every word. — V. D. L. " Are there two ' S's ' in St. Asaph?" asked Lord Dunce of a popular humourist, as he was directing a letter to a learned Bishop who bore that title. " Unless ynu wish to make an ' ass' of his Lordship, decidedly not," was the answer ; and Lord Dunce finished the address without further inquiry. Driver (calling out). Tom, is that 'ero eUerly lady come, as ve vaitcd for last trip ? Cad. Vel, I do think I sees her a coming. Driver. But are you sure it's the same? Cad. Oh yes — Vy I was in the office ven the Governor booked her, by the name o' Mrs. Toddles, and eh? — hang me if she am't a toddling off the wrong vay arter all. Vel, drive on, ve can't wait for nobody. Some people alvcrs aire too late, and alvere vill be. Driver. Vy, yes, Tom ; but I reckon it must take her a couple o' hours to put on that bonnet afore she comes out. She must git up a little earlier, or else I should rcckim- mend her to put it on the night afore. • The liquids are «' 1, m, h, r." — Lindley Murray. ^ °^ TTy, ^o^oL-wt^i £4ere LS i tnc^Se, ■- ■ ^fyiTtj _ SeoLcLtf-S 97 FRIGHTS! There is no fever so contagious as fright. It runs, like a bell-wire^ through the house, communicating from one line of agitation to another. Frights, in a national point of view, are called " clouds on the political horizon.'' These clouds are very catching ; if one nation in Europe has the vapours, all have — as we have lately had an opportunity of v/itness- ing. In a civic, or we should say rather in a commercial, sense, frights are called "panics ;'' they are wonderfully contagious. No sooner is one house in danger, than another feels itself in peril. You walk at such a season through some vast capital, amidst lines of lofty and durable-looking mansions, and every one that begins to totter puts at least a couple in mind of tottering also. As this nods to its fall, Ihat returns the nod instinctively. Once set the panic afoot, and each seems inclined to be foremost, rather than hindmost, in the road to ruin ; let but a single firm topple down unexpectedly, and its neighbours break too, from nothing but sheer apprehension of breaking. Amidst large assemblages of people — ^in ball-rooms, theatres, often in churches — fright is irresistible in its progress, if once kindled. The cry of " fire," or a sound construed into the crack- ing of the wainscot, is enough. The strong, the weak, the bold, the nervous, the old stager and the young novice-^are all reduced simultane- ously to a common level : they become one mass of flying, fluttering, struggling, shrieking, selfish mortality — rushing to the door, and there effectually blocking up the way; each bent on escape, and each helping to render escape impossible ; trampling, stifling, crushing one another, in hideous rout and disorder, without one rational idea amongst the bewildered multitude of the reality of the danger, or one courageous impulse to face it. This wild alarm, like jealousy, makes the meat it feeds on. There is something so contradictory in it, that the . presence of numbers, which should be its protection, increases its confusion. It sees its own pale, glaring, terror-stricken image in each man's face, and its diseased imagi- nation multiplies the causes of fear, because its efiects are manifold. While such panics prevail, as all veracious chronicles show they do, amongst mankind, who shall presume ungallantly to laugh at thy innocent objects of terror, oh, womankind ! or, childhood, even at thine ! All have their favourite antipathies. Gentlemen ere now have been appalled at the sight of a black-bottle ; many a lady yet looks aghast at tlie intrusion of a black-beetle ; while the child still screams, affrighted at the idea of black-bogy. Leaving the first to the satirist, and the last to the school- master, let us picture to the eyes of ladies a scene, in which every fair reader almost must have been, at least once in her life, an actress. We will suppose that scene to be a lady's "finishing establishment" — for there are no schools now — the scliool went out of fashion with the shop, and the " establishment " came in with the "depot " and the "emporium." The group is the prettiest possible, as a specimen of still-life ; there is not a whisper, scarcely a motion ; the superior is silently calculating the amount of her Michaelmas accounts ; the assistant is mutely wonder- H 98 GEoucn: cruiksiiank's omnibus. ing whether young Ariosto Jaclcson, whom she met at Northampton last holidays, will again be there at the next breaking up ; and several young ladies, in process of tuition, are learning irregular verbs by heart, reading treatises abstrusely scientific, and thinking all the time of nothing ; when — all of a sudden — but no, that is not the word— quicker than lightning, transformed as by magic, the scene presents to the eye but one image of consternation — to the ear but one note of terror and d'ismay. In the centre of the sacred apartment has been detected a small sable intruder. A cry of horror from one young lady — " Oh ! my good gracious, there's a great black beadle ! " brings every other young lady's heart into her mouth. In an instant the room resounds with wild piercing screams. Every chair has its pedestalled votary of Fear, its statue of Alarm exqui- sitely .embodied ; the sofa boasts a rare cluster of affrighted nymphs — more agonised by far than if they had been, by some wicked bachelor of a magician, locked for life into a nunnery. The lady-president, to exhibit an example of presence of mind, has leaped upon a chair for the purpose of pulling the bell ; she at the same time conveys a lesson of industry, for she agitates it like a " ringer " pulling for a leg of mutton and trimmings. The bell-rope breaks, and the other is out of reach. The screams increase ; tlie servants are summoned by more names than they were ever christened by. " Cook, Sarah, Betsy, Betsy, Jane, Cook, Sarah," are called, together with several domestics who have long since gone away. In the mean time let us jnatch a glance at the little dingy contemptible insect, the sable agitator, the Christophe of entomology, who has innocently created all this palpitation in tender bosoms, this distortion of beautiful features, this trembling of limbs, and this discord in voices the most musical. He stands a moment stupified, petrified with astonishment at the rush and the roar around him ; recovering from his first surprise, he creeps a pace or two in blank perplexity ; he wrestles with his fears — for frightened he is out of his little black wits, you may depend upon it — runs here and there, a few inches to the east, and then a few inches west- ward, to and fro like a bewildered thing ; and then making up his mind, " away he cuts" as hard as he can pelt into the obscurest corner. The enemy out of sight, the boldest of the party, after a minute or two, ven- tures down and makes a desperate rush to the door ; others soon follow this heroine's example ; and when they reach the landing — there pale, though recent from the roasting-jack, and peeping up from one of the lower stairs of the kitchen flight, they perceive the face of the cook — a face whose expression is half curiosity, half fear. Aspects of wonder and wo-begone alarm are discernible beyond, and fill up the picture of agitation. " Oh, cook ! where have you been ?" cry the pretty tremblers. " Oh, Miss! what is the matter?" sighs the cook sentimentally, ob- serving at the same time that " her heart beats that quick as she ain't sure she knows her own name when she hears it." " Oh, cook !" cries the least exhausted of the party, " here's a great — here"'s a great black beadle in the parlour!" On which a very small scream, and a pretty shudder at the recollection, pervade the assembly. " A black-beadle, Miss Higgins ! is that all ! Lauk, well that is dis- appineting; we tliought as you was all a being murdered, and so we FHIGHTS.^ 99 couldn't move, we was so frightened. Why, I minds a black-beadle no more nor — no more nor — no, that I don't ! But if it had bin a hearvyig. Miss riiggins ! — ur-r-r-rh ! now that's a ruptile as I never could abide !" Had we rushed down stairs sooner, just before the first ring of the bell, a kitchen-group might have prosented itself, not unworthy of being sketched. There should we have seen a feminine party of four seated round a table spread with solid viands; the actresses have played their parts to perfection ; not like unfortunate players on the mimic stage, who raise to their parched lips empty japan cups, and affect to eat large slices of pasteboard turkeys. No ; they have, in the fullest sense of the word, dined; and are in tliat delicious state of dreamy repose, induced by a hearty meal, about mid-day in summer, after having risen early and " washed" till twelve ! It is at this juncture they hear the loud quick ring of the parlour-bell. At such a moment, when Missus know'd they was at dinner ! Again, again, again ; nay, the peal is continuous, and mingled with confused screams. Terror and the cold beef combined, strong ale and intense alarm, prevent them from stirring. Still the bell rings, the screams continue, and grow more distinct ! Sarah faints, Betsy manages about half a fit, and Jane staggers a few paces and falls into tlie arms of Robert the gardener. A jug of ale, which the cook mistakes for water, flung into the face of the fair . insensible, causes a sensation that arouses the whole party; and curiosity overcoming fear, leads them towards the stairs, where, hushed and horror-stricken, they await the dread intelligence that " a great black beadle has got into the parlour," his first appearance this season ! " Had it been a mad dog, indeed !" they all cry. Yes, and if it had been merely a tiny puppy with the smallest tin kettle, tied to his tail, retreating afifrightedly from roguish boys, they themselves would have been thrown into a fright indeed. Their instinct would have led them to cry, " Oh here's a mad dog," and to run right in his way. Every man has his " fright." Toads are exceedingly unpopular. The deathwatch, like conscience, doth make cowards of us all. Spiders ate unwelcome visitors. Rats (politics apart) are eminently disagreeable. One of a party who went out to kill buffaloes, happening to run away just as all his courage was required, explained the circumstance to his friends thus : " One man dislikes this, and another man that animal ; gentlemen, my antipathy is the buffalo." But in certain climates, people are accustomed to horrors ; they sup full of them. Nobody there screams out, " Oh here's a scorpion !" or " Good gracious, here's an alligator V The visits of such common-places are not angelic, being neither few nor far between. It is only some rarer monster that can hope to make a sensa- tion. Now, a hippopotamus, once a season, would come with a forty black-beetle power to an evening party; and a group of timid ladies, kicking the mere crocodiles and rattle-snakes away, may well be imagined rushing into a corner, startled by an imlooked-for intruder, and crying out " Oh my ! if here isn't a mammoth ! Mamma! here's a great large leviathan !" II 2 100 A PEEP AT A "LEG-OF-BEEF SHOP." It is a melancholy sight to witness the half-starved, anatomical-looking small youths, dressed in every variety of poverty's wardrobe, that linger for hours near a certain little bow-window in St. Giles's; where the nobility, gentry, and public are informed that by paying down the sum of threepence they will be allowed peaceably to depart with an imperial pint of leg-of-beef soup in their own jug. It is a moving sight. To see the hungry looks — ^Ihe earnest gazes, that are darted through that little bow-window — to see with what intense relish they snuff up the odorifer- ous vapours which occasionally ascend through the gratings beneath that little bow-window, or roll out in their full fragrance through the doorway adjacent to that little bow- window, ensnaring at every other burst some new, hungry, unsuspecting wayfarer — to see this is indeed a moving sight. Seldom, very seldom is it the good fortune of these watchful youths to revel in such luxuries as leg-of-beef soup, or its rival, alamode ; they are beings destined only to view such things afar off, and make vain speculations upon their ravishing flavour ; to contemplate them as amal- gams expressly prepared for the affluent — those happy ones who can spend threepence and not feel it. Oh ! what felicity to be the master of such a shop! — to eat as much as he likes and nothing to pay — to be able to feast his eycsiglit with the savoury contents of those bright tin kettles when not hungry— to dress in a white apron and striped jacket, and to have supreme command of that ladle — to be able to look sternly upon those perturbed spirits without, and disregard their earnest whisperings of " Oh, don't it smell jolly ; and warn't that piece prime, though !" — to be able to go on fishing up the delicious morsels with the same provoking coolness. Oh ! to what joys are some men born ! A PUEP AT A " LEG-OP-BEEF SHOP." 101 But see. Here come two that have had their enjoyment ; maybe each has eaten a whole three-penn'orth. No longer do the fumes possess any charm for them ; they can now walk composedly past those magic kettles. Now, two happy beings are entering the elysium— two whose delights are yet to come. One of them is a dustman in a spotted necker- chief, red wrist-cuffs, and a cap peculiar to gentlemen in that line of business ; the other is his lady, glorying in the euphonic name of " Doll." See with what a majestic air he strides in and takes his seat, as if he could buy up the whole establishment twice over if he chose. Hark with what a lordly voice he calls the waiting-boy, whose benevolent master, for services rendered, rewards him with ninepence per week, and the gratui- tous licking of all the crockery soiled on the premises. " Vater !" again vociferates he of the neckerchief. " Yes, sir," is the reply. " Didn't you heear me call vater afore ?" " Sorry, sir, but the gen'l'm'n as is just gone was agoin' to forget to pay, sir — that's all, sir." " That's nuffin to do vith me. Ven I calls ' vater,' I vants yer. I can't afford to vaste my precious breath to no purpose as the members o' parlia- ment do, so just prick up them long ears of your'n, and then I think you'll grow the viser." " Yes, sir." " Veil, then, bring this here leddy and me a freeha'pemiy plate each, and two penny crusties, and ven a gen'l'm'n calls agin, listen to his woice, or maybe it's not unpossible he may get his bit o' wittles at some other ho-tel." With another profes- sional " Yes, sir," the urchin vanishes from the presence. Once more the purveyor's ladle dives into the bright tin kettle. Again he tortures the hungry beholders outside the window — as they look on with outstretched necks and spasmodic mouths — with glimpses of its treasures. They see the choice bits of gristle but for an instant, and no more ; for whilst gazing at the sight, in a paroxysm of longing and fever of desire, the plates are borne off to that vile dustman. " Now, Mr. Imperence," says the lady, addressing the purveyor's pro- tege, at the same time, with much dexterity and elegance, converting a fork she has discovered upon the seat into a toothpick. " Now, Mr. Imperence, I hope you've brought a little less paddywack in it than there was yesterday. As Will says," she continues, stirriiig and scruti- nising the contents of the plate, " bless'd if this house ain't quite losing its caroter." " Brayvo! Doll !" ejaculates her lord approvingly, as lean- ing backwards with extended leg he draws from his pocket a coin of the realm. " Here, jist valk yer laziness across the vay, and travel back agin vith a pint of half-and-half. Now, vot do you stand ringing o' the money for ? Do you think other people is as vicked as yerself ? " — " Th' s'picious little warmint !" rejoins the lady, swallowing a spoonful of the soup with alarming expedition, and fulfilling the purposes of a napkin with the back of her hand. " Did you see wot a imperent grin the little beast give ? " " Never mind, old gal, you get on," responds the dustman, lounging with both elbows upon the table, and regarding with an air of much complacency the thin-visaged youths outside. " You get on, for I must soon be astirring." In due time the boy and the solution of malt and hops present them- selves, and after a hearty draught of the grateful beverage, the dustman 102 GEORGK CRUIKSUANk's OMNIBUS. evinces a disposition to become musical, and whistles an air or two with perhaps rather more of good will than of good taste. He suddenly looks round, and discovering his lady has finished the plate of soup and the last drain of beer also, summons forth the juvenile waiter from behind a little partition, just at the mortifying moment when liis tongue is making clean the interiors and exteriors of two recently-used plates. "Now, then, young imp, wot's the damage ?"