 1 Winter's evening, towards the close of the year 1800, or within a year or two of that time. A young medical practitioner, recently established in business, was seated by a cheerful fire in his little parlor, listening to the wind which was beating the rain in pattering drops against the window, or rumbling dismally in the chimney. The night was wet and cold. He had been walking through mud and water the whole day, and was now comfortably reposing in his dressing gown and slippers, more than half asleep and less than half awake, revolving a thousand matters in his wandering imagination. First he thought how hard the wind was blowing, and how the cold sharp rain would be at that moment beating in his face if he were not comfortably housed at home. Then his mind reverted to his annual Christmas visit to his native place in Dearest Friends. He thought how glad they would all be to see him, and how happy it would make Rose if he could only tell her that he had found a patient at last and hoped to have more, and to come down again in a few months' time and marry her, and take her home to gladden his lonely fireside and stimulate him to fresh exertions. Then he began to wonder when his first patient would appear, or whether he was destined by a special dispensation of providence never to have any patients at all. And then he thought about Rose again and dropped asleep and dreamed about her till the tones of her sweet, merry voice sounded in his ears, and her soft, tiny hand rested on his shoulder. There was a hand upon his shoulder. But it was neither soft nor tiny, its owner being a corpulent, round-headed boy who, in consideration of the sum of one shilling per week and his food, was let out by the parish to carry medicine and messages. As there was no demand for the medicine, however, and no necessity for the messages, he usually occupied his unemployed hours, averaging fourteen a day, in abstracting peppermint drops, taking animal nourishment and going to sleep. "'A lady, sir—a lady!' whispered the boy, rousing his master with a shake. "'What lady?' cried our friend, starting up, not quite certain that his dream was an illusion, and half expecting that it might be Rose himself. What lady? Where?' "'There, sir,' replied the boy, pointing to the glass door leading into the surgery, with an expression of alarm which the very unusual apparition of a customer might have tended to excite. The surgeon looked towards the door and started himself for an instant on beholding the appearance of his unlooked-for visitor. It was a singularly tall woman, dressed in deep mourning and standing so close to the door that her face almost touched the glass. The upper part of her figure was carefully muffled in a black shawl, as if for the purpose of concealment, and her face was shrouded by a thick black veil. She stood perfectly erect, her figure was drawn up to its full height, and though the surgeon felt that the eyes beneath the veil were fixed on him, she stood perfectly motionless, and evinced by no gesture whatever the slightest consciousness of his having turned towards her. "'Do you wish to consult me?' he inquired, with some hesitation, holding open the door. It opened inwards, and therefore the action did not alter the position of the figure which still remained motionless on the same spot. She slightly inclined her head, in token of acquiescence. "'Pray, walk in,' said the surgeon. The figure moved a step forward, and then turning its head in the direction of the boy to his infinite horror, appeared to hesitate. "'Leave the room, Tom,' said the young man, addressing the boy, whose large round eyes had been extended to their utmost width during this brief interview. Draw the curtain and shut the door. The boy drew a green curtain across the glass part of the door, retired into the surgery, closed the door after him, and immediately applied one of his large eyes to the keyhole on the other side. The surgeon drew a chair to the fire and motioned the visitor to a seat. The mysterious figure slowly moved towards it. As the blaze shone upon the black dress, the surgeon observed that the bottom of it was saturated with mud and rain. "'You are very wet,' he said. "'I am,' said the stranger, in a low, deep voice. "'And you are ill,' added the surgeon, compassionately, for the tone was that of a person in pain. "'I am,' was the reply, very ill, not bodily, but mentally. "'It is not for myself, or on my own behalf,' continued the stranger, "'that I come to you. If I labored under bodily disease I should not be out alone at such an hour, or on such a night as this, and if I were afflicted with it twenty-four hours hence, God knows how gladly I would lie down and pray to die. It is for another that I beseech your aim, sir. I may be mad to ask it for him. I think I am. But night after night, through the long dreary hours of watching and weeping, the thought has been ever present to my mind, and though even I see the hopelessness of human assistance availing him, the bare thought of laying him in his grave without it makes my blood run cold. And a shutter, such as the surgeon well knew art could not produce, trembled through the speaker's frame. There was a desperate earnestness in this woman's matter that went to the young man's heart. He was young in his profession, and had not yet witnessed enough of the miseries which are daily presented before the eyes of its members to have grown comparatively callous to human suffering. "'If,' he said, rising hastily, the person of whom you speak, be and so hopeless a condition as you describe, not a moment is to be lost. I will go with you instantly. Why did you not obtain medical advice before? Because it would have been useless before. Because it is useless even now,' replied the woman, clasping her hands passionately. The surgeon gazed for a moment on the black veil, as if to ascertain the expression of the features beneath it. Its thickness, however, rendered such a result impossible. You are ill, he said gently. Although you do not know it, the fever which has enabled you to bear without feeling it, the fatigue you have ever deadly undergone, is burning within you now. Put that to your lips, he continued, pouring out a glass of water. Compose yourself for a few moments, and then tell me as calmly as you can what the disease of the patient is and how long he has been ill. When I know what it is necessary, I should know, to render my visit serviceable to him. I am ready to accompany you." The stranger lifted the glass of water to her mouth, without raising the veil. Put it down again, untaste it, and burst into tears. I know, she said, sobbing aloud, that what I say to you now seems like the ravings of fever. I have been told so before, less kindly than by you. I am not a young woman, and they do say that as life steals on towards its final close, the last short-rembed it worthless as it may seem to all beside, is dearer to which possessor than all the years that have gone before, connected though they be with the recollection of old friends long since did, and young ones, children, perhaps, who have fallen off from and forgotten one as completely as if they had died too. My natural term of life cannot be many years longer, and should be dear on that account, but I would lay it down without a sigh, with cheerfulness, with joy, if what I tell you now were only faults or imaginary. Tomorrow morning, he of whom I speak will be, I know, though I would feign to think otherwise, beyond the reach of human aid, and yet to-night, though he is in deadly peril, you must not see and could not serve him. I am unwilling to increase your distress, said the surgeon, after a short pause, by making any comment on what you have just said or appearing desirous to investigate a subject you are so anxious to conceal, but there is an inconsistency in your statement which I cannot reconcile with probability. This person is dying to-night, and I cannot see him when my assistance might possibly avail. You apprehend it will be useless to-morrow, and yet you would have me see him then. If he be indeed as dear to you as your words and manner would imply, why not try to save his life before delay in the progress of his disease render it impracticable? What help, he exclaimed the woman, weeping bitterly. How can I hope strangers will believe what appears incredible even to myself? You will not see him, then, sir," she added, rising suddenly. I did not say that I declined to see him, replied the surgeon, but I warn you, that if you persist in this extraordinary procrastination and the individual dies, a fearful responsibility rests with you. The responsibility will rest heavily somewhere," replied the stranger bitterly. Whatever responsibility rests with me I am content to bear and ready to answer. As I incur none, continued the surgeon, by acceding to your request, I will see him in the morning, if you leave me the address. At what hour can he be seen?" Nine, replied the stranger. You must excuse my pressing these inquiries, said the surgeon. But is he in your charge now? He is not, was the rejoiner. Then, if I gave you instructions for his treatment through the night, you could not assist him. The woman wept bitterly, as she replied. I could not. Finding that there was but little prospect of obtaining more information by prolonging the interview, and anxious to spare the woman's feelings, which subdued at first by a violent effort, were now irrepressible and most painful to witness. The surgeon repeated his promise of calling in the morning at the appointed hour. His visitor, after giving him a direction to an obscure part of Walworth, left the house in the same mysterious manner in which she had entered it. It will be readily believed that so extraordinary a visit produced a considerable impression on the mind of the young surgeon, and that he speculated a great deal and to very little purpose on the possible circumstances of the case. In common with the generality of people, he had often heard and read as singular instances in which a presentiment of death at a particular day or even minute had been entertained and realized. At one moment he was inclined to think that the present might be such a case, but then it occurred to him that all the anecdotes of the kind he had ever heard were of persons who had been troubled with a foreboding of their own death. This woman, however, spoke of another person, a man, and it was impossible to suppose that a mere dream or delusion of fancy would induce her to speak of his approaching dissolution with such terrible certainty as she has spoken. It could not be that the man was to be murdered in the morning, and that the woman originally a consenting party and bound to secrecy by an oath had relented, and though unable to prevent the commission of some outrage on the victim, had determined to prevent his death if possible by the timely interposition of medical aid. The idea of such things happening within two miles of the metropolis appeared too wild and preposterous to be entertained beyond the instant. Then his original impression that the woman's intellects were disordered, recurred, and, as it was the only mode of solving the difficulty with any degree of satisfaction, he obstinately made up his mind to believe that she was mad. Certain misgivings upon this point, however, stole upon his thoughts at the time and presented themselves again and again through the long, dull course of a sleepless night, during which, in spite of all his efforts to the contrary, he was unable to banish the black veil from his disturbed imagination. The back part of Walworth, at its greatest distance from town, is a straggling, miserable place enough even in these days, but five and thirty years ago the greater portion of it was little better than a dreary waste inhabited by a few scattered people of questionable character whose poverty prevented them living in any better neighborhood, or whose pursuits and mode of life rendered its solitude desirable. Very many of the houses which have since sprung up on all sides were not built until some years afterwards, and the great majority even of those which were sprinkled about at irregular intervals were of the rudest and most miserable description. The appearance of the place through which he walked in the morning was not calculated to raise the spirits of the young surgeon, or to dispel any feelings of anxiety or depression which the singular kind of visit he was about to make had awakened. Striking off from the high road his way lay across a marshy common through irregular lanes, with here and there a runuous and dismantled cottage fell falling to pieces with decay and neglect. A stunted tree or pool of stagnant water roused into a sluggish action by the heavy rain of the preceding night, skirting the path occasionally, and now and then a miserable pitch of garden ground with a few old boards knocked together for a summer-house, and old palings imperfectly mended with stakes pilfered from the neighbouring hedges bore testimony at once to the poverty of the inhabitants, and the little scruple they entertained in appropriating the property of other people to their own use. Occasionally a filthy-looking woman would make her appearance from the door of a dirty house, to empty the contents of sound cooking utensil into the gutter in front, or to