Catherine: A Story ..............................................................................................................................................1

William Makepeace Thackeray...............................................................................................................1

3. In which a narcotic is administered, and a great deal of genteel society depicted.

8. Enumerates the accomplishments of Master Thomas Billings introduces Brock as Doctor Woodand

9. Interview between Count Galgenstein and Master Thomas Billings, when he informs the Count of his

10. Showing how Galgenstein and Mrs. Cat recognise each other in Marylebone Gardensand how the

The story of "Catherine," which appeared in Fraser's Magazine in 183940, was written by Mr. Thackeray,

under the name of Ikey Solomons, Jun., to counteract the injurious influence of some popular fictions of that

day, which made heroes of highwaymen and burglars, and created a false sympathy for the vicious and

With this purpose, the author chose for the subject of his story a woman named Catherine Hayes, who was

burned at Tyburn, in 1726, for the deliberate murder of her husband, under very revolting circumstances. Mr.

Thackeray's aim obviously was to describe the career of this wretched woman and her associates with such

fidelity to truth as to exhibit the danger and folly of investing such persons with heroic and romantic

At that famous period of history, when the seventeenth century (after a deal of quarrelling, kingkilling,

reforming, republicanising, restoring, rerestoring, playwriting, sermon writing, OliverCromwellising,

Stuartising, and Orangising, to be sure) had sunk into its grave, giving place to the lusty eighteenth; when Mr.

Isaac Newton was a tutor of Trinity, and Mr. Joseph Addison Commissioner of Appeals; when the presiding

genius that watched over the destinies of the French nation had played out all the best cards in his hand, and

his adversaries began to pour in their trumps; when there were two kings in Spain employed perpetually in

running away from one another; when there was a queen in England, with such rogues for Ministers as have

never been seen, no, not in our own day; and a General, of whom it may be severely argued, whether he was

the meanest miser or the greatest hero in the world; when Mrs. Masham had not yet put Madam

Marlborough's nose out of joint; when people had their ears cut off for writing very meek political pamphlets;

and very large fullbottomed wigs were just beginning to be worn with powder; and the face of Louis the

Great, as his was handed in to him behind the bedcurtains, was, when issuing thence, observed to look

About the year One thousand seven hundred and five, that is, in the glorious reign of Queen Anne, there

existed certain characters, and befell a series of adventures, which, since they are strictly in accordance with

the present fashionable style and taste; since they have been already partly described in the "Newgate

Calendar;" since they are (as shall be seen anon) agreeably low, delightfully disgusting, and at the same time

And though it may be said, with some considerable show of reason, that agreeably low and delightfully

disgusting characters have already been treated, both copiously and ably, by some eminent writers of the

present (and, indeed, of future) ages; though to tread in the footsteps of the immortal FAGIN requires a

genius of inordinate stride, and to go arobbing after the late though deathless TURPIN, the renowned JACK

SHEPPARD, or the embryo DUVAL, may be impossible, and not an infringement, but a wasteful indication

of illwill towards the eighth commandment; though it may, on the one hand, be asserted that only vain

coxcombs would dare to write on subjects already described by men really and deservedly eminent; on the

other hand, that these subjects have been described so fully, that nothing more can be said about them; on the

third hand (allowing, for the sake of argument, three hands to one figure of speech), that the public has heard

so much of them, as to be quite tired of rogues, thieves, cutthroats, and Newgate altogether;though all

these objections may be urged, and each is excellent, yet we intend to take a few more pages from the "Old

Bailey Calendar," to bless the public with one more draught from the Stone Jug:*yet awhile to listen,

hurdlemounted, and riding down the Oxford Road, to the bland conversation of Jack Ketch, and to hang

with him round the neck of his patient, at the end of our and his history. We give the reader fair notice, that

we shall tickle him with a few such scenes of villainy, throatcutting, and bodily suffering in general, as are

* This, as your Ladyship is aware, is the polite name for Her Majesty's Prison of Newgate.

In the year 1705, then, whether it was that the Queen of England did feel seriously alarmed at the notion that

a French prince should occupy the Spanish throne; or whether she was tenderly attached to the Emperor of

Germany; or whether she was obliged to fight out the quarrel of William of Orange, who made us pay and

fight for his Dutch provinces; or whether poor old Louis Quatorze did really frighten her; or whether Sarah

Jennings and her husband wanted to make a fight, knowing how much they should gain by it;whatever the

reason was, it was evident that the war was to continue, and there was almost as much soldiering and

recruiting, parading, pike and gunexercising, flagflying, drumbeating, powderblazing, and military

enthusiasm, as we can all remember in the year 1801, what time the Corsican upstart menaced our shores. A

recruitingparty and captain of Cutts's regiment (which had been so mangled at Blenheim the year before)

were now in Warwickshire; and having their depot at Warwick, the captain and his attendant, the corporal,

were used to travel through the country, seeking for heroes to fill up the gaps in Cutts's corps,and for

Our Captain Plume and Sergeant Kite (it was at this time, by the way, that those famous recruitingofficers

were playing their pranks in Shrewsbury) were occupied very much in the same manner with Farquhar's

heroes. They roamed from Warwick to Stratford, and from Stratford to Birmingham, persuading the swains

of Warwickshire to leave the plough for the Pike, and despatching, from time to time, small detachments of

recruits to extend Marlborough's lines, and to act as food for the hungry cannon at Ramillies and Malplaquet.

Of those two gentlemen who are about to act a very important part in our history, one only was probably a

native of Britain,we say probably, because the individual in question was himself quite uncertain, and, it

must be added, entirely indifferent about his birthplace; but speaking the English language, and having been

during the course of his life pretty generally engaged in the British service, he had a tolerably fair claim to the

majestic title of Briton. His name was Peter Brock, otherwise Corporal Brock, of Lord Cutts's regiment of

dragoons; he was of age about fiftyseven (even that point has never been ascertained); in height about five

feet six inches; in weight, nearly thirteen stone; with a chest that the celebrated Leitch himself might envy; an

arm that was like an operadancer's leg; a stomach so elastic that it would accommodate itself to any given or

stolen quantity of food; a great aptitude for strong liquors; a considerable skill in singing chansons de table of

not the most delicate kind; he was a lover of jokes, of which he made many, and passably bad; when pleased,

simply coarse, boisterous, and jovial; when angry, a perfect demon: bullying, cursing, storming, fighting, as

Mr. Brock was strictly, what the Marquis of Rodil styled himself in a proclamation to his soldiers after

running away, a hijo de la guerraa child of war. Not seven cities, but one or two regiments, might contend

for the honour of giving him birth; for his mother, whose name he took, had acted as campfollower to a

Royalist regiment; had then obeyed the Parliamentarians; died in Scotland when Monk was commanding in

that country; and the first appearance of Mr. Brock in a public capacity displayed him as a fifer in the

General's own regiment of Coldstreamers, when they marched from Scotland to London, and from a republic

at once into a monarchy. Since that period, Brock had been always with the army, he had had, too, some

promotion, for he spake of having a command at the battle of the Boyne; though probably (as he never

mentioned the fact) upon the losing side. The very year before this narrative commences, he had been one of

Mordaunt's forlorn hope at Schellenberg, for which service he was promised a pair of colours; he lost them,

however, and was almost shot (but fate did not ordain that his career should close in that way) for

drunkenness and insubordination immediately after the battle; but having in some measure reinstated himself

by a display of much gallantry at Blenheim, it was found advisable to send him to England for the purposes

of recruiting, and remove him altogether from the regiment where his gallantry only rendered the example of

Mr. Brock's commander was a slim young gentleman of twentysix, about whom there was likewise a

history, if one would take the trouble to inquire. He was a Bavarian by birth (his mother being an English

lady), and enjoyed along with a dozen other brothers the title of count: eleven of these, of course, were

penniless; one or two were priests, one a monk, six or seven in various military services, and the elder at

home at Schloss Galgenstein breeding horses, hunting wild boars, swindling tenants, living in a great house

with small means; obliged to be sordid at home all the year, to be splendid for a month at the capital, as is the

way with many other noblemen. Our young count, Count Gustavus Adolphus Maximilian von Galgenstein,

had been in the service of the French as page to a nobleman; then of His Majesty's gardes du corps; then a

lieutenant and captain in the Bavarian service; and when, after the battle of Blenheim, two regiments of

Germans came over to the winning side, Gustavus Adolphus Maximilian found himself among them; and at

the epoch when this story commences, had enjoyed English pay for a year or more. It is unnecessary to say

how he exchanged into his present regiment; how it appeared that, before her marriage, handsome John

Churchill had known the young gentleman's mother, when they were both penniless hangerson at Charles

the Second's court;it is, we say, quite useless to repeat all the scandal of which we are perfectly masters,

and to trace step by step the events of his history. Here, however, was Gustavus Adolphus, in a small inn, in a

small village of Warwickshire, on an autumn evening in the year 1705; and at the very moment when this

history begins, he and Mr. Brock, his corporal and friend, were seated at a round table before the kitchenfire

while a small groom of the establishment was leading up and down on the village green, before the inn door,

two black, glossy, longtailed, barrelbellied, thickflanked, archnecked, Romannosed Flanders horses,

which were the property of the two gentlemen now taking their ease at the "Bugle Inn." The two gentlemen

were seated at their ease at the inn table, drinking mountainwine; and if the reader fancies from the sketch

which we have given of their lives, or from his own blindness and belief in the perfectibility of human nature,

that the sun of that autumn evening shone upon any two men in county or city, at desk or harvest, at Court or

at Newgate, drunk or sober, who were greater rascals than Count Gustavus Galgenstein and Corporal Peter

Brock, he is egregiously mistaken, and his knowledge of human nature is not worth a fig. If they had not been

two prominent scoundrels, what earthly business should we have in detailing their histories? What would the

public care for them? Who would meddle with dull virtue, humdrum sentiment, or stupid innocence, when

vice, agreeable vice, is the only thing which the readers of romances care to hear?

The little horseboy, who was leading the two black Flanders horses up and down the green, might have put

them in the stable for any good that the horses got by the gentle exercise which they were now taking in the

cool evening air, as their owners had not ridden very far or very hard, and there was not a hair turned of their

sleek shining coats; but the lad had been especially ordered so to walk the horses about until he received

further commands from the gentlemen reposing in the "Bugle" kitchen; and the idlers of the village seemed

so pleased with the beasts, and their smart saddles and shining bridles, that it would have been a pity to

deprive them of the pleasure of contemplating such an innocent spectacle. Over the Count's horse was thrown

a fine red cloth, richly embroidered in yellow worsted, a very large count's coronet and a cipher at the four

corners of the covering; and under this might be seen a pair of gorgeous silver stirrups, and above it, a couple

of silvermounted pistols reposing in bearskin holsters; the bit was silver too, and the horse's head was

decorated with many smart ribbons. Of the Corporal's steed, suffice it to say, that the ornaments were in

brass, as bright, though not perhaps so valuable, as those which decorated the Captain's animal. The boys,

who had been at play on the green, first paused and entered into conversation with the horseboy; then the

village matrons followed; and afterwards, sauntering by ones and twos, came the village maidens, who love

soldiers as flies love treacle; presently the males began to arrive, and lo! the parson of the parish, taking his

evening walk with Mrs. Dobbs, and the four children his offspring, at length joined himself to his flock.

To this audience the little ostler explained that the animals belonged to two gentlemen now reposing at the

"Bugle:" one young with gold hair, the other old with grizzled locks; both in red coats; both in jackboots;

putting the house into a bustle, and calling for the best. He then discoursed to some of his own companions

regarding the merits of the horses; and the parson, a learned man, explained to the villagers, that one of the

travellers must be a count, or at least had a count's horsecloth; pronounced that the stirrups were of real silver,

and checked the impetuosity of his son, William Nassau Dobbs, who was for mounting the animals, and who

As this family discussion was taking place, the gentlemen whose appearance had created so much attention

came to the door of the inn, and the elder and stouter was seen to smile at his companion; after which he

strolled leisurely over the green, and seemed to examine with much benevolent satisfaction the assemblage of

Mr. Brock, when he saw the parson's band and cassock, took off his beaver reverently, and saluted the divine:

"I hope your reverence won't baulk the little fellow," said he; "I think I heard him calling out for a ride, and

whether he should like my horse, or his Lordship's horse, I am sure it is all one. Don't be afraid, sir! the

horses are not tired; we have only come seventy mile today, and Prince Eugene once rode a matter of

fiftytwo leagues (a hundred and fifty miles), sir, upon that horse, between sunrise and sunset."

"On THIS, sir,on mine, Corporal Brock of Cutts's black gelding, 'William of Nassau.' The Prince, sir, gave

it me after Blenheim fight, for I had my own legs carried away by a cannonball, just as I cut down two of

"Your own legs, sir!" said the Doctor. "Gracious goodness! this is more and more astonishing!"

"No, no, not my own legs, my horse's I mean, sir; and the Prince gave me 'William of Nassau' that very day."

To this no direct reply was made; but the Doctor looked at Mrs. Dobbs, and Mrs. Dobbs and the rest of the

children at her eldest son, who grinned and said, "Isn't it wonderful?" The Corporal to this answered nothing,

but, resuming his account, pointed to the other horse and said, "THAT horse, sirgood as mine isthat

horse, with the silver stirrups, is his Excellency's horse, Captain Count Maximilian Gustavus Adolphus von

Galgenstein, captain of horse and of the Holy Roman Empire" (he lifted here his hat with much gravity, and

all the crowd, even to the parson, did likewise). "We call him 'George of Denmark,' sir, in compliment to Her

Majesty's husband: he is Blenheim too, sir; Marshal Tallard rode him on that day, and you know how HE was

"George of Denmark, Marshal Tallard, William of Nassau! this is strange indeed, most wonderful! Why, sir,

little are you aware that there are before you, AT THIS MOMENT, two other living beings who bear these

venerated names! My boys, stand forward! Look here, sir: these children have been respectively named after

"And very good names too, sir; ay, and very noble little fellows too; and I propose that, with your reverence

and your ladyship's leave, William Nassau here shall ride on George of Denmark, and George of Denmark

When this speech of the Corporal's was made, the whole crowd set up a loyal hurrah; and, with much gravity,

the two little boys were lifted up into the saddles; and the Corporal leading one, entrusted the other to the

The popularity which Mr. Brock gained by this manoeuvre was very great; but with regard to the names of

the horses and children, which coincided so extraordinarily, it is but fair to state, that the christening of the

quadrupeds had only taken place about two minutes before the dragoon's appearance on the green. For if the

fact must be confessed, he, while seated near the inn window, had kept a pretty wistful eye upon all going on

without; and the horses marching thus to and fro for the wonderment of the village, were only placards or

There was, besides the boy now occupied with the horses, and the landlord and landlady of the "Bugle Inn,"

another person connected with that establishmenta very smart, handsome, vain, giggling servantgirl,

about the age of sixteen, who went by the familiar name of Cat, and attended upon the gentlemen in the

parlour, while the landlady was employed in cooking their supper in the kitchen. This young person had been

educated in the village poorhouse, and having been pronounced by Doctor Dobbs and the schoolmaster the

idlest, dirtiest, and most passionate little minx with whom either had ever had to do, she was, after receiving a

very small portion of literary instruction (indeed it must be stated that the young lady did not know her

letters), bound apprentice at the age of nine years to Mrs. Score, her relative, and landlady of the "Bugle Inn."

If Miss Cat, or Catherine Hall, was a slattern and a minx, Mrs. Score was a far superior shrew; and for the

seven years of her apprenticeship the girl was completely at her mistress's mercy. Yet though wondrously

stingy, jealous, and violent, while her maid was idle and extravagant, and her husband seemed to abet the girl,

Mrs. Score put up with the wench's airs, idleness, and caprices, without ever wishing to dismiss her from the

"Bugle." The fact is, that Miss Catherine was a great beauty, and for about two years, since her fame had

begun to spread, the custom of the inn had also increased vastly. When there was a debate whether the

farmers, on their way from market, would take t'other pot, Catherine, by appearing with it, would straightway

cause the liquor to be swallowed and paid for; and when the traveller who proposed riding that night and

sleeping at Coventry or Birmingham, was asked by Miss Catherine whether he would like a fire in his

bedroom, he generally was induced to occupy it, although he might before have vowed to Mrs. Score that he

would not for a thousand guineas be absent from home that night. The girl had, too, halfadozen lovers in

the village; and these were bound in honour to spend their pence at the alehouse she inhabited. O woman,

lovely woman! what strong resolves canst thou twist round thy little finger! what gunpowder passions canst

thou kindle with a single sparkle of thine eye! what lies and fribble nonsense canst thou make us listen to, as

they were gospel truth or splendid wit! above all what bad liquor canst thou make us swallow when thou

The mountainwine at the "Bugle" was, in fact, execrable; but Mrs. Cat, who served it to the two soldiers,

made it so agreeable to them, that they found it a passable, even a pleasant task, to swallow the contents of a

second bottle. The miracle had been wrought instantaneously on her appearance: for whereas at that very

moment the Count was employed in cursing the wine, the landlady, the winegrower, and the English nation

generally, when the young woman entered and (choosing so to interpret the oaths) said, "Coming, your

honour; I think your honour called"Gustavus Adolphus whistled, stared at her very hard, and seeming

quite dumbstricken by her appearance, contented himself by swallowing a whole glass of mountain by way

Mr. Brock was, however, by no means so confounded as his captain: he was thirty years older than the latter,

and in the course of fifty years of military life had learned to look on the most dangerous enemy, or the most

"My dear Mary," then said that gentleman, "his honour is a lord; as good as a lord, that is; for all he allows

Catherine dropped a low curtsey, and said, "Well, I don't know if you are joking a poor country girl, as all

you soldier gentlemen do; but his honour LOOKS like a lord: though I never see one, to be sure."

"Then," said the Captain, gathering courage, "how do you know I look like one, pretty Mary?"

Here Mr. Brock burst into a roar of laughter, and shouting with many oaths that she was right at first, invited

Pretty Catherine turned away from him at this request, and muttered something about "Keep your distance,

low fellow! buss indeed; poor country girl," etc. etc., placing herself, as if for protection, on the side of the

Captain. That gentleman looked also very angry; but whether at the sight of innocence so outraged, or the

insolence of the Corporal for daring to help himself first, we cannot say. "Hark ye, Mr. Brock," he cried very

fiercely, "I will suffer no such liberties in my presence: remember, it is only my condescension which permits

you to share my bottle in this way; take care I don't give you instead a taste of my cane." So saying, he, in a

protecting manner, placed one hand round Mrs. Catherine's waist, holding the other clenched very near to the

Mrs. Catherine, for HER share of this action of the Count's, dropped another curtsey and said, "Thank you,

my Lord." But Galgenstein's threat did not appear to make any impression on Mr. Brock, as indeed there was

no reason that it should; for the Corporal, at a combat of fisticuffs, could have pounded his commander into a

jelly in ten minutes; so he contented himself by saying, "Well, noble Captain, there's no harm done; it IS an

honour for poor old Peter Brock to be at table with you, and I AM sorry, sure enough."

"In truth, Peter, I believe thou art; thou hast good reason, eh, Peter? But never fear, man; had I struck thee, I

"I KNOW you would not," replied Brock, laying his hand on his heart with much gravity; and so peace was

made, and healths were drunk. Miss Catherine condescended to put her lips to the Captain's glass; who swore

that the wine was thus converted into nectar; and although the girl had not previously heard of that liquor, she

The poor thing had never before seen anybody so handsome, or so finely dressed as the Count; and, in the

simplicity of her coquetry, allowed her satisfaction to be quite visible. Nothing could be more clumsy than

the gentleman's mode of complimenting her; but for this, perhaps, his speeches were more effective than

others more delicate would have been; and though she said to each, "Oh, now, my Lord," and "La, Captain,

how can you flatter one so?" and "Your honour's laughing at me," and made such polite speeches as are used

on these occasions, it was manifest from the flutter and blush, and the grin of satisfaction which lighted up

the buxom features of the little country beauty, that the Count's first operations had been highly successful.

When following up his attack, he produced from his neck a small locket (which had been given him by a

Dutch lady at the Brill), and begged Miss Catherine to wear it for his sake, and chucked her under the chin

and called her his little rosebud, it was pretty clear how things would go: anybody who could see the

expression of Mr. Brock's countenance at this event might judge of the progress of the irresistible

Being of a very vain communicative turn, our fair barmaid gave her two companions, not only a pretty long

account of herself, but of many other persons in the village, whom she could perceive from the window

opposite to which she stood. "Yes, your honour," said she "my Lord, I mean; sixteen last March, though

there's a many girl in the village that at my age is quite chits. There's Polly Randall now, that redhaired girl

along with Thomas Curtis: she's seventeen if she's a day, though he is the very first sweetheart she has had.

Well, as I am saying, I was bred up here in the villagefather and mother died very young, and I was left a

poor orphanwell, bless us! if Thomas haven't kissed her!to the care of Mrs. Score, my aunt, who has

been a mother to mea stepmother, you know;and I've been to Stratford fair, and to Warwick many a

time; and there's two people who have offered to marry me, and ever so many who want to, and I won't have

noneonly a gentleman, as I've always said; not a poor clodpole, like Tom there with the red waistcoat (he

was one that asked me), nor a drunken fellow like Sam Blacksmith yonder, him whose wife has got the black

"La, sir, how can you? Why, like our squire, Sir John, who rides in such a mortal fine gold coach; or, at least,

like the parson, Doctor Dobbsthat's he, in the black gown, walking with Madam Dobbs in red."

"Yes: two girls and two boys; and only think, he calls one William Nassau, and one George Denmarkisn't

it odd?" And from the parson, Mrs. Catherine went on to speak of several humble personages of the village

community, who, as they are not necessary to our story, need not be described at full length. It was when,

from the window, Corporal Brock saw the altercation between the worthy divine and his son, respecting the

latter's ride, that he judged it a fitting time to step out on the green, and to bestow on the two horses those

Mr. Brock's diplomacy was, as we have stated, quite successful; for, when the parson's boys had ridden and

retired along with their mamma and papa, other young gentlemen of humbler rank in the village were placed

upon "George of Denmark" and "William of Nassau;" the Corporal joking and laughing with all the

grownup people. The women, in spite of Mr. Brock's age, his red nose, and a certain squint of his eye,

vowed the Corporal was a jewel of a man; and among the men his popularity was equally great.

"How much dost thee get, Thomas Clodpole?" said Mr. Brock to a countryman (he was the man whom Mrs.

Catherine had described as her suitor), who had laughed loudest at some of his jokes: "how much dost thee

Mr. Clodpole, whose name was really Bullock, stated that his wages amounted to "three shillings and a

"Three shillings and a puddn!monstrous!and for this you toil like a galleyslave, as I have seen them in

Turkey and America,ay, gentlemen, and in the country of Prester John! You shiver out of bed on icy

"Yes, indeed," said the person addressed, who seemed astounded at the extent of the Corporal's information.

"Or you clean pigsty, and take dung down to meadow; or you act watchdog and tend sheep; or you sweep a

scythe over a great field of grass; and when the sun has scorched the eyes out of your head, and sweated the

flesh off your bones, and wellnigh fried the soul out of your body, you go home, to what?three shillings a

"Worthy Clodpole, give us thy hand: it shall have beer enough this day, or my name's not Corporal Brock.

Here's the money, boy! there are twenty pieces in this purse: and how do you think I got 'em? and how do you

think I shall get others when these are gone?by serving Her Sacred Majesty, to be sure: long life to her,

Bullock, a few of the men, and two or three of the boys, piped out an hurrah, in compliment to this speech of

the Corporal's: but it was remarked that the greater part of the crowd drew backthe women whispering

"I see, ladies, what it is," said he. "You are frightened, and think I am a crimp come to steal your sweethearts

away. What! call Peter Brock a doubledealer? I tell you what, boys, Jack Churchill himself has shaken this

hand, and drunk a pot with me: do you think he'd shake hands with a rogue? Here's Tummas Clodpole has

never had beer enough, and here am I will stand treat to him and any other gentleman: am I good enough

company for him? I have money, look you, and like to spend it: what should _I_ be doing dirty actions

A satisfactory reply to this query was not, of course, expected by the Corporal nor uttered by Mr. Bullock;

and the end of the dispute was, that he and three or four of the rustic bystanders were quite convinced of the

good intentions of their new friend, and accompanied him back to the "Bugle," to regale upon the promised

beer. Among the Corporal's guests was one young fellow whose dress would show that he was somewhat

better to do in the world than Clodpole and the rest of the sunburnt ragged troop, who were marching towards

the alehouse. This man was the only one of his hearers who, perhaps, was sceptical as to the truth of his

stories; but as soon as Bullock accepted the invitation to drink, John Hayes, the carpenter (for such was his

"I know thee wilt," said Thomas: "thou'lt goo anywhere Catty Hall is, provided thou canst goo for nothing."

"A penny to KEEP, you mean: for all your love for the lass at the 'Bugle,' did thee ever spend a shilling in the

house? Thee wouldn't go now, but that I am going too, and the Captain here stands treat."

"Come, come, gentlemen, no quarrelling," said Mr. Brock. "If this pretty fellow will join us, amen say I:

there's lots of liquor, and plenty of money to pay the score. Comrade Tummas, give us thy arm. Mr. Hayes,

you're a hearty cock, I make no doubt, and all such are welcome. Come along, my gentleman farmers, Mr.

Brock shall have the honour to pay for you all." And with this, Corporal Brock, accompanied by Messrs.

Hayes, Bullock, Blacksmith, Baker'sboy, Butcher, and one or two others, adjourned to the inn; the horses

Although we have, in this quiet way, and without any flourishing of trumpets, or beginning of chapters,

introduced Mr. Hayes to the public; and although, at first sight, a sneaking carpenter's boy may seem hardly

worthy of the notice of an intelligent reader, who looks for a good cutthroat or highwayman for a hero, or a

pickpocket at the very least: this gentleman's words and actions should be carefully studied by the public, as

he is destined to appear before them under very polite and curious circumstances during the course of this

history. The speech of the rustic Juvenal, Mr. Clodpole, had seemed to infer that Hayes was at once careful of

his money and a warm admirer of Mrs. Catherine of the "Bugle:" and both the charges were perfectly true.

Hayes's father was reported to be a man of some substance; and young John, who was performing his

apprenticeship in the village, did not fail to talk very big of his pretensions to fortuneof his entering, at the

close of his indentures, into partnership with his fatherand of the comfortable farm and house over which

Mrs. John Hayes, whoever she might be, would one day preside. Thus, next to the barber and butcher, and

above even his own master, Mr. Hayes took rank in the village: and it must not be concealed that his

representation of wealth had made some impression upon Mrs. Hall toward whom the young gentleman had

cast the eyes of affection. If he had been tolerably welllooking, and not pale, rickety, and feeble as he was;

if even he had been ugly, but withal a man of spirit, it is probable the girl's kindness for him would have been

much more decided. But he was a poor weak creature, not to compare with honest Thomas Bullock, by at

least nine inches; and so notoriously timid, selfish, and stingy, that there was a kind of shame in receiving his

addresses openly; and what encouragement Mrs. Catherine gave him could only be in secret.

But no mortal is wise at all times: and the fact was, that Hayes, who cared for himself intensely, had set his

heart upon winning Catherine; and loved her with a desperate greedy eagerness and desire of possession,

which makes passions for women often so fierce and unreasonable among very cold and selfish men. His

parents (whose frugality he had inherited) had tried in vain to wean him from this passion, and had made

many fruitless attempts to engage him with women who possessed money and desired husbands; but Hayes

was, for a wonder, quite proof against their attractions; and, though quite ready to acknowledge the absurdity

of his love for a penniless alehouse servantgirl, nevertheless persisted in it doggedly. "I know I'm a fool,"

said he; "and what's more, the girl does not care for me; but marry her I must, or I think I shall just die: and

marry her I will." For very much to the credit of Miss Catherine's modesty, she had declared that marriage

was with her a sine qua non, and had dismissed, with the loudest scorn and indignation, all propositions of a

Poor Thomas Bullock was another of her admirers, and had offered to marry her; but three shillings a week

and a puddn was not to the girl's taste, and Thomas had been scornfully rejected. Hayes had also made her a

direct proposal. Catherine did not say no: she was too prudent: but she was young and could wait; she did not

care for Mr. Hayes yet enough to marry him(it did not seem, indeed, in the young woman's nature to care

for anybody)and she gave her adorer flatteringly to understand that, if nobody better appeared in the

course of a few years, she might be induced to become Mrs. Hayes. It was a dismal prospect for the poor

In the meantime she considered herself free as the wind, and permitted herself all the innocent gaieties which

that "chartered libertine," a coquette, can take. She flirted with all the bachelors, widowers, and married men,

in a manner which did extraordinary credit to her years: and let not the reader fancy such pastimes unnatural

at her early age. The ladiesHeaven bless them!are, as a general rule, coquettes from babyhood upwards.

Little SHE'S of three years old play little airs and graces upon small heroes of five; simpering misses of nine

make attacks upon young gentlemen of twelve; and at sixteen, a wellgrown girl, under encouraging

circumstancessay, she is pretty, in a family of ugly elder sisters, or an only child and heiress, or a humble

wench at a country inn, like our fair Catherineis at the very pink and prime of her coquetry: they will jilt

you at that age with an ease and arch infantine simplicity that never can be surpassed in maturer years.

Miss Catherine, then, was a franche coquette, and Mr. John Hayes was miserable. His life was passed in a

storm of mean passions and bitter jealousies, and desperate attacks upon the indifferencerock of Mrs.

Catherine's heart, which not all his tempest of love could beat down. O cruel cruel pangs of love unrequited!

Mean rogues feel them as well as great heroes. Lives there the man in Europe who has not felt them many

times?who has not knelt, and fawned, and supplicated, and wept, and cursed, and raved, all in vain; and

passed long wakeful nights with ghosts of dead hopes for company; shadows of buried remembrances that

glide out of their graves of nights, and whisper, "We are dead now, but we WERE once; and we made you

happy, and we come now to mock you:despair, O lover, despair, and die"?O cruel pangs!dismal

nights!Now a sly demon creeps under your nightcap, and drops into your ear those soft hopebreathing

sweet words, uttered on the wellremembered evening: there, in the drawer of your dressingtable (along

with the razors, and Macassar oil), lies the dead flower that Lady Amelia Wilhelmina wore in her bosom on

the night of a certain ballthe corpse of a glorious hope that seemed once as if it would live for ever, so

strong was it, so full of joy and sunshine: there, in your writingdesk, among a crowd of unpaid bills, is the

dirty scrap of paper, thimblesealed, which came in company with a pair of muffetees of her knitting (she

was a butcher's daughter, and did all she could, poor thing!), begging "you would ware them at collidge, and

think of her who"married a publichouse three weeks afterwards, and cares for you no more now than she

does for the potboy. But why multiply instances, or seek to depict the agony of poor meanspirited John

Hayes? No mistake can be greater than that of fancying such great emotions of love are only felt by virtuous

or exalted men: depend upon it, Love, like Death, plays havoc among the pauperum tabernas, and sports with

rich and poor, wicked and virtuous, alike. I have often fancied, for instance, on seeing the haggard pale young

oldclothesman, who wakes the echoes of our street with his nasal cry of "Clo'!"I have often, I said,

fancied that, besides the load of exuvial coats and breeches under which he staggers, there is another weight

on himan atrior cura at his tailand while his unshorn lips and nose together are performing that

mocking, boisterous, Jackindifferent cry of "Clo', clo'!" who knows what woeful utterances are crying from

the heart within? There he is, chaffering with the footman at No. 7 about an old dressinggown: you think his

whole soul is bent only on the contest about the garment. Psha! there is, perhaps, some faithless girl in

Holywell Street who fills up his heart; and that desultory Jewboy is a peripatetic hell! Take another

instance:take the man in the beefshop in Saint Martin's Court. There he is, to all appearances quite calm:

before the same round of beeffrom morning till sundownfor hundreds of years very likely. Perhaps

when the shutters are closed, and all the world tired and silent, there is HE silent, but untiredcutting,

cutting, cutting. You enter, you get your meat to your liking, you depart; and, quite unmoved, on, on he goes,

reaping ceaselessly the Great Harvest of Beef. You would fancy that if Passion ever failed to conquer, it had

in vain assailed the calm bosom of THAT MAN. I doubt it, and would give much to know his history.

Who knows what furious Aetnaflames are raging underneath the surface of that calm fleshmountainwho

The reader, if he does not now understand why it was that Mr. Hayes agreed to drink the Corporal's proffered

beer, had better just read the foregoing remarks over again, and if he does not understand THEN, why, small

praise to his brains. Hayes could not bear that Mr. Bullock should have a chance of seeing, and perhaps

making love to Mrs. Catherine in his absence; and though the young woman never diminished her coquetries,

but, on the contrary, rather increased them in his presence, it was still a kind of dismal satisfaction to be

On this occasion, the disconsolate lover could be wretched to his heart's content; for Catherine had not a word

or a look for him, but bestowed all her smiles upon the handsome stranger who owned the black horse. As for

poor Tummas Bullock, his passion was never violent; and he was content in the present instance to sigh and

drink beer. He sighed and drank, sighed and drank, and drank again, until he had swallowed so much of the

Corporal's liquor, as to be induced to accept a guinea from his purse also; and found himself, on returning to

But oh! fancy the agonies of Mr. Hayes when, seated with the Corporal's friends at one end of the kitchen, he

saw the Captain at the place of honour, and the smiles which the fair maid bestowed upon him; when, as she

lightly whisked past him with the Captain's supper, she, pointing to the locket that once reposed on the breast

of the Dutch lady at the Brill, looked archly on Hayes and said, "See, John, what his Lordship has given me;"

and when John's face became green and purple with rage and jealousy, Mrs. Catherine laughed ten times

louder, and cried "Coming, my Lord," in a voice of shrill triumph, that bored through the soul of Mr. John

On Catherine's other lover, Mr. Thomas, this coquetry had no effect: he, and two comrades of his, had by this

time quite fallen under the spell of the Corporal; and hope, glory, strong beer, Prince Eugene, pair of colours,

more strong beer, her blessed Majesty, plenty more strong beer, and such subjects, martial and bacchic,

And now, if there had been a couple of experienced reporters present at the "Bugle Inn," they might have

taken down a conversation on love and warthe two themes discussed by the two parties occupying the

kitchenwhich, as the parts were sung together, duetwise, formed together some very curious harmonies.

Thus, while the Captain was whispering the softest nothings, the Corporal was shouting the fiercest combats

of the war; and, like the gentleman at Penelope's table, on it exiguo pinxit praelia tota bero. For example:

CAPTAIN. What do you say to a silver trimming, pretty Catherine? Don't you think a scarlet ridingcloak,

handsomely laced, would become you wonderfully well?and a grey hat with a blue feather and a pretty

nag to ride onand all the soldiers to present arms as you pass, and say, "There goes the Captain's lady"?

What do you think of a sidebox at Lincoln's Inn playhouse, or of standing up to a minuet with my Lord

CORPORAL. The ball, sir, ran right up his elbow, and was found the next day by Surgeon Splinter of

ours,where do you think, sir? upon my honour as a gentleman it came out of the nape of his

CAPTAIN. Necklaceand a sweet pair of diamond earrings, mayhapand a little shower of patches, which

ornament a lady's face wondrouslyand a leetle rougethough, egad! such peachcheeks as yours don't

want it;fie! Mrs. Catherine, I should think the birds must come and peck at them as if they were fruit

CORPORAL. Over the wall; and threeandtwenty of our fellows jumped after me. By the Pope of Rome,

friend Tummas, that was a day!Had you seen how the Mounseers looked when fourandtwenty

rampaging hedevils, sword and pistol, cut and thrust, pellmell came tumbling into the redoubt! Why, sir,

we left in three minutes as many artillerymen's heads as there were cannonballs. It was, "Ah sacre!"

