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canine earnestness, and put up his mouth also to be kissed, without uttering a word of resistance, after which, both the children left the room, followed by Alp; and they had no sooner done so, than Mrs. Bousefield resumed the thread of her discourse, and the weight of her argument.


Now, my dear lady, do let me persuade you to go hand tell hall to your par; he looks terrible broken, poor dear hold gentleman; hand hit will be a comfort to his art, any ow, to know has you really hare married, and wat ave become hof you; honly think-" (and as she spoke, she took the infant gently off its mother's lap, without waking it, for the former seemed scarcely able to support even its little weight) "honly think, I say, what your feelings would be, has a mother, hif one hof your children was tookt away from you for six years, hand you didn't know heven whether they was dead hor halive?”

"But-but-Barlow-" sobbed Mrs. Henry, convulsively, "I don't even know where my poor father is to be found in London;" for, like all persons who feel they are doing wrong, she wanted an excuse to herself, however faint, for her conduct.

"But I know-for hit never rains but hit pours, has the sayin his--hand who should I stumble hupon next, when I goes to Mr. Jacobs', in Wardour Street, habout that hare ring, but Mr. Murray--Mr. Halciphron Murray, you know--your par's hold friend; hif there he warn't, sure enough, a-buyin hon a picture, to send has a present to Mr. Wilmot (for you know he halways used to be makin hon im presents, hand such like), hand he hordered the picture to be sent to your par's, hat Colonel Chipchase's, in Palace Gardens, which, you know, his close by here; hand I'm sure that's where he his, for it was hinto a Kensington 'bus has I saw Mr. Wilmot a-gettin."

The çi devant Florence Wilmot covered her face with her hands, and groaned aloud- "Oh, if I could even see Alciphron Murray!" she at length exclaimed.

"Well, that's easy too!" said Mrs. Bousefield, " for I heerd

Mr. Jacobs say, has his lodgins was hin Bury Street, St.


"Easy!" echoed the poor invalid. would never forgive me."

"Oh! I dare not; he

"Hif, by he, you means that ere good-for-nothink usban of yours-hexcuse me, Miss Florence, but BLACKGUARD! I call him, to smuggle hup hany wife has he does you; just has hif you was so much rum brandy, hor counterband baccy; henstead hof a beautiful young lady, a deal better-born nor he, that hany gent might be proud hof; hand three beautiful hinfants, fit for the Queen band Prince Halbert, hor the great hexhibition! but e's no gentleman, for chains hand rings don't make a gentleman; hor helse hev'ry second boothe hat a fair might set hup for one. Drat! his chains and rings, say I; what's his chains hand rings? hat the best, a little goold, hand a few colored stones; but, for the most part, plenty of brass, hand no stint hof glass; hand, if that his a patent for gentility! why, poor dear Mr. Bousefield was has good a gent has hany hon 'em; for, when 'e was butler hand valet, to the dowager countess hof Coddlecat, he wore chains hand rings too; but when 'e put the ring hon мy finger! 'e knew what was doo to a ooman hand a wife; hand when 'e promised hat the halter to hendow me with hall his worldly goods, 'e did not think that meant a burying hon me alive between four walls, without a single comfort hor pleasure, while 'e was a-flourishing habout the world with hevery lugshurry hand hextravagance! hand when 'e promised to worship me with 'is body, he did not think has that meant, a kickin hon me hin 'is tantrums, with the fag hend hon hit! as your usban (BLACKGUARD! I call him) does you! oh, no, very different from that! for, hif so be has I could 'ave heat goold, I might 'ave 'ad it; hand poor dear Mr. Bousefield would 'ave give me diamonds hon the top of that agin; hand has for takin' a ride hin the chay without me-tho' we kep' a four wheeler, too-'e'd as soon 'ave thought of flyin'. Hev'ry Sunday, has reglar has the day come, hit was 'Susanner, my

dear, how do you feel dispoged? the oss and his master his both hat your service;' for, 'aving lived so long with the Dowager Countess of Coddlecat, he was a particular genteel man was Mr. Bousefield; very much so; but would I be mewed hup for hany man has you hare; hand driv here, hand poked there, hon the hodd times, my usban (usban, indeed, BLACKGUARD! I call him) chose to come hand make a perfect chimbley hof the 'ouse, with his nasty smokin'. I 'ate those nasty harbitary* dispositions, has wants hevery think for self, hand don't think the world wide enough for hany body helse. No; before I'd submit to such treatment, I'd raise the world pretty well habout his hears, that I would; hat hall events, I'd go to my par, hand tell him hevery think, hand get hout of that feller's clutches as soon has I could. I'm very sure, hif your poor dear mar was halive, she'd give you the same advice. I honly know, that hif so be has you 'ad a brother, I would go to him, hand, has your usband his so fond hof puttin' hevery think hon his hown back, we'd soon see how 'e'd like the feel hof a osswhip hon it, which I think his the suitablest wear for gents of his description."

