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 V AND M TS 
 
 SANDBOYS 
 
 AND FAMILY,, 
 ;0 CAME U P TO 
 
 TOENJOY THEMSEEVEiS. 
 
 AND TO SEE THE 
 
 GREAT 
 
 BY HENMYMA¥H E.W/MEDI 
 GEORCECrUBCS MANIC. 
 
 LONDON: GEORGE NEWBOLD, 303 & 304, STRAND, Vv.C. 
 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 DESIGNED AND ETCHED BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. 
 
 ALL THE WORLD GOING TO THE GREAT EXHIBITION Frontispiece 
 
 LOOKING FOR LODGINGS 54 
 
 LONDON CRAMMED AND MANCHESTER DESERTED — 2 PLATES . . 59 
 
 THE OPERA BOXES DURING THE TIME OF THE GREAT EXHIBI- 
 TION 117 
 
 THE OPENING OF THE GREAT BEE-HIVE 136 
 
 THE FIRST SHILLING DAY 153 
 
 SOME OF THE DROLLERIES OF THE GREAT EXHIBITION ... 160 
 
 ODDS AND ENDS, IN, OUT, AND ABOUT THE GREAT EXHIBITION . 162 
 
 DISPERSION OF THE WORKS OF ALL NATIONS 238 
 
 ludia Proof impressions of the above Ten Plates may be had, all 
 printed on paper of uniform size (23^ by 17^ inches), quite perfect, 
 and free from folds, price 15s. per set. 
 
ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 THE CHEAPEST HOUSE 
 
 FOR 
 
 ENGRAVINGS OF EVERY DESCRIPTION 
 
 is 
 
 GEORGE NEWBOLD’S, 
 
 303 & 304, STRAND, LONDON, W.C. 
 
 (back of st. mart’s chukch.) 
 
 A Clearance Sale Catalogue, 54 Svo pp., Post Free on receipt of 
 
 Four Stamps. 
 
1851 : 
 
 OB, 
 
 THE ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ‘ 1 Come, Nicliol, and gi’e us thy cracks, 
 
 I seed te gang down to the smiddy, 
 
 I’ve fodder’d the naigs and the nowt, 
 
 And wanted to see thee — ’at did e. 
 
 Ay, Andrew, lad ! draw in a stuil, 
 
 And gie us a shek o’ thy daddle ; 
 
 I got aw the news far and nar, 
 
 ' Sae set off as fast’s e could waddle.” 
 
 Nichol the Newsmonger. —Robert Anderson. 
 
 T HE GREAT EXHIBITION was about to attract sight-seers 
 of all the world — the sight-seers, who make up nine-tenths of 
 the human family. The African had mounted his ostrich. The Crisp 
 of the Desert had announced an excursion caravan from Zoolu to 
 Fez. The Yakutskian Shillibeer had already started the first rein- 
 deer omnibus to Novogorod. Penny cargoes were steaming down Old 
 Nile, in Egyptian “ Daylights and “ Moonlights,” while floating 
 from the Punjaub, and congregating down the Indus, Scindian 
 “ Bridesmaids” and “ Bachelors” came racing up the Red Sea, with 
 Burmese “ Watermen, Nos. 9 and 12,” calling at the piers of Muscat 
 and Aden, to pick up passengers for the Isthmus— at two-pence 
 a-head. 
 
 The Esquimaux had just purchased his new “registered paletot” of 
 seal-skin from the great “ sweater” of the Arctic Regions. The 
 Hottentot Venus had already added to the graceful ebullitions of 
 nature, the charms of a Parisian crinoline. The Yemassee was busy 
 blueing his cheeks with the rouge of the backwoods. The Truefit of 
 New Zealand had dressed the full buzz wig, and cut and curled the 
 horn of the chief of the Papuas. The Botocudo had ordered a new 
 pair of wooden eai'-rings. The Maripoosan had japanned his teeth with 
 the best Brunswick Black Odonto. The Cingalese was bard at work 
 with a Kalydor of Cocoa-Nut-Oil, polishing himself up like a boot ; 
 and the King of Dahomey — an ebony Adam — in nankeen gaiter^ 
 
2 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 and epaulets, was wending liis way towards London to tender his 
 congratulations to the Prince Consort. 
 
 Nor was the commotion confined alone to the extremes of the 
 world — the metropolis of Great Britain was also in a prodigious 
 excitement. Alexis Soyer was preparing to open a restaurant 
 of all nations, where the universe might dine, from sixpence to a 
 hundred guineas, off cartes ranging from pickled whelks to nightin- 
 gales’ tongues — from the rats a la Tartare of the Chinese, to the 
 “ turkey and truffles” of the Parisian gourmand — from the “ long 
 sixes, au naturel of the Bussian ? to the “ stewed Missionary of the 
 Marquesas,” or the “ cold roast Bishop” of New Zealand. Here, 
 too, was to be a Park with Swiss cottages, wherein the sober Turk 
 might quaff his Dublin stout ; and Chinese Pagodas, from whose 
 golden galleries the poor German student, dreaming of the undis- 
 coverable noumena of Kant, might smoke his penny Pickwick, sip 
 his Arabian chicory, and in a fit of absence, think of his father-land 
 and pocket the sugar. 
 
 St. Paul’s and Westminster Abbey (“ in consequence of the increased 
 demand”) were about to double their prices of admission, when 
 M. J ullien, “ ever ready to deserve the patronage of a discerning- 
 public,” made the two great English cathedrals so tempting an offer 
 that they “ did not think themselves justified in refusing it.” And 
 there, on alternate nights, were shortly to be exhibited, to admiring 
 millions, the crystal cui’tain, the stained glass windows illuminated 
 with gas, and the statues lighted up with rose-coloured lamps ; the 
 “ Black Band of his Majesty of Tsjaddi, with a hundred additional 
 bones;” the monster Jew’s harp; the Euhurdy-gurdychon ; the 
 Musicians of Tongoose ; the Singers of the Maldives ; the Glee Minstrels 
 of Paraguay; the Troubadours of far Vancouver; the Snow Ball 
 Family from the Gold Coast ; the Canary of the Samoiedes ; the The- 
 ban Brothers ; and, “ expressly engaged for the occasion,” the cele- 
 brated Band of Bobbers from the Desert. 
 
 Barnum, too, had “thrown up” Jenny Lind, and entered into an 
 agreement with the Poor Law Commissioners to pay the Poor Bates 
 of all England during one year for the sole possession of Somerset 
 House, as a “ Grand Hotel for all Nations,” under the highly explana- 
 tory title of the “ Xenodokeion Pancosmopolxtanicon ;” where each 
 guest was to be provided with a bed, boudoir, and banquet, together 
 with one hour’s use per diem of a valet, and a private chaplain 
 (according to the religious opinions of the individual) ; the privilege 
 of free admission to all the theatres and green-rooms ; the right of 
 entree to the Privy Council and the Palace ; a knife and fork, and 
 spittoon at pleasure, at the tables of the nobility ; a seat with night- 
 cap and pillow in the House of Commons, and a cigar on the Bench 
 with the Judges ; the free use of the columns of “ The Times" news- 
 paper, and the right of abusing therein their friends and hosts of the 
 day before ; the privilege of paying visits in the Lord Mayor’s state- 
 carriage (with the freedom of the City of London), and of using the 
 Goldsmiths’ state barge for aquatic excursions ; and finally, the 
 
MB. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 3 
 
 full right of presentation at the Drawing-room to her most gracious 
 Majesty, and of investiture with the Order of the Garter at discretion, 
 as well as the prerogative of sitting down, once a week, in rotation, at 
 the dinner table of His Excellency General Tom-Thumb. These 
 advantages Mr. Barnum, to use his own language, had “ determined 
 upon offering to a generous and enlightened American public at one 
 shilling per head per day- — numbers alone enabling him to complete 
 his engagements.” 
 
 While these gigantic preparations for the gratification of foreign 
 visitors were being made, the whole of the British Provinces likewise 
 were preparing extensively to enjoy themselves. Every city was 
 arranging some “monster train” to shoot the whole of its inhabi- 
 tants, at a halfpenny per ton, into the lodging-houses of London. All 
 the houses of York were on tiptoe, in the hope of shaking hands in 
 Hyde Park with all the houses of Lancaster. Beds, Bucks, Notts, Wilts, 
 Hants, Hunts, and Herts were respectively cramming their carpet bags 
 in anticipation of “ a week in London.” Not a village, a hamlet, a 
 borough, a township, or a wick, but had each its shilling club, for 
 providing their inhabitants with a three days’ journey to London, a 
 mattrass under the dry arches of the Adelphi, and tickets for soup 
 ad libitum. John o’Groats was anxiously looking forward to the 
 time when he was to clutch the Land’s End to his bosom, — the Isle 
 of Man was panting to take the Isle of Dogs by the hand, and wel- 
 come Thanet, Sheppy, and Skye to the gaieties of a London life, — 
 the North Foreland was preparing for a friendly stroll up Regent- 
 street with Holy- Head on his arm — and the man at Eddy stone Light- 
 ' house could see the distant glimmer of a hope of shortly setting eyes 
 upon the long-looked-for Buoy at the Nore. 
 
 Bradshaw’s Railway Guide had swelled into an encyclopaedia, and 
 Masters and Bachelors of Arts “ who had taken distinguished degrees,” 
 were daily advertising, to perfect persops in the understanding of the 
 Time Tables, in six easy lessons, for one guinea. Omnibus conductors 
 were undergoing a Polyglott course on the Hamiltonian system, to 
 enable them to abuse all foreigners in their native tongues ; the 
 “ Atlases” were being made extra strong, so that they might be able 
 to bear the whole world on top of them ; and the proprietors of the 
 Camberwell and Camden Town ’Busses were eagerly watching for the 
 time when English, French, Prussians, and Belgians should join their 
 Wellingtons and Bluchers on the heights of “ Waterloo !” 
 
 Such was the state of the world, the continent, the provinces, and 
 the metropolis. Nor was the pulse that beat so throbbingly at Ber- 
 mondsey, Bow, Bayswater, Brixton, Brompton, Brentford, and Black- 
 heath, without a response on the banks of Crummock Water and the 
 tranquil meadows of Buttermere. 
 
 He who has passed all his life amid the chaffering of Cheapside, or 
 the ceaseless toil of Bethnal Green, or the luxurious ease of Belgravia, 
 — who has seen no mountain higher than Saffron Hill, — has stood 
 beside no waters purer than the Thames — whose eye has rested upon no 
 
 B 2 
 
4 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 spot more green than tlie enclosure of Leicester Square, — who knows 
 no people more primitive than the quaker corn-factors of Mark Lane, 
 and nothing more truthful than the “ impartial inquiries” of the 
 Morning Chronicle, or more kind-hearted than the writings of The 
 Economist, — who has drunk of no philosophy deeper than that of the 
 Penny Cyclopaedia, — who has felt no quietude other than that of the 
 City on a Sunday, — sighed for no home but that which he. can reach 
 for “ threepence all the way,” and wished for no last resting-place 
 but a dry vault and a stucco cenotaph in the theatrical Golgothas 
 of Kensal and of Highgate ; — such a man can form no image of the 
 peace, the simplicity, the truth, and the beauty which aggregate into 
 the perpetual Sabbath that hallows the seclusion about and around 
 the Lake of Buttermere. 
 
 Here the knock of the dun never startles the hermit or the student 
 — for (thrice blessed spot !) there are no knockers. Here are no 
 bills, to make one dread the coming of the spring, or the summer, 
 or the Christmas, or whatever other “ festive” season they may fall due 
 upon, for (oh earthly paradise !) there are no tradesmen, and — better 
 still — no discounters, and — greater boon than all — no ! not one attor- 
 ney within nine statute miles of mountain, fell, and morass, to ruffle 
 the serenity of the village inn. Here that sure-revolving tax-gatherer 
 — as inevitable and cruel as the Fate in a Grecian tragedy — never comes, 
 with long book and short inkhorn, to convince us it is Lady-day — nor 
 “ Paving,” nor “ Lighting,” nor “ Water,” “ Sewers,” nor “ Poors,” nor 
 “ Parochials,” nor “ Church,” nor “ County,” nor “ Queen’s,” nor any 
 other accursed accompaniment of our boasted civilization. Here 
 are no dinner-parties for the publication of plate ; no soirees for the 
 exhibition of great acquaintances ; no conversaziones for the display of 
 your wisdom, with the full right of boring your friends with your pet 
 theories ; nor polkas, nor schottisches, nor Cellarii, for inflaming 
 young heirs into matrimony. Here there are no newspapers at break- 
 fast to stir up your early bile with a grievance, or to render the 
 merchant’s morning meal indigestible with the list of bankrupts, or 
 startle the fundholder with a sense that all security for property is 
 at an end. Here there are no easy-chair philosophers, — not particu- 
 larly illustrious themselves for a delight in hai'd labour, — to teach us 
 to “ sweep all who will not work into the dust-bin.” Here, too, there 
 are no Harmonic Coalholes, or Cyder Cellars, nor Choreographic 
 Casinos, or Cremornes, or other such night colleges for youth, where 
 ethics are taught from professional chairs occupied by “ rapid” publi- 
 cans, or by superannuated melodists, with songs as old as themselves, 
 and as dirty as their linen. 
 
 No ! According to a statistical investigation recently instituted, to 
 the great alarm of the inhabitants, there were, at the beginning of the 
 ever-to-be-remembered year 1851, in the little village situate between 
 the Lakes of Crummock and Buttermere, fifteen inhabited houses, one 
 uninhabited, and one church about the size of a cottage ; and within 
 three miles of these, in any direction, there was no other habitation 
 ■vyhatsQevev. This little cluster of houses constituted the village called 
 
MR, AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 5 
 
 Buttermere, and consisted of four farm-houses, seven, cottages, two 
 Squires’ residences, and two inns. 
 
 The census of the nine families who resided in the fifteen houses 
 of Bufctermere — for many of these same families were the sons and 
 nephews of the elders — was both curious and interesting. There 
 were the Flemings, the Nelsons, the Cowmans, the Clarks, the Biggs, 
 the Lancasters, the Branthwaites, the Lighfcfoots — and The Jopson, 
 the warm-hearted Bachelor Squire of the place. The remaining Squire 
 — also, be it said, a Bachelor — had left, when but a stripling, the cool 
 shades of the peaceful vales for the wars of India. Bis name was bub 
 as a shadow on the memory of the inhabitants ; once he had returned 
 with — -so the story ran — “an Arabian Horse;” but “Ms wanderings 
 not being over.” as his old housekeeper worded it, with a grave shake 
 of her deep-frilled cap, he had gone back “ t’ hot country with Sir 
 Henry Hardinge to fight t’ Sikhs,” promising to return again and end 
 his days beside his native Lake of Buttermere, 
 
 Of the families above cited, two were related by marriage. The 
 Clarks had wedded with the Biggs, and the Cowmans with the Light- 
 foots, so that, in reality, the nine were but seven ; and, strange to 
 say, only one of these — the Clarks — were native to the place. It 
 was curious to trace the causes that had brought the other settlers to 
 so sequestered a spot. The greatest distance, however, that any of 
 the immigrants had come from was thirty miles, and some had travelled 
 but three ; and yet, after fivc-and-twenty years’ residence, were spoken 
 of by the aboriginal natives as “ foreigners.” 
 
 Only one family — Buttermere born — had been known to emigrate, 
 and they had been led off, like the farmers who liad immigrated, by 
 tbs lure of more fertile or more profitable tenancies. Three, however, 
 had become extinct ; but two in name only, having been absorbed by 
 marriage of their heiresses, while the other one — the most celebrated 
 of all — was utterly lost, except in tradition, to the place. This was 
 the family of Mary Bobinson, the innkeper’s daughter, and the 
 renowned Beauty of Buttermere, known as the lovely, simple-hearted 
 peasant girl, Happed by the dashing forger into marriage, widowed by 
 the hangman, amidst a nation’s tears, and yet— must we write it — 
 not dying broken-hearted, — but — alas, for the romance and constancy 
 of the sex ! — -remarried ere long to a comfortable farmer, and ending 
 her days the stout well-to-do mother of seven bouncing boys and 
 girls. 
 
 Mr. Thornton, the eminent populationist, has convinced every 
 thinking mind, that, in order that the increase of the people may 
 be duly regulated, every husband and wife throughout the country 
 should have only one child and a quarter. In Buttermere, alas ! (we 
 almost weep as we announce the much-to-be-regretted fact) there are 
 seventeen parents and twenty-nine children, which is at the frightful 
 rate of one child and three-quarters and a fraction, to each husband 
 and wife ! 
 
 Within the last ten years, too, Buttermere lias seen, unappalled, 
 three marriages and nine births. The marriages were all with maids 
 
6 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OE 
 
 of the inn, where the memory of Mary Robinson still sheds a tra- 
 ditionary grace over each new chambermaid, and village swains, 
 bewitched by the association, come annually to provide themselves 
 with “Beauties.” 
 
 The deaths of Buttermere tell each their peculiar story. Of the 
 seven who have passed away since the year 1840, one was an old man 
 who had seen the snow for eighty winters lie upon Red Pike ; another 
 was little Mary Clarke, who for eight years only had frolicked in the 
 sunshine of the happy valley. Two were brothers, working at the 
 slate-quarries high up on Honister Craig : one had fallen from a ladder 
 down the precipice side — the other, a tall and stalwart man, had, in 
 the presence of his two boys, been carried up bodily into the air by a 
 whirlwind, and dashed to death on the craigs below. Of the rest, one 
 died of typhus fever, and another, stricken by the same disease, was 
 brought, at his special request, from a distance of twenty-one miles, 
 to end his clays in his mountain-home. The last, a young girl of 
 twenty, perished by her own hand — the romance of village life ! 
 Mary Lightfoot, wooed by her young master, the farmer’s son, of 
 Gatesgarth, sat till morning awaiting his return from Keswick, whither 
 he had gone to court another. Through the long, lone night, the 
 misgivings of her heart had grown by daylight into certainty. The 
 false youth came back with other kisses on his lip, and angry words 
 for her. Life lost its charms for Mary, and she could see no peace 
 but in the grave.* 
 
 Nor are the other social facts of Buttermere less interesting. 
 
 According to a return obtained by two gentlemen, who represented 
 themselves as members of the London Statistical Society, and who, 
 after a week’s enthusiasm and hearty feeding at the Pish Inn, sud- 
 denly disappeared, leaving behind them the Occupation Abstract of 
 the inhabitants and a geological hammer, — according to these gentle- 
 men, we repeat, the seventy-two Buttermerians may be distributed as 
 follows : two innkeepers, four farmers (including one statesman and 
 one sinecure constable), nine labourers (one of them, a miner, one a 
 quarrier, and one the parish-clerk), twelve farm- servants, seventeen 
 
 * The custom of night courtship is peculiar to the county of Cumberland and some 
 of the districts of South Wales. The following note, explanatory of the circumstance, 
 is taken from the last edition of “ The Cumberland Ballads of Robert Anderson,” a 
 work to be found, well thumbed, iu the pocket of every Cumbrian peasant-girl and 
 mountain shepherd: — “A Cumbrian peasant pays his addresses to his sweetheart 
 during the silence and solemnity of midnight. Anticipating her kindness, he will 
 travel ten or twelve miles, over hills, bogs, moors, and morasses, undiscouraged by 
 the length of the road, the darkness of the night, or the intemperance of the weather ; 
 on reaching her habitation, he gives a gentle tap at the window of her chamber, at 
 which signal she immediately rises, dresses herself, and proceeds with all possible 
 silence to the door, which she gently opens, lest a creaking hinge, or a barking dog 
 should awaken the family. On his entrance into the kitchen, the luxuries of a Cum- 
 brian cottage — cream and sugared curds — are placed before him; next the courtship 
 commences, previously to which, the fire is darkened and extinguished, lest its light 
 should guide to the window some idle or licentious eye ; in this dark and uncomfort- 
 able situation (at least uncomfortable to all but lovers), they remain till the advance 
 of day, depositing in each other’s bosoms the secrets of love, and making vows of 
 unalterable affection.” 
 
MB. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 7 
 
 sons, nine daughters, fourteen wives, three widows, one ’squire, and 
 one pauper of eighty-six years of age. 
 
 “But,” says the Pudding-lane reader, “if this be the entire com- 
 munity, how do the people live ? where are the shops ? where that 
 glorious interchange of commodities, without which society cannot 
 exist ! Where do they get their bread — their meat- — their tea- — their 
 sugar — their clothing — their shoes 1 If ill, what becomes of them ? 
 Their children, where are they taught '! Their money, where is it 
 deposited 1 Their letters '? — for surely they cannot be cut off from all 
 civilization by the utter absence of post-office and postman ! Are 
 they beyond the realms of justice, that no attorney is numbered 
 amongst their population ? They have a constable — -where, then, 
 the magistrate ? They have a parish-clerk— then where the clergy- 
 man r 
 
 Alas S reader, the picturesque is seldom associated with the con- 
 veniences or luxuries of life. Wash the peasant-girl’s face and bando- 
 line her hair, she proves but a bad vignette for that most unpicturesque 
 of books — the Book of Beauty. Whitewash the ruins and make them 
 comfortable ; what artist would waste his pencils upon them 1 So is 
 it with Buttermere : there the traveller will find no butcher, no baker, 
 no grocer, no draper, no bookseller, no pawnbroker, no street-musi- 
 cians, no confectioners, and no criminals. Burst your pantaloons — 
 oh, mountain tourist !- — and it is five miles to the nearest tailor. 
 Wear the sole of your shoe to the bone on the sharp craigs of Robinson 
 or of the Goat-gills, and you must walk to Lowes Water for a shoe- 
 maker. Be mad with the toothache, caught from continued exposure 
 to the mountain breeze, and, go which way you will— to Keswick 
 or to Cockermouth- — it is ten miles to the nearest chemist. Be 
 seized with the pangs of death, and you must send twenty miles, 
 there and back, for Dr. Johnson to ease your last moments. To 
 apprise your friends by letter of your danger, a messenger must go 
 six miles before the letter can be posted. If you desire to do your 
 duty to those you may leave behind, you must send three leagues to 
 Messrs. Brag and Steal to make your will, and they must travel the 
 same distance before either can perform the office for you. You wish 
 to avail yourself of the last consolations of the Church j the clergy- 
 man, who oscillates in his duties between Withorp and Buttermere (an 
 interval of twelve miles), has, perhaps, just been sent for to visit the 
 opposite parish, and is now going, at a hard gallop, in the contrary 
 direction, to another parishioner. Die ! and you must be taken five 
 miles in a cart to be buried ; for though Buttermere boasts a church, 
 it stands upon a rock, from which no sexton has yet been found 
 hardy enough to quarry out a grave ! 
 
 But these are the mere dull, dry matters of fact of Buttermere — 
 the prose of its poetry. The ciphers tell us nothing of the men or 
 their mountains. We might as well be walking in the Yalley of Dry 
 Bones, with Maculloch, Porter, Macgregor, or the Editor of the 
 Economist, for our guides. Such teachers strip all life of its emotions, 
 and dress the earth in one quaker’s suit of drab. All they know of 
 
8 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 beauty is, that it does not belong to the axtilities of life — feeling with 
 them is merely the source of prejudice — and everything that refines 
 or dignifies humanity, is by such men regarded as sentimentalism or 
 rodomontade. 
 
 And yet, the man who could visit Buttermere without a sense of 
 the sublimity and the beauty which encompass him on every side, 
 must be indeed dead to the higher enjoyments of life. Here, the 
 mountains heave like the billows of the land, telling of the storm that 
 swept across the earth before man was on it. Here, deep in their 
 huge bowl of hills, lie the grey-green waters of Crummock and of 
 Buttermere, tinted with the hues of the sloping fells around them, 
 as if the mountain dyes had ti’ickled into their streams. Look which 
 way you will, the view is blocked up by giant cliffs. Far at the end 
 stands a mighty mound of rocks, umber with the shadows of the 
 masses of cloud that seem to rest upon its jagged tops, while the 
 haze of the distance hangs about it like a bloom. On the one side 
 and in front of this rise the peaks of High Craig, High Stile, and Bed 
 Pike, far up into the air, breaking the clouds as they pass, and the 
 white mists circling and wreathing round their warted tops, save 
 where the blue sky peeps brightly between them and the sun behind 
 streams between the peaks, gilding every craig. The rays go slanting 
 down towards the lake, leaving the steep mountain sides bathed in a 
 rich dark shadow — while the waters below, here dauce in the light, 
 sparkling and shimmering, like scales of a fish, and there, swept by 
 the sudden gust, the spray of their tiny waves is borne along the 
 surface in a powdery shower. Here the steep sloping sides are 
 yellow-green with the stinted verdure, spotted red, like rust, with the 
 withered fern, or tufted over with the dark green furze. Pligh up, 
 the bare, ash-grey rocks thrust themselves through the sides, like 
 the bones of the meagre Earth. The brown slopes of the more 
 barren craigs are scored and gashed across with black furrows, show- 
 ing the course of dried up torrents; while in another place, the 
 mountain stream comes leaping down from craig to craig, whitening 
 the hill-side as with wreaths of snow, and telling of the “tarn” which 
 lies silent and dark above it, deep buried in the bosom of the moun- 
 tain. Beside this, climbs a Wood, feathering the mountain sides, and 
 yet so lost in the immensity that every tree seems but a blade of fern. 
 Then, as you turn round to gaze upon the hills behind you, and bend 
 your head far back to catch the Moss’s highest craigs, you see blocks 
 and blocks of stone tumbled one over the other, in a disorder that 
 fills and confounds the mind, with trees jutting from their fissures, 
 and twisting their bare roots under the huge stones, like cords to 
 lash them to their places; while the mountain sheep, red with ruddle, 
 stands perched on some overhanging craig, nipping the scanty herb- 
 age. And here, as you look over the tops of Hassness Wood, you 
 see the blue smoke of the unseen cottage curling lightly up into the 
 air, and blending itself with the bloom of the distant mountains. 
 Then, as you journey on, you hear the mountain streams, now trick- 
 ling softly down the sides, now hoarsely rushing down a rocky bed, 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 9 
 
 and now, in gentle and harmonious hum, vying with the breeze as it 
 comes sighing down the valley. 
 
 Central between the Waters, and nestling in its mountains, lies the 
 little village of Butfcermere, like a babe in its mother’s lap. Scarce 
 half-a-dozen houses, huddled together like sheep for mutual shelter 
 from the storm, make up the humble mountain home. On each side, 
 in straggling order, perched up in the hill-side nooks, the other dwell- 
 ings group themselves about it. In the centre stands the unpretend- 
 ing village inn. Behind it stretched the rich, smooth, and velvety 
 meadows, spotted with red cattle, and looking doubly green and soft 
 and level, from the rugged, brown, and barren mountains, that rise 
 abrupt upon them. To stand in these fields, separating as they do 
 the twin waters, is, as it were, to plant the foot upon the solid lake, 
 and seem to float upon some verdant raft. High on the rock, front- 
 ing the humble inn, stands sideways the little church, smaller than 
 the smallest cottage, with its two bells in tiny belfry crowning its 
 gable end, and backed by the distant mountain that shows through 
 the opening pass made by the hill on whose foot it rests. Round 
 and about it circles the road, in its descent towards the homesteads 
 that are grey with the stone, and their roofs green with the slate of 
 their native hills, harmonious in every tint and shade with all around 
 them. Beside the bridge spanning the angry nook which hurries 
 brawling round the blocks of stone that intercept its course, stands 
 the other and still more humble inn, half clad in ivy, and hiding the 
 black arch through which the mountain “ beck,” white with foam, 
 comes dashing round the turn. 
 
 In the village road, for street there is none, not a creature is to be 
 seen, save where a few brown or mottled “ short-horns” straggle up 
 fj'oni the meadows, — now stopping to stare vacantly about them, now 
 capering purposeless with uplifted tails, or butting frolicsome at each 
 other ; then marching to the brook, and standing knee-deep in the 
 scurrying waters, with their brown heads bent down to drink, and 
 the rapid current curling white around their legs, while others go 
 leaping through the stream, splashing the waters in transparent sheets 
 about them. Not a fowl is to be seen scratching at the soil, nor duck 
 waddling pompously toward the stream. Not even a stray dog crosses 
 the roadway, unless it be on the Sunday, and then every peasant or 
 farmer who ascends the road has his sharp-nosed, shaggy sheep-dog 
 following at his heels, and vying with his master in the enjoyment 
 of their mutual holiday. Here, too, ofttimes may be seen some aged 
 dame, with large white cap, and bright red kerchief pinned across 
 her bosom, stooping to dip her pail into the brook ; while over the 
 bridge, just showing above the coping-stone, appears the grey- 
 coated farmer, with drab hat, and mounted on his shaggy brown 
 pony, on his way to the neighbouring market. Here, too, the 
 visitor may sometimes see the farmers’ wives grouped outside one 
 of the homestead gates — watching their little lasses set forth on 
 their five-mile pilgrimage to school, their baskets filled with their 
 week’s provisions hanging on their arms, and the hoods of their 
 
10 
 
 1851 ; Oft, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 blue-grey cloaks dancing as they skip playfully along, thoughtless of 
 the six days’ absence, or mountain road before them. At other times, 
 some good-wife or ruddy servant girl, sallies briskly from the neigh- 
 bouring farm, and dodges across the road the truant pig that has 
 dashed boldly from the midden. Anon, climbing the mountain side, 
 saunters some low-built empty cart, with white horse, and grey-coated 
 carter, now, as it winds up the road, hidden by the church, now disap- 
 pearing in the circling of the path behind the slope, then seen high 
 above the little belfry, and hanging, as it were, by the hill side, as the 
 carter pauses to talk with the pedlar, who, half buried in his pack, 
 descends the mountain on his way to the village. Then, again 
 ascending, goes the cart, higher and higher, till it reach the highest 
 platform, to vanish behind the mountain altogether from the sight. 
 
 Such, reader, is a faint pen-and-ink sketch of a few of the charms 
 and rural graces of Buttermere. That many come to see, and but 
 few to appreciate them, the visitors’ book of the principal inn may be 
 cited as unquestionable evidence. Such a book in such a scene one 
 would expect to find filled with sentiments approximating to refine- 
 ment, at least, if not to poetry ; but the mountains here seem more 
 strongly to affect the appetite of Southerner’s than their imaginations, 
 as witness the under- written, which are cited in all their bare and 
 gross literality. 
 
 “ Messrs. Bolton, Campbell, and Co., of Prince’s Park, Liverpool, visited this inn, 
 and were pleased with the lamb-chops, but found the boats dear. June 28, 1850.” 
 
 “ Thomas Buckram, sen., Ludley Park; 
 
 George Poins, sen., Ludley Bridge; 
 
 Came to Buttermere on the 26th, 12 mo, 1850 ; that day had a glorious walk over the 
 mountains from Keswick ; part of the way by Lake Derwent by boat. Stayed at 
 Buttermere all night. Splendid eating ! ! ! 
 
 “26, 12 mo, 1850.” 
 
 “ Rev. Joshua Russell and Son, 
 
 Blackheath. 
 
 The whisky is particularly fine at this house, and we made an excellent dinner.” 
 
 “ Oct. 7th, 50. 
 
 Philipps Kelham, Manchester; 
 
 John F. Philipps; 
 
 Miss Maegaretta Philipps. 
 
 The Fish a most comfortable inn. A capital dinner. Good whisky. The only 
 
 GOOD GLASS WE HAVE MET WITH IN THE WHOLE LAKE DISTRICT.” 
 
 “Mr. Edwaed King, Dalston, London, and 7, Fenchurch-street, London: walked 
 from Whitehaven to Eunerdale Lake, calling at the Boat House on the margin of the 
 Lake, where, having invigorated the inward man, I took the mountain path between 
 Floutern Tarn and Grosdale, passed Scale Force, and arrived in the high mountain 
 which overlooks Crummoch and Buttermere : here, indeed, each mountain scene is 
 magnificently rude. I entered the beautiful vale of Buttermere; was fortunate 
 enough to find the Fish Inn, where all were extremely civil ; and from the landlady I 
 •eceived politeness and very excellent accommodation. Had a glorious feed for 
 Is. 3d. ! ! Chop, with sharp sauce, 6d . ; potatoes, lcZ. ; cheese, Id. ; bread, Id. ; beer, 
 5 d . ; waitress (a charming, modest, and obliging young creature, who put me in mind 
 of the story of the Maid of Buttermere, and learnt me the names of all the mountains), 
 Id.; total, Is. 3d. Thursday, April 18, 1850.”* 
 
 * The reader is requested to remember that these are not given as matters of 
 invention, but as literal extracts, with real names and dates, copied from the books 
 kept by Mrs, Clark, the excellent hostess of the Pish Inn, Buttermere. 
 
MR, AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 ]1 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 “ There’s been nae luck throughout the lan’ 
 
 - Sin’ fwok mud leyke their betters shene ; 
 
 The country’s puzzen’d rot, id wi’ preyde ; 
 
 We’re c’aff and san’ to auld lang seyne.” 
 
 Worth Country Ballad. 
 
 Hasd upon a mile from the village before described lived the hero, 
 the heroine, and hero lets of the present story, by names Mr. and 
 Mrs. Sandboys, their son, Jobby, and their daughter, Elcy. Their 
 home was one of the two squires’ houses before spoken of as lying 
 at the extremes of the village. Mr. Christopher, or, as after the 
 old Cumberland fashion he was called, “ Oursty,” Sandboys, was native 
 to the place, and since his college days of St. Bees, had never been 
 further than Keswick or Cockermouth, the two great emporia and 
 larders of Butfeermere. He had not missed Keswick Cheese Fair for 
 forty Martinmasses, and had been a regular attendant at Lanthwaite 
 Green, every September, with his lean sheep for .grazing. Nor did the 
 Monday morning’s market at Cockermouth ever open without Mr. 
 Christopher Sandboys, but on one day, and that was when the two 
 bells of Lorton Church tried to tinkle a marriage peal in honour 
 of Ms wedding with file heiress of Newiands. A “statesman” by 
 birth, he possessed some hundred acres of land, with “ pasturing” on 
 the fell side for Ms sheep ; in which he took such pride that the walls 
 of his “ keeping-room,” or, as we should call it, sitting-room, were 
 covered on one side with printed bills telling how his “ lamb-sucked 
 ewes,” his “ Herdwickes” and his “ shearling tups” and “ gimmers” 
 had carried off the first and second best prizes at Wastdale and at 
 Deanscale shows. Indeed, it was his continual boast that he grew 
 the coat he had on his back, and he delighted not only to clothe 
 himself, bnf his son Jobby (much to the annoyance of the youth, 
 who sighed for the gentler graces of kerseymere) in. the undyed, or 
 “ self-coloured,” wool of his sheep, known to all the country round 
 as the “ Sandboys’ Grey”- — in reality a peculiar tint of speckled 
 brown. His winter mornings were passed in making nets, and in 
 the summer his winter-woven nets were used to despoil the waters of 
 Buttermere of their trout and char. He knew little of the world 
 but through the newspapers that reached him, half-priced, stained 
 with tea, butter, and eggs, from a coffee-shop in London — and nothing 
 of society but through that ideal distortion given us in novels, 
 which makes the whole human family appear as a small colony of 
 penniless angels and wealthy demons. His long evenings were, how- 
 ever, generally devoted to the perusal of his newspaper, and, living in a 
 district to which crime was unknown, he became gradually impressed 
 by reading the long catalogues of robberies and murders that filled 
 his London weekly and daily sheets, that all out of Cumberland was 
 in a state of savage barbarism, and that the Metropolis was a very 
 
12 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 caldron of wickeduess, of which the grosser scum was continually 
 being taken off, through the medium of the police, to the colonies. 
 In a word, the bugbear that haunted the innocent mind of poor 
 Mr. Oursty Sandboys was the wickedness of all the world but Butter- 
 mere. 
 
 And yet to have looked at the man, one would never suppose 
 that Sandboys could be nervous about anything. Taller than even 
 the tallest of the villagers, among whom he had been bred and born, 
 he looked a grand specimen of the human race in a country where it 
 is by no means uncommon to see a labouring man with form and 
 features as dignified, and manners as grave and self-possessed, as the 
 highest bred nobleman in the land. His complexion still bore traces 
 of the dark Celtic mountain tribe to which he belonged, but age had 
 silvered his hair, which, with his white eyebrows and whiskers, 
 contrasted strongly and almost beautifully with a small “ cwoal-black 
 een.” So commanding, indeed, was his whole appearance, though 
 in his suit of homespun grey, that, on first acquaintance, the 
 exceeding simplicity of his nature came upon those who were strangers 
 to the man and the place with a pleasant surprise. 
 
 Suspicious as he was theoretically, and convinced of the utter evil 
 of the ways of the world without Buttermere, still, practically, Cursty 
 Sandboys was the easy dupe of many a tramp and Turnpike Sailor, 
 that with long tales of intricate and accumulative distress, supported 
 by apocryphal briefs and petitions, signed and attested by “ phantasm” 
 mayors and magistrates, sought out the fastnesses of Buttermere, to 
 prey upon the innocence and hospitality of its people.* 
 
 It was Mr. Sandboys’ special delight, of an evening, to read the 
 newspaper aloud to his family, and endeavour to impress his wife and 
 children with the same sense of the rascality of the outer world as 
 reigned within his own bosom. But his denunciations, as is too often 
 the case, served chiefly to draw attention and to excite curiosity 
 
 * To prove to the reader how systematic and professional is the vagrancy and 
 trading beggary of this county, a gentleman, living in the neighbourhood of Butter- 
 mere, and to whom we are indebted for many other favours, has obliged us with the 
 subjoined registry and analysis of the vagabonds who sought relief at his house, from 
 
 April 1, 1848, to March 31, 1849 : — 
 
 Males (strangers) 80 
 
 Males (previously relieved) 73 
 
 Females (strangers) 10 
 
 Females (previously relieved) 41 
 
 Total 204 
 
 This is at the rate of two beggars a-week, for the colder six months in the year, 
 and six a-week in the warm weather, visiting as remote, secluded, and humble a 
 village as any in the kingdom. It is curious to note in the above the great number 
 of females “ previously relieved” compared with the “strangers,” as showing that 
 when women take to vagrancy they seldom abandon the trade. It were to be 
 desired that gentlemen would perform similar services to the above in their several 
 parts of the kingdom, so that, by a large collection of facts, the public might be at 
 last convinced how pernicious to a community is promiscuous charity. Of all lessons 
 there is none so dangerous as to teach people that they can live by other means 
 than labour. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 13 
 
 touching subjects, which, without them, would probably have remained 
 unheard of : so that his family, unknown to each other, were secretly 
 sighing for that propitious turn of destiny which should impel them 
 where fashion and amusement never failed, as their father said, to lure 
 their victim from more serious pursuits. 
 
 The mind of Mrs. Sandboys was almost as circumscribed as that of 
 the good Cursty himself. If Sandboys loved his country, and its 
 mountains, she was lost in her kitchen, her beds, and her buckbasket. 
 His sold was hemmed in by “ the Hay-Stacks,” Bed Pike, Melbrake, 
 and Grassmoor ; and hers, by the four walls of Hassness-house. She 
 prided herself on her puddings, and did not hesitate to take her stand 
 upon her piecrust. She had often been heard to say, with extreme 
 satisfaction, that her “Buttered sops” were the admiration of the 
 country round — and it was her boast that she could turn the large thin 
 oat-cake at a toss ; while the only feud she had ever been known to have 
 in all her life, was with Mrs. Gill, of Low-Houses, N ewlands, who 
 declared that in her opinion the cakes were better made with two 
 “ backbwords” than one ; and though several attempts had been made 
 towards reconciliation, she had ever since withstood all advances towards 
 a renewal of the ancient friendship that had cemented the two families. 
 It was her glory that certain receipts had been in her family — the heir- 
 looms of the eldest daughter — for many generations ; and, when roused 
 on the subject, she had been heard to exclaim, that she would not part 
 with her wild raspberry jelly but with her life ; and, come what may, 
 she had made up her mind, to carry her “ sugared curds” down with 
 her to her grave. 
 
 The peculiar feature of Mrs. Sandboys’ mind was to magnify 
 the mildest trifles into violent catastrophes. If a China shepherdess, 
 or porcelain Prince Albert, were broken, she took it almost as much 
 to heart as if a baby had been killed. Washing, to her, was almost a 
 sacred ceremony, the day being invariably accompanied with fasts. 
 Her beds were white as the opposite waters of “ Sour Milk Gill and 
 the brightness of the brass hobs in the keeping-room at Hassness were 
 brilliant tablets to record her domestic virtues. She was perpetually 
 waging war with cobwebs, and, though naturally of a strong turn of 
 mind, the only time she had been known to faint was, when the only 
 flea ever seen in Hassness House made its appearance full in the 
 front of Cursty Sandboys’ shirt, at his dinner, for the celebration of a 
 Sheep-Shearing Prize. If her husband dreaded visiting London on 
 account of its iniquities, she was deterred by the Cumberland legend 
 of its bugs — for, to her rural mind, the people of the Great Metropolis 
 seemed to be as much preyed upon by these vermin, as the natives of 
 India by the white ants — and it was a conviction firmly implanted in 
 her bosom, that if she once trusted herself in a London four-post, there 
 would be nothing left of her in the morning but her nightcap. 
 
 The son and daughter of this hopeful pair were mere common-place 
 creatures. The boy, Jobby, as Joseph is familiarly called in Cumber- 
 land, had just shot up into hobbledehoyhood, and was long and thin, 
 as if Nature had drawn him, like a telescope, out of his boots. Though 
 
14 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 almost a man in stature, lie was still a boy in tastes, and full of life 
 and activity — ever, to his mother’s horror, tearing his clothes in 
 climbing the craigs for starlings and magpies, or ransacking the 
 hedges for “ spinks” and “ skopps or else he terrified her by remaining 
 out on the lake long past dusk, in a boat, or delighting to go up 
 into the fells after the sheep, when overblown by the winter’s snow. 
 His mother declared, after the ancient maternal fashion, that it was 
 impossible to keep that boy clean, and however he wore out his clothes 
 and shoes was more than she could tell. The pockets of the youth 
 — of which she occasionally insisted on seeing the contents — will best 
 show his character to the discerning reader ; these usually proved to com- 
 prise gentles, oat-cake, a leather sucker, percussion caps, a short pipe, 
 (for, truth to say, the youth was studying this great art of modern 
 manhood), a few remaining blaeberries, a Jew’s-harp, a lump of 
 cobbler’s wax, a small coil of shining gut, with fish-hooks at the end, 
 a charge or two of shot, the Cumberland Songster, a many-bladed 
 knife with cork-screw, horsepicker, and saw at the back, together 
 with a small mass of paste, swarming with thin red worms, tied up in 
 one of his sister’s best cambric pocket-handkerchiefs. 
 
 Elcy, or Alice Sandboys, the sister of the last-named young gentle- 
 man, was some two or three years his elder ; and, taking after 
 her mother, had rather more of the Saxon complexion than her 
 father or brother. At that age when the affections seek for some- 
 thing to rest themselves upon, and located where society afforded no 
 fitting object for her sympathies, her girlish bosom found relief in 
 expending its tenderness on pet doves, and squirrels, and magpies, 
 and such gentler creatures as were denizens of her father’s woods. 
 These, and all other animals, she spoke of in diminutive endearment ; 
 no matter what the size, all animals were little to her ; for, in her 
 own language, her domestic menagerie consisted of her dovey, her 
 doggey, her dickey, her pussey, her scuggy, her piggey, andhercowey. 
 In her extreme love for the animal creation, she would have taken 
 the young trout from its play and liberty in the broad lake beside 
 her, and kept it for ever circling round the crystal treadmill of a 
 glass globe. But the course of her true love ran anything but 
 smooth. Jobby was continually slitting the tongue of her magpie 
 with a silver sixpence, to increase its powers of language, or angling 
 for her gold fish with an elaborate apparatus of hooks, or carrying- 
 off her favourite spaniel to have his ears and tail cut in the last new 
 fashion, at the farrier’s, or setting her cat on a board down the lake, 
 or performing a hundred other such freaks as thoughtless youth alone 
 can think of, to the annoyance of susceptible maidens. Herself 
 unaware of the pleasures of which she deprived the animals she caged 
 and globed, and on which her sole anxiety was to heap every kindness, 
 she was continually remonstrating with her brother (we regret to say 
 with little effect) as to the wickedness of fishing, oi’, indeed, of putting 
 anything to pain. 
 
 Such was the character of the family located at Hassness House, 
 — the only residence that animated the solitary banks of Buttermere — 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 15 
 
 and such doubtless would the Sandboys have ever remained but for 
 the advent of the year 1851. The news of the opening of the 
 Great Exhibition had already penetrated the fastnesses of Buttermere, 
 and the villagers, who perhaps, but for the notion that the whole 
 world was about to treat itself to a trip to the metropolis, would have 
 remained quiet in their mountain homes, had been, for months past, 
 subscribing their pennies with the intention of having their share in the 
 general holiday. Buttermere was one universal scene of excitement 
 from Woodhouse to Gatesgarth. Mrs. Nelson was making a double 
 allowance of her excellent oat-cakes ; Mrs. Clark, of the Fish Inn, was 
 packing up ajar of sugared butter, among other creature comforts for 
 the occasion. John Cowman was brushing up his top-shirt ; Dan 
 Fleming was greasing his calkered boots ; John Lancaster was wonder- 
 ing whether his hat were good enough for the great show ; all the old 
 dames were busy ironing their deep frilled caps, and airing their hoods ; 
 all the young lasses were stitching at all their dresses, while some of 
 the more nervous villagers, who had never yet trusted themselves to 
 a railway, were secretly making their wills — preparatory to their grand 
 starting for the metropolis. 
 
 Amidst this general bustle and excitement there was, however, one 
 house where the master was not absorbed in a calculation as to the 
 probable length and expenses of the journey ; where the mistress was 
 not busy preparing for the comfort of the outward and inward man 
 of her lord and master ; where the daughter was not in deep consulta- 
 tion as to the prevailing metropolitan fashions — and this house was 
 Hassness. For Mr. Sandboys, with his long-cherished conviction of the 
 wickedness of London, had expressed in unmeasured terms his positive 
 determination that neither he himself, nor any that belonged to him, 
 should ever be exposed to the moral pollution of the metropolis. This 
 was a sentiment in which Mrs. Sandboys heartily concurred, though on 
 very different grounds — the one objecting to the moral, the other to the 
 physical, contamination of the crowded city. Mr. Sandboys had been 
 thrice solicited to join the Buttermere Travelling Club, and thrice he 
 had held out against the most persuasive appeals. But Squire 
 Jopson, who acted as Treasurer to the Travelling Association for the 
 Great Exhibition of 1851, not liking that his old friend Sandboys 
 should be the only one in all Buttermere who absented himself from 
 the general visit to the metropolis, waited upon him at Hassness, 
 to offer him the last chance of availing himself of the advantages of 
 that valuable institution as a means of conveying himself and family, 
 at the smallest possible expense, to the great metropolis, and of 
 allowing him and them a week’s stay, as well as the privilege of 
 participating in all the amusements and gaieties of the capital at its 
 gayest possible time. 
 
 It was a severe trial for Sandboys to withstand the united batteries 
 of Jopson’s enthusiastic advocacy, his daughter’s entreaties, his son’s 
 assurances of steadiness. But Sandboys, though naturally possessed of 
 a heart of butter, delighted to assure himself that he carried about a 
 flint in his bosom ; so he told Jopson, with a shake of his head, that 
 
16 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ,9 
 
 he might as well try to move Helvellyn or shake Skiddaw ; and that, 
 while he blushed for the weakness of his family, he thanked Heaven 
 that he, at least, was adamant. 
 
 Jopson showed him by the list he brought with him that the whole 
 of the villagers were going, and that Hassness would be left 
 neighbourless for a circuit of seven miles at least ; whereupon 
 Sandboys observed with a chuckle, that the place could not be much 
 more quiet than it was, and that with those fine fellows, Robinson 
 and Davy Top, and Dod and Honister around him, he should never 
 want company. 
 
 Jopson talked sagely of youths seeing the world and expanding 
 their minds by travel ; whereat the eyes of the younger Sandboys 
 glistened ; but the father rejoined, that travel was of use only for 
 the natural beauties of the scenery it revealed, and the virtues of 
 the people with whom it brought the traveller into association ; 
 “ and where,” he asked, with evident pride of county, “ could more 
 natural beauty or greater native virtue be found, than amongst 
 the mountains and the pastoral race of Buttermere ?” Seizing the 
 latest Times that had reached him the evening before, he pointed 
 triumphantly to some paragraph, headed “ Ingenious Fraud on a 
 Yokel !” wherein a country gentleman had been cleverly duped of 
 some hundreds of pounds paid to him that morning at Smith- 
 field ; and he asked with sarcasm, whether those were the scenes and 
 those the people that Jopson thought he could improve his son Jobby 
 by introducing him to 1 
 
 In vain Jopson pulled from his pocket a counter newspaper, 
 and showed him the plan of some Monster Lodging House which 
 was to afford accommodation for one thousand persons from the 
 country at one and the same time, “for one-and- three per night !” — 
 how, for this small sum, each of the thousand was to be pro- 
 vided “ with bedstead, good wool mattress, sheets, blankets, and 
 coverlet ; with soap, towels, and every accommodation for ablution 
 — how the two thousand boots of the thousand lodgers were to be 
 cleaned at one penny per pair, and their one thousand chins to be 
 shaven by relays of barbers continually in attendance — how a sur- 
 geon was “to attend at nine o’clock every morning,” to examine the 
 lodgers, and “ instantly remove all cases of infectious disease” — how 
 there was to be “ a smoking-room, detached from the main-building, 
 where a band of music was to play every evening, gratis” — how 
 omnibuses to all the theatres and amusements and sights were to 
 carry the thousand sight-seers at one penny per head — how “cold roast 
 and boiled beef and mutton, and ditto ditto sausages and bacon, 
 and pickles, salads, and fruit pies (when to be procured), were to be 
 furnished, at fixed prices,” to the thousand country gentlemen with 
 the thousand country appetites — how “all the dormitories were to be 
 well lighted with gas to secure the complete privacy of the occupants” 
 — how “they were to be watched over by efficient wardens and 
 police constables” — how “ an office was to be opened for the security 
 Qf luggage” — and how “ the proprietor pledged himself that every care 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 17 
 
 should be taken to ensure the comfort, convenience, and strict disci- 
 pline of so large a body.” 
 
 Sandboys, who had sat perfectly quiet while Jobson was detailing 
 the several advantages of this Brobdignagian boarding-house, burst 
 out at the completion of the narrative with a demand to be informed 
 whether it was probable that he, who had passed his whole life in a 
 village consisting of fifteen houses and but seven families, would, in his 
 fifty-fifth year, consent to take up his abode with a thousand people 
 under one roof, with a gas-light to secure the privacy of his bed-room, 
 policemen to watch him all night, and a surgeon to examine him in 
 the morning ! 
 
 Having thus delivered himself, he turned round, with satisfaction, 
 to appeal to his wife and children, when he found them, to his horror, 
 with the newspaper in their hands, busily admiring the picture of the 
 very building that he had so forcibly denounced. 
 
 Early the next morning, Mrs. Sandboys, with Jobby and Elcy, went 
 down to the Fish Inn, to see the dozen carts and cars leave, with the 
 united villagers of Buttermere, for the “ Travellers’ Train” at Cocker- 
 mouth. There was the stalwart Daniel Fleming, of the White Howe, 
 mounted on his horse, with his wife, her baby in her arms, and the 
 children, with the farm maid, in the cart, — his two men trudging by 
 its side. There was John Clark, of Wilkinsyke, the farmer and states- 
 man, with his black-haired sons, Isaac and Johnny, while Bichard rode 
 the piebald pony ; and Joseph and his wife, with little Grace, and their 
 rosy-cheeked maid, Susannah, from the Fish Inn, sat in the car, kept at 
 other times for the accommodation of their visitors. After them 
 came Isaac Cowman, of the Croft, the red-faced farmer-constable, with 
 his fine tall, flaxen, Saxon family about him ; and, following in his 
 wake, his Roman-nosed nephew John, the host of “The Victoria,” 
 with his brisk, bustling wife on his arm. Then came handsome old 
 John Lancaster, seventy years of age, and as straight as the mountain 
 larch, with his wife and his sons, Andrew and Robert, and their 
 wives. And following these, John Branthwaite, of Bowtherbeck, the 
 parish-clerk, with his wife and wife’s mother ; and Edward Nelson, 
 the sheep-breeder, of Gatesgartb, dressed in his well-known suit of 
 grey, with his buxom gudewife, and her three boys and her two girls 
 by her side ; while the fresh-coloured bonnie lassie, her maid, Betty 
 Gatesgarth, of Gatesgarth, in her bright green dress and pink ribbons, 
 strutted along in their wake. Then came the Riggs’ : James Rigg, the 
 miner, of Scots Tuft, who had come over from his work at Cleator for 
 the special holiday ; and there were his wife and young boys, and Jane 
 Rigg, the widow, and her daughter Mary Ann, the grey-eyed beauty of 
 Buttermere, in her jaunty jacket-waisted dress ; with her swarthy 
 black-whiskered Celtic brother, and his pleasant-faced Saxon wife 
 carrying their chubby- cheeked child ; and behind them came Ann Rigg, 
 the slater’s widow, from Craig House, with her boys and little girl ; 
 and, leaning on their shoulders, the eighty-years old, white-haired 
 Braithwaite Rigg and his venerable dame ; and close upon them was 
 seen old Rowley Lightfoot, his wife, and son John. Squire Jobson’s 
 
18 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 man walked beside the car from the Fish Inn, talking to the tidy, 
 clean old housekeeper of Woodhouse; while the Squire himself rode 
 in the rear, proud and happy as he marshalled the merry little band 
 along ; — for, truth to say, it would have been difficult to find in any 
 other part of England so much manliness and so much rustic beauty 
 centred in so small a spot. 
 
 As they moved gently along the road, J ohn Cowman, the host of 
 the Victoria, struck up the following well-known song, which was 
 welcomed with a shout from the whole “ lating ” — 
 
 “ I’s Borrowdale Jwolinny, just cumt up to Lunnon, 
 
 Nay, gurn nit at me, for fear I laugh at you ; 
 
 I’ve seen kneaves donn’d i’ silks, and gud men gang in tatters ; 
 
 Tlie truth we sud tell, and gi’e auld Nick his due.” 
 
 Then the gust rushed down the valley, and the voices of the happy 
 holiday throng were swept, for a moment, away ; as it lulled again, 
 the ear, familiar to the song, could catch the laugh and cheers that 
 accompanied the next verse : — 
 
 “ ‘ Keep frae ’t lasses, and ne’er look ahint thee.’ 
 
 ‘ We’re deep as the best o’ them, fadder,’ says I. 
 
 They packed up ae sark, Sunday weasewoat, twee neckcloths, 
 
 Wot bannock, cauld dumplin’, and top stannin’ pye;” 
 
 Again the voices were lost in the turning of the road, and presently, 
 as they shot out once more, they might be heard singing in full 
 chorus— 
 
 “ Ca’ and see cousin Jacep, he’s got a’ the money ; 
 
 He’ll get thee some guver’ment pleace to be seer.” 
 
 At last, all was still — but scarcely more still than when the whole 
 of the cottages were filled with their little families, for the village, 
 though now utterly deserted, would have seemed to the stranger to 
 have been as thickly populated and busy as ever. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 “ Heaste, Jenny! put the bairns to bed, 
 
 And mind they say their prayers. 
 
 Sweet innocents ! their heads yence down, 
 
 They sleep away their cares ! 
 
 But gi’ them first a butter-shag ; 
 
 When young, they munnet want, — 
 
 Nor ever sal a bairn o’ mine 
 While I’ve a bit to grant.” 
 
 The Happy Family. 
 
 Tiie younger Sandboys took the departure of the villagers more to 
 heart than did their mother; though, true to her woman’s nature, had 
 the trip been anywhere but to London, she would have felt hurt at 
 not making one of the pleasure party . On reaching home, she and 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 19 
 
 Mr. Sandboys congratulated one another that they were not on their 
 way to suffer the miseries of a week’s residence amidst either the dirt 
 or the wickedness of the metropolis ; but Elcy and Jobby began, for 
 the first time, to feel that the retirement, which they heard so much 
 vaunted every day, and which so many persons came from all parts of 
 the country to look at and admire, cut them off from a considerable 
 share of the pleasures which all the world else seemed so ready to 
 enjoy, and which they began shrewdly to suspect were not quite so 
 terrible as their father was in the habit of making out. 
 
 Thus matters continued at Hassness till the next Tuesday evening, 
 when Mrs. Sandboys remarked that it was “ very strange ” that 
 “ Matthew Harker, t’ grocer, had not been to village” with his pony 
 and cart that day ; and what she s'ud do for t’ tea, and sugar, and soft 
 bread, she didn’t know.” 
 
 Now, seeing that the nearest grocer was ten miles distant, and that 
 there was no borrowing this necessary article from any of their neigh- 
 bours, as the whole village was then safely housed in London, such a 
 failure in the visit of the peripatetic tea-man, upon whom the inhabi- 
 tants of JButtermere and Crummock Water one and all depended for 
 their souchong, and lump, and moist, and wheaten bread, was 
 a matter of more serious importance than a townsman might 
 imagine. 
 
 It was therefore arranged that Postlethwaite their mau should 
 take Paddy t’ pony over to Keswick the next day, to get the week’s 
 supply of grocery, and learn what had happened to Harker, in whom 
 the Sandboys took a greater interest from the fact of their having 
 subscribed, with others of the gently, when Harker lost his hand by 
 blasting cobbles, to start him in the grocery business, and provide 
 him with a horse and cart to carry his goods round the country. 
 
 Postlethwaite — a long, grave, saturnine-looking man, who was “ a 
 little ” hard of hearing, was, after much shouting in the kitchen, made 
 to comprehend the nature of his errand. But he had quitted 
 Hassness only a short hour, when he returned with the sad intelli- 
 gence — which he had picked up from Elliclc Crackenthorpe, who was 
 left in charge of Keskadale, while the family had gone to town, — that 
 Harker, finding all the folk about Keswick had departed for the Great 
 Exhibition, and hearing that Buttermere had done the same, had put 
 his wife and his nine children inside his own van, and was at that 
 time crawling up by easy stages to London. 
 
 Moreover, Postlethwaite brought in the dreary tidings that, in 
 coming down from the top of the Hause,just by Bear’s fall, Paddy had 
 cast a shoe, and that it was as much as he could do to get him down 
 the Moss side. This calamity was a matter of as much delight to the 
 youngsters as it was of annoyance to the elder Sandboys ; for seeing 
 that Bob Beck, the nearest blacksmith, lived six miles distant, and 
 that it was impossible to send either to Cockermouth or Keswick for 
 the necessaries of life, until the pony was armed against the rockiness 
 of the road, it became a matter of considerable difficulty to settle 
 what could be done. 
 
20 
 
 1851 • OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 After much serious deliberation, it was finally arranged that Postle- 
 thwaite should lead the pony on to the “smiddy,” at Loweswater, 
 to be shod, and then ride him over to Dodgson’s, the grocer’s, at 
 Cockermouth. 
 
 Postlethwaite, already tired, and, it must be confessed, not a little 
 vexed at the refusal of Mr. Sandboys to permit him to accompany 
 his fellow-villagers on this London trip — the greatest event of all 
 their lives — started very sulky, and came back, long after dusk, Avith 
 the pony lamed by a stone in his foot, and himself savage Avith hunger, 
 and almost rebellious with fatigue ; for, on getting to the “ smiddy,” 
 he found that Beck the blacksmith had ruddled on his door the in- 
 scription — 
 
 “ Geane to Lunnon for to see t’ Girt ’Shibition !” 
 
 and, worse than all to Postlethwaite, he discovered, moreover, on 
 seeking his usual ale at Kirkstile, that Harry Pearson, the landlord, 
 had accompanied the Buttermere travellers’ train up to town ; and 
 that John Wilkinson, the other landlord, had followed him the day 
 after ; so that there Avas neither bite nor sup to be had in the place, 
 and no entertainment either for man or beast. 
 
 In pity to Paddy, if not in remembrance of the farmer’s good cheer, 
 Postlethwaite, on his Avay back, turned down to Joe Watson’s, at 
 Lanthwaite, and there found it impossible to make anybody hear him, 
 for the farmer and his six noble-looking sons — known for miles round 
 as the flower of the country — had also joined the sight-seers on their 
 way to the train at Cockermouth. 
 
 This was sad neAvs to the little household. It Avas the first incident 
 that gave Mrs. Sandboys an insight into the possible difficulties that their 
 remaining behind, alone, at Hassness, might entail upon the family. 
 She, and Mr. Sandboys, had hitherto only thought of the incouA r eniences 
 attending a visit to London, and little dreamt that their absence from 
 it, at such a time, might force them to undergo even greater troubles. 
 She could perhaps have cheerfully tolerated the abdication of the 
 Cockermouth milliner — she might have heard, Avithout a sigh, that Mr. 
 Bailey had put up the shutters of his circulating library, and stopped 
 the supply of “ Henrietta Temples,” “Emilia Wyndhams,” and “The 
 Two Old Men she might not even have complained had Thompson 
 Martin, the draper, cut short her ribbons and laces, by shutting up his 
 shop altogether — but to have taken away her tea and sugar, Avas more 
 than a lady in the vale of years, and the valley of Buttermere, could 
 be expected to endure, without some outrage to philosophy ! 
 
 The partiality of the sex in general for their morning and evening 
 cup of souchong and “best refined,” is now ranked by physiologists 
 among those inscrutable instincts of sentient nature, which are beyond 
 the reach of scientific explanation. What oil is to the Esquimaux, 
 what the juice of the cocoa-nut is to the monkey, what water is to the 
 fish, what dew is to the flower, and what milk is to the cat — so is tea to 
 Avoman ! No person yet, in our own country, has propounded any suffi- 
 cient theory to account for the English washerwomen’s all-absorbing 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 21 
 
 love of the Chinese infusion — nor for the fact of every maid-servant, 
 when stipulating the terms of her engagement, always making it an 
 express condition of the hiring, that she should he provided with “tea 
 and sugar,” and of every mistress continually declaring that she 
 “ would rather at any time go without her dinner than her tea.” 
 
