AT HER MERCY. an idea, even in that supreme moment of BT IHB AUTHOB OF " LOST SIB MASSIirODKED," " X PEBrBCT humiliation and shame, she forbore to think TBBASUEE," &C. &C. harshly of her uncle. At the very worst, he had only been mistaken, weak, and fond; CHAPTER XXXV. UNDEE HER THUMB. he had judged that the presence of Captain WHAT conld it mean—what could it Heyton and his wife at Dunwich would be portend—that the woman of all others in insupportable to her, and at all costs—at the -world who had shown herself to be the sacrifice even of self-respect—he had Mr. Hulet's enemy, and -whom he himself decided to remove her from their neigh­ seemed to shrink from and avoid like a bourhood. She had only to tell him how pestilence, should have -written him a entirely he had misread her feelings—-what letter ? E-yy strove, though it was hard to pain and shame he was inflicting upon her do so, to put herself and her own -wrongs by such a course of conduct, and he would ont of the question, and regard the matter cast back this insulting gift in the teeth as respected her uncle only. In the first of the giver. place, -what was the meaning of this He was returning for her decision even mention of money ? Was it possible that now; she heard his quick, yet faltering, Judith had offered them pecuniary assist­ step coming through the parlour, and his ance ? If this had been done at the time hesitating hand upon the door, and had when their misfortunes had occurred there but just time to cast the piece of paper on would have been nothing unseemly, nor, the floor, when he once more stood before considering the source from which she had her. derived her wealth, even surprising in " Well, my darling; you have thought such a proposal, although at that very it over ? " said he, tenderly. time Evy -well remembered her uncle'spas- " Tes, uncle." sionate exclamation of disgust at the notion There was something in her tone, not of receiving such assistance. But that only of calmness and decision, but of now, after the cruel treachery which she rigidity, which at once attracted his notice. had exhibited, Judith should venture to He looked at her with anxiety, almost insult them both by a pecuniary gift was with alarm, ere he continued— a reflection that brought the colour to " I knew it must be so, love. We could E'vy's very forehead. And yet, what con­ not remain here, of course, now the Hey­ text conld these words h.ave -which did not tons have returned. It would be most imply as much ? Moreover, had not her painful for you—for both of us, indeed— uncle mentioned, but a few minutes ago, and not, in fact, in good taste " that he had the means of mo-sdng from Evy was thunderstruck. Dun-wich, if not of living elsewhere. And " Uncle Angelo, you astonish me," cried who could have supplied those means, or she. "Whose fault is it that they are offered to do so, but Judith herself ? coming here ? Not ours, but theirs ! " Doubtless, if Mr. Hulet had stooped, or " It is their home, Evy." showed an inclination to do so, to aecept " And is not tliis our home ?—as much help from such a hand, it was for Evy's o-wn our home as Dunwich Park is Judith's ? " sake. Deep aa was her indignation at such A spasm passed across the old man'n aies 277 4)82 [Marcli 21,1874.] ALL THE YEAR ROUKP. face, as she Iiad noticed ifc to do before at "Teg, Evy, yes," was the old the mention of thatnflme. He opened his •unexpected rej^ly. montli to speak ; but no words came. He had sank down shuddering upon-Uie 'i "Besides, nncle," continued she, "you opposite bencih with an expsession of [ ^^ knew as mnch as tha.t when you agreed to helpless despondency. "When she com­ ]JM come here." mands I must needs obey'her." " She -they Tiad decided to live His tone was not one of mere ^n». abroad, yon know," gasped lie. "I never cation nor even of shame; its abject 6e> thought that the old lord wonld have gradation and despair froze Evy's blood received them." within her. She had long suspected, m " That may bo so; bnt it was always we know, that Judith was in possession of liable to happen. Wo have ourselves, of some fact that led her to believe—and iie late, been expecting nothing less; and yet disclosure of which might lead othera io nntil this morning you have never spoken do so—that the late Mrs. Hnlet had diei ^^iE1 of onr being driven away from hence by by her own hand. Was it possible that she such an event. Have yon any reason, was holding this over the widower tn nncle, for this sudden purpose beyond the terrorem, and that he, though conscious of-ta- tender solicitude which I know yon always his own innocence, was submitting throngfe(Jft* feel upon my account ?" fear of public opinion to ignominions termglpi " Tes, E'vy, yes," answered the old man of her dictation? When she called to nervously. " I consult my own feelings mind Judith's words, at the moment when also when I say that it is best to leave this she was about to give her evidence before place." the coroner; the conversation she had " "What, to give up our home, onr means overheard between her and Mr. Hulet in of existence—I say nothing of our self- the garden ; the insolent independence of respect, of the moral cowardice which such Judith's manner towards her uncle after an act implies " his wife's death; and finally that rcmain- iog sentence she had just read, and rf " Hush, hush, dear," interrupted Mr. which she had now no difficulty in gness-- Hulet, hurriedly. "Tou are going too ing the completion—" if you want monet fast. V^e are not without means; I possess you shall have it, bnt you must lean —or, at least, I can procure sullicient Dunwich "—she conld doubt no longer. ' money to live elsewhere, humbly, it is true, but " AU these things convinced her that her " Bnt fTom whom ? " broke in Evy, with unhappy uncle's sensitiveness to opinion^ indiguation. " Is it possible, Uncle Angelo, and perhaps remorse for his matrimonial that you can stoop to accept snch aid as disagreements, had rendered him, a prey has been offered you this morning." Here to Judith, and that he did not dare to he raised his hand ap^f^alingly, and gazed brave a revelation—which though it might at her with such a (ioi^recating air, as at be founded on a mistake (and Evy firmly any other time would have melted her believed that it was so), yet for him would heart within her; bnt the tide of her have all the damning force of fact. Eyy's feelings was too strong, and hurried her indignation against Judith was excessive. away. " See, I fonnd this on the floor "— She was resolved, if arguments of hers here she picked np the scrap of paper that conld effect it, that her nncle should not she had thrown down as he entered the budge an inch at her rival's insolent com­ porch—a piece of a letter in Judith's hand; mand ; bnt she foresaw that the task of persuasion wonld be difficult. The first " 1J0U shall have it— thing to be done was, plainly, to discover leave Dimiuich—" the limits of this woman's power over " 1^0, this is not the same, but its fellow; him. the other was "—here she picked that up " Dear Uncle Angelo," said she, in qniet also, and fitted the two together—" Great but earnest tones, "when yon tell me that heaven! what does this mean ? Want you must needs obey Jndith, I cannot bnt money—you shall have it, hut you vvust conclude that she has taken some cruel leave Dunwich. Does she daro to threaten advantage of you. I am quite sure that ns, then ? Is this infamous girl, not con­ it is not right that you shonld be in a tent with her falsehood and treachery, position of subserviency to any snch per­ bent on driving ns from the poor home son. Now what is not ri.ght, we ought that charity has given ns, because she feels not, no matter what sacrifice is entailed our presence here a reproach to her ? " upon UB by resistance, to endure." =f OharleB Diokens.] AT HER MERCY. [March 21,1874.] 483

He shook his head and groaned, " Alas ! eyes. That she was on the right tack she there is no help for it, E'vy." felt convinced. Ifc was plain, indeed, that "Nay, there is always help against her words had little comfort for him ; bat wrong-doers, if we ask it of God," an­ to comfort him was not so much her object swered Evy, gently; " and Ho often sends as to awaken his sense of self-respect, and it through very humble instruments. If to rouse him to resistance; to di-ag him, you would give me your confidence, dear as it wore, from beneath the wheels of uncle, in this sad matter, perhaps even degr.adation, and place him on his feet, my poor "wits might be of service to you. erect, if not defiant. There must be somo means of extrication "I have heard and read, dear Uncle from the net which this woman has so Angelo," continued she, "that of all praftily cast about you; you cannot deserve weaknesses, that is the most calamitous to be her slave, you know." which induces us, through fear of tlje "Tou are -wrong, my poor child," groaned menaces of such wicked persons, to be­ the old man; " I do deserve it. Would to come their slaves; for though the error Heaven that I could say that I did not." which has placed us in their power may This was no little shock to E-yy; her be in reality venial, we are often rendered mind had hitherto refused to credit her culpable by obedience to their cruel uncle -with actual blame -with respect to caprices : and in any case, that it is better his -wife's death, whatever of petulant to let them do their worst at first—to let impatience he might have to answer for them divulge what they know—than to in his conduct towards her; but this con­ live on in an abject and submissive state ; fession that he " deserved " to bo in the to submit to the extortionate interest, as it power of Judith Mercer argued something were, which we pay for a debt that is far more serious and deplorable. At the never discharged, and for which we are same time she knew him to have a very always liable." tender conscience in all things relating "B'Vfy,Evy, do not torture mc," exclaimed to the event in question, and it was quite Mr. Hulet, suddenly : "all this is true, as possible that he might be taking an none—God help me—can be more aware exaggerated -view of -what had, after all, of than myself ; but I am bound hand and been but a weakness. foot, and cannot stir a finger save by an­ "Of our own deserts. Uncle Angelo," other's leave. Death, Death only can pleaded she, " -we are few of us good release me from her bonds, and Death judges. Most of us, it is true, think our­ would be welcome 1" selves better than we are, but others, He was silent for a moment, while Evy through sensitiveness, or on account of looked at him. silently too, with ten-ified some calamity that has accidentally oc­ amazement. " Come, child," cried he, curred through their mere errors, are un­ starting to his feet, " we are losing time, necessarily remorseful." and this woman, who is more peremptory Here he lifted up his face to look at her; than any crowned tyrant, bids us depart she fancied that a little light was gleam­ quickly." ing in the gloom that overpowered it; His face had a vacant look, his eyes a was it possible that her -words had let wandering stare, that she had never ob­ it in? served in him before. His limbs, too, trem­ "I have heard Mr. Mellish say, dear bled, as though ague or palsy shook them. nncle," continued she, earnestly, and Dreadfully alarmed, and only sustained watching him -with keen attention, " that by the thought that it -was near the hour though -we cannot exaggerate our sins to at which Dr. Bume almost al-ways dropped God, it is very easy to do so to ourselves; in at Seymour's Home, on his usual morn­ that there is such a thing as being too self- ing round—staying t'wice as long to chat conscious. At all events, of one thing we with his former patient as he had done of may be certain, that base persons who old when he was paid for his visits^Evy have come to the knowledge of our sins or besought her companion to sit do'^\'n. " If weaknesses, and who are our enemies, will we are to go, dear uncle, it is certain you exaggerate them for us, and do theu- best will not have strength to do so, if you to get us punished for them, or still worse, excite yourself thus." if they have the chance, will turn such Moved by this entreaty, or, perhaps, kno-wledge to their o-wn advantage by the because his strength was unequal to sus­ menace of disclosing it." tain him on his feet, Mr. Hulet resumed Mr. Hulet shuddered and closed his his seat.