—" Sixpence, please sir," said the waiter, vainly endeavouring to quiet his tongue, which keeps playing round the sides of his mouth ; " two plates and three loaves, please, sir." " We aint had free, you cheating little wagabond ! " screams the lady; "we've only had two — you know that!" "Oh! beg pardon, ma'am,'' replies the boy, after a sly lick; "it was t'other box where the genMm'n was as had three. Fippence, then, please sir — two plates and two new'uns — fippence." " You're a nice sample o^ thievery for your age," says the dustman, contemplating the boy with one eye, and then counting out four penny pieces and four farthings with curious deliberation. " You're a nice article to cast a gen'l'm'h's bill. Do you happ'n to know a cove in London by the name o' Ketch — Jack Ketch ? " " Yes, sir." " Veil then, the next time aa you go his vay, have the goodness to leave your card, and say you was strongly recommended to him by me. Now, Doll." Having delivered himself to this efiect, greatly to the moral benefit of the boy, who mechanically replies at the conclusion of it, " Yes, sir," with a dignified step he leads the way to the door, merely condescending, as he places his foot upon the sill, to inform the proprietor, that " he's blow'd if there's a worser prog-shop in the whole blessed vurld !" Alpua. A FEW NOTES ON UNPAID LETTERS. The penny-postage has already wrought an extraordinary chancre in the public ideas of the value of money. Formerly, according to the old maxim, ninepence was but ninepence ; but even twopence has now be- come a sum sterling, to demand which is to stir men's blood as violently as if the said coins were flung in their faces. To put a letter into the post, and an intimate friend to the expense of twopence, was, only the other day, perfectly natural ; under the present system, it is fiendish. A letter sent free costs the sender a penny ; to receive a letter not pre- paid, is to expend double the amount. In the degree of attention shown to this little fact, it is not impossible to find a test of the principles of man- kind — of the whole corresponding portion of creation at least. The last post-office returns show, that there are upon an average 7654 persons — monsters iu the human form, we should rather sa)' in this metropolis alone, who walk about day by day dropping stampless epistles into ravenous letter-boxes, from sheer misanthropy — hatred of their fellow- creatures ; which feeling they are pleased to call forgetfulness, stanipless- ness, or copperlessness, as convenience may dictate. A FEW NOTES ON UNPAID LETTERS. ]03 Never become enraged when you receive a missive from one of tlieui never storm when you pay double — lest you should chance to justify where you mean to condemn. At unpaid letters look not blue, Nor call your correspondent scamp ; For if you storm, he proves that you Received his letter — with ** a stamp !" Reflect seriously upon the character of such a correspondent. The man whose letters are not prepaid may be thus denounced : — ■ He is selfish, because he would rather you should pay twice, than that he should pay once. He would rather inflict an injury on his friend, than act fairly himself. He is disloyal, because he ought to grace his letter with the head of his Queen, and he declines doing so. He prefers seeing his brother's two pockets picked, to having a hand thrust into one of his own. He is an old fool, who wants to be thought young, and affects careless- u(!ss, because it is a youthful fault. liather than take a bottle of wine out of his own cellar, he would drink a couple at his neighbour's expense. Sooner than experience a stamp on his toe, he would see his old father's gouty feet trampled on. He is ready to discharge a double-barrelled gun at anybody, to escape a single shot at himself. He would ride his friend's horse fifty miles, to save his own from a journey of five-and-twenty. To avoid an easy leap from the first-floor window, he would doom hi.'! nearest connexion to jump from the roof. Rather than submit to the privation of half a meal, he would subject any human being to the misery of being dinnerless. Ho is penny wise and twopence foolish. His penny saved is not a penny got, since the damage he occasions will recoil uj^on himself. He is more mindful of the flourishing finances of the postmaster-general, tlian of the scanty funds of individuals who are dear to him. He has no care for the revenue, for he shrinks from prompt payment. He is dishonest, for ratlier than pay in advance he won't pay at all. Above all, never listen to anything that may be urged in his defence. Never attach tlie slightest importance to such arguments as these : — He is the best of patriots, because he raises a sinking revenue. He is the best of friends, for he impels all whom he addresses to do good to the state at a slight cost to themselves. He is the most loyal of men, for he cannot bear to part with his Queen's likeness, even upon a penny-piece. He is a gentleman, and never has vulgar halfpence within reach. He is kind to street-beggars, and gives away tlie penny in charity before he can get to the post-office. He is well read in ancient literature, and knows tliat those who paj beforehand are the worst of paymasters. 104 GKOEGB CRUIKSIIANK's OMNIB0S. He is delicate-minded, and feels that a pre-paid letter implies a sup- position that the receiver would care about the postage. His house is open to his acquaintances, who write so many notes there that he never has a stamp to use. He scorns to subject the portrait of his lady-sovereign to the indjgiiity of being tattooed like a New-Zealander. He is a logician, and maintains that if a penny-postage be a good thing, a twopenny-postage must be exactly twice as good. He enables others to do a double service to their country, rather than by doing half that service himself, prevent them from doing any. He denies himself one pleasure that his fellow-creatures may have two. He sympathises in the postman's joy at the receipt of twopence, as it brings back old times, and restores to him his youth. He is so anxious to write to those he loves, that the stamp, hastily affixed, comes off in the letter-box. Signing himself " your most obedient humble servant," of course he dares not take the liberty of paying for what you receive. He is married, and leaves it to bachelors to pay single postage. Mark his hand- writing, nevertheless; and when his unpaid epistle arrives, let your answer be, a copy of the " Times," supplement and all, sealed up in an unstamped envelope. FIRST DISCOVERY OF VAN DEMONS' LAND. BY CAPTAIN MAKRYAT, C. B. The vessel rose upon the mountain waves, with her bowsprit pointing up to the northern star, and then plunged down into the trough of the sea, as if she were diving like the porpoises which played across h.er bows, — shaking and trembling fore and aft as she chopped through the masses of water which impeded her wild course. Sea after sea struck her on the chesstree or the beam, pouring over her decks and adding to the accumu- lation of water in her hold. Her sides were without a vestige of paint — ■ her shrouds and standing rigging worn to less than inch-rope ; her running rigging as mere threads ; the foresail, the only sail set, as thin as gauze. Decay was visible in every part of her ; her timbers were like touchwood ; even her capstan had half rotted away; and her masts might have proved, if once ashore, a safe asylum to colonies of ants and woodpeckers. How then could a vessel in this forlorn condition continue afloat or contend with so fierce a gale ? Because it was the spectre-ship with her spectre-crew ; Vanderdecken, in the Flying Dutchman, still contending against the divine fiat, still persevering in his fatal oath — that he would double the Cape. Vanderdecken stood at the break of the weather-gangway with his chief officer, Jansen, by his side. The crew were most of them shel- tering themselves under the weather-side of tlie deck ; their large, flat, pale muffin faces sunk down deep in their chests ; slioulders, high and FIKST IJISCOVEKY OF VAN DEJlONs"' LAND. JOS bony; tlieir netlier garments like bladders half shrunken, as if there was nothing in them. When they shifted from one part of the deck to the other, their broad, flat feet made no sound as they passed along the planks, which were soft as pith. Their dresses were now of the colour of mahogany or chocolate ; sea- weed was growing here and there on their jackets ; and to the seats of their small-clothes, a crop of barnacles had become firmly attached. Tiiey all looked melancholy and disheartened ; and as they shivered, the rattle of their bones was distinctly to be heard. Vanderdecken put his speaking-trumpet to his lips — " Another pull of the weather fore-brace," cried he. " Yaw, yaw," replied the spectre-crew, put into motion by the order. Tlie boatswain piped belay — the sound could hardly be distinguished, as from long use he had blown away much of the metal of which his pipe was composed. Janscn, the mate, looked up at the fore-yard, and then at Vanderdecken. lie appeared at first irresolute when he looked into the dogged countenance of Vanderdecken ; — at last, he hitched up his nether garments with both hands, and spoke — " It won't do. Captain Vander- decken, — and the men say it won't do — do you not, my lads, all of you ?" " Yaw," was the hollow, melancholy response of the seamen. " Bonder und blitzen — what won't do ? " replied the captain. " We must bear up. Captain Vapderdecken," replied Jansen j " the ship leaks like an old sieve ; our hold is full of water ; the men are worn out ; every sail we have has been bent and split ; nothing but the foresail left. It's no use. Captain Vanderdecken, we must bear up and refit." " You forget mine oath," replied Vanderdecken, surlily. " Hold on, Jansen, that sea is aboard of us." Jansen shook his three jackets and ten pair of small-clothes, as soon as the drenching had passed over. " I tell you, Mynheer Vanderdecken, it won't do — we must bear up." " Yaw, yaw," responded the crew. " Mine oath ! " cried the captain again, as he held on by one of the belaying pins. " Without sails, without provisions, and without fresh water on board, you cannot keep your oath — which was to double the Cape. AVe must bear up, refit, and then try it again." " Mine oath — I have sworn — I cannot — I will not bear up ; Jansen, hold your tongue." '■ Well, you may keep your oath — for we will bear up for you against your will." " We will ! Who will ? Do you mutiny ? " " Yaw, yaw ; we all mutiny," cried the sailors ; " we have been now two years trying to double this stormy Cape, and never had a dry jacket the whole time ; we must mend our small-clothes, and darn our stockings. For two years and more we have had no fresh meat, and that is contrary to the articles. Captain Vanderdecken, we do not mutiny; but Ave will bear up ; with your will, if you please ; if not, against your will." " So you mutiny, you ungrateful rascals ! Well, stop a moment, till I !'(.) into my cabin ; when I come out again, I will hear what you have to 106 GEORGU CRUIKSIIANK S OMNIBUS. say, and see if any man dares speak ; " and Captain Vanderdecken in a great fury rushed aft and went into his cabin. " I know what he will do, my men," said Jansen ; " he has gone for his double-barrelled pistols, and will shoot us through the head ; — we must not let him come out again." " Nein, nein," replied the seamen ; and they ran to the cabin-doors, and made them fast, so that Vanderdecken could not get out, and could shoot nobody but himself. " Nov.' my lads," said Jansen, " put the helm up, and square the yards." " What's the course to be. Mynheer Jansen," asked the man at the helm " Keep her right before it, my man ; how 's her head now ? " " About south-west." " That will do — it will fetch somewhere — she walks fast through it. Spielman, heave the log." " AVhat does she go?" " Eighty-five miles an hour ; but we must allow something for the heave of the sea," replied the second mate. " She don't sail as well as she did ; but we are half full of water," replied Jansen. 1 r 1 'S * 1. ■*^ 1 ' When a, ship runs down more than two degrees of longitude in an hour, it does not take her long to go half round the world. The Flyim' Dutchman, as she flew along, was pursued by the demons of the stonn, FIRST DISCOVEllY OF VAN DEMONS* LAND. 107 visible to tlie crew on board, although not to mortal eyes : some, with puffed-out cheeks, were urging her tlirough the water; others moutlied and yelled ; some kicked her stern in derision ; others tumbled and curveted in the air above her — ever keeping pace with the vessel, jibing and jeering at their victory ; for the Flying Dutchman no longer battled against the adverse elements, but at last had yielded to them. The Dutchmen cared little for the imps, they were used to them, and they smoked their pipes in silence, all but Vanderdecken ; the mutiny of the men had put his pipe out. On the second day they had passed Cape Horn without perceiving it ; the wind veered more to the east, and they steered more to the northward. On the fourth evening, the sailor on the look-out at the bow called out " Land, holi ! " They steered right for it and entered a large bay ; the anchor, in many parts not thicker than a pipe-stem, was dropped, the foresail clued up, and having first armed themselves, the seamen let the captain loose. Vanderdecken was as savage as a bear. He ran out with a pistol in each hand, but a pea-jacket was thrown over his head, and he was disarmed. " Cowardly villains ! " exclaimed the captain, as soon as the jacket was removed ; " mutinous scoundrels — " " We return to our duty, Captain Vanderdecken," replied the crew, " we will obey your orders. What .shall we do first ? Shall we mend the sails, or mend our clothes ? Shall we darn oiir stockings, or go on shore for fresh water ? Shall we caulk the ship, or set up the ■ rigging ? Speak, Captain Vanderdecken, you shall order us as you please." " Tousend tyfels ! " replied Vanderdecken, " go to , all of you.'' " Show us the way, captain, and we will follow you,'' replied the crew. Gradually the captain's wrath was appeased ; the ship required refitting and watering ; he never could have doubled the Cape in the state she was in ; the mutiny had prevented his breaking his oath — and now the seamen were obedient. " Shall we take possession of the land, in the name of his most Chris- tian Majesty?" said Jansen. " Take possession in the name of his Satanic Majesty," replied Van- derdecken, turning sulkily away. The captain had not quite recovered his good-humour — ^lie returned to his cabin, mixed a tumbler of brandy and gunpowder, set fire to it, and drank it off — this tisane cooled him down, and when he came out, the crew perceived that all was right, so they went aft and touched their hats. " Liberty on shore for an hour or two if you please," said they ; " it's a long while that we've been treading the planks." " Yes, you may go ; but I'll keelhaul every man who's not off to his work by daylight — recollect that," replied Vanderdecken. Donder und blitzen — we will all be on board, captain. " They be queer sort of people in this country," observed Jansen, who had been surveying the shore of the bay with his telescope. " I can't make them out at all. I see them put their heads down close to the ground, and then they stand up again ; they wear their breeches very low, and yet they jump remarkably well — Hundred tousend tyfels '" con- 108 GEORGE CRUIKSHANKS OMNIBUS. tinued lie, as lio looked through the telescope again ; " 1111^8 one of thera six feet high at least, and he has jumped twenty yards. It can't be a woman — if she is, what a springy partner she would make in a dance !" " We'll take tlie fiddle and schnapps on shore, and have a dance with the natives," cried the boatswain. " Mind you behave civilly and make friends with them,' said Vander- decken ; " don't be rude to the women.'" " Nein, Mynheer," replied the crew, who now lowered the boats and were very soon pulling for the shore — ^every man with his pipe in his mouth. Tiie spectre-crew gained the beach — quitted the boat, and took up a position under a high rock. The pipes were refilled — the schnapps handed round, and very soon they were as jolly as ghosts could be. " Come, Jansen, give us a song," cried Spielman ; " and you, Dirk Spattrel, keep company with your fiddle." " My windpipe is not quite so fresh as it was once," said Jansen, putting his bony fingers up to his neck, " but here goes : — la spite of wind and weather, In spite of mountain waves, If our timbers hold together And we sink not to our graves ; The Cape we still will double, boys, The stormy Cape we'll clear, — Who cares for toil or trouble, boys, Who thinks of watery bier? ' We left our wives behind us. Bright India's realms to gain, Let nothing then remind us Of them and home again ; Close lufF'd with well-set sails, lads. We still our course will steer, And beaten back by adverse gales, lads, Cry ' Thus, boys, and so near.* Who cares for mocking billows. Or demons of the deep ? One half sleep on our pillows. While t'others deck-watch keep ; W'ho cares for lightning's flashing, boys. Or noisy thunder's roar ? We laugh at wild spray dashing, boys. And clouds that torrents pour. ' The ocean is the seaman's slave, Though mutiny it may ; Our beast of burden is the wave As well by night as day ; To round the Cape we'll reckon, lads, For so our captain will'd ; Three cheers for Vanderdecken, lads, His vow shall be fulfill'd." " Yaw-yaw," cried the crew, " we'll round the Cape yet. Drink, boys, drink — three cheers for Vanderdecken ! We'll caulk the old ship ; we'll repair our old sail; we'll mend our old clothes; we'll darn our old stockings, and then to sea again. Hurrah ! — hurrah ! " Thus did they continue to drink and carouse until, if they had had any eyes left in their head, they never could have seen visually ; but ghostf see mentally, and in the midst of their mirth and jollity, they saw some tall objects coming down gradually and peeping over the rocks, probablj attracted by the fiddle of Dirk Spattrel. " The natives!" — cried Jansen, " the natives ! — now, my men, recol- lect the captain's orders — don't be rude to the women." " Yaw — nein — yaw !" replied the reeling spectres ; " oh, nein, but we'll get them down here and have a dance ; that's civility all over the world." " But I say," hiccupped Spielman, " what rum beggars these islanders be ! only look, they are coming down to us, all of their own accord ! " This was true enough ; a herd of kangaroos, attracted by the sound of the music, but of course not able to distinguish the spectre seamen, who, like all others of a similar nature, were invisible to mortal and to kan- garoo eyes, had come down fearlessly to the foot of the rock where tlin crew were carousing. FIUST UISCOVJillY OF VAN DEMONS LAND. 109 Tlie Dutchmen liad never seen an animal so tall which stood erect like a man, and they were all very drunk ; it is not therefore surprising that they mistook the kangaroos for natives clothed in skins, and as the broadest part of their dress was down on the ground, of course they fancied they were the women belonging to the island. " Strike up, Dirk Spattrel," cried Jansen, taking hold of the paws of one of the kangaroos. " Wei sie valtz, Fraulein V The kangaroo started back, although it saw nothing, and of course said nothing. " Don't be shamming modest, Fraulein. Now then, strike up. Dirk ;" and Jansen passed his arm round the kangaroo, which appeared very much alarmed, but, seeing nothing, did not hop away. The rest of the seamen seized the other kangaroos by the paws or round the body, and in a short time such a dance was seen as never took place befqj-e. Some of the Kangaroos stood upon their thick tails and kicked at their invisible partners with their hind feet, so as to send their ghostships many yards distant ; others hopped and jumped in their fright many feet from the ground, taking their partners with them ; others struggled violently to disengage themselves from their unseen assailants. Shouts, laughter, and shrieks resounded from the drunken crew at this strange junketting ; at ast, in their struggling to detain the animals, and the attempts of the 1 10 GEORGE CRUIKSIIANK's OMNIBnS. frightened kangaroos to escape, the Dutchmen found themselves all mounted on the backs of tlie kangaroos, who, frightened out of