 What sage has yet taught us why womankind is as gregarious over 
 tea as mankind over wine 1 Sheridan has called the Bottle the sun 
 of the table ; but surely the Teapot, with its attendant cups, may be 
 considered as a heavenly system, towards which all the more beautiful 
 bodies concentre, where the piano may be said to represent the music 
 of the spheres, and in which the gentlemen, heated with wine, and 
 darting in eccentric course from the dining-room, may be regarded as 
 fiery comets. We would ask any lady whether Paradise could have been 
 a garden of bliss without the tea-plant ; and whether the ever-to-be- 
 regretted error of our first mother was not the more unpardonable from 
 the fact of her having preferred to pilfer an apple rather than pluck the 
 “ fullest flavoured Pekoe.” And may not psychology here trace some 
 faint transcendental reason for the descendants of Adam still loving 
 to linger over their apples after dinner, shunning the tea-table and 
 those connected with it. Yet, perhaps, even the eating of apples has 
 not been more dangerous to the human family than the sipping of tea. 
 If sin came in with pippins, surely scandal was brought into the world 
 with Bohea ! Adam fell a victim to his wife’s longing for a Bibston, 
 and how many Eves have since fallen martyrs to the sex’s love of the 
 slanderous Souchong. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys was not prepared for so great a sacrifice as her tea, 
 and when she first heard from Postlethwaite the certainty of Harker’s 
 departure, and saw, by the resalt of this second journey, that there 
 was no hope of obtaining a supply from Cockermouth, there was a 
 moment when she allowed her bosom to whisper to her, that even 
 the terror of a bed in London would be preferable to a tea-less life at 
 Hassness. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, however, no sqpner saw that there was no tea or 
 sugar to be had, than he determined to sweeten his cup with philo- 
 sophy ; so, bursting out with a snatch of the “ Cumberland Lang 
 Seyne,” he exclaimed, as cheerily as he could under the circum- 
 stances — 
 
 “ Deuce tek the fuil-invented tea; 
 
 For tweyce a day we that mun’ hev ; 
 
 and immediately after this, decided upon the whole family’s reverting 
 to the habits of their ancestors, and drinking “yale” for breakfast. 
 This was by no means pleasant, but as it was clear she could do 
 nothing else, Mrs. Sandboys, like a sensible woman, turned her 
 attention to the contents of the ale- cask, and then discovered that 
 some evil-disposed person, whom she strongly suspected to be Master 
 Jobby — for that young gentleman began to display an increasing 
 enjoyment in each succeeding catastrophe — had left the tap running, 
 and that the cellar floor was covered three inches deep with the liquid 
 
22 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 intended to take off the dryness and somewhat sawdusty character of 
 the oat-cake, which, in the absence of any wheaten bread, now formed 
 the staple of their morning meal. 
 
 Now it so happened, that it wanted a fortnight of the return of 
 J ennings’ man, the brewer, whose periodical circumgyrations with the 
 beer, round about Buttermere, gave, like the sun, life and heat to the 
 system of its inhabitants. In this dire emergency, Postlethwaite, whose 
 deafness was found to increase exactly in proportion to the inconveni- 
 ence of the journeys required of him, was had out, and shaken well, and 
 bawled at, preparatory to a walk over to Lorton Yale, where the 
 brewery was situated — only six miles distant. 
 
 But his trip on this occasion was about as successful as the last, for 
 on reaching the spot, he found that the brewer, like the grocer, the 
 farrier, and the publicans, had disappeared for London on the same 
 pleasurable mission. 
 
 The family at Hassness was thus left without tea, beer, or bread, 
 and, consequently, reduced to the pure mountain stream for their 
 beverage, and oaten cakes and bacon for their principal diet. Their 
 stock of fresh meat was usually procured from Frank Hutchison, the 
 butcher of Cockermouth, but to go or send thither, under their present 
 circumstances, appeared to be impossible. So that Mrs. Sandboys 
 began to have serious alarms about two or three pimples that made 
 their appearance on Cursty’s face, lest a continued course of salt meat 
 and oat-cake should end in the whole family being afflicted with the 
 scurvy. She would immediately have insisted on putting them, one 
 and all, under a severe course of treacle and brimstone, with a dash 
 of cream of tartar in it, to “ sweeten their blood only, luckily, there 
 was neither treacle nor brimstone, nor cream of tartar, to be had for 
 twenty miles, nor anybody to go for it, and then, probably, nobody at 
 Mr. Bowerbank’s to serve it. 
 
 Sandboys, seeing that he had no longer any hope in Postlethwaite, 
 was now awakened to the necessity of making a personal exertion. 
 His wife, overpowered by this addition of the loss of dinner to the loss 
 of tea, did not hesitate to suggest to him, that perhaps it might 
 be as well, if they consented to do like the rest of the world, and 
 betake themselves for a few days to London. For her own part, she 
 was ready to make airy sacrifice, even to face the London dirt. But 
 Sandboys would listen to no compromise, declared that greatness showed 
 itself alone in overcoming circumstances, — and talked grandly of his 
 forefathers, who had held out so long in these self-same mountain 
 fastnesses. Mrs. Sandboys had no objection to make to the heroism, 
 but she said that really Elcy’s complexion required fresh meat ; and 
 that although she herself was prepared to give up a great deal, yet 
 her Sunday’s dinner was more than she was inclined to part with, 
 and as for sacrifices, she had already sacrificed enough in the loss of 
 her tea. Mr. Sandboys upon this bethought him of John Banks, the 
 pig-butcher at Lorton, and having a young porker just ready for the 
 knife, fancied he could not do better than despatch Postlethwaite with 
 the animal to Lorton to be slaughtered. This, however, was sooner 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 23 
 
 decided upon than effected ; for Postlethwaite, on being summoned, 
 made his appearance in slippers, and declared he had worn out, in 
 his several foraging excursions about the country, the only pair of 
 shoes he had left. Whereupon his master, though it was with some 
 difficulty he admitted the excuse, — and this not until Postlethwaite, 
 with a piteous gravity, had brought out a pair of calkered boots in the 
 very worst possible condition,. — began to foresee that there was even 
 more necessity for Postlethwaite to be shod than Paddy, for that 
 unless he could be got over to Cockermouth, they might be fairly 
 starved out. Accordingly, he gave his son J obby instructions to make 
 the best of his way to the two shoemakers who resided within five 
 miles of Hassness, for he made sure that one of the cobblers at least 
 could be prevailed upon to put Postlethwaite in immediate travelling 
 order. 
 
 It was long after nightfall, and Mrs. Sandboys had grown very 
 uneasy as to the fate of her dear boy, when Postlethwaite was heard 
 condoling over the miserable plight of Master J obby. His mother 
 rushed out to see what had happened, and found the bedraggled youth 
 standing with one shoe in the hall, the other having been left behind 
 in a bog, which he had met with in his attempt to make a short cut 
 home on the other side of the lake by Melbrake. 
 
 Nor was the news he brought of a more cheerful nature. John 
 Jackson the shoemaker was nowhere to be found. He had not been 
 heard of since the departure of the train ; and John Ooss, the other 
 shoemaker, had turned post-boy again, and refused to do any cobbling 
 whatsoever. Coss had told him he got a job to take some gentlefolks 
 in a car over to Carlisle, to meet the train for London, and he was 
 just about to start ; and if Jobby liked, he would give him a lift thus 
 far on t’ road to Girt ’Shibition. 
 
 This was a sad damper for Sandboys, for with John Jackson the 
 shoemaker seemed to vanish his last hope. Postlethwaite had worn 
 out his boots, Jobby had lost his shoes, and John Jackson and John 
 Coss, the only men, within ten miles, who could refit them, were both 
 too fully taken up with the Great Exhibition to trouble their heads 
 about the destitution of Hassness. 
 
 Postlethwaite almost smiled when he heard the result of Jobby ’s 
 twelve-mile walk, and drily remarked to the servant-maid, who 
 already showed strong symptoms of discontent — having herself a 
 sweetheart exposed, without her care, to the temptations and wicked- 
 ness of London — that the whole family would be soon barefoot, and 
 going about the countryside trying to get one another shod. 
 
 Sandboys consulted with his wife as to what was to be done, but 
 she administered but little consolation ; for the loss of her tea, and 
 the prospect of no Sunday’s dinner, had ruffled her usual equanimity. 
 The sight of her darling boy, too, barefoot and footsore, aroused every 
 passion of her mother’s heart. J obby had no other shoes to his feet, 
 she told her husband, for the rate at which that boy wore his things 
 out was quite terrible to a mother’s feelings ; but Mr. Sandboys had 
 no right to send the lad to such a distance, after such weather as they 
 
1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 U 
 
 had just had. He might have known that Jobby was always taking 
 short cuts, and always getting up to his knees in some mess or other ; 
 and he must naturally have expected that Jobby would have left both 
 his shoes behind him instead of one — and those the only shoes he 
 had. She should not wonder if Mr. Sandboys had done it for the 
 purpose. Who was to go the errands now, she should like to know 1 
 Mr. Sandboys, perhaps, liked living there, in that out of the way hole, 
 like a giant or a hermit. Did he expect that she or Elcy were going 
 to drive that pig to Lorton 1 — And thus she continued, going over and 
 over again every one of the troubles that their absence from London 
 had brought upon them, until Sandboys was worried into excitement, 
 and plumply demanded of her whether she actually wished to go 
 herself to the Exhibition ? Mrs. Sandboys was at no loss for a reply, 
 and retorted, that what she wanted was her usual meals, and shoes 
 for her children ; and if she could not get them there, why, she did 
 not care if she had to go to Hyde Park for them. 
 
 Sandboys was little prepared for this confession of hostilities on 
 the part of his beloved Aggy. He had never known her address 
 him in such a tone since the day she swore at Lorton to honour and 
 obey him. He jumped from his chair and began to pace the room — 
 now wondering what had come to his family and servants, now 
 lamenting the want of tea, now sympathizing with the absence of ale, 
 now biting his thumb as he contemplated the approximating dilemma 
 of a dinnerless Sunday, and now inwardly cursing the Great Exhibi- 
 tion, which had not only taken all his neighbours from him, and 
 deprived him of almost all the necessaries of life, but seemed destined 
 to estrange his wife and children ! 
 
 For a moment the idea passed across his mind, that perhaps it 
 might be better to give way ; but he cast the thought from him 
 immediately, and as he trod the room with redoubled quickness and 
 firmness of step, he buttoned his grey coat energetically across his 
 breast, swelling with a resolution to make a desperate effort. He 
 would drive the pig himself over to John Banks, the pig-butcher’s, at 
 Lorton ! But, as in the case of Postlethwaite, Mr. Cursty Sandboys 
 soon found that resolving to drive a pig was a far different thing 
 from doing it. Even in a level country the pig-driving art is none 
 of the most facile acquirements, — but where the way to be traversed 
 consists at every other yard of either a fell, a craig, a gill, a morass, 
 a comb, a pike, a knot, a rigg, a skar, a beck, a howe, a force, a 
 syke, or a tarn, or some other variety of those comfortable quarters 
 into which a pig, with his peculiar perversity, would take especial 
 delight in introducing his compagnon de voyage — the accomplishment 
 of pig-driving in Cumberland partakes of the character of what 
 aesthetic critics love to term “ High Art.” 
 
 Nor did Mr. Sandboys’ pig — in spite of the benevolence and “sops” 
 administered during his education by the gentle Elcy, who shed tears 
 at his departure — at all detract from the glories of his race. Contrary 
 to the earnest advice of Postlethwaite, founded on the experience of 
 ages, who exhorted his master to keep the string loose in his hand — 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 26 
 
 Sandboys, who had a theory of his own about pig-driving, and who 
 was afraid that if the animal once got away from him in the hills, he 
 would carry with him the family’s only chance of fresh meat for 
 weeks to come — made up his mind to keep a safe hold of him, and so, 
 twisted the string which he had attached to the porker’s leg two or 
 three turns round his own wrist. 
 
 Scarcely had Elcy petitioned her brother for the gentle treatment 
 of her pet “ piggy,” than, crack! Jobby, who held the whip at the gate, 
 while his father adjusted the reins, sent a flanker on the animal’s hind- 
 quarters. Away went “piggy,” and we regret to say, away went the 
 innocent Sandboys, not aftei', but with him — and precisely in the oppo- 
 site direction to what he had intended. “ Cwoley,” the dog, who had 
 been dancing round the pig at the gate, no sooner saw the animal start 
 off at score, than entering into the spirit of the scene, he gave full 
 chase, yelping, and jumping, and snapping at him, so that the terrified 
 porker fetched sharp round upon Sandboys, and bolted straight up the 
 mountain side. 
 
 Now, to the stranger it should be made known, that climbing the 
 fells of Cumberland is no slight task — even when the traveller is 
 allowed to pick his steps ; but, with a pig to lead, no choice but to 
 follow, and a dog behind to urge the porker on, the operation becomes 
 one of considerable hardship, if not peril. Moreover, the mountain 
 over which Mr. Sandboys’ pig had chosen to make his course, was 
 called “ the Moss,” or “ Morass,” from its peculiar swampy character. 
 XJp went the pig, through bracken, and furze, and holly-busli, and up 
 by the stunted oaks, and short-cut stumps, and straight on, up through 
 the lax’ches, over the rugged clump above Hassness; and up went Mr. 
 Sandboys, over and through every one of the same obstacles, making 
 a fresh rent in his trousers at every “ whin-bush” — scratched, torn, 
 panting, slipping, and — if we must confess it — swearing; now tum- 
 bling, now up again, but still holding on to the pig, or the pig holding 
 on to him, for grim death. 
 
 But if it were difficult to ascend a Cumberland fell with a pig in 
 front, how much more trying the descent ! No sooner had “ Cwoley” 
 turned the pig at the top, than Sandboys, as he looked down the 
 precipitous mountain up which his porker had dragged him, “saw 
 his work before him.” It required but a slight momentum to start 
 him ; then, away they all three went together — in racing technology 
 “ you might have covered them with a sheet” — the dog barking, and 
 the pig squeaking, and dragging Mr. Sandboys down the hill at a 
 rate that promised to bring him to the bottom with more celerity than 
 safety. Unfortunately, too, the pig took his course towards the beck 
 formed by the torrent at the “ Goat’s Gills and no sooner did it reach 
 the ravine, than, worried by the dog, it precipitated itself and Mr. Sand- 
 boys right down into the foaming, but luckily not very deep, waters. 
 
 But, if it were not deep, the bottom of the beck was at least stony ; 
 and there, on his back, without breath to cry out, lay the wretched 
 Sandboys, a victim to his theory, his coat skirtless, his pantaloons 
 torn to shreds, and the waters curling white about him, with the 
 
26 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 driving string in liis hand, cut by the sharp craigs in his fall — while 
 the legs, the loin, the griskin, and the chine — that were to have 
 consoled the family for weeks, were running off upon the pettitoes 
 which he had privately set aside for his own supper on some quiet 
 evening. 
 
 Elcy, who, throughout the whole chase, had been bewailing the poor 
 “ piggy’s” troubles, and exclaiming to her father not to hurt it, 
 screamed with terror, as, from the gate, she saw the plunge and splash ; 
 while the wicked Jobby, who had been rendered powerless by laughter', 
 and the want of shoes, and Postlethwaite, who also had been inwardly 
 enjoying the scene, now rushed forward to the rescue, in company 
 with the whole household, and dragged out from the beck the 
 bruised, tattered, bedraggled, bespattered, bedrenched, and wretched 
 Sandboys — the more annoyed, because the first inquiry addressed 
 to him by Mrs. Sandboys, in a voice of mingled terror and tenderness, 
 was, “ Whatever has become of the pig 1” 
 
 That was a mystery which took some hour or two to solve ; for it 
 was not until Elcy and Jobby, in Postlethwaite’s old shoes, had explored 
 both Pobinson and the Moss, that they caught sight of “ Cwoley” on 
 the slope beside the foot of Buttermere Lake, dancing, in wild delight, 
 round the shaft of a deserted mine, known as “ Muddock,” where, as 
 became evident from the string twisted round the bushes, the pig, 
 like Curtins, had plunged suicidally into the gulf, and was then lying, 
 unbaked, unroasted, and unboiled, in twelve foot water ! 
 
 Sandboys, when the news was brought him, was, both metaphori- 
 cally and literally, in hot water. He sat with his two feet in a 
 steaming pail, and wrapped in a blanket, with a basin of smoking oat- 
 meal gruel in his hand, Mrs. Sandboys by his side, airing a clean shirt 
 at the fire, and vowing all the while, that she would not Avonder if 
 his obstinacy in stopping down there, starving all the family, and 
 denying them even the necessaries of life, to gratify his own perversity, 
 were not the death of herself and the dear children. If he caught his 
 death, he would only have himself to blame ; for there Avas not a 
 Dover’s Powder within twenty miles to be had for love or money ; 
 and as for tallowing his nose, it was more than she could afford to do, 
 for the candles were running so short, and there was not a tallow- 
 chandler remaining in the neighbourhood, so that in a few days she 
 kneAv that, all through his fine management, they would be left not 
 only tealess, beerless, meatless, and, she would add, her dear boy shoe- 
 less, but also in positive darkness. 
 
 This second outbreak on the part of the generally placid and anti- 
 metropolitan Mrs. Sandboys was superinduced by a discovery she had 
 made that morning, Avhen about to give out the soap for the next day’s 
 monthly Avash. She then remembered that the stock which she had 
 ordered of Harker had not come to hand ; and there being no oppor- 
 tunity of getting to Dodgson or to Herd — supposing either of them 
 to be at Cockermouth — or of reaching any other oilman or talloAV- 
 chandler — even if such a character existed in the neighbourhood 
 within a circuit of fifty miles — she began to see that by remaining at 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 27 
 
 Hassness, she and her children would positively be reduced to a more 
 horrible state of dirtiness than the metropolis could possibly emulate, 
 even taking for granted the truth of all the reports concerning the 
 Thames water, which Mr. Sandboys delighted in reading to her from 
 the newspapers. 
 
 Scarcely had Mrs. Sandboys given vent to this “ bit of her mind,” 
 than the forms of long Postlethwaite and little Ann Lightfoot appeared 
 at the door, to give the miserable Cursty “ warning.” Ann Light- 
 foot begged to state, that the coals were beginning to run so short, 
 and the large fire Mr. Sandboys had just made up to dry his clothes 
 and shoes had so reduced their small stock, that they would be left 
 without a spark in the range below stairs ; and they had made up 
 their minds to leave the very next day, for the kitchen was so damp, 
 that, without a fire, they knew it would be the death of them. 
 
 Sandboys remonstrated, saying, that some of the slate-carts from 
 the quar-ries at Honister would be sure to be passing the house on 
 their way to Cockermouth, and they might order them to bring him a 
 return cargo of coals from Great Southern. But Postlethwaite, with 
 a pertinacity the reverse of pleasant, replied, that he had thought of 
 all this before, if his master had not ; and had watched two days con- 
 secutively, without seeing a single cart ; Master J obby, besides, had 
 told him he knew there was no one working at the quarries, for he 
 had not heard the sound of the blasting during the last fortnight. 
 Without beer, without meat, without tea, without sugar, without coals, 
 and, what was more, without tobacco — as he had been for the last ten 
 days — Postlethwaite observed, he thought it was hard his master 
 should expect him and Ann to stop, when the lassie was almost 
 starved ; it would be far better that they should leave the family to 
 share amongst them the few provisions remaining. 
 
 Here Ann Lightfoot began to wipe the tears from her eyes with the 
 corner of her apron — an action that produced a series of sympathe- 
 tical sobs from Mrs. Sandboys, who hysterically gurgled out, that it 
 was impossible to tell what would become of them all in that dreadful 
 lonely, damp place, — without medicine — or doctor — or dinner — or 
 even the means of wai’ming, or lighting, or cleaning themselves. 
 
 It was at this juncture that Elcy entered the room, her blue eyes 
 bathed in a flood of tears, to pour into her father’s bosom the fate of 
 her beloved “ piggy !” Overpowered with this battery of hysterics, 
 and the accumulated distresses and disaffection of his united house- 
 hold, Sandboys would have rushed from the apartment — and, indeed, 
 did make an effort to do so ; but remembering the paucity of his 
 attire, he plumped rapidly down again, wrapping his blanket round 
 him with the dignity of an Indian chief. 
 
 It was impossible, however, after a fortnight’s low living, to main- 
 tain for a length of time anything like grandeur of soul, so Sandboys 
 soon got to participate in that depression of spirits which, owing to 
 the spare diet, had begun to pervade the whole household at Hassness. 
 In a few minutes the would-be stoical Cursty was melted, like the 
 rest of them, into tears. Now blubbering, now snivelling, now 
 
28 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OE 
 
 sobbing, he proceeded to appeal to the generosity of Postlethwaite 
 and the feelings of Ann Lightfoot, he spoke of their long services, and 
 how the a flection between the master and the servant was the pride 
 of their native county, and imploringly besought them not to leave 
 him in his present position, but to wait only a few days longer, when 
 their friends and neighbours could not fail of returning ; for he was 
 convinced London wickedness must pall, after a brief experience, 
 upon the pure and simple minds of the people of Buttermere ; and 
 he wound up by pointing to his children, and begged of them not to 
 force him to drag those dear innocents into the foul contamination of 
 a London life. 
 
 This appeal had not the desired effect. Postlethwaite, although 
 he had been with Sandboys since a boy, and looked upon J obby, 
 from long association, almost as a child of his own, — and although in 
 the most lively period of the village, he had never been known to take 
 part in the festivities, nor had made his appearance at a “ Merry 
 Night,” for the last fifteen years — nevertheless, felt himself, after the 
 departure of the Excursion train of his fellow villagers, lonely and ill- 
 used, in not being allowed to participate in the general holiday. The 
 consequence was, that Mr. Sandboys’ eloquence was utterly lost upon 
 the surliness that had usurped the place of his usual regard and respect 
 for his master. 
 
 Moreover, Ann Lightfoot had been unable to get over the loss of 
 her “ J wohnny,” whom, with a jaundiced eye, she saw clattering away, 
 in calkered boots, at all the merry nights of London, now standing 
 up in many a square-eight reel, or now kneeling at the feet of some 
 “ fause-feaced fair,” in the sly vagaries of the Cushion-dance. Under 
 these circumstances, she had passed her evening unusually lonely, 
 even for Buttermere •, and having no lover to sit up for at night, she 
 had usually spent her leisure time with Postlethwaite, mutually grum- 
 bling by the kitchen fire, and filling his mind with ideas and desires for 
 London enjoyments, to which he would otherwise have been an entire 
 stranger. Accordingly, Ann Lightfoot was as little inclined as Deaf 
 Postlethwaite, and Deaf Postlethwaite as little inclined as Ann Light- 
 foot' — for the grumblings of the one were echoed in the growlings of 
 the other — to be in any way mollified by their master’s appeal to 
 their feelings. So Postlethwaite murmured out that they had made 
 up their minds to go the next day, without further warning. 
 
 Sandboys, shuddering, saw the coming desolation of his home, and 
 for a moment had serious thoughts of calling in the constable to make 
 them fulfil their engagements. But, alas, his next remembrance was 
 that the constable, like the grocer, and the blacksmith, and the cobblers, 
 had gone up to London to see the Great Exhibition. 
 
 The wretched Cursty resigned himself to his fate. But Fate had 
 still something worse in store for him. No sooner had the servants 
 discharged themselves, than Mrs. Sandboys unmasked a new grievance, 
 and opened a full battery upon him, as he sat dismal and desponding, 
 in the blanket, sipping his gruel in deep despair. She told him, as 
 she handed him the clean shirt she had been airing, that she would ad- 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 20 
 
 vise him to take great care of it — that was the last their stock of soap 
 would allow him to have — itjmight be for months — and she would advise 
 him to do, as he had read to her from the newspaper the other day, as 
 the nasty, filthy Russians did — and grease it all over well, so that he 
 might wear it until it dropped off his body, for she could tell him he 
 wouldn’t have another until he went to fetch that Harker from the 
 Great Exhibition. She did not mind, she told him, so much about 
 the loss of her tea— severe trial as that was to her, and requiring all 
 her Christian fortitude to bear — the want of beer was little or no 
 privation to her — it was the servants — the poor, hardworking ser- 
 vants that she felt for. The dearth of fresh meat did not affect her — 
 it was her dear Elcy’s complexion that she looked at ; she could have 
 gone barefoot all her life herself, but the idea of her children going 
 about the earth shoeless, realized a wretchedness that she never could 
 have imagined when she left her father’s home. 
 
 Still this was nothing — wretchedness was nothing — starvation was 
 nothing — shoelessness was nothing, compared with the want of soap — 
 she could bear anything but dirt. It was the terror of that had 
 kept her from going to London, and now she saw that, in spite of all 
 her efforts, Mr. Sandboys’ obstinacy about his trumpery wickedness 
 would bring upon her those very horrors which she had made so many 
 sacrifices to avoid. She did not care about any of his Great Exhi- 
 bitions, only all she knew was, that she would rather go through any 
 wickedness than live in thedirt that she could see he was forcing her into. 
 Stay in Hassness she would not ; and she had made up her mind, as 
 Mr. Sandboys would not leave it, that she would throw herself on 
 Messrs. Brag and Steal, and trust to them — for they were her father’s 
 lawyers — to make him provide her with a separate and comfortable 
 maintenance. Dearly as she once had loved him, she loved cleanliness 
 more, and it remained for him to say whether they were to continue 
 any longer together in the same wholesome state in which they had 
 lived for thirty long years. And having given vent to her feelings, 
 she seized the bed candlestick and marched indignantly into Elcy’s 
 room, where she declared her resolution to pass the night. 
 
 Sandboys, in the enthusiasm of his excited feelings and the sad 
 prospect of his threatened widowerhood, would have jumped up and 
 followed her ; but again remembering the paucity of liis attire, sank 
 back into his chair. In a few minutes it struck him that he had been 
 sitting with his feet in the pail until the water had beceme as cold 
 as that of the brook into which he had tumbled, and he began 
 to think that, by remaining in his present position, he was perhaps 
 adding another cold to the one he had already caught, in his fatal 
 attempt at theoretical and practical pig- driving. 
 
 For the first time since his wedding-day, Cursty Sandboys was left 
 to monopolize the amplitude of the matrimonial feather-bed, and no 
 sooner had he rested his nightcap on his pillow, than there began to 
 pass before his mind a dismal diorama of all the incidents of the day. 
 As he looked upon the picture of the destitution, and desolation, and 
 devastation, and denudation of his home, he half-relented of his stern 
 
30 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 resolve. For himself and Mrs. Sandboys be feared not the infection 
 of the Great Metropolis ; but it was the young and trusting Elcy, 
 and the too- adventurous Jobby — that caused the trepidation of 
 his soul. First he thought of the sufferings and the privations 
 around him — and then he asked himself whether he were making 
 his children and his household suffer these for what was a mere 
 whim on his own part. Was not the sacrifice he required too much 
 for youthful minds, and was he not once young himself? The reply 
 of experience was, that he certainly had been young, but that he 
 never had felt any wish to travel further than ten miles from his 
 native valley. And as the conflict of affection and determination 
 went on in his brain, he now felt assured it was all selfishness on his 
 part to keep his children locked up in abstemious solitude — and the 
 next moment was declaring that he should be a woman and worse than 
 a woman, if he were weak enough to allow them whom he loved best in 
 all the world to be exposed to the vicious allurements of the Great 
 Metropolis. Now he was all ice — and now the ice was thawing with 
 the brine of his tears — now he was rock — and now, like Hannibal, 
 he was cutting a way towards London through his bosom with the 
 vinegar of repentance. 
 
 The first thing that met Mr. Sandboys’ eyes in the morning was the 
 pair of trousers in which he had driven the pig on the previous day. 
 Again and again he gazed upon the ruins, for, until that moment, he had 
 no definite idea as to the tatterdemalion state of his nether garments. 
 The legs liung in long strips down the chair-back, more like shreds of 
 list than human pantaloons ; and, as lie looked at them, he bethought 
 him, for the first time, that his other pair, which he had just had made 
 of his own grey, had been sent a fortnight previously to Johnson, the 
 Loweswater tailor, to be altered, by Mrs. Sandboys, who took a great 
 pride in her Cursty’s appearance, and found fault with the cut of them, 
 declaring they were not sufficiently tight at the knees, or wide enough 
 over the boot, for the last new fashion. 
 
 Sandboys felt it was in vain for a man to talk of independence wbo 
 was destitute of pantaloons, and fearing even to speak of the subject 
 to his wife, lest a repetition of the previous night’s scene might be 
 enacted, sent a private message to his son Jobby, requesting his 
 attendance to a conference in the bed-room. 
 
 Jobby, when informed of the primitive and paradisiacal condition 
 of his parent, chuckled inwardly as he foresaw the dilemma in which 
 the disclosure he had to make would place the nether half of the old 
 gentleman. Accordingly, when Sandboys confidentially solicited him 
 to put on his father’s shoes, and make the greatest possible haste 
 over to Johnson for his father’s best trousers, it was with some diffi- 
 culty that his son could inform him, with that respect which is due 
 to a parent, that, on his last fruitless visit to Brack enth waite, John 
 Goss had told him he was going to call at Loweswater, on his way to 
 Carlisle, and take up all the Johnsons, both uncle and nephew, for 
 the mail train to London. 
 
 This was more than poor Sandboys expected, and a heavy blow to 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 31 
 
 him, for he foresaw that the proprieties of life would compel him to 
 keep between the sheets, until such time as he could venture to 
 broach the subject of his denuded and destitute state to his better 
 half. To lie in bed was his only resource ; but to lie in bed was to 
 make him more and more sensible of the utter destitution in which 
 he was involved. He had received no newspapers for a fortnight, 
 and of all things he loved his newspapers the dearest. The loss of 
 them in such a state, at such a time, he felt more than all. He might, 
 pei'haps, have borne the absence of his pantaloons with all the pride 
 of martyrdom ; but to be cut off from connexion with the outer world 
 of wickedness, in which he took such extreme interest, was more than 
 human philosophy or mountain stoicism could bear — for what is soli- 
 tude without a newspaper ! Here was he, three hundred and one miles 
 from London, in a lonely house, without a single “ daring robbery” 
 to comfort him, or a “ diabolical murder” to put life into him ! All 
 the “ successful swindling” of the metropolis was going on without 
 his knowledge ; and the excursionists from his native county were, he 
 felt satisfied, being plundered, one and all, without his being, as he 
 longed to be, in any way privy to it ! 
 
 In this situation, thus contemplating, Mr. Sandboys passed the 
 day — a Zimmerman between the blankets. At last, as the shades of 
 night began to shut out Melbrake from before his bed-room window, 
 and when Mrs. Sandboys came to his bedside for the basin which had 
 contained his thin meal of gruel, as he sat up to receive her he 
 humbly petitioned her, with a melancholy shake of the tuft on the 
 top of his white cotton night-cap, to allow him one of the old news- 
 papers and a light, so that he might relieve his mind by perusing 
 some of the trials at the Central Criminal Court ; if he might be 
 allowed to choose, he would prefer that Observer and supplement 
 which contained those charming twenty columns of the last frightful 
 London murder. 
 
 But to make the request was to open afresh the vials of Mrs. Sand- 
 boys’ wrath ; for she gave him plainly to understand that, coal-less as 
 they were below, Postlethwaite had been obliged to fell some of the 
 trees, and that the holly was so green that she had been forced to 
 burn every newspaper in the house in her struggles to make a fire. 
 Indeed, were it not that they had mustered all hands, and taken turn 
 and turn about at the bellows, every fifteen minutes, all the day 
 through, the family would not have been able to have had a mouthful 
 of anything warm to eat ; and now that the last double Times had 
 gone, she had left Postlethwaite and Ann and Elcy and poor Jobby 
 seated round a fireless grate, in the circular drawing-room, partaking 
 of oatmeal mixed in cold water by way of tea. 
 
 Bitterly conscious of his deficiency as regarded pantaloons, and 
 feeling acutely the privation as well as the destruction of his news- 
 papers, the otherwise benevolent soul of Sandboys reverted for a 
 moment into the primitive selfishness of savage life ; and, seeing no 
 other sorrows but his own, he angrily glared on Mrs. Sandboys, and 
 burst out, “ How dar’sta, Aggy, burn t’ papers ?” 
 
32 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OE 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys recoiled ! It was the first time she had ever heard 
 her dear Cursty address her in such a tone. Her woman’s heart fell, 
 and she whimpered out, as she threw herself on the bed, “ I cuddent 
 help it, Cursty, an if I cud, thar was nae a candle in t’ house for tha 
 to read by.” 
 
 Cursty fell back upon his pillows, and putting his hands over his 
 eyes, saw vividly pass before his imagination, his house without 
 candle, his servants without fire, his wife without soap, his boy without 
 shoes, and himself without breeches ! 
 
 In that one moment he perceived that it was useless to think of 
 holding out any longer — London lost its horrors compared with the 
 privations of Hassness ; so gulping down the cup of bitterness, he 
 told his wife he had made up his mind to be off to the metropolis 
 the next morning. 
 
 The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when there again 
 rose up before his eyes the direful gashes of his inexpressibles — the 
 barefooted state of his boy ! But Mrs. Sandboys soon put an end to 
 all suggested difficulties, and that evening saw the happy Aggy sitting 
 by the bed-side of her beloved Cursty, and, by the light of a lamp 
 made out of fat bacon and darning-cotton, sewing away at one of the 
 lacerated legs of the trousers, with a light heart, and the strongest 
 black thread ; while Elcy was taking the bows off a pair of her mother’s 
 shoes, which, at a family consultation, it had been arranged would 
 serve to equip J obby, at least for the walk to Cockermouth, where 
 he and his father might, perhaps, be able to provide themselves with 
 necessaries for the voyage to London. 
 
 Previous to leaving Hassness the next morning, Mr. Sandboys 
 summoned the whole of his family together into the dining-room, and 
 addressed them in a cheerful though solemn manner, saying he 
 regretted to see that, under their late trials, they had evinced an 
 unphilosophical want of vivacity, which he considered to be utterly 
 unworthy of the hardy natives of Cumberland. He wished it, there- 
 fore, to be distinctly understood, that he accompanied them to London 
 upon a single condition only, and that was — that they one and all 
 made up their minds, come what might, to enjoy themselves. 
 
 How the Sandboys got to Town — the misadventures that happened 
 to them on the road — the difficulties that the family experienced in 
 obtaining shelter when they reached the metropolis — how they were 
 glad to accept of any wretched hole to lay their heads in for the 
 night ; and when they did obtain a bed, the trouble that Mr. and 
 Mrs. Sandboys found in their endeavours to get their two selves 
 fairly into it — the dire calamity that befel them while reposing in it, 
 and how excessively hard they found it under these, and many other 
 circumstances, to carry out the principle of enjoying themselves, — 
 all this, and much more, remains to be told in the succeeding chapters 
 of this eventful history. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 33 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 “ Han’ me that peype, weyfe ! I’ll sranik an’ think. 
 
 Nay, dunnet cry, we ne’er did wrang; 
 
 The truth I’ll state, whate’er teks pleace, 
 
 To Carel sizes when I gang; 
 
 We plenty her, we’ll dui what's reeght, weyfe, 
 
 An’ whop (hope) beath. lang may happy be. 
 
 Now supper’s ruddy, weep nae mair, weyfe. 
 
 Ay fain I’d see a smeyle frae thee.”-— News. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys prided himself on being a "bit of a philosopher.” 
 His great weakness consisted in bis imaginary strength of mind. In 
 bis college days at St. Bees he had been charmed with the classic 
 chronicles of Grecian stoicism and Roman fortitude, and, ever since, 
 had been endeavouring to talk himself, out of all feeling and affection, 
 into the hero. To his great self-satisfaction, he now believed he 
 could bear any stroke of Fate, however severe or unexpected, without 
 so much as a wink of his “ mind’s eye,” and he flattered himself that 
 he had arrived at that much-io-be-desired state of insensibility which, 
 would enable him, like a Buttermere Brutus, to hand his own son 
 Jobby over to the Carlisle hangman with no more compunction-— as 
 he delighted to tell that young gentleman, much to his horror — -than 
 he would take one of his “lean sheep” to Lantliwaite Green Fair. 
 
 And yet, truth to say, the heart, of the heroic Mr. Sandboys was 
 as soft as new bread, though he would have had the world believe 
 it was as hard and dry as sea biscuit. If Cursty had any mettle at 
 all in his constitution it was that particular kind of “ fusible alloy” 
 which melts at the least warmth, and loses all consistency imme- 
 diately it gets into hot water, 
 
 No metaphysician has ever yet explained why poor perverse human 
 nature always fancies it has a special talent for doing something the 
 very opposite to that in which it happens to excel. Doubtlessly, if 
 the truth could be known, we should find Sir John Herschel secretly 
 regarding himself as a small astronomer, but taking great pride in 
 his imitation of frying sausages ; and Faraday thinking little of his 
 discoveries in diamagnetism, but flattering himself that he could palm 
 a pea better than any tlrmble-rigger in the kingdom. Professor 
 Owen, for what we know, may despise himself as a comparative 
 anatomist, but think far from meanly of Ms abilities as a player on 
 the bones, and Archbishop Whately in his own eyes shine less in 
 logic than in the mixture of a lobster salad, or the brewing of whiskey 
 punch. 
 
 Even so was it with Mr. Cursty Sandboys ! Naturally kind-hearted, 
 and weak almost to an extreme, he conceited himself that he was firm 
 and immoveable, amid the storms of life, as a human light-house, or 
 as light-hearted and lively in the midst of all his “ ups-and-downs” as 
 the celebrated old Buoy at the Nore. Nothing he coveted more than 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 decision of character, and yet no man was more undecided. Theoreti- 
 cally he was steel, hut practically he was only case-hardened with a 
 surface of philosophy. 
 
 As he journeyed along the road to Cockennouth, he was busy 
 revolving in his own mind the incidents of the previous week. Had 
 he allowed himself to be conquered by circumstances? Had he per- 
 mitted the loss of his nether garments to wrest him from his purpose? 
 Had he, because deprived of the distinctive feature of his “ outward 
 man,” been led to play the woman? Had he forgotten all that he had 
 been so long teaching himself, and lost all that made Man admirable 
 when he lost his breeches? “ True,” he said, “ Man was but a savage 
 without such things — but then,” he asked himself, “might he not 
 become effeminate with them?” 
 
 And as he trudged along the winding Hause, chewing the cud of 
 his thoughts, the Buttermere philosopher got to look upon the ineffable 
 part of Man's apparel as one of the many evils of civilized life — the 
 cause of much moral weakness and social misery. If such garments 
 were not naturally effeminate, why,” he went on inquiring of himself, 
 “ should all women have so great a desire to wear them? Were they 
 not,” he said, “ the cause of more than half of the conjugal conten- 
 tions of the present day? — Was not matrimony, generally, one long 
 struggle between man and wife as to who should possess these insignia 
 of the domestic monarchy?” 
 
 And thus the unconventional Mr. Sandboys proceeded in his sar- 
 torial catechism, until he got to convince himself that Sin originally 
 came into the world with breeches, and that the true meaning of the 
 allegory of the apple was, that the Serpent had tempted the great 
 Mother Eve with a pair. 
 
 While Mr. Sandboys was thus philosophically reviewing his conduct, 
 the more domestic partner of his bosom was mentally “looking 
 after” the luggage that she had left behind in charge of Postlethwaite 
 and Ann Lightfoot, until she could send a suitable conveyance for it. 
 Though it had been agreed that the family were but to stay a week in 
 the Metropolis, and Mr. Sandboys, knowing that women, when on the 
 wing, want the Peacock’s faculty of packing up their fine feathers 
 in the smallest possible compass, had given strict injunctions that 
 they should take only such things as were absolutely necessary. But, 
 primitive as were the denizens of Buttermere, and far removed as its 
 mountain-fastnesses seemed from the realms of fashion, the increased 
 facilities of intercommunication had not failed to diffuse a knowledge 
 of Polkas and Crinolines among the female portion of its pastoral people; 
 so that what with “ best bonnets,” and “ dress caps,” that had to be 
 stowed away in square black boxes kept expressly for them — and 
 gowns, with so many breadths and flounces, that, to prevent being 
 crushed, they required nearly a whole trunk to themselves — and morn- 
 ing dresses and evening dresses — and cardinals and paletots — and be- 
 laced and be-frilled night-caps and night-gowns — all equally incom- 
 pressible — and muffs and tippets — and whiskers and artificial flowers 
 and feathers — and bustles and false fronts, that did not admit of any 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 35 
 
 more compact stowage — and bottles of bandoline and perfume — and 
 pots of cold cream and lip salve — and writing-cases and work-boxes — ■ 
 all and every of which the ladies declared to be positively indispensable 
 for the trip; — what with these things, we say, it was found that by the 
 time the packing was done, the boxes, and trunks, and portmanteaus, 
 and carpet-bags, and hat-cases, and band-boxes, and umbrellas, that 
 constituted the family luggage, amounted to no less than three-and- 
 twenty different articles. Each of these the careful Mrs. Sandboys 
 had duly set down and numbered on a card which she carried with 
 her, and which she kept continually drawing from her bosom and 
 reading over as she journeyed along. 
 
 Jobby and Elcy walked in the rear; the former thinking of nothing, 
 but full of what are called animal spirits, skittish as a colt, and 
 unable to continue long at any one thing, — now throwing up a stone 
 and endeavouring to hit it as it descended through the air, to the 
 imminent peril of his mother’s bonnet — then making “ducks and 
 drakes ” along the lake with small pieces of the mountain slate — the 
 next moment aiming at some bird as it skimmed across the water — 
 the next, scampering up the hill-side with his sister Elcy’s miserable- 
 looking and most unsportsman-like Italian greyhound at his heels, 
 starting the mountain sheep — and then descending with several sprigs 
 of the “whin” or furze bushes in his hand, and stealthily dropping 
 them into his father’s coat-tail pocket, in the earnest hope of seeing the 
 old gentleman shortly sit down to rest himself by the way on some 
 neighbouring crag. 
 
 Elcy, with her eyes moist with tears — though she hardly knew why 
 —was too sad to talk, or mind the tricks that her brother played 
 with either her father or her poor little shivering pet dog. It was the 
 first time she had ever left her home; and though her woman’s 
 curiosity made her long to see London, of which she had heard so 
 much, the departure from Hassness was like leaving some dear old 
 friend. The mountains, which for so many years she had seen, flushed 
 with the young light, “ first thing” when she opened her eyes in the 
 morning, she had got to know and almost love like living things. 
 She had watched them under every aspect, — with the white snow 
 lying on them, and bringing them so close that they looked like huge 
 icebergs floating towards her — or with the noonday sun lighting up 
 their green sides, and the shapes of the opposite peaks and crags 
 painted in black shadow upon them — or with the million stars shining 
 in the grey sky above their heads, like luminous dust, and their huge 
 dim forms sleeping in the haze of the moonlight, and looking like 
 distant storm-clouds rather than solid masses of rock. 
 
 Each of the hills round about had its own proper name, and so 
 had assumed a kind of natural personification in Elcy’s mind. Every 
 one, to her fancy, was a different being associated with a different 
 feeling; for some she had the same reverence as for the aged, while 
 some, woman-like, she half loved for the sense of power they im- 
 pressed her with. And as she journeyed along the banks of the lakes 
 they surrounded, and each fresh turn brought some new mountain 
 
 d 2 
 
36 
 
 1851 ; OK, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 form into sight, a dark train of melancholy thoughts swept across her 
 mind like the shadows of clouds flitting along some peaceful meadow, 
 and she trod the path with the sound of an ideal bell droning in her ears. 
 
 Thus the Sandboys travelled on to the house of John Coss, the 
 cobbler post-boy, in the hopes of getting some sort of a conveyance 
 over to Cockermouth. But though John Coss was nowhere to be 
 met with, they were, luckily, just in time to catch the Loweswater 
 post-master, who, finding that, all the correspondence in that part of 
 the country had come to an end, had stuck up a notice that the letter- 
 box at his office would be closed till after the Great Exhibition, and 
 was then on his way, in the empty mail-cart, to the Cockermouth 
 railway station. 
 
 Once at Cockermouth, the necessary preparations were soon made 
 for the Sandboys’ journey to the great metropolis. Jobby was shod, 
 Cursty himself was breeched ; Postlethwaite, Ann Lightfoot, and the 
 “ things” were duly removed from Hassness, and everything seemed to 
 promise that the family really would enjoy themselves at last. 
 
 They were but just in time for obtaining their outfit. All the 
 principal gentry and tradesmen had already left the town, and the 
 smaller fry were making ready to follow the examples of their bigger 
 brethren. The shutters of the Castle were closed, the mail-coach of 
 “ the General ” had been put on the rails and carried to London, with 
 “ the Lord Paramount” shut up inside of it. At Derwent House the 
 blinds had all been papered, and the gilt frames and chandeliers put 
 into brown holland pinafores, while Lawyer Steel himself had pleaded 
 a set-off, and moved himself, by writ of some kind or other, to the 
 capital. The little grey pony, upon whose “ body ” Coroner Brag 
 had so often “ sat,” had been put upon board-wages at the Globe Inn. 
 Doctor Bell and his brother “ Dickey,” the cheerful, smiling, good- 
 natured “ medical men ” of the town, had for a time ceased that 
 friendly interchange of commodities which consisted in the giving of 
 physic and the taking of wine with their several patients, and finding 
 that their invalids had all taken to their “ last legs,” — that the con- 
 sumptions had gone galloping off— and that the declines had suddenly 
 got out of “ the last stage,” and jumped into the first train, the 
 Esculapian Adelphi had felt each other’s pulse, and respectively 
 prescribing a few weeks’ change of air for their complaints, had both 
 started after their patients, as lively as return hearses. 
 
 Even Jonathan Wood, the quondam Boniface, who, like Atlas of 
 old, used to have the whole weight of “ the Globe ” on his shoulders, 
 and had supported it till he had positively got red in the face — even 
 jolly Jonathan himself had disappeared from the town. “The Sun,” 
 too, had lost all attraction to its attendant planets, who, no longer 
 gravitating towards it, had flown off at a tangent to the metropolis. 
 
 But though there was neither heat nor light in the “ Sun,” at 
 Cockermouth, still in the interior of the “ Globe ” there was a small 
 fire, and here beside the grateful hobs of the cosey hostelry, Mr., Mrs., 
 and the younger Sandboys located themselves until such time as all 
 was ready for the start. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 37 
 
 The journey from Cockermouth to Workington per rail is by no 
 means of an agreeable character. The line being in none of the 
 most flourishing conditions, every means for economizing the “ work- 
 ing expenses” have been resorted to. The men engaged upon it have 
 been cut down to boys ; so that the establishment has very much the 
 look of a kind of railway academy, where the porters on the platform 
 are ever playing at marbles or leapfrog, where the policemen all wear 
 pinafores, and where the clerks are taken to the station in the morn- 
 ing, and “fetched” in the evening by the maids of their anxious 
 parents. We have heard the united ages of the entire staff, but fear 
 to mention the small amount, lest a too incredulous public should 
 accuse us of magnifying, or rather parvifying the tenderness of their 
 years. Suffice it that not a razor is used by the whole establishment ; 
 and that the “ staff,” — we have it on the best authority — are allowed 
 to give over work an hour earlier every Saturday evening, in consi- 
 deration of its being “ tub-night.” 
 
 With a further view to effecting that financial reform which is so 
 popular at the present moment, the coal bills of the company recently 
 underwent a minute scrutiny, and the important discovery made — after 
 working several very difficult sums — that the heavy amount of 
 eighteen shillings and a fraction weekly could be saved by using 
 coals instead of coke ; whereupon a resolution was immediately passed 
 by the frugal directors, declaring that nothing but the “ best Lord 
 Mayor’s” should thenceforth be put into the company’s fires. The 
 result of this wise economy has been, that the engines on this line 
 are perpetually smoking in the faces of the passengers, and pouring 
 forth so lavish a volcanic eruption of “ blacks,” that by the time the 
 ladies and gentlemen reach the end of their journey, they are gene- 
 rally as dark-complexioned as if they had been unconsciously working 
 or reading by the light of the very best — patent— warranted infumible 
 — camphine lamps. 
 
 At Workington, the Sandboys, who, on their arrival, much to the 
 horror of the cleanly Mrs. S., might have been taken for a family of 
 Ethiopian serenaders, having bleached themselves as well as possible 
 with their pocket handkerchiefs — Mrs. Sandboys standing on tiptoe 
 the while to wipe the nasty, filthy blacks from out the wrinkles and 
 dimples of her dear Cursty’s face — proceeded to make the necessary 
 inquiries touching the continuation of their journey to London. 
 
 At the station, all was confusion and bustle, and noise and scram- 
 bling, and bewilderment. Porters in green velveteen jackets, with the 
 shoulders worn white with repeated loads, were hurrying to and fro — 
 some with carpet-bags in their hands — others with boxes on small- 
 wheeled trucks, rattling over the flooring through the office. Impa- 
 tient groups were gathered close round the pay-clerk — steam-engines, 
 eager to start, were fizzing violently, as if a thousand knives were 
 being ground at once- — and large bells were ringing quickly to 
 announce the arrival of some train which presently came bumping 
 heavily alongside the station. Mrs. Sandboys had pursued some 
 porter who, much to her astonishment and indignation, had, without 
 
38 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 a word, walked away with the united luggage of the family, imme- 
 diately on its being deposited outside the station door; while Mr. 
 Sandboys himself had gone to learn how he and his party were to 
 proceed. 
 
 “Where are you going to?” rapidly inquired the good-tempered 
 and bustling station-master, as he squinted at the clock. 
 
 “ T’ Bull and Mouth, Holborn Hill, London,” answered Mr. Cursty 
 Sandboys, giving the whole address of his proposed resting-place in 
 the metropolis. 
 
 “ Don’t know any Bull and Mouth at Holborn Hill,” replied the 
 busy official, who, called off by the guard, had not caught the last word 
 of Mr. Sandboys’ answer. 
 
 “Dustea say tha dunnet ken t’ Bull an’ Mouth,” exclaimed the 
 anxious Cursty, lifting up his bushy eyebrows with evident astonish- 
 ment. “ I thowt aw t’ warl was kenning t’ Bull an’ Mouth, Holborn 
 Hill.” 
 
 Mr. Sandboys having, during his first and only visit to London (whither 
 be had been summoned on a trial concerning the soundness of some 
 cattle that he had sold to one of the dealers who yearly visited Butter- 
 mere), resided with the rest of the witnesses for some ten days at the 
 Bull and Mouth Inn, and knowing that it was a place of considerable 
 reputation, could not help expressing his surprise that a person filling 
 a situation which brought him into almost daily communication with the 
 metropolis, should be unacquainted with one of the most celebrated of 
 its public inns. 
 
 The Workington station-master, however, unfortunately for Mr. 
 Sandboys, referred to a different quarter of the world. The Holborn 
 Hill he spoke of, as possessing no Bull and Mouth, was not the well- 
 known metropolitan acclivity, so trying to the knees of cab and omnibus- 
 horses, where coal waggons and railway vans are continually “ sticking” 
 half-way— where “ bachelors’ kettles” are perpetually being boiled in 
 less than five minutes, and where sheets of gutta percha, like hard- 
 bake, and tubing of the same material, like rolls of German sausages, 
 for ever meet the eye. No; the Holborn Hill which the Workington 
 official alluded to was an obscure point of land situate at the extremity 
 of the county of Cumberland, on the banks of the Duddon, and with 
 not even so much as a village nearer than half a dozen miles. Well 
 therefore might the station-master, thinking only of that Holborn 
 Hill to which the Workington trains daily travelled, make answer to 
 the poor unsophisticated Mr. Sandboys, that he had never heard of any 
 Bull and Mouth in that quarter. 
 
 “ But if you’re going to Holborn Hill, sir,” he added, squinting at the 
 clock, “ you’d better be quick, for in another moment the train will 
 be off.” 
 
 “Odswinge! whilk be t’ carriages, man?” hastily inquired Mr. 
 Sandboys, who had been given to understand at Cockermouth that he 
 should have to remain a good half hour at Workington before he 
 could proceed on his journey. No sooner was he told where to take his 
 seat, than hurrying after his wife and children, he dragged them from 
 
ME. AND MES. CUESTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 39 
 
 the other side of the platform, whither his “ good lady” had followed 
 her “ things,” and scrambled them, despite all remonstrance, into the 
 conveyance indicated. 
 
 In an instant after their being seated, the terminus resounded with 
 the slamming of the carriage doors — the large dustman’s bell was 
 shaken — the whistle was blown — the engine gave two or three long- 
 drawn sighs — the carriages creaked with the incipient motion, and 
 their intermediate chains rattled loudly as they were successively 
 stretched to their utmost length — a kind of hysteric chuckle from 
 the engine succeeded, as the wheels slipped round upon the rails — 
 then its gasps got shorter and quicker — and then, panting hur- 
 riedly, the whole train was borne rapidly along on its way to 
 Whitehaven. 
 
 In a few minutes Mr. Sandboys began impressing upon the partner 
 of his bosom how fortunate it was that he had taken the precaution 
 of checking the information that he had received from those mis- 
 chievous boys at Cockermouth by the statements of the respectable 
 station-master at Workington. Mrs. Sandboys, however, was in a 
 reverie concerning the fate of her luggage. She had seen that 
 impudent fellow of a porter who had seized it and carried it away 
 from her, place it, she was confident, in the carriages on the other 
 side of the station, for, as she said, she had never taken her eyes oil it 
 after the man had set hands upon it. 
 
 But Mr. Sandboys assured her that she must, in the flurry and the 
 noise, have made some mistake, and that she need be under no appre- 
 hension, for the boxes, being all labelled “ London,” would be 
 sure to have been placed in the London train. Mrs. Sandboys, in 
 reply, however, begged to inform her husband, that the porter had 
 declared that the other train was going to London; upon which 
 Mr. Sandboys observed, that surely the station-master must know 
 better than any one else, and it was from that person’s lips he had 
 received the information upon which he had acted. 
 
 In little more than three hours from the time of their leaving 
 Workington, the railway-train came to a stoppage in front of an 
 humble little station, along the platform of which a porter in a north 
 country dialect, almost as strong as his corduroy suit, went crying, 
 “ Wha’s fwor Hob worn Heel?” 
 
 “ Here !” shouted Mr. Sandboys, wondering at the rapidity of the 
 journey, as he let down the window of the carriage in which he was 
 seated, and stared at the surrounding fields in astonishment at the 
 extremely rural and uninhabited character of the said Holborn Hill. 
 It was nothing at all like what it was when he was there, he said, 
 half to himself ; nor could he remember any place in the neighbour- 
 hood of London in any way similar to the desolate district at which 
 he and his family were about to be deposited. 
 
 “ Haista ony looggidge?” inquired the porter. 
 
 “ Yes, indeed,” observed Mrs. Sandboys, sidling up to the porter; 
 “ three-an’-twenty packages — three-an’-twenty packages there owt to 
 be, young man.” 
 
40 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Mr. Cursty Sandboys kept twisting round about to try and dis- 
 cover some object that he could call to mind, and so assure himself of 
 his presence in the Metropolis. At last, feeling convinced that, from 
 the apparent absence of houses and people, it must be some suburban 
 station, he ventured to ask the porter, as he and Mrs. Sandboys 
 accompanied him forward to the luggage-van, how many minuted 
 walk he called it to London. 
 
 The porter stood still for a moment, looked in the face of Mr. 
 Sandboys, and then, without saying a word, burst out laughing. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, far from pleased at the man’s manner, modified his 
 question, and requested to know how many miles he called it to 
 London. 
 
 “Two hundred an’ feafty, if ’t be an inch,” was the laconic reply. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys both heard the answer, and stared trans- 
 fixed, as if electrified. 
 
 Then came the explanation. 
 
 It was, as Mrs. Sandboys had dreaded, their boxes, trunks, and bags 
 had gone in the direction of Holborn Hill, London, while they, poor 
 unhappy mortals, had been carried some fifty miles out of their road 
 to Holborn Hill, Cumberland. 
 
 There Avas, moreover, a matter of tAVO pounds to pay for the pro- 
 voking journey — but it was useless complaining: besides, as Mr. 
 Sandboys reminded them, they had all come out to enjoy themselves, 
 and, therefore, notAvithstanding the unpleasantness of their position, 
 he trusted they Avould one and all put a smiling face on the matter. 
 
 This, of course, Avas easier said than done, for on inquiry it Avas found 
 that they must remain in that quarter some few hours before any 
 train would arrive by which they could get back to Carlisle — the Avay 
 they had booked themselves to London. 
 
 Having, however, found out Avhere they could get some eggs and 
 bacon cooked, they retired to dine away the time, and were soon so 
 well pleased with their cheer, that they were able to laugh at their ovm 
 mishap. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys, nevertheless, was too intent upon the probable fate 
 of her luggage to see much to laugh at in the mistake, while Elcy 
 — whose pet Italian greyhound had been locked up in the canine 
 department of the London train — could think of nothing but her lost 
 darling. Her whole study of late had been to fatten the miserable, 
 shivering, scraggy, half-starved looking little animal upon which she 
 had placed her affections. All her benevolence, however, had been 
 wasted on the Avretched creature. She had put it into flannel 
 jackets, but still, to her great annoyance, it was perpetually trembling, 
 like a “ blancmange ,” or a Lascar beggar. She fed it on the most 
 nourishing food, for it cut her to the heart to see the dear look such 
 a mere “ bag of bones,” but the fat of the land Avas utterly thrown away 
 on it. It was impossible by any means to give it the least tendency 
 to corpulence. Despite all her efforts, its nose continued as sharp as 
 a bayonet — its legs had no more flesh on them than a bird’s — its ribs 
 were as visible as if its body Avere built out of wicker-work — Avhile 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 41 
 
 its tail was jointed and curled like the flexible tube to a cheap 
 imitation of hookah. 
 
 Still there was one consolation : “ Psyche” could not well he thinner 
 — had it been a martyr to tight lacing, its waist could not have been 
 smaller ; but what effect starvation might have upon such an animal, 
 was more than poor Elcy dare trust herself to conjecture. She felt 
 convinced in her own mind that the skeleton of the poor dear dumb 
 thing would be all that she should find of it when she reached the 
 Metropolis. 
 
 No such thoughts, however, troubled the brain of her brother, who, 
 what with playing practical jokes upon Postleth waite — teazing his 
 sister — coaxing his mother — and exploring the river Duddon, found 
 plenty to occupy his time. 
 
 At length the hour for the arrival of the “ up train” at the Holborn- 
 hill station came round, and in a few minutes after, the family were 
 being carried swiftly along the road to Carlisle. 
 
 It was night when they reached the Car’el station ; but the Sand- 
 boys, unused to travelling, and tired out with the misadventures of the 
 day, were all fast locked in sleep. Postlethwaite was the only one 
 belonging to them whose eyes were open, but he unfortunately was — 
 what he termed, with a natural desire to take the best possible view of 
 his infirmity — a “little hard of hearing]” so that when the train stopped, 
 and the porters paced the platform, shouting “ Change here for 
 Lancaster! Change here for London!” not one of the party heard the 
 important summons ; but, still dozing, were whirled away, in blissful 
 ignorance, towards the capital of Scotland instead of England. 
 
 It was past midnight when the train halted for the collection of 
 tickets, a little way out of Edinburgh. The letting-down of the car- 
 riage-window by the railway officer on the platform roused the still 
 slumbering Mr. Sandboys. 
 
 “ Tickets please ! Tickets !” shouted the official, as he turned his 
 bull’s-eye full into the face of the yawning, dazzled, and bewildered 
 Cursty. That gentleman proceeded with as much alacrity as he 
 could, under the circumstances, to draw out from the bottom of his 
 purse the several pieces of card-board which had been handed to him 
 on paying his fare to town. 
 
 The collector no sooner glanced his eye at the tickets delivered 
 to him, than he exclaimed, quickly, “ These wont do, sir ! — these here 
 are for London, and this is Edinburgh.” 
 
 “ Edinburgh !” echoed Mr. Sandboys, his jaw dropping like a car- 
 riage dog’s at the sound of the word. 
 
 “Edinburgh!” repeated Mrs. Sandboys! “Oh, Cursty — Oh, 
 Cursty, what iver ’ull become of us aw.” 
 
 “Edinburgh!” cried Jobby, waking up. Oh my! here’s a lark, 
 Elcy.” 
 
 “ Yes, sir, it’s Edinburgh, sure enough,” returned the railway offi- 
 cial. “ Y ou should have changed carriages at Carlisle.” Then, hold- 
 ing out his hand to the amazed Mr. Sandboys, who kept rubbing 
 his eyes to rouse himself out of what he fancied must be a continua- 
 
1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 42 
 
 tion of his dream, the collector added, “ Three pound fifteen shillings, 
 and a quarter-past nine, sir.” 
 
 “ What dustea mean, man, by three paund fifteen shilling, and a 
 wharter-past nine?” angrily inquired Mr. Sandboys. 
 
 “ I thought you asked me, what you had to pay, sir, and when the 
 next train left for London.” 
 
 “ I did nowt of t’ kind, man ; and I tell tha plain, I wunnet pay 
 nae mair. I’se paid aboon twa paunds, an’ been carrud twa hunderd 
 meyle out of t’ way awruddy.” 
 
 But Mr. Sandboys soon found all opposition was useless. On hia 
 leaving the carriage, he was taken between two policemen to the 
 station, and there plainly given to understand, that if the money were 
 not forthcoming, he would have to finish the night in durance vile; 
 and though Cursty was ready to become a martyr, rather than submit 
 to be “ imposed upon,” still Mrs. Sandboys was of a different way of 
 thinking, and reminded him of his determination to enjoy himself 
 under all circumstances. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, after some further expostulation, was prevailed upon 
 to do as his wife desired ; and accordingly, having paid the three pounds 
 demanded, he and his family made the best of their way to the nearest 
 inn, there — “ without a thing to put on,” as Mrs. Sandboys expressed 
 it — to slumber away the hours till morning. 
 
 At a quarter-past nine the Sandboys family proceeded to make a 
 third attempt to reach the Metropolis, and for some time nothing 
 occurred to interfere with the progress of their journey. Mr. Sand- 
 boys, who, on leaving Edinburgh, had been inclined to believe 
 that the fates had declared he was never to get to London, finding 
 matters proceed so propitiously for so long a period, had just begun 
 to take a more favourable view of his destiny, when, on their arriving 
 at Lancaster, a strange gentleman entered the carriage, which he and 
 his wife and children had previously enjoyed all to themselves. 
 
 For awhile all parties remained silent, — the strange gentleman 
 being quietly engaged in examining the Sandboys, while the Sand- 
 boys, one and all, did the same for the strange gentleman ; and truly 
 the gentleman was so very strange, that the curiosity of his fellow- 
 travellers was not to be wondered at. The lower part of his face was 
 muffled up closely in comforters, his eyes perfectly hidden behind 
 a pair of green spectacles, while his body was enveloped in a large 
 Spanish cloak. On entering he took off his hat, which was one of 
 the patent Gibus folding kind, and, pressing in the sides — much to 
 the Sandboys’ amazement — brought the crown down to the level of 
 the brim. He next proceeded to remove the hair from his head, in 
 the shape of an intensely black wig — disclosing, as he did so, not 
 a bald, but a closely-shaven crown — and to put a seal-skin cap in its 
 place. After this, he slid the green spectacles from before his eyes, 
 carrying with them the large bushy pair of whiskers which were 
 fastened to their sides, and which the moment before had half covered 
 his cheeks; then, discarding his comforters, he unhooked the clasp 
 of his cloak, and revealed the black japan leather of a policeman’s 
 
ME. AND MES. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 43 
 
 stock, and tlie tight stand-up collar of a superintendent’s undress uni- 
 form. 
 
 As the strange gentleman saw the whole eight eyes of the family 
 riveted upon him, he smiled good-humouredly at their amazement; 
 and, turning round to Mr. Sandboys, observed that he perceived they 
 were from the country. Eeceiving a short reply in the affirmative, he 
 told them they needn’t be alarmed at his making so different an appear- 
 ance from when he entered the carriage, for it was part of his business 
 to assume a variety of characters. 
 
 This set the Sandboys wondering more and more at their fellow- 
 traveller; and the more they marvelled, the more pleased he became, 
 smiling and simpering with evident self-satisfaction. At last, having 
 kept them on the tenter-hooks for some short time, he informed them 
 that he belonged to the Metropolitan Detective Police, and proceeded 
 to give the delighted family a vivid and exciting sketch of his duties. 
 
