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is the ordinary eater to understand by “ Côlelelles Mr. Caudle! but the world does n't know you as à la jardinière,''-chops after the manner of the I know you fine feelings, indeed! to send the she-gardener. How is he to know the peculiarities poor girl out, when I told you and told your friend, of the she-gardener's chops? Among other items 100-a pretty brute he is, I'm sure—that the poor in this work there is an "Epigramme d'agneau ; girl had got a cold and chilblains on her toes. but this, luckily, is translated, “ breast of lamb ;'' | But I know what will be the end of that; she 'll otherwise it might be difficult to know whether be laid up, and we shall have a nice doctor's bill. the epigram was food for the mind or the body. And you 'll pay it, I can tell you—for I wont. Another dish is, “ Rognons sautés au vin de Cham- “ Wish you were out of the world! Oh! yes, pagne"—kidneys stewed in Champagne; still that's all very easy, I'm sure I might wish it. great obscurity hangs over this stew. But what Don't swear in that dreadful way! Ain't you startled us most, was a viand called Charlotte afraid that the bed will open and swallow you? Russe aux fraises.” “Charlotte Russe!” we ex- And don't swing about in that way. That will claimed; Russian Charlotte, "aux fraises," with do no good. That won't bring back the leg of strawberries! What dish is this ?—Are we pork-and the brandy you've poured down both amongst cannibals, who, with her strawberries, of your throats. Oh, I know it! I'm sure of it. will have us eat the strawberry girl? To know I only recollected it when I'd got into bed—and merely the English of these titles is unavailing; if it had n't been so cold, you'd have seen me they are like portions of certain Greek choral odes, down stairs again, I can tell you—I recollected it, which we can translate, but cannot comprehend and a pretty two hours I've passed, that I left their translation. Let a full description of each the key in the cupboard-and I knew il-I could dish be given in the margin, or at the foot of the see by the manner of you, when you came into page. At present we defy even a Templar to the room—I know you've got at the other bottle. understand this book, unless he has eaten at least However, there's one comfort; you told me to his three years' terms at Paris.

send for the best brandy—the very best-for your

other friend, who called last Wednesday. Ha! ÁR. CAUDLE HAS REMAINED DOWN STAIRS TILL nice and ill I hope the pair of you will be to-mor

ha! It was British—the cheapest British—and PAST ONE, WITH A FRIEND. A pretty time of night to come to bed, Mr. “ There's only the bare bone of the leg of Caudle. Ugh! As cold, too, as any ice. Enough pork : but you 'll get nothing else for dinner, I can to give any woman her death, I'm sure. What! tell you. It's a dreadful thing that the poor chilI should n't have locked up the coals, indeed? If dren should go without—but, if they have such a I had n't, I've no douot the fellow would have father, they, poor things, must suffer for it. staid all night. It's all very well for you, Mr. Nearly a whole leg of pork and a pint of Caudle, to bring people home-but I wish you 'd brandy! A pint of brandy and a leg of pork. A think first what 's for supper. That beautiful leg of leg of-leg-leg

-pint" pork would have served for our dinner to-morrow And mumbling the syllables, says Mr. Caudle's -and now it's gone. I can't keep the house MS., she went to sleep. upon the money, and I won't pretend to do it, if you bring a mob of people every night to clear the


"I wonder who 'll be so ready to give you a Pity the sorrows of a third class man, supper when you want one; for want one you

Whose trembling limbs with snow are whitened will, unless you change your plans. Don't tell

o'er, me! I know I'm right. You ’ll first be eaten up, Who for his fare has paid you all he can: and then you 'll be laughed at. I know the world.