their senses, bounded away in every direction. Thus did the ball break up, every kangaroo carrying oflf its partner in a different direction. Dirk Spattrel was the only one left, but there was a kangaroo also unemployed ; determined not to be left behind, the fiddler jumped on its back, and clinging fast by his legs, commenced such a furious screeching upon his instrument that the animal made a bound of nearly forty yards every time, Dirk Spattrel playing on like one possessed, until he had not only gained, but was far in advance of his brother riders. Away they all went over hill and dale, the fiddle still shrieking in advance, until the ex- hausted animals fell down panting, and the Dutchmen, tired with their own exertions, and overcome with liquor, dropped asleep where they fell, — for ghosts do sleep as well as mortal men. The next morning there was no one on board at eight o'clock, and Van- derdecken was full of wrath. At last Dirk Spattrel, the fiddler, made his appearance with the remains of his instrument in his hand. " Donder und vind^where are the crew ?" cried Vanderdecken. " All gone off with the natives," replied the fiddler. " I thought as much," roared Vanderdecken, " and now I'll give you something for your good news."" Vanderdecken seized the end of the fore-brace and commenced a most furious attack upon the shoulders of Dirk Spattrel. The blows were given with great apparent force, but there was no sound, it was like buffeting a bag of wind ; notwithstanding Dirk worked round and round, twisting and wincing, and crying, "Ah, yaw, ah!" " Take that, scoundrel ! " cried Vanderdecken, as much out of breath as a ghost could be. " They're coming off now, captain," said Dirk Spattrel, rubbing his shoulders. Jansen and the rest of the crew now made their appearance, lookincr very sheepish. " Where have you been, scoundrels?" " Mynheer Vanderdecken,'' replied Jansen, " the island is peopled with ghosts and goblins, and demons and devils ; one of them seized upon each of us and carried us off tlie Lord knows where." " Fools ! — do you believe in such nonsense as ghosts and spectres ? " replied Vanderdecken, " or do you think me such an ass as to credit you ? "Who ever saw a ghost or spectre ! Stuff, Jansen, stuff— you ouo-ht to be ashamed of yourself." " It's all ^ue, captain ; they came down and ran away with us. Is it not so, men c" " Yaw, ya,w," said the crew, " it's all trne, Captain Vanderdecken ; they leaped with us as high as the moon." " Much higher," cried Dirk Spattrel. " You're a parcel of lying drunken dogs," roared Vanderdecken; " Istop all your leaves — you slia'nt go on shore awain." " We don't want," replied Jansen, " we will never go on shore at such FIRST DISCOVERY OP VAN DEMONS LAND. Ill a place — full of devils — it is really Van Demon's Land ; — we vyill have the fiddle on the forecastle." " Nein," replied Dirk Spattrel, mournfully showing the fragments. " De tyfel," exclaimed Jansen, " dat is the worst of all ; — now, men, we will work hard and get away from this horrid place." " Yaw, yaw," exclaimed the crew. They did work hard ; the sails were repaired, the ship was caulked, their clothes were mended, their stockings were darned, and all was ready. The wind hlew fiercely from offshore, roaring through the woods, and breaking down heavy branches. Vanderdecken held his hand up — " I think there is a light air coming off the land, Jansen — Man tlic capstan." " Only a cat's paw ; it will not fill our sails. Captain Vanderdecken," replied the mate. The gale increased until it was at the height of its fury. The lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the rain came down in toiTents. The wind howled in its rage. " I think we shall have a light pleasant breeze soon," said Vander- decken. Heave round, my lads, a little more of it and we shall do. Hoist blue Peter and fire a gun." A colourless flag, thin as a cobweb, went to the mast-head ; the match w as applied to the gun, which was so honey- combed and worn out, that the smoke came out of it in every direction as if it had been a sieve. The anchor was hove up by the spectre crew ; the sails were set, and once more the phantom-ship was under weigh, once more bounding through the waves to regain her position, and fulfil her everlastino' doom. And as she flew before the hurricane, the crew, gathered together on the forecastle, broke out in the following chorus : — Away, away ! once more away. To beat about by night and day ; With joy, the Demons* land we leave, Again the mountain waves to cleave. With a Ha— Ha— Ha ! Once more the stormy Cape we'll view. Again our fearless toil pursue ; Defy the spirits of the air, Who scoffing bid us to despair. With their Yaw— Yaw— Yaw ! Ha— Ha— Ha 112 FRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. BY BOWMAN TILLER. CHAPTER V. Ben Brailsford lost not a moment in raising the insensible Frank in his arms, and -was about to quit the ground, when he caught sight of the prostrate lieutenant, who now began to recover something like con- sciousness. He hesitated to depart, and that hesitation was fatal to their freedom, for the enemy had rallied, and receiving a strong reinforcement, became in turn the assailants. The allies were beaten back, and in a few minutes Ben and his young charge were prisoners of war under the guard of tlie very soldier who had so shortly before been defeated by the seaman. In their progress to tlie rear they stopped at a dilapidated house near Alcoule, which was occupied as an hospital, and Frank's wound, which was not very serious, was dressed by a surgeon, and the youth recovered. In the same apartment were several wounded officers, amongst whom were General O'Hara and the man who subsequently ruled the destinies of France — Napoleon Buonaparte. But the young midshipman and his gallant protector were not suffered to remain ; they were placed with a number of other prisoners under an escort, and proceeded on towards Paris. At Louviers they were joined by another detachment from Toulon, and amongst them was their old acquaintance Sambo. But the negro was not a prisoner : with the cunning of his race, he had no sooner been captured than he declared himself the servant of Monsieur Polverel, and that being forced into the English service, he was endeavouring to escape. His story was not at first credited ; but being recognised by the younger Robespierre (then acting as the chief of the commissariat before Toulon), who had seen him in Paris, he was released. A plausible tale deceived the Frenchman, and Sambo was sent round to join his master. Ben hailed the black with great glee, and Frank addressed him, expressing regret at his capture ; but the wary negro pretended not to know them, though when they halted for the night, he found means to supply them with provisions, and clean straw to sleep upon. At length they entered Paris, and were met by a revolutionary mob which had just been witnessing the feeding of the guillotine with victims from their own body. The appearance of the prisoners was hailed with loud shouts, and numbers of both sexes rushed forward to wreak their still unsatiated vengeance. Sambo had stood aloof ; but when he saw the extreme danger which his old friends were in, he joined them, fully determined to afford all the protection in his power. The siwht of a black seemed to awaken a still greater degree of excitement amongst the rabble, especially as the negro by his position manifested opposition to their designs. Yells and shouts arose. " A has les noirs ! " "a la lanterne ! " " a la place de Greve ! " " let us see what colour his blood is ! " " an experiment ! an experiment ! " " away with him to the guillotine ! " " we have had no negro yet ! an experiment ! an experiment ! " A desperate rush was made upon them, and both Sambo and the young midshipman were sepai'ated from the rest and borne away by the mob. FRANK HKARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 113 It was perhaps well for Frank that he had been plundered of his uni- form soon after his capture ; for such was the demoniac hatred of the English, that, as an officer, he probably might have been torn to pieces. The negro addressed tliem in their own language, announcing himself a native of San Domingo, employed by Monsieur Polverel, but his voice was drowned in the universal outcry, and then he joined in their shouts of " Vive la Nation ! " sung snatches of revolutionary songs, danced as they danced, and tried by every means to appease their fury. But the wretches wanted to see a black man die ; it promised a new sensation. The mob approached the Hotel de Ville, when their progress was arrested by a tall man who was supported on a post that elevated him so as to be distinctly conspicuous to all. His dr.es3 was shabby in the ex- treme, and on his head he wore the revolutionary cap, but both Frank and the negro instantly recognised Monsieur Polverel. He spoke to the rabble, and in a vehement address that drew down loud applause he approved of their excesses, whilst the mob, to show that they had fresh victims to immolate, thrust forward the negro and the youth, so that lie might see them. Polverel instantly descended, and, rushing amongst the throng, clasped the negro in his arms. " What do you ?" exclaimed he ; " in your just fury the eye of reason is dimmed — is he not a man and a brother ?" and again he embraced him, to the great surprise of the black. " Cease, my friends," continued Pol- verel; " know ye not that deputies have arrived from San Domingo to sit in the great council of the nation ? This is one of them ; I am a member of the Society of ' Les Amis des Noirs,' and know him well." He turned to Sambo, " Pardon, citizen deputy, the zeal of the people." He took the arm of the astonished negro, and pinching it most unmercifully, shouted " Vive le peuple, vive la nation ;" the impressive hint was not lost, for Sambo's voice rose high in chorus. In an instant the scene was changed, the merciless wretches were diverted from their purpose, and the negro whom they would have mur- dered in pastime but for this fortunate intervention was raised upon the shoulders of two stoat men and greeted with cheers of welcome ; they bore him along to the Hotel de Ville. In his joy for deliverance Sambo forgot his young master, but i-t was only for the moment ; and in turning to look for him, he saw that Monsieur Polverel had taken him under his protection, and was leading him away from the throng ; for the French- man had not forgotten the obligation he was under to Frank for savioc him from the fury of an English mob ; he withdrew him cautiously from the dangerous company he was in, and placing the youth under the charge of a friend, followed the rabble in order to perfect the rescue of his servant. The person to whose care Frank was entrusted was an elderly man apparently verging upon sixty years of age, but there was a keenness in his eye and a vivacity in his manner that manifested an active and intel- ligent mind ; his dress was slovenly, but he wore a handsome tri-color sash round his loins, and carried a red cap in his hand. At first he spoke to Frank in French, but something occurring to displease him, he broke out into broad English, and muttered his anathemas against the jause. I lJ-1 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK S OMNIBUS. " You arc an Eugliahman, tlion,'' said Frank, with symptoms of dis- gust which did not escape the other's notice. " Thou art right," returned the man ; " I am an Englishman by birth, but a citizen of tlie world — a friend to the whole human race on the principles of universal liberty. Expatriated and driven from my country, this noble and enlightened nation has adopted me ; and here in brotherly affection I can carry out into practice my theory of the rights of man. What is life, my young friend, without the blessings of freedom !" At this moment a municipal officer, attended by three or four subordi- nates, stepped up to Frank's companion, and, grasping him by the arm, uttered " Citizen Paine, you are our prisoner." " By whose authority ? " demanded the Englishman, his face assuming a deadly paleness. " The authority is here," returned the officer, showing a paper with the signature of Robespierre attached to it, and, a fiacre immediately stopping by their side, citizen Paine was hurried into it and driven off to tlie Luxembourg, where, in the chamber which had been occupied by many a victim to the revolutionary mania, he contemplated the paternal regard of the nation that had adopted him, and sighed for the blessing of that freedom of wliich he had so vainly boasted. He had sat in judgment on the mock trial of the unfortunate Louis, but had given his vote against the monarch's death. This had rendered the ambitious dictator his enemy, and an opportunity was soon sought to take his life. The egotistical boasting of Thomas Paine afforded a pretext for arresting him ; he was sent to prison, and would have been sacrificed by " his friends" but for an accident which saved him. Frank, hungry and thirsty, destitute of money, and but with few rao-s to cover him, now stood alone in one of the by-streets of Paris. As evening came on, he crept into the cellar-way of an uninhabited house. At daylight he emerged from his concealment, and proceeded in the same direction in which he had been going when parted from his guide. It was yet early when, on turning a corner, he beheld a well-looking young man, accompanied by a stout Amazonian female, who were hurrying for- ward, but, on seeing the youth, suddenly stopped, and Frank felt his arm grasped by the woman, whilst a chuckle of delight escaped from the young man, who uttered in a whisper — " Yah no for peak-a me, Massa Frank, hearee ? Dere him, massa, for me behind — tan liTIy bit become for you." Frank stared with astonishment — the voice was that of Sambo, but the skin was fair. "How — what is this?" demanded he. " Oil, it's all ship-shape enough, Master Frank," said the woman in a masculine tone, and hitching up her petticoats in true nautical style. " I'm bless'd, young gentleman, but you do shake a cloth or two in the wind — but there, what's the odds so as you're happy ? Mountseer Pul- thebell is coming up astarn, and a precious cruise they've had arter you." "Yah no for tand palaver here. Missy Ben," muttered Sambo, with a grin of mirth. " Golly me black deputy now, and dem debbil take off white head at 'em guUemtine, no sabby de citizen nigger," and he pushed forward with his companion. FRANK HEART well; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. J 15 In spite of all his mishaps Frank could not refrain from laughing at the awkwardness of the pretended female, who straddled along with swinging arms, the petticoats evidently emharrassing the wearer. In a few minutes the youth was joined by Monsieur Polverel, who cautioned him to preserve silence and follow his movements. Shortly afterwards he stopped before the entrance of a mean-looking building, and knocking at the door, was immediately admitted. Frank followed, and was ushered into an apartment poorly furnished, where he found Sambo and the seaman, and learned that Polverel, by means of his influence and some little intrigue, had procured Ben's release, and disguised in woman's clothes, under the guidance of Sambo, whose face was concealed beneath a mask, had got him clear away from present danger. Refreshment was ordered, and Polverel led Frank through the house to some back premises, where the apartments were fitted up in the most elegant style, everything displaying an air of luxury which strongly con- trasted with the appearance of the front building, which served as a blind to the populace, who had declared a lasting enmity to all things beyond their own sphere of enjoyment, though themselves were the principal sufferers through the want of demand for their manufactures and the con- sequent stoppage of industrious labour. Here Frank and Ben remained, and Polverel renewed his attempts to undermine the youth's loyalty ; he took him with him to the clubs ; offers of lucrative appointments were made, powerful inducements were held out, but all were firmly rejected. He loved his country too well to swerve from his allegiance ; his heart yearned to see his mother once again ; but had there not been these incentives, the horrible atrocities he had witnessed were too deeply impressed upon his mind to permit a willing companion- ship with the wretches who perpetrated and sanctioned them. In his evening excursions Frank had frequently encountered a tall man whose features were familiar to him, and more than once or twice he had observed him enter the house of Monsieur Polverel. An indefinable curiosity induced him to watch this man, and being on one occasion in a remote part of the room, when he and the deputy came in, he remained perfectly still and undiscovered, and was not long in ascertaining by their conversation that the stranger was an Englishman in the pay of the Jacobins, and had brought over some important intelligence relative to the designs of the English government, which he was now in a traitorous manner betraying to the enemy. Frank scarcely suppressed an indignant exclamation, but fortunately he did suppress it, and rose to quit the room. This was the first in- timation they had of his presence, and as he passed the spy the youth looked boldly in his face. In an instant the man's countenance underwent a change; there was the peculiar rolling of the eye which Frank had never forgotten, and lawyer Brady was revealed before him. The young midshipman now resolved to attempt an escape, and Pol- verel finding that all his endeavours to detain him were useless, at last furnished him with the means. Stores were about to be forwarded to the Army of the North, and it was proposed that the seaman and his young ofiicer should accompany them ; the former habited as a Dutchwoman, i2 116 GliOllGE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. the latter as a volunteer, taking their chance to slip away wherever and whenever they could ; but the very night these arrangements were com- pleted, Polverel was seized by order of his friend, Eobespierre, a sham trial was hurried over, and the next day he was consigned to the guillotine. Frank did not delay another instant (for he was aware that the pro- perty of the deputy would be plundered by the populace), and being provided with the papers furnished by Polverel, set out on his journey, accompanied by Ben in short petticoats, wooden shoes, and a large hat ; his whiskers were shaved off, but he would not part with his tail, and it was therefore braided up round his head, and a fine buxom vrow he made. Sambo