"D you, take that!" "O mon Dieu!" "Run him through!" "Ventrebleu!" and it WAS ventrebleu with

him, I warrant you; for bleu, in the French language, means "through;" and ventrewhy, you see, ventre

CAPTAIN. Waists, which are worn now excessive long; and for the hoops, if you COULD but see

themstap my vitals, my dear, but there was a lady at Warwick's Assembly (she came in one of my Lord's

coaches) who had a hoop as big as a tent: you might have dined under it comfortably;ha! ha! 'pon my faith,

CORPORAL. And there we found the Duke of Marlborough seated along with Marshal Tallard, who was

endeavouring to drown his sorrow over a cup of Johannisberger wine; and a good drink too, my lads, only not

to compare to Warwick beer. "Who was the man who has done this?" said our noble General. I stepped up.

"How many heads was it," says he, "that you cut off?" "Nineteen," says I, "besides wounding several." When

he heard it (Mr. Hayes, you don't drink) I'm blest if he didn't burst into tears! "Noble noble fellow," says he.

"Marshal, you must excuse me if I am pleased to hear of the destruction of your countrymen. Noble noble

fellow!here's a hundred guineas for you." Which sum he placed in my hand. "Nay," says the Marshal "the

man has done his duty:" and, pulling out a magnificent gold diamondhilted snuffbox, he gave me

CORPORAL. No, not the snuffbox, butA PINCH OF SNUFF,ha! ha!run me through the body if he

didn't. Could you but have seen the smile on Jack Churchill's grave face at this piece of generosity! So,

CAPTAIN. "May I have the honour to dance a minuet with your Ladyship?" The whole room was in titters at

Jack's blunder; for, as you know very well, poor Lady Susan HAS A WOODEN LEG. Ha! ha! fancy a minuet

This little specimen of the conversation must be sufficient. It will show pretty clearly that EACH of the two

military commanders was conducting his operations with perfect success. Three of the detachment of five

attacked by the Corporal surrendered to him: Mr. Bullock, namely, who gave in at a very early stage of the

evening, and ignominiously laid down his arms under the table, after standing not more than a dozen volleys

of beer; Mr. Blacksmith's boy, and a labourer whose name we have not been able to learn. Mr. Butcher

himself was on the point of yielding, when he was rescued by the furious charge of a detachment that

marched to his relief: his wife namely, who, with two squalling children, rushed into the "Bugle," boxed

Butcher's ears, and kept up such a tremendous fire of oaths and screams upon the Corporal, that he was

obliged to retreat. Fixing then her claws into Mr. Butcher's hair, she proceeded to drag him out of the

premises; and thus Mr. Brock was overcome. His attack upon John Hayes was a still greater failure; for that

young man seemed to be invincible by drink, if not by love: and at the end of the drinkingbout was a great

deal more cool than the Corporal himself; to whom he wished a very polite goodevening, as calmly he took

his hat to depart. He turned to look at Catherine, to be sure, and then he was not quite so calm: but Catherine

did not give any reply to his goodnight. She was seated at the Captain's table playing at cribbage with him;

and though Count Gustavus Maximilian lost every game, he won more than he lost,sly fellow!and Mrs.

It is to be presumed that Hayes gave some information to Mrs. Score, the landlady: for, on leaving the

kitchen, he was seen to linger for a moment in the bar; and very soon after Mrs. Catherine was called away

from her attendance on the Count, who, when he asked for a sack and toast, was furnished with those articles

by the landlady herself: and, during the halfhour in which he was employed in consuming this drink,

Monsieur de Galgenstein looked very much disturbed and out of humour, and cast his eyes to the door

perpetually; but no Catherine came. At last, very sulkily, he desired to be shown to bed, and walked as well

as he could (for, to say truth, the noble Count was by this time somewhat unsteady on his legs) to his

chamber. It was Mrs. Score who showed him to it, and closed the curtains, and pointed triumphantly to the

"It's a very comfortable room," said she, "though not the best in the house; which belong of right to your

Lordship's worship; but our best room has two beds, and Mr. Corporal is in that, locked and doublelocked,

with his three tipsy recruits. But your honour will find this here bed comfortable and wellaired; I've slept in

"What, my good woman, you are going to sit up, eh? It's cruel hard on you, madam."

"Sit up, my Lord? bless you, no! I shall have half of our Cat's bed; as I always do when there's company."

Very early the next morning the active landlady and her bustling attendant had prepared the ale and bacon for

the Corporal and his three converts, and had set a nice white cloth for the Captain's breakfast. The young

blacksmith did not eat with much satisfaction; but Mr. Bullock and his friend betrayed no sign of discontent,

except such as may be consequent upon an evening's carouse. They walked very contentedly to be registered

before Doctor Dobbs, who was also justice of the peace, and went in search of their slender bundles, and took

leave of their few acquaintances without much regret: for the gentlemen had been bred in the workhouse, and

It wanted only an hour of noon, and the noble Count had not descended. The men were waiting for him, and

spent much of the Queen's money (earned by the sale of their bodies overnight) while thus expecting him.

Perhaps Mrs. Catherine expected him too, for she had offered many times to run upwith my Lord's

bootswith the hot waterto show Mr. Brock the way; who sometimes condescended to officiate as barber.

But on all these occasions Mrs. Score had prevented her; not scolding, but with much gentleness and smiling.

At last, more gentle and smiling than ever, she came downstairs and said, "Catherine darling, his honour the

Count is mighty hungry this morning, and vows he could pick the wing of a fowl. Run down, child, to Farmer

Brigg's and get one: pluck it before you bring it, you know, and we will make his Lordship a pretty

Catherine took up her basket, and away she went by the backyard, through the stables. There she heard the

little horseboy whistling and hissing after the manner of horseboys; and there she learned that Mrs. Score

had been inventing an ingenious story to have her out of the way. The ostler said he was just going to lead the

two horses round to the door. The Corporal had been, and they were about to start on the instant for Stratford.

The fact was that Count Gustavus Adolphus, far from wishing to pick the wing of a fowl, had risen with a

horror and loathing for everything in the shape of food, and for any liquor stronger than small beer. Of this he

had drunk a cup, and said he should ride immediately to Stratford; and when, on ordering his horses, he had

asked politely of the landlady "why the d SHE always came up, and why she did not send the girl," Mrs.

Score informed the Count that her Catherine was gone out for a walk along with the young man to whom she

was to be married, and would not be visible that day. On hearing this the Captain ordered his horses that

moment, and abused the wine, the bed, the house, the landlady, and everything connected with the "Bugle

Out the horses came: the little boys of the village gathered round; the recruits, with bunches of ribands in

their beavers, appeared presently; Corporal Brock came swaggering out, and, slapping the pleased blacksmith

on the back, bade him mount his horse; while the boys hurrah'd. Then the Captain came out, gloomy and

majestic; to him Mr. Brock made a military salute, which clumsily, and with much grinning, the recruits

imitated. "I shall walk on with these brave fellows, your honour, and meet you at Stratford," said the

Corporal. "Good," said the Captain, as he mounted. The landlady curtseyed; the children hurrah'd more; the

little horseboy, who held the bridle with one hand and the stirrup with the other, and expected a

crownpiece from such a noble gentleman, got only a kick and a curse, as Count von Galgenstein shouted,

"D you all, get out of the way!" and galloped off; and John Hayes, who had been sneaking about the

inn all the morning, felt a weight off his heart when he saw the Captain ride off alone.

O foolish Mrs. Score! O dolt of a John Hayes! If the landlady had allowed the Captain and the maid to have

their way, and meet but for a minute before recruits, sergeant, and all, it is probable that no harm would have

When Count von Galgenstein had ridden half a mile on the Stratford road, looking as black and dismal as

Napoleon galloping from the romantic village of Waterloo, he espied, a few score yards onwards, at the turn

of the road, a certain object which caused him to check his horse suddenly, brought a tingling red into his

cheeks, and made his heart to go thumpthump! against his side. A young lass was sauntering slowly along

the footpath, with a basket swinging from one hand, and a bunch of hedgeflowers in the other. She stopped

once or twice to add a fresh one to her nosegay, and might have seen him, the Captain thought; but no, she

never looked directly towards him, and still walked on. Sweet innocent! she was singing as if none were near;

her voice went soaring up to the clear sky, and the Captain put his horse on the grass, that the sound of the

The Captain had put his horse on the grass, that the sound of his hoofs might not disturb the music; and now

he pushed its head on to the bank, where straightway "George of Denmark" began chewing of such a salad as

grew there. And now the Captain slid off stealthily; and smiling comically, and hitching up his great

jackboots, and moving forward with a jerking tiptoe step, he, just as she was trilling the last ooo of the

last no in the above poem of Tom D'Urfey, came up to her, and touching her lightly on the waist, said,

Mrs. Catherine (you know you have found her out long ago!) gave a scream and a start, and would have

"Frighten you, my rosebud! why, run me through, I'd die rather than frighten you. Gad, child, tell me now,

"Oh no, your honour, I didn't mean that; only I wasn't thinking to meet you here, or that you would ride so

early at all: for, if you please, sir, I was going to fetch a chicken for your Lordship's breakfast, as my mistress

said you would like one; and I thought, instead of going to Farmer Brigg's, down Birmingham way, as she

told me, I'd go to Farmer Bird's, where the chickens is better, sir,my Lord, I mean."

"Said I'd like a chicken for breakfast, the old cat! why, I told her I would not eat a morsel to save meI was

so druI mean I ate such a good supper last nightand I bade her to send me a pot of small beer, and to tell

"You had walked out with your sweetheart, and I was not to see you any more; and I was mad with rage,

"Well, then, for YOUR sake, I won't; no, I'll live; but why live? Hell and fury, if I do live I'm miserable

without you; I am,you know I am,you adorable, beautiful, cruel, wicked Catherine!"

Catherine's reply to this was "La, bless me! I do believe your horse is running away." And so he was! for

having finished his meal in the hedge, he first looked towards his master and paused, as it were, irresolutely;

then, by a sudden impulse, flinging up his tail and his hind legs, he scampered down the road.

Mrs. Hall ran lightly after the horse, and the Captain after Mrs. Hall; and the horse ran quicker and quicker

every moment, and might have led them a long chase,when lo! debouching from a twist in the road, came

the detachment of cavalry and infantry under Mr. Brock. The moment he was out of sight of the village, that

gentleman had desired the blacksmith to dismount, and had himself jumped into the saddle, maintaining the

subordination of his army by drawing a pistol and swearing that he would blow out the brains of any person

who attempted to run. When the Captain's horse came near the detachment he paused, and suffered himself to

be caught by Tummas Bullock, who held him until the owner and Mrs. Catherine came up.

Mr. Bullock looked comically grave when he saw the pair; but the Corporal graciously saluted Mrs.

"La, sir, and so it is," said she, panting in a very pretty and distressing way, "but not for RUNNING. I do

protestha!and vow that I really can scarcely stand. I'm so tired of running after that naughty naughty

"How do, Cattern?" said Thomas. "Zee, I be going a zouldiering because thee wouldn't have me." And here

Mr. Bullock grinned. Mrs. Catherine made no sort of reply, but protested once more she should die of

running. If the truth were told, she was somewhat vexed at the arrival of the Corporal's detachment, and had

had very serious thoughts of finding herself quite tired just as he came in sight.

A sudden thought brought a smile of bright satisfaction in the Captain's eyes. He mounted the horse which

Tummas still held. "TIRED, Mrs Catherine," said he, "and for my sake? By heavens! you shan't walk a step

farther. No, you shall ride back with a guard of honour! Back to the village, gentlemen!rightabout face!

Show those fellows, Corporal, how to rightabout face. Now, my dear, mount behind me on Snowball; he's

easy as a sedan. Put your dear little foot on the toe of my boot. There now,up!jump! hurrah!"

"THAT'S not the way, Captain," shouted out Thomas, still holding on to the rein as the horse began to move.

But Mrs. Catherine, though she turned away her head, never let go her hold round the Captain's waist; and he,

swearing a dreadful oath at Thomas, struck him across the face and hands with his riding whip. The poor

fellow, who at the first cut still held on to the rein, dropped it at the second, and as the pair galloped off, sat

"MARCH, you dog!" shouted out the Corporal a minute after. And so he did: and when next he saw Mrs.

Catherine she WAS the Captain's lady sure enough, and wore a grey hat, with a blue feather, and red

ridingcoat trimmed with silverlace. But Thomas was then on a barebacked horse, which Corporal Brock

was flanking round a ring, and he was so occupied looking between his horse's ears that he had no time to cry

This being a good opportunity for closing Chapter I, we ought, perhaps, to make some apologies to the public

for introducing them to characters that are so utterly worthless; as we confess all our heroes, with the

exception of Mr. Bullock, to be. In this we have consulted nature and history, rather than the prevailing taste

and the general manner of authors. The amusing novel of "Ernest Maltravers," for instance, opens with a

seduction; but then it is performed by people of the strictest virtue on both sides: and there is so much

religion and philosophy in the heart of the seducer, so much tender innocence in the soul of the seduced,

that bless the little dears!their very peccadilloes make one interested in them; and their naughtiness

becomes quite sacred, so deliciously is it described. Now, if we ARE to be interested by rascally actions, let

us have them with plain faces, and let them be performed, not by virtuous philosophers, but by rascals.

Another clever class of novelists adopt the contrary system, and create interest by making their rascals

perform virtuous actions. Against these popular plans we here solemnly appeal. We say, let your rogues in

novels act like rogues, and your honest men like honest men; don't let us have any juggling and

thimblerigging with virtue and vice, so that, at the end of three volumes, the bewildered reader shall not

know which is which; don't let us find ourselves kindling at the generous qualities of thieves, and

sympathising with the rascalities of noble hearts. For our own part, we know what the public likes, and have

chosen rogues for our characters, and have taken a story from the "Newgate Calendar," which we hope to

follow out to edification. Among the rogues, at least, we will have nothing that shall be mistaken for virtues.

And if the British public (after calling for three or four editions) shall give up, not only our rascals, but the

rascals of all other authors, we shall be content:we shall apply to Government for a pension, and think that

It will not be necessary, for the purpose of this history, to follow out very closely all the adventures which

occurred to Mrs. Catherine from the period when she quitted the "Bugle" and became the Captain's lady; for

although it would be just as easy to show as not, that the young woman, by following the man of her heart,

had only yielded to an innocent impulse, and by remaining with him for a certain period, had proved the

depth and strength of her affection for him,although we might make very tender and eloquent apologies for

the error of both parties, the reader might possibly be disgusted at such descriptions and such arguments:

which, besides, are already done to his hand in the novel of "Ernest Maltravers" before mentioned.

From the gentleman's manner towards Mrs. Catherine, and from his brilliant and immediate success, the

reader will doubtless have concluded, in the first place, that Gustavus Adolphus had not a very violent

affection for Mrs. Cat; in the second place, that he was a professional ladykiller, and therefore likely at

some period to resume his profession; thirdly, and to conclude, that a connection so begun, must, in the

And so, to do the Count justice, it would, if he had been allowed to follow his own inclination entirely; for (as

many young gentlemen will, and yet no praise to them) in about a week he began to be indifferent, in a month

to be weary, in two months to be angry, in three to proceed to blows and curses; and, in short, to repent most

bitterly the hour when he had ever been induced to present Mrs. Catherine the toe of his boot, for the purpose

"Egad!" said he to the Corporal one day, when confiding his griefs to Mr. Brock, "I wish my toe had been cut

"Or perhaps your honour would wish to kick her downstairs with it?" delicately suggested Mr. Brock.

"Kick her! why, the wench would hold so fast by the banisters that I COULD not kick her down, Mr. Brock.

To tell you a bit of a secret, I HAVE tried as muchnot to kick herno, no, not kick her, certainly: that's

ungentlemanlybut to INDUCE her to go back to that cursed pothouse where we fell in with her. I have

"Oh, yes, I saw your honour give her one yesterdaywith a mug of beer. By the laws, as the ale run all down

her face, and she clutched a knife to run at you, I don't think I ever saw such a shedevil! That woman will do

"Do for ME? No, hang it, Mr. Brock, never! She loves every hair of my head, sir: she worships me, Corporal.

Egad, yes! she worships me; and would much sooner apply a knife to her own weasand than scratch my little

"I'm sure of it," said the Captain. "Women, look you, are like dogs, they like to be illtreated: they like it, sir;

I know they do. I never had anything to do with a woman in my life but I illtreated her, and she liked me the

"Very fond;ha, ha! Corporal, you wag youand so she IS very fond. Yesterday, after the knifeandbeer

sceneno wonder I threw the liquor in her face: it was so dev'lish flat that no gentleman could drink it: and I

"Well, yesterday, after the knife business, when you had got the carver out of her hand, off she flings to her

bedroom, will not eat a bit of dinner forsooth, and remains locked up for a couple of hours. At two o'clock

afternoon (I was over a tankard), out comes the little shedevil, her face pale, her eyes bleared, and the tip of

her nose as red as fire with sniffling and weeping. Making for my hand, 'Max,' says she, 'will you forgive

me?' 'What!' says I. 'Forgive a murderess?' says I. 'No, curse me, never!' 'Your cruelty will kill me,' sobbed

she. 'Cruelty be hanged!' says I; 'didn't you draw that beer an hour before dinner?' She could say nothing to

THIS, you know, and I swore that every time she did so, I would fling it into her face again. Whereupon back

"I DID forgive her, that's positive. You see I had supped at the 'Rose' along with Tom Trippet and

halfadozen pretty fellows; and I had eased a great fatheaded Warwickshire landjunkerwhat d'ye call

him?squire, of forty pieces; and I'm dev'lish goodhumoured when I've won, and so Cat and I made it up:

This conversation will explain, a great deal better than any description of ours, however eloquent, the state of

things as between Count Maximilian and Mrs. Catherine, and the feelings which they entertained for each

other. The woman loved him, that was the fact. And, as we have shown in the previous chapter how John

Hayes, a meanspirited fellow as ever breathed, in respect of all other passions a pigmy, was in the passion of

love a giant, and followed Mrs. Catherine with a furious longing which might seem at the first to be foreign

to his nature; in the like manner, and playing at crosspurposes, Mrs. Hall had become smitten of the

Captain; and, as he said truly, only liked him the better for the brutality which she received at his hands. For

it is my opinion, madam, that love is a bodily infirmity, from which humankind can no more escape than

from smallpox; and which attacks every one of us, from the first duke in the Peerage down to Jack Ketch

inclusive: which has no respect for rank, virtue, or roguery in man, but sets each in his turn in a fever; which

breaks out the deuce knows how or why, and, raging its appointed time, fills each individual of the one sex

with a blind fury and longing for some one of the other (who may be pure, gentle, blueeyed, beautiful, and

good; or vile, shrewish, squinting, hunchbacked, and hideous, according to circumstances and luck); which

dies away, perhaps, in the natural course, if left to have its way, but which contradiction causes to rage more

furiously than ever. Is not history, from the Trojan war upwards and downwards, full of instances of such

strange inexplicable passions? Was not Helen, by the most moderate calculation, ninety years of age when

she went off with His Royal Highness Prince Paris of Troy? Was not Madame La Valliere illmade,

bleareyed, tallowcomplexioned, scraggy, and with hair like tow? Was not Wilkes the ugliest, charmingest,

most successful man in the world? Such instances might be carried out so as to fill a volume; but cui bono?

Love is fate, and not will; its origin not to be explained, its progress irresistible: and the best proof of this

may be had at Bow Street any day, where if you ask any officer of the establishment how they take most

thieves, he will tell you at the houses of the women. They must see the dear creatures though they hang for it;

they will love, though they have their necks in the halter. And with regard to the other position, that illusage

on the part of the man does not destroy the affection of the woman, have we not numberless policereports,

showing how, when a bystander would beat a husband for beating his wife, man and wife fall together on the

These points, then, being settled to the satisfaction of all parties, the reader will not be disposed to question

the assertion that Mrs. Hall had a real affection for the gallant Count, and grew, as Mr. Brock was pleased to

say, like a beefsteak, more tender as she was thumped. Poor thing, poor thing! his flashy airs and smart looks

had overcome her in a single hour; and no more is wanted to plunge into love over head and ears; no more is

wanted to make a first love withand a woman's first love lasts FOR EVER (a man's twentyfourth or

twentyfifth is perhaps the best): you can't kill it, do what you will; it takes root, and lives and even grows,

never mind what the soil may be in which it is planted, or the bitter weather it must bearoften as one has

In the first weeks of their union, the Count had at least been liberal to her: she had a horse and fine clothes,

and received abroad some of those flattering attentions which she held at such high price. He had, however,

some illluck at play, or had been forced to pay some bills, or had some other satisfactory reason for being

poor, and his establishment was very speedily diminished. He argued that, as Mrs. Catherine had been

accustomed to wait on others all her life, she might now wait upon herself and him; and when the incident of

the beer arose, she had been for some time employed as the Count's housekeeper, with unlimited

superintendence over his comfort, his cellar, his linen, and such matters as bachelors are delighted to make

over to active female hands. To do the poor wretch justice, she actually kept the man's menage in the best

order; nor was there any point of extravagance with which she could be charged, except a little extravagance

of dress displayed on the very few occasions when he condescended to walk abroad with her, and

extravagance of language and passion in the frequent quarrels they had together. Perhaps in such a connection

as subsisted between this precious couple, these faults are inevitable on the part of the woman. She must be

silly and vain, and will pretty surely therefore be fond of dress; and she must, disguise it as she will, be

perpetually miserable and brooding over her fall, which will cause her to be violent and quarrelsome.

Such, at least, was Mrs. Hall; and very early did the poor vain misguided wretch begin to reap what she had

For a man, remorse under these circumstances is perhaps uncommon. No stigma affixes on HIM for

betraying a woman; no bitter pangs of mortified vanity; no insulting looks of superiority from his neighbour,

and no sentence of contemptuous banishment is read against him; these all fall on the tempted, and not on the

tempter, who is permitted to go free. The chief thing that a man learns after having successfully practised on a

woman is to despise the poor wretch whom he has won. The game, in fact, and the glory, such as it is, is all

his, and the punishment alone falls upon her. Consider this, ladies, when charming young gentlemen come to

woo you with soft speeches. You have nothing to win, except wretchedness, and scorn, and desertion.

It came to pass, then, that the Count had come to have a perfect contempt and indifference for Mrs.

Hall;how should he not for a young person who had given herself up to him so easily?and would have

been quite glad of any opportunity of parting with her. But there was a certain lingering shame about the man,

which prevented him from saying at once and abruptly, "Go!" and the poor thing did not choose to take such

hints as fell out in the course of their conversation and quarrels. And so they kept on together, he treating her

with simple insult, and she hanging on desperately, by whatever feeble twig she could find, to the rock

Well, after the night with Tom Trippet and the pretty fellows at the "Rose," to which we have heard the

Count allude in the conversation just recorded, Fortune smiled on him a good deal; for the Warwickshire

squire, who had lost forty pieces on that occasion, insisted on having his revenge the night after; when,

strange to say, a hundred and fifty more found their way into the pouch of his Excellency the Count. Such a

sum as this quite set the young nobleman afloat again, and brought back a pleasing equanimity to his mind,

which had been a good deal disturbed in the former difficult circumstances; and in this, for a little and to a

certain extent, poor Cat had the happiness to share. He did not alter the style of his establishment, which

consisted, as before, of herself and a small person who acted as scourer, kitchenwench, and scullion; Mrs.

Catherine always putting her hand to the principal pieces of the dinner; but he treated his mistress with

tolerable goodhumour; or, to speak more correctly, with such bearable brutality as might be expected from a

man like him to a woman in her condition. Besides, a certain event was about to take place, which not

unusually occurs in circumstances of this nature, and Mrs. Catherine was expecting soon to lie in.

The Captain, distrusting naturally the strength of his own paternal feelings, had kindly endeavoured to

provide a parent for the coming infant; and to this end had opened a negotiation with our friend Mr. Thomas

Bullock, declaring that Mrs. Cat should have a fortune of twenty guineas, and reminding Tummas of his

ancient flame for her: but Mr. Tummas, when this proposition was made to him, declined it, with many oaths,

and vowed that he was perfectly satisfied with his present bachelor condition. In this dilemma, Mr. Brock

stepped forward, who declared himself very ready to accept Mrs. Catherine and her fortune: and might

possibly have become the possessor of both, had not Mrs. Cat, the moment she heard of the proposed

arrangement, with fire in her eyes, and rageoh, how bitter!in her heart, prevented the success of the

measure by proceeding incontinently to the first justice of the peace, and there swearing before his worship

This proceeding, which she had expected would cause not a little indignation on the part of her lord and

master, was received by him, strangely enough, with considerable goodhumour: he swore that the wench

had served him a good trick, and was rather amused at the anger, the outbreak of fierce rage and contumely,

and the wretched wretched tears of heartsick desperation, which followed her announcement of this step to

him. For Mr. Brock, she repelled his offer with scorn and loathing, and treated the notion of a union with Mr.

Bullock with yet fiercer contempt. Marry him indeed! a workhouse pauper carrying a brownbess! She

would have died sooner, she said, or robbed on the highway. And so, to do her justice, she would: for the

little minx was one of the vainest creatures in existence, and vanity (as I presume everybody knows) becomes

THE principle in certain women's heartstheir moral spectacles, their conscience, their meat and drink, their

As for Mr. Tummas, he, as we have seen, was quite unfriendly to the proposition as she could be; and the

Corporal, with a good deal of comical gravity, vowed that, as he could not be satisfied in his dearest wishes,

"Come, Tummas," said he to Mr. Bullock "since we CAN'T have the girl of our hearts, why, hang it,

Tummas, let's drink her health!" To which Bullock had no objection. And so strongly did the disappointment

weigh upon honest Corporal Brock, that even when, after unheardof quantities of beer, he could scarcely

utter a word, he was seen absolutely to weep, and, in accents almost unintelligible, to curse his confounded

illluck at being deprived, not of a wife, but of a child: he wanted one so, he said, to comfort him in his old

The time of Mrs. Catherine's couche drew near, arrived, and was gone through safely. She presented to the

world a chopping boy, who might use, if he liked, the Galgenstein arms with a barsinister; and in her new

cares and duties had not so many opportunities as usual of quarrelling with the Count: who, perhaps,

respected her situation, or, at least, was so properly aware of the necessity of quiet to her, that he absented

The Captain had, it must be confessed, turned these continued absences to a considerable worldly profit, for

he played incessantly; and, since his first victory over the Warwickshire Squire, Fortune had been so

favourable to him, that he had at various intervals amassed a sum of nearly a thousand pounds, which he used

to bring home as he won; and which he deposited in a strong iron chest, cunningly screwed down by himself

under his own bed. This Mrs. Catherine regularly made, and the treasure underneath it could be no secret to

her. However, the noble Count kept the key, and bound her by many solemn oaths (that he discharged at her

himself) not to reveal to any other person the existence of the chest and its contents.

But it is not in a woman's nature to keep such secrets; and the Captain, who left her for days and days, did not

reflect that she would seek for confidants elsewhere. For want of a female companion, she was compelled to

bestow her sympathies upon Mr. Brock; who, as the Count's corporal, was much in his lodgings, and who did

manage to survive the disappointment which he had experienced by Mrs. Catherine's refusal of him.

About two months after the infant's birth, the Captain, who was annoyed by its squalling, put it abroad to

nurse, and dismissed its attendant. Mrs. Catherine now resumed her household duties, and was, as before, at

once mistress and servant of the establishment. As such, she had the keys of the beer, and was pretty sure of

the attentions of the Corporal; who became, as we have said, in the Count's absence, his lady's chief friend

and companion. After the manner of ladies, she very speedily confided to him all her domestic secrets; the

causes of her former discontent; the Count's ill treatment of her; the wicked names he called her; the prices

that all her gowns had cost her; how he beat her; how much money he won and lost at play; how she had once

pawned a coat for him; how he had four new ones, laced, and paid for; what was the best way of cleaning and

keeping goldlace, of making cherrybrandy, pickling salmon, etc., etc. Her confidences upon all these

subjects used to follow each other in rapid succession; and Mr. Brock became, ere long, quite as well

acquainted with the Captain's history for the last year as the Count himself:for he was careless, and forgot

things; women never do. They chronicle all the lover's small actions, his words, his headaches, the dresses he

has worn, the things he has liked for dinner on certain days;all which circumstances commonly are

expunged from the male brain immediately after they have occurred, but remain fixed with the female.

To Brock, then, and to Brock only (for she knew no other soul), Mrs. Cat breathed, in strictest confidence, the

history of the Count's winnings, and his way of disposing of them; how he kept his money screwed down in

an iron chest in their room; and a very lucky fellow did Brock consider his officer for having such a large

sum. He and Cat looked at the chest: it was small, but mighty strong, sure enough, and would defy picklocks

and thieves. Well, if any man deserved money, the Captain did ("though he might buy me a few yards of that

lace I love so," interrupted Cat),if any man deserved money, he did, for he spent it like a prince, and his

It must now be stated that Monsieur de Galgenstein had, during Cat's seclusion, cast his eyes upon a young

lady of good fortune, who frequented the Assembly at Birmingham, and who was not a little smitten by his

title and person. The "four new coats, laced, and paid for," as Cat said, had been purchased, most probably,

by his Excellency for the purpose of dazzling the heiress; and he and the coats had succeeded so far as to win

from the young woman an actual profession of love, and a promise of marriage provided Pa would consent.

This was obtained,for Pa was a tradesman; and I suppose every one of my readers has remarked how great

an effect a title has on the lower classes. Yes, thank Heaven! there is about a freeborn Briton a cringing

baseness, and lickspittle awe of rank, which does not exist under any tyranny in Europe, and is only to be

All these negotiations had been going on quite unknown to Cat; and, as the Captain had determined, before

two months were out, to fling that young woman on the pave, he was kind to her in the meanwhile: people

The poor girl had much too high an opinion of her own charms to suspect that the Count could be unfaithful

to them, and had no notion of the plot that was formed against her. But Mr. Brock had: for he had seen many

times a gilt coach with a pair of fat white horses ambling in the neighbourhood of the town, and the Captain

on his black steed caracolling majestically by its side; and he had remarked a fat, pudgy, palehaired woman

treading heavily down the stairs of the Assembly, leaning on the Captain's arm: all these Mr. Brock had seen,

not without reflection. Indeed, the Count one day, in great goodhumour, had slapped him on the shoulder

and told him that he was about speedily to purchase a regiment; when, by his great gods, Mr. Brock should

have a pair of colours. Perhaps this promise occasioned his silence to Mrs. Catherine hitherto; perhaps he

never would have peached at all; and perhaps, therefore, this history would never have been written, but for a

"What can you want with that drunken old Corporal always about your quarters?" said Mr. Trippet to the

Count one day, as they sat over their wine, in the midst of a merry company, at the Captain's rooms.

"What!" said he. "Old Brock? The old thief has been more useful to me than many a better man. He is as

brave in a row as a lion, as cunning in intrigue as a fox; he can nose a dun at an inconceivable distance, and

scent out a pretty woman be she behind ever so many stone walls. If a gentleman wants a good rascal now, I

can recommend him. I am going to reform, you know, and must turn him out of my service."

"Why, you have parishes, and what not, here in England. Egad! if a gentleman were called upon to keep all

his children, there would be no living: no, stap my vitals! Croesus couldn't stand it."

"No, indeed," said Mr. Trippet: "you are right; and when a gentleman marries, he is bound in honour to give

"Of course; and give them up I will, when the sweet Mrs. Dripping is mine. As for the girl, you can have her,

Tom Trippet, if you take a fancy to her; and as for the Corporal, he may be handed over to my successor in

Cutts's:for I will have a regiment to myself, that's poz; and to take with me such a swindling, pimping,

thieving, brandyfaced rascal as this Brock will never do. Egad! he's a disgrace to the service. As it is, I've

Although this resume of Mr. Brock's character and accomplishments was very just, it came perhaps with an

ill grace from Count Gustavus Adolphus Maximilian, who had profited by all his qualities, and who certainly

would never have given this opinion of them had he known that the door of his diningparlour was open, and

that the gallant Corporal, who was in the passage, could hear every syllable that fell from the lips of his

commanding officer. We shall not say, after the fashion of the storybooks, that Mr. Brock listened with a

flashing eye and a distended nostril; that his chest heaved tumultuously, and that his hand fell down

mechanically to his side, where it played with the brass handle of his sword. Mr. Kean would have gone

through most of these bodily exercises had he been acting the part of a villain enraged and disappointed like

Corporal Brock; but that gentleman walked away without any gestures of any kind, and as gently as possible.

"He'll turn me out of the regiment, will he?" says he, quite piano; and then added (con molta espressione),

And it is to be remarked how generally, in cases of this nature, gentlemen stick to their word.

When the Corporal, who had retreated to the streetdoor immediately on hearing the above conversation,

returned to the Captain's lodgings and paid his respects to Mrs. Catherine, he found that lady in high

goodhumour. The Count had been with her, she said, along with a friend of his, Mr. Trippet; had promised

her twelve yards of the lace she coveted so much; had vowed that the child should have as much more for a

cloak; and had not left her until he had sat with her for an hour, or more, over a bowl of punch, which he

made on purpose for her. Mr. Trippet stayed too. "A mighty pleasant man," said she; "only not very wise, and

"A good deal indeed!" said the Corporal. "He was so tipsy just now that he could hardly stand. He and his

honour were talking to Nan Fantail in the marketplace; and she pulled Trippet's wig off, for wanting to kiss

"The nasty fellow!" said Mrs. Cat, "to demean himself with such low people as Nan Fantail, indeed! Why,

upon my conscience now, Corporal, it was but an hour ago that Mr. Trippet swore he never saw such a pair of

eyes as mine, and would like to cut the Captain's throat for the love of me. Nan Fantail, indeed!"

"Nan's an honest girl, Madam Catherine, and was a great favourite of the Captain's before someone else came

"And pray, Corporal, who ever did?" said Mrs. Cat, rather offended. "A nasty, ugly slut! I wonder what the

"And what? You don't mean to say that my Max is fond of her NOW?" said Mrs. Catherine, looking very

"Oh, psha! nonsense! Of you, my dear, to be sure; who else should he care for? And, besides, what business

is it of mine?" And herewith the Corporal began whistling, as if he would have no more of the conversation.

"Why, look you," said the Corporal, after parrying many of these,"Why, look you, I'm an old fool,

Catherine, and I must blab. That man has been the best friend I ever had, and so I was quiet; but I can't keep it

in any longer,no, hang me if I can! It's my belief he's acting like a rascal by you: he deceives you,

"He wants you off his hands; he's sick of you, and so brought here that fool Tom Trippet, who has taken a

fancy to you. He has not the courage to turn you out of doors like a man; though indoors he can treat you like

a beast. But I'll tell you what he'll do. In a month he will go to Coventry, or pretend to go there, on recruiting

business. No such thing, Mrs. Hall; he's going on MARRIAGE business; and he'll leave you without a

farthing, to starve or to rot, for him. It's all arranged, I tell you: in a month, you are to be starved into

becoming Tom Trippet's mistress; and his honour is to marry rich Miss Dripping, the

twentythousandpounder from London; and to purchase a regiment;and to get old Brock drummed out of

Cutts's too," said the Corporal, under his breath. But he might have spoken out, if he chose; for the poor

"I thought I should give it her," said Mr. Brock as he procured a glass of water; and, lifting her on to a sofa,

When Mrs. Catherine came to herself again, Brock's tone with her was kind, and almost feeling. Nor did the

poor wench herself indulge in any subsequent shiverings and hysterics, such as usually follow the

faintingfits of persons of higher degree. She pressed him for further explanations, which he gave, and to

which she listened with a great deal of calmness; nor did many tears, sobs, sighs, or exclamations of sorrow

or anger escape from her: only when the Corporal was taking his leave, and said to her pointblank," Well,

Mrs. Catherine, and what do you intend to do?" she did not reply a word; but gave a look which made him

"By heavens! the woman means murder! I would not be the Holofernes to lie by the side of such a Judith as

thatnot I!" And he went his way, immersed in deep thought. When the Captain returned at night, she did

not speak to him; and when he swore at her for being sulky, she only said she had a headache, and was

dreadfully ill; with which excuse Gustavus Adolphus seemed satisfied, and left her to herself.

