I go the next day to Bollert's; he's sitting at dinner with Louise and Henry, and what are they eating? Potatoes and dripping! When I see the dinner I start in dismay. But I soon collect myself, and think where there's money there's always saving! take the old man on one side and say, "Father-in-law, have you the ten dollars ?" Yes," he ten dollars." says; and turns to Louise and says, "Louise, give me the "Yes, father," she says; goes to her brother and says, "Have you got the ten dollars ?" "Yes," he says, "wait a minute ;" and then he comes over to me and says, "You just give me the ten dollars." Well! I thought I must immediately sink through a trap! such a thing had never happened to me in my life. Such a confounded baggage -hasn't a halfpenny, and wants to shave me! I soon collect myself, however, and say, "Taturs and dripping, and not ten dollars in the house. I decline any such alliance most politely." The word's hardly out, when she springs upon me, seizes me by the apron; the old man comes behind me, and the brother on my head. Respect forbids me saying how they treated me. I was not able to move for a fortnight, let alone shaving. Bollert. Indeed! But you don't say anything of the boots I lent you. Bollert. Have you got them with you, then? Steppenseifer. Of course! Bollert. Where, then? Steppenseifer. Well, they ain't in my waistcoat. (Holds up his foot.) There they are! 66 Bride, father, and brother-in-law are acquitted for want of evidence. TOO LATE! Herr Rummelberg is sixty-seven years of age. But, regarding his feelings-in spite of his paunch and his grey hair-he is but six-andthirty, and he never met in his life a pretty face without feeling an inclination to make a conquest. Fortunately for his virtue and his health, Herr Rummelberg has near him Madame Streithorst, under the elastic title of a housekeeper, whose exertions are exclusively directed to keeping all temptation far from her master. But, for all that, the old butterfly manages to flutter to all the places where gas and other flames enliven the evening. Our history commences, therefore, at Kroll's, and is developed in the police-court. In the prisoners' box is a young, most elegantly-dressed lady, whose charming face at this moment bears traces of anger, and whose dark, fiery eye casts furious glances on Madame Streithorst, who is seated in the witness-box, and appears to be busily engaged with Herr Rummelberg. Magistrate (to the young lady). Rosalie Werder, you are charged with having robbed Herr Rummelberg, rentier and householder, of various articles of jewellery. Miss Rosalie. The charge is as unfounded as it is improbable. Magistrate. Silence! and let the accused party speak. (To Rosalie.) What have you to say in your defence? Miss Rosalie. One evening I was at Kroll's, and looking for my friend, whom I had lost in the crowd, when, suddenly, an old and very ugly man (Rummelberg fidgets on his seat) offers me his protection. He asserted that he had to deliver to me various articles of jewellery from my cousin at Rathenow, among them a splendid bracelet. Madame Streithorst. False! utterly false! Miss Rosalie. That is possible: I have not been able to inquire yet. The venerable exterior of the old gentleman, the corpse-like dignity of his appearance, could not cause me to hesitate in believing him and accompanying him home in his droschki, in order to receive the articles he had mentioned. We arrived. He opened the door of his house, and begged me to go up-stairs as gently as possible, because his housekeeper was dangerously ill. Madame Streithorst. Well, well-only wait, and I'll show you I'm quite well. Miss Rosalie. But we had scarce entered his house, before he closed the door, fell on his knees before me, and told me of his love. I had not time to feel horrified at this confession, before an old female monster rushed forward with a wet broom, and furiously attacked the venerable man, behind whom I had sought shelter in the first moment of terror. Rummelberg. Yes, that's true; I got it all. Miss Rosalie. While she was beating him, she overwhelmed him with reproaches, whence I discovered that she was the ill housekeeper, whose connexion with her master appeared only to want the blessing of some afternoon-preacher. I saw in my presence an obstacle to the reconciliation of the two old people, and wished, therefore, to retire Madame Streithorst. That is-with the jewellery. Miss Rosalie. When the old monster tore off my shawl, opened the window, and called out "Help! thieves!" A policeman came directly, and I was taken to the lock-up. Madame Streithorst. As a thief deserves. Miss Rosalie. If your worship will question the old gentleman, you will perceive that I am not a thief: at least, I do not think him so wicked as to accuse me of it. Magistrate. Herr Rummelberg, did the affair take place in the way the prisoner has described it? Rummelberg (stuttering). Your worship-there are cases in which a man-unpleasant embarrassment-very painful position for me (wiping the perspiration from his forehead). Magistrate. Pray speak more plainly. Rummelberg. Certainly-no idea of theft-quite unfounded—as I said, highly unpleasant for me-still-after all-a man like myself-in his best years unmarried-no crime-still highly unpleasant-extraordinarily