scream after a little slipshod girl who had contrived a stagger a few yards from the door under the weight of a sallow infant almost as big as herself, but scarcely anything was stirring around, and so much of the prospect as could be fatally traced through the cold, damp mist which hung heavily over it, presented a lonely and dreary appearance perfectly in keeping with the objects we have described. After plodding wearily through the mud and mire, making many inquiries for the place to which he had been directed, and receiving as many contradictory and unsatisfactory replies in return, the young man at length arrived before the house which had been pointed out to him as the object of his destination. It was a small, low building, one story above the ground, with even a more desolate and unpromising exterior than any he had yet passed. An old yellow curtain was closely drawn across the window upstairs, and the parlour shutters were closed but not fastened. The house was detached from any other, and as it stood at an angle of a narrow lane there was no other habitation in sight. When we say that the surgeon hesitated, and walked a few paces beyond the house before he could prevail upon himself to lift the knocker, we say nothing that need raise a smile upon the face of the boldest reader. The police of London were a very different body in that day, the isolated position of the suburbs, when the rage for building and the progress of improvement had not yet begun to connect them with the main body of the city and its environs, rendered many of them, and this in particular, a place of resort for the worst and most depraved characters. Even the streets in the gayest part of London were imperfectly lighted at that time, and such places as these were left entirely to the mercy of the moon and stars. The chances of detecting desperate characters or of tracing them to their haunts were thus rendered very few, and their offences naturally increased in boldness as the consciousness of comparative security became the more impressed upon them by daily experience. Added to these considerations, it must be remembered that the young man had spent some time in the public hospitals in the metropolis, and although neither Burke nor Bishop had then gained an honourable notoriety, his own observation might have suggested to him how easily the atrocities to which the former had since given his name might be committed. Be this as it may, never reflection made him hesitate. He did hesitate. But being a young man of strong mind and great personal courage, it was only for an instant. He stepped briskly back and knocked gently at the door. A low whispering was audible immediately afterwards, as if some person at the end of the passage were conversing stealthily with another on the landing above. It was succeeded by the noise of a pair of heavy boots upon the bare floor. The door chain was softly unfastened, the door opened, and a tall ill-favoured man with black hair and a face as the surgeon often declared afterwards as pale and haggard as the countenance of any dead man he ever saw presented himself. Walk in, sir," he said in a low tone. The surgeon did so, and the man having secured the door again by the chain led the way to a small back parlor at the extremity of the passage. Am I in time?" Too soon," replied the man. The surgeon turned hastily round, with a gesture of astonishment not unmixed with alarm, which he found it impossible to repress. "'If you'll step in here, sir,' said the man, who had evidently noticed the action. "'If you'll step in here, sir, you won't be detained five minutes, I assure you.' The surgeon at once walked into the room. The man closed the door and left him alone. It was a little cold room, with no other furniture than two deal-chairs and a table of the same material. A handful of fire, unguarded by any fender, was burning in the grate which brought out the damp if it served no more comfortable purpose, for the unwholesome moisture was stealing down the walls in long slug-like tracks. The window which was broken and patched in many places looked into a small enclosed piece of ground almost covered with water. Not a sound was to be heard either within the house or without. The young surgeon sat down by the fireplace to await the result of his first professional visit. He had to remain in the position many minutes, when the noise of some approaching vehicle struck his ear. It stopped. The street door was opened. A low talking succeeded, accompanied with a shuffling noise of footsteps along the passage and on the stairs, as if two or three men were engaged in carrying some heavy body to the room above. The creaking of the stairs a few seconds afterwards, announced that the newcomers, having completed their task whatever it was, were leaving the house. The door was again closed, and the former silence was restored. Another five minutes had elapsed, and the surgeon had resolved to explore the house in search of someone to whom he might make his errand known, when the room door opened, and his last night's visitor dressed it exactly the same manner with the veil lowered as before motioned him to advance. The singular height of her form coupled with the circumstance of her not speaking caused the idea to pass across his brain for an instant that it might be a man disguised in woman's attire. The hysteric sobs which issued from beneath the veil, and the convulsive attitude of grief of the whole figure, however, at once exposed the absurdity of the suspicion, and he hastily followed. The woman led the way upstairs to the front room and paused at the door to let him enter first. It was scantily furnished with an old deal-box, a few chairs, and a tent bedstead, without hangings or cross-rails, which was covered with a patchwork counterpane. The dim light admitted through the curtain which he had noticed from the outside rendered the objects in the room so indistinct and communicated to all of them so uniform a hue that he did not at first perceive the object on which his eye at once rested when the woman rushed frantically past him, and flung herself on her knees by the bedside. Stretched upon the bed, closely enveloped in a linen wrapper, and covered with blankets, lay a human form stiff and motionless. The head and face which were those of a man, were uncovered saved by a bandage which passed over the head and under the chin. The eyes were closed. The left arm lay heavily across the bed, and the woman held the passive hand. The surgeon gently pushed the woman aside, and took the hand in his. "'My God!' he exclaimed, letting it fall involuntarily, the man is dead. The woman started to her feet and beat her hands together. "'Oh, don't say so, sir,' she exclaimed, with a burst of passion and mounting almost a frenzy. "'Oh, don't say so, sir, I can't bear it. Men have been brought to life before when unskillful people have given them up for lost, and men have died, who might have been restored if proper means had been resorted to. Don't let him lie here, sir, without one effort to save him. This very moment life may be passing away. Do try, sir, do for heaven's sake.' And while speaking she hurriedly chafed first the forehead and then the breast of the senseless form before her, and then wildly beat the cold hands which, when she ceased to hold them, fell listlessly and heavily back on the coverlet. "'It is of no use, my good woman,' said the surgeon, soothingly, as he withdrew his hand from the man's breast. Stay, undraw that curtain. Why?' said the woman, starting up. "'Undraw that curtain,' repeated the surgeon, in an agitated tone. "'I darkened the room on purpose,' said the woman, throwing herself before him as he rose to undraw it. "'Oh, sir, have pity on me. If it can be of no use, then he is really dead to not expose that form to other eyes than mine.' "'This man died no natural or easy death,' said the surgeon. "'I must see the body.' With emotion so sudden that the woman hardly knew that he had slipped from beside her, he tore over the curtain, admitted the full light of day, and returned to the bedside. "'There has been violence here,' he said, pointing towards the body and gazing intently on the face, from which the black veil was now for the first time removed. In the excitement of a minute before, the female had thrown off the bonnet and veil, and now stood with her eyes fixed upon him. Her features were those of a woman about fifty, who had once been handsome. Sorrow and weeping had left traces upon them, which not time itself would ever have produced without their aid. Her face was deadly pale, and there was a nervous contortion of the lip, and an unnatural fire in her eye, which showed too plainly that her bodily and mental powers had nearly sunk beneath an accumulation of misery. "'There has been violence here,' said the surgeon, preserving his searching glance. "'There has,' replied the woman, "'this man has been murdered. But I call God to witness he has,' said the woman, passionately, pituitously, inhumanly murdered. By whom?' said the surgeon, seizing the woman by the arm. "'Look at the butcher's marks and then ask me,' she replied. The surgeon turned his face towards the bed and bent over the body, which now lay full in the light of the window. The throat was swollen, and a livid mark encircled it. The truth flashed suddenly upon him. This is one of the men who were hanged this morning,' he exclaimed, turning away with a shudder. "'It is,' replied the woman, with a cold, unmeaning stare. "'Who was he?' inquired the surgeon. "'My son,' rejoined the woman, and fell senseless at his feet. It was true. A companion equally guilty with himself had been acquitted for want of evidence, and this man had been left for death and executed. To recount the circumstances of the case at this distant period must be unnecessary, and might give pain to some person still alive. The history was an everyday one. The mother was a widow without friends or money, and had denied herself necessaries to bestow them on her orphan boy. That boy, unmindful of her prayers and forgetful of the suffering she had endured for him, incessant anxiety of mind and voluntary starvation of body, had plunged into a career of dissipation and crime, and this was the result. His own death by the hangman's hands, and his mother's shame and incurable insanity. For many years after this occurrence, and when profitable and arduous applications would have led many men to forget that such a miserable being existed, the young surgeon was a daily visitor at the side of the harmless madwoman, not only soothing her by his presence and kindness, but alleviating the rigor of her condition by pecuniary donations for her comfort and support bestowed with no sparing hand. In the transient gleam of recollection and consciousness which preceded her death, a prayer for his welfare and protection, as fervent as mortal ever breathed, rose from the lips of this poor friendless creature. That prayer flew to heaven and was heard. The blessings he was instrumental in conferring have been repaid to him a thousandfold, but amid all the honors of rank and station which have since been heaped upon him, and which he has so well earned he could have no reminiscence more gratifying to his heart than that connected with the black veil. CHAPTER VII Mr. Pearseet-Noakes was a law-student, inhabiting a set of chambers on the fourth floor in one of those houses in Grey's Inn Square which command an extensive view of the gardens and their usual adjuncts, flaunting nursery-maids and town-made children with parenthetical legs. Mr. Pearseet-Noakes was what is generally termed a devilish good-fellow. He had a large circle of acquaintance and seldom dined at his own expense. He used to talk politics to papas, after the vanity of mamas, do the amiable to their daughters, make pleasure engagements with their sons, and romp with the younger branches. Like those paragons of perfection, advertising footmen out of place, he was always willing to make himself generally useful. If any old lady whose son was in India gave a ball, Mr. Pearseet-Noakes was master of the ceremonies. If any young lady made a stolen match, Mr. Pearseet-Noakes gave her away. If a juvenile wife presented her husband with a blooming cherub, Mr. Pearseet-Noakes was either godfather or deputy godfather, and if any member of a friend's family died, Mr. Pearseet-Noakes was invariably to be seen in the second morning-coach, with a white handkerchief to his eyes sobbing, to use his own appropriate and expressive description like Winken. It may readily be imagined that these numerous avocations were rather calculated to interfere with Mr. Pearseet-Noakes's professional studies. Mr. Pearseet-Noakes was perfectly aware of the fact, and had therefore, after mature reflection, made up his mind not to study at all—a laudable determination to which he adhered in the most praiseworthy manner. His sitting-room presented a strange chaos of dress-gloves, boxing-gloves, caricatures, albums, invitation cards, foils, cricket-pats, cardboard drawings, paced gum, and fifty other miscellaneous articles heaped together in the strangest confusion. He was always making something for somebody, or planning some party of pleasure, which was his great forte. He invariably spoke with astonishing rapidity, was smart, spoffish, and eight and