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tunately their proximity prevented their of foxhounds ; and Crane, after the finest comrades from firing, but I could almost run he ever rode to, never brought home fancy I felt their sabres cutting at me, till I with him a more delightful sportsman. That got my horse fairly into his 'swing, and had night I slept again surrounded by British room enough to turn his head towards the uniformis, and I had the satisfaction of learn. hounds. In the mean time, however, my ing that my party, after I was taken prisother captors, with the exception of the oner, had retired upon head-quarters withgentleman who "was floored,” had made a out loss, and taking with them a satisfactory most skillful circuit, in order to cut me off, report, such as it would have been my duty and I found there was nothing for it but to to make. gallop straight ahead, down hill, towards a The great duke himself was informed of deep scrambling-looking ravine, that it ap- the particulars of my escape ; and many peared just possible to get over. As I years afterwards, when I had the honor of neared it, it looked larger and larger, and, being in company with his Grace, reminded for a moment, I doubted it was impractica-me of the circumstance in his characteristic ble; but the way my favorite was going manner. “Still fond of hunting-still fond under me, his ears pointed towards the diffi- of hunting, eh ? don't ride so hard though, culty, his short rapid strides, showing that now, I'll answer for it." he, at least, had made up his mind as to what I have now only to add, that “Best-ofhe should do, gave me all the confidence I Three,” has often since carried his old misrequired, and taking him fast by the head, I tress, though no longer as Mary Bolton ; and urged him to the extreme pace he could though, in after years, I have possessed command, whilst going in a collected form; many a good and gallant steed, I have never we charged it unhesitatingly, and just landed forgotten my old favorite, whose speed and on the further side as a ball whistled over courage saved me from the degradation and our heads; and Crane, whose hounds had misery of a French prison.' by this time checked, and who had seen and understood the whole escape and chase, gave a twang upon his horn, for the double purpose of diverting the attention of the pur
NONSENSE VERSES. suers, and encouraging and guiding the pur
Qu'il est heureux de se défendre, sued. As I took a pull at my horse up the Quand le caur ne s'est pas rendu! opposite rise, I looked back to see how my Mais qu'il est facheux de se rendre, friends, or rather my enemies, would nego
Quand le bonheur est suspendu!
Par un discours sans saite et tendre, tiate the obstacle I had placed between us.
Egarer un caur éperdu ; The leading Frenchman forced his horse
Souvent par un mal-entendu, courageously into the ravine, and the last I L'amant adroit se fait entendre. saw of him was a shako bobbing up and down just above the surface of mother earth;
How happy to defend our heart,
When love has never thrown a dart! and judging from the profound abyss that
But ah! unhappy, when it bends, passed beneath my eye, as I shot athwart it, While pleasure her soft bliss suspends. I should say that it must have taken several
Sweet in a wild disordered strain hours, and a team of cart-horses, to extricate
A lost and wandering heart to gain,
Oft, in mistaken language wooed, him. His comrades, after firing two or three The skillful lover's understood. ineffectual shots, rode round by another way in a fruitless attempt to outflank, and so This song has such a resemblance to capture us ; but Crane, who seemed to look meaning, that the celebrated Fontenelle, upon the whole thing as a delightful piece hearing it sung, imagined he had a glimpse of fun, got up for his special amusement, of sense, and desired to have it repeated. getting his hounds round him, and bidding “ Don't you see (said Madame de Tencin) me follow, soon put two or three such fences that they are NONSENSE VERSES ?” “It rebetween ourselves and our pursuers as se- sembles so much (replied the malignant wit) cured us from further molestation.
the fine verses I have heard here, that it Fond as I am of hunting, never before, or is not surprising I should for once be missince, have I been so rejoiced to see a pack taken."
From "Dickens' Household Words."
cation of the Edict of Nantes, in 1685, have SPITALFIELDS.
