16 serted his wife and family down in Lewisham, as may come yourself to have the bed took from under you with your husband a-comin' home any time when you least expects." Well, she was took aback, and seemed for to stagger like. She says, "It's all lies," a-graspin' like. I says, "Oh, is it? Very well, then, next time as he comes I'll get some one as will imdemnify him pretty quick. Now," I says, "I don't care who or what you are, but you behave yourself decent, and let this lady take what she wants and go quiet, and if she can pay you she will." That woman was struck dumb, she didn't say a word, but goes out of the room. So I says to the poor lady as had sunk on a chair, "Put your things together, and come with me." a pocket handkerchief, besides her bonnet and shawl, as were only a tippet, But law bless you, she hadn't enough to fill for as she told me arterwards she'd parted with everything down to her boots. I was a bit afraid when BROWN come in as he'd be put out with me atakin' in strangers like that, but he only said, "Martha," he says, believe all as you're told, but," he says, "I'm not the man for to shet my "don't door agin a lone woman and her dyin' child, was they ever so bad.". All that night did I set a-watchin' that poor boy. His mother wouldn't lay down, as was my wishes, not as she could help a-dozin' off in spite of herself. I never see a whiter hand than she'd got, tho' that thin as you might see thro' it, as the sayin' is, and a lovely head of hair as her widow's cap kep under, and I see by the way as she begun for to do it as she was a lady in her ways, tho' poor soul not such a thing as a change about her. I think it must have been about eight when MR. RAILTON looked in, as didn't see no great change, but I did, and says, "He's a-sinkin' rapid," and so he was. I'd said to the poor lady over night, "Excuse me, mum, but haven't you no friends for to write to ?" She busts out a-cryin', and says as she'd got a father as was married again, living. says "Wherever does he live?" says, "I never can." She says, "At Herne Hill; but," she "Now," I says, "if you're a-goin' to let pride lead you to distraction, as the sayin' is, it's not my business, but," I says, So she seems for to hesitate, and at last she opens a little black writin'-desk "consider your child.' as she'd got, and she writes a letter as BROWN posted hisself as he went out in the mornin'. I don't think as there was five minutes passed all that day as she did'nt keep a goin' to the window and a watchin'. Well, I got a bit of a nap in the afternoon, but was up and quite lively about five, and got a cup of tea, as was the only thing that poor lady would touch, and as to the poor boy, except a moistenin' of his poor parched lips, there wasn't nothin' to be done. It was heart-breakin' for to see her settin' by the bed, a holdin' his poor little hot hand, a kissin' of it with the tears a streamin' down her cheeks; and she kep' sayin' to me, "Do you think he'll come?" For it was too dark for to see out of winder. I says, "Surely, my dear, if he's got the feelin's of a father in his bosom, as is natural." I was just a tryin' for to make that poor boy's head comfortable on his piller, when I see as the end were a-comin'. So I didn't say nothin', but I makes a sign to her and puts him gently into her arms, and says, "My dear, he's a goin' to a better, happier world. last breath as will be a comfort for you to think on arterwards." She says, Do you have his "No, no; don't tell me so, pray don't." I says, "My dear, it is my duty." I says, "Do you try and do yours, and submit," I says, "to One as loves him, and is a takin' him out of a wicked world." So I takes his little hand and give it a kiss, for he looked like one of the Holy Angels, with a sweet look a-comin' over his face as his dear little sperrit passed away. She didn't shriek nor scream, but I see her give one look up as went to my 'art. I heard her mutter them blessed words as is our only stay in life and death, and then she fell a faintin' on the bed. Just then there come a ring like wild at the gate, and I heard footsteps and voices in the passage. So I runs to the top of the stairs and calls SARAH to come and help me with the poor lady, and up rushes a elderly gentleman and a young lady, as kep' saying, "Where is she?" I says, "Step in here," and showed 'em into my bed-room, for I all over?" says the old gentleman. says, "It's all over." "What's heaven." He says, "My poor girl, where is