would be fined, or sent to the treadmill, amid the execrations of the mob. Yet thus may a courtmartial treat a fellow-creature. But the one man is a costermonger and a blackguard; the others are officers and gentlemen. Still even officers, and gentlemen to boot, should not be allowed to behave exactly like fiends incarnate. The law should not suffer them to torture poor soldiers to death. There really is required a Martin's act for the military. It is with the view of procuring some such an enactment that we recommend the formation of a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Soldiers. The Animals' Friend Society protects even the cat from man, but we want a society for protecting man from the cat. SLAVES IN SMOCK FROCKS. "MEASTER PUNCH: "Plaze zur, I zee my likeness, or zomebody else's, the imidge o' me, draad 'tother day in your peeaper, a poundun zummut in a doctor's pessul and martur. I be glad to vind you teaks zum account o' we poor country fellers, and if you 'll only goo on draaun true picturs on us, I'll warrand you'll do 's good. In the mane time, zur, I'll meak so bold as to ax 'ee for a word of advice; hopun you won't be 'fended at the liberty I be a takun of. I be a varmer's laborer. My wagis is in generl zevn shilluns a wake; zumtimes I med git aight or nine; but precious seldum. I've got a wife-moor fool I-and a kit o' children, wuss luck! What we lives upon is mostly taters and zalt. We han't had a taste o' bhaacon for I dwooant know how long, nor a drap o' beer since last harvust whooam. We bides in a crazy ramshackle consarn of a cottidge, nare a mossle better than a cowus-nit so good. How much longer we can keep out o' the Union is moor than I can tell; it must come to that, I spose, in the end. This here's a dull look out Measter Punch, baint it? Now, I've heerd a good deal o' late 'bout nigger slavery; what a sin and a sheam 't is, and how the poor slaves be to be pitied. Here's a lot o' fellers, wi' Lard Brougham at the head on 'em, as won't buy their sugar cheap, nor, what's wuss, let me buy mine cheap neither; all 'cause they should n't encurridge the slave trade. "What there is in a nigger to meak 'em take sitch a fancy to 'un, I dwooant know. I only wishes as how I was one; 'cause then praps they'd take a fancy to me. Thof I be white, baint I a man and a brother too? What I wants your opinyun about, zur, is this here. Dwoant'ee think, now, if I was to black my veace and goo hollern and bawlun my greevunces about street, I should stand moor chance o' beeun 'tended to? Or d'ye think I'd better bide as I be, and git zum o' they good gennulmen as calls theyselves Poor Man's Vriends to make a stir agin white slavery. I wish, Measter Punch, you'd spake to zum on 'em vor me; your favourat, Ben Disraly, for instance. Could n't 'ee persuaid un to spoort a broadbrimm'd hat, and a quoat wi' a square taail, to gie un the cut o' the jib of a sart o' pantiler like, so as to git the Exeter Hall folks to listen to un? Thof 't would make un look a bit of a Gy, that are ood be just the trim for un to spake a good word in, THE BALM OF SPEECH. THE hum of insects, as they throng The nightingale's mellifluous lay;— The church-bells' hallowed tone, that floats So rapt above this lower sphere, And e'en of nature's varied strain, Oh! may the melody of speech Sing to me, while on earth I rove; And may the last faint tones that reach My dying ear be those of love! Poetical Remains of a Clergyman's Wife. There is a sadness of no kin to sorrow, CHAPTER XXX. apple; and his cold, keen, twinkling eye that seemed continually employed as a search-warrant, looking clean through the bosoms of all men. He paused before the girl, taking an inventory of her qualities. And she, to repel the boldness of the fellow, tried to arm herself with one of those thunderbolt looks that woman in her dignity will sometimes cast about her, striking giants off their legs and laying them in the dust forever. Poor thing! it was indignation all in vain. She might as well have frowned at Newgate stones, expecting to see them tumble, as think to move one nerve of Jerry Whistle. Medusa, staring at that officer, would have had the worst of it, and bashfully, hopelessly let drop her eyelids. And so it was with the country maiden. Jerry still stared: leaving the girl nothing to do but to wonder at his impudence. At length, however, Mr. Gum enters the room; and Jerry, glancing at him, and, as the girl thought, very much awed by his presence, instantly moves away. THE Country girl, alone in the Brown Bear, had some slight twitchings of remorse. She felt it; she had very much slandered London and the Londoners. She had been taught she had heard the story in fields and at fire-sides, seated in the shade of haystacks, and in winter chimney-corners -that London was a fiery furnace; that all its inhabitants, especially the males, were the pet pupils of the Evil One, and did his work with wonderful docility. And now, how much ignorance had departed from her! In an hour or two, how large her stock of experience! She was alone alone in a London tavern; and yet she felt as comfortable, as secure of herself as though perched upon a Kent haycock. She had seen thousands of people; she had walked among a swarm of men and women, and nobody had even so much as attempted to pick her pocket; nobody had even snatched a kiss from her. With the generosity of a kind nature, she felt doubly trustful that she had unjustly doubted. She was in a London hotel (poor hawthorn innocence!) and felt not a bit afraid; on the contrary, she rather liked it. She looked about the room: carefully, up and down its walls. No; there was not an inch of looking-glass to be seen. Otherwise she thought she might have liked to take a peep at herself; for she knew she must be a fright; and the young man would be back soon; and though she cared not a pin about him-how could she?-still, still she should have liked one "That's like you women," said Mr. Gum, look. playfully twitching the girl's bonnet-string; "you "What, my little girl, all alone?" asked a new-can't allow for a bit of fancy: always taking a comer--as the young woman thought, a very rude, and ugly, and somewhat old man. "Got nobody with you, eh? Where's your parents?" "I'm not alone, and that 's enough," said the girl, and she fervently clutched her little bundle. Very well, my dear; would n't offend you, my lass; would n't" 66 "I'm not your dear; and I don't want at all to be talked to by you." Saying this, the girl continued to grasp her property, and looked with very determined eyes in the harsh, ugly face of the old intruder. The fact is, the girl felt that the time was come to test her energy and caution. She had too soon thought too well of the doings of London. The place swarmed with wicked people, there was no doubt of it; and the man before her was one of them. He looked particularly like a thief as he looked at her bundle. "Well, I'm so glad you 're come!" cried the girl, and her eyes sparkled, not unnoticed by the footman "Sorry, my daffydil, to keep you waiting; but aunt is such a 'oman for tongue. A good cretur though; what I call a reg'lar custard of a 'oman; made o' nothing but milk and spice and sugar." "What! and no eggs? Pretty custards they'd be " cried the girl, with a smile of pity for the detected ignorance. man up, and tying him to particulars. Well, you are a rose-bud, though!" "Never mind: I know that: let us go to Mary Axe," and the girl vigorously retied her bonnetstrings, and stood bolt up. "In a minute. Just half-a-mouthful of brandy and water atween us; just no more than would fill the eye of a little needle. You can't think what a lot of morals my aunt always talks and you can't think how dry they always make me. Now, don't shake your dear little head as if it was of no use to you: I tell you, we must have a little drop, and here it is." (And Mr. Gum spoke the truth.) “ I ordered it as I came in." 66 "Not a blessed drop-I won't, that I won't, as I'm a sinner," cried the girl with feminine emphasis. "A sinner! There never was a cherub on a tombstone like you. I should like to hear anybody call you a sinner-'t would be a bad day's work for 'em, I can tell you. Now, just a drop. Well, if you won't drink, put your lips to the edge of the glass, just to sugar it. "Well, what a cretur you are!" said the girl; and with cheeks a little flushed, she took a bird's one sip of the liquor. "That's right; quite right, my little wench. This is a place in which you can't be too particular," and saying this, Bright Jem-for it was the uncomely honesty of that good fellow's face that had alarmed the spinster-Bright Jem, with his mild, benevolent look, nodded, and passing to the further end of the room, seated himself in one of the boxes. And the girl felt more assured of his wickedness; and anxiously wished the return of "Ha! now it's worth drinking," cried Ralph; that very nice young footman-that honest, sweet- and he backed his opinion by taking a long draught. spoken young man-so long engaged in converse" And now," said he, staring full in the girl's face, with his aunt. Would he never come back? It and taking her hand, and now, as a particlar was odd, but every moment of his absence endowed favor, I want you to tell me one thing. Just one him, in the girl's mind, with a new charm. Bright private question I have to put. Look in my eyes, Jem was all unconsciously despoiled of every good and tell me what you think of love." quality, that his graceless relative, Ralph Gum, might be invested with the foreign excellence. Hark! a