twenty. Splendid I, dear, upon my life so lilic-wise, Mr. Pearseet-Noakes over his morning-coffee, as his mind reverted to a suggestive which had been thrown out on the previous night, by a lady at whose house he had spent the evening. Glorious I, dear Mrs. Stubbs! Yes, sir, replied a dirty old woman with an inflamed countenance, emerging from the bedroom with a barrel of dirt and cinders. This was the laundress. Did you call, sir? Oh, Mrs. Stubbs, I'm going out. If that tailor should call again, you'd better say—you'd better say I'm out of town and shan't be back for a fortnight. And if that bootmaker should come tell him I've lost his address, or I'd have sent him that little amount, mind he writes it down, and if Mr. Hardy should call—you know, Mr. Hardy—the funny gentleman, sir? Ah, the funny gentleman! If Mr. Hardy should call, say, I've gone to Mrs. Taunton's about that water-party. Yes, sir. And if any fellow calls and says he's come about a steamer, tell him to be here at five o'clock this afternoon, Mrs. Stubbs. Very well, sir. Mr. Piercy Noakes brushed his hat, whisked the crumbs off his inexpressibles with a silk handkerchief, gave the ends of his hair a persuasive roll round his forefinger, and sallied forth from Mrs. Taunton's domicile in Great Marlborough Street, where she and her daughters occupied the upper part of a house. She was a good-looking widow of fifty, with the form of a giantess and the mind of a child. The pursuit of pleasure and some means of killing time were the sole end of her existence. She doted on her daughters, who were as frivolous as herself. A general exclamation of satisfaction hailed the arrival of Mr. Piercy Noakes, who went through the ordinary salutations and threw himself into an easy chair near the lady's work-table, with the ease of a regularly established friend of the family. Mrs. Taunton was busily engaged in planting immense bright bows on every part of a smart cap on which it was possible to stick one. Ms. Emily Taunton was making a watchguard. Ms. Sophia was at the piano, practising a new song, poetry by the young officer, or the police officer, or the custom-host officer, or some other interesting amateur. "'You good creature,' said Mrs. Taunton, addressing the gallant Piercy. "'You really are a good soul. You've come about the water-party, I know.' "'I should rather suspect I had,' replied Mr. Noakes triumphantly. "'Now come here, girls, and I'll tell you all about it.' Miss Emily and Miss Sophia advanced to the table. Now continued Mr. Piercy Noakes. It seems to me that the best way will be to have a committee of ten to make all the arrangements and manage the whole set-out. Then I propose that the expenses shall be paid by these ten fellows jointly.' "'Excellent indeed,' said Mrs. Taunton, who highly approved of this part of the arrangements. Then my plan is that each of these ten fellows shall have the power of asking five people. There must be a meeting of the committee at my chambers to make all the arrangements, and these people shall be then named, every member of the committee shall have the power of blackballing any one who is proposed, and one blackball shall exclude that person. This will ensure our having a pleasant party, you know. "'What a manager you are,' interrupted Mrs. Taunton again. "'Charming,' said the lovely Emily. "'I never did,' ejaculated Sophia.' "'Yes, I think it'll do,' replied Mr. Piercy Noakes, who was now quite in his element. "'I think it'll do. Then you know we shall go down to the North and back, and have a regular capital-cold dinner laid out in the cabin before we start, so that everything may be ready without any confusion, and we shall have the lunch laid out on deck in those little tea-garden-looking concerns by the paddle-boxes. I don't know what you call them. Then we shall hire a steamer expressly for our party, and a band, and have the deck chalked, and we shall be able to dance quadrils all day, and then, whoever we know that's musical, you know, why they'll make themselves useful and agreeable, and upon the whole I really hope we shall have a glorious day, you know. The announcement of these arrangements was received with the utmost enthusiasm. Mrs. Taunton, Emily, and Sophia were loud in their praises. "'Well, but tell me, Piercy,' said Mrs. Taunton, "'who are the ten gentlemen to be? Oh, I know plenty of fellows who'll be delighted with the scheme,' replied Mr. Piercy-Noakes. "'Of course we shall have Mr. Hardy,' interrupted the servant, announcing a visitor. Miss Sophia and Miss Emily hastily assumed the most interesting attitudes that could be adopted on so short a notice. "'How are you?' said a stout gentleman of about forty, pausing at the door in the attitude of an awkward harlequin. This was Mr. Hardy, whom we have before described on the authority of Mrs. Stubbs as the funny gentleman. He was an astly Cooperish Joe Miller, a practical joker, immensely popular with married ladies, and a general favorite with young men. He was always engaged in some pleasure excursion or other, and delighted in getting somebody into a scrape on such occasions. He could sing comic songs, imitate hackney coachmen and fouls, play airs on his chin, and execute concertos on the Jews harp. He always eat and drink most immoderately, and was the bosom friend of Mr. Piercy-Noakes. He had a red face, a somewhat husky voice, and a tremendous laugh. "'How are you?' said this worthy, laughing as if it were the finest joke in the world to make a morning-call, and shaking hands with the ladies with as much vehemence as if their arms had been so many pump-handles. "'You're just the very man I wanted,' said Mr. Piercy-Noakes, who proceeded to explain the cause of his being in requisition. "'Ha, ha, ha!' shouted Hardy after hearing the statement, and receiving a detailed account of the proposed excursion. "'Oh, capitol! Glorious! What a day it will be! What fun! But I say, when are you going to begin making the arrangements? No time like the present, at once, if you please?' "'Oh, charming!' cried the ladies. Pray do!' Writing materials were laid before Mr. Piercy-Noakes, and the names of the different members of the committee were agreed on, after as much discussion between him and Mr. Hardy as if the fate of nations had depended on their appointment. It was then agreed that a meeting should take place at Mr. Piercy-Noakes' chambers on the ensuing Wednesday evening at eight o'clock, and the visitors departed. Wednesday evening arrived. Eight o'clock came, and eight members of the committee were punctual in their attendance. Mr. Loggins, the solicitor of Boswell Court, sent an excuse, and Mr. Samuel Briggs, the ditto of Fernival's Inn, sent his brother, much to his, the brother's, satisfaction, and greatly to the discompature of Mr. Piercy-Noakes. Between the Briggs's and the Taunton's there existed a degree of implacable hatred, quite unprecedented. The animosity between the Montague's and Capulitz was nothing to that which prevailed between these two illustrious houses. Mrs. Briggs was a widow, with three daughters and two sons. Mr. Samuel, the eldest, was an attorney, and Mr. Alexander, the youngest, was under articles to his brother. They resided in Portland Street, Oxford Street, and moved in the same orbit as the Taunton's, hence their mutual dislike. If the Miss Briggs appeared in smart budgets, the Miss Taunton's eclipsed them with smarter. If Mrs. Taunton appeared in a cap of all the hues in the rainbow, Mrs. Briggs forthwith mounted a toque, with all the patterns of the kaleidoscope. If Miss Sophia Taunton learned a new song, two of the Miss Briggs's came out with a new duet. The Taunton's had at once gained a temporary triumph with the assistance of a harp, but the Briggs's brought three guitars into the field and effectually routed the enemy. There was no end to the rivalry between them. Now, as Mr. Samuel Briggs was a mere machine, a sort of self-acting legal walking-stick, and as the party was known to have originated, however remotely with Mrs. Taunton, the female branches of the Briggs family had arranged that Mr. Alexander should attend instead of his brother, and, as the same Mr. Alexander was deservedly celebrated for possessing all the pertinency of a bankruptcy court attorney, combined with the obscenity of that useful animal which browses on the thistle, he required but little tuition. He was especially enjoying to make himself as disagreeable as possible, and, above all, to blackball the Taunton's at every hazard. The proceedings of the evening were opened by Mr. Piercy Noakes. After successfully urging on the gentleman present the propriety of their mixing some brandy and water, he briefly stated the object of the meeting and concluded by observing that the first step must be the selection of a chairman, necessarily possessing some arbitrary, he trusted not unconstitutional, powers to whom the personal direction of the whole of the arrangement subject to the approval of the committee should be confided. A pale young gentleman in a green stock and spectacles of the same, a member of the Honorable Society of the Inner Temple, immediately rose for the purpose of proposing Mr. Piercy Noakes. He had known him long, and this he would say, that a more Honorable, a more excellent, or a better-hearted fellow never existed, here, here. The young gentleman, who was a member of a debating society, took this opportunity of entering into an examination of the state of the English law from the days of William the Conqueror down to the present period. He briefly adverted to the code established by the ancient Druids, slightly glanced at the principles laid down by the Athenian lawgivers, and concluded with a most glowing eulogium on picnics and constitutional rights. Mr. Alexander Briggs opposed the motion. He had the highest esteem for Mr. Piercy Noakes as an individual, but he did consider that he ought not to be entrusted with these immediate powers. Oh, oh! He believed that in the proposed capacity Mr. Piercy Noakes would not act fairly impartially or honorably, but he begged it to be distinctly understood that he said this without the slightest personal disrespect. Mr. Hardy defended his honorable friend in a voice rendered partially unintelligible by emotion and brandy in water. The proposition was put to the vote, and there appearing to be only one dissentient voice, Mr. Piercy Noakes was declared duly elected, and took the chair accordingly. The business of the meeting now proceeded with rapidity. The chairman delivered in his testament of the probable expense of the excursion, and every one present subscribed his portion thereof. The question was put that the endeavor be hired for the occasion. Mr. Alexander Briggs moved as an amendment that the words fly be substituted for the word endeavor, but after some debate consented to withdraw his opposition. The important ceremony of balloting then commenced. A tea-caddy was placed on a table in a dark corner of the apartment, and every one was provided with two back-gammon men, one black and one white. The chairman, with great solemnity, then read the following list of the guests whom he proposed to introduce. Mrs. Taunton and two daughters, Mr. Whistle, Mr. Simpson. The names were respectively balloted for, and Mrs. Taunton and her daughters were declared to be black-balled. Mr. Piercy Noakes and Mr. Hardy exchanged glances. Is your list prepared, Mr. Briggs? It is, replied Alexander, delivering in the following. Mrs. Briggs and three daughters, Mr. Samuel Briggs, the previous ceremony was repeated, and Mrs. Briggs and three daughters were declared to be black-balled. Mr. Alexander Briggs looked rather foolish, and the remainder of the company appeared somewhat over-odd by the mysterious nature of the proceedings. The battle-ting proceeded, but one little circumstance which Mr. Piercy Noakes had not originally foreseen prevented the system from working quite as well as he had anticipated. Everybody was black-balled. Mr. Alexander Briggs, by way of retaliation, exercised his power of exclusion in every instance, and the result was that after three hours had been consumed and in hard balloting, the names of only three gentlemen were found to have been agreed to. In this dilemma, what was to be done? Either the whole plan must fall to the ground, or a compromise must be affected. The latter alternative was preferable, and Mr. Piercy Noakes therefore proposed that the form of balloting should be dispensed with, and that every gentleman should merely be required to state whom he intended to bring. The proposal was acceded to, the tauntons and the Briggs's were reinstated, and the party was formed. The next Wednesday was fixed for the eventful day, and it was unanimously resolved that every member of the committee should wear a piece of blue, sarsen and ribbon round his left arm. It appeared from the statement of Mr. Piercy Noakes that the boat belonged to the General Steam Navigation Company, and was then lying off the Custom House. And, as he proposed that the dinner and wines should be provided by an eminent city purveyor, it was arranged that Mr. Piercy Noakes should be on board by seven o'clock to superintend the arrangements, and that the remaining members of the committee, together with the company generally, should be expected to join her by nine o'clock. More brandy