been chiefly the depositories of the silk
manufacture introduced into London, by the Have you any distinct idea of Spitalfields, French Huguenots, who few from the perdear reader? A general one, no doubt you fidy of Louis the Fourteenth. But much of have—an impression that there are certain the old quiet cloistered air, still lingers in squalid streets, lying like narrow black the place. trenches, far below the steeples, somewhere The house to which we are bound, stands about London-towards the East, perhaps,- at an angle with the spot where the Pulpitwhere sallow, unshorn weavers, who have cross was anciently planted; whence, on nothing to do, prowl languidly about, or lean every Easter Monday and Tuesday, the against posts, or sit brooding on door-steps, Spital sermons were preached, in presence and occasionally assemble together in a crowd of the Lord Mayor and Corporation, and to petition Parliament or the Queen; after children of Christ's Hospital. We cross the which there is a Drawing-Room, or a Court many-cornered “square” and enter a sort of Ball, where all the great ladies wear dresses gateway. of Spitalfields manufacture; and then the Along a narrow passage, up a dark stair, weavers dine for a day or two, and so re- through a crazy door, into a room not very lapse into prowling about the streets, lean- light, not very large, not in the least splendid; ing against the posts, and brooding on the with queer corners, and quaint carvings, and door-steps. If your occupation in town or massive chimney-pieces ; with tall cupboards country ever oblige you to travel by the with prim-doors, and squat counters with Eastern Counties Railway (you would never deep dumpy drawers ; with desks behind do so, of course, unless you were obliged) you thin rails, with aisles between thick towers may connect with this impression, a general of papered-up packages, out of whose ends idea that many pigeons are kept in Spital- flash all the colors of the rainbow—where fields, and you may remember to have all is as quiet as a playhouse at daybreak, thought, as you rattled along the dirty or a church at midnight-where, in truth, streets, observing the pigeon-hutches and there is nobody to make a noise, except one pigeon-traps on the tops of the poor dwell. well-dressed man, one attendant porter, ings, that it was a natural aspiration in the (neither of whom seem to be doing any thing inhabitants to connect themselves with any particular,) and one remarkably fine male living creatures that could get out of that, cat, admiring, before the fire, the ends of his and take a flight into the air. The smoky silky paws—where the door, as we enter, little bowers of scarlet-runners that you may shuts with a deep, dull, muffled sound, that have some times seen on the house-tops, is more startling than a noise—where there among the pigeons, may have suggested to is less bustle than at a Quakers' meeting. your fancy-I pay you the poor compliment and less business going on than in a Governof supposing it to be a vagrant fancy, like ment office—the well-dressed man threads my own—abortions of the bean-stalk that the mazes of the piles, and desks, and cupled Jack to fortune: by the elender twigs of boards, and counters, with a slow step, to which, the Jacks of Spitalfields will never, greet us, and to assure us, in reply to our never, climb to where the giant keeps his apology, that we have not made any mismoney.
take whatever, and that we are in the silk Will you come to Spitalfields ?
warehouse which we seek : a warehouse in Turning eastward out of the most bustling which, we have previously been informed, part of Bishopsgate, we suddenly lose the by one whose word we never before doubted, noise that has been resounding in our ears, that there is “ turned over" an annual averand fade into the quiet church-yard of the age of one hundred thousand pounds, of Priory of St. Mary, Spital, otherwise “ Domus good and lawful money of Great Britain. Dei et Beatæ Mariæ, extra Bishopsgate, in may tell our informant, frankly, that, the Parish of St. Botolph." Its modern looking round upon the evidences of stagnaname is Spital Square. Cells and cloisters tion which present themselves, we utterly were, at an early date, replaced by substan- disbelieve his statement. Our faith, how. tial burgher houses, which, since the Revo- I ever, is soon strengthened. Somebody mounts
the stairs, and enters the apartment with the sible way. The gentleman who has just left, deliberate air of a man who has nothing is Messrs. Treacy and McIntyre's silk-buyer. whatever to do, but to walk about in a beau- | That department of their establishment is tifully brushed hat, a nicely-fitting coat ad-handed over to his management as unremirably buttoned, symmetrical boots, and a strictedly and unreservedly as if the whole stock of amazing satin ; to crush his gloves concern were his own. In like manner, the tightly between his hands, and to call on different branches of large houses—such as his friends, to ask them as this gentlemar cotton, woollen, hosiery, small wares, &c.asks our friend-how he is getting on; and are placed under the control of similar buywhether he has been down “yonder" lately, ers. At the end of every half year, an ac(a jerk eastward of the glossy hat;) and, if he count is taken of the stewardship of each of hasn't, whether he intends going down next these heads of department; and, if his parSunday, because if he does, he (the visitor) | ticular branch has not flourished-should the means to go too, and will take him down in stock on hand be large and unsalable—the his “trap." He then, in a parenthetical, Buyer is called to account, and his situation post-scriptum sort of way, alludes to certain jeopardized. The partners, of course, know "assorted Glacés," and indicates the pile of the capabilities and peculiarities of their silks he means by the merest motion of his trade, and can tell, on investigation, how ring finger. “The figure is,” says he. and why the Buyer has been at fault. If,
“Two and seven," replies the vendor. on the contrary, the Buyer has narrowly “How many pieces shall I put aside ?” watched the public taste, and fed it success.