had no inducement to remain behind ; so securing what money he could find, and taking his fiddle, he joined his young master, and all three proceeded on their way. The stores for the army were not ready, and they, therefore, resolved to travel as " independent" characters. In the evening they stopped at a small village, about thirty miles from Paris, and entering the kitchen of a cabaret, they ordered supper; but finding they were objects of notice, Frank directed Sambo to tune his violin, and he chanted forth a chansonette with much taste and feeling, to the great gratification of several young demoiselles, who honoured the performance with applause, and pronounced it " bien bon !" Sambo next struck up a lively tune, and footing it first to one and then to another, the company caught up the humour, and to dancing they went with great glee. Frank, selecting a pretty little girl for a partner, joined in the sport ; and Ben, in short, quilted, red petticoats, nearly up to his knees — his stout sustainers covered with blue worsted stockings and heavy sabots — with a tight-fitting woman's jacket and red necker- chief as a body-dress, and his pipe raised in the air, footed it merrily enough to Sambo and his violin. Frank, in a jacket with silver lace on the collar and cuffs, and diminutive worsted epaulettes on the shoulders — striped gingham trousers, and a tri-color sash round his loins, wheeled with grace and agility through the mazy figures with his beautiful little partner. She was tastefully arrayed in a white frock, embroidered with flowers, (for it was the festival of her tutelar saint,) and her hair was wreathed with vine-leaves, jasmine, and roses. Several young females, who had come to visit her on the occasion, were clad in their best attire, and, as a matter of course, the youths of the neighbourhood had joined them after their day's labour ; and now they were all in motion, till dark night put an end to the revelry ; and the trio, accommodated in a barn, soon forgot their cares and their pleasures in sweet, refreshing sleep. The next morning the three quitted the cabaret — at the door they were accosted by a gendarme ; but the youth told his ready tale, showed his papers, and they received no further molestation. Numerous were their adventures as they progressed — sometimes in extreme danger of detection — at others, enjoying themselves in perfect confidence. Two days they passed in the woods without food, journeying only by night. At length they abandoned the direct road, and kept away to the left for the coast ; hoping to reach some place in the neighbourhood of Blank- enberg, a fishing village on the sea-shore. This they accomplished, and arrived about midnight on tlie beach, which they crept along, at some ■ ^7.j//,/-. -^Kr/. ,^//,/ ^yp///Ai ^////:/^///y r/,- o './^i. PRANK IIEARTWELL; OB, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 117 distance from the vessels, lest tliey should be detected. Not a boat to suit their purpose could they find at liberty — all were fast secured by chains, and their oars removed, as if some such visitation as the present had been feared. In this dilemma they cautiously returned to the village, and searched amongst the cottages ; but here they were again doomed to disappointment, and were about to retreat to some place of concealment till the following night, when the sound of voices was heard in a small cabin, and Frank, stealthily approaching to listen, at length got near enough to a chink in the window to see the interior, and ascertained that an Englishman, with two females, was endeavouring, by the offer of a considerable sum, to bribe three or four fishermen to convey them either to Holland or to England. The men at first seemed disinclined to listen to any proposals that might bring upon them the vengeance of the police, and they talked of surrendering them to the authorities. " That will at once seal my doom!" exclaimed the Englishman, in agony. " Have not the wretches denounced me, because of the money they owed me, and their base designs upon my child ? Oh, God ! do thou appear for me in this trying moment ! " The fishermen consulted together in whispers, whilst the females clung to the Englishman ; and Frank ascertained by their discourse that the elder lady was the wife, and the younger the daughter, of the man. Again the latter earnestly urged his appeal to their generosity, their humanity, and every better principle of human nature — the ladies, too, joined their entreaties. Frank was half-tempted to the hazardous expe- riment of bringing up his companions and forcing them into compliance. At length the fishermen consented to embark them for Holland, or any place occupied by the Allies, on condition that they gave up all the money and every valuable in their possession previously to their departure, and insured a still further sura on reaching a place of safety. Elated at tlie prospect of escape, the terms were immediately complied with ; and now- Frank became aware of the extreme danger he should have incurred had he attempted to attack them, for whilst the Englishman and the females were divesting themselves of their cash and every valuable they had, three other athletic men came from an inner apartment — making seven in all — to claim their share of the spoil. As soon as the division had taken place, they departed to launch their boat, commanding the Englishman and the ladies to remain quietly in the cottage till they were sent for. Frank concealed himself in an adjacent shed, occupied by his companions, till they were gone. " It's all plain enough, young genTman," whispered Ben ; " they will get the great vessel afloat — come ashore in the punt for the passen- gers — we must seize on her, shove off, and capture the big craft — then take the ladies on board, and make sail for the North Foreland — though the wind is dead again us ; but what's the odds — " " That," interrupted Frank, " could only be effected by leaving our countryman and the ladies behind ; an idea I will not for one moment entertain. Remain here — ^if I want you, I will whistle— then come without delay." The youth returned to the cottage, and addressing the gentleman in French, he acknowledged that he had overlieard their scheme, and ear- 118 GEOKGE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBOS. nestly implored him to permit himself, a female servant, and a negro, to embark in the same vessel, provided tliey could gain the consent of the crew. The gentleman steadfastly refused — " he would not endanger his own safety by acceding to it." Eather mortified at being thus harshly treated — especially as he knew that he might ensure his own safety by leaving them behind — Frank would have answered indigi.antly, but he preferred remonstrance, avowed himself a royalist desirous of joining the Allies, and assured him that no danger could occur by giving his consent. The man continued inflexible, till the ladies, won by the youth's earnestness, interceded, and an unwilling assent was obtained. The light of coming day had become visible when one of the fishermen returned, and great was his apparent vexation to find other suppliants for a passage in the vessel. However, he ofiered but slight objection, and in a few minutes they were all down on the beach. Here a difficulty arose as to their embarkation. Tlie punt would carry no more than two pas- sengers beside the men that pulled, and the gentleman was unwilling to leave either his wife or his daughter behind, nor would the females consent to go without him. " Do not fear," said one of the fishermen. " Time is precious with us — we ought to be all on board now ; and rely upon it we are not such fools as to leave any one behind to betray our movements." The latter argument was the most conclusive, and the gentleman embarked with his wife, leaving his daughter to the care of Frank, who spoke soothingly to her, and tried to allay her alarm j he took off his jacket and wrapped it round her shoulders, as a protection from the cold air, and in her fear she clung to his arm whilst he supported her. The punt was not long away — all were soon aboard — the anchor was weighed, and they hauled off from the shore. The father with the females took up his station abaft, whilst Frank and his party occupied the mid- ships, and the seaman and the negro were soon fast asleep ; but the young midshipman's thoughts were too pleasantly occupied by his escape, and tlie prospects of an interview with his mother, to compose himself tc slumber. Another object too now presented itself ; it was the fair young creature who had so confidingly clung to him on the beach. However, to prevent observation, and the better to indulge in meditation, he closed his eyes, and pretended to be oblivious to all that passed. Whilst thus reclining, he overheard a sort of muttered conversation between two of the fisliermen which, though ho could only catch disjointed sentences, apprised him that treachery was at work ; and he now readily understood the reason that greater obstruction had not been offered to the embarkation. The crew doubted the promise to receive further recompense, and expect- ing to be rewarded for delivering them up as prisoners, had come to the determination of making for a French port. Frank's ears tingled whilst listening io this avowal of abominable treachery, but he cautiously abstained from exciting any suspicion that he was aware of their designs. He determined to watch them narrowly, and when opportunity offered, he got close to Ben, who, on making a tack to windward, had roused up, and without mentioning particulars, told him " they were betrayed unless they could master the crew, and directed him to be ready for an attack at FRANK BEABXWELL ; OR, I'U'TY VliARS AGO. 119 a moment's warning." He then briefly conveyed a similar communica- tion to Sambo, and vainly tried to catch the eye of the gentleman abaft for the purpose of inciting him to wariness. The breeze was to the northward, with a lee tide running, so that, though apparently working to windward between the sands and the shore, they were rapidly drifting down towards Ostend, which was then in the hands of the French. Ben comprehended the whole of this in an instant, and saw, what the others, from their want of nautical know- ledge, did not observe, that the helmsman frequently edged off from the wind, so as to facilitate their approach to Ostend, which was soon upon their lee-bow, and the boat standing for the harbour. The gentleman, wholly insensible to the danger which threatened them, sat between his wife and daughter, and was speaking words of cheering import, relative to their being rescued from the enemy, and the prospect of soon enjoying the comforts of their native land. Everything was per- fectly tranquil in the vessel, which was lightly dancing over the smooth waters and breaking the sun-light upon its surface. He also remarked upon the quietude of their fellow-passengers, and even ventured a joke upon the apparently solid countenance of the Dutchwoman, when suddenly — in an instant, as if madness ruled the moment, they saw her spring to her feet, and, grasping the pump-brake in her hand, she flourished it right and left, laying a fisherman prostrate at every blow. Sambo also grap- pled an opponent, whom he lifted over the gunwale, hurled into the sea and then attacked another, whilst Frank rushed aft to the steersman, shouting to the gentleman, " We are Englishmen, it is . a French port under our lee, and we are betrayed ; for the sake of those you love — hurrah ! — do not remain inactive." Nothing could exceed the amazement of the gentleman at this wholly unexpected occurrence, and his astonishment was still more increased when the supposed Dutch woman, came bounding aft, flourishing her weapon, and shouting in the nautical language of his native land, as he hurled the steersman from his place, — " Ware hause, you lubber — what's the odds, so as you're happy ? " and taking the tiller, he put the vessel right before the wind. " Bear a hand, Master Frank," continued Ben, " and keep her as she goes : and I'm saying, ould gentleman, jist you show yourself smart, and let 'em know as you've a little English blood in your veins. Hurrah ! — what's the odds ?" — and again he rushed forward to assist Sambo, who was stoutly contesting it with his foes. British prowess triumphed — the struggle, though severe, did not last long — the Blankenbergers were conquered ; the punt was cast adrift for those who were swimming — the remainder were bound hand and foot ; the sails were trimmed to stand off from the land ; and great indeed was the gratitude of the husband and the father, and still more delightful were the acknowledgments of the ladies, when they ascertained the great service that had been rendered to them. Mutual explanations ensued — hearty congratulations were given ; and in the afternoon they fell in witli an English brig which received them all on board. The fishermen, after a sound ropeVending for their treachery, had their vessel restored ; and the rescued party were the next morning gratified by entering the river Thames. 120 "S?^ THE MUFFIN-MAN. A LITTLE man who muffins sold. When I was little too, Carried a face of giant mould, But tall he never grew. His arms were legs for strength and size. His coat-tail touch'd his heels ; His brows were forests o'er his eyes, His voice like waggon-wheels. When fallen leaves together flock, And gusts begin to squall, And suns go down at six o'clock. You heard his muffin call. Born in the equinoctial blast. He came and shook his bell ; And with the equinox he pass'd, But whither none could tell. Some thought the monster tura'd to dew. When muffins ceased to reign, And lay in buds the summer through Till muffin-time again. Or Satyr, used the woods to rove. Or ev'n old Caliban ; Drawn by the lure of oven-stove To be a muffin-man. The dwarf was not a churlish elf. Who thought folks stared to scoff ; But used deformity Itself To set his muffins off. He stood at doors, and talk'd with cooks, While strangers took his span. And grimly smiled with childhood's looks At him, the muffin-man. When others fled from nipping frost. And fled from drenching skies. And when in fogs the street was lost. You saw his figure rise. One night his tinkle did not sound, He fail'd each 'custom'd door ; 'Twas first of an eternal round Of nights he walk'd no more. When, borne in arms, my infant eye The restless search began, The nursery-maid was wont to cry, " See John, the muffin-man ! " My path, with things familiar spread. Death's foot had seldom cross'd ; And when they said that John was dead, I stood in wonder lost. New muffin-men from lamp to lamp. With careless glance I scan ; For none can ever raze thy stamp. Oh John, thou muffin-man ! Thoustandestsnatch'dfromtime and storm, A statue of the soul ; And round thy carved and goblin foim. Past days — past days unroll. We will not part— Affection dim This song shall help to fan ; And Memory, firmer bound to him. Shall keep her Muffin-man. 121 A TIGER-HUNT IN ENGLAND. " Who has lot loose my tiger ? " demanded Sir Pimpleton Pettibones of his butler, whom he had summoned to the breakfast parlour by the sound of the bell in a manner that indicated great impatience. " Who has dared to let him loose ? I locked him up last night for robbing the larder, and this morning he is missing ; where is he ?" The butler obsequiously bowed. " Extremely sorry. Sir Pimpleton ; but really. Sir Pimpleton, I am ignorant and innocent of the whole affair." " Somebody must have let him out," responded the irascible baronet, " and I shall be too late for the meet. Let search be instantly made — such a tiger as that is not to be caught every day." The butler bowed and withdrew ; whilst his master, arrayed in a scarlet hunting-coat, sat down to his repast, venting imprecations upon the tiger, whom he declared it was his determination to catch before he should accomplish further mischief. This happened at a beautiful mansion in Kent, whither Sir Pimpleton had gone down for the hunting season, taking his tiger (who was a great favourite") with him. Whilst the search was still in progress, word was brought to the baronet that the " creature" had been seen early that morning in the stable-yard, and a beautiful swift-footed pony was missing, which — as the tiger had shown great partiality to horse-flesh — ^it was supposed he had made away with. " Hillio — hillio ! — quick — saddle every horse in the stables," shouted the baronet, " we'll scour the country — the game is up — hark forward — hark forward ! — yoicks, tally ho ! " and away he went with grooms and keepers down to the stalls, where he himself saddled his best hunter, and in a few minutes he was flying away across the park, with a long strag- gling tail like a comet after him, towards the village. " Have you seen my tiger?" demanded the baronet, reining up his gallant steed in front of the Pettibones Arms, and addressing the land- lord — a red, platter-faced man of some seventeen stone ; " have you seen him ? he broke cover and stole away this morning — he must be prowling somewhere about — have you seen him ?" " Lor love yer honour, no," responded mine host, with a grin of astonish- ment and stupidity. " Them tigers are thirsty sowls ; but he's never been here to drink." " Hillio, hillio !" shouted Sir Pimpleton, as his attendants came riding up, " handle your whips and follow me ; " and dismounting, he entered the hostelry, where the good dame was busy in culinary operations. " Where's my tiger ?" was again the cry. " He's crouching somewhere here." " Now laws ha' mercy upon us, I hope not, yer honour !" exclaimed the old dame in dreadful alarm. " What, a real tiger, yer honour ? Be em a live un or a stuffed un ? " " Fool !" vociferated the baronet, " a live one to be sure, with large goggle eyes and a fang tooth. I must find his lair." The entire premises were examined, but the tiger was not there. " To horse, to horse," commanded tlie baronet, to the great relief of the 122 GEORGE CRUIKSHANK's OM.MllUS. old lady ; " and hark ye, dame, if he should come here, shut him up directly, and let me know. Away, my men, away." Sir Pimpleton ruslied forth, mounted his horse, and away he scoured like a madman, or what is next of kin to a madman, a hreak-neck squire. " Jeamos, Jeames," called the hostess as soon as the cavalcade had departed, " come in, Jeames, fasten the door, and get thees blunderbusk, and load un wi' bullocks" (bullets probably), "and if so be the crittur comes this way, shoot un, Jeames — shoot un without benefit of clargy." On rode the baronet full pelt, and tailing after him followed half-a- dozen attendants in scarlet coats and black velvet caps. The coverts were tried, every nook was searched, but without eiFect, and they soon after- wards entered another village. "My tiger! my tiger!" exclaimed the baronet as he burst into the first cottage, which contained a female with five or six children playing and sprawling about the floor. " Have you seen the tiger ? he has broke loose, and cannot be far ofiF." "The tiger!" repeated the woman, terribly alarmed for the safety of her infants, which she speedily gathered up and thrust into a capacious closet. " Oh dear, what shall we do!" The cottage was searched, as wore also several others, to the great consternation of the villagers. Then arose the cries of mothers for " Johnnies " and " Billies" and " Kitties" and " Sukies " and " Tommies," to collect the stray lambs of the fold, or, in other words, the toddling children that were playing on the green ; and in a few minutes not a soul of that population was to be seen. A turnpike was close at hand, and thither Sir Pimpleton galloped ; and after a few words with the 'pikeman, his sonorous voice was heard. " Hillio — hillio ! — stole away — hark forward — hark forward !" and clap- ping spurs to his steed, onwards they pressed, flying over hedges and ditches to make a short cut. Now it so happened that the hounds of a neighbouring squire were out, and as the muster at the meet was pretty strong, and Sir Pimpleton was well known for an eccentric, several members of the hunt rode up and inquired " what game they liad started ? " " A tiger ! a tiger ! " shouted the baronet ; " we're hard upon him — hark forward — yoicks — tally ho ! " A tiger-hunt in England was something new in the annals of sporting ; and though they thought it strange to chase the animal without dogs, yet they were aware that Sir Pimpleton had passed many years in the East Indies, and probably accustomed to the sport, they concluded it was " all right ;" and desirous of witnessing the novelty, many joined in the pursuit, amongst whom was the master of the hounds and his pack. The cavalcade drew near a large town, and in they dashed, the baronet still shouting, out of breath, " The tiger ! — the tiger ! Have you seen my Ben — g-g-gal ? " The words were quickly caught up ; and the announce- ment that a fierce Bengal tiger was adrift in the town spread like wildfire. 