Cover him in, and let him freeze no more! No, indeed, Mr. Caudle, I don't think ill of everybody; don't say that. But I can't see a leg of This dripping hat my roofless pen bespeaks, pork eaten up in that way, without asking myself So does the puddle reaching to my knees; what it 's all to end in if such things go on? And Behold my pinch'd red nose—my shrivell d cheeks : then he must have pickles, too! Could n't be You should not have such carriages as these. content with my cabbage-no, Mr. Caudle, I won't let you go to sleep. It's very well for you In vain I stamp to warm my aching feet, to say let you go to sleep, after you've kept me I only paddle in a pool of slush; awake till this time. Why did I keep awake? My stiffen'd hands in vain I blow and beat ; How do you suppose I could go to sleep, when I Tears from my eyes congealing as they gush. knew that man was below drinking up your substance in brandy-and-water? for he could n't be Keen blows the wind ; the sleet comes pelting content upon decent, wholesome gin.

Upon my

down, word, you ought to be a rich man, Mr. Caudle. And here I'm standing in the open air ! You have such very fine friends. I wonder who Long is my dreary journey up to Town, gives you brandy when you go out?

That is, alive, if ever I get there. No, indeed, he could n't be content with my pickled cabbage—and I should like to know who Oh! from the weather, when it snows and raius, makes better-but he must have walnuts. And

You might as well, at least, defend the poor ; you, too, like a fool—now, don't you think to stop It would not cost you much, with all your gains : me, Mr. Caudle; a poor woman may be trampled

Cover us in, and luck attend your store. to death, and never say a word—you, too, like a fool—I wonder who'd do it for you—to insist upon the girl going out for pickled walnuts. And in such a night too! With snow upon the ground. We understand that some of the Railway ComYes; you're a man of fine feelings, you are, panies, desirous of carrying out the project for




supplying the poor with baths, have had their | After exercising our culinary sagacity to the third-class carriages construeted so as to serve the utmost extent, we find that the following is the double purpose of a locomotive and a washing-tub. best bill of fare we could make up from the list They are supplied with water from the rain, which before us :pours in upon all sides; and enough to constitute a bath is provided in a very few minutes, if the

F18H.-Whale fins of British taking. weather happens to be favorable to the benevolent

Soup.-Ox-tail, tanned, but not otherwise

dressed. object.

GAME.-Singing birds.
Meats.-Beef-wood, hoofs of cattle, lamb

(skins,) dyed or colored, dressed in oil. By the new Customs resolutions 430 articles

ENTREES.-Fricasseed racoon, tiger en papil

lote. are to be henceforth duty free. This sounds ex

PASTRY.-Sweet wood ceedingly well, but when we ask the child's

question, whether Sir R. Peel's boon comprises“ any.

CHEESE.-Bees'-wax. thing good to eat," we are bitterly disappointed

DESSERT.-Nuts, kernels of walnuts, and of at the reply which the list presents to us.

peach stones. Among the articles that may henceforth be had

WINES AND LIQUEURS.—Antimony wine, sencheap, there are at least hall, that we, in our in- na, sanguis draconis, &c. &c. nocence, never heard of. The second thing upon

The above is the best possible dinner that could the list is Algnobilla, which we shall be glad if be given under the New Tariff. any of our correspondents will favor us with a bit of-or a drop of—as the case may be, that we may ascertaiu how far the public will be likely to benefit by its coming in free of duty. The first Oh! solitude, thou wonder-working fay, really intelligible article we come to is Arsenic, Come, nurse my feeble fancy in your arms, of which there is already more than enough in Though I and thee and fancy town-pent lay, this country; but as arsenic seems to be all the Come, call around a world of country charms, rage, the premier perhaps thought a spice of it Let all this room, these walls, dissolve

away, would be well-timed at the present moment.