 Impressed as Mr. Sandboys was with the utter wickedness of the 
 city to which he was now rapidly journeying, this one adventure was 
 sufficient, in his mind, to atone for all the previous mishaps of the 
 trip, and he eagerly shifted his seat to that immediately opposite to 
 the strange gentleman, so that he might get, from one so experienced 
 in crime, as full an account of the corrupt ways of London as was 
 possible, in the brief space of time that he and his fellow-traveller 
 had to remain together. 
 
 In a few minutes Mr. Sandboys, with open mouth, eyes, and ears, 
 was listening to an enumeration of the several descriptions of thieves 
 common to the metropolis. 
 
 “ You must know, sir,” said his communicative companion, “ there 
 are almost as many kinds of bad people as there are good in London ; 
 so that I can hardly tell which way to begin. Well, then, let me see,” he 
 continued, “the several descriptions of London thieves are — cracks- 
 men, or housebreakers; rampsmen, or footpads; bludgers and stick- 
 slingers, or those who go out plundering with women ; star-glazers, 
 or those who cut out shop-windows; snoozers, or those who sleep at 
 railway hotels ; buzzers, or those who pick gentlemen’s pockets ; and 
 wires, or those who do the same kind office for ladies — (and here he 
 bowed to the alarmed Mrs. Sandboys); thimble-screwers, or those 
 who wrench watches from their chains ; dragsmen, or those who rob 
 carts and coaches; sneaksmen, or those who creep into shops and 
 down areas ; bouncers, or those who plunder by swaggering ; pitchers, 
 or those who do so by passing off one thing for another ; drummers, or 
 those who do the same by stupifying persons with drink ; macers, or 
 those who write begging letters; and lurkers, or those who follow 
 the profession of begging. These include the principal varieties of 
 * prigs,’ or light-fingered gentry, belonging to the Metropolis,” said 
 the strange gentleman. 
 
 “ Odswinge !” exclaimed Mr. Sandboys, but the rogues a’ gotten 
 comical neames of their ane. They’d wheer keynd of godfathers, 
 m’appen.” 
 
 “Aye, I shouldn’t wonder! I shouldn’t wonder!” returned Mr. 
 
44 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Sandboys’ companion. “ But many of the classes I’ve just men- 
 tioned have several distinct kinds of roguery belonging to them, and 
 the generality of them seldom or never attend to more than one branch 
 of the profession. For instance, those who devote their attention to 
 robbing houses, rarely give their minds to picking pockets. 
 
 “ Odswinge !” exclaimed the delighted, though intimidated Cursty. 
 
 “Then, again, the buzzer, or gentleman’s pickpocket, is either the 
 stook-buzzer, that is, the purloiner of pocket-handkerchiefs, or the tail- 
 buzzer, seeking more particularly for sneezers (snuff-boxes), or skins 
 and dummies, (purses and pocket-books.) Occasionally the same 
 person may turn his hand to nailing props — that is, stealing pins or 
 brooches ; but this, I can assure you, is not considered professional — any 
 more than it is for a physician to bleed.” 
 
 Mr. Sandboys lifted his eyebrows in evident wonderment. 
 
 “ So, too, the sneaksman,” continued his experienced informant, “who 
 is the lowest-class thief of all — and a creature with whom the cracks- 
 man and mobsman (or tail-buzzer) would no more dream of asso- 
 ciating, than a barrister would think of visiting an attorney.” 
 
 Cursty’s delight increased as the villanies of each particular class 
 were described to him. 
 
 “ These same sneaksmen, I must tell you,” the chatty and sociable 
 strange gentleman went on, “ comprise many different characters; 
 among whom I may mention, not only the snoozers or railway sleepers, 
 as we call them, and the deud-lurkers, or those Avho steal coats, &c. out 
 of passages, but also those who go snow-gathering, or stealing clean 
 linen off the hedges ; and bluey -hunting, or pilfering metal — especially 
 lead from the tops of houses; and cat and kitten-hunting, or abstract- 
 ing pewter quart and pint-pots from area railings; and sawney-hunt- 
 ing, or removing bacon from cheesemongers’ doors ; and going on the 
 noisy racket, or purloining crockery and glass from China-shops ; and 
 the lady and gentlemen racket, or stealing cocks and hens from the 
 markets ; and bug-hunting, or looking out for drunken men. Belong- 
 ing to the bouncers and pitchers, or those who cheat you out of your 
 property instead of positively robbing you of it— if you can under- 
 stand the difference, sir — there are the showful-pitchers, or those who 
 live by passing bad money, and the charley-pitchers, or thimble- 
 riggers, besides the fawney or ring- droppers; and the flat-catchers, or 
 those who live by bouncing or besting, that is to say, by getting the 
 best of country gentlemen, either by threats, swaggering or cheat- 
 ing.” 
 
 Here Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys exchanged glancea of mutual horror. 
 
 “ Hence you see, sir, there may be strictly said to be only three 
 classes of thieves, namely, the cracksman and the rampsman, who 
 constitute what may be termed the thieves’ aristocracy — there being 
 usually a certain amount of courage required in the execution of their 
 depredations. Then the tail-buzzers and wires may be said to belong to 
 the skilled or middle-class of thieves ; while the sneaksmen or lurkers, 
 who display neither dexterity nor bravery in their pecadilloes, may 
 
ME. AND MES. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 45 
 
 be regarded, with, the exception of beggars, as the lowest class of 
 ail.” 
 
 Mr. Sandboys was charmed to find his theory of the wickedness of 
 London confirmed by so extensive a catalogue of criminals, and he 
 got to look upon his informant with a feeling almost amounting to 
 reverence. 
 
 “ For the pure beggar,” continued the strange gentleman, “ every 
 kind of thief has the most profound contempt— even the sneaksman 
 would consider himself mortally insulted if placed in the same rank 
 with the “ shallow cove,” that is to say, with the creatures that stand, 
 half naked, begging in the streets. The bouncers, and pitchers, and 
 flat-catchers are generally ranked as a kind of lower middle-class rogues 
 — and certainly they are often equal, in ingenuity at least, to the 
 buzzers.” 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, who bad been drinking in every word of the strange 
 gentleman’s discourse with the greatest avidity, proceeded to thank 
 him at its conclusion very warmly for Ms most interesting statement. 
 “Well, I thowt,” he said, “’twas nae guid that scarce London ; but 
 odswinge if it doan’t bang t’ Auld Gentleman hissell, that it dui, 
 Thee’st seed some feyne geames an’ wickednesses now ia thy tyme, I 
 suddent wonder.” 
 
 “ Why, yes,” replied his companion, “ persons in our position have 
 great opportunities truly. There are more ways of getting money in 
 London than earning it, I can tell you, sir. Indeed, to say the truth, 
 industry seems the very mode which succeeds the worst of all there.” 
 
 “ I thowt so ! — I thowt so !” cried Cursty. 
 
 “ But still, things aren’t quite as bad as they used to be either. Why I 
 remember the days when, regularly every Monday morning, there used 
 to be a bullock hunt right through the principal streets of London 
 got up by the prigs — and very profitable it was, too. You see, the 
 pickpockets would stop the drovers on the road, as they were bringing 
 their beasts up to Smithfield on the Sunday night— take one of the 
 animals away from them by main force, put him into the first empty 
 stable they could find, and the next morning set to and worry the 
 poor brute till they drove him stark raving mad. Then out they used to 
 turn him into the public thoroughfares— start him right away through 
 London, and take advantage of the confusion and riot caused by his 
 appearance in the crowded streets of the Metropolis, to knock the 
 hats of all the gentlemen they met over their eyes, and ease them of 
 their watches or purses.” 
 
 “Well! well! well!” cried Mr. Sandboys, throwing up his hands 
 in horror at the profundity of the wickedness ; “ Dustea hear, A ggy,” 
 he continued, turning to his better half, “ Dustea hear, weyfe ! and 
 we be gangin’ to the varra pleace. But tha wast sayin that t’ fwok 
 beant white so bad now-a-days, sir.” 
 
 “No! no! not quite,” observed Mr. Cursty’s companion, “ but still bad 
 enough, I can tell you. Now, I’ll just repeat to you a trick I saw 
 played the other day upon a simple country gentleman like yourself.” 
 
46 
 
 1851 ; OB, THE ADVENTUEES OF 
 
 “ Yarra guid ! but they wunnet catch me, I can tell ’ee.” 
 
 “ It’s what is called the Toothache Racket, and far from uncommon. 
 Two men, you see, one of whom is provided with two small paper 
 packets of salt exactly alike, go into the parlour of a tavern which 
 they know countrymen are in the habit of using. The one with the 
 salt, who enters some few minutes after the other, pretends to be 
 suffering greatly from the toothache. The company, observing him 
 to be apparently in extreme pain, begin to recommend different cures 
 for the complaint. One advises him to rub the gum with brandy — 
 another advocates the holding of a little cold water in the mouth — a 
 third has never known the oil of tobacco to fail, and so on. The 
 sufferer, however, is much obliged to them all, but declares that 
 nothing gives himself relief but a little salt, in a paper similar to what 
 he is then applying to his cheek.” 
 
 “ The wicked hyp’crite !” involuntarily exclaimed the simple-minded 
 Cursty. 
 
 Shortly after this he quits the room, leaving his paper on the 
 table. During his absence his “jolly,” that is, his accomplice, who, 
 as I said, came in a little while before the other, begins to laugh at 
 the idea of some salt, held outside the face, doing any good to the 
 toothache, and says, of course, it’s all the man’s imagination. He 
 then proposes to have a bit of fun with the absent invalid, and pro- 
 ceeds to empty all the salt out of the paper on the table, and fill it3 
 place with sawdust.” 
 
 “ What’s he gangin’ to be at,” interrupted Mr. Sandboys, deeply 
 interested in the tale. 
 
 “ In a few minutes the gentleman with the toothache returns, almost 
 raving, and he pretends that the cold air has increased his pain to an 
 intolerable degree. He makes a rush to the paper that he had left behind, 
 and no sooner applies it to his cheek than he declares the salt gives him 
 instantaneous relief ; whereupon the whole room begin to titter, and 
 the jolly, or accomplice, as I told you, is well nigh dying with 
 laughter as he informs the simpleton it’s nothing but fancy that’s 
 curing him, and that there’s no salt at all in the paper. But ‘ the 
 simpleton’ declares he knows far better, for he filled it himself out of 
 the salt-cellar just before he quitted home. The jolly then offers to 
 wager him a sovereign that there’s not so much as a pinch in it, but 
 the gentleman with the toothache is so certain about the matter, 
 that he says it will only be robbing a man to take a bet on such a 
 subject.” 
 
 “ The rwogue’s gettin’ honest aw of a sudden,” cried Mr. S., with a 
 chuckle. 
 
 “ At last the rest of the company, finding the gentleman so positive 
 over the business, get to say they don’t mind being robbed on the 
 same terms, and accordingly agree to bet him a sovereign or a crown 
 all round, that the paper has no salt in it ; whereupon the gentleman 
 with the toothache, who has managed during the laughter at his 
 expense to substitute the other packet from his pocket for the one 
 
ME. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 47 
 
 lying on the table, proceeds to unfold the paper — exhibits the salt 
 contained in it to the astonished company, and then robs them — as he 
 candidly confessed he would — of their money.” 
 
 Mr. Sandboys had now heard so much, that he began to shudder at 
 the idea of trusting himself within several miles of such wickedness, 
 and felt strongly inclined to propose to his wife that they should 
 return. However, not liking to confess his weakness, he again 
 thanked his experienced companion, declaring that he considered their 
 meeting one of the luckiest adventures in his life. What he had 
 heard, he told him, would at least have the effect of putting him on 
 his guard, and he would take good care, now he knew the artful ways 
 of the rogues, that none of the London rascals should have an 
 opportunity of imposing upon him. 
 
 “ How, there’s another very common trick practised by the flat- 
 catchers upon countrymen in London, with the greatest success,” con- 
 tinued the loquacious strange gentleman. He should just have time 
 to put Mr. Sandboys up to this, he added, before they reached the 
 next station, where, he regretted to say, he should be compelled to 
 leave him and his charming family. He expected, he said, as he 
 poked Mr. Sandboys in the ribs, and winked his eye at him, to tall 
 in with a party there whom he had been looking after these many 
 months, for nailing a prop with a spark in it. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys were both extremely sorry to be obliged so 
 soon to part with a gentleman from whom they confessed they had 
 derived so much pleasure and profit. 
 
 The strange gentleman bowed, and proceeded with the promised 
 information. “ Well,” said he, “ as I before observed, one of the most 
 common and most successful of the flat-catchers’ tricks is, to pretend 
 to put a countryman on his guard against the rogueries of the light- 
 fingered gentry in town. They will tell him long stories, as to how 
 the London thieves are taught to practise upon pockets with bells 
 attached to them, so that they will ring with the least motion; and 
 how it really is not safe for any one to walk the streets with even a 
 sixpence in his possession.” 
 
 “Now, beant it keynd of the villans, Aggy, eh?” said Mr. S., 
 jocularly, to his better half. 
 
 “ When they have thus disarmed the chawbacon of all suspicion, 
 they will begin to show him — as a great secret of course — where they 
 keep their money.” 
 
 “ Nae, will they now!” 
 
 “ Some will let him see how they’ve got it stitched in the waistband 
 of their trowsers, while others will pull theirs from their fob, declaring 
 they were told by one of the most experienced police-officers that it 
 w r as quite as safe, and even safer, there than if it were sewed to their 
 breeches, provided — and on this, sir, I would impress upon you that 
 the trick mainly lies — it is rolled up quite tight, and then slipped into 
 the watch-pocket edgewise, in a peculiar way. Whereupon they very 
 kindly offer to put the countryman’s money in his fob, and to stow 
 
48 1851 ; ok, the adventures of 
 
 it away for him as safely as the experienced police-officer had done 
 theirs.” 
 
 “ Yes, varra keyndly! varra! and preyme and seafe they’ll staw it 
 awa’, I’ll be baund.” 
 
 “ Now, if you’ll allow me your purse, sir, for one moment, I’ll show 
 you how the whole affair is managed.” 
 
 Mr. Sandboys drew forth from the pocket of his trowsers the little 
 red cotton bag in which he carried his stock of gold and notes, and 
 handed it over, as requested, to his fellow-traveller, saying, “ Ise varra 
 ’bleeged, I’se sure ; an’ how I’ll ever pay tha for all thy guidness, I 
 dunnet ken. Beant it keynd of t’ gentleman, now, Aggyl” 
 
 But that lady made no reply; she merely watched, with intense 
 interest, the operations of the strange gentleman. 
 
 “ You see,” said that person, as he took Mr. Sandboys’ purse in his 
 hand, and commenced rolling it backwards and forwards on his knee, 
 “ it’s all done by what we call palming. If I intended to deceive 
 you, now is the time I should do it; for while you fancied I was 
 reducing the contents of your purse to the smallest possible compass, 
 I really should be substituting another for it; and then I should 
 proceed to place it all safe for you, thus — ■” 
 
 Here the strange gentleman proceeded to lift up the long-waisted 
 waistcoat of the grateful Mr. Sandboys, and introduced the small 
 red-cotton bag, in which his money was contained, into his fob ; after 
 which he gave the purse a peculiar twist round, — for in this, he said, 
 the London rogues made out that the whole virtue consisted. In 
 reality, however, he told him, there was little or nothing at all in 
 it, and it was only upon the very simplest people that the trick was 
 ever attempted to be practised now-a-days. 
 
 “ Well, I sud say as much, for onie mon cud see through t’ trick 
 wi hawf an eye,” exclaimed the Buttermere philosopher. 
 
 “ With such a gentleman as yourself, of course, a man would not 
 stand the least chance,” continued the stranger; “especially after 
 all I’ve put you up to; still the trick, common as it is, and 
 extraordinary as I’ve not the least doubt it must strike a man of 
 your discernment that it ever can succeed — still, I say, it has one 
 thing to recommend it, which is, that the fob is perhaps, after all, 
 about the most secure place for keeping one’s money. In crowds or 
 lonely places, nothing is more easy than for one man to pinion the arms 
 behind a gentleman, while another rifles his breeches-pockets ; and as 
 for carrying either a purse or a pocket-book in the coat-tails — why 
 you might as well invest it in one of King Hudson’s railways at 
 once ! Whereas, in the fob, you see, it takes so long to get at it, that 
 it is not possible to be extracted in that short space of time in which 
 street-robberies require to be executed. So, if you take my advice, — 
 the advice, I think I may say, of a person of no ordinary experience, 
 
 - — you will continue to keep your purse in your fob as I have 
 placed it!” 
 
 Mr. Sandboys again expressed his deepest gratitude for all the 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 49 
 
 valuable information he had received, and promised to carry out the 
 injunctions be had given him. If ever the strange gentleman’s busi- 
 ness should lead him to visit Cumberland — though, Mr. Cursty said 
 with a half laugh, there weren’t much call for the likes of him in that 
 “wharter of t’ warl” — still, if ever he should be coming towards 
 Buttermere, he could only say there would always be a bed and a 
 dish of sugar’d cruds and a hearty welcome for him at Hassness. 
 
 The hospitable Cursty had scarcely finished extracting a pledge 
 from the strange gentleman to come and spend a month with him 
 at the earliest opportunity, when the pace of the carriages began to 
 slacken, the panting of the engine ceased, the break was heard grating 
 on the wheels, sending forth that peculiar odour which invariably 
 precedes the stoppage of all railway-trains. The whistle sounded — 
 and amidst the ringing of bells, the Sandboys and their companion 
 reached the Preston station. 
 
 Here the strange gentleman having slipped on again the several 
 articles of disguise with which he had dispensed on entering, shook Mr. 
 and Mrs. Cursty violently by the hands, and promising to call and see 
 them some time or other, he made an extremely low bow to the ladies, 
 and in a few minntes was lost in the crowd. 
 
 On his departure the conversation of Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys related 
 solely to the agreeable manner and vast experience of their late com- 
 panion. Cursty’s enthusiasm knew no bounds. His darling Aggy, 
 however, was a little more circumspect in her praise, and did not 
 hesitate to confess — that there was something about t’ gentleman 
 she didn’t half like-— she couldn’t exactly tell what; but there was 
 something so peculiar in his manner, that for her part, she was not quite 
 so much taken with him. He was a very pleasant, agreeable man 
 enough, but still — she could not say why — all she knew was — she did 
 not like him. And then, as the discussion on their late companion’s 
 merits rose rather high, she begged her husband to mark her words, 
 for she felt convinced in her mind — indeed, she had a certain kind 
 of a presentiment — a strange kind of a feeling that she couldn’t 
 describe — and it was no use Cursty’s talking — but her impression 
 was — and she hoped Mr. Sandboys would bear it well in mind — that 
 they should hear of that gentleman again some fine day; and that 
 was all she wished to say about the matter. 
 
 With this slight discussion to enliven the tedium of the journey, 
 the distance between Preston and Manchester passed so quickly, that 
 when the collector at the Manchester station called for the tickets, 
 Mr. Sandboys could not help expressing his astonishment at the rapi- 
 dity of their travelling. 
 
 “ Now, sir, if you please — -quick as you can — show your tickets ; — 
 tickets — tickets.” 
 
 Mr. Sandboys instinctively thrust his hand to the bottom of his 
 trowsers’ pocket, but then, remembering that the red cotton bag in 
 which he had securely deposited the precious vouchers had been 
 shifted to his fob, he began a vain attempt to fish up his money-bag, 
 
50 
 
 1851 ; OK, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 from the depths of the narrow little tube of a watch-pocket in which 
 the strange gentleman had so kindly inserted it. 
 
 “ Now, sir, if you please !” again shouted the impatient collector. 
 “ Now, sir !” 
 
 But the more impatient the man became, the more nervous grew 
 Mr. Sandboys, and though he worked his fore-finger round and round, 
 he could not, for the life of him, lay hold of the desired red cotton 
 receptacle. 
 
 At length, with the united aid of Mrs. Sandboys and the collector, 
 the fob was emptied of its contents, and then, to Cursty’s great terror, 
 it was discovered that the strange gentleman, and assumed member of' 
 the Detective Police Force, had practised upon the unsophisticated 
 native of Buttermere the very trick against which he was pretending 
 to put him on his guard. The purse was to all outward appearances 
 the same — the interior, however, consisted of a congregation of whist 
 counters and Bank of Elegance notes. 
 
 The mere possession of such articles was in itself suspicious, but 
 coupled with the absence of all tickets on the part of the Sandboys 
 family, the circumstance appeared to assume so dishonest a character, 
 that the collector made no more ado but called a policeman and gave 
 the whole family into custody; saying, they had neither tickets nor 
 money in their possession, and that he found on the old one a whole 
 purseful of sham notes and sovereigns ; and that he had not the 
 least doubt it was a deep laid scheme on his part to defraud the 
 Company. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys raved, and Mrs Sandboys wept; Miss Sandboys 
 in treated, while wicked Master Jobby could hardly contain himself 
 for laughter. 
 
 The united battery of the family, however, proved of no avail, and 
 the whole six of them, including Postlethwaite and Ann Lightfoot, 
 were dragged off' to the Town Hall, there to give some account of 
 themselves, and urge every reason in their power why they should 
 not, one and all, be committed as rogues and vagabonds, for a month, 
 with hard labour, to the Hew Bailey. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 51 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 “ Hout, man! wl)at signifies repeynin’, 
 
 Owr grankin’, snifteran’, twistin’, tweynin’, 
 
 If down leyfe’s kill we be decleynin’, 
 
 We cannot slack, 
 
 Then gang on decent without wkeynin’, 
 
 Or hingin’ back. 
 
 Leyfe, mak’ the best on’t ’s nowght owr pleesin’, 
 
 As every day some fash comes teasin’, 
 
 An’ oft eneugh the wheels want greesin’ 
 
 To keep them ga’un, 
 
 Then brouce about nor tek sec preesin’ 
 
 To nate our awn.” 
 
 The New Tear's Epistle. 
 
 “ There’s sic a gang in our town, 
 
 The deevil cannot wrang them, 
 
 And cud yen gat ’em put i’ prent 
 Aw England cuddent bang them. 
 
 ■* * * * * 
 
 Cheat who cheat can’s the common rule, 
 
 Fwoaks a’ cheat yen anither; 
 
 For he that’s nowtlrer kneave or fuol, 
 
 God seake ! what brought him hither.” 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, when he had time for reflection, began to see that 
 he was very unpleasantly situated. The circumstances against him 
 he was obliged to confess, when he came to review them judicially, 
 did look particularly black. 
 
 In the first place, as he said to himself, he had not only been de- 
 tected travelling without a ticket, and without money; hut, what he 
 felt was equally suspicious, without so much as a box, bag, or parcel 
 among the whole half-dozen members of his family. If he accounted 
 for the possession of the counterfeit coin and notes by declaring that 
 he had been imposed upon, still, how was he satisfactorily to explain 
 to any unprejudiced mind that combination of mischances that had 
 deprived him of his luggage ? 
 
 Then, supposing, he went on arguing with himself, he could suffi- 
 ciently prove his innocence to the authorities, to induce them to 
 abandon the charge against him, what was to become of him? — in a 
 strange town, without a friend, without a shilling — or without a 
 change of linen for himself or any of the miserable members of the 
 wretched family that looked up to him for protection. 
 
 If he escaped the prison, there was nothing that he could see left 
 for him hut the workhouse; and, unsophisticated as he was, still he 
 was man of the world enough to know that the workhouse was much 
 the worse of the two. 
 
 “Waistomea! Waistomea!” he inwardly ejaculated, as he thought 
 of his many troubles. 
 
 e 2 
 
52 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENT ORES OF 
 
 To enliven the terrors of his position. Mrs. Sandboys obliged him, on 
 the road to the Police-office, by now sketching an imaginary picture of 
 the whole family at work on the treadmill, and now painting in the 
 darkest colours portraits of herself, Elcy, and Ann Lightfoot in the 
 female ward of the union, picking oakum, and Cursty, Jobby, and 
 deaf Postlethwaite, in the yard of the same wretched establishment, 
 engaged in the gentlemanly occupation of cracking stones. 
 
 The only hope, she gave him to understand very plainly, that she 
 could see for them was, to get the parish to pass them to their own 
 county ; and then, in the depths of her misery, she wished to “ guidness ” 
 they had remained contented at Buttermere, and never made up their 
 minds to enjoy themselves. 
 
 But no sooner had the entire six been crammed into the dock at 
 the Police-office, and the Inspector cast his eyes towards the chief 
 prisoner, than, suddenly recognising him as a fellow countryman, 
 he asked him whether he remembered one Johnny Wren, who had 
 left Buttermere some ten years before, and “listed” in the Life 
 Guards. 
 
 This was a piece of good fortune which Mr. Sandboys, seeing how 
 uncivilly the fates had lately treated him, was in no way prepared for ; 
 however, Johnny soon removed his fellow-countryman from the dock 
 to a seat by his side; and when he had listened to the series of 
 misadventures that had befallen his old friend, he begged of him not 
 to worry himself any further about his troubles, as he had a few 
 pounds by him, and should be most happy to place the money at his 
 service. 
 
 When this bit of good luck had dispelled all the melancholy of 
 the family, Johnny himself proceeded to tell Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys 
 how, after ’listing in the Guards, he had received an injury while 
 riding, and how he had then been presented with a berth in the 
 London Police, whence he had been promoted to the post he at 
 present filled in Manchester. 
 
 In a short time Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys had in a measure forgotten 
 all their previous troubles and distresses, in the kindness and hospi- 
 tality of Inspector Wren. 
 
 After partaking of such fare as his establishment afforded, Mr. 
 Sandboys proceeded, under the guidance of the Inspector, to take a 
 glance round the town. 
 
 Manchester at any time is, perhaps, one of the peculiar sights that 
 this country affords. 
 
 To see the city of factories in all its bustle and all its life, with 
 its forests of tall chimneys, like huge masts of brick, with long black 
 flags of smoke streaming from their tops, is to look upon one of those 
 scenes of giant industry that England alone can show. As you pace 
 its busy streets, you hear the drone of a thousand steam-engines, 
 humming in the ears like a hive. As you sit in your home, you feel 
 the floor tremble with the motion of the vast machinery, whirling on 
 every side. 
 
 Here the buildings are monstrous square masses of brick, pierced 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 53 
 
 with a hundred windows, while white wreaths of steam puff fitfully 
 through their walls. Many a narrow thoroughfare is dark and 
 sunless with the tall warehouses that rise up like bricken cliffs on 
 either side. The streets swarm with carts and railway-vans, with 
 drivers perched high in the air, and “ lurrys” — some piled with 
 fat round hags of wool, others laden with hard square stony- 
 looking blocks of cotton, and others filled with many a folded piece 
 of unbleached woven cloth. Green covered vans, like huge chests on 
 wheels, rattle past, — the bright zinc plates at their sides, telling that 
 they are hurrying with goods to or from some “ calender,” “ dyer,” or 
 “ finisher.” 
 
 At one door stands a truck laden -with red rows of copper cylinders, 
 cut deep with patterns. This basement or kitchen is transformed 
 into the showroom of some warehouseman, and as you look down the 
 steps into the subterranean shop, you can see that in front of where 
 the kitchen range should stand, a counter extends, spread with bright- 
 coloured velveteens, while the place of the dresser is taken up with 
 shelves, filled with showy cotton prints. The door-posts of every 
 warehouse are inscribed with long catalogues of names, like those 
 of the Metropolitan Inns of Court; and along the front of the tall 
 buildings, between the different floors, run huge black boards, gilt with 
 the title of some merchant firm. 
 
 Along the pavement walk bonnetless women, with shawls drawn 
 over their heads, and their hair and clothes spotted with white fluffs 
 of cotton. In the pathway, and at the corners of the principal 
 streets, stand groups of merchants and manufacturers — all with their 
 hands in their pockets — some buried in their coat-tails — others plunged 
 deep in their breeches, and rattling the money — and each busy 
 trafficking with his neighbour. Beside the kerb-stones loiter bright- 
 coloured omnibuses, the tired horses with their heads hanging low 
 down, and their trembling knees bulging forward — and with the 
 drab-coated and big-buttoned driver loitering by their side, and ready 
 to convey the merchants to their suburban homes. 
 
 Go which way you will, the whistle of some arriving or departing 
 railway-train shrieks shrilly in the ears; and at the first break of 
 morning, a thousand factory bells ring out the daily summons to 
 work — and then, as the shades of night fall upon the town, the many 
 windows of the huge mills and warehouses shine like plates of burnished 
 gold with the myriads of lights within. The streets, streaming with 
 children going to or coming from their toil, are black with the moving 
 columns of busy little things, like the paths to an ants’ nest. 
 
 Within the factories, the clatter and whirr of incalculable wheels stuns 
 and bewilders the mind. Here, in long low rooms, are vistas of card- 
 ing-engines, some disgorging thick sheets of white, soft-looking wad- 
 ding, and others pouring forth endless fluffy ropes of cotton into tall tin 
 cylinders; while over-head are wheels, with their rims worn bright, 
 and broad black straps descending from them on every side, with their 
 buckles running rapidly round, and making the stranger shrink as he 
 passes between them. On the floors above are mules after mules, with 
 
54 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 long lines of white cops, twirling so fast that their forms are all blurred 
 together; while the barefooted artisan between draws out the slender 
 threads as from the bowels of a thousand spiders. Then too there are 
 floors crowded with looms all at work, tramping like an army, and 
 busy weaving the shirts and gowns of the entire world, and making 
 the stranger wonder how, with the myriads of bales of cotton that are 
 here spun, and with the myriads of yards of cotton that are here 
 woven, there can be one bare back to be found among the whole 
 human family. 
 
 But Manchester, at the time of Mr. Sandboy’s visit, was not the 
 Manchester of every-day life. 
 
 The black smoke no longer streamed from the tall chimneys of its 
 factories — the sky above was no longer swarthy, as if grimed with the 
 endless labour of the town, but clear, and without a cloud. Not a 
 cart, nor a van, nor a railway wagon, nor a lurry, broke the still- 
 ness of the streets, and the tramp of the policeman on his rounds 
 was alone to be heard. The mills were all hushed — the fires were 
 out — the engines were motionless — not a wheel whirred — not a loom 
 clacked — not a cop twirled, within them. The workers, young and 
 old, had all gone to take their share in England’s holiday. To walk 
 through the work-rooms that a little while ago had trembled and 
 clattered with the stir of their many machines, impressed the mind 
 with the same sense of desolation as a theatre seen by daylight. The 
 mice, startled at the strange sound of a footstep, scampered ' from out 
 the heaps of cotton that lay upon the floor, and spiders had already 
 begun to spin their webs in the unused shuttles of the looms. At 
 night, the many windows of the mills and warehouses no longer 
 shimmered, like gold, with the lights within, hut glittered, like plates 
 of silver, with the moon-rays shining on them from without. The 
 doors of the huge warehouses were all closed, and the steps grown 
 green from long disuse. Not a cab stood in front of the infirmary — 
 not a vehicle loitered beside the pavement in Market-street. 
 
 In the morning, not a factory bell was to be heard; nor a “bus” to 
 be seen bringing from the suburbs its crowds of merchants piled on 
 the roof and packed on the splash-board in front of the coachman. Not 
 a milkman dragged through the streets his huge tin can suspended on 
 wheels ; nor was a scavenger, with his long loose blue woollen shirt 
 and round-crowned hat, to he met with. 
 
 On Saturday night, the thoroughfares clattered not with the tread 
 of the thousands of heavy-booted operatives on the pavement; not a 
 grocer’s shop was brilliant with the ground-glass globes of its many 
 lamps; not a linendraper’s window was -stuck over with bills telling of 
 another “Tremendous Failure” or “Awful Sacrifice!” 
 
 In Smithfield, there was neither light ■ nor sound. The glossy 
 crockery and glittering glass no longer was strewn upon the ground, 
 and no impatient dealer was there jingling his cups and tumblers, 
 and rattling his basins to bring the customers to his stand. 
 The covered sheds, spread with bright-coloured handkerchiefs and 
 muslin, and hung with long streamers of lace, had all disappeared ; 
 
1*0 'Q.Vcm<| f-onr* I^od^Ltt^S - 
 
 'y^JAus t,s odi 7 pvx,v~L lUct ; 7 X«»/^ j~u,st ttb tk^ toost ttnl ou Zio kits to <L 7 err 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 55 
 
 the long narrow alleys of old-clothes stalls, decked with washed-out 
 gowns and brown stays, and yellow petticoats and limp bonnets, were 
 gone ; the old-boots stalls, bright with the highly-polished shoe, were 
 nowhere visible; nor the black hardware, nor the white wicker- 
 baskets, nor the dangling hairy brooms, nor the glass cases glittering 
 with showy jewellery. The booth-like cook-shops were shut up, and 
 not a boy was to be seen within them enjoying his cheap basin of 
 steaming soup or plate of smoking pie ; and the sheets of tripe, like 
 bundles of shammy leather, and the cow-heels, white and soddened, 
 like washerwomen’s hands, had disappeared from the stalls. 
 
 In Victoria Market the oranges were no longer to be seen piled up 
 in pyramids, and glittering like balls of gold against their ^white- 
 papered shelves. Not a sound of music was to be heard in any of the 
 harmonic taverns. The piano of “The Hen and Chickens” was hushed. 
 The fiddle and violoncello sounded not in “ The Cotton Tree.” At 
 Ben Lang’s the lights were all out, and the galleries empty — not a 
 seriously-comic song, nor comically-serious ditty disturbed the silence 
 of the “ Saloon.” 
 
 The shutters of the Exchange, too, were closed— none sat at the 
 tables, or stood at the desks scanning the papers. At Milner’s, 
 the patent iron safe that, laden with gold, had stood the attack 
 of twenty desperate robbers, was hidden for a time by the shut- 
 ters. Barton the stationer had eloped to London with his Love. 
 Nathaniel Gould and his brother from London had both returned to 
 the metropolis to see the Exhibition, and his mother. Binyons and 
 Hunter had given over desiccating their coffee, and had gone to air 
 themselves instead, in the metropolis. At Crowther’s Hotel, the 
 pretty barmaid was no longer to be seen, for “ The Angel” had retired 
 to London. At the Commercial Dining Booms, Bell’s joints had 
 ceased to be hot from twelve till three, for he, like the rest, had gone, 
 legs and shoulders and all, to the Great Exhibition; while Mrs. Ja. 
 Stewart, (“ professed cook,”) no longer recommended those gentlemen 
 who wanted a relish to try her chops. Mrs. Lalor, having exhausted 
 “ her winter supply of fancy shirts, braces, cravats, &c.,” had availed 
 herself of the opportunity of seeing the Exhibition to provide 
 herself with a summer stock. Mr. Albert, the dentist, of George- 
 street, whose “ artificial teeth, he assures us, are such perfect imita- 
 tions of nature, that it is confidently predicted they will speedily 
 supersede every other kind ,” had started for the metropolis, leaving 
 his incorrodible teeth behind him; and J. Casper, the tailor, of 
 Market-street, having “ invented a cloth with two distinct faces, which 
 may be worn on either side, and suitable for trowsers,” as well as 
 coats and vests, had turned his coat like the very best “ double-faced,” 
 and gone up in a pair of his own patent pantaloons, with the intention 
 of using the outsides for week days, and the insides for Sundays. At 
 the City Mourning Establishment, the young ladies of the shop had 
 given over sorrowing for the deceased friends of their customers, and, 
 substituting lively pink glaces for their sombre bombazins, had sud- 
 denly changed, like lobsters, from black to red, and gone up with the 
 
56 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 chief mourner of “ the establishment,” determined to have a few weeks’ 
 pleasure, like the rest of the world ; while Beddoe, of the opposition 
 depot for grief, had, “ in consequence of the mildness of the season,” 
 (coupled with its general healthiness) “ not only reduced all his 
 stock of the previous winter’s weeds and weepers, but finding the 
 mortality much below' the usual average, had put up the black 
 shutters of his shop, and affixed a hatchment, with the motto of 
 “Resurgam,” over his door, as a notice that he would turn up again 
 shortly. 
 
 Not a shop but had some announcement pasted on the shutters. In 
 the principal thoroughfares chickens scratched at the unremoved dust, 
 while the crowing of rival cocks sounded shrill in the silent streets. 
 Corpulent old ducks waddled along the kerb-stones to bathe themselves 
 in the gutter. In Market-street the grass was already beginning to 
 sprout between the stones. The cats, left to take care of themselves, 
 wandered about as thin as French pigs, and lay in wait for the birds, 
 that no longer scared by the noise, now began to flock and twitter 
 loudly in every thoroughfare. In the People’s Parks, pigs roamed 
 among the flowers, while geese and donkeys nibbled at the grass. 
 
 There was, however, one quarter of the deserted town where the 
 people were not holiday-making, but still labouring — for what was 
 to them, indeed, dear life — one district where the toil knew no 
 cessation — where the workmen had no money to spend on pleasure, 
 getting barely enough — slave as they might — to keep soul and body 
 together. 
 
 Round about the wretched purlieus of Rochdale-road the clicking of 
 the shuttles of the handloom weavers might still be heard. Early, 
 long before the light, and long after the dark, the weaver’s dim lamp 
 might be seen in the attic or cellar, and where some five-and- 
 twenty Avere styed together under one wretched roof, Mr. Sandboys 
 was led by Inspector Johnny Wren. 
 
 At the top of the house he found the rooms crowded with crazy 
 old looms, so that it Avas scarcely possible to move between — and here, 
 with beds of sacks of straw, and nothing but their own rags to cover 
 them by night, were a band of grim, liolloAV-cheeked, and half-starved 
 men, toiling away for a crust — and nothing more. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys started back in horror as he looked at the pinched 
 faces and gaunt figures of the workers. He asked Avhy they Avere not, 
 like the rest of the town, at the Exhibition of the Industry of all 
 Nations. 
 
 “Ha! ha! ha!” laughed out one Avith a Aveek’s beard on his chin — 
 “ last week I earnt three and ninepence, and this Aveek I shall have 
 got two and a penny. Exhibition of Industry ! let them as Avants to 
 see the use of industry in this country come and see this here exhi- 
 bition.” 
 
 “ I Avarrant it’ll beat all nations holloAV,” cried another. 
 
 And then the man laughed again, and so did all his felloAV-Avorkers, 
 in a grim, empty-bellied chorus. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys greAV someAvhat alarmed at the man’s manner, and 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 57 
 
 not finding much gratification in the contemplation of misery that he 
 knew it was out of his power to mitigate, beckoned Inspector Wren 
 away, and made the best of his road back to the house of his fellow- 
 countryman. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys had been anxiously awaiting his return for some 
 time. During the absence of Cursty, she had half made up her 
 mind to return to Hassness; and would have decided upon doing so 
 immediately had it not been for the loss of the luggage. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, however, now that he had wholly forgotten his late 
 troubles, was in no way desirous of giving way to what appeared to 
 be simply a small concatenation of adverse circumstances. Besides, 
 now that he saw matters were taking a more propitious turn, he began 
 to feel all his heroism returning ; and having made up his mind to 
 enjoy himself for a short period in the metropolis, why he would not 
 allow it ever to be said that he was weak enough to be wrested from 
 his purpose by a few mishaps. 
 
 His darling Aggy, however, thought far less of the heroism than 
 she did of her boxes ; and seeing the imminent peril in which she 
 stood of being deprived of the entire three- and- twenty packages 
 which contained the family linen and all their best clothes, besides a 
 sufficiency of notes to cover, as she and Cursty had calculated, all their 
 expenses in town, why she agreed with her lord and master that, 
 under all circumstances, it might perhaps be advisable to avail them- 
 selves of the kind offer of Mr. Johnny Wren to advance them money 
 enough to carry them on until they could obtain their boxes from the 
 railway station. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, being of the same opinion, consulted privately with 
 his friend Johnny Wren as to the amount he could conveniently spare 
 them ; and all the money-matters having been satisfactorily arranged, 
 the Sandboys family started once more on their journey, determined 
 this time, at least, to enjoy themselves. 
 
58 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 “ Now fifty shwort years lia’e flown owre us, 
 
 Sin’ first we fell in at the fair, 
 
 I’ve monie a teyme thowt, wi’ new pleasure, 
 
 Nae weyfe cud wi’ Aggy compare; 
 
 Tho’ thy mvose has gi’en way to-the wrinkle, 
 
 At changes we munna complain ; 
 
 They’re rich whea in age are leet hearted, 
 
 An’ mourn nit for days that are geane.” 
 
 The Days that are geane. 
 
 “We us’d to go to bed at dark, 
 
 And rase agean at four or five ; 
 
 The mwom’s the only teyme for wark, 
 
 If fwok are hilthy and wou’d thrive. 
 
 Now we git up — nay, God kens when! 
 
 And nuin’s owre suin for us to deyne ; 
 
 I’s hungry or the pot’s half boiled, 
 
 And wish for teymes leyke auld lang seyne.” 
 
 Lang Seyne. 
 
 At length the Sandboys reached the Metropolis, without any further 
 misadventure than being informed, on their arrival, that there was not 
 a bed to be had within five miles for love or money. 
 
 On reaching the Bull and Mouth, to their great astonishment they 
 found a large placard exhibited, inscribed with the following terrible 
 announcement — 
 
 “ The beds here are quite full.” 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, however, was not to be deterred; and, entering the 
 establishment, he sought for some one whose face he might remember 
 having seen on his previous visit. The head waiter no sooner entered 
 the coffee-room in answer to his summons, than he recognised the 
 face of the old attendant, and besought him to recommend him to 
 some place where he might obtain a bed for a night or two at the 
 least. 
 
 The only place that the waiter knew, as promising the remotest 
 chance of accommodation, was at the residence of a lady who, he was 
 informed, had been recently extending the conveniences of her esta- 
 blishment; and then, handing to Mr. Sandboys the lodging-house- 
 keeper’s address, he whisked his napkin under his arm, and, pulling 
 his front hair, departed with all the elegance of a head-waiter at an 
 old-fashioned establishment. 
 
 Arrived at the residence of the lady indicated by the gentleman 
 who superintended the supply of provisions to the inmates of the 
 Bull and Mouth, Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys were asked to step into the 
 passage (the lady apologizing for the parlours being both full), and 
 there Mrs. Fokesell, whose husband, she was happy to say, was at sea, 
 informed them, to their great horror, that she had only one hammock left 
 unoccupied; and if the lady and gentleman thought they could make 
 
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MB. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 59 
 
 shift in that until such time as they could meet with anything better, 
 why it was at their service for five shillings a night. The young lady and 
 the female servant Mrs. Fokesell might perhaps accommodate in her 
 bed, and if the footman wouldn’t mind lying on the knife-board, and 
 the young gentleman thought he could pass the night comfortably on 
 the top of the grand piano, why she would do everything in her power 
 to make them comfortable. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys said that, under the circumstances, they 
 must consent to avail themselves of whatever they could get; where- 
 upon the landlady politely informed them, that if they would follow 
 her down stairs, she would show them the only apartment she had to 
 spare. 
 
 But, as she was about to descend, a loud single knock was given at 
 the street door, and, begging their indulgence for a minute, she 
 returned to the passage to ascertain the business of the new-comer. 
 On answering the knock, she found that it was merely the coal-mer- 
 chant, who wished to be informed when she would like to have in 
 “ them there coals as she ordered.” 
 
 Mrs. Fokesell hastily told the man, that if they weren’t delivered 
 [the first thing in the morning, there wouldn’t be a bit of fire to “ bile 
 the dozen pots of shaving-water as was wanted by eight o’clock for 
 her lodgers.” 
 
 On closing the door, and rejoining Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys, who still 
 stood on the top of the kitchen stairs, Mrs. Fokesell led the way 
 to the basement, and, opening the kitchen door, stepped across the 
 area. Stopping in front of one of the two doors that led to what 
 the landlady was pleased to dignify by the name of a humble apart- 
 ment on the basement floor, she unfastened the padlock, and revealed 
 the interior of a cellar, from the arched roof of which was slung a 
 sailor’s hammock, while on the floor was spread a small square of 
 dingy carpet. In one corner, on fop of a beer-barrel, stood an appa- 
 ratus that did duty for a toilet-table. Against the whitewashed wall 
 hung a small sixpenny shaving-glass ; while, immediately beneath it, 
 there was placed a dilapidated chair. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys, who until that moment had never set eyes on that 
 peculiar kind of naval contrivance for obtaining a night’s rest under 
 difficulties, could not refrain from expressing her firm conviction that 
 it was utterly impossible for any woman of her size to deposit herself 
 safely in the interior of that thing, which people were pleased to call 
 a bed. 
 
 Mrs. Fokesell, however, begged to assure her that she had passed 
 many — many very pleasant nights in that very hammock, and with 
 the aid of the trestle which she had placed on the floor, and an 
 assisting hand from her husband, she was sure the lady would be 
 able to manage very well. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys himself was anything but pleased with the arrange- 
 ments of the proposed dormitory, and, secretly in his own mind, he 
 was inquiring of himself how, when he had lent the said assisting 
 hand to his better half, and safely lodged her within the depths of the 
 
60 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 suspended hammock, he himself was ever to join her there, for who, 
 he wanted to know, was there to perform the same kind office for 
 him 1 
 
 However, even if they had to take the bed down, and spread it on 
 the carpet, it Avould, thought Mr. Sandboys, be far preferable to none 
 at all, so he told Mrs. Fokesell that he and his good lady would avail 
 themselves of the accommodation, at least for that one night. 
 
 “ It’s all I have, ma’am,” said the landlady ; “ I have just let the 
 last tent on the tiles to a foreign nobleman, and seven shillings a 
 night is what I has from him. I assure you it’s a fact, ma’am. 
 There is not a foot in a respectable house that is not worth its length 
 in sovereigns, ma’am. Why, if you’ll believe me, ma’am, there’s my 
 next-door neighbour, she’s put a feather bed into her warm bath, and 
 let it off to a young East Injun at a guinea a week, for a month 
 certain. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, exhausted with his journey, made no more ado, but 
 closed the bargain with Mrs. Fokesell ; and, having partaken of some 
 fried chops, by way of supper, in the kitchen, he and his beloved 
 A ggy withdrew to the privacy of the cellar which was to constitute 
 their bed-chamber for the night. 
 
 After a brief consultation, it was agreed that, to prevent all chance 
 of taking cold in so damp a dormitory, they should retire to rest in 
 their clothes; and Mrs. Sandboys having disengaged herself of her 
 hood and cloak, prepared to make the perilous ascent. 
 
 By the aid of her Cursty’s hand she mounted the little trestle of 
 the beer-barrel, which she previously placed immediately under the 
 hammock, and then, turning her back towards the suspended bed she 
 managed, with a slight jump, to seat herself on the extreme edge of 
 the sacking. Her figure, however, being rather corpulent, the weight 
 of her whole body no sooner rested on one side of the oscillating 
 couch, than the whole apparatus slid from under her, and she was 
 suddenly plunged down on to the corner of the temporary toilet-table. 
 Fortunately for the good lady, the top of the artificial wash-hand- 
 stand consisted of a board merely laid across the head of a barrel; so 
 that immediately she touched the ricketty arrangement, the board, 
 basin, and pitcher were all tilted forward, and the entire contents of 
 the water-jug emptied full into her face, as she fell to the ground. 
 
 What with the crash of the crockery, the splashing of the water, 
 and the bumping of poor dear Mrs. Sandboys on the carpet, Cursty 
 was almost paralyzed with fright. He was afraid even to raise his 
 darling Aggy from the ground, for he felt that something serious 
 must have happened to her. 
 
 But Mrs. Sandboys luckily was sound in her bones, though severely 
 bruised in her flesh; and as Cursty helped her up from the floor, 
 she shook the water from her hair, and vowed that she would rather 
 sleep on the carpet all night than make another attempt to enter that 
 nasty, deceitful, swinging, unsteady thing of a bed. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys used all the endearing arts of which he was 
 master to induce the partner of his bosom to make a second attempt, 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 61 
 
 but his entreaties were in vain; for Mrs. Sandboys, whose body 
 still tingled with the failure of her previous essay, was in no way 
 inclined to listen to his solicitations. 
 
 But the persevering Cursty pleaded so hard that at last be got her 
 to consent, that provided he would first get into the hammock him- 
 self, and would lift her into it after him, she wouldn’t mind obliging 
 him in that way — for she could see no other plan by which she was 
 ever to be safely deposited within it. 
 
 Accordingly, Mr. Sandboys, when, after a few unsuccessful but harm- 
 less endeavours, he had managed to get his entire body fairly into the 
 sailor’s bed, leant over the side in order to assist his better-half to join 
 him within it. But on his putting out his arms to lift the lady up to 
 the required height, the delusive, bendable bedstead turned inside out, 
 and shot him, mattrass, blankets, and counterpane, together with his 
 Aggy, plump on to the ground. 
 
 The fall shook Mr. Sandboys almost as much as when the pig had 
 laid on his back in the brook, and it was long before he could bring 
 himself even to propose to his wife to make another attempt to enter 
 the wretched wabbling, swingy substitute for the substantial security 
 of a four-post. 
 
 At length Mrs. Sandboys, who two or three times had just 
 saved herself from falling almost flat on her nose while dozing in the 
 dilapidated chair, began to be fairly tired out; and Cursty, who had 
 sat on the top of the beer-barrel till Ms legs were nearly cut through 
 with the sharp edge of the hoop, found that it was impossible to con- 
 tinue his slumbers in so inconvenient a posture, so he took his fat and 
 dozing little wife in his arms, and standing once more on the trestle, 
 fairly lifted her into the hammock ; after which, seizing the chain that 
 hung from the iron plate in the pavement above, be with one despe- 
 rate bound swung himself by her side into the hammock. 
 
 In a few minutes they were both fast locked in slumber; but 
 Cursty ’s repose was destined to be of short duration; for soon 
 Mrs. Sandboys, shaking him violently, roused him from Ms rest. 
 
 “ Up wi’thee ! — up wi’thee ! thar be summet beastes a-crawling 
 ower my face, Cursty. Ah, these Lon’on beds! We’ll be beath 
 yeeten up, aleyve, if thee staps here, Cursty !” 
 
 And so saying, she gave her lord and master so stout a thrust in 
 his back, that drove Ms weight to the edge of the hammock, and again 
 brought him rapidly to the floor. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys in her fright soon followed her husband; and then 
 nothing would satisfy her but she must have the whole of the bedding 
 and clothes turned out on the ground, and minutely examined by 
 the light of the rushlight. 
 
 But Mr. Sandboys, already deprived of the half of his night’s rest, 
 was in no way fit for the performance desired by bis wife ; and, in 
 order to satisfy her qualms, be proposed that the mattrass alone 
 should be replaced in the hammock, and then she need have no fear. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys was herself in no humour to bold out against so 
 apparently rational a proposal ; and, having consented to the compro- 
 
62 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 mise, there began the same series of arduous and almost perilous 
 struggles to ensconce their two selves once more in the interior of the 
 hammock. 
 
 After several heavy tumbles on both sides, and breaking the rusty 
 iron chain which served to hold down the circular trap in the pave- 
 ment above, the worthy couple did ultimately manage to succeed 
 again in their courageous undertaking; and then, fairly exhausted 
 with their labours, they closed their eyes just as the blue light of day 
 was showing through the cracks of the coal-cellar door. 
 
 The Cumberland couple had continued their rest undisturbed some 
 few hours, when Mrs. Sandboys was aroused by hearing the circular 
 iron trap moved above her head. She woke her husband with a 
 violent shake, telling him, as soon as she could make him understand, 
 that she was sure some of her friends, the London thieves, were pre- 
 paring to make a descent through the pavement into their subterra- 
 nean bed-chamber. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys was no sooner got to comprehend the cause of her 
 alarm, than he saw the end of the chain lifted up, and the trap re- 
 moved from the pavement above them. 
 
 Instinctively the couple rose up in their bed, and leant their heads 
 forward to ascertain the precise nature of the impending danger. 
 Suddenly they were startled by a gruff voice from above, shouting 
 “ Bee-elow,” and immediately there descended through the round hole 
 at the top of the cellar a shower of large and small coals, the noise 
 of which completely drowned their cries, and beneath which they 
 were almost buried alive. 
 
 Before they could extricate themselves from the black mass, that 
 nearly filled their hammock, a second shower of Walls’ End was 
 poured down upon them ; and had it not been for the landlady observ- 
 ing from the kitchen that the coal-porter was about to shoot the half 
 ton she had ordered on the previous evening to be delivered early that 
 morning into Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys’ hammock, that worthy couple 
 assuredly must have perished in the dusty, grimy avalanche. 
 
 Mrs. Fokesell rushed into the area, cried out loudly to the man to 
 hold back the third sack, which he had just poised over the hole on 
 his shoulder, previous to discharging its contents on the bodies of the 
 unhappy Sandboys, and tearing open the door, delivered the blackened 
 and the bruised couple from the perils of their wretched situation. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CORSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 05 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 “ But if we wullent be content 
 Wi’ th’ blessings sec as heav’n lias sent, 
 
 But obstinately wad prevent 
 
 Wise fate’s decree, 
 
 Sec fwoak mun just pursue tbe bent 
 
 1’ their own bree. 
 
 “ What if tbe hand of fate, unkind, 
 
 Has us’d fremtly, need we peyne? 
 
 Tko’ you’ve lost your sight an’ me meyne, 
 
 We cannot mend it. 
 
 Let us be glad the powers deveyne 
 
 Nae war’ extendit. 
 
 “ Let us — sen leyfe is but a span— 
 
 Still be as canty as we can, 
 
 Reraemb'ring Heaven has ordered Man 
 
 To practise patience, 
 
 An’ not to murmur ’neath his ban', 
 
 T.eyke feckless gatlons." 
 
 John Stagy. 
 
 Now, it so happened, that in the house where the Sandboys had 
 taken up their residence, there was located on the second floor one of 
 those malades imaginaires, in a white robe-de-chambre, who are so 
 popular and pretty at the present day. 
 
 Mrs. Blanche Quinine certainly dressed the part of the invalid to 
 the life — or, rather, to the death. Robed from head to foot in the 
 purest white, she managed to look extremely well and ill at one and 
 the same time. She was got up with the greatest possible regard to 
 medical effect; for, although Mrs. Quinine was naturally a plump and 
 strong-built woman, she was costumed so artistically, and looked, as 
 she languished on the couch, so perilously delicate, that one could not 
 help fancying but that, with the least shock or jar to her nerves, 
 every bone in her body would fall asunder, like the skeleton in the 
 Fantoccini, at the sudden l ' bomb” of the drum. 
 
 Her complexion — which could not have been called florid even at 
 her healthiest moments — was rendered still more pale by the “ bloom” 
 of “ babies’” powder, with which she never failed to indue it, previous 
 to leaving her chamber. Her eyes — they were of the Irish grey kind — 
 she always kept half-closed, as if from long want of rest — but then 
 Nature had blessed Mrs. Quinine with long, dark, sweeping eye- 
 lashes, and these were never seen to such perfection as when brought 
 into contrast with her white skin. Her upper lip was drawn up 
 slightly, as if in continual pain — but then Mrs. Quinine was gifted 
 with a “ remarkably fine set of teeth,” and was sufficient “ woman of 
 the world” to know that there was no use in her having such things 
 unless she showed them. Moreover, the favourite, because the most 
 touching, posture, of Mrs. Quinine, was with her head slightly drooping. 
 
66 
 
 1851 ; OK, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 and her cheek resting on her hand — hut then the lady prided herself 
 on the smallness of her extremities (the tips of toes could be just 
 seen at the end of the couch, peeping from beneath her robe) ; and, 
 with her arms raised, she knew that the blood could not circulate so 
 freely in her fingers, and, consequently, that she would be saved the 
 trouble of continually rubbing them, in order to improve their 
 whiteness. 
 
 And, truth to say, the illness of Mrs. Quinine was as agreeable to 
 herself as it was interesting to her doctor and acquaintances, and 
 inconvenient to her husband. Mrs. Blanche’s prevailing belief was, 
 that she was suffering from extreme debility, and that if she had not 
 the very best of food to live upon, accompanied with continual change 
 of air and scene, she felt satisfied she had but a short time to remain 
 in this world. 
 
 In this conviction Mrs. Quinine was fully borne out by the pro- 
 found opinion, most gravely delivered, with the lady’s pulse in one 
 hand, and his gold repeater in the other, by her medical adviser — 
 that “ dear, loveable old man,” Doctor Twaddles — who added, that 
 unless she would keep herself quiet, and refrain from making the 
 least exertion, and could at the same time be secured perfect peace of 
 mind at home, without being thwarted in the slightest wish — as he 
 said this, the doctor knitted the grey, bushy brows which hung 
 down about his eyes like a Skye terrier’s, and looked death-warrants 
 at the husband of the lady — he would not take it upon himself to 
 answer for the consequences. 
 
 Now, Doctor Twaddles was a gentleman who had fortunately been 
 blest with a remarkably imposing appearance. 
 
 Nature had been most bountiful to the Doctor. He had an intensely 
 “fine bald head of his own” — round and hairless as an ostrich’s egg; 
 and this attractive exterior had been worth a thousandfold more to 
 him than the interior ever could have been, even had it been as full 
 of brains as every egg is said to be full of meat. Had the Doctor de- 
 pended for his advancement in life on his skill, he might have re- 
 mained without a patient and without a crust ; but, so to speak, standing 
 on his bald head, he had been able to drink his wine daily, although 
 he certainly was “ no conjuror.” 
 
 The head, to which Doctor Twaddles owed so much, and which had 
 won for him such a number of hatbands from departed patients, 
 was fringed with silver, for the little hair that still lingered round it 
 was white as driven snow. His features were prominent and sta- 
 tuesque. His coat, which was always scrupulously clean and dust- 
 less, was black and glossy as that of a mourning-coach horse; and he 
 so far clung to the manners of the old school, as to allow his nether 
 garments to descend only to his knees, where they were fastened by 
 a pair of small gold buckles. His legs, which — to do Doctor 
 Twaddles justice — were exceedingly well shaped, and perhaps accounted 
 for the Doctor’s still clinging to the obsolete fashion of exhibiting 
 them, were veiled by a pair of very thin gossamer-like black-silk 
 stockings, through which the flesh showed with a pinky hue; so that 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 G7 
 
 the medical gentleman’s calves, as he sat with them crossed one over 
 the other, so as to give the foremost an extra plumpness, bore a 
 strong resemblance in colour to black currant jam. 
 
 The only ornaments that the Doctor wore, were a diamond pin 
 “ set transparent,” and so pellucid as to be scarcely visible on the 
 white neckcloth that it fastened; and a series of mourning rings on 
 his third and little fingers, as ostentatious marks of respect from some 
 of the most illustrious and wealthy patients he had buried; while 
 from below his waistcoat there dangled a bunch of gold seals, almost 
 as big as the tassel at the end of a bell- rope, and these the Doctor 
 delighted, as he leant back in his chair, to swing up and down, like a 
 muffin-bell, while delivering his opinion. 
 
 Doctor Twaddles was wont to increase the importance of his opinion 
 by multiplying himself into many, and substituting, in his discourse, 
 for the plain, humble, and honest I, the pompous, imposing and pre- 
 sumptuous We, — -the special prerogative of inonarchs and editors. Cer- 
 tainly this style of discourse was fraught with some few attendant 
 advantages, even beyond that of leading the hearer to believe that the 
 verdict pronounced was not the judgment of one solitary individual, 
 but the unanimous opinion of an indefinite number; for when the 
 Doctor, after due feeling of pulse and knitting of brows, said to his 
 patients that we must take a blue pill and black dose, it appeared to 
 the invalid as if the generous Physician intended to swallow half his 
 own medicine. 
 
 But, on the other hand, some of the Doctor’s plural edicts had a 
 particularly singular sound with them; for when he told his lady- 
 patients that we must put our feet in hot water, it seemed as if he 
 intended indulging in a joint foot-bath with them. Equally strange 
 and startling did it sound when he said, that “ we really must go out 
 of town ;” or, stranger still, when in a mysterious manner he declared, 
 that “ we really must go to bed as quick as possible.” 
 
 Dr. Twaddles was a great favourite with the ladies, by whom he 
 was invariably described as a “ loveable old man.” His manner was 
 gentle and polite as a well-fee’d pew-opener. His voice he always 
 subdued to a complimentary sympathy, and he was especially tender 
 in his handling of his fair patients’ pulses. He was, moreover, 
 “ remarkably fond of children,” for whom he generally carried in his 
 pockets a small canister filled either with acidulated drops, “ refined 
 liquorice,” or “ black currant lozenges.” In his habits, too, he was 
 quite a family man, and never failed, if in his visits he found the more 
 healthy members of the family at a “ hot lunch,” of seating himself 
 good-humouredly at the table, and declaring that he must really have 
 a bit of the pudding, for he was happy to say that he was still quite a 
 boy in his “ love of sweets.” 
 
 Nor was the “advice” usually given by Dr. Twaddles of a less 
 attractive (character. 
 
 The Doctor invariably acted upon the apparently disinterested plan 
 of objecting to the use of physic — excepting of course in the most 
 urgent cases. Formerly, according to the old fable, curriers were 
 
68 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 pi-one to insist there was nothing like leather, but of late the contrary, 
 and far more lucrative, practice has sprung up among us ; and now-a- 
 days lawyers counsel their clients on no account to “ go to law,” — with 
 the greatest possible success ; and physicians rail at the exhibition of 
 physic- — to equal advantage. 
 
 With Doctor Twaddles, “ diet was everything” — all maladies pro- 
 ceeding, according to his popular pathology, from the stomach ; for 
 patients, he had long ago discovered, never objected to being fed 
 into good health, however strong an aversion they might have to being 
 dosed into convalescence. 
 
 Another mode of insinuation that the Doctor adopted was to explain 
 to the invalids, in language that they could not possibly understand, 
 the cause of the malady for which he was prescribing, and the reason 
 for the remedies he adopted : this he did in short family physiological 
 lectures, which he loved to illustrate by the most ordinary objects. He 
 would tell the astonished and half-affrighted patients how the greater 
 part of the food taken into the system acted simply as coals to the 
 vital fire, — how the lungs were, if he might be allowed the expression, 
 nothing more than the grate in which the alimentary fuel was being 
 consumed, and keeping up a continued supply of caloric for the human 
 frame, for, that the selfsame operation was going on in the human 
 chest as in the stove beside him. 
 
 As he said this, the bald-headed Doctor would lean back with evident 
 self-satisfaction in the easy chair, and swing his watch-seals round and 
 round like a watchman’s rattle. Then he usually proceeded to explain 
 how every human creature was burning away, in the process of respira- 
 tion, at the least one pound of charcoal per diem ; that every meal was, 
 when viewed with the philosophic eye, nothing more than throwing 
 another shovelful or two of coals on to the ever-consuming fire ; and 
 that for himself, he did not care in what form the charcoal was intro- 
 duced into the system, but one pound of it he must really insist upon 
 being swallowed daily. 
 
 Mrs. Quinine — who, by-the-bye, never lost an opportunity of im- 
 pressing upon strangers that her name was pronounced Keneen, even 
 as the Beauvoirs, the Cholmondeleys, the Majoribanks, and the Cock- 
 burns, insist upon being called Beavers, Chumleys, Marchbanks, and 
 Coburns — Mrs. Quinine, we repeat, agreed with the rest of the female 
 world in her estimation of the dear old Doctor Twaddles. Nor was it to 
 be wondered at, for the Doctor certainly did his best to make the lady’s 
 indisposition as pleasant and profitable as possible to her. 
 