“Well—fifty. By the by, have you fully,—if he has been vigilant in getting heard ?"- Mr. Broadelle (our friend) has not early possession of the most attractive patbeard, and the visitor proceeds to announce, terns, or in pouncing on cheap markets, by from unimpeachable authority, that the taking advantage, for instance, of the embarmatch between Mr. Crumpley of Howell's, rassments of a “shaky” manufacturer or a and Miss Lammy of Swan's, is to come off French revolution, (for he scours the country at last: in fact, next Thursday. Cordial at home and abroad in all directions,) and if “good-by;" graceful elevation of the pol- his department come out at the six-monthly ished hat to myself; and departure of, as settlement with marked profit-his salary is Mr. Broadelle informs us, one of his best cus- possibly raised. Should this success be retomers.
peated, he is usually taken into the firm as “ Customer ?"
a partner." “ Yes! You heard! He has just bought “ But, no judgment was exercised in the fifty pieces of silk of various or assorted' bargain just made. The Buyer did not even colors."
look at your goods." "At two shillings and sevenpence per “That is the result of previous study and yard !"
experience. It is the art that conceals art. “Just so. And there are eighty-four yards He need not examine the goods. He has in a piece.”
learned the characteristics of our dyes to a Our organs of calculation are instantly shade, and the qualities of our fabrics to a wound up, and set a-going. The result thread." brought out when these phrenological works “Then, as to price. I suppose your friend bave run down, is, that this short, easy, is lounging about, in various other Spitaljaunty gossip began and ended a transaction fields warehouses at this moment. Perhaps involving the sum of five hundred and forty- by this time he has run his firm into debt two pounds ten shillings. No haggling for a few thousand pounds more p" about price; no puffing of quality, on one “Very likely." side, or depreciation of it on the other. “Well; suppose a neighbor of yours were The silks are not even looked at. How is to offer him the same sort of silks as those this
he has just chosen here, for less money, “Qur trade,” says our friend, in explana- could he not-as no writing has passed betion, “has been reduced to a system that tween you—be off his bargain with you!" enables us to transact business with the “Too late. The thing is done, and cannot fewest possible words, and in the easiest pos. I be undone,” answers Mr. Broadelle, made &
little serious by the bare notion of such a of London is positively detrimental to the breach of faith. “Our bargain is as tight as manufacture of silk. Is that so ?" if it had been written on parchment and “Why, sir,” replies Mr. Broadelle, stopping attested by a dozen witnesses. His very ex- short, and speaking like a deeply-injured istence as a Buyer, and mine as a Manufac- man, " the two-days' fog we had in December turer, depend upon the scrupulous perform- last, was a dead loss to me of one hundred ance of the contract. I shall send in the pounds. The blacks (London genuine parsilks this afternoon. And I feel as certain ticular) got into the white satins, despite the of a check for the cash, at our periodical best precautions of the workpeople, and put settlement, as I do of death and quarter- them into an ugly, foxy, unsalable halfday.”
mourning, sir. They would not even take a It is difficult to reconcile the immense dye, decently. I had to send down, express, amount of capital which flows through such to our Suffolk branch to supply the deficia house as this—the rich stores of satins, ency; and the white satins, partly woven velvets, lutestrings, brocades, damasks, and there on the same days, came up as white other silk textures, which Mr. Broadelle as driven snow.” brings to light from the quaint cupboards Considering that both the worker and the and drawers—with the poignant and often work are deteriorated by an obstinate tenure repeated cry of poverty that proceeds from of the present dense and unfit site, it seems this quarter.
wonderful that the weavers themselves are What says Mr. Broadelle to it? He says not as anxious to remove from a noxious and
un profitable neighborhood as their well“ Although most masters make this local| wishers can be to effect their removal. From ity their head-quarters, and employ the fourteen to seventeen thousand looms are neighboring weavers, yet they nearly all contained in from eleven to twelve thousand have factories in the provinces : chiefly in houses—although, at the time at which we Lancashire. The Spitalfields weaver of plain write, not more than from nine to ten thousilks and velvets, therefore, keeps up a hope- sand of them are at work. The average less contest against machinery and cheaper number of houses per acre in the parish is labor, and struggles against overwhelming seventeen; and the average per acre for all odds. Will you step round and see a family London being no more than five and a fifth, engaged in this desperate encounter ?” Spitalfields contains the densest population,
“ Is there no remedy?” we ask, as we go perhaps, existing. Within its small boundout together.
aries, not less than eighty-five thousand “A very simple one. In the country, human beings are huddled. They are," вау in Suffolk, where we have a hand-weav- says Mr. Broadelle, “so interlaced, and ing factory-food is cheaper and better ; bound together, by debt, marriage, and preboth food for the stomach, and food for the judice, that, despite many inducements to lungs.”
remove to the country establishments of the “ The air is better, so less money, you masters they already serve, they prefer think, would be spent in drink ?"
