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THE HISTORY OF ST. GILES AND ST. JAMES.

ton, taking his wife's hand, and trying to look into her eyes that wayward eyes!-would not meet the old man's devouring stare.

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"Pray excuse me," said Clarissa, with a politeness keen enough to cut a husband's heartstrings. "I have some orders-directions-for Mrs. Wilton. You must excuse me." "That's a treasure, Crossbone!" exclaimed Snipeton, with a laborions burst of affection, as Clarissa left the room. "A diamond of a woman! A treasure for an emperor!" "Don't-don't"-cried Crossbone, hurriedly emptying his glass.

"I said a treasure!" repeated the impassioned husband, striking the table. Crossbone shook his head. "What," cried Snipeton, knitting his Before me her husbrow, " you question it? band?" "Pray understand me, dear sir," said Crossbone, "Mrs. Snipeton is a tranquilly filling his glass. She'd have been a jewel-a pearl of a woman, sir, in the crown of King Solomon: and

treasure.

that's the worst of it."

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"The worst of it!" echoed Snipeton.

"In this world, my good friend, if a man knew what he was about, he'd set his heart upon nothing." The apothecary drained his glass. Looking, sir, as a moralist and a philosopher, at what the worth of this world at the best is made of what is it, but a large soap and water bubble It shines a minute"-here the blown by fate? moralist and philosopher raised his wine to his eye, contemplating its ruby brightness-" and where is it?" Saying this, Crossbone swallowed the wine: a fine practical comment on his very fine philosophy." I ask, where is it?"

laughed very jovially, but his host looked grave,
sad.

"It seems, Mr. Crossbone, you are no great
Yet you
friend to the women," said Snipeton.
must allow, we owe them much."

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Humph!" cried Crossbone, in a prolonged
note. He then hastily filled his glass as hastily
emptied it.

"You seem to dispute the debt?" said Snipe-
"Look here, Mr. Snipeton," cried Crossbone,
ton, gallantly returning to the charge.
with the air of a man determined for once to clear
his heart of something that has long lain wriggling
The great charm of a bottle
there" look here.
of wine after dinner between two friends is this: it
enables them to talk like philosophers; and so that
the servants don't hear, philosophy with a glass of
good fruity port-and yours is capital, one tastes
blood and fibre in it;-philosophy is a very pleas-
ant sort of thing; but like that china shepherdess
on the mantel-piece, it is much too fine and deli-
cate for the outside world. No, no; it is only to
be properly enjoyed in a parlor; snug and with the
door shut."

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Very well. Perhaps it is. We were talking Go on," said Snipeton. Well, to begin; in the "Our debts to woman. of our debts to woman. first place we call her an angel; have called her an angel for thousands of years; and I take itbut mind, I speak as a philosopher-I take it, that's a flam that should count as a good set-off on our side. Or I ask it, are men, the lords of the creation, to go on lying for nothing?" It was plain that this wicked unbelief of Crossbone a little nearly out, the apothecary felt that he must regain shocked his host, and therefore, as the bottle was "Ha! ha! some of his ground. Whereupon he sought to give a jocular guise to his philosophy; to make it, for the nonce, assume the comic mask. "Mr. Snipeton, my good friend," cried Cross- Look here: you must allow that woman ought, as Come, come," bone-his hand lovingly round the neck of the de- much as in her lies, to make this world quite a we talk as phicanter "Mr. Snipeton, he is the wisest man who paradise for us, seeing that she lost us the original cried the hilarious apothecary, in this world loves nothing. It's much the safest.garden." Snipeton just smiled. Did you ever hear of the river Styx?" what we owe to woman, you must allow that losophers, and when all's said and done about we 've a swinging balance against her. Yes, yes; the apple still to be settled for." you can't deny this: there's that little matter of

"Very true," observed Snipeton, taking as coolly as though he was used to it. true; nevertheless"

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46

truth Very

"Humph! I can't say," growled Snipeton. "Is it salt, or fresh ?"

"One dip in it makes a man invulnerable to all things; stones, arrows, bludgeons, swords, bullets, cannon-balls."