And bring me Surrey's fields to take their place; Beef-wood is a promising title, but we fear that This floor be grass, and draughts as breezes play ; beef-steaks, even as hard as a board, will not be Yon curtains trees, to wave in summer's face; let in free by the abandonment of the duty on beef- My ceiling, sky; my water-jug, a stream; wood. If we cannot have the meat, however, we My bed, a bank, on which to muse and dream. may be allowed the bones, for these are to be the spell is wrought : imagination swells henceforth untaxed; and as the hoofs of cattle My sleeping-room to hills, and woods, and dells! are also to be let in, an attempt may be made I walk abroad, for nought my footsteps hinder ; to get calf's-foot jelly for the million out of And fling my arms. Oh! mi! I've broke the them.

winder, Canella Alba, Cinnabaris Nativa, and Divi Divi, are also to come in duty free: but if we were to see a lot of stuff in a window, marked Divi Divi,” two-pence a pound, or a placard inscribed “ New Tariff, the duty off Cinnabaris

The Pope he leads a happy life, Nativa," we should be puzzled to know what to

No contradiction knows, nor strife; make of it. Fustic and Ginseng will doubtless

He rules the roast by right divine, be a boon to those who are fond of such things,

I would the Papal chair were mine! though we confess we should not like to venture

But happy, now, I fear he's not,

Those Irish are 10 take any; while our objections to Eupherbium

noisy lot; and Tragacanth are equally insuperable.

And as with Dan he has to cope, The premier is particularly favorable to the

I think I'd rather not be Pope. poisoning interests, for he releases Hellebore as well as Arsenic; and Ipecacuanha, Senna, and

O'Connell better pleases me,

With all he will he maketh free; Jalap, will also be let in : so that Sir R.' Peel may exclaim literally, “ Here's medicine for thy

He raises rint with wondrous skill ; grief,” when the poor man asks what the tariff Like him my pockets I would fill. will do for him.

But even he, the great king Dan, We are to have iron in the pig, but whether a

Is forced to sink the gentleinan, live pig with a ring run through his nose will be

And bluster where repealers dine ; let in is doubtful. The leaves of roses are also I would not change his lot for mine. to come in free; but perhaps there is some selfishness in this, for the premier would no doubt So here I 'll take my lowly stand, like to have a bed of them. Our eye was caught In what is called “this favored land ;" by the words, goose undressed ; 'but on looking Put up with strife, if need be mine, further we found it is the skin orly of the foolish Nor at an empty purse repine. bird that we are to be treaied to exempt from But when my pocket's filled, with glee. duty. In conclusion, we defy the most ingenious I'll dream that I O'Connell be ; cook to hash up a dinner out of the whole 430 And when their mouths repealers ope, articles.

I 'll thank my stars I'm not the Pope.




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From Jerrold's Magazine. him copies, and he had written them in his brain

for life-long wisdom. Other little boys had been

taught to “ love their neighbor as themselves.” Short was the distance from Covent Garden Now, the prime ruling lesson set to young St. Theatre to Covent Garden watch-house ; and Giles was is honor among thieves." Other boys therefore in a few minutes was young St. Giles might show rewarding medals-precious testimony arraigned before the night-constable. Cesar Gum of their schooltime work; young St. Giles knew had followed the offender as an important witness nothing of these; had never heard of them; and against him; whilst Bright Jem and his wife cer- yet unconsciously he showed what to him was best tainly attended as sorrowing friends of the prisoner. evidence of his worth : at the door of his cell, he Kitty Muggs was of the party ; and her indigna- showed that he was game.' Scarcely was he tion at the wrong committed “on so blessed a bidden to enter the dungeon, than he turned his baby” mean of course St. James-would face up to the constable, and his eyes twinkling have burst forth in loudest utterance had she not and leering, and his little mouth quivering with been controlled by the moral influence of Bright scorn, he said—“ You don't mean it, Mister ; I Jem. Hence, she had only the small satisfaction know you don't mean it." of declaring, in a low voice to her sister, " that “Come, in with you, ragged and sarcy !” cried the little wretch would be sure to be hanged—for the constable. he had the gibbet, every bit of it, in his counte- “Well, then," said the urchin, nance.” With this consolation, she suffered her- good night to you,” and so saying, he flung a self to be somewhat tranquillized. “ The Lord summerset into the cell : the lock was turned, and help him!” cried Mrs. Aniseed. “Well, you Bright Jem-fetching a deep groan-quitted the ought to be ashamed of yourself to say such a watch-house, his wife, sobbing aloud, following thing !" whispered Kitty Muggs.