>«• 484 [March 21,1974.] ALL THE TEAR ROUND. [Conducted by

"There is no such very great hurry," room yonder; our ancestor with the heads­ to be sure, he murmured: "we have still man's axe, and the poor king; he was a some days to turn abont in; she will not bad man, but he suffered cruelly for it. be home till Saturday, she writes." I am sorry I ever spoke of him as I naed There was something in that spectacle to do. It's a frightful thing, whether one of the abject submission of her unhappy is innocent or guilty, Evy, to be broa^ nncle, in the insolence of tho message out on a scaffold to be put to death. W^-^ quoted, and perhaps in the nse of the term that is what may happen to ine ! " "Home," which Judith had applied to the "But you are innocent," cried Evy place which ought to have called Evy clinging to his coat, and questioning him mistress rather than herself, which roused with feverish eyes. " Oh, pray, dear uncle, Evy's indignation to the uttermost. tell me—no matter what may happen— ^ "It is a degradation to hear snch that you at least are innocent." words ! " exclauned she, passionately. "I " Alas, Evy," groaned the old man, his love you, Uncle Angelo, more than my chin falling forward on his breast, "I life, for I would lay that down to serve cannot say I am." you, but I love honour better. Go, if yon will—for I will not believe yon must CHAPTER IXXVJ. PKOSTBATE, —from Dunwich at the bidding of this " LET US go : I am quite ready, let ns worthless woman; but as for me, I will go," were the faint but impatient words not go. She has betrayed my friendship, that Evy Carthew spoke, after that dread­ "^vrongcd me more than ever woman ful revelation which Mr. Hulet had made wi'ongcd her sister, but she shall not put to her. She was no longer in the stone her foot on my neck. And here I stay." porch where she had heard it, but in her " Oh, Evy, Evy, you don't know what own little room in bed, though in her you say," answered Mr. Hulet, pleadingly; eagerness for flight, and solicitude for her " it is your presence here, not mine, that uncle's safety, she was at first unconscious she objects to; she hates you, and she of the change of scene. Even when the dreads to look upon yon." kindly tones of Dr. Bnrno, who was sitting " Then I remain here," said Evy, firmly; by her pillow, replied to her, humouring " I remain hero all the more, to defy and her wandering fancy as he deemed it after daunt her." his professional fashion, "Tes, yes, dear " But the penalty," pleaded the old girl; and so you shall, all in good time," man, in agonised tones; " the penalty to she did not recognise his voice, but an­ me, dear E^y, if she tells my secret." swered, "How can you hint of delay, " What is your secret ? Surely I am uncle. Let ns start to-day, no matter as safe a repository of it as she who novr whither, so long as we leave Dunwich." possesses it. What is it, uncle ? " Then the door opened, and a low and " Don't ask me, darling; for Heaven's broken voice inquired, " Is there any sake dou't ask me," answered he, clasping change, Doctor ? " his hands imploringly; " to know it my­ "A little, my dear Hulet," was the self, and to know another knows it—even quiet reply. " Her speech is stronger, hut though she be one whose good opinion I her mind is still astray." value not—that is bad enough ; but to Then Evy knew that she had been ill; think that my own Evy, my pet, my how iU, she could only guess from her darling, should share such loiowlodge, and sense of personal weakness, which was in­ therefore no longer love me ! No, no— tense ; the question that more interested think what you will of me—I am safe her was, How long ? How much precious then; but tell you, Evy, I never will." time, which should have been spent in "But the penalty, nncle," urged the preparation for departure, had been lost wretched girl; "at least tell me the tlirough her weakness ? her inability to extent of that. What can the penalty be, withstand the shock of her xmcle's awftd out of fear of which you are prepared to confession ? give up this quiet home, and friends, and For the actual facts of the case began self-respect ?" to dawn upon her; sho must have fallen "I'll tell you, then," groaned Mr. do^vn, in some sort of swoon or fit, and Hulet; " I'll whisper it in your car, and been carried insensible to her room. Her then you'll understand that we must go, head ached sadly, although she had a band­ and -will never speak about the dreadful age of some kind about it, which felt soft thing again. Tou know my picture in the and cool. ^= =.g. Charles Sickens.] AT HER MERCY. [March 21,1874.] 485

"Evy." and over again, as she lay upon her sick She opened her half-shut eyes, though bed alone, with the persistency of the tick­ •with some difficulty, like one who pushes ing of a clock, only to be varied at times against a door that slowly " gives ; " Mr. by another sentence : " Innocent ? Alas, i Hulet was leaning over her with haggard Evy, I cannot say I am." anxious face. They were " never to speak about the " Evy, darling: do you know me ? " dreadful thing again;" that had been "Yes, uncle." agreed upon between them; but she could i "Thank God, thank God," he mur­ none the more forbear to think about it; mured, " there is still something to thank indeed she could think of nothing else. God for." To be put to death upon a scaffold was to "Have I been long ill, uncle ? " be punished for Murder; no less. But "Yes, dear—lie still, lie still, my had Uncle Angelo then, over whom this darling," added "he earnestly, as she made penalty impended, committed murder ? -, a, piteous effort to lift her head, "or your It was as reasonable to suppose yonder wound will bleed afresh, and I shall lose sun, the fountain of light, to be a black • you yet! " and frozen mass (simply because it had a " But the time, the precious time, uncle. cloud upon it) as to credit one so gentle Can I not be moved to-day ? " and warm-hearted as Mr. Hulet with so "Not to-day, darling; in a few days, hemous a crime. Her common sense aud when you are stronger." experience revolted from so monstrous a . " But did she not say she would be here supposition, and made alliance against it on Saturday ? " with her love and gratitude. On the "Hush, hush," he whispered: "Dr. other hand, he had himself confessed his Bume is here, my child. Do not be im­ guilt. At that thought her brain was patient, for that will only retard your filled with fire ; sho seemed going mad— recovery. She must hear of what has or, perhaps, returning to that state into happened, and -will make allowances." which his words had driven her. And Evy closed her eyes, and uttered a low yet, when she grew calm again, she did moan. It had been -wrung from her by not shrink with loathing from kind Uncle the sharp sense of humiliation, but the Angelo, or hold him from her, as she would Doctor attributed it to another cause. have held a murderer—a man, too, who " You must not talk to her any longer had put to death a weak defenceless at present, Hulet—she is too weak; she woman — at arm's length. Reason de­ may be safely left now, though Mrs. Mellish manded that she should believe him is only waiting for my report to come and guilty, who himself had admitted his guilt; sit -with her; in the meantime do you go but ipstinct refused to credit it. Her mind to bed and get some rest, for I can see was tossed this way and that; now at the you. need it." top of the wave, she felt secure of his Yes, indeed, he did need it; Evy could innocence ; and now again, in the trough see that, as the old man once more bent of that sea of doubt, all was dark save for do'wn to kiss the cheek she had not the a strip of blue sky. She had adjured him strength to turn towards him. And yet to declare that he was innocent; and he in his white and wasted features there had replied—and with a look of anguish was a look of grateful joy, that almost she could never forgot—" Alas, Evy, I awoke hope -within her. cannot say I am." That was not quite the " Have I been very ill," she whispered. same, surely, as though he had answered "At Death's door, my darling; but " No, Evy; I am guilty." It was but a thanks be to Heaven the crisis is over, gleam of hope, but in her darkest moments God has not utterly forsaken me after all." she never lost sight of it. Bnt whether So it wa.'j on her o-wn poor account alone hope or fear had the mastery of her for the that her uncle had cause for congratula­ time, the one thought that was still upper­ tion. Other things were as they were. most and which overmastered all, was to The cloud was still hanging over him as be up and away from Dunwich; to be before, destined to darken both their days. putting miles and miles of land or sea And what if it were to burst! between her uncle and his enemy: to be • " To be brought out on a scaffold and with him somewhere, out of the reach and be put to death—that is what might happen risk of that dread penalty of the law. to me." Presently there was a soft knock at the These words sounded in her ears over door, and Evy strove to cry " come in," II 48G [March 21,1874.] ALL THE TEAK. ROTIND. rCoudactedby