"T would save a great deal in regimentals if
the soldiers might bathe there," said Snipeton,
grinning grimly.

"So much for Styx upon the outward man,"
but I have often thought
cried Crossbone :
't would be a capital thing, if people could take it
inwardly; if they could drink Styx."

Like the Bath waters," suggested Snipeton.
Exactly so. A course or two, and the inte-
rior of a man would then be insensible of foolish
weakness," said Crossbone.
"You'd never get the women to drink it," re-
marked Snipeton, very gravely.

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""Tis a debt of long standing," said Snipeton with a short laugh.

"And therefore, as you know-nobody better" urged Crossbone-"therefore it bears a heavy interest. So heavy, Mr. Snipeton-by-the-bye, And so we must n't be hard upon 'em, poor souls the bottle 's out-so heavy they can never pay it. -no, we must n't be hard upon 'em; but get what we can in small but sweet instalments. I-for all upon 'em-dear little things-in all my life." I talk in this philosophic way-I was never hard.

For a few minutes philosophy took breath, whilst At wine, the frequent nutriment of that divine plant,. "T would not be necessary, if man, the nobler as cultivated by Crossbone, was renewed. animal-for as Mrs. Snipeton is not here, we can length, the apothecary observed-"To serious talk like philosophers"-Snipeton grunted-"if business, Mr. Snipeton. Having had our little. man, the nobler animal, for we know he is, though harmless laugh at the sex, let us speak of one who it would not be right, perhaps, to say as much be- is its sweetest flower, and its brightest ornament. The old man sighed; moved uneasily in his "Mr. Crossfore the petticoats-if man could make his own Need I name Mrs. Snipeton?" heart invulnerable, why, as for woman, she might be as weak and as foolish as she pleased; which, chair; and then with an effort began. you must allow, is granting her much, Mr. Snipe-bone, my friend-I cannot tell you-no words can And here the apothecary would have tell you, how I love that woman.'

ton."

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"I can imagine the case-very virulent indeed," said the apothecary. "Late in life it's always so. Love with young men, I mean with very young men, is nothing; a slight fever. Now, at mature time of life, it's little short of deadly typhus. Of course, I speak of love before marriage; that is, love with all its fears and anxieties; for wedlock 's a good febrifuge."

these twenty years. And in twenty years that
beautiful face would lose its look of youth-those
eyes would burn with sobered light-that full
scarlet lip be shrunk and faded. And then-yes,
then he thought, he could resign her. In twenty
years-perhaps in twenty years. With this cold
comfort, he ventured to reply to the apothecary.
"Never mind my life, that's nothing," he said.
All I think of is Clarissa; and there is yet time
she is safe, you say?"

"I have struggled, fought with myself, to think" --but you shall tell me yes, I will strengthen myself to hear the worst. Now, man"-and Snipeton grasped the arms of his chair with an iron hold, and his breast heaved as he loudly uttered-" now, speak it."

"Look you here, Mr. Snipeton. Do you think me a stock, or a stone, that I could sit here quietly and comfortably drinking your wine, if I could n't give you hope-a little hope in return?"

"A little hope!" groaned the old man. "A man in my position, Mr. Snipeton-with glorious circumstances, as I have observed, opening upon him-cannot be too cautious. I should be sorry to compromise myself by desiring you to be too confident. Nevertheless, she is young, Mr. Snipeton; and the spirit of youth does sometimes puzzle us. In such spirit then-strong as it is in her-I have the greatest faith."

"You have!" exclaimed Snipeton, starting from his seat and seizing Crossbone's hand. "Save her and—and you shall be rich; that is, you shall be well recompensed-very well. My good friend, you know not the misery it costs me to seem happy in her sight. I laugh and jest❞— Crossbone looked doubtingly-" to cheat her of her melancholy; yet❞—

"Yet she does not laugh and joke in return?" observed Crossbone. "But she will-no doubt she will."

"And then, though I know her to be sick and suffering, she never complains; but still assures me she is well-very well."