Hercules himself occasionally reposed from his labours, and even Mrs. Bousefield's tongue (perpetual motion not having yet been discovered,) sometimes required rest, so for a second she paused, quickly adding, however:

"Hand tho I aven't got the strength of a fly, shouldn' I like to 'ave the layin of it accrosst his shoulders!"

Apparently the mere thought was exhilarating, for she immediately subjoined,

"There! hif I aven' come hall hover in one of them tremenjus great eats again! But do, do, my dear lady, be said by me," she continued, as the large pocket-handkerchief per

* It will be perceived, that Mrs. Bousefield, with her usual off-hand way of doing business, had fused the two vices of selfishness and tyranny into the one word "arbitrary:" a very common species of verbal chemistry among persons of her class.

formed the double function of fan and towel, "hand go to your par, hand tell him hall.”

Now this advice, though sound, was not quite disinterested, (advice seldom is) for sooth to say, Mrs. Bousefield was more than tired of playing the part of a lost Pleiad, at Magnolia Lodge, when, at the termination of the continental tour poor Florence Wilmot had made after her fatal elopement, she had written to her mother's old maid, asking if she would come and superintend her little ménage-the latter had consented with great alacrity to do so, and flown from the cottage at Paddington, where her "widowed art" had taken refuge. For Mrs. Bousefield, being much addicted to genteel comedy, and the Minerva Press, was a great theoretical admirer of elopements, always imagining them to be a sort of matrimonial mosaic of moonlight, myrtles and moustachios, Brussels lace, blushroses, and postilions. But when she arrived at Magnolia Lodge, perched up on the top shelf of a bye lane, as she herself expressed it, and found only two maids without even one footman! and two young children, with a third expected, her romantic feelings suddenly and greatly cooled down, and upon a further acquaintance with "Miss Florence's usban," her dislike of, and indignation against him grew so excessive, that every pin she stuck into the "WELCOME, SWEET BABE," pincushion, with the construction of which she solaced her leisure hours, she devoutly wished, with a true Catherine de Medici resolution of purpose, that she had been sticking into the "art of that good-for-nothink feller," the progenitor of the "sweet babe." And poor Florence-what did she wish? Why, what many a misguided girl has done before, and will, it is to be feared, do again, namely, that she had died before she had left her father's roof, and repaid with deception and ingratitude, the tried and legitimate affection of years, to peril her fate, her life, her all, upon the false vows and spurious love of a comparative stranger. The heaviest sin-tax retributive justice imposes upon those who deviate from the right path, is the compulsory necessity of tak

ing into their confidence inferior and often unworthy natures; this tax had poor Florence long paid by instalments to her mother's former maid, but now, in order to obtain a cessation from her torturing entreaties to disclose her marriage and present abode to her father, she was compelled to undergo the still further humiliation of confessing to her that she dared not do so, as her husband, having wanted a few months of being of age when he married her, their marriage, if he or his family chose to dispute it, would not be considered binding;


* The reader may perhaps be surprised that Florence should have been so ignorant as to have been deluded by such a tale; but besides her only having been seventeen at the time of marriage, he must recollect that English young ladies of a much maturer age, (thanks to their for the most part false and very superficial education, began by vulgar foreign governesses, and capped by their mother tongue, as it flows in all its mutilations and vulgar corruptions from English maid-servants) are seldom even well versed in the history, let alone the laws, of their own country; and Florence Wilmot's unprincipled husband had terrified her by showing her a document purporting to be an extract from "Cripp's Ecclesiastical Law," stating that "all marriages celebrated by license when either of the parties are under the age of twenty-one years (not being a widow, or a widower,) without the consent of the father, if he were living, or of the mother or guardians, shall be absolutely void." But the real passage is preceded by this sentence-“ It was at one period the law of this country that all marriages celebrated by license, &c.," and followed by this after nullifying clause, the words "should be absolutely void;" but such provision, however, was found to be contrary to general policy, and has been repealed. Such a marriage, although without consent, is now valid, and the parties could not again contract. As for Mrs. Bousefield, like all persons of her class, laws with her, like those of the Medes and Persians, "altered not." She had innumerable fag ends of old laws jostling each other through her brain, but with recent acts of Parliament, and repeals, she could not be expected to keep pace; but still she knew the great broad laws of God, which are immutable, and which, from the lucidity of their perfection, are palpable even to the dullest capacities and most blunted perceptions: therefore had Florence taken her advice, of appealing to, and confiding in her sole remaining parent, and legitimate

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