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Come, Dives, come ; and be taught that all your dear fellow, it's all very well between you and me glory, as you wear it, is not half so beautiful in to say this, but don't say it to the world ; don't the eye of heaven, as the sores of uncomplaining Jem, if you would n't be hunted, harried, stoned to Lazarus! And ye poor creatures, livid and faint-death, like a mad dog. Folks won't be turned stinted and crushed by the pride and hardness of inside out after this fashion, without revenging the the world-come, come, cries the bell, with the treatment with all sorts of bad names. Very pure voice of an angel-come and learn what is laid up folks won't be held up to the light and shown to for ye. And learning, take heart and walk among be very dirty bottles, without paying back hard the wickednesses, the cruelties of the world, calmly abuse for the impertinence. Jem, whatever coat as Daniel walked among the lions.' Here Cap a man may wear, never see a hole in it. Though stick, Aushed and excited, wrought beyond him- it may be full of holes as a net, never see 'em ; self, suddenly paused. Jem stared, astonished, but take your hat off to the coat, as if it was but said no word. And then, Capstick, with the best bit of broad-cloth in the world, without a calmer manner, said —" Jem, is there a finer sight flaw or a thread dropt, and with the finest bits of than a stream of human creatures passing from a gold lace upon it. In this world, Jem, woe to the Christian church?”

man with an eye for holes ! He's a beast, a wretch, “ Why,' said Jem, “ that's as a man may con- an evil-speaker, an uncharitable thinker, a pest to sider with hiinself. It may be, as you say, a very be put down. And Jem, when the respectable fine sight—and it may be, what I call a very sad hypocrites make common cause with one another and melancholy show, indeed."

the Lord help the poor devil they give chase lo!' “Sad and melancholy!” cried Capstick ; “ I always speak my mind,” said Jem. “you 'll have a hard task to prove that.”

“It's an extravagance that has ruined many a "Perhaps so—only let me do it after my own man,” said the muffin-maker. “But enough of fashion." Capstick nodded assent. “Bless you ! this, Jem ; it's just the time to catch Tangle beI've thought of it many a time when I've seen a fore he goes out.” A few moments brought them church emptying itself into the street. Look here, to the lawyer's door. Ere, however, the muffinnow. I'll suppose there 's a crowd of people-a maker could touch the knocker, the door opened, whole mob of 'em going down the church steps. and Mr. Tangle, his wife, his two sons and two And at the church door, there is I don't know how daughters presented themselves, all, the females many roods of Christian carriages—with griffins especially, being dressed for church. Yes ; dressed painted on the pannels, and swords, and daggers, for church ; carefully, elaborately arrayed and orand battle-axes, that, as well as I can remember, namented, to sustain the severest criticism that, Jesus does n't recommend nowhere : and there's during the hours of devotion, might be passed upon the coachman, half-asleep and trying to look re-them by sister sinners. ligious--and there's fooimen following some and "Mr. Tangle,” said Capstick, "I won't keep carrying the Holy Bible after their misusses, just you a minute : but when can I call onas lo-morrow they 'll carry a spaniel--and that's “ Nothing secular to-day, sir," said Tangle, what they call their humility. Well, that's a and he waved both his hands. pleasant sight, is n't it? And then for them who're “ But, Mr. Tangle, there's life and death, sir" not ashamed to carry their own big prayer-books, -cried Capstick, but Tangle interrupted him: with the gold leaves twinkling in the sun, as if • What's life and death, sir? What are they, they took pains to tell the world they'd been to sir, that we should do anything secular to-day?" church-well, how many of them have been there • But, Mr. Tangle, it's the fate of that poor in earnest? How many of them go there with no wretched boy; and there is n't a minute to lose," thought whatsoever, only that it's Sunday- urged the muffin-maker. church-going day? And so they put on what they “I shall be very glad to see you in the way of think religion that day, just as I put on a clean business, lo-morrow," replied Tangle, laboring to shirt. Bless you sometimes I've stood and appear very placid ; " but I beg of you, my good watched the crowd, and I've said to myself, man, not to disturb the current of my thoughts• Well, I should like to know how many of you of my Sabbath feelings—with anything secular will remember you 're Christians till next week? | to-day. To me the world is dead on Sundays." How many of you will go to-inorrow morning to “But won't you do good on Sundays?" cried your offices, and counting-houses, and stand be- Capstick.—“Your religion does n't forbid that, I hind your counters, and, all in the way of business suppose?' --all to scramble up the coin-forget you 're mis- ** My good man, let me have none of your freeerable sinners, while every other thing you do may thinking ribaldry here. This is my door-step, and make you more miserable, only you never feel it, don't defile my threshold with your profanity. I so long as it makes you more rich ?' And so there's have given you my answer. Nothing secular toa Sunday conscience like a Sunday coat; and day." Saying this with increased vehemence, Mr. folks, who 'd get on in the world, put the coat and Tangle was bustling from the door with his family the conscience carefully by, and only wear 'em -—who, looking wondering looks at Capstick and once a week. Well, to think how many such Jem, had walked statelily on—when a carriage rapfolks go to worship-I must say it, Master Cap- idly turned the square, and in a moment stopt at stick, to stand inside a church and watch a con- Tangle's door. Instantly, Mr. Tangle brought himgregation coming out, I can't help thinking it, self up; and cast, certainly, a look of secular curihowever you may stare, may be, thinking after my osity towards the carriage windows. In an instant, fashion, á melancholy sight indeed. Lord love young Lord St. James alighted, and was followed you, when we see what some people do all the by his tutor-woru and broken since we last met week-people who 're slaunch at church, remem-hiin-Mr. Folder. Mr. Tangle immediately recog. ber–I can't help thinking, there 's a good many nized the young nobleman, and although it was poor souls who're only Christians at morning and Sunday, advanced towards him with pains-taking arternoon service."