Catherine had no friend, as is usual in tragedies and romances,no mysterious sorceress of her acquaintance

to whom she could apply for poison,so she went simply to the apothecaries, pretending at each that she had

a dreadful toothache, and procuring from them as much laudanum as she thought would suit her purpose.

When she went home again she seemed almost gay. Mr. Brock complimented her upon the alteration in her

appearance; and she was enabled to receive the Captain at his return from shooting in such a manner as made

him remark that she had got rid of her sulks of the morning, and might sup with them, if she chose to keep

her good humour. The supper was got ready, and the gentlemen had the punchbowl when the cloth was

It is useless to describe the conversation that took place, or to reckon the number of bowls that were emptied;

or to tell how Mr. Trippet, who was one of the guests, and declined to play at cards when some of the others

began, chose to remain by Mrs. Catherine's side, and make violent love to her. All this might be told, and the

account, however faithful, would not be very pleasing. No, indeed! And here, though we are only in the third

chapter of this history, we feel almost sick of the characters that appear in it, and the adventures which they

are called upon to go through. But how can we help ourselves? The public will hear of nothing but rogues;

and the only way in which poor authors, who must live, can act honestly by the public and themselves, is to

paint such thieves as they are: not, dandy, poetical, rosewater thieves; but real downright scoundrels,

leading scoundrelly lives, drunken, profligate, dissolute, low; as scoundrels will be. They don't quote Plato,

like Eugene Aram; or live like gentlemen, and sing the pleasantest ballads in the world, like jolly Dick

Turpin; or prate eternally about "to kalon,"* like that precious canting Maltravers, whom we all of us have

read about and pitied; or die whitewashed saints, like poor "Biss Dadsy" in "Oliver Twist." No, my dear

madam, you and your daughters have no right to admire and sympathise with any such persons, fictitious or

real: you ought to be made cordially to detest, scorn, loathe, abhor, and abominate all people of this kidney.

Men of genius like those whose works we have above alluded to, have no business to make these characters

interesting or agreeable; to be feeding your morbid fancies, or indulging their own, with such monstrous food.

For our parts, young ladies, we beg you to bottle up your tears, and not waste a single drop of them on any

one of the heroes or heroines in this history: they are all rascals, every soul of them, and behave "as sich."

Keep your sympathy for those who deserve it: don't carry it, for preference, to the Old Bailey, and grow

Just, then, have the kindness to fancy that the conversation which took place over the bowls of punch which

Mrs. Catherine prepared, was such as might be expected to take place where the host was a dissolute,

daredevil, libertine captain of dragoons, the guests for the most part of the same class, and the hostess a

young woman originally from a country alehouse, and for the present mistress to the entertainer of the

society. They talked, and they drank, and they grew tipsy; and very little worth hearing occurred during the

course of the whole evening. Mr. Brock officiated, half as the servant, half as the companion of the society.

Mr. Thomas Trippet made violent love to Mrs. Catherine, while her lord and master was playing at dice with

the other gentlemen: and on this night, strange to say, the Captain's fortune seemed to desert him. The

Warwickshire Squire, from whom he had won so much, had an amazing run of good luck. The Captain called

perpetually for more drink, and higher stakes, and lost almost every throw. Three hundred, four hundred, six

hundredall his winnings of the previous months were swallowed up in the course of a few hours. The

Corporal looked on; and, to do him justice, seemed very grave as, sum by sum, the Squire scored down the

Most of the company had taken their hats and staggered off. The Squire and Mr. Trippet were the only two

that remained, the latter still lingering by Mrs. Catherine's sofa and table; and as she, as we have stated, had

been employed all the evening in mixing the liquor for the gamesters, he was at the headquarters of love and

The dice went rattling on; the candles were burning dim, with great long wicks. Mr. Trippet could hardly see

the Captain, and thought, as far as his muzzy reason would let him, that the Captain could not see him: so he

rose from his chair as well as he could, and fell down on Mrs. Catherine's sofa. His eyes were fixed, his face

was pale, his jaw hung down; and he flung out his arms and said, in a maudlin voice, "Oh, you

"Beast!" said Mrs. Catherine, and pushed him away. The drunken wretch fell off the sofa, and on to the floor,

where he stayed; and, after snorting out some unintelligible sounds, went to sleep.

Rattle, rattle, rattle, rattle, clatter, NINE. Clap, clap, clap, clap, ELEVEN. Clutter, clutter, clutter, clutter:

"One throw for two hundred," said the Count. "But stop! Cat, give us some more punch."

Mrs. Cat came forward; she looked a little pale, and her hand trembled somewhat. "Here is the punch, Max,"

said she. It was steaming hot, in a large glass. "Don't drink it all," said she; "leave me some."

"Well, here goes! Squire, curse you! here's your health, and bad luck to you!" and he gulped off more than

half the liquor at a draught. But presently he put down the glass and cried, "What infernal poison is this,

"Poison!" said she. "It's no poison. Give me the glass." And she pledged Max, and drank a little of it. "'Tis

good punch, Max, and of my brewing; I don't think you will ever get any better." And she went back to the

Mr. Brock looked at her white face and fixed eyes with a grim kind of curiosity. The Count sputtered, and

cursed the horrid taste of the punch still; but he presently took the box, and made his threatened throw.

As before, the Squire beat him; and having booked his winnings, rose from table as well as he might and

Liquor had evidently stupefied the Count: he sat with his head between his hands, muttering wildly about

illluck, seven's the main, bad punch, and so on. The streetdoor banged to; and the steps of Brock and the

"Max," said she; but he did not answer. "Max," said she again, laying her hand on his shoulder.

"Curse you," said that gentleman, "keep off, and don't be laying your paws upon me. Go to bed, you jade, or

to,for what I care; and give me first some more puncha gallon more punch, do you hear?"

The gentleman, by the curses at the commencement of this little speech, and the request contained at the end

of it, showed that his losses vexed him, and that he was anxious to forget them temporarily.

"Don't! Shan't I be drunk in my own house, you cursed whimpering jade, you? Get out!" and with this the

Contrary to her custom, she did not avenge it, or seek to do so, as on the many former occasions when

disputes of this nature had arisen between the Count and her; but now Mrs. Catherine fell on her knees and,

clasping her hands and looking pitifully in the Count's face, cried, "Oh, Count, forgive me, forgive me!"

"Forgive you! What for? Because I slapped your face? Ha, ha! I'll forgive you again, if you don't mind."

"Oh, no, no, no!" said she, wringing her hands. "It isn't that. Max, dear Max, will you forgive me? It isn't the

The Count, who was more than half seas over, here assumed an air of much tipsy gravity. "The punch! No, I

never will forgive you that last glass of punch. Of all the foul, beastly drinks I ever tasted, that was the worst.

"I tell you it is that,you! That punch, I say that punch was no better than pawawoison." And here the

"WHAT!" screamed he, waking up at once, and spurning her away from him. "What, you infernal murderess,

"Oh, Max!don't kill me, Max! It was laudanumindeed it was. You were going to be married, and I was

"Hold your tongue, you fiend," roared out the Count; and with more presence of mind than politeness, he

flung the remainder of the liquor (and, indeed, the glass with it) at the head of Mrs. Catherine. But the

poisoned chalice missed its mark, and fell right on the nose of Mr. Tom Trippet, who was left asleep and

Bleeding, staggering, swearing, indeed a ghastly sight, up sprang Mr. Trippet, and drew his rapier. "Come

on," says he; "never say die! What's the row? I'm ready for a dozen of you." And he made many blind and

"Curse you, we'll die together!" shouted the Count, as he too pulled out his toledo, and sprang at Mrs.

"Help! murder! thieves!" shrieked she. "Save me, Mr. Trippet, save me!" and she placed that gentleman

between herself and the Count, and then made for the door of the bedroom, and gained it, and bolted it.

"Out of the way, Trippet," roared the Count"out of the way, you drunken beast! I'll murder her, I willI'll

have the devil's life." And here he gave a swinging cut at Mr. Trippet's sword: it sent the weapon whirling

"Take my life, then," said Mr. Trippet: "I'm drunk, but I'm a man, and, damme! will never say die."

"I don't want your life, you stupid fool. Hark you, Trippet, wake and be sober, if you can. That woman has

"She has been jealous, I tell you, and POISONED us. She has put laudanum into the punch."

"What, in MY punch?" said Trippet, growing quite sober and losing his courage. "O Lord! O Lord!"

"Don't stand howling there, but run for a doctor; 'tis our only chance." And away ran Mr. Trippet, as if the

The Count had forgotten his murderous intentions regarding his mistress, or had deferred them at least, under

the consciousness of his own pressing danger. And it must be said, in the praise of a man who had fought for

and against Marlborough and Tallard, that his courage in this trying and novel predicament never for a

moment deserted him, but that he showed the greatest daring, as well as ingenuity, in meeting and averting

the danger. He flew to the sideboard, where were the relics of a supper, and seizing the mustard and salt pots,

and a bottle of oil, he emptied them all into a jug, into which he further poured a vast quantity of hot water.

This pleasing mixture he then, without a moment's hesitation, placed to his lips, and swallowed as much of it

as nature would allow him. But when he had imbibed about a quart, the anticipated effect was produced, and

he was enabled, by the power of this ingenious extemporaneous emetic, to get rid of much of the poison

He was employed in these efforts when the doctor entered, along with Mr. Brock and Mr. Trippet; who was

not a little pleased to hear that the poisoned punch had not in all probability been given to him. He was

recommended to take some of the Count's mixture, as a precautionary measure; but this he refused, and

retired home, leaving the Count under charge of the physician and his faithful corporal.

It is not necessary to say what further remedies were employed by them to restore the Captain to health; but

after some time the doctor, pronouncing that the danger was, he hoped, averted, recommended that his patient

should be put to bed, and that somebody should sit by him; which Brock promised to do.

"That shedevil will murder me, if you don't," gasped the poor Count. "You must turn her out of the

And this step was found to be necessary; for, after shouting many times, and in vain, Mr. Brock found a small

iron bar (indeed, he had the instrument for many days in his pocket), and forced the lock. The room was

The Corporal flew to the bed, under which it was screwed, and looked, and said, "It IS safe, thank Heaven!"

The window was closed. The Captain, who was too weak to stand without help, was undressed and put to

bed. The Corporal sat down by his side; slumber stole over the eyes of the patient; and his wakeful nurse

When the Captain awoke, as he did some time afterwards, he found, very much to his surprise, that a gag had

been placed in his mouth, and that the Corporal was in the act of wheeling his bed to another part of the

room. He attempted to move, and gave utterance to such unintelligible sounds as could issue through a silk

"If your honour stirs or cries out in the least, I will cut your honour's throat," said the Corporal.

And then, having recourse to his iron bar (the reader will now see why he was provided with such an

implement, for he had been meditating this coup for some days), he proceeded first to attempt to burst the

lock of the little iron chest in which the Count kept his treasure, and, failing in this, to unscrew it from the

"You see, Count," said he, calmly, "when rogues fall out there's the deuce to pay. You'll have me drummed

out of the regiment, will you? I'm going to leave it of my own accord, look you, and to live like a gentleman

for the rest of my days. Schlafen Sie wohl, noble Captain: bon repos. The Squire will be with you pretty early

With these sarcastic observations Mr. Brock departed; not by the window, as Mrs. Catherine had done, but by

the door, quietly, and so into the street. And when, the next morning, the doctor came to visit his patient, he

brought with him a story how, at the dead of night, Mr. Brock had roused the ostler at the stables where the

Captain's horses were kepthad told him that Mrs. Catherine had poisoned the Count, and had run off with a

thousand pounds; and how he and all lovers of justice ought to scour the country in pursuit of the criminal.

For this end Mr. Brock mounted the Count's best horsethat very animal on which he had carried away Mrs.

Catherine: and thus, on a single night, Count Maximilian had lost his mistress, his money, his horse, his

In this woeful plight, moneyless, wifeless, horseless, corporalless, with a gag in his mouth and a rope round

his body, are we compelled to leave the gallant Galgenstein, until his friends and the progress of this history

shall deliver him from his durance. Mr. Brock's adventures on the Captain's horse must likewise be

pretermitted; for it is our business to follow Mrs. Catherine through the window by which she made her

She had one cause to congratulate herself,that she had not her baby at her back; for the infant was safely

housed under the care of a nurse, to whom the Captain was answerable. Beyond this her prospects were but

dismal: no home to fly to, but a few shillings in her pocket, and a whole heap of injuries and dark revengeful

thoughts in her bosom: it was a sad task to her to look either backwards or forwards. Whither was she to fly?

How to live? What good chance was to befriend her? There was an angel watching over the steps of Mrs.

Catnot a good one, I think, but one of those from that unnameable place, who have their many subjects

Mrs. Cat, now, had not committed murder, but as bad as murder; and as she felt not the smallest repentance in

her heartas she had, in the course of her life and connection with the Captain, performed and gloried in a

number of wicked coquetries, idlenesses, vanities, lies, fits of anger, slanders, foul abuses, and what notshe

was fairly bound over to this dark angel whom we have alluded to; and he dealt with her, and aided her, as

I do not mean to say that, in this strait, he appeared to her in the likeness of a gentleman in black, and made

her sign her name in blood to a document conveying over to him her soul, in exchange for certain conditions

to be performed by him. Such diabolical bargains have always appeared to me unworthy of the astute

personage who is supposed to be one of the parties to them; and who would scarcely be fool enough to pay

dearly for that which he can have in a few years for nothing. It is not, then, to be supposed that a demon of

darkness appeared to Mrs. Cat, and led her into a flaming chariot harnessed by dragons, and careering

through air at the rate of a thousand leagues a minute. No such thing; the vehicle that was sent to aid her was

The "Liverpool carryvan," then, which in the year 1706 used to perform the journey between London and that

place in ten days, left Birmingham about an hour after Mrs. Catherine had quitted that town; and as she sat

weeping on a hillside, and plunged in bitter meditation, the lumbering, jingling vehicle overtook her. The

coachman was marching by the side of his horses, and encouraging them to maintain their pace of two miles

an hour; the passengers had some of them left the vehicle, in order to walk up the hill; and the carriage had

arrived at the top of it, and, meditating a brisk trot down the declivity, waited there until the lagging

passengers should arrive: when Jehu, casting a goodnatured glance upon Mrs. Catherine, asked the pretty

maid whence she was come, and whether she would like a ride in his carriage. To the latter of which

questions Mrs. Catherine replied truly yes; to the former, her answer was that she had come from Stratford;

"Hast thee seen a woman pass this way, on a black horse, with a large bag of goold over the saddle?" said

"Nor a trooper on another horse after herno? Well, there be a mortal row down Birmingham way about

sich a one. She have killed, they say, nine gentlemen at supper, and have strangled a German prince in bed.

She have robbed him of twenty thousand guineas, and have rode away on a black horse."

"That can't be I," said Mrs. Cat, naively, "for I have but three shillings and a groat."

"No, it can't be thee, truly, for where's your bag of goold? and, besides, thee hast got too pretty a face to do

"Law, coachman," said Mrs. Cat, blushing archly",Law, coachman, DO you think so?" The girl would

have been pleased with a compliment even on her way to be hanged; and the parley ended by Mrs. Catherine

stepping into the carriage, where there was room for eight people at least, and where two or three individuals

had already taken their places. For these Mrs. Catherine had in the first place to make a story, which she did;

and a very glib one for a person of her years and education. Being asked whither she was bound, and how she

came to be alone of a morning sitting by a roadside, she invented a neat history suitable to the occasion,

which elicited much interest from her fellowpassengers: one in particular, a young man, who had caught a

But whether it was that she had been too much fatigued by the occurrences of the past day and sleepless

night, or whether the little laudanum which she had drunk a few hours previously now began to act upon her,

certain it is that Mrs. Cat now suddenly grew sick, feverish, and extraordinarily sleepy; and in this state she

continued for many hours, to the pity of all her fellowtravellers. At length the "carryvan" reached the inn,

where horses and passengers were accustomed to rest for a few hours, and to dine; and Mrs. Catherine was

somewhat awakened by the stir of the passengers, and the friendly voice of the innservant welcoming them

to dinner. The gentleman who had been smitten by her beauty now urged her very politely to descend; which,

He made some very gallant speeches to her as she stepped out; and she must have been very much occupied

by them, or wrapt up in her own thoughts, or stupefied by sleep, fever, and opium, for she did not take any

heed of the place into which she was going: which, had she done, she would probably have preferred

remaining in the coach, dinnerless and ill. Indeed, the inn into which she was about to make her entrance was

no other than the "Bugle," from which she set forth at the commencement of this history; and which then, as

now, was kept by her relative, the thrifty Mrs. Score. That good landlady, seeing a lady, in a smart hood and

cloak, leaning, as if faint, upon the arm of a gentleman of good appearance, concluded them to be man and

wife, and folks of quality too; and with much discrimination, as well as sympathy, led them through the

public kitchen to her own private parlour, or bar, where she handed the lady an armchair, and asked what she

would like to drink. By this time, and indeed at the very moment she heard her aunt's voice, Mrs. Catherine

was aware of her situation; and when her companion retired, and the landlady, with much officiousness,

insisted on removing her hood, she was quite prepared for the screech of surprise which Mrs. Score gave on

"I'm very ill, and tired, aunt," said Cat; "and would give the world for a few hours' sleep."

"A few hours and welcome, my love, and a sackposset too. You do look sadly tired and poorly, sure enough.

Ah, Cat, Cat! you great ladies are sad rakes, I do believe. I wager now, that with all your balls, and carriages,

and fine clothes, you are neither so happy nor so well as when you lived with your poor old aunt, who used to

love you so." And with these gentle words, and an embrace or two, which Mrs. Catherine wondered at, and

permitted, she was conducted to that very bed which the Count had occupied a year previously, and

undressed, and laid in it, and affectionately tucked up by her aunt, who marvelled at the fineness of her

clothes, as she removed them piece by piece; and when she saw that in Mrs. Catherine's pocket there was

only the sum of three and fourpence, said, archly, "There was no need of money, for the Captain took care of

Mrs. Cat did not undeceive her; and deceived Mrs. Score certainly was,for she imagined the welldressed

gentleman who led Cat from the carriage was no other than the Count; and, as she had heard, from time to

time, exaggerated reports of the splendour of the establishment which he kept up, she was induced to look

upon her niece with the very highest respect, and to treat her as if she were a fine lady. "And so she IS a fine

lady," Mrs. Score had said months ago, when some of these flattering stories reached her, and she had

overcome her first fury at Catherine's elopement. "The girl was very cruel to leave me; but we must recollect

that she is as good as married to a nobleman, and must all forget and forgive, you know."

This speech had been made to Doctor Dobbs, who was in the habit of taking a pipe and a tankard at the

"Bugle," and it had been roundly reprobated by the worthy divine; who told Mrs. Score, that the crime of

Catherine was only the more heinous, if it had been committed from interested motives; and protested that,

were she a princess, he would never speak to her again. Mrs. Score thought and pronounced the Doctor's

opinion to be very bigoted; indeed, she was one of those persons who have a marvellous respect for

prosperity, and a corresponding scorn for illfortune. When, therefore, she returned to the public room, she

went graciously to the gentleman who had led Mrs. Catherine from the carriage, and with a knowing curtsey

welcomed him to the "Bugle;" told him that his lady would not come to dinner, but bade her say, with her

best love to his Lordship, that the ride had fatigued her, and that she would lie in bed for an hour or two.

This speech was received with much wonder by his Lordship; who was, indeed, no other than a Liverpool

tailor going to London to learn fashions; but he only smiled, and did not undeceive the landlady, who herself

The two or three hours allotted to that meal by the liberal coachmasters of those days passed away, and Mr.

Coachman, declaring that his horses were now rested enough, and that they had twelve miles to ride, put the

steeds to, and summoned the passengers. Mrs. Score, who had seen with much satisfaction that her niece was

really ill, and her fever more violent, and hoped to have her for many days an inmate in her house, now came

forward, and casting upon the Liverpool tailor a look of profound but respectful melancholy, said, "My Lord

(for I recollect your Lordship quite well), the lady upstairs is so ill, that it would be a sin to move her: had I

not better tell coachman to take down your Lordship's trunks, and the lady's, and make you a bed in the next

Very much to her surprise, this proposition was received with a roar of laughter. "Madam," said the person

addressed, "I'm not a lord, but a tailor and draper; and as for that young woman, before today I never set

"WHAT!" screamed out Mrs. Score. "Are not you the Count? Do you mean to say that you a'n't Cat's? DO

you mean to say that you didn't order her bed, and that you won't pay this here little bill?" And with this she

produced a document, by which the Count's lady was made her debtor in a sum of halfaguinea.

These passionate words excited more and more laughter. "Pay it, my Lord," said the coachman; "and then

come along, for time presses." "Our respects to her Ladyship," said one passenger. "Tell her my Lord can't

wait," said another; and with much merriment one and all quitted the hotel, entered the coach, and rattled off.

Dumbpale with terror and ragebill in hand, Mrs. Score had followed the company; but when the coach

disappeared, her senses returned. Back she flew into the inn, overturning the ostler, not deigning to answer

Doctor Dobbs (who, from behind soft tobaccofumes, mildly asked the reason of her disturbance), and,

"Well, madam!" said she, in her highest key, "do you mean that you have come into this here house to

swindle me? Do you dare for to come with your airs here, and call yourself a nobleman's lady, and sleep in

the best bed, when you're no better nor a common tramper? I'll thank you, ma'am, to get out, ma'am. I'll have

no sick paupers in this house, ma'am. You know your way to the workhouse, ma'am, and there I'll trouble you

for to go." And here Mrs. Score proceeded quickly to pull off the bedclothes; and poor Cat arose, shivering

She had no spirit to answer, as she would have done the day before, when an oath from any human being

would have brought halfadozen from her in return; or a knife, or a plate, or a leg of mutton, if such had

been to her hand. She had no spirit left for such repartees; but in reply to the above words of Mrs. Score, and

a great many more of the same kindwhich are not necessary for our history, but which that lady uttered

with inconceivable shrillness and volubility, the poor wench could say little,only sob and shiver, and

gather up the clothes again, crying, "Oh, aunt, don't speak unkind to me! I'm very unhappy, and very ill!"

"Ill, you strumpet! ill, be hanged! Ill is as ill does; and if you are ill, it's only what you merit. Get out! dress

yourselftramp! Get to the workhouse, and don't come to cheat me any more! Dress yourselfdo you hear?

Poor, wretched, chattering, burning, shivering Catherine huddled on her clothes as well she might: she

seemed hardly to know or see what she was doing, and did not reply a single word to the many that the

landlady let fall. Cat tottered down the narrow stairs, and through the kitchen, and to the door; which she

caught hold of, and paused awhile, and looked into Mrs. Score's face, as for one more chance. "Get out, you

nasty trull!" said that lady, sternly, with arms akimbo; and poor Catherine, with a most piteous scream and

"Why, noyesnoit is poor Catherine Hall, as I live!" said somebody, starting up, shoving aside Mrs.

Score very rudely, and running into the road, wig off and pipe in hand. It was honest Doctor Dobbs; and the

result of his interview with Mrs. Cat was, that he gave up for ever smoking his pipe at the "Bugle;" and that

Over this part of Mrs. Cat's history we shall be as brief as possible; for, to tell the truth, nothing immoral

occurred during her whole stay at the good Doctor's house; and we are not going to insult the reader by

offering him silly pictures of piety, cheerfulness, good sense, and simplicity; which are milkandwater

virtues after all, and have no relish with them like a good strong vice, highly peppered. Well, to be short:

Doctor Dobbs, though a profound theologian, was a very simple gentleman; and before Mrs. Cat had been a

month in the house, he had learned to look upon her as one of the most injured and repentant characters in the

world; and had, with Mrs. Dobbs, resolved many plans for the future welfare of the young Magdalen. "She

was but sixteen, my love, recollect," said the Doctor; "she was carried off, not by her own wish either. The

Count swore he would marry her; and, though she did not leave him until that monster tried to poison her, yet

think what a fine Christian spirit the poor girl has shown! she forgives him as heartilymore heartily, I am

sure, than I do Mrs. Score for turning her adrift in that wicked way." The reader will perceive some difference

in the Doctor's statement and ours, which we assure him is the true one; but the fact is, the honest rector had

had his tale from Mrs. Cat, and it was not in his nature to doubt, if she had told him a history ten times more

The reverend gentleman and his wife then laid their heads together; and, recollecting something of John

Hayes's former attachment to Mrs. Cat, thought that it might be advantageously renewed, should Hayes be

still constant. Having very adroitly sounded Catherine (so adroitly, indeed, as to ask her "whether she would

like to marry John Hayes?"), that young woman had replied, "No. She had loved John Hayeshe had been

her early, only love; but she was fallen now, and not good enough for him." And this made the Dobbs family

admire her more and more, and cast about for means to bring the marriage to pass.

Hayes was away from the village when Mrs. Cat had arrived there; but he did not fail to hear of her illness,

and how her aunt had deserted her, and the good Doctor taken her in. The worthy Doctor himself met Mr.

Hayes on the green; and, telling him that some repairs were wanting in his kitchen begged him to step in and

examine them. Hayes first said no, plump, and then no, gently; and then pished, and then psha'd; and then,

trembling very much, went in: and there sat Mrs. Catherine, trembling very much too.

What passed between them? If your Ladyship is anxious to know, think of that morning when Sir John

himself popped the question. Could there be anything more stupid than the conversation which took place?

Such stuff is not worth repeating: no, not when uttered by people in the very genteelest of company; as for the

amorous dialogue of a carpenter and an exbarmaid, it is worse still. Suffice it to say, that Mr. Hayes, who

had had a year to recover from his passion, and had, to all appearances, quelled it, was over head and ears

Whether the Doctor knew what was going on, I can't say; but this matter is certain, that every evening Hayes

was now in the rectory kitchen, or else walking abroad with Mrs. Catherine: and whether she ran away with

him, or he with her, I shall not make it my business to inquire; but certainly at the end of three months (which

must be crowded up into this one little sentence), another elopement took place in the village. "I should have

prevented it, certainly," said Doctor Dobbswhereat his wife smiled; "but the young people kept the matter

a secret from me." And so he would, had he known it; but though Mrs. Dobbs had made several attempts to

acquaint him with the precise hour and method of the intended elopement, he peremptorily ordered her to

hold her tongue. The fact is, that the matter had been discussed by the rector's lady many times. "Young

Hayes," would she say "has a pretty little fortune and trade of his own; he is an only son, and may marry as

he likes; and, though not specially handsome, generous, or amiable, has an undeniable love for Cat (who, you

know, must not be particular), and the sooner she marries him, I think, the better. They can't be married at our

church you know, and" "Well," said the Doctor, "if they are married elsewhere, I can't help it, and know

nothing about it, look you." And upon this hint the elopement took place: which, indeed, was peaceably

performed early one Sunday morning about a month after; Mrs. Hall getting behind Mr. Hayes on a pillion,

and all the children of the parsonage giggling behind the windowblinds to see the pair go off.

During this month Mr. Hayes had caused the banns to be published at the town of Worcester; judging rightly

that in a great town they would cause no such remark as in a solitary village, and thither he conducted his

lady. O illstarred John Hayes! whither do the dark Fates lead you? O foolish Doctor Dobbs, to forget that

young people ought to honour their parents, and to yield to silly Mrs. Dobbs's ardent propensity for making

The London Gazette of the 1st April, 1706, contains a proclamation by the Queen for putting into execution

an Act of Parliament for the encouragement and increase of seamen, and for the better and speedier manning

of Her Majesty's fleet, which authorises all justices to issue warrants to constables, petty constables,

headboroughs, and tythingmen, to enter and, if need be, to break open the doors of any houses where they

shall believe deserting seamen to be; and for the further increase and encouragement of the navy, to take

ablebodied landsmen when seamen fail. This Act, which occupies four columns of the Gazette, and another

of similar length and meaning for pressing men into the army, need not be quoted at length here; but caused a

As one has seen or heard, after the march of a great army, a number of rogues and loose characters bring up

the rear; in like manner, at the tail of a great measure of State, follow many roguish personal interests, which

are protected by the main body. The great measure of Reform, for instance, carried along with it much private

jobbing and swindlingas could be shown were we not inclined to deal mildly with the Whigs; and this

Enlistment Act, which, in order to maintain the British glories in Flanders, dealt most cruelly with the British

people in England (it is not the first time that a man has been pinched at home to make a fine appearance

abroad), created a great company of rascals and informers throughout the land, who lived upon it; or upon

extortion from those who were subject to it, or not being subject to it were frightened into the belief that they

When Mr. Hayes and his lady had gone through the marriage ceremony at Worcester, the former, concluding

that at such a place lodging and food might be procured at a cheaper rate, looked about carefully for the

In the kitchen of this inn, a party of men were drinking; and, as Mrs. Hayes declined, with a proper sense of

her superiority, to eat in company with such low fellows, the landlady showed her and her husband to an

The kitchen party seemed, indeed, not such as a lady would choose to join. There was one huge lanky fellow,

that looked like a soldier, and had a halberd; another was habited in a sailor's costume, with a fascinating

patch over one eye; and a third, who seemed the leader of the gang, was a stout man in a sailor's frock and a

horseman's jackboots, whom one might fancy, if he were anything, to be a horsemarine.

Of one of these worthies, Mrs. Hayes thought she knew the figure and voice; and she found her conjectures

were true, when, all of sudden, three people, without "With your leave," or "By your leave," burst into the

room, into which she and her spouse had retired. At their head was no other than her old friend, Mr. Peter

Brock; he had his sword drawn, and his finger to his lips, enjoining silence, as it were, to Mrs. Catherine. He

with the patch on his eye seized incontinently on Mr. Hayes; the tall man with the halberd kept the door; two

or three heroes supported the oneeyed man; who, with a loud voice, exclaimed, "Down with your armsno

And here, at this lock, we shall leave the whole company until the next chapter; which may possibly explain

"You don't sure believe these men?" said Mrs. Hayes, as soon as the first alarm caused by the irruption of Mr.

Brock and his companions had subsided. "These are no magistrate's men: it is but a trick to rob you of your

"Yonder fellow," continued Mrs. Catherine, "I know, for all his drawn sword and fierce looks; his name

"Wood, madam, at your service!" said Mr. Brock. "I am follower to Mr. Justice Gobble, of this town: a'n't I,

"Yes indeed," said Tim, archly; "we're all followers of his honour Justice Gobble."

"I suppose, madam, you're satisfied NOW?" continued Mr. Brock, alias Wood. "You can't deny the testimony

of gentlemen like these; and our commission is to apprehend all ablebodied male persons who can give no

good account of themselves, and enrol them in the service of Her Majesty. Look at this Mr. Hayes" (who

stood trembling in his shoes). "Can there be a bolder, properer, straighter gentleman? We'll have him for a

"Take heart, Johndon't be frightened. Psha! I tell you I know the man" cried out Mrs. Hayes: "he is only

"Oh, for that matter, I DO think I recollect the lady. Let me see; where was it? At Birmingham, I think,ay,

"Oh, sir!" here cried Madam Hayes, dropping her voice at once from a tone of scorn to one of gentlest

entreaty, "what is it you want with my husband? I know not, indeed, if ever I saw you before. For what do

you seize him? How much will you take to release him, and let us go? Name the sum; he is rich, and"

"RICH, Catherine!" cried Hayes. "Rich!O heavens! Sir, I have nothing but my hands to support me: I am a

"But you have twenty at home, John," said his wife. "Give these brave gentlemen a writing to your mother,

"Oh, in course," echoed the tall man with the halberd. "What's a thrifling detintion, my dear?" continued he,

addressing Hayes. "We'll amuse you in your absence, and drink to the health of your pretty wife here."

This promise, to do the halberdier justice, he fulfilled. He called upon the landlady to produce the desired

liquor; and when Mr. Hayes flung himself at that lady's feet, demanding succour from her, and asking

"There's no law at the 'Three Rooks' except THIS!" said Mr. Brock in reply, holding up a horsepistol. To

After some further solicitations, John Hayes drew out the necessary letter to his father, stating that he was

pressed, and would not be set free under a sum of twenty guineas; and that it would be of no use to detain the

bearer of the letter, inasmuch as the gentlemen who had possession of him vowed that they would murder

him should any harm befall their comrade. As a further proof of the authenticity of the letter, a token was

The missives were, after some consultation, entrusted to the care of the tall halberdier, who seemed to rank as

second in command of the forces that marched under Corporal Brock. This gentleman was called

indifferently Ensign, Mr., or even Captain Macshane; his intimates occasionally in sport called him Nosey,

from the prominence of that feature in his countenance; or Spindleshins, for the very reason which brought on

the first Edward a similar nickname. Mr. Macshane then quitted Worcester, mounted on Hayes's horse;

This was not to be expected until the next morning; and a weary nuit de noces did Mr. Hayes pass. Dinner

was served, and, according to promise, Mr. Brock and his two friends enjoyed the meal along with the bride

and bridegroom. Punch followed, and this was taken in company; then came supper. Mr. Brock alone partook

of this, the other two gentlemen preferring the society of their pipes and the landlady in the kitchen.

"It is a sorry entertainment, I confess," said the excorporal, "and a dismal way for a gentleman to spend his

bridal night; but somebody must stay with you, my dears: for who knows but you might take a fancy to

scream out of window, and then there would be murder, and the deuce and all to pay. One of us must stay,

and my friends love a pipe, so you must put up with my company until they can relieve guard."

The reader will not, of course, expect that three people who were to pass the night, however unwillingly,

together in an innroom, should sit there dumb and moody, and without any personal communication; on the

contrary, Mr. Brock, as an old soldier, entertained his prisoners with the utmost courtesy, and did all that lay

in his power, by the help of liquor and conversation, to render their durance tolerable. On the bridegroom his

attentions were a good deal thrown away: Mr. Hayes consented to drink copiously, but could not be made to

talk much; and, in fact, the fright of the seizure, the fate hanging over him should his parents refuse a ransom,

and the tremendous outlay of money which would take place should they accede to it, weighed altogether on

As for Mrs. Cat, I don't think she was at all sorry in her heart to see the old Corporal: for he had been a friend

of old timesdear times to her; she had had from him, too, and felt for him, not a little kindness; and there

was really a very tender, innocent friendship subsisting between this pair of rascals, who relished much a

The Corporal, after treating his prisoners to punch in great quantities, proposed the amusement of cards: over

which Mr. Hayes had not been occupied more than an hour, when he found himself so excessively sleepy as

to be persuaded to fling himself down on the bed dressed as he was, and there to snore away until morning.

Mrs. Catherine had no inclination for sleep; and the Corporal, equally wakeful, plied incessantly the bottle,

and held with her a great deal of conversation. The sleep, which was equivalent to the absence, of John Hayes

took all restraint from their talk. She explained to Brock the circumstances of her marriage, which we have

already described; they wondered at the chance which had brought them together at the "Three Rooks;" nor

did Brock at all hesitate to tell her at once that his calling was quite illegal, and that his intention was simply

to extort money. The worthy Corporal had not the slightest shame regarding his own profession, and cut

many jokes with Mrs. Cat about her late one; her attempt to murder the Count, and her future prospects as a

And here, having brought him upon the scene again, we may as well shortly narrate some of the principal

circumstances which befell him after his sudden departure from Birmingham; and which he narrated with

He rode the Captain's horse to Oxford (having exchanged his military dress for a civil costume on the road),

and at Oxford he disposed of "George of Denmark," a great bargain, to one of the heads of colleges. As soon

as Mr. Brock, who took on himself the style and title of Captain Wood, had sufficiently examined the

curiosities of the University, he proceeded at once to the capital: the only place for a gentleman of his fortune

Here he read, with a great deal of philosophical indifference, in the Daily Post, the Courant, the Observator,

the Gazette, and the chief journals of those days, which he made a point of examining at "Button's" and

"Will's," an accurate description of his person, his clothes, and the horse he rode, and a promise of fifty

guineas' reward to any person who would give an account of him (so that he might be captured) to Captain

Count Galgenstein at Birmingham, to Mr. Murfey at the "Golden Ball" in the Savoy, or Mr. Bates at the

"Blew Anchor in Pickadilly." But Captain Wood, in an enormous fullbottomed periwig that cost him sixty

pounds,* with high red heels to his shoes, a silver sword, and a gold snuffbox, and a large wound (obtained,

he said, at the siege of Barcelona), which disfigured much of his countenance, and caused him to cover one

eye, was in small danger, he thought, of being mistaken for Corporal Brock, the deserter of Cutts's; and

strutted along the Mall with as grave an air as the very best nobleman who appeared there. He was generally,

indeed, voted to be very good company; and as his expenses were unlimited ("A few convent candlesticks,"

my dear, he used to whisper, "melt into a vast number of doubloons"), he commanded as good society as he

chose to ask for: and it was speedily known as a fact throughout town, that Captain Wood, who had served

under His Majesty Charles III. of Spain, had carried off the diamond petticoat of Our Lady of Compostella,

and lived upon the proceeds of the fraud. People were good Protestants in those days, and many a one longed

* In the ingenious contemporary history of Moll Flanders, a periwig is mentioned as costing that sum.