she?" I says, "There," and I says, "The little boy is gone to in he goes with the young lady, as bust out cryin' like wild, and says, EMILY, EMILY! don't you know me? I'm CLARA," and the poor old gentleman, with the tears runnin' down his cheeks, fell on his knees beside that bed, and said "EMILY, EMILY, forgive me!" I thought my heart would 'ave broke, as I shet the door and left 'em to theirselves. As must have been a bitter meetin' and ought to be a warnin' to them as quarrels, and keeps up bitter feelin's; for tho' they took her away, and buried the little boy handsome, they couldn't heal her wounds, and wanted for to pay me liberal. As I says, "No," 1 says, "never will I take a farthin'; and as to settlin' with MRS. FELTON," man do that, as isn't a female as I'd let myself down to speak to.' says, "let some I think it must have been full three months arter that that young lady come out, still in weeds, in a carriage for to see me, and brought me a handsome clock for the mantel-piece, and she kissed me, a sayin', "You were indeed a friend; and don't think as ever I can forget what you've done for me," and bust out a cryin', and would go to see the room where he died, and stayed nearly two hours; and if she'd been my own flesh and blood Í couldn't have cried more. mother is dead, and her sister keeps house. So I says, Ás wanted me to go over there, for her stepa friend in a 'umple spear, 1 knows my place, as I will always keep to." No," I says, "as And she promised to come again soon, and couldn't help hardly a smilin' when I told her how my words had come true about MRS. FELTON, as had been and gone and shot the moon, as the sayin' is. ARTHUR SKETCHLEY. PADDY BLAKE'S ECHO. N the gap of Dunlo There's an echo or so; And some of them echoes is very surprisin'; You'll think in this stave That I mane to desaiveFor a ballad's a thing you expect to find lies in ;* But sartin and thrue The echo politely says, "Very One day Teddy Keogh But the echo, they say, Was conthrairy that day, Or perhaps Paddy Blake had gone out for a walk, sir. "Now," says Teddy to Kate, ""Tis too hard to be bate By this deaf and dumb baste of an echo, so lazy; But if we both shout THE HOSPITABLE FRIEND. F the Fates will let it be, Like a prince, my friend,-but mind,- Some sweet girl you, too, must bring, I CANNOT say how it came to pass but I found myself at the bottom of the pond! I should tell you, first of all, that I am head clerk to a serious mercantile firm; and that my abode, when I am at home, is at Clapham. I am a man of a grave and thoughtful turn of mind, and I spend my leisure in reflecting on the awful ways and disreputable goings on of lost sheep in general. I am a valued member of a strict dissenting congregation; and if there is one feature of my existence upon which I pride myself more than another, it is en my method of keeping Sunday. Yes, Sunday at Calamity Lodge may fairly be taken to be, in the matter of solemnity, the perfection of melancholy propriety. I regard it as a species of Prize Sunday, and as such I hold it up to as many of my friends as will come and look at it. They regard it as the goal to which their Sunday-keeping endeavours should unanimously tend. With the exception of my servants, there is not one soul in Calamity Lodge who was ever known to be guilty of doing anything useful on the seventh day. It is, perhaps, unnecessary for me to add that I have never read a play, or entered a playhouse in the course of my virtuous life. Nevertheless, I have printed and published many vigorous and soul-harrowing denunciations of these works and tabernacles of the Evil One; and I have shown, beyond dispute, that they sow the seed of every vice that can degrade humanity. The play-houses are, I am told, not all closed, but then I have not yet finished the series of pamphlets I am directing against them. To return to the opening paragraph of this paper. I cannot say how it came to pass that I found myself at the bottom of the pond, but there I was. It was on Christmas Day, and I had been spending the evening with a fallen Brother who, as I had previously learnt, was not at peace with all men. In point of fact, he was not at peace with me, for an Enemy had put it into his head that I had misappropriated some chapel funds. It was a charge which I could best meet with a dignified silence; but as he had expressed his intention of bringing it before the flock, I could not consistently with my conscientious scruples allow him to remain