footstep. No; it is not the footman: he still tarries with his aunt. It is Jerry Whistle, the Bow-street officer, with his daily flower between his lips; his happy face streaked like an "Go along with your rubbish!" exclaimed the girl; at once cutting the difficulty of a definition. Love! Rubbish! She knew it not; but the wench spoke with the tongue of old philosophy. She gave a homely expression to the thoughts of sages, anchorites and nuns. The shirt of hair; the iron girdle; the flagellating thong, all declare the worthlessness of love. "Love is rubbish" chants the shaven monk and the like treason breathes the white-lipped sister, and sometimes thinks it truth. The words are writ on monastery, convent walls, though dull and dim-eyed folks without do not believe them; and-perverse is man!-turn from the silver music of the syllables for jangling marriage-bells "Ain't you ateard the roof will tumble on you? Love rubbish! Why, it's what I call the gold band about natur's hat"-for liquor made the footman metaphorical. Love, my slip of lavender, love is" "I don't want to know nothing about it, and I won't stay a minute longer from Mary Axe." And again the girl stood up, and began to push her way from the box, Mr. Ralph Gum refusing to give place, at the same time lifting the teaspoon from the glass, and vainly menacing her with it in the very prettiest manner. "Well, my peppermint, you shall go; to be sure you shall. There now"- And with determined swallow, Mr. Gum emptied the glass to prove his devotedness to her will. "We'll pay at the bar, my poppy. Don't forget your bundle. Got your best things in it, eh? Don't forget it, then." A smile, with something of contempt in it, played about the maiden's lip. Forget it?-as if any woman ever forgot a bundle, the more especially when it contained any of those vestments that, looked upon with thoughtful, melancholy eyes, are only flowing, shining proofs of a fallen state, though the perverse ingenuity of the sex contrives to give a prettiness to the livery of sin, to the badges of our lapsed condition. When we remember that both sorts of millinery, male and female, are the consequences of original wickedness, ought not the manly heart to shrink, and feel a frog-like coldness at an embroidered waistcoat? Ought not woman, smitten with the recollection of the treason of her great mother, to scream even at the rustling of a pompadour, as at the moving scales of a gliding snake? She ought; but we fear she seldom does. Nay, sometimes she actually loves-determinedly loves-fine clothes, as though she had first waked in Paradise, like a queen from a siesta, in velvet and brocade, with jewels in her hair, and court plaster stars upon her cheek. With heart-breaking perverseness, she refuses to admit the naked truth to her soul, that the milliner came into the world with death. Otherwise, could philosophy with its diamond point engrave this truth upon the crystal heart of woman, it would very much serve to lessen pin-money. We have heard it said-of course we immediately wrapt our countenance in our cloak, and ran from the slanderer-that woman fell for no other purpose than to wear fine clothes. In the prescience which she shared with man she saw the looms of the future world at work, and lost herself for a shot sarsnet. It is just as possible, too, that some of her daughters may have tripped at the window of a mercer. We cannot at this moment put our finger upon the passage, but surely it is somewhere written in the Talmud, that Eve, on leaving Eden, already took with her a choice and very various wardrobe. We have entirely forgotten the name of the writer who gives a very precise account of the moving. Nevertheless, many of the details are engraved-as with pen of iron upon rock-on our heart. First | came a score of elephants; they, marching with slow pace, carried our first mother's gowns bestowed in wicker-work. To a hundred and fifty camels were consigned the caps and 'kerchiefs. And our author, we remember, compassionately dwells upon a poor dromedary-one of two hundred-that, overladen with bonnet-boxes, refused to get upon his legs until the load was lightened by half, and another hunchbacked beast appointed to share the burden. Whole droves of ponies, that have since made their way to Wales and Shetland, carried shoes and silk stockings, (with the zodiac gold-worked for clocks,) and ruffs and wimples, and farthingales and hoods, and all the various artillery that, down to our day, from masked batteries aim at the heart of heedless, unsuspecting, ingenuous man-weapons that, all unseen, do sometimes overthrow him! And in this way, according to the Talmudist, did Eve move her wardrobe into the plain country; and in so very short a time-so active is woman, with her heart like a silkworm, working for fine clothes-did our first mother get about her, what she, with natural meekness called, only a few things, but which Adam—and at only the nine thousandth package, with an impatient sulkiness that we fear has descended to some of his sons-denominated a pack of trumpery. If women, then, are sensitive in the matter of bundles, they inherit their tenderness from their first rosy mother. And our country wench, though we think she had never read the Talmud, had an instinctive love for the fine clothes she carried with her.