"Dear soul! You ought to be a happy manyou ought but you won't. Can't you see that she won't confess to sickness because-kind creature! --she can't think of paining you? She'd smile and say 't was nothing-I know she would, if she were dying.'

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"For God's sake, speak not such a word," cried the old man, turning pale.

"She must die some day," said Crossbone. "Though, to be sure, according to the course of nature, that is, if I save her-of which, indeed, to tell you truly, I have now no doubt-I will stake my reputation present and to come upon the matter".

"You give me life, youth," exclaimed Snipeton, with sudden happiness.

"But I was about to say that, if saved, the chances are you may leave her yet young and blooming, behind you." The old man's face darkened. It was a bitter thought that. Was there not some place in the East, where, when a husband died, his wife even through the torture of fire, followed him? This horrid thought-how, poor man! could he help it? for, reader, how know you what thought you shall next think?-this thought, we say, passed through Snipeton's brain. But Clarissa was no Hindoo wife. She might― as the prating doctor said-she might be left, yes, to smile and be happy, and more, to award happiness to another on this earth, when her doating, passionately doating husband should have his limbs composed in the grave. Again; he might live

"It's very odd, very droll, that just now you should have named Bath-the Bath waters, you know," smirked Crossbone.

"Wherefore odd-how droll? I do not understand you." And yet he had caught the meaning. "She must go to Bath; she must drink the waters. Nothing's left but that," averred the apothecary.

"I tell you, man, for these three months I cannot quit London. A world of money depends upon my stay."

"And why should you budge? You don't want your wife, do you, at St. Mary Axe? She does n't keep your books, eh?" Snipeton frowned, and bit his lip, and made no answer. Then Crossbone, his dignity strengthened by his host's wine, rose. "Mr. Snipeton," he said, "I have studied this case, studied it, sir, not only as a doctor but as a friend. I have now, sir, done my duty; I leave you as a husband and—I was about to say as a father, but that would be premature; as a husband and a man to do yours. All I say is this if your wife does not immediately move to Bath,"-Crossbone paused.

"Well," snarled Snipeton, defyingly, "and if she does not?"

"In two months, sir-I give her two monthsshe 'll go to the churchyard.'

"And so she may-so she shall," exclaimed Snipeton, violently striking the table-his face blackening with rage, his eyes lurid with passion. "So she shall. An honest grave and my name clear-I say, an honest grave, and a fair tombstone, with a fair reputation for the dead. Anything but that accursed Bath. Why, sir,"-and Snipeton, dilating with emotion, stalked towards the apothecary-"what do you think me?"

Now this question, in a somewhat_dangerous manner tested Crossbone's sincerity. In sooth, it is at best a perilous interrogative, trying to the ingenuousness of a friend. Crossbone paused; not that he had not an answer at the very tip of his tongue: an answer bubbling hot from that well of truth, his heart-and for that reason, it was not the answer to be rendered. He therefore looked duly astonished, and only asked—“ Mr. Snipeton, what do you mean?"

"I tell you, man, I'd rather see her dead, a fair and honest corpse, than send her to that pestplace," cried the husband.

"Pest-place! Really, Mr. Snipeton; this is a little too much to wipe off the reputation of a city

the reputation of hundreds of years too-in this manner. Reputation, sir, that is, if it's good for anything-does n't come up like a toad-stool; no, sir, the real thing 's of slow growth. Bath a pestplace! Why, the very fountain of health."

"The pool of vice-the very slough of what you call fashion. And you think I'd send my wife there for health! And for what health? Why, I'll say she returned with glowing face and sparkling eyes. What then? I should loathe her."

"Lord bless me !" exclaimed Crossbone.

gave one of his happiest shudders. "The night "Now, we are happy, very happy; few wed-air is poison-absolute poison. No, the time ded couples more so: very happy" and Snipeton would be from-let me see-from eleven to ground the words beneath all the teeth he had, three." and looked furiously content. Crossbone stared at the writhing image of connubial love. "You certainly look happy-extraordinarily happy," drawled the apothecary.