 True to his dietetic discipline, the loveable old Physician gave the 
 lady to understand that all she required was nourishing food, and 
 accordingly his prescriptions consisted of a succession of the most agree- 
 able and toothsome delicacies; so that the fair invalid having merely 
 to submit to a course of high feeding, gave herself up to the care of the 
 dear Doctor with the most exemplary patience. t 
 
 At six in the morning, Mrs. Quinine began her dietetic course with 
 a cup of homoeopathic cocoa, that was kept simmering through the night 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 C9 
 
 in a small teapot, resting (heaven 3? nows why !) on the turrets of a china 
 castle, in the porcelain donjon of which burnt a melancholy spirit lamp. 
 This it was her husband’s duty to give the lady immediately her 
 eyes were opened. Her breakfast, which was mostly taken in bed, 
 consisted of coffee, procured, according to the express injunctions of 
 the Doctor, from a house where analysis had proved it to be unadulte- 
 rated, and made, after Doctor Twaddles’ own receipt, entirely with milk, 
 obtained from an establishment where the Doctor could vouch for its 
 being genuine. The coffee was sometimes accompanied with the lean 
 of a mutton-chop, “ cut thick,” and “ done with the gravy in it ;” 
 sometimes with a rasher or two of “ Dr. Gardner’s digestive bacon,” and 
 sometimes with the wing of a cold chicken ; while the bread of which 
 she partook was of the unfermented kind, had fresh every day from 
 the Doctor’s own man in the City. At twelve the invalid rose, and de- 
 scended to a light lunch of either oysters, a small custard pudding, 
 or some calf’s-foot jelly made palateable and strengthening with 
 wine ; and with this, and an egg or two beaten up with milk, and 
 flavoured with a glass of Madeira, the delicate lady was enabled 
 to linger on till the more substantial meal of the day. 
 
 Mrs. Quinine’s dinner, for the most part, was made up of a “ little 
 bit” of flsh and a “mouthful or two” of game; for the lady con- 
 descended but seldom to partake of butcher’s meat, and, when she 
 did so, it was solely of the more delicate and expensive kinds, known 
 as Southdown or Welsh mutton ; while the digestion of these was 
 assisted either with “Rumford ale,” or “India pale,” or “Guinness’,” 
 or some other agreeable and stimulating form of dietetic medicine, 
 procured from establishments which were noted for supplying only the 
 very best articles. 
 
 Her supper was usually eaten in bed, for the invalid was strictly 
 enjoined to retire to rest at an early hour; and long before she did 
 so, a fire was lighted in her bed-room, so that she might not suffer 
 from the shock of going into a cold apartment: for the same 
 reason, the lady’s bed was well warmed previous to her entering it; 
 and when she had been comfortably tucked up by her maid, a hot 
 water bottle swathed in flannel was placed at her feet. Here the 
 invalid was consoled either with a glass of warm white-wine-whey, or 
 a posset, or arrowroot bought expressly for her at Apothecaries’ Hall ; 
 and thus the poor delicate lady was enabled to keep body and soul 
 together until the morrow. 
 
 But the course of diet followed by the lady was far from settled, 
 for Doctor Twaddles paid great attention to what he termed “ the voice 
 of Nature,” and consequently gave strict orders that whatever his 
 patient fancied she was to have. Accordingly, Mrs. Quinine con- 
 tinually felt convinced that her system required change, and that she 
 needed some most expensive and agreeable article of diet. Now her 
 mouth was parched, and nothing but strawberries, though they cost a 
 guinea a pint, or a bunch or two of hot-house grapes, could relieve 
 her; then she would give the world for just a taste of spring lamb and 
 
70 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 new potatoes ; and then nothing would satisfy her hut a mouthful or 
 two of turbot, even though it were impossible to buy less than a 
 whole one. 
 
 All these little fancies Doctor Twaddles dignified by the name of 
 ■“instincts,” and declared that they were simply the out-speakings 
 of exhausted Nature. 
 
 Mrs. Quinine was, of course, too weak to walk abroad, so Doctor 
 Twaddles enjoined a daily airing in the park, when the weather was 
 mild, in an open carriage; or, if the lady preferred it, he would 
 advise a little horse exercise ; and as Mrs. Quinine thought she looked 
 extremely well in a habit and “wide-awake,” she seldom stirred 
 out unless mounted on a “ palfrey” from the neighbouring livery 
 stables. 
 
 Now these and other similar prescriptions of Doctor Twaddles made 
 illness so pleasant, that, coupled with the interesting character of the 
 invalid costume (Mrs. Quinine wore the prettiest of nightcaps, trimmed 
 with the most expensive of lace, when she received visitors in her bed- 
 room), the lady naturally felt disposed to feel indisposed. And it 
 was odd how the several complaints to which she professed herself 
 subject, came and went with the fashionable seasons. In winter she 
 was “ peculiarly susceptible” to bronchitis, so that this necessitated her 
 being in town at the gayest period of the metropolis. Doctor Twaddles 
 would not take upon himself to answer for the consequences if Mrs. 
 Quinine passed a winter in the provinces : and — what was a severe 
 calamity — the poor lady could go nowhere in the summer for change of 
 air, but to the fashionable and lively watering-places, for she was always 
 affected with the hay fever if she visited the more retired and conse- 
 quently duller parts of the country. 
 
 The prevailing afflictions of Mrs. Quinine, however, were neuralgia, 
 and “ a general debility of the system” — indeed, she was always 
 suffering from her “poor poor nerves;” and though subject to the 
 greatest depression of spirits in the presence of her husband, (for that 
 gentleman seldom remonstrated with her, but she burst into a flood of 
 tears, and declared he was “throwing her back,”) still, before com- 
 pany, she was always lively enough, excepting when the visitors made 
 tender inquiries after her health, and then no one certainly could be 
 more severely afflicted. 
 
 Nor was the “ debility” under which the lady laboured less eccentric 
 in its nature, for though it prevented her taking any exercise in the 
 open air — but in a carriage or on horseback — still, when an invitation 
 came to a dance, it in no -way interfered with her polking in an 
 “ extremely low” dress half the night through. 
 
 Mr. Quinine was an eminent painter of “ still-life ;” and though his 
 braces of partridges on canvas, and his dead hares, and his grapes 
 and pine-apples “ in oil” were highly admired, and fetched large sums, 
 it was nevertheless as much as he could do to pay the physician’s fees 
 by his game and fruit pieces. While his wife was breakfasting or 
 supping off her dainties in bed, or “ doing” the elegant and interesting 
 invalid in white cambric on the sofa in the front room, or riding out 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 71 
 
 in the Park, he, (poor man !) was painting away for dear life in his 
 studio at the back of the house. This the clever little artist (for he 
 stood but five foot five in his high-heeled Wellingtons) did without a 
 murmur; for, truth to say, he doated on his dear Blanche, and strove, 
 by making “ studies” of the “ birds” prescribed by Doctor Twaddles 
 before they were cooked for his wife’s dinner, somehow or other to 
 lessen the expenses of “the housekeeping;” for not one of the 
 Doctor’s delectable dietetic prescriptions was ever sent to Covent 
 Garden or Leadenhall Market to be “ dispensed,” but the economic 
 Quinine was sure to use it as a model before administering it to the 
 patient. 
 
 But even if the little man had felt inclined to raise his voice against 
 the course pursued, he would immediately have had the united battery 
 of Twaddles and Blanche opened against him; and while the lady 
 overpowered him with tears, the Doctor would have impressed upon 
 him, in the most solemn manner, that unless Mrs. Quinine could be 
 allowed to enjoy the greatest tranquillity of both mind and body, 
 and be assured the gratification of her slighest wish, it was beyond the 
 highest talent in the kingdom to undertake to say what distressing 
 event might happen. 
 
 The opening of the Great Exhibition had operated almost as magi- 
 cally upon the nerves of the susceptible Mrs. Quinine, as an invita- 
 tion to a The Dansante. Her bronchitis, and the “ short hacking 
 cough” which accompanied it, had almost disappeared under the 
 influence of the delicious p&te de Guimauve, prescribed by Doctor 
 Twaddles; the lady’s neuralgia had been dissipated by her steel 
 medicine (and she had swallowed enough of that metal in her time 
 to have admitted of being cut up into “ magnum bonum” pens for the 
 million); the “ weak state of her nerves” no longer required the carriage- 
 way in front of her house to be strewn with straw, nor the iron-hand 
 of the street-door knocker to be embellished with a white kid glove ; 
 for the lady had grown suddenly “ so much better,” that on request- 
 ing permission of Doctor Twaddles to visit the Exhibition, she 
 declared that she felt herself quite equal to the task of exploring even 
 its “ five miles of galleries.” 
 
 Doctor Twaddles did not hesitate to confess himself delighted at 
 the favourable change that had so evidently set in, saying it was due 
 solely to the wonderful constitution of Mrs. Quinine; but, like a 
 prudent man, he wished to “ see how matters went on” for a short 
 time, before he became a consenting party to her walking out — a 
 thousand little things as he said might happen to throw her back 
 again. 
 
 The consequence was that the lady made up her mind to take the 
 Doctor by surprise at his next visit, and not only to be ready in the 
 sitting-room to receive him when he called, but to be able to say that 
 she had breakfasted down stairs, and felt herself in no way fatigued 
 with the exertion. 
 
 Accordingly, Mrs. Quinine, for the first time since the coronation of 
 
72 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Her Majesty Queen Victoria — when she had been obliged to be 
 down in Parliament-street by six in the morning — had risen at day- 
 break. She had dressed herself with great care, so that she might be 
 able to make the most favourable impression upon Twaddles. She 
 had put on a clean white cambric robe-de-chambre, and left off apply- 
 ing the baby’s powder to her complexion ; she had, moreover, such a 
 delicate tinge of pink upon her cheeks, that it was difficult to say 
 how the colour had got there in so short a space of time. Yesterday, 
 she was as pale as if she had been white-washed — to-day, her cheeks 
 were as pinky as the inner lining of a shell. Whether the change 
 arose from the contrast of her white dress, or from the absence of the 
 wonted “violet powder,” or whether from the faintest touch of the 
 hare’s-foot that her prying maid had once discovered secreted in 
 the lower tray of her dressing-case, must for ever remain one of those 
 mysteries of the toilet that it is base presumption in Man to seek to 
 unravel. Suffice it, Mrs. Quinine, even in her severest illness, never 
 looked better; and as she left her bed-room, and gave a parting 
 glance at herself in the long cheval-glass, she smiled with inward 
 satisfaction at the appearance she made on her sudden restoration to 
 health. 
 
 Now as the lady was slowly descending the stairs on her way to the 
 breakfast room, Mr. Christopher Sandboys was rapidly mounting to an 
 upper apartment, whither he had been directed by Mrs. Fokesell as the 
 only convenient place where he could cleanse his face, hands, and clothes, 
 from the dust of the “ half-ton” of coals, in which he and the partner 
 of his bosom had been almost smothered. 
 
 The more “ particular” Mrs. Sandboys had retired to the nearest 
 “baths and washhouses,” convinced that nothing but a warm-bath 
 could ever restore her to her pristine purity. 
 
 The less fastidious Cursty, however, as we said before, was hasten- 
 ing up the stairs, two at a time, with a jug of warm water in his hand, 
 intent upon a good wash and effecting that physical impossibity of 
 scrubbing the blackamoor white ; for, so intensely sable with adhering 
 coal-dust was the complexion of Mr. Sandboys, that, truth to say, the 
 most experienced ethnologist would, at the first glance, have mistaken 
 that gentleman for one of the Ethiopian tribe. The lady in white 
 had descended the first flight of stairs, and was just preparing to turn 
 the corner of the second, when the black gentleman darted sharply 
 round, and bounced suddenly upon her. 
 
 The nervous Mrs. Quinine was in no way prepared for the sight of a 
 “ man of colour” in such a place or at such a time. Had even her 
 own husband pounced so unexpectedly upon her, the shock would 
 have been sufficient to have driven all the breath out of the body 
 of so susceptible a lady; but to find herself, without the least prepara- 
 tion, face to face with “ a black” — as Mr. Cursty Sandboys appeared to 
 be — was more than the shattered state of her nerves was able to bear. 
 
 The lady no sooner set eyes upon the sable monster than she 
 screamed like a railway engine on coming to some dark tunnel, and 
 fainted off dead into the arms of the astonished and terrified Sand- 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 73 
 
 boys ; and as the lifeless body of the invalid fell heavily against the 
 wretched Cursty, the dusty, grimy, coaly garments of that gentleman 
 left their deep black mark not only upon the white cambric robe but 
 imprinted a large black patch upon the cheek of the poor unconscious 
 Mrs. Quinine. 
 
 The industrious little artist who called that lady his wife was 
 busy in his studio, transferring a brace of wild ducks to canvas, 
 previous to their being cooked for his wife’s dinner, when he heard 
 the piercing scream of his dear Blanche. With his palette still upon 
 his thumb, and his wet paint-brush in his hand, he darted forth, and 
 discovered his lady insensible, in the arms of a man who, at first 
 sight, struck him as being nothing more refined than a London coal- 
 heaver. 
 
 Guarding his face with his palette, like a shield, the little artist 
 rushed at the amazed Sandboys, and began attacking him with his 
 paint-brush, as with a broadsword, while every stroke he made at the 
 wretched Cursty’s head, left a dab of paint upon his cheeks ; so that 
 by the time the indignant Quinine had broken the brush in his repeated 
 blows, the complexion of Mr. Sandboys was as dark and many- 
 coloured as that of a highly tattooed Indian chief. 
 
 In such a situation it was impossible for Cursty to defend himself ; 
 to have done as much he must have let the strange lady in white 
 drop to the ground. His gallantry bore the vigorous attack of the 
 enraged husband for some few minutes, but when the little painter 
 had discarded the impotent weapons of his art, and Sandboys saw him 
 about to belabour him with his fists, his Cumbrian blood could put 
 up with it no longer. Cursty impulsively withdrew his arm from 
 the lady’s waist, to throw himself into an attitude of self-defence ; 
 and, as he did so, the figure of the unconscious Mrs. Quinine fell 
 heavily on the floor. 
 
 The fall had the effect of bringing the lady to her senses, when 
 she immediately clung to the legs of the little artist so firmly as to 
 prevent his continuing the attack. Then, as that gentleman stooped 
 to raise his wife from the floor, and Sandboys advanced to explain 
 and apologize for, the misadventure, the lady no sooner set eyes on 
 the black face that had before deprived her of her senses, than she fell 
 into a violent fit of hysterics, and made the whole house ring with 
 her laughter. 
 
 The noise brought the hundred-and-one lodgers from their apart- 
 ments to the stairs, and, from the top to the bottom, at every landing- 
 place, was a bunch of heads “of all nations,” — bearded, whiskered, and 
 moustachio’d, — some in turbans, others in Greek caps, fez-caps, and 
 nightcaps — all enjoying the scene, and mightily taken with the 
 piebald state of Mrs. Quinine’s face and robe de chambre, and the party- 
 coloured character of Mr. Sandboy’s complexion. 
 
 Nor was Mrs. Sandboys less fortunate in her endeavours to free 
 herself from the black of the coals. Having removed the superficial 
 grubbiness from her skin by a hasty rinse of her face and hands at 
 
74 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the sink in the hack kitchen — the only available place — hut which 
 merely had the effect of diluting her complexion down to the swarthi- 
 ness of a neutral tint, she “jumped” into a cab, and, as we said 
 before, made the best of her way to the nearest public baths. 
 
 Here she was delayed some considerable time in procuring her 
 ticket, owing to the “rush” of Frenchmen, Germans, Russians, and 
 Poles, congregated round the building, for the London lodging-house 
 keepers had come to a resolution not to receive any foreigners into 
 their establishments unless they came prepared with a certificate from 
 some of the metropolitan washhouses. Her ticket, once obtained, 
 however, Mrs. Sandboys proceeded to make her way down the long 
 narrow passage, between the two rows of little bath rooms, on the 
 “ ladies’ side” of the establishment. At the end of the corridor she 
 was met by the female attendant, who, in answer to her request for a 
 bath, informed her that all the “warms” were full, but that she 
 expected there’d be “a shower” shortly. 
 
 Now, the innocent Mrs. Sandboys, having never heard of such a 
 style of bathing as the last mentioned, was naturally led to believe 
 that the attendant alluded to nothing less than the unsettled state of 
 the weather; so casting her eyes up to the skylight, she observed in 
 reply, that she dare say they would have a shower before long, adding, 
 that it was just what country people wanted. 
 
 “Perhaps, then, you wouldn’t object to that there, mum 1” returned 
 attendant, as she arranged the pile of towels in the cupboard. 
 
 “ Whya, as Ise here, I dunnet mind, if ’twill be ow’r suin,” 
 replied the simple-minded Mrs. Sandboys, still referring to the rain. 
 “ I dare say ’t’ull dui a power of guid to cwuntry fwoke.” 
 
 “ Oh, yes, mum ! always does a vast deal of good, and is sure to be 
 over in no time,” returned the bath-woman, still harping on her 
 baths. 
 
 In a few minutes the shower-bath was at liberty, and Mrs. Sand- 
 boys seated herself in a chair in the passage, while the attendant went 
 to prepare the room for her use. 
 
 Presently the woman returned with the heavy-looking wet towels 
 of the departed bather in her hand, hanging down like paunches ; 
 letting them “flop” on the floor, she requested Mrs. Sandboys to 
 follow her, as the room was quite ready. Mrs. Sandboys did as 
 desired, and was shown into a small apartment, into which she was 
 no sooner ushered than the attendant withdrew, saying, that if the 
 lady wanted anything there was a bell and she would please to ring. 
 
 The room was a small cabin-like apartment, with a narrow little 
 bench against one side of it, while above this a few wooden hooks 
 projected from the wall. A tiny “ shaving-glass” hung against the 
 partition, and the uncarpeted floor was dark-coloured with the 
 drippings of the previous bathers. In one corner was what appeared 
 at first sight to be a long upright cupboard, but which in reality was 
 “the second-class” shower-bath. The door of this apparatus was 
 placed wide open, and inside there stood a chair, while a small cord 
 dangled from above. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 75 
 
 'Mrs. Sandboys observing nothing that appeared to her primitive 
 mind to bear the slightest resemblance to a bath in the room, con- 
 jectured that the hot water would be brought to her in a large pan 
 immediately it was ready. 
 
 Accordingly, she set to work to divest herself of her bonnet and 
 cloak; and having arranged those articles on the bench, she pro- 
 ceeded, in her simplicity, to seat herself in the chair immediately under 
 the shower-bath, in the corner of the little apartment, there to await 
 the coming of the expected pan. 
 
 Her patience endured the imaginary delay for some few minutes, 
 but at length growing wearied of her solitary situation, she got angry 
 .at the non-appearance of the attendant, and starting from, her seat, 
 seized the cord which dangled above her head, and which she— poor 
 innocent dame! — mistook for the bell-pull. 
 
 Determined to put up with the neglect no longer, she gave a 
 vigorous pull at the rope. Thump went the catch, and instantly 
 down, through the colander above, came a miniature deluge, consisting 
 of two pailsful of " cold pump,” suddenly let loose, in the form of a 
 thousand watery wires, upon the head of the luckless Mrs. Sandboys. 
 
 What with the unexpectedness of the catastrophe, and the coldness 
 of the water — rendered still more cold by the minuteness of its division 
 —-and the rapidity of its descent through the air, together with the 
 perfectly novel character of the bath to the unsophisticated native of 
 Buttermere, the poor lady was so perfectly paralysed by the icy 
 torrent, that she was unable to escape from it; and it was not 
 until a few moments after the cataract had ceased that she rushed 
 out of the balneatory cupboard, gasping for breath, and fighting 
 the air; while her clothes, shining with the wet, like a tarpaulin 
 clung about her as tight as if she had been done up in brown paper, 
 and her hair hung in skeins over her face, so that she had very much 
 of the soaked appearance of a Polish hen on a rainy day. 
 
 As soon as she could fetch sufficient breath to scream, she gave a 
 series of shrieks, and capered about the apartment after the manner 
 of the war-dance of the wild Indians. 
 
 The peal of screams were echoed and re-echoed as they rattled 
 against the bare walls of the building, and spread an instant alarm 
 among the entire corps of ladies then in the bathing-rooms. One 
 and all they imagined, from the piercing tone of the shrieks, that 
 nothing less could have occurred than that some brute of a man — 
 some impudent Frenchmen, or a wretch of a Turk perhaps — through 
 accident or design — had found his way to the ladies’ side of the esta- 
 blishment, and taken some poor dear by surprise. Accordingly they, 
 one after another, repeated the screams of the original screamer — 
 shouting, “ It’s a man ! It’s a man ! It’s a man !” 
 
 In an instant the female attendant came rushing down the corridor. 
 Such of the lady bathers as were dressed suddenly opened the doors 
 of their little apartments, and stood with them ajar, so that they 
 might slam them to again in case of danger; while those who were 
 unable to make their appearance, jumped upon the bench within, and 
 
76 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 popped their bald-looking heads, encased as they were in yellow 
 greasy-looking bathing-caps, over the doors, and squinted into the 
 passage like so many birds from the house-tops ; and as they saw the 
 male authorities come hurrying towards the point of alarm, they each 
 uttered a sudden “ Ho !” and bobbed down again into the privacy of 
 their cabins, as jauntily as so many “ Jacks-in-the-box.” 
 
 The female attendant endeavoured to explain to the infuriated Mrs. 
 Sandboys that “ it was all a mistake but that lady felt convinced 
 that the whole affair was nothing more nor less than a preconcerted 
 trick, and that a cistern full of water, at the very least, had been emptied 
 upon her, through a trap-door in the ceiling, by some wicked wretch 
 secreted over head ; and that this had been done simply because the 
 people saw she was — like the railway milk — fresh from the country. 
 
 In vain did the authorities — who with difficulty were able to sustain 
 that solemnity of countenance which is so necessary a part of the 
 duties of all public functionaries — beg to assure the lady that the 
 apparatus in question was really a form of bath — a shower — belonging 
 to the establishment, much approved of, and highly recommended by 
 the faculty. 
 
 But Mrs. Cursty was fully satisfied that no person in his senses 
 would dream of coming to such a place to enjoy a shower, when, 
 if they were that way inclined, they might, on any wet day, have one 
 for nothing. Moreover, she begged to be informed, with an air of 
 triumph, — just to let the Londoners see that she was not quite so 
 simple as they seemed to fancy her, — “ if showers were so highly 
 recommended by the faculty, what people carried umbrellas fori” and 
 as she made the overpowering inquiry, she, in the ardour of the dis- 
 cussion, gave so self-satisfied a shake of her head, that she sprinkled 
 the water from her hair all over the by-standers, like a Newfoundland 
 dog just emerged from a river. 
 
 It was impossible even for the grave functionaries to keep serious 
 any longer, but their smiles served only to make the assurance of 
 Mrs. Sandboys “ doubly sure” that a wicked trick had been played 
 upon her ; so, putting on her bonnet and cloak — wet as she was — 
 she left the establishment, vowing that she would have them all up 
 before a magistrate, and well punished for their shameful conduct 
 towards a poor lone countrywoman like herself. 
 
 A cab soon conveyed the wretched, and shivering, and moist Mrs. 
 Sandboys back to her lodgings. There she and her dear Cursty once 
 more endeavoured to console one another — but consolation was boot- 
 less in the state of the Sandboys’ wardrobe. 
 
 Accordingly, while Aggy borrowed a “ change” of the landlady, and 
 proceeded to squeeze her corpulent figure into the thin Mrs. Fokesell’s 
 “ things,” Jobby was dispatched to the railway station to see after the 
 tliree-and-twenty boxes that constituted the family luggage, with full 
 instructions (given at Mrs. Fokesell’s advice) — provided no tidings of 
 the missing packages could be obtained at the “goods department” — 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 77 
 
 to scour the whole country round, by means of the electric telegraph, 
 in search of them. 
 
 To prevent accidents, however, Elcy was made to write down all 
 that was wanted, together with an accurate description of all that was 
 missing ; and, as she did so, the tender-hearted girl did not fail to 
 include a graphic account of her dear pet Psyche, whom, she felt con- 
 vinced, must he reduced to a positive “ bag of bones” — a canine 
 “ living skeleton” — by this time. 
 
 The youth, as directed, took the Hungerford omnibus, and made 
 his way, without much difficulty, to the railway station. There, he 
 could hear nothing as to the whereabouts of the family boxes ; accord- 
 ingly he proceeded to the Telegraph Office, and having handed in the 
 written instructions, he set out on his return home. 
 
 As he passed under the archway of the station, it so happened that 
 “a school of Acrobats” were exhibiting their feats within the open 
 space in front of the two large railway hotels. Jobbj r , with his mouth 
 wide agape, stood outside the gates watching the posturers pile 
 themselves, three men and a boy, high on one another’s shoulders. 
 
 The exhibition was as new as it was exciting to the lad. With a 
 thrill of pleasurable amazement the youth saw for the first time in 
 his life the “ pole balancer” in his suit of spangled cotton “ fleshings,” 
 and the tawdry black velvet fillet round his well-oiled hair, lie on his 
 back on a small handkerchief of carpet, and balance and catch and 
 twirl the heavy pole on the soles of his feet. Then, almost breathless 
 with ecstasy, he beheld the “ bending tumbler” slowly bend his body 
 back till his head reached the ground, and proceed to pick up pins 
 with his eyelids. Next, he witnessed “ the equilibrist” balance, spin- 
 ning plates high in the air, and burning paper-bags upon his chin, and 
 catch huge cannon balls from a height in a cup upon his head — and 
 as all this went on, and he heard the sound of the music, and looked 
 at the glittering costumes of the performers, Jobby was entranced 
 with positive rapture. He had never seen, never heard, never dreamt 
 of anything half so beautiful. 
 
 Nor could he scarcely credit that they were human like himself, 
 till he saw the men put their shabby black coats over their spangles, 
 and as one shouldered the pole, and the other carried the box, stroll off 
 in close conversation with “ the drum and pipes,” and a troop of pina- 
 fored boys at their heels, to some fresh quarter of the town. 
 
 J obby stood for a moment looking after the crowd, longing, but 
 fearing, to follow them. The temptation, however, of once more 
 beholding their marvellous feats was too much for him — so, as he saw 
 them turn the corner, he took to his heels, and hurried after the 
 troop. 
 
 There for the present we must leave him. 
 
78 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 “ The lasses o’ Carel are weel-shap’d an’ bonny, 
 
 Bat he that wad win yen man brag of his gear, 
 
 Yon may follow and follow till heart sick and weary — 
 
 To get them needs siller and fine claes to wear. 
 
 “ They’ll catch at a reed cwoat leyke as monie mack’rel, 
 
 And jump at a fop, or even lissen a fail. 
 
 Just brag of an uncle that’s got heaps of money. 
 
 And de’il a bit odds if you’ve ne’er been at schuil. 
 
 The Lasses of Carel. 
 
 “ Deuce tek the clock! click-clackin’ sae 
 Ay in a body’s ear, 
 
 It tells and tells the teyme is past, 
 
 When Jobby sud been here. 
 
 4c 
 
 “ But, whisht ! I hear my lobby’s fit; 
 
 Aye, that’s his varra clog! 
 
 He steeks the faul yeat softly tui — 
 
 Oh, hang that cwoley dog !” 
 
 The Impatient Lassie. 
 
 If as Mr. Sidney Herbert has informed us this nation be suffering 
 from a glut of females — if as the commercial editor of the Economist 
 would say, the extreme depression of our matrimonial markets be due 
 to an over-production of spinsters — if the annual supply of marriageable 
 young ladies in this country be greater than the demand for the same 
 on the part of marriageable young gentlemen — if virgin lov eliness is 
 becoming as cheap as slop shirts in the land, and the market value 
 of heiresses has fallen considerably below their real value — if Cupid is 
 compelled to dispose of the extensive stock he has now on hand of 
 last season’s beauties, at an “ alarming sacrifice,” on account of the 
 “tremendous failure” of Hymen — assuredly the Great Exhibition 
 of all Nations was a wise means of restoring the matrimonial markets 
 of the metropolis to a healthy equilibrium. 
 
 When the pliilogynic mind — which we take it is a thousand-fold 
 better than the mere philanthropic commodity — is led to consider 
 the vast influx of susceptible natures that will occur at that event- 
 ful period — when we remember that the most eminent statisticians 
 have calculated, that “a wave” of a hundred thousand pairs of mus- 
 tachios will be tossed upon our shores every week — when we recollect 
 that monster trains, filled with every kind of “ hairy monster,” will 
 deposit, at the London Bridge terminus, their daily thousands of 
 gynolatrous Frenchmen, with very large beards, and very small 
 carpet-bags, together with their hundreds of polygamic Turks, 
 hirsute as handsome, and with turbans as bewitching to the ladies, as 
 that of the black cymbal-player in the Guards, — when we reflect, 
 moreover, that as if this superabundance of amatoriness was not a 
 sufficient boon to the “women of England,” the Iron Duke had, with 
 a view of creating an embcirras de richesse for the ladies, given 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 73 
 
 orders that an extra body of soldiers — all picked men — should be 
 marched up from the country, and bivouacked in the neighbourhood 
 of the ladies’ schools, embellishing the outskirts of the capital — when, 
 too, we call to mind that the active and vigilant Commissioners of 
 Police have, as a grand captivating climax to the whole, come to the 
 noble resolution of adding no less than eight hundred pairs of whiskers 
 to the already strong amatory power of “ the force,” — when, in fine, we 
 come to think upon the turbans of the Turks — the beards of the 
 Frenchmen — the mustachios of the soldiers — and the whiskers of the 
 police, that will be all congregated within the Bills of Mortality, into 
 one vast focus of fascination, — what maid, what widow shall not be 
 wooed — shall not be won — and after all, count herself extremely lucky 
 if she’s wed. 
 
 While Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys and Miss Elcy sat by the kitchen 
 fire, anxiously awaiting the return of Job by from the station, or the 
 arrival of some tidings from the telegraph, touching their missing 
 boxes, Major Oldschool was in the parlour, wondering when he should 
 have any news as to the whereabouts of that “ ungrateful young hussy,” 
 his niece, who, after he had sent for her home from Miss Wewitz’s esta- 
 blishment at Wimbledon, had returned his kindness by going off with a 
 foreign Count, with a beard like a Scotchman’s philibeg, and a port- 
 manteau not much bigger than a sandwich-box. However, he had given 
 information to the police, and a couple of their most active officers 
 had been despatched after the fugitives. 
 
 At this juncture, one of the Detective Force called at Mrs. 
 Fokesell’s, to apprise the Major that they had already tracked the 
 runaway Miss. The maid went out into the area to answer the knock 
 and learn the business of the visitor. In a few minutes she returned, 
 saying, it was a strange kind of a man, and that he had a strange 
 kind of a way with him, and had whispered something to her down the 
 railings that he wanted to see a gentleman about “summat as was 
 missing.” 
 
 The Sandboys no sooner heard this, than they, one and all, started 
 from their seats, declaring it was the man from the telegraph with 
 news of poor Psyche and their boxes. 
 
 The maid was despatched with directions to bring the messenger 
 down into the kitchen immediately, and in a minute a pair of heavy 
 boots were heard descending the stairs. 
 
 “ Tha’s come about that thar baggage of ourn, haistal” inquired 
 Mr. Cursty. 
 
 The term “baggage” was quite sufficient to assure the Detective that 
 he was in the presence of the gentleman whose female relative had 
 eloped with the foreign Count. 
 
 “ Yes, sir ; we’ve got some clue as to what you allude to — we’ve 
 discovered their whereabouts, at least” — and the cautious and myste- 
 terious Officer winked his eye, and nodded his head knowingly. 
 
 “ Oh, tkar’s a guid man ! a guid man !” cried Mrs. Sandboys, with 
 extreme joy. “ So tha’st heard on t’things at last.” 
 
80 
 
 1851 ; OE, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 “ True, ma’am,” replied the Officer, “ when last we heard on — you 
 know — the things” — and he winked again — “ they wasn’t a hundred 
 miles from” — and here he looked cautiously round the room, and 
 added in a whisper — “ Gretna Green, ma’am.” 
 
 “ Gertna Gern!” exclaimed Mr. Cursty; “whar on yerth be that?” 
 
 “Why, I should think it’s about, as near as may be, three hundred 
 and fifty miles,” added the Detective, nodding his head knowingly, 
 “ from where you’re a sitting on.” 
 
 “ Waistoma ! waistoma ! we shall set e’en on t’tliings never nae 
 mair,” shouted Mrs. Sandboys, wringing her hands, as she thought 
 of the “changeless” state of the family. 
 
 “And my poor pet! oh, dear!” interjected Elcy. 
 
 Mr. Christopher inquired whether they were in safe custody. 
 
 “ Why, no, sir, we can’t say as how we’ve got ’em in custody, yet. 
 You see its rayther nasty work making mistakes inmatters of tliiskind.” 
 
 “ Then wha in t’ neame of guiduess had got bow’d of t’ guids,” 
 asked the wife, in a half-frantic state of alarm. 
 
 “ Oh, you needn’t be under no fears, ma’am; its the same foreign 
 party,” returned the officer, with another familiar jerk of his head, 
 as bolted from London with the ‘ bit of goods,’ as you says, ma’am.” 
 And here he gave another wink. 
 
 “Oh, then it be as I ’spected, Cursty,” added Mrs. S., “and I 
 suddent wonder but t’ nasty, filthy wretch has got on, at this verra 
 -teyme, yen of t’ new shirts I bought thee.” 
 
 “And what ever will become of my poor, poor pet?” ejaculated 
 Elcy, with tears in her eyes, for she could think of nothing else but 
 Psyche. “ You don’t happen to know — do you, sir — whether that 
 horrid, horrid foreigner is treating the dear thing well, and whether 
 he gives her plenty to eat?” 
 
 “ Why, for the matter of that, Miss, I think the party a’nt got 
 over much for hisself,” and as if the information was very important, 
 the Detective nodded and winked at the young lady several times in 
 succession. 
 
 “ Ah, I thought it would be so,” sobbed the young lady, bursting 
 into a flood of tears, “ and after all the pains I had taken to fatten the 
 darling. Perhaps you might have heard whether that brute of a 
 foreign gentleman, sir, allowed the dear to continue her flannel 
 jackets; for if he’s only made her leave them off, Pm sure the poor 
 creature must have shivered herself all to pieces by this time. 
 
 “ Indeed, ma’am exclaimed the astonished Detective, who began 
 to think, from Elcy’s description, that the missing young lady couldn’t 
 be much of a beauty — and, like the gallant members of the force, he 
 flattered himself he was a bit of a judge that way; then, as he 
 heard the broken-hearted girl sob aloud at the thoughts of the sufferings 
 and appearance of her darling Psyche, he said to Mr. Sandboys, “ The 
 young lady seems to have been wery much attached to t’other one, sir?” 
 
 “ Oli, yes,” replied Mrs. Sandboys, “ she a’ways wud hev her to 
 sleep at t’ fut of her bed, even though I set mey feace again it, lest 
 there might be a few stray fleas about t’ creatur’, you ken.” 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 81 
 
 The Detective stared with astonishment, and began to think that 
 the family were all very strange. However, it was easy to tell by 
 their conversation that they were fresh from the country, and that, in 
 his mind, made allowance for a great deal. If he had not felt con- 
 vinced, however, that he had made no mistake in the number of the 
 house, he might have had some slight suspicion as to his blunder, but 
 as it was, he attributed the peculiar character of their conversation to 
 an ignorance of London ways and manners. 
 
 “ Oh, sir,” Elcy broke out again, “ do — pray, do, sir — try and get my 
 poor, poor pet back for me.” 
 
 “ Well, Miss, I think we shall be able to oblige you by and by,” 
 returned the officer, twiddling his bushy whiskers with self-satisfaction; 
 “ I came to tell you ” 
 
 “Yes! yes!” 
 
 “ That we had just had news up by telegraph from one of our men 
 down in the North, that she was seen yesterday in company with a 
 queer-kind of a foreign gentleman — the same party, from all as I can 
 learn, as ran away with her — that is to say, if the description we’ve 
 got is correct. It says here,” — and he drew from his pocket 
 a paper, which he began reading, — ‘female — small and elegant 
 figure.’” 
 
 “ Yes, sir; yes, sir !” interrupted the anxious Elcy. “ She was an 
 Italian, sir ; and one of the most perfect animals ever seen, sir.” 
 
 “ Well, my instructions don’t say nothing, Miss, about her being of 
 Italian extraction ; but if she came from that there country, it’s quite 
 sufficient to account for her being what you says, Miss. But my 
 adwices runs merely — ‘female — small and elegant figure,”’ continued 
 the officer, reading. 
 
 “ Wheyte reet,” interrupted Cursty. 
 
 “ Rayther fresh colour,” added the Detective. 
 
 “ Yes, sir, we used to call her foxy — and she had one of the most 
 beautiful coats of her own you ever saw.” 
 
 “ No, there ain’t a Avord here about her having any kind of a coat. 
 But I know, Miss ; you means one of them there kind of hairy coats 
 we sees the females in Regent Street in, now-a-days.” 
 
 “And what was very remarkable about her, sir,” continued Elcy, 
 intent upon the perfections of her lost pet, “ was her nose — it was a 
 beauty, I do assure you — so long and sharp, and then abvays so nice 
 and cold, even in the height of summer.” 
 
 The Detective could not help smiling at the country girl’s idea of 
 a beautiful nose, and again referring to his paper, said, half to himself, 
 “ They’ve got it down here as Grecian, but I suppose that’ll do.” 
 
 “ Then again, sir, she had one of the smallest waists, and, I really 
 think, the very thinnest legs you could see anyAvhere.” 
 
 The Policeman started with wonder at what he thought the young- 
 lady’s extreme simplicity, and merely observed, “ Our people don’t 
 say nothing about her legs, Miss ;” then, turning to Mr. Sandboys, he 
 inquired whether he had ever knoAvn the Italian to go astray before. 
 
 “ Why, noa,” returned Cursty; “ I never kenned her run after owt, 
 
 G 
 
82 1851; or, the adventures of 
 
 with t’ exception of a young hare yence, as she fell in wi’, down 
 Buttermere way.” 
 
 “Ah, that’s what they’ll all do,” observed the Policeman; “ they are 
 all ready enough to run after the young heirs, sir, in town and country, 
 too,” he added, smiling at his self-conceited severity on the sex ; “ and 
 them Italians, I’m told, sir, is shocking warm-blooded creatures.” 
 
 “Warm-blooded!” echoed Cursty; “ I’se sure, she always seemed 
 cold enough wi’ us, for she were sheevering and shecking away 
 from mworning tull neet, for aw the warl’ as if she was a loomp of 
 penter’s seyze, (painter’s size.) But they be ongracious things to kip ; 
 food seems aw tkworn away on ’em.” 
 
 “Yes!” said Mrs. Sandboys, indignantly, “though I ’lowanced her 
 as much as twa pennywuth of meat every day, forby aw the screps 
 from our tebble, she never did yen onny justice. If yen had liawf 
 starved her, she cuddent a bin mair thin than she were.” 
 
 The larder-loving Policeman could not help thinking to himself that 
 the allowance was far from being anything to brag about, nor was he 
 much astonished, now that he was made acquainted with the diet she 
 had been used to, at the disappearance of the imaginai’y young lady. 
 
 “ If it wer’n’t for puir Elcy, here, I meysel suddent car’ sa varra 
 much if t’ creature never kem back nae mair, for there beant much 
 ’flection in them thar Italians. Now it were on’y last year, she’d 
 twa young ones.” 
 
 The Detective started back with astonishment, and began to think 
 that such a circumstance fully accounted for “ the party” having gone 
 off with the French gentleman on the present occasion. 
 
 “ Yes, it’s a fact, she had twa young ones, and didn’t sim to car’ a 
 bit when I drowned them baitli in our pond.” 
 
 The Policeman no sooner heard the confession of what he believed 
 to be a case of infanticide, than he exclaimed “ Did I understand you, 
 sir, that you — you yourself drowned the poor little things?” 
 
 “ Yes,” continued the innocent Sandboys, “ I thowt she wuddent be 
 yable to ’tend to them, you ken ; so, for her seek, I ’termined on 
 putting them out of t’ way as whietly as I cud.” 
 
 The Detective here assumed a solemn tone, and proceeded to caution 
 Mr. Sandboys after the custom of his craft, telling him that he was 
 not called upon to criminate himself, and that whatever he might say 
 on the painful subject would be used in evidence against him on a 
 future occasion. 
 
 It was now Mr. Sandboys’ turn to stare with the same astonishment 
 at the Detective, as the “man of peace” had a few moments before 
 looked at him. 
 
 “ What dost tha mean, man, by t’ painful subject, and yens words 
 being yused in yevidence against yen ?” he hastily inquired. 
 
 The Policeman made no more ado, but straightway drew his staff 
 from his hinder pocket, and told Cursty that he arrested him and the 
 whole family in the Queen’s name ; and, to give additional weight to 
 the announcement, he added, that he was a Detective Officer, in con- 
 nexion with her Majesty’s Metropolitan Police. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 83 
 
 The words were no sooner out of “the Authority’s” mouth than Mr. 
 Sandboys, vividly remembering his railway adventure with a pseudo 
 member of the same respectable body, seized the kitchen poker, which 
 happened to be in the fire at that moment, and, without a word, pro- 
 ceeded, with it in his hand, to chase the startled Official round the 
 kitchen table ; but finding it impossible to get within arm’s length 
 of the Policeman while that article of furniture stood between them, 
 Cursty stopped, after a few turns, and placed himself before the doorway, 
 with the red-hot weapon still in his hand, and vowed that the Detec- 
 tive should not leave the house until he had given him in charge. 
 Mr. Sandboys told him he had been taken in by that detective trick 
 once before ; and though he and his family might be fresh up from 
 the country, and the Londoners might think they could impose upon 
 them as they pleased, still he’d let them see he was a match for them, 
 this time, “ for aw that.” 
 
 The self-possessed policeman, finding himself imprisoned, stepped 
 back a few paces ; and, drawing his rattle from his coat-pocket, pro- 
 ceeded to spring it with all his force in the middle of the kitchen, 
 amid the shrieks of Mrs. and Miss Sandboys. 
 
 In a minute down came the lodgers “ of all nations,” in ready 
 answer to the summons ; and scarcely had the “ whir-r” finished, 
 before the kitchen was filled with the “drawing-rooms,” “the second 
 and third floors,” and “ the garrets ” from every quarter of the globe ; 
 and among the number was Mr. Quinine, who was heard to declare that 
 the sudden alarm had thrown Mrs. Quinine back — it was impossible 
 for him to say to what extent. 
 
 Then, of course, came the humiliating explanation in the presence 
 of the assembled multitude ; and there, amidst the laughter “ of all 
 nations,” — for the foreigners, one and all, would have the circumstance 
 translated to them, — Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys had to make known the 
 whole of the mistake, and to tell how Cursty was about to be taken 
 into custody on a charge of infanticide, for having drowned a couple 
 of puppies. By the time he had finished what theatrical critics term 
 “ the eclaircissement of the contretemps ,” a body of police, attracted to 
 the spot by the well-known buzz of a distant rattle, swarmed round 
 the door like blue-bottles round a butcher’s shop, and there they kept 
 dabbing at the knocker, very much after the same persevering manner 
 as belongs to beadles accompanying the parish engine to a chimney 
 on fire. 
 
 As we said before, while the Sandboys were in the kitchen, 
 anxiously looking for some tidings touching their luggage, Major 
 Oldschool was, immediately overhead, impatiently pacing the parlour, 
 and vowing all manner of vengeance against his niece for having gone 
 off with a “ dirty, beggarly, skinny vagabond of a Frenchman.” The 
 Major was what is termed a “good hater” of foreigners. 
 
 Major Oldschool was a portly little man, who had left one of his 
 legs behind him in India, where the better part of his life had been 
 spent, and where, while attacking one of the bamboo forts of the 
 
 G 2 
 
84 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Burmese, he had been wounded in his knee-eap in such a manner as 
 to necessitate the amputation of the limb. In figure he was far from 
 commanding] for the high living of India had given him so strong a 
 tendency to corpulence, that he had lost sight of his hoot for many 
 years. This obesity was a great annoyance to the Major, and, 
 to keep his fat within due bounds, his braided blue surtout was made 
 to fit so tight, that you could not help fancying hut that, with the 
 slightest puncture, he would shrivel up to a mere bit of skin, like 
 an India-rubber ball. Major Oldschool, withal, had that “ highly 
 respectable” appearance which invariably accompanies the white hair 
 so peculiar to Bankers, Capitalists, and Pomeranian dogs. It was 
 the Major’s continual boast, that he was grey before he was thirty ; 
 and so proud was he of his silver locks, that he wore them half over 
 his face, in the form of whiskers and moustachios, which met at the 
 corners of his mouth, and gave him very much the look of a gentle- 
 man who had been called away in the middle of shaving, and had 
 the lather still clinging about his lips and cheeks. 
 
 Another striking peculiarity of the Major was, that he would wear 
 tight black stocking-net pantaloons, and a Hessian boot — for the 
 place of the other boot, ever since he had been wounded, was supplied 
 by a wooden leg. And it sounded not a little strange to hear him, as 
 the night drew in, call for his slipper, or, if he fancied he had taken 
 cold, talk of putting his foot in hot water; and equally curious was it 
 when his old houskeeper informed him that really his leg was getting 
 so shabby, he must have it fresh painted. In bis bedroom, against 
 the wall, stood a range of old boots and shoes — all rights and no 
 lefts — one Hessian, one dancing-pump, and one carpet slipper ; and 
 when he sat down in his chair, his wooden leg stuck out at right 
 angles tG his Hessian boot, so that it had somewhat the appearance 
 of a gun protruding from a ship’s side. 
 
 The Major had no fixed residence, (he had to come up from Bath 
 within the last few weeks, to be present at the opening of the Great 
 Exhibition,) but continually floated about the country in the company 
 of an old housekeeper, who knowing all his ways, and all his whims, 
 had grown to be quite indispensable to him. Mrs. Coddle was the 
 lady of a defunct twopenny-postman, and since the death of the 
 respected twopenny, she had “took to nussing;” but not liking 
 the dormitory accommodations usual in “the monthly line,” she 
 had been only too glad to avail herself of the Major’s offer, after 
 having attended him during a severe bilious fever, to continue in 
 his service in the capacity of housekeeper. And so effectually 
 had she performed her duties, and so necessary had she made 
 herself to his comfort, during her short residence Avith him in 
 that capacity, that — having a true sense of her value to him — she 
 always made a point, when she could not get the Major to do just as 
 she pleased, of threatening to leave him, saying she could see 
 plainly she was not wanted, and that he could do well enough 
 without her iioav; and adding, as she Aviped her eyes Avith the corner of 
 her Avhite apron, that it might be a severe struggle for her to leave so 
 kind a master as he’d always been to her, but, at least she’d have the 
 
MB. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 85 
 
 satisfaction of knowing, when she was gone, that she wouldn’t be a 
 wherreting on him then, no longer. 
 
 Mrs. Coddle was a particularly clean-looking, motherly body. She 
 wore the whitest of caps, with very deep borders, and the cleanest of 
 aprons, while her cotton gowns were of the neatest of patterns ; and 
 though she was close upon sixty, her cheeks were almost as rosy as 
 baking apples. To do her justice, she certainly was a mightily plea- 
 sant old dame to look at, and she was just one of those persons who, 
 by saving a gentleman every kind of trouble in life, and seeing that 
 he has not to make the least exertion to gratify a single want, 
 manage to beget such a habit of indolence and dependence in those 
 upon whom they attend, that their excess of servitude soon gets to 
 assume the character of the greatest tyranny. 
 
 It was the especial care of Mrs. Coddle that the Major should not 
 be able to stir his foot, or know where to lay his hands upon the least 
 article of his own property, without first consulting her — not that she 
 ever allowed him, indeed, to want for anything that he was in the habit 
 of requiring. His clean linen, well-aired, and his one sock turned down, 
 were always ready for him to put on, the morning they were due — and 
 never, since she had been in the house, had a button been known to be 
 missing, or to come off in the operation of dressing. His pipe was 
 on the table ready filled for him, so that he could put it in his mouth 
 the very moment he had finished his breakfast. When he was 
 ready to take his morning walk, there was his hat well brushed, and a 
 clean pair of buckskin gloves, resting on the brim — and when 
 he returned, the bootjack was on the rug, and his slipper nice and 
 warm, inside the fender, so that he might not suffer from a damp foot. 
 She never troubled him about what he would have for dinner, for 
 having made herself acquainted with all his little likings and dis- 
 likings, she knew well what to provide, and how to tickle his palate 
 with a daily change, or to give an extra relish to the meal with some 
 agreeable surprise; indeed, it was a creed with her — as with most 
 ladies— -that all men were pigs, and that, like their brother animals at 
 the Zoological Gardens, the only way to prevent them being savage 
 was to feed them well. And certainly, it must be confessed, that the 
 Major, like corpulent gentlemen in general, was particularly fond or 
 what is termed “ the fat of the land.” 
 
 At night Mrs. Coddle brewed his toddy for him, and knew exactly 
 the point in the glass up to which to pour the spirit; and when he 
 had taken his three tumblers, there stood his bed candlestick at his 
 elbow, to light him to his room ; while on his pillow were his night- 
 cap and night-shirt, ready for him to put on, with the least possible 
 trouble, and when the bell sounded to tell Mrs. Coddle that the Major 
 was in bed, the motherly old dame would come and take his candle — 
 light his rushlight — and see whether he was quite comfortable, before 
 leaving him for the night. 
 
 Mrs. Coddle, moreover, made herself useful to her master as a kind 
 of invisible mistress of the ceremonies. Major Oldschool’s long absence 
 from England, and the alteration of many of the points of politeness, 
 since he was a “ blood upon town,” placed the officer in considerable 
 
86 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 doubt; as to how lie ought to behave in the presence of company. Mrs. 
 Coddle had “nussed,” to use the lady’s own lvords, “ in the fust of fami- 
 lies,” for her connexion, as she said, being only among carriage people, 
 she had helped to bring no less than four cornets into the world in 
 her time, and, she was happy to say, as there weren’t one child among 
 all her babbies (she had, in her own peculiar language, had as many as 
 nine confinements every year since poor dear Mr. Coddle’s death), 
 she was happy to say,as “there wasn’t one child of her nussing what could 
 be called wulgar born.” Accordingly, Mrs. Coddle considered herself 
 so well versed in all the social etiquette of the day, that she acted in 
 the capacity of fashionable governess to the Major, paying particular at- 
 tention to his “ manners,” and taking care that he made what she termed 
 “ no holes in ’em afore wisitors.’’ If the Major had a friend to tea with 
 him, she was continually bobbing in and out of the room, with some excuse 
 or other, just to see how he was “ behaving hisself;” and as she passed 
 behind his chair, she would whisper in his ear, “ Don’t drink your tea 
 out of your sareer, — you know I told you scores of times it aint per- 
 lite.” At dinner, while waiting upon him, she would say at one 
 moment, as she saw him commit one after another the several little 
 improprieties of the table, “ There you are again, eating your fish with 
 your knife — how often am I to tell you it’s wulgar?” at another, she 
 would exclaim, “Now, Major, why will you keep scraping your plate 
 round and round in that there manner, when if there’s one thing that 
 is more ongenteeler than another, that’s it then as she saw him about 
 to lift the glass to his lips, she would take hold of his arm, and beg of 
 him to swallow his “ victuals” first, saying, he had a dreadful habit of 
 drinking with his mouth full, and that was the most wulgarest trick 
 of all the tricks he had. 
 
 Now, while the scene previously described was going on down stairs 
 in the kitchen, another single knock “ came” to the door. It was one 
 of the under-clerks from the railway station who had just “ stepped 
 on” to inform the gentleman from the country that his boxes had come 
 safely to hand. The Official, however, had no time to deliver his mes- 
 sage ; for the Major, who occupied the parlours, and who had just 
 returned from his morning’s walk, overhearing some one in the passage 
 say that he had come about something' that was missing, popped his 
 white head out of the parlour door, and making sure that some clue 
 had been obtained to his runaway niece, requested the young man 
 to step that way. 
 
 “So, I suppose you’ve come to tell me, you’ve got hold of that precious 
 baggage of mine at last, eh?” said the Major, as he paced up and down 
 the room with delight, and made the floor shake again with the tread 
 of his wooden leg. 
 
 “Yes, sir; they was bwought up by the fust twain this morning-, 
 sir,” said the little gent, as he sucked the horse’s hoof that did duty 
 for a handle to his short stick. “ And a ware lot you have, sir !” 
 added the young man, smiling, half in joke, at recollection of the 
 three-and-twenty packages. 
 
 “ Ah ! a rare lot, indeed !” returned the Major, between his teeth, as 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 87 
 
 he sighed, and thought of the disgrace brought upon the family by 
 the conduct of his niece. “Never was such a lot, I think.” 
 
 “ Why, certingly, sir,” replied the “ fast” young clerk, who thought 
 it “ spicy” not to be able to sound the r’s properly, “ it ain’t the wegu- 
 lar caper, certingly. But your lady, like the west of them, sir, pewaps 
 likes to twavel well pewided. You know, sir, when they’re coming 
 up to the metwopolis, the ladies always will have a change or two.” 
 
 “ A change or two ! hang me, if I don’t think they’re always chang- 
 ing!” exclaimed the Major, alluding to the inconstancy rather than 
 the love of dress, which even the advocates of the “ rights of women” 
 allow to be a distinguishing feature of the sex. “Now, I shouldn’t 
 wonder but what, with all these foreigners here, you have many ‘ miss- 
 ing’ cases at your place !” 
 
 “ Oh, sir, vewy many cases missing, indeed ; and some of ’em woth 
 a good sum. Why, there was one wun off with, the other day, chock 
 full of jewels, sir,” added the communicative little clerk, who was 
 delighted to show off his importance. 
 
 “ I don’t doubt you, my good sir ; those foreign beggars are devils 
 after the tin,” returned the French-hating Major. 
 
 “ Oh, yes, most of the missing cases with us are tin cases, I can 
 assure you, sir; the others, sir, are hardly worth the fellows looking 
 after, you know; and the worst of it is, sir, that fwequently they 
 bweak their heads, and plunder them of all that’s valuable belonging 
 to ’em ; and then, maybe, they chuck ’em into the first river they 
 come to.” 
 
 “ Bless my soul, you don’t say so !” cried the horrified Major; “and 
 these things going on about us in the nineteenth century !” 
 
 “ But you need be under no alarm about your lot, sir ; we’ve looked 
 well to ’em, and seen that they’re pwoperly secured.” 
 
 “ Well, come, that’s right — that’s some little consolation, at any 
 rate,” exclaimed Major Oldschool, rubbing his hands. 
 
 “Yes, sir,” proceeded the loquacious railway clerk, “ we’ve had the 
 biggest done up in stout cords — ’cause we were wather afwaid of him, 
 on account of his twemendous size and weight.” 
 
 “Oh, indeed! What, he’s one of your big heavy fellows, is he? — 
 and covered with hair, of course?” 
 
 The railway official, fancying the Major referred to one of the boxes, 
 replied, glibly, “ A wegular hair twunk, sir, and no mistake !” 
 
 “ Well, I only hope you’ll keep the foreign puppy tied up safe, until 
 I can give him in charge to those who will take good care of him, I 
 warrant,” remarked the Major, still referring to the mustachioed 
 Count. 
 
 The clerk, however, took the word puppy in its literal sense, and 
 alluding to the greyhound, said — 
 
 “ Don’t make yourself uneasy on that score, sir ; we’ve got a cord 
 wound the animal’s neck, and its quite impossible for the cweature to 
 get away. W e’ve given him some bwead and water, sir, so that he wont 
 hurt for a little while.” 
 
 “ That’s all right, then,” responded Major Oldschool; “ bread and 
 water’s quite good enough for him.” 
 
88 
 
 1851 : OR. THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 “ I can assure you, sir, he’s considered such a handsome dog by all 
 the ladies as has seen him since his awival, that it’s been as much as 
 we could do to get some of them away f'wom him, for they, one and all, 
 declare that he’s the most beautiful Italian they’ve ever beheld, and 
 that they’ve half a mind to wun away with the pet.” 
 
 “Well,” exclaimed the Major, “hang me if I can see what the 
 women can find to admire in the filthy hairy brutes.” 
 
 “They say, sir,” replied the official, “he’s so wemarkably elegant, 
 and such a beautiful foxy colour. A lady of title, I can assure you, 
 sir, told me this vewy morning, that if the beautiful dog was hers, the 
 pet should have nothing but chickens to eat, because meat, she said, 
 always made their bweath foul.” 
 
 Here the Major raved and stormed against the fair sex in general, 
 and his niece in particular, in such a manner as made the youthful 
 Official stare again in wonder, at the apparent unmeaningness of his 
 conduct. 
 
 When the gentleman had grown a little calm, the clerk ventured, 
 before taking his leave, to say he was instructed to wequest him to 
 send for that baggage of his as soon as possible. 
 
 Now, the Major, however irate he might have felt against his run- 
 away niece, was in no way inclined to permit a stranger to apply such 
 a term to a female member of his family. The consequence was, that 
 the words were no sooner uttered, than the exasperated soldier rushed 
 at the terrified young clerk, and shaking him violently by the collar, 
 demanded to know what he meant by “ baggage.” 
 
 The youth was only able to stammer out that he alluded to his 
 “ heap,” up at their place. 
 
 The term “heap,” applied to a lady, only served to increase the fury 
 of the Major; so releasing his hold of the young gentleman’s collar, 
 he proceeded to kick him round and round the room with his 
 wooden leg. 
 
 At this moment, the sound of the policeman’s rattle, and the shrieks 
 of the ladies, were heard from below, and the astonished Major stood 
 for a minute with his wooden leg suspended horizontally in the air, 
 while the terrified young clerk for an instant ceased to fly before the 
 enraged “man of war.” The Major, forgetting his anger in the 
 alarm, hurried down stairs as fast as his wooden leg would carry him; 
 while the little railway official no sooner saw the Major turn the 
 corner of the kitchen stairs, than he retreated rapidly to the street- 
 door, and once safely on the step, proceeded to make the best use 
 of his heels. 
 
 The neighbouring policeman, however, who, in answer to the sound 
 of the rattle, came streaming in all directions towards the spot, ob- 
 serving the youth flying from the premises, and naturally viewing 
 the circumstance as of a most suspicious character, raised a cry of 
 “Stop thief!” and gave immediate chase to the terrified little Clerk. For 
 a minute, the railway hobbledehoy was undecided as to his course of 
 action. As he scampered along, he knew not what to do; to 
 go back was to brave the terrors of the Major’s wooden leg — while to 
 proceed, was to be hunted through the London streets as a pick- 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 89 
 
 pocket. However, liis mind was soon made up, for seeing in 
 the distance a fashionably dressed young lady, whose acquaintance he 
 had made at Cremorne, he could not bring himself to pass her at full 
 speed, with a crowd at his heels, so he turned back and ran into the 
 arms of the posterior policeman, by whom he was instantly collared, 
 and dragged towards the house he had left, with a crowd of boys in his 
 wake. 
 
 The scene that followed has already been half described. The 
 explosion of the double-barrelled blunder was soon over; and then 
 the little railway clerk was welcomed by the Sandboys as heartily as 
 he had been kicked by the Major, while the Detective was as well 
 received by the Major, as he had been insulted by the Sandboys. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 “ Oh, man ! oh, man! what pity ’tis, 
 
 That what we whop our heegheat bliss 
 Sud disappoint us; nay, what’s worse, 
 
 Sae oft turns out a real curse. 
 
 It shows man’s want o’ fworeseeght. truly, 
 
 In not consideran’ matters duly.’’ 
 
 Tom Knott. 
 
 The delight of the Sandboys at the recovery of their luggage was 
 not altogether unbroken. If Mrs. Cursty was overjoyed at the 
 prospect of a “change of linen,” still her joy was considerably alloyed 
 with fear at the continued absence of her dear Jobby. If Elcy 
 rejoiced exceedingly at the discovery of her pet Psyche, she was, 
 nevertheless, deeply afflicted at the thought of some misfortune having 
 befallen her brother. 
 
 The same family consultation as had been previously held concern- 
 ing the discovery of the missing luggage was now renewed, as to 
 the best mode of finding the absent boy. Mrs. Sandboys requested 
 to know whether she couldn’t have him cried. 
 
 Cursty, however, was for putting an advertisement in the Times 
 such as that newspaper-loving gentleman had seen continually in the 
 same column of the leading journal, running — 
 
 “Ip this should meet the eye of J. S., of Butterhere, 
 he is requested to return to his disconsolate parents immediately.” 
 
 But Mrs. Eokesell suggested that, according to all accounts, the boy 
 would be but too glad to come back directly, if he only knew the 
 way. _ 
 
 This was more than the philosophy of Mr. Sandboys had calculated 
 for. He saw the force of the argument, and, consequently, modified 
 his plan of action into a proposal to have a hundred or two of bills 
 printed, headed — 
 
90 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OE 
 
 “Missing — A Young Gentleman,” 
 
 And, after giving a full and flattering description of the lad, to wind 
 up by announcing that any one who should bring him to Mrs. 
 Yokes ell’s house, should be handsomely rewarded for their trouble. 
 
 The latter proposition being considered to be unobjectionable by 
 Mrs. Fokesell, Postleth waite was had in, and the copy of the wislied- 
 for bill having been written out, amidst considerable altercation on Mrs. 
 Sandboy’s part as to the personal characteristics of the youth, the deaf 
 serving-man was, after much shouting, made to understand that he 
 was to take the document to a printer’s in an adjoining street, and 
 leave it there with the note that Elcy, to prevent accidents, had 
 Avritten to the head of the establishment, requesting him to have the 
 bills printed and circulated throughout the metropolis, with as little 
 delay as possible. 
 
 Postlethwaite was again shouted at so as to make him understand 
 the road he had to follow; but from the odd jumble that, owing to his 
 imperfect hearing, he made of the names of the different streets, it 
 was deemed advisable that the several turnings he had to take, and 
 the names of the various thoroughfares he had to traverse, should be 
 written down for him, and then he could make no blunder. 
 
 The list having been prepared, the poor deaf man was started on 
 his errand. But no sooner did the wretched individual emerge into 
 the Strand, than the crowd and hurry of the dense throng that 
 streamed along, half in one direction and half in another, so bewil- 
 dered him, that, as he stood to look at the names of the streets, he 
 was twisted round and round, first this way and then the other, by 
 the impatient passengers ; so that, what with the novelty of the scene 
 he felt at the sight of so many vehicles whose approach he knew he could 
 not hear, and what with the jostlings of the people, and the vertigo 
 superinduced by the continual gyrations that he was forced to make 
 by the crowd, the poor man got so confused in his mind, that in a 
 few minutes it was impossible for him to tell which way he had come 
 or whither he was going, and the consequence was that, with the best 
 possible desire to go right, he proceeded in the very opposite direction 
 to that which he had been instructed to follow. 
 