-An instinct given her by the same beneficent law that teaches parrots and cockatoos to preen their feathers. Whilst, with profane fingers-like an allowed shopman-we have twiddled with the legendary silks and muslins, and other webs the property of Eve; whilst we have counted the robe-laden elephants, and felt our heart melt a little at the crying, eloquent pathos of the bonnet-crushed dromedary, Mr. Ralph Gum has paid for his liquor, and, his heart generous with alcohol, has stept into Bowstreet. Glowing with brandy and benevolence, he heroically observed-" Never mind the bundle. I don't care if any of our folks do see me. So, my heart's honeysuckle, take my arm." And, with little hesitation-for now they could not be very far from St. Mary Axe-the girl linked herself to that meek footman. "Don't know what place this is, of course? Covent-garden market, my bluebell. This is where we give ten guineas a pint for green peas, and "Don't they choke you?" cried the wench, astounded at what she thought a sinfulness of stomach. "Go down all the sweeter," answered the epicurean vassal. "When they get to ten shillings a peck, they 're out of our square altogether; only fit for pigs. Noble place, isn't it? Will you have a nosegay? Not but what you 're all a nosegay yourself; nevertheless, you shall have something to sweeten you; for that Mary Axe-well, I would n't set you against it—but for you to live there; you, a sweet little cretur that smells of nothing but cow's breath and new-mown hay;why, it's just murder in a slow manner. So do have a nosegay;" and Mr. Gum insisted upon disbursing threepence for a bunch of wallflowers, which, against his wish and intention-she herself placed in her bosom. Then he said: "I do pity you, going to Mary Axe." "But I'm not a going to stay there," said the girl: "no-I'm only going to see master, and he's to take me into the country, to live with sich a sweet young lady." if I must say the truth, I told her what a nice girl you was; and how you was waiting for me; and the good old 'oman began to scold me; and asked me why I did n't bring you here. I shan't stop a And where-minute-not a minute." "Well, there'll be a couple of you," said Ralph, "I'm blessed if there wont. abouts?" "That's telling," replied the girl; as though she stored up a profound secret in her heart, that it would take at least five minutes for Ralph's picklock tongue to come at. This Ralph felt, so said no more about it. "And here, in this place, we make our members for Westminster-things for parliament, you know." The girl looked up in Ralph's face; looked up so trustingly, and again so innocently placed her arm in his, that that great-hearted footman must have felt subdued and honored by the confidence of his companion. And so he was about to hand her across his aunt's threshold-he was about to bring her face to face with that, venerable, experienced, yet most mild woman-when, suddenly, he felt his right ear seized as by a pair of iron pincers, and the next moment he felt himself spinning round and round; and the very next moment he lay tumbled in a heap upon the pavement. His heart "Don't you know? Because they may be all bursting with indignation, he looked up, andthe nearer the bad 'tatoes and the cabbage stumps. somehow, again he felt another tumble, for he saw That's what our porter tells me is one of the rights in his assailant Bright Jem, his mother's brotherof the constitution; to pelt everybody as puts him-in-law; the meddlesome, low fellow, that had alself up to go into parliament. Well, I've been ways taken it upon himself to talk to him. A done out of a nice chance, I have," said the footman, with sudden melancholy. "What do you mean? Not lost anything?" and the girl looked sweetly anxions. "How droll! What should they bring 'em like turnips to market for?" inquired the wench, wondering. 