All surmises concerning his wealth, Captain Wood, with much discretion, encouraged. He contradicted no

report, but was quite ready to confirm all; and when two different rumours were positively put to him, he

used only to laugh, and say, "My dear sir, _I_ don't make the stories; but I'm not called upon to deny them;

and I give you fair warning, that I shall assent to every one of them; so you may believe them or not, as you

please." And so he had the reputation of being a gentleman, not only wealthy, but discreet. In truth, it was

almost a pity that worthy Brock had not been a gentleman born; in which case, doubtless, he would have

lived and died as became his station; for he spent his money like a gentleman, he loved women like a

gentleman, he would fight like a gentleman, he gambled and got drunk like a gentleman. What did he want

else? Only a matter of six descents, a little money, and an estate, to render him the equal of St. John or

Harley. "Ah, those were merry days!" would Mr. Brock say,for he loved, in a good old age, to recount the

story of his London fashionable campaign;"and when I think how near I was to become a great man, and

to die perhaps a general, I can't but marvel at the wicked obstinacy of my illluck."

"I will tell you what I did, my dear: I had lodgings in Piccadilly, as if I were a lord; I had two large periwigs,

and three suits of laced clothes; I kept a little black dressed out like a Turk; I walked daily in the Mall; I dined

at the politest ordinary in Covent Garden; I frequented the best of coffeehouses, and knew all the pretty

fellows of the town; I cracked a bottle with Mr. Addison, and lent many a piece to Dick Steele (a sad

debauched rogue, my dear); and, above all, I'll tell you what I didthe noblest stroke that sure ever a

"One day, going into 'Will's,' I saw a crowd of gentlemen gathered together, and heard one of them say,

'Captain Wood! I don't know the man; but there was a Captain Wood in Southwell's regiment.' Egad, it was

my Lord Peterborough himself who was talking about me. So, putting off my hat, I made a most gracious

conge to my Lord, and said I knew HIM, and rode behind him at Barcelona on our entry into that town.

"'No doubt you did, Captain Wood,' says my Lord, taking my hand; 'and no doubt you know me: for many

more know Tom Fool, than Tom Fool knows.' And with this, at which all of us laughed, my Lord called for a

"Well, he was in disgrace, as you know, but he grew mighty fond of me, andwould you believe

it?nothing would satisfy him but presenting me at Court! Yes, to Her Sacred Majesty the Queen, and my

Lady Marlborough, who was in high feather. Ay, truly, the sentinels on duty used to salute me as if I were

Corporal John himself! I was on the high road to fortune. Charley Mordaunt used to call me Jack, and drink

canary at my chambers; I used to make one at my Lord Treasurer's levee; I had even got Mr. ArmySecretary

Walpole to take a hundred guineas as a compliment: and he had promised me a majority: when bad luck

"You see, my dear, that after we had left that gaby, Galgenstein,ha, hawith a gag in his mouth, and

twopence halfpenny in his pocket, the honest Count was in the sorriest plight in the world; owing money

here and there to tradesmen, a cool thousand to the Warwickshire Squire: and all this on eighty pounds a

year! Well, for a little time the tradesmen held their hands; while the jolly Count moved heaven and earth to

catch hold of his dear Corporal and his dear moneybags over again, and placarded every town from London

to Liverpool with descriptions of my pretty person. The bird was flown, however,the money clean

gone,and when there was no hope of regaining it, what did the creditors do but clap my gay gentleman into

"But no such luck for honest Peter Brock, or Captain Wood, as he was in those days. One blessed Monday I

went to wait on Mr. Secretary, and he squeezed my hand and whispered to me that I was to be Major of a

regiment in Virginiathe very thing: for you see, my dear, I didn't care about joining my Lord Duke in

Flanders; being pretty well known to the army there. The Secretary squeezed my hand (it had a fiftypound

bill in it) and wished me joy, and called me Major, and bowed me out of his closet into the anteroom; and,

as gay as may be, I went off to the 'Tiltyard Coffeehouse' in Whitehall, which is much frequented by

"Amongst the company were several of my acquaintance, and amongst them a gentleman I did not much care

to see, look you! I saw a uniform that I knewred and yellow facingsCutts's, my dear; and the wearer of

this was no other than his Excellency Gustavus Adolphus Maximilian, whom we all know of!

"He stared me full in the face, right into my eye (t'other one was patched, you know), and after standing

stockstill with his mouth open, gave a step back, and then a step forward, and then screeched out, 'It's

"'I'll SWEAR it's Brock,' cries Gal, as soon as he hears my voice, and laid hold of my cuff (a pretty bit of

"'Sirrah!' says I, drawing it back, and giving my Lord a little touch of the fist (just at the last button of the

waistcoat, my dear,a rare place if you wish to prevent a man from speaking too much: it sent him reeling to

the other end of the room). 'Ruffian!' says I. 'Dog!' says I. 'Insolent puppy and coxcomb! what do you mean

"'Faith, Major, you giv him his BILLYFUL,' roared out a long Irish unattached ensign, that I had treated with

many a glass of Nantz at the tavern. And so, indeed, I had; for the wretch could not speak for some minutes,

and all the officers stood laughing at him, as he writhed and wriggled hideously.

"'Gentlemen, this is a monstrous scandal,' says one officer. 'Men of rank and honour at fists like a parcel of

"'Men of honour!' says the Count, who had fetched up his breath by this time. (I made for the door, but

Macshane held me and said, 'Major, you are not going to shirk him, sure?' Whereupon I gripped his hand and

"'Men of honour!' says the Count. 'I tell you the man is a deserter, a thief, and a swindler! He was my

"'Dog, you lie!' I roared out, and made another cut at him with my cane; but the gentlemen rushed between

"'O bluthanowns!' says honest Macshane, 'the lying scounthrel this fellow is! Gentlemen, I swear be me

honour that Captain Wood was wounded at Barcelona; and that I saw him there; and that he and I ran away

"You see, my dear, that these Irish have the strongest imaginations in the world; and that I had actually

persuaded poor Mac that he and I were friends in Spain. Everybody knew Mac, who was a character in his

"'This instant,' says the Count, who was boiling with fury; 'and where you like.'

"'Montague House,' says I. 'Good,' says he. And off we went. In good time too, for the constables came in at

"But the gentlemen present, being military men, would not hear of this. Out came Mac's rapier, and that of

halfadozen others; and the constables were then told to do their duty if they liked, or to take a

crownpiece, and leave us to ourselves. Off they went; and presently, in a couple of coaches, the Count and

his friends, I and mine, drove off to the fields behind Montague House. Oh that vile coffeehouse! why did I

"We came to the ground. Honest Macshane was my second, and much disappointed because the second on

the other side would not make a fight of it, and exchange a few passes with him; but he was an old major, a

cool old hand, as brave as steel, and no fool. Well, the swords are measured, Galgenstein strips off his

doublet, and I my handsome cutvelvet in like fashion. Galgenstein flings off his hat, and I handed mine

overthe lace on it cost me twenty pounds. I longed to be at him, forcurse him!I hate him, and know

"'You'll not fight in that periwig, sure?' says Macshane. 'Of course not,' says I, and took it off.

"May all barbers be roasted in flames; may all periwigs, bobwigs, scratchwigs, and Ramillies cocks, frizzle in

purgatory from this day forth to the end of time! Mine was the ruin of me: what might I not have been now

"I gave it over to Ensign Macshane, and with it went what I had quite forgotten, the large patch which I wore

over one eye, which popped out fierce, staring, and lively as was ever any eye in the world.

"'Come on!' says I, and made a lunge at my Count; but he sprang back (the dog was as active as a hare, and

knew, from old times, that I was his master with the smallsword), and his second, wondering, struck up my

"'I will not fight that man,' says he, looking mighty pale. 'I swear upon my honour that his name is Peter

Brock: he was for two years my corporal, and deserted, running away with a thousand pounds of my moneys.

Look at the fellow! What is the matter with his eye? why did he wear a patch over it? But stop!' says he. 'I

have more proof. Hand me my pocketbook.' And from it, sure enough, he produced the infernal

proclamation announcing my desertion! 'See if the fellow has a scar across his left ear' (and I can't say, my

dear, but what I have: it was done by a cursed Dutchman at the Boyne). 'Tell me if he has not got C.R. in blue

upon his right arm' (and there it is sure enough). 'Yonder swaggering Irishman may be his accomplice for

what I know; but I will have no dealings with Mr. Brock, save with a constable for a second.'

"'This is an odd story, Captain Wood,' said the old Major who acted for the Count.

"'A scounthrelly falsehood regarding me and my friend!' shouted out Mr. Macshane; 'and the Count shall

"'Stop, stop!' says the Major. 'Captain Wood is too gallant a gentleman, I am sure, not to satisfy the Count;

and will show us that he has no such mark on his arm as only private soldiers put there.'

"'Captain Wood,' says I, 'will do no such thing, Major. I'll fight that scoundrel Galgenstein, or you, or any of

"'Well, take him, sir,' says I, in a rage; 'and just let me have the pleasure of telling him that he's a coward and

a liar; and that my lodgings are in Piccadilly, where, if ever he finds courage to meet me, he may hear of me!'

"'Faugh! I shpit on ye all,' cries my gallant ally Macshane. And sure enough he kept his word, or all

"And so we gathered up our clothes, and went back in our separate coaches, and no blood spilt.

"'And is it thrue now,' said Mr. Macshane, when we were alone'is it thrue now, all these divvles have been

"'Faith and I should; for to tell you the secred thrut, I've not tasted mate these four days.'

"'Well then, Ensign, it IS true,' says I; 'and as for meat, you shall have some at the first cookshop.' I bade the

coach stop until he bought a plateful, which he ate in the carriage, for my time was precious. I just told him

the whole story: at which he laughed, and swore that it was the best piece of GENERALSHIP he ever heard

on. When his belly was full, I took out a couple of guineas and gave them to him. Mr. Macshane began to cry

at this, and kissed me, and swore he never would desert me: as, indeed, my dear, I don't think he will; for we

have been the best of friends ever since, and he's the only man I ever could trust, I think.

"I don't know what put it into my head, but I had a scent of some mischief in the wind; so stopped the coach a

little before I got home, and, turning into a tavern, begged Macshane to go before me to my lodging, and see

if the coast was clear: which he did; and came back to me as pale as death, saying that the house was full of

constables. The cursed quarrel at the Tiltyard had, I suppose, set the beaks upon me; and a pretty sweep they

made of it. Ah, my dear! five hundred pounds in money, five suits of laced clothes, three periwigs, besides

laced shirts, swords, canes, and snuffboxes; and all to go back to that scoundrel Count.

"It was all over with me, I sawno more being a gentleman for me; and if I remained to be caught, only a

choice between Tyburn and a file of grenadiers. My love, under such circumstances, a gentleman can't be

particular, and must be prompt; the liverystable was hard by where I used to hire my coach to go to

Court,ha! ha!and was known as a man of substance. Thither I went immediately. 'Mr. Warmmash,' says

I, 'my gallant friend here and I have a mind for a ride and a supper at Twickenham, so you must lend us a pair

"We did not go into the Park, but turned off and cantered smartly up towards Kilburn; and, when we got into

the country, galloped as if the devil were at our heels. Bless you, my love, it was all done in a minute: and the

Ensign and I found ourselves regular knights of the road, before we knew where we were almost. Only think

of our finding you and your new husband at the 'Three Rooks'! There's not a greater fence than the landlady

in all the country. It was she that put us on seizing your husband, and introduced us to the other two

"And what became of the horses?" said Mrs. Catherine to Mr. Brock, when his tale was finished.

"Rips, madam," said he; "mere rips. We sold them at Stourbridge fair, and got but thirteen guineas for the

"Whew!" whistled Mr. Brock. "What, hankering after him still? My dear, he is off to Flanders with his

regiment; and, I make no doubt, there have been twenty Countesses of Galgenstein since your time."

"I don't believe any such thing, sir," said Mrs. Catherine, starting up very angrily.

"Leave the room, fellow," said the lady. But she recollected herself speedily again; and, clasping her hands,

and looking very wretched at Brock, at the ceiling, at the floor, at her husband (from whom she violently

turned away her head), she began to cry piteously: to which tears the Corporal set up a gentle accompaniment

I don't think they were tears of repentance; but of regret for the time when she had her first love, and her fine

clothes, and her white hat and blue feather. Of the two, the Corporal's whistle was much more innocent than

the girl's sobbing: he was a rogue; but a goodnatured old fellow when his humour was not crossed. Surely

our novelwriters make a great mistake in divesting their rascals of all gentle human qualities: they have

suchand the only sad point to think of is, in all private concerns of life, abstract feelings, and dealings with

friends, and so on, how dreadfully like a rascal is to an honest man. The man who murdered the Italian boy,

set him first to play with his children whom he loved, and who doubtless deplored his loss.

If we had not been obliged to follow history in all respects, it is probable that we should have left out the last

adventure of Mrs. Catherine and her husband, at the inn at Worcester, altogether; for, in truth, very little came

of it, and it is not very romantic or striking. But we are bound to stick closely, above all, by THE

TRUTHthe truth, though it be not particularly pleasant to read of or to tell. As anybody may read in the

"Newgate Calendar," Mr. and Mrs. Hayes were taken at an inn at Worcester; were confined there; were

swindled by persons who pretended to impress the bridegroom for military service. What is one to do after

that? Had we been writing novels instead of authentic histories, we might have carried them anywhere else

we chose: and we had a great mind to make Hayes philosophising with Bolingbroke, like a certain Devereux;

and Mrs. Catherine maitresse en titre to Mr. Alexander Pope, Doctor Sacheverel, Sir John Reade the oculist,

Dean Swift, or Marshal Tallard; as the very commonest romancer would under such circumstances. But alas

and alas! truth must be spoken, whatever else is in the wind; and the excellent "Newgate Calendar," which

contains the biographies and thanatographies of Hayes and his wife, does not say a word of their connections

with any of the leading literary or military heroes of the time of Her Majesty Queen Anne. The "Calendar"

says, in so many words, that Hayes was obliged to send to his father in Warwickshire for money to get him

out of the scrape, and that the old gentleman came down to his aid. By this truth must we stick; and not for

the sake of the most brilliant episode,no, not for a bribe of twenty extra guineas per sheet, would we depart

Mr. Brock's account of his adventure in London has given the reader some short notice of his friend, Mr

Macshane. Neither the wits nor the principles of that worthy Ensign were particularly firm: for drink, poverty,

and a crack on the skull at the battle of Steenkirk had served to injure the former; and the Ensign was not in

his best days possessed of any share of the latter. He had really, at one period, held such a rank in the army,

but pawned his halfpay for drink and play; and for many years past had lived, one of the hundred thousand

miracles of our city, upon nothing that anybody knew of, or of which he himself could give any account.

Who has not a catalogue of these men in his list? who can tell whence comes the occasional clean shirt, who

supplies the continual means of drunkenness, who wards off the dailyimpending starvation? Their life is a

wonder from day to day: their breakfast a wonder; their dinner a miracle; their bed an interposition of

Providence. If you and I, my dear sir, want a shilling tomorrow, who will give it us? Will OUR butchers give

us muttonchops? will OUR laundresses clothe us in clean linen?not a bone or a rag. Standing as we do

(may it be ever so) somewhat removed from want,* is there one of us who does not shudder at the thought of

descending into the lists to combat with it, and expect anything but to be utterly crushed in the encounter?

* The author, it must be remembered, has his lodgings and food provided for him by the government of his

Not a bit of it, my dear sir. It takes much more than you think for to starve a man. Starvation is very little

when you are used to it. Some people I know even, who live on it quite comfortably, and make their daily

bread by it. It had been our friend Macshane's sole profession for many years; and he did not fail to draw

from it such a livelihood as was sufficient, and perhaps too good, for him. He managed to dine upon it a

certain or rather uncertain number of days in the week, to sleep somewhere, and to get drunk at least three

hundred times a year. He was known to one or two noblemen who occasionally helped him with a few pieces,

and whom he helped in turnnever mind how. He had other acquaintances whom he pestered undauntedly;

and from whom he occasionally extracted a dinner, or a crown, or mayhap, by mistake, a goldheaded cane,

which found its way to the pawnbroker's. When flush of cash, he would appear at the coffeehouse; when

low in funds, the deuce knows into what mystic caves and dens he slunk for food and lodging. He was

perfectly ready with his sword, and when sober, or better still, a very little tipsy, was a complete master of it;

in the art of boasting and lying he had hardly any equals; in shoes he stood six feet five inches; and here is his

complete signalement. It was a fact that he had been in Spain as a volunteer, where he had shown some

Mr. Macshane had, however, like Mr. Conrad, the Corsair, one virtue in the midst of a thousand crimes,he

was faithful to his employer for the time being: and a story is told of him, which may or may not be to his

credit, viz. that being hired on one occasion by a certain lord to inflict a punishment upon a roturier who had

crossed his lordship in his amours, he, Macshane, did actually refuse from the person to be belaboured, and

who entreated his forbearance, a larger sum of money than the nobleman gave him for the beating; which he

performed punctually, as bound in honour and friendship. This tale would the Ensign himself relate, with

much selfsatisfaction; and when, after the sudden flight from London, he and Brock took to their roving

occupation, he cheerfully submitted to the latter as his commanding officer, called him always Major, and,

bating blunders and drunkenness, was perfectly true to his leader. He had a notionand, indeed, I don't

know that it was a wrong onethat his profession was now, as before, strictly military, and according to the

rules of honour. Robbing he called plundering the enemy; and hanging was, in his idea, a dastardly and cruel

The other gentlemen concerned were strangers to Mr. Brock, who felt little inclined to trust either of them

upon such a message, or with such a large sum to bring back. They had, strange to say, a similar mistrust on

their side; but Mr. Brock lugged out five guineas, which he placed in the landlady's hand as security for his

comrade's return; and Ensign Macshane, being mounted on poor Hayes's own horse, set off to visit the

parents of that unhappy young man. It was a gallant sight to behold our thieves' ambassador, in a faded

skyblue suit with orange facings, in a pair of huge jackboots unconscious of blacking, with a mighty

baskethilted sword by his side, and a little shabby beaver cocked over a large towperiwig, ride out from the

It was eighteen miles distant from Worcester; but Mr. Macshane performed the distance in safety, and in

sobriety moreover (for such had been his instructions), and had no difficulty in discovering the house of old

Hayes: towards which, indeed, John's horse trotted incontinently. Mrs. Hayes, who was knitting at the

housedoor, was not a little surprised at the appearance of the wellknown grey gelding, and of the stranger

Flinging himself off the steed with much agility, Mr. Macshane, as soon as his feet reached the ground,

brought them rapidly together, in order to make a profound and elegant bow to Mrs. Hayes; and slapping his

greasy beaver against his heart, and poking his periwig almost into the nose of the old lady, demanded

Having been answered in the affirmative, he then proceeded to ask whether there was a blackguard boy in the

house who would take "the horse to the steeble;" whether "he could have a dthrink of smallbeer or

buthermilk, being, faith, uncommon dthry;" and whether, finally, "he could be feevored with a few minutes'

private conversation with her and Mr. Hees, on a matther of consitherable impartance." All these

preliminaries were to be complied with before Mr. Macshane would enter at all into the subject of his visit.

The horse and man were cared for; Mr. Hayes was called in; and not a little anxious did Mrs. Hayes grow, in

the meanwhile, with regard to the fate of her darling son. "Where is he? How is he? Is he dead?" said the old

"Indeed, madam, and you're misteeken intirely: the young man is perfectly well in health."

"But mighty cast down in sperrits. To misfortunes, madam, look you, the best of us are subject; and a trifling

And herewith Mr. Macshane produced a letter in the handwriting of young Hayes, of which we have had the

When Mrs. Hayes read this pathetic missive, its success with her was complete, and she was for going

immediately to the cupboard, and producing the money necessary for her darling son's release. But the

carpenter Hayes was much more suspicious. "I don't know you, sir," said he to the ambassador.

"Why, sir," replied Mr. Hayes "I know little about it one way or other, but shall take it for granted, if you will

"I sildom condescind to explean," said Mr. Macshane, "for it's not the custom in my rank; but I'll explean

"In coorse. In Colonel Wood's fut, my dear; and a gallant corps it is as any in the army."

"On me soul, only three hours ago, having rid like a horsejockey ever since; as in the sacred cause of

As Hayes's house was seventy miles from Bristol, the old gentleman thought this was marvellous quick

riding, and so, cut the conversation short. "You have said quite enough, sir," said he, "to show me there is

some roguery in the matter, and that the whole story is false from beginning to end."

At this abrupt charge the Ensign looked somewhat puzzled, and then spoke with much gravity. "Roguery,"

said he, "Misthur Hees, is a sthrong term; and which, in consideration of my friendship for your family, I

shall pass over. You doubt your son's honour, as there wrote by him in black and white?"

"The sly old divvle's right," muttered Mr. Macshane, aside. "Well, sir, to make a clean breast of it, he HAS

been forced to write it. The story about the enlistment is a pretty fib, if you will, from beginning to end. And

"Oh, where is he?" screamed Mrs. Hayes, plumping down on her knees. "We WILL give him the money,

"I know you will, madam, when I tell you where he is. He is in the hands of some gentlemen of my

acquaintance, who are at war with the present government, and no more care about cutting a man's throat than

they do a chicken's. He is a prisoner, madam, of our sword and spear. If you choose to ransom him, well and

"And how do I know you won't come back tomorrow for more money?" asked Mr. Hayes.

"Sir, you have my honour; and I'd as lieve break my neck as my word," said Mr. Macshane, gravely. "Twenty

guineas is the bargain. Take ten minutes to talk of ittake it then, or leave it; it's all the same to me, my

dear." And it must be said of our friend the Ensign, that he meant every word he said, and that he considered

"And pray, what prevents us," said Mr. Hayes, starting up in a rage, "from taking hold of you, as a surety for

"You wouldn't fire on a flag of truce, would ye, you dishonourable ould civilian?" replied Mr. Macshane.

"Besides," says he, "there's more reasons to prevent you: the first is this," pointing to his sword; "here are two

more"and these were pistols; "and the last and the best of all is, that you might hang me and dthraw me

and quarther me, an yet never see so much as the tip of your son's nose again. Look you, sir, we run mighty

risks in our professionit's not all play, I can tell you. We're obliged to be punctual, too, or it's all up with

the thrade. If I promise that your son will die as sure as fate tomorrow morning, unless I return home safe,

our people MUST keep my promise; or else what chance is there for me? You would be down upon me in a

moment with a posse of constables, and have me swinging before Warwick gaol. Pooh, my dear! you never

would sacrifice a darling boy like John Hayes, let alone his lady, for the sake of my long carcass. One or two

of our gentlemen have been taken that way already, because parents and guardians would not believe them."

"AND WHAT BECAME OF THE POOR CHILDREN?" said Mrs. Hayes, who began to perceive the gist of

"Don't let's talk of them, ma'am: humanity shudthers at the thought!" And herewith Mr. Macshane drew his

finger across his throat in such a dreadful way as to make the two parents tremble. "It's the way of war,

madam, look you. The service I have the honour to belong to is not paid by the Queen; and so we're obliged

No lawyer could have argued his case better than Mr. Macshane so far; and he completely succeeded in

convincing Mr. and Mrs. Hayes of the necessity of ransoming their son. Promising that the young man should

be restored to them next morning, along with his beautiful lady, he courteously took leave of the old couple,

and made the best of his way back to Worcester again. The elder Hayes wondered who the lady could be of

whom the ambassador had spoken, for their son's elopement was altogether unknown to them; but anger or

doubt about this subject was overwhelmed by their fears for their darling John's safety. Away rode the gallant

Macshane with the money necessary to effect this; and it must be mentioned, as highly to his credit, that he

never once thought of appropriating the sum to himself, or of deserting his comrades in any way.

His ride from Worcester had been a long one. He had left that city at noon, but before his return thither the

sun had gone down; and the landscape, which had been dressed like a prodigal, in purple and gold, now

appeared like a Quaker, in dusky grey; and the trees by the roadside grew black as undertakers or

physicians, and, bending their solemn heads to each other, whispered ominously among themselves; and the

mists hung on the common; and the cottage lights went out one by one; and the earth and heaven grew black,

but for some twinkling useless stars, which freckled the ebon countenance of the latter; and the air grew

colder; and about two o'clock the moon appeared, a dismal palefaced rake, walking solitary through the

deserted sky; and about four, mayhap, the Dawn (wretched 'prenticeboy!) opened in the east the shutters of

the Day:in other words, more than a dozen hours had passed. Corporal Brock had been relieved by Mr.

Redcap, the latter by Mr. Sicklop, the oneeyed gentleman; Mrs. John Hayes, in spite of her sorrows and

bashfulness, had followed the example of her husband, and fallen asleep by his sideslept for many

hoursand awakened still under the guardianship of Mr. Brock's troop; and all parties began anxiously to

That officer, who had performed the first part of his journey with such distinguished prudence and success,

found the night, on his journey homewards, was growing mighty cold and dark; and as he was thirsty and

hungry, had money in his purse, and saw no cause to hurry, he determined to take refuge at an alehouse for

the night, and to make for Worcester by dawn the next morning. He accordingly alighted at the first inn on

his road, consigned his horse to the stable, and, entering the kitchen, called for the best liquor in the house.

A small company was assembled at the inn, among whom Mr. Macshane took his place with a great deal of

dignity; and, having a considerable sum of money in his pocket, felt a mighty contempt for his society, and

soon let them know the contempt he felt for them. After a third flagon of ale, he discovered that the liquor

was sour, and emptied, with much spluttering and grimaces, the remainder of the beer into the fire. This

process so offended the parson of the parish (who in those good old times did not disdain to take the post of

honour in the chimneynook), that he left his corner, looking wrathfully at the offender; who without any

more ado instantly occupied it. It was a fine thing to hear the jingling of the twenty pieces in his pocket, the

oaths which he distributed between the landlord, the guests, and the liquorto remark the sprawl of his

mighty jackboots, before the sweep of which the timid guests edged farther and farther away; and the

languishing leers which he cast on the landlady, as with widespread arms he attempted to seize upon her.

When the ostler had done his duties in the stable, he entered the inn, and whispered the landlord that "the

stranger was riding John Hayes's horse:" of which fact the host soon convinced himself, and did not fail to

have some suspicions of his guest. Had he not thought that times were unquiet, horses might be sold, and one

man's money was as good as another's, he probably would have arrested the Ensign immediately, and so lost

all the profit of the score which the latter was causing every moment to be enlarged.

In a couple of hours, with that happy facility which one may have often remarked in men of the gallant

Ensign's nation, he had managed to disgust every one of the landlord's other guests, and scare them from the

kitchen. Frightened by his addresses, the landlady too had taken flight; and the host was the only person left

in the apartment; who there stayed for interest's sake merely, and listened moodily to his tipsy guest's

conversation. In an hour more, the whole house was awakened by a violent noise of howling, curses, and pots

clattering to and fro. Forth issued Mrs. Landlady in her nightgear, out came John Ostler with his pitchfork,

downstairs tumbled Mrs. Cook and one or two guests, and found the landlord and ensign on the

kitchenfloorthe wig of the latter lying, much singed and emitting strange odours, in the fireplace, his face

hideously distorted, and a great quantity of his natural hair in the partial occupation of the landlord; who had

drawn it and the head down towards him, in order that he might have the benefit of pummelling the latter

more at his ease. In revenge, the landlord was undermost, and the Ensign's arms were working up and down

his face and body like the flaps of a paddlewheel: the man of war had clearly the best of it.

The combatants were separated as soon as possible; but, as soon as the excitement of the fight was over,

Ensign Macshane was found to have no further powers of speech, sense, or locomotion, and was carried by

his late antagonist to bed. His sword and pistols, which had been placed at his side at the commencement of

the evening, were carefully put by, and his pocket visited. Twenty guineas in gold, a large knifeused,

probably, for the cutting of breadandcheesesome crumbs of those delicacies and a paper of tobacco

found in the breechespockets, and in the bosom of the skyblue coat, the leg of a cold fowl and half of a raw

These articles were not very suspicious; but the beating which the landlord had received tended greatly to

confirm his own and his wife's doubts about their guest; and it was determined to send off in the early

morning to Mr. Hayes, informing him how a person had lain at their inn who had ridden thither mounted

upon young Hayes's horse. Off set John Ostler at earliest dawn; but on his way he woke up Mr. Justice's

clerk, and communicated his suspicions to him; and Mr. Clerk consulted with the village baker, who was

always up early; and the clerk, the baker, the butcher with his cleaver, and two gentlemen who were going to

Accordingly, when Ensign Macshane was in a trucklebed, plunged in that deep slumber which only

innocence and drunkenness enjoy in this world, and charming the ears of morn by the regular and melodious

music of his nose, a vile plot was laid against him; and when about seven of the clock he woke, he found, on

sitting up in his bed, three gentlemen on each side of it, armed, and looking ominous. One held a constable's

staff, and albeit unprovided with a warrant, would take upon himself the responsibility of seizing Mr.

"Taranouns, man!" said the Ensign, springing up in bed, and abruptly breaking off a loud sonorous yawn,

with which he had opened the business of the day, "you won't deteen a gentleman who's on life and death? I

"How came you by these here fifteen guineas?" said the landlord, in whose hands, by some process, five of

Mr. Macshane, the fact is, was a Catholic, but did not care to own it: for in those days his religion was not

"Baids? Holy Mother of saints! give me back them baids," said Mr. Macshane, clasping his hands. "They

were blest, I tell you, by his holiness the popsha! I mane they belong to a darling little daughter I had that's

in heaven now: and as for the money and the horse, I should like to know how a gentleman is to travel in this

"Why, you see, he may travel in the country to GIT 'em," here shrewdly remarked the constable; "and it's our

belief that neither horse nor money is honestly come by. If his worship is satisfied, why so, in course, shall

we be; but there is highwaymen abroad, look you; and, to our notion, you have very much the cut of one."

Further remonstrances or threats on the part of Mr. Macshane were useless. Although he vowed that he was

first cousin to the Duke of Leinster, an officer in Her Majesty's service, and the dearest friend Lord

Marlborough had, his impudent captors would not believe a word of his statement (which, further, was

garnished with a tremendous number of oaths); and he was, about eight o'clock, carried up to the house of

When the worthy magistrate asked the crime of which the prisoner had been guilty, the captors looked

somewhat puzzled for the moment; since, in truth, it could not be shown that the Ensign had committed any

crime at all; and if he had confined himself to simple silence, and thrown upon them the onus of proving his

misdemeanours, Justice Ballance must have let him loose, and soundly rated his clerk and the landlord for

But this caution was not in the Ensign's disposition; and though his accusers produced no satisfactory charge

against him, his own words were quite enough to show how suspicious his character was. When asked his

name, he gave it in as Captain Geraldine, on his way to Ireland, by Bristol, on a visit to his cousin the Duke

of Leinster. He swore solemnly that his friends, the Duke of Marlborough and Lord Peterborough, under both

of whom he had served, should hear of the manner in which he had been treated; and when the justice,a sly

old gentleman, and one that read the Gazettes, asked him at what battles he had been present, the gallant

Ensign pitched on a couple in Spain and in Flanders, which had been fought within a week of each other, and

vowed that he had been desperately wounded at both; so that, at the end of his examination, which had been

taken down by the clerk, he had been made to acknowledge as follows:Captain Geraldine, six feet four

inches in height; thin, with a very long red nose, and red hair; grey eyes, and speaks with a strong Irish

accent; is the firstcousin of the Duke of Leinster, and in constant communication with him: does not know

whether his Grace has any children; does not know whereabouts he lives in London; cannot say what sort of a

looking man his Grace is: is acquainted with the Duke of Marlborough, and served in the dragoons at the

battle of Ramillies; at which time he was with my Lord Peterborough before Barcelona. Borrowed the horse

which he rides from a friend in London, three weeks since. Peter Hobbs, ostler, swears that it was in his

master's stable four days ago, and is the property of John Hayes, carpenter. Cannot account for the fifteen

guineas found on him by the landlord; says there were twenty; says he won them at cards, a fortnight since, at

Edinburgh; says he is riding about the country for his amusement: afterwards says he is on a matter of life

and death, and going to Bristol; declared last night, in the hearing of several witnesses, that he was going to

York; says he is a man of independent property, and has large estates in Ireland, and a hundred thousand

pounds in the Bank of England. Has no shirt or stockings, and the coat he wears is marked "S.S." In his boots

is written "Thomas Rodgers," and in his hat is the name of the "Rev. Doctor Snoffler."

Doctor Snoffler lived at Worcester, and had lately advertised in the Hue and Cry a number of articles taken

from his house. Mr. Macshane said, in reply to this, that his hat had been changed at the inn, and he was

ready to take his oath that he came thither in a goldlaced one. But this fact was disproved by the oaths of

many persons who had seen him at the inn. And he was about to be imprisoned for the thefts which he had

not committed (the fact about the hat being, that he had purchased it from a gentleman at the "Three Rooks"

for two pints of beer)he was about to be remanded, when, behold, Mrs. Hayes the elder made her

Old Hayes had gone to work before the ostler arrived; but when his wife heard the lad's message, she

instantly caused her pillion to be placed behind the saddle, and mounting the grey horse, urged the stableboy

She entered panting and alarmed. "Oh, what is your honour going to do to this honest gentleman?" said she.

"In the name of Heaven, let him go! His time is precioushe has important businessbusiness of life and

"I tould the jidge so," said the Ensign, "but he refused to take my wordthe sacred wurrd of honour of

Macshane was good at a single lie, though easily flustered on an examination; and this was a very creditable

"What! you know Captain Geraldine?" said Mr. Ballance, who was perfectly well acquainted with the

"In coorse she does. Hasn't she known me these tin years? Are we not related? Didn't she give me the very

"A very elegant connection! And you gave him the horse, did you, of your own freewill?"

"Oh yes! of my own willI would give him anything. Do, do, your honour, let him go! His child is dying,"

said the old lady, bursting into tears. "It may be dead before he gets tobefore he gets there. Oh, your

The justice did not seem to understand this excessive sympathy on the part of Mrs. Hayes; nor did the father

himself appear to be nearly so affected by his child's probable fate as the honest woman who interested

herself for him. On the contrary, when she made this passionate speech, Captain Geraldine only grinned, and

said, "Niver mind, my dear. If his honour will keep an honest gentleman for doing nothing, why, let

himthe law must settle between us; and as for the child, poor thing, the Lord deliver it!"

At this, Mrs. Hayes fell to entreating more loudly than ever; and as there was really no charge against him,

The landlord and his friends were making off, rather confused, when Ensign Macshane called upon the

former in a thundering voice to stop, and refund the five guineas which he had stolen from him. Again the

host swore there were but fifteen in his pocket. But when, on the Bible, the Ensign solemnly vowed that he

had twenty, and called upon Mrs. Hayes to say whether yesterday, halfanhour before he entered the inn,

she had not seen him with twenty guineas, and that lady expressed herself ready to swear that she had, Mr.