 It was useless for the poor deaf beetle-like countryman to ask -his 
 way of any of the strangers ; for even in the stillness of home it 
 required the lungs of a Surrey tragedian to make him comprehend 
 what was said ; but, amid all the roar of the commercial tide of Lon- 
 don, it was sheer waste of breath to endeavour to make the least 
 impression on his leathery tympanum. Moreover, like the generality 
 of people who are a “ little” hard of hearing, he was so eager to hide 
 his infirmity, and to put those addressing him to as little extra trouble 
 as possible, that he was always ready to catch at half a meaning, 
 and consequently, from some faint analogy in the sound, was continu- 
 ally putting constructions on what was said that were diametrically 
 different from what was intended. 
 
 Hence it was but natural, when poor Postlethwaite requested of the 
 passers-by to be put in the right way towards his destination, that he 
 
HE. AND MES. CURSTY SANDBOVS. 
 
 91 
 
 •was, owing either to his own infirmity, or to the wickedness of the 
 London boys, invariably sent in the wrong. 
 
 And here, in the midst of the London crowd and London roguery, 
 tossed about from street to lane, from lane to square, and from square 
 again to park, we must for awhile leave the bewildered and melancholy 
 serving-man wandering — like Mr. Leigh Hunt’s memorable pig — up 
 “ all manner of streets.” 
 
 Postlethwaite had not been gone long when a policeman brought 
 Jobby back to his temporary home, but in a very different state from 
 that in which he had left it. Mrs. Sandboys herself had to look at 
 him twice before she could make up her mind that another shameful 
 trick was not about to be practised upon her in the form of a false 
 case of affiliation. 
 
 The new suit of clothes which his mother had purchased for the 
 youth at Cockermouth was gone, and in its place he now wore a 
 man’s ragged old pea-jacket — once blue, but now foxy with age — and 
 a pair of trousers as wide as windsails, and smeared with tar, so that 
 they bore a strong resemblance to coal-sacks ; while on his head was 
 a dirty old straw-hat, with a low crown and broad brim, that re- 
 minded one strongly of an inverted soup-plate. The jacket was tied 
 together at the button-holes by bits of rope-yarn ; for the miserable 
 young gentleman had no shirt to his back, nor had a shoe or a 
 stocking to his feet. 
 
 The truth was, as the policeman proceeded to explain to his terri- 
 fied mother, Master Jobby had been what in the eastern districts of 
 the Metropolis is technically termed “ skinned.” 
 
 The lad’s story was soon told. Led on by the delight of the pos- 
 turers’ performance, he had followed the “ School of Acrobats” for 
 miles. Then he had suddenly lighted upon a Punch aud Judy Show, 
 and this had so tickled his boyish fancy, that he wandered with 
 it half over London. After this, a street-band of Ethiopian sere- 
 naders had bewitched him ; their lamp-black faces, their white-paper 
 wristbands and collars, and their fuzzy horsehair wigs, together with 
 the banjos and kettle-drums, and the rattle of the bones, and the chuckle 
 of the nigger-laugh, —all were so new and strange to the boy, that he 
 travelled after them in all directions. Then, as he was growing footsore 
 with his long rambles, an engine at full speed, with the horses gallop- 
 ing, and the firemen in their shiny helmets seated along each side of 
 the machine, went tearing past; and when Jobby saw the people 
 hurry after it, he, too, joined in the crowd. As he ran along, he asked 
 some of the mob who accompanied him, what it all meant ; and 
 learning that a fire was raging down at Shadwell, he hurried on the 
 quicker and the lighter to see the sight. But though he kept up with 
 the crowd through many a street and past many a turning, yet, when 
 he reached the Docks, he began to feel so weary, while the sight of 
 the forest of masts showing above the walls and roofs, so took his 
 boyish fancy, that he came to a dead halt, and letting the engine go 
 on its way, entered the gates of the London Docks. 
 
 Here he strolled about, now stopping to listen to the song of the 
 
92 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 labourers as they tramped round the wheels that lifted the goods from 
 the vessels alongside the quay; then he wandered to the sugar-houses, 
 and watched the coopers within mending the broken casks ; and stood 
 some time at the door, placing his foot stealthily on the sticky floor, 
 coated, as with tar, with the drainings of the casks. Hence he 
 sauntered to the bridges, and there he loved to stand while the iron 
 viaduct was swung back with him and the other loiterers upon it, to 
 make way for some huge emigrant ship, that presently glided through, 
 with its decks littered with ropes and packages, and the passengers 
 grouped at the stern, nodding and waving their handkerchiefs to their 
 friends down upon the quay. Thus J obby passed the time till the 
 hour came for all to leave; and then, following the stream of labourers, 
 he reached the gates, and there, having watched the workmen pass one 
 by one, in a long file, through the narrow doorway, while the officers 
 hastily searched each as he went past, the youth turned out into the 
 streets once more, ignorant where he was, or which way to go to reach 
 his home. 
 
 Now, too, the excitement being over, the youth began for the 
 first time to feel how tired and hungry he was, and to think of the 
 distance he had travelled. It was impossible for him to remember 
 the road by which he had come, so he asked a boy to direct him back 
 to the Strand. The London lad, seeing that Jobby was fresh from 
 the country, made up his mind to have a bit of fun with him, and 
 directed him down some of the many courts and alleys which abound 
 in that locality, and which generally end in “ no thoroughfare.” 
 
 The unsuspecting Jobby went on his way as he was bid; and when 
 he found, on coming to the end of the last court, that a trick had been 
 played upon him, weary and famishing as he was, the poor lad could 
 not help seating himself on the door-step of the nearest house, and 
 bursting into a flood of tears. 
 
 Here the wretched youth was soon espied by one of the female 
 inmates, who, seeing that he was well dressed, invited him in, and 
 drew from him, without much difficulty, the whole story of his 
 troubles. She offered him some ale, telling him that a draught of 
 it would be sure to refresh him, and help him on his journey. The 
 simple lad thankfully received a mug of the drink, but had scarcely 
 swallowed it, before his chin fell with a sudden drowsiness upon his 
 bosom ; and though he started up and tried to shake the sleepiness 
 off, it was too much for him ; and in a few minutes he was dead 
 asleep in the chair. 
 
 Jobby could remember no further, save that, on waking, he found 
 himself in a wretched, damp, dirty room, lying on the sacking of a 
 bare bedstead, and on looking for his clothes, he discovered that they 
 had been stolen, and the ragged ones he now wore left in their 
 place. He was too frightened to recollect how he had got away from 
 the house, or found his way out of the courts. All he knew was, that 
 on reaching the open street, he had placed himself under the protec- 
 tion of the first policeman he could meet, who returned with the boy 
 to see if he could find out the house again, but in vain. The many 
 windings and turnings of the courts so confused the country lad, that 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 93 
 
 it was impossible for him to recal the way he had gone. After this, 
 the policeman had taken him to the station, where the superinten- 
 dent had given orders to one of the men to accompany him home. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys was too glad to have her darling boy with her once 
 again to feel inclined either to grieve or scold overmuch about his 
 adventures; besides, she now knew the luggage would arrive in a 
 few hours, and then he and the rest of the family could be made 
 clean and sweet, which, she began to think, they were far from being 
 at that present moment. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, too, was not so much annoyed at the occurrence as 
 might have been expected. Not only was he delighted at the boy’s 
 return, but he felt a kind of inward satisfaction to find that his long- 
 cherished theory as to the wickedness of the great Metropolis was 
 being, in all its particulars, so fully borne out. He had foreseen, he 
 said, every occurrence that had happened, but they had only them- 
 selves to blame. He had fully warned them of all they had to 
 undergo ; and, in his opinion— if he knew anything at all about the 
 rogueries of London — they had not yet gone through one tithe of 
 the troubles that were in store for them. 
 
 Cursty’s sermonizing was at last cut short by the arrival of the 
 long looked-for luggage. Then Mrs. Sandboys was in her glory. 
 If ladies delight in the synthetical operation of packing, they certainly 
 find an equal delight in the analytical process of unpacking — even as 
 children take pleasure in building up their card-houses, and a like 
 pleasure in blowing them down again. 
 
 It was not long before Mrs. Sandboys, with Elcy at her elbow, was 
 down on her knees in the kitchen, in front of a long open box, counting 
 the several articles enumerated on a piece of paper gummed to the 
 lid, to satisfy herself that none had been abstracted during their 
 absence. And as she examined the state of her best caps and bonnets, 
 she found them so tumbled, that she felt thoroughly convinced they 
 had been worn by some parties — the wives of the railway men, she had 
 no doubt — or why, as she said, should they have kept them so long 
 on the way? 
 
 Nor was the pleasure of going over “her things” confined to Mrs. 
 Sandboys alone, for even the maid and Mrs. Fokesell, though in no 
 way concerned, seemed to experience a similar delight in the opera- 
 tion; for there they stood by her side, watching and admiring every 
 article as she took it from the box. 
 
 At length, having looked out the much-wished-for, or rather, 
 according to the lady, the much-wanted “change,” for the whole 
 family, she gave them each their bundle of clean clothes, and having 
 arranged with Mrs. Fokesell that they might be allowed the use 
 of the back attic, as a temporary dressing-room, during the absence of 
 the German Baron and his lady, Cursty was started up stairs and 
 told by his wife to make as much haste as possible, for really she 
 was getting alarmed about Postlethwaite, and she wanted Mr. Sand- 
 boys immediately that he had “ tidied” himself to step round to the 
 printer’s and try and learn whatever had become of the poor man. 
 
94 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 In a few minutes Mr. Sandboys returned to the kitchen, clad in his 
 best suit, to receive the opinion of his wife as to the improved cha- 
 racter of his appearance. Mrs. Sandboys twisted her “guidman” round 
 and round, tried to pull the wrinkles out of his coat behind, pinched 
 up the frill of his shirt, and ultimately pronounced that she thought 
 he would do — at least, thank guidness, she said he was clean and 
 sweet once more. Then, having kissed him, she despatched him on 
 his errand after the deaf Postlethwaite. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys was still engaged in the interesting process of 
 unpacking her trunks in the kitchen, when a hawker of flowers, with 
 a basket of all colours on his head, stopped before the railings, and 
 observing the lady down stairs, immediately commenced crying — 
 “ Fine flowers ! sweet-scented flowers ! handsome flowers ! — all 
 a-blowing — all a-growing!” 
 
 Elcy, observing the bright scarlet blossoms of the geraniums, and the 
 long crimson drops of the fuchsias swinging backwards and forwards 
 in the wind, and the pink balls of roses, nodding at every motion of 
 the huckster’s head, called out to her mother to come and see what 
 beautiful plants the man had got. 
 
 The street-seller no sooner caught sight of Mrs. Sandboys, than he 
 shouted again — “ Fine flowers ! sweet-scented flowers. Take any old 
 clothes for ’em, ma’am. You may have the pick of the basket for an 
 old coat.” 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys shook her head, but the street-seller seeing her still 
 look up, put his basket down on the pavement, and began trying to 
 have a deal with her down the area railings. 
 
 “ Now’s your time, ladies,” he cried, “ you can have this here moss- 
 rose for an old weskit, or a pair of satin shoes. Now’s your time, ladies; 
 all a-blowing! all a-growing!” 
 
 Elcy, at her mother’s request, stepped out into the area to tell the 
 man that they didn’t want any. 
 
 But the cunning dealer having once got the girl into conversation, 
 handed her down a pot of mignionette, and begged her just to put her 
 nose to that there. As she sniffed at the fragrant flowers, the man 
 said he’d accept of anything, he didn’t mind what it was, how old or 
 how dirty, for he had not taken a penny all that day. Any old 
 trowsers, Miss, if you’ll tell your ina, or an old hat, or a pair of boots 
 — it’s all the same, Miss; though they a’n’t no use to you, they’re as 
 good as money to us. Take that there pot in to your ma, Miss, and 
 ax her just to put her nose to it, and then say whether she doesn’t 
 think such a nosegay as that there a’n’t worth an old straw bonnet, or 
 some white linen rags.” 
 
 Elcy trotted in with the plant, vowing that she had never in all 
 her life seen such beautiful flowers as the man had in his basket, — 
 the geraniums quite made her eyes ache to look at them ; and then 
 she told her mother that the man said he would take anything for them, 
 even old rags. 
 
 The novelty of the transaction, the beauty of the plants, and the 
 seeming wonderful cheapness of them, all produced such an effect 
 upon Mrs. Sandboy’s mind, that she began to consider what useless 
 
ME. AND MRS. CUESTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 95 
 
 article she had with her that she could offer the man in exchange for 
 one of them. 
 
 After much cogitation, they both came to the conclusion that the 
 trowsers which Mr. Sandboys had worn in the morning were too 
 shabby for him to put on in London ; they were the “ old things” 
 said his wife, “ which he had split to pieces in going after that tiresome 
 pig, and which, on second thoughts, she had considered quite good 
 enough for him to travel in ; and now, as the new ones she had bought 
 him at Coclcermouth had come to hand, why, there was no necessity 
 for her keeping the others any longer; and she knew very well, unless 
 she got rid of the nasty, shabby old things, Cursty would be making 
 his appearance in them some day ; whereas if she took them out in 
 flowers, it would prevent his ever wearing them again. 
 
 The determination once formed, Mrs. Sandboys motioned the 
 flower-seller to the street-door, while Elcy was despatched to fetch 
 the trowsers that her father had recently taken off. 
 
 The street-seller, on seeing the garments, declared that they were 
 hardly worth putting in his basket, and carrying home. “ If the 
 lady had got an old coat, he’d let her have that there handsome fucshia 
 for it, ’cause the skirts was valuable— let it be ever so much worn — 
 for making cloth caps for boys, and the officers in the army; or, he 
 wouldn’t mind chucking in that partic’lar fine ’artsease for an old 
 weskit, for they came in handy for parsons’ gaiters, but trowsers was 
 no account at all; however, he didn’t like to be hard with the ladies 
 so he’d give ’em that there lovely Chaney rose for the trowsers and 
 a silver sixpence.” 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys, however, was woman of the world enough to be a 
 good bargainer ; so, as fast as the huckster decried her husband’s old 
 breeches, she did the same for the street-seller’s flowers. In due 
 commercial style each professed to be equally careless about dealing 
 with the other, and yet each was equally anxious for the bargain. 
 
 At length, after much haggling, it was agreed that Mrs. Sandboys 
 should have a pot of mignionette and a couple of cut moss-roses for 
 the garment ; whereupon the old trowsers were transferred to the 
 flower-seller’s long black bag, and the flowers to the care of 
 Mrs. Sandboys. 
 
 Immediately the man had closed the door, the native of Buttermere 
 hastened to Mrs. Fokesell to show her the bargain she had effected; 
 and while the ladies were engaged in sniffing one after another at 
 the delicious perfume of the blossoms, a violent knock came to the 
 door, and in a minute the breathless Mr. Sandboys stood panting 
 before his wife. 
 
 Presently he explained, by snatches between his gasps, how he had 
 got into an omnibus on his way to the station house to which Jobby 
 had been taken by the policeman, for, as he said, he considered that 
 would be the best place to obtain tidings of any missing party — - 
 and how, after having ridden a short distance, he had put his hand 
 into his pocket to feel for his money, and discovered to his horror 
 that he had come out without any. The consequence was, he pro- 
 ceeded to say, that he had to stop the ’bus and acquaint the conductor 
 
96 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ■with his misfortune ; whereupon the man abused him in the most 
 shameful manner, and collared him in the middle of the road, saying 
 he was a hoary-headed old cheat, and it would serve him right if he 
 knocked his head off his shoulders, as a lesson to him for the future — 
 and Mr. Sandboys wound up by declaring he verily believed the fellow 
 would have done it, too, if it hadn’t been that, as luck would have it, 
 he had taken his silk umbrella with him; which, after a good deal of 
 trouble, he had got the man to consent to hold as security for the fare. 
 
 When Mr. Sandboys had finished his story, his wife asked him how 
 he could be such a simpleton as to leave his money behind him, and 
 requested to be informed where he had it. 
 
 “ In t’ pockets of mey auld breeks,” responded the innocent Cursty. 
 
 The words came upon his dear Aggy like a thunderclap. As the 
 lady said afterwards, “ any one might have knocked her down with a 
 feather.” Elcy stared at her mother, and the mother stared at the 
 daughter, in a maze of bewilderment. Neither liked to confess the 
 truth to Cursty, and yet to delay doing so was every minute to dimi- 
 nish the probability of obtaining possession of the precious garments 
 again. 
 
 At length Mrs. Sandboys did venture to break the matter to her 
 husband. She told him she had disposed of his trowsers only a few 
 moments before his return for a pot of mignionette and a couple of 
 moss roses. 
 
 “ Well, Aggy,” cried Cursty, when he had recovered from the first 
 shock, “ thee’ll have to suffer for’t as well as meysel for forty t’ notes 
 I’d got in t’ pocket book, thar was thy marriage lines that thee wud 
 mek me bring up wi’ me, to show thee wast an honest woman, if ever 
 thee sucl want as much.” 
 
 “ Waistoma! waistoma!” cried poor Mrs. Sandboys, when she heard 
 of this, to her, the greatest loss of all. At first she raved against 
 London, and London people, and London wickedness. Then she 
 declared it was all Cursty’s fault, and owing to his nasty idle habits 
 of never emptying his pockets, when he changed his clothes, but 
 leaving everything to her to do. Next, she vowed she would go back 
 to Buttermere that very night, for nothing but misery had befallen 
 her ever since they had made up their mind to enjoy themselves. 
 
 However, when her anger had somewhat exhausted itself, she 
 entreated her own dear Cursty to hasten after the flower-seller. The 
 man could not be far off, unless he had discovered the prize he had got, 
 and decamped with it to some other part of the town ; but she was 
 almost certain he had not felt anything in the pockets at the time he 
 was looking the trowsers over in the passage, or else he would have 
 been more anxious to have purchased them than he was. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys she directed to go one way, and Jobby another; 
 for if her marriage lines were really gone, it was impossible to tell 
 what might happen. 
 
 In obedience to her commands, Cursty and Jobby were soon out of 
 the house, exploring every street and corner in quest of the flower- 
 seller. 
 
 And here, we must, reader, for the present drop the curtain. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 07 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 “ Here mirth and merchandise are mix’d. 
 
 There trick wi’ tumult rages; 
 
 Here fraud an’ ignorance are fix’d, 
 
 An’ sense wi’ craft engages. 
 ***** 
 
 “ Here pedlars frae a’ pairts repair, 
 
 Beath Yorkshire beytes and Scotch fwoak ; 
 
 An’ Paddeys wi’ their feyne lin’ ware, 
 
 Tho’ a’ deseyned to botch fwoak. 
 ***** 
 
 “ Here’s Yorkshire impudence, d’e see, 
 
 Advancin’ for a brek, 
 
 Just askin’ threyce as much as he 
 Kens he’ll consent to tek. 
 
 ‘ Here, maister, buy a coat cloith here, 
 
 Ye’s have it chep, believe me ; 
 
 ’Tis of the foinest ’ool, I swear. 
 
 Mon, think ye I’d deceive ye ?’ ” 
 
 llvslcy Fair, by John Stagy. 
 
 We left Mr. Sandboys engaged in the interesting occupation of 
 hunting after his lost inexpressibles — the very inexpressibles which 
 his wife had mended previous to his departure from Buttermere, and 
 which that lady had since exchanged, together with forty pounds in 
 bank notes and her own marriage certificate in the pockets, for a pot 
 of mignionette and a couple of cut roses. 
 
 His son Jobby, too, was employed upon the same agreeable mission ; 
 but the researches of the youth were neither vigorous nor profitable, 
 for remembering the unpleasant issue of his previous wanderings in 
 the metropolis, he feared to travel far from the domestic precincts of 
 Craven Street, lest his rambles might end in his being flayed ; 
 stripped of his cloth cuticle — his sartorial integuments, once more; 
 the timid boy therefore kept pacing to and fro within view of his own 
 knocker, or if he allowed the domestic door-step to fade from his 
 sight, he did so only when at the heels of the proximate Policeman. 
 
 Mr. Cursty, however, was far more venturesome. He thought of 
 his lost bank notes and missing marriage certificate, and what with 
 the matter o’ money and the matrimony, he rushed on, determined 
 not to leave a paving nor a flag-stone untrodden throughout the 
 streets of London, till he regained possession of his lost treasures. 
 So away he went, as the north country people say, “ tappy loppy,” 
 with his coat laps flying “helter-skelter,” as if he were “heiglity- 
 HigHty.” 
 
 Up and down, in and out of all the neighbouring streets he 
 hurried, stopping only to ask of the passers-by whether they had met 
 a hawker of flowers on their way. Not a public-house in the neigh- 
 bourhood but he entered to search and inquire after the missing 
 flower-seller ; and when he had explored every adjacent thoroughfare, 
 and bar, and taproom, and, after all, grown none the wiser, and go 
 
 H 
 
98 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 none the nearer to the whereabouts of the floral “ distributor,” he 
 proceeded to unbosom himself respecting the nature and extent of his 
 osses to the police on duty, and to consult with them as to the 
 best means of recovering his notes and “ marriage lines.” 
 
 All the “authorities” whom he spoke to on the subject, agreed 
 that the only chance he had of ever again setting eyes on his 
 property, was of proceeding direct to the Old Clothes Exchange in 
 Houndsditch, whither the purchasers of the united “ left off wearing- 
 apparel ” of the metropolis and its suburbs daily resort, to get “ the 
 best price given for their old rags.” 
 
 Accordingly, Mr. Cursty Sandboys, having minutely copied down, 
 in order to prevent mistakes — for his care increased with each fresh 
 disaster — the name and description of the locality which he was 
 advised to explore, called a cab, and directed the driver to convey 
 him, with all possible speed, to the quarter in which the left-off 
 apparel market was situated. 
 
 He was not long in reaching the desired spot. The cabman drew 
 up at the end of the narrow passage leading to the most fashionable 
 of the Old Clothes Marts, and Mr. Sandboys having paid the driver 
 well for the haste he had made, proceeded at once to plunge into the 
 vortex of the musty market. 
 
 Outside the gateway stood the celebrated “ Barney Aaron,” the 
 hook-nosed janitor, with his hook-nosed son by his side — the father 
 ready to receive the halfpenny toll from each of the buyers and sellers 
 as he entered the Exchange, and the youth with a leathern pouch 
 filled with “coppers,” to give as change for any silver that might be 
 tendered. 
 
 As Cursty passed through the gate, the stench of the congregated 
 old clothes and rags and hareskins was almost overpowering. The place 
 stank like a close damp cellar. There was that peculiar sour smell in 
 the atmosphere which appertains to stale infants, blended with the 
 mildewy odour of what is termed “ mother” — a mixture of mouldi- 
 ness, mustiness, and fustiness, that was far from pleasant in the 
 nostrils. 
 
 Scarcely had Cursty entered the Mart before he was surrounded by 
 some half-dozen eager Jews, some with long grizzly beards, and 
 others in greasy gaberdines — each seizing him by the arm, or pulling 
 him by his coat, or tapping him on the shoulder, as they one and all 
 clamoured for a sight of whatever he might have to sell. 
 
 “ Ha’ you cot any preaking ?” asked one who bought old coats to 
 cut up into cloth caps — “ cot any fushtian — old cordsh — or old 
 pootsli?” 
 
 “ I’m shure you’ve shometing vot will shoot me,” cried another. 
 
 “ You know me,” said a third — “ I’m little Ikey, the pest of puyersh, 
 and always give a cood prishe.” 
 
 Such was the anxiety and eagerness of the Israelites, that it was 
 more than Mr. Sandboys could do to force his way through them, and 
 it was not until a new-comer entered with a sack at his back, that 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 99 
 
 they left him to hurry off and feel the old clothes-bag, as they cla- 
 moured for first peep at its contents. 
 
 Once in the body of the Market, Cursty had time to look well 
 about him, and a curious sight it was — perhaps one of the most 
 curious in all London. He had never heard, never dreamt of there 
 being such a place. A greater bustle and eagerness appear to rage 
 among the buyers of the refuse of London, than among the traders in 
 its most valuable commodities. 
 
 Here, ranged on long narrow wooden benches, which extended 
 from one side of the market to the other, and over which sloped a 
 narrow, eaves-like roofing, that projected sufficiently forward only to 
 shelter the sitter from the rain, were to be seen the many merchants 
 of the streets — the buyers of hareskins — the bone-grubbers, and the 
 rag-gatherers-— the “bluey-hunters,” or juvenile purloiners of lead — the 
 bottle collectors — the barterers of crockery-ware for old clothes — the 
 flower-swoppers — the umbrella menders — and all the motley fraternity 
 of petty dealers and chapmen. Each had his store of old clothes — or 
 metal — or boots — or rags — or bonnets — or hats — or bottles — or hare- 
 skins — or umbrellas, spread out in a heap before him. 
 
 There sat a barterer of crockery and china, in a bright red plush 
 waistcoat and knee breeches, with legs like balustrades, beside his 
 half-emptied basket of “ stone-ware,” while at his feet lay piled the 
 apparently worthless heap of rags and tatters, for which he had 
 exchanged his jugs, and cups, and basins. A few yards from him 
 was a woman done up in a coachman’s drab and many-caped box- 
 coat, with a pair of men’s cloth boots on her feet, and her limp- 
 looking straw-bonnet flattened down on her head, as if with repeated 
 loads, while the ground near her was strewn with hare-skins, some old 
 and so stiff that they seemed frozen, and the fresher ones looking 
 shiny and crimson as tinsel. Before this man was a small mound 
 of old cracked boots, dappled with specks of mildew — beside that 
 one lay a hillock of' washed-out light waistcoats, and yellow stays, and 
 straw-bonnets half in shreds. Farther on was a black-chinned and 
 lantern-jawed bone-grubber, clad in dirty greasy rags, with his wallet 
 emptied on the stones, and the bones and bits of old iron and pieces 
 of rags that he had gathered in his day’s search, each sorted into dif- 
 ferent piles before him ; and as he sat waiting anxiously for a pur- 
 chaser, he chewed a piece of mouldy pie-crust, that he had picked up 
 or had given him on his rounds. In one part of the Exchange was to 
 be perceived some well-known tinker behind a heap of old battered 
 saucepans or metal teapots, side by side with an umbrella mender, in 
 front of whom lay a store of whalebone ribs and sticks. In another 
 quarter might be seen the familiar face of some popular peep-showman, 
 with his “ back-show” on the form on one side of him, while on tire 
 other were ranged the physic phials and wine bottles and glass pickle 
 jars that he had taken of the children for a sight at his exhibition ; 
 and next to him was located a flower-seller, with his basket emptied 
 of all its blooming and fragrant contents, with the exception of one 
 
 H 2 
 
100 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 or two of the more expensive plants, and the places of the missing 
 flowers filled with coats, waistcoats, boots, and hats. 
 
 To walk down the various passages between the seats, and run the 
 eye over the several heaps of refuse, piled on the ground like trea- 
 sure, was to set the mind wondering as to what could possibly be the 
 uses of each and every of them. Everything there seemed to have 
 fulfilled to the very utmost the office for which it was made ; and 
 now that its functions were finished, and it seemed to be utterly 
 worthless, the novice to such scenes could not refrain from marvelling 
 what remaining purpose could possibly give value to “ the rubbish.” 
 
 The buyers, too, were as picturesque and motley a group almost as 
 were the sellers — for the purchasers were of all nations, and habited 
 in every description of costume. Some were Greeks, others were 
 Swiss, while others were Germans. Some had come there to buy up 
 the old rough charity clothing, and the army grey great-coats, for the 
 “ Irish” market ; others had come to purchase the hareskins or old 
 furs, or to give “ the best price” for old tea-pots and tea-urns. One 
 man, with a long flowing beard and greasy tattered gaberdine, was 
 said to be worth thousands ; thither he had come to add another six- 
 pence to his hoard, by dabbling in the rags and refuse, strewn about 
 the ground in heaps, for sale : others were there to purchase the old 
 Wellingtons, and to have them new-fronted or their cracks heel-balled 
 over, and then vended to clerks, who are “ expected to appear respect- 
 able” on the smallest salaries. That Jewess is intent on buying up 
 the left-off wardrobes “ of the nobility,” so as to dispose of the faded 
 finery to the actresses of the minor theatres, or the “ gay” ladies of 
 the upper boxes. Yonder old Israelite, who goes prowling between 
 the seats, is looking out for such black garments as will admit of 
 being “clobbered” up, or “turned” into “ genteel suits” for poor 
 curates, or half-paid ushers of classical academies. Nor does he 
 reject those which are worn even threadbare in parts, for he well 
 knows they will admit of being transformed into the “ best boys’ 
 tunics ; ” while such as are too far gone for that, he buys to be torn 
 to pieces by the “devil,” and made up again into new cloth, or 
 “ shoddy,” as it is termed ; and others, which his practised eye tells 
 him have already done that duty, he bids for, knowing that they will 
 still fetch him a good price, even as manure for the ground. Some 
 of the buyers have come principally to purchase the old silk hats — 
 and as they wander among the heaps of old clothes, and rags, and 
 metal, they stop every now and then, aud crumple up the shapes in 
 their hands to try whether they have been — as they call it — “ through 
 the fire or not,” and those which will stand the test of their expe- 
 rienced touch, they buy for the shops, to have converted into the 
 “ best new hats” for the country. Some, again, are there chiefly to 
 “pick up” the old umbrellas, which they value not only for the 
 whalebone ribs but the metal supporters — the latter articles furnish- 
 ing the material for the greater part of the iron skewers of London ; 
 while some of the buyers, on the other hand, have come to look after 
 the old linen shirts, which they sell again to the paper-mills, to be 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 101 
 
 converted, by the alchemy of science, into the newspaper, the best 
 “ Bath post,” or even the bank-note. 
 
 As the purchasers go pacing up and down the narrow pathways, 
 and pick their way, now among the old bottles, bonnets, boots, rags, 
 and now among the bones, the old metal, the stays, the gowns, the 
 hats and coats, a thick-lipped Jew-boy spouts from his high stage 
 in the centre of the market, “ Hot vine a ha’penny a clarsh ! a 
 ha’penny a clarsh !” Between the seats, too, women worm their way 
 along, carrying baskets of “ trotters” and screaming, as they go, “ Legs 
 of mutton two for a penny! two for a penny! Who’ll give me a 
 handsell ? — who’ll give me a handsell ?” After them comes a man 
 with a large tin can under his arm, and roaring, “ Hot peas, oh ! 
 hot peas, oh !” In the middle of the market is another vender of 
 street luxuries, with a smoking can of “hot eels” before him, and 
 next to him is a sweetmeat stall, with a crowd of young Hebrews 
 gathered round the keeper of it, gambling eagerly, with marbles, for 
 “ Albert rock” and “hardbake;” while at one end of the market stands 
 a coffee and beer-shop, and inside this are Jews playing at draughts, 
 or settling and wrangling about the goods they have bought of one 
 another. 
 
 In no other part of London — and, perhaps, in no other part of the 
 entire world — is such a scene of riot, rags, and filth to be witnessed. 
 Every one there is dressed in his worst — for none who know the 
 nature of the place would think of venturing thither in even decent 
 apparel. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys was the universal object of observation. What he 
 could have to do in such a place, every one was puzzling Iris brains 
 to think; and as Cursty hurried up and down between the seats, 
 in the hopes of catching a glimpse of his lost inexpressioles, the 
 buyers and sellers, one and all delighted, as he passed, to crack some 
 rude jest upon him. The women wished to know whether he wasn’t 
 hunting after a “ nice pair of stays” for his “ missus ;” the men would 
 hold up some faded livery, and request to be informed whether he 
 was looking for “an ’andsome suit for his Johnny.” But, regardless of 
 their gibes, round and round, like the hyena at the Surrey Gardens, 
 Mr. Sandboys went, in the hope of eventually lighting on his precious 
 nether garments. Not a flower-seller entered the place but Cursty 
 watched him intently, until he had seen every article turned out of his 
 bag, and satisfied himself that the anonymous part of his apparel 
 formed no portion of the man’s left-off stores. 
 
 Nor did he think of moving from the place until all the buyers and 
 sellers had quitted it ; and when the hour arrived for closing the 
 gates, Cursty hardly knew what course of action to adopt. 
 
 At one time it struck him that it would not be a bad plan 
 to do as Aladdin did when he lost his “ wonderful lamp,” and go 
 round the town crying, “ New breeches lor old ones ;” but, on second 
 thoughts, he perceived that, however feasible such a plan might 
 have been in Bagdad, it was far from practicable in London ; for he 
 felt satisfied, from the universal habit of wearing such articles of dress 
 
102 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 among the male portion of the metropolitan population — (and, indeed, 
 among not a few of the married females) — that the Londoners’ love 
 of a good bargain, no matter at whose cost, would render them so 
 particularly anxious to make the exchange, that the business he would 
 be likely to do in one street alone would be sufficient, not only to 
 ruin him in pocket, but to break his back with the burden. If the 
 lady denizens of the capital were to be attracted to the linen-drapers’ 
 establishments, solely by the enlivening inducement that somebody 
 was to be ruined by their custom — if, like the Hindoo widows, they 
 delighted in “ awful sacrifices,” (at any other persons’ expense than 
 their own) how eager, thought the philosophic Cursty, would wives of 
 London be to deal with him, when they imagined that they could 
 breech their husbands by stripping him of all he had. 
 
 After revolving in his mind many equally sagacious plans for the 
 recovery of his precious pantaloons, Mr. Cursty decided that, perhaps, 
 the wisest course to pursue, under all the circumstances, would be to 
 return to his temporary domicile, and there consult with his wife as 
 to the future mode of action. Accordingly, he hailed the first 
 omnibus travelling Strandward, that passed him, and depositing him- 
 self within it, was once more on his way towards home. 
 
 While Mr. Sandboys, fagged out with his unprofitable and weari- 
 some day’s work, is dozing away the distance from Whitechapel to 
 the Strand in the corner of the long “ short stage,” let us take 
 advantage of that uneventful interval to communicate the circum- 
 stances that had occurred during his absence to mar again the peace 
 and happiness of his family. 
 
 Some three or four hours had elapsed after that gentleman’s depar- 
 ture from home, when Mrs. Fokesell “ bounced” breathless into the 
 back attic, which now constituted the sittiug-room, bed-room, dressing- 
 room, and kitchen, of the united Sandboys. 
 
 “ Oh, mum,” the landlady exclaimed, gasping as she wiped her 
 forehead with the corner of her dirty pink cotton apron ; “ 0 — oh, 
 mum ! here’s a man come from the Station-’us.” 
 
 “From t’ Station-house!” echoed Mrs. Sandboys, who had hardly 
 had time to recover the shock of the sudden entry of Mrs. Fokesell ; 
 but, on second thoughts, imagining the messenger had brought her 
 tidings of the missing garments, she added : “ So then, thank 
 
 guidness, they’ve caught t’ man with t’ flowers and t’ trousers at last.” 
 
 “ They’ve caught your man, you means, mum,” returned Mrs. 
 Fokesell, shaking her head till the little bunch of vermicular 
 ringlets at each side of her face swung backwards and forwards, like 
 the “ wings” of a kite in the wind. 
 
 “ My man !” ejaculated the terrified Aggy, as she began to have a 
 vague perception that “ something dreadful” had occurred to her 
 beloved Cursty. “ What in t’ warl’ do’sta mean — what do’sta mean?” 
 
 “ Why, it’s just this here, mum — that your good man, as you call 
 him” — here thecircumspectlandlady opened the room-door mysteriously, 
 to satisfy herself that nobody was listening, and then closing it again. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 103 
 
 advanced towards Mrs. Sandboys, and said, in a half-wliisper, “ your 
 good man has been and got took up for being drunk and disorderly, 
 and oncapable of taking care of hisself.” 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys threw up her hands, and dropped into the nearest 
 chair ; while Elcy came and leant over and tried to assure her that 
 “ it must be some shocking mistake again.” 
 
 But Mrs. Fokesell would not hear of such a thing; she had made 
 most particular inquiries of the “party” below — for at first, she 
 herself could hardly bring herself to believe that such a thorough 
 gentleman, as Mr. Sandboys always appeared to be, could so 
 lower hisself as to be seen intosticated in the public streets — but 
 there couldn’t be no mistake this time, because the “party” had 
 brought one of the “gent’s” cards with him. And when she heard 
 Mrs. Sandboys and Elcy both sobbing at the intelligence, the land- 
 lady begged of them “ not to go and take on in that manner,” for 
 after his last voyage, Mr. Fokesell hisself — though he was as good a 
 man as ever walked in shoe-leather, so long as he was at sea out of 
 harm’s way — had gone and got overtook by liquor, and been skinned 
 and robbed of everything he had, for all the world like young 
 Mr. Sandboys was, by them painted dolls nigh the docks, and, as if 
 that wasn’t enough to ruin her peace of mind, he must get hisself 
 fined two pounds, or ten days imprisonment, for an assault on a police- 
 man. Here the lady digressed into a long account of Mr. Foke- 
 sell’s failings, saying, that ever since their marriage she had never 
 been a penny the better for his money, and that she didn’t know what 
 would have become of her if it hadn’t been for her lodgers and the 
 rent of a six-roomed cottage, that had been left her by her fust 
 husband, who was an undertaker with a large connexion, but a weak, 
 though an uncommon fine man, and who might have made her very 
 comfortable at his death, if he had only done by her as he ought. 
 Whereupon, wholly forgetting the object of her errand to Mrs. Sand- 
 boys, she further digressed into a narrative of the mixed qualities of 
 Mr. Bolsh’s — her poor dear first husband’s — character. 
 
 Mrs. Cursty, who had been too deeply absorbed in her own family 
 misfortunes to listen to those of Mrs. Fokesell, at length, on recover- 
 ing her self-possession, requested to be informed where Mr. Sandboys 
 had been “ picked up ” previous to being taken into custody. 
 
 The landlady, anxious to produce as great a sensation as she could, 
 made no more ado, but informed her that her “ good man” had been 
 found lying on his back in a gutter in Wild Street, Drury Lane, and 
 that it was a mercy that he hadn’t been druv over by one of them 
 Safety Cabs as was dashing along, as they always does, at the risk of 
 people’s lives. 
 
 The circumstance of the messenger having brought Cursty’s card with 
 him was sufficient to preclude all doubt from Mrs. Sandboys’ mind; 
 nevertheless she sat for a minute or two wondering how the mis- 
 fortune could possibly have happened. At one moment she imagined 
 that the loss of his bank notes had produced so depressing an effect 
 on his spirits that Cursty had gone into some tavern to procure a glass 
 
104 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 of wine, in the hopes of cheering himself up amid his many misfor- 
 tunes, and being unaccustomed to take anything of the kind before 
 dinner, had perhaps been suddenly overcome by it. The next minute 
 she felt satisfied that he had been entrapped into some dreadful place 
 and drugged, like poor dear J obby. Then she began to ask herself 
 whether he could have lighted upon any friend from Cumberland, 
 and in the excitement of the meeting been induced to take a glass 
 or two more than he otherwise would ; and immediately after this 
 she felt half convinced that Cursty had discovered the flower-seller, 
 and been so delighted at recovering possession of his pocket-book, 
 that he had accompanied the fellow to some “ low place” to treat 
 him, and there, perhaps, been imprudent enough to take a glass of 
 hot spirits and water “ on an empty stomach,” and that this had 
 flown to his head, and rendered him quite insensible to everything 
 around him ; or else she was satisfied that it was owing to the nasty 
 bit of red herring which he would have that morning for breakfast. 
 
 When Mrs. Sandboys communicated to Mrs. Fokesell the several 
 results of her ruminations, that lady was far from being of the same 
 opinion, and did not hesitate to confess that she had long been convinced 
 that the men were all alike, and that, for herself, she wouldn’t trust 
 anyone of them — and especially her Fokesell — further than she could 
 see him. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys, however, was in no humour to listen to such 
 harangues, and starting from her seat, desired to know whether the 
 messenger from the station-house was still below stairs, so that she 
 might accompany him back to her husband. On being answered in 
 the affirmative, she proceeded to “ put on her things” with all speed, 
 while Elcy, with her eyes still full of tears, implored to be allowed to 
 go with her. 
 
 When her toilet was finished, she kissed her gentle- hearted daughter 
 previous to leaving her (for it was not fit, she said, that young girls 
 should visit such places), and bidding her dry up her tears, for that all 
 would yet be right, she hastened down the stairs, and in a minute 
 afterwards she was on her way, in company with the messenger, 
 towards Bow-street station-house. 
 
 The reader must not do poor Mr. Sandboys the injustice to 
 imagine that he had so far forgotten himself as to have made a 
 pillow of one of the metropolitan kerb-stones. Nor was he, at the 
 time referred to, the temporary tenant of one of the Bow-street police 
 cells; for that much maligned gentleman, far from being then in 
 “durance vile,” was still enjoying a disjointed kind of nap in the 
 corner of the Mile-end omnibus. 
 
 Let us explain. 
 
 The flower-seller, immediately on handling the discarded inex- 
 pressibles of Mr. Christopher Sandboys, had discovered that one of 
 the pockets was not wholly empty; and though he was sufficiently 
 alive to the impositions occasionally practised upon members of liis 
 fraternity by coachmen, grooms, footmen, and others, to be well 
 
ME. AND MES. CUESTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 105 
 
 aware that articles — especially buttons and pieces of silver-paper — were 
 frequently inserted in the fob of cast-off pantaloons, with the view of 
 leading them to imagine that either some notes or coin had been, 
 accidentally left in the garments by their late innocent possessors, 
 and so inducing them to give a higher sum for the articles than 
 they were really worth — the flower-seller was, nevertheless, we say, 
 too fully satisfied of the thorough rusticity and consequent simplicity 
 of Mrs. and Miss Sandboys, to believe that they could be capable of 
 any such trick. The hawker, too, was clever tradesman enough to 
 lead Mrs. Sandboys to suppose that he was in no way anxious to 
 become the purchaser of the articles offered to him ; and he was par- 
 ticularly careful, as he turned the garments over and over to examine 
 them, never to allow either of the pockets to fall under the notice of 
 Mrs. Sandboys. 
 
 As soon as the bargain was settled, and the street seller of flowers 
 had got fairly out of sight of the house, he was joined by the female 
 who usually accompanied him on his rounds, and of whose services he 
 occasionally availed himself when any feminine article of dress was 
 proffered for exchange. To her the hawker did not hesitate to make 
 known his impression that he had got a “ prize.” Accordingly, the 
 two retired up the first court they came to on their way from the 
 house, to examine what it was that the pockets really contained. 
 The pocket-book was soon had out — each compartment being care- 
 fully searched — and when the roll of notes was found, their glee knew 
 no bounds ; but the woman, who acted as interpreter on the occasion 
 — the man himself being unable to read — was perhaps even more 
 delighted when she discovered the certificate of Mr. and Mrs. Sand- 
 boys’ marriage at Lorton Yale Church, in Cumberland; for, though 
 not attaching a particularly high moral value to the hymeneal cere- 
 mony, she thought, knowing the prejudices of society in this respect, 
 that the possession of such a document might prove of some little 
 service to her on some future occasion. When, therefore, the two came 
 to divide the proceeds of their good fortune, the lady stipulated that 
 the marriage certificate should be hers, and that in consideration of this, 
 she said her mate might take three of the notes, and she would be 
 satisfied with two. This appeared so advantageous an arrangement to 
 the gentleman, that, caring nothing for the possession of the “ lines,” he 
 immediately closed with the offer. 
 
 The arrangement, however, was far from being so advantageous as 
 it appeared; for the lady, on proceeding to divide the treasure, 
 availed herself of her “ mate’s” want of education, so as, while giving 
 him the greater number of notes, to retain for herself those of the 
 higher value. Accordingly she handed him over three fives out of 
 the forty, keeping a twenty and a five for her own portion. It was 
 then settled between them that the man should proceed to the Old 
 Exchange and dispose of the contents of his bag, while his partner 
 should return home and get a bit of “ summut particular good” against 
 his arrival. 
 
 The sense of being the possessor of so large a sum of money, was 
 
106 
 
 1851 ; OB, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 too great a temptation for the hawker’s slender sobriety to withstand; 
 while the treasure remained in his pocket, he could hardly assure 
 himself of its worth, for people of his grade in life have generally an 
 utter want of faith in the value of what appears to them to be 
 nothing more than a strip of silver paper. Besides, he thought it 
 would be prudent to “ run for gold” as soon as possible, for he well 
 knew that the current coin of the realm, unlike bank notes, bore no 
 numbers by which one sovereign or shilling could be distinguished 
 from another. 
 
 A variety of circumstances, therefore, conspired to lead the man 
 into the first public-house he came to. Here he entered the tap- 
 room, and placing his basket of flowers on the seat beside him, called 
 for a pint of “ dog’s nose” — a combination of gin and beer, to which 
 the gentleman was particularly partial. 
 
 This had the effect of rendering the hawker indisposed for prosecut- 
 ing his journey to Houndsditch. What was the use, he began to 
 ask himself, of his going all that way to sell a few rags, when he 
 didn’t want for a pound or two? Accordingly, as the liquor got to 
 make him feel more and more careless, he commenced tossing and 
 raffling away the remaining flowers in his basket, among such as entered 
 the tap- room during his stay there ; and while the gambling was going- 
 on, he partook of a second and a third quantum of his favourite 
 potion, so that, by the time he had got rid of all his plants, he felt in- 
 clined to enjoy himself, and disposed to go anywhere but home. Still, 
 however, he entertained some little difficulty respecting his costume, 
 which certainly was not fitted for holiday-making, for, like the rest of 
 the old clothes’ dealers, he was habited in his worst, with the view of 
 attending the Houndsditch Exchange at the close of his day’s labours; 
 and as he ran over to himself the several places of amusement that 
 he should like to visit, he debated in his own mind as to what he 
 should do for a “ change.” To return home and put on his brown. 
 Petersham coat and bright “ yellow kingsman ” neckerchief, that he 
 delighted to sport in Battersea Fields on a Sunday, was to go through 
 a greater amount of exertion, at that precise moment, than he was 
 inclined to undertake ; and as he discussed within himself the several 
 other modes of supplying his deficiency, it struck him that he had 
 swopped a cactus that morning with a lady up in Clarendon Square 
 for a “very tidy Pally tott,” and “these,” as he justly observed, 
 “ with the pair of breeches as he took with the pocket-book in ’em, 
 would turn him out fit even for the ‘ Heagle.’ ” Accordingly, he 
 emptied the contents of his clothes-bag on one of the tables, and 
 having selected therefrom such articles as he thought would suit him 
 for the occasion, he proceeded at once, amid the laughter of all 
 present, to indue himself with the garments ; then having obtained 
 permission of the landlord to leave the basket and bag in his charge 
 for awhile, the hawker sallied forth, determined, like the quondam 
 possessor of the trowsers he then wore, upon “enjoying himself.” 
 
 Still the flower-seller was undecided whither to direct his steps. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 107 
 
 At first he thought of Greenwich Park and a feast of tea and shrimps; 
 but, though Greenwich had attractions, tea had none for him. Next 
 he turned his attention to the Red House, but he knew of no pigeon 
 match that was to come off there that day, so that would not suit him. 
 “Then he made up his mind to pay a visit to the Bower,” and the minute 
 after he changed it in favour of “Lord Effingham’s concerts.” Still, what 
 was he to do with himself till they began? He had it! he wouldn’t go 
 to any of the places — he’d be off that moment to Rosherville — and 
 yet it was getting late in the day for a trip to Gravesend, so he’d 
 take a run down to Hungerford instead, and go on to the roof of the 
 Swan and have a treat of periwinkles and ale. Accordingly he turned 
 round and proceeded in the opposite direction to that on which he was 
 before journeying. 
 
 But the flower- seller was too fond of halting at each tavern on the 
 way to get even that far. The money he possessed, as the street people 
 themselves say, “ 6eemed to burn in his pocket ;” and the drink he had 
 already taken made him crave for more, so that it would have required 
 greater strength of mind than he was master of to have refrained from 
 entering the next public house he came to. The liquor that he here swal- 
 lowed served as usual only to increase his thirst for more of the same 
 maddening fluid. So on he went, “dropping in” at every “public” on his 
 way, and standing at the bar drinking, wrangling, or tossing with any 
 one whom he could “ pick up.” At length, with the many glasses of 
 raw spirit that he had taken on his road, the drink got to produce so vio- 
 lent an effect upon his temper, that the more respectable of the land- 
 lords refused to serve him ; but this tended only to make him still 
 more furious, so that at almost every tavern he visited, he was forced 
 to be turned into the street before he could be got rid of. At one 
 house, however, it was found impossible to get rid of him without 
 closing the doors ; for each time that he was thrust out, back he came 
 staggering and offering to fight everybody at the bar. Seeing, there- 
 fore, that it was useless attempting to enter, he sat himself down on 
 the step and went fast asleep against the door; on being roused by 
 the pot-boy and desired to go about his business, the hawker grew 
 so enraged that he jumped from his resting-place and strove to seize 
 hold of the lad so that he might wreak his vengeance upon him. In 
 the attempt, however, to catch the youth, the flower-seller stumbled 
 and fell heavily on his back beside the kerb, and there he lay unable 
 to raise himself, with a crowd of boys shouting and playing every 
 imaginable trick upon him. 
 
 The arrival of the police at length put an end to the whole affair, 
 and the hawker, with a dense crowd after him, was carried off, strug- 
 gling and bellowing among four of the stoutest of the force, each 
 holding him by one of his extremities. On being searched at the 
 station-house, Mr. Sandboys’ pocket-book was found in the hawker’s 
 possession; in one of its compartments were the cards of address 
 belonging to that gentleman. The authorities, believing these to be 
 the rightful property of the flower-seller, proceeded at once to enter. 
 
108 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 among the list of offenders of that day, the name of Mr. Christopher 
 Sandboys, of Craven-street, Strand, as having been found drunk, dis- 
 orderly, and incapable of taking care of himself. 
 
 The reader knows the occurrences that followed. A messenger was 
 despatched to the residence of Mr. Sandboys, to apprise that gentle- 
 man’s family of his unpleasant position. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys had been gone but a short while, before Cursty, who 
 had been “ dropped,” as the idiom runs, by the omnibus, at the top of 
 the street, staggered, half asleep and half awake, up to the door. 
 
 He had no sooner set foot on the door-mat, than Mrs. Fokesell, 
 who had espied him from the kitchen window, and run up to answer 
 his knock, threw up her hands in astonishment, and exclaimed, in a 
 familiar way, “ How in the world did you ever get out ?” 
 
 The innocent Christopher was unable to comprehend either the 
 cause of the lady’s surprise, or the meaning of her question. “ What 
 do’sta mean, woman?” he said. 
 
 “ Oh !” returned Mrs. Fokesell, winking her eye as she nudged his 
 elbow ; “ you needn’t mind telling me — I knows all about it. There’s 
 been a party up here, and told us of all your goings on.” 
 
 “ My gangings an !” exclaimed Cursty. “ Ye may well say that, for 
 I’ve been half ow’r London.” 
 
 “ Very well turned ofi'!” retorted Mrs. Fokesell; “ but it won’t do. 
 We’re up to all your tricks, we are : so you’d much better confess at 
 once. Oh, you’re a sly old fox — though perhaps you ain’t much wuss 
 than the rest of you men. Fokesell was almost as bad — hardly a pin 
 to choose betwixt you.” 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, fatigued and vexed with the futility of his journey, 
 felt in no way inclined for jesting; so, brushing past the uncere- 
 monious landlady, he darted up the stairs to the family garret. 
 
 Mrs. Fokesell, however, in anticipation of a “ scene,” which she 
 longed to witness, hastened after him, and was just in time to behold 
 Elcy throw herself into her father’s arms, and burst into subdued 
 hysterics at the unexpected pleasure of his return. 
 
 For a few minutes the landlady stood unobserved at the doorway, 
 and while Cursty was wondering within himself why his daughter 
 should receive him with so unusual an outburst of affection, and 
 coupling her tears with the mysterious conduct and insinuations of 
 Mrs. Fokesell, he began to ask himself, half in fear, “ What fresh dis- 
 aster could have befallen them now?” 
 
 Elcy kissed him again and again, telling him each time how happy 
 she was that she had him home again. “ Could she get him anything, 
 or would he not like to lie down ?” she inquired. 
 
 “Yes, Miss,” interrupted the busy Mrs. Fokesell, “if your Pa will 
 be advised by me, he’ll take off his boots, and go and lie on the bed 
 for an hour or two — and let me get him a bottle of soda water, while 
 you puts a wet towel round his head, for if you looks at his eyes you’ll 
 see they’re quite bloodshot.” 
 
 “My e’en bluidshot!” ejaculated Mr. Sandboys, growing half 
 
ME. AND MRS. CURST Y SANDBOYS. 
 
 109 
 
 enraged at the apparent unmeaningness of the whole of the landlady’s 
 remarks ; however he went to the glass to see if there were anything 
 ccld enough in his looks to account for the peculiarity of the landlady’s 
 behaviour. His eyes were a little red, certainly, lie thought, as he 
 scrutinized his countenance, but that arose from the “ nap” he had 
 indulged in during his ride home, and beyond this he could see nothing 
 which could call forth so much anxiety on his behalf. 
 
 “ Do, father,” said Elcy, “ do go and lie down, or you’ll be ill, I am 
 sure.” 
 
 “Yes;” chimed in Mrs. Fokesell, “I’m sure it’s a wonder you 
 hasn’t got the £ delirious trimmings’ as it is. Fokesell, I know, once 
 had ’em after one of these bouts, and then lie fancied he was aboard 
 his ship, in our back parlour, and that the house was agoing down, all 
 hands, ’cause I wouldn’t work the pumps. Now, come, there’s a good 
 gentleman, do be persuaded by Miss Elcy, and go to bed for an hour 
 or two.” 
 
 “ Co to bed!” echoed Sandboys, tetcliily. “I’m not tired-— I’ve 
 had a nap.” 
 
 “ Oh, yes, we know,” retorted Mrs. Fokesell, winking her eye and 
 nodding her head, in a manner that is considered to speak volumes, 
 and which was certainly meant to insinuate to the unsuspecting 
 Sandboys that the lady was acquainted with the fact of his having- 
 tried to take “ forty winks” in the gutter ; “ and we know where you 
 had your nap too. Fine times, indeed, when you gents must needs 
 go falling asleep in the £ kennel.’ ” 
 
 “ In t’ £ kennel,’ ” shouted Sandboys, in none of the mildest tones. 
 “ What do’sta mean, woman, what do’stamean, I say V’ 
 
 “ Oh, you knows what I means, well enough, Mr. Slyboots— going 
 and doing such things, thinking it ’ud be unbeknown to your 
 missus. A nice time she’d have on it if she only knowed all, I’ll be 
 bound to say.” And here Mrs. Fokesell gave herself a jerk, expres- 
 sive, as she imagined, of the highest possible indignation. 
 
 “ How daresta speak to me in that way T’ demanded the incensed 
 Cursty. “ Leave t’ room, woman.” 
 
 “ Father ! father ! pray calm yourself,” said Elcy, growing alarmed 
 at what she imagined to be the lingering effect of her parent’s indiscre- 
 tion. “ Pray be calm, and go and lie down just a little while.” 
 
 “ Lie down ! why, what’s come to you aw’ ? You seem to be aw’ 
 mad tegidder. But where’s your mother ?” 
 
 “ Ah ! you may well ask that,” answered the pert Mrs. Fokesell — 
 “ gone to look after you ; and I suppose you can remember the kind 
 of place you’ve come from ?” 
 
 “ I come from Houndsditcli, I tell tha, woman,” replied Mr. Sand- 
 boys, curtly, for he was afraid to give full vent to his feeling, lest he 
 might receive “ notice to quit,” and then be left without a roof to 
 shelter himself or family. 
 
 “ You must tell that to the marines, as my Fokesell used to say,” 
 retorted the landlady ; “ for I knows better — so it’s no use your deny- 
 ing the tricks you have been at no longer ; and all I got to say is. 
 
110 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the sooner you has your temples bathed with winegar, the better it 
 will be for you in the morning. Come, now, I’m a married woman, 
 and knows all about these matters. Bless you ! my Fokesell has taken 
 a drop too much many a time; so just let me go and get you a 
 Seidelitz powder, or, if them’s too cold for you, be persuaded by me, 
 and take a couple of ‘ Cockles.’ ” 
 
 Poor Mr. Sandboys sat all this time almost “ boiling over” with 
 rage. He hit his lip between his teeth to prevent his saying a word, 
 for he now began to see that not only the landlady, but his daughter, 
 both imagined that he had been drinking. Why they should imagine 
 as much was more than he could conceive, but it was evident that 
 such was their impression. 
 
 “ I’m sure your head must ache, father,” said Elcy, observing her 
 parent bite his lip, as she fancied, with pain. “ It really burns like 
 a fire,” she added, as she laid her hand across his forehead. 
 
 “ Doan’t be a fuil, child !” cried Cursty, as he angrily dragged down 
 her arm. “ I shall go mad among you aw’, I shall. What in t’ 
 warl’s happened, to put sic notions in tha head ?” 
 
 Here the girl of all -work tapped at the attic-door, and informed 
 Mrs. Fokesell that there was a young man below stairs as wanted to 
 speak with the lady of the house. 
 
 The landlady disappeared for a few minutes, and then suddenly 
 darted back into the room, with cap-strings flying a yard behind her. 
 
 “ Well, I do declare,” she exclaimed, standing with her hands on 
 her hips, “ if you ain’t all of a piece ; — fust it’s you, and then it’s your 
 missus. Ah, you may stare, but I’ve got a pretty set in my house, it 
 seems. Here’s a young man below as has come to say that Mrs. 
 Sandboys has got took up for assaulting a policeman, and that she’s a 
 lying in the station-house till her case comes on for hearing.” 
 
 “ Heavens !” cried Cursty, “ it canna be true ” 
 
 “ Oh, father ! father ! what will become of her?” said the afflicted Elcy, 
 as her head fell on her parent’s shoulder, in terror at the thoughts of 
 her mother being in such a place. 
 
 “ What can it aw’ mean?” shouted Sandboys. 
 
 “ Why, the lad says, as well as I can make it out, that Mrs. Sand- 
 boys went into the Black Bull public house — of all places in the world 
 for a lady — to ask for change — and that there some noise or other 
 arose about the money; that then the police was called in to settle 
 the matter, and that on his stating that Mrs. Sandboys was not a 
 proper woman, she flew at him, and nearly tore him to bits. And 
 the young man does tell me,” continued the landlady, “ that the 
 language she used on the occasion was quite dreadful for decent 
 people to hear — so a pretty set indeed it seems I’ve let into my 
 house. Well, I always thought you was a queer lot, that I did — 
 and I said as much to Mrs. Quinine as had my second floor. I’m 
 sure the house has been like a common bear-garden ever since 
 I’ve had you in it — what with your screams when a few coals was 
 shot on top of you — and what with your frightening poor Mrs. 
 Quinine nearly out of her life, and alarming the whole house with 
 
MR. AND MRS. CTJRSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 the screams of the dear thing — and what with your threatening 
 to murder the policeman in my kitchen with my red-hot poker — 
 and what with the springing of rattles, and collecting a mob round 
 my hairy rails — and what with your allowing your son to be 
 brought home here by a common policeman in the disrespectable 
 state he was; and now what with the two police reports as there 
 will be in the paper about you to-morrow morning, there’ll be fine 
 talk about my house and my people all up and down both sides of 
 the street. You’ll bring a scandal upon me, you will. I’m sure I’ve 
 never knowed a moment’s peace — never since I was fool enough to be 
 persuaded to allow you to set foot under my roof. But you’ll 
 please to provide yourself with some other lodging the moment 
 your week is up, for not another minute after do you stay here, I 
 can tell you.” 
 
 Mrs. Fokesell, who had grown red in the face with the long catalogue 
 of her grievances, was obliged to come to an end for sheer want of 
 breath. 
 
 It was useless for Cursty to seek to obtain any more definite in- 
 formation from her in the excited state of her mind, for immediately he 
 ventured to question her as to what had befallen his wife, it was but 
 the signal for her to renew her vituperations. At last, putting on his 
 hat, he hastened down stairs to the youth who had brought the in- 
 telligence, and proceeded to accompany him in search of his dearest 
 A ggy- 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys, however, it should be made known, had been no 
 more concerned in the occurrence above detailed than her lord and 
 master had been the hero of the scene previously described ; for the 
 “lady” who had passed under that name was none other than the 
 mate of the flower-seller, who had become possessed of the Sandboys’ 
 marriage certificate. Proceeding on her way home, it had struck the 
 woman that it would be as well to convert the twenty pound note into 
 sovereigns as soon as she possibly could, for on a closer inspection of 
 the valuable, she had perceived that the name of the gentleman men- 
 tioned in the marriage certificate was inscribed on the back of it. 
 Accordingly she entered a public house where she was not known, 
 and after having partaken of a glass of gin-and-rue, and the half of a 
 pork pie, she tendered the bank note in payment for what she had 
 devoured. The landlord, however, looked upon the possession of a note 
 for so large a sum by one of so mean an appearance as a very sus- 
 picious circumstance, and believing that she had not come honestly by 
 the money, began to question her as to how and where she had obtained 
 it. Finding that her answers were not particularly lucid or con- 
 sistent on the subject, he thought it best to send for a policeman, and 
 leave the officer to decide upon what course to take. The official, on 
 seeing the woman, was as confident as the landlord that the note had 
 been got hold of by unfair means, nor did he hesitate to tell the woman 
 that he was satisfied she had stolen it from some gentleman, insinu- 
 ating at the same time that she was, as the phrase runs, “ no better 
 
112 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 than she should be.” The words were no sooner uttered than the 
 woman, incensed at being foiled in her prize, flew at the policeman, 
 and with her clenched fist beat him in the face so vigorously that 
 before the man had time to defend himself he was covered with blood. 
 
 In a few moments afterwards she was on her way, handcuffed, to 
 the station house, while the landlord, who had handed the note over 
 to the officer, thought it best to send the messenger before mentioned 
 to the address inscribed on the back of it. 
 
 On reaching the station house, the superintendent directed that the 
 woman should be immediately taken before the sitting magistrate, so 
 that the charge might be disposed of with the least possible delay. 
 
 His worship, on hearing the evidence of the policeman, demanded 
 to know what proof the woman could adduce as to the note being her 
 own lawful property, as she asserted ; whereupon she drew forth the 
 marriage certificate of the Sandboys, protesting most loudly that it was 
 her own. The magistrate, having perused the document carefully 
 throughout, and satisfied himself of its authenticity, said there could 
 be no doubt that the woman was really the person whom she repre- 
 sented herself to be. 
 
 Finding the magistrate take this view of the case, the female 
 flower-seller then laid a formal complaint against the policeman, de- 
 claring that he had insulted her in the grossest manner that a respect- 
 able married woman could possibly be insulted, insinuating that she 
 was a person of immoral charactex - , when his worship could see by the 
 marriage lines as she had shown him, that she was as honest a woman 
 as any in London. The man’s conduct, she added, had thrown her 
 into such a passion that she really did not know what she had done 
 to him after he had insulted her : and she put it to his lordship 
 whether his good lady would not have done the same. 
 
 The magistrate, though hardly inclined to take that extreme 
 view of the case, still acknowledged that every excuse was to be 
 made for the woman, adding that the officer had no right whatever to 
 make any such insinuation without having indisputable proof of the 
 fact — and that, as it was, he should dismiss the case, warning the 
 policeman to be more cautious in future, and ordering the note to be 
 restored to the woman, upon whose character he was bound to say 
 there was not the slightest stain. 
 
 But to return to our lost mutton — Mr. Christopher Sandboys. 
 