-vrhicli, to her surprise, she could not com­ thinking, must he have suffered dnriii» pass. Her voice, it seemed, could rise no that time; how terrible for him to have higher than a whisper. The -visitor, hc^- been dwelling in the very shadow ol the evor, entered as though no such permission hateful woman who had the power to send had been expected, and came and stood him to the gallows. beside the bed-head. It 'H-as Mrs. Mellish "Tes, indeed," said Mrs. Mellish, "ij —the very person 'whom above all others was sad to see him, while you lay here Evy yearned to see, and yet at the sight between life and death, and never yoni of her, and quite unaccountably to herself, dear self: but now he 'will be another man. her tears began to flo-w. " I am come, Doctor Bume tells me that he has gone dear Evy," said the Rector's 'wife, cm- to bed for the first time since you were bracLug her tenderly, "to keep you company taken ill, and is now asleep. Tour recovery, a little 'while; but you must not excite darling, -will be such good news for so yourself, or I must go away again." many people. Even old Mrs, Sanboy hae " I am not excited, dear Mrs. Mellish, been inconsolable about you, and I have but I don't know how it is," answered nearly cracked my voice in telling tie Evy, piteously ; " I cannot help crying," Lieutenant every morning that you were " That is because you arc so weak, my much the same," darling, after youi- iUncss. I say ' after' "Have you seen either of themy( because, thank Heaven, you have turned mean the Heytons ? " the corner, you know." " Tes, dear; they were both in chi " What has been the matter -with me ?" on Sunday, and, besides, the Rector and There was a short pause, during which had to call at the Park, you know, Mrs. Mellish looked embarrassed. "Brain- really think, dear, you have had fever, darling; it is all over now, but still enough for to-day," added Mrs. Mel you must not excite yourself by talking." softly; she naturally felt that this sal _ " I only want to ask a question or two above all others, was one to be avoided. on matters which are troubling me." " Please to tell me about Mrs. Keyion,' "Very good, darling; I -will answer pleaded E'vy, pitifully, "you don't kaOT them, and talk to you as long as you like, how I crave to know. How does .diA\ but you must not talk to me; those are look? what does she say?" the Doctor's orders." "Well, she looks abominably good^ " Do you think it is possible, dear Mrs. looking, my darling ; there is no denyingff Mellish, that I shall be able to be moved that. And yet—though that goes such Ki from here iu a few days—on Friday for great way with him, and though she a,; iiistance," most attentive and deferential—I donti "I don't see why you shouldn't, darling, think tho old lord takes to her. As for' if you can pick up a little strength. I the rest of the household, I am told that should think it would do you good to get they find her most peremptory and im­ you on to the sofa yonder, so that you perious ; aud between you and me, I think could lie close to the window and look out. her husband has also made the same dis­ Friday is this day week : you ought to be covery. The Rector met him pretty coolly, getting round by that time." I promise you." Friday is this day week ! If she had " Not on my account, I hope," said Evy heard aright, she must have been ill earnestly, " Captain Heyton is in no re­ insensible indeed—since Monday, then. spect to be blfimed," And yet, even now, it seemed it was useless " Hush, hush, you are ntit to talk, you to dream of getting away from Dun-wich know," put in Mrs. Mellish, " I am not for days to come. " Is it tme that the Hey­ going to argue with you about that, or tons are coming to the Park on Saturday?" anything else, my dear ; but if the Captain There was another and longer pause is not to be blamed he is certainly to be during which Mrs. Mellish looked more pitied, I asked my husband (who JBj embarrassed than before. generally right about such matters) 'Donlti " My dearest Evy," said she presently, you think the bridegixiom is henpecked ?* " you don't know how ill TOU have been, " No," said he ; " not yet; but it -will nor for how long. The Hevtons camo come sooner or later; that woman is a last Saturd,ay, and have been at the Park termagant, and perhaps something worse," nearly a week." " V. hat did he mean ?" asked Evy, " My poor uncle," murmured Evy me- quickly. chamcaUy, What apprehensions, she was " I don't know exactly. One must re- Obarles Diokens.] AT HER MERCY. [March 21,1S74.] 487 member that he -was prejudiced against ation for her feelings, but now sho had her at starting ; but he thinks her without received permission, and even an invitation tenderness. There is some story of her to do so, she scarcely knew where to stop; having struck the gatekeeper's child with compulsory abstinence had made her so hor riding whip for letting the gate s-wing very keen. Sho was by nature a partisan back too soon, but I cannot believe it; tho —almost always it must bo ov.-ncd on the child is a cripple, you know, and a woman right side—and it gave hor a gomiine who would do that would do anything. pleasure to paint Judith as she found hor: However, she is always on horseback, and or perhaps a trifle darker; nor did she even goes out -with the Captain beforo doubt that such a picture would be wel­ breakfast, cub hunting. She is quite a come to' hor young friend. ViThatevcr Diana Vernon, they say, and clears five- might have been the case, iu this last par­ barred gates. I only tell you what I hear, ticular, under other circumstances, her you know; I saw her but for five minutes tidings of Judith's insolence and imperi- at the Park, during -which she patronized ousness, and especially the idea Mrs. me as the clergyman's -wife most mag­ Mellish had thrown out, that the former nificently ; and at church, on the previous might think her to bo shanmiing—perhaps Sunday, they both looked, I noticed, at her uncle's suggestion—as an excuse though in a dffierent way, at the Seymour's to remain at Dunwich, and thence conclude Home pew, and seemed much relieved to that he was defying her, filled Evy with find that neither your uncle nor yourself inexpressible terror. were present." " If I were only to get up," moaned sho, "How do you mean in a different way," making a feeble effort to raise herself; " I enquired Evy. am sure I should feel bettor; don't you "Well, you know, it may have been think I might get up ? " fancy, Evy—and it is true enough that I "Oh, no, dear Evy, that is not to be ought to have been thinking of something dreamt of, at least to-day. We will see else, instead of watching them—but it what Dr. Bume says about it to-morrow ; seemed to me that Mrs. Heyton had made but there is certainly a great improve­ up her mind to carry off matters vrith a ment." high hand. Directly she took her seat, " Yes, yes, I am a good deal stronger; she looked boldly down into your pew— and it is so kind of you to come and talk which she could not mistake, since it has to me." the name on it; whereas, the Captain, -who " Well, now, if you really do feel that, looked very white, stole a furtive glance at and you are sure it does do you no harm, it, as it were, and then, finding you -were E'vy, I should like to ask you a question— absent, seemed to breathe more freely; or only one—upon a matter of no great at least the colour came back into his face. importance you 'will say, and not a pleasant 'You -will call me a sad gossip: but you subject either, but about which I am very asked me to tell you all I knew about curious. When your poor aunt died at ttiem, Evy." Balcombe, there was an inquest, was there " Yes, yes, that is right; I want to not ? " know all. Do you think Mrs. Heyton has E'vy closed her eyes in assent; she could heard that I am ill?" not speak, but shivered from head to foot. " Well, the Captain knows it, for he has " Well, there was no hitch about that called in person on the Doctor every day inquest, was there ? Tho verdict was to ask after you; so I conjecture that hia Accidental Death, was it not ? " lady does ; though to be sure, on the other "Yes." 'hand, it is possible that she may imagine "Well, BO I thought;" but Mrs. •you are afraid to meet her (sho is insolent Mellish's tone "was by no means one of •enough for anything) and are keeping conviction ; it was evident she had per­ withm doors on the pretence of illness. ceived that the subject was distasteful to At aU events, she has not sent to inquire her companion. after you, -we may be quite sure, not she," " Why do you ask ? " inquired E-yy, with and Mrs. Mellish smiled in derisive scorn. an effort to appear indifferent. The fact was that the Rector's wife had " Oh, only from curiosity. Lady Wap­ as keen a relish for gossip as any of her shaw came to tho Rectory yesterday with sex, and had longed for months to discuss some stupid story about poor Mrs, Hulet, this particular topic with Evy. She had How she had been unhappy in her man-iage, not done so, as we know, out of consider- and so forth; aud that she had disappeared 4S8 [March 21, ISM.] ALL THE TEAR ROUND. [Conducted tiy

in some mysterious manner. All nonsense, rich lace fans, pearl-handled and jewelled, I suppose." worth ten pounds and more; :from the " Tes," said Evy. Then, after a long scented paper sachet, with doves or flying panse, " Lady Wapsha-w has been to call cupids caged within a gold or silver border, at the Park, I suppose ? " inqnired she or veiled beneath a covering of gauze, to wearily. a velvet glove-case, " discoursing sweet "Oh, yes, dear; so has everybody for music " when opened; being a glove-ease that matter. They couldn't do otherwise, in intention and a musical boi in fact. yon know," was ilrs. Mellish's soothing It would almost seem as if the whole reply. But Evy showed no sign of dis­ valentine-sending world must surely be content : tii*ed out, as it seemed, by the supplied from this one centre. There unwonted talk, she had closed her eyes can be no room left for others! "What and spoke no more. within the list of ladies' requirements can­ And yet Evy was not asleep. She was not be found here ? Not to speak of the thinking of Lady Wapshaw and her scandal, valentine pure and simple, the "animated of which she could but too well guess the flowers," the " love's photograph,"—^which origin. No better medium than her lady­ is simply a mirror under lifting flowers— ship could possibly havo been chosen to the doves that carry letters, the bonqneta disseminate a malicious story. "Was it that mean as much as an essay, the mere Judith's plan to make Dunwich intolerable prettinesscs without more intention than to them ; or had she a worse design ; was to be pretty, we have here gloves and she sowing the seedsof suspicion in people's brooches, and fans of all designs—^from minds, in order to prepare them for the the inexpensive flower-fan, which, when denunciation that was to come at last ? shut is a beautiful bouquet, when open a serviceable fan, to the ten-guinea Watteau picture ; we have golden charms and satin FROM GAT TO GRATE. neckties; head-dresses of feathers, of ribbon, of Brazilian feather-flowers, of marine flowers from Trebizonde—let ns "WE all know that great laboratory of hope not with the fatal effects of that other sweet scents and pretty sights in the produce of Trebizonde of which Moore Strand, whence M. Rimmel sends forth speaks: perfumes by the gallon, soaps by the ton, cards and valentines by the hundred­ Even as tliose tees o£ Trebizonde, weight ; and most of us have spent our "Which from the sunniest flowers that glad money in the tempting wares that call to With their pure smile the gardens ronnd, us by our two senses of sight and smell Draw venom forth that drives men mad! to go in and buy. But we have not all had —or, if making men mad, then only in ihat the pleasant privilege of seeing over the perfunctory way which is called mad with manufactory, noting how the work goes love or mad with admiration. Bnt beside on from cellar to garret in the two huge these we have also Japanese ornamental houses devoted to it; how much material hair-pins as well as Japanese brooches, is used, and how much turned out; how Indian jewellery, Genoese silver filagree,* many hands are employed, and what gold lockets and bi-acelets, rings and kind of labour they do; thus forming some crosses, Bohemian garnets, orient pearls, estimate of the extent and importance of topazes, turquoises and the like, to any the business. This pleasure was accorded extent. These " practical valeutines " are to the writer of tliese lines one afternoon real gifts wherein the sender shows his shortly before St. Yalontine's day, when taste, discretion, and liberality. every room that could be spared in both It was pleasant to see the crowds of houses was given np to these oftentimes happy-looking girls working at their deli­ useful and always pretty and innocent, cate trade. Here was one gumming ronnd sweet-scented acts of commemoration by to the pictured foundation the plaited paper which the memory of the sainted bishop hinges by which the pierced outer cover ifl is kept alive, and the faces of the young raised, preparatory to fastening on that made glad by the same. glittering lace-like outer cover itself; here _ Valentines everywhere ! of all sorts and was another handling a dainty square of sizes, of all prices and for all purposes; white satin or moire silk, with the flowers from the child's penny card, with its pretty and figures painted by hand, and cunningly posy of roses and lilies in the middle and painted too. Her companion to the one the quaint little love-legend beneath, to side was manipulating a bunch of feather Jj^ Oharles Diokens.] FROM GAT TO GRAVE. [March 31,1871.] 489 flowers, she to the other was sewincp on gallons of Ess bouquet. About ten thou­ pearls or ribbon bows, as the pattern de­ sand gallons are generally in ordinary manded. A rosy-cheeked, brown-haired storage, to be recruited as fast as they are girl was peeping at her own bright eyes, emptied. But as all liquid perfumes im­ while securing the little square of mirror prove by keeping, so that the spirit in that made tho " photograph" already them may be subdued and the ingredients spoken of; and all looked amused and more thoroughly amalgamated, the mother interested in their work; a band of one quantity is never suffered to get low, and hundred and fifty contented and well-to- there is a peqjetual distilling going on—as do young women, nicely dressed and all the inhabitants round about and the nicely mannered. We fancy they could passers-by from afar are aware. scarcely be otherwise than contented and well-to-do, imder the kind and genial Of soap too, it would seem as if all the management of that famous house, the washing-world, using scented tablets, must first, we believe, to employ women at all be supplied from these premises, where in the manufacture of perfumery. A open-lathed shelves, reaching from the house, famous indeed in more senses than ceiling to the floor, are fiUed with squares one; for one of the two in which M. of various scents and colours, in rooms Rimmel carries on his business was that and iron closets heated to a tropical of the Duke of Beaufort—"Beaufort atmosphere for the purpose of drying the House," which the conductors, and some still soft material. Some of these soaps of the contributors too of ALL THE TEAE are of common quality; some the best ROUND knew something of a few years that can be made ; but in the commonest ago. can bo found no trace of that abominable cocoa-nut oil, which no perfume can It was treading famihar ground to go disguise, but which lingers on the skin, up and down the well-worn stairs, and no matter what the concealing scent has over the old rooms which had once been been, and in spito of repeated wash­ filled with papers and presses, compositors, ings. The German soap-makers are turnovers, and devils, type and sticks and extraordinarily fond of this cocoa-nut oil; formes and leads, and where tho scramble and most of our own cheap soaps are had been among pie and pica, sanserifs poisoned by it; but M. Rimmel keeps his and bourgeois, slanting italics and square perfectly free from it, and his cheapest romans. Now there are gallons of scent tablets -therefore do not ajjicher their users and miles of soap ; rooms full of fancy with the unpleasant odour only too well boxes, to hold so many tablets or so many known to those whose sense of smell is bottles—full of thin wooden boxes, to hold acute and educated. so many fancy boxes—full of stout and It is odd to see the different stages serviceable packing cases, to hold so many of these scented, polished, pleasant thin wooden boxes ; packing cases set as tablets: how, from bubbling masses of close as building bricks, and directed to brick-dust red, dull chocolate, or flesh- all parts of the habitable world, from pink, which men stir up like soup in caul­ Monte Video to Calabria, from Faroe drons, they become great, consolidated to the Fiji Islands, and from Russia to masses, the shape of the vat in which Jamaica. they were boiled and cooled and there­ To all warm countries more rose-water after taken. These huge masses are cut goes than anything else that M. Rimmel by wu-es into perfectly even slabs, and makes. The " darkies " are fond of pour­ these again are cut into bars. The bars ing rose-water over their heated skins; are put into a wooden trough with consequently gallons and gallons are sent even divisions, and a man runs a wire out to every part of the equatorial world, along the top and down the grooves as in bottles costing the local merchants three quickly as a piano-player running his fin­ shillings and sixpence the dozen, to be gers along the keys. These squares are charged, may-be, a shQling a-piece to the then taken to the drying-room; and, for retail purchaser. This commoner kind of their last touch, are put into a press; and rose-water and other of a finer quality, as come out tho smooth, stamped, handy well as the perfumes, are stored in the tablets we know. About two tons of soap cellar, in vats containing two or three hun­ are made a day, of which much is ex­ dred gallons each. A tin, whence the bottles ported ; soap and rose-water being agents were being filled, was a mere nothing, said of civilisation of more account than would the master with a smile. It was only ten appear on the surface. To keep the body =%^ 490 [Hniuh 21,1871.1 ALL THE TEAK. EOUND. [Conducted by clean and to make it pleasant and lovely to snm of two hundred and twelve pounds. the senses—are not these first steps in the The management of the hospital must be great ladder ?—representing more than singularly economical, seeing that the CQ%i tho mere material advance from a snrcoat of each patient is only two shillings and of palm oil and red earth as the best twopence halfpenny per day, including " a detergents known, or a pat of butter put good and plentiful diet, wine, coals, w^. on the top of the head and suffered ing, and medicine." During the last yeai^ to melt in little rivulets adoAvn tbe the expenditure was one thousand five hun­ body as the sovereign remedy against dred and five pounds, two shillings, and two­ sun-cracks and heat-blisters. Toilet vine­ pence; for which sum onehundredand fifty- gar and rose-water, pomades and soaps, one patients were nursed in the hospital, and" and even the more questionable adjuncts three thousand two hundred and thiriy- of face-powder and restorative washes, seven relieved outside. The patients re­ are better than the dii't and unpersonable- presented fifteen nationalities ; so that we ness—in other words, the brntalisation— may fairly give to this unpretending little of savages. So that we may, without being est^ablishment a larger name and more ex­ too fanciful or far-fetched, regard the tended infiuence than belong to others of house 01 sweet odours in tho Strand as infinitely more appearance and of greater ono of the agents of civilisation, helping wealth and substance. in the great task of refining and educating There is nothing of the ordinary hos­ to the full as much as the more serious pital abont this quiet little Home for the labours of missionaries. Sick in Lisle-street. It is an ordinary Leaving this gay place, thronged with house converted, not a special building smiling buyers and bright with gold and expressly constructed. Hence its small colour, we then crossed over to Leicester- rooms, with their two or three beds at square, and went to see the French most, have more the character of the hospital in Lislc-strcct hard by. It was a home and less that of the hospital than is sudden, sharp transition fi'om the pretti- possible in those long, populous wards ness and merriment of life to its sorrow where there is no privacy and bnt little and its pain ; from occasions for affluence quiet. In Lisle-street there are single- to get rid of some of its superfluity, to bedded rooms for those who can afford to occasions for benevolence to serve hu­ pay a trifle towards the expense: thus, manity, and, in so serving, to honour too, supplying one of the most grievous Him by whom this same humanity exists. wants of our more magnificent establish­ It was, in truth, "from Gay to Grave," if ments, which give nothing for the help of not quite "from lively to severe." For the well-to-do poor who have no ap­ there is no severity iu this clean, pleasant, pliances at home for efficient sick nursing, well-managed little Home for the Sick; yet who can afford to pay for themselves, nothing but tenderness and kindness, good and who do not wish to bo kept on nursing, liberal appliances, and loving charity. cares bestowed on tliese poor exiles from It was pretty and pleasant to see the. theii* own brighter homes, by compatriots bright faces that smiled up to the.Sisters also exiled, but able to give what their and the Honorary Secretary as we went poorer brethren need, and rich in the through the rooms and spoke to the poor health and strength wherein these have patients snugly ensconced beneath their failed. The French hospital, with its dis­ scarlet coverlets, over which the fair, clean pensary attached, was founded in 1867, linen was folded with French neatness. and has thus been only about sis years at The linen of the hospital is one of its strong work. During that time it has afforded points; and the good Sister who accom­ relief to nearly one thousand in-patients panied us opened the press to show ns and twenty thousand out-patients, belong­ piles on piles of sheets and pillow-cases, ing to no fewer than twenty-one different towels, and napery for the table, all folded nationalities. in the French way, and white and fragrant Both hospital and dispensary are greatly as French linen generally is. Some of the helped by gratuitous labour. All the poor creatures could not speak a word of medical of&ccrs attend for charity, and the English, though others spoke it quite salaries of the seven paid ofdcials (an fluently; and one could not help thinking assistant-secretary, a dispensing chemist, what a blessed thing it was for these thi-ee sisters of charity, a night nurse, and sick exiles, practically dumb and friendless a porter) amount to the not very ruinous in a strange land, that they have this little Oliarles Dickens.] FROM GAT TO GRAVE. [March 21,1874.] 491