66 Ain't I, though? You see, his lordship, my young master, went and stood in the country; and I could n't go down with him. Now, if he'd only put up for Westminster, I'd just have come here in plain clothes, and dressing myself as if I was a blackguard, should n't he have known what bad 'tatoes was!" "Why, you wicked cretur! you would n't have thrown 'em at him?" 66 What for? Is he sich a wicked master-sich a very bad man?" inquired the girl. Don't know that he is. Only you can't think what a pleasure it is to get the upper hand of high folks for a little while; and 'tatoes and cabbage stumps do it. It's a satisfaction, that's all," said the footman. "I won't walk with you-not another step," and the wench angrily withdrew her arm. "There you go, now; there you go. Just like all you women; if a man makes a harmless joke -and that's all I meant-you scream as if it was a flash of lightning. Bless you! I'd go to the world's end for my master, even if I never was to see him again. That I would, my sprig of parsley." "Is this the way to Mary Axe? If I'm not there directly, I'll ask somebody else." few paces distant, too, was Mr. Whistle, Bow street officer, serenely turning his flower between his lips, and with both his hands in his pockets, looking down upon the footman as though he was of no more account than a toadstool. Of course, the girl screamed as the assault was committed; of course, for a few moments her rage against the ruffian-the ugly man who had, and so like his impudence, spoken to her at the Brown Bear-was deep and womanly. But suddenly the face of Mr. Gum grew even a little darker; and the wench, though no scholar, read treason in every black line. Hence, with growing calmness she beheld Mr. Gum elaborately rub himself, as he slowly rose from the pavement. "Who spoke to you? What did you do that for?" Such was the poor platitude that the smitten footman uttered: for guilt was at his heart; detection weighed upon him, and he could not crow. "Does n't his aunt live here?" cried the girl. "He said it was his aunt that wanted to see me?" "The only aunt he ever had," said Bright Jem, "is in heaven; and-I know it-she's a blushing for him this very minute. I say, Whistle, could n't we help him to a little Bridewell for all this?" Mr. Whistle, shifting his flower to the corner of his mouth, was about to say something; but it was clear that Mr. Gum had not at the moment either taste or leisure to attend to legal opinions. He therefore took to his heels; and he never ran so fast, because, perhaps, he never felt so little as he ran. "Just round this turning, and it's no way at all." And Mr. Gum went through the market, "Now, wasn't I right, Whistle? And did n't and through street after street, and threaded two I say that there was mischief in him? And or three courts, the girl looking now impatient, was n't it lucky we followed him from the Bear! now distrustful. At length Ralph paused. "My Well, he has a nice crop of early wickedness, dear, if I have n't left something at my aunt's! In has n't he?" Thus spoke Bright Jem, with a face that house, there; just step in a minute, while I of wonder. Mr. Whistle, however, was in no way call for it." 66 No, I shan't," answered the wench, with a determination that somewhat startled Mr. Gum. "I shan't go into any house at all, afore I come to Mary Axe. And if you don't show me the way directly, I'll scream.” "Why, what a little sweet-briar you are! Don't I tell you, my aunt lives there? A nice, good old soul, as would be glad to see you-glad to see anybody I brought to her. I tell you what, now, disconcerted or astonished. He was one of those unfortunate people-though he himself considered his happy superiority to arise from the circumstance-who had seen so much wickedness, that any amount or eccentricity of evil failed to surprise him. He therefore twirled the flower in his mouth, and remarked a little plaintively-" Why was you so quick? If you 'd only had patience, we might have sent him to Bridewell; and now, you 've spoilt it all-spoilt it all." With these THE HISTORY OF ST. GILES AND ST. JAMES. words, and a brief shadow of disappointment on | pieces for virgin gold. I don't believe any of 'em ; his brow, the officer departed. "Poor little soul!" cried Jem, taking the girl's hand, and looking paternally in her face"where did you come from-and where are you going to? Come, you'll answer me, now, wont you?" "I come from Kent, and I'm going to Mary Axe. That young man, I thought, was taking me the way" "Poor little lamb! You would n't think he was old enough for so big a villain; but somehow, he 's been reared in a hot-bed, and has spindled up 'stonishingly. He's my wife's sister's child, and I will say this for his father; he was as good and as honest a nigger as ever a Christian white man stole to turn a penny with. But we can't send goodness down from father to son; it can't be willed away, like the family spoons. Virtue,' as Mr. Capstick says, 'like vice, does n't always descend in a right line; but often goes in a zigzag.' The girl was an attentive listener; but we fear did not very perfectly understand the uttered philosophy. She, however, felt that she had been snatched