Therefore

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And whilst we live, will keep so. no Bath-insects-no May-flies, no June-bugs. ""Tisn't the Bath season for 'em," put in the apothecary. "They 're all in London at this time." "All's one for that. I tell you what-here, Dorothy, another bottle of wine-I tell you what, Master Crossbone, as you say, we'll talk the matter over philosophically, I think that's it; and therefore, no more words about Bath. Come, come, can there be a finer air than this?" cried the husband, rubbing his hands, and trying to laugh.

"My dear sir, the quality of the air is not the thing-it's change that's the medicine. And

then there's the waters"

"We have an excellent spring at Hampstead. Years ago I'm told the nobility used to come and drink it."

"Impossible; quite impossible. Can't leave business-certain ruin," cried Snipeton.

"Certain death, then," said Crossbone, and he slowly, solemnly drained his glass. "Certain death," he repeated.

"Don't say that, Crossbone," cried Snipeton, softened. "Mrs. Wilton, perhaps she rides, and then"

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"As for Mrs. Wilton, I trust you are under no particular obligation to that person?" "Obligation," cried Snipeton; as though the thought implied an insult. 66 'Why do you ask?" 'Nothing but for your wife's health. The fact is, Mrs. Wilton always seems melancholy, heavy; with something on her mind. Now, my dear sir, it is a truth in moral philosophy not sufficiently well known and attended to, that dumps are catching." And Crossbone looked the proud discoverer of the subtlety.

"Indeed-are they? Perhaps they may be. Well, there's a wench coming up from Kentsomewhere near Dovesnest. I've been coaxed to consent to it. She may make a sort of merrier companion."

"She may," said Crossbone; "but what you want is an honest, sharp fellow-for honesty without sharpness in this world is like a sword without edge or point; very well for show, but of no real use to the owner.

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"Then, sir, the waters had n't been analyzed. Since then they've been found out; only fit for cattle, sir, and the lower orders. Never known now to agree with a person of gentility of stomach -that is, of true delicacy. And for the air, it's very good, certainly, just for the common purposes of life; but as I say, it's not the quality, it's the change that's the thing. There's cases, sir, in which I'd send patients, ay, from Montpellier to the neighborhood of Fleet-ditch. The fact is, sir, Now, I have the very man who 'll suit you. there can't be at times a better change than from The miracle of a groom. Honest as a dog, and the best to the worst. The lungs, sir, get tired-sharp as a porcupine." heartily sick of good air if it's always the same; just as the stomach would get tired of the very best mutton, had it nothing but mutton every day."

Snipeton was silent; poudering à refutation of this false philosophy. Still he tugged at his brain for a happy rejoinder. He felt he was certain of it-that it would come when the apothecary had gone away, but unhappily he wanted it for present use. He felt himself like a rich man with all his cash locked up. Now wit, like money, bears an extra value when rung down immediately it is wanted; men pay severely who want credit. Thus, though Snipeton knew he had somewhere in that very strong box his skull, a whole bank of arguments, yet because he could not at the moment draw one, Crossbone-the way of the world -believed there were absolutely no effects. Snipeton, however, got over a difficulty as thousands before him-and thousands yet unborn will jump an obstacle;-he asked his opponent to take another glass of wine. If Bacchus often lead men into quagmires deep as his vats, let us yet do him this justice, he sometimes leads them out.

"Go on," cried Snipeton, bowing to the apothecary's apothegm.

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Humph!" cried Snipeton, marvelling at the human wonder.

"Your servant, Mr. Crossbone❞—said Dorothy Vale, opening the door-" has called as you desired."

"Tell him to come in," cried Crossbone: who then said to Snipeton-" At least you can see the fellow."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

It may be remembered that Snipeton and St. Giles had met before. And certainly St. Giles had not forgotten the event; his somewhat anxious look declared his recollection of the scene at Dovesnest, in which he played the part of rogue and vagabond according to the statute; but as Snipeton had no corresponding interest in the circumstance, he had wholly forgotten the person of the outcast in the candidate for service. But in truth, St. Giles was not the same man. At Dovesnest he was in rags; fear and want had sharpened his face, withering, debasing him. And now, he breathed new courage with every hour's freedom.-He was comfortably, trimly clad; and his pocket-too oft the barometer of the soul -was not quite at zero. Hence, in few moments, he looked with placid respect at Snipeton, who stared all about his face, as a picture-dealer stares at an alleged old master; with a look that in its "To be sure there is. And then there's High-cunning, would even seem to hope a counterfeit. gate and Finchley, and-well, that might do, perhaps," said Crossbone.