oasis of home to go to in their day of need ! groups about the passage, some of them One fine-looking fellow with bright eyes waited for by tho parents and elders belong­ and a dark, swarthy, bearded face, down ing, some of them waiting for their own with some injury to his legs, knew only younger comrades. In the nursery or " good-bye," said smilingly when we creche up-stairs, the little children left for parted. He seemed to be in great pain a small charge by their mothers during and desperately ill, and when in repose he tho day, were still unclaimed. Some of was a grave sad-looking man; but the them were asleep in the small curtained wonderful responsiveness of his n.ation swinging-cots of tho darkened sleeping came like light over his face when we went room; some were made happy 'with toys up to him and some of us spoke to him standing on the board that is their table gently, and made him feel that human and defence both in one, as they sit in sympathy is apart from nationality. One their^ miniature ai-m-chairs; and others, young lad -was up and about, and soon to fractious or weakly, were being nursed on go out into the world again, cured of his the lap, or held in the arms of the kind malady. He was English; and looked as nurses and Sisters in charge ; and over all merry as a cricket in his hospital dressing reigned that umnistakeable air of sin­ gown, standing by tho fire reading. One cerity, of doing the work well for the sake fair-faced gentle-voiced woman was one of the work itself, which seemed indeed to huge mass of tumours. She had been in be the ruling spirit of theso two establish­ many times, but this time, sho said, was ments. her worst attack. Another, parched and It has seldom been the lot of the WTiter restless, with a wet cloth on her forehead, to spend a more agi-ceable afternoon. her pinched features and sunken eyes First, the brightness and prettiness of the betokening more than temporary disease, busy manufactory, where elegancies and looked too ill to notice even the Sister who refinements are turned out by the van did sonie little friendly office for her, or load, representing so many of the " arti­ the kind and cheery Honorary Secretary, ficial wants," by which ci'rilization is pro­ whom, else, all the patients welcomed with duced and upheld; then the clean, quiet, word and look as one to whom they owed homely hospital, with its unobtrusive more than is ever made public—one who, charities and far-reaching benevolence; in the midst of his O'wn overwhelming and finally the schools, where saintly business, has always found time for deeds women devote their lives, as in the of charity and unflagging efforts to help hospital, to the service of man and the those who cannot help themselves. Cer­ love of God, and where the good that is tainly there is a warmth, a spontaneity, done is equalled only by the evil that is a childlike effusiveness of pleasure in jorevented. It was an afternoon rich in serving, and gratitude in being served, suggestion and in pleasant thoughts; a among our French brethren that is glimpse into France as sho is on a foreign somehow more encouraging than the soil. And it was all essentially French; colder, more concentrated, less expressive pretty trifling, kindly charities ; effusive methods in use among ourselves. The very generosities, warm hearts and open hands ; Sisters, for all their grave profession and with here ecclesiasticism and there faithful self-devotion, laughed, talked, artistry, here faith and there fashion—as and nodded with more gaiety of manner it has ever been in la belle, and as it ever than belongs even to English frivolity. will be while the Gallic temperament Gaiety, be it remarked, not frivolity; the remains what it is, and the problem of how gaiety which springs from a happy tem­ to make the best of both worlds has como perament and a pure conscience, which does to no better solution than it has received not confound gloom and godliness together, in the country of Saint Louis and the nor think that the best way to advance Empress Eugenie—Saint Vincent de Paul religion is to make it repulsive, and and M. Worth. A perfumery on the one threatening rather than consoling; but hand and a hospital on the other, is a though gay yet always earnest, and better division of opposites than the purposeful if cheery. famous " palace and prison " of Venice. From the hospital we wont to tho If the contrast is sharp it is not unwhole­ French schools, always under the same some ; and the French saying, " le plaisir guidance. Bnt we were too lato for the fait le coeur si bon ! " might have a worse classes. We saw only the breaking up, illustration. At all events, the success with the young creatures gathering in of the one makes the other possible; 492 [ATaich 21.1S74.] ALL THE TEAR ROUND. [Condacted fay

for we fancy that many of the golden one of the English towns that was liable grains that filter through those perfumed to window tax, not having more than waters, that scented soap, those fanciful four hundred houses liable to that mis- trifles of valentines and cards and sachets chievous impost. It has now, however, a and glove-cases, run into the coffers of goodly array of more than seven thonsand school and hospital, and that multitudes residences, with power and will enough to benefit by the gain of one. add to their number. In 1858 the annual exports of Southampton were computed aa worth five millions of money, and the THE RUBY AND THE ROSE. duties on the port trade alone, says Mr. HE was the lord of Merlintower, Woodward, brought in one hundred and And I waa but of low degree; She had her beauty for her dower, twenty thousand pounds to the customs. Nor other treasure needed she : But after all, let us sweep away the He came, when hawthome were a-flower, musty past, kings and crowns, Cromwell's Aud strove to steal my love from me. men and Rupert's mad Cavaliers, to make Oh ! she was sweeter than the wind room for the great, the imperishable legend That bloweth over Indian Isles ;^ Aa April bri