him. Bright Jem was sad and silent. As Cesar, with “What can they do to the poor child ?” asked unusual glibness, narrated the capture of the Mrs. Aniseed of Jem, as the next morning he sat prisoner with the stolen property upon him, poor silent and sorrowful, with bis pipe in his mouth. Jem, shading his eyes with his hand, looked looking at the fire. mournfully at the pigmy culprit. Not a word • Why, Susan, that's what I was thinking of. did Jem utter ; but the heart-ache spoke in his What can they do with him? He is n't old face.

enough to hang ; but he's quite big enough to be “And what have you got to say to this?" whipped. Bridewell and whipping : yes, that 's asked the night-constable of St. Giles. “You 're it, that's how they'll teach him. They'll make a young gallows-bird, you are ; hardly out of Jack Ketch his schoolmaster; and nicely he'll the shell, yet. What have you got to say?" learn him his lesson 1owards Tyburn. The old

Why, I did n't take the at," answered young story, Susan-the old story," and Jem drew a St. Giles, fixing his sharp black eyes full on the long sigh. face of his interrogator, and speaking as though "Don't you think, Jem, something might be he repeated an old familiar lesson, “I did n't take done to send him to sea ? He'd get taken away it: the at rolled to me ; and I thought as it had from the bad people about him, and who knows, tumbled out of a coach as was going on, and I run might after all turn out a bright man. after it, and calling out, if nobody had lost a at, the hopeful faith of Mrs. Aniseed. when that black gentleman there laid hold on me, " Why, there's something in that to be sure. and said as how I stole it. How could I help it, For my part, I think that's a good deal what the if the at would roll to me? I did n't want the sea was made for—to take away the offal of the at.'

land. He might get cured at sea; if we could “Ha!” said the constable, “there's a good get anybody as would take him. I'm told the sea deal of wickedness crammed into that little skin of does wonders, sometimes, with the morals of folks. yours—I shall lock you up. There-go in with I've heard of thieves and rogues of all sorts, that you,” and the constable pointed to a cell, the door were aboard ship, have come round 'straordinary. of which was already opened for the reception of Now, whether it's in the salt water or the the prisoner.

bo'swains, who shall say? He would n't make a And did young St Giles quail or whimper at bad drummer, neither, with them little quick fists his prison threshold ? Did his young heari sink of his, if we could get him in the army.' at the gloomy dungeon ? Oh no. Child as he Oh, I'd rather he was sent to sea, Jem," was, it was plain he felt that he was acting a part : cried Mrs. Aniseed, " then he'd be out of harm's he had become in soine way important, and he way.seemed resolved to rise with the occasion. He “Oh, the army reforms all sorts of rogues, too," had listened to tales of felon fortitude, of gallows averred Jem. “Sometimes they get their morals heroism ; and ambition stirred within him. He pipeclayed, as well as their cloihes. Wonderful had heard of the Tyburn humorist, who, with his what heroes are made of, sometimes. You see, I miserable jest in the jaws of death, cast his shoes suppose, there 's something in some parts of the from the cart, to thwart an oft-told prophecy that trade that agrees with some folks. When they he would die shod. All these stories St. Giles storm a town now, and take all they can lay their had listened to, and took to his heart as precious hands on, why there's all the pleasure of the recollections. While other children had conned robbery without any fear of the gallows. It's their books—and written maxim copies—and stealing made glorious with fags and drums. learned their catechism-St. Giles had learned Nobody knows how that little varmint might get this one thing—to be “ game." His world—the on." world of Hog Lane had taught him that ; he had Here Jem was interrupted by the sudden aplistened to the counsel from lips with the bloom of pearance of a woman hung with rags and looking Newgate on them. The foot-pad, the pickpocket, prematurely old. Misery and vice were in her the burglar, had been his teachers : they had set face, though the traces of evil were for the time