Landlord looked more crestfallen than ever, and said that he had not counted the money when he took it; and

though he did in his soul believe that there were only fifteen guineas, rather than be suspected of a shabby

action, he would pay the five guineas out of his own pocket: which he did, and with the Ensign's, or rather

As soon as they were out of the justice's house, Mr. Macshane, in the fulness of his gratitude, could not help

bestowing an embrace upon Mrs. Hayes. And when she implored him to let her ride behind him to her darling

son, he yielded with a very good grace, and off the pair set on John Hayes's grey.

"Who has Nosey brought with him now?" said Mr. Sicklop, Brock's oneeyed confederate, who, about three

hours after the above adventure, was lolling in the yard of the "Three Rooks." It was our Ensign, with the

"I shall now have the shooprame bliss," said Mr. Macshane, with much feeling, as he lifted Mrs. Hayes from

the saddle"the shooprame bliss of intwining two harrts that are mead for one another. Ours, my dear, is a

dismal profession; but ah! don't moments like this make aminds for years of pain? This way, my dear. Turn to

All these precautions were attended to; and after giving his concerted knock, Mr. Macshane was admitted

into an apartment, which he entered holding his gold pieces in the one hand, and a lady by the other.

We shall not describe the meeting which took place between mother and son. The old lady wept copiously;

the young man was really glad to see his relative, for he deemed that his troubles were over. Mrs. Cat bit her

lips, and stood aside, looking somewhat foolish; Mr. Brock counted the money; and Mr. Macshane took a

large dose of strong waters, as a pleasing solace for his labours, dangers, and fatigue.

When the maternal feelings were somewhat calmed, the old lady had leisure to look about her, and really felt

a kind of friendship and goodwill for the company of thieves in which she found herself. It seemed to her that

they had conferred an actual favour on her, in robbing her of twenty guineas, threatening her son's life, and

"Who is that droll old gentleman?" said she; and being told that it was Captain Wood, she dropped him a

curtsey, and said, with much respect, "Captain, your very humble servant;" which compliment Mr. Brock

acknowledged by a gracious smile and bow. "And who is this pretty young lady?" continued Mrs. Hayes.

"Whyhumohmother, you must give her your blessing. She is Mrs. John Hayes." And herewith Mr.

The news did not at all please the old lady; who received Mrs. Catherine's embrace with a very sour face

indeed. However, the mischief was done; and she was too glad to get back her son to be, on such an occasion,

very angry with him. So, after a proper rebuke, she told Mrs. John Hayes that though she never approved of

her son's attachment, and thought he married below his condition, yet as the evil was done, it was their duty

to make the best of it; and she, for her part, would receive her into her house, and make her as comfortable

"I wonder whether she has any more money in that house?" whispered Mr. Sicklop to Mr. Redcap; who, with

the landlady, had come to the door of the room, and had been amusing themselves by the contemplation of

"What a fool that wild Hirishman was not to bleed her for more!" said the landlady; "but he's a poor ignorant

Papist. I'm sure my man" (this gentleman had been hanged), "wouldn't have come away with such a beggarly

"Suppose we have some more out of 'em?" said Mr. Redcap. "What prevents us? We have got the old mare,

and the colt too,ha! ha! and the pair of 'em ought to be worth at least a hundred to us."

This conversation was carried on sotto voce; and I don't know whether Mr. Brock had any notion of the plot

which was arranged by the three worthies. The landlady began it. "Which punch, madam, will you take?"

says she. "You must have something for the good of the house, now you are in it."

"Certainly," said the other three. But the old lady said she was anxious to leave the place; and putting down a

crownpiece, requested the hostess to treat the gentlemen in her absence. "Goodbye, Captain," said the old

"Ajew!" cried the Ensign, "and long life to you, my dear. You got me out of a scrape at the justice's yonder;

And now Hayes and the two ladies made for the door; but the landlady placed herself against it, and Mr.

Sicklop said, "No, no, my pretty madams, you ain't agoing off so cheap as that neither; you are not going

Mr. Hayes starting back, and cursing his fate, fairly burst into tears; the two women screamed; and Mr. Brock

looked as if the proposition both amused and had been expected by him: but not so Ensign Macshane.

"Oh, in coorse," said Brock, laughing, and using Macshane's favourite expression.

"If we ARR men of honour, we are bound to stick to our word; and, hark ye, you dirty oneeyed scoundrel, if

you don't immadiately make way for these leedies, and this lilylivered young jontleman who's crying so, the

Meejor here and I will lug out and force you." And so saying, he drew his great sword and made a pass at Mr.

Sicklop; which that gentleman avoided, and which caused him and his companion to retreat from the door.

The landlady still kept her position at it, and with a storm of oaths against the Ensign, and against two

Englishmen who ran away from a wild Hirishman, swore she would not budge a foot, and would stand there

"Faith, then, needs must," said the Ensign, and made a lunge at the hostess, which passed so near the wretch's

Down the stairs, then, with great state, Mr. Macshane led the elder lady, the married couple following; and

having seen them to the street, took an affectionate farewell of the party, whom he vowed that he would come

and see. "You can walk the eighteen miles aisy, between this and nightfall," said he.

"WALK!" exclaimed Mr. Hayes. "Why, haven't we got Ball, and shall ride and tie all the way?"

"Madam!" cried Macshane, in a stern voice, "honour before everything. Did you not, in the presence of his

worship, vow and declare that you gave me that horse, and now d'ye talk of taking it back again? Let me tell

you, madam, that such paltry thricks ill become a person of your years and respectability, and ought never to

He waved his hat and strutted down the street; and Mrs. Catherine Hayes, along with her bridegroom and

The recovery of so considerable a portion of his property from the clutches of Brock was, as may be

imagined, no trifling source of joy to that excellent young man, Count Gustavus Adolphus de Galgenstein;

and he was often known to say, with much archness, and a proper feeling of gratitude to the Fate which had

ordained things so, that the robbery was, in reality, one of the best things that could have happened to him:

for, in event of Mr. Brock's NOT stealing the money, his Excellency the Count would have had to pay the

whole to the Warwickshire Squire, who had won it from him at play. He was enabled, in the present instance,

to plead his notorious poverty as an excuse; and the Warwickshire conqueror got off with nothing, except a

This point his Excellency conceded with the greatest candour; but (as, doubtless, the reader may have

remarked in the course of his experience) to owe is not quite the same thing as to pay; and from the day of his

winning the money until the day of his death the Warwickshire Squire did never, by any chance, touch a

single bob, tizzy, tester, moidore, maravedi, doubloon, tomaun, or rupee, of the sum which Monsieur de

That young nobleman was, as Mr. Brock hinted in the little autobiographical sketch which we gave in a

former chapter, incarcerated for a certain period, and for certain other debts, in the donjons of Shrewsbury;

but he released himself from them by that noble and consolatory method of whitewashing which the law has

provided for gentlemen in his oppressed condition; and he had not been a week in London, when he fell in

with, and overcame, or put to flight, Captain Wood, alias Brock, and immediately seized upon the remainder

of his property. After receiving this, the Count, with commendable discretion, disappeared from England

altogether for a while; nor are we at all authorised to state that any of his debts to his tradesmen were

Having thus settled with his creditors, the gallant Count had interest enough with some of the great folk to

procure for himself a post abroad, and was absent in Holland for some time. It was here that he became

acquainted with the lovely Madam Silverkoop, the widow of a deceased gentleman of Leyden; and although

the lady was not at that age at which tender passions are usually inspiredbeing sixtyand though she

could not, like Mademoiselle Ninon de l'Enclos, then at Paris, boast of charms which defied the progress of

time,for Mrs. Silverkoop was as red as a boiled lobster, and as unwieldy as a porpoise; and although her

mental attractions did by no means make up for her personal deficiencies,for she was jealous, violent,

vulgar, drunken, and stingy to a miracle: yet her charms had an immediate effect on Monsieur de

Galgenstein; and hence, perhaps, the reader (the rogue! how well he knows the world!) will be led to

Such, indeed, she was; and Count Gustavus, despising the difference between his twenty quarterings and her

twenty thousand pounds, laid the most desperate siege to her, and finished by causing her to capitulate; as I

do believe, after a reasonable degree of pressing, any woman will do to any man: such, at least, has been MY

The Count then married; and it was curious to see how hewho, as we have seen in the case of Mrs. Cat,

had been as great a tiger and domestic bully as any extantnow, by degrees, fell into a quiet submission

towards his enormous Countess; who ordered him up and down as a lady orders her footman, who permitted

him speedily not to have a will of his own, and who did not allow him a shilling of her money without

How was it that he, the abject slave of Madam Silverkoop, had been victorious over Mrs. Cat? The first blow

is, I believe, the decisive one in these cases, and the Countess had stricken it a week after their

marriage;establishing a supremacy which the Count never afterwards attempted to question.

We have alluded to his Excellency's marriage, as in duty bound, because it will be necessary to account for

his appearance hereafter in a more splendid fashion than that under which he has hitherto been known to us;

and just comforting the reader by the knowledge that the union, though prosperous in a worldly point of view,

was, in reality, extremely unhappy, we must say no more from this time forth of the fat and legitimate

Madam de Galgenstein. Our darling is Mrs. Catherine, who had formerly acted in her stead; and only in so

much as the fat Countess did influence in any way the destinies of our heroine, or those wise and virtuous

persons who have appeared and are to follow her to her end, shall we in any degree allow her name to figure

here. It is an awful thing to get a glimpse, as one sometimes does, when the time is past, of some little little

wheel which works the whole mighty machinery of FATE, and see how our destinies turn on a minute's delay

or advance, or on the turning of a street, or on somebody else's turning of a street, or on somebody else's

doing of something else in Downing Street or in Timbuctoo, now or a thousand years ago. Thus, for instance,

if Miss Poots, in the year 1695, had never been the lovely inmate of a Spielhaus at Amsterdam, Mr. Van

Silverkoop would never have seen her; if the day had not been extraordinarily hot, the worthy merchant

would never have gone thither; if he had not been fond of Rhenish wine and sugar, he never would have

called for any such delicacies; if he had not called for them, Miss Ottilia Poots would never have brought

them, and partaken of them; if he had not been rich, she would certainly have rejected all the advances made

to her by Silverkoop; if he had not been so fond of Rhenish and sugar, he never would have died; and Mrs.

Silverkoop would have been neither rich nor a widow, nor a wife to Count von Galgenstein. Nay, nor would

this history have ever been written; for if Count Galgenstein had not married the rich widow, Mrs. Catherine

Oh, my dear madam! you thought we were going to tell you. Pooh! nonsense!no such thing! not for two or

three and seventy pages or so,when, perhaps, you MAY know what Mrs. Catherine never would have

The reader will remember, in the second chapter of these Memoirs, the announcement that Mrs. Catherine

had given to the world a child, who might bear, if he chose, the arms of Galgenstein, with the further

adornment of a barsinister. This child had been put out to nurse some time before its mother's elopement

from the Count; and as that nobleman was in funds at the time (having had that success at play which we duly

chronicled), he paid a sum of no less than twenty guineas, which was to be the yearly reward of the nurse into

whose charge the boy was put. The woman grew fond of the brat; and when, after the first year, she had no

further news or remittances from father or mother, she determined, for a while at least, to maintain the infant

at her own expense; for, when rebuked by her neighbours on this score, she stoutly swore that no parents

could ever desert their children, and that some day or other she should not fail to be rewarded for her trouble

Under this strange mental hallucination poor Goody Billings, who had five children and a husband of her

own, continued to give food and shelter to little Tom for a period of no less than seven years; and though it

must be acknowledged that the young gentleman did not in the slightest degree merit the kindnesses shown to

him, Goody Billings, who was of a very soft and pitiful disposition, continued to bestow them upon him:

because, she said, he was lonely and unprotected, and deserved them more than other children who had

fathers and mothers to look after them. If, then, any difference was made between Tom's treatment and that of

her own brood, it was considerably in favour of the former; to whom the largest proportions of treacle were

allotted for his bread, and the handsomest supplies of hasty pudding. Besides, to do Mrs. Billings justice,

there WAS a party against him; and that consisted not only of her husband and her five children, but of every

single person in the neighbourhood who had an opportunity of seeing and becoming acquainted with Master

A celebrated philosopherI think Miss Edgeworthhas broached the consolatory doctrine, that in intellect

and disposition all human beings are entirely equal, and that circumstance and education are the causes of the

distinctions and divisions which afterwards unhappily take place among them. Not to argue this question,

which places Jack Howard and Jack Thurtell on an exact level,which would have us to believe that Lord

Melbourne is by natural gifts and excellences a man as honest, brave, and farsighted as the Duke of

Wellington,which would make out that Lord Lyndhurst is, in point of principle, eloquence, and political

honesty, no better than Mr. O'Connell,not, I say, arguing this doctrine, let us simply state that Master

Thomas Billings (for, having no other, he took the name of the worthy people who adopted him) was in his

longcoats fearfully passionate, screaming and roaring perpetually, and showing all the ill that he COULD

show. At the age of two, when his strength enabled him to toddle abroad, his favourite resort was the

coalhole or the dungheap: his roarings had not diminished in the least, and he had added to his former

virtues two new ones,a love of fighting and stealing; both which amiable qualities he had many

opportunities of exercising every day. He fought his little adoptive brothers and sisters; he kicked and cuffed

his father and mother; he fought the cat, stamped upon the kittens, was worsted in a severe battle with the hen

in the backyard; but, in revenge, nearly beat a little suckingpig to death, whom he caught alone and

rambling near his favourite haunt, the dunghill. As for stealing, he stole the eggs, which he perforated and

emptied; the butter, which he ate with or without bread, as he could find it; the sugar, which he cunningly

secreted in the leaves of a "Baker's Chronicle," that nobody in the establishment could read; and thus from the

pages of history he used to suck in all he knewthieving and lying namely; in which, for his years, he made

wonderful progress. If any followers of Miss Edgeworth and the philosophers are inclined to disbelieve this

statement, or to set it down as overcharged and distorted, let them be assured that just this very picture was,

of all the pictures in the world, taken from nature. I, Ikey Solomons, once had a dear little brother who could

steal before he could walk (and this not from encouragement,for, if you know the world, you must know

that in families of our profession the point of honour is sacred at home,but from pure nature)who could

steal, I say, before he could walk, and lie before he could speak; and who, at four and a half years of age,

having attacked my sister Rebecca on some question of lollipops, had smitten her on the elbow with a

fireshovel, apologising to us by saying simply, " her, I wish it had been her head!" Dear, dear

Aminadab! I think of you, and laugh these philosophers to scorn. Nature made you for that career which you

fulfilled: you were from your birth to your dying a scoundrel; you COULDN'T have been anything else,

however your lot was cast; and blessed it was that you were born among the prigs, for had you been of any

other profession, alas! alas! what ills might you have done! As I have heard the author of "Richelieu,"

"Siamese Twins," etc. say "Poeta nascitur non fit," which means that though he had tried ever so much to be a

poet, it was all moonshine: in the like manner, I say, "ROAGUS nascitur, non fit." We have it from nature,

In this manner, then, while his father, blessed with a wealthy wife, was leading, in a fine house, the life of a

galleyslave; while his mother, married to Mr. Hayes, and made an honest women of, as the saying is, was

passing her time respectably in Warwickshire, Mr. Thomas Billings was inhabiting the same county, not

cared for by either of them; but ordained by Fate to join them one day, and have a mighty influence upon the

fortunes of both. For, as it has often happened to the traveller in the York or the Exeter coach to fall snugly

asleep in his corner, and on awaking suddenly to find himself sixty or seventy miles from the place where

Somnus first visited him: as, we say, although you sit still, Time, poor wretch, keeps perpetually running on,

and so must run day and night, with never a pause or a halt of five minutes to get a drink, until his dying day;

let the reader imagine that since he left Mrs. Hayes and all the other worthy personages of this history, in the

last chapter, seven years have sped away; during which, all our heroes and heroines have been accomplishing

Seven years of country carpentering, or rather trading, on the part of a husband, of ceaseless scolding,

violence, and discontent on the part of a wife, are not pleasant to describe: so we shall omit altogether any

account of the early married life of Mr. and Mrs. John Hayes. The "Newgate Calendar" (to which excellent

compilation we and the OTHER popular novelists of the day can never be sufficiently grateful) states that

Hayes left his house three or four times during this period, and, urged by the restless humours of his wife,

tried several professions: returning, however, as he grew weary of each, to his wife and his paternal home.

After a certain time his parents died, and by their demise he succeeded to a small property, and the

What, then, in the meanwhile, had become of Captain Wood, or Brock, and Ensign Macshane?the only

persons now to be accounted for in our catalogue. For about six months after their capture and release of Mr.

Hayes, those noble gentlemen had followed, with much prudence and success, that trade which the celebrated

and polite Duval, the ingenious Sheppard, the dauntless Turpin, and indeed many other heroes of our most

popular novels, had pursued,or were pursuing, in their time. And so considerable were said to be Captain

Wood's gains, that reports were abroad of his having somewhere a buried treasure; to which he might have

added more, had not Fate suddenly cut short his career as a prig. He and the Ensign wereshame to

saytransported for stealing three pewterpots off a railing at Exeter; and not being known in the town,

which they had only reached that morning, they were detained by no further charges, but simply condemned

on this one. For this misdemeanour, Her Majesty's Government vindictively sent them for seven years

beyond the sea; and, as the fashion then was, sold the use of their bodies to Virginian planters during that

space of time. It is thus, alas! that the strong are always used to deal with the weak, and many an honest

Thus, then, we have settled all scores. The Count is in Holland with his wife; Mrs. Cat in Warwickshire along

with her excellent husband; Master Thomas Billings with his adoptive parents in the same county; and the

two military gentlemen watching the progress and cultivation of the tobacco and cotton plant in the New

World. All these things having passed between the acts, dingaringadingaringadingledingleding, the drop

draws up, and the next act begins. By the way, the play ENDS with a drop: but that is neither here nor there.

(Here, as in a theatre, the orchestra is supposed to play something melodious. The people get up, shake

themselves, yawn, and settle down in their seats again. "Porter, ale, gingerbeer, cider," comes round,

squeezing through the legs of the gentlemen in the pit. Nobody takes anything, as usual; and lo! the curtain

Mrs. Hayes had now been for six years the adored wife of Mr. Hayes, and no offspring had arisen to bless

their loves and perpetuate their name. She had obtained a complete mastery over her lord and master; and

having had, as far as was in that gentleman's power, every single wish gratified that she could demand, in the

way of dress, treats to Coventry and Birmingham, drink, and what notfor, though a hard man, John Hayes

had learned to spend his money pretty freely on himself and herhaving had all her wishes gratified, it was

natural that she should begin to find out some more; and the next whim she hit upon was to be restored to her

child. It may be as well to state that she had never informed her husband of the existence of that phenomenon,

although he was aware of his wife's former connection with the Count,Mrs. Hayes, in their matrimonial

quarrels, invariably taunting him with accounts of her former splendour and happiness, and with his own

She determined, then (but as yet had not confided her determination to her husband), she would have her boy;

although in her seven years' residence within twenty miles of him she had never once thought of seeing him:

and the kind reader knows that when his excellent lady determines on a thinga shawl, or an operabox, or

a new carriage, or twentyfour singinglessons from Tamburini, or a night at the "Eagle Tavern," City Road,

or a ride in a 'bus to Richmond and tea and brandyandwater at "Rose Cottage Hotel"the reader, high or

low, knows that when Mrs. Reader desires a thing have it she will; you may just as well talk of avoiding her

as of avoiding gout, bills, or grey hairsand that, you know, is impossible. I, for my part, have had all

I say that when a woman is resolved on a thing, happen it will; if husbands refuse, Fate will interfere (flectere

si nequeo, etc.; but quotations are odious). And some hidden power was working in the case of Mrs. Hayes,

Who has not felt how he worksthe dreadful conquering Spirit of Ill? Who cannot see, in the circle of his

own society, the fated and foredoomed to woe and evil? Some call the doctrine of destiny a dark creed; but,

for me, I would fain try and think it a consolatory one. It is better, with all one's sins upon one's head, to deem

oneself in the hands of Fate, than to thinkwith our fierce passions and weak repentances; with our resolves

so loud, so vain, so ludicrously, despicably weak and frail; with our dim, wavering, wretched conceits about

virtue, and our irresistible propensity to wrong,that we are the workers of our future sorrow or happiness.

If we depend on our strength, what is it against mighty circumstance? If we look to ourselves, what hope have

we? Look back at the whole of your life, and see how Fate has mastered you and it. Think of your

disappointments and your successes. Has YOUR striving influenced one or the other? A fit of indigestion

puts itself between you and honours and reputation; an apple plops on your nose and makes you a world's

wonder and glory; a fit of poverty makes a rascal of you, who were, and are still, an honest man; clubs,

trumps, or six lucky mains at dice, make an honest man for life of you, who ever were, will be, and are a

rascal. Who sends the illness? who causes the apple to fall? who deprives you of your worldly goods? or who

shuffles the cards, and brings trumps, honour, virtue, and prosperity back again? You call it chance; ay, and

so it is chance that when the floor gives way, and the rope stretches tight, the poor wretch before St.

Sepulchre's clock dies. Only with us, clearsighted mortals as we are, we can't SEE the rope by which we

But revenons a nos moutons: let us return to that sweet lamb Master Thomas, and the milkwhite ewe Mrs.

Cat. Seven years had passed away, and she began to think that she should very much like to see her child

once more. It was written that she should; and you shall hear how, soon after, without any great exertions of

In the month of July, in the year 1715, there came down a road about ten miles from the city of Worcester,

two gentlemen; not mounted, Templarlike, upon one horse, but having a horse between thema sorry bay,

with a sorry saddle, and a large pack behind it; on which each by turn took a ride. Of the two, one was a man

of excessive stature, with red hair, a very prominent nose, and a faded military dress; while the other, an old

weatherbeaten, soberlooking personage, wore the costume of a civilianboth man and dress appearing to

have reached the autumnal, or seedy state. However, the pair seemed, in spite of their apparent poverty, to be

passably merry. The old gentleman rode the horse; and had, in the course of their journey, ridden him two

miles at least in every three. The tall one walked with immense strides by his side; and seemed, indeed, as if

he could have quickly outstripped the fourfooted animal, had he chosen to exert his speed, or had not

A short time previously the horse had cast a shoe; and this the tall man on foot had gathered up, and was

holding in his hand: it having been voted that the first blacksmith to whose shop they should come should be

"Do you remimber this counthry, Meejor?" said the tall man, who was looking about him very much pleased,

and sucking a flower. "I think thim green cornfields is prettier looking at than the d tobacky out

"I recollect the place right well, and some queer pranks we played here seven years agone," responded the

gentleman addressed as Major. "You remember that man and his wife, whom we took in pawn at the 'Three

"And the landlady only hung last Michaelmas?" said the tall man, parenthetically.

"Hang the landlady!we've got all we ever would out of HER, you know. But about the man and woman.

You went after the chap's mother, and, like a jackass, as you are, let him loose. Well, the woman was that

Catherine that you've often heard me talk about. I like the wench, her, for I almost brought her up; and

she was for a year or two along with that scoundrel Galgenstein, who has been the cause of my ruin."

"The inferrnal blackguard and ruffian!" said the tall man; who, with his companion, has no doubt been

"Well, this Catherine had a child by Galgenstein; and somewhere here hard by the woman lived to whom we

carried the brat to nurse. She was the wife of a blacksmith, one Billings: it won't be out of the way to get our

horse shod at his house, if he is alive still, and we may learn something about the little beast. I should be glad

"Do I remimber her?" said the Ensign. "Do I remimber whisky? Sure I do, and the snivelling sneak her

husband, and the stout old lady her motherinlaw, and the dirty oneeyed ruffian who sold me the parson's

hat that had so nearly brought me into trouble. Oh but it was a rare rise we got out of them chaps, and the old

landlady that's hanged too!" And here both Ensign Macshane and Major Brock, or Wood, grinned, and

It will be necessary to explain the reason of it. We gave the British public to understand that the landlady of

the "Three Rooks," at Worcester, was a notorious fence, or banker of thieves; that is, a purchaser of their

merchandise. In her hands Mr. Brock and his companion had left property to the amount of sixty or seventy

pounds, which was secreted in a cunning recess in a chamber of the "Three Rooks" known only to the

landlady and the gentlemen who banked with her; and in this place, Mr. Sicklop, the oneeyed man who had

joined in the Hayes adventure, his comrade, and one or two of the topping prigs of the county, were free. Mr.

Sicklop had been shot dead in a night attack near Bath: the landlady had been suddenly hanged, as an

accomplice in another case of robbery; and when, on their return from Virginia, our two heroes, whose hopes

of livelihood depended upon it, had bent their steps towards Worcester, they were not a little frightened to

hear of the cruel fate of the hostess and many of the amiable frequenters of the "Three Rooks." All the goodly

company were separated; the house was no longer an inn. Was the money gone too? At least it was worth

The house being now a private one, Mr. Brock, with a genius that was above his station, visited its owner,

with a huge portfolio under his arm, and, in the character of a painter, requested permission to take a

particular sketch from a particular window. The Ensign followed with the artist's materials (consisting simply

of a screwdriver and a crowbar); and it is hardly necessary to say that, when admission was granted to them,

they opened the wellknown door, and to their inexpressible satisfaction discovered, not their own peculiar

savings exactly, for these had been appropriated instantly, on hearing of their transportation, but stores of

money and goods to the amount of near three hundred pounds: to which Mr. Macshane said they had as just

and honourable a right as anybody else. And so they had as just a right as anybodyexcept the original

With this booty they set out on their journeyanywhere, for they knew not whither; and it so chanced that

when their horse's shoe came off, they were within a few furlongs of the cottage of Mr. Billings, the

blacksmith. As they came near, they were saluted by tremendous roars issuing from the smithy. A small boy

was held across the bellows, two or three children of smaller and larger growth were holding him down, and

many others of the village were gazing in at the window, while a man, halfnaked, was lashing the little boy

with a whip, and occasioning the cries heard by the travellers. As the horse drew up, the operator looked at

the new comers for a moment, and then proceeded incontinently with his work; belabouring the child more

When he had done, he turned round to the newcomers and asked how he could serve them? whereupon Mr.

Wood (for such was the name he adopted, and by such we shall call him to the end) wittily remarked that

however he might wish to serve THEM, he seemed mightily inclined to serve that young gentleman first.

"It's no joking matter," said the blacksmith: "if I don't serve him so now, he'll be worse off in his old age.

He'll come to the gallows, as sure as his name is Billnever mind what his name is." And so saying, he

"His name's NOT Bill!" said the blacksmith, sulkily. "He's no name; and no heart, neither. My wife took the

brat in, seven years ago, from a beggarly French chap to nurse, and she kept him, for she was a good soul"

(here his eyes began to wink), "and she'sshe's gone now" (here he began fairly to blubber). "And d

him, out of love for her, I kept him too, and the scoundrel is a liar and a thief. This blessed day, merely to vex

me and my boys here, he spoke ill of her, he did, and I'llcuthislifeoutIwill!" and with each

word honest Mulciber applied a whack on the body of little Tom Billings; who, by shrill shrieks, and oaths in

"Come, come," said Mr. Wood, "set the boy down, and the bellows agoing; my horse wants shoeing, and the

The blacksmith obeyed, and cast poor Master Thomas loose. As he staggered away and looked back at his

tormentor, his countenance assumed an expression which made Mr. Wood say, grasping hold of Macshane's

arm, "It's the boy, it's the boy! When his mother gave Galgenstein the laudanum, she had the selfsame look

"Had she really now?" said Mr. Macshane. "And pree, Meejor, who WAS his mother?"

"Then, upon my secred word of honour, she has a mighty fine KITTEN anyhow, my dear. Aha!"

"They don't DROWN such kittens," said Mr. Wood, archly; and Macshane, taking the allusion, clapped his

finger to his nose in token of perfect approbation of his commander's sentiment.

While the blacksmith was shoeing the horse, Mr. Wood asked him many questions concerning the lad whom

he had just been chastising, and succeeded, beyond a doubt, in establishing his identity with the child whom

Catherine Hall had brought into the world seven years since. Billings told him of all the virtues of his wife,

and the manifold crimes of the lad: how he stole, and fought, and lied, and swore; and though the youngest

under his roof, exercised the most baneful influence over all the rest of his family. He was determined at last,

"Faith, why not?" said Mr. Wood. "His keep, meanwhile, will not be sixpence a day." Then turning round to

the blacksmith, "Mr. Billings," said he, "you will be surprised, perhaps, to hear that I know everything

regarding that poor lad's history. His mother was an unfortunate lady of high family, now no more; his father

"The very man!" said Billings: "a young, fairhaired man, who came here with the child, and a dragoon

"Count de Galgenstein by name, who, on the point of death, recommended the infant to me."

"And did he pay you seven years' boarding?" said Mr. Billings, who was quite alive at the very idea.

"Alas, sir, not a jot! He died, sir, six hundred pounds in my debt; didn't he, Ensign?"

"Six hundred, upon my secred honour! I remember when he got into the house along with the poli"

"Psha! what matters it?" here broke out Mr. Wood, looking fiercely at the Ensign. "Six hundred pounds he

owes me: how was he to pay you? But he told me to take charge of this boy, if I found him; and found him I

"Send our Tom!" cried Billings. And when that youth appeared, scowling, and yet trembling, and prepared, as

it seemed, for another castigation, his father, to his surprise, asked him if he was willing to go along with

Mr. Tom replied immediately, "I won't be a good lad, and I'd rather go to than stay with you!"

"Well, then, go thy ways," said Billings, starting up in a passion: "go thy ways for a graceless reprobate; and

After some further parley, the conversation ended, and the next morning Mr. Wood's party consisted of three:

a little boy being mounted upon the bay horse, in addition to the Ensign or himself; and the whole company

We have said that Mrs. Hayes had, on a sudden, taken a fit of maternal affection, and was bent upon being

restored to her child; and that benign destiny which watched over the life of this lucky lady instantly set about

gratifying her wish, and, without cost to herself of coachhire or saddlehorse, sent the young gentleman

very quickly to her arms. The village in which the Hayeses dwelt was but a very few miles out of the road

from Bristol; whither, on the benevolent mission above, hinted at, our party of worthies were bound: and

coming, towards the afternoon, in sight of the house of that very Justice Ballance who had been so nearly the

ruin of Ensign Macshane, that officer narrated, for the hundredth time, and with much glee, the circumstances

which had then befallen him, and the manner in which Mrs. Hayes the elder had come forward to his rescue.

"Suppose we go and see the old girl?" suggested Mr. Wood. "No harm can come to us now." And his

comrade always assenting, they wound their way towards the village, and reached it as the evening came on.

In the publichouse where they rested, Wood made inquiries concerning the Hayes family; was informed of

the death of the old couple, of the establishment of John Hayes and his wife in their place, and of the kind of

life that these latter led together. When all these points had been imparted to him, he ruminated much: an

expression of sublime triumph and exultation at length lighted up his features. "I think, Tim," said he at last,

"Oh, in coorse!" said Timothy Macshane, Esquire; who always agreed with his "Meejor."

"In coorse, you fool! and how? I'll tell you how. This Hayes is well to do in the world, and"

"And we'll nab him againha, ha!" roared out Macshane. "By my secred honour, Meejor, there never was a

"Peace, you bellowing donkey, and don't wake the child. The man is well to do, his wife rules him, and they

have no children. Now, either she will be very glad to have the boy back again, and pay for the finding of

him, or else she has said nothing about him, and will pay us for being silent too: or, at any rate, Hayes himself

will be ashamed at finding his wife the mother of a child a year older than his marriage, and will pay for the

keeping of the brat away. There's profit, my dear, in any one of the cases, or my name's not Peter Brock."

When the Ensign understood this wondrous argument, he would fain have fallen on his knees and worshipped

his friend and guide. They began operations, almost immediately, by an attack on Mrs. Hayes. On hearing, as

she did in private interview with the excorporal the next morning, that her son was found, she was agitated

by both of the passions which Wood attributed to her. She longed to have the boy back, and would give any

reasonable sum to see him; but she dreaded exposure, and would pay equally to avoid that. How could she

Mrs. Hayes hit upon an expedient which, I am given to understand, is not uncommon nowadays. She

suddenly discovered that she had a dear brother, who had been obliged to fly the country in consequence of

having joined the Pretender, and had died in France, leaving behind him an only son. This boy her brother

had, with his last breath, recommended to her protection, and had confided him to the charge of a brother

officer who was now in the country, and would speedily make his appearance; and, to put the story beyond a

doubt, Mr. Wood wrote the letter from her brother stating all these particulars, and Ensign Macshane received

full instructions how to perform the part of the "brother officer." What consideration Mr. Wood received for

his services, we cannot say; only it is well known that Mr. Hayes caused to be committed to gaol a young

apprentice in his service, charged with having broken open a cupboard in which Mr. Hayes had forty guineas

Having made these arrangements, the Corporal and his little party decamped to a short distance, and Mrs.

Catherine was left to prepare her husband for a speedy addition to his family, in the shape of this darling

nephew. John Hayes received the news with anything but pleasure. He had never heard of any brother of

Catherine's; she had been bred at the workhouse, and nobody ever hinted that she had relatives: but it is easy

for a lady of moderate genius to invent circumstances; and with lies, tears, threats, coaxings, oaths, and other

Two days afterwards, as Mr. Hayes was working in his shop with his lady seated beside him, the trampling of

a horse was heard in his courtyard, and a gentleman, of huge stature, descended from it, and strode into the

shop. His figure was wrapped in a large cloak; but Mr. Hayes could not help fancying that he had somewhere

"This, I preshoom," said the gentleman, "is Misther Hayes, that I have come so many miles to see, and this is

his amiable lady? I was the most intimate frind, madam, of your laminted brother, who died in King Lewis's

service, and whose last touching letthers I despatched to you two days ago. I have with me a further precious

And so saying, the military gentleman, with one arm, removed his cloak, and stretching forward the other into

Hayes's face almost, stretched likewise forward a little boy, grinning and sprawling in the air, and prevented

only from falling to the ground by the hold which the Ensign kept of the waistband of his little coat and

"Isn't he a pretty boy?" said Mrs. Hayes, sidling up to her husband tenderly, and pressing one of Mr. Hayes's

About the lad's beauty it is needless to say what the carpenter thought; but that night, and for many many

We are obliged, in recording this history, to follow accurately that great authority, the "Calendarium

Newgaticum Roagorumque Registerium," of which every lover of literature, in the present day knows the

value; and as that remarkable work totally discards all the unities in its narratives, and reckons the life of its

heroes only by their actions, and not by periods of time, we must follow in the wake of this mighty arka

humble cockboat. When it pauses, we pause; when it runs ten knots an hour, we run with the same celerity;

and as, in order to carry the reader from the penultimate chapter of this work unto the last chapter, we were

compelled to make him leap over a gap of seven blank years, ten years more must likewise be granted to us

During that period, Master Thomas Billings had been under the especial care of his mother; and, as may be

imagined, he rather increased than diminished the accomplishments for which he had been remarkable while

under the roof of his fosterfather. And with this advantage, that while at the blacksmith's, and only three or

four years of age, his virtues were necessarily appreciated only in his family circle and among those few

acquaintances of his own time of life whom a youth of three can be expected to meet in the alleys or over the

gutters of a small country hamlet,in his mothers residence, his circle extended with his own growth, and he

began to give proofs of those powers of which in infancy there had been only encouraging indications. Thus

it was nowise remarkable that a child of four years should not know his letters, and should have had a great

disinclination to learn them; but when a young man of fifteen showed the same creditable ignorance, the

same undeviating dislike, it was easy to see that he possessed much resolution and perseverance. When it was

remarked, too, that, in case of any difference, he not only beat the usher, but by no means disdained to

torment and bully the very smallest boys of the school, it was easy to see that his mind was comprehensive

and careful, as well as courageous and grasping. As it was said of the Duke of Wellington, in the Peninsula,

that he had a thought for everybodyfrom Lord Hill to the smallest drummer in the armyin like manner

Tom Billings bestowed HIS attention on high and low; but in the shape of blows: he would fight the strongest

and kick the smallest, and was always at work with one or the other. At thirteen, when he was removed from

the establishment whither he had been sent, he was the cock of the school out of doors, and the very last boy

in. He used to let the little boys and newcomers pass him by, and laugh; but he always belaboured them

unmercifully afterwards; and then it was, he said, HIS turn to laugh. With such a pugnacious turn, Tom

Billings ought to have been made a soldier, and might have died a marshal; but, by an unlucky ordinance of

fate, he was made a tailor, and died anever mind what for the present; suffice it to say, that he was

suddenly cut off, at a very early period of his existence, by a disease which has exercised considerable

By consulting the authority above mentioned, we find that Hayes did not confine himself to the profession of

a carpenter, or remain long established in the country; but was induced, by the eager spirit of Mrs. Catherine

most probably, to try his fortune in the metropolis; where he lived, flourished, and died. Oxford Road, Saint

Giles's, and Tottenham Court were, at various periods of his residence in town, inhabited by him. At one

place he carried on the business of greengrocer and smallcoalman; in another, he was carpenter, undertaker,

and lender of money to the poor; finally, he was a lodginghouse keeper in the Oxford or Tyburn Road; but

Lending as he did upon pledges, and carrying on a pretty large trade, it was not for him, of course, to inquire

into the pedigree of all the pieces of plate, the bales of cloth, swords, watches, wigs, shoebuckles, etc. that

were confided by his friends to his keeping; but it is clear that his friends had the requisite confidence in him,

and that he enjoyed the esteem of a class of characters who still live in history, and are admired unto this very

day. The mind loves to think that, perhaps, in Mr. Hayes's back parlour the gallant Turpin might have

hobandnobbed with Mrs. Catherine; that here, perhaps, the noble Sheppard might have cracked his joke, or

quaffed his pint of rum. Who knows but that Macheath and Paul Clifford may have crossed legs under

Hayes's dinnertable? But why pause to speculate on things that might have been? why desert reality for fond

imagination, or call up from their honoured graves the sacred dead? I know not: and yet, in sooth, I can never

pass Cumberland Gate without a sigh, as I think of the gallant cavaliers who traversed that road in old time.