" Your wife told us you were here, Mr. Capstick looked earnestly at Jem and said, “ My | Capstick,” said his lordship to the muffin-maker.

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« Pray, sir, can we consult you upon a business “ Do what he likes, can't he?'' asked Tangle. that is somewhat urgent ?" said Folder to the “ By no means. You see, it is with the boy attorney.

as it was with the boy Themistocles," said Mr. "Certainly, sir; anything for his lordship. Folder. Excuse me one moment;" and Tangle, with un- Really?" observed Tangle. wonted agility, skipped after his wife and family. One of Plutarch's own parallels. The boy They must go to church without him. A lord, a rules the marchioness, and the marchioness rules young lord, had called upon him—that sweet young gentleman in the sky-blue coat and lace-collar- “I understand," said Tangle: "rules the marand the business was imminent. He, the husband quess. It will happen so." and father, would join them as soon as he could. “ And therefore, the sum and end of it all is, With many backward, admiring looks at the lovely the horse-stealer must be saved. Bless you! his little nobleman, did Mr. Tangle's family proceed young lordship has threatened to fall sick and die, on their way to church, whilst Tangle-ihe groan- if St. Giles is hanged ; and has so frightened ing victim io secular affairs-ushered young St. his poor mother, who again has made the marJames and Mr. Folder into his mansion. “We quess so anxious, that—the fact is, we've come to can do nothing without you,” said St. James to

you.' Capstick and Bright Jem; who thereupon gladly “ It's a great pity that I did n't know all this followed, the attorney marvelling at the familiarity before. The case, my dear sir, was a nothing-a of the boy nobleman.

very trumpery case, indeed ; but then, to a man “What can I have the honor to do for his lord- with my extensive practice, it was really not worth ship?” asked Mr. Tangle, with a smile dirt cheap attending to. Otherwise, and to have obliged the at six and eight-pence.

noble family, I could have made sure of an " We should not have troubled you to-day," alibi. It's a great pity that so noble a family said St. James," only you see

should be so troubled, and by such riff-raff!” said “ Don't name it, my dear young lord !” ex-Tangle. claimed Tangle.