"I believe you said something about horse exercise, Crossbone? Now with a horse-you don't drink"-a hospitable slander this on the apothecary" with a horse there's change of air at will, eh?"

"And in the evenings"-and Snipeton brightened at the prospect-"we could ride together." "Death. sir certain death"-and Crossbone

Was St. Giles really the honest fellow that he appeared; was there in truth the original mark of the original artist upon him; or was he a fraudful imitation especially made to gull a trusting gentleman?-Was there really no flaw in that honest

seeming face?-And Snipeton as he looked half- they know themselves.

"How do you know, if you never counted it?" asked Snipeton.

But all he knows is wished that all men—or all servants at least-nothing to his honesty. I've trusted him with unwere fashioned like earthen vessels; that, properly told gold, and he has never laid his finger upon filliped, they should perforce reveal a damnifying it." fracture. Certainly, such sort of human pottery, expressly made for families, would be an exceeding comfort to all housekeepers. Snipeton thought this; to his own disappointment thought it; for there being no such test of moral soundness, he could only choose the domestic, two-legged vessel before him by its looks. Alas! why was there no instant means of trying the music of its ring! "That will do; you can wait," said Crossbone to St. Giles, who thereupon left the room.

"And what can you say for this fellow? Do you know all about him-who begot him-where he comes from?" asked Snipeton.

"That is"-said Crossbone, a little pulled upthat is, you know what I mean. And-the thought 's been working in me, though I've talked of other matters-I do think that a horse, with the quick and frequent change of air a horse can give, may do everything for Mrs. Snipeton; for, as 1 have said before-she 's young, very young; and youth takes much killing. And therefore, you'll make yourself easy; come, you'll promise me that?"

"I will," said Snipeton, a little softened. You give me new heart. Come, another glass." "Not another drop. Pen and ink, if you please. I must write a little prescription for a little nothing for your good lady; not that she wants medicine," said Crossbone.

Crossbone was a man of quick parts: so quick," that few knew better than he, the proper time for a complete lie. We say a complete lie; not a careless, fragmentary flam, with no genius in it; but a well-built, architectural lie, buttressed about by circumstance. Therefore, no sooner was the question put to him than, without let or hesitation, he poured forth the following narrative. Wonderful man! falsehood flowed from him like a foun-fore, just a little colored negative; nothing more." tain.

"Then why poison her with it?" asked Snipeton with some energy.

"She would n't be satisfied without it. There

Pen and ink were ordered, brought; and Cross-
bone strove to write as innocently as his art allowed
him. "There must be an apothecary at Hamp-
stead, and I'll send the man with it;" and Cross-
bone folded the prescription, and rose.
"And when shall we see you again?" asked
But I have done
You'll try the

"Why, in two or three days.
all the good I can at present.
horse?"-

"The young man who has just quitted us is of humble but honest origin. His parents were villagers, and rented a little garden-ground whereon they raised much of their lowly but healthy fare. Far, far indeed was the profligacy of London from that abode of rustic innocence. His playmates-Snipeton. I mean the young man's-were the lambkins that he watched, for at an early age he was sent out to tend sheep his books the flowers at his feet, the clouds above his head. Not but what he reads remarkably well for his condition, and writes a good stout servant's hand. He was seven years old-no, I'm wrong, eight, eight years-when he lost his father, who, good creature, fell a victim to his humanity. A sad matter that. He was killed by a windmill.”

:

"I thought you said 't was his humanity," observed Snipeton.

"I will."

"And the man?"

"I'll think of him.-Tell me, does he know anybody in London ?"

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Any calf you like, brought to Smithfield, knows more of the ways-more of the people of town. He's a regular bit of country turf. Green and fresh. Else do you think I'd recommend him!" asked Crossbone very earnestly.