and water was dispatched, several speeches were made by the different law students present, thanks for voting to the chairman, and the meeting separated. The weather had been beautiful up to this period, and beautiful it continued to be. Sunday passed over, and Mr. Piercy Noakes became unusually fidgety, rushing constantly to and from the steam packet-warf to the astonishment of the clerks and the great emilument of the Holborn Cabin. Tuesday arrived, and the anxiety of Mr. Piercy Noakes knew no bounds. He was every instant running to the window to look out for clouds, and Mr. Hardy astonished the whole square by practicing a new comic song for the occasion in the chairman's chambers. Uneasy were the slumbers of Mr. Piercy Noakes that night. He tossed and tumbled about, and had confused dreams of steamers starting off in gigantic clocks with the hands pointing to a quarter past nine, and the ugly face of Mr. Alexander Briggs looking over the boat's side, and grinning as if into rition of his fruitless attempts to move. He made a violent effort to get on board and awoke. The bright sun was shining cheerfully into the bedroom, and Mr. Piercy Noakes started up for his watch in the dreadful expectation of finding his worst dreams realized. It was just five o'clock. He calculated the time. He should have a good half-hour dressing himself, and as it was a lovely morning, and the tide would be then running down, he would walk leisurely to Strand Lane and have a boat to the Custom House. He dressed himself, took a hasty apology for a breakfast, and sallied forth. The streets looked as lonely and deserted as if they had been crowded overnight for the last time. Here and there an early apprentice with quenched looking sleepy eyes was taking down the shutters of a shop, and a policeman or milkwoman might occasionally be seen pacing slowly along, but the servants had not yet begun to clean the doors or light the kitchen fires, and London looked the picture of desolation. At the corner of a by- street near Temple Bar was stationed a street breakfast. The coffee was boiling over a charcoal fire, and large slices of bread and butter were piled one upon the other like deals in a timber yard. The company were seated on a form, which, with a view both to security and comfort, was placed against a neighbouring wall. Two young men, whose uproious mirth and disordered dress bespoke the conviviality of the preceding evening, were treating three ladies and an Irish labourer. A little sweep was standing at a short distance, casting a longing eye at the tempting delicacies, and a policeman was watching the group from the opposite side of the street. The wan looks and gaudy finery of the thinly-clad women contrasted as strangely with the gay sunlight, as did their forced merriment with the boisterous hilarity of the two young men, who now and then varied their amusements bonneting the proprietor of this itinerant coffee-hose. Mr. Piercy Noakes walked briskly by, and when he turned down strand-lane and caught a glimpse of the glistening water, he thought he had never felt so important or so happy in his life. Boatser cried one of the three watermen who were mopping out their boats and all whistling, Boatser? No, replied Mr. Piercy Noakes rather sharply, for the inquiry was not made in a manner at all suitable to his dignity. Would you prefer a whistle, sir? inquired another to the infant delight of the jack in the water. Mr. Piercy Noakes replied with a look of supreme contempt. Did you want to be put on board a steamer, sir? inquired an old fireman-waterman very confidentially. He was dressed in a faded red suit, just the color of the cover of a very old court-guy. Yes, make haste the endeavour off the custom-house. Endeavour cried the man who had convulsed the jack before, for I see the endeavour go up half an hour ago, so did I, said another, and I should think she'd gone down by this time, but she's a precious sight too full of ladies and gentlemen. Mr. Piercy Noakes affected to disregard these representations, and stepped into the boat which the old man, by dint of scrambling and shoving and grating, had brought up to the cause-way. Shuffer off, cried Mr. Piercy Noakes, and way the boat glided down the river. Mr. Piercy Noakes seated on the recently mopped seat, and the water-man at the stairs offering to bet him any reasonable sum that he'd never reached the custom-house. Here she is, by Jove, said the delightful Piercy as they ran alongside the endeavour. Hold hard, cried the steward over the side, and Mr. Piercy Noakes jumped on board. Hope you will find everything as you wished, sir. She looks uncommon well this morning. She does indeed, replied the manager, in a state of ecstasy which it is impossible to describe. The deck was scrubbed and the seats were scrubbed, and there was a bench for the band and a place for dancing and a pile of campstools, and an awning, and then Mr. Piercy Noakes bustled down below, and there were the pastry-cooks men and the steward's wife laying out the dinner on two tables the whole length of the cabin. And then Mr. Piercy Noakes took off his coat and rushed backwards and forwards, doing nothing but quite convinced he was assisting everybody, and the steward's wife laughed till she cried, and Mr. Piercy Noakes panted with the violence of his exertions. And then the bell at London Bridge wharf rang, and a Margate boat was just starting, and a Gravesend boat was just starting, and people shouted, and porters ran down the steps with luggage that would crush any man but porters, and sloping boards, with bits of wood nailed on them, were placed between the outside boat and the inside boat, and the passengers ran along them, and looked like so many fouls coming out of an area, and then the bell ceased, and the boards were taken away and the boat started, and the whole scene was one of the most delightful bustle and confusion. The time wore on. Half-past eight o'clock arrived, the pastry-cooks men went ashore, the dinner was completely laid out, and Mr. Piercy Noakes locked the principal cabin and put the key in his pocket in order that it might be suddenly disclosed in all its magnificence to the eyes of the astonished company. The band came on board and so did the wine. Ten minutes to nine, and the committee embarked in a body. There was Mr. Hardy in a blue jacket and waistcoat, white trousers, silk stockings, and pumps, in full aquatic costume, with a straw hat on his head, and an immense telescope under his arm, and there was the young gentleman with the green spectacles in Nanking, inexplicables, with a ditto waistcoat and bright buttons, like the pictures of Paul, not the saint, but he of Virginia notoriety. The remainder of the committee dressed in white hats, light jackets, waistcoats, and trousers looked something between waiters and West India planters. Nine o'clock struck, and the company arrived in shoals. Mr. Samuel Briggs, Mrs. Briggs, and the Mrs. Briggs made their appearance in a smart, private weary. The three guitars and their respective dark green cases were carefully stowed away in the bottom of the boat, a company by two immense portfolios of music, which it would take at least a weeks and sesson playing to get through, the Tontons arrived at the same moment, with more music and a lion, a gentleman with a bass voice and an incipient red mustache. The colours of the Tonton party were pink, those of the Briggs is a light blue. The Tontons had artificial flowers in their bonnets, here the Briggs is gained at a sighted advantage, they wore feathers. How do you do, dear? said the Mrs. Briggs to the Mrs. Tonton. The word, dear, among girls, is frequently synonymous with wretch. Quite well, thank you, dear, replied the Mrs. Tonton to the Mrs. Briggs, and then there was such a kissing and congratulating and shaking his hands as might have induced one to suppose that the two families were the best friends in the world, instead of each wishing the other overboard as they most sincerely did. Mr. Piercy Noakes received the visitors and bowed to the strange gentleman, as if he should like to know who he was. This was just what Mrs. Tonton wanted. Here was an opportunity to astonish the Briggs. Oh, I beg your pardon, said the general of the Tonton party with a careless ear. Captain Helves, Mr. Piercy Noakes, Mrs. Briggs, Captain Helves. Mr. Piercy Noakes bowed very low, the gallant captain did the same with all due ferocity, and the Briggs's were clearly overcome. Our friend Mr. Whistle, being unfortunately prevented from coming, resumed Mrs. Tonton, I did myself the pleasure of bringing the captain, whose musical talents I knew would be a great acquisition. In the name of the committee I have to thank you for doing so and to offer you welcome, sir, replied Piercy. Here the scraping was renewed. But pray be seated, won't you walk aft? Captain, will you conduct Miss Tonton? Miss Briggs, will you allow me? Where could they have picked up that military man, inquired Mrs. Briggs of Miss Kate Briggs, as they follow the little party? I can't imagine, replied Miss Kate, bursting with vexation, for the very fierce air with which the gallant captain regarded the company had impressed her with a high sense of her importance. Boat after boat came alongside and guest after guest arrived. The invites had been excellently arranged. Mr. Piercy Noakes having considered it as important that the number of young men should exactly tally with that of the young ladies, as that the quantity of knives on board should be in precise proportion to the forks. Now, is every one on board, inquired Mr. Piercy Noakes, the committee, who with their bits of blue ribbon looked as if they were all going to be bled, bustled about to ascertain the fact, and reported that they might safely start. Go on, cried the master of the boat from the top of one of the paddle-boxes. Go on, echoed the boy, who was stationed over the hatchway to pass the directions down to the engineer, and away went the vessel with the agreeable noise which is peculiar to steamers, and which is composed of a mixture of creaking, gushing, clanging, and snorting. Hoi, oi, oi, oi, shout at half a dozen voices from a boat a quarterful mile astern. Ease her, cried the captain. Do these people belong to us, sir? Noakes, exclaimed Hardy, who had been looking at every object far and near through the large telescope. It's the Fleetwoods and the Wakefields, and two children with them by Jove. What a shame to bring children, said everybody, how very inconsiderate. I say it would be a good joke to pretend not to see him, wouldn't it? suggested Hardy to the immense delight of the company generally. A council of war was hastily held, and it was resolved that the newcomers should be taken on board, on Mr. Hardy solemnly pledging himself to tease the children during the whole of the day. Stopper, cried the captain. Stopper, repeated the boy. Whiz went the steam, and all the young ladies, as in duty bound, screamed in concert. They were only appeased by the assurance of the marshal-helves, that the escape of steam consequent on stopping to vessel was seldom attended with any great loss of human life. Two men ran to the side, and after some shouting and swearing and angling for the wearing with a boat-hook, Mr. Fleetwood and Mrs. Fleetwood and Master Fleetwood and Mr. Wakefield and Mrs. Wakefield and Miss Wakefield were safely deposited on the deck. The girl was about six years old, the boy about four. The former was dressed in a white frock with a pink sash and dog's-eared-looking little Spencer, a straw-bonded and green veil, six inches by three and a half. The latter was attired for the occasion in a nanking frock, between the bottom of which and the top of his plaid socks, a considerable portion of two small mottled legs was discernible. He had a light blue cap with a gold band and tassel on his head and a damp piece of gingerbread in his hand, with which he had slightly embossed his countenance. The boat once more started off, the band playing off she goes, the major part of the company conversed cheerfully in groups, and the old gentleman walked up and down the deck in pairs, as perseveringly and gravely as if they were doing a match against time for an immense stake. They ran briskly down the pool, the gentleman pointed out the docks, the Thames police office, and other elegant public edifices, and the young ladies exhibited a proper display of horror at the appearance of the coal whippers and ballast-heavers. Mr. Hardy told stories to the married ladies, at which they laughed very much in their pocket-handkerchiefs, and hit him on the knuckles with their fans declaring him to be a naughty man, a shocking creature, and so forth. And Captain Helves gave slight descriptions of battles and duels with the most bloodthirsty air, which made him the admiration of the women and the envy of the men. Quadrilling commenced, Captain Helves danced one set with Miss Emily Taunton, and another set with Miss Sophia Taunton. Mrs. Taunton was in ecstasies. The victory appeared to be complete, but alas the inconstancy of man. Having performed this necessary duty, he attached himself solely to Miss Julia Briggs, with whom he danced no less than three sets consecutively, and from whose side he evinced no intention of stirring for the remainder of the day. Mr. Hardy, having played one or