“ It is, sir ; it is,” said Folder—"you can feel “Only," chimed in Mr. Folder, “they talk for us. Now, there's no doubt that, in so trifling about hanging on Wednesday.”

a matter, the marquess has more than sufficient Very true," said Tangle; “I believe the interest to save a thief or two; nevertheless, I affair comes off on Wednesday. A great pity, have suggested that a petition should be got up by sir! Quite a child, sir ; and with good parts, the boy's friends—if the wicked creature has any very good parts. Nevertheless, sir, the crime of friends—and that so the marquess—you underhorse-stealing increases hourly; and without stand?" some example is made, some strong example is “Perfectly,” replied Tangle : what would he made

not understand in such a case? “ There is nothing Why, they hanged four for horse-stealing last more easy than a petition. How many signatures session,” said Capstick.

would you like to it? Any number—ihough fifty Tangle looked round with astonishment at the will be good as five hundred.” interruption, and then observed—“ That only " Do you think the jury would sign?" asked proves they don't hang enough."

Mr. Folder. “ Not that it 's of any consequence ; “My opinion, Mr. Tangle ; quite my opinion. only for the look of the thing." We want stronger laws, sir ; much stronger. If • The foreman, I know, would not,” said we were to hang for everything, there 'd be an end Tangle. “He lost a colt himself three years of crime altogether. It's because we only pun- ago, and is n't yet settled to the injury. Neverish by halves-now hanging one, and now another theless, we can get up a very tidy sort of petition; -that we have such a continual growth of vice. and with the marquess' interest-well! that We ought to pull crime up by the roots; now our young St. Giles is a lucky little scoundrel! he 'll present merciful system makes it flourish the make his fortune at Botany Bay.” stronger. However, his young lordship does n't “ And now, Mr. Tangle, that we understand think so. He has all the generosity of youth, one another, we'll join, if you please, his and insists that St. Giles should not be hanged.”'lordship. Well, my lord,” said Folder, returnGod bless him!” cried Capstick.

ing, “ I have talked the matter over with Mr. “ Amen!” said Bright Jem.

Tangle, and, though he gives very little hope-" “I must request that we have no interruption," “ There's all the hope in the world,” said Capsaid Tangle, looking loftily at the two offend- stick, " for his lordship says he'll take the pe

“ Perhaps, sir," and the lawyer turned lition himself to the minister, who 's his father's to Folder, “perhaps, you will state your case.” friend, and, if I may advise the marchioness, his

“ Just a word in private,'' said Folder ; and motherTangle immediately led him into a small adjoining “My good man," observed Mr. Folder, “ we in room, and closed the door. You see, Mr. no way need your advice in the matter. Hold. Tangle," said Folder, “I consider this to be a your tongue." very foolish, weak business ; but the young genile- “ Should n't mind at all obliging you, sir, in man is a spoilt child, and spoilt children will have any other way,” said the unruffled Capstick ;; their way. In one word, his lordship must be " but, as his young lordship here, as he tells: humored, and therefore St. Giles-ihough it me, has been to my shop and all to see me about would be much better for him to be put at once the matter, I think my tongue's quite at his ser-quietly out of further mischief-must not be vice.” hanged. The marquess has his own notions on the "T be sure it is, Capstick," said young St.. matter; proper notions, too, they are, Mr. Tangle ; James, “ go on. Mr. Folder says they'd better notions ihat do honor to him as a legislator, hang St. Giles ; and papa says so too; but. and would, I verily believe, let the law take they shan't do it for all ihat. Why, I should its course. But, poor man! what can he do ?” never have the heart to mount a horse again."

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CHAPTER X.

“A noble little chap!” whispered Bright Jem glory before the throne of God! Oh, politicians ! to Capstick.