unpleasant! The court, after a short consultation, acquits Rosalie Werder, who retires hurriedly, with a smiling face. Madame Streithorst (to Rummelberg). Pretty justice that! Come, we'll arrange the matter very differently at home! Saphir's humoristich satirischer Volks Calendar, published at Vienna, commences with a variety of prophecies, mostly very bad, but from which we can contrive to make a few extracts. "The year 1855 will enter a new Russian phase. It will make its boots uncommonly dirty in consequence. It will look round for a boot-cleaner, when Paskievitch will recommend Omar Pacha, who is a famous hand at polishing people off. The prisoners in Kamschatka will be liberated by the Turks, and receive free billets of admission to the slave-market of Constantinople. Napier will be nominated Barber of Cronstadt, and immediately proceed to sharpen his weapons, during which operation he will cut his fingers once more. A whole regiment of Cossacks of the Don will go over to-humanity. Diogenes will join the Turks on account of 'Sinope.' At a ball in Bucharest, a Turk will be present, who is not a Hungarian, Pole, Italian, or Frenchman. Frederika Bremer will espouse Elihu Burritt, and propagate olive-branches in Norway. In Hessen-Cassel, a poor fellow will be jolly. The doctors consider his condition dangerous. He will be taken to a madhouse. China and Hesse-Cassel will have an international law of copyright. The truth will find its way into a Petersburg journal at the risk of life. The Prussian ambassador in Petersburg (Baron von Werthern) will bring out a new edition of the 'Sorrows of Werther.' Marius will emigrate from the ruins of Carthage to Bomarsund. Xenophon's Anabasis, or the Retreat,' will be translated from the Greek into the Muscovite. A new planet will be discovered in the tail of Ursa Major,' which the astronomers will christen 'Humanity.' "In the year 1855, 365 eclipses will take place, which will be visible at all places where the eyes are not shut. The first of these eclipses will take place on New Year's-day, when the congratulators will not have anything to see. The second eclipse will take place in Germany, commencing at Bamberg and extending to Frankfurt, and this eclipse will be so total, that folks will not see the knout before their eyes. The third eclipse, coming from the North, will cover the Crescent, and extend its shadow over Ardnt's Wo ist des Deutschen Vaterland,' set to music, and provided with 'notes.' The fourth eclipse is a total one, commencing with the Gold region' and extending far beyond the Credit zone.' The fifth eclipse will be visible at Silistria, where not the smallest Russian can be seen for the heaviest sum of money," &c., &c. But the joke of jokes in Saphir's Almanack is contained in his illustrations of the signs of the zodiac. Under " Aries," he writes as follows: "Aries, or Richard Cobden, the lamb of peace and the apostle of wool. This sign indicates the season when the sheep are driven out to pasture. This ram of ours annually drives his flocks of peace to the meadow of publicity. 'Peace and wool!' is his motto. It is evident that a sheep is the most fitting advocate for both, even if he bleats pro domo." The principal jokes, however, in all the comic almanacks, appear to relate to Charley Napier's celebrated order "to sharpen cutlasses," and to the "Jahde Busen," or Gulf of Jahde, which Prussia recently purchased from Oldenburg, for the purpose of establishing a national harbour for Germany. But before parting from our kind readers, we will fulfil our promise of giving them some German notions of English manners, which we will derive from the opening part of the story to which we alluded. "London, that central point of trade, of riches and want, has fallen into the arms of sleep and rest, for midnight is long past. The fine, penetrating rain pierces the dense fog, which gives that decided physiognomy to London, without which it could not be recognised. Mr. Simpson had given his friends a magnificent supper, in honour of his being appointed purveyor to her Majesty Queen Victoria, from which the rich tradesman Joffrey is just returning, and in order to reach the City, cuts across from Regentstreet to Trafalgar-square. A man who, like Joffrey, enjoys thrice daily a meal like that he had just finished with his friend Simpson, doubtless knows no trace of hunger. The consumption of meat and eggs, which is as necessary for a real English stomach as the daily dry bread to the 50,000 poor in the same city, at least produces the effect which the boa feels when it has swallowed a jaguar: it is unsusceptible and indifferent to all that crawls around it. "The same may be assumed of Joffrey. Stuffed with that respectdemanding quantum of meat, tea, game, and pudding-who would be astonished that such a man cannot comprehend one of his fellowbeings suffering from hunger? Wrapped in his cloak, Joffrey consequently hurried along past all the misery which night in London drives on the streets. Trafalgar-square is one of the finest and largest squares in the world, as far as Europe signifies the world. Centre of the fashionable West-end, the royal palaces of Old England surround it, and the public buildings and museums; while, divided by a magnificent terrace, it supports on