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softened by sorrow. She was weeping bitterly, “ And what can I do?" asked Jem-"I'm not and with clasped trembling hands, ran into the judge and jury, am I??? room. It was the wretched mother of young St. Why, you know Capstick, the muffin-man. Giles; the miserable woman who more than six Well, he's a householder, and can put in a good years before had claimed her child in that room; word for the boy with the beak. I suppose you who had borne her victim babe away to play its know what a beak is?" said Thomas Blast, with early part in wretchedness and deceit. She had a satirical twist of the lip. “ Not too fine a gensince frequently met Jem, but always hurried from tleman to know that?" him. His reproofs, though brief, were too signifi- “Why, what does Capstick know of little St. cant, too searching, for even her shame to en- Giles?”' asked Jem. counter. " Oh, Jem! Jem !” she cried, “ “ Oh, Jem,” said the woman, “yesterday he my dear child-save my innocent lamb."

stood his friend. He's a strange cretur, that " Ha! and if he is n't innocent,” cried Jem, Capstick ; and often does a poor soul a good turn, " whose fault's that?"

as if he'd eat him up all the while. Well, “But he is—he is,” screamed the woman. yesterday arternoon, what does he do but give my “ You won't turn agin him, too? He steal any- precious child—my innocent babe-two dozen mufthing! A precious cretur ! he might be trusted fins, a basket and a bell." with untold gold !".

“I see,” cried Jem, with glistening eyes, set " Woman," said Jem, “I would n't like to him up in trade. God bless that muffin-man." hurt you in your trouble ; but have n't you no shame “That's what he meant, Jem; but it was n't at all? Don't you know what a bit of truth is, to be-it was n't to be," cried the woman with a that even now you should look in my face, and tell sigh. me such a wicked lie?”

"No-it warn't," corroborated Mr. Blast. "I don't, Jem-I don't,” vociferated the woman. You see the young un-all agog as he was“ He's as innocent as the babe unborn."

brought the muffins to the lane. Well, we had n't “Why, so he is, as far as he knows what's had two dinners, I can tell you, yesterday; so we right and what's wrong. He has innocence ; that sells the basket and the bell for sixpenn'orth of is, the innocence you've taught him. Teach a butter, and did 't we go to work at the muffins." child the way he should go," cried Jem, in a tone And Mr. Blast seemingly spoke with a most satisof some bitterness, “and you've taught him the factory recollection of the banquet. way to Newgate. The Lord have mercy on you! “And if they 'd have pisoned all of you, served What a sweet babby he was, when six year and a you right,” cried Jem, with a look of disgust. half ago you took him from this room—and what * You will kill that child-you won't give him a is he now? Well, well, I won't pour water on a chance-you will kill him body and soul.” drowned mouse,” said Jem, the woman crying “La, Jem! how can you go on in that


!" more vehemently at his rebuke, “but how you can cried the mother, and began to weep anew. look in that child's face, and arterwards look up at “ He's the apple of my eye, is that dear child." heaven, I don't know.

“ None the better for that, by the look of 'em," “ There's no good, not a ha’porth in all this said Jem. “Howsomever, I'll go to Mr. Cappreaching. All we want to know is this. Can stick. Mind, I don't want neither of you at my you help us to get the young 'un out o'trouble?'' heels; what I'll do—I'll do by myself,'^ and This reproof and interrogation were put in a without another word, Bright Jem took his cap, hoarse, sawing voice by a man of about five-and-and, unceremoniously passing his visitors, quitted thirty, who had made his appearance shortly after the room. His wife, looking coldly at the newSt. Giles' mother. He was dressed in a coat of comers, intimated a silent wish that they would Newgate cut. His hat was knowingly slanted follow him. The look was lost upon Mr. Blast, over one eyebrow, his hands were in his pockets, for he immediately seated himself; and seizing and at short intervals he sucked the stalk of a the poker, with easiest familiarity beat about the primrose that shone forth in strong relief from the embers. Mrs. Aniseed was a heroic woman. black whiskers and week's beard surrounding it. Nobody who looked at her, whilst her visitor