 Immediately on learning from the boy of the “ Black Bull,” the 
 precise part of the town in which the lady passing by the name of 
 Mrs. Sandboys was held in “ safe custody,” Cui-sty called a cab, and 
 having placed the lad on the box beside the driver, deposited himself 
 within it, ordering the man to carry him with all haste whither the 
 youth should direct. 
 
 On reaching the station-house, to Cursty’s great delight, he was in- 
 formed that Mrs. Sandboys had been discharged, as the magistrate 
 said, “without the slightest stain on her character,” while the police- 
 man, who had suffered so severely from the lady’s indignation, and who 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 113 
 
 now began to fear, from the presence of Mr. Sandboys, that the magis- 
 trate had been perfectly correct in his conviction as to the honesty of 
 the woman who had been brought before him, thought it prudent to 
 apologize for his mistake, lest an action for something or other might 
 be commenced against him. 
 
 The consequence was, that Cursty hastened back home quite as fast, 
 if not faster, than he had hastened from it, in the hopes of clutching 
 his poor injured Aggy to his bosom, and consoling her under her 
 heavy trials, with the assurance of his undoubting affection. 
 
 During the absence of Mr. Sandboys, his better half had returned 
 from Bow-street, Avhere she had been agreeably surprised to find that 
 Mr. Sandboys, or rather the gentleman known there by that name, 
 had been bailed out a few minutes before her arrival, and had left the 
 station accompanied by his friends. In vain did she make inquiries as 
 to the name of the bail, in the hope of ascertaining who the friends 
 could have been that had done her husband so great a service; for she 
 was not aware of his being acquainted with a single individual in Lon- 
 don: nor did the names and addresses of the sureties, when read over 
 to her, tend in the least to enlighten her on the subject; so, as she found 
 the authorities little disposed to enter into that minute account of the 
 proceedings which was necessary to clear up the mystery, she left the 
 police-office, and proceeded on her way home, wondering within her- 
 self who “ in t’ name of guidness ” the friends could be; and 
 coming to the conclusion that they were some Cumberland people 
 who had come up for the opening of the Exhibition, and whom her 
 Cursty had stumbled upon in the course of his rambles through 
 London. 
 
 On reaching home, Mrs. Fokesell, who had recognised, from the 
 kitchen, the skirt of Mrs. Sandboys’ dress as it whisked round the corner 
 of the door-step, ran up the stairs in immediate answer to her knock; 
 and no sooner had she closed the door after the lady, than she began 
 wondering how she could have the impudence to show her face in that 
 house after what had happened, and begging to assure her, with a 
 significant shake of her cap, that she was not in the habit of letting- 
 lodgings to people who occasionally occupied an apartment in the 
 station-house. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys imagined, of course, that she alluded to her husband’s 
 recent incarceration, and not being particularly proud of the circum- 
 stance herself, endeavoured to calm the landlady’s irritation on the 
 subject. 
 
 But Mrs. Fokesell was not to be appeased, and she gave Mrs. Sand- 
 boys plainly to understand, that she ought to think herself highly 
 favoured to be allowed to set foot within her door again, after her 
 shameful, unlady-like conduct to the policeman. 
 
 Aggy, imagining that the landlady referred to her inquiries at the 
 station-house, endeavoured to call to mind how she could possibly 
 have committed herself. 
 
 i 
 
114 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 But Mrs. Fokesell soon informed her, that it was useless her 
 attempting to play the innocent to her, for a man had been down 
 there and told her about her shameful goings on, and how she had 
 beaten one of the force within an inch of his life. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys stood aghast at the accusation. At first she won- 
 dered how such a charge could possibly be trumped up against her; 
 then she imagined it must surely be some jest of the landlady’s; but 
 Mrs. Fokesell soon put that notion to flight, by not only repeating 
 the aspersion, but adding, that she had been informed, on the very 
 best authority, that she was well known to the whole of the police, 
 as not being the most respectable person in the world. 
 
 This was more than the Cumberland blood of Mrs. Sandboys could 
 bear ; and, holding in her breath with the effort of subduing her wrath, 
 she demanded to know what Mrs. Fokesell meant by such an assertion. 
 
 Mrs. Fokesell, who was nothing daunted, did not make the slightest 
 attempt to mince the matter, but proceeded to tell her lodger, in the 
 most unequivocal terms, that the policeman had declared that he knew 
 she was not an honest woman. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys could hardly contain herself for rage. If ever she 
 had felt inclined to commit an assault upon any one, it was at that 
 particular moment. Her fingers were all of a work, and it was evi- 
 dently as much as she could do to keep her hands from tearing the 
 landlady’s cap from her head. She could have borne any imputation 
 in the world save an aspersion on her virtue. 
 
 Again she demanded of Mrs. Fokesell an immediate and full expla- 
 nation. How dare a low-bred woman like her tell her she was not an 
 honest woman — when Mrs. Fokesell, herself a married female, (and 
 Mrs. Sandboys laid a strong emphasis on both of the words,) was with- 
 out so much as a husband to show for herself. It was very well to 
 make out that he was at sea, but nothing was easier than to say as 
 much. 
 
 It was now Mrs. Fokesell’s turn to grow scarlet with rage, and the 
 words were scarcely uttered before she thrust her hands in the huge 
 pocket she wore at her side, and drawing out an old “ housewife,” 
 she took from it a piece of paper, which, having torn open, she thrust 
 into the face of the terrified Mrs. Sandboys, saying, as she shook it 
 vigorously, “ There’s my marriage lines, woman ! show your’n ! 
 show your’n, if you can, and prove yourself to be what you says you 
 are.” 
 
 Poor Mrs. Sandboys felt the helplessness of her position. She knew 
 that she had parted with her certificate in the act of disposing of 
 her husband’s old trowsers. It was idle for her to think of an expla- 
 nation — of course it could but appear as a lame excuse on the pre- 
 sent occasion ; so prudence made her gulp down her indignation, 
 and try to soothe the infuriated Mrs. Fokesell, who was once more 
 making her misfortune the laughing-stock of the whole house — for the 
 lodgers, hearing the wrangling of the two ladies in the passage, had crept 
 one by one from their respective apartments, and stood with their necks 
 stretched out over the balusters, giggling at the disputants below. 
 
ME. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 115 
 
 ' But the gentle Fokesell was rather anxious to make a public case 
 of the matter, and finding that she was getting a good audience about 
 her, shouted at the top of her voice, “ Where’s your marriage lines 1 
 where’s your marriage lines ? — where’s your marriage lines, I ask 
 again, in the presence of all these respectable gentlemen.” 
 
 This was the unkindest cut of all, and Mrs. Sandboys sought to 
 escape up stairs, but Mrs. Fokesell was in no humour to let her off 
 so easily. She could not forget the base insinuations that the 
 lady had presumed to throw out respecting the apocryphal character 
 of * her absent Fokesell, and feeling satisfied of Mrs. Sandboys’ 
 inability to justify her character, by the production of her marriage 
 certificate, she felt the more enraged that such a stigma should be 
 cast upon her by such a person ; accordingly, as Mrs. Sandboys en- 
 deavoured to get away from her, she seized that lady by the arms, and 
 with her teeth clenched, proceeded to shake her violently against the 
 wall, while the terrified Aggy shrieked murder !” in her shrillest tones. 
 
 At this critical state of affairs, a loud double knock at the street 
 door made the passage echo with its clamour. This had the effect of 
 inducing Mrs. Fokesell to relax her hold of the poor trembling Mrs. 
 Sandboys, to whose great relief, on the door being opened, no less a 
 person than her own dear Cursty made his appearance. 
 
 Immediately that gentleman was fairly in the passage, the exas- 
 perated landlady sought to empty the vials of her wrath on the heads 
 of the innocent couple, but Mr. Sandboys, observing the agitated 
 state of his wife, and judging from a glance the nature of the scene 
 that had transpired, thought it prudent to withdraw to his own apart- 
 ment ; though as he and Aggy ascended the stairs, they could hear 
 Mrs. Fokesell in the passage below vowing all kinds of vengeance 
 against them both on the morrow, and heaping on their names 
 epithets that were not of the most choice or flattering description. 
 
 Once by themselves, each began to console the other. Cursty of 
 course believed that his beloved Aggy had suffered imprisonment for 
 assaulting a policeman. Aggy too, in her turn, fancied that her dear 
 Cursty had been only just released from the station-house, where he 
 had been confined for being drunk and disorderly, and each sought 
 to learn from the other what circumstances could possibly have 
 induced them so far to forget themselves. Elcy, who looked upon 
 them both as martyrs, was delighted to welcome them back again, 
 for while each of her parents believed that the other had transgressed, 
 she had been led to imagine that they both had been incarcerated for 
 violating the law in some way or other. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys was anxious that Cursty should retire to rest, for she 
 was afraid that he must have taken cold from sleeping in the street, as 
 she had been informed he had done; and Cursty begged that she would 
 dismiss the whole affair from her mind until the morrow, when they 
 would both be in a better condition to speak calmly on the sub- 
 ject. He was sure a glass of wine would do her good, after all the 
 violent exertion she had gone through. But Mrs. Sandboys, allud- 
 ing to her trip to the station-house after her husband, begged ter 
 
] 16 
 
 1851 ; OB, THE ADVENTUEES OF 
 
 assure liim that it was solely on his account that she had done what 
 she had, and all she could say was, she’d do it again to-morrow for his 
 sake. Cursty, however, who believed that she referred to her late 
 assault on the policeman, felt within himself in no way anxious that 
 she should encourage a habit of resenting any attack upon her 
 honour, in the Amazonian manner in which she had so recently dis- 
 tinguished herself, lest some day or other, she might resort to the 
 same unpleasant means of vindicating herself, when aggrieved, 
 even with him. Then he told how he had gone off to the station- 
 house merely out of his regard to her. But Mrs. Sandboys was 
 unable to perceive how his falling asleep in the gutter was calculated 
 in any way to benefit her; and thus the worthy couple went on for some 
 time, playing at cross purposes, until at last an explanation became 
 necessary ; and then they both saw clearly that their names had been 
 assumed by some unprincipled persons, though with what motive they 
 neither of them could comprehend. Cursty, however, was determined 
 to sift the affair to the bottom, and hurrying back to the station- 
 house whither the woman had been conveyed, he obtained a minuter 
 account of the whole circumstances than he had previously been able to 
 receive, and soon became convinced that the woman was an accom- 
 plice of the flower-seller, who had got possession of part of the notes, 
 and the marriage certiiicate that had been deposited in the missing- 
 pocket-book. 
 
 When he returned home and cleared up the mystery to his wife, 
 Aggy could plainly see through it all, and what was more, she felt 
 satisfied that they’d many more troubles to come, for so long as that 
 certificate was out of their possession they could not tell what might 
 turn up against them. 
 
 The next morning a climax was put to their distress of mind, in the 
 shape of a long “ comic” police report in all the daily papers, detailing 
 how Mrs. Christopher Sandboys, of Cumberland, who had come up to 
 town to see the Great Exhibition, had made a furious attack upon one 
 of the most active members of the metropolitan police force. 
 
rkfct-i lu iT 
 
 
 1(U , _ . wuo w . w oF Hve Great Exhibition: ! r 
 
 i-P k* i VS> *. ^ Her Mares tv's T%eatro .vv'ttk. Kta lusluX T-taoU-neJi 
 
 5 "mMiH &Z\^Z itf$ T^U^OV^ Do r^tonr^M <** M*"« 
 
MB. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 1 17 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Hark! where th’ inveytin' drum o’ Mars 
 Athwart the far land rattles, 
 
 It minds me aye o’ wounds an' scars, 
 
 O’ bruolliraents an’ battles. 
 
 But Sargin’ Keyte wad fain persuade 
 It’s but the call of honour, 
 
 Where certain fortune shall be made, 
 
 By those who wait upon her, 
 
 Otf lian’ tbi3 day. 
 
 ***** 
 
 I leyke the king, I leyke the state, 
 
 The kurk and constitution, 
 
 An’ on their foes baitli soon and late, 
 
 Wish downfa’ an’ confusion. 
 
 But may nae frien’ o’ mine, 
 
 By cheats turn out that maizlin ninny, 
 
 To barter aw' the Briton’s reeghts, 
 
 For nonsense an’ a guinea. 
 
 Wi’ Keyte this day. 
 
 JRoslcy Fair. 
 
 On the morrow the Sandboys received formal notice to quit the esta- 
 blishment of Mrs. Fokesell on that day week. 
 
 What was to be done 1 
 
 Where were they to go 1 
 
 London was filling rapidly. In the extensive lodging district on 
 the southern side of the Strand, scarcely a bill was to be seen bearing 
 the significant inscription of 
 
 APARTMENTS 
 
 TO BE LET, 
 
 ELEGANTLY FURNISHED. 
 
 and even where cards of vacant lodgings were to be seen, so enormous 
 were the present demands, that the economical mind of Mrs. Sandboys 
 stood aghast at the contemplation of the weekly outlay. 
 
 The Chelsea and Camden Town colonies of clerks she had explored; 
 but there nothing was to be had but bedrooms for single gentlemen 
 who were expected to breakfast only on the premises. 
 
 The great commercial retreats of Stoke Newington, Haggerstone, 
 Clapham, and Camberwell, were likewise scoured in their turn, but 
 with no better success. Attics were quoted at ten shillings; second 
 floors were at a high premium ; and very little parlours and drawing- 
 rooms were letting at very large prices. 
 
 The day of the opening of the Grand Exhibition was fast drawing- 
 near ; and the rumour had already spread over the country that the 
 Queen intended to open the “ Great Glass Hive” in state. Already 
 did the streets swarm with straw-colour-haired Germans, and chicory- 
 complexioned Egyptians — already was Regent Street crammed with 
 beards, full pantaloons, and felt hats — already was the terminus 
 
118 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 of the Dover line daily disgorging some hundreds of Parisians habited 
 in quaint cut cloaks, with hoods like huge jelly-bags dangling at their 
 backs — already were the thoroughfares at the West End crowded 
 with holiday-looking folk, and streams of gaily- dressed idlers seemed 
 to he pouring in the direction of some fair in the outskirts — hairs 
 seemed to have sprung up on the lips and chin of every other passer- 
 by in a night, like mustard and cress — the huge waggons, piled high as 
 the house-tops with large wooden cases, each indorsed in bold letters, 
 
 FOR THE GREAT EXHIBITION OF ALL NATIONS, 
 
 had ceased to appear in the streets, and all seemed to be preparing 
 for the great fair — the world’s holiday. 
 
 The Sandboys held a family council, the result of which was, 
 that it was unanimously agreed it would be advisable, under the 
 circumstances, for them to retire some short distance from the 
 metropolis ; and accordingly expeditions were sent out provisioned 
 for the day, in search of the suburban regions. 
 
 After considerable difficulty, a bill was discovered pasted in a 
 cheesemonger’s window, announcing that 
 
 “ ANY NUMBER OF LADIES OR GENTLEMEN MAY BE ACCOM- 
 MODATED WITH APARTMENTS FOR A LIMITED PERIOD, IN A 
 HEALTHY SITUATION, WITHIN A SIXPENNY RIDE OF THE 
 GREAT EXHIBITION. 
 
 ENQUIRE WITHIN.” 
 
 This was too good news to let slip. Accordingly, Mrs. Sandboys 
 no sooner received the information from her son Jobby, than she 
 sallied forth, intent on ascertaining further particulars respecting the 
 suburban domicile. On her return, she informed Mr. Sandboys that 
 she thought it would be the “ very thing” for them. The lodging 
 was close to Wimbledon Common, at an establishment for young 
 ladies, where the Easter vacation had been extended to a month, in 
 honour of the opening of the Great Exhibition. Miss Wewitz herself 
 was at present staying, on a visit, with one of her pupils in the 
 metropolis; and Mrs. Wewitz had very properly thought it a pity to 
 allow so large a house, making up, as it did, upwards of sixty beds, 
 to remain unoccupied, just at a time when so many strangers were 
 wanting a place to put their head in. 
 
 The next day, Mrs. Sandboys made an excursion to Wimbledon, 
 and came back to Town delighted with the “ ladies’ establishment.” 
 Everything was so scrupulously clean, — the bed-furniture and the 
 boards were as white as the Sour Milk Gill opposite their window 
 at Buttermere; and the whole place was so airy and beautifully 
 ventilated, that she believed Jobby might have flown his kite in the 
 principal bed-room. Then the terms were so moderate, and the lady 
 so obliging — she really thought she was one of the nicest old bodies 
 
ME. AND MES. CUESTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 119 
 
 she had seen for many a long day ; — altogether, she was quite in love 
 with the place, and everything and everybody about it. 
 
 She had arranged, she said, to go in the very next day ; for, really, 
 that spiteful old thing of a Mrs. Fokesell did make the house so 
 uncomfortable, that the sooner they got out of her power the better. 
 
 The next morning a cab was hired, to carry the Sandboys and 
 their luggage to the Waterloo terminus. 
 
 The parting with Mrs. Fokesell was by no means of a pathetic 
 character, though, when the time came for saying good bye, the land- 
 lady, who had been considerably mollified by the payment of her bill, 
 hoped as how that bygones would be bygones, and acknowledged that 
 she might have behaved a little “ hindiscreet” on the late occasion, 
 but her blood was up, she said, and then she wasn’t her own missus. 
 
 In a few hours afterwards, the family of the Sandboys were safely 
 landed at “ Parthenon House,” Wimbledon Common. 
 
 Here nothing occurred to ruffle the serenity of their retirement for 
 some few days. 
 
 On the fifth day, however, from their entering the establishment, 
 the French master, who was really a “ Nat if de Paris,” and had pub- 
 lished a sheet wherein the whole of the French genders were ingeni- 
 ously reduced to two, called to request that a friend of his might be 
 accommodated with a temporary apartment under that roof. His 
 friend had come to England to be present at the opening of the 
 Great Exhibition, and wished for a large airy room. The mother of 
 the head of the establishment was delighted to have the opportunity 
 of disposing of her left wing — if the gentleman would not object to 
 the beds remaining in the apartment, for she had no other place 
 wherein to stow them. The French master observed, that he was 
 sure his friend and compatriot would be too happy to oblige so 
 young and beautiful a lady (the mother had long ago taken to false 
 fronts), and with this enchanting tara- diddle, he withdrew from the 
 premises, leaving the old lady to declare that there was a something 
 — she didn’t know what — about French manners, that to her mind 
 far surpassed the English. 
 
 The day after this, the French master accompanied his friend 
 M. le Comte de Sanschemise, who came in a large cloak, an immense 
 Spanish hat, and a small reticule-like carpet bag, to take possession of 
 his apartment and its extensive range of beds. 
 
 Now it so happened that the day after M. le Comte had entered the 
 ladies’ establishment, three thousand of the French Gardes Nationales, 
 who had come over to be present at the opening of the Crystal Palace 
 on the 1st of May, were deposited in the very heart of the metropolis 
 by a monster train from Dover. 
 
 To locate so large a colony in the foreign districts of London was 
 impossible. The Frenchmen were already ten in a room in all the 
 purlieus of Golden-square. Leicester, on the other hand, what with 
 the world in the centre, and the denizens of all nations swarming on 
 every side of it, was as full as it could well hold. The Quadrant had 
 
120 
 
 .1851 ; OB, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 tecome as Frenchified as the Palais Royal, and the boxes of the 
 several cheap Restaurants round about the Haymarket were swarming 
 with parties of poor Parisians, who invariably demanded portions for 
 one and plates for six. 
 
 It was in this emergency that the French master of Parthenon 
 House, who was known to some of the troop, bethought him of the 
 many spare beds in the apartment of his friend, M. le Comte de 
 Sanschemise, and immediately proposed that as many of them should 
 retire to that establishment as the room could hold. For the sake of 
 appearances, however, it was arranged that they should proceed to the 
 house in not more than two at one time, and accordingly every 
 conveyance that left London deposited its couple of “ citoyens” at the 
 door of the Wimbledon Establishment for Young Ladies. 
 
 By the close of the evening the arrivals had already amounted to 
 two-and-twenty, and during the next day nearly double that number 
 were brought to the gate. 
 
 Mrs. Wewitz had already been given to understand that two-and- 
 twenty Frenchmen had slept the night previous in the bedroom of 
 the young ladies belonging to the upper school, and now, to her 
 great horror, she saw the number of foreigners under her roof increased 
 by couples almost every half-hour throughout the day. 
 
 At dusk she thought it high time to remonstrate with M. le Comte,, 
 and on requesting to be informed how many there were at present 
 lodged in his room, she was horrified to hear that, including himself,, 
 there were no less than eight-and-forty occupants. She begged to 
 remind the Comte that she had let the room to him alone. But the 
 Comte, with the greatest politeness possible, assured her that he was 
 at liberty to do with the apartment as he pleased so long as he paid 
 the rent for it, and that she need not be under the least alarm, for 
 that they were all perfect gentlemen, and that many of them, like 
 himself, were persons of title. 
 
 Mrs. Wewitz knew not what to do under the circumstances. To 
 endeavour to put eight-and-forty soldiers to the rout was more than 
 she dare attempt — and to call in the aid of the police would be, per- 
 haps, not only to cause bloodshed, but to get the whole affair published 
 in the newspapers, and so ruin the school; for what parent, as she 
 justly observed to herself, woidd dream of confiding an innocent 
 daughter to the care of an establishment where as many as four dozen 
 foreigners were in the habit of being located in one apartment 
 alone. Then she was in a state of continual alarm lest the Sandboys 
 should discover the colony of National Guards she had under her left 
 wing; and how to keep their presence a secret from them was beyond 
 her power to conceive. If she only dare venture to break the dis- 
 tressing intelligence to her daughter in town, she perhaps might be 
 able to bring the business to a happy and speedy termination; but 
 she knew that her dearest Cleopatra would never forgive her impru- 
 dence. Then, again, how was she to get rid of the fellows, even 
 before the young ladies returned 1 for if they would not go now, how 
 was it likely that they would stir at a time when London would have 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 121 
 
 become more full, and there would then be the extra inducement of 
 the impudent fellows remaining on the premises to make love to the 
 young ladies! She would not have that Emily Bonpoint back while 
 those wretches of Frenchmen were about for all she was worth. For if 
 she and her daughter couldn’t be a match for her at other times, a pretty 
 life she would lead them with the left wing packed full of foreigners. 
 It would break her Cleopatra’s heart she knew when she came to hear 
 of it, that the filthy, dirty fellows had been sleeping two together in 
 those beautiful white beds of hers — though how they managed in the 
 short, narrow slips of things, was impossible to say. Besides, if 
 there was one thing that her daughter paid more attention to than 
 another, it was the morals of the tender plants that were placed under 
 her culture — and she would never forgive herself, she was sure, if 
 with all those Frenchmen under the roof any elopement should take 
 place — for not one of them, she was sure, had got a halfpenny te 
 bless himself. 
 
 For a few days the Sandboys remained in a state of comparative 
 ignorance as to the small army that was then barracked under the 
 same roof with them. lobby, to be sure, had noticed the number of 
 men in red pantaloons that continually kept going in and out of the 
 premises; but, beyond a passing remark, this had excited little or no 
 astonishment. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys moreover, had noticed, on the very first day of the 
 foreigners entering the establishment, a strong smell of tobacco 
 smoke, and a fogginess in every one of the rooms that she could in 
 no way account for ; but this had worn off, and she had since paid 
 but little attention to the matter, for, whether from continual use her 
 senses had become in a measure accustomed to the smell, or whether 
 from the Sandboys being located at the other side of the house, it was 
 difficult to say, but certain it was, that after the first evening she 
 had not been heard to complain. 
 
 One night, however, the lady being rather nervous, after partaking 
 heartily of a cold rice pudding for supper, she felt satisfied that she 
 heard some noise in the house. Sandboys had been fast asleep for 
 some time, but she thumped him on the back and confided to him 
 her suspicions that all was not right below stairs. But Cursty was 
 too tired to trouble himself much about the matter, so he merely mur- 
 mured that it was all owing to that cold rice pudding she would eat, 
 and immediately re-arranged himself for the continuation of his 
 slumbers. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys was too firmly convinced of the soundness of the 
 conclusion at which she had arrived, to be able to rest quiet in her 
 bed. She tried to close her eyes and shut out all thought of the 
 unpleasant circumstance from her mind, but it was useless ; the noise 
 still forced itself upon her, and she could not help thinking of the 
 lonely situation of the house, so near that wicked London as it was. 
 They might all scream their very lives out before they could make any 
 one hear. Nor did the stories told of the highwaymen that in the 
 last century had infested the common, and the anecdotes she had 
 
122 
 
 1851; OK, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 heard of the parties who used to wait at the road-side inn, at the cor- 
 ner of it, till a sufficient number of travellers had arrived to allow 
 them to cross the deserted place in a body formidable enough to pre- 
 vent their being plundered. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys, therefore, rose from her bed, determined to satisfy 
 herself whence the noise proceeded. At times she would declare that 
 she heard voices at the opposite side of the building. Accordingly, 
 slipping on her flannel gown, she proceeded with the rushlight shade 
 to inspect the premises. 
 
 She had not gone far in the direction of the other wing of the 
 establishment, when the smoke grew so thick that it w r as almost im- 
 possible for her to see her hand before her, and it was of so pungent a 
 nature, that it almost blinded as well as stifled her. At first it smelt 
 to her very like the fumes of tobacco, but as she was not aware of 
 there being any one addicted to “ the weed” in the “ Establishment for 
 Young Ladies” — a taste, indeed, that seemed utterly at variance with 
 the feminine character of the institution — she got to be convinced 
 that there was some tarry substance smouldering away in one of the 
 rooms, and that it only required a breath of air to cause it to burst 
 into a sheet of flame, when they would be all burnt alive in their 
 beds. 
 
 Perhaps, thought Mrs. Sandboys, there might yet be time to extin- 
 guish the smouldering mass. Accordingly, she hurried back to her 
 bed-room for the jug of cold water, so that she might empty its con- 
 tents upon the burning body immediately she discovered whereabouts 
 it lay. 
 
 The lady’s steps grew quicker and quicker, as, led by her nose, she 
 followed the smoke, sniffing away like a terrier at a rat-hole — while 
 the further she advanced the thicker the cloud became, until it was 
 as much as she could do to fetch her breath in it. 
 
 Nothing daunted, however, she proceeded with the cape of her 
 flannel-gown to her nose, and at length reached the doorway of the 
 apartment of the United Frenchmen, whence she perceived the fumes 
 were issuing. She opened the door cautiously, lest the flames, that 
 she now felt convinced were raging within, should burst out upon 
 her — indeed, at one time, as she stood outside shivering with fright, 
 she was confident that she could hear the “devouring element” roar- 
 ing within; though, truth to say, it was nothing more horrible than 
 the snoring of the drowsiest of the eight-and-forty foreigners. 
 
 As she entered the apartment, all was in such a fog of fume, that 
 it was impossible to distinguish a single object. Presently, however, 
 she caught sight of a burning mass — she knew not where or what it 
 was — but there she could see it, growing brighter and brighter at 
 intervals, as if the breeze were fanning it, and it wanted but a few 
 minutes longer to burst into flame. 
 
 Without hesitating for one moment, she dropped the rushlight 
 shade on the ground, and dashed the contents of the water-jug full in 
 the direction of the ignited body. 
 
 Immediately after the first splash, there was heard the panting of 
 
ME. AND MES. CUBSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 123 
 
 some one gasping for breath, and then a hoarse cry of — “ Sacr-r-re 
 mille nommes de tonnerre ! ” 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys no sooner heard the sound of a man’s voice — and 
 that man a Frenchman — than, letting the empty water -jug fall with a 
 loud crash, she uttered a shrill scream, and flew from the man’s apart- 
 ment in the direction of her own. 
 
 The astonished and drenched Frenchman, who, like the rest of his 
 comrades, had been indulging in the Parisian luxury of a pipe in bed, 
 and who had fallen asleep with his large “ meerschaum” still alight in 
 his mouth, hearing the shriek of a female, immediately sprang from 
 his bed, and darted off after the lady, in the hope of making her 
 explain and apologize for the unceremonious manner in which she 
 had roused him from his slumbers. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys, however, had so good a start of the foreigner, that 
 she was able to reach her apartment before he could lay hold of her ; 
 and then rushing into it, she slammed to the door, and throwing 
 herself upon her beloved Cursty, fell shrieking and kicking and 
 crying, “ There’s a man, Cursty — there’s a man !” 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, on being roused so suddenly, required to shake 
 himself two or three times before he could collect himself sufficiently 
 to comprehend whether or not he was finishing the nightmare that 
 the cold rice-pudding had produced. At length, however, he had a 
 vague, indistinct recollection of his wife having previously roused 
 him with an alarm of thieves; so, making up his mind that this 
 was the cause of his Aggy’s fright, and that she had been actually 
 pursued by some daring burglar, he dashed from his bed-room armed 
 with a good stout stick. 
 
 Immediately outside the door he encountered the Frenchman, who 
 was busy in the dark, feeling for some mark by which he could 
 recognise the apartment in the morning. Cursty no sooner laid 
 hands upon the strange man, than he prepared to seize him by the 
 throat. On attempting to do this, he discovered, to his great sur- 
 prise, that the supposed housebreaker was “bearded like the pard ;” 
 accordingly, he grasped, with a tight hold, the hairy appendage to 
 the foreigner’s chin with one hand, while with the other he proceeded, 
 with his ash stick, to belabour him, in his shirt as he was, till his 
 cries raised the whole house. 
 
 Then the ladies, maids and all, threw up the windows of their bed- 
 rooms, and proceeded, some to shriek “Police!” others to scream 
 “ Murder !” and “ Thieves !” while the rest busied themselves with spring- 
 ing the entire battery of watchmen’s rattles that were kept, for the 
 safety of the young ladies, always at hand on the premises. 
 
 Mrs. Wewitz, when she discovered the cause of the disturbance, 
 was more alarmed than ever; for she plainly began to perceive that 
 the eight-and-forty Frenchmen, whom in a moment of weak ness she 
 had admitted within the sacred precincts of “ Parthenon House,” would 
 ultimately bring ruin upon the hitherto unsullied reputation of her 
 daughter’s “ Establishment for Young Ladies.” 
 
]24 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys, on becoming acquainted with the fact that she and 
 lier daughter were living beneath the same roof with nearly half a 
 hundred Frenchmen, grew extremely uneasy at not only the pro- 
 verbial amatory tendency of the dispositions of jeune France, but the 
 equally notorious want of cleanliness in the natives of the same en- 
 lightened country. 
 
 Not a moment would she allow Elcy to be out of her sight, for she 
 knew that even when she herself accompanied her for a walk round 
 the play-ground, the nasty impudent fellows were all up at their win- 
 dows in a moment, and kept continually dropping notes of assignation 
 done up as “ cornichons” of sweetmeats on to her parasol as they 
 passed. 
 
 But what troubled her perhaps quite as much was, the utter absence 
 of all weekly contributions of linen for the wash on the part of the 
 united eight-and-forty Parisians. She had made particular inquiries 
 on this subject of Mrs. Wewitz, just to satisfy herself whether the 
 rumoured indifference of la belle France for a change of linen was in 
 any way founded upon truth, and when that lady assured her that 
 though the four dozen had been in her house upwards of a fortnight 
 not so much as a shirt front even, or a pair of socks, had they for- 
 warded to the laundress. 
 
 The cleanly Mrs. Sandboys became so horrified at the idea of 
 a small battalion being shut up in the same house as herself, without 
 having so much as a change of linen for two entire weeks, that 
 she did not hesitate to tell the alarmed Mrs. Wewitz that now the 
 warm weather was coming on, they would be sure to be having a 
 malignant fever break out on the premises; for it was the universal 
 opinion of the best medical authorities, that all of the most dangerous 
 diseases arose merely from dirt — and serve the people quite right 
 too, she said ; she didn’t pity one of the nasty filthy things. But it 
 was only for the poor young ladies’ sakes that she spoke, for most 
 likely they’d be coming back just in the thick of it. She would only 
 ask Mrs. Wewitz to picture to herself what the small-pox would be 
 among sixty young ladies, the majority of whom perhaps had nothing 
 but their good looks to depend upon for their advancement in life; 
 besides vaccination, she must well know, was held to be of no good 
 after seven years, and as Miss Wewitz, her daughter, didn’t receive 
 any young ladies under that age, she might readily imagine the 
 ravages that such a pestilence would be likely to make in such a 
 place, and the number of poor miserable old maids that they’d have 
 to answer for. 
 
 The urgent appeals of Mrs. Sandboys took so firm a hold on the 
 mind of Mrs. Wewitz, that she said she would do anything that Mrs. 
 Sandboys might think best. Whereupon, that lady suggested that, 
 as it was Monday, she should be allowed to send Ann Lightfoot up to 
 the Frenchmen, and desire to know whether they had any “ things” for 
 the wash — at least, Mrs. Sandboys said, it would shame them into 
 making up some bundle, however small it might be. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 125 
 
 Accordingly, Ann Lightfoot was dispatched on the errand, with 
 strict orders to bring back the answer as quickly as possible. 
 
 Some considerable time elapsed, however, before themaid returned 
 with the reply, what washing the gentlemen needed, they said they 
 themselves did ; and in proof of the truth of the statement, the maid 
 told her mistress that on entering the room, she found the Count and 
 some of the Officers around the wash-hand basin busily engaged in 
 soaping and rubbing away at their dirty collars. 
 
 The message once delivered, Mrs. Sandboys began to question the 
 girl as to the cause of her delay. The maid, in a confused manner, 
 endeavoured to stammer out that she couldn’t make the gentlemen 
 understand her. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys, however, observing, on a close scrutiny of the girl’s 
 appearance, that her cap was awry, desired her to come closer to 
 her, and then taking hold of her, she turned the maid round, and to 
 her horror discovered imprinted on her cheek a series of exact copies 
 in “ cire de moustache'' of every shape and variety of mustachio. 
 Then seizing the girl by the arm, she dragged her round to the look- 
 ing-glass, and begged to be informed whether it was necessary for 
 the Frenchmen’s lips to be placed so near to her before they could 
 make her understand what they meant. 
 
 Ann Lightfoot coloured crimson as she perceived that the black wax 
 with which the Parisians were in the habit of darkening' their beards, 
 had left its mark upon her skin, and bursting into tears, she said it 
 was impossible for her to get away from them ; for first it was one, and 
 then the other, till at last she really thought that they would 
 have torn her to pieces among them ; and if there was one, added 
 the girl, that was wuss than another, it was the one as said he only 
 wished he could have caught hold of you, mum, if you please, the 
 other night. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys gave a faint scream at the bare idea of such an 
 accident having occurred to her ; and feeling in no way inclined to 
 continue the conversation, after the unpleasant turn it had taken, she 
 desired the girl to go below, and take good care how she trusted her- 
 self again within a mile of those impudent foreigners. 
 
 Some two or three days after the above occurrence, Mrs. Wewitz, who 
 now began to keep a strict eye upon all the movements of the 
 detachment of the Garde Nationals quartered within her domicile, 
 hastened up to the sitting-room of Mrs. Sandboys to inform her that 
 she verily believed every one of the fellows had left the house for a 
 stroll. She had counted forty-seven of them go out of the gate, and 
 she was convinced she must have made a mistake of one somewhere, 
 for though she had been up to their room, and listened at the door 
 for nearly half-an-hour, she could not hear a soul stirring— and now 
 she added, “ My dear, it will be a good opportunity for us to see the 
 state in which the room really is, for, with the exception of Ann. 
 Lightfoot, not a creature has ever been in it — no, not even to make 
 their beds, since the first day they took possession of the place.” 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys was as eager for the survey as Mrs. Wewitz herself. 
 
126 
 
 1851 ; OB, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 and accordingly they started off together, intent upon having what the 
 ladies called a “good rout out” of all the things during the absence 
 of the Frenchmen. 
 
 On reaching the bedroom, they stood for some few minutes outside, 
 listening, but hearing no sound within, they ventured to push the 
 door open, so that they might he able to have a full view of the 
 apartment, and satisfy themselves of there being no one in it before 
 they ventured upon entering. 
 
 Not a creature was to be seen, so the two ladies crept cautiously 
 in; and no sooner did Mrs. Wewitz set eyes on the coffee colour of 
 the once white dimity bed-curtains, than she threw up her hands, as 
 if in despair of ever seeing them a “ good colour” again. Then 
 placing the corner of the counterpane to her nose, the smell of stale 
 tobacco was almost overpowering. How she should ever sweeten 
 them for the young ladies, was more than she could tell. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys next drew her attention to the state of the boards — 
 the very boards which it was her pride to hear all who saw them say 
 they could eat their dinner off' them — and now, owing to the four 
 dozen foreigners not possessing so much as one spittoon among them, 
 they were stained over with the juice and ashes of tobacco. The 
 bright bars and sides of the stove, too, were all spotted red with 
 rust. 
 
 On a chair in the middle of the room stood the blacking bottle 
 and brushes, and beside them, on one of the white toilet- covered 
 tables, was a basin half full of inky water, in which the gallant sons 
 of “ la belle France ” had recently rinsed their hands and faces — near 
 this was a bottle of bandoline for gumming down the hair, and an old 
 tooth-brush standing up in it — the only tooth-brush to be seen in the 
 place. Lying next to these was a dirty, mangy-looking hair-brush, with 
 several sticks of different coloured cires de moustache — looking like 
 the ends of candles — and a bottle of lavender water. On the mantel- 
 piece stood a pair of curling-tongs, a leaden whisker-comb, and a pot 
 of patent polish for the boots, while above were ranged the entire 
 pipes of the fraternity. Pinned to a string that stretched across the 
 room from bed to bed, hung a couple of shirt fronts, left to dry, 
 together with several dozen pairs of fresh-cleaned, lemon-coloured kid 
 gloves, that emitted a strong smell of turpentine. 
 
 As the two ladies “ poked about” the apartment, each seemed to 
 find especial delight in dragging the other to witness some fresh evi- 
 dence of filth or foppery that she had just discovered; and while 
 they were thus agreeably engaged, speaking in whispers to one another, 
 Mrs. Sandboys, who had ventured to stray further into the depths of 
 the apartment than the more cautious Mrs. Wewitz, had almost 
 reached the end of the chamber, when, to her horror, she discovered 
 some one fast asleep in one of the beds. All that was visible above 
 the clothes was the upper part of a head, profusely done up in curl 
 papers. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys no sooner caught sight of the “ crackers,” than, 
 breathless with indignation, she hurried back, on tip-toe, to her com- 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 127 
 
 panion, and whispered in her ear, “My dear, there’s a woman in one 
 of the beds !” 
 
 “A wo !” Mrs. Wewitz was about to scream, when Aggy placed 
 
 her hand on the lady’s mouth. 
 
 “Yes, a woman, my love! I tell tha I saw her curl-papers,” ejacu- 
 lated Mrs. Sandboys, in a subdued tone of the deepest horror. 
 
 “ The wretches !” cried Mrs. Wewitz, “ they’ll be the ruin of us all — 
 they will ; but I’ll soon have the hussy out !” and so saying she hur- 
 ried towards the bed which Mrs. Sandboys had indicated ; and seizing 
 the sleeper by the shoulders, began shaking the individual violently. 
 
 The suddenness and severity of the agitation roused the slumberer, 
 when lifting his head up from under the clothes, he displayed to the 
 terrified ladies a huge beard and pair of mustachios. 
 
 “ Its a brute of a man, after all!” screamed Mrs. Wewitz, as she let 
 go the shoulders of the hirsute Parisian. 
 
 “Goodness, gracious!” shrieked Mrs. Sandboys, and away they 
 both scampered out of the apartment. 
 
 As they hastened back to their sitting-room, they met Ann Light- 
 foot on one of the landings, and communicating to her what had 
 happened, the girl begged to know whether the man’s beard was red ? 
 
 On being answered in the affirmative, she told the horror-stricken 
 Mrs. Sandboys that it was the same man as had run after her the 
 other night, and who assured her yesterday that he only wished he 
 could have caught her; he’d have served her out finely. 
 
 “ He was the wust of the whole bunch,” Ann Lightfoot said. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys gave a faint scream, for, as she observed to Mrs. 
 Wewitz, she shouldn’t wonder but what the nasty hairy brute of a 
 fellow would be imagining that she was in love with him, and then 
 what on earth would become of her ! 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 “ Do, walk in, gentlemen, walk in. 
 
 The price is only threepence, 
 
 We’re just a-going to begin — 
 
 You two step in for fi’pence. 
 
 You ne’er have seen in all your days. 
 
 So fine a show as this is ; 
 
 Go where we will, it gains the praise 
 Of gentlemen and misses. 
 ***** 
 
 “ See hurdum-durdum, dust an' din, 
 
 Wi’ showmau an’ physician, 
 
 You’d think that they meeght Babel fin’ 
 
 Class’d for a new edition.” 
 
 Cumberland Song. 
 
 The long-looked-for first of May, 1851, had at length arrived, and 
 the morning was ushered in with merry peals from almost every 
 steeple ; afar off the drone of the thousand bells sounded like the 
 
128 1851; OB, the adventures of 
 
 boom of a huge gong — the signal, as it were, for the swarming of the 
 Great Hive. 
 
 For miles round all wore a holiday aspect ; the work-people with 
 clean and smiling faces, and decked out in all the bright colours of 
 their Sunday attire, were up and about shortly after daybreak, and, 
 with their bundle of provisions on their arms, were soon seen stream- 
 ing along the road, like so many living rays, converging towards the 
 •Crystal focus of the World. 
 
 It was the great Jubilee of art and industry, to which almost 
 every corner of the earth had sent some token of its skill and 
 brotherly feeling, and to which the inhabitants of the most distant 
 climes had come, each to gaze at the science and handicraft of the 
 other. Never was labour — whether mental or manual, whether the 
 ■craft of the hand or of the brain — so much honoured — the first great 
 recognition, perhaps, of the artistic qualities of the artizan. 
 
 With the first gleam of daylight, the boys of London, ever foremost 
 at a sight, had taken up their places in the trees, like their impudent 
 counterparts, the London sparrows, and men and women grouped 
 round the rails, determined at least to have a good place for seeing 
 the opening of the World's Show. Hammers were to be heard on 
 nil sides, fastening the timbers of the wooden stages that were being- 
 set up by the many who delight in holidays solely as a matter of 
 business. Some were pouring in at the Park-gates, laden with tables 
 and chairs for the sight-seers to stand upon. Others again, came 
 with the omnipresent street provisions — huge trucks filled with 
 bottles of ginger beer — baskets of gingerbread and “ fatty cakes” 
 — and tins of brandy-balls and hardbake — while from every quarter 
 ■■there streamed girls and women with round wicker sieves piled 
 up in pyramids with oranges. Then there were the womeu with 
 the brown-looking trotters, spread on white cloths, and the men 
 with their ham sandwiches, as thin as if made out of whitey-brown 
 paper ; while at the gates and all along the roads, stood men with 
 trays of bright silvery looking medals of the Crystal Palace, and filling 
 the air with the cheapness and attractions of their wares. Nor were the 
 beggars absent from the scene, for in every direction along which the 
 great mass of people came pouring, there were the blind and the 
 crippled, reaping their holiday harvest. 
 
 As the morning advanced the crowds that came straggling on, grew 
 denser and denser, till at last it was one compact kind of road, paved 
 with heads; and on they went — fathers with their wives and children, 
 skipping jauntily along, and youths with their gaily-dressed sweet- 
 hearts, in lively-coloured shawls and ribbons — and many — early as it 
 was — munching apples, or cracking nuts as they trudged on their 
 way. 
 
 All London, and half the country, and a good part of the world, were 
 wending their way to see the Queen pass in state on her way to open 
 the 
 
 GREAT EXHIBITION OF ALL NATIONS, 
 
MS, AND MSS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 129 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 “ See frae a’ quarters, east and west, 
 
 I’ drwoves th’ country coman, 
 
 Wheyle flocks o’ naigs an’ kye are press'd 
 By flocks o’ men an' women; 
 
 Buss’d i’ their best the blytliesome troop 
 Bang forrat belter skelter, 
 
 Wheyle moraiy ’mang the mingled group 
 O’ th’ geat war fit to swelter 
 
 Wi’ heat that day. 
 ********** 
 
 Whist ! what’s yon noise amang yon crowd, 
 
 Yon rantin’ an’ huzzain ? 
 
 Whar trumpets skirl an’ drums beat load, 
 
 An’ organs sweet are pleyin.” 
 
 Mosley Fair. 
 
 The Great Exhibition of the Industry of all Countries is the first 
 public national expression ever made in this country, as to the dignity 
 and artistic quality of labour. 
 
 Our “ working men,” until within the last few years, we have been 
 in the habit of looking upon as mere labourers — as muscular machines 
 — creatures with whom the spinning-jenny and the power-loom 
 might be brought into competition, and whom the sense of fatigue, 
 and consequent demand for rest, rendered immeasurably inferior “ as 
 producers,” to the instruments of brass and iron. 
 
 It is only within the last ten years, perhaps, that we have got to 
 acknowledge the artistic and intellectual quality of many forms of 
 manual labour, speaking of certain classes of operatives no longer 
 as handicraftsmen — that is to say, as men who, from long habit, 
 acquired a dexterity of finger which fitted them for the “ automatic ” 
 performance of certain operations,— but styling them artisans, or 
 the artists of our manufactures. It is because we have been so slow 
 to perceive and express this “ great fact — the artistic character of 
 artisanship— that so much intellectual power has been lost to society, 
 and there has been so much more toil and suffering in the world than 
 there has been any necessity for. 
 
 Had we, as a really great people, been impressed with the sense of 
 the heavy debt we owed to labour, we should long ago have sought to 
 acknowledge and respect the mental operations connected with many 
 forms of it, and have striven to have ennobled and embellished and 
 enlivened the intellect of those several modes of industry that still 
 remained as purely physical employments among us. Had the men 
 of mind done as much for the men of labour, as these had done for 
 those, we might long ago have learned how to have made toil 
 pleasant rather than irksome, and to have rendered it noble instead 
 of mean. 
 
 The ploughman, at the tail of the plough, has been allowed to eon- 
 
 K 
 
130 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 tinue with us almost the same animal as the horses in front of it, 
 with no other incentive to work but the craving of his stomach. 
 
 Had we striven to elevate ploughing into an art, and the plough- 
 man into an artist — teaching him to understand the several subtle 
 laws and forces concerned in the cultivation of every plant — and 
 more especially of those with which he was dealing — had we thus 
 made the turning up of the soil not a brute operation, but an intel- 
 lectual process, we might have rendered the work a pleasure, and the 
 workman a man of thought, dignity, and refinement. 
 
 As yet, the art-exhibitions of this country have been confined 
 solely to the handiworks of artists-proper. We have been led to 
 suppose, by the restricted sense which we have given to the term 
 artist, that Art was confined solely to the several forms of pleasing — 
 pictorially, musically, or literarily. A more comprehensive view of 
 the subject, however, is now teaching us that the different modes of 
 operating on the intellectual emotions, of attracting attention, of 
 exciting interest, of producing a feeling of astonishment, beauty, 
 sublimity, or ludicrousness in others, are but one species of Art, for 
 not only are the means of affecting the intellect, of inducing a sense of 
 truth and causation an equally artistic operation, hut, assuredly, the 
 affection of material objects in a desired manner is just as worthy of 
 being ranked in the same category. Whether the wished-for object 
 be to operate upon mental, moral, or physical nature — whether it be 
 to induce in the intellect, the heart, or the unconscious substances 
 around us a certain predetermined state, such an end can be brought 
 about solely by conforming to the laws of the object on which we 
 seek to operate. 
 
 Art, literally rendered, is cunning, and cunning is “kenning,” or 
 knowing. It means, simply and strictly, intellectual power. Ars is 
 the power of mind, in contradistinction to the In-ers, or power of 
 matter. 
 
 Art, therefore, is merely the exercise of the mind towards a certain 
 object — that express operation of the intellect which enables us to 
 compass our intentions, no matter what the object may be — whether 
 to convince, to astonish, to convulse with laughter, to charm with 
 beauty, to overwhelm with the sense of the sublime, or even to 
 extract metal from the ore, or weave the fibres of a plant into 
 a covering for the body — each of these processes differs, not in the 
 intellectual operation, but solely in the nature of the substances 
 operated upon, every one requiring the knowledge of a different set of 
 laws, and thus, in most instances, necessitating a distinct operator. 
 
 Such are the marvellous effects of some of the more ordinary arts 
 of civilization. Art, it has been said, lies simply in the adaptation of 
 the means to the end — the more cunning or knowing this adaptation 
 appears — that is to say, the greater the knowledge, intuitive or 
 acquired, that it evinces, or is felt to require, the greater, of course, is 
 the art, or, in other words, the more art-ful the process becomes. 
 
 As yet, but few modes of industry in this country have been ren- 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 131 
 
 dered artistic; our handicraftsmen have remained pure mechanics, 
 because wanting that knowledge which alone could convert their ope- 
 ration into an art ; they have merely repeated, mechanically, the series 
 of acts that others had performed before them, while such processes 
 which had been elevated into intellectual exercises had been rendered 
 so by mere scientific knowledge. 
 
 By means of Mechanics’ Institutes and cheap literature, we had so 
 extended the discoveries of our philosophers, that the truths of science 
 were, in many instances, no longer confined to the laboratory, the 
 observatory, or the library, but made to permeate the mine, the forge, 
 the workshop, the factory, and the fields. 
 
 Still, it was only science that reached our working men. 
 
 Taste, as yet, was scarcely known to them. 
 
 A knowledge of the laws of nature might make better and more 
 cunning handicraftsmen, but a knowledge of the laws of pleasing 
 could alone render their works more elegant in design ; and, since 
 every material object must necessarily partake of form and colour, it 
 is surely ds well it should be made to please as to displease the eye in 
 these qualities. 
 
 As yet we have sought to develop only the utilities of art — the 
 beautiful, as an essential element of all manufacture, we have entirely 
 neglected. As a stranger recently come among us, this defect appears 
 to have forced itself deeply into the mind of Prince Albert; for, as 
 far back as 1846, his Boyal Highness urged upon a deputation that 
 waited upon him from the Society of Arts, that the department of that 
 Society “ most likely to prove immediately beneficial to the public, 
 was that which encouraged, most efficiently, the application of the 
 Fine Arts to the various manufactures of the country ;” and, added 
 the Prince, after speaking of the excellence and solidity of British 
 manufactures generally, “ to wed mechanical skill with high art is a 
 task worthy of the Society of Arts, and directly in the path of its duty.” 
 
 The Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry and Art of all 
 Nations is, then, the first attempt to dignify and refine toil ; and, by 
 collecting the several products of scientific and {esthetic art from 
 every quarter of the globe into one focus, to diffuse a high standard of 
 excellence among our operatives, and thus to raise the artistic qualities 
 of labour, so that men, no longer working with their fingers alone, 
 shall find that which is now mere drudgery converted into a delight, 
 their intellects expanded, their natures softened, and their pursuits 
 ennobled by the process. 
 
 When mining becomes with us a geological art — when the agricul- 
 tural labourer is an organic chemist — when the feeder and breeder 
 of cattle is an experimental physiologist — when, indeed, every handi- 
 craft is made both a scientific and {esthetic operation-then, and then 
 alone, will the handicraftsmen hold that high and honourable position 
 in the country, which, as the producers of all our wealth — as those to 
 whom we owe our every comfort and luxury, they ought most as- 
 suredly to occupy. 
 
132 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 The Great Exhibition is a higher boon to labour than a general 
 advance of wages. An increase of pay might have brought the work- 
 ing men a larger share of creature comforts, but high feeding, un- 
 fortunately, is not high thinking nor high feeling. 
 
 Anything which tends to elevate the automatic operation of the 
 mere labourer to the dignity of an artistic process, tends to confer on 
 the working classes the greatest possible benefit. 
 
 Such appears to be the probable issue of the Great Exhibition ! 
 
 Nor can we conceive a nobler pride than that which must be felt 
 by working men when they behold arranged all around them the 
 several trophies and triumphs of labour over the elements of the 
 whole material universe. The sight cannot fail to inspire them with 
 a sense of their position in the State, and to increase their self-respect 
 in the same ratio as it must tend to increase the respect of all others 
 for their vocation. 
 
 London, for some time previous to the opening of the Great Exhi- 
 bition, had been a curious sight even to Londoners. In all the main 
 thoroughfares, especially those leading from the railways and the 
 docks, heavy vans, piled high with unwieldy packing-cases, or laden 
 with some cumbrous machine, and drawn by a long team of horses, 
 crawled along, creaking, on their way towards the Crystal Palace. 
 The greater part of the principal streets were being repaired, pre- 
 paratory to the increased traffic; shops were being newly-painted 
 and newspapers were announcing in huge placards that they pro- 
 posed publishing supplements in several languages. 
 
 In almost every omnibus, some two or three foreigners were to be 
 seen among the passengers, — either some light-haired Germans, or 
 high-cheeked Americans, or sallow Turks, with their “ fez-caps” of 
 scarlet cloth. In the pit of the theatres, Chinamen, with their pecu- 
 liar slanting eyes, and old-woman- like look and dress, might occa- 
 sionally be perceived gaping with wonder at the scene ; while from 
 the number of gentlemen in beards, felt-hats, and full pantaloons, 
 visible at the West-end, Regent-street had much the Anglo-Frenchi- 
 fied character of Boulogne-sur-Mer. 
 
 New amusements were daily springing into existence, or old ones 
 being revived. The Chinese Collection had returned to the Metro- 
 polis, with a family from Pekin, and a lady with feet two inches and 
 a half long, as a proof of the superior standing she had in society ; 
 Mr. Catlin had re-opened his Indian exhibition; Mr. Wyld had 
 bought up the interior of Leicester Square, with the view of cram- 
 ming into it — “yea, the great globe itself!” The geographical pano- 
 ramas had rapidly increased, no less than three Jerusalems having 
 been hatched, as it were, by steam — like eggs, by the patent incubator 
 — within the last three weeks. “Australia” and “New Zealand,” 
 like floating islands, had shifted their quarters from Miss Linwood’s 
 Gallery to the Strand, while the cost of immigrating thither for lialf- 
 an-liour was reduced from sixpence for each country, to “three-pence all 
 
ME. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 133 
 
 the way;” while those who felt indisposed for so long a journey, 
 could make the “ Grand Tour of Europe” for one shilling, or take the 
 “ Overland Route to India” for the same price, or be set down by the 
 Waterloo omnibus at the entrance to the “ Dardanelles,” and see all 
 over “ Constantinople” for less than a trip to Gravesend. 
 
 The road to the Crystal Palace had for a long time been an extra- 
 ordinary scene. Extensive trains of waggons stretched far away, like 
 an Eastern caravan, each waiting for its turn to be unloaded, mono- 
 polised one side of the carriage-way. Omnibuses, with their roofs 
 crowded with people, went dashing by, while carts laden with building 
 materials crept leisurely along. 
 
 At almost every one of the public-houses some huge flag was flying 
 from the upper windows, and around the doors were groups of men and 
 soldiers either about to enter or depart. Along the edge of the foot- 
 path stood hawkers, shouting out the attractions of their wares — some 
 had trays filled with bright silver y-looking medals of the Exhibition — 
 others, pictures of it printed in gold on “ gelatine cards” — while others 
 had merely barrows of nuts, baskets of oranges or trucks of the omni- 
 present penny ginger-beer. 
 
 Groups of foreigners, their beards yellow with dust, walked along 
 with their hands stuck in their pockets, so as to make their full 
 pantaloons even fuller than ordinary; and as the omnibuses stopped 
 to “ pick up” or “ set down” their passengers, parties of Germans or 
 Frenchmen were heard jabbering loudly within. Along Rotten-row, 
 endless troops of equestrians galloped noiselessly along on the soft 
 loose ground at the rear of the Crystal Palace — in front of it an 
 interminable line of carriages drawled slowly past, and while some of 
 those within thrust their heads out at the windows, others leant 
 back, so as to be able to see the height or length of the giant 
 building. 
 
 On every side were mobs of spectators pressing close up to the 
 rails, and standing on tip-toe, with their necks out-stretched, in the 
 hope of getting a peep of what was going on within. All along the 
 building were ladders, one beside each of the columns, with painters 
 perched high upon them, busy colouring the iron-work against the 
 opening day. On top of the huge glass arch that formed the roof of 
 the transept, the tiny figures of workmen were to be seen, some 
 walking along the crystal covering, and making one wonder how the 
 fragile substance bore them. 
 
 At the end of the building were steam-engines puffing out their 
 white clouds of steam, and amid the debris of a thousand packing- 
 cases stood giant blocks of granite, mammoth lumps of coal, stupen- 
 dous anchors, and such huge articles as were too bulky to be placed 
 within the building itself. 
 
 All was bustle, life, confusion, and amazement. 
 
 Those who were not working, were wondering at those who were ; 
 and many, as they looked at what still remained to be done, shook 
 their heads in doubt as to the possibility of completing it against the 
 appointed time. 
 
 Nor was it difficult to read disappointment in the countenances of 
 
134 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the new-comers on their first beholding the building. To say the 
 truth, the engravings and the imagination had failed to convey any 
 adequate notion of the structure. The very name of the Crystal 
 Palace had led people to conjure up in their minds a phantasm that 
 could not be realized — a transparent edifice, pellucid as if built of 
 blocks of ice instead of stone — a prismatic kind of fairy mansion, 
 glittering in the sun, and breaking up and scattering the light all 
 around in a thousand rainbow tints. 
 
 But how different the scene on the earliest dawn of the morrow ! 
 
 Then to stand in the centre of the huge crystal pile, and cast the 
 eye thence in any direction, was indeed to behold a sight that had no 
 parallel in excellence. The exquisite lightness and tone of colour 
 that pervaded the entire structure was a visual feast, and a rare 
 delight of air, colour, and space. The vitrious material which outside 
 was to be seen only in one point, here appeared really to form the 
 sides and roof of the entire building, while the combined effect of the 
 three “ primary” colours of the decorations showed with what rare 
 artistic skill and exquisite aesthetic appreciation they had been put 
 together. It seemed more like one harmonious tone — a concert of 
 mellifluous tints — than mere painting. A kind of coloured rainbowy 
 air appeared to pervade the whole building, while, as the eye travelled 
 down the long vista of galleries, and beheld the forms and tints at the 
 end of the avenues, dimmed by the haze of distance, one was struck 
 with a solemn sense of the majesty of the building. 
 
 Before the 1st of May, 1851, it was impossible to form an adequate 
 idea of the magnificence of the scene which was to render its opening 
 memorable for all time. Those who the day before had made the journey 
 of the avenues from end to end, above and below, could not have 
 believed it possible that in so few hours so great a change could have 
 been wrought. 
 
 There was the glass fountain in the centre of the building, shining, 
 as the sun’s rays came slanting down upon it through the crystal 
 roofs, as if it had been carved out of icicles, or as if the water stream- 
 ing from the fountain had been made suddenly solid, and transfixed 
 into beautiful forms. In the machine-room, with its seeming infinity 
 of engines puffing and twirling away, were the “ self-acting mules” at 
 work, drawing out almost spontaneously their long lines of threads, as 
 if from a thousand spiders; the huge Jacquard lace machines were 
 busy weaving the finest embroidered “edgings;” the pumps were 
 throwing up their huge cascades of water, while the steam printing- 
 press was whirling its vast sheets through a maze of tapes, and then 
 pouring them forth, one after another, impressed with a whole firma- 
 ment of “ signs and symbols ;” the envelope machine, with its magic 
 “ finger” — the power-looms — the model locomotives — the centrifugal 
 pumps — the horizontal and vertical steam-engines — were each and all 
 at work — snorting, whirring, and clattering. There was the canopy 
 above the royal seat, and adorned with its golden cornice and fringe, 
 and with a small plume of blue and white feathers at each of its angles. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 135 
 
 The floors were no longer strewn, but clean and matted, and at each 
 corner of the central square, stages had been raised for the most illus- 
 trious yisitors. As you glanced down the avenues, objects of exquisite 
 texture, form, or colour, everywhere saluted the eye. From the top 
 of the galleries were hung huge carpets and pieces of tapestry, gor- 
 geous in their tints, and exquisite in their designs. Here was reared, 
 high towards the crystal roof, the “ Spitalfields trophy,” from the top 
 of which hung the richest silks, with their glossy colours variegated 
 with tints and forms of surpassing beauty; and looking still farther 
 down the nave, the eye could just catch sight of the colossal mirror, 
 set in its massive gilt frame, and mounted on crimson cloth. At 
 every corner were statues, made doubly white by the scarlet drapery 
 arranged behind them, while immediately at the back of the throne 
 were two equestrian statues of the Prince and Queen, one on either 
 side. Behind these was another fountain, that made the stream, as it 
 rushed up from the centre and divided itself into a hundred drops, 
 flashing in the sun as they fell, look like a shower of silver sparks — a 
 kind of fire- work of water; and beside this rose the green plumage of 
 the palm-trees embedded in moss, while close at their feet was ranged 
 a bed of flowers, whose tints seemed to have been dyed by the pris- 
 matic hues of the water-drops of the neighbouring fountain. Then 
 appeared the old elm-trees of the park, looking almost like the lions 
 of the forest caught in a net of glass ; and behind them again was a 
 screen of iron tracery, so light and delicate that it seemed like a lace- 
 work of bronze. 
 
 The opposite side of the transept was filled with sight-seers, and 
 the galleries, around and all along, as far as the eye could stretch, 
 were dotted over with the yellow, white, and pink bonnets of the fairer 
 portion of the company. 
 
 But it was when the retinue of the court began to assemble that 
 the scene became one — perhaps the most gorgeous in colouring and 
 splendour ever beheld ; for it was seen in the clear light of the trans- 
 parent roof above. The gold embroidered bosoms of the officers of 
 State seemed to be almost alight with the glitter of their ornaments ; 
 and as the ambassadors of all nations stood grouped in the centre, the 
 various forms and colours and embellishments of their costumes were 
 a sight to see and never to forget. 
 
 There stood all the ministers of state in their glittering suits ; the 
 ambassadors of every country, some in light blue and silver, others in 
 green and gold, and others in white, with their bosoms studded with 
 their many-coloured “ orders.” There was the Chinese mandarin in 
 his red cap, with peacock’s feathers dangling behind, and his silken 
 robes with quaint devices painted upon them in front and at the back. 
 There Was the turbaned Turk, and the red fez-capped Egyptian ; and 
 there were the chocolate-coloured court suits, with their filagree steel 
 buttons, and long, white, embroidered silk waistcoats. 
 
 There was the old Duke, too, with his silver hair and crooked back 
 showing most conspicuous amongst the whole. At the back and sides 
 
136 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 of the throne, stood the gentlemen-at-arms, in their golden helmets, 
 with the long plumes of white ribbon-like feathers drooping over 
 them. Beside these were the portly-looking beef-eaters, in their red 
 suits and black velvet caps ; and near them were the trumpeters, in 
 their golden coats and close-fitting jockey-caps, with silver trumpets 
 in their hands. Near these were the Aldermen, in their red gowns of 
 office, trimmed with fur; and the Common-councilmen, in their 
 blue silk gowns; and the Recorder, in long, big, powdered judge’s wig 
 ■ — the Archbishop, in full lawn sleeves, and close, curly wig — and the 
 “ Musical Doctor,” in his white satin, damask robe, and quaint-looking 
 black cap — and the heralds in their blue silk robes, emblazoned with 
 gold-looking lions, and other silken devices — and the Garter King-at- 
 Arms, in his gorgeous red velvet coat, becrested all over in gold — 
 while, round all these were ranged sappers and miners, in their red 
 and yellow uniforms ; and behind them were seen the dark blue coats 
 of the police. 
 