Oh, rulers of the world! Oh, law-making masters And so, as I told you, Capstick, I went to and taskers of the common million, may not this your house, as you know all about the boy, and the cast-off wretch, this human nuisance, be your acboy's friend, to see about a petition ; for that's the cuser at the bar of Heaven? Egregious folly! way, they tell me

Impossible! What-stars and garters impeached “Give yourself no further trouble," said by rags and tatters ! St. James denounced by St. Tangle “ the petition shall be prepared, my lord. Giles! Impudent and ridiculous! Yet here, we I'll do it myself, this very day, though the affair say, comes the reverend priest-the Christian is secular. Nevertheless, to oblige your lord- preacher, with healing, honied words, whose ship

Book-your Book—with angelic utterance, says You're a good fellow," said young St. no less. Let us hear the clergyman and his forJames, patronizing the lawyer; and, after a few lorn pupil. preliminaries were settled, the conference con- “Well, my poor boy,” said the ordinary, with cluded.

an affectionate voice and moistening eyes : “ well, my child, and how is it with you? Come, you are

better ; you look better ; you have been listening And young St. Giles lay in Newgate, sinking, to what your good friend Robert here has been withering, under sentence of death. After a time, reading to you. And we are all your friends, he never cried, or clamored ; he shed no tear, here. At least, we all want to be. Don't you breathed no syllable of despair; but, stunned, think so ?" stupefied, seemed as if idiocy was growing on St. Giles slowly lifted his eyes towards the him. The ordinary—a good, zealous man-en- speaker. He then slowly, sullenly answered. deavored, by soothing, hopeful words, to lead the " No, I don't." prisoner, as the jail phrase has it, to a sense of his “But you ought to try to think so, my boy; condition. Never had St. Giles received such it's wicked not to try," said the ordinary, rery teaching ! Condemned to die, he for the first time tenderly. heard of the abounding love of Christianity—of the “If you 're all my friends, why do you keep me goodness and affection due from man to man. here?” said St. Giles. “Friends! I never had The story seemed odd to him ; strange, very no friends." strange ; yet he supposed it was all true. Never- “Yon must not say that ; indeed, you must not. theless—he could not dismiss the thought, it All our care is to make you quiet and happy in puzzled him. Why had he never been taught all this world, that you may be happier in the world this before? And why should he be punished, you 're going to. You understand me, St. Giles! hanged for doing wrong; when the good, rich, My poor dear boy, you understand me? The fine people, who all of the loved their neighbors world you 're going to?" The speaker, inured like themselves, had never taught him what was as he was to scenes of blasphemy, of brute indifright? Was it possible that Christianity was ference, and remorseful agony, was deeply touched such a beautiful thing-and being so, was it possi- by the forlorn condition of the boy; who could ble that good, earnest, kind-hearted Christians not, would not, understand a tenderness, the end would kill him?

of which was to surrender him softened 10 the St. Giles had scarcely eight-and-forty hours to hangman. You have thought, my dear-I say, live. It was almost Monday noon, when the you have thought of the world”—and the minister ordinary-having attended the other prisoners--paused the world you are going to?". entered the cell of the boy thief. He had been “What's the use of thinking about it?" asked separated, by the desire of the minister, from his St. Giles. “I knows nothing of it." miserable companions, that their evil example of “ That, my boy, is because you are obstinate, hardihood—their reckless bravado—might not and I am sorry to say it, wicked,—and so won't wholly destroy the hope of growing truth within try to know about it. Otherwise, if you would him. A turnkey attended Si. Giles, reading to give all your heart and soul to prayer," him. And now the boy would raise his sullen “I tell you, sir, I never was learnt 10 pray," eyes upon the man, as he read of promises of grace cried St. Giles, moodily ; “ and what's the use and happiness eternal : and now his heart would of praying ?" heave as though he was struggling with an inward • You would find it open your heart, St. Giles; agony that seemed to suffocate him—and now a and though you see nothing now, if you were scornful, unbelieving smile would play about his only to pray long and truly, you would find the mouth-and he would laugh with defying bitter- darkness go away from your eyes, and you 'd see