one single hour in so evil a frame of mind, if it lay in my power to prevent it. So I repaired to his abode, and as I could hit upon no other way of bringing him to a sense of his wickedness, I wrote him a cheque for a large amount-the very amount, as it happened, of the money which he had charged me with mis appropriating. Upon this we shook hands, and he drank my health. It was, I well remember, in choice old port. To prove myself at perfect charity with him, I drank his health, and we both shed tears. Then I drank the health of his help-mate, who is buxom and fair to look upon. Then that of his twain daughters, who are of a pleasing countenance. Then (for at Christmas time I can make no distinction of class), of his various servants. Lastly, my fallen Brother proposed a toast which, with ill-timed humour, he described as Our Noble Selves. I objected, at first, to this, as savouring of unchristian vanity, but I suffered myself to be over-ruled, and I then joined the family in a song of jubilee that, if I recollect aright, expressed rejoicing and pious satisfaction at our being all "here again"-at our passing yet another Christmas together. Then I bade them farewell, and proceeded to my home. As I have no recollection of anything that occurred between my leaving his home and my finding myself at the bottom of a pond on Clapham Common, I conclude that I was even at that time under the influence of the extraordinary spell which led me into the adventures I am about to relate. I have a distinct recollection of feeling myself suddenly immersed in icy water, and of finding myself in the act of sinking into unfathomable depths. Eventually, I found myself at the bottom of the pond, which to my utter amazement appeared to be a large chamber gorgeously furnished as a bed-room, with a resplendent, but tawdry couch on which I was lying, when I fully recovered my senses. Everything around me was cheaply gaudy. The couch groaned and cracked under me as I turned round to examine the apartment. The hangings of the room were of crimson calico, bespattered with gilt lions. The bed-curtains were of the coarsest muslin, and the flooring was of dirty deal, badly laid, and full of closed trap-doors of a peculiar mechanical description. An attendant, who was attired in a grotesquely fantastic garb, heard me cough, and finishing an eccentric dance which he was practising before a looking-glass, turned to see what I wanted. "Pray, am I dead, or is this some mistake?" asked I, in blank astonish ment. He replied in a jaunty tone, "No, you're not dead yet, though you are a-wake!" He emphasised the words I have printed in italics, in such a manner as to convey to me the impression that they had some double meaning. But I have no notion what it was. I am afraid that I began to lose my temper, for I inquired indignantly, "What in the world is the meaning of all this tom-foolery ?" "Hush!" said he, below his breath. "Pray take care. Fortunately, nobody heard you but myself, or you would have been severely punished. Don't you know that there is no rhyme to tom-foolery in the singular?" "In the singular?" said I, completely puzzled. "Yes," whispered he. "You can use it in the plural if you like, for 'tomfooleries' is an allowable rhyme to 'Tooleries,' where the EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH resides in Paris, you know." "I haven't the remotest notion what in the world"Hush-pray, hush," whispered my attendant. "That line's a great deal too long. You'll get yourself into serious trouble if you don't take care. Pray, oh pray, remember the metre!" "What! Measure out by yards all I repeat ?" asked I, in astonishment. "No, not exactly yards-it's done by feet," replied he, triumphantly, aloud. Then he added under his breath, "There, that's much better-we are getting on nicely.' 66 Pray, will you kindly tell me where I am?" asked I, in despair. "A very good decasyllabic line," remarked my attendant in a patronizing whisper. Then, aloud: "Last night to Regions of Burlesque you cam!" "I'cam?'