'J'he tradesmen shut up their shops ; the inhabitants fastened their doors ; there was a brief running to and fro in terror, but the streets were speedily cleared ; and from many an up-stairs window was protruded a blunderbuss, a fowling-piece, or a pistol, the proprietors of which were A TIQKR-HUNT IN ENGLAND. 123 eagerly intent upon destroying tlie furious animal, though some few even thus elevated scarcely considered themselves safe from his bound. The cry of the hounds, the shouting of the hunters, tlie rattling of horses' hoofs upon the stones, and the wailings of women, with the cheers of the men, produced a clamour such as had never before been heard in that place. Mothers clasped their children and concealed them in beaufets, or- turned them up in press-bedsteads — fathers armed themselves with defen- sive weapons, and a body of volunteers mustered in the inn yard with loaded muskets, taking good care however to keep the gates shut. "Have you seen the tiger?" was still the cry j and Sir Pimpleton having obtained some information, " Stole away — liark forward," was again the word. They shot up Shooter's-hill without stopping to breathe, and when on the brow, an animal, with apparently a blood-red back, was seen scouring towards Blackheath. The baronet, with the lungs of a northerly gale, uttered the " view halloo," which was caught up and repeated by the rest. The hounds gave tongue and made play. It was a beautiful burst. The whip and spur were plied. The steeds, though jaded, knew well by instinct that the " warmint" was in sight, and kept up their speed, and down the hill they swept like a mountain torrent. But the tiger was not to be easily caught. There was no jungle or hollow to hide in, and away he scudded over the heath with great velocity, as if sensible that the enemy was behind him. Once he was missed, and it was supposed had run to earth in a sand-pit ; but the next moment he was seen on the other side climbing the bank to shorten his distance, and in a few minutes he was over the brow of the hill past the Green Man, and descending at a tremendous rate. The hunters followed hard upon him, the hounds in full cry, and again rose the shout from a dozen voices — " The tiger ! the tiger ! " But the tiger had disappeared amongst the horses, and they had now no clue to his advance, except from the amazed spectators, who hastily cleared the road at the novel and somewhat alarm- ing spectacle. "The tiger! the chase!" exclaimed Sir Pimpleton. Tliree or four hands were extended to point out the direction he had taken ; and those who had not " dropped off ' still followed the hounds. Away they rattled through the Broadway, Deptford, amidst cries and cheers of '' Go it, you'll catch him directly. Hurrah ! " And they once more caught sight of the tiger on the line of road towards New Cross. Cheerily again sounded the " view halloo," — the animal seemed to be sensible that his pursuers were spurring in hot haste after him — the turn- pike-men enjoyed the sport and threw open their gates — hounds and horses, and men rattled through — the Bricklayers' Arms, the Elephant and Castle, Westminster-bridge, saw them rush past like a whirlwind, the tiger still in advance ; nor did the chase cease till the baronet's town mansion, close to St. James's Park, was reached. A reeking pony stood at the door, which was open. Sir Pimpleton dismounted, cheering the hunters on — the game was all alive ; the whole threw themselves from their horses, and hounds and men following, the baronet bounced into the drawing-room, where Lady Pettibones was receiving morning visits from dashing young spinsters and elderly dowagers. 124 GEORGE CRJIKSriANK''s OMNIBUS. " Tlic tiger — my tiger," exclaimed Sir Pimpletoii, in a wild and loiid voice, " he has broke loose, and is now in the house." Dreadful was the consternation at this announcement — a mouse crossing tlie floor would have been terrific, but to have a savage and sanguinary tiger ranging about, the ihought was horrible. Shrieks and screams abounded — some ladies threw themselves into the arms of the gentlemen, others ran hurriedly about, and many, in their terror, could not distinguish between the ferocious animal and a hound, so as to tell " vich vos the tiger and vich vos the dog." At length, one of the whippers-in rushed through the door-way, exclaiming " We've got him, your honour, they're bringing him along." The confusion grew tenfold. Screams and shrieks mingled with the loud cheers of the hunters, and the mouthing of the liounds, when a couple of grooms appeared, dragging in a diminutive being in a scarlet jacket, buckskin tights, and white top-boots, with several dirty and ragged fish hanging by a long string in his hand; they placed him in the middle of the floor right before the baronet, and it was with difficulty that the' hounds could be kept off. " You rascal," vociferated Sir Pimpleton, raising his whip, " what do you mean by leading me such a dance ! Didn't I lock you up for thieving —didn't I ?" " ^y ys^i your honour," responded this perfect miniature of man ; " but afore that, you ordered me to carry a bundle o' red-herrings to town, and give this here letter to deliver to her ladyship, and, when I came back, to bring down the cab ; so I only obeyed orders." He held up the letter, and whilst trying to conceal the tattered fish, he looked smirkingly in the baronet's face, and added, " I say, your honour, that 'ere pony 's worth his weight in gowld." " Be oft' then, and take eyery care of him," said the more appeased baronet, looking at the fish and laughing. The lad, winking at the grooms, waited for no further orders. " And now, ladies and gentlemen," con- tinued Sir Pimpleton, " that is Ben Gall, my tiger. Men, take off the hounds ; we have had a capital run, gentlemen, which, no doubt, must have given you good appetites. Your horses shall have every attention — refreshment shall be immediately brought up for yourselves — a bumper of brandy round shall open the entertainment, and since we are all here together, why we''ll wind up the day like true sons of Nimrod after au EngUsh Tiger Hunt." OMNIBUS CHAT. (JuR monthly chat commences with a short dissertation on a very ample topic INGENIOUS ROGUERIES. It may be remarked by any one who chooses to note the fact, that the most ingenious rogueries are seldom those which succeed best. The deep-laid scheme will often explode of itself ; the right hand that never lost its cunning will some- times miss its reward ; the genius of knavery will walk barefoot, with an appetite as keen as itself ; while the common bungler, the blundering rascal, the scoundrel who is idiot also, shall succeed in all his stupid, shallow, contemptible designs, and OMNIBOS CHAT. ]25 ride home to dinner quite convinced that, though not strictly honest, he is astonish- ingly clever, or talented — for that is, in these cases, the more orthodox word. It is not the most skilful burglar that safely worms his way to the butler's pantry, or insinuates with most success his hand into the plate-chest ; nor is it the most dexterous picker of pockets who is permitted longest to ply his art, or earliest retires upon a Pelion of purses piled upon an Ossa of bandannas. The blockheads in this, as in some other professions, often carry oif the palm. " Whom the gods love die young." The thief of high and cultivated talent, the swindler of fine taste and exquisite discernment, is frequently destined to suflfer early the fate which considerably later overtakes the fool. Somehow the world does not do justice even to its rogues. It refuses to be taken in by the profound rascal, while it readily falls a victim to the veriest dunce in the great School for Scoundrels. While we see so many expert horsemen break ng the necks of their nags, or throwing involuntary summersets ; — while we observe how exiremely careful, and how eminently well skilled, is every captain of every steamer that happens to figure in a horrible collision in broad day-light ; — while we are called upon to bear witness to the excessive caution and singular scientific proficiency of every soul associated with a railway ; and have to notice besides that all their care, and all their science, has invariably been exercised whenever a frightful accident may have happened upon their beat; — these failures of roguish talent, and misfortunes of accomplished knavery, cease to be peculiarly wonderful. This remark has been suggested by observing the signal failure of a rather ingenious device, put forth in the form of an advertisement in some of the daily papers. It is an invitation to everybody who may chance to possess "unstamped receipts" for sums above £5, to communicate with the advertiser, who is, of course, to reward the production of such documents ! Any simple person would suppose — as there are very droll specimens of collectors yet alive — more curious by far than any of the curiosities they collect — collectors of turnpike tickets, and of complete sets of checks for readmission to the Opera for eleven successive seasons ! — that here was a gentleman who had taken a fancy for collecting a perfect set of un- stamped receipts from the year 1800 to the present time. A little reflection, however, would show that his object might be to lay informations against the parties who had signed them. The design has been penetrated into still further; for it appears that all parties showing such receipts put themselves in the power of the advertiser, as being equally liable with the signers for accepting them uristamped ! Yes, we are bound to say that here was considerable ingenuity exercised. Here was a stone flung that seemed sure to kill two birds. 'I he possessor of such a document was more than likely to be tempted to show it, by the reward of one sovereign ; which the other party could well afford to pay out of the many sove- reigns extracted in the shape of penalty from the said producer's pocket — to say nothing of the same amount drawn from the signer of the receipt. Since the coaxing cry of " Biddy, come and be killed" was first raised, no more seductive snare has been conceived. "I have assembled you," said the considerate proprietor of live stock in the story, " I have assembled you, my pretty birds, to learn from you what sauce you would like to be eaten with." " But we don't want to be eaten," said the birds with one voice. " You wander from the point," was the answer. So, perhaps, would the collector of unstamped receipts have said to tl e producers. '• 1 have assembled you here to know what you would like to pay me in lieu of the penalty you have incurred." " But we don't want to pay any penalty." " You wander from the point." We have all heard the most scandalous and groundless stories about lawyers; — of opinions delivered concerning the genuineness of a half sovereign, followed by the deduction of six-and-eightpence for the advice; — of thirteen-andfourpence charged for " attending, consulting, and advising," when the occasion was a splendid dinner given by the client — followed by a demand on the angry client's part for wine had and consumed — and this succeeded in turn by an information against the said client for selling wine without a licence. These, and a thousand such libels, we can all remember ; but the reality above recorded is at least as striking as the most ingenious of such fictions. 126 GEORGE CKUIKSHANK S OMNIBUS. To contrast with the non-success of this wily experiment upon a grand scale, we may cite an instance of equal ingenuity, exercised in a much humbler walk, and taking the form of knavery in its mixed character. We distinctly remember it to have happened. The scene may be a seaport, or the banks of the Thatnes below bridge. A seaman, bearing a huge stone bottle, applies at the Nelson's Head for a gallon of whisky for Captain Kope of the Matilda, lying off shore — to fill up the bottle already half full. The spirit is duly poured in, and the cash demanded. "Oh! the capp'n said nothen about that" — the whisky was to be added to his account, and that was all he knew. But "mine host" did not know the captain well enough, and couldn't let the whisky go. The gallon was there- fore poured back again into the landlord's measure, and set aside to be called for. yo far there appeared to be no knavery at all ; but the spirit so poured back, presently turned out to be, not whisky, but excellent one-water grog ; for the two- gallon botile of the sailor contained exactly one gallon of pure water when it was brought in", and one gallon of pure whisky and water when it was taken out. The means in this, as in myriads of cases, are curiously disproportioned to the end. How miserably poor is the prize, considered in reference to the risk ; to the cleverness in the invention of the stratagem ; to the address demanded for the due execution of it, to the time consumed, the troulje taken, the agencies employed ! Hut the truth is, that the very cleverest rascals are rarely more than half-cunning. The ablest of knaves must be at best half a blockhea-.l. When we remember how the great Bardolph, having stolen a lute-case, " carried it twelve miles and sold it for three halt-pence," the perilous, profitless, toilsome, half-witted nature of roguery needs no illustration. One would like to have seen him walking back, thirsty and way-wearied, under a broiling sun, and never sure but that the lady who once owned the lute-case might be walking that way too ! That famous exploit of Master iiardolph's ought to be registered in large letters over every judgment-seat, and on the door of every police-office. The record would save much judicial breath, and supersede volumes of admonition. Shakspeare's illustrations of Vice might possibly have led us into a dissertation at least as long upon Shakspeare's illustrations of Virtue, Imt that the learned Dr. Bulgardo here honoured our humble vehicle with his presence, and called general attention to a contrast equally striking, under the following title : — THE SISTER SCIENCES; or, BOTANY AND HORTICULTURE. By Dh. BULGABDO, L.S.D., Treasurer of several Learned Soeieties, and Professor of Asparagus at the University of Battersea. HORTIC0LTURE. TO MOILY, WITH A BiVSKBT OF FRUIT AND VEGETABLES. Nay I say not shrivell'd — 'tis despair Has thus subdued them, for they see That in themselves however fair. They'll ne'er be relish'd, love, like thee 1 A deeper blush the Raspberry paints, Pale is the ruddy Beetroot's lip ; And e'en the red-cheek'd Apple faints. As though it suffer'd from the pip. Severely frown the Baking Pears ; The Artichoke's bold crest is down ; The awe-struck Medlar wildly stares To see thy cheek a swarthier brown. The icy Cucumber is hot. The freckled Cauliflower wan ; The Mushroom has no longer got A single leg to stand upon ! See how the rich, round-shoulder'd Figs Bow to thy figure's graceful swell ; The sobbing Orange bursts its pigs To find thee such a Nonpareil ! TO MARY, WITH A BUNCH OF FLOWERS- Nay ! say not faded — 'tis despair Has thus subdued them, for they see That in themselves however fair. They ne'er can hope to equal thee ! The Rose's joyous blush has fled, With which no other lip could vie ; The Heartsease turns aside its head. Fearing to meet thy deep-blue eye. More sad the Myrtle's hue appears. The Jasmine's silver star is dim ; Surpass'd by thee, thou seest the tears That tremble on the Harebell's brim. The Woodland Lily's silver cup Was never seen to droop as now. It dares not lift its flowerets up To gaze upon thy gentle brow. How canst thou look thus calmly on, And watch them slowly die the while .' Recal them yet, ere life oe gone, Enchantress, with thy sunny smile ' OMNIBUS CHAT. I'J j ■Tlie Sister Sciences, female Siamese twins, having vanishal from the scene our correspondent, Mr. H . G. Adams, presented a second specimen of his curious" PHOTOGENIC PICTURES: A SCENE NEAR FOLKSTONE. LFolkstone vim maile, aays tradition, of the " odds and ends" left after the rest of the world was finished ; and any one who has visited that Jumble of heights and hollows, becomes impressed with the convietion tliat tradition sometimes speaks the truth.] Some weather-beaten men with clothes all tar-ry, Keeping a sharp look-out upon the ocean, And little Tom, and Jack, and Bill, and Harry, Making upon the beach a dire commotion, — Dabbling, like dab-chicks, in