Pious priests accompanied their triumphs; their chariots were surrounded by hosts of glittering javelinmen.

As the slave at the car of the Roman conqueror shouted, "Remember thou art mortal!", before the eyes of the

British warrior rode the undertaker and his coffin, telling him that he too must die! Mark well the spot! A

hundred years ago Albion Street (where comic Power dwelt, Milesia's darling son) Albion Street was a

desert. The square of Connaught was without its penultimate, and, strictly speaking, NAUGHT. The Edgware

Road was then a road, 'tis true; with tinkling waggons passing now and then, and fragrant walls of snowy

hawthorn blossoms. The ploughman whistled over Nutford Place; down the green solitudes of Sovereign

Street the merry milkmaid led the lowing kine. Here, then, in the midst of green fields and sweet airbefore

ever omnibuses were, and when Pineapple Turnpike and Terrace were alike unknownhere stood Tyburn:

and on the road towards it, perhaps to enjoy the prospect, stood, in the year 1725, the habitation of Mr. John

One fine morning in the year 1725, Mrs. Hayes, who had been abroad in her best hat and ridinghood; Mr.

Hayes, who for a wonder had accompanied her; and Mrs. Springatt, a lodger, who for a remuneration had the

honour of sharing Mrs. Hayes's friendship and table: all returned, smiling and rosy, at about halfpast ten

o'clock, from a walk which they had taken to Bayswater. Many thousands of people were likewise seen

flocking down the Oxford Road; and you would rather have thought, from the smartness of their appearance

and the pleasure depicted in their countenances, that they were just issuing from a sermon, than quitting the

The fact is, that they had just been to see a gentleman hanged,a cheap pleasure, which the Hayes family

never denied themselves; and they returned home with a good appetite to breakfast, braced by the walk, and

tickled into hunger, as it were, by the spectacle. I can recollect, when I was a gyp at Cambridge, that the

"men" used to have breakfastparties for the very same purpose; and the exhibition of the morning acted

infallibly upon the stomach, and caused the young students to eat with much voracity.

Well, Mrs. Catherine, a handsome, welldressed, plump, rosy woman of three or four and thirty (and when,

my dear, is a woman handsomer than at that age?), came in quite merrily from her walk, and entered the

backparlour, which looked into a pleasant yard, or garden, whereon the sun was shining very gaily; and

where, at a table covered with a nice white cloth, laid out with some silver mugs, too, and knives, all with

"Here we are at last, Doctor," said Mrs. Hayes, "and here's his speech." She produced the little halfpenny

tract, which to this day is sold at the gallowsfoot upon the death of every offender. "I've seen a many men

turned off, to be sure; but I never did see one who bore it more like a man than he did."

"My dear," said the gentleman addressed as Doctor, "he was as cool and as brave as steel, and no more

"Drink, and bad company. I warned him, my dear,I warned him years ago: and directly he got into Wild's

gang, I knew that he had not a year to run. Ah, why, my love, will men continue such dangerous courses,"

continued the Doctor, with a sigh, "and jeopardy their lives for a miserable watch or a snuffbox, of which

Mr. Wild takes threefourths of the produce? But here comes the breakfast; and, egad, I am as hungry as a

Indeed, at this moment Mrs. Hayes's servant appeared with a smoking dish of bacon and greens; and Mr.

Hayes himself ascended from the cellar (of which he kept the key), bearing with him a tolerably large jug of

smallbeer. To this repast the Doctor, Mrs. Springatt (the other lodger), and Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, proceeded

with great alacrity. A fifth cover was laid, but not used; the company remarking that "Tom had very likely

found some acquaintances at Tyburn, with whom he might choose to pass the morning."

Tom was Master Thomas Billings, now of the age of sixteen: slim, smart, five feet ten inches in height,

handsome, sallow in complexion, blackeyed and blackhaired. Mr. Billings was apprentice to a tailor, of

tolerable practice, who was to take him into partnership at the end of his term. It was supposed, and with

reason, that Tom would not fail to make a fortune in this business; of which the present head was one

Beinkleider, a German. Beinkleider was skilful in his trade (after the manner of his nation, which in breeches

and metaphysicsin inexpressibles and incomprehensiblesmay instruct all Europe), but too fond of his

pleasure. Some promissory notes of his had found their way into Hayes's hands, and had given him the means

not only of providing Master Billings with a cheap apprenticeship, and a cheap partnership afterwards; but

would empower him, in one or two years after the young partner had joined the firm, to eject the old one

altogether. So that there was every prospect that, when Mr. Billings was twentyone years of age, poor

Tom was a very precocious youth; was supplied by a doting mother with plenty of pocketmoney, and spent

it with a number of lively companions of both sexes, at plays, bullbaitings, fairs, jolly parties on the river,

and suchlike innocent amusements. He could throw a main, too, as well as his elders; had pinked his man, in

Mr. Hayes was not very fond of this promising young gentleman; indeed, he had the baseness to bear malice,

because, in a quarrel which occurred about two years previously, he, Hayes, being desirous to chastise Mr.

Billings, had found himself not only quite incompetent, but actually at the mercy of the boy; who struck him

over the head with a jointstool, felled him to the ground, and swore he would have his life. The Doctor, who

was then also a lodger at Mr. Hayes's, interposed, and restored the combatants, not to friendship, but to peace.

Hayes never afterwards attempted to lift his hand to the young man, but contented himself with hating him

profoundly. In this sentiment Mr. Billings participated cordially; and, quite unlike Mr. Hayes, who never

dared to show his dislike, used on every occasion when they met, by actions, looks, words, sneers, and curses,

to let his stepfather know the opinion which he had of him. Why did not Hayes discard the boy altogether?

Because, if he did so, he was really afraid of his life, and because he trembled before Mrs. Hayes, his lady, as

the leaf trembles before the tempest in October. His breath was not his own, but hers; his money, too, had

been chiefly of her getting,for though he was as stingy and mean as mortal man can be, and so likely to

save much, he had not the genius for GETTING which Mrs. Hayes possessed. She kept his books (for she

had learned to read and write by this time), she made his bargains, and she directed the operations of the

poorspirited little capitalist. When bills became due, and debtors pressed for time, then she brought Hayes's

own professional merits into play. The man was as deaf and cold as a rock; never did poor tradesmen gain a

penny from him; never were the bailiffs delayed one single minute from their prey. The Beinkleider business,

for instance, showed pretty well the genius of the two. Hayes was for closing with him at once; but his wife

saw the vast profits which might be drawn out of him, and arranged the apprenticeship and the partnership

before alluded to. The woman heartily scorned and spit upon her husband, who fawned upon her like a

spaniel. She loved good cheer; she did not want for a certain kind of generosity. The only feeling that Hayes

had for anyone except himself was for his wife, whom he held in a cowardly awe and attachment: he liked

drink, too, which made him chirping and merry, and accepted willingly any treats that his acquaintances

might offer him; but he would suffer agonies when his wife brought or ordered from the cellar a bottle of

And now for the Doctor. He was about seventy years of age. He had been much abroad; he was of a sober,

cheerful aspect; he dressed handsomely and quietly in a broad hat and cassock; but saw no company except

the few friends whom he met at the coffeehouse. He had an income of about one hundred pounds, which he

promised to leave to young Billings. He was amused with the lad, and fond of his mother, and had boarded

with them for some years past. The Doctor, in fact, was our old friend Corporal Brock, the Reverend Doctor

Anyone who has read the former part of this history must have seen that we have spoken throughout with

invariable respect of Mr. Brock; and that in every circumstance in which he has appeared, he has acted not

only with prudence, but often with genius. The early obstacle to Mr. Brock's success was want of conduct

simply. Drink, women, playhow many a brave fellow have they ruined!had pulled Brock down as often

as his merit had carried him up. When a man's passion for play has brought him to be a scoundrel, it at once

ceases to be hurtful to him in a worldly point of view; he cheats, and wins. It is only for the idle and luxurious

that women retain their fascinations to a very late period; and Brock's passions had been whipped out of him

in Virginia; where much illhealth, illtreatment, hard labour, and hard food, speedily put an end to them. He

forgot there even how to drink; rum or wine made this poor declining gentleman so ill that he could indulge

Had he been ambitious, there is little doubt but that Mr. Brock, on his return from transportation, might have

risen in the world; but he was old and a philosopher: he did not care about rising. Living was cheaper in those

days, and interest for money higher: when he had amassed about six hundred pounds, he purchased an

annuity of seventytwo pounds, and gave outwhy should he not?that he had the capital as well as the

interest. After leaving the Hayes family in the country, he found them again in London: he took up his abode

with them, and was attached to the mother and the son. Do you suppose that rascals have not affections like

other people? hearts, madamay, heartsand family ties which they cherish? As the Doctor lived on with

this charming family he began to regret that he had sunk all his money in annuities, and could not, as he

He felt an indescribable pleasure ("suave mari magno," etc.) in watching the storms and tempests of the

Hayes menage. He used to encourage Mrs. Catherine into anger when, haply, that lady's fits of calm would

last too long; he used to warm up the disputes between wife and husband, mother and son, and enjoy them

beyond expression: they served him for daily amusement; and he used to laugh until the tears ran down his

venerable cheeks at the accounts which young Tom continually brought him of his pranks abroad, among

When, therefore, as the party were discussing their bacon and cabbage, before which the Reverend Doctor

with much gravity said grace, Master Tom entered. Doctor Wood, who had before been rather gloomy,

immediately brightened up, and made a place for Billings between himself and Mrs. Catherine.

"How do, old cock?" said that young gentleman familiarly. "How goes it, mother?" And so saying, he seized

eagerly upon the jug of beer which Mr. Hayes had drawn, and from which the latter was about to help

"Ah!" said Mr. Billings, drawing breath after a draught which he had learned accurately to gauge from the

habit of drinking out of pewter measures which held precisely that quantity." Ah!" said Mr. Billings,

drawing breath, and wiping his mouth with his sleeves, "this is very thin stuff, old Squaretoes; but my

"Should you like some ale, dear?" said Mrs. Hayes, that fond and judicious parent.

"A quart of brandy, Tom?" said Doctor Wood. "Your papa will run down to the cellar for it in a minute."

The very name of father used to put Mr. Hayes in a fury. "I'm not his father, thank Heaven!" said he.

"His father was a gentleman,that's more than you ever were!" screamed Mrs. Hayes. "His father was a man

of spirit; no cowardly sneak of a carpenter, Mr Hayes! Tom has noble blood in his veins, for all he has a

tailor's appearance; and if his mother had had her right, she would be now in a coachandsix."

"I wish I could find my father," said Tom; "for I think Polly Briggs and I would look mighty well in a

coachandsix." Tom fancied that if his father was a count at the time of his birth, he must be a prince now;

"With a sword by my side, and a hat and feather there's never a lord at St. James's would cut a finer figure."

After a little more of this talk, in which Mrs. Hayes let the company know her high opinion of her sonwho,

as usual, took care to show his extreme contempt for his stepfatherthe latter retired to his occupations; the

lodger, Mrs. Springatt, who had never said a word all this time, retired to her apartment on the second floor;

and, pulling out their pipes and tobacco, the old gentleman and the young one solaced themselves with

halfanhour's more talk and smoking; while the thrifty Mrs. Hayes, opposite to them, was busy with her

"What's in the confessions?" said Mr. Billings to Doctor Wood. "There were six of 'em besides Mac: two for

Mr. Tom looked at the same time very fierce and very foolish; for, though he could drink, swear, and fight as

well as any lad of his inches in England, reading was not among his accomplishments. "I tell you what,

Doctor," said he, " you! have no bantering with me,for I'm not the man that will bear it, me!" and

"I want you to learn to read, Tommy dear. Look at your mother there over her books: she keeps them as neat

"Your godfather speaks for your good, child; and for me, thou knowest that I have promised thee a

goldheaded cane and periwig on the first day that thou canst read me a column of the Flying Post."

"Hang the periwig!" said Mr. Tom, testily. "Let my godfather read the paper himself, if he has a liking for it."

Whereupon the old gentleman put on his spectacles, and glanced over the sheet of whitybrown paper,

which, ornamented with a picture of a gallows at the top, contained the biographies of the seven unlucky

individuals who had that morning suffered the penalty of the law. With the six heroes who came first in the

list we have nothing to do; but have before us a copy of the paper containing the life of No. 7, and which the

"The Bavarian Envoy!" said Tom parenthetically. "My master, Beinkleider, was his Lordship's regimental

tailor in Germany, and is now making a Court suit for him. It will be a matter of a hundred pounds to him, I

Doctor Wood resumed his reading. "Humhum! A Romish missal, out of which he was reading, and a

"Your father, sure enough, unless there be others of his name, and unless the scoundrel is hanged," said the

Mr. Billings broke his pipe in an agony of joy. "I think we'll have the coach now, Mother," says he; "and I'm

"Polly Briggs is a low slut, Tom, and not fit for the likes of you, his Excellency's son. Oh, fie! You must be a

gentleman now, sirrah; and I doubt whether I shan't take you away from that odious tailor's shop altogether."

To this proposition Mr. Billings objected altogether; for, besides Mrs. Briggs before alluded to, the young

gentleman was much attached to his master's daughter, Mrs. Margaret Gretel, or Gretchen Beinkleider.

"No," says he. "There will be time to think of that hereafter, ma'am. If my pa makes a man of me, why, of

course, the shop may go to the deuce, for what I care; but we had better wait, look you, for something certain

"I always said he would be a credit to his old mother, didn't I, Brock?" cried Mrs. Cat, embracing her son

very affectionately. "A credit to her; ay, I warrant, a real blessing! And dost thou want any money, Tom? for

a lord's son must not go about without a few pieces in his pocket. And I tell thee, Tommy, thou must go and

see his Lordship; and thou shalt have a piece of brocade for a waistcoat, thou shalt; ay, and the silverhilted

sword I told thee of; but oh, Tommy, Tommy! have a care, and don't be adrawing of it in naughty company

"A drawing of fiddlesticks, Mother! If I go to see my father, I must have a reason for it; and instead of going

"The lad IS a lad of nous," cried Doctor Wood, "although his mother does spoil him so cruelly. Look you,

Madam Cat: did you not hear what he said about Beinkleider and the clothes? Tommy will just wait on the

Count with his Lordship's breeches. A man may learn a deal of news in the trying on of a pair of breeches."

And so it was agreed that in this manner the son should at first make his appearance before his father. Mrs.

Cat gave him the piece of brocade, which, in the course of the day, was fashioned into a smart waistcoat (for

Beinkleider's shop was close by, in Cavendish Square). Mrs. Gretel, with many blushes, tied a fine blue

riband round his neck; and, in a pair of silk stockings, with gold buckles to his shoes, Master Billings looked

"And, Tommy," said his mother, blushing and hesitating, "should Maxshould his Lordship ask after

yourwant to know if your mother is alive, you can say she is, and well, and often talks of old times. And,

Tommy" (after another pause), "you needn't say anything about Mr. Hayes; only say I'm quite well."

Mrs. Hayes looked at him as he marched down the street, a long long way. Tom was proud and gay in his

new costume, and was not unlike his father. As she looked, lo! Oxford Street disappeared, and she saw a

green common, and a village, and a little inn. There was a soldier leading a pair of horses about on the green

common; and in the inn sat a cavalier, so young, so merry, so beautiful! Oh, what slim white hands he had;

and winning words, and tender, gentle blue eyes! Was it not an honour to a country lass that such a noble

gentleman should look at her for a moment? Had he not some charm about him that she must needs obey

when he whispered in her ear, "Come, follow me!" As she walked towards the lane that morning, how well

she remembered each spot as she passed it, and the look it wore for the last time! How the smoke was rising

from the pastures, how the fish were jumping and plashing in the millstream! There was the church, with all

its windows lighted up with gold, and yonder were the reapers sweeping down the brown corn. She tried to

sing as she went up the hillwhat was it? She could not remember; but oh, how well she remembered the

sound of the horse's hoofs, as they came quicker, quickernearer, nearer! How noble he looked on his great

horse! Was he thinking of her, or were they all silly words which he spoke last night, merely to pass away the

"Cat my dear," here cried Mr. Brock, alias Captain, alias Doctor Wood, "here's the meat agetting cold, and I

As they went in he looked her hard in the face. "What, still at it, you silly girl? I've been watching you these

five minutes, Cat; and be hanged but I think a word from Galgenstein, and you would follow him as a fly

They went in to breakfast; but though there was a hot shoulder of mutton and onionsauceMrs. Catherine's

In the meanwhile Mr. Thomas Billings, in his new clothes which his mamma had given him, in his new

riband which the fair Miss Beinkleider had tied round his neck, and having his Excellency's breeches

wrapped in a silk handkerchief in his right hand, turned down in the direction of Whitehall, where the

Bavarian Envoy lodged. But, before he waited on him, Mr. Billings, being excessively pleased with his

personal appearance, made an early visit to Mrs. Briggs, who lived in the neighbourhood of Swallow Street;

and who, after expressing herself with much enthusiasm regarding her Tommy's good looks, immediately

asked him what he would stand to drink? Raspberry gin being suggested, a pint of that liquor was sent for;

and so great was the confidence and intimacy subsisting between these two young people, that the reader will

be glad to hear that Mrs. Polly accepted every shilling of the money which Tom Billings had received from

his mamma the day before; nay, could with difficulty be prevented from seizing upon the cutvelvet breeches

which he was carrying to the nobleman for whom they were made. Having paid his adieux to Mrs. Polly, Mr.

I don't know in all this miserable world a more miserable spectacle than that of a young fellow of five or six

and forty. The British army, that nursery of valour, turns out many of the young fellows I mean: who, having

flaunted in dragoon uniforms from seventeen to sixandthirty; having bought, sold, or swapped during that

period some two hundred horses; having played, say, fifteen thousand games at billiards; having drunk some

six thousand bottles of wine; having consumed a reasonable number of Nugee coats, split many dozen pairs

of highheeled Hoby boots, and read the newspaper and the armylist duly, retire from the service when they

have attained their eighth lustre, and saunter through the world, trailing from London to Cheltenham, and

from Boulogne to Paris, and from Paris to Baden, their idleness, their illhealth, and their ennui. "In the

morning of youth," and when seen along with whole troops of their companions, these flowers look gaudy

and brilliant enough; but there is no object more dismal than one of them alone, and in its autumnal, or seedy

state. My friend, Captain Popjoy, is one who has arrived at this condition, and whom everybody knows by his

title of Father Pop. A kinder, simpler, more emptyheaded fellow does not exist. He is fortyseven years old,

and appears a young, goodlooking man of sixty. At the time of the Army of Occupation he really was as

goodlooking a man as any in the Dragoons. He now uses all sorts of stratagems to cover the bald place on

his head, by combing certain thin grey sidelocks over it. He has, in revenge, a pair of enormous moustaches,

which he dyes of the richest blueblack. His nose is a good deal larger and redder than it used to be; his

eyelids have grown flat and heavy; and a little pair of red, watery eyeballs float in the midst of them: it seems

as if the light which was once in those sickly green pupils had extravasated into the white part of the eye. If

Pop's legs are not so firm and muscular as they used to be in those days when he took such leaps into White's

buckskins, in revenge his waist is much larger. He wears a very good coat, however, and a waistband, which

he lets out after dinner. Before ladies he blushes, and is as silent as a schoolboy. He calls them "modest

women." His society is chiefly among young lads belonging to his former profession. He knows the best wine

to be had at each tavern or cafe, and the waiters treat him with much respectful familiarity. He knows the

names of every one of them; and shouts out, "Send Markwell here!" or, "Tell Cuttriss to give us a bottle of

the yellow seal!" or, "Dizzy voo, Monsure Borrel, noo donny shampang frappy," etc. He always makes the

salad or the punch, and dines out three hundred days in the year: the other days you see him in a twofranc

eatinghouse at Paris, or prowling about Rupert Street, or St. Martin's Court, where you get a capital cut of

meat for eightpence. He has decent lodgings and scrupulously clean linen; his animal functions are still

tolerably well preserved, his spiritual have evaporated long since; he sleeps well, has no conscience, believes

himself to be a respectable fellow, and is tolerably happy on the days when he is asked out to dinner.

Poor Pop is not very high in the scale of created beings; but, if you fancy there is none lower, you are in

egregious error. There was once a man who had a mysterious exhibition of an animal, quite unknown to

naturalists, called "the wusser." Those curious individuals who desired to see the wusser were introduced into

an apartment where appeared before them nothing more than a little lean shrivelled hideous bleareyed

mangy pig. Everyone cried out "Swindle!" and "Shame!" "Patience, gentlemen, be heasy," said the showman:

"look at that there hanimal; it's a perfect phenomaly of hugliness: I engage you never see such a pig." Nobody

ever had seen. "Now, gentlemen," said he, "I'll keep my promise, has per bill; and bad as that there pig is,

look at this here" (he showed another). "Look at this here, and you'll see at once that it's A WUSSER." In like

manner the Popjoy breed is bad enough, but it serves only to show off the Galgenstein race; which is

Galgenstein had led a very gay life, as the saying is, for the last fifteen years; such a gay one, that he had lost

all capacity of enjoyment by this time, and only possessed inclinations without powers of gratifying them. He

had grown to be exquisitely curious and fastidious about meat and drink, for instance, and all that he wanted

was an appetite. He carried about with him a French cook, who could not make him eat; a doctor, who could

not make him well; a mistress, of whom he was heartily sick after two days; a priest, who had been a

favourite of the exemplary Dubois, and by turns used to tickle him by the imposition of penance, or by the

repetition of a tale from the recueil of Noce, or La Fare. All his appetites were wasted and worn; only some

monstrosity would galvanise them into momentary action. He was in that effete state to which many

noblemen of his time had arrived; who were ready to believe in ghostraising or in goldmaking, or to retire

into monasteries and wear hairshirts, or to dabble in conspiracies, or to die in love with little cookmaids of

fifteen, or to pine for the smiles or at the frowns of a prince of the blood, or to go mad at the refusal of a

chamberlain's key. The last gratification he remembered to have enjoyed was that of riding bareheaded in a

soaking rain for three hours by the side of his Grand Duke's mistress's coach; taking the pas of Count

Krahwinkel, who challenged him, and was run through the body for this very dispute. Galgenstein gained a

rheumatic gout by it, which put him to tortures for many months; and was further gratified with the post of

English Envoy. He had a fortune, he asked no salary, and could look the envoy very well. Father O'Flaherty

did all the duties, and furthermore acted as a spy over the ambassadora sinecure post, for the man had no

"Upon my life, father," said this worthy man, "I care for nothing. You have been talking for an hour about the

Regent's death, and the Duchess of Phalaris, and sly old Fleury, and what not; and I care just as much as if

you told me that one of my bauers at Galgenstein had killed a pig; or as if my lacquey, La Rose yonder, had

"Ah, Monsieur l'Abbe!" said La Rose, who was arranging his master's enormous Court periwig, "you are,

helas! wrong. Monsieur le Comte will not be angry at my saying that I wish the accusation were true."

The Count did not take the slightest notice of La Rose's wit, but continued his own complaints.

"I tell you, Abbe, I care for nothing. I lost a thousand guineas t'other night at basset; I wish to my heart I

could have been vexed about it. Egad! I remember the day when to lose a hundred made me half mad for a

month. Well, next day I had my revenge at dice, and threw thirteen mains. There was some delay; a call for

fresh bones, I think; and would you believe it?I fell asleep with the box in my hand!"

"If it had not been for Krahwinkel, I should have been a dead man, that's positive. That pinking him saved

"I make no doubt of it," said the Abbe. "Had your Excellency not run him through, he, without a doubt,

"Psha! you mistake my words, Monsieur l'Abbe" (yawning). "I meanwhat cursed chocolate!that I was

"WHEN you do, your Excellency means," said the Abbe, a fat greyhaired Irishman, from the Irlandois

His Excellency did not laugh, nor understand jokes of any kind; he was of an undeviating stupidity, and only

replied, "Sir, I mean what I say. I don't care for living: no, nor for dying either; but I can speak as well as

another, and I'll thank you not to be correcting my phrases as if I were one of your cursed schoolboys, and not

Herewith the Count, who had uttered four sentences about himself (he never spoke of anything else), sunk

back on his pillows again, quite exhausted by his eloquence. The Abbe, who had a seat and a table by the

bedside, resumed the labours which had brought him into the room in the morning, and busied himself with

"Here is a person with clothes from Mr. Beinkleider's. Will your Excellency see him, or shall I bid him leave

The Count was very much fatigued by this time; he had signed three papers, and read the first halfadozen

"Bid the fellow come in, La Rose; and, hark ye, give me my wig: one must show one's self to be a gentleman

before these scoundrels." And he therefore mounted a large chestnutcoloured, orangescented pyramid of

He was a lad of about seventeen, in a smart waistcoat and a blue riband: our friend Tom Billings, indeed. He

carried under his arm the Count's destined breeches. He did not seem in the least awed, however, by his

Excellency's appearance, but looked at him with a great degree of curiosity and boldness. In the same manner

he surveyed the chaplain, and then nodded to him with a kind look of recognition.

"Where have I seen the lad?" said the father. "Oh, I have it! My good friend, you were at the hanging

Mr. Billings gave a very significant nod with his head. "I never miss," said he.

"Oh, I did not know whether you might be brought up to the trade, or your relations be undergoing the

"My relations," said Mr. Billings, proudly, and staring the Count full in the face, "was not made for no such

thing. I'm a tailor now, but I'm a gentleman's son: as good a man, ay, as his lordship there: for YOU a'n't his

lordshipyou're the Popish priest you are; and we were very near giving you a touch of a few Protestant

The Count began to be a little amused: he was pleased to see the Abbe look alarmed, or even foolish.

"I don't fancy being murdered, my Lord," said the Abbe, hastily; "and murdered for a good work. It was but

to be useful to yonder poor Irishman, who saved me as a prisoner in Flanders, when Marlborough would have

"Ah!" said the Count, bursting out with some energy, "I was thinking who the fellow could be, ever since he

robbed me on the Heath. I recollect the scoundrel now: he was a second in a duel I had here in the year six."

"Along with Major Wood, behind Montague House," said Mr. Billings. "I'VE heard on it." And here he

"YOU!" cried the Count, more and more surprised. "And pray who the devil ARE you?"

"My mother's name was Hayes," continued Billings, in a solemn voice. "I was put out to a nurse along with

"Why, upon honour, now," said the Count, who was amused,"upon honour, Mr. Billings, I have not that

Mr. Billings when he said this came forward to the Count with a theatrical air; and, flinging down the

breeches of which he was the bearer, held out his arms and stared, having very little doubt but that his

Lordship would forthwith spring out of bed and hug him to his heart. A similar piece of naivete many fathers

of families have, I have no doubt, remarked in their children; who, not caring for their parents a single doit,

conceive, nevertheless, that the latter are bound to show all sorts of affection for them. His lordship did move,

but backwards towards the wall, and began pulling at the bellrope with an expression of the most intense

"Keep back, sirrah!keep back! Suppose I AM your father, do you want to murder me? Good heavens! how

the boy smells of gin and tobacco! Don't turn away, my lad; sit down there at a proper distance. And, La

Rose, give him some eaudeCologne, and get a cup of coffee. Well, now, go on with your story. Egad, my

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, no! I could not stand the boy alone. Now, Mister ah!What'syourname? Have the

Mr. Billings was woefully disconcerted; for his mother and he had agreed that as soon as his father saw him

he would be recognised at once, and, mayhap, made heir to the estates and title; in which being disappointed,

he very sulkily went on with his narrative, and detailed many of those events with which the reader has

already been made acquainted. The Count asked the boy's mother's Christian name, and being told it, his

"What! are you little Cat's son?" said his Excellency. "By heavens, mon cher Abbe, a charming creature, but a

tigresspositively a tigress. I recollect the whole affair now. She's a little fresh blackhaired woman, a'n't

she? with a sharp nose and thick eyebrows, ay? Ah yes, yes!" went on my Lord, "I recollect her, I recollect

her. It was at Birmingham I first met her: she was my Lady Trippet's woman, wasn't she?"

"She was no such thing," said Mr. Billings, hotly. "Her aunt kept the 'Bugle Inn' on Waltham Green, and your

"Seduced her! Oh, 'gad, so I did. Stap me, now, I did. Yes, I made her jump on my black horse, and bore her

"The events were precisely similar," said the Abbe. "It is wonderful what a memory you have!"

"I was always remarkable for it," continued his Excellency. "Well, where was I,at the black horse? Yes, at

the black horse. Well, I mounted her on the black horse, and rode her en croupe, egadha, ha!to

Birmingham; and there we billed and cooed together like a pair of turtledoves: yesha!that we did!"

"And this, I suppose, is the end of some of the BILLINGS?" said the Abbe, pointing to Mr. Tom.

"Billings! what do you mean? Yesohaha pun, a calembourg. Fi donc, M. l'Abbe." And then, after the

wont of very stupid people, M. de Galgenstein went on to explain to the Abbe his own pun. "Well, but to

proceed," cries he. "We lived together at Birmingham, and I was going to be married to a rich heiress, egad!

when what do you think this little Cat does? She murders me, egad! and makes me manquer the marriage.

Twenty thousand, I think it was; and I wanted the money in those days. Now, wasn't she an abominable

"She served you right!" said Mr. Billings, with a great oath, starting up out of all patience.

"Fellow!" said his Excellency, quite aghast, "do you know to whom you speak?to a nobleman of

seventyeight descents; a count of the Holy Roman Empire; a representative of a sovereign? Ha, egad! Don't

"Dn your protection!" said Mr. Billings, in a fury. "Curse you and your protection too! I'm a freeborn

Briton, and no French Papist! And any man who insults my motheray, or calls me feller had

better look to himself and the two eyes in his head, I can tell him!" And with this Mr. Billings put himself

into the most approved attitude of the Cockpit, and invited his father, the reverend gentleman, and Monsieur

la Rose the valet, to engage with him in a pugilistic encounter. The two latter, the Abbe especially, seemed

dreadfully frightened; but the Count now looked on with much interest; and, giving utterance to a feeble kind

"Paws off, Pompey! You young hangdog, youegad, yes, aha! 'pon honour, you're a lad of spirit; some of

your father's spunk in you, hey? I know him by that oath. Why, sir, when I was sixteen, I used to swearto

swear, egad, like a Thames waterman, and exactly in this fellow's way! Buss me, my lad; no, kiss my hand.

That will do"and he held out a very lean yellow hand, peering from a pair of yellow ruffles. It shook very

"Well," says Mr. Billings, "if you wasn't agoing to abuse me nor mother, I don't care if I shake hands with

The Abbe laughed with great glee; and that very evening sent off to his Court a most ludicrous spicy

description of the whole scene of meeting between this amiable father and child; in which he said that young

Billings was the eleve favori of M. Kitch, Ecuyer, le bourreau de Londres, and which made the Duke's

mistress laugh so much that she vowed that the Abbe should have a bishopric on his return: for, with such

The Count and his offspring meanwhile conversed with some cordiality. The former informed the latter of all

the diseases to which he was subject, his manner of curing them, his great consideration as chamberlain to the

Duke of Bavaria; how he wore his Court suits, and of a particular powder which he had invented for the hair;

how, when he was seventeen, he had run away with a canoness, egad! who was afterwards locked up in a

convent, and grew to be sixteen stone in weight; how he remembered the time when ladies did not wear

patches; and how the Duchess of Marlborough boxed his ears when he was so high, because he wanted to

All these important anecdotes took some time in the telling, and were accompanied by many profound moral

remarks; such as, "I can't abide garlic, nor whitewine, stap me! nor Sauerkraut, though his Highness eats

half a bushel per day. I ate it the first time at Court; but when they brought it me a second time, I

refusedrefused, split me and grill me if I didn't! Everybody stared; his Highness looked as fierce as a Turk;

and that infernal Krahwinkel (my dear, I did for him afterwards)that cursed Krahwinkel, I say, looked as

pleased as possible, and whispered to Countess Fritsch, 'Blitzchen, Frau Grafinn,' says he, 'it's all over with

Galgenstein.' What did I do? I had the entree, and demanded it. 'Altesse,' says I, falling on one knee, 'I ate no

"I had almost tears in my eyes; but it was necessary to come to a resolution, you know. 'Sir,' said I, 'I speak

with deep grief to your Highness, who are my benefactor, my friend, my father; but of this I am resolved, I

WILL NEVER EAT SAUERKRAUT MORE: it don't agree with me. After being laid up for four weeks by

the last dish of Sauerkraut of which I partook, I may say with confidenceIT DON'T agree with me. By

impairing my health, it impairs my intellect, and weakens my strength; and both I would keep for your

"'Give me my sword or my pen,' said I. 'Give me my sword or my pen, and with these Maximilian de

Galgenstein is ready to serve you; but sure,sure, a great prince will pity the weak health of a faithful

subject, who does not know how to eat Sauerkraut?' His Highness was walking about the room: I was still on

"'GEHT ZUM TEUFEL, Sir!' said he, in a loud voice (it means 'Go to the deuce,' my dear),'Geht zum

Teufel, and eat what you like!' With this he went out of the room abruptly; leaving in my hand one of his

buttons, which I keep to this day. As soon as I was alone, amazed by his great goodness and bounty, I sobbed

aloudcried like a child" (the Count's eyes filled and winked at the very recollection), "and when I went

back into the cardroom, stepping up to Krahwinkel, 'Count,' says I, 'who looks foolish now?'Hey there,

La Rose, give me the diamond Yes, that was the very pun I made, and very good it was thought.

'Krahwinkel,' says I, 'WHO LOOKS FOOLISH NOW?' and from that day to this I was never at a Courtday

"Hey there, La Rose! Bring me that diamond snuffbox in the drawer of my secretaire;" and the snuffbox

was brought. "Look at it, my dear," said the Count, "for I saw you seemed to doubt. There is the buttonthe

Mr. Billings received it, and twisted it about with a stupid air. The story had quite mystified him; for he did

not dare yet to think his father was a foolhis respect for the aristocracy prevented him.