Irishman, and subterranean railways, is fiddle-string had touched a tender chord : it possible that such an old fourteenth- away with sheep-hook, up with oak cudgel, century story can still linger among civi­ oS with wallet, and down like a wild lized people? Nineteenth century, you deer he dashes to his dead father's old are a conceited, stuck-up fellow. The castle door. The porter calls him names, story of Su- Bevis is not dead yet, and is and in vain tries to push him back; likely long to enjoy a green old age. ono stifE blow from the young rosy fist Having thus fairly snubbed the nine­ sends the porter sprawling, and in a teenth century, let us refresh ourselves moment more the boy has denounced with a brief summary of the brave old his wicked mother, and knocked down Hampshire story, which Chaucer ia his Sir Sir Murdour with a murderous blow Thomas calls aSectionately a "romaunce of his oaken cudgel. In vain the cruel of price." It will, we are sui-e, amuse countesss urges her knights to seize the our readers, not only from its quaintness child ; they dislike dangerous blows in the and adventure, that made it read and teeth, and stand dumb with astonishment sung for centuries by English and French at so precocious an elf. minstrels in hut and in castle hall, but Bevis is scarcely home and cool from also for its valuable and curious allusions theso affrays, before the wicked countess to the rough and homely customs of the is announced, and frightened Saber has fourteenth century that hardly come into only just time to jam the brave boy into a ordinary historical reading. Whether Su- cupboard. The countess scolds and re­ Bevis was a Saxon chieftain warring proaches Saber, confutes his shufiling against Normans, as the Saxons believed, evasions, and demands her child. Bevis, or a Norman warrior wrestling against no whit scared, instantly jumps out and infidels, though a question fought over, confronts this Norman Clytemnestra, who for ages, is no concern to us now. But at once orders her attendant knights to drag the habits of our fourteenth century the wilful child to the port, and sell him as ancestors are and will ever be subjects of a slave to any captain preparing to sail enquiry. It was all very well for Puri­ for Heathennesse. No doubt troublesome tanical George Wither (shame on him lovers and refractory claimants were some­ for a Hampshire man !) to call Bevis of times disposed of in this way, in those Hampshire " trumpery." But the fine times. old romantic story, scenes from which After many ups and downs at sea, adorned the tapestry of Henry V.'s Bevis arrives at the court of Ermyn, king chamber, and the walls of Henry VIII.'s of an uncertain Saracen country. The palace at Richmond, is not to be lightly queen is dead, but his daughter Josayn " pooh-poohed" in that manner, by any is beautiful, and wears gold shoes, and sour despiser of the pleasant ways of Giant has cheeks that remind one of the effect Country and Fairy Land. of blood dropped on snow, and she falls The old Hampshire story runs thus. rapidly in love with the young Christian Sir Guy, Earl of Southampton, father of slave, whoso naive answers so please Sir Bevis, our hero, married late in life King Ermyn that he at once offers him a young and beautiful princess of Soot- the succession of the crown, and what was land, who proved unfaithful, and employed twice as good, the white hand of his most her lover, young Sir Murdour, brother of fan' daughter, one condition only being the Emperor of Germany, to ambuscade added—that he shall renounce Christi­ old Sir Hugh, and to send her his anity in the usual Saracenic maimer. head as a pleasant little souvenir, which With great imprudence, and all the zeal he did. Bevis, then aged seven, was sent of Exeter Hall, the lad refuses the offer, to Saber, a paternal uncle, a good sort of and makes disagreeable allusions to individual, who at the unnatural mother's Mahommed'a personal character and de­ order to murder the child, pretended to kill scent. King Ermyn, however, bemg a him, but really sent him out on the downs good easy-going sort of fellow, forgives as a herdsman's boy. Bevis bore these hard this, and at once appoints young Bevis his lines bravely, till one day, as he lay among chamberlain and standard bearer elect. the sheep, he heard minstrels' songs He was now fifteen. and tho sound of revelry arising from The old Adam, or rather old Guy, soon the old castle in the mist below. This was breaks out. One Christmas Day, as Bevis rather too much for the sensitive but is out riding with sixty Saracenic knights, stalwart boy. The German minstrel's they began to ridicule him for neglecting 494 LMarch 21,1874.] ALL THE TEAR ROUND. [Condooted li;^