"And a windmill," averred Crossbone. "A neighbor's child was gathering buttercups and dai-is, I will try him," said Snipeton. sies, and had strayed beneath the mill's revolving sails. The young man's father, obeying the impulse of his benevolent heart, rushed forward to save the little innocent. His humanity, not measuring distance, carried him too near the sails; he was struck to the earth with a compound fracture of the skull, and died."

"I almost think-I mean I'm pretty sure that

"This you know?" muttered Snipeton, looking with a wary eye.

""T was when I was an apprentice. The man being poor, and the case desperate, 't was given up to me to do my best with it. I learned a great deal from that case, and from that moment felt a natural interest in the orphan. And he has been worthy of it. You'd hardly believe the things I could tell you of that young man. You can't think how he loves his mother."

"No great credit in that-eh?" said Snipe

ton.

"Why, no; not exactly credit; but you must own it's graceful-very graceful. He makes her take nearly all his wages. Hardly saves enough for shirts and pocket-handkerchiefs. Now, this strikes me as being very filial, Mr. Snipeton ?" "And you think he'd make a good groom, eh?" asked the cautious husband.

"Bless you! he knows more about horses than

"Then between ourselves, I've recommended you a treasure. And-stop; I was about to go, forgetting the most important thing. You heard me say that dumps were catching? I hope you 've thought of that. Now, that Mrs. Wilton-the housekeeper-she'd ruin any young woman. Bless you! She's hypochondria in petticoats."

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Humph! I don't know; I prefer a serious woman for her calling. Perhaps a little over melancholy to be sure, nevertheless"

"Well, I'll say no more. After all, she may only seem melancholy to us. There may be a great deal of fun in her, for all we know. Some people remind us of mourning coaches at a funeral : the outside 's dull and solemn enough; and so, folks never think of the jokes that's flying inside of 'em. As a professional man I know this, Mr. Snipeton; and therefore I hate your very gravelooking people. If they really are what they look, they 're bad; if they arn't they 're worse. in a word-I might say more if I chose, but I won't-in a word, I don't think that Mrs. Snipeton will ever get any good from your housekeeper. Good bye, God bless yon;-the man shall bring the medicine." So saying, and looking deepest mystery, Crossbone departed.

And

The apothecary had achieved more than he had

hoped. It was very true, thought Snipeton, the wo- | puzzled whether his coach panels should be a man was cold-melancholy. Again, she had never bright blue, a flame-colored yellow, or a rich mullooked upon him with pleasant looks. Her respect berry. Still the clouds changed and shifted, and seemed wrung from her: it was not free-natural. still with the color of his carriage at his heart, he And yet her eye watched his wife with unceasing looked upon them as no other than a celestial patregard. Every moment-when least wanted, too- tern-book, rolled out to help him in his choice. she was hovering near her. How was it, he had The wide west was streaked and barred with gold; never seen this before? It was plain the woman and staring at it, Crossbone was determined that had some false influence; exercised some power lace-three-inch lace-should blaze upon his livthat estranged his wife from him. eries. And rapt in this sweet dream, he walked on, his heart throbbing to the rumbling of his coach-wheels. That music was so sweet, so deep, absorbing, that accompanying his footsteps, he was within a few paces of the Flask ere he saw a crowd gathered about the door, and heard the words "he's killed." His professional zeal was immediately quickened, and hurrying into the middle of the crowd, he saw the body of a man, apparently lifeless, carried towards the inn. The people crowded around, and by their very anxiety impeded the progress of the bearers towards the door. "Stand aside, folks-stand aside," cried Crossbone, "I'm a physician; that is, a medical man. Keep his head up, fellow."

Let us leave Snipeton for a brief time struggling and weltering in this sea of doubt; now trying to touch certain ground, and now carried away again. Let us leave him, and follow the apothecary. He had had just wine enough; which circumstance was to him the most potent reason for having more. He had put up at the Flask at Hampstead; and to that hostlery he strode, St. Giles silently following him.