When the Count's communications had ceased, which they did as soon as the story of the Sauerkraut was

finished, a silence of some minutes ensued. Mr. Billings was trying to comprehend the circumstances above

narrated; his Lordship was exhausted; the chaplain had quitted the room directly the word Sauerkraut was

mentionedhe knew what was coming. His Lordship looked for some time at his son; who returned the gaze

with his mouth wide open. "Well," said the Count"well, sir? What are you sitting there for? If you have

nothing to say, sir, you had better go. I had you here to amuse mesplit meand not to sit there staring!"

"Hark ye, my lad," said the Count, "tell La Rose to give thee five guineas, and, ahcome again some

morning. A nice wellgrown young lad," mused the Count, as Master Tommy walked wondering out of the

"Well, he IS an odd fellow, my father," thought Mr. Billings, as he walked out, having received the sum

offered to him. And he immediately went to call upon his friend Polly Briggs, from whom he had separated

What was the result of their interview is not at all necessary to the progress of this history. Having made her,

however, acquainted with the particulars of his visit to his father, he went to his mother's, and related to her

About a month after the touching conversation above related, there was given, at Marylebone Gardens, a

grand concert and entertainment, at which the celebrated Madame Amenaide, a dancer of the theatre at Paris,

was to perform, under the patronage of several English and foreign noblemen; among whom was his

Excellency the Bavarian Envoy. Madame Amenaide was, in fact, no other than the maitresse en titre of the

Monsieur de Galgenstein, who had her a great bargain from the Duke de RohanChabot at Paris.

It is not our purpose to make a great and learned display here, otherwise the costumes of the company

assembled at this fete might afford scope for at least halfadozen pages of fine writing; and we might give,

if need were, specimens of the very songs and music sung on the occasion. Does not the Burney collection of

music, at the British Museum, afford one an ample store of songs from which to choose? Are there not the

memoirs of Colley Cibber? those of Mrs. Clark, the daughter of Colley? Is there not Congreve, and

Farquharnay, and at a pinch, the "Dramatic Biography," or even the Spectator, from which the observant

genius might borrow passages, and construct pretty antiquarian figments? Leave we these trifles to meaner

souls! Our business is not with the breeches and periwigs, with the hoops and patches, but with the divine

hearts of men, and the passions which agitate them. What need, therefore, have we to say that on this

evening, after the dancing, the music, and the fireworks, Monsieur de Galgenstein felt the strange and

welcome pangs of appetite, and was picking a cold chicken, along with some other friends in an arboura

cold chicken, with an accompaniment of a bottle of champagnewhen he was led to remark that a very

handsome plump little person, in a gorgeous stiff damask gown and petticoat, was sauntering up and down

the walk running opposite his suppingplace, and bestowing continual glances towards his Excellency. The

lady, whoever she was, was in a mask, such as ladies of high and low fashion wore at public places in those

days, and had a male companion. He was a lad of only seventeen, marvellously well dressedindeed, no

other than the Count's own son, Mr. Thomas Billings; who had at length received from his mother the

silverhilted sword, and the wig, which that affectionate parent had promised to him.

In the course of the month which had elapsed since the interview that has been described in the former

chapter, Mr. Billings had several times had occasion to wait on his father; but though he had, according to her

wishes, frequently alluded to the existence of his mother, the Count had never at any time expressed the

slightest wish to renew his acquaintance with that lady; who, if she had seen him, had only seen him by

The fact is, that after Billings had related to her the particulars of his first meeting with his Excellency; which

ended, like many of the latter visits, in nothing at all; Mrs. Hayes had found some pressing business, which

continually took her to Whitehall, and had been prowling from day to day about Monsieur de Galgenstein's

lodgings. Four or five times in the week, as his Excellency stepped into his coach, he might have remarked,

had he chosen, a woman in a black hood, who was looking most eagerly into his eyes: but those eyes had

long since left off the practice of observing; and Madam Catherine's visits had so far gone for nothing.

On this night, however, inspired by gaiety and drink, the Count had been amazingly stricken by the gait and

ogling of the lady in the mask. The Reverend O'Flaherty, who was with him, and had observed the figure in

the black cloak, recognised, or thought he recognised, her. "It is the woman who dogs your Excellency every

day," said he. "She is with that tailor lad who loves to see people hangedyour Excellency's son, I mean."

And he was just about to warn the Count of a conspiracy evidently made against him, and that the son had

brought, most likely, the mother to play her arts upon himhe was just about, I say, to show to the Count the

folly and danger of renewing an old liaison with a woman such as he had described Mrs. Cat to be, when his

Excellency, starting up, and interrupting his ghostly adviser at the very beginning of his sentence, said,

"Egad, l'Abbe, you are rightit IS my son, and a mighty smartlooking creature with him. Hey! Mr.

What'syournameTom, you rogue, don't you know your own father?" And so saying, and cocking his

beaver on one side, Monsieur de Galgenstein strutted jauntily after Mr. Billings and the lady.

"Tom, you rogue," stopped at this, and the Count came up. He had a white velvet suit, covered over with stars

and orders, a neat modest wig and bag, and peachcoloured silkstockings with silver clasps. The lady in the

mask gave a start as his Excellency came forward. "Law, mother, don't squeege so," said Tom. The poor

woman was trembling in every limb, but she had presence of mind to "squeege" Tom a great deal harder; and

The splendid Count came up. Ye gods, how his embroidery glittered in the lamps! What a royal exhalation of

musk and bergamot came from his wig, his handkerchief, and his grand lace ruffles and frills! A broad yellow

riband passed across his breast, and ended at his hip in a shining diamond crossa diamond cross, and a

diamond swordhilt! Was anything ever seen so beautiful? And might not a poor woman tremble when such

a noble creature drew near to her, and deigned, from the height of his rank and splendour, to look down upon

her? As Jove came down to Semele in state, in his habits of ceremony, with all the grand cordons of his

orders blazing about his imperial personthus dazzling, magnificent, triumphant, the great Galgenstein

descended towards Mrs. Catherine. Her cheeks glowed redhot under her coy velvet mask, her heart thumped

against the whalebone prison of her stays. What a delicious storm of vanity was raging in her bosom! What a

rush of longpent recollections burst forth at the sound of that enchanting voice!

As you wind up a hundredguinea chronometer with a twopenny watchkeyas by means of a dirty

wooden plug you set all the waters of Versailles araging, and splashing, and stormingin like manner, and

by like humble agents, were Mrs. Catherine's tumultuous passions set going. The Count, we have said,

slipped up to his son, and merely saying, "How do, Tom?" cut the young gentleman altogether, and passing

round to the lady's side, said, "Madam, 'tis a charming eveningegad it is!" She almost fainted: it was the

Now I know what I could have done. I can turn out a quotation from Sophocles (by looking to the index) as

well as another: I can throw off a bit of fine writing too, with passion, similes, and a moral at the end. What,

pray, is the last sentence but one but the very finest writing? Suppose, for example, I had made Maximilian,

as he stood by the side of Catherine, look up towards the clouds, and exclaim, in the words of the voluptuous

The Count advanced towards the maiden. They both were mute for a while; and only the beating of her heart

interrupted that thrilling and passionate silence. Ah, what years of buried joys and fears, hopes and

disappointments, arose from their graves in the far past, and in those brief moments flitted before the united

ones! How sad was that delicious retrospect, and oh, how sweet! The tears that rolled down the cheek of each

were bubbles from the choked and mossgrown wells of youth; the sigh that heaved each bosom had some

lurking odours in itmemories of the fragrance of boyhood, echoes of the hymns of the young heart! Thus is

it everfor these blessed recollections the soul always has a place; and while crime perishes, and sorrow is

"O golden legends, written in the skies!" mused De Galgenstein, "ye shine as ye did in the olden days! WE

change, but YE speak ever the same language. Gazing in your abysmal depths, the feeble ratioci"

There, now, are six columns* of the best writing to be found in this or any other book. Galgenstein has

quoted Euripides thrice, Plato once, Lycophron nine times, besides extracts from the Latin syntax and the

minor Greek poets. Catherine's passionate embreathings are of the most fashionable order; and I call upon the

ingenious critic of the X newspaper to say whether they do not possess the real impress of the giants of

the olden timethe real Platonic smack, in a word? Not that I want in the least to show off; but it is as well,

(* There WERE six columns, as mentioned by the accurate Mr. Solomons; but we have withdrawn two pages

and threequarters, because, although our correspondent has been excessively eloquent, according to custom,

Instead, however, of all this rant and nonsense, how much finer is the speech that the Count really did make!

"It is a very fine evening,egad it is!" The "egad" did the whole business: Mrs. Cat was as much in love

with him now as ever she had been; and, gathering up all her energies, she said, "It is dreadful hot too, I

"Stifling, split me!" added his Excellency. "What do you say, madam, to a rest in an arbour, and a drink of

"Oh, a drinka drink by all means," exclaimed Mr. Billings, who was troubled with a perpetual thirst.

"Come, mo, Mrs. Jones, I mean. you're fond of a glass of cold punch, you know; and the rum here is

The lady in the mask consented with some difficulty to the proposal of Mr. Billings, and was led by the two

gentlemen into an arbour, where she was seated between them; and some waxcandles being lighted, punch

She drank one or two glasses very eagerly, and so did her two companions; although it was evident to see,

from the flushed looks of both of them, that they had little need of any such stimulus. The Count, in the midst

of his champagne, it must be said, had been amazingly stricken and scandalised by the appearance of such a

youth as Billings in a public place with a lady under his arm. He was, the reader will therefore understand, in

the moral stage of liquor; and when he issued out, it was not merely with the intention of examining Mr.

Billings's female companion, but of administering to him some sound correction for venturing, at his early

period of life, to form any such acquaintances. On joining Billings, his Excellency's first step was naturally to

examine the lady. After they had been sitting for a while over their punch, he bethought him of his original

We have already given some specimens of Monsieur de Galgenstein's sober conversation; and it is hardly

necessary to trouble the reader with any further reports of his speeches. They were intolerably stupid and

dull; as egotistical as his morning lecture had been, and a hundred times more rambling and prosy. If Cat had

been in the possession of her sober senses, she would have seen in five minutes that her ancient lover was a

ninny, and have left him with scorn; but she was under the charm of old recollections, and the sound of that

silly voice was to her magical. As for Mr. Billings, he allowed his Excellency to continue his prattle; only

So the Count descanted at length upon the enormity of young Billings's early liaisons; and then he told his

own, in the year four, with a burgomaster's daughter at Ratisbon, when he was in the Elector of Bavaria's

servicethen, after Blenheim, when he had come over to the Duke of Marlborough, when a physician's wife

at Bonn poisoned herself for him, etc. etc.; of a piece with the story of the canoness, which has been recorded

before. All the tales were true. A clever, ugly man every now and then is successful with the ladies; but a

handsome fool is irresistible. Mrs. Cat listened and listened. Good heavens! she had heard all these tales

before, and recollected the place and the timehow she was hemming a handkerchief for Max; who came

round and kissed her, vowing that the physician's wife was nothing compared to herhow he was tired, and

lying on the sofa, just come home from shooting. How handsome he looked! Cat thought he was only the

The garden was filled with a vast deal of company of all kinds, and parties were passing every moment

before the arbour where our trio sat. About halfanhour after his Excellency had quitted his own box and

party, the Rev. Mr. O'Flaherty came discreetly round, to examine the proceedings of his diplomatical chef.

The lady in the mask was listening with all her might; Mr. Billings was drawing figures on the table with

punch; and the Count talking incessantly. The Father Confessor listened for a moment; and then, with

something resembling an oath, walked away to the entry of the gardens, where his Excellency's gilt coach,

with three footmen, was waiting to carry him back to London. "Get me a chair, Joseph," said his Reverence,

who infinitely preferred a seat gratis in the coach. "That fool," muttered he, "will not move for this hour." The

reverend gentleman knew that, when the Count was on the subject of the physician's wife, his discourses

were intolerably long; and took upon himself, therefore, to disappear, along with the rest of the Count's party;

After this quiet shadow had passed before the Count's box, many groups of persons passed and repassed; and

among them was no other than Mrs. Polly Briggs, to whom we have been already introduced. Mrs. Polly was

in company with one or two other ladies, and leaning on the arm of a gentleman with large shoulders and

calves, a fierce cock to his hat, and a shabby genteel air. His name was Mr. Moffat, and his present

occupation was that of doorkeeper at a gambling house in Covent Garden; where, though he saw many

thousands pass daily under his eyes, his own salary amounted to no more than fourandsixpence

Mr. Moffat had, however, received some fundsamounting indeed, to a matter of twelve guineaswithin

the last month, and was treating Mrs. Briggs very generously to the concert. It may be as well to say that

every one of the twelve guineas had come out of Mrs. Polly's own pocket; who, in return, had received them

from Mr. Billings. And as the reader may remember that, on the day of Tommy's first interview with his

father, he had previously paid a visit to Mrs. Briggs, having under his arm a pair of breeches, which Mrs.

Briggs covetedhe should now be informed that she desired these breeches, not for pincushions, but for Mr.

Having thus episodically narrated Mr. Moffat's history, let us state that he, his lady, and their friends, passed

before the Count's arbour, joining in a melodious chorus to a song which one of the society, an actor of

"My brave boys" was given with vast emphasis by the party; Mr. Moffat growling it in a rich bass, and Mrs.

Briggs in a soaring treble. As to the notes, when quavering up to the skies, they excited various emotions

among the people in the gardens. "Silence them blackguards!" shouted a barber, who was taking a pint of

small beer along with his lady. "Stop that there infernal screeching!" said a couple of ladies, who were

"Dang it, it's Polly!" said Mr. Tom Billings, bolting out of the box, and rushing towards the sweetvoiced

Mrs. Briggs. When he reached her, which he did quickly, and made his arrival known by tipping Mrs. Briggs

slightly on the waist, and suddenly bouncing down before her and her friend, both of the latter drew back

"Law, Mr. Billings!" says Mrs. Polly, rather coolly, "is it you? Who thought of seeing you here?"

"Oh, cousin, if it's a friend of yours, he should know better how to conduct himself, that's all. Har you a

dancingmaster, young feller, that you cut them there capers before gentlemen?" growled Mr. Moffat; who

"Dancingmaster be hanged!" said Mr. Billings, with becoming spirit: "if you call me dancingmaster, I'll

"What!" roared Mr. Moffat, "pull my nose? MY NOSE! I'll tell you what, my lad, if you durst move me, I'll

"Oh, Moffycousin, I mean'tis a shame to treat the poor boy so. Go away, Tommy; do go away; my

cousin's in liquor," whimpered Madam Briggs, who really thought that the great doorkeeper would put his

"Tommy!" said Mr. Moffat, frowning horribly; "Tommy to me too? Dog, get out of my ssss" SIGHT was

the word which Mr. Moffat intended to utter; but he was interrupted; for, to the astonishment of his friends

and himself, Mr. Billings did actually make a spring at the monster's nose, and caught it so firmly, that the

The operation was performed with amazing celerity; and, having concluded it, Mr. Billings sprang back, and

whisked from out its sheath that new silverhilted sword which his mamma had given him. "Now," said he,

with a fierce kind of calmness, "now for the throatcutting, cousin: I'm your man!"

How the brawl might have ended, no one can say, had the two gentlemen actually crossed swords; but Mrs.

Polly, with a wonderful presence of mind, restored peace by exclaiming, "Hush, hush! the beaks, the beaks!"

Upon which, with one common instinct, the whole party made a rush for the garden gates, and disappeared

into the fields. Mrs. Briggs knew her company: there was something in the very name of a constable which

After running a reasonable time, Mr. Billings stopped. But the great Moffat was nowhere to be seen, and

Polly Briggs had likewise vanished. Then Tom bethought him that he would go back to his mother; but,

arriving at the gate of the gardens, was refused admittance, as he had not a shilling in his pocket. "I've left,"

says Tommy, giving himself the airs of a gentleman, "some friends in the gardens. I'm with his Excellency

"But I tell you I left him there, in the grand circle, with a lady; and, what's more, in the dark walk, I have left

"Oh, my Lord, I'll go and tell him then," cried one of the porters, "if you will wait."

Mr. Billings seated himself on a post near the gate, and there consented to remain until the return of his

messenger. The latter went straight to the dark walk, and found the sword, sure enough. But, instead of

returning it to its owner this discourteous knight broke the trenchant blade at the hilt; and flinging the steel

away, pocketed the baser silver metal, and lurked off by the private door consecrated to the waiters and

In the meantime, Mr. Billings waited and waited. And what was the conversation of his worthy parents inside

the garden? I cannot say; but one of the waiters declared that he had served the great foreign Count with two

bowls of rackpunch, and some biscuits, in No. 3: that in the box with him were first a young gentleman,

who went away, and a lady, splendidly dressed and masked: that when the lady and his Lordship were alone,

she edged away to the further end of the table, and they had much talk: that at last, when his Grace had

pressed her very much, she took off her mask and said, "Don't you know me now, Max?" that he cried out,

"My own Catherine, thou art more beautiful than ever!" and wanted to kneel down and vow eternal love to

her; but she begged him not to do so in a place where all the world would see: that then his Highness paid,

When they issued from the gardens, "Ho! Joseph la Rose, my coach!" shouted his Excellency, in rather a

husky voice; and the men who had been waiting came up with the carriage. A young gentleman, who was

dosing on one of the posts at the entry, woke up suddenly at the blaze of the torches and the noise of the

footmen. The Count gave his arm to the lady in the mask, who slipped in; and he was whispering La Rose,

when the lad who had been sleeping hit his Excellency on the shoulder, and said, "I say, Count, you can give

When Catherine saw her son, she threw herself into his arms, and kissed him with a burst of hysterical tears;

of which Mr. Billings was at a loss to understand the meaning. The Count joined them, looking not a little

disconcerted; and the pair were landed at their own door, where stood Mr. Hayes, in his nightcap, ready to

receive them, and astounded at the splendour of the equipage in which his wife returned to him.

An ingenious magazinewriter, who lived in the time of Mr. Brock and the Duke of Marlborough, compared

Mr. Joseph Addison, I say, compared the Duke of Marlborough to an angel, who is sent by Divine command

The first four of these novel lines touch off the Duke's disposition and genius to a tittle. He had a love for

such scenes of strife: in the midst of them his spirit rose calm and supreme, soaring (like an angel or not, but

anyway the compliment is a very pretty one) on the battleclouds majestic, and causing to ebb or to flow the

But as this famous simile might apply with equal proprietyto a bad angel as to a good one, it may in like

manner be employed to illustrate small quarrels as well as greata little family squabble, in which two or

three people are engaged, as well as a vast national dispute, argued on each side by the roaring throats of five

hundred angry cannon. The poet means, in fact, that the Duke of Marlborough had an immense genius for

Our friend Brock, or Wood (whose actions we love to illustrate by the very handsomest similes), possessed

this genius in common with his Grace; and was never so happy, or seen to so much advantage, as when he

was employed in setting people by the ears. His spirits, usually dull, then rose into the utmost gaiety and

goodhumour. When the doubtful battle flagged, he by his art would instantly restore it. When, for instance,

Tom's repulsed battalions of rhetoric fled from his mamma's fire, a few words of apt sneer or encouragement

on Wood's part would bring the fight round again; or when Mr. Hayes's fainting squadrons of abuse broke

upon the stubborn squares of Tom's bristling obstinacy, it was Wood's delight to rally the former, and bring

him once more to the charge. A great share had this man in making those bad people worse. Many fierce

words and bad passions, many falsehoods and knaveries on Tom's part, much bitterness, scorn, and jealousy

on the part of Hayes and Catherine, might be attributed to this hoary old tempter, whose joy and occupation it

was to raise and direct the domestic storms and whirlwinds of the family of which he was a member. And do

not let us be accused of an undue propensity to use sounding words, because we compare three scoundrels in

the Tyburn Road to so many armies, and Mr. Wood to a mighty fieldmarshal. My dear sir, when you have

well studied the worldhow supremely great the meanest thing in this world is, and how infinitely mean the

greatestI am mistaken if you do not make a strange and proper jumble of the sublime and the ridiculous,

the lofty and the low. I have looked at the world, for my part, and come to the conclusion that I know not

Well, then, on the night when Mrs Hayes, as recorded by us, had been to the Marylebone Gardens, Mr. Wood

had found the sincerest enjoyment in plying her husband with drink; so that, when Catherine arrived at home,

Mr. Hayes came forward to meet her in a manner which showed he was not only surly, but drunk. Tom

stepped out of the coach first; and Hayes asked him, with an oath, where he had been? The oath Mr. Billings

sternly flung back again (with another in its company), and at the same time refused to give his stepfather any

"The old man is drunk, mother," said he to Mrs. Hayes, as he handed that lady out of the coach (before

leaving which she had to withdraw her hand rather violently from the grasp of the Count, who was inside).

Hayes instantly showed the correctness of his surmise by slamming the door courageously in Tom's face,

when he attempted to enter the house with his mother. And when Mrs. Catherine remonstrated, according to

her wont, in a very angry and supercilious tone, Mr. Hayes replied with equal haughtiness, and a regular

People were accustomed in those days to use much more simple and expressive terms of language than are

now thought polite; and it would be dangerous to give, in this present year 1840, the exact words of reproach

which passed between Hayes and his wife in 1726. Mr. Wood sat near, laughing his sides out. Mr. Hayes

swore that his wife should not go abroad to teagardens in search of vile Popish noblemen; to which Mrs.

Hayes replied, that Mr. Hayes was a pitiful, lying, sneaking cur, and that she would go where she pleased.

Mr. Hayes rejoined that if she said much more he would take a stick to her. Mr. Wood whispered, "And serve

her right." Mrs. Hayes thereupon swore she had stood his cowardly blows once or twice before, but that if

ever he did so again, as sure as she was born, she would stab him. Mr. Wood said, "Curse me, but I like her

Mr. Hayes took another line of argument, and said, "The neighbours would talk, madam."

"Then let them," said Catherine. "What do we care about the neighbours? Didn't the neighbours talk when

you sent Widow Wilkins to gaol? Didn't the neighbours talk when you levied on poor old Thomson? You

"Business, ma'am, is business; and if I did distrain on Thomson, and lock up Wilkins, I think you knew about

"Pray, sir, keep your tongue to yourself. Your opinion isn't asked anyhowno, nor your company wanted

"I have asked this here gentleman to pass this evening along with me. We've been drinking together, ma'am."

"That we have", said Mr. Wood, looking at Mrs. Cat with the most perfect goodhumour.

"I say, ma'am, that we've been adrinking together; and when we've been adrinking together, I say that a

man is my friend. Doctor Wood is my friend, madamthe Reverend Doctor Wood. We've passed the

evening in company, talking about politics, madampolitics and riddleiddleigion. We've not been

"It's a lie!" shrieked Mrs. Hayes. "I went with Tomyou know I did: the boy wouldn't let me rest till I

"He's the only friend I have in the world, and the only being I care a pin for," said Catherine.

"He's an impudent idle goodfornothing scoundrel, and I hope to see him hanged!" shouted Mr. Hayes.

"And pray, madam, whose carriage was that as you came home in? I warrant you paid something for the

"Another lie!" screamed Cat, and clutched hold of a supperknife. "Say it again, John Hayes, and, by

"Do for me? Hang me," said Mr. Hayes, flourishing a stick, and perfectly potvaliant, "do you think I care for

He did not finish the sentence, for the woman ran at him like a savage, knife in hand. He bounded back,

flinging his arms about wildly, and struck her with his staff sharply across the forehead. The woman went

down instantly. A lucky blow was it for Hayes and her: it saved him from death, perhaps, and her from

All this scenea very important one of our dramamight have been described at much greater length; but,

in truth, the author has a natural horror of dwelling too long upon such hideous spectacles: nor would the

reader be much edified by a full and accurate knowledge of what took place. The quarrel, however, though

not more violent than many that had previously taken place between Hayes and his wife, was about to cause

Hayes was at the first moment of his victory very much alarmed; he feared that he had killed the woman; and

Wood started up rather anxiously too, with the same fancy. But she soon began to recover. Water was

brought; her head was raised and bound up; and in a short time Mrs. Catherine gave vent to a copious fit of

tears, which relieved her somewhat. These did not affect Hayes muchthey rather pleased him, for he saw

he had got the better; and although Cat fiercely turned upon him when he made some small attempt towards

reconciliation, he did not heed her anger, but smiled and winked in a selfsatisfied way at Wood. The coward

was quite proud of his victory; and finding Catherine asleep, or apparently so, when he followed her to bed,

speedily gave himself up to slumber too, and had some pleasant dreams to his portion.

Mr. Wood also went sniggering and happy upstairs to his chamber. The quarrel had been a real treat to him; it

excited the old man tickled him into goodhumour; and he promised himself a rare continuation of the fun

when Tom should be made acquainted with the circumstances of the dispute. As for his Excellency the

Count, the ride from Marylebone Gardens, and a tender squeeze of the hand, which Catherine permitted to

him on parting, had so inflamed the passions of the nobleman, that, after sleeping for nine hours, and taking

his chocolate as usual the next morning, he actually delayed to read the newspaper, and kept waiting a

toyshop lady from Cornhill (with the sweetest bargain of Mechlin lace), in order to discourse to his chaplain

She, poor thing, never closed her lids, except when she would have had Mr. Hayes imagine that she

slumbered; but lay beside him, tossing and tumbling, with hot eyes wide open and heart thumping, and pulse

of a hundred and ten, and heard the heavy hours tolling; and at last the day came peering, haggard, through

Mrs. Hayes had never been, as we have seen, especially fond of her lord; but now, as the day made visible to

her the sleeping figure and countenance of that gentleman, she looked at him with a contempt and loathing

such as she had never felt even in all the years of her wedded life. Mr. Hayes was snoring profoundly: by his

bedside, on his ledger, stood a large greasy tin candlestick, containing a lank tallowcandle, turned down in

the shaft; and in the lower part, his keys, purse, and tobaccopipe; his feet were huddled up in his greasy

threadbare clothes; his head and half his sallow face muffled up in a red woollen nightcap; his beard was of

several days' growth; his mouth was wide open, and he was snoring profoundly: on a more despicable little

creature the sun never shone. And to this sordid wretch was Catherine united for ever. What a pretty rascal

history might be read in yonder greasy daybook, which never left the miser!he never read in any other.

Of what a treasure were yonder keys and purse the keepers! not a shilling they guarded but was picked from

the pocket of necessity, plundered from needy wantonness, or pitilessly squeezed from starvation. "A fool, a

miser, and a coward! Why was I bound to this wretch?" thought Catherine: "I, who am highspirited and

beautiful (did not HE tell me so?); I who, born a beggar, have raised myself to competence, and might have

As Mrs. Cat did not utter these sentiments, but only thought them, we have a right to clothe her thoughts in

the genteelest possible language; and, to the best of our power, have done so. If the reader examines Mrs.

Hayes's train of reasoning, he will not, we should think, fail to perceive how ingeniously she managed to fix

all the wrong upon her husband, and yet to twist out some consolatory arguments for her own vanity. This

perverse argumentation we have all of us, no doubt, employed in our time. How often have we,we poets,

politicians, philosophers, familymen,found charming excuses for our own rascalities in the monstrous

wickedness of the world about us; how loudly have we abused the times and our neighbours! All this devil's

logic did Mrs. Catherine, lying wakeful in her bed on the night of the Marylebone fete, exert in gloomy

It must, however, be confessed, that nothing could be more just than Mrs. Hayes's sense of her husband's

scoundrelism and meanness; for if we have not proved these in the course of this history, we have proved

nothing. Mrs. Cat had a shrewd observing mind; and if she wanted for proofs against Hayes, she had but to

look before and about her to find them. This amiable pair were lying in a large walnutbed, with faded silk

furniture, which had been taken from under a respectable old invalid widow, who had become security for a

prodigal son; the room was hung round with an antique tapestry (representing Rebecca at the Well, Bathsheba

Bathing, Judith and Holofernes, and other subjects from Holy Writ), which had been many score times sold

for fifty pounds, and bought back by Mr. Hayes for two, in those accommodating bargains which he made

with young gentlemen, who received fifty pounds of money and fifty of tapestry in consideration of their

hundredpound bills. Against this tapestry, and just cutting off Holofernes's head, stood an enormous

ominous black clock, the spoil of some other usurious transaction. Some chairs, and a dismal old black

cabinet, completed the furniture of this apartment: it wanted but a ghost to render its gloom complete.

Mrs. Hayes sat up in the bed sternly regarding her husband. There is, be sure, a strong magnetic influence in

wakeful eyes so examining a sleeping person (do not you, as a boy, remember waking of bright summer

mornings and finding your mother looking over you? had not the gaze of her tender eyes stolen into your

senses long before you woke, and cast over your slumbering spirit a sweet spell of peace, and love, and fresh

springing joy?) Some such influence had Catherine's looks upon her husband: for, as he slept under them, the

man began to writhe about uneasily, and to burrow his head in the pillow, and to utter quick, strange moans

and cries, such as have often jarred one's ear while watching at the bed of the feverish sleeper. It was just

upon six, and presently the clock began to utter those dismal grinding sounds, which issue from clocks at

such periods, and which sound like the deathrattle of the departing hour. Then the bell struck the knell of it;

Their eyes met for an instant, and Catherine turned away, burning red, and looking as if she had been caught

A kind of blank terror seized upon old Hayes's soul: a horrible icy fear, and presentiment of coming evil; and

yet the woman had but looked at him. He thought rapidly over the occurrences of the last night, the quarrel,

and the end of it. He had often struck her before when angry, and heaped all kinds of bitter words upon her;

but, in the morning, she bore no malice, and the previous quarrel was forgotten, or, at least, passed over. Why

should the last night's dispute not have the same end? Hayes calculated all this, and tried to smile.

"I hope we're friends, Cat?" said he. "You know I was in liquor last night, and sadly put out by the loss of that

"I should like to see the country again, dear," said he, in his most wheedling way. "I've a mind, do you know,

to call in all our money? It's you who've made every farthing of it, that's sure; and it's a matter of two

thousand pound by this time. Suppose we go into Warwickshire, Cat, and buy a farm, and live genteel.

Shouldn't you like to live a lady in your own county again? How they'd stare at Birmingham! hey, Cat?"

And with this Mr. Hayes made a motion as if he would seize his wife's hand, but she flung his back again.

"Coward!" said she, "you want liquor to give you courage, and then you've only heart enough to strike

"It was only in selfdefence, my dear," said Hayes, whose courage had all gone. "You tried, you know,

"To STAB you, and I wish I had!" said Mrs. Hayes, setting her teeth, and glaring at him like a demon; and so

saying she sprung out of bed. There was a great stain of blood on her pillow. "Look at it," said she. "That

blood's of your shedding!" and at this Hayes fairly began to weep, so utterly downcast and frightened was the

miserable man. The wretch's tears only inspired his wife with a still greater rage and loathing; she cared not

so much for the blow, but she hated the man: the man to whom she was tied for everfor ever! The bar

between her and wealth, happiness, love, rank perhaps. "If I were free," thought Mrs. Hayes (the thought had

been sitting at her pillow all night, and whispering ceaselessly into her ear),"If I were free, Max would

As if by a kind of intuition, old Wood seemed to read all this woman's thoughts; for he said that day with a

sneer, that he would wager she was thinking how much better it would be to be a Count's lady than a poor

miser's wife. "And faith," said he, "a Count and a chariotandsix is better than an old skinflint with a

cudgel." And then he asked her if her head was better, and supposed that she was used to beating; and cut

sundry other jokes, which made the poor wretch's wounds of mind and body feel a thousand times sorer.

Tom, too, was made acquainted with the dispute, and swore his accustomed vengeance against his stepfather.

Such feelings, Wood, with a dexterous malice, would never let rest; it was his joy, at first quite a disinterested

one, to goad Catherine and to frighten Hayes: though, in truth, that unfortunate creature had no occasion for

incitements from without to keep up the dreadful state of terror and depression into which he had fallen.

For, from the morning after the quarrel, the horrible words and looks of Catherine never left Hayes's memory;

but a cold fear followed hima dreadful prescience. He strove to overcome this fate as a coward wouldto

kneel to it for compassionto coax and wheedle it into forgiveness. He was slavishly gentle to Catherine,

and bore her fierce taunts with mean resignation. He trembled before young Billings, who was now

established in the house (his mother said, to protect her against the violence of her husband), and suffered his

The young man and his mother lorded over the house: Hayes hardly dared to speak in their presence; seldom

sat with the family except at meals; but slipped away to his chamber (he slept apart now from his wife) or

passed the evening at the publichouse, where he was constrained to drinkto spend some of his beloved

And, of course, the neighbours began to say, "John Hayes neglects his wife." "He tyrannises over her, and

The unfortunate wretch did NOT hate his wife. He was used to herfond of her as much as he could be

fondsighed to be friends with her againrepeatedly would creep, whimpering, to Wood's room, when the

latter was alone, and begged him to bring about a reconciliation. They WERE reconciled, as much as ever

they could be. The woman looked at him, thought what she might be but for him, and scorned and loathed

him with a feeling that almost amounted to insanity. What nights she lay awake, weeping, and cursing herself

and him! His humility and beseeching looks only made him more despicable and hateful to her.

If Hayes did not hate the mother, however, he hated the boyhated and feared him dreadfully. He would

have poisoned him if he had had the courage; but he dared not: he dared not even look at him as he sat there,

the master of the house, in insolent triumph. O God! how the lad's brutal laughter rung in Hayes's ears; and

how the stare of his fierce bold black eyes pursued him! Of a truth, if Mr. Wood loved mischief, as he did,

honestly and purely for mischief's sake, he had enough here. There was mean malice, and fierce scorn, and

black revenge, and sinful desire, boiling up in the hearts of these wretched people, enough to content Mr.

Hayes's business, as we have said, was nominally that of a carpenter; but since, for the last few years, he had

added to it that of a lender of money, the carpenter's trade had been neglected altogether for one so much

more profitable. Mrs. Hayes had exerted herself, with much benefit to her husband, in his usurious business.

She was a resolute, clearsighted, keen woman, that did not love money, but loved to be rich and push her

way in the world. She would have nothing to do with the trade now, however, and told her husband to

manage it himself. She felt that she was separated from him for ever, and could no more be brought to

The man was well fitted for the creeping and niggling of his dastardly trade; and gathered his moneys, and

busied himself with his lawyer, and acted as his own bookkeeper and clerk, not without satisfaction. His

wife's speculations, when they worked in concert, used often to frighten him. He never sent out his capital

without a pang, and only because he dared not question her superior judgment and will. He began now to lend

no more: he could not let the money out of his sight. His sole pleasure was to creep up into his room, and

count and recount it. When Billings came into the house, Hayes had taken a room next to that of Wood. It

was a protection to him; for Wood would often rebuke the lad for using Hayes ill: and both Catherine and

At lastit was after he had collected a good deal of his money Hayes began to reason with himself, "Why

should I stay?stay to be insulted by that boy, or murdered by him? He is ready for any crime." He

determined to fly. He would send Catherine money every year. Noshe had the furniture; let her let

lodgingsthat would support her. He would go, and live away, abroad in some cheap placeaway from

that boy and his horrible threats. The idea of freedom was agreeable to the poor wretch; and he began to wind

Hayes would now allow no one to make his bed or enter his room; and Wood could hear him through the

panels fidgeting perpetually to and fro, opening and shutting of chests, and clinking of coin. At the least

sound he would start up, and would go to Billings's door and listen. Wood used to hear him creeping through

One day the woman and her son had been angrily taunting him in the presence of a neighbour. The neighbour

retired soon; and Hayes, who had gone with him to the door, heard, on returning, the voice of Wood in the

parlour. The old man laughed in his usual saturnine way, and said, "Have a care, Mrs. Cat; for if Hayes were

Hayes started as if he had been shot. "He too is in the plot," thought he. "They are all leagued against me:

they WILL kill me: they are only biding their time." Fear seized him, and he thought of flying that instant and

leaving all; and he stole into his room and gathered his money together. But only a half of it was there: in a

few weeks all would have come in. He had not the heart to go. But that night Wood heard Hayes pause at HIS

door, before he went to listen at Mrs. Catherine's. "What is the man thinking of?" said Wood. "He is

Wood thought he would watch him. There was a closet between the two rooms: Wood bored a hole in the

panel, and peeped through. Hayes had a brace of pistols, and four or five little bags before him on the table.