to reverence such a festival. Bevis, dis­ One swing, and Bevis is in hia war liking the general tone of their remarks, saddle; one smile from Josayn, one blast and their ugly infidel faces all grinning at of the horn, and Bovis is lost round the him at once, o3ei*3 to joust and unhorse left hand turning of the street. the whole company, one after the other, Tho insolent and furious Bradmond, although he is not yet a knight. They relying on his giant standard bearer, Radr- then fall on him treacherously, like son, laughs aloud when he discerns Ermyn's' cowardly beggars as they were, and Bevis rude army of only twenty thonsand men. kills the whole kit, much to the indig­ The two ai-mies skirmish at fir^ nation of King Ermyn, who at once begins coquettishly. to meditate most alarmingly on the painful But when they brofce their first array, subject of bow-strings and axe edges. Grim and bloody was the fray, But good Josayn obtains the boy's pardon, as you may pretty well guess. Bevis; and salves his wounds, and kisses him from after breaking his spear in Ensign Bady- eye to chin. son's diaphragm, follows up that perform­ The next exploit of young Be^ns to vnn ance by a series of surgical experimenta his spurs is an attack on a wild boar, with Morglay, which soon make hJTn mn. who has taken to human flesh, and is versallyfeared, andprobably respected, and the scarecrow of all that part of Saracen- Bradmond quickly spurs homeward, laugh­ don. Bevis, blowing his horn, sots ing on the wrong side of the month, bnt out in search of this boar, and tracks caiTying behind his saddle two captive him at last to his den by a trail of knights. But, bless you! Bevis is after him human bones. His hunting spear breaks, like a telegraph, and, with one blow, knocks for the brute proves as tough as a marble him from his horse, and releasss the two rock, but eventually, as the boar begins profusely'grateful knights. Then, again to pant, Bevis craftily runs a sword down turning his attention to Bully Bradmond, his vast throat, and gives him his quietus. he scares with a flash of Morglay, and only But the danger does not end here. On his releases him on condition of his swearing way back through the royal forest, with allegiance and fealty to King Ermyn. the boar's head stuck on a stump of the On his return to court., Bevis becomes a spear, Bevis meets twelve jealous keepers lion of the first water (to nse a perhaps in armour, who insist, in tho meanest almost too strong metaphor), and is manner, in claiming the huge trophy. embraced by the King. The adorable Bevis, disliking this sort of thing ex­ Josayn, disarming him with her own hands, tremely, beats out the brains of nine of arrays him in a most expensive robe, these impertinents, and on his return to and, by her father's express order, waits King Ermyn is welcomed wdth open arms. on the young conqueror at table. That Hunting, love, and war, these were the evening Josayn,' in rather a bold way, three great topics of the Norman minstrel, tells ber love to Bevis, who informs her so the next adventure of Bevis turns on plainly that he is no match for a king's hard knocks, and we presently find Brad- daughter; but that she should marry a mond, King of Damascus, sending in a prince or a sultan, for, as he very justly bullying sort of way to signify his intention observes— of instantly espousing the fair Josayn, I am a knight of a etrange land, and if refused, of laying waste Ermyn's I bave no more than in I stand. country with fire and sword. Ei-myn, Upon -which Josayn, with an outburst of naturally put out at this, proceeds to call love, more natural than prudent, remarks together his barons, and raises at a wave that she would rather have him, almost of his spear twenty thousand good men, entirely deprived of habiliments, than all and for Saracens tolerably true. At the wealth in the land of Mahoun. Bevis Josayn's entreaties Bcvis is at once not replying, Josayn first falls down and knighted, he puts on his quilted acqueton, weeps sorely, and then arises in a rage— his glittering hawberk, and his shining " Go from my chamber, go," she cries, helmet; and his fair lady presents him " thou were fitter to hedge or to make a with a good sword, whose name was dyke than be dubbed a knight" (a four­ Morglay. teenth-century lady, all over!) "and sit There was no better under the Run, with sunny, bright-haired maidens. Out Many a land that sword bath won. of my way, churl! and Mahoun send yoa And she also gives him a thorough o-ood ceaseless care and sorrow ! " horse that had been christened Ai-undel. "My damsel," says Bevis, presently, Ohariea Diokens.] LEGENDS AND TRADITIONS. [Marcli 21,187-1.] 495 rather hurt at this outburst of Saracenic wife. Saber had retreated to the Isle of temper in his angel— Wight, which he had defended for Bevis's " I am no cliurl, sake against all the cavalry, infantry, My fatlior was toth laiiglit aud earl." engineers, and bombardiers of the usurper. The affair, however, goes on from a The palmer, in fact, has been sent with a slight tiff' to a bad tiff; and then to tem­ general roving order to Heathennesse to per, retort, abuse, and, at last, a storm. find the lost heir and bring him back to Bevis returns all his presents and re­ England. Crafty Bevis, howerer, not dis­ tires to his bedroom; and the lady, with closing himself, pretends to be a friend of a scornful look, flings herself out of the himself, and sends Mr. Terry back to pro­ room, but only, like a true woman, to mise his good friend Saber speedy repent the moment she got shut up in her succour. Terry picks up the remains of own room. She instautly sends her confi­ tho diabolical roast curlews, and they dential chamberlain, Boniface, to Bevis to part: Bevis riding on unsuspiciously to apologise for her bitter words. But Bevis Damascus—of all places in the world—on is not easily moved to relent: he throws his business to King Bradmond. He the messenger a huge bolster full of gold, finds the palace, a moated building, gilded but refused to see Josayn again. His stern all over, and approached by a bridge, anger soon melts the female Saracenic with sixty bells hung beneath to announce heart. Weeping, she comes to her lover's the approach of any ti-aveller; and at door and prays for pity. the bridge-end is a tower painted with gold and azure, and on it perches a golden " Mercy," slie cried, " my leman swoet," eagle, whose eyes are like darting jewels. And then slie fell and 'gan to weep, " Forgive me that I have missaij, Unfortunately, as Bevis draws near this My false gods I ivill forsate, first-rate residence, he comes upon a crowd And Christendom for thy love tako." of brown Saracens, preparing a sacrifice Bevis turns, and gives her one look, to their idol Mahoun. This is too much then raises her, and clasps' her in his for the missionary spirit of Bevis of South­ arms. "On that covenant I will love ampton, who at once shoulders his way to thee, fair Josayn." And so he did the idol, tears off its golden crown, Unfortunately, those two false-hearted throws it in the mire, and reproaches the knights he had rescued from Bradmond's heathen hounds. A thousand hands dart clutches lurk in the room, and see and out to seize him; but Bevis, drawmg his hear all this, and go and tell the kmg sword', remarkably soon divides a dozen at once, like mean, sneaking spies, as they heathen throats. were, that his daughter has forsaken Bevis, however, has no sooner delivered Mahoun for Bevis's sake. his credentials to King Bradmond, than The moment that news reaches him the he is thrown down into a deep dungeon base Saracenic mind of King Ermyn turns tenanted only by two most unpleasant all to gall, and he at once resolves on the dragons, but, with the stump of a staff, Bevis soon proves one too many for death of the presumptuous Christian them. There, for seven long years, Bevis hound. How he tore his beard and svmre fasts and pines, keeping body and soul to- . to his false gods our readers have often gether on daily handfuls of bran. seen in the burlesques of these later days. For safety, for Bevis is rather In the meantime Josayn, deceived by false stories, has been compelled by her a tough customer, it is resolved to send unprmcipled and ungrateful father to him as ambassador to King Bradmond nominally marry Inor, King of Mount- bearing sealed letters, urging his instant braunt, the marriage witnesses being his beheadal. Consequently, suspecting no­ roval highness the King of Babylon and thing of the plot against him, oft goes his eminence the Soldan of Persia. Among BevS ; and after three days travelhng the marriage presents to King Inor were through uninhabited country and forest the good horse Arundel, and the usetiU he meets a palmer dining off three baked sword Morglay ; but Arundel, disliking his curlews (The peculiarity of the meat new master, who was awkward and timid, of the curlew is that it tastes like good spills him in a thicket and nearly breaks broad-cloth) and hungi'y Bevis iB asked his back. (What a natural touch in the to dinner. The palmer turns out to be a Norman minstrel is the bad ridmg of the Mr. Terry, son of Bevis's uncle and good foster father. Saber. Unable to bea_r the Saracen dog!) tyranny of Sir Murdonr and his wicked Bevis m this interval, cured of a snake n - 496 [March 21,1874.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conduoted by bite by an angel, grows gradually so weak "Where did yon steal that horse?" that his two keepers one day make he roars to Sir Bevis; "that is my resolve to put an end to him, Bevis, how­ brother's, Sir Graundere." " God wot^" ever, like blind Samson, by a last ex­ says Bevis, " I won it in battle when I ertion of strength, kills one murderer with made Sir Graundere a deacon; and if you his fist and another with a sword. But, don't tako extremely good carel'll make the jailors dead, no bran is dropped down you a priest before we part." (what an awful reminiscence of some Nor­ Upon which cue for combat a combat man baron's dungeon!) andBevis can only begins, with the usual results. The giant's crouch and prayfor death. But, thanks be to first clumsy blow misses Bevis and kills Heaven, a miracle! The chain that fastens Trenchefrys; thenhe transfixes theshoulder him to the rock suddenly snaps, he seizes of Sir Bevis with a javelin, who retorts hy the rope by which the jailors had descended, slicing o2 hia head. "Bevis then rushes and he is free. Hearing laughter in the into the castle, shouting for dinner, and the king's stables, Bevis breaks open the door, fair lady tastes all the dishes before him, kills a dozen of the frightened grooms who and stanches his wounds, and our gallant take him for a ghost, being so wan, and hero docs dine at last. his hair trailing on the ground, arms him­ On the dead giant's best horse—^for self from a heap of handy army saddles, Bevis is a perfect Dick Turpia in the mounts the best horse, and rides oS with matter of horses—the knight now rides off hot speed to the drawbridge. to Jerusalem to confess his sins and receive "Halloa, you lazy knave," he shouts to absolution. Hearing on his return road the porter, his blood beginning to circulate of Josayn's marriage, and more cut up again, "you sleep away iu your kennel till than any of his giants had been, Bevis you have let that Christian dog we had in goes off to Mountbraunt castle disguised as hold escape; let down the portcullis, a poor palmer. Arrived there he mingles knave, as you value your head. with a crowd of pilgrims waiting for their Down rattles the drawbridge, over clat­ daily dole. Josayn welcomes him as a ters Sir Bevis, and away he gallops as pious mendicant, and enquires eagerly of fast as he can into the dark forest. He is him about Sir Bevis. The disguised man scarcely gone, however, before, with a proclaims himself a friend of Bevis, sent clatter of spears and shields and a flutter into various countries to search for a good of flags and mantles, out clatter King steed called Arundel. The queen at once Bradmond and all his knights, gallantly leads him to the stable, and at the sound of led by Sir Graundoro on his unrivalled Bevis's voice the brave horse snaps seven charger Trenchcfys, who arc soon up with chains, and runs to him. Sir Bevis throws tho bold fugitive. One dig, straight at the himself into the saddle, and Josayn cries heart, and down di'ops the fierce but un­ for joy, for she knows it is he, and they ready leader, and quick upon the saddle of at once prepare for flight. The lovers Trenchefys leaps Sir Bevis, and hey for are soon off and away, and hide in a cave in merry Englelond. a forest, where Bevis kills two lions. Hotly pursued by King Bradmond and Soon after this tussle, the lovers' both his army, Bovis, on reaching tlie sea, boldly mounted on Arundel, are met by a mighty pushes in and swims to the opposite shore. and strong giant, one Ascapard, thirty Naturally fatigued by this exertion, Bevis, feet long, and wielding a young oak for a when the horse reaches dry land and club. This son of Anak is soon converted shakes himself, shakes off, but eventually by Bevis, who drubs him within an inch pulls hunself together, and at last reaches of his life, and then makes him, his attendant a promising-looking castle on the wall of page. which stands a fair lady. For the love of On the sea shore they find a dromond Heaven Bevis beseeches her for a " meal's (merchant ship), and clearing it of ob­ meat." The lady replies that her husband noxious Saracens, Ascapard takes up is a giant and an infidel, and he had better Arundel and the two riders under his arm, try further on. Bevis answers that he is puts them on board, and off go the happy dymg of hunger, and that dine there he will, couple andthegiant "buttons" to Cologne, either as a guest or by force. The giant, where Ascapard is christened. During hearing a disturbance, comes to the door the ceremony, in a tub made expressly) at this crisis, with an iron door-bar in his Ascapard is so nearly drowned that he hand, and by no means in the best of leaps out, declai'ing that he is being " too tempers. much christened." At Cologne Bevis Charles Diokens.] LEGENDS AND TRADITIONS. [March 21,1871.] 497 slays a dragon, being restored during the kills the giant with a blow of his pike­ conflict by a holy well, into which the staff, while his knights polish off the dragon flips him. sixty Saracen hounds. Josayn then dyes Prom his grace the Bishop of Cologne her skin yellow and green, and accom­ Sir Bevis now obtains the loan of one hun­ panies Saber for near seven years in search dred knights to sail to Southampton and of Sir Bevis, whom at last they discover. revenge his father. Sir Murdour is joined But Bevis is soon in the saddle again. by the king of Scotland and a large army King Inor, extremely irritated at the loss from Germany, and a battle royal ensues. of Josayn, has begun to burn and ravage Old Saber behaves well, and eventually hor father's country. The Southampton Bevis fells his enemy, and makes him hero instantly raises an army to succour captive, and Ascapard takes the emperor poor King Ermyn, and with Saber, his of Germany and boils him to death in a wife and children, rushes to his help. great cauldron of pitch, turpentine, and Tho king receives him with enthusiasm, hot lead. The wicked countess, after thi.-;, and he and all his people, being forgiven imwilling to survive, throws herself from by the hero, then embrace Christianity, and a tower and is killed. The Southampton are all christened together. King Inor is people, seeing Bevis is best man, rush out, soon taken prisoner by the resistless of course, to welcome him, and the Bishop Bevis, and for his ransom pays the tidy of Cologne is presently sent for to wed the little sum of sixty hundi-ed pounds of gold, long parted lovers. besides handing over four hundred silk And all the castle roclied and rung beds, with gold quilts, four hundred gold With their mirth and with their song. cups, and four hundred " maselyn " ditto. Unfortunately the writer of the romance Ermyn on his death-bed crowns Guy, the of Bevis of Hampton, like many of our son of Bovis, and Saber then starts for dramatic writers of the present day, does England, merry, merry England. not know where to stop, and naturally All is going on well now in Germany landsin anticlimax. After hehas finished the where King Guy reigns, ,when a rascal story of this Hampshire Samson spiritedly thief, named Rabone, steals the faithful enough, he unwisely launches forth again. steed Arundel. Saber, ever ready, dis­ King Edgar makes Bevis his Earl Mar­ guises as a pilgrim and goes to Moimt- shal, but the son of Edgar, a vain young braunt in search of the brave animal, and man, trying to steal Arundel, is killed by meeting Rabone leaps up behind him and the indignant horse, and his father vows kills him with a single blow. Saber is revenge. To escape his doom Bevis leaves pursued on his flight home by the whole England, with his wife and his nephew Mr. Saracenic army; but Bevis comes to his Terry. At this crisis the ungrateful giant rescue and lops down the Saracenic turbans and page boy, Ascapard, turns traitor, and in the good old style. Inor is then advised offers King Inor to betray Josayn to him, by a misjudging friend named Bradnor, if he has only ^e help of sixty Saracens. King of Sp-ia, to end this disagreeable and In a forest abroad Josayn is seized with protracted affau-, and in the name of Ter- the pains of childbirth, and in the absence magaunt to challenge Bevis to single of Bevis and Mr. Terry is delivered of two combat. If Bevis won he is to have the knave (male) children. At that moment kingdom of Ermony (Armenia forsooth) Ascapard stalks upon the scene and carries for his trouble. The single combat takes off the helpless mother. On Bevis's re­ place in an island on a lake, and, as might turn he swoons with grief, but on recovery be supposed, mistaken King Inor falls wraps^the babes in the ermme mantle which under the edge of the terrible Morglay. Josayn had dropped, mounts faithful Inor's troops are also slain to a man, and Arundel, and calmly pursues his journey. Bevis, wearing the stained war armour of The children he leaves to the care of a his dead foe, takes Mountbraunt, where all forester and a fisherman, and they are Saracens who refuse to joyfully accept duly christened " at the church stde." Christianity, the religion of peace, are at once religiously put to death. And now old Saber turns up again m And now it would seem that a peaceful his green old age. He and his wife both and contented old age awaits our Hampshire dreaming that some great disaster had champion; butno,fate willnotlethunalone. befallen Bevis, he and twelve of his best News comes that King Edgar has deprived knights, armed as pilgrims, had taken the Robert, Saber's son, of all the castles Bevis road to Mountbraunt. Overtaking the had bestowed upon him, in order to enrich traitor Ascapard, Saber rescues Josayn,