And then he would leer in the face of the such bright and beautiful things about you, and reader, as though he read to him some fairy tale, you'd feel as light and happy as if

had wings some pretty story, to amuse and gull him. Poor at your back-you would, indeed.' Then you 'd wretch! Let the men who guide the world—the feel that all we are doing for you is for the best ; large-brained politicians, who tinker the social then, my poor boy,” said the ordinary with growscheme, making themselves the masters and guar- ing fervor, " then you 'd feel what Christian love dians of their fellow-men-let them look into this is.' Newgate dungeon ; let them contemplate this “ Robert 's been reading to me about that," said blighted human bud; this child felon, never taught St. Giles, " but I can't make it out no-how. He the path of right, and now to be hanged for his says that Christian love means that we shouldn't most sinful ignorance. What a wretched, sullen do to nobody what we would n't like nobody to do outcast ! What a dark ed, loathsome thing ! to ourselves." And now comes the clergyman-the state divine, " A good boy,” said the ordinary, that is the be it remembered—to tell him that he is treasured meaning, though not the words. I'm glad you with an immortal soul : that with mercy shed so improved.” upon him-he will in a few hours be a creature of “And for all that, you tell me that I must

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think o’ dying-think of another world and all the repentant craven—and he would be the theme that-think of going to Tyburn, and, and"-here of eulogy in Hog Lane—he would not be laughed, the boy fell hoarse; his face turned ash-color, and sneered at, for "dying dunghill.” And this reeling, he was about to fall, when the ordinary temper so grew and strengthened in St. Giles, caught him in his arms, and again placed him on that, at length, the ordinary, wearied and hopea seat. "It's nothin'-nothin' at all,” cried St. less, left his forlorn charge, promising soon to Giles, struggling with himself—"I'm all right; return, and hoping, in his own words, to find the I'm game.”

prisoner “a kinder, better, and more Christian “Don't say that, child ; I can't hear you say boy.”' that: I would rather see you in tears and pain " It's no use your reading that stuff to me,” than trying to be game, as you call it. That, my said St. Giles, as ihe turnkey was about to resume boy, is only adding crime to wickedness. Come, his book ; “I don't understand nothin' of it; and we were talking of Christian love,” said the it's too late to learn. But I say, can't you tell ordinary.

us somethin' of Turpin and Jack Sheppard, eh? "I knows nothin' about it," said St. Giles ; Something prime, to give us pluck!” “all I know is this,-it is 'nt true; it can't be “ Come, coine," answered the man, “it's no true.

use going on in this way. You must be quiet and Tell me; why not! Come, let me hear all listen to me; it's all for your good, I iell you; you 'd say," urged the clergyman tenderly. all for your good.”

" 'Cause if it means that nobody should do to “My good! Well, that's pretty gammon, nobody what nobody would like to have done to that is. I should like to know what can be for theinselves, why does anybody keep me locked up my good if I'm to be hanged? Ha! ha! See if here? Why did the judge say I was to be—you I don't kick my shoes off, that's all.” And St. know, Mister?”

Giles would not listen ; but sat on the stool, " That was for doing wrong, my boy: that was swinging his legs backwards and forwards, and for your first want of Christian love. You were singing one of the melodies known in Hog Lane no Christian when you stole the horse,” said the poor wretch! it had been a cradle meludy to ordiniry. “Had the horse been yours, you would him—whilst the turnkey vainly endeavored to have felt wronged and injured had it been stolen soothe and interest him. At length the man froin you? You see that, eh, my boy?"

discontinued his hopeless task ; and, in sheer list“Did n't think o' that,” said Si. Giles gloomily. lessness, leaning his back against the wall, fell -“But I did n't steal it: 't was all along o' Tom asleep. And now St. Giles was left alone. And Blast; and now he's got off; and I'm here in now, relieved of importunity, did he forego the the Jug. You don't call that justice, no how, do bravado that had supported hiin, and solemnly you? But I don't care ; they may do what they think of his approaching end? Did he, with none like with me; I'll be game.'