-what's that?" said I. "Hush," whispered he. "You cam,' for 'you came.' It's for the rhyme." "But I see no necessity for rhyme." "You'll learn the reason of it all in time. Our code of regulations isn't long-I'll tell you all about them in a song." And after premising in a whisper that he would adapt the song he was about to sing to the air of a profane ballad, known to him and his friends as "The Sugar Shop," he began to howl forth the following unmeaning words: "If you intend to stay with us, before you've been a day with us "Rule, rule of where you've been intruding to, The neighbourhood of Chancery-lane as 'skid-a-ma-Lincoln's Inn'!" "But skid-a-ma-Lincoln's Inn appears to be unmeaning nonsense. What in the world has Lincoln's Inn to do with it?" asked I. "Hush," whispered he; "You're all wrong again, you can't scan that line. Say, 'But why allude to Lincoln's Inn, pray tell?' and I'll answer you." "But why allude to Lincoln's Inn-pray tell ?" said I, in obedience to his instructions. "Because it fits into the line so well," he answered, triumphantly; and then he proceeded to the second verse, which appeared to me to be even more idiotic than the first. "And when of punning speech, you know, the end you nearly reach, you know, Experience will teach, you know, a comic song to screech, you know; And laughter to enhance, you know, each song should have a dance, you know, (A needful circumstance, you know), a dozen minutes long! "Rule, rule, enjoyment not diminishing, Fool, fool, booby, booby, boob- You'll, you'll learn, each ballad finishing, With a flip up in the skid-a-ma-link, and a flip in the juben-jube!" And here he proceeded to dance about in such a dreadfully wild and reckless manner, that I really feared that he would end by dislocating all his limbs at once. "How dare you call me 'fool and booby boob' ?" I asked, with not unnatural irritation. "Because I find no other rhyme to 'jube,'-with the exception of 'pneumatic tube,'-which couldn't easily be introduced,-and so I hope my rudeness stands excuced." He proceeded then to tell me, in preposterous rhymes, that if an inhabitant of the Region of Burlesque ventured to speak aloud in prose he was liable to be beheaded on the spot, and that to finish a comic song otherwise than with a comic dance, was penal servitude for life. It was in vain that I represented to him that I could not extemporize songs of any description-that the only tune I knew was the National Anthem-that I had never attempted to rhyme a couple of words in my life, and that as for a pun, I had as great a horror of it as of a theatre itself. He could offer me no consolation in my difficulty, nor could he hold out any hope of pardon if I offended by publicly speaking in prose. He advised me to begin to study the art of rhyming with facility, and he placed a volume in my hands containing all the known rhymes, possible and impossible, in the English language. He recommended me to study them for a couple of hours, and he promised at the expiration of that period, to introduce me to the KING OF BURLESQUE and his court. As soon as my attendant (whose name was BILLIBOLLIBOSKI NINCOMPOOP), had left me, I set to work on the volume he had given me. In it I found an alphabetical list of words that rhymed with each other after the fashion of a WALKER'S Rhyming Dictionary, only much more complete, and an appendix containing a list of twenty-seven thousand three hundred and ninety-two puns, all more or less (generally less) original. The scores of seven hundred and thirty-two (or thirty-five, I forget which), comic and sentimental songs, concluded the volume. I worked at it for the two hours with no result worth mentioning, and I hailed the appearance of my attendant as a convict under sentence of death hails the appearance of the sheriffs who are to lead him to execution. BILLIBOLLIBOSKI NINCOMPOOP arrayed me in a garment of a fantastic description, and then led me through the streets of a large town to the King's palace. I was much struck with the appearance and demeanour of such of the inhabitants as I happened to see on my way. They were all dressed in costumes as astounding as the one I wore myself, and they had, for the most part, astonishing heads of hair. The young men were especially remarkable, for they had lovely complexions, beautiful eyes, a quantity of back hair, usually with a tortoiseshall comb stuck into it, and extraordinary figures for boys. Their legs were remarkable fine, and they appeared particularly proud of them, for they lost no opportunity of exhibiting them, by twirling quickly round, and so disarranging the loose drapery of their tunics. Whenever one of these young men met a gentleman or lady, I noticed that after a short conversation, full of bad jokes (at which neither of them laughed), they began to dance in a wild and altogether irrelevant manner. And, indeed, I found that they frequently danced in this way when