Zl 498 [March 21, 1974.] ALL THE YEAR ROUND. [Conducted by

bis wicked favourite. Sir Bryant of Corn­ saddle, and horse, and flashes fire from the wall. Bevis instantly levies a formidable pavement. Bevis and Arundel both cheer army, and embarks for England. And up at this, and come out stronger than here the Norman minstrel's geography ever, especially when Sir Miles also rises into imagination. Bevis lands at arrives, and victory turns at last to them. the well-known Southampton, and march­ Having slain sixty thousand Londoners, ing on encamps at a place not familiar to Sir Bevis and his gallant eons retire to us in poetry, i.e. Putney. Here he leaves bis the Putney camp considerably exhilarated. troops, and taking with him only twelve King Edgar, touched at this, makes knights repairs to King Edgar at West­ peace, offers his only daughter to Miles, minster, and falling en his Imightly knees Bevis's other son, and crowns him King requests humbly the restoration of his of England. Sir Guy is established in estates. Ermony; whUe Bevis and Josayn settle down comfortably at Mountbraunt. The Edgar is inclined to yield ; but that bad moment Josayn dies, news comes that the man. Sir Bryant, the king's steward, per­ faithful Arundel had dropped dead; and, suades him that Bevis is a dangerous a few moments afterwards, Bevis dies, too, outlaw aud deserves death. The king, as he stoops to kiss the pale lips of hia dead convinced by liis unjust steward, issues a wife. Sir Bevis and Josayn are buried proclamation at once to the citizens to under the high altar of a church, dedicated shut their gates, barricade every street, to St. Lawrence, erected by their grateful and seize Sir Bevis alive or dead. Bevis, subjects to their memory; and there their arming himself and men, at once sallies relics continue to work miracles to this from his inn intending to cut his way out day. And thus, says the tired minstrel, of the city. He very soon meets the laying down his harp, and taking up the rascally Sir Bryant at the head of two wiue-cup, smilingly— hundred soldiers, and the two at once join issue. Bevis, mad at the sight, uses Thus endeth Bevis of Hamptomi Morglay with tolerable effect, cleaving Sir That was so noble a baroun. Bryant to the saddle, and slaying all his And it, perhaps, was a pity, our readers luckless two hundred followers; but in will think, that the worthy creature had " Goose-lane," a narrow place where he not ended sooner. gets hemmed in, Bevis, well-a-day, loses his twelve faithful companions, but in the "chepe,"orthe market-place, where there is CHINESE STREET LIFE. a fair stage, he gets on better, cuts off heads as if they were poppy tops, while Arundel FEOM various causes the Chinese spend kicks and bites, and clears the ring at the more timo ont of doors than we do in double quick, as we may say. In the mean­ England, and shortly after daybreak the time Josayn, heai'ing Bevis is dead, sends streets of flourishing towns are thronged her sons to seek him, and off they rattle to with people, and present a very animated Putney with a good four thousand men. appearance. Besides the ordinary popuht- Su- Guy, mounts on an Arab horse and tion, who are passing to and fro in the takes the sword Aronndight, with which pursuit of the business of every-day life, Launcelot de Lake slew the fiery dragon; there are large classes of the people who while Sir Miles bestrides a horse as swift live in the streets all day, and gain their as a swallow. livelihood in different ways from the The allied forces cross the Thames passing crowds; and it is respecting these by night, unopposed, and setting fire that we propose to give some information to Ludgate, forco their way into London in the present paper. in search for Bevis. They find him ex­ Very prominent indeed in Chinese street hausted, but uuliurt, though ho has been life are the beggars, who literally swarm fighting a whole day and a night. There is in most towns. The greater number of Arundel, too, up to his fetlocks in blood, them take to begging as a profession, and surrounded by dead Londoners. It either because they are too la^y to work, is just daybreak, and a citizen, well- or because they can get more money so armed, has made Bevis bend to the saddle­ than by honest toil; in these respects they bow, when Sir Guy z-ushes down like a differ bnt Uttle from their brethren in thundor-bolt to rescue his father, and other countries, but, on the whole, they gives the burgher such a blow that his are far more remarkable as a class, and sword cleaves through hehn, hauberk. for audacity and importunity we have Oharles Sickens.] CHINESE STREET LIFE. [March 21,1874.] 499 never met their equals in any part of the condition. The consequence is that, espe­ world. They are of all ages, young and cially in Peking and other northern towns, old, and in all sorts of conditions, some thoy frequently present to the oye a most blind, others lame, many again maimed loathsome and frightful spectacle, and one in various ways, while others are afflicted which cannot fail to strLlve even a casual with leprosy. Some are poor, miserable and unobservant visitor with awe, at tho creatures, weakened by sickness, or much depth of degradation to which .these more commonly brought to a very low wretched specimens of tho human race ebb by opium-smoking or other vices, but must havo sunk, before they could have a very large proportion are strong sturdy been induced to inflict such fearful in­ fellows, who simply won't work. It is juries on themselves. quite notorious that Chinese beggars Beggars very often visit shops in large resort to self-mutilation to excite sym­ numbers, uttering loud cries for pity and pathy ; they will maim themselves in relief, and we have frequently heard a various ways, cause ulcers to form on single member of the fraternity raise such their bodies or limbs, and persistently a hideous din in a shop, putting a com­ keep them open, &c., &c., but the follow­ plete stop to all business, that the dis­ ing is one of the most extraordinary tracted shopkeeper was only too glad to •tories that we have ever met with :—Four yield to his demands and give him a few men were seen one day crawling on their copper coins, when his tormentor would hands and knees one after another on the depart and repeat the process at a neigh­ ground, and calling on the passers-by to bouring establishment. It seems very odd give them money. They had lost their to a foreigner that the shopkeepers, when legs a few inches below the knee; the thus annoyed, do not call in the aid of the stumps were thoroughly cicatrised, but native police, but wo believe that they were pyramidal and very tender, the rarely, if ever, do so, from a superstitious cicatrix of the skin being drawn tightly feeling that it is unlucky to interfere with over the bone. On inquiring into the beggars in the pursuit of their vocation. cause of this surprising loss of the limbs, They often abuse and scold them violently, the men said it arose fi'om an accident but they never lay hands on them or expel which occurred at a fire, where their legs them vi et armis, unless they catch them had been burned off. It was ascertained, trying to steal or doing something else however, that beggars in tho northern contrary to custom. Many, as we shall province of Shan-tung were in the habit see presently, purchase permanent immu­ of removing their limbs for tho purpose nity from annoyance by the payment of of exciting sympathy, and that the opera­ periodical blackmail. The clothing which tion was performed by a beggar who made the beggars wear is decidedly scanty and it his profession. He takes off the leg by very du-ty, and such as would not be first tying a piece of cord tightly round tolerated for a moment in more highly the calf, and when the time arrives for so civilised countries. In warm or mild doing, the cord having gradually cut weather they seldom have more than a through the flesh, he saws through the piece of old matting thrown 'over their bone ! Many die under the operation, but shoulders, and in the piercing cold of a those who live are considered worthy of northern winter we have many a time congratulation, as having gained by this seen beggars with nothing at all to cover voluntary mutilation an increase of for­ them but a filthy sheepskin, in which they tune from the contributions of the benevo­ shake and shiver in a manner painful to lent. Many beggars also destroy their behold. Some beggars carry a wooden bowl, eyesight, in order to render themselves or a kind of bag slung from theu- necks, the objects of greater pity; and, among to hold the money, &c., which they may other ways of attaining this end, they collect in the course of their wanderings. insert lime under the eyelids, thus volun­ Like most classes of labourers in China, tarily subjecting themselves to most acute the beggars are very clannish, and are torture. They have also been known to associated together in guilds, all of which destroy the sight of their children, when have their head-men, who exercise a young, for a similar purpose. In short, species of control over them. These head­ the Chinese beggar seems to stop at men are well-known, and are registered at nothing, which he thinks will have the the oflace of the magistrate; they were effect of attracting the attention of the originally appointed by the authorities to charitable to his forlorn and miserable lessen the trouble of keeping the beggars =F 500 [March 21,1874.] ALL THE TEAR ROUND. Conducted by, in order, and they have now become a spinning round on his uplifted feet. recognized institution, and their office is, Another man will hold a stick in his we have heard, hereditary in cei'tain mouth, at the end of which ia placed families. Liko numbers of other China­ perpendicularly a short stick, surmounted men, who, outwardly at least, hold a by a plate, which the performer contrives respectable position in life, these worthies to keep spinning round at a great rate live on perquisites, and the contributions and apparently without any effort. The of the fraternities which they superintend. "plate-trick," as it may be called, is also In the *' Social Life of the Chinese " which sometimes performed in a rather different we have quoted on previous occasions, way; the juggler keeps a small saucer we find an amusing account of the manner spinning at the end of a long rattan cane in which the affairs of the beggars arc in a remarkable maimer. Merely by a regulated. "Ahead-man of the beggars" dexterous use of his wrist he sends the we are told, "may make an agreement saucer whirling round, in whatever posi­ with the shopkeepers, merchants, and tion the cane may be—and occasionaUy it bankers within his district, that beggars is almost horizontal; he even passes the shall not visit their shops, warehouses, cane behind his back, and under his leg, and banks, for money, for a stipulated and a skilful performer rarely lets the time, and the beggars of the locality are saucer faU, so long as he keeps his eye fixed obliged to conform to the agreement. on it. Again a man, surrounded by a large Religious mendicants, refugees, exiles, &c., crowd, may be seen playing with several from other provinces, who take to begging large rings; these are thrown up into the for a living, do not come under these air separately, and caught in the hand, regulations. The head-man receives from when they appear to be linked into each each of the principal business firms, with other Uke a chain. Another juggler wiU which he can come to an agreement, a be found throwing three sticks up in the sum of money, as the price of exemption air, one after the other, and always giving from the importunities of beggars; and in a tap on a drum alongside, as he catches proof of this arrangement he gives a strip a stick, the other two being meanwhile of red paper, on which is written, or suspended in mid air. " At other times," printed, a sentence to the effect that * the says the writer before quoted, " the street brethren must not come here to disturb or may be rendered impassible for the time- annoy.' This paper is pasted up in a con­ boing to any but daring foot-passengers, spicuous part of the shop or bank, and by the exploits of a man who has taken the money is taken away and professedly possession of it, and is playing with a baU distributed among the beggars concerned, of iron or lead, weighing several pounds, though there is little doubt that their and attached to the end of a strong but chief appropriates the lion's share to his small rope, some twenty or thirty feet own use. After a business man has made long. He is engaged in forcing the baU this agreement with the head-man of the forward, and drawing it back, by means beggars, should any native (i. e. local) of the cord, in a line parallel with the beggar apply for the usual pittance, it is ground, and about as high as his neck. only necessary to point to the red slip of The ball passes and repasses by him very paper and bid hiTn begone. If he will not swiftly, nearly as quick as he can stretch depart at once, he may be beaten with out and draw in the hand which holds the impunity by the master of the estabbsh­ cord. The wonder of the performance ment, which beating the latter would not consists in the apparent ease with which dare to give, unless he had the proof of an the difficult feat is done, the speed of the agreement at hand; and it is said that the ball, and the precision with which it flies head-man might, if the beggar repeatedly backwards and forwards without its being violated the agreement, flog or beat the touched. If the performer wore to whirl culprit to death, and no notice would be the ball round his head at the distance of taken of the matter by the higher autho­ the end of the cord, there would be rities." nothing wonderful in the operation; but he forces it backwards and forwards in a Jugglers are also a very noticeable parallel lino with the ground, with nearly feature in Chinese street-life; their tricks the same speed and certainty of motion and performances are numerous, and the that he could attain by giving it a circular following are but a few of them. One motion round his head. If the ball should common trick is for a man to lie down on strike against his head in tho course of his back, and keep a large earthen jar Cliaries Dickens.] CHINESE STREET LIFE. [March 21,1S74.] 501 the performance, it would, in all proba­ to it, is frequently only for sweetmeats or bility, crush it or dash his brains out; and some such trifles. The itinerant vendors it it should impinge on the heads of any of dumplings, &c., often allow their of the people in the street, tho result customers to indulge their passion for would be the same; every one, however, gambling, by giving them a chance (small, carefully gives the ball a wide berth." it is true) of getting a meal for nothing. Sword-swallowing is a common trick, One method of street gambling is by and in this the performer holds his head means of three bamboo sticks, about a well back and forces two blunt swords foot long, to one of which a piece of red down his throat. The "needle-trick" is string is attached. A man seats himself probably the most dangerous to the per­ by the wayside, and holds those in his former, who puts several needles into his hand in such a way that it cannot be seen mouth, and also some thread, separately; to which stick the string is tied. The after a time he pulls out several threads, person who wishes to risk a few " cash " each having needles strung on it. The (eighteen or twenty of which go to a juggler sometimes attempts to perform penny), places his venture on the stick this trick onco too often, as will be shown which ho fancies, and if by a stroke of by the following summary of a case, good fortune it should prove to be the one admitted into a foreign hospital, at with the red string, he gets back his Shanghai, some few years ago:—The money and twice as much again; it may • juggler first pretended to swallow twenty be added, however, that the gambler needles, singly, and then a piece of string seldom has much luck, for, as in thimble on to which they were to be threaded, and rig, the odds are immensely against him. afterwards drawn ont by a hooked wire. Another mode of street-gambling reminds On passing down the hook this time, an Englishman of the much-loved, but however, the needles had slipped too low, now happily almost extinct, " pleasure and both hook and needles became fixed fair " of his youthful days. The instru­ in his throat; after several trials he got ment in this case consists of a species of eight or ten of the needles out, and was dial-plate, divided into either eight or six-, then taken to the hospital. With much teen equal parts, by lines drawn from a difficulty the hooked wire and four needles stick in the centre; on the top of this were taken out, but the remainder could stick revolves a piece of wood, very much not be reached, and though every possible like the hand of a clock. The Chinese remedy was tried, the man died after five attach to this hand a piece of string or days' suffering. thread, which hangs down to the board, or The Chinese are great gamblers; at any nearly so, but in other respects the appa­ rate, the lower classes are inveterately so; ratus, and the way in which it is used, are and one instance we can call to mind which much about the same, as in the case of happened within our own personal know­ that instrument for the acquisition of ledge, will show how • very reckless some toffee, gingerbread, and other delicacies of them are. A coolie in our service, dear to the frequenters of fairs, to which we whose duty it was to sweep out rooms, have referred. We take this opportunity of carry water, &c., and whose wages were remarking that aU sorts of gambling, some twenty or twenty-five shillings a lotteries, &c., are theoretically forbidden month (out of which be it remembered he by the laws of China, and the Government had to find himself in everything), lost by occasionally visits transgressors with gambling in one single night, during the severe punishment, but nevertheless, from new year's holiday, no less a sum than what we have said above, it wdl be twenty pounds; and to snch lengths do g.athered that the vice, in one form or these men go in indulging their gambling another, prevails to a considerable extent propensities, that Europeans are often among many classes of the population. obliged to discharge them in self defence, Besides the foregoing, Chinese street-liEe for their only hope of paying their debts presents some other noticeable features, obviously lies in theft. In most towns which, however, do not call for minute there are regular shops where gambling is description, such, for instance, as the carried on, and besides these there is a several classes of fortune-tellers, whose great deal of street gambling, which is method of procedure we have explained commonly on a small scale, the stakes in detail in a previous article ; the peripa­ being mostly considerably nnder a penny, tetic story-teller, who soon collects a crowd and the play, if such a term can be applied to listen to his tales, which are often repe-