the billows briny, Hunting for crabs, and other things crustaceous, While a Newfoundland dog, in sport called •' Tiny," Wags his huge bushy tail, and looks sagacious : Here wades a shrimper to his waist in water, There swims a bather, snorting like a grampus ; And lo ! James Muddle, with his wife and daughter, All in a boat, and crying out, " Don't swamp us ! " Far in the offing you may see a cutter. Her white sails gleaming like the sea-gull's pinions, — She means to overhaul that craft, with butter Laden, and cheese, from swampy Scheldt's dominions; I shouldn't wonder if Schiedam — however. That's not my business ; — turn our glances landward, There's Farley in his garden — well, I never ! — A-talking down the chimney, to my landlord ; He says, " I see you've got some greens for dinner, "And pickled pork," but can't say more for coughing ; That smoke just serves hino right — the prying sinner! He's always jeering folks, and at them scoffing : White cliflFs, and houses, underneath and over. And roads that seem to lead to regions airy — Old boats converted into roofs, that cover Buildings, in shape and size that greatly vary, Denote the place, which popular believings Point out as being made offends and leavings. Here we were reminded by a particularly ample, and unprecedentedly flaring wood cut, borne on an appropriate pole past the vehicle, and intended to describe the indescribable effects of the fire-works in the Surrey Zoological Gardens, of a pleasant discourse which we overheard in that suburban retreat. " Quite a gem," cried a lady from Portland Place, contemplating the splendid pictorial model of Rome; "really quite a monument of the artist's abilities." "I see St. Paitrs," said a lady from Shadwell, who was standing by, looking at the same time at the crowning feature of the picture, " I see St. Paul's quite plain, but where's the j\'lonumeni .f " "How those butcher- boys do ride!" exclaimed an ilderly gentleman in the further corner, as one of the blue-frocked fraternity, with basket on arm, and " spur on heel," daslied past at headlong speed. " Ay, sir, they ride sharp endugh," replied his next neighbour, whose bronzed features and brawny shoulders bespoke him a son of old Ocean ; " but of all the rough-riding I have ever seen, nothing comes up to A NEGRO BOY IN THE WEST INDIES. The negro boys there are the most cunning imps I have ever had to do with. I recollect on my last voyage to Jamaica, while my vessel was lying in St. Anne's bay, I had to go to Port Maria to look for some cargo ; and on my way thither, near Ora Cabeca, I came to one of the numerous small rivers that empty them- selves into the little bays along the coast — I think it was the Salt Gut. When at some distance, I had observed a negro boy belabouring a mule most heartily _: but 128 GEORGE CBUIKSHAKK's OMNIBDS, before I got up he had left off his thumping and dismounted, and now appeared in earnest talk with his beast, which, with fore-legs stretched out firm, and ears laid down, seemed proof against all arguments to induce him to enter the water. Quashie was all animation, and his eyes flashed like fire-flies. " Who — o ! you no go ober ? Berry well — me bet you fipenny me make you go — No? Why for you no bet? — why for you no go ober?' Here the mule shook his ears to drive off the flies, which almost devour the poor animals in that climate. " Oh ! you do bet — berry well — den me try." The young rascal (he was not more than ten years old) disappeared in the bush, and returned in a few seconds with some strips of fan-weed, a few small ])ebbles, and a branch of the cactus plant. To put three or four pebbles in each of the mule's ears, and tie them up with the fan-weed, was but the work of a minute. He then jumped on the animal's back, turned round, put the plant to his tail, and off they went, as a negro himself would say, " like mad, massa.' Into the water they plunged — the little fellow grinning and showing his teeth in perfect ecstasy. Out they got on the other side — head and ears down — tail and heels up — and the boy's arms flying about as if they did not belong to him ; and I lost sight of him as he went over the rocky steep at full gallop, where one false step would have precipitated them into the sea beneath, from whence there would have been but small chance of escape. No, no, a butcher's boy is nothing to a negro boy — the one may ride like the deuce, but the other is the very deuce himself riding. " Did you see any more of him, sir?" inquired a young lady opposite. "Yes, madam, about two hours afterwards I reached Port Maria, and in an open space near the stores, there sat, or rather lay, young Quashie eating cakes ; and there also stood the mule, eating guinea grass, and looking much more cheerful than when I first saw him at the Salt Gut. ' Well, Quashie,' I said, ' you have got here I see, but which of you won ? ' — ' Quashie win, massa — Quashie never lose ' — ' But will he pay .''' I inquired. — ' Quashie pay himself, massa. You see, Massa Buccra, massa gib Quashie tenpenny-bit for grass for mule. Quashie bet fippenny him make him go ober de Gut — Quashie win — Quashie hah fippenny for cake, mule hab fippenny for grass.'" " Had that defrauded mule, sir," here inteqiosed a stranger, " been born in Ireland a brief while ago, he would have fallen to and devoured the young nigger out of hand, for cheating him of half his grass ; that is, he would, if he had ever read the ancient records of that country? and bccoree acquainted with the fact I am about to relate — but stay, perhaps you may relish it better in slip-shod verse." THE TERRIFIC LEGEND OF THE KILKENNY CATS. O'Flyn she was an Irishman, as very well was known. And she lived down by Kilkenny, and she lived there all alone, With only six great large tom-cats as knew their ways about. And ev'ry body else besides she scrup'lously shut out. Oh, very fond o' cats was she — (and whisky too, 'tis said,) She didn't feed 'em very much, but she comb'd 'em well instead ; As may be guess'd, these large tom-cats, they didn't get very sleek Upon a combing once a-day, and a " ha'porth" once a-week. Now on one dreary winter's night, O'Flyn she went to bed, The whisky-bottle under her arm, (the whisky in her head,) The six great large tom-cats they sat all in a dismal row. And horridly glared their hungry eyes — their tails wagg'd to and fro At last one grim greymalkin spoke in accents dire to tell. And dreadful were the words which in his awful whisper fell When all the other five tom-cats in answer loud did squall, " Let's kill her— and let's eat her— body and bones and all ! " Oh horrible 1 oh terrible ! oh deadly tale to tell ! When the sun shone in the window-hole all there seem'd still and well ; The cats they sat and lick'd their paws, all in a merry ring, But nothing else within the place look'd like a living thing ; Anon they quarrell'd savagely, and spit, and swore, and hollo'd. Till at last these six great large tom-cats they one another swallow'd ; And nought but one long tail was left in that once peaceful dwelling, And a very tough one too it was — it's the same as I've been telling. [C. B. 129 MADEMOISELLE RACHEL. CoriLKY CiDBEU IS the best tlie;itrical critic we know, but if he had been a^ked to describe Rachel, we should fnncy him falling into one of his old regrets. ' Could how Rachel spoke be as easily known as wImI she spoke, then might you see the muse of Racine in her triumph, with all her beauties in their best array, rising into real life and charming her beholderfi. liut, alas ! since all this is fo far out of the reach iif description, how shall I show you Rachel?' The best attempt we have been able to make, is printed on the opposite page. Truth to say, a good portrait, such as one may bind up with one s copy of Racine, is the only tolerable criticism after all. So, gentle reader, there is Rachel for you: and to flatter your national likings, if you have any, she is in the dress of Mary Stuart, though the woes of Mary Stuart are not in Racine. Quiet, earnest, intense, with a look of passion that has its spring in tenderness, that is just the expression she should wear. It pervaded all her performances, be- cause in all of them she was the Woman. There it was, as you see it, when she said for this unhuppy Mury that she was ready to go to death, for that all which could bind her to the earth had passed away ; and as she said it, there came with its choking denial to her heart a sense of the still living capacity for joy or grief about to be quenched for ever. She wore that look, when, in Camille, she recalled the transient and deceitful dream wherein everything had spoken of her lover, and whispered happy issue to her love. It spread its mournful radiance over her face, when, for the wronged and deserted Herminne, she told the betrayer that she had loved him in his inconstancy, and with what something surpassing love would she have rewarded his fidelity. Je t'aimais inconstant ; qu'aurais-je fait fidMe ! Exquisitely perfect, let us say, was that performance of Herraione. Some- times, it will not be heretical to whisper, her genius nodded or even slept: never here. The Roxune would not suffer her to do justice to her finest qualities: in the Emilie (for she was wilful) she refused herself that justice: in the Marie StuoLit she was unequal: in Camille, always great undoubtedly, she had yet a very limited range : but in Hermione, slie achieved a triumph of high and finished art, which will never fade from the recollections of those who witnessed it. It occurs to us, as we write, that it was in this very Herminne the famous Mademoiselle de Champmele won the heart of Racine himself, who, after the performance, flung himself at her feet in a transport of gratitude, which soon merged into love. Luckless Hac.hel, that Champmele should have been before- hand with her. How the poet would have shaken out love and gratitude upon her, from every curl of his full-bottomed peruke ! You have heard, no doubt, good reader — if you have not seen this accomplished Frenchwoman— that she is a scold, a fury, a womanly Kean, in a constant fret of passion. Do not believe it. Her forte is tenderness : she is much greater in the gentle grasp with which she embraces the whole intention of a part, than in the force with which she gives distinct hits : she is more at home in those emotions we call domestic, than in those which walk away from home on very lofty stilts. How the false notion obtained currency, we do not know. The French critics are men of lively imaginations, and it was perhaps natural that the feeling of that start of surprise with which Rachel broke upon them, should seek to ally itself to the occasionally sudden and terrible, the flighty and impetuous, rather than to the various tenderness and quiet truth which gave the actress her lasting victory. What Rachel was before she was the first actress of France, probably the reader knows. She sold oranges on the Boulevards. Her name was Rachel Felix— an augury of fortune. An early hankering for the stage took her to the GvMNASL in 1837, where she played bad parts badly enough. Not without a gleam of something beyond, however : for Sanson the actor happened to see her there, and thought it worth while to take her into teaching. He cured her of a false accent (she was a Swiss Jewess), and brought her out at the FrAncais in 1 838, upon a salary of four thousand francs. She took the audience by storm, and her four thousand went up to a hundred and fifty thousand. Long may she flourish, to deserve and to enjoy them. 130 FRIGHTS!— No. II. We now propose to turn to other illustrations of fright familiar to every family, and susceptible of description. Let us take a night-scene, con- jured up by a sudden alarm of Thieves ! 'Tis midnight, and " the very houses seem asleep,'' out-houses and all. Tiie " quiet family " has attained its utmost pitch of quietness. All sleep soundly, where no sound is heard. A breathless hush pervades the domi- cile. On a sudden, there is a smart crash, a rattling sound, below. This sleeper starts up in bed ; that, darts farther under the clothes. " What's that?" is the inward question of everybody. The thought of thieves occurs to each in turn ; one is certain that the area-door has been forced open ; another is sure that the back-parlour sash has been raised. They lie still, with panting hearts, and listen. Again there is a noise ; it is like creaking footsteps on the stairs, or the opening of drawers ; then all is silent again, and then the noise is renewed. At last one little quaking Miss ventures half-stifled to whisper, " Sarah, are you awake ?" And Sarah faintly answers, " Yes, did you hear that ? " and both bury themselves in the bed, and dare not breathe. And then they hear a door open softly, and they utter a low cry of terror ; and then in another minute the door of their own room opens, and with a loud scream they start up — only to see their dear good mama with a candle in her hand ; but she is pale and frightened, and desires to know if they had made the noise — but they had not ; only they distinctly heard somebody getting in at the back-door, or the parlour-window. Then papa commands the whole assembled family " not to be frightened," and shakes dreadfully — with cold — as he looks at his blunderbuss, and avows his determination to proceed down-stairs. And then there is a " hush! " and a general listening. Yes, there is a noise still, and to the stairs he advances ; while his better-half lights his way and holds his garments tight to check his desperate enthusiasm ; and the eldest daughter hardly ventures beyond the chamber-door, but with astonishing boldness and exemplary daring springs a rattle ; and the others hold on each by each, taking fresh fright from one another's fears. What an amount of suffering, dread, terror — is in the bosom of the little quiet family, as down to the scene of danger they creep with tortoise-pace ! And what is all this anxiety, this trepidation, this sickness of the heart, for ! AVhat has occasioned so terrific a commotion ! Perhaps the tongs have fallen down, and the clatter hiis filled their ears with all sorts of imaginary noises ! Perhaps the cat is clawing at a string tied to the latch of the pantry-door ; or perhaps the stupid little kitten, having got her tail into the catch of the last new patent mouso-trap, has dragged that excellent invention off the dresser, and is whisking round at intervals in a wearying and vain endeavour to extricate lier unprehensile appendage ! " Dear me ! well I declare how I have been frightening myself !" cries every member of the shivering family ; and the very next night, should the very same noises again be heard, the whole frightened family would start, turn pale, quake, wonder, pant, scream, and spring rattles, exactly as before. AVhere Fear has once taken possession, Experience does not always make folks wise. TKsev^s'H" TU'-'Strtitn^e. C-^t* PKIGHTS. J 3) Let US take for anotlicr example of the daily domestic romance — TUB STRANGE CAT. How vividly, among the events of our boyish days, do we remember the "strange cat" that got into the lumber-roora at the top of the house! Oar elder brother and " the boy " had endeavoured to dislodge the animal, which figured in tiieir description as a thing of intense blackness and monstrous dimensions, with great frightful staring green eyes, horrid long claws, and such a tail ! Not " frightened of cats " were we, for we had a favourite one of our own ; but this — it trebled in magnitude and horror the wildest and most savage inhabitants of the then Fixeter Change. Their o wn fears had magnified the " strange cat " into a monster ; and then they wilfully enlarged the picture to terrify us — a feat, in which they succeeded, as we dared not go to the upper rooms alone. For two or three days this "reign of terror" lasted; when, a favourable opportunity being watched for, the " young master " and the " young man " marched up, broom and brush in hand, to hunt out this strange secreted intruder — ■ the black tiger of the upper wilderness. As for our tiny self, we had ventured a part of the way up-stairs to witness the result, imagining that the enemy would make its exit by an attic window. Oh horror ! A loud knocking was heard above ; a tremendous shouting next arose, succeeded instantly by an appalling cry of " Here it comes ! " This was, shall we say enouffk ? — it was too much ; we turned ajaijiew down-stairs — the last " flight " of stairs being, with the aid of the handrail, but one leap. The street door ! No, we could not open it. Against it then we set our back in an agony of fear, and uttered a cry that would have terrified a whole legion of cats. The hunters were in full cry. Down came the wild animal, followed by brooms and brushes, bounding and rattling over the stairs — ■ a clatter that rent the roof. What saw we then ? Not a poor half-starved frightened animal leaping over the banisters to get out of our way, and to escape through the garden-door ; no, of this piteous, this actual spectacle we saw nothing, — but in its place — this! This little " tail-piece " expanded to the dimensions of a full-sized New- foundland dog, surrounded by a blaze of fire, will convey some idea of what, in the extremity of our apprehensions, wo actually did see. k2 132 A SHORT CRDJSE AT MARGATE. Being at Margate the other day, we strolled, in company with "The Olj) Sailok," down to the " Jetty," where we were accosted hy the veteran Hemptage, a boatman of the old school, who, with a salute, inquired " Will you take a trip this mornine. Sir ?" " Not if It blows,'' answered the Old Sailor, assuming as much as possible the look and manners of a landsman, " I have made up my mind never to go sailing if there's a breath of wind." The old man gave him a look, which spoke as plainly as look could — " Here's a precious lubber, to talk of sailing without wind." " It would be onpossible to move a-head and no breeze. Sir." " I don't care for that," rejoined the Old Sailor, " I am very timid on the water ; but if you're sure there's no danger, and it will be quite calm (it was nearly so)_, 1 will venture to take a sail." " Danger !" repeated the veteran somewhat contemptuously, though there was an expression of doubt and suspicion on his countenance that seemed to say " I think you're a gammoning me." — " What danger can there be when there's hardly wind enough to fill the canvas.