dragging on a miserable existence in their Undoubtedly. Fancy yourself stewed present abodes. Spitalfields was the Neup in a stifling room all day ; imagine the cropolis of Roman London ; the Registrarlassitude into which your whole frame would General's returns show that it is now the collapse after fourteen hours' mere inhala- grave of modern Manufacturing London. tion of a stale, bad, atmosphere-to say The average mortality is higher in this Menothing of fourteen hours' hard work in tropolitan district than in any other." addition; and consider what stern self-denial “And what strange streets they are, Mr. it would require to refrain from some stimu- Broadelle! These high, gaunt houses, all lant—a glass of bad gin, perhaps if you window on the upper story, and that window could get it. On the other hand, the fresh all small diamond panes, are like the houses air which plays around country looms, ex in some foreign town, and have no trace of hilarates in itself, and is found to be a sub- London in them-except its soot, which is stitute for gin."
indeed a large exception. It is as if the “I have also heard that the atmosphere Huguenots had brought their streets along
with them, and dropped them down here. / who should be in Lancashire, or Suffolk, or And what a number of strange shops, that anywhere rather than here! Nothing easier seem to be open for no earthly reason, hav- to find in Spitalfields. Enter by this dooring nothing to sell! A few halfpenny bun- / way. dles of firewood, a few halfpenny kites, half- Up a dark narrow winding public stair, penny battledores, and farthing shuttle cocks, such as are numerous in Lyons or in the form quite an extensive stock in trade here. wynds and closes of the old town of EdinEatables are so important in themselves, that burgh, and into a room where there are four there is no need to set them off. Be the looms ; one idle, three at work. loaves never so coarse in texture, and never A wan thin eager-eyed man, weaving in so unattractively jumbled together in the his shirt and trowsers, stops the jarring of baker's dirty window, they are loaves, and his loom. He is the master of the place. that is the main thing. Liver, lights, and | Not an Irishman himself, but of Irish descent. sheep's-heads, freckled sausages, and strong “Good-day !" black puddings, are sufficiently enticing with “Good day !" Passing his hand over his out decoration. The mouths of Spitalfields rough chin, and feeling his lean throat. will water for them, howsoever raw and “We are walking through Spitalfields, ugly they be. Is its intellectual appetite being interested in the place. Will you sharp-set, I wonder, for that wolfish litera- / allow us to look at your work?" ture of highly-colored show-bill and rampant! " Oh ! certainly." wood-cut, filling the little shop-window over “ It is very beantiful. Black velvet ?" the way, and covering half the house? Do “Yes. Every time I throw the shuttle, I the poor weavers, by the dim light of their cut out this wire, as you see, and put it in lamps, unravel those villainons fabrics, and again—so !" Jarring and clashing at the nourish their care-worn hearts on the last loom, and glancing at us with his eager eyes. strainings of the foulest filth of France ?" “ It is slow work." "I can't say,” replies Mr. Broadelle; "we “Very slow." With a hard, dry cough, have but little intercourse with them in their and the glance. domestic lives. They are rather jealous and “And hard work.” suspicious. We have tried Mechanics' In- “Very hard.” With the cough again. stitutions, but they have not come to much.” | After a while, he once more stops, per“Is there any school here ?"
ceiving that we really are interested, and “Yes. Here it is."
says, laying his hand upon his hollow breast An old house, hastily adapted to the pur- and speaking in an unusually loud voice, pose, with too much darkness in it and too being used to speak through the clashing of little air, but no want of scholars. An infant | the loom : school on the ground-floor, where the infants “It tries the chest, you see, leaning forare, as usual, drowsily rubbing their noses, ward like this for fifteen or sixteen hours at or poking their fore-fingers into the features a stretch." of other infants on explanatory surveys. “Do you work so long at a time?" Intermediate schools above. At the top of “Glad to do it when I can get it to do. all, in a large, long, light room-occupying A day's work like that, is worth a matter of the width of two dwelling-houses, as the three shillings." room made for the weaving, in the old style “ Eighteen shillings a week.” of building, does—the “ragged school.” “Ah! But it ain't always eighteen shil
"Heaven send that all these boys may lings a week. I don't always get it, renot grow up to be weavers here, Mr. Broa- member! One week with another, I hardly delle, nor all these girls grow up to marry I get more than ten, or ten-and-six.” them !”
“ Is this Mr. Broadelle's loom ?” "We don't increase much, now," he says. “ Yes. This is. So is that one there ;" "We go for soldiers, or we go to sea, or we the idle one. take to something else, or we emigrate, “And that, where the man is working ?” perhaps."
“ That's another party's. The young man Now, for a sample of the parents of these working at it, pays me a shilling a week for children. Can you find us a man and wife leave to work here. That's a shilling, you