* And who are you?" asked Jem, in a tone not rudely disturbed her coals, could fail to perceive very encouraging of a gentle answer.

the struggle that went on within her. There are "That's a good 'un, not to know me. My housewives whose very heartstrings seem conname's Blast–Tom Blast; not ashamed of my nected with their pokers; and Mrs. Aniseed was name," said the owner, still champing the prim- of them. Hence, whilst her visitor beat about the

grate, it was at once a hard and delicate task for * No, I dare say not,” answered Bright Jem. her not to spring upon him, and wrest the poker "Oh, I know you now. I've seen you with the from his hand. She knew it not, but at that moboy a singing ballads."

ment the gentle spirit of Bright Jem was working I should think so. And what on it? No in her; subduing her aroused passion with a sense disgrace in that, eh? I look upon myself as re- of hospitality. spectable as any of your folks as sing at your fine A sharp spring this, for poor people, is n't it, play-house. What do you all pipe for but money? Mrs. Aniseed ?” observed Mr. Blast. Only there's this difference; they gets hundreds quite the tail of a hard winter, does n't it?” Mrs. of pounds—and I gets half-pence. A singer for Aniseed tried to smile a smile-she only shivered money 's a singer for money-whether he stands it. “Well, I must turn out, I 'spose; though I upon mud or a carpet. But all's one for that. have n't nothing to do till night-then I think I What's to be done for the boy? I tell his mother shall try another murder : it's a long while since here not to worry about it—'t wont be more than we've had one." a month or two at Bridewell, for he's never been "A matter of two months," said the mother of nabbed afore : but it's no use a talking to women, St. Giles, " and that turned out no great things." you know ; she won't make her life happy, no “ Try a murder," said Mrs. Aniseed with some how. So we've come to you."

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“Oh, there 'll be no blood spilt," answered Mr. I knew the little vagabond was a lost wretchBlast, "only a bit of Grub-street, that's all. But could read that in his face; and then the muffins I don't know what's come to the people. They were somewhat stale muffins—so don't think I don't snap as they used to do. Why, there's was tricked. No: I looked upon it as something that Horrible and Particular Account of a Bear less than a forlorn hope, and I wont flatter mythat was fed upon young Children in Westmin- self; but you see I was not mistaken. Neverthester: I've known the time when I've sold fifty less, Mr. Aniseed, say nothing of the matter to of 'em afore I'd blowed my horn a dozen times. my wife. She said-not knowing my thoughts Then there was that story of the Lady of Fortin on the business—she said I was a fool for what I that had left Twins in the Cradle, and run off did : so don't let her know what's happened. with her Husband's Coachman—that was a sure When women find out they're right, it makes 'em crown for a night's work. Only a week ago it conceited. The little ruffian !cried Capstick did n't bring me a groat. I don't know how it is ; with bitterness—"to go stealing when the muffins people get sharper and sharper, as they get wick- might have made a man of him.” eder and wickeder."

“ Still, Mr. Capstick,” urged Jem, “there's “ And you don't think it no harm, then,” said something to be said for the poor child. His Mrs. Aniseed, “to make bread of such lies ?” mother and the bad uns in Hog Lane would n't let

“What does it signify, Mrs. Aniseed, what him have a chance. For when St. Giles ran your bread 's made of, so as it's a good color, and home—what a place to call home!-they seized plenty of it? Lord bless you ; if you was to take upon the muffins, and turned the bell and basket away all the lies that go to make bread in this into butter, swallowed 'em without so much as town, you'd bring a good many peck loaves down winking.' to crumbs, you would. What's the difference “ Miserable little boy !” exclaimed the softened atween me and some folks in some newspapers ? Capstick-and then he groaned, “ Wicked Why this : I sells my lies myself, and they sell wretches !" 'em by other people. But I say, Mrs. Aniseed, “ That's true again,” said Jem;" and yet honit is cold is n't it?"