^ " After some further conversation relative to the perils of the ocean, which drew forth some scornful glances from the veteian, we embarked in a pretty green boat, with two masts or poles, one sticking up behind and the other near the middle, to which sails were fastened. Whilst Hemptage was loosing what we believe is named the main-sail, the Old Sailor jumped aft to set what he called the " lug mizen," and he was shoving out a pole from the stern, right over the water. We immediately informed the boatman that our companion was " meddling with the things at the other end," and the veteran promptly turned round and exclaimed, " You'd better let that ere alone, Sir. You'll find soraut as 'ull puzzle you there." "Avast, old boy !" returned the Old Sailor, laughing; "I've rigged out as many bumkins* as you have in my time.'' * The buuikin is the spar that projects out from the stern to haul the mizen- sheet homes — Naval Dictionary. Here, however, it is probable that a double entendre was meant. A SHORT CRUISE AT MARGATE. 133 " Ay, ay,*" drawled out the veteran — " hang me if I didn't think so by the cut of your jib — I thought it was all gammon, and you knowed better than to go sailing without wind." " You have belonged to a man-of-war," said the Old Sailor, as we were standing ofif from the shore. " Why, yes, I've had a spell at it," returned Hemptage somewhat knowingly, " I was in the owld Hyacinth with Tommy Ussher, and a better Captain never walked a ship's quarter-deck. I was with him too in the Ondaunted frigate up the Mediterranean " " What ! were you in her, in Frejus Bay, when Buonaparte embarked for Elba," inquired the Old Sailor. " Why to be sure I was, and remembers it well enough," returned he with animation. '' And the first thing Boney did when he got aboard was to come forud on to the foksle and have a yarn with the foksle men*." " What sort of a man was he ?" we asked with quickness. " What sort of a man," reiterated the veteran, " why a stout good-looking chap enough, only very swarthy. Them images as the Italian boys brings about is very like, only I never seed him in that little cocked hat.'' " Why what did he wear then ?" inquired we with some eagerness. " Oh he wore a round hatf ," replied Hemptage, " and he used to lean against the breech of the foksle gun and spin yarns with us for the hour together." " Well !" we thought, " we never shall have done with Boney." We had never drawn him in a round hat, and the temptation was too strong to be resisted — so we have accordingly placed him at the head of this article— and as of course he would have a fashionable beaver, we have given him one of the shape of that Eeriod, and placed him in contrast with himself. — Boney versus Boney — cock'd at against round. It may be said " What's in a hat ?" And when upon the head it becomes a rather important question. In many cases the answer would be " not much," but with respect to Napoleon it certainly must be admitted that there was some- t/iing in it. " But (we asked in continuation of our conversation) how could you talk with Buonaparte— did he speak English.'"' " O yes, pretty well, considering — very well for him," replied Hemptage, " he mixed a little of his own lingo up with it— but we made it out. During the passage he used very often to come forud, and he told us he liked English sailors, and one had wounded him once at Toulon." Fully aware that the fact of Napoleon's being wounded at Toulon had long been a disputed point, we questioned the man, and received the following statement : — " Why," said the veteran, " he told us the English made a sortie, as they call it, and drove the French before them Boney run as well as the rest, and an English seaman chaced after him ; but whether the man was tired, or thought he'd gone far enough, he didn't know, but he gave him a shove in the starn with his bagonet, and said, 'Take that, you Fuench Lubbek.' The sailor might have killed him if he had been so disposed, but he acted generously and spared * In No. CXLIII. of the United Seroice Journal, Sir Thomas Ussher has given an interesting account of the embarkation and conveyance of Napoleon from Frejus to Elba, in which we find the following passage : — " On arriving alongside, I immediately went up the side to receive the Emperor on the quarter-deck. He took his hat off. and bowed to the officers who were assembled on the deck. He then immediately went orward to the forecastle amongst the people, and 1 found him there talking to some of the men, conversing with those among them who understood a little French." t In another part of the same article, in the United Service Journal, Sir Thomas Ussher says — " This evening a small trading vessel passed near us, I ordered her to be examined ; and as Napoleon was anxious to know the news, I desired the Captain to be sent on board. Napoleon was on the quarter-deck — lie had a great coat and round hat on." At another place, after their arrival at Elba — " At eight, the Emperor asked me for a boat, as he intended taking a walk on the opposite side of the bay. He wore a great coat and a round hat." 134 GEORGE CRUIKSIIANK S OMNIBUS. his is life. ' And,' says Boney, ' if ever f could have discovered the man who acted 3 nobly, I would have made him comfortable for life.' The wound was in his thigh.'' Now had that Jack Tar taken one step further, or have made a deadly thrust, the fate of Major Buonaparte would have been sealed at Toulon, and the world would never have heard of the Emperor Napoieon. We fancy we hear some of our Hibernian friends exclaiming, " Faith, then, and it's a pity the sailor didn't know that Boney would be after doing so much mischief." Thus conversing and moralising, we finished our " Short cruise at Margate." Hemptage is approaching his seventieth year, and his countenance displays the colours of a thorough seaman. He has been several times wounded, but looking hale and hearty When paid oflf he was refused a pension — visitors will find him a pleasant shipmate in a trip — and the lovers of ithe marvellous may enjoy the satisfaction ol conversing with a man who has seen and talked with " a live Bonyparty." EPIGRAMS. " Buonapai'te was cerUiinly, as Sir John Carr called him, a ' splendid scoundrel,' hut ho \ras » scoundrel still." — Dally Paper, Not BO, for if a scoundrel — doubt who will- Napoleon was a scoundrel, fiever still 1 Scene — outside of the greyhound inn. " You'll take a glass of ale or so ? Here's double X upon the door j" " Is there," says John, " then I don't go — It so reminds me of a score!" THE MALADY OF DEBT. Some people often have, they say, What's call'd the " Maladie de pays"— But Schneider of his customers was saying, They had the malady of never pnying. ]35 PASSIONATE TEOPLE. "So you will fly out! Why can't you be cool like uic ? What good can passion do? Pas- sion's of no use, you impudent, obstinate, overbearing reprobate." Sir Anthony Absolute. Of all the evils, all the injuries, all the calamities, by which passion- ate people are liable to be visited, none are so perilous, so overwhelming, as the encounter with a meek, cool, patient, unanswering adversary — if adversary such a wretch can be called. There is no trial in life like this. The bare idea of it puts one out of temper. To be placed, when in the full swing of a violent fit of rage, when indulging to an excess in the wildest transports of the soul, when giving loose to the most riotous emo- tions of our nature ; to be placed at such a juncture right opposite some cold calm personification of indifference, some compound of sadness and tranquillity, vyith an air of entire submission, with droopinsf lids, and perhaps a smile not entirely free from pity ; to see some such person sitting there imperturbably philosophical, putting the best construction possible upon one's violence, and evidently making silent excuses for one's ungovernable fury ! I put it to any rational madman — that is to say to any man I know — whether this be not a species of exasperation too great to be borne, and quite enough to make one start off for Niagara, to enjoy the intense satisfaction, the indispensable relief, of jumping down. I wouldn't give one drop of ink for a man who never goes into terrific passions, who never lets his blood boil over, at least now and then ; but I should feel peculiar pleasure in hurling any inkstand — the writing-desk would be better — at the head of him whose fury did not instantly become ten thousand times more inflamed by the mere presence of that smooth oily virtue, that " ostentatious meekness," which at once sighs in submis- siveness and smiles in superiority. All the mischiefs that arise from the excesses of anger and rage must be conscientiously set down to the account of that provoking passiveness, that calmness which irritates the fiery beholder past endurance. Let the physician, who would minister to the mind diseased, take any shape but that. Who is there that cannot bear testimony to its galling effects from his own observation or experience ! Only say to a man in a pet, " Now don't lose your temper," and he falls naturally into a rage ; say to one already exasperated, and on the verge of a fit of fury, " Pray don't put yourself into a passion, it's all a mistake, there's nothing to be angry about j" and what so sure to set him off at a pace past stopping ! The image of "Patience on a monument smiling at Grief " has been greatly admired, but as a design it would hardly hold together for five minutes. Shakspeare was a little out for once. Patience smiling at Grief! How could Grief stand it! She would be transformed into Rage in no time. If at all in earnest, she must necessarily be provoked to jump down in a paroxysm, or to pitch Patience off the monument. To the truly irritable, and I confess that I am one of tliem, all such irritation, to say the least of it, is superfluous. To us who have " free souls" no such provocation is wanting at any time. We are alvvaj's ready to go aliead without this high pressure ; our quick blood renders 136 GEORGE CRUIKSUANk's OMNIBUS. the spur unnecessary. We never wait for " the motive and tlie cue foi ])assion" that Hamlet speaks of. The real relish and enjoyment of it consists in going into a rage about nothing. The next pleasure to that consists in being roused to fury about other people's affairs ; in lashing oneself into madness about some griev- ance borne by a person who seems perfectly indifferent to it. There are numbers of people who may be thus said to go into passions by proxy. They have experienced a slight, of which they give a cool account to some susceptible friend, who stamps and raves at every word of the narrative. They calmly inform you that they have been shamefully ill- .im about her husband. His answers were invariably the same — " Though he be dead, yet shall he live again — though he is lost, yet shall he be found." Ambiguous as this reply may be considered, it encouraged the cherished hope that her husband would be restored to her. Strong as her mind usually was, the mild and gentlemanly manners of the prophet, combined with his upright conduct and undeviating integrity, won upon her feeliiios; and though she pitied the weakness of his believers, there were times when his observations made a deeper impression upon herself than she liked tc acknowledge. Meetings were held in Baurie's apartment, which were attended by num- bers of the select — the principal of whom were Brassey Allhead, an intel- ligent oriental scholar, who had resided many years in India, and now sat as member of Parliament for , William Bryan, George Turner, and others, who pretended to see visions, claimed the gift of prophecy, and bore testimony to the authenticity of Brothcrs''s mission — lliat he was the FRANK HEARTWELL ; OR, FIFTY VEARS AGO. 145 descendant of King David — the rod that was to come out of the stem of Jesse, &c., &c. : in fact, tliere only wanted the " unknown tongues," which has since been discovered by the disciples of fanaticism, to render the whole farce perfect in all its parts. The twilight of a summer evening was gradually deepening its shade, when a hackney-coacli stopped at Mrs. Heartweirs door, and the servant announced that a strange-looking woman who came in it had endeavoured to force her way into the house, and still remained clamorous to be admitted. Without a moment's hesitation, Mrs. Heartwell went to the hall — the door was. re-opened, but the lady could not help retiring back with amazement, when she beheld a stout female, in short Dutch petti- coats, wooden shoes, and a peaked-crown hat, who, in spite of the resist- ance of the servant, immediately and hurriedly advanced towards her. " Who, and what are you ?" demanded Mrs. Heartwell. " Keep the woman back, Mary !" The girl caught hold of the intruder's petticoats, but, observing a thick club queue hanging down the female's back, she shouted, *' Oh, my ! ma'am, she's got a pig-tail ! " and let them go again. " What is all this ? — who do you want ? " demanded the lady, retreat- ing. " Why don't you stop her, Mary ? " " Lor', ma'am, I carnt," replied the girl, again catching hold of the petticoats, whilst a well-remembered voice laughingly exclaimed, — " Bless you, my lady — why, dont you know me ? Howsomever I hope I arnt frightened you ; but what's the odds so as you're happy ?" " Can it indeed be Ben ! " said Mrs. Heartwell, in surprise. " But why are you dressed thus ? " "Oh, it's a long story, my lady!" replied the seaman; "and I've kept the duds on to circumwent the pressgangs. But I am so happy to see you again." Mrs. Heartwell extended her hand to the worthy tar, and as her child was the first object of her thoughts, she eagerly inquired whether he " had seen or heard anything of Frank." From the answers she elicited, she very soon came to the conclusion that Frank was not far ofif. " He is here, Ben — I am sure of it. Open the door, Mary — ^the coach is still waiting — my son ! — my son ! Merciful Father, I thank thee ! " The next minute the youth was in her arms ; and Sambo, full of joy at his return, sprang in and caught the servant-girl round the neck, so as to excite something like jealousy in the mind of Ben, who however, in the fulness of delight, cut a few capers of the college hornpipe, exclaiming, " What's the odds, so as you're happy ! " and making the hall echo ao-ain to the sounds of his wooden shoes. There was pleasure that night at Mrs. Heartwell's, both in the parlour and in the kitchen. In the former Mr. Baurie and family and Mr. Unity Peach, veho had called in, witnessed the gratification and anxiety of the mother as Frank recounted his adventures from first to last, not omitting his interview vyith Brady in the character of a traitorous spy, and stating that the merchant, with his wife and daughter, who had escaped in their company, had gone to an hotel in the neighbourhood. Sambo and Ben in the kitchen enjoyed themselves to their heart's 146 OEORQE CRUIKSHANK's OMNIBUS. content — the grog was abroach — the pipes sent forth their wreaths of curling smoke — the servants were delighted, and the hour was lata before they all departed to their rest. The next morning Frank and his two humble companions were supplied with suitable apparel, and Mrs. Heartwell looked with pride upon the handsome appearance of her son in his uniform, though a sigh would now and then escape as she contemplated the strong resemblance which he bore to his father, and when she thought how soon they must part again. The young midshipman, accompanied by the seaman and the negro, went to the Admiralty and reported their escape to the secretary, who questioned Frank pretty closely relative to what he had witnessed in Paris. During the inquiry a tall, upright, stately gentleman entered the room, and not only remained to listen to the conversation, but put several questions to the youth, and seemed satisfied with the ready and pleasing manner in which they were answered. He was then directed to call the next day, and instructions would be given to him for their future pro- ceedings. Frank was quitting the Admiralty gates, when a government messenger tapped him on the shoulder and an officer took him into custody. Ben and the black would have resisted ; but the youth desired them to desist, and, conscious of innocence of any crime, cheerfully accompanied the messenger, followed at a little distance by Sambo and the seaman. The whole had been done so quietly that no bustle was excited, and they were soon in the Home-office at Downing Street, and Frank was summoned into the presence of Mr. Dundas, the Secretary of State, and questioned relative to his having seen lawyer Brady at the house of Polverel, and what transpired there. The youth explicitly answered every interrogatory, and was requested to accompany Mr. Dundas to the Privy Council, which was then about to sit. The carriage was waiting ; and when Ben saw the smiling face of his young master as he nodded at him on ascending the steps of the vehicle, he became assured that nothing was wrong, though he determined to watch where he went to ; and both the seaman and the black had a smart run for it till they saw the equipage enter the archway of a prison- like building, and Ben became fearful that the young officer was " going to be clapped in limbo." He went up to the sentry and, offering him a bite of pigtail, inquired " What place that was." His mind became more appeased, though his wonder was not lessened, on being told that it was " the King's Palace." The Privy Council had met, and lawyer Brady was a prisoner before tliem on a charge of treasonable practices. Several witnesses were 3xamined, who gave evidence against him ; but as nothing very conclusive could be drawn from it, be remained cool and firm till Frank was intro- duced, when that peculiar rolling of the eye for which he was remarkable under sudden excitement plainly indicated strong internal emotion. Frank was at first somewhat confused, but he was encouraged by the tall gentleman he had seen at the Admiralty, and who was, in fact, the Earl of Chatham, at that time the head of the navy. The youth narrated every particular that had transpired in connexion with Brady at Paris, ■/CVA U.%^^^,jd-.^,^4/,A,/-_ #-^.;;^,., •//.