from peril by the interference of the odd and ugly-looking man before her, and gratitude and confidence stirred in her woman's heart. "Bless you, sir; I was very uncivil, but I thought that is-I'm in such a tremble-can you take me to Mary Axe? I'm going to a place. Perhaps you know the gentleman-Mr. Snipeton? I mean Mrs. Snipeton, his beautiful young wife !" nevertheless, Jem, run for a coach; and as Mr. 66 Mr. Capstick had, he was accustomed to declare, furnished his room with a vigilant eye to his duties as a member of parliament. Over his mantela beautiful piece was Magna Charta, framed and glazed. “A fine historic fiction," he would say ; legend; a nice sing-song to send men to sleep, He was wont to chuckle like the true and tragical history of Cock Robin chanted to children." mightily at the passage-a fine stretch of fancy he would call it-about "selling or deferring justice," "There is fine, grave and vow it ought to be written in blood-red letters in the court of chancery. comedy, in this sheet, sir; an irony that strengthens the nerves like a steel draught. They ought to hang it up on board the Tower Tender; 't would make pretty reading for the free-born Englishman, kidnapped from wife and children to fight, and to be cut into a hero to vomit songs about, by the And in this irreverent, reJem stared, and marvelled at the strangeness grace of the cat." no bellious fashion would the member for Liquorish of the accident. He, however, owned to acquaintance with the fortunate owner of the lady. talk of Magna Charta. He called it a great Take my arm," he said," and I'll leave you at national romance; and never failed to allude to it the very door." With this Jem proceeded, on-as evidence of the value of fine fiction upon a ward, and at length turned into Long Acre. Pass- people. "Because it ought to be true," he would ing the door of Capstick-for we believe we have say, "they think it is." already informed the reader that the member for Liquorish had taken humble lodgings in that distriet-the door opened, and the senator himself, with no less a person than Mr. Tangle, attorneyat-law, advanced to the threshold. 46 the And the misanthrope member had odd nicknack toys; and all, as he said, to continually remind him of his duties as a senator and a citizen. He had a model of George the Third's new drop in "One of the institutions of my counmahogany. "Eh, Jem! What 's this? A thing from the try," he would say, "improved under the reign of buttercups? Where did you pick it up?" cried my gracious sovereign. Some folks hang up Capstick. Now the wench was no grammarian, royal portrait. Now I prefer the works of a man yet she seemed to have a born knowledge that to his looks. Every ordinary morning I bow once "it"applied to one of the female gender was to that engine as a type of the wisdom and philan alike a violation of grammar and good-breed-thropy of a Christian land; once on common occaing. Therefore she echoed "it" between her sions, and three times on hanging-days." Besides "And when I want an teeth, with of course a significant tossing of the this, he had a toy pillory; with a dead mouse fixed, and twirling in it. head. "what unbending of the immortal mind within me-by the way," Capstick once said to Tangle, a bow we do sometimes make of the immortal mind, the better to shoot at one another withwhen I want to unbend a little, I place the pillory before me, and pelt the mouse with cherry-stones and crumbs. And you would n't believe it, but it does me quite as much good-quite as much-as if the dead mouse was a living man, and the stones and crumbs were mud and eggs.' Jem observed the working of the feminine mind, and immediately whispered to the girl-"He's my master and a member of parliament; but the best cretur in the world." Jem then in a bold voice informed the senator that "the young 'oman was come up from the country to go to service at Mr. Snipeton's." "Bless me! what a very strange accident! Come to Mr. Snipeton's, eh? How very odd!" cried Tangle, feeling that he ought to speak. There were other fantastic movables which, for the present, we must pass. Mr. Capstick, to "Well, the astonishment of Tangle, approached a corner cupbard, taking therefrom a decanter of wine and "You are tired, young woman; and a glass. sometimes a little of this-just a little-is medicine to the weary." He then poured out the wine; which the wench obediently swallowed. Had it In the mean time Bright Jem, with commendable brevity, whispered to Capstick the history of his meeting with the gentle wayfarer. and she looks an innocent thing," said Capstick, his face scarlet with indignation at Jem's story. "She looks innocent; but after all, she's a woman, Jem; and women can look whatever they like. They've a wonderful way of passing pocket |