two very brilliant fantasias on the Jews-harp, and having frequently repeated the exquisitely amusing joke of a slyly chalking a large cross on the back of some member of the committee, Mr. Piercy Locke's expressed his hope that some of their musical friends would oblige the company by a display of their abilities. Perhaps, he said, in a very insinuating manner, Captain Helves will oblige us. Mrs. Taunton's countenance lighted up, for the captain only sang duets and couldn't sing them with anybody but one of her daughters. Really, said that warlike individual, I should be very happy, but oh, pray do, cried all the young ladies. Miss Emily, have you any objection to join in a duet? Oh, not the slightest return the young lady, in a tone which clearly showed she had the greatest possible objection. Shall I accompany you, dear, inquired one of the Miss Briggs's with the bland intention of spoiling the effect. Very much obliged to you, Miss Briggs, a sharply retorted Mrs. Taunton, who saw through the maneuver, my daughters always sing without accompaniments, and without voices, tittered Mrs. Briggs in a low tone. Perhaps, said Mrs. Taunton, reddening, for she guessed the tenor of the observations, though she had not heard it clearly, perhaps it would be as well for some people if their voices were not quite so audible as they are to other people. And perhaps if gentlemen who are kidnapped to pay attention to some person's daughters had not sufficient discernment to pay attention to other person's daughters, return Mrs. Briggs. Some person's would not be so ready to display that ill-temper, which, thank God, distinguishes them from other person's. Person's, ejaculated Mrs. Taunton. Person's, replied Mrs. Briggs. Insolence, creature, hush, hush, interrupted Mr. Piercy-Noakes, who was one of the very few by whom this dialogue had been overheard, hush, pray, silence for the duet. After a great deal of preparatory crowing and humming, the captain began the following duet from the opera of Paul and Virginia, in that grunting tone in which a man gets down, heaven knows where, without the remotest chance of ever getting up again. This, in private circles, is frequently designated a base voice. See, sung the captain, from ocean rising, bright flames, the orb of day, from yawn, grove, the varied songs. Here the singer was interrupted by varied cries of the most dreadful description, proceeding from some grove in the immediate vicinity of the starboard paddle-box. My child, screamed Mrs. Fleetwood, my child, it is his voice, I know it! Mr. Fleetwood, accompanied by several gentlemen, hear rust to the quarter from whence the noise proceeded, and an exclamation of horror burst from the company, the general impression being that the little innocent had either got his head in the water or his legs in the machinery. What is the matter, shouted the agonized father, as he returned with the child in his arms? Oh, oh, oh! screamed the small sufferer again. What is the matter, dear? inquired the father once more, hastily stripping off the lanquin frock for the purpose of ascertaining whether the child had one bone which was not smashed to pieces. Oh, oh, I'm so frightened. What at, dear, what at, said the mother, soothing the sweet infant? Oh, he's been making such dreadful faces at me, cried the boy, relapsing into convulsions at the bare recollection. He, who, cried everybody, crowding round him. Oh, him, replied the child, pointing at Hardy, who affected to be the most concerned of the whole group. The real state of the case at once flashed upon the minds of all present, with the exception of the Fleetwoods and the Wakefields. The facetious Hardy, in fulfillment of his promise, had watched the child to a remote part of the vessel, and, suddenly appearing before him with the most awful contortions of visage, had produced his paroxysm of terror. Of course he now observed that it was hardly necessary for him to deny the accusation, and the unfortunate little victim was accordingly led below after receiving sundry thumbs on the head from both his parents for having the wickedness to tell a story. This little interruption, having been adjusted, the Captain resumed, and Miss Emily chimed in in due course. The duet was loudly applauded, and certainly the perfect independence of the parties deserved great commendation. Miss Emily sung her part without the slightest reference to the Captain, and the Captain sang so loud that he had not the slightest idea what was being done by his partner. After having gone through the last few 18 or 19 bars by himself, therefore he acknowledged the plaudits of the circle with that air of self-denial which men usually assume when they think they have done something to astonish the company. Now, said Mr. Piercy Noakes, who had just ascended from the four-cabin, where he had been busily engaged in decanting the wine, if the Mrs. Briggs will oblige us with something before dinner, I am sure we shall be very much delighted. One of those hums of admiration followed the suggestion which one frequently hears in society when nobody has the most distant notion what he is expressing his approval of. The three Mrs. Briggs looked modestly at their mama, and the mama looked approvingly at her daughters, and Mrs. Taunton looked scornfully at all of them. The Mrs. Briggs asked for their guitars, and several gentlemen seriously damaged the cases in their anxiety to present them. Then there was a very interesting production of three little keys for the aforesaid cases, and a metal dramatic expression of horror at finding a string broken, and a vast deal of screwing and tightening and winding and tuning, during which Mrs. Briggs expatiated to those near her on the immense difficulty of playing the guitar and hinted at the wondrous proficiency of her daughter in that mystic art. Mrs. Taunton whispered to a neighbor that it was quite sickening, and the Mrs. Taunton's looked as if they knew how to play but disdain to do it. At length the Mrs. Briggs began in real earnest. It was a new Spanish composition for three voices and three guitars. The effect was electrical. All eyes were turned upon the captain, who was reported to have once passed through Spain with his regiment, and who must be well-equated with the national music. He was in raptures. This was sufficient, the trio was encored, the applause was universal, and never had the Taunton suffered such a complete defeat. Bravo! Bravo! ejectulated the captain. Bravo! Pretty, isn't it, sir? inquired Mr. Samuel Briggs with the air of a self-satisfied showman. By the by, these were the first words he had been heard to utter since he left Boswell Court the evening before. Delightful, returned the captain with a flourish and a military cough. Delightful! Sweet instrument said an old gentleman with a bald head, who had been trying all the morning to look through a telescope inside the glass of which Mr. Hardy had fixed a large black wafer. Did you ever hear a Portuguese tambourine inquire that jocular individual? Did you overhear a Taunton, sir, sternly inquired the captain, who lost no opportunity of showing off his travels real or pretended? A what? asked Hardy, rather taken aback. A Taunton. Never. Nor a Gum-Gum. Never. What is a Gum-Gum? eagerly inquired several young ladies. When I was in the East Indies, replied the captain, here was a discovery, he had been in the East Indies. When I was in the East Indies, I was once stopping a few thousand miles up the country on a visit at the house of a very particular friend of mine, Ramchowder Doss Esaf Al-Bola, a devilish pleasant fellow. As we were enjoying our hukas one evening, in the cool veranda in front of his villa, we were rather surprised by the sudden appearance of thirty-four of his Kit Magars, for he had rather a large establishment there, accompanied by an equal number of consumers, approaching the house with a threatening aspect and beating a Taunton. The ram started up, who? inquired the ball gentleman, intentionally interested. The ram, Ramchowder. Oh! said the old gentleman, beg your pardon, pray go on. Started up and drew a pistol. Hells, said he, my boy, he always called me my boy. Hells, said he. Do you hear that taunton? I do, said I. His countenance, which before was pale, assumed a most frightful appearance. His whole visit was distorted, and his frame shaken by violent emotions. Do you see that gum-gum, said he. No, said I, staring about me. You don't, said he. No, I'll be damned if I do, said I. And what's more, I don't know what a gum-gum is, said I. I really thought the ram would have dropped. He drew me aside with an expression of agony I shall never forget. Said, in a low whisper, dinners on the table, ladies, interrupted the steward's wife. Will you allow me? said the captain, immediately suiting the action to the word, and escorting Miss Julia Briggs to the cabin with as much ease as if he had finished the story. What an extraordinary circumstance, ejaculated the same old gentleman preserving his listening attitude. What a traveller, said the young ladies. What a singular name, exclaimed the gentleman, rather confused by the coolness of the whole affair. I wish he had finished the story, said an old lady. I wonder what a gum-gum really is. By Jove, exclaimed Hardy, who until now had been lost in utter amazement, I don't know what it may be in India, but in England I think a gum-gum has very much the same meaning as a humbug. How illiberal, how envious, cried everybody, as they made for the cabin fully impressed with the belief that the captain's amazing adventures. Hell's was the sole lion for the remainder of the day. Impudence and the marvellous are pretty sure passports to any society. The party head by this time reached their destination and put a boat on their return home. The wind, which had been with them the whole day, was now directly in their teeth. The weather had become gradually more and more overcast. The sky, water, and shore were all of that dull, heavy, uniform lead colour which house-paters dob in the first instance over a street door which is gradually approaching a state of convalescence. It had been spitting with rain for the last half hour, and now began to pour in good earnest. The wind was freshening very fast, and the watermen at the wheel had unequivocally expressed his opinion that there would shortly be a squall. A slight emotion on the part of the vessel now and then seemed to suggest the possibility of its pitching to a very uncomfortable extent in the event of its blowing harder, and every timber began to crack as if the boat were an overladen clothes-basket. Sea sickness, however, is like belief in ghosts. Everyone entertains some misgivings on the subject, but few will acknowledge any. The majority of the company therefore endeavoured to look peculiarly happy, feeling all the while especially miserable. Don't it rain, inquired the old gentleman before noticed, when by dint of squeezing and jamming they were all seated at table. I think it does, a little, replied Mr. Piercy Noakes, who could hardly hear himself speak in consequence of a pattering on the deck. Don't it blow, inquired someone else? No, I don't think it does, responded Hardy, sincerely wishing that he could persuade himself that it did not, for he sat near the door and was almost blown off his seat. It'll soon clear up, said Mr. Piercy Noakes, in a cheerful tone. Oh, certainly, ejaculated the committee generally. No doubt of it, said the remainder of the company, whose attention was now pretty well engrossed by the serious business of eating, carving, taking wine, and so forth. The throbbing motion of the engine was but too perceptible. There was a large, substantial, cold-boiled leg of mutton at the bottom of the table, shaking like plumage. A previously hearty sirloin of beef looked as if it had been suddenly seized with a palsy, and some tongues which were placed on dishes rather too large for them, went through the most surprising evolutions, darting from side to side and from end to end like a fly in an inverted wine-glass. Then the sweets shook and trembled, till it was quite impossible to help them, and people gave up the attempt in despair, and the pigeon pies looked as if the birds whose legs were stuck outside were trying to get them in. The table vibrated and started like a feverish pulse, and the very legs were convulsed. Everything was shaking and jarring. The beams in the roof of the cabin seemed as if they were put there for the sole purpose of giving people headaches, and several elderly gentlemen became ill-tempered in consequence. As fast as a steward put the fire-irons up, they would fall down again. And the more the ladies and gentlemen tried to sit comfortably on their seats, the more the seat seemed to slide away from the ladies and gentlemen. Several ominous demands were made for small glasses of brandy. The countenance of the company gradually underwent most extraordinary changes. One gentleman was observed suddenly to rush from cable without the slightest ostensible reason, and dart up the steps with incredible swiftness, thereby greatly damaging both himself and the steward who happened to be coming down at the same moment. The cloth was removed, the dessert was laid on the table, and the glasses were filled. The motions of the boat increased. Several members of the party began