■ FRANK HEARTWELL; OH, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 14? and at the close of his examination he was requested to withdraw. He was shown into a room where the other witnesses were assembled, and here Frank learned that Brady had been engaged by the government as a spy amongst certain of the higher classes of society, whom he first betrayed, and then, having obtained all the intelligence he could of national affairs, it was supposed had secretly gone over to communicate his information to the enemy. This last supposition Frank had confirmed ; and the lawyer was committed to prison on a charge of high treason. On the following day Frank had another interview with the secretary of the Admiralty, and was desired to leave his address and remain at home till further orders, and the seaman and the negro had leave of absence extended to them. Mrs. Heartwell was much pleased at retaining her son with her for some time, especially as she received another handsome donation from her unknown Mend, which enabled her to procure him a complete outfit. Mr. Wendover, the merchant, had called, and behaved with great kind- ness and attention to both the mother and son, and the latter was invited to pass a few days at a handsome mansion which had just been purchased near Finchley common, and which gave a right to the owner as lord of the manor. Frank was delighted — he had never ceased to treasure the most pleasing remembrances of the interesting girl who had clung to him for protection on the beach at Blankenburg, and she, with all the tender- ness and devotion of youthful affection, secretly cherished a warm regard for the young midshipman, and she most earnestly longed to see him again. On the evening previous to the intended visit, Brothers, the prophet, held a " meeting " in the drawing-room of Mr. Baurle's lodgings, and as on these occasions — which were looked upon in the light of devotional exercises — none were excluded, Mrs. Heartwell, Frank, Mr. Unity Peach, Ben and Sambo, and two or three of his leading disciples, as well as the servants, were present. There was nothing in the illusionist's general manner that could be construed into aberration of intellect. He was perfectly intelligible and sane when his monomania was not called into operation. He was a strong-limbed man ; his hair was cropped close — his full eyes bent upon a book that he held in his right hand, and from which he commenced his address by reading passages from the prophecies of Daniel. His dress was remarkably plain, approaching to that usually worn by the Society of Friends, and his cravat was tied in the most exact manner, so that the bow In front resembled the cross of St. John of Jeru- salem. At first, his voice was mild and gentle ; but as he proceeded and became warmed with his subject, his countenance assumed an expression of wild energy, his utterance became deep and sepulchral, till at length, tlirowing down the book, he stood erect, with his arms crossed upon his breast, as the spirit of prophecy seemed to come upon him. " Woe unto ye of the earth who seeing will not believe ; who hear and yet despise. I am he of whom it is said, that a man will be revealed to the Hebrews as their prince, and to all nations as their governor, according to the covenant entered Into with king David. Haste then and flee from the wrath to come, for have I not rrophesied, and It hath L 2 148 GEORGE CRUIKSIIANk's OMNIBUS. come to pass ? — Have I not foretold, and the fulfilment is at hand ? Did I not predict the downfal of monarchy in France? and lo ' it hath fallen. Did I not forctcl the death of Louis ? and he is no more. Did I not say the king of Sweden was given over to destruction ? Tlie great Gustavus is laid in the tomb by the hand of an assassin. Have I not declared that England would be deserted by her allies ? many of them are already gone, and the others will quickly follow. — The king of Prussia will acknowledge the republic of France ; — the government of Poland will be changed, and the monarch driven from his throne ; — the stadtholdership of Holland shall be cut off close to the ground ! Hear and understand, ye men who are in authority ! The prisons are crowded with captives charged with high treason, but the powers shall not prevail against them; — yet a little while and the prison doors shall be opened and the whole shall walk forth free. Hearken, oh ! ye Hebrews, and listen, oh ! ye people — London, with its Arma- geddon*, shall be utterly destroyed. — Lo! I saw in a vision, and Satan clothed in white and scarlet, and breathing desecration and fire, was entering the condemned city, and suddenly there was strife and confusion among the citizens, and every man's hand was armed against his brother, till a river ran through London of the colour of blood, and there was a voice of fury and the noise of an earthquake, and there were groans of woe — woe — woe ! And I prayed and wrestled with the spirit that the city might be spared, and He, the Mighty One, was angered, and his wrath frightened away the angel from my side, and all became dark and obli- vious ; yet I saw in my vision that London had sunk into the bowels of the ground, and between the Downs and Windsor tliere was but one vast sheet of water, so that no trace of the city could be found. Why will ye die, oh ! house of Israel ? — hear and believe ! And a storm shall arise — there will be consternation amongst our rulers — the English Admiralty shall be shaken as a man would shake bread in a basket." (Frank looked at Ben, and his countenance evinced displeasure.) " The prop and stay of the nation shall be knocked away — her armies will be destroyed, and her navy will be annihilated — the carcases of her soldiers shall strew the earth — the bodies of her seamen in an ocean-grave lie buried — for the enemy shall prevail, and the proud ships shall be sunk or grace the triumph of the foe." Here the prophet was interrupted by Ben, who, rising up and biting through his quid, as he hitched up his trowsers, ejaculated with vehemence the word " Gammon," seemingly to the great delight of Mr. Unity Peacli, who screwed his face into all manner of shapes to conceal his mirth, and uttered, " Sit down, man — saucy sailor — go to sea." The prophet prepared to renew his subject; but Frank, secondingBen's motion byrising also, boldly said, that " being a British naval ofiicer he could not sit to hear the service he loved denounced — it would be treason to his country. The English ensign had been victorious on the seas, and its gallant defenders would never allow it to be dishonoured." " Hurrah, Master Frank," shouted Ben, " who cares for a bit of a • By this name he called the Houses of Parliament. PRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY VEARS AGO. 149 breeze ! Nillyliate our navy indeed ! — ^bury all hands in the ocean ! strike to the enemy too ! — Gammon, all gammon ; but there, what's the odds so as you''re happy." " Neber see de day, boy,'' chimed in Sambo, as he imitated the example of his master, " GoUy-make me tink ob em guUemtine." The three withdrew, and Mr. Unity Peach soon afterwards left the party, " in order," as he said, " to scold the unmanly interruption given to Mr. Brothers," but in reality to vent his spleen against everybody ; and tlie prophet very speedily took his departure. The stately and elegant mansion purchased by Mr. Wendover was indeed delightfully situated, and the grounds had been laid out with considerable taste and skill. Joyous were the hours that Frank passed there in the society of friends, who esteemed him as their deliverer from death, and particularly with Helen, who not only admired the handsome young officer's improved appearance, but also very naturally evinced gratitude towards him for saving the life of her father. Never were pair more truly happy ; the present was to them all bright, and clear, and shining ; they had no thought of the coming future ; not a cloud intervened to cast a gloom upon their innocent enjoyments ; and no pain was experienced till the time of separation approached, and then they felt how truly estimable and dear they were to each other. Frank was on the verge of his seventeenth birth-day ; Helen had just passed her fifteenth ; and both were experiencing those delightful sensations of afiection, which in early life are so exquisitely delicious, because they are untainted by unhallowed thoughts or worldly desires. On the estate was a beautiful little rural cottage, over which the vine grew in rich luxuriance, and its garden shone bright with the varied hues of many flowers. Often when passing it Frank had wished it was the home of his mother, whose health had become impaired by lodging-house keeping, and she earnestly desired to retire from it. The place had been unoccupied for several years, and Helen, without saying anything to Frank, had urged the suit with her parents to offer it to Mrs. Heartwell as a resi- dence. Mrs. Wendover and Helen called upon that lady ; and the former was so much gratified with the deportment and conversation of Mrs. Heartwell, that she at once made the proposition and invited her down to visit the place. The invitation was accepted, but before the day arrived Frank was accosted in the street by Shipkins, who had acted as Brady's assistant, and he delivered a message from his employer, earnestly entreating that the youth would come to him, as he had affairs of importance to communi- cate. Shipkins also added his own persuasions to go immediately ; but Frank peremptorily declined, until he had consulted with his mother, who, on his return home, not only advised the interview, but also resolved to accompany him as vague thoughts rose in her mind that possibly she might learn something respecting her husband. On the succeeding forenoon they went to the prison, and were informed that Brady had contrived to make his escape during the night, and the officers were then out in search of him. Protected from impressment by leave from the admiralty, both Ben 150 OEORGE CRUIKSUANK's OMNIBUS. and tlic negro could go where they pleased ; and as the merchant had pre- sented them -with a liberal sum, they did not fail to avail themselves of the enjoyment of freedom. The Royal Circus (as the Surrey Theatre was then called) was a place of great celebrity for its melo-dramatic perform- ances, and the " unrivalled " feats of horsemanship, enlivened as they always were by the quaint humour of a clever clown. Ben and Sambo had gone to visit a relation of the former somewhere in the neighbourhood of Walworth, and Frank had engaged to meet them at the notorious tea- gardens known by the sign of the Dog and Duck, in St. George's Fields, to accompany them to the Circus. The morning and evening promenades at the Dog and Duck were frequented by all the dashing bucks of the time, with their ladies ; and amongst the company might often be seen aentlemen riders, whose modesty on the highway induced them to put crape over their faces as they uttered "Stand, and deliver" — in short, the place became the assemblage of the worst characters of society. Frank, habited in plain clothes (as his uniform would not have corre- sponded with the dress of his companions), was crossing the open fields to the place of appointment, when Shipkins again addressed him, and by assurances that he could inform him of the fate of his father, induced the young man to enter a respectable-looking house in the neighbourhood ; but no sooner had they advanced into a room at the back of the premises, than Frank was seized by two stout men, a wet cloth bound over his mouth, and he was conveyed to a sort of dungeon in the rear of the building, where his clothes were stripped off, and a canvas shirt and trousers substituted in their stead ; an iron band was then clasped round his body, and he found himself chained to the floor. The intentions of Shipkins were now evident ; and Frank conjectured that his death was determined upon. Thinking more of his mother than himself, the young man suffered great distress, which was not relieved by a confused noise that suddenly commenced ; and by placing his ear against the ground, he thought he could distinguish the strife of many human voices. What it meant he could not tell, but he was not long kept in ignorance, for in another half hour the door of his dungeon was throAvn open, and Ben and Sambo, with a crowd of people, entered to his rescue. " He is not here," said the seaman mournfully, and not knowing the youth in his change of attire ; " but this is another victim, anyhow — tho man-trapping vagabones!^' The black, however, with keener eye, had recognised his master, and he exclaimed, " Golly, you blind, Misser Ben, for no see me young massa," and he bounded forward to release him ; but the chain and band defied his strength — the key was not to be found ; but the enraged populace applied crow-bars to the stone in which the staple was fixed, and, after much exertion, it was forced away, and Frank was carried to the open air, where other unfortunate captives had been previously conveyed. It appeared that Ben and the black were passing the house, which was notoriously known as one of the numerous crimping establishments of the neighbourhood, when their progress was arrested by a crowd that had gathered in front of it, and two or three declared that they had seen a young gentleman decoyed into it, and so many crimes had been perpetrated there. PRANK HEARTWELL; OR, FIFTY YEARS AGO. 151 that they were determined to put a stop to them. Ben required a descrip- tion of the young gentleman, which was given, and suspicion crossed his mind that induced him to join the assailants ; in fact, he became their leader — the doors were beat in — the windows smashed, and a forcible entrance made by the mob, whose numbers increased every minute. Several poor creatures were discovered almost in a state of exhaustion, but the principals of the establishment had escaped. In one room Ben found a part of Frank's dress, and the sight almost maddened him. The search was continued, and resulted as has already been told ; and now a wild but characteristic scene of lawless justice ensued. The mob dragged the fur- niture out into the fields, and piling it up fire was applied, and the whole was soon in a blaze. They next proceeded to demolish the building itself, nor did they cease till the whole was razed to the ground. But Frank did not wait to witness the termination — a locksmith had succeeded in forcing the clasp of the band, and releasing him from the encumbrance, which Sambo carried home with him as a trophy. Mrs. Heartwell was informed of what had taken place, and a probability was suggested that her husband might have been carried off in a similar way. The visit to Finchley was made, and Mrs. Heartwell was persuaded by Frank to accept the tenancy of the cottage, hoping that Fortune would favour him with prize-money to render her life independent and com- fortable. He had now twelve months' pay due, which, with what she would receive by disposing of part of her furniture, would serve for present exigencies ; and a distant relation had bequeathed her an annuity of thirty pounds a year — so that prospects brightened before her. Brady could not be found, and Frank was ordered down to join his ship, that was then refitting at Portsmouth, and to take Sambo with him, whilst Ben was directed to accompany them and procure a passage round to Plymouth to the "Windsor Castle. Frank received a letter to his captain from the secretary, and set out for Portsmouth, where he delivered his letter, and ascertained that it contained a strong recommendation of himself to the captain. Being some- what of a favourite with the first lieutenant, the young midshipman earnestly solicited him to use his influence in getting Ben transferred to the same ship with him. The request prevailed; and Ben, by the admiral's directions, was entered on the books of the "Thunder- bolt " seventy-four. Nor was he disappointed in his expectations of prize-money, for in the course of a few months several valuable captures were made, and the young midshipman enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that his mother was comfortably settled at the cottage with a competence, and that Helen when at Finchley visited her daily. A WARM RECEPTION. Harry paid twenty pounds of sterling metal, To risk his life in a balloon, which burst ; Tom and his friends, pic-nicking, boil'd a kettle, Which Harry (tumbling) fell into head first ; But long ere what it was they well could settle, Arose unhurt from where he'd been Immersed — And, " Ah ! why, Tom," said he, " how do, my buck ? — " You see I've just dropp'd in to take — pot-luck !' " 152 -MifM/V' c-c EA-TABLE TATTLE. " Is your tea agreeable, my dear Miss Dibsley ?" '■ Thank you, dear Mrs. Hipson ; quite plea- sant ; very much as I Uke it ; all green with some black in it ; a bit more sugar if you please.' " Glad you like the flavour ; I've just changed my tea-dealer, and — " " And new brooms sweep clean, as the saying is," tittered Miss Dibsley; "a trifle more cream, — thank you." " Brooms !" ejaculated Mrs. Hipson gravely ; " uin ! I hope you don't mean — by your men- tion of brooms — I assure you I ordered the very best seven shilling — ^" " Oh dear, quite the reverse," returned Miss Dibsley, helping herself to another tea-cake. '• With some very superior green," proceeded Mrs. Hipson, "at eight-and-six, which I do think quite a catch ; but really it's extremely difficult 10 find good teas now-a-days, for since this curious business with China — " " Oh ! pray do tell me something about that," said Miss Dibsley ; " for I never yet found anybody who knew, and never had patience to listen if they did. What has this Emperor of Delf been doing? The cream — thank you." " Why, my dear, I've luckily had it all explained to me by a gentleman deeply concerned in the Potteries, who consequently understands everything connected with China — it's his business — and he informs me on the best authority that the disturbance originally broke out thus : — You see there happens to be a place in America called the Boundary-line, the natives of which employed a gentleman named M'Leod to seize upon one of our East India ships and destroy its carso of tea — these Boundary-line people being jealous, as I'm told, of the spread of "tem- perance in this country Whereupon our merchants in India naturally became incensed; and they applied, it seems, to the Emperor of China for a considerable quantity of opium — of opium, don't you see? — with the view of selling it to America at a very reduced price, so that the Boundary-hne people might be tempted to buy the injurious drug, and thus become the instruments of their own punishment." " Now I begin to understand," said Miss Dibsley. " Euphemius Hipson, my dear, you can assist me to another lump of sugar?" " Oh ! yes Miss Dibsley," said the young gentleman, jumping up nervously and spilling his tea over his new pepper-and-salt habiliments ; " and if you'd like a bit more of this cake, here's such a nice — " " Euphemius, my darling," cried Mrs. Hipson, "Silence ! Would you like to take some more cake. Miss Dibsley ? Euphemius, go and sit down. Well, my dear as I was saying, the Emperor of China, secretly instigated by his political crony, old Mehemet Ali— a very clever man, I need not tell you — positively refuse