other but the eye of God in that stone cell, upon “No, iny dear boy, you must know better : you him-did he shrink and wither beneath the look ; must, indeed—you must give all your thoughts to and, on bended knees, with opened heart, and

flowing, repentant tears, did he pray for Heaven's "It's o' no use, Mister; I tell you I never was compassion-God's sweet mercy? No. Yet learnt to pray, and I don't know how to go about thoughts deep, anxious thoughts were brooding in it. More than that, I feel somehow ashamed to his heart. His face grew older with the meditait. And besides, for all your talk, Mister, and tion that shadowed it. All his being seemed you talk very kind to me, I must say, I can't feel compressed, intensified in one idea. Gloomily, like a Christian, as you call it,-for I can't see yet with whetted eyes, he looked around his cell; why Christians should want to kill me if Chris- and still darker and darker grew his face. Could tians are such good people as you talk about." he break prison? Such was the question—the

“But then, my poor boy,” said the ordinary, foolish, idle, yet flattering question ihat his soul "though young, you must remember, you 're an put to itself. All his recollections of the glory old sinner. You've done much wickedness." of Turpin and Sheppard crowded upon him—and

“I never done nothing but what I was taught; what greater glory would it be for him if he could and if you say—and Bob there's been reading it escape! He, a boy, 10 do this? to ine--that the true Christian forgives everybody in ballads—to be talked of, huzzaed, and held up -well then, in course, the judge and all the nobs for high example, long alier he should be deadare no Christians, else would n't they forgive me? passed forever from the world? The proud thought Would n't they like it so, to teach me beiter, and glowed within hiin—made his heari heave-and not to kill me? But I don't mind ; I 'll be game; his eyes sparkle. And then he looked about his see if I don't be game-precious!”

cell, and the utter hopelessness of the thought fell The ordinary, with a perplexed look, sighed upon him, withering his heart. Yet again and deeply. The sad condition of the boy, the horrid again—although to be crushed with new despair death awaiting him, the natural shrewdness with -he gazed about him, dreaming of liberty withwhich he combated the arguments employed for out that wall of flint. And thus his waking his conversion, affected the worthy clergyman hours passed ; and thus, in the visions of the beyond all past experience. “Miserable little night, his spirit busied itself in hopeful vanity. wreich !" he thought, "it will be worst of mur- The Tuesday morning came, and again, the ders, if he dies ihus.” And then, again, he clergyman visited the prisoner. The boy looked essayed to soften the child felon, who seemed paler, thinner—no more. There was no softness determined to stand at issue with his spiritual in his eyes, no appealing glance of hope : but a counsellor; to recede no step, but to the gallows fixed and stubborn look of inquiry. “He did n't foot to defy himn. It would be his ambition, his know nothing of what the parson had to say, and glory-if he must die—to die game. He had he did n't want to be bothered. It was all gamheard the praises bestowed upon such a death-mon!” These were the words of the boy felon, had known the contemptuous jeering flung upon then—such was the humanity of the law; poor

prayer, and

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law! what a long nonage of discretion has it the door was opened, and the governor of the jail, passed !-then within a day's span of the grave. attended by the head. turnkey, entered. "My

As the hour of death approached, the clergy dear sir, I am glad to find you here"-said the man became more assiduous, ferrent, nay pas- governor to the ordinary. "I have a pleasing sionate in his appeals to the prisoner; who still duty to perform : a duty that I know it will delight strengthened himself in opposition to his pastor. you to witness.” The ordinary glanced at a paper “My dear boy-my poor child—miserable, help- held by the governor ; his eyes brightened ; and less creature !--the grave is open before you—the clasping his hands, he fervently uttered" Thank sky is opening above you! Die without repent- God!” ance, and you will pass into the grave, and never The governor then turned to St. Giles, who -never know immortal blessings ! Your soul suddenly looked anxious and restless.