to feel rather vague and misty and looked as if they had only just got up. The young gentleman with the spectacles, who had been in a fluctuating state for some time, at one moment bright and at another dismal, like a revolving light on the sea coast, rashly announced his wish to propose a toast. After several ineffectual attempts to preserve his perpendicular, the young gentleman, having managed to hook himself to the center leg of the table with his left hand, proceeded as follows. Ladies and gentlemen, a gentleman is among us. I may say a stranger. Here some painful thoughts seemed to strike the orator he paused and looked extremely odd. Whose talents, whose travels, whose cheerfulness. I beg your pardon, Edkins, hastily interrupted Mr. Piercy-Nokes. Hardy, what's the matter? Nothing, replied the funny gentleman, who had just life enough left to utter two consecutive syllables. Will you have some brandy? No, replied Hardy, in a tone of great indignation, and looking as comfortable as Temple Bar and Scotch Mist. What should I want brandy for? Will you go on deck? No, I will not." This was said, with a most determined air, and in a voice which might have been taken for imitation of anything. It was quite as much like a guinea pig as a bassoon. I beg your pardon, Edkins, said the courteous Piercy. I thought our friend was ill. Pray go on. A pause. Pray go on. Mr. Edkins is gone, cried somebody. I beg your pardon, sir, said the steward, running up to Mr. Piercy-Nokes. I beg your pardon, sir, but the gentleman has just went on deck. Him with the green spectacles is uncommon bad, to be sure. And the young man has played the while in, says, that unless he has some brandy, he can't answer for the consequences. He says he has a wife and two children, whose weary subsistence depends on his breaking a vessel, and he expects to do so at every moment. The flager that's been weary ill, but he's better, only he's a dreadful perspiration. All disguise was now useless. The company staggered on deck. The gentleman tried to see nothing but the clouds, and the ladies muffled up in such shawls and cloaks as they had brought with them, lay about on the seats and under the seats in the most wretched condition. Never was such a blowing and raining and pitching and tossing endured by any pleasure party before. Several remonstrances were set down below on the subject of Master Fleetwood, but they were totally unheeded in consequence of the indisposition of his natural protectors. An interesting child screamed at the top of his voice, until he had no voice left to scream with, and then Miss Wakefield began and screamed for the remainder of the passage. Mr. Hardy was observed some hours afterwards in an attitude which induced his friends to suppose that he was busily engaged in contemplating the beauties of the deep. They only regretted that his taste for the picturesque should lead him to remain so long in a position, very injurious at all times, but especially so to an individual laboring under a tendency of blood to the head. The party arrived off the custom-hosts at about two o'clock on the Thursday morning, dispirited and worn out. The Tontons were too ill to quarrel with the Briggs's, and the Briggs's were too wretched to annoy the Tontons. One of the guitar cases was lost on its passage to a hackney-coach, and Mrs. Briggs had not scrupled a state that the Tontons bribed a porter to throw it down an area. Mr. Alexander Briggs opposes vote by ballot, he says from personal experience of its inefficacy, and Mr. Samuel Briggs, whenever he has asked to express his sentiments on the point, says he has no opinion on that or any other subject. Mr. Edkins, the young gentleman in the Green Spectacles, makes a speech on every occasion on which a speech can possibly be made, the elegance of which can only be equal by its length. In the event of his not being previously appointed to a judgeship, it is probable that he will practice as a barrister in the new central criminal court. Captain Helves continued his attention to Miss Julia Briggs, whom he might possibly have espoused if it had not unfortunately happened that Mr. Samuel arrested him in the way of business pursuant to instructions received from Mr. Struggins and Payne, whose town debts the gallant captain had condescended to collect, but whose accounts, with the most indiscretions sometimes peculiar to military minds, he had omitted to keep with that dull accuracy which Custom has rendered necessary. Mrs. Tonson complains that she has been much deceived in him. He introduced himself to the family on board a Graves N. Steen packet, and certainly therefore ought to have proved respectable. Mr. Piercy-Noakes is as light-hearted and careless as ever. THE LITTLE TOWN OF GREAT WINGLEBERRY is exactly forty-two miles and three quarters from Hyde Park corner. It has a long straggling quiet high street, with a great black and white clock at a small red town hall halfway up, a marketplace, a cage, an assembly room, a church, a bridge, a chapel, a theatre, a library, an inn, a pump, and a post office. Tradition tells of a little Wingleberry down some crossroad about two miles off, and as a square mass of dirty paper supposed to have been originally intended for a letter with certain tremulous characters inscribed thereon, in which a lively imagination might trace a remote resemblance to the word little, was once stuck up to be owned in the sunny window of the great Wingleberry post office, from which it only disappeared when it fell to pieces with dust at extreme old age, there would appear to be some foundation for the legend. Common belief is inclined to bestow the name upon a little hole at the end of a muddy lane about a couple of miles off, colonized by one wheelwright, four poppers, and a beer shop. But even this authority, slight as it is, must be regarded with extreme suspicion it is much as the inhabitants of the whole aforesaid concur in opining that it never had any name at all from the earliest ages down to the present day. The Wingleberry arms in the centre of the high street, opposite the small building with the big clock, is the principal inn of great Wingleberry, the commercial inn, posting-house and excise-office, the blue-house at every election, and the judge's house at every azizahs. It is the headquarters of the gentlemen's whist-club of Wingleberry blues, so called in opposition to the gentlemen's whist-club of Wingleberry buffs, held at the other house a little further down, and whenever a juggler or wax-works man or concert-giver takes great Wingleberry in his circuit, it is immediately placarded all over the town that Mr. So-and-so, trusting to that liberal support which the inhabitants of great Wingleberry have long been so liberal in bestowing, has at a great expense engaged the elegant and commodious assembly-rooms attached to the Wingleberry arms. The house is a large one, with a red brick and stone front, a pretty spacious hall, ornamented with evergreen plants, terminates in a perspective view of the bar, and a glass case in which are displayed a choice-variety of delicacies ready for dressing to catch the eye of a newcomer the moment he enters, and excite his appetite to the highest possible pitch. Opposite doors lead to the coffee and commercial rooms, and a great wide rambling staircase, three stairs and a landing, four stairs and another landing, one step and another landing, half a dozen stairs and another landing, and so on, conducts to galleries of bedrooms and labyrinths of sitting-rooms denominated private, where you may enjoy yourself as privately as you can in any place where some bewildered being walks into your room every five minutes by mistake, and then walks out again to open all the doors along the gallery until he finds his own. Such is the Wingleberry arms at this day, and such was the Wingleberry arms some time since, no matter when, two or three minutes before the arrival of the London stage. Four horses with clothes on, changed for a coach, were standing quietly at the corner of the yard, surrounded by a listless group of post-boys in shiny hats and smock-frocks, engaged in discussing the merits of the cattle, half a dozen ragged boys were standing a little apart listening with evident interest for the conversation of these worthies, and a few loungers were collected round the horse-trough awaiting the arrival of the coach. The day was hot and sunny, the town in the zenith of its dullness, and with the exception of these few idlers not a living creature was to be seen. Suddenly the loud notes of a key bugle broke the monotonous stillness of the street, in came the coach, rattling over the uneven paving with a noise, startling enough to stop even the large-faced clock itself. Down got the outsides, up went the windows in all directions, out came the waiters, up started the ostlers and the loungers and the post-boys and the ragged boys as if they were electrified, unstrapping and unshaining and unbuckling, and dragging willing horses out, and forcing reluctant horses in, and making a most exhilarating bustle. "'Lady inside here,' said the guard. "'Please do alight, ma'am,' said the waiter. "'Private sitting-room,' interrogated the lady. "'Certainly, ma'am,' responded the chambermaid. "'Nothing but these air-trunks, ma'am,' inquired the guard. "'Nothing more,' replied the lady. "'Up got the outsides again, and the guard and the coachmen off came the class with a jerk. All right was the cry and away they went. The loungers lingered a minute or two in the road, watching the coach until it had turned the corner, and then loitered away, one by one. The street was clear again, and the town by contrast quieter than ever.' "'Lady in number twenty-five,' screamed the landlady. "'Tomas, yes, ma'am. Letter just been left for the gentleman in number nineteen. Boots at the lion left it, no answer. "'Letter for you, sir,' said Thomas, depositing the letter on number nineteen's table. "'For me,' said number nineteen, turning from the window out of which he had been surveying the scene just ascribed. "'Yes, sir.' Waiters always speak in hints and never utter complete sentences. "'Yes, sir. Boots at the lion, sir. Bar, sir. Mrs. said number nineteen, sir. "'Alexander Trott, Esquire, sir. Your card at the bar, sir. I think, sir.' "'My name is Trott,' replied number nineteen, breaking the seal. "'You may go, waiter.' The waiter pulled down the window-blind and then pulled it up again. For a regular waiter must do something before he leaves the room. Adjusted the glasses on the side-board, brushed the place that was not dusty, rubbed his hands very hard, walked stethily to the door, and evaporated. There was evidently something in the contents of the letter of a nature, if not wholly unexpected, certainly extremely disagreeable. Mr. Alexander Trott laid it down and took it up again, and walked about the room on particular squares of the carpet, and even attempted, though unsuccessfully, to whistle an air. It wouldn't do. He threw himself into a chair and read the following epistle aloud. Blue lion and stomach-warmer, great Wingleberry, Wednesday morning. "'Sir, immediately on discovering your intentions, I left our counting-house and followed you. I know the purport of your journey. That journey shall never be completed. I have no friend here just now on whose secretary I can rely. This shall be no obstacle to my revenge. Neither shall Emily Brown be exposed to the mercenary solicitations of a scoundrel odious in her eyes and contemptible in everybody else's, nor will I tamely submit to the clandestine attacks of a base umbrella-maker. Sir, from great Wingleberry Church a footpath leads through four meadows to a retired spot known to the townspeople as Stuffin's Acre." Mr. Trott shuddered. "'I shall be waiting there alone at twenty minutes before six o'clock tomorrow morning. Should I be disappointed in seeing you there? I will do myself the pleasure of calling with a horse whip. Horace Hunter. P.S. There is a gunsmith's in the High Street, and they won't sell gunpowder after dark. You understand me. P.P.S. You had better not order your breakfast in the morning until you have met me. It may be an unnecessary expense." Desperate-minded villain! I knew how it would be, ejaculated the terrified Trott. I always told Father that once start me on this expedition and Hunter would pursue me like the wandering Jew. It's bad enough as it is to marry with the old people's commands and without the girl's consent. But what will Emily think of me if I go down there breathless with running away from this infernal salamander? What shall I do? What can I do? If I go back to the city I'm disgraced forever. Lose the girl, and, what's more, lose the money too. Even if I did go on to the Browns by the coach, Hunter would be after me in a post-chase. And if I go to this place this stuffens acre, another shudder, I'm as good as dead. I've seen him hit the man at the Paul Mall shooting gallery in the second buttonhole of the waistcoat five times out of every six, and when he didn't hit him there he hit him in the head. With this consolatory reminiscence, Mr. Alexander Trott again ejaculated. What shall I do? Long and weary were his reflections, as burying his face in his hand he sat ruminating on the best course to be pursued. His mental direction post-pointed to London. He