they were quite alone, and at almost every corner was to be found a young man or young woman finishing a soliloquy by dancing in the peculiarly reckless manner I have described. The young women wore dreadfully short dresses, and if it had not been that I felt curious to learn the habits and manners of so extraordinary a people, I should certainly not have thought of looking at them. Perhaps the most startling features of this astonishing country were to be found in the celestial phenomena which met my gaze whenever I looked upwards. Instead of the beautiful blue vault of heaven to which I have ever been accustomed, I found that the sky descended in short strips about six feet apart to glimpses of rough men dressed much in the garb of ordinary British carpenters. They appeared to be engaged in pulling tackle and in turning windThe stars, too, lasses, though with what object I never could make out. were not scattered over the heavens as are the stars that we see in England, but they appeared to grow in long rows between the strips of sky to which I have alluded, and parallel to them. the very roofs of the houses. Between these strips I could catch occasional At length my companion and I reached the King's palace. It was as gaudy and in as execrable taste as the apartment in which I found myself when I first arrived. Everything looked cheap, tawdry and ricketty, and the very throne on which the monarch sat was made of rough deal coarsely gilt on the front portion of it alone. As we entered we found the king surrounded by his court, who were singing what appeared to be the local National Anthem, to the air of an old Scotch song, called, if I remember aright, "The Laird of Bonnie Cockdee." It ran, I think, as follows: Oh, the lords of creation of every degree That great as he is he is not at all proud, But he'll take from his subjects of humblest degree, Sure never there was such a monarch as he! Upon which the king replied, My Lords and Gentlemen,-I'm greatly flattered by the neat verses you've so glibly pattered. By "neat" I don't mean strong, but bona fide, I call them neat because they're pretty tidy." The king then caught sight of me, and in bad doggrel, wanted to know where I came from, and all about me. BILLIBOLLIBOSKI threw me into a state of fearful confusion by whispering that it was expected of me that I should immediately extemporize a complimentary song. There was no time for reflection, so I extemporized the following clever parody on the popular British anthem before alluded to. I have italicised the portions which I altered from the original: GOD save our gracious King, GOD save the King. I was pained to find that this really neat parody met with little or no approbation from the court. I thought it rather good for a first attempt. The king, however, received me graciously, and immediately appointed me his Leading Loko Median. I haven't, to this day, the faintest notion what the title implied. The MONARCH had a beautiful daughter, the PRINCESS PRETTY PICKLEYICKLEYSING, to whom he was good enough to introduce me. As I had left my excellent though elderly wife at Clapham, I considered her as good as dead, so I felt no scruple in devoting myself to this lovely girl. I was prompted to this rather by a desire to convert her to my own doctrines, and to add her to the faithful flock of which I was an honoured though humble member, than by any notion of mere worldly love. But alas for her, she was betrothed to a young Prince-PRINCE POPPETSKIN, who appeared to monopolize her society. as The PRINCESS was very rude to me indeed, and as for PRINCE POPPETSKIN, his behaviour was outrageous. He was perfectly well aware of the difficulty I had in speaking in rhyme, and he delighted to address me in a single line ending with a word to which it was almost impossible to find a rhyme, such ""silver," 99 66 "orange, month," writing-desk," "bismuth," and so on. The PRINCESS followed his lead, so that I had the greatest difficulty in keeping up a coherent conversation with her. After I had interchanged a word or two with either of them, they would begin to sing a comic duet, in which I was forced to take my part. As I have no idea of singing, and never knew an air throughout, it will be easy to see that my position in this awful Court was anything but desirable. I soon exhausted the British National Anthem, and all the parodies that could be made on it. At first I relied solely upon it, and introduced it whenever I had a chance, but