One of these he opened, and placed, one by one, fiveandtwenty guineas into it. Such a sum had been due

that dayCatherine spoke of it only in the morning; for the debtor's name had by chance been mentioned in

the conversation. Hayes commonly kept but a few guineas in the house. For what was he amassing all these?

The next day, Wood asked for change for a twentypound bill. Hayes said he had but three guineas. And,

when asked by Catherine where the money was that was paid the day before, said that it was at the banker's.

"The man is going to fly," said Wood; "that is sure: if he does, I know himhe will leave his wife without a

He watched him for several days regularly: two or three more bags were added to the former number. "They

are pretty things, guineas," thought Wood, "and tell no tales, like bankbills." And he thought over the days

I don't know what thoughts entered into Mr. Wood's brain; but the next day, after seeing young Billings, to

whom he actually made a present of a guinea, that young man, in conversing with his mother, said, "Do you

know, mother, that if you were free, and married the Count, I should be a lord? It's the German law, Mr.

"Ay, that he would," said Mr. Wood, "in Germany: but Germany isn't England; and it's no use talking of such

"Hush, child!" said Mrs. Hayes, quite eagerly: "how can _I_ marry the Count? Besides, a'n't I married, and

"Too great a lord?not a whit, mother. If it wasn't for Hayes, I might be a lord now. He gave me five

guineas only last week; but curse the skinflint who never will part with a shilling."

"It's not so bad as his striking your mother, Tom. I had my stick up, and was ready to fell him t'other night,"

added Mr. Wood. And herewith he smiled, and looked steadily in Mrs. Catherine's face. She dared not look

again; but she felt that the old man knew a secret that she had been trying to hide from herself. Fool! he knew

it; and Hayes knew it dimly: and never, never, since that day of the gala, had it left her, sleeping or waking.

When Hayes, in his fear, had proposed to sleep away from her, she started with joy: she had been afraid that

Old Wood knew all her history since the period of the Marylebone fete. He had wormed it out of her, day by

day; he had counselled her how to act; warned her not to yield; to procure, at least, a certain provision for her

son, and a handsome settlement for herself, if she determined on quitting her husband. The old man looked on

the business in a proper philosophical light, told her bluntly that he saw she was bent upon going off with the

Count, and bade her take precautions: else she might be left as she had been before.

Catherine denied all these charges; but she saw the Count daily, notwithstanding, and took all the measures

which Wood had recommended to her. They were very prudent ones. Galgenstein grew hourly more in love:

never had he felt such a flame; not in the best days of his youth; not for the fairest princess, countess, or

At lengthit was the night after he had seen Hayes counting his moneybagsold Wood spoke to Mrs.

Hayes very seriously. "That husband of yours, Cat," said he, "meditates some treason; ay, and fancies we are

about such. He listens nightly at your door and at mine: he is going to leave you, be sure on't; and if he leaves

"Why not, fool! Do you recollect Birmingham? Do you think that Galgenstein, who is so tender now because

he HASN'T won you, will be faithful because he HAS? Psha, woman, men are not made so! Don't go to him

until you are sure: if you were a widow now, he would marry you; but never leave yourself at his mercy: if

you were to leave your husband to go to him, he would desert you in a fortnight!"

She might have been a Countess! she knew she might, but for this cursed barrier between her and her fortune.

"Besides," he continued, "remember Tom. As sure as you leave Hayes without some security from Max, the

boy's ruined: he who might be a lord, if his mother had butPsha! never mind: that boy will go on the road,

as sure as my name's Wood. He's a Turpin cock in his eye, my dear,a regular Tyburn look. He knows too

many of that sort already; and is too fond of a bottle and a girl to resist and be honest when it comes to the

"It's all true," said Mrs. Hayes. "Tom's a high mettlesome fellow, and would no more mind a ride on

"It IS a pity, and that's sure," concluded Mr. Wood, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, and closing this

interesting conversation. "It is a pity that that old skinflint should be in the way of both your fortunes; and he

Mrs. Catherine retired musing, as Mr. Billings had previously done; a sweet smile of contentment lighted up

the venerable features of Doctor Wood, and he walked abroad into the streets as happy a fellow as any in

And to begin this chapter, we cannot do better than quote a part of a letter from M. l'Abbe O'Flaherty to

"MADAM,The little Arouet de Voltaire, who hath come 'hither to take a turn in England,' as I see by the

Post of this morning, hath brought me a charming pacquet from your Ladyship's hands, which ought to render

a reasonable man happy; but, alas! makes your slave miserable. I think of dear Paris (and something more

dear than all Paris, of which, Madam, I may not venture to speak further)I think of dear Paris, and find

myself in this dismal Vitehall, where, when the fog clears up, I can catch a glimpse of muddy Thames, and of

that fatal palace which the kings of England have been obliged to exchange for your noble castle of Saint

Germains, that stands so stately by silver Seine. Truly, no bad bargain. For my part, I would give my grand

ambassadorial saloons, hangings, gildings, feasts, valets, ambassadors and all, for a bicoque in sight of the

"My last sheets have given you a pretty notion of our ambassador's public doings; now for a pretty piece of

private scandal respecting that great man. Figure to yourself, Madam, his Excellency is in love; actually in

love, talking day and night about a certain fair one whom he hath picked out of a gutter; who is well nigh

forty years old; who was his mistress when he was in England a captain of dragoons, some sixty, seventy, or

a hundred years since; who hath had a son by him, moreover, a sprightly lad, apprentice to a tailor of

"Since one fatal night when he met this fair creature at a certain place of publique resort, called Marylebone

Gardens, our Cyrus hath been an altered creature. Love hath mastered this brainless ambassador, and his

antics afford me food for perpetual mirth. He sits now opposite to me at a table inditing a letter to his

Catherine, and copying it fromwhat do you think?from the 'Grand Cyrus.' 'I swear, madam, that my

happiness would be to offer you this hand, as I have my heart long ago, and I beg you to bear in mind this

declaration.' I have just dictated to him the above tender words; for our Envoy, I need not tell you, is not

"The fair Catherine, I must tell you, is no less than a carpenter's wife, a welltodo bourgeois, living at the

Tyburn, or Gallows Road. She found out her ancient lover very soon after our arrival, and hath a marvellous

hankering to be a Count's lady. A pretty little creature is this Madam Catherine. Billets, breakfasts, pretty

walks, presents of silks and satins, pass daily between the pair; but, strange to say, the lady is as virtuous as

Diana, and hath resisted all my Count's cajoleries hitherto. The poor fellow told me, with tears in his eyes,

that he believed he should have carried her by storm on the very first night of their meeting, but that her son

stepped into the way; and he or somebody else hath been in the way ever since. Madam will never appear

alone. I believe it is this wondrous chastity of the lady that has elicited this wondrous constancy of the

gentleman. She is holding out for a settlement; who knows if not for a marriage? Her husband, she says, is

ailing; her lover is fool enough, and she herself conducts her negotiations, as I must honestly own, with a

This is the only part of the reverend gentleman's letter that directly affects this history. The rest contains some

scandal concerning greater personages about the Court, a great share of abuse of the Elector of Hanover, and

a pretty description of a boxingmatch at Mr. Figg's amphitheatre in Oxford Road, where John Wells, of

Edmund Bury (as by the papers may be seen), master of the noble science of selfdefence, did engage with

Edward Sutton, of Gravesend, master of the said science; and the issue of the combat.

"N. B."adds the Father, in a postscript"Monsieur Figue gives a hat to be cudgelled for before the Master

mount; and the whole of this fashionable information hath been given me by Monseigneur's son, Monsieur

Mr. Billings was, in fact, a frequent visitor at the Ambassador's house; to whose presence he, by a general

order, was always admitted. As for the connection between Mrs. Catherine and her former admirer, the

Abbe's history of it is perfectly correct; nor can it be said that this wretched woman, whose tale now begins to

wear a darker hue, was, in anything but SOUL, faithless to her husband. But she hated him, longed to leave

him, and loved another: the end was coming quickly, and every one of our unknowing actors and actresses

It will be seen that Mrs. Cat had followed pretty closely the injunctions of Mr. Wood in regard to her dealings

with the Count; who grew more heartstricken and tender daily, as the completion of his wishes was delayed,

and his desires goaded by contradiction. The Abbe has quoted one portion of a letter written by him; here is

the entire performance, extracted, as the holy father said, chiefly from the romance of the "Grand Cyrus".

"MADAM,It must needs be that I love you better than any ever did, since, notwithstanding your injustice

in calling me perfidious, I love you no less than I did before. On the contrary, my passion is so violent, and

your unjust accusation makes me so sensible of it, that if you did but know the resentments of my soule, you

would confess your selfe the most cruell and unjust woman in the world. You shall, ere long, Madam, see me

"On my knees I will tell you, at the first handsom opportunity, that the grandure of my passion can only be

equalled by your beauty; it hath driven me to such a fatall necessity, as that I cannot hide the misery which

you have caused. Sure, the hostil goddes have, to plague me, ordayned that fatal marridge, by which you are

bound to one so infinitly below you in degree. Were that bond of illomind Hymen cut in twayn witch binds

you, I swear, Madam, that my happiniss woulde be to offer you this hande, as I have my harte long agoe. And

I praye you to beare in minde this declaracion, which I here sign with my hande, and witch I pray you may

one day be called upon to prove the truth on. Beleave me, Madam, that there is none in the World who doth

more honor to your vertue than myselfe, nor who wishes your happinesse with more zeal

The Count had debated about the sentence promising marriage in event of Hayes's death; but the honest Abbe

cut these scruples very short, by saying, justly, that, because he wrote in that manner, there was no need for

him to act so; that he had better not sign and address the note in full; and that he presumed his Excellency

was not quite so timid as to fancy that the woman would follow him all the way to Germany, when his

The receipt of this billet caused such a flush of joy and exultation to unhappy happy Mrs. Catherine, that

Wood did not fail to remark it, and speedily learned the contents of the letter. Wood had no need to bid the

poor wretch guard it very carefully: it never from that day forth left her; it was her title of nobility,her pass

to rank, wealth, happiness. She began to look down on her neighbours; her manner to her husband grew more

than ordinarily scornful; the poor vain wretch longed to tell her secret, and to take her place openly in the

world. She a Countess, and Tom a Count's son! She felt that she should royally become the title!

About this timeand Hayes was very much frightened at the prevalence of the rumourit suddenly began

to be about in his quarter that he was going to quit the country. The story was in everybody's mouth; people

It was said, too, that Mrs. Hayes was not his wife, but his mistresseverybody had this storyhis mistress,

whom he treated most cruelly, and was about to desert. The tale of the blow which had felled her to the

ground was known in all quarters. When he declared that the woman tried to stab him, nobody believed him:

the women said he would have been served right if she had done so. How had these stories gone abroad?

"Three days more, and I WILL fly," thought Hayes; "and the world may say what it pleases."

Ay, fool, flyaway so swiftly that Fate cannot overtake thee: hide so cunningly that Death shall not find thy

The reader, doubtless, doth now partly understand what dark acts of conspiracy are beginning to gather

1. That if the rumour was universally credited which declared that Mrs. Catherine was only Hayes's mistress,

She might, if she so inclined, marry another person; and thereby not injure her fame and excite wonderment,

2. That if all the world did steadfastly believe that Mr. Hayes intended to desert this woman, after having

The direction which his journey might take would be of no consequence; and he might go to Highgate, to

Edinburgh, to Constantinople, nay, down a well, and no soul would care to ask whither he had gone.

These points Mr. Hayes had not considered duly. The latter case had been put to him, and annoyed him, as

we have seen; the former had actually been pressed upon him by Mrs. Hayes herself; who, in almost the only

communication she had had with him since their last quarrel, had asked him, angrily, in the presence of Wood

and her son, whether he had dared to utter such lies, and how it came to pass that the neighbours looked

To this charge Mr. Hayes pleaded, very meekly, that he was not guilty; and young Billings, taking him by the

collar, and clinching his fist in his face, swore a dreadful oath that he would have the life of him if he dared

abuse his mother. Mrs. Hayes then spoke of the general report abroad, that he was going to desert her; which,

if he attempted to do, Mr. Billings vowed that he would follow him to Jerusalem and have his blood. These

threats, and the insolent language of young Billings, rather calmed Hayes than agitated him: he longed to be

on his journey; but he began to hope that no obstacle would be placed in the way of it. For the first time since

many days, he began to enjoy a feeling something akin to security, and could look with tolerable confidence

These points being duly settled, we are now arrived, O public, at a point for which the author's soul hath been

yearning ever since this history commenced. We are now come, O critic, to a stage of the work when this tale

begins to assume an appearance so interestingly horrific, that you must have a heart of stone if you are not

interested by it. O candid and discerning reader, who art sick of the hideous scenes of brutal bloodshed which

have of late come forth from pens of certain eminent wits,* if you turn away disgusted from the book,

remember that this passage hath not been written for you, or such as you, who have taste to know and hate the

style in which it hath been composed; but for the public, which hath no such taste:for the public, which can

patronise four different representations of Jack Sheppard,for the public whom its literary providers have

gorged with blood and foul Newgate garbage,and to whom we poor creatures, humbly following at the tail

of our great highpriests and prophets of the press, may, as in duty bound, offer some small gift of our own: a

little mite truly, but given with goodwill. Come up, then, fair Catherine and brave Count;appear, gallant

Brock, and faultless Billings;hasten hither, honest John Hayes: the former chapters are but flowers in

which we have been decking you for the sacrifice. Ascend to the altar, ye innocent lambs, and prepare for the

final act: lo! the knife is sharpened, and the sacrificer ready! Stretch your throats, sweet ones,for the public

That Mr. Hayes had some notion of the attachment of Monsieur de Galgenstein for his wife is very certain:

the man could not but perceive that she was more gaily dressed, and more frequently absent than usual; and

must have been quite aware that from the day of the quarrel until the present period, Catherine had never

asked him for a shilling for the house expenses. He had not the heart to offer, however; nor, in truth, did she

She received, in fact, many sums from the tender Count. Tom was likewise liberally provided by the same

personage; who was, moreover, continually sending presents of various kinds to the person on whom his

One of these gifts was a hamper of choice mountainwine, which had been some weeks in the house, and

excited the longing of Mr. Hayes, who loved wine very much. This liquor was generally drunk by Wood and

Billings, who applauded it greatly; and many times, in passing through the backparlour,which he had to

traverse in order to reach the stair, Hayes had cast a tender eye towards the drink; of which, had he dared, he

On the 1st of March, in the year 1726, Mr. Hayes had gathered together almost the whole sum with which he

intended to decamp; and having on that very day recovered the amount of a bill which he thought almost

hopeless, he returned home in tolerable goodhumour; and feeling, so near was his period of departure,

something like security. Nobody had attempted the least violence on him: besides, he was armed with pistols,

had his money in bills in a belt about his person, and really reasoned with himself that there was no danger

He entered the house about dusk, at five o'clock. Mrs. Hayes was absent with Mr. Billings; only Mr. Wood

was smoking, according to his wont, in the little backparlour; and as Mr. Hayes passed, the old gentleman

addressed him in a friendly voice, and, wondering that he had been such a stranger, invited him to sit and take

a glass of wine. There was a light and a foreman in the shop; Mr. Hayes gave his injunctions to that person,

The conversation, at first a little stiff between the two gentlemen, began speedily to grow more easy and

confidential: and so particularly bland and goodhumoured was Mr., or Doctor Wood, that his companion

was quite caught, and softened by the charm of his manner; and the pair became as good friends as in the

"I wish you would come down sometimes of evenings," quoth Doctor Wood; "for, though no booklearned

man, Mr. Hayes, look you, you are a man of the world, and I can't abide the society of boys. There's Tom,

now, since this tiff with Mrs. Cat, the scoundrel plays the Grank Turk here! The pair of 'em, betwixt them,

have completely gotten the upper hand of you. Confess that you are beaten, Master Hayes, and don't like the

"No more I do," said Hayes; "and that's the truth on't. A man doth not like to have his wife's sins flung in his

face, nor to be perpetually bullied in his own house by such a fiery sprig as that."

"Mischief, sir,mischief only," said Wood: "'tis the fun of youth, sir, and will go off as age comes to the lad.

Bad as you may think himand he is as skittish and fierce, sure enough, as a young coltthere is good

stuff in him; and though he hath, or fancies he hath, the right to abuse every one, by the Lord he will let none

others do so! Last week, now, didn't he tell Mrs. Cat that you served her right in the last beating matter? and

weren't they coming to knives, just as in your case? By my faith, they were. Ay, and at the "Braund's Head,"

when some fellow said that you were a bloody Bluebeard, and would murder your wife, stab me if Tom

The first of these stories was quite true; the second was only a charitable invention of Mr. Wood, and

employed, doubtless, for the amiable purpose of bringing the old and young men together. The scheme

partially succeeded; for, though Hayes was not so far mollified towards Tom as to entertain any affection for

a young man whom he had cordially detested ever since he knew him, yet he felt more at ease and cheerful

regarding himself: and surely not without reason. While indulging in these benevolent sentiments, Mrs.

Catherine and her son arrived, and found, somewhat to their astonishment, Mr. Hayes seated in the

backparlour, as in former times; and they were invited by Mr. Wood to sit down and drink.

We have said that certain bottles of mountainwine were presented by the Count to Mrs. Catherine: these

were, at Mr. Wood's suggestion, produced; and Hayes, who had long been coveting them, was charmed to

have an opportunity to drink his fill. He forthwith began bragging of his great powers as a drinker, and vowed

Mr. Wood grinned strangely, and looked in a peculiar way at Tom Billings, who grinned too. Mrs. Cat's eyes

The party began drinking. Hayes kept up his reputation as a toper, and swallowed one, two, three bottles

without wincing. He grew talkative and merry, and began to sing songs and to cut jokes; at which Wood

laughed hugely, and Billings after him. Mrs. Cat could not laugh; but sat silent.

What ailed her? Was she thinking of the Count? She had been with Max that day, and had promised him, for

the next night at ten, an interview near his lodgings at Whitehall. It was the first time that she would see him

alone. They were to meet (not a very cheerful place for a lovetryst) at St. Margaret's churchyard, near

Westminster Abbey. Of this, no doubt, Cat was thinking; but what could she mean by whispering to Wood,

"She means we are to have no more liquor," said Wood to Mr. Hayes; who heard this sentence, and seemed

"That's it,no more liquor," said Catherine eagerly; "you have had enough tonight. Go to bed, and lock

"But I say I've NOT had enough drink!" screamed Hayes; "I'm good for five bottles more, and wager I will

"Be YOU quiet!" growled Hayes, scowling at the lad. "I will drink what I please, and ask no counsel of

yours." And he muttered some more curses against young Billings, which showed what his feelings were

towards his wife's son; and which the latter, for a wonder, only received with a scornful smile, and a knowing

Well! the five extra bottles were brought, and drunk by Mr. Hayes; and seasoned by many songs from the

recueil of Mr. Thomas d'Urfey and others. The chief part of the talk and merriment was on Hayes's part; as,

indeed, was natural,for, while he drank bottle after bottle of wine, the other two gentlemen confined

And now might we depict, with much accuracy, the course of Mr. Hayes's intoxication, as it rose from the

merriment of the threebottle point to the madness of the fourfrom the uproarious quarrelsomeness of the

sixth bottle to the sickly stupidity of the seventh; but we are desirous of bringing this tale to a conclusion, and

must pretermit all consideration of a subject so curious, so instructive, and so delightful. Suffice it to say, as a

matter of history, that Mr. Hayes did actually drink seven bottles of mountainwine; and that Mr. Thomas

Billings went to the "Braund's Head," in Bond Street, and purchased another, which Hayes likewise drank.

"That'll do," said Mr. Wood to young Billings; and they led Hayes up to bed, whither, in truth, he was unable

Mrs. Springatt, the lodger, came down to ask what the noise was. "'Tis only Tom Billings making merry with

some friends from the country," answered Mrs. Hayes; whereupon Springatt retired, and the house was quiet.

After they had seen Mr. Hayes to bed, Billings remembered that he had a parcel to carry to some person in

the neighbourhood of the Strand; and, as the night was remarkably fine, he and Mr. Wood agreed to walk

(Here follows a description of the THAMES AT MIDNIGHT, in a fine historical style; with an account of

Lambeth, Westminster, the Savoy, Baynard's Castle, Arundel House, the Temple; of Old London Bridge,

with its twenty arches, "on which be houses builded, so that it seemeth rather a continuall street than a

bridge;"of Bankside, and the "Globe" and the "Fortune" Theatres; of the ferries across the river, and of the

pirates who infest the samenamely, tinklermen, petermen, hebbermen, trawlermen; of the fleet of barges

that lay at the Savoy steps; and of the long lines of slim wherries sleeping on the river banks and basking and

shining in the moonbeams. A combat on the river is described, that takes place between the crews of a

tinklerman's boat and the waterbailiffs. Shouting his warcry, "St. Mary Overy a la rescousse!" the

waterbailiff sprung at the throat of the tinklerman captain. The crews of both vessels, as if aware that the

struggle of their chiefs would decide the contest, ceased hostilities, and awaited on their respective poops the

issue of the deathshock. It was not long coming. "Yield, dog!" said the waterbailiff. The tinklerman could

not answerfor his throat was grasped too tight in the iron clench of the city champion; but drawing his

snickersnee, he plunged it seven times in the bailiff's chest: still the latter fell not. The deathrattle gurgled in

the throat of his opponent; his arms fell heavily to his side. Foot to foot, each standing at the side of his boat,

stood the brave menTHEY WERE BOTH DEAD! "In the name of St. Clement Danes," said the master,

"give way, my men!" and, thrusting forward his halberd (seven feet long, richly decorated with velvet and

brass nails, and having the city arms, argent, a cross gules, and in the first quarter a dagger displayed of the

second), he thrust the tinklerman's boat away from his own; and at once the bodies of the captains plunged

After this follows another episode. Two masked ladies quarrel at the door of a tavern overlooking the

Thames: they turn out to be Stella and Vanessa, who have followed Swift thither; who is in the act of reading

"Gulliver's Travels" to Gay, Arbuthnot, Bolingbroke, and Pope. Two fellows are sitting shuddering under a

doorway; to one of them Tom Billings flung a sixpence. He little knew that the names of those two young

Mr. Hayes did not join the family the next day; and it appears that the previous night's reconciliation was not

very durable; for when Mrs. Springatt asked Wood for Hayes, Mr. Wood stated that Hayes had gone away

without saying whither he was bound, or how long he might be absent. He only said, in rather a sulky tone,

that he should probably pass the night at a friend's house. "For my part, I know of no friend he hath," added

Mr. Wood; "and pray Heaven that he may not think of deserting his poor wife, whom he hath beaten and

illused so already!" In this prayer Mrs. Springatt joined; and so these two worthy people parted.

What business Billings was about cannot be said; but he was this night bound towards Marylebone Fields, as

he was the night before for the Strand and Westminster; and, although the night was very stormy and rainy, as

the previous evening had been fine, old Wood goodnaturedly resolved upon accompanying him; and forth

Mrs. Catherine, too, had HER business, as we have seen; but this was of a very delicate nature. At nine

o'clock, she had an appointment with the Count; and faithfully, by that hour, had found her way to Saint

Margaret's churchyard, near Westminster Abbey, where she awaited Monsieur de Galgenstein.

The spot was convenient, being very lonely, and at the same time close to the Count's lodgings at Whitehall.

His Excellency came, but somewhat after the hour; for, to say the truth, being a freethinker, he had the most

firm belief in ghosts and demons, and did not care to pace a churchyard alone. He was comforted, therefore,

when he saw a woman muffled in a cloak, who held out her hand to him at the gate, and said, "Is that you?"

He took her hand,it was very clammy and cold; and at her desire he bade his confidential footman, who

The torchbearer retired, and left them quite in darkness; and the pair entered the little cemetery, cautiously

threading their way among the tombs. They sat down on one, underneath a tree it seemed to be; the wind was

very cold, and its piteous howling was the only noise that broke the silence of the place. Catherine's teeth

were chattering, for all her wraps; and when Max drew her close to him, and encircled her waist with one

arm, and pressed her hand, she did not repulse him, but rather came close to him, and with her own damp

The poor thing was very wretched and weeping. She confided to Max the cause of her grief. She was alone in

the world,alone and penniless. Her husband had left her; she had that very day received a letter from him

which confirmed all that she had suspected so long. He had left her, carried away all his property, and would

If we say that a selfish joy filled the breast of Monsieur de Galgenstein, the reader will not be astonished. A

heartless libertine, he felt glad at the prospect of Catherine's ruin; for he hoped that necessity would make her

his own. He clasped the poor thing to his heart, and vowed that he would replace the husband she had lost,

"Yes, truly, in everything but the name, dear Catherine; and when he dies, I swear you shall be Countess of

"By everything that is most sacred: were you free now, I would" (and here he swore a terrific oath) "at once

We have seen before that it cost Monsieur de Galgenstein nothing to make these vows. Hayes was likely, too,

to live as long as Catherineas long, at least, as the Count's connection with her; but he was caught in his

She took his hand and kissed it repeatedly, and bathed it in her tears, and pressed it to her bosom. "Max," she

said, "I AM FREE! Be mine, and I will love you as I have done for years and years."

He let go her hand, and, interrupting her, said sharply, "Indeed, madam, if this carpenter never was your

husband, I see no cause why _I_ should be. If a lady, who hath been for twenty years the mistress of a

miserable country boor, cannot find it in her heart to put up with the protection of a noblemana sovereign's

"I was no man's mistress except yours," sobbed Catherine, wringing her hands and sobbing wildly; "but, O

Heaven! I deserved this. Because I was a child, and you saw, and ruined, and left mebecause, in my sorrow

and repentance, I wished to repair my crime, and was touched by that man's love, and married himbecause

he too deceives and leaves mebecause, after loving youmadly loving you for twenty yearsI will not

now forfeit your respect, and degrade myself by yielding to your will, you too must scorn me! It is too

Max was almost frightened by this burst of sorrow on her part, and was coming forward to support her; but

she motioned him away, and, taking from her bosom a letter, said, "If it were light, you could see, Max, how

cruelly I have been betrayed by that man who called himself my husband. Long before he married me, he was

married to another. This woman is still living, he says; and he says he leaves me for ever."

At this moment the moon, which had been hidden behind Westminster Abbey, rose above the vast black mass

of that edifice, and poured a flood of silver light upon the little church of St. Margaret's, and the spot where

the lovers stood. Max was at a little distance from Catherine, pacing gloomily up and down the flags. She

remained at her old position at the tombstone under the tree, or pillar, as it seemed to be, as the moon got up.

She was leaning against the pillar, and holding out to Max, with an arm beautifully white and rounded, the

letter she had received from her husband: "Read it, Max," she said: "I asked for light, and here is Heaven's

But Max did not come forward to receive it. On a sudden his face assumed a look of the most dreadful

surprise and agony. He stood still, and stared with wild eyes starting from their sockets; he stared upwards, at

a point seemingly above Catherine's head. At last he raised up his finger slowly and said, "Look, CatTHE

HEADTHE HEAD!" Then uttering a horrible laugh, he fell down grovelling among the stones, gibbering

Catherine started forward and looked up. She had been standing against a post, not a treethe moon was

shining full on it now; and on the summit strangely distinct, and smiling ghastly, was a livid human head.

The wretched woman fledshe dared look no more. And some hours afterwards, when, alarmed by the

Count's continued absence, his confidential servant came back to seek for him in the churchyard, he was

found sitting on the flags, staring full at the head, and laughing, and talking to it wildly, and nodding at it. He

was taken up a hopeless idiot, and so lived for years and years; clanking the chain, and moaning under the

lash, and howling through long nights when the moon peered through the bars of his solitary cell, and he

Therethe murder is out! And having indulged himself in a chapter of the very finest writing, the author

begs the attention of the British public towards it; humbly conceiving that it possesses some of those peculiar

merits which have rendered the fine writing in other chapters of the works of other authors so famous.

Without bragging at all, let us just point out the chief claims of the above pleasing piece of composition. In

the first place, it is perfectly stilted and unnatural; the dialogue and the sentiments being artfully arranged, so

as to be as strong and majestic as possible. Our dear Cat is but a poor illiterate country wench, who has come

from cutting her husband's throat; and yet, see! she talks and looks like a tragedy princess, who is suffering in

the most virtuous blank verse. This is the proper end of fiction, and one of the greatest triumphs that a

novelist can achieve: for to make people sympathise with virtue is a vulgar trick that any common fellow can

do; but it is not everybody who can take a scoundrel, and cause us to weep and whimper over him as though

he were a very saint. Give a young lady of five years old a skein of silk and a brace of nettingneedles, and

she will in a short time turn you out a decent silk purseanybody can; but try her with a sow's ear, and see

whether she can make a silk purse out of THAT. That is the work for your real great artist; and pleasant it is

The subject is strictly historical, as anyone may see by referring to the Daily Post of March 3, 1726, which

"Yesterday morning, early, a man's head, that by the freshness of it seemed to have been newly cut off from

the body, having its own hair on, was found by the river's side, near Millbank, Westminster, and was

afterwards exposed to public view in St. Margaret's churchyard, where thousands of people have seen it; but

none could tell who the unhappy person was, much less who committed such a horrid and barbarous action.

There are various conjectures relating to the deceased; but there being nothing certain, we omit them. The

The head which caused such an impression upon Monsieur de Galgenstein was, indeed, once on the shoulders

of Mr. John Hayes, who lost it under the following circumstances. We have seen how Mr. Hayes was induced

to drink. Mr. Hayes having been encouraged in drinking the wine, and growing very merry therewith, he sang

and danced about the room; but his wife, fearing the quantity he had drunk would not have the wishedfor

effect on him, she sent away for another bottle, of which he drank also. This effectually answered their

expectations; and Mr. Hayes became thereby intoxicated, and deprived of his understanding.

He, however, made shift to get into the other room, and, throwing himself upon the bed, fell asleep; upon

which Mrs. Hayes reminded them of the affair in hand, and told them that was the most proper juncture to

* The description of the murder and the execution of the culprits, which here follows in the original, was

taken from the newspapers of the day. Coming from such a source they have, as may be imagined, no literary

merit whatever. The details of the crime are simply horrible, without one touch of even that sort of romance

which sometimes gives a little dignity to murder. As such they precisely suited Mr. Thackeray's purpose at

the timewhich was to show the real manners and customs of the Sheppards and Turpins who were then the

popular heroes of fiction. But nowadays there is no such purpose to serve, and therefore these too literal

Ring, ding, ding! the gloomy green curtain drops, the dramatis personae are duly disposed of, the nimble

candle snuffers put out the lights, and the audience goeth pondering home. If the critic take the pains to ask

why the author, who hath been so diffuse in describing the early and fabulous acts of Mrs. Catherine's

existence, should so hurry off the catastrophe where a deal of the very finest writing might have been

employed, Solomons replies that the "ordinary" narrative is far more emphatic than any composition of his

own could be, with all the rhetorical graces which he might employ. Mr. Aram's trial, as taken by the

pennyaliners of those days, had always interested him more than the lengthened and poetical report which

an eminent novelist has given of the same. Mr. Turpin's adventures are more instructive and agreeable to him

in the account of the Newgate Plutarch, than in the learned Ainsworth's Biographical Dictionary. And as he

believes that the professional gentlemen who are employed to invest such heroes with the rewards that their

great actions merit, will go through the ceremony of the grand cordon with much more accuracy and despatch

than can be shown by the most distinguished amateur; in like manner he thinks that the history of such

investitures should be written by people directly concerned, and not by admiring persons without, who must

be ignorant of many of the secrets of Ketchcraft. We very much doubt if Milton himself could make a

description of an execution half so horrible as the simple lines in the Daily Post of a hundred and ten years

since, that now lies before us"herrlich wie am ersten Tag,"as bright and clean as on the day of

publication. Think of it! it has been read by Belinda at her toilet, scanned at "Button's" and "Will's," sneered

at by wits, talked of in palaces and cottages, by a busy race in wigs, red heels, hoops, patches, and rags of all

varietya busy race that hath long since plunged and vanished in the unfathomable gulf towards which we

Where are they? "Afflavit Deus"and they are gone! Hark! is not the same wind roaring still that shall

sweep us down? and yonder stands the compositor at his types who shall put up a pretty paragraph some day

to say how, "Yesterday, at his house in Grosvenor Square," or "At Botany Bay, universally regretted," died

SoandSo. Into what profound moralities is the paragraph concerning Mrs. Catherine's burning leading us!

Ay, truly, and to that very point have we wished to come; for, having finished our delectable meal, it behoves

us to say a word or two by way of grace at its conclusion, and be heartily thankful that it is over. It has been

the writer's object carefully to exclude from his drama (except in two very insignificant instancesmere

walkinggentlemen parts), any characters but those of scoundrels of the very highest degree. That he has not

altogether failed in the object he had in view, is evident from some newspaper critiques which he has had the

good fortune to see; and which abuse the tale of "Catherine" as one of the dullest, most vulgar, and immoral

works extant. It is highly gratifying to the author to find that such opinions are abroad, as they convince him

that the taste for Newgate literature is on the wane, and that when the public critic has right down undisguised

immorality set before him, the honest creature is shocked at it, as he should be, and can declare his

indignation in good round terms of abuse. The characters of the tale ARE immoral, and no doubt of it; but the

writer humbly hopes the end is not so. The public was, in our notion, dosed and poisoned by the prevailing

style of literary practice, and it was necessary to administer some medicine that would produce a wholesome

And, thank Heaven, this effect HAS been produced in very many instances, and that the "Catherine" cathartic

has acted most efficaciously. The author has been pleased at the disgust which his work has excited, and has

watched with benevolent carefulness the wry faces that have been made by many of the patients who have

swallowed the dose. Solomons remembers, at the establishment in Birchin Lane where he had the honour of

receiving his education, there used to be administered to the boys a certain coughmedicine, which was so

excessively agreeable that all the lads longed to have colds in order to partake of the remedy. Some of our

popular novelists have compounded their drugs in a similar way, and made them so palatable that a public,

once healthy and honest, has been wellnigh poisoned by their wares. Solomons defies anyone to say the like

of himselfthat his doses have been as pleasant as champagne, and his pills as sweet as barleysugar;it

has been his attempt to make vice to appear entirely vicious; and in those instances where he hath

occasionally introduced something like virtue, to make the sham as evident as possible, and not allow the

And what has been the consequence? That wholesome nausea which it has been his good fortune to create

Has anyone thrown away a halfpennyworth of sympathy upon any person mentioned in this history? Surely

no. But abler and more famous men than Solomons have taken a different plan; and it becomes every man in

Labouring under such ideas, Mr. Isaac Solomons, junior, produced the romance of Mrs. Cat, and confesses

himself completely happy to have brought it to a conclusion. His poem may be dullay, and probably is.

The great Blackmore, the great Dennis, the great Sprat, the great Pomfret, not to mention great men of our

own timehave they not also been dull, and had pretty reputations too? Be it granted Solomons IS dull; but

don't attack his morality; he humbly submits that, in his poem, no man shall mistake virtue for vice, no man

shall allow a single sentiment of pity or admiration to enter his bosom for any character of the piece: it being,

from beginning to end, a scene of unmixed rascality performed by persons who never deviate into good

feeling. And although he doth not pretend to equal the great modern authors, whom he hath mentioned, in wit

or descriptive power; yet, in the point of moral, he meekly believes that he has been their superior; feeling the

greatest disgust for the characters he describes, and using his humble endeavour to cause the public also to