"My man," said Crossbone, "who was your father-where were you born-what have you been doing and where do you come from? An answer if you please to each of these questions."

St. Giles, plucking up courage, simply replied "I am his lordship's servant; and have his orders to follow you.'

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"Get out o' the way," exclaimed a stranger, "you don't know how to carry a fellow-cretur," and the benevolent new-comer thrust aside the rustic who was, awkwardly enough, supporting the shoulders of the wounded man, and with admirable zeal, and great apparent tenderness, relieved him of the charge. "Poor soul-poor soul!" he cried, much affected, "I do wonder if he's a wife and family?"

ascended, a horse bathed in foam, and every muscle quivering, was led to the door.

"It's my belief that that Claypole sends out his boy to fly his kite a purpose to kill people, that he may bury 'em. That's the third horse he's frit this week; the little varmint! And this looks like death any how." Thus delivered himself, a plain-spoken native of Hampstead.

"There's not the slightest doubt, his lordship's servant, that you 're a convenient rascal of all work, and quite up to the business we shall put you on." Let not the reader imagine that these words were uttered by Crossbone: by no means: not a syllable of them. But the thought-the ethereal essence of words-had touched the brain of the apothecary, and his whole frame tingled "A bed-room; immediately-a bed-room," exwith the awakened music. He had found a claimed Crossbone; and his sudden patient was scoundrel, he was sure of it, and he was happy.carried up-stairs, Crossbone following. As he "Very good, my man; very good, I understand you, As you say, you are his lordship's servant, and have his lordship's orders to take my directions. Very well. You will please to take your father and mother from my hands: understand for once that they were honest, respectable people; and be grateful for the parents I've given you. Your father, good man! was killed by a windmill; and your mother still lives in the country, and regularly takes three fourths of your wages. And you are not to forget that you have a great love for that mother. And now, take this prescription to the apothecary's; tell him to make it up, and send to Mr. Snipeton's. After which, you'll come to me at the Flask. Go." St. Giles, with perplexed looks, obeyed Crossbone, and went upon his errand. "I've given the vagabond a father and mother to be proud of it 's quite clear, much better than were really bestowed upon him; and he hasn't a word of thanks to say upon the matter. Let a gentleman lie as he will for the lower orders, they're seldom grateful. Nevertheless, let us have the virtue that he wants. Were he a piece of pig-headed honesty, he would n't suit our work. No: Providence has been very good in sending us a rascal." With these mute thoughts, this final thanksgiving, did Crossbone step onward to the Flask. He would there further ponder on the plan that, throwing Snipeton's young wife into the arms of a young nobleman-and, in common justice, so old and vulgar a man had no claim to such refinement and beauty; she must have been originally intended for high life, and therefore cruelly misapplied-would throw him, Crossbone, the prime conspirator, into the very highest practice. He would keep a carriage! As he looked at the glorious clouds, colored by the setting sun, he felt

"You may say death. Cracked like a eggshell;" and saying this, the speaker significantly pointed to his own skull. "The doctor's a trying to get blood: it's my opinion he might as well try a tomb-stone. Well, this is a world, is n't it? I often thanks my luck I can't afford a horse; for who's safe a-horseback? A man kisses his wife and his babbies, if he has 'em, when he mounts his saddle of a mornin'-and his wife gets him lamb and sparrow-grass, or something nice for supper-'xpecting him home. She listens for his horse's feet, and he's brought to his door in a shell."

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Well, mate, you do speak a truth; nobody can deny that," said one of the mob; who, it is probable, scarcely dreamt that the sometime moralist and truth were so very rarely on speaking terms. And this the reader will, doubtless, admit, when we inform him that the man who so humanely, so affectionately lent his aid to the thrown horseman, helping to bear him with all tenderness up-stairs, was Mr. Thomas Blast. It was his business, or rather, as he afterwards revealed, his pleasure to be at Hampstead-his solemn pleasure. At this moment, St. Giles, on his return from the apothecary's, came to the inn-door. Ere he was well aware of the greeting, his hand was grasped by Blast-" Well, how do you do? Who'd have thought to see you here?" Who, in sooth, but

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