eventually I became such a nuisance, that as soon as I began it, everybody left the room. I had only one pun, and that I also introduced whenever a pun became necessary. It was a very neat one, and was founded on the curious similarity in sound between "merry twinkle" and "periwinkle," but I found no little difficulty in inventing an excuse for its introduction whenever I made a remark. It necessitated going a long way round, and saying a great deal more than I wanted to say, which involved me in another difficulty-that of finding a dozen rhymes instead of only two. Now the only rhymes I could think of were, the following: management and banishment, cockles and noddles, twelfth and self, London and hunting, Grammarian and Mary Anne; so anything like intelligent conversation was altogether out of the question. This state of things lasted for twelve months. I am not going to give an account of all the difficulties I encountered in the course of that period: reserve that for a large work which I propose to publish, and which will give a detailed account of all my sufferings during my sojourn in the Region of Burlesque. Eventually I was sentenced to death, because I could not find a trisyllabic rhyme to Postlethwaite,-that at least was the ostensible reason, though I incline to the belief, that I had by that time made myself such an intolerable nuisance with my National Anthem, my five brace o rhymes, and my only pun, that my speedy death was unanimously desired. immediately on my decapitation I found myself somehow transported to a I was neatly decapitated on the day twelve-month after my arrival, and cell of the Wandsworth Police-court. From this humiliating durance I was liberated by a benevolent magistrate, and, after depositing five shillings with his worship for the good of Her Majesty the QUEEN, I reached my home, to (I hope) the great joy of my wife and all my children. Here is their good health and all their families, and may they live long and prosper! W. SCHWENCK GILBERT. REMARKABLY GOOD MANAGER. SAID MR. PRAGGLES, the prompter, putting his head into the manager's sanctum, "Sir! Please, sir!" "Well, PRAGGLES," enquired the manager solemnly, "what is it ?" "It's the ladies and gentlemen, sir, which is anxious to know when the treasury is agoing to open, sir.' "Bear them," said the manager, with sudden irritation, "to the lowest dun. No! Tell them I am engaged with a gentleman on business of the greatest importance." The prompter withdrew promptly. The manager was left alone. Yes, alone! The gentleman with whom he was The manager transacting important business was-not to define too nicely-a fiction. was alone-alone with his difficulty. And it was a difficulty:-a difficulty that would have taxed the financial abilities of a GLADSTONE. For to quote the remarkable words of MRS. BROWN-"SAMSON was a strong man and SOLOMON wise to do it with." And this was Saturday, and the ladies and gentlemen connected with the one, but they could neither of them pay two pounds when they had only thirty shillings Royal Asterisk Theatre were waiting for the treasury to pay their salaries, and the treasury was empty-cleaned out to its last sixpence. Now MR. CHOOPY, the manager, on whose privacy we have so unceremoniously intruded was not a SAMSON. He had never been the The Strong Man of a booth, though he had in youth, and the character of Mr. Merriman, invited the rustic public to "Walk up! walk up!", and see the huge Anaconda of the Indian Ocean, and the Platypus Savages from Central Africa, who had only one foot, but that was as big as an ordinary umbrella, and was used by them "as such." Nor was MR. CHOOPY altogether a SOLOMON. So it is no great wonder that he was puzzled. He was at his wits end-and that was some distance, for he was a long-headed fellow, if not the entire SOLOMON. But he couldn't contrive to pay the salaries of a whole company with nothing at all. He had once contrived to satisfy their claims with half-a-sovereign, and that was ingenious you'll admit, but now he hadn't a tenth part of that sum even. I will tell you briefly how he contrived to pay his whole company with half-a-sovereign. He summoned them singly into his sanctum. The first who arrived was MOUNTVILLYAR (real name MAGGETT), the tragedian. MOUNTVILLYAR was the most magnificent and dressy man in the company, he had a glossy black wig and a real crimson velvet waistcoat, not to mention a diamond ring which he never parted with-not even under the