thought of the Governor's anger and the loss of the fortune which the paternal Brown had promised the paternal Trott his daughter should contribute to the coffers at his son. Then the words, two Browns, were legibly unscribed in the said direction post, but Horace Hunter's denunciation rung in his ears. Last of all it bore in red letters the word to Stuffin's acre, and then Mr. Alexander Trott decided on adopting a plan which he presently matured. First and foremost he dispatched the under-boots to the blue lion and stomach warmer, with a gentlemanly note to Mr. Horace Hunter, intimating that he thirsted for his destruction and would do himself the pleasure of slaughtering him next morning without fail. He then wrote another letter and requested the attendance of the other-boots for they kept a pair. A modest knock at the room-door was heard. Come in, said Mr. Trott. A man thrust in a red head with one eye in it, and being again desired to come in, brought in the body and legs to which the head belonged, and a fur-capped which belonged to the head. You are the upper-boots, I think, inquired Mr. Trott. Yes, I am the upper-boots, replied a voice from inside a velatine case with mother of pearl-buttons. That is, I am the bootsest belongs to the house, the other man's my man, as goes errands and does odd jobs. Top-boots and half-boots, I calls us. You're from London, inquired Mr. Trott. Driv a cab once, was the iconic reply. Why don't you drive it now, asked Mr. Trott. Over-drib the cab and driv over a woman, replied the top-boots with brevity. Do you know the mayor's house, inquired Mr. Trott? Rather, replied the boots, significantly, as if he had some good reason to remember it. Do you think you could manage to leave a letter there, interrogated Trott? Shouldn't wonder, responded boots. But this letter, said Trott, holding a deformed note with a paralytic direction in one hand and five shillings in the other. This letter is anonymous. Oh, what! interrupts the boots. Anonymous! He's not to know who it comes from. Oh, I see, responded the regular with a knowing wink, but without evincing the slightest disinclination to want to take the charge, I see, bit a swing, eh? At his one eye, wandered round the room, as if in quest of a dark lantern and phosphorus box. But I say, he continued, recalling the eye from its search and bringing it to bear on Mr. Trott, I say he's a lawyer, or mayor, and insured in the county. If you've a spite against him, yet better not burn his house down. Blessed if I don't think it would be the greatest favor you could do him, and he chuckled inwardly. If Mr. Alexander Trott had been any other situation, his first act would have been to kick the man downstairs by deputy, or in other words, to ring the bell and desire the landlord to take his boots off. He contented himself, however, with doubling the fee, and explaining that the letter merely related to a breach of the peace. The top boots retired solemnly pledged a secrecy, and Mr. Alexander Trott sat down to a fried soul, maintenance cutlet, Madeira, and sundries, with greater composure than he had experienced since the receipt of Horace Hunter's letter of defiance. The lady who alighted from the London coach had no sooner been installed in Number 25, and made some alteration in her traveling dress, then she indicted a note to Joseph Overton, Esquire, solicitor, and mayor of Great Wingleberry, requesting his immediate attendance on private business of paramount importance, a summons which that worthy functionary lost no time in obeying, for after sundry openings of his eyes, divers ejaculations of bless me, and other manifestations of surprise, he took his broad-brimmed hat from its accustomed peg in his little front office, and walked briskly down the high street to the Wingleberry arms, through the hall, and up the staircase of which establishment he was ushered by the landlady at a crowd of officious waiters to the door of Number 25. Show the gentleman in, said the stranger lady, in reply to the foremost waiter's announcement. The gentleman was shown in accordingly. The lady rose from the sofa, the mayor advanced a step from the door, and there they both paused, for a minute or two, looking at one another, as if by mutual consent. The mayor saw before him a buxom, richly dressed female of about forty. The lady looked upon a sleek man, about ten years older, in drab shorts and continuations, black coat, neckloth, and gloves. Miss Julia Manners exclaimed the mayor at length, You astonish me! That's very unfavorable of you, Overton, replied Miss Julia, for I have known you long enough not to be surprised at anything you do, and you might extend equal courtesy to me, but to run away, actually run away, with a young man, remonstrated the mayor. You wouldn't have me actually run away with an old one, I presume, was the cool rejoinder. And then to ask me, me, of all people in the world, a man of my age, an appearance mayor of the town, to promote such a scheme, pettishly ejaculated to Joseph Overton, throwing himself into an arm-chair, and producing Miss Julia's letter from his pocket, as if to corroborate the assertion that he had been asked. Now, Overton, replied the lady, I want your assistance in this matter, and I must have it. In the lifetime of that poor old dear Mr. Cornbury, who was to have married you and didn't because he died first, and who left you his property unencumbered with the addition of himself, suggested the mayor. Well, replied Miss Julia, reddening slightly, in the lifetime of the poor old dear the property had the encumbrance of your management, and all I will say of that is that I only wondered if it didn't die of consumption instead of its master. You helped yourself, then, help me now. Mr. Joseph Overton was a man of the world, and an attorney, and his certain indistinct recollections of an odd thousand pounds or two appropriated by mistake passed across his mind, he hemmed deprecatingly, smiled blandly, and remained silent for a few seconds, and finally inquired, What do you wish me to do? I'll tell you, replied Miss Julia. I'll tell you in three words. Dear Lord Peter, that's the young man, I supposed, interrupted the mayor. That's the young nobleman, replied the lady, with great stress on the last word. Dear Lord Peter is considerably afraid of the resentment of his family, and we have therefore thought it better to make the match a stolen one. He left town to avoid suspicion on a visit to his friend the honourable Augustus Flair, whose seat, as you know, is about thirty miles from this, accompanied only by his favourite tiger. We arrange that I should come here alone in the London couch, and that he, leaving his tiger and cab behind him, should come on and arrive here as soon as possible this afternoon. Very well, observed Joseph Overton, and then he can order the chaise, and you could go to Gretna Green together, without requiring the presence or interference of a third-party, can't you? No, replied Miss Julia. We have every reason to believe, dear Lord Peter, not be considered very prudent or sagacious by his friends, and they having discovered his attachment to me, that immediately on his absence being observed, pursuit will be made in this direction. To elude which, and to prevent our being traced, I wish it to be understood in this house, that dear Lord Peter is slightly deranged, though perfectly harmless, and that I am unknown to him awaiting his arrival to convey him in a post-chase to a private asylum, at Burrack say. If I don't show myself much, I dare say I can manage to pass for his mother. The thought occurred of the mayor's mind that the lady might show herself a good deal without fear of detection, seeing that she was about to double the age of her intended husband. He said nothing, however, and the lady proceeded. With the whole of this arrangement, dear Lord Peter is acquainted, and all I want you to do is to make the delusion more complete by giving it the sanction of your influence in this place, and assigning this as a reason to the people of the house for my taking the young gentleman away. As it would not be consistent with the story that I should see him until after he has entered the chases, I also wish to communicate with him and inform him that it is all going on well. Has he arrived?" inquired Overton. I don't know, replied the lady. Then how am I to know, inquired the mayor? Of course he will not give his own name at the bar. I begged him, immediately on his arrival, to write you a note, replied Miss Manners, and to prevent the possibility of our project being discovered through its means. I desired him to write anonymously and in mysterious terms to acquaint you with the number of his room. Bless me, explained the mayor, rising from his seat and searching his pockets. Most extraordinary circumstance. He has arrived. Mysterious note left at my house in a most mysterious manner just before yours. Didn't know what to make of it before, and certainly shouldn't have attended to it. Oh, here it is. And Joseph Overton pulled out of an inner coat pocket the identical letter penned by Alexander Trott. Is this his lordship's hand? Oh, yes, replied Julia. Good punctual creature. I have not seen it more than once or twice, but I know he writes very badly and very large. These dear, wild, young noblemen you know, Overton. I see, replied the mayor. Horses and dogs play in wine, grooms, actresses, and cigars. The stable, the green room, the saloon, and the tavern, and the legislative assembly at last. Here's what he said, pursued the mayor. Sir, a young gentleman in number nineteen at the Wingleberry Arms is bent on committing a rash act tomorrow morning at an early hour. That's good. He means burying. If you have any regard for the peace of this town or the preservation of one, it may be two human lives. What the deuce does he mean by that? That he's so anxious for the ceremony he will expire if it's put off, and that I may possibly do the same, replied the lady, with great complacency. Oh, I see, not much fear of that. Well, two human lives. You will cause him to be removed to-night, he wants to start at once. Fear not to do this on your responsibility, for tomorrow the absolute necessity of the proceeding will be but to apparent. Remember, number nineteen, the name is trot. No delay, for life and death depend on your promptitude. Passionate language, certainly. Shall I see him? Do, replied Miss Julia, and entreat him to act his part well. I am half afraid of him. Tell him to be cautious. I will, said the Mayor. Settle all the arrangements. I will, said the Mayor again. And say I think the Shays had better be ordered for one o'clock. Very well, said the Mayor once more. And ruminating on the absurdity of the situation in which fate and old acquaintance had placed him, he desired a waiter to herald his approach to the temporary representative of number nineteen. The announcement, gentlemen to speak with you, sir, induced Mr. Trot to pause halfway in the glass of port, the contents of which he was in the act of imbibing at the moment, to rise from his chair, and retreat a few paces towards the window, as if to secure a retreat in the event of the visitor assuming the form and appearance of Horace Hunter. One glance at Joseph Overton, however, quieted his apprehensions. He courteously motioned the stranger to a seat. The waiter, after a little jingling with his decanter and glasses, consented to leave the room. And Joseph Overton, placing the broad-brimmed hat on the chair next to him, and bending his body gently forward, opened the business by saying, in a very low and cautious tone, My Lord! Eh! said Mr. Alexander Trot, in a loud key, with the vacant and mystified stare of a chilly sundamulist. Hush! Hush! said the cautious attorney. To be sure, quite right, no titles here. My name is Overton, sir. Overton. Yes, the mayor of this place. You set me a letter with anonymous information this afternoon. I, sir, exclaimed Trot, with ill-assembled surprise for a coward as he was, he would willingly have repudiated the authorship of the letter in question. I, sir. Yes, you, sir. Did you not, responded Overton, annoyed with what he's supposed to be an extreme degree of unnecessary suspicion? Either this letter is yours, or it is not. If it be, we can converse securely upon the subject at once. If it be not, of course I have no more to say. Stay. Stay, Sir Trot. It is mine. I did write it. What could I do, sir? I had no friend here. To be sure, to be sure, said the mayor, encouragingly, you could not have managed it better. Well, sir, it will be necessary for you to leave here to night at a post-chase and for, and the harder the boys drive, the better. You are not safe from pursuit. Bless me, exclaimed Trot, in an agony of apprehension. Can such things happen in a country like this, such unrelenting and cold-blooded hostility? He wiped off the concentrated essence of cowardice that was oozing fast down his forehead and looked aghast at Joseph Overton. It certainly is a very hard case, replied the mayor with a smile, that in a free country people can't marry whom they like, without being hunted down as if they were criminals. However, in the present instance the lady is willing, you know, and that's the main point, after all. Lady Willing repeated Trot mechanically. How do you know the lady's