" Priswill perish-perish as I have told you—in fire, in oner,” he said, “it is my happiness to inform fire eternal!"

you that his gracious majesty has been mercifully St. Giles swayed his head to and fro, and with pleased to spare your life. You will not suffer a sneer asked, “What's the good o' all this? with the unfortunate men to-morrow. You unHave n't you told me so, Mister, agin and agin?” derstand me, boy”—for St. Giles looked suddenly

The ordinary groaned almost in despair, yet stupefied—"you understand me, that the good still renewed his task. “ The heavens, I tell you, king, whom you should ever pray for, has, in the are opening for you ; repent, my child; repent, hope that you will turn from the wickedness of poor boy, and you will be an immortal spirit, wel- your ways, determined to spare your life? You comed by millions of angels.”

will be sent out of the country; and time given St. Giles looked with bitter incredulity at his you that, if you properly use, will make you a spiritual teacher. “ Well, if all that 's true," he good and honest man.” said, “ it is n't so hard to be hanged, arter all. But St. Giles made no answer, but trembled vioI don't think the nobs like me so well, as to send lently from head to foot. Then his face fushed me to sich a place as that.”

red as flame, and covering it with his hands, he Nay, my poor boy,” said the ordinary, “ you fell upon his knees; and the tears ran streaming will not, cannot understand me, until you pray. through his fingers. Pray with me; pray for Now, kneel-ny dear child, kneel and let us pray me!” he cried, in broken voice, to the ordinary. together.” Saying this, the ordinary fell upon And the ordinary knelt, and rendered up" humhis knees; but St. Giles, folding his arms, so ble and hearty thanks” for the mercy of the king ! planted himself as to take firmer root of the We will not linger in the prison-St. Giles ground; and so he stood with moody, determined was destined for Botany Bay. Mr. Capstick looks, whilst the clergyman-touched more than was delighted, in his own way, that the ends of was his wont-poured forth a passionate prayer justice would be satisfied ; and whilst he rejoiced that the heart of the young sinner might be soft- with the triumph of justice, he did not forget the ened ; that it might be turned from stone into flesh, evil-doer; for St. Giles received a packet from and become a grateful sacrifice to the throne of the muffin-maker, containing sundry little comforts God. And whilst this prayer, in deep and solemn for his voyage. tones, rose from the prison-cell, he for whom “We shall never see him again, Jem," said the prayer was formed, seemed to grow harder, Mrs. Aniseed, as she left Newgate weeping; harmore obdurate, with every syllable. Still he ing taken her farewell of the young transport. refused to bend his knee at the supplication of the “He's gone forever from us." clergyman, but stood eyeing him with a mingled “Not he," said Bright Jem; “ we shall see look of incredulity, defiance, and contempt. “God him again another feller quite-a true man, yet ; help you-poor lost lamb!"' cried the ordinary, as I'm sure of it." he rose.

Whether Bright Jem was a true prophet will in “Now, I hope we shall have no more o' that,” due season be discovered by the patient reader of was the only answer of St. Giles.

the next chapters. The ordinary was about to quit the cell, when

A REMINISCENCE.

BY JOSEPH HUME.

THE VALUE OF A FINE LADY.

purple ribbon had come to. The lower margins of the thirty guinea skirts were edged with eleven

additional guineas, the value of some eight yards Once I assisted at the soirée dansante of the of silver fringe a quarter of a yard in depih. Her Countess of Fritterfield. The most brilliant star taper waist, taking zone and clasp together, I in that galaxy of fashion was the young and lovely calculated to be confined by forty pounds sterMarchioness of Fiddledale. I saw her dancing in ling. the hall. Around her snowy brow were set five Her delicately-rounded arms, the glove of spothundred pounds : for such would have been the less kid being added to the gold bracelet which answer of any jeweller to the question, “ What are encircled the little wrist, may be said to have those diamonds ?” With the gentle undulations been adorned with twenty-two pounds five and of her bosoin, there rose and fell exactly thirty sixpence, and, putting the silk and satin at the pounds ten shillings. The sum wore the guise lowest figure, I should say that she wore fourof a brooch of gold and enamel. Her fairy form teen and sixpence on her feet. Thus, altogether, was invested in ten guineas, represented by a slip was this thing of light, this creature of loveliness, of lilac satin ; and this was overlaid by thirty rayed from top to toe, exclusively of little sunguineas more in two skirts of white lace. Taste dries, in six hundred and forty-eight inds eleven fully disposed down each side of the latter, shillings. were six half crowns; which so many bows of

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