 It was a feast of colour and splendour to sit and gloat over — a 
 congress of all the nations for the most hallowed and blessed of 
 objects — one, perhaps, that made the two old soldiers, as they tottered 
 backwards and forwards across the scene, the most noticeable, 
 because in such a gathering for such an object, the mind could 
 hardly help looking upon them as the last of the warriors to whom 
 the nation would owe its future greatness. 
 
 At a few minutes before the appointed hour, the royal carriages 
 with their bright liveries were seen to flash past the windows of the 
 northern entrance— then darted by a troop of the Life Guards, with 
 their steel helmets and breast-plates glistening in the sunshine, and 
 immediately after, the glass sides and roof of the Crystal Palace 
 twanged with the flourish of trumpets, that announced the arrival of 
 the Queen. 
 
 At this moment the gates were flung back, and within the crimson 
 vestibule appeared a blaze of gold and bright colours. 
 
 Then advanced the royal retinue, with the ushers and chamberlain 
 in front, bowing as they moved backwards towards the throne ; and 
 after them the Prince leading the Princess Royal, and the Queen with 
 the Prince of Wales, and followed by their court. 
 
 The equerries, in their golden-striped coats and powdered hair, and 
 the Life Guards with their glittering steel accoutrements, brought up 
 the rear, and formed the background to such a picture as could be 
 seen perhaps in no other country but England. 
 
 As the Queen moved onwards with her diamond tiara and little 
 crown of brilliants scintillating in the light, the whole assembly rose, 
 and waving their hats and fluttering their handkerchiefs, they shouted 
 forth peal after peal of welcome. 
 
 Then was sung the National Anthem — the white head and bright 
 blue coat of the courtly old leader appeared in the red rostrum raised 
 above the royal entrance, and high in the air his baton might be seen 
 waving to and fro ; while, as the “melodious thunder” of the organ 
 

 
 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURST Y SANDBOYS. 
 
 137 
 
 rolled through the building, the choristers in their white robes chanted 
 in the rich unison of many voices. 
 
 The Archbishop then invoked a blessing on the objects of the 
 building — this was followed by a chorus sung in exquisite harmony 
 by the large band of singers — and then the Queen and Prince, pre- 
 ceded by the officers of state, walked round the building in procession ; 
 while, as she went, the people who lined the nave and galleries 
 saluted her and her consort with their acclamations. 
 
 On her Majesty declaring the Exhibition opened, there followed 
 another flourish of trumpets, and the gorgeous ceremony was at an 
 end. Immediately were heard the booming of the hundred guns 
 without, telling the people of the metropolis that the Great Exhibi- 
 tion of the Industry of all Nations had been formally inaugurated. 
 
 And well may the nation be proud of its Crystal Palace. No other 
 people in the world could have raised such a building— -without one 
 shilling being drawn from the national resources, or have stocked it 
 with the same marvellous triumphs of industry and art. The 
 machine-room alone, with its thousand iron monsters snorting and 
 clattering, was a sight to overwhelm the mind with a positive sense 
 of awe ; stories were current of many of the strongest minds having 
 been affected to tears at the spectacle ; and most assuredly, what 
 with the noise and the motion, there was a sense of reverent humility 
 forced upon the mind, together with a feeling of gratitude to the 
 Almighty, who had vouchsafed to confer upon, us so much of his own 
 power, that filled the bosom with the very pathos of admiration. 
 
 You might wander where you pleased — to “ France”— and see the 
 exquisite tapestry ; you might step across to “ Austria” — and wonder 
 at the carving of the furniture ; but though beneath the crystal roof 
 were ranged all the choicest works of the whole world, there was 
 nothing in any way comparable for skill, for mind, for work — nothing 
 so plain, so solid, and yet so eminently handsome — -nothing, indeed, 
 so thoroughly English as that iron type of our indomitable energy to 
 be found in the machinery. 
 
 One glance was quite sufficient to account for the greatness of the 
 nation to which it belonged ! 
 
 The foreigners appeared to be in no way prepared for so over- 
 powering an example of England’s immeasurable pre-eminence in this 
 respect. And it was curious to see the Frenchmen and Germans 
 grouped round the several machines in operation, with their noses 
 almost touching the wheels, as they vainly endeavoured to make 
 themselves acquainted with their bewildering details ; nor was it less 
 interesting to notice the innocent pride which the attendants appeared 
 to take in pointing out to the visitors of other nations the uses of the 
 several parts of the complex tool. 
 
 But if the machinery department were especially attractive for the 
 striking evidence it afforded of the supremacy of this nation over all 
 others in mechanical genius and industry — exhibiting at once the 
 cause and effect of Britain’s greatness — assuredly the mineral 
 
138 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 department, though having less surface attractions, still displayed our 
 peculiar national characteristics. Without our coal and without our 
 iron, where would have been our machinery ? 
 
 Watt, Arkwright, Stevenson, born in another quarter of the globe 
 that possessed less metallic treasures, might have lived and died mere 
 clods perhaps, removed from the minerals that were necessary both to 
 the production and achievement of their genius ; and more marvel- 
 lous than all is it, after having cast the eye over the several huge 
 lumps of ore that here are to be seen, to pass into the several 
 branches of manufactures, and behold the things of special interest 
 that the skill and genius of man have learned to fashion them into — 
 to contrast the dull-looking iron ore with the glittering, bright- 
 polished, and sharp-edged steel instruments that are made from it — 
 to see the opaque and powdery sand, and then behold the pellucid and 
 massive glass fountains, chandeliers, and vases into which we have 
 learned to convert it. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 “ But now the lang-expected unworn 
 Of muniment arrives, 
 
 Wheyle helter-skelter frae a’ airts 
 I’ swarms the country drives, 
 
 The lasses in their feyne pearce claes, 
 
 The lads baith trig an’ souple ; 
 
 Ower hill an’ knowe, thro’ seugh an’ sowe. 
 
 Comes tiftan many o’ couple 
 
 Hauf saim’d that day. 
 
 “ Frae Angerton Wheyte to Dubbmill, 
 
 Hin mist, as yen may say, 
 
 But a’ wi’ yae consent seem’d met 
 To mence this merry day. 
 
 Wheyle Allonby turn’d out en masse, 
 
 Ding-dang, baith man an’ woman, 
 
 An’ parlish pranks ’mang Silloth banks 
 They bed as they were cornin’ 
 
 To tlT town that day. 
 
 “ But it wad need a Homer’s head 
 War I to tak’ in ban’, 
 
 To sing or say what fwok that day 
 War there, or how they wan ; 
 
 So far and near, an’ God kens whare, 
 
 By common invitation, 
 
 Wi’ young an’ auld, an’ great an’ laal, 
 
 Seem’d met on this occasion, 
 
 Wi’ glee that day.” 
 
 Cumberland Poem. 
 
 In the ardour of our admiration at the Crystal Palace, we have for- 
 gotten the Hero of our story, the simple, but ill-starred individual, 
 who quitted his native mountains with the special view of beholding 
 the wonders of the Great Exhibition. 
 
 Like all those who could spare the money, and like many who 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 139 
 
 could not, Mr. Christopher Sandboys, at the special injunction of his 
 beloved Aggy, had made up his mind to invest five golden pieces of 
 the lawful and current coin of Great Britain in the purchase of a 
 brace of admission-tickets for himself and his better half, so that he 
 and his “good lady” might join the rest of the world in witnessing 
 the ceremony of the inauguration. 
 
 After a series of visits, first to Mr. Sams the librarian, thence to 
 the Society of Arts in John-street, and thence to the office of the 
 Executive Committee, Christopher was at last permitted, as a special 
 favour, to convert his five sovereigns into two small pieces of paste- 
 board, entitling himself and his wife to the right of admission to the 
 Crystal Palace throughout the season. Having achieved this great 
 feat, he made the best of his way back to the partner of his bosom, 
 to gratify her with the tidings of the successful issue of his errand. 
 
 Then, of course, came the important inquiry as to what dress 
 Mrs. Sandboys should make her appearance in at the ceremony, and 
 it was unanimously declared, as usual, that the lady had not “a thing 
 to put on ;” woman like, she had much rather stay at home unless 
 she could appear “ decent, at least,” on the auspicious occasion ; she 
 had no particular wish to go, and Cursty could take Jobby with him 
 in her place. 
 
 Mr. Christopher Sandboys, though he found that his funds — what 
 with the losses and expenses that he had incurred since his departure 
 from Cumberland — were getting unpleasantly low, still, to obtain 
 that domestic peace and quietude, which, as an aspiring philosopher, 
 he valued above all earthly things, at length, with becoming resigna- 
 tion, submitted to the infliction of a new dress, a mantle, and bonnet 
 for the occasion. 
 
 On the eventful morning, Mrs. Sandboys was up and stirring long 
 before the sparrows, and they, according to the celebrated ornitho- 
 logist (who sat up every night for a whole year, in order to discover 
 the usual hours of getting up among the different species of the 
 feathered race), are the earliest risers of all the early birds. Nor 
 would the impatient Aggy allow Cursty to enjoy those extra forty 
 winks for which he prayed, before proceeding to the operations of his 
 toilet. 
 
 But though Mrs. Sandboys was going to take part in the opening 
 of the Great Exhibition, Ann Lightfoot, her maid, felt in no way 
 inclined to have her night’s rest curtailed of its fair proportion, in 
 order that Mr. Sandboys’ shaving-water might be ready some few 
 hours before the usual time. 
 
 It was in vain that Mrs. Sandboys pulled, and pulled, at the bed- 
 room bell; for though peal followed peal in smart succession, still 
 no Ann Lightfoot made her appearance in answer to the summons. 
 
 At length the patience of Mrs. Sandboys became exhausted; for, 
 though it was hardly daylight, she felt satisfied they would be hours 
 too late for the ceremony, unless the tedious operation of shaving 
 could be immediately performed by her husband ; and the lady ac- 
 cordingly insisted that Mr. Sandboys should slip on his trousers and 
 
140 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 proceed to the maid’s door, with the view of rousing the sluggard 
 from her slumbers. She would go herself, she said, but swarming as 
 the establishment was with foreigners, and considering her late perilous 
 adventure with one of the French lodgers, she did not consider it 
 prudent to hazard a repetition of the circumstances. 
 
 Cursty therefore proceeded to do the bidding of his wife, and 
 groping his way in the twilight — for it was not yet morning — to the 
 apartment of their serving- maid, he mounted the stairs as softly as he 
 could, so that he might not alarm the other sleepers in the house. 
 
 On gaining the landing that led to Ann Lightfoot’s room, the 
 sounds of a gentle tapping caught Mr. Sandboys’ ear, and in the 
 dusk he could just perceive the figure of a man standing outside the 
 door. He paused for a minute, and then heard the individual, as he 
 softly repeated the tapping, request, in broken English, that the “ angel” 
 would get up and heat him a flat iron at the kitchen fire. 
 
 Now Mr. Sandboys had been informed by the partner of his 
 fortunes and four- poster of the pattern of a huge pair of moustachios, 
 in black wax, having been discovered imprinted on the cheek of Ann 
 Lightfoot, after her late visit to the Frenchmen’s apartment, and no 
 sooner heard the term “ angel” applied to the maid, than immediately 
 a shrewd suspicion flashed across his mind, that the individual then at 
 the girl’s door was none other than the owner of the original mous- 
 tachios, of which Ann had borne away so faithful a copy. 
 
 In an instant he made a rush at the hirsute gentleman, and, seizing 
 him by the shoulders, proceeded to shake him violently, and to rate 
 him in no very gentle terms, threatening to throw the scoundrel over 
 the stairs. 
 
 The proprietor of the moustachios immediately grew as indignant 
 as the hot-blooded native of Cumberland, and declaring, with several 
 violent taps of his bosom, that his honour had been mortally wounded, 
 demanded the gentleman’s card, in order that he might obtain satis- 
 faction for the insult. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, though unused to such a mode of redressing injury, 
 and far more disposed to use his fists than pistols as a means of 
 settling a quarrel, still was sufficient of the gentleman to fall in upon 
 such an occasion with the French, rather than the English mode of 
 terminating a dispute. Accordingly he thrust his hand into his 
 breeches’ pocket, and drawing forth his pocket-book, gave the foreigner 
 the first piece of card-board that he could lay his hands upon, and 
 received in exchange the address of his adversary ; after which, having 
 seen the gentleman safely down the stairs, he proceeded to rouse the 
 girl, and then returned to his apartment. 
 
 Cursty, as he descended to his room, decided within himself that it 
 would be better not to inform his wife of the occurrence until he saw 
 what turn the affair might take. The consequence was, that his 
 pocket-book, once consigned to its usual abiding place, was not opened 
 again. This was especially unfortunate, for, had he done so, he 
 could not have failed to have discovered, that in the excitement of the 
 moment and the darkness of the morning he had parted with his 
 season-ticket to the Great Exhibition instead of his card of address. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 141 
 
 At length the toilet of the Cumbrian couple Avas settled, and Mr. 
 and Mrs. Sandboys proceeded forth on their way to the “World’s 
 Show,” happy in the unconsciousness of the loss they had sustained, 
 and overjoyed at the idea of the attainment of the object of their visit 
 to London being so near at hand. 
 
 After considerable difficulty, and some hours’ delay, they Avere at 
 length able to procure a couple of seats in the Putney omnibus, 
 one “ in,” and the other “ out.” While Mrs. Sandboys Avas stowed 
 away in the interior of the vehicle, Cursty proceeded to mount 
 the roof, already covered with the sight-seers as thick as a house-top 
 on a coronation day. Mr. Sandboys, being what his dearest Aggy 
 delighted to term a remarkably fine man, Avas no “ feather-weight,” 
 and as he took his seat on the exterior of the long conveyance, the 
 roofing, already considerably depressed Avith the load, was seen to belly 
 dowmvards, very much like a fat sailor’s hammock. 
 
 All went safely, however, until the omnibus reached the little bridge 
 that spans the muddy moat alongside of the Brompton Cemetery ; 
 here, as the vehicle gave a sudden jolt in ascending the curve of the 
 bridge, that minute increase of force which is said to break the back 
 of the over-burdened camel, was applied to the roof of the over-laden 
 vehicle. Crash ! went the boards directly beneath the seat of the 
 luckless Mr. Christopher Sandboys, and immediately the lower 
 extremities of the Cumberland gentleman Avere kicking and plunging 
 amidst the affrighted “ insides,” committing a terrible amount of havoc 
 among the neAv or “best” bonnets and gOAvns of the ladies consigned 
 to the Exhibition. 
 
 As Fate Avould have it, Mrs. Sandboys no sooner heard the crash 
 and saw the legs, and recognised the pantaloons of her lord and master 
 dangling in the interior of the conveyance, than Avith a scream she 
 scrambled to his assistance. The consequence was that, with each 
 fresh plunge of the intruding limbs, some fresh damage was done to 
 the new lace mantilla, or Avhite chip bonnet, that Mrs. Sandboys had 
 purchased expressly for the occasion. 
 
 And when, by the united efforts of the conductor and driver, 
 assisted by the strongest of the male passengers, poor Sandboys was 
 lifted out of his perilous situation, the Cumberland couple presented a 
 most melancholy spectacle: the nether garments of the wretched 
 Cursty were almost in the same tattered condition as when he had 
 made his first essay in pig-driving ; while the flounces, the flowers, 
 the ribbons, and laces of his beloved Aggy Avere nearly as dusty and 
 ragged-looking as cobAvebs. 
 
 At first, the couple felt inclined to return home, and abandon all 
 further attempts at “ enjoying themselves ” as a vain and fruitless 
 endeavour; but on second thoughts, they could hardly make up their 
 minds, after the money they had invested in their season-tickets, to 
 forego the opportunity of being present at a ceremony to which all the 
 Avorld seemed to be then flocking, eager to obtain the faintest glimpse 
 of the show. 
 
 Accordingly the lady sought out the nearest milliner’s, and the 
 
142 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 gentleman the shop of a neighbouring tailor, there to have their 
 garments cobbled into something like decency; and after some half 
 hour’s delay, they once more set forth on their journey, looking as 
 respectable and happy as was possible under the circumstances. 
 
 As they neared the Exhibition, the crowd of sight-seers became 
 more and more dense. The pathways were as black with human 
 beings as a grocer’s window with flies in the dog-days, and the 
 carriage-ways were filled with long lines of vehicles, jammed almost as 
 tight as the blocks in the wood pavement. 
 
 On entering the Prince of Wales Gate, dense groups of people were 
 clustered round the south transept, clamouring and pushing their way 
 towards the doors. Upon the top of the building were several work- 
 men, fastening the flag-staffs of the various countries to their respective 
 positions, while here and there were seen flying the different national 
 ensigns. 
 
 It was as much as Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys could do to force their 
 way towards the doors. When they had passed within the gates, and 
 the “ authorities” had demanded of the couple their tickets of admis- 
 sion, then the unconscious Cursty drew forth the pocket-book that 
 through all the crowd he had grasped firmly with his hand in his 
 pocket. On opening it, to his great dismay he discovered, for the 
 first time since his adventure, that the ticket which he had placed 
 securely in it among his cards on the previous evening was nowhere 
 to be found. 
 
 For a time he was utterly at a loss to conceive what could possibly 
 have come of the precious piece of pasteboard. At length, however, 
 as he turned his cards over and over again, his eye fell upon the name 
 and address of the Frenchman, and then the truth darted upon his 
 
 mind. 
 
 What was to be done 1 
 
 It was impossible to purchase another ticket at that time ; and for 
 Mrs. Sandboys to trust herself alone in such a crowd was more than 
 he or she felt inclined to hazard. And yet it was hard, — after all they 
 had gone through, in order to get to the Great Exhibition, — now that 
 they stood on the very threshold of the building, to be obliged to 
 return home. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys endeavoured to explain the circumstances to the 
 officers ; but many would not listen to him ; those who did could 
 hardly refrain from laughing at his misfortune. 
 
 The authorities were ruthless; and some, who were more suspicious, 
 and consequently did not hesitate to look upon the circumstance as a 
 trick to obtain admission to the building without payment, were more 
 unceremonious than the rest ; so, finding the gentleman still loitering 
 in the lobby, they at length thrust him and his lady outside the gates. 
 
 When Mr. Sandboys and his wife had been ejected from the build- 
 ing, they stood for a few minutes looking with envy at the people 
 showing their cards, and obtaining admission to the interior. Cursty, 
 then, to his supreme annoyance, saw the identical Frenchman whom 
 he had encountered that morning at his maid’s door present — what he 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 143 
 
 felt satisfied was the card that he himself had given him, and pass in 
 to the interior of the building. 
 
 Aggy, to whom Mr. Sandboys had communicated all the circum- 
 stances immediately on the discovery of his loss, was convinced, from 
 the inquiry she had made, that the Frenchman, who had obtained 
 admission with their season ticket, was none other than the wretch 
 who had pursued her in the dead of the night through the corridors of 
 Miss Wewitz’ establishment. 
 
 After vowing all kinds of vengeance against the foreigner, and 
 making up their minds to have justice done them immediately on their 
 return home, the Sandboys began to think, when their wrath had in a 
 measure cooled down, that, if Fate had denied them the privilege of 
 witnessing the “ pageant” from the interior, which they had paid 
 the sum of five guineas to be enabled to do, they might as well, now 
 that they were there, make the best of their bargain, and enjoy a 
 gratuitous sight of the procession from without. 
 
 Accordingly, they proceeded to push their way, as well as they could, 
 towards the north side of the Transept, where they were informed the 
 Queen was to make her entrance. Here, on the Serpentine, a minia- 
 ture frigate lay at anchor ; and on board were several youths making 
 preparations for the royal salute. Youths and men were seen climb- 
 ing the trees on the south bank ; some sitting astride a forked branch, 
 and others standing on the spreading boughs ; while some few urchins, 
 who had attained the topmost part of the trees, caused the branches to 
 bend beneath their weight. Every minute the crowd round about 
 the building grew thicker; the pressure against the bars, and the 
 squeezing of the masses of people, grew greater and greater ; so 
 that, when the police began to clear the road, and to make way for the 
 carriages, that were rapidly advancing one after another with the 
 officers of State, the crush became terrific. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys, eager to obtain a peep at the Queen at all risks, 
 was at first in no way daunted at the sight of the crowd, and sought, 
 under the care of her husband, to get as near as possible to the 
 Transept; but though Cursty was as powerful a man as any there, it 
 was useless for him to strive to keep the pressure of the throng off his 
 wife; they had not been in the thick of the crowd more than a 
 few minutes before — what with the police driving back the people in 
 front, and what with the people at the back pressing forwards— poor 
 Mrs. Sandboys was so crammed in and jammed in, so jostled and 
 hustled, and so pushed and crushed, that all of a sudden her senses 
 went from her, and she fell like a lifeless lump into her Cursty’s arms. 
 
 Then and then only was it possible for them to get extricated from 
 the dense mass of human beings that hemmed them in on all sides ; for 
 immediately it was made known that the lady had fainted, a passage 
 was made for Mr. Sandboys, so that he might carry her to some more 
 open part. 
 
 On “ coming to herself,” Aggy was in no way inclined to venture 
 into the crowd a second time ; and accordingly, she and her husband 
 proceeded, as best they could, to the other side of the Serpentine. 
 
144 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Here they stood for some little time on the bank, till, the multitude 
 growing inconveniently great as the hour for the opening drew 
 near, they both agreed that it would be far better and safer for them 
 to take a seat in one of the boats of the watermen, who were there 
 plying for hire up and down the river. 
 
 Their minds were no sooner made up on this point than they hailed 
 the first boatman that passed, and entering his wherry they proceeded 
 to seat themselves therein, and were rowed up and down the small 
 river under the safe conduct of the sculler. 
 
 This was pleasant enough for a short time, and the Sandboys 
 amused themselves by observing the freaks of the crowd. Across the 
 Park, they could see the people coming in streams from all directions, 
 like ants to a nest. There were men in flannel jackets ; women with 
 children in their arms ; hawkers, some with Programmes of the Pro- 
 cession, others with long panoramic pictures of the Lord Mayor’s 
 Show fluttering in the wind, which they were crying as “ a correct 
 view” of the opening of the Great Exhibition by the Queen in State ; 
 countrymen some in their smock-frocks, and others in their fluffy beaver 
 hats. Never was there such a crowd congregated in any part of London, 
 and certainly in no other part of the world. The multitudes that 
 had entered the Building were but as a few grains of sand collected, 
 as it were, from the vast shore of human beings without. 
 
 It has been said that not less than half a million of people were 
 gathered together in the Parks alone, and doubtlessly with truth, for 
 it had been declared a general holiday, as it were by universal accla- 
 mation, throughout the metropolis. 
 
 Some few of the shops had opened for an hour or two, but finding 
 all their customers had departed to the “ Great Show,” the masters 
 had followed their customers’ example, and, putting up their shutters, 
 had started with their families to have a peep at the sight them- 
 selves. The omnibuses had many of them begun running from all 
 parts of the suburbs to the Crystal Palace from six o’clock in the 
 morning. The “ Atlases,” the “ Paragons,” the “ Waterloos,” the 
 “ King’s Crosses,’ 1 the “ Paddingtons,” the “ Camberwells,” etc., had 
 all abandoned their accustomed routes, and taken to carry passengers, 
 for the time being, to Knightsbridge- — many of them being covered 
 with large placards of “ To the Exhibition,” pasted over their wonted 
 destinations. Most of the ’busses, too, had a very gay appearance, 
 with their new reins and trappings, the large rosettes at their horses’ 
 ears, and bows on their whips, with long streamers flying, and bunches 
 of flowers in the button-holes of the coachmen’s coats. 
 
 Through the streets travelled excursion-vans, with the curtains fes- 
 tooned and looped up, with huge bunches of flowers and evergreens 
 at each fastening, and filled with holiday folk, with a table in the 
 centre, and a barrel of beer at the end. 
 
 Not a part of London but what had poured forth its countless 
 throngs. The main thoroughfares, that were usually almost impass- 
 able at mid-day, were as still and deserted as in the dead of night. 
 Not a cab was to be seen in the streets; and even the fruit-stalls had 
 left their accustomed corners. The sparrows hopped and chirruped in 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 145 
 
 the middle of the causeways. A stray Jack in the Green might occa- 
 sionally be seen, but though the musician blew his pipes with all his 
 might, and beat his drum with all his force, not a boy was to be drawn 
 after them — not a child to be attracted to the windows by the sound, 
 even though, owing to the stillness of the streets, the drum and pipes 
 sounded doubly as loud and shrill as usual. 
 
 Every one had gone to the Great Exhibition ! and certainly the 
 multitudes assembled in the Park were proof demonstrative of the fact. 
 
 The Sandboys, as they flitted across the Serpentine, could hear the 
 shouts of the people, as some well-known Minister or nobleman was 
 recognised in his carriage by the populace. Then, as they stood up in 
 the boat, they could catch sight of the bright breast-plates and helmets 
 of the Life Guards, as they galloped rapidly by. Next they could 
 see the scarlet and gold coats of the royal coachmen dart along between 
 the open spaces of the trees ; then they heard the hoarse cheers of 
 the multitude, as the Queen entered the Crystal Palace ; and they 
 saw the solitary Sapper-and-Miner, standing beside the flag-staff, on the 
 topmost curve of the crystal roof, hoist the Loyal Standard imme- 
 diately her Majesty crossed the threshold. 
 
 For a short time afterwards all was still and silent, with the excep- 
 tion of the cries of the hawkers, who, immediately that the cheers had 
 ceased, might be heard again shouting at the tops of their voices their 
 “ full and correct Programmes of the Procession — only a penny.” 
 Presently they could catch by gusts the faint sound of the organ, 
 peeling forth its full rich harmonious tones within the Crystal 
 Palace. 
 
 Then the sculler pulled the boat down towards the spot where the 
 mimic frigate lay at anchor, so that Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys might see 
 the signal made, telling those on board that the Queen had declared 
 the Great Exhibition to be opened. 
 
 Once more they stood up in the boat, so as to obtain a better view 
 of the movements of the man on the roof. In a few minutes they 
 beheld the soldier prepare to raise the flag, and no sooner had he lifted 
 it high in the air, than the guns of the frigate thundered forth a deafen- 
 ing “ broadside.” Poor Mrs. Sandboys was standing up in the boat with 
 her back to the frigate, and being in no way prepared for the shock, she 
 was so startled with the suddenness and intensity of the noise, that 
 she staggered as if stunned by it, and fell back head-foremost into the 
 river. 
 
 It was the act of a moment for Cursty to dive after her, and pre- 
 sently up the two came together. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys, in her terror, threw her arms round about her 
 husband’s neck, so as effectually to prevent his rendering her the least 
 assistance; and so tightly did she cling to him, that it was some con- 
 siderable time before even the waterman could manage to lift either 
 the one or the other into the boat. 
 
 In a short while, however, the men of the Humane Society were 
 on the spot, attracted by the shrieks of the affrighted Mrs. Sandboys 
 in the water, and the sympathizing ladies on the shore. 
 
 L 
 
146 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 The 'wretched Mrs. Sandboys, by the time she was extricated from 
 the flood, was, what with the fright and the water she had swallowed, 
 almost insensible, while Cursty had been held down sufficiently long by 
 his wife in the river to feel “ far from himself.” 
 
 The moist and miserable couple were immediately carried to the 
 Society’s Keceiving House, where, having been stripped of their 
 drenched apparel, and placed in warm beds, the attendants proceeded, 
 some to rub them till they were nearly flayed, and others to inflate 
 their lungs, by means of a pair of bellows being inserted up their 
 nostrils. 
 
 Here they remained for some considerable time between the 
 blankets of the Humane Society, and when they were sufficiently in- 
 vigorated to be thought fit to leave the establishment, their dried 
 clothes were brought to them, in order that they might prepare for 
 their return home. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys, when she saw the limp and ungainly state of her 
 two-guinea chip bonnet, the artificial flowers of which looked as if 
 they had been boiled, — for the colours had run one into the other, and 
 dyed the once white bonnet like “ J oseph’s coat of many colours,” — 
 Mrs. Sandboys, we repeat, when she saw the wreck of her former 
 loveliness, could not help bursting into tears, and indulging in the 
 feminine luxury of a “ good cry.” Her green satin dress, which she 
 had bought, as they say, “ expressly for the occasion,” had lost all its 
 gloss and a good part of its colour, which had run into her petticoats, 
 till both the satin and under clothing were about as green and attrac- 
 tive as a gingham umbrella. Her bronze shoes she had left in the 
 bed of the river, there to astonish and puzzle some future geologist, 
 when examining the fossils in the miocene formation of the tertiary 
 deposits; her auburn front, too, had been unfortunately dried by a 
 quick fire, so that the foundation had shrivelled up, and the natural 
 parting had been scorched into a deep brown, while the hair looked as 
 fuzzy and rusty as cocoa-nut fibre. 
 
 At length, having made herself look as decent as she could under 
 the circumstances, and having been provided with a pair of list 
 slippers at the expense of the Society, Aggy was ushered into the 
 presence of the sharer of her sorrows and her “ ducking;” and after 
 many mutual congratulations on their lucky escape, and consolations 
 under their afflictions, the melancholy Sandboys set out at dusk on 
 their way back to the establishment of Mrs. Wewitz; and as they 
 rode along in the cab, they did not forget to attribute the whole of 
 their disasters to that wretch of a Frenchman. 
 
 Before they reached “ Parthenon House,” they had formed the 
 conclusion that Fate had irrevocably forbid their ever seeing the 
 Great Exhibition; and come what may, they were determined imme- 
 diately to return to the peace and happiness of their native mountains 
 of Buttermere. 
 
ME. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 147 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 “ The justice flung them heath in jail — 
 
 My faith ! what’s duin they’ll sair repent.” 
 
 Bad News. 
 
 On reaching their temporary home, the Sandboys immediately 
 made inquiries as to whether the French gentleman — M. Le Comte de 
 Sanschemise — whose card Cursty had received that morning, and to 
 whom he had given his season ticket for the Exhibition in exchange, had 
 returned from the Crystal Palace. No tidings, however, were to be 
 obtained of the gentleman, further than that he had been seen to leave 
 the establishment shortly after themselves in the morning. 
 
 Cursty, when he and his dear Aggy had partaken of some refresh- 
 ment, proceeded to take up his residence in one of the rooms imme- 
 diately adjoining the hall; and having provided himself with a thick 
 ash stick, sat himself down to await the coming of the Comte ; for the 
 sturdy mountaineer had made up his mind to have satisfaction for the 
 injuries of himself and his wife in a very different way from what the 
 Frenchman demanded or expected. 
 
 Aggy, too, who did not fail to attribute her dip in the Serpentine, 
 and the consequent destruction of her best white chip bonnet and 
 Sunday front, solely to the abstraction of her husband’s season ticket 
 by M. le Comte de Sanschemise, was only too glad to wait with Cursty, 
 in hopes of seeing “ the wretch” severely punished for his dishonesty. 
 
 But though the determined Mr. Christopher Sandboys sat in the 
 waiting-room, with his thick ground-ash stick, till long past midnight, 
 no M. Le Comte made his appearance ; and when the want of sleep 
 had got the better of the Cumberland man’s indignation, he began to 
 think that he should have many future opportunities of making the 
 Frenchman pay the penalty of his peccadilloes. 
 
 Accordingly, when the exhausted couple heard the hall clock strike 
 two, they considered it best to retire to rest, and see what luck the 
 morrow would bring them. 
 
 The first inquiry of the Sandboys in the morning was, as to 
 whether the Comte had entered the establishment in the course of the 
 night ? The answer, unfortunately, was in the negative. 
 
 What could have become of the man? 
 
 On descending to the breakfast-room, however, their suspense 
 was speedily put an end to; for the first words uttered by Mrs. Wewitz, 
 to whom they had communicated the whole of the circumstances im- 
 mediately on their return, were concerning the fate of the missing 
 gentleman. She placed that morning’s paper in Mr. Sandboys hand ; 
 and there, in the police reports, the horrified and enraged Christopher 
 beheld an account as to how a gentleman, of respectable exterior, who 
 gave the name of Mr. Cursty Sandboys, had entered the Exhibition, 
 
148 1851; or, the adventures of 
 
 and been detected in the act of stealing a stiletto, with a silver handle, 
 set with jewels. 
 
 Then followed a long account as to how the gentleman, on 
 being committed for trial, had, on entering the prison, refused to 
 put on the prison dress ; and how, on being divested of his coat, he 
 was found, although externally “ got” up in the most expensive and 
 elaborate manner, to be literally without a shirt to his back — the wrist- 
 bands, of which he made so prodigious a display, being tacked to 
 the cuffs of his coat, and the collar, apparently of his shirt, pinned to 
 his stock. On divesting him of his patent leather boots, it was stated, 
 moreover, that Mr. Cursty Sandboys’ feet were found to be swathed, 
 brigand-fashion, in dirty linen rags. 
 
 The veritable Mr. Cursty Sandboys knew not how to act. 
 
 From the peculiarity of the name he was satisfied that he, and 
 none other, would be mistaken for the shirtless culprit. The inex- 
 perienced native of Buttermere was ignorant of all the ordinary 
 methods by which the error might be rectified, and seeing no way 
 but to sit down patiently under the stigma, he very resignedly sub- 
 mitted to the disgrace, consoling himself with the idea that at least 
 the man would be severely punished for his misdemeanours. 
 
 Despite her annoyaace at the use of her husband’s name, Mrs. 
 Cursty read the account of the linenless state of the pretended foreign 
 nobleman with a kind of inward satisfaction, complimenting herself 
 continually upon the shrewdness of her suspicions as to the extent of 
 the Frenchman’s wardrobe, and glorying over the punishment of one 
 to whom she attributed so many of her late misfortunes. 
 
 The imprisonment of the assumed Comte was a great consolation 
 to the Sandboys, and tended considerably to weaken their determina- 
 tion to quit London without seeing the Great Exhibition. 
 
 On reconsidering the matter, it began to appear to them that it 
 would be folly, and betray great want of firmness on their part, if, 
 after all they had gone through during their sojourn in the Great 
 Metropolis, they should return to Cumberland without seeing the very 
 thing which had brought them up to town. 
 
 All they wanted was to be able to say they had seen the Exhibi- 
 tion. Mrs. Cursty did not hesitate to confess, that after all she had 
 suffered, she did not, for her part, care whether she saw it or not. All 
 she desired was just to put her nose inside the door, so as not to be 
 obliged to go back and acknowledge that, though they had come up to 
 town for the express purpose of witnessing the Great Exhibition, and 
 paying goodness knows what for season tickets and “new things” they 
 had been “stupids enough” to go back without having had a glimpse 
 at a single article in the Crystal Palace after all. 
 
 No, that would never do. 
 
 The accounts which they read in the papers, moreover, served to 
 make them still more anxious to see what ail appeared to consider the 
 great wonder of the age. Besides, Cursty himself began to perceive 
 that the Great Exhibition was not the mere gewgaw show that he had 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 149 
 
 anticipated, and the more he read about it, the more desirous he felt to 
 make himself acquainted with its various details. 
 
 Mrs. Cursty, too, after a little while, became, in her turn, eager to 
 see the “ Mountain of Light’’ in its gilt cage, — and the Queen of 
 Spain’s jewels, — and the French tapestry, and the stomacher of bril- 
 liants that she had heard so much about — and the carpet worked by 
 one hundred and fifty ladies as a present to the Queen — and the beau- 
 tiful state-bed — and the poplin loom, which could make the poplin a 
 quarter of a yard wider than usual, which, in her opinion, was one of 
 the greatest improvements in the whole place; — and then there was 
 that love of a glass fountain which she should not rest easy in her bed, 
 she knew, if she went back to Cumberland without seeing, — and, better 
 still, that delicious fountain of “Aqua d'Oro ,” which the ladies were at 
 liberty to dip their handkerchiefs in as much and as often as they 
 pleased. 
 
 Cursty, however, wanted to see objects of a very different character. 
 He had heard of the splendid specimens of black lead from the Borrow- 
 dale mines in his native county ; and he longed to know how it was 
 possible to make the refuse dust into solid cakes, equal if not better 
 than the pure article. He wanted to see the different specimens of 
 slate, for the quarries on Honister Craig were close by his home; and 
 he knew all about the working, and the different sizes — the “ Ladies,” 
 the “Duchesses,” the “Countesses,” the “ Queens,” the “Imperials,” and 
 the “ Rags.” He was deeply versed in Mundic and Galena, and all the 
 ores of lead; and he longed to see the huge specimens of those 
 minerals that he had read of as being shown in the Great Exhibition. 
 He knew a little of coal, too, and had just managed to get a peep at the 
 colossal pieces of “Cannel,” of “Steam,” and of “Anthracite,” arranged 
 outside the building. He also wanted to see the large lump of silver that 
 had been obtained from the lead ore by the crystallizing process. 
 More than all, he was anxious to see the machinery-room, which 
 everybody spoke of with such enthusiasm. There was the monster pump, 
 with its two mouths, pouring out its river of water, — he wanted to 
 see the steam printing-press, and the carding and spinning-machines, 
 and the power-looms, of which he had heard such marvels. 
 
 Eager to see all these, and many more things which he had heard 
 and read were deposited within the building of the Great Exhibition, 
 Cursty talked the matter calmly over with his wife, and finally agreed 
 that, as he was anxious to get back to Cumberland as soon as possible, 
 and could not afford to wait till the prices of admission fell to a 
 shilling, it would be better for him to buy another season-ticket 
 directly, and then he and Aggy could go for an hour or so each 
 day for the next fortnight, and so be able to examine every object of 
 interest in the collection without fatiguing themselves. 
 
 Accordingly, Mr. Christopher, the very next day, applied at the 
 office, and obtained the requisite document. 
 
 Once more, then, the Sandboys set forth on their pilgrimage to the 
 Exhibition of the Works of Industry and Art of all Nations. 
 
150 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys, having learnt experience from her previous disasters, 
 managed to make the “ things,” (for so the lady would persist in call- 
 ing her several articles of dress,) which she possessed suffice for her 
 without purchasing new. 
 
 On reaching the doors at which their tickets of admission were to 
 be presented, and where they arrived, extraordinary to say, without 
 any particular accident, they tendered the official cards, and were 
 handed the books in which to insert their signatures. 
 
 As the clerk observed the name of the gentleman on the card, and 
 saw Mr. Cursty Sandboys prepare to write a similar title in the Auto- 
 graph Book, he remembered that this was the very appellation of the 
 individual who had been detected, a few days back, in abstracting a 
 silver-handled stiletto from one of the counters in the interior. 
 
 Before the lady had time to insert her autograph in the official 
 register, the clerk begged to be excused, saying he was called away 
 upon important business; and, proceeding to some of his brother 
 officials, he informed them that the impudent thief Cursty Sandboys 
 had dared to seek admission at the Crystal Palace once more. 
 
 In an instant, the news that the expert Cursty Sandboys, the pick- 
 pocket, was about to enter the building, spread throughout the Crystal 
 Palace, literally with the rapidity of lightning, for the electric tele- 
 graph was immediately set to work, telling the officials, one and 
 all, to — 
 
 Beware of Cursty Sandboys! 
 
 No sooner did the alarming intelligence become general among the 
 authorities, than many, anxious to obtain a peep at the singularly- 
 named “ swell-mobsman,” congregated round the entrance, where he 
 was still standing, and the innocent Christopher could observe them 
 nudging one another, and whispering, evidently concerning himself, 
 in a way that he did not half like, and could not possibly understand. 
 
 The clerk, on his return, proceeded to compare the signature of the 
 present Mr. Sandboys with that of the individual who had made his 
 appearance on the day of the opening. 
 
 Observing an evident discrepancy between the two, he beckoned a 
 brother-official to his side, and immediately they both set to work, 
 contrasting the one signature with the other, and looking backwards 
 and forwards in the most mysterious manner at the unoffending Mr. 
 Sandboys. 
 
 Christopher, who got more and more bewildered at the manner of 
 the officials, could not for the life of him comprehend what it all 
 meant. At length, however, he heard one of the dozen policemen, 
 who Avere now grouped close round about him, whisper to another at 
 his elbow that he, Mr. Sandboys, had shaved off his moustachios, while 
 another-officer put his lips close to the ear of a brother official, and 
 said, in an under tone, that he had left his beard behind him. 
 
 In an instant the telegraph was at work, communicating the fact 
 to the authorities at each end of the building, and informing them 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 151 
 
 that Cursty Sandboys had come close shaved on the present occasion, 
 and instructing them one and all to keep a sharp eye upon his move- 
 ments. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, to his horror, at last began to perceive that he was 
 mistaken for no less illustrious a character than M. le Comte de Sans- 
 chemise, who had gained admission to the building on the first day by 
 means of Cursty’s season-ticket ; and that the many policemen who 
 were gathered round him had come with the confident expectation that 
 he had repeated his visit to the establishment in the hopes of abstract- 
 ing some more valuable prize than on the previous occasion. 
 
 The clerk, who had been examining the books, at last ventured to 
 hint to the real Christopher, that there was a marked difference between 
 the signature of Mr. Cursty Sandboys of the first day and the gentle- 
 man who now sought to gain admission ; and, having previously 
 arranged with the Detective at his elbow, that the safest plan to be 
 pursued would be to make sure of the party then and there, while 
 he was in their power, he proceeded to inform the wretched Mr. 
 Sandboys that it was his duty to give him into custody on a charge of 
 forgery. The Detective had not been able to understand how it was 
 possible for the Cursty Sandboys, who had been committed for trial 
 for stealing the stiletto a few days previously, could make his appear- 
 ance there, unless he had escaped from prison that morning. This 
 he strongly suspected must have been the case ; for he felt satisfied 
 that no one would ever dream of assuming so singular a name, and 
 one, moreover, which at that moment was not in the best public 
 odour. Under all the circumstances, therefore, it was better to secure 
 the party now he was there. 
 
 Poor Aggy, when she heard the awful character of the charge that 
 was now made against her darling and innocent Cursty, and saw the 
 policeman proceed to lay hands upon him, swooned right off into the 
 arms of the nearest inspector. The official, however, looking upon 
 the lady as the brazen-faced partner of one of the light-fingered 
 gentry, was in no humour to resort to any gentle restoratives as a 
 means of bringing the lady back to her senses; so, shaking Mrs. 
 Sandboys violently, he, in the most unceremonious manner, said that 
 they were up to all them fainting dodges, and it was no use trying 
 ’em on with them. 
 
 It was in vain for Cursty either to expostulate or to explain, for being- 
 looked upon as a thief, of course he was treated as one ; so that when 
 he endeavoured to make known the real facts of the case, the officers 
 winked their eyes and grinned at one another at what they considered 
 the extreme lameness of the excuse. After he had wasted some 
 ten minutes in attempting to assert and prove his innocence, he was 
 dragged off by two policemen, and being placed in a cab, was con- 
 veyed, without loss of time, before the sitting magistrate at the nearest 
 police office. 
 
 There the charge was immediately entered upon, when, the ma- 
 gistrate observing that further proof was required, the Detective 
 
152 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 prayed for a remand of the prisoner, stating he felt convinced that 
 in a few days he should be able to bring a large body of evidence to 
 bear against the individual, for he was perfectly satisfied that if the 
 party was not the notorious Cursty Sandboys himself, he was at least 
 one of his gang, and had made use of that person’s ticket whilst he 
 was in prison. 
 
 Aggy, who, on recovering her senses, had ascertained where her 
 lord and master had been carried, entered the police-court at this 
 precise juncture, and no sooner heard the officer pronounce her hus- 
 band to belong to a well-known gang of pickpockets, than she insisted 
 upon being heard, and was about to enter into a long family history of 
 her husband and herself, when the magistrate informed her, that un- 
 less she would keep silence he should be compelled to have her put out 
 of the court. 
 
 Cursty, finding himself likely to be committed to prison, sought to 
 explain to the magistrate how he was a plain country gentleman, come 
 up from Cumberland to enjoy himself and see the Great Exhibition; 
 but his statement was received with no mox-e belief than the excuses 
 of individuals when similarly circumstanced, for the felon’s dock is 
 not exactly the place where a gentleman is likely to obtain much credit 
 for his assertions. 
 
 The magistrate, looking sternly at the melancholy Christopher, 
 shook his head, as much as to say that, after what the Detective 
 had stated, the case appeared rather black against him. 
 
 Cursty, however, finding himself standing, as it were, on the 
 threshold of a prison, protested his innocence so loudly, and per- 
 sisted with such pertinacity in his statements, that the magistrate was 
 induced to inquire of the turnkey in attendance whether he knew 
 anything of the prisoner, whereupon the official replied that he re. 
 membered the name perfectly well, and having retired to refresh his 
 memory on the subject, returned shortly and stated, that he found 
 Cursty Sandboys had been charged only a short time back with being 
 drunk and disorderly, and incapable of taking care of himself ; while 
 the wife of the same “ party” had been given into custody about the 
 same time for assaulting the police. 
 
 This was more than the blood of Aggy could bear; and imme- 
 diately she rushed forward and began to enter into an explanation 
 as to how the hussey who had been taken up had used her name at 
 the police-office, after stealing her marriage certificate ; but the manner 
 of Mrs. Sandboys was so excited, while her whole story sounded so im- 
 probable, that she appeared to the magistrate to be just the kind of 
 woman to commit such an act under the influence of temper. 
 
 Accordingly, all things considered, the magistrate decided upon 
 remanding the ill-fated Cursty Sandboys till a future day, and, amid 
 the shrieks of his distracted wife, he was dragged off by the turnkey 
 to be locked up in his cell. 
 

 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 I 
 
 . 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 • . : ' ■ ' ' ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■.-i 
 
 .. . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
(torruruj ©at 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 153 
 
 CHAPTEK XYI. 
 
 “ I yence follow’d Mavget, the toast nmang aw maks — 
 
 An Peg bed a red cheek and bonny dark e’e — 
 
 Tint suin as she fan I depended on labour. 
 
 She snurl'd up her neb and nae mair luik’d at me. 
 
 “ This meks my words gud ; nobbet brag o’ your uncle, 
 
 And get a peer hawf-wit to trumpet yer praise, 
 
 You may catch whee you will, they’ll caress ye and bless ye, 
 
 It's money , nit merit, they seek now-a days.” 
 
 The Lasses of Corel. 
 
 Let us now shift the scene for awhile, and turn our attention once 
 more to the Crystal Palace. 
 
 At last, the long looked-for shilling day had arrived. Barriers 
 had been placed up outside the building, so as to stem the expected 
 crush, and a double force of police had been “ laid on” from Scotland- 
 yard, and the whole of the officials had been ordered to be at their 
 posts an hour or two earlier than usual, so that by opening the 
 door before the appointed time, the “ rush” might be pre- 
 vented. Even George Cruikshank himself, confident that a moiety 
 of the metropolis, at least, would be congregated outside the building-, 
 had prepared a most vivid delineation of the probable consequences of 
 tire rush and crush — the cram and the jam — that every one expected 
 to take place on the eventful occasion. If twenty thousand people 
 attend at five shillings, surely, according to Cocker, said the Execu- 
 tive Committee, five times as many more will come when the charge 
 of admission is five times less. 
 
 But alas for the vain hopes of this vain world ! as all the 
 speakers at all the “ May meetings” invariably exclaim ; for, on the 
 eventful day, the hundred thousand visitors in posse” dwindled 
 down to twenty thousand “ in esse.” The two policemen who had 
 been placed outside the gilt cage of the Mountain of Light, the extra 
 u force” that was stationed beside the Queen of Spain’s jewels, the 
 additional “ Peelites” who had been quartered at every point and 
 turn of the interior to direct the crowd which way to move, stared 
 and grinned at one another as they saw the people saunter, one by 
 one, into the building, instead of pouring in by tens of thousands, as 
 had been anticipated. The Executive Committee knit their brows, 
 and bit their thumbs, and then suddenly discovered the cause of the 
 absence of the people. The masses are busy working for their bread, 
 and are waiting for their holiday-time, when they always spend a large 
 amount of their earnings in recreation and enjoyment ; and if they 
 come even by twenty thousands now, surely they will come by hundreds 
 of thousands then. 
 
 Accordingly, the same farce, of barriers and police, is enacted again, 
 with the same disappointment; for, to the inscrutable wonder of the 
 
 M 
 
154 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Executive Committee, the number of visitors during the Whitsun 
 holidays is even less than the week before, and then ensue various 
 speculations as to the cause, and the following reason is, after much 
 cogitation, gravely propounded in explanation of the anomaly : — “ The 
 self-denying patience of the people, their habitual tendency to post- 
 pone pleasure to business, and their little inclination to rush madly 
 forward in quest of what can be seen as well, or better, a week or a 
 month hence — these seem to be the natural and truest solutions of 
 the result.” 
 
 Now, unfortunately for this pretty compliment, a trip to Greenwich 
 Fair or Hampton Court, on this same Whit-Monday, would soon 
 have convinced the Executive Committee that “ the shilling folk” 
 were neither remarkable for self-denial nor extreme patience in their 
 enjoyments; while the general observance of “ Saint Monday” by the 
 operatives might have assured any one, in the least acquainted with 
 their characters, that, far from being distinguished by any habitual 
 tendency to postpone pleasure to business, they are peculiarly prone 
 to make business give way to pleasure. 
 
 But it was necessary, in order to account for the disappointment, to 
 put some sentimental gloss on the occurrence; and, therefore, men 
 whose lives were passed in toil, and to whom pleasure is therefore the 
 highest possible luxury — merely as rest to the body and recreation to 
 the faculties — were made to prefer work to enjoyment; while patience, 
 self-denial, and every virtue under heaven, were ascribed to people, 
 who, as contra-distinguished from the moneyed classes, are ignorant of 
 the advantages of saving, and who, getting their money hardly, are 
 ever ready to taste the delight of spending it. This disposition to 
 cant, and varnish matters over with a sickly sentimentality, angelizing 
 or canonizing the whole body of operatives of this country, instead of 
 speaking of them as possessing the ordinary vices and virtues of 
 human nature, — as being the same patchwork of black and white, — 
 the same chequered chessboard, fitted for the game and moves of 
 life, — this tendency to put high and heroic motives on everyday 
 conduct is the besetting sin of the age. 
 
 None admire the simple sturdy honesty of the working men of 
 England more than ourselves ; but to say that they like work better 
 than pleasure, would be to chime in with the rhodomontade of the 
 time, and make out that there is an especial delight in industry, — that 
 is to say, in continuous labour; whereas this is precisely what is 
 repulsive to human nature, and what all men are striving, and, indeed, 
 paying large sums of money to avoid. If industry be such a supreme 
 enjoyment, as the idle rich ever rejoice in declaring, then where is the 
 virtue of it ? where the merit of doing that which we have a natural 
 bias to do 1 Let those who think work a pleasure try a week’s 
 mental or manual labour, and then, feeling what a negative bliss there 
 is in mere rest, get to know what it is to yearn, like a schoolboy, for 
 a day’s leisure, ease, and amusement. It is well for fat and phlegma- 
 tic citizens to call people “ lazy scoundrels,” and bid them “go and 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 155 
 
 work but let these gentlemen themselves try their soft hands at 
 labour, even for a day, and then they will feel how much easier, and, 
 as the world goes, how much more profitable, it is to trade on others’ 
 labour than to labour for oneself. No man, says the adage, makes a 
 fortune by the work of his own hands. “ Oh, sir !” replied the 
 “ valiant” Spanish beggar, when asked by the rich merchant why he 
 did not go and work, “ You don’t know how lazy I am.” The rich 
 merchant was, of course, disgusted with the reply, but then he was not 
 aware how lazy he himself naturally was. He was one of those who 
 felt satisfied that industry is a special delight (though but rarely 
 known to be industrious themselves), and who, consequently, believed 
 that the honest poor always prefer labour to enjoyment, having, in 
 the words of the Executive Committee, an habitual tendency to post- 
 pone pleasure for business. 
 
 But the reason why the shilling folk absented themselves from the 
 Great Exhibition at first was, because none of their own class had 
 seen it, and they had not yet heard of its wonders, one from the other. 
 But once seen, and once talked about in their workshops, their facto- 
 ries, and — it must be said — their tap-rooms, each gradually became 
 curious to see what had astonished and delighted his fellows. 
 
 They soon began to see that the Great Exhibition, rightly consi- 
 dered, is a huge academy for teaching the nobility of labour, and 
 demonstrating the various triumphs of the useful arts over external 
 nature. 
 
 It may to the unreflecting appear to require but a small exercise 
 of skill to grow their food, weave their garments, or construct their 
 houses ; but set your “ independent gentleman to do either one or 
 the other, and what a poor useless wretch he immediately becomes. 
 We have, indeed, too long been taught to think, that an independent 
 man, like an honest man, is “ the noblest work of God;” as if it were 
 not the noblest thing a man could do to labour for the food he eats, 
 and as if what we are led to call an independent gentleman were not 
 the most dependent of all animals in creation. Put such an one on 
 an uninhabited island, and would he not be as helpless as an infant ? 
 What could he — this independent man — do, when he had really to 
 depend on none others but himself for his living ? 
 
 Ear be it from us to assert that manual dexterity or muscular labour 
 is the surnmum bonum of human existence ; but what we wish to say 
 is, that, owing so much of our comfort and happiness to both, we 
 should honour them more than we do ; and that, above all, if society 
 would really have the world progress, it should do away with the 
 cheat, which makes those men the most “ respectable ’ who do the least 
 for the bread they eat. If we wish to make gentlemen of our working- 
 men (we use the word “ gentleman” in its highest Dekkerian sense, and 
 certainly not in its mere conventional signification), our first step 
 must be to assert the natural dignity of labour. So long as we look 
 upon work or to it as a meanness, so long will our workers and 
 toilers remain mean. Let industry be with us “ respectable” — as it is 
 
 M 2 
 
156 
 
 185 1 "; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 really in the natural arrangement of things — and the industrious poor 
 instead of the idle rich will then he the really respectable men of this 
 country. 
 
 Let those who doubt the respectability of labour, consider for one 
 moment what years of thought, and study, and patience, are involved 
 in even the commonest industrial process. “ A man would be 
 laughed at,” says Mandeville, in his “ Fable of the Bees,” “ that should 
 discover luxury in the plain dress of the pauper, in the thick parish 
 coat, and coarse workhouse shirt beneath it. And yet what a number 
 of people, how many different trades, and what a variety of skill and 
 tools must be employed to have the most ordinary Yorkshire cloth ! 
 What depth of thought and ingenuity, and what length of time must 
 it have cost, before man could have learned from a seed to raise and 
 prepare so useful a product as linen ! Must not that society be vainly 
 curious among whom this admirable commodity, after it is made, shall 
 not be thought fit to be used even by the poorest of all, before it is 
 brought to a perfect whiteness, which is not to be done but with the 
 assistance of great chemical knowledge, joined to a world of industry 
 and patience 1 Can we reflect,” he continues, “ not only on the 
 cost laid out in this luxurious invention, but likewise on the little time 
 the whiteness of it endures (in which great part of its beauty consists), 
 so that at every six or seven days, at farthest, it wants cleaning, and 
 is, consequently, while it lasts, a continual charge to the wearer — can 
 we, I say, reflect on all this, and not think it an extravagant piece of 
 nicety, that those who receive alms of the parish should not only have 
 whole garments made .of this operose manufacture, but likewise, that 
 as soon as they are soiled, we should make use of, in order to restore 
 them to their original purity, one of the most judicious, as well as 
 difficult compositions that chemistry can boast — a composition with 
 which, when dissolved in water, by the help of fire, the most detersive 
 and yet innocent lixivium is prepared, that human industry or 
 ingenuity has been able to invent ?” 
 
 But if these arts are sufficient to excite our wonder, especially when 
 made to contribute to the happiness of the most destitute of our race, 
 and to confer on our paupers comforts and luxuries, formerly 
 unknown to our princes, surely the art of working in metal — the 
 manufacture of the buttons on the workhouse coat, the making of the 
 nails on the bottom of the workhouse floor, is a thousand times more 
 wonderful. Who can look at the commonest pocket-knife or pad- 
 lock, and not feel an intense reverence for the art and artists that 
 could fashion those most useful instruments out of a lump of stone ? 
 To become conscious of the skill displayed in the various processes, 
 we should have a knowledge of the difficulties to be overcome ; and 
 nothing will give us so profound a sense of these as to endeavour to 
 make one or other similar instruments for ourselves. Or if we wish 
 to have a just appreciation of the intellect required for the discovery 
 and perfection of the metallurgic arts, let us imagine ourselves placed 
 on an uninhabited island — another Juan Fernandez — and then fancy 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 157 
 
 how we, even though we have lived among the very arts all our days, 
 should set to work. Let us think whether we could make a pin or a 
 needle out of a piece of rock to save our lives. 
 
 Is there any more skill to put words together than to manufacture 
 a razor out of a lump of iron-stone? We know which seems to us by 
 far the easier occupation of the two. Nevertheless, without any wish 
 to indulge in that mock humility which seeks to disparage our own 
 productions, when, if there be an innate propensity, it is to value our 
 own work immeasurably beyond its true worth, we must confess 
 that the one craft appears no more worthy of respect than the other ; 
 so, we say again, the Great Exhibition, where all these matters are 
 forced upon the mind, rightly considered, is a huge academy for 
 teaching men the true dignity of even what are thought the inferior 
 grades of labour. 
 
 The great fallacy — the most pernicious error of the present day — ■ 
 is the belief that a knowledge of reading and writing constitutes 
 education. “Reading and writing,” it has been well said, “is no 
 more education than a knife and fork is a good dinner.” To teach a 
 man how to read aud write is, as it were, to confer upon him a new 
 sense. All our senses differ one from another in having various 
 telescopic powers— that is to say, of perceiving external objects at 
 greater or less distances. For touching and tasting, it is necessary 
 that the object should be in immediate contact with the body ; for 
 smelling, the object may be slightly removed from us ; for hearing, it 
 may be still more remote ; and for seeing, it may be the most dis- 
 tant of all. Nevertheless, it is necessary in all these cases that the 
 object of perception should be present with us : with reading and 
 writing, however, the telescopic power is immeasurably extended, 
 and we are made cognizant of phenomena occurring hundreds of 
 miles distant, and hundreds of years ago. As our senses, therefore, 
 are merely ducts of knowledge, so are reading and writing merely the 
 means of acquiring information. We might as well believe that the 
 addition of a nose, or a pair of eyes or ears — that the faculty of seeing, 
 hearing, or smelling, in short, should make creatures wise or good, as 
 that the arts of orthoepy and orthography were the great panacea for 
 all social and moral evil. 
 
 No! if we would really make people wiser and better, we must 
 make them acquainted with the laws of the material, mental, and 
 moral universe in which they are placed, and upon which their hap- 
 piness is made to depend. A knowledge of the laws of matter 
 enables a man to promote the physical good — of the laws of mind, 
 the intellectual good— of the laws of the heart, the moral good, both 
 of himself and his fellow-creatures. According as we become ac- 
 quainted with the various substances and circumstances existing and 
 occurring in the material world, and thereby come to understand 
 their relation to each other as well as to ourselves, so are we enabled 
 to give a particular direction to the succession of events without, and 
 so to alleviate the wants and increase the pleasures of ourselves and 
 
1 58 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 others. According, too, as we get to know the links which bind 
 thought to thought, as well as the ties which connect our perceptions 
 with certain classes of relations — with our feelings of beauty, sublimity, 
 or ludicrousness— so are we enabled to induce pleasant trains of ideas, 
 and to promote the delight of those around us. And thus it is in 
 the moral universe. According as we study the connexions between 
 our acts and emotions, and become convinced of the felicity which 
 attends the contemplation of any benefit disinterestedly conferred, 
 and the uneasiness which accompanies the remembrance of any 
 wanton injury, so are we the more anxious to encourage the good and 
 restrain the evil impulses of our nature. 
 
 Now, the Great Exhibition, looked at in its true light, is, we say 
 once more, a huge academy for teaching men the laws of the material 
 universe, by demonstrating the various triumphs of the useful arts 
 over external nature. 
 
 One great good the Exhibition assuredly must do, and that is to 
 decrease the large amount of slop or inferior productions that are 
 flooding the country, and which, in the rage for cheapness, are palmed 
 off as equal to the handiwork of the most dexterous operatives. 
 Were the public judges of workmanship — had they been made 
 acquainted with the best work of the best workmen, and so possessed 
 some standard of excellence by which to test the various kinds of 
 labour, it would be impossible for the productions of the unskilful 
 artisan to be brought into competition with those of the most skilful. 
 Owing to the utter ignorance of the public, however, upon all such 
 matters, the tricky employer is now enabled to undersell the honour- 
 able master by engaging inferior workmen, while the honourable 
 master, in order to keep pace with the tricky employer, is obliged to 
 reduce the wages of the more dexterous “ hands.” Hence, we see the 
 tendency of affairs at present is, for the worse to drag the better 
 handicraftsmen down to their degradation, instead of the better 
 raising the worse up to their pre-eminence. 
 
 The sole remedy for this state of things is greater knowledge on 
 the part of the public. Accustom the people continually to the sight 
 of the best works, and they will no longer submit to have bad work- 
 manship foisted upon them as equal to good. 
 
 To those unversed in the “ labour question,” this may appear but 
 a small benefit, but to those who know what it is to inculcate a pride 
 of art — to make the labourer find delight in his labour — to change 
 him from a muscular machine into an intellectual artist, it will seem 
 perhaps as great a boon as can be offered to working men. At pre- 
 sent, workmen are beginning to feel that skill — the “ art of industrial 
 occupations” — is useless, seeing that want of skill is now beating 
 them out of the market. One of the most eminent of the master 
 shoemakers in London assured us that the skilled workmen in his 
 business were fast disappearing before the children-workers in North- 
 ampton ; and, indeed, we heard the same story from almost every 
 trade in the metropolis. The bad are destroying the good, instead of 
 the good improving the bad. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 159 
 
 The antidote for this special evil is a periodical exhibition of the 
 works of industry and art. Make the public critics of industrial art, 
 and they will be sure to call into existence a new race of industrial 
 artists— but as it is, both the public and the workmen are the prey of 
 greedy, tricky tradesman. 
 
 It was some time before “ the shilling folk” could be got to see 
 these things, and therefore they did not go down in a body, and be- 
 siege the doors of the Crystal Palace, clamouring for admission all of 
 them together, immediately the price was brought within their means. 
 Gradually, however, they have come to see the true uses of the Great 
 Show, and they now attend in almost the same vast concourses as the 
 sanguine Executive Committee were led to believe they would on the 
 first day. 
 
 The consequence is, that the groups within the building have 
 already assumed a very picturesque appearance. To those who have 
 watched the character of the visitors since the opening- — the change in 
 the dresses, manners, and objects of the sight-seers has been most 
 marked and peculiar. 
 
 The alteration, too, has been almost as striking outside the building 
 as it has in the interior. For the first week or two, the road within a 
 mile of the “ Glass Hive” was blocked with carriages. From the 
 Prince of Wales 5 Gate to Apsley House there stretched one long line 
 of cabs, omnibusses, carriages, “ broughams,” “ flies,” now moving for 
 a few minutes, and now stopping for double the time, while the im- 
 patient visitors within let down the blinds and thrust their heads out 
 to see how far the line extended. 
 