willing? Calm, that's a good one, said the mayor, but evidently tapping Mr. Trot on the arm with his broad-brimmed hat. I have known her well for a long time. If anybody could entertain the remotest doubt on the subject, I assure you I have none nor need you have. Dear me, said Trot, ruminating, this is very extraordinary. Well, Lord Peter, said the mayor, rising. Lord Peter, repeated Mr. Trot. Oh, I forgot. Mr. Trot, then. Trot, very good. Well, sir, the shaves shall be ready at half-past twelve. And what has to become of me until then, inquired Mr. Trot anxiously, would it save appearances if I were placed under some restraint? Ah, replied Overton. Very good thought. Capital idea, indeed. I'll send somebody up directly. And if you make a little resistance when we put you in the shaves, it wouldn't be a miss. Look, as if you didn't want to be taken away, you know. To be sure, said Trot, to be sure. Well, my Lord, said Overton, in a low tone. Until then, I wish all Lordship a good evening. Lordship ejaculated Trot again, falling back a step or two and gazing in unutterable wonder on the countenance of the mayor. I see, my Lord, practicing the madmen. Very good indeed. Very vacant look. Capital, my Lord. Capital. Good evening, Mr. Trot. That Mayor's decidedly drunks a littlequies, Mr. Trot, throwing himself back in his chair in an attitude of reflection. He's a much cleverer fellow than I thought him, that young nobleman. He carries it off uncommonly well, thought Overton, as he went his way to the bar there to complete his arrangements. This was soon done. Every word of the story was implicitly believed, and the one-eyed boots was immediately instructed to repair to No. 19 to act as custodian of the person of the supposed lunatic until half past twelve o'clock. In pursuance of this direction that somewhat eccentric gentleman armed himself with a walking stick of gigantic dimensions, and repaired with his usual equanimity of manner to Mr. Trot's apartment, which he entered without any ceremony, and mounted guard in by quietly depositing himself on a chair near the door where he proceeded to beguile the time by whistling a popular air with great apparent satisfaction. What do you want here, you scoundrel, exclaimed Mr. Alexander Trot with the proper appearance of indignation at his detention? The boots beat time with his head, as he looked gently round at Mr. Trot with a smile of pity, and whistled an Adagio movement. Do you attend in this room by Mr. Overton's desire, inquired Trot, rather astonished at the man's demeanor? Keep yourself to yourself, young fellow, calmly respond to the boots, and don't say nothing to nobody. And he whistled again. Now, mind, ejaculated Mr. Trot, anxious to keep up the farce of wishing with great earnestness to fight a duel if they'd let him, I protest against being kept here. I deny that I have any intention of fighting with anybody, but as it's useless contending with superior numbers I shall sit quietly down. You'd better observe the placid boots, shaking the large stick expressively. Under protest, however, added Alexander Trot, seating himself with indignation in his face, but great content in his heart. Under protest. Oh, certainly, responded the boots, anything you please. If you're happy I'm transported. Only don't talk too much, it'll make you worse. Make me worse, exclaimed Trot, in unfamed astonishment, the man's trunk. You'd better be quiet, young fellow, remarked the boots, going through a threatening piece of pantomime with the stick. Or mad, Mr. Trot, rather alarmed. Leave the room, sir, and tell them to send somebody else. Won't do, replied the boots. Leave the room, shouted Trot, ringing the bell violently, for he began to be alarmed on a new score. Leave that bell alone, you wretched lunatic, said the boots, suddenly forcing the unfortunate Trot back into his chair and brandishing the stick aloft. Be quite, you miserable object, and don't let everybody know there's a madman in the house. He is a madman. He is a madman, exclaimed the terrified Mr. Trot, gazing on the one eye of the red-headed boots with a look of abject horror. Madman, replied the boots. Darn me, I think he is a madman with a vengeance. Missing to me, you unfortunate, would you? A slight tap on the head with the large stick as Mr. Trot made another move towards the bell-handle. I caught you there, did I? Spare my life, exclaimed Trot, raising his hands imploringly. I don't want your life, replied the boots, disdainfully. Though I think it'd be charity if somebody took it. No, it wouldn't, interrupted poor Mr. Trot hurriedly. No, no, it wouldn't. I'd rather keep it. Oh, very well, said the boots. That's a mere matter of taste. Every one to his liking. However, all I've got to say is this here. You sit quietly down in that chair, and I'll set opposite you here, and if you keep quiet and don't stir, I won't damage you. But if you move hand or foot till half-past twelve o'clock, I shall alter the expression if I counted it so completely. At the next time you look in the glass, you'll ask whether you've gone to the town, and then you're likely to come back again. So sit down. I will, I will, responded the victim of mistakes, and down sat Mr. Trot and down sat the boots to exactly opposite him, with the stick ready for immediate action in case of emergency. Long and dreary were the hours that followed. The bell of great Wingleberry Church had just struck ten, and two hours and a half would probably elapse before Sucker arrived. For half an hour the noise occasioned by shutting up the shops on the street beneath, betoken something like Life in the Town, and rendered Mr. Trot's situation a little less insupportable. But when even these ceased, and nothing else was heard beyond the occasional rattling of a post-chase as it drove up the yard to change horses, and then drove away again, or the clattering of horses' hooves and the stables behind, it became almost unbearable. The boots occasionally moved an inch or two to knock superfluous bits of wax off the candles, which were burning low, but instantaneously resumed his former position, and as he remembered to have heard somewhere or other, that the human eye had an unfailing effect in controlling mad people he kept his solitary organ of vision constantly fixed on Mr. Alexander Trot. That unfortunate individual stared at his companion in his turn, until his features grew more and more indistinct, his hair gradually less red, and the room more misty and obscure. Mr. Alexander Trot fell into a sound sleep, for which he was awakened by a rumbling in the street, and a cry of shaves and fall for number twenty-five. A bustle on the stair succeeded. The room door was hastily thrown open, and Mr. Joseph Overton entered, followed by four stout-waiters, and Mrs. Williamson, the stout landlady of the Wingleberry Arms. Mr. Overton exclaimed Mr. Alexander Trot, jumping up at a frenzy. Look at this man, sir! Consider the situation at which I've been placed for three hours past. This person you sent to guard me was a madman, a madman, a raging, ravaging, furious madman. Bravo! whispered Mr. Overton. Poor dear! said the compassionate Mrs. Williamson. Mad people always thinks other people's mad. Poor dear! ejaculated Mr. Alexander Trot. What the devil do you mean by poor dear? Are you the landlady of this house? Yes, yes, replied the stout old lady. Don't exact yourself. There's a deer considering a health now, exert myself, shouted Mr. Alexander Trot. It's a mercy, man, that I have any breath to exert myself with. I might have been assassinated three hours ago by that one-eyed monster with the oakum head. How dare you have a madman, ma'am? How dare you have a madman to assault and terrify the visitors to your house? I'll never have another, said Mrs. Williamson, casting a look of reproach at the mayor. Capital, or capital, whispered Overton again, as he enveloped Mr. Alexander Trot in a thick traveling cloak. Capital, sir, exclaimed Trot, aloud. It's horrible! The very recollection makes me shudder. I'd rather fight four duels in three hours if I surveyed the first three that I'd sit for that time face to face with a madman. Keep it up, my lord, as you go downstairs, whispered Overton, your bill is paid, and your portman, too, in the shays. And then he added aloud, Now, waiters, the gentleman's ready. At this signal the waiters crowded round Mr. Alexander Trot. One took one arm, another the other, a third walked before with a candle, the fourth behind with another candle. The boots and Mrs. Williamson brought up the rear and downstairs they went, Mr. Alexander Trot expressing alternately at the very top of his voice either his feigned reluctance to go, or his unfamed indignation of being shut up with a madman. Mr. Overton was waiting at the shays' door. The boys were ready mounted, and a few oslars and stable nondescripts were standing round to witness the departure of the mad gentleman. Mr. Alexander Trot's foot was on the step. When he observed, which the dim light had prevented his doing before, a figure seated in the shays closely muffled up in a cloak like his own. Who's that? he inquired of Overton in a whisper. Hush, hush, replied the mayor. The other party, of course. The other party exclaimed Trot with an effort to retreat. Yes, yes, you'll soon find that out before you go far, I should think. But make a noise, you'll excite suspicion if you whisper to me so much. I won't go in the shays, shouted Mr. Alexander Trot, all his original fears recurring with tenfold violence. I shall be assassinated, I shall be bravo, bravo, whispered Overton, I'll push you in. But I won't go, exclaimed Mr. Trot. Help here, help! They're carrying me away against my will, this is a plot to murder me. Poor dear, said Mrs. Williamson again. Now, boys, put them along, cried the mayor, pushing Trot in and slamming the door. Off with you as quick as you can, and stop for nothing till you come to the next stage. All right. Horses are paid, screamed Mrs. Williamson, and away went the shays at the rate of fourteen miles an hour, with Mr. Alexander Trot and Miss Julia Manners carefully shut up on the inside. Mr. Alexander Trot remained coiled up in one corner of the shays, and his mysterious companion in the other for the first two or three miles. Mr. Trot edging more and more into his corner, as he felt his companion gradually edging more and more from hers, and vainly endeavoring in the darkness to catch a glimpse of the furious face of the supposed Horace Hunter. We may speak now, said his fellow traveller at Laint. The post-boys can neither see nor hear us. That's not Hunter's voice, thought Alexander, astonished. Dear Lord Peter, said Miss Julia, most willingly, putting her arm on Mr. Trot's shoulder. Dear Lord Peter, not a word. Why, it's a woman! exclaim Mr. Trot in a low tone of excessive wonder. Ah! Whose voice is that, said Julia? It is not Lord Peter's. No, it's mine, replied Mr. Trot. Yours, ejaculated Miss Julia Manners. Strange man, gracious heaven! How came you here? Whoever you are, you might have known that I came against my will-man, replied Alexander, for I made noise enough when I got in. Do you come from Lord Peter, inquired Miss Manners? Confound Lord Peter, replied Trot pettishly. I don't know any Lord Peter. I never heard of him before to-night, would I have been Lord Peter by one and Lord Peter by another till I verily believe I mad, or dreaming, whither are we going, inquired the Lady tragically. How should I know, ma'am, replied Trot with singular coolness, for the events of the evening had completely heartened him. Stop, stop, cried the Lady, letting down the front glasses of the shays. Stay, my dear ma'am, said Mr. Trot, pulling the glasses up again with one hand and gently squeezing Miss Julia's waist with the other. There is some mistake here. Give me till the end of this stage to explain my share of it. We must go far. You cannot be set down here alone at this hour of the night." The Lady consented. The mistake was mutually explained. Mr. Trot was a young man, had highly promising whiskers, an undeniable tailor, and an insinuating address. He wanted nothing but vatter, and who wants that with three thousand a year. The Lady had this and more, she wanted a young husband, and the only course open to Mr. Trot to retrieve his disgrace was a rich wife. So they came to the conclusion that it would be a pity to have all this trouble in expense for nothing, and that as they were so far on the road already they had better go to Gretna Green and marry each other, and they did so. And the very next preceding entry in the Blacksmith's Book was an entry of the marriage of Emily Brown with Horace Hunter. Mr. Hunter took his wife home and begged pardon and was pardoned, and Mr. Trot took his wife home and begged pardon too and was pardoned also. And Lord Peter, who had been detained beyond his time by drinking champagne and riding a steeple chase, went back to the honourable Augustus Flares and drank more champagne and rode another steeple-chase and was thrown and killed. And Horace Hunter took great credit to himself for practicing on the cowardice of Alexander Trot. And all these circumstances were discovered in time and carefully noted down, and if you ever stop a week at the Winglebury Arms, they will give you just this account of the great Winglebury Duel. End of Section 53