pressure of the most straitened circumstances, because it being paste he could realise nothing on it. "My dear M.," said CHOOPY, "I cannot conceal from myself that your genius is wasted -and I have made arrangements with one of the leading dramatists of the day to write a tragedy, in which you will have an opportunity, and that is all you need, to take the metropolis by storm.' MOUNTVILLYAR blushed crimson as his waistcoat with joy. "By the way, M., my boy," continued CHOOPY, "things have been deuced bad, and I shan't be able to pay you till to-night. I suppose you don't mind? And, in the meantime, in case you should require any small change-why here's half-a-sov." MOUNTVILLYAR accepted the instalment gladly. "You'll not mention the tragedy, M., my boy," said CHOOPY. "Don't talk about it in the theatre-it might make 'em jealous, you know. But a man of your histrionic talent must have an opening, and you shall, my boy, you shall! By the way," he added, seeing MOUNTVILLYAR making towards the door, "I may as well pay you the whole lot at oncesave confusion, you know. Let's have that half-sov. back!" And with that he took it out of the tragedian's unresisting hand, and politely hustled him out of the room. BLIBBER, the low comedian, was the next, and with him CHOOPY enacted the same scene -substituting in his case a screaming farce for the tragedy. Then came SWINGLE, the walking gentleman, and with him, too, the same little game was played with equal success, and so on with the whole company, until there were but two left. JACK BLIFFLE and TOM RUDGWAY had yet to be satisfied. They were very humble members of the company, indeed, and the only bait CHOOPY could have thrown to their vanity would have been to have promised to bring out a drama in which the whole dialogue consisted of such sentences as "My lord, your carriage waits." "Dinner is served in the banquet-hall." "Did my lady call?" "My lord, a messenger without bids me deliver this into your hands." However CHOOPY attempted in some sort of way to cajole JACK BLIFFLE and obtain the half-sovereign back; for that half-sovereign was intended, after having done its duty at the treasury, to provide the managerial repast. JACK BLIFFLE, however, was a man who, having once closed on a half-sovereign, or even a smaller coin, was not to be easily prevailed on to give it up. CHOOPY expostulated-protested-swore. In vain! And in the midst of the altercation RUDGWAY entered and preferred his demand for salary. What could CHOOPY do? He put a bold face on the matter-vowed he had paid away all his ready cash, and that the last half-sovereign was in JACK's possession. Then he appealed to JACK on RUDGWAY's behalf-reminded him that RUDGWAY had a wife and family, and so prevailed on JACK (who was a kind-hearted fellow) that he promised to share with TOM. And so it was that CHOOPY paid off his whole company with half-a-sovereign. How JACK and Toм retired to divide the spoil; how it was agreed that they should adjourn to a tavern and have a drop of something in order to get change; how they disagreed as to who should pay for the liquor; how they finally arranged to toss up, with a view to deciding who should stand treat; and how the half-sovereign, having been tost up, fell on the pavement, gave a jump and then a roll, and dropt down the grating of an uninhabited house, leaving Tom and JACK to gaze after it despairingly, there is no necessity here to relate at length. We will return to CHOOPY, whom we left in his sanctum alone with his difficulty. As his eye wandered moodily from the floor to the ceiling, from the ceiling to the table, it suddenly rested on an open letter. At once CHOOPY's face began to brighten. He took the note up, read it carefully, and then laid it down by his side. "PRAGGLES," said CHOOPY, with a loud and confident voice "ask the ladies and gentlemen to step this way!" Before they do so we will glance over CHOOPY's shoulder at the note. It is an invitation to dinner, and it is signed "Yours, B. JACOM." MR. BENJAMIN JACOM was a man familiar to haunters of the coulisses. He had a low forehead, an aquiline nose, dark hair and eyes, and a double chin. He also had dirty which was a sort of mental Hampton Court Maze-for it hands, plenty of rings to be thereby shown to advantage, and a velvet vest, over which meandered a massive gold chain, came out at his waistband and from the armholes of his You were in an endless bewilderment as to where it began waistcoat, from between its