either side a statue-above, the King George; below, the lofty pillar of the naval hero of Trafalgar and Abukir, both of which are bedewed by the fine watery dust of the fountains. Even the palace-resembling private edifices, which rise in a long row from the Strand as far as Pall-Mall, exhale that proud aristocracy which was peculiar to the style of the past century, and whose type the English nobility of the present day most faithfully represents. "These palaces are generally adorned with small porticos, which with their cold and polished stones serve as a resting-place for the homeless. There it is where children of five years cower behind a pillar, tremble for cold, and try in vain to wrap themselves in their rags. Horrible women take refuge there, and in bestial carelessness throw their heads, heavy with gin or rum, on the cold stones, while they clutch tightly a long bottle of spirits, which offers them the acme of all human delight. Men with shaggy beards, and only covered with the absolutely necessary rags, barefooted, without shirts, coat, perhaps with only a patched jacket on their shoulders-naked and starving-these are a few sketches from that picture which misery produces nightly in London. Round the proud palaces of Trafalgar-square crime and misery lurk, defiling those marble. pillars with their pestilential breath, and during the night the stones and the mortar of these porticos are horrified listeners to curses against fate, to lamentations and complaints against the rich-the same stones which, on the next day, the delicate feet of a duchess or countess will trip over." There! have our readers had enough? If they have not, we have! But how true it is that a prophet is not honoured in his own country! We always thought Trafalgar-square the laid idéal of everything that was execrable; and yet here comes a, doubtlessly worthy, German, and calls it the finest square in Europe! We wish we had known Herrn Rellstab when in England-we should have been glad to hear his opinion about the Wellington Statue at Hyde Park. However, if fortune favour, we may be enabled to enlighten our readers on the subject next year. SAMUEL MORTON PETO. BY E. P. ROWSELL. A GREAT company is in a mess; it has been badly managed, it has been too lavish, its creditors are clamorous, it is failing in its engagements, its board of directors is split into contending sections, its shares are drooping, its secretary is overwhelmed with letters from half-ruined holders praying for information, the public shake their heads about it"the concern is a failure, it will never pay, it can never be carried out, it is bankrupt, it must be wound up, the curtain must fall." "And yet what a pity," say some good judges; "the undertaking is really not a bad one; its present position is attributable to foolish management and deficient means. If it were grasped even now firmly and vigorously, its difficulties and embarrassments would in time disappear, and a good reward be ultimately reaped. Is there no one who possesses the requisite qualifications for its pilot, and who can be induced to step forward to its rescue ? He must not be a common man; he must have high character, determination, and ability, and large means, too, to back his efforts, or they will be vain. Can such a man be found?" Yes, there is Mr. Samuel Morton Peto, he is the very man. Without being extravagant, and asserting that Mr. Peto is distinguished by transcendent talents, it is simply a true statement that Mr. Peto is a highly intelligent, very energetic, and remarkably clear-headed man. We put clear-headed in italics, for what a quality it is that quality of clear-headedness! Our schoolmaster used to say that "everything was simple if looked at simply." A sorely aggravating remark it was under the circumstances which ordinarily elicited it from him. Addressed to an unhappy boy labouring under a question like unto the following: "If a man received a certain sum for so many sheep, and this sum represented (with interest for three months and a day) so much for the first, the price increasing at a given rate to the last, what did he receive for each sheep?" -addressed, we say, to a stout urchin brought to the most pitiable state of perplexity by two hours' pondering over a question of this character, the observation commonly produced a temporary fit of insanity, and something like rebellion was the consequence. But still, to a great extent, our revered tutor was right, and we are sure Mr. Peto will so affirm. A vast number of clever men are very slow and clumsy in so arranging the points of a question as to be enabled to survey them clearly and with effect. The quality of clear-headedness, the faculty of always being able to look at a matter "simply," without getting into a labyrinth or falling into a mystification, is a rare but an immeasurably useful and infinitely serviceable intellectual gift-and this gift Mr. Peto rejoiceth in. Mr. Peto, as is well known, is a great contractor. Messrs. Peto and Betts, Mr. Brassey, and one or two others, represent an amount of wealth and an extent of influence which might stagger many a proud aristocrat, and show him that, beside such men as these, he is in very truth a poor pitiful being. Here we have a perfect mountain of capital employed |