y^ 502 [March 21,1874.] ALL THE TEAR ROXTND. [Oqndocted by

titions of parts of popular novels ; and the half wrenched away, in one of tha itinerant barbers and corn-cutters, the windows; some of the panes were broken, former of whom seem to be always doing a the others were thickly .crusted with

whom, indeed, sho had conceived a regard seem barbarous now, but were then gene­ that had something romantic about it, rally hold to be reasonable and natural although of this she was herself perhaps enough. but imperfectly conscious. I noted that Rachel Monck was still at the farm­ she had lost in some measure her old house. She looked pale in her dress of buoyancy and joyousness of manner : that deep mournmg, and very fragile. Indeed she now, indeed, was almost depressed and her health had been but infirm of late, and sad. But she had experienced certain dis­ my mother had forbidden her to think of appointments I afterwards learnt. As Mole returning to London, for some while at had predicted, some contest as to the any rate. Imperceptibly she had become characters she should sustain upon the an indispensable part of my home. Sho stage had arisen in the theatre, and she was greatly loved and prized by all. The had. been constrained to yield to the claims influence of her sweet and gentle nature of more established players. could not but assert itself. To my mother When Christmas drew near, I went and uncle she was as a newly-found and down to Purrington. That I was warmly fondly-cherished daughter. She read to welcomed there, I need not say. The story them, and tended and solaced them in a I had to tell of my recent adventures was thousand ways. Her beautiful hand­ listened to with great interest. I pleaded writing now adorned the farm books. earnestly for a compassionate consideration She relieved my mother of much labour, of Sir George's conduct, urging on his for which her failing sight had now almost behalf the explanations he had himself incapacitated her. It was pleasant to see addressed to me. My mother was deeply Rachel seated at the open window in the moved. Long since, I think, sho had little room, paying the farm servants their learnt to •view mercifully and tenderly her weekly earnings—received with pulling of husband's sins against her. The bitter­ forelocks and bashful looks of thanks— ness of her sufferings had passed away; just as in years long past I remembered the many years of neglect she had endured my mother doing. had not been wholly sorrowful. Patience In the truthful glances of her soft grey and resignation had succeeded to pain and eyes I found tenderness and sympathy— repining ; and then had come content, and ajfection, even, but not the love I looked even a sort of tranquil happiness. The for. That was not mine; perhaps never animosity cherished by my uncle she had could be mine—given as it was beyond never really shared; bnt had rather sought recall to the poor dead boy, sleeping in mutely, yet diligently, to modify and sub­ Purrington churchyard. My mother noted, due it; in her inmost heart protesting I am sure, my contemplation of Rachel, strenuously against it ; stimulated by which often became moro rapt than I was it, possibly, to increase of mercy and myself fully conscious of. She spoko no charity. word on the subject, however. But some­ My nncle listened to me in silence. That thing of a new subourrent of sympathy in he was affected by what I said I could not her manner informed me that she had doubt. In the milder expression of his discovered the secret of my love. face I read abatement of his vindictiveness. We spent a very quiet Christmas-tide, Indeed, time had surely brought him a not the less happy, however, on that sufficiency of vengeance, if that had been score. his desire. Sir George's misdeeds had Soon afterwards came letters from Mole. been amply punished. He was ruined, He informed me that Sir George had disgraced, a fugitive. But what, I think, certainly been heard of in Paris. It was chiefly appeased my uncle arose from his thought that he might now safely return, old-world sense of retributive justice and and, the duel being pretty well forgotten, atonement for wrong-doing. He approved re-establish, if he so pleased, his old fame the duel at Chalk Farm. He was well and success. Presently came tidings an­ content that Su- George had shot his nouncing, though with some indistinct­ adversary. He would have preferred Lord ness, the death "of Lord Overbury. The Overbury's being left dead upon the letter contained a cutting from a news­ paper. It sl'.ated that an inquest had been ground. Bnt still a wound was some­ held upon the body of a man, discovered thing. in a low tavern, much fi-equentcd by He never said this in so many words, pugilists and bettiug men of an inferior but I scarcely wrong him, I think, in at­ class, in Whitechapel. He had been seized. tributing to him sentiments which may |

yi'm 504 ALL THE YEAR ROTOfD. plarch 21,1874,]

as it appeared, wdth an apopletic fit, was much evidence as to strange lighfa mistaken by hia boon companions for in­ having been seen at midnight, iUumininff toxication. Ho had been left in a con­ certain of the windows of Overbury House; dition of insensibility for some hours; In time, a conviction grew that the place when, at length, surgical aid had been was haunted. To a rising generation the called in, it was found that "the vital Dark Tower acquired even to excess the spark " had flown. Remedies of all kinds character of awe and mystery it had pos­ had been plied in vain. Rumsey, a sessed for me, or I had invested it with, in pugilist by profession, and known as my childish days. " Tbe Baker," had stated that, to the best At length, however, belief in the suiE?! of his beUef, the corpse was that of Lord vival of his lordship faded and expired. Overbury. But scanty particulars of the An alarm of fire one night spread through case were furnished; there seemed indeed Purrington, and the farmers were very an anxiety to hush up the matter as much anxious as to the safety of their ricks and as possible. Nothing waa said in regard homesteads. Flames were observed issu­ to the facts of his lordship's life, which ing from the lower floor of Overbnry indeed did not merit special record. It House. There were no means at hand to was intimated, however, that with his cope with a fire of any importance; the demise the Overbury peerage—dating from nearest engine was at Steepleborongh. the time of George the Second—had But, strange to say, the fire did not sprald, become extinct. Further, it was stated, but presently slackened, and finally went that at the period of his death his lordship out of itself, for the few buckets of water had been reduced to a state of extreme from the lake thrown upon it could not poverty. A few halfpence only were dis­ count for much. The little room in which covered upon his body, and the expenses of I had first met Lord Overbury, with aU its his funeral had been defrayed by private contents, was destroyed—a black cavity generosity. I attributed this kindly action like a gigantic rathole was left disfiguring to Rosetta; but I have no real waii*ant the grey facade of the building—hut for the supposition. otherwise little mischief was done. There I must chronicle that this account of was no story afterwards, however, of the Lord Overbury's death did not meet with reappearance of Lord Overbury. Even universal acceptance. About Purrington, those most convinced of his surviving thea indeed, there prevailed a general inclina­ report of his death were content to be*-'; tion to disbelieve it. Many residents in lieve that the fire had made a thorou^l the neighbourhood of Overbury Hall were end of him. To finish with the Dark, prepared to affirm that they had certainly Tower, I may mention that it remained''] seen his lordship alive and well, at a period for many years in Chancery, that it subsequent to the date assigned in the subsequently converted into a pri^ newspaper to his death. They regarded asylum for the insane. But when the report which had been circulated to branch line was made from Steepl that effect as a mere stratagem to delude borough to West Poolborough the p his innumerable creditors. As a peer, how­ was intersected, the lake was crossed ever, it was certain that his lordship was an iron bridge, and Overbury Houae, mm free from all danger of arrest. Still, it altered and reducetl in size, was t was frequently asserted that Lord Over­ formed into the Railway Hotel adjoi bury, in slovenly attire, and wearing his old the Purrington Station. satyr look, had been perceived now cross­ But this happened quite in'recent ti ing the down and now wandering abbut and, therefore, many years later than the park surrounding the great house. events to which my narrative shoi Reube, I may mention, was quite confident properly be confined. on this head, and was wont to repeat a long conversation alleged to have been enjoyed with his lordship—which increased How ready, price 5s. 6d., boirnd in green dotltf 1 in length and detail as Reube grew older THE TENTH VOLUME and encountered incredulity—touching a OP THE NEW SEBIES OP fold of stock sheep upon the uplands towards Steepleborough, Moreover, there ALL THE YEAR E0UND.| To be had of all BookseUers.

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