ger hardly knows right from wrong, Mr. CapMrs. Aniseed immediately jumped at the subtle stick.” purpose of the question ; and curtly, frozenly Capstick made no answer to this, but looking replied—" It is."

in Jem's face, drew a long breath. A drop o' something would n't be bad such “And about the boy ?” said Jem,“ he's but a a mornin as this, would it?" asked the unabashed chick, is he, to go to gaol?” guest.

“It's no use—it's all no use, Mr. Aniseed; “ La! Tom,” cried St. Giles' mother, in a we're only throwing away heaven's time upon half-tone of astonishment and deprecation. the matter; for if the litile rascal was hanged at

“I can't say,” said Mrs. Aniseed ; “ but it once-to be sure, he is a little young for that, might be for them as like it. I should suppose, nevertheless I was about to say-and here the though, that this woman- -if she's got anything muffin-man, losing the thread of his thoughts, of a mother's heart in her-is thinking of some- twitched his cap from his head, and passed it from think else, a good deal more precious than drink.” right hand to left, and from left to right, as

“ You may say that,” said the woman, lifting though he sought in such exercise to come plump her apron to her unwet eye.

again upon the escaped idea—"I have it,” at " And there's a good soul, do-do when you length he cried. “I was about to say, as I've an get the dear child home again-do keep him out idle hour on hand, I'll walk with you to Lord of the streets; and don't let him go about singing St. James, and we'll talk to him about the of ballads, and”

matter." “ That's all mighty fine, Mrs. Aniseed,” said Now Bright Jem believed this of himself; that Mr. Blast, who, foiled in his drink, became sud- in a good cause he would not hesitate—at least denly independent in his language-"all mighty not much—to speak to his majesty, though in his fine ; but, after all, I should think singing ballads royal robes and with his royal crown upon his a little more genteel than bawling for coaches, and head. Nevertheless, the ease, the perfect selfmaking dirty money out of fogs, and pitch and possession, with which Capstick suggested a call oakum. A ballad-singer may hold his head up upon the Marquess of St. James obtained for him with a linkman any day—and so you may tell Jem, a sudden respect from the linkman. To be sure, when you see him. Come along,” and Mr. Blast as we have before indicated, there was something twitched the woman by the arm—"come along : strange about Capstick. His neighbors had clothed there's nothing to be got here but preaching him with a sort of mystery; hence, on second and that will come in time to all of us.

thoughts, Bright Jem believed it possible that in “Don't mind what he says,” whispered St. happier days ihe muffin-man might have talked to Giles' mother to Mrs. Aniseed, " he's a good marquesses. cretur, and means nothing. And oh, Mrs. Ani- “ Yes,” said Capstick, taking off his apron, seed, do all you can with Mr. Capstick for my we'll see what can be done with his lordship. innocent babe, and I shan't say my prayers with. I'll just whip on my coat of audience, andout blessing you.” With this, the unwelcome hush !-my wife," and Mrs. Capstick stirred in visitors departed.

the back parlor. “ Not a word where we're We must now follow Bright Jem to the house going. Not that I care a straw; only she'd say of the muffin-man. Jem has already told his I was neglecting the shop for a pack of pagerrand to Mr. Capstick ; who, with evident sorrow abonds : and perhaps she's right, though I and disappointment at his heart, is endeavoring to would n't own it. Never own a woman's right: look like a man not at all surprised by the story do it once, and on the very conceit of it, she'll be

related to him. Oh dear, no! he had quite ex- wrong for the rest of her life.”'. With this apopected it. “ As for what I did, Mr, Aniseed”- thegm, the muffin-maker quitted the shop, and imsaid Capstick_“I did it with my eyes open. I mediately his wife entered it.

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