buttons, and from his throat. and where it ended, and how many miles it traversed between those two points. MR. JACOM spelt his name J. a. c. o. mbut from some peculiar formation of his nasal organs, highly suggestive of chronic influenza, he called himself JACOB, a fact, which combined with the circumstance that he lent money at heavy interest, led people to suppose that he belonged to a race which MR. DISRAELI describes as Caucasian. MR. JACOM was well known at the theatre and the opera. He was reported to have lent fabulous sums to half the managers in London. Whether he ever could, would, or did get paid is a matter of doubt, but he was nevertheless a very wealthy man. It must therefore be conjectured that he made up for the deficit in this direction by making in his dealings with ordinary mortals, who were not managers, a large profit on Old Masters, wines, and very choice cigars. Whether he did this or not is uncertain, but it was clear that he entered into theatrical speculations from a sheer love of the dramaand by love of the drama I mean a right of admission behind the scenes, and the pleasure of giving handsome dinners on Saturday afternoons to a select circle of theatrical managers. It was an invitation to dinner in MR. JACOM's handwriting that lay on the table when the ladies and gentlemen of the Royal Asterisk Theatre came in a body to the treasury to demand their salaries. I am bound to add that from their demeanour it was pretty evident they did not expect to get their money, but were determined "not to stand this kind of thing any longer." "My dears," said CHOOPY, "I'm sorry to say I'm deuced hard-up, and can't pay you your salaries this afternoon." At this there were very marked signs of disapprobation and discontent. "But this evening I shall be in the receipt of a large sum of money." At this there was a derisive laugh, and audible confessions of want of faith. "I shall be in receipt of a large-a very large sum of money from a gentleman with whom I believe you are all acquainted-from MR. JACOM." The disbelief was not entirely banished, but the expressions of dissatisfaction were not so marked as before. Still the meeting showed no signs of breaking up;-something more was needed, and so CHOOPY played his great card. "You don't believe me? Very well! I tell you, MR. JACOM has taken a very great interest in this theatre. He has been so struck by the admirable and even way in which pieces are played here, that he intends to give it his material support and countenance. Why, look here! here's a proof of ithe's invited you to dinner, my dear boys!" That settled it. The delicate compliment to their acting mollified the discontents; and when CHOOPY held out the letter, and MOUNTVILLYAR, loons. THE PATRIOT JESTER. AN APOLOGUE. (From Heinrich Heine.) N the Tyrol, foes around him, sleep a stranger to his eyes, glancing at it, declared it all correct, peace was restored, and the delighted When the little group entered the drawing-room there was consternation on both sides. The occupants of the room were apparently startled at the arrival of a shabby body of evidently hungry strangers, and the intruders were so appalled at the gorgeous folks before them, that they shrank behind MOUNTVILLYAR, whose crimson velvet vest was the only thing about them that could at all claim equality with the splendid ones. Upon MOUNTVILLYAR therefore, he being thrust foremost, descended MR. JACOM, and inquired who and what they were. The tragedian explained that they came-that is to say, they were asked to come-with MR. CHOOPY. What the "about? "Here, I say, CHOOPY," said JACOM, "what's all this? deuce is it all about?" "About?" said CHOOPY, coming up with a surprised air, why didn't you ask them to dinner along with me?" "Nothing of the sort, MR. CHOOPY, nothing of the sort." "Well! there's your own letter," said the manager, producing the document. "Read it-read it, sir!" "My dear CHOOPY," said MR. JACOM, reading from the letter, in a distinct, at least for him distinct voice-"My dear CHOOPY,-Will you give me the pleasure of your company at dinner on Saturday. Yours, B. JACOM." "That's it," said CHOOPY. "Didn't I say so?" "Say what?" "Why, the pleasure of your company'-this," added CHOOPY, indicating with a wave of his hand the cowering Thespians-" this, sir, is MY COMPANY!" TOM HOOD. Muffled in a cloak, a figure he has seen, he thinks, before. 66 "CONRAD VON DER ROSEN, tell me what thou'lt do when I am free." GODFREY TURNER. |