 At every intersecting thoroughfare stood clusters of busy police- 
 men, seizing horses by the reins, and detaining the vehicles till the 
 cross current had in a measure ceased. And here might be seen per- 
 sons threading between the blocked carriages, and bobbing beneath 
 the horses’ heads, in order to pass from one side of the road to the 
 other. To seek to pass through the Park gates was about as danger- 
 ous an experiment as “ shooting” the centre arch of “ Old London 
 Bridge.” 
 
 Then the journey to and from the Great Exhibition consumed some 
 hours of the day, but now there is scarcely a carriage or a Hansom 
 cab to be seen. The great stream of carriage visitors has ceased 
 (except on the more expensive days), and the ebb and flood of pedes- 
 trians set. The “ southern entrance ” is no longer beset with 
 broughams, but gathered round it are groups of gazers, too poor or too 
 “ prudent” to pay for admission within. The public-houses along the 
 road are now filled to overflowing, for outside them are ranged long 
 benches, on which sit visitors in their holiday attire, resting on their 
 way. Almost all the pedestrians, too, have baskets on their arms’, 
 evidently filled with the day’s store of provisions. The ladies are all 
 “ got up” in their brightest-coloured bonnets and polkas, and as they 
 haste along, they “ step out” till their faces are seen to glow again 
 with their eagerness to get to the Grand Show; while the gentlemen 
 in green or brown felt “ wide-awakes,” or fluffy beaver hats, and with 
 
160 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the cuffs of their best coats, and the bottoms of their best trowsers 
 turned up, are marching heavily on — some with babies in their 
 arms, others with baskets, and others carrying corpulent cotton 
 umbrellas. 
 
 And inside the Great Exhibition the scene is equally different from 
 that of the first week or two. The nave is no longer filled with ele- 
 gant and inert loungers — lolling on seats, and evidently come there 
 to be seen rather than to see. Those who are now to be found there, 
 however, have come to look at the Exhibition, and not to make an 
 exhibition of themselves. There is no air of display about them — no 
 social falsity — all is the plain unvarnished truth. The jewels and the 
 tapestry, and the Lyons silks, are not now the sole objects of attrac- 
 tion. The shilling folk may be an “ inferior” class of visitors, but 
 at least they know something about the works of industry, and what 
 they do not know, they have come to learn. 
 
 Here you see a railway guard, with the silver letters on his collar, 
 and his japan pouch by his side, hurrying, with his family, towards 
 the locomotive department. Next, you come to a carpenter, in his 
 yellow fluffy flannel jacket, descanting on the beauties of a huge top, 
 formed of one section of a mahogany tree. Then may be seen a liat- 
 less and yellow-legged Blue-coat boy mounting the steps of one of 
 the huge prismatic lighthouses, to have a glance at the arrangements 
 of the interior. Peeping into the model of the Italian Opera are 
 several short-red-bodied and long-black-legged Life-Guardsmen ; 
 while, among the agricultural implements, saunter clusters of country- 
 men in smockfrocks. On the steps of the crimson-covered pedestals 
 are seated small groups of tired women and children, some munching 
 thick slices of bread and meat, the edges of which are yellow with the 
 oozing mustard. Around the fountains are gathered other families, 
 drinking out of small mugs, inscribed as “ presents for Charles or 
 Mary while all over the floor— walk where you will — are strewn 
 the greasy papers of devoured sandwiches. The minute and extensive 
 model of Liverpool, with its long strip of looking-glass sea and thou- 
 sands of cardboard vessels, is blocked round with wondering artisans, 
 some, more familiar with the place, pointing out particular streets and 
 houses. And as you pass by the elaborate representation, in plaster, 
 of Underdown Cliff, you may hear a young sailor — the gloss upon 
 whose jacket indicates that he has but recently returned from sea — 
 tell how he went round the Needles last voyage in a gale of wind. 
 Most of the young men have catalogues or small guide-books in their 
 hands, and have evidently, from the earnest manner in which they 
 now gaze at the object, and now refer to the book, come there to 
 study the details of the whole building. 
 
 But if the other parts of the Great Exhibition are curious and 
 instructive, the machinery, which has been from the first the grand 
 focus of attraction, is, on the “ shilling days,” the most peculiar sight 
 of the whole. Here every other man you rub against is habited in a 
 corduroy jacket, or a blouse, or leathern gaiters ; and round every 
 
■$3 mo 
 
 dlLad^vnj Ik*' ^ < * /re '' CL& Pi/UJt£ttu 
 
 £^Jy t> YSo^w^ VCyVuJ; Sir J**A* '"■*• It5 / 
 
 ^oAutiq )) yrthCowib cls a,' 
 
 iW2litum, to Cawi 
 
 S trOJujJi k&dmt by fiuf! CruJCshkyJc 
 
 JS.ovneof- the Drolleries of jtte, (frcab 
 
ME. AND MRS. CURST Y SANDBOYS. 
 
 16£ 
 
 object more wonderful than the rest, the people press, two and three 
 deep, with their heads stretched out, watching intently the operations 
 of the moving mechanism. You see the farmers, their dusty hats 
 telling of the distance they have come, with their mouths wide agape, 
 leaning over the bars to see the self-acting mills at work, and smiling 
 as they behold the frame spontaneously draw itself out, and then 
 spontaneously run back again. Some, with great smockfrocks, were 
 gazing at the girls in their long pinafores engaged at the doubling- 
 machines. 
 
 But the chief centres of curiosity are the power-looms, and in front 
 of these are gathered small groups of artisans, and labourers, and 
 young men whose red coarse hands tell you they do something for 
 their living, all eagerly listening to the attendant, as he explains the 
 operations, after stopping the loom. Here, too, as you pass along, 
 you meet, now a member of the National Guai'd, in his peculiar coni- 
 cal hat, with its little ball on top, and horizontal peak, and his red 
 worsted epaulettes and full-plaited trowsers ; then you come to a 
 long, thin, and bilious-looking Quaker, with his tidy and clean-looking 
 Quakeress by his side j and the next minute, may be, you encounter a 
 school of charity-girls, in their large white collars and straw bonnets, 
 with the mistress at their head, instructing the children as she goes. 
 Round the electro-plating and the model diving-bell are crowds 
 jostling one another for a foremost place. At the steam brewery,, 
 crowds of men and women are continually ascending and descending 
 the stairs ; youths are watching the model carriages moving along the 
 new pneumatic railway ; young girls are waiting to see the hemi- 
 spherical lamp-shades made out of a flat sheet of paper ; indeed, whether 
 it be the noisy flax-crushing machine, or the splashing centrifugal 
 pump, or the clatter of the Jacquard lace machine, or the bewildering 
 whirling of the cylindrical steam-press, — round each and all these are 
 anxious, intelligent, and simple-minded artisans, and farmers, and 
 servants, and youths, and children clustered, endeavouring to solve 
 the mystery of its complex operations. 
 
 For many days before the “shilling people” were admitted to the 
 building, the great topic of conversation was the probable behaviour of 
 the people. Would they come sober? will they destroy the things? 
 will they want to cut their initials, or scratch their names on the 
 panes of the glass lighthouses ? But they have surpassed in decorum 
 the hopes of their well-wishers. The fact is, the Great Exhibition is 
 to them more of a school than a show. The working-man has often 
 little book-learning, but of such knowledge as constitutes the educa- 
 tion of life — viz., the understanding of human motives, and the ac- 
 quisition of power over natural forces, so as to render them sub- 
 servient to human happiness — of such knowledge as this, we repeat, 
 the working-man has generally a greater share than those who are 
 said to belong to the “ superior classes.” Hence it is, that what was a 
 matter of tedium, and became ultimately a mere lounge, for gentle- 
 folks, is used as a place of instruction by the people. 
 
162 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 We have been thus prolix on the classes attending the Great Exhi- 
 bition, because it is the influence that this institution is likely to 
 exercise upon labour which constitutes its most interesting and valu- 
 able feature. If we really desire the improvement of our social 
 state, (and surely we are far from perfection yet,) we must address 
 ourselves to the elevation of the people ; and it is because the Great 
 Exhibition is fitted to become a special instrument towards this end, 
 that it forms one of the most remarkable and hopeful characteristics 
 of our time. 
 
A CerU&jntw, 1 *^ has u,nfartu naliL/ 
 Post his foarfrg 
 
 An. Svlhl - OxeUnajty grad Visitor- to fria 
 Groat: Hxkdidiorru . — . 
 
 A Party i/fto have tcnflor1u.n<Mf lost tkur^riwL, 
 ■v< ho Car-rUt th> 6^et <d frrovis iems 
 
 falsify Tl-Bague. 
 
 Odds Sc Ends, in , ouJtj k, about, ‘JAn Cj recti &x>ltlbLdo'TU of . ia^r..\ s t?u& 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 163 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 “ But if Misfortune’s han’ 
 
 We plunge an’ feel her smartin’ wan’, 
 
 Let us wi’ fortitude witlistan’, 
 
 The lash extended. 
 
 As a’ things come by Heaven’s commas', 
 
 An’ whea can mend it.” 
 
 A New Tear’s Epistle, by John Stagy. 
 
 Already had the customary advertisement in the daily papers 
 announced to the world that — 
 
 T he young ladies of Parthenon 
 
 HOUSE, WIMBLEDON COMMON, will resume 
 their studies on the 1st of August, 1851, — 
 
 and still, to Mrs. Wewitz’s great horror, those “ filthy, haiiy monsters 
 of Frenchmen” remained located in the best bed-room. She had tried 
 entreaties, threats, compliments, and abuse — everything by turns, 
 and nothing long- — but still all her efforts had been in vain. Unfortu- 
 nately, she had, in an unguarded moment, revealed to the Count de 
 Sanschemise (who had returned to Parthenon House after a short 
 mysterious absence), that she required the room which he and his 
 friends occupied, as the young ladies of the school would arrive in the 
 course of a few days ; but the Count no sooner heard the news than 
 he declared, in as good English as he was master of, that he always 
 understood the apartment had been let to him and his friends for a 
 twelvemonth, and that he could not think of leaving under a quarter’s 
 notice. 
 
 This so terrified the poor old lady, that knowing the partiality of 
 the younger members of her own sex for those “ impudent wretches 
 of Frenchmen,” and having had proof positive, in the case of Ann 
 Lightfoot and her mistress, “poor dear Mrs. Sandboys,” that the 
 Frenchmen were similarly inclined towards the ladies, she thought it 
 would be better, under all the circumstances, to acquaint her daughter 
 with the worst. 
 
 Now, it so happened that Miss Wewiiz was at this period on a 
 visit with Miss Chutney (an East Indian pupil, who had been sent 
 over from Quilon by her parents to be educated in England) to one 
 of her dear, good girls, a parlour boarder, who loved Miss Chutney 
 with “ something more than a sister’s love.” Miss Wewitz was par- 
 taking of a dish of macaroni boiled in milk, by way of a slight lunch, 
 when the letter from her respected parent arrived, informing her of 
 what had happened. The lady, so that her macaroni might not grow 
 cold while she read the epistle, placed it by her side on the table, and 
 swallowed a spoonful and a sentence at one and the same time. She 
 was in the act of swallowing one of the long, limp, white tubes that 
 
164 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 she had fished out of the basin with her spoon, when her eye fell upon 
 the passage which informed her that the bed-room of her first class 
 was occupied by a colony of Frenchmen, and that they had resolutely 
 refused to quit the premises. In the horror of the moment, she gave 
 a gasp, and instantly the long slippery tube was hurried down her 
 throat so rapidly and unexpectedly, that what with her anguish and 
 the macaroni, she was nearly choked on the spot. Her two “ dear girls,” 
 seeing Miss Wewitz turn a light plum colour in the face, immediately 
 flew to her aid, and by dint of several severe thumps on the back, 
 ultimately succeeded in shaking the macaroni down the lady’s throat. 
 
 It was in vain that the young ladies requested to be apprised of the 
 cause of her sudden alarm, for Miss Wewitz knew well enough that it 
 would not be safe to make them acquainted with the real state of the 
 case ; accordingly, she excused herself by saying that she was called 
 home suddenly, and begged that Miss Chutney would prepare to return 
 to Parthenon House as soon as possible. 
 
 During the whole of the journey home, Miss Wewitz was arranging 
 in her own mind what course of action she should adopt — that her 
 mother had been imprudent enough to act as she had, hardly surprised 
 her, for she was continually doing the most peculiar things “ for the 
 best,” as she called it, which invariably turned out for the worst. A few 
 months back, she had consented to receive the daughter of a neigh- 
 bouring milkman, as a pupil on the “ reciprocal system ■” and no 
 sooner was it discovered by the attorney’s daughter that there was 
 what they were pleased to call a milkmaid in the establishment, than 
 she lost no less than six of her pupils, and “ all carriage people,” the 
 very next vacation ; and now Mrs. Wewitz had let off “one of her 
 wings” to a swarm of dirty Frenchmen, in the hopes, as she said, of 
 getting the taxes out of them. 
 
 What was to be done with Chutney, thought Miss Wewitz to her- 
 self, under the distressing circumstances, was more than she could 
 tell ; she only knew that girl’s morals had cost her more trouble than 
 all her other pupils put together. To trust her out of her sight was 
 more than she dare do, or else she certainly would have left her at 
 her schoolfellow’s until the Frenchman had been got out of the house. 
 But while the girl was under her own eye no harm could possibly 
 come to her, though, with a swarm of horrid Frenchmen on the pre- 
 mises, it would be as much as she could do to look after her, she was 
 such a giddy, weak thing, ready to fall in love with the first man who 
 looked at her. However, Miss Wewitz had made up her mind to one 
 thing — and that was, to keep her in the music-room so long as these 
 men were in the house. 
 
 Thus ruminating, Miss Wewitz passed the journey. On reaching 
 Wimbledon Common, she was horrified to find that, in front of her 
 best bed-room windows, immediately above the long board which 
 stretched across the entire length of the house, and on which was 
 inscribed, in large gilt letters, 
 
 ESTABLISHMENT FOR YOUNG LADIES,' 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 165 
 
 there dangled some dozen of newly-washed shirt- collars, and about 
 half the number of dickeys, while, lolling out of the windows, ap- 
 peared two or three long-bearded Frenchmen, puffing away huge 
 meerschaum pipes, and enveloped in clouds of smoke, as they amused 
 themselves by spitting at the sun-dial. 
 
 No sooner did the gate-bell announce the arrival of Miss Wewitz 
 and her pupil, than the Frenchmen, who could just distinguish the 
 bonnets of the ladies above the top of the boards before the railings, 
 began whistling, and making that peculiar noise with the lips which 
 is supposed to be especially agreeable to birds and babies. 
 
 This was more than the discreet schoolmistress could tolerate; she 
 thought all the eyes of all the mothers of Europe were directed 
 towards Parthenon House at that moment; so, before the gate could 
 be opened, she commenced shaking the end of her parasol between 
 the railings with considerable violence at the Frenchmen, who ap- 
 peared to be mightily taken with the mysterious lady’s menaces, for 
 no sooner did they perceive the mystic parasol waggling about, appa- 
 rently by itself, between the railings, than they — one and all — set up 
 a loud roar of laughter, while the more they laughed, the more the 
 parasol shook with rage — the one merely serving to increase the 
 excitement of the other. 
 
 Now, Miss Wewitz was a lady of almost Roman virtue. She was, 
 or rather she had been, in the heyday of her youth, what little men 
 delight to term a remarkably fine woman ; that is to say, she stood 
 so near the “ regulation height,” and her upper lip was shaded with 
 so delicate a moustache, that, in male attire, she would have found 
 little difficulty in ’listing in the Life-Guards, had she felt so inclined. 
 She was, however, one of those ladies upon whom food is said to be 
 thrown away ; for, though she made a special point of taking the most 
 nourishing things — little and good, and often, was her dietetic rule of 
 life — still, eat as she would, her figure remained as long, as thin, and 
 as angular at all the joints, as a Dutch doll. At an early age — as 
 the lady herself delighted to tell her pupils — she had made a resolu- 
 tion never to marry, but to dedicate her life to study and her dear 
 mother; for, soon after she had turned up her back hair, she formed 
 so bad an opinion of the male sex, that not if Plutus himself, with 
 all the gold that Lempriere tells he was possessed of, had come and 
 thrown himself at her feet, would she have condescended to have 
 become the partner of his handsome fortune. But, if Miss Wewitz 
 was not exactly a Venus in her “ outward woman,” (as she termed it,) 
 at least she was very nearly a Minerva within ; and, as if to label 
 herself “ a woman of mind,” she dressed in the approved costume of 
 feminine genius. Her hair was turned back d la Chinoise, as if to 
 stretch her forehead up as high as possible, and behind each ear there 
 dangled a solitary ringlet, that a discarded cook had been heard to 
 declare was “ never her own.” And, to be candid, there certainly 
 Avas an intensity in the blackness of Miss Wewitz’ raven tresses, 
 coupled Nvith a ruddy rustiness at tire roots, that raised up before you 
 a vivid picture of the lady’s head done up in cabbage-leaves once a 
 
166 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 month ; while, as she smiled, and showed her front teeth, which she 
 was a little prond of, there might occasionally be seen a small prong 
 of gold twinkling at the corner of her mouth ; but this was only when 
 the lady forgot herself, and was foolish enough to smile with unfeigned 
 pleasure. Her invariable dress was black satin, and this of the 
 glossiest description, so that she shone as if done up in court-plaster. 
 But though the lady looked as dry and stiff as schoolmistresses usually 
 are, she was not without her genial qualities ; and many a tale was 
 told of girls educated and put out in the world by her, whose parents 
 had placed them under her charge, and disappeared shortly afterwards. 
 Moreover, it was whispered that her father, having squandered a large 
 property, had died suddenly in his chair after dinner, leaving her 
 mother and herself to fight their way through life, without resources 
 and without friends. The young girl, so the story ran, had first gone 
 as teacher, and afterwards become partner, in the school, of which, by 
 the death of the late mistress, she was now sole proprietress. 
 
 Immediately the gate was opened, Miss Wewitz took Miss Chutney 
 by the arm and hurried into the house, where the smell of stale 
 tobacco nearly overpowered her, while the thought of her hard-earned 
 reputation being sacrificed in so cruel a manner made the tears rush in 
 a flood to her eyes. The house never could be got sweet again — that was 
 certain ; and what would the mothers think on bringing their daughters 
 back to an establishment, reeking of tobacco smoke worse than a 
 common taprooom ! and, in the excitement of her feelings, she up- 
 braided her mother bitterly for her indiscretion, telling her that she 
 bad brought ruin upon their heads. 
 
 Then suddenly recollecting that she was giving way to her feelings 
 before Miss Chutney, she retired with that young lady to the music- 
 room, and gave her strict injunctions on no account whatever to stir 
 from the spot. 
 
 After this, she begged her mother to make her acquainted -with the 
 entire transaction, from beginning to end ; and when that lady had 
 confided to her the whole of the circumstances, Miss Wewitz, who had 
 by that time resumed the natural calmness of her temper, observed, 
 that it was no time for bickering, and that before taking off her 
 bonnet, she would just step on to that remarkably civil young man, 
 the inspector at the police station, and ascertain from him what she 
 had better do, situated as she was. 
 
 Miss Wewitz had no sooner closed the outer gate, than the Count 
 de Sanschemise, who had all the time been leaning over the banisters, 
 and watching every movement of the ladies below, crept softly down 
 the stairs, and moved on tiptoe towards the room in which he had 
 seen Miss Chutney placed. 
 
 Opening the door, he entered the music- room, as though he was 
 unaware of any one being in it, and pretended to start back with 
 surprise on finding it occupied by a stranger. 
 
 The Frenchman bowed, and apologized with all the superlative 
 gallantry of a Parisian, and said in broken English, that he had come 
 to seek a piece of music which he had mislaid. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 167 
 
 Miss Chutney could hardly speak for the first few minutes after the 
 gentleman’s entrance — she was lost, half in terror and half in admira- 
 tion of the Count’s moustachios — he was the very image of that love 
 of a brigand that she had worked, “ last half,” on a kettle-holder ! At 
 length she did manage to stammer out a request that he would leave 
 her that instant ; for if Miss Wewitz were to return and find him 
 there alone with her, she would never forgive her. 
 
 The words were barely uttered, before a loud and impatient ring at 
 the gate-bell assured Miss Chutney that it could be none other than 
 Miss Wewitz herself come back, and again she hurriedly entreated the 
 Frenchman to be gone. 
 
 The cunning foreigner, however, told her it was impossible for him 
 to escape unseen, alleging that the servant had already opened the 
 liall-door on her way to the gate, so that for him even to attempt to 
 cross the passage now, would be to publish that which she was so 
 anxious to keep secret. 
 
 “ But you cannot remain here, sir !” exclaimed the terrified girl — 
 “ Miss Wewitz will be sure to look into this room, and if she catches 
 you with me— oh, dear ! — oh, dear ! Please do go ; there ’s a good 
 man — do, please.” 
 
 “ N'ayez pas peur, man angs ! ma deesse /” cried the hyperbolic 
 Natif de Paris, kissing the tips of his fingers as he spoke ; and then, 
 as he heard the gate close, he looked hurriedly round the room, 
 exclaiming, “ Yere vill I go — vere vill I go ? Mese, vere vill 
 I go?” 
 
 But there was not in the whole apartment a cupboard, nor ’a 
 screen, within or behind which the Count could secrete himself ; and 
 he flew round the room, as he looked wildly about, like a cat in a 
 strange house. ‘-'Yatvill I do?” he cried again and again; and 
 then, as he heard the footsteps in the passage approaching the music- 
 room, he suddenly raised the stiff leathern cover from off - one of the 
 large globes that stood at opposite corners of the room, and, hastily 
 putting it over his head and shoulders, knelt down beneath it, so that 
 it concealed his whole body. 
 
 The Frenchman had scarcely had time to settle himself under the 
 huge cover when Miss Wewitz entered the apartment hastily— say- 
 ing, “ A thought has just struck me, my love. You know, my dear 
 Chutney, you are not a child, and I can speak to you as I would to a 
 sister. Mine, my good girl, is a delicate position. You are far 
 away from your parents, and an orphan, as it were, placed under my 
 charge; and if anything were to happen to you your papa and mamma 
 would never forgive me, and I’m sure I should never be able to hold 
 my head up again. Now you know, my love, mamma has been impru- 
 dent enough to admit a number of those horrid foreigners under our 
 roof, and you must really be aware how necessary it is, both for your 
 and my sake, that I should take every precaution, so that there may 
 be no possibility of your being insulted by the creatures. Now pro- 
 mise me, dear Miss Chutney, you’ll keep this door locked until I 
 return. Directly it struck me that I had left you alone here, with all 
 
.168 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 those men on the premises, I couldn’t go a step further until I had 
 assured myself of your perfect safety. Now you’ll lock yourself in 
 the moment I’ve quitted you, and not open the door again till I come 
 back to any one, under any pretence. You’ll promise me, now — wont 
 you, there ’s a dear girl ? ” 
 
 Miss Chutney stood close in front of the globe, trembling lest the 
 cover should move and discover one of the much-dreaded foreigners to 
 be hidden beneath, and stammered out, as well as she was able under 
 the circumstances, that she would be “ sure and do as Miss Wewitz 
 desired.” 
 
 Miss Wewitz was about to take her departure, and, indeed, had 
 closed the music-room door after her, when she suddenly opened it 
 again, as the affrighted Miss Chutney jumped once more in front of 
 the heavenly sphere. 
 
 “ Oh !” exclaimed the schoolmistress, “ upon second thoughts, my 
 dear child, I should be far more easy and comfortable in my mind, if 
 I were to lock you in myself, and take the key with me in my 
 pocket ; for then, you know, my love, I should be sure no harm could 
 come to you.” 
 
 Chutney turned as pale as a young lady of East-Indian extraction 
 could turn, and replied : “ I’m sure — it’s — a — very good of you, 
 ma’am — a — to take care of me, but — a — I can assure you I shall be 
 safe — a — indeed I shall, ma’am.” 
 
 “No, no, my dear child!” returned Miss Wewitz, with her blandest 
 smile, “ you think so, I dare say — -giddy, foolish thing as you are ; 
 for how can you be expected to know the ways of the world at your 
 time of life. But I shall not be gone above half-an-hour at the 
 utmost, so you can easily find something to amuse yourself for so short 
 a time. You can play over some of your pieces, you know; and you’re 
 far from perfect in your Battle of Prague, as yet. Your ‘ cries of the 
 wounded’ were anything but well marked, the last time I heard 
 
 Suddenly the schoolmistress’ eye caught the uncovered globe in the 
 corner of the room, and, advancing towards the spot, she said : “ Why, 
 there’s the cover off the celestial globe, I declare, my dear! It will 
 be all scratched, and covered with dust. What ever have you been 
 doing with it?” 
 
 Miss Chutney was ready to drop with fright; for a minute she was 
 so confused that she could make no answer, and only sought to inter- 
 pose herself between Miss Wewitz and the leathern case. 
 
 “Whatever have you been doing with it, child?” inquired the 
 schoolmistress, once more. 
 
 “ Oh, if you please, ma’am,” stammered out the terrified girl, “ I 
 was studying the position of the ‘ Great Bear’ when you came in.” 
 
 “Oh, indeed! Well, I don’t want to interfere with your studies; 
 but I had no idea you had any taste that way,” returned the school- 
 mistress, delighted in the belief that her pupil was astronomically 
 given, and that she could henceforth lengthen the list of her extras by 
 the item of “the use of the globes.” 
 
ME. AND MBS. CUESTV SANDBOYS. 
 
 169 
 
 “Well, proceed! proceed! I shall be back in less than half an 
 hour, and then I’ll come and sit with you — for I dare say you will 
 feel it lonely here for awhile. Now, I know you’ll excuse me, my 
 dear; but really I do think it would break my heart if I were to 
 know that one of those horrid, horrid foreigners had been saying a 
 word to you;” and then, having hastily arranged her bonnet at the 
 pier-glass, she simpered, and withdrew once more. 
 
 Miss Chutney stood still, horror-stricken, for a few minutes, and 
 when she heard the key turned in the door with a sharp snap, it 
 sounded as awful to her as the click of the trigger of a highwayman’s 
 pistol. 
 
 Her first impulse was to rush to the door and assure herself that it 
 was really locked, and when, after pulling impatiently at it, she 
 became impressed with a full sense of the awkwardness of her posi- 
 tion, Miss Chutney thought at first that she would stand still and 
 scream ; but then, it struck her immediately afterwards, that by so 
 doing, the whole would be discovered, and Miss Wewitz would be 
 certain to believe that it was all her doing, especially as she had been 
 silly enough not to acquaint her with what had happened directly she 
 entered the room. She had it on the tip of her tongue two or three 
 times, but that Miss Wewitz was so severe, and took such strange 
 views of things; then, again, she always expected the young ladies to 
 be so discreet and circumspect, as she called it, in their behaviour, 
 though she dare say she liked to have a bit of fun as well as they did, 
 in her younger days ; “ only,” she added to herself, as she grew half 
 vexed at her position, “ perhaps that’s so long ago, that it’s quite 
 slipped the old thing’s memory.” 
 
 Then, throwing herself into the easy chair, she put her hands up 
 before her face, and indulged in what young ladies are pleased to call 
 “ a good cry.” 
 
 The sound of the young lady’s sobs no sooner reached the ears of 
 the secreted Count, than he started up, with the leathern cover still 
 over his head and shoulders, and stood for a few minutes vainly 
 endeavouring to extricate himself from beneath it. 
 
 Miss Chutney hearing the smothered exclamations of “ tonnere !” 
 and “ parbleu !” that involuntarily escaped from the struggling Count, 
 suddenly ceased her sobs, and turned round to see what was the 
 matter, and no sooner did she set eyes on the ludicrous figure of the 
 Frenchman, with his legs alone showing beneath the yellow cover, 
 than she could not refrain from bursting, half hysterically, into a loud 
 fit of laughter; and so irresistible was the impulse upon her — for the 
 more the foreigner struggled and swore, the louder she laughed — that 
 it was not until a sense of her position had forced itself upon her, 
 and she had half bitten her lips through in dread of Mrs. Wewitz 
 overhearing her, that the young lady was in any way able to control 
 herself. 
 
 At length, however, by dint of much struggling, the Count suc- 
 ceeded in ridding himself of the leathern extinguisher, and then 
 followed a “ love-making” scene between the artful and bombastic 
 
170 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Frenchman and the simple, credulous school-girl, that may easily, 
 and, for the matter of that, must be imagined. 
 
 The Frenchman of course flattered the poor girl, who, too ready 
 to think well of herself, like the best of us, and wanting the worldly 
 skill to detect his motive for the adulation, drank in at her burning 
 and tingling ears every word of his honied phrases, till, liking the 
 words, she grew gradually to like the wretch that uttered them ; and 
 it was not long before she got to think the Count de Sanschemise one 
 of the most polite and amiable gentlemen she had ever met with. 
 Once or twice the Frenchman, pretending to be struck with the 
 exquisite beauty of her hand, seized it, and was about to press it in 
 feigned admiration to his lips, when a sense of the impropriety of her 
 conduct burst upon the girl, and she indignantly snatched it from 
 him ; but the expert trickster soon knew how to heal the wound he 
 had inflicted, and in a few minutes, by some dexterous mode of 
 pleasing — by some infallible appeal to her self-love — had made himself 
 appear to her the same charming, agreeable man as ever. Thus 
 matters progressed, until, at the expiration of the half-hour that was 
 to constitute the term of Miss Wewitz’s absence, the weak-minded 
 and warm-hearted school-girl had told him, the Frenchman, in ap- 
 proved maiden language, that she certainly must confess she liked 
 him a little bit ; but it was impossible for her to say she loved him, 
 when she had only known him for so short a time. She shouldn’t 
 wonder but he only wanted to make a silly of her, after all ; and then 
 to go and tell all the other gentlemen up stairs what a simpleton she 
 was, and how she had believed all the many fine things and the soft 
 nonsense he had been whispering in her ear — though, for the matter 
 of that, she had not paid the least attention to a single word he had 
 said — it had all gone in at one ear and out at the other, she could 
 tell him; for she knew well enough what a pack of deceitful things 
 the French gentlemen were, — they were all general lovers; and she 
 dare say that he’d go and repeat the very same things — silly things 
 — that he’d been telling her, to the first poor girl he met after 
 leaving. 
 
 Of course, M. le Comte de Sanschemise threw his eyes up to the 
 ceiling, and gazed steadfastly at the pink, pickled-looking Cupid that 
 was painted in the centre of it, and supposed to be supporting, while 
 in the act of flying, the heavy ormolu lamp that dangled from his 
 hand; then he whispered, in subdued recitative, an impassioned 
 French “ roman,” commencing,— 
 
 “ Vous le savez! je vous adore!” 
 
 all the while gesticulating in the most theatrical manner : now he 
 extended his arms out, and leaned far forward towards her; now he 
 suddenly threw back the lapel of his surtout, and tapped quickly 
 and repeatedly the left side of his embroidered waistcoat; then, as 
 the sentiment of the “ chanson” grew more desperate, he clasped his 
 forehead with his two hands, and rolled himself backwards and for- 
 wards, exclaiming, — 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 171 
 
 “ Un senl mot pour me satisfaire ! 
 
 Dites le moi (ange da eiel), je vous en pr-r-r-ie ! dites le moi !” 
 
 after which, he tore his wig for a few ruinates, and then dropped, 
 exhausted, info the nearest chair. Unfortunately, however, for the 
 pathos of the Count, the nearest chair happened to be a “ devotional,” 
 and the seat being lower, and the back less substantial than those of 
 the ordinary style, and the Frenchman, being unprepared for the 
 extra distance that he had to descend, fell with such force on the 
 cushion, that the back gave way with a crash, while M, le Comte him- 
 self was thrown with Ms head backwards, and his legs up in the air, 
 with such violence, that the buttons of his braces and straps were 
 heard to burst with a loud explosion. 
 
 At this particular juncture, the gate-bell was again heard to sound 
 in the same authoritative manner as that in which Miss Wewitz was 
 known to delight by way of announcing her advent. 
 
 The Count was instantly on his feet, while the terrified Miss 
 Chutney — suffering the double fright of the Frenchman’s fall and the 
 schoolmistress’s return— begged and prayed of him, if he really did 
 adore her only half as much as he had been making such a noise 
 about, that he’d return that minute to his former hiding-place. 
 
 M. le Comte was busy in trying to shake his trousers down over 
 his patent-leather half-boots, so that the stockingless state of his feet 
 might not be discovered, and he stamped on the floor, apparently with 
 the energy of his devotion, but really in the hope of forcing down his 
 pantaloons ; he exclaimed that lie was her slave for life, and, hearing 
 the gate close, proceeded, with all possible haste, to ensconce himself 
 once more beneath the leathern cover of the celestial globe, kissing 
 his hand passionately several times to the young lady before finally 
 disappearing from her sight. 
 
 Miss Chutney had only time enough to place the devotional close 
 against the wall, and to arrange the back so that it would not imme- 
 diately appear to have been broken, when she heard the key placed in 
 the door, and in a minute afterwards Miss Wewitz made her 
 appearance. 
 
 To Chutney’s great horror, on looking at her a second time, she 
 discovered that Miss Wewitz had positively brought her work, and 
 had evidently made up her mind to sit with her the whole time. 
 
 What ever should she do ? The poor dear Count would be smo- 
 thered, even if he could remain quiet in Ms hiding-place all that time. 
 Would it not be better to tell her all that had occurred — but then she 
 would be sure to scold so— besides, it never would be possible to tell 
 her all that the Count had said— and really she’d have to make up so 
 many fibs, if she confessed, that perhaps, after all, It would be more 
 honest of her to keep the whole affair secret from her. 
 
 Miss Wewitz merely observing that she thought she had not exceeded 
 her half-hour by many minutes, and that Miss Chutney had not been 
 very lonely during her absence, sat herself do wn in the easy chair, 
 saying that she had ordered the servant to bring the tea in there, and 
 that they would haye a nice long evening’s chat together. 
 
 H 2 
 
173 
 
 1851 ; or, the adventures of 
 
 As soon as Miss Wewitz had settled herself fairly down to her 
 work — she was busy fresh trimming one of her old last year’s bonnets 
 for her dear mother — she commenced informing Miss Chutney, in the 
 most confidential manner, as to the issue of her visit to the inspector. 
 That gentleman — and a perfect gentleman he certainly was — for he 
 was always exceedingly civil to her, though, for the life of her, she 
 couldn’t tell why — well, that gentleman had been kind enough to 
 advise her to get rid of the Frenchmen as rapidly as she could, say- 
 ing that they were all a pack of swindlers together, and that there 
 was one whom the Detectives had traced to her house — a Count de 
 Sangshimmy, the inspector called him, and whom they well knew to 
 be nothing more nor less than a Chevalier d' Industrie, or, in plain 
 English, a common pickpocket. 
 
 Here the cover of the celestial globe betrayed evident symptoms of 
 internal uneasiness, and Miss Chutney, attracted by the motion of the 
 cover, could not help casting a side glance towards the spot. 
 
 Miss Wewitz, however, was too deeply concerned in what she was 
 relating to pay any attention to other matters ; and though her pupil 
 kept continually interjecting “ Indeed !” and “ Dear me ! ” and 
 “ Really, you don’t say so !” it was evident that her thoughts were 
 otherwise occupied, and that she had really not the slightest idea of 
 what Miss Wewitz was talking about. 
 
 “ And would you believe it, my love 1” continued the schoolmis- 
 tress ; “ the inspector tells me I have no means of getting quit of the 
 wretches but by an action of ejectment, and that will take a year at 
 least ; so, do you know, he advises me” — and here the lady looked 
 towards the door, to satisfy herself that no one was within hearing — 
 “ do you know, my dear, he advises me, I say” — but, to satisfy her- 
 self that the communication she was about to make could not be over- 
 heard, the lady rose from her seat, and opened the music-room door 
 to see whether any one were in the passage listening — “ he advises, I 
 repeat, if I find I cannot get them out of the house by any other 
 means, to offer them, first, ten pounds to go, and even to go as high 
 as fifty, rather than allow them to continue under the roof ; though 
 of course, my love, for obvious reasons, I don’t want this to be known 
 to a soul beside ourselves, for, if it should get to the ears of any of 
 the gang, why of course they wouldn’t stir a foot until I had given 
 them the whole fifty. And you’d hardly credit it, my dear, but the 
 inspector — he really is a very nice, agreeable man, and the poor fellow 
 lost his wife last Easter holidays — he tells me that the wretches of 
 Frenchmen might, if they chose, open a show in my best bed-room. 
 Oh ! my dear child, think of that ! So pray, for gracious sake ! do be 
 cautious not to let a word of this escape your lips ; for, should they 
 but come to hear, by any accident, what lengths the law will allow 
 them to go to, they would never leave the place until they had suc- 
 ceeded in draining me of my last penny. 
 
 Here again the cover of the celestial globe was seen to shake its 
 side violently, as if internally convulsed with laughter — when Miss 
 
ME. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 173 
 
 Wewitz, observing the glances of her pupil to be turned, in that direc- 
 tion, suddenly perceived that the globe still remained uncovered. 
 
 “ My dear Miss Chutney !” she exclaimed, “ how forgetful you are 
 —do you see that you have left the case off the globe 3 and are you 
 aware that those things cost a great deal of money.” 
 
 “ Oh, if you please, ma’am,” stammered the East Indian, “ a — a — I 
 was — em — a — waiting for you just to show to me which was the 
 dragon that is so near the bear, if you please, ma’am.” 
 
 “ That will do another time, Miss Chutney,” answered the school- 
 mistress, pettishly ; “ for really I have something else to think of just 
 now — so pray put the cover on— there’s a good child.” 
 
 “ But I shall only want to be taking it off again directly, if you 
 please 3 for as to-night promises to be very fine, I’m going to see if I 
 can learn the stars by the aid of this globe,” exclaimed Miss Chutney, 
 starting from her seat, so as to be ready to prevent Miss Wewitz going 
 towards the cover. 
 
 “ Very well, my dear girl, just as you like,” added the schoolmistress 3 
 “but as it wants some hours yet till night, it will surely be as well to 
 cover it up. Are you aware that those globes cost me £15 at Miss 
 Peabody’s sale, just after her bankruptcy 3 and that if by accident 
 they got scratched, they would not be worth one penny. Now 
 pray don’t let me have to speak again, but do put on the case 
 immediately.” 
 
 “ Yes, ma’am 3 but really it is so heavy, that I shall only be obliged 
 to come and trouble you to take it off for me again in an hour or 
 two 3 and you needn’t be alarmed, I will see that no harm comes to 
 the celestial globe 3” and then, perceiving Miss Wewitz about to get 
 up from her chair, Miss Chutney hurried towards her, and leaned 
 over, with pretended regard for her, but really and truly to keep her 
 close fixed to her seat. 
 
 Miss Wewitz was too shrewd a woman not to perceive, by her 
 pupil’s manner, that she had some secret motive for wishing the globe 
 to remain uncovered 3 so, laying her work down, she said, in her 
 most dignified manner, “ If Miss Chutney has not strength enough 
 to put the case on the globe, after having had quite strength enough 
 to take it off, why Miss Wewitz must do it for her, I suppose 3” so 
 saying, the lady made an effort to rise 3 whereupon Miss Chutney 
 clung round her neck more tightly than ever, and the tighter she 
 clung, the harder Miss Wewitz struggled to get from her. At length, 
 however, she succeeded in freeing herself from her embraces, when 
 the terrified girl gave a loud shriek, and immediately, to Miss 
 Wewitz’s inexplicable horror, she beheld the dome-like cover of the 
 globe heave and heave, and finally rise up and rush out of the room, 
 with a pair of black pantaloons dangling beneath it. 
 
 It was now Miss Wewitz’s turn to scream, which she did louder 
 and sharper than Miss Chutney had screamed before her — crying 
 frantically, “ There’s a man in the house ! — there’s a man ! — there’s 
 a man ! — there’s a man !” and then, determined to solve the mystery, 
 she set off after the two-legged cover of the globe as fast as her own 
 
174 
 
 1851; OE, THE ADVENTUEES OF 
 
 legs would carry her. The first object of M. le Comte de Sanschemise 
 was to make for the stairs that led to his bed-room ; but with the 
 huge leathern cover of the globe over his head, and reaching nearly 
 to his knees, it was impossible for him to tell the direction in which 
 he was going. In his eagerness to escape detection, he ran towards 
 the top of the kitchen stairs, instead of the bottom of those that led to 
 the upper part of the house; and Miss Wewitz had just reached the 
 music-room door when she saw him precipitated headlong down the 
 flight ; and heard him afterwards, as he got near to the bottom, go 
 bump, bump — rolling heavily from stair to stair, almost like the globe 
 whose place he had taken. 
 
 Miss Wewitz shrieked involuntarily at the sight of the catastrophe — 
 Miss Chutney shrieked sympathetically — and Mrs. Wewitz, who came 
 rushing from the housekeeper’s room — and the servants, who came 
 hurrying from the kitchen — all shrieked, they hardly knew why or 
 wherefore, but principally because they heard the others shriek. 
 
 Then came all the Frenchmen, tearing down the stairs — two and 
 three at a time — some with their hair in paper, and a silk handker- 
 chief thrown hastily over their heads — others with the curling-tongs still 
 in their hands, and half their locks curled, and the other half hanging 
 in matted hanks about their faces — while others had one of their 
 moustachios and whiskers bright red, and the other jet black — others, 
 again, were in their paper collars, and others in embroidered slippers 
 and no socks. 
 
 When Miss Wewitz saw the human avalanche descending from the 
 first landing, she uttered a piercing “ Oh !” and, suddenly closing the 
 door, turned the key, so that she and Chutney at least might be safe. 
 Then she threw herself into the fauteuil, and buried her face in her 
 handkerchief — first tittering and then sobbing, and ultimately scream- 
 ing, and pattering her feet upon the carpet like two drum-sticks doing 
 the “ roll” upon a drum. 
 
 The alarmed Chutney threw herself upon her neck, and begged her 
 not to “ give way” so, for that she’d be sure to make herself ill — and 
 that her eyes would be red and swollen for hours afterwards. 
 
 “Indeed! indeed! Miss Wewitz, if you’ll only believe — it was no 
 fault of mine — indeed — and indeed it wasn’t.” 
 
 Miss Wewitz “ came to” for a moment, and exclaimed — “Oh, you 
 bad, bad, base girl — after all the attention I’ve paid to your morals, 
 too! How you dare stand there and say such a thing, and not 
 expect the floor to open under you, is a mystery to me ! Oh, you 
 wicked, wicked story, you! Where do you expect to go to, Miss? 
 But you’ll write out the first chapter of Telemachus before you have 
 any supper to-night — and it’s that cold rice pudding that you’re 
 remarkably fond of.” 
 
 Then Miss Chutney, in her turn, gave vent to her feelings. “ I’m 
 sure, ma’am, it wasn’t my fault, sobbed the girl — it was you yourself 
 that would lock him in the room with me, though I begged of you 
 not to lock the door — -but you would do it, and what could I do ?” 
 
 “Do!” retorted the angry Miss Wewitz — “ Do /” (and this she 
 
MR. AND MRS. CCJRSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 175 
 
 pitched at least two octaves higher) — “you could have screamed, 
 couldn’t you — or you could have pulled the bell — or even broken the 
 windows, — it wouldn’t have mattered to you, they would have all gone 
 down in the bill, you know. Don’t you think I would have raised 
 the whole house, and the whole neighbourhood, indeed, if I had been 
 in your place. I’d have torn all the beard off the creature’s face by 
 handfuls, that I would j — but you, of course, must hide the wretch 
 away from your best friends, and pretend you had been looking out 
 for the Great Bear — the Great Bear, 'you might well say, indeed — and 
 the impudent monkey, too. But you’ll bring a scandal upon my 
 school, you will — you wicked, wicked girl.” 
 
 “ Well, I don’t care how much I’m punished for it, Miss Wewitz — 
 but I’m not to blame. If you were to stop my puddings for the whole 
 of next “ half,” it wouldn’t make me think otherwise. I didn’t want 
 to be shut up with the man, but you would do it.” 
 
 “ How dare you say I did it, Miss,” asked the schoolmistress, in her 
 most authoritative manner, “ when I didn’t ?” 
 
 “ I’m sure you did, Miss Wewitz.” 
 
 “ How often am I to tell you not to contradict, Miss? I tell you I 
 didn’t.” 
 
 “ I’m sure I don’t wish to contradict, ma’am, but I’m quite certain 
 you did.” 
 
 “ There, you are contradicting again, Miss, — for I say, once for all, I 
 didn’t.” 
 
 “Well, then, I say you did.” 
 
 “ Hold your tongue, Miss Chutney, and remember whom you’re 
 speaking to. Have I not informed you, Miss, that I did no such 
 thing ?” 
 
 “Well, I don’t care, but I’ll stand to it as long as I’ve got a word 
 to say — you did lock me up alone with the Frenchman, — so there 1” 
 cried the headstrong East Indian. 
 
 Miss Wewitz drew herself up as erect as she could, and said, in her 
 very mildest tones, as if she were in no way annoyed by what the 
 young lady had spoken, though inwardly she could scarcely contain 
 herself for passion, — “Very well, Miss; we will see who is mistress in 
 this establishment ; so, if you please, you will come with me, and I 
 shall lock you up in the linen-room at the top of the house until you 
 are willing to acknowledge your fault, and beg my pardon. There, 
 go along with you, do ! I’m quite astonished at your bad behaviour, 
 — and after all I’ve done for you !” And with these words Miss Wewitz 
 pushed the sobbing and muttering girl up the stairs before her. 
 
J 76 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 CHAPTEK XVIII. 
 
 “ True friendship, when fwok throw aseyde, 
 
 What then are riches, preyde, or power ? — 
 
 Vain gewgaws! Mekin sec their gueyde, 
 
 May sail 1 repent lang ere deeth’s hour. 
 
 “ True friendship that can ne’er cause streyfe, 
 
 But e’en keep frae distress and pain, 
 
 An’ show what bliss it gie’s thro’ leyfe, 
 
 In every bwosorn still sud reign.” 
 
 Friendship. Ballad, by Robert Anderson. 
 
 We must leave Miss Chutney for awhile imprisoned in the linen 
 room, and return to Mr. Sandboys, imprisoned in the police cell ; for 
 it was during the absence of himself and wife from Parthenon House, 
 that the incidents detailed in the previous chapter had taken place. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys soon began to perceive that feelings were quite 
 foreign to a police office ; and after her first outburst of indignation, 
 she set herself to work, like a shrewd woman of the world, to discover 
 some means of procuring bail for her poor incarcerated Cursty. 
 
 The question was, whom could she send to 1 ? Strangers in London, 
 to whom could they apply for assistance under the distressing circum- 
 stances ? She was half-ashamed to send to Mrs. Wewitz, and acquaint 
 her that Mr. Sandboys was locked up on suspicion of being a common 
 thief ; but there was no one else that she knew who could vouch for 
 their respectability. This was all that was required, and, appearing so 
 little to ask, she summoned up all her courage, and scribbled a hasty 
 and pathetic appeal to the lady. 
 
 Jobby, who had accompanied Elcy to view the outside of the 
 Crystal Palace, while the father and mother were inspecting the in- 
 terior, and who had seen his father carried off by the police, and 
 followed him, with his affrighted sister, to the police office, was ready 
 at his mother’s call to hurry with the note she had written to Wimble- 
 don Common. Elcy was but of little use ; for though Mrs. Sandboys 
 was too much occupied with the thoughts of releasing her husband to 
 display at present much concern for his painful position, the girl 
 could think of nothing else, and sat in the waiting-room of the police 
 court, sobbing aloud, and trembling with fear, lest her father 
 should be injured in any way. 
 
 The dutiful lad started oft - at a rapid pace ; and though hailed by 
 many an omnibus that was wending his way, they were by far too 
 slow for him ; for on he ran, as youths only can run, with his hand- 
 kerchief tied round his waist, and racing with every cab that came up 
 with him. At length, however, when he had reached Brompton, he 
 was fairly beaten, and was glad to avail himself, spent and out of 
 breath as he was, of the first omnibus that passed him. 
 
 Scarcely half-an-hour after this, he was pulling violently at the 
 gate-bell of theirjiemporary lodgings. 
 
ME. AND MRS. CURST Y SANDBOYS. 
 
 177 
 
 The impatience of the summons brought Miss Wewitz rapidly 
 down from the linen-room, wherein she had safely locked Miss 
 Chutney, having this time assured herself, by carefully examining 
 every cupboard and hole and corner in the place, that she was “ all 
 alone.” 
 
 Mrs. Wewitz had no sooner made herself acquainted with the pur- 
 port of the letter, than she informed her daughter of the shocking 
 news it contained. 
 
 “ Here ! Mr. Sandboys is in prison, on suspicion of robbery, and 
 wants us to come and speak to his respectability ! Well, really,” 
 exclaimed the old lady, “ I can’t think what’s come to all the people 
 of late S What do you think, my dear Di 1 — would it be prudent, 
 now, for us, situated as we are, to mix ourselves up in the matter 1” 
 
 “Pr-r-rudent !” echoed Miss Diana Wewitz, who was certainly not 
 in the humour to grant favours — “ in the first place, pray let me ask 
 you what we know of the Sandboys 1 They say they have come 
 from Cumberland ; but what proof have we of the fact 1 How, then, 
 could you, dear mother, lay your hand on your heart, and swear 
 before a magistrate that you believe Mr. Sandboys to be a perfect 
 gentleman 1 And very respectable it would be, indeed, to have it pub- 
 lished in all the morning papers, that the lady of Parthenon House 
 Establishment for Young Ladies had appeared at a police office to 
 speak to the character of a person detained on suspicion of robbery, 
 and of whom, it turned out, on cross-examination (for the counsel 
 would be sure to cross-examine you severely) she knew nothing 
 whatever, and very probably, under the excitement of the moment, 
 you would get so confused, that you’d swear to almost anything 
 that was asked you, and so lay yourself open to be indicted for wilful 
 and corrupt perjury.” 
 
 “Oh, my dear child! don’t say another word,” cried Mrs. Wewitz, 
 horrified at the picture which her talented daughter had given her of 
 the probable consequences attendant upon her assenting to Mrs. 
 Sandboys’ simple request. “ Well, my love, I’m sure I should have 
 done it, if you had not been by me to advise me j and it would have 
 been with the best of motives, too.” 
 
 “Yes, mother; and, as usual with you, with the worst possible 
 results,” replied Miss Wewitz, with a triumphant smile. “ Besides, 
 dear mother, do just reflect for one minute ! Here have we a gang of 
 French swindlers already located in the house — of that we are cer- 
 tain, for we have it on the very best authority— -that nice civil young 
 man, the inspector, told me as much only this very day, you know, 
 mother ; and isn’t it very likely that you may have been imprudent 
 enough to admit info this establishment some similar characters 
 belonging to this country. I shouldn’t wonder at all now but they’re 
 only part and parcel of the same gang.” 
 
 “ Well, my dear Di,” said the old lady, with a most reverential 
 shake of the head, “ I’m sure, with the education I’ve given you, you 
 ought to know much better than I do about such things. But Mrs. 
 Sandboys was such a nice homely body, and the gentleman himself 
 
178 1851; OB, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 appeared the last person on earth to be guilty of anything mean or 
 bad.” 
 
 “ Ah, my dear mother! you don’t know the wickedness of the world, 
 and if you did, you wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out that the 
 nice homely body, as you call her, was only part of a deep-laid scheme, 
 and it’s only a wonder that the place was not stripped. But how I 
 go through it all is far more than I can tell — if I was an ordinary- 
 minded woman it would kill me. Here, this morning, I return to 
 my home, on the eve of receiving my pupils — the daughters of some 
 of the first families — and I am informed that I have a gang of 
 swindlers under my roof ; and this afternoon I learn that another 
 party, who has been residing in my house, is now detained on sus- 
 picion of robbery. However it is that my mind doesn’t give way 
 under it, is to me incomprehensible.” And then, fetching a deep- 
 drawn sigh, she added, “ but a single straw extra will break the over- 
 burthened camel’s back. However, go you and write a note to the 
 woman, saying, that you regret you cannot conscientiously comply 
 with her request, and adding, at the same time, that you would thank 
 her to send for her luggage at the earliest opportunity, as, after what 
 has transpired, you cannot think of allowing the family to continue 
 their apartments at Parthenon House.” 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 179 
 
 CHAPTEK XIX. 
 
 “ Of a’ the scenes in leyfe’s lang round; 
 
 Sweet youth ! leyke thee nin can be found; 
 
 With plizzer thou dost meast abound — 
 
 Threyce happy teymes ! 
 
 Wi’ joys wheyte parfit fair an’ sound, 
 
 Unclogg’d by creymes. 
 
 “ Or when of iuive the kittlin’ dart 
 Furst whithers i’ th’ unconscious heart, 
 
 Wi’ a’ the pleasin’ painfu’ smart 
 
 Sec passions awn ; 
 
 An raptures dirl thro’ every part, 
 
 Befwore unknown.” 
 
 A New Year's Epistle, by Stagy. 
 
 While Master Jobby Sandboys is on his road back to bis parents at 
 the Police Station, we will avail ourselves of the uninteresting inter- 
 val, and continue our narrative of the course of events at Parthenon 
 House. 
 
 We left Miss Chutney, with Miss Wewitz, in the linen room, at the 
 top of the Establishment for Young Ladies. 
 
 The key had no sooner been turned upon the young East Indian, than 
 the pride which had borne her up till then gave way in her solitude; and, 
 now that nobody could see her, she sat down on the inverted clothes- 
 basket, and indulged in a “ good cry.” This, however, served but little 
 to mollify the stubbornness of her spirit ; for in a few minutes she 
 started up again from her seat, and biting her lips, as if annoyed with 
 herself for her weakness, said between her teeth, as she tossed her 
 head till her ringlets shook again— “ Beg her pardon, indeed ! — no ! not 
 if she was to starve me to death up here, I wouldn’t! — and, what’s 
 more, I wont be the first to make it up, I can tell her. I’ll let her 
 see I can sulk as well as she can.” And then suddenly she burst out 
 singing, ascending and descending the “ chromatic scale” in as loud a 
 voice as she possibly could, till the whole house seemed to echo again 
 with the notes. 
 
 Presently she stopped abruptly, and said, as she laughed to herself, 
 half in triumph, “ There ! that will just let the old thing know I’m 
 not very miserable!” After this, she amused herself by thinking 
 how nice and savage Wewitz would be to hear she was so happy — and 
 how she would scold the maids. 
 
 The next moment, to pass the time, she pulled all her hair down, 
 and began plaiting it in a series of tails, to see how she would look 
 with it “ crimped” in the morning ; but, in a few minutes, the thought 
 struck her that she would wear it like that affected old thing, Wewitz — 
 just to tease her. “ She would let her see,” she murmured, as she 
 passed her comb through her long tresses, “ that other people had got 
 foreheads as well as herself.” 
 
 0 
 
1 80 
 
 1851; OK, THE ADVENTDKES OF 
 
 At last, by dint of pulling all lier front hair nearly from the roots, 
 and tying it back tight with the ribbon from her collar, she managed 
 to make it keep as she wished. Whereupon she went to the window, 
 and looked into one of the panes, to see how it became her. 
 
 “ Ha!” she exclaimed, as she caught a faint sight of a reflection of 
 her face, “it makes me look just like a cockatoo. I declare to good- 
 ness, too, it quite hurts me to shut my eyes, and my nostrils are both 
 drawn up, for all the world as if I’d got under them a cup of that 
 filthy senna and prunes that Miss Wewitz will force us to take once 
 a month — to sweeten our blood, as she calls it, though it’s only to 
 make us eat less, I’m sure !” 
 
 As there was no bearing the torture of what Miss Chutney termed 
 the cockatoo-style of coiffure, she proceeded forthwith to arrange her 
 locks in a series of those hairy black puddings, which are known by 
 the name of sausage curls ; — this done, she threw up the window, and 
 looked out into the gravelly and deserted playground, her arms 
 resting on the sill. In a few minutes she began singing, or rather 
 humming to herself thoughtlessly, the finale to “La Cencrentola,” 
 and immediately, to her great alarm, she saw the head of the Count de 
 Sanschemise thrust from one of the lower windows, and his face turned 
 up towards her. Miss Chutney stopped in the middle of one of her runs, 
 and started back from where she was standing. “ Well, if that isn’t 
 the French gentleman! and he’ll be sure to fancy I did it on purpose,” 
 she inwardly exclaimed. “ Oh, what ever will he think of me ! I’d 
 have given anything rather than it should have occurred. It will be 
 putting such silly notions in the man’s head; making him think, I 
 dare say, that one’s quite taken with him, and that I’m sure I’m 
 not. He’s got very fine expressive eyes of his own, certainly— but, oh 
 dear ! Frenchmen are so deceitful ! His countenance is the very image 
 of that love of a head that Miss Tatting did in crayons last ‘ half.’ I 
 wonder if he’s gone in yet.” 
 
 The latter remark Miss Chutney uttered in a half whisper, as if afraid 
 to let herself hear it; and then she crept softly back towards the window, 
 where she stood beside the shutters, stretching herself forward by 
 degrees, and raising herself on tiptoe, so that she might look down 
 without thrusting her head so far out as to be visible. Unfortunately, 
 however, just as she had got to the point of seeing the tassel of the 
 Count’s smoking cap, she lost her balance, and, tipping suddenly for- 
 ward, was thrust, head and shoulders, half out of the window. In the 
 fright of the moment she uttered a suppressed scream, and imme- 
 diately disappeared. “ Gracious ! gracious ! and it’s impossible to let 
 him know I didn’t mean it,” she cried; — “it must have seemed to 
 him for all the world like as if I was calling to him. Oh dear ! oh 
 dear ! oh dear !” and, in the flurry of her emotions, she sat herself down 
 on the to|> of the screw-press for the table-cloths, that stood in the 
 extreme corner of the room, and hiding her face in her hands, beat 
 a tattoo with her feet on the floor in vexation at what had happened. 
 
 In this position she remained, thinking over her past conduct 
 with the Frenchman. Perhaps she had been too forward with him 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 181 
 
 from the first. He must think her a very bold, rude girl, — oh, yes, 
 that he must. She ought never to have been a party to his secreting 
 himself in the music room. Yes! yes! she had behaved very impru- 
 dently and wrong all through, though she would never acknowledge 
 as much to Miss Wewitz; — no ! not if she was to be torn to pieces by 
 a thousand wild horses. Then the young lady only wished she could 
 go over it all again; she’d be as cold and distant with him as ever 
 that prosy old methodist preacher of a Mentor, in that horrid 
 Telemachus, could have desired any young lady to be. 
 
 Suddenly, she was awakened from her reflections by a gentle 
 tapping at the window. Had the noise been louder, Miss Chutney 
 would have favoured the inmates of Parthenon House with one of her 
 best shrieks; but as it was, the sound was so slight, that it was not 
 until repeated several times that the young lady even noticed it. It 
 was like the beak of a bird pecking against the glass, or the twig of 
 an adjacent tree blown against the window, — and yet there was nothing 
 to be seen. 
 
 Miss Chutney rose from her seat and moved a few steps towards 
 the casement, when there suddenly appeared outside the top joint of 
 a fishing-rod. Instinctively she drew back, and, still watching the 
 mysterious implement, she saw it swing to and fro, while presently 
 the line which dangled from the tip of it was jerked into the room, 
 and deposited on the floor a three-cornered pink note, fastened to the 
 hook. Without a thought, and almost mechanically, as it were, Miss 
 Chutney ran forward and put her foot upon the letter, when, the line 
 being detained, the top joint of the rod outside was seen to bend, 
 until at last the hook tore its way through the paper, and being sud- 
 denly released sprung back again out of the window. 
 
 For some little time Miss Chutney stood still, looking at the 
 epistolary triangle, half afraid to raise it. It was from the French- 
 man, she felt assured, and she ought to have nothing to do with it ; 
 it would only be encouraging him. She’d send it back to him — but 
 howl thought she, the moment afterwards. If she threw it from the 
 window, it must fall into the playground, that was certain; and 
 then Wewitz, with her hawk’s eyes, would get hold of it, and be 
 sure to blame her all the more ; and if she went to the window and 
 made signs to the man that she wanted him to take the letter back, 
 of course he’d pretend he didn’t understand her, and would be certain 
 to get kissing his hand to her, and all that nonsense; so it would be 
 better to let it lie where it was — and lie there it might for her, for she 
 wasn’t going to read it, she was sure. 
 
 Accordingly, she resumed her seat on the edge of the inverted 
 clothes-basket, and, taking her crochet needles out of her pocket, set 
 to work at the pincushion-cover she had half finished, with the view 
 of dismissing the subject entirely from her mind. She had, however, 
 made but hal -a-dozen loops when she paused, and, stretching out her 
 foot, drew the letter towards her along the boards ; then she made 
 two or three more loops — all wrong — and then looked down sideways, 
 like a bird, at the note, to read the address on the floor; but, unluckily, 
 
 o 2 
 
J 82 
 
 1851 ; OE, THE ADVENTUEES OF 
 
 the letter was face downwards, so, upon second thoughts, she began to 
 think that, as the thing was there, she might as well see what was in 
 it ; for, whether she read it or not, the Frenchman, of course, would 
 make certain that she had , — and so would Miss Wewitz, for the 
 matter of that, if she came to find out anything about it; so, as she 
 wasn’t going to be suspected unjustly, she’d just have a peep, and see 
 what ever he could want in writing to her 1 
 
 Miss Chutney took up the letter — read it — and, as she did so, the 
 blood mounted to her cheeks, suffusing her ears with her blushes. It 
 Avas filled with the same high-flown and voluptuous sentiment, and 
 the same exaggerated terms of admiration, as the Count de Sansche- 
 mise had poured into her ear only a few hours before. It was grate- 
 ful, nevertheless, to the weak girl to think she was so much admired ; 
 she contrasted in her own mind the difference of the terms in which 
 the Frenchman addressed her from those in which Miss Wewitz had 
 spoken of her, and it was no little consolation to her, in her punish- 
 ment, to believe that there was one Avho thought well of her. But 
 still he could not possibly mean all he said. How could he knoAv 
 enough of her to tell what kind of a girl she was in so a short time 1 
 Oh, it was merely what every Frenchman said to every girl, and she 
 was foolish, very foolish, to fancy otherwise. 
 
 As this varying train of reflections Avas passing through Miss Chut- 
 ney’s mind, the fishing-rod again appeared at the window, and again, 
 after the same movements had been gone through, the hook was 
 jerked into the room, Avith a slip of paper attached, on which was 
 Avritten, in large French characters — 
 
 ' ' wtYe, <mon douitd aa&ta^Ye / 
 
 Miss Chutney could not help ejaculating, “Well, what impudence ! 
 Besides, I’ve got nothing to say to the man,” she added; “and even if 
 I had, I’m sure I’ve got nothing to say it with up here.” Then the 
 thought suddenly struck her, that if she Avere to give the gentleman 
 to understand as much, he might remain quiet, for he’d soon get tired 
 of writing to her when he found that he could get no ansAver; “ and if 
 he goes on in this way, with that fishing-rod continually being poked 
 up to my window,” she added, “old Wewitz is sure, before long, to 
 find it out somehow, for I do believe she’s got eyes in her back 
 hair.” 
 
 Accordingly, she Avent to the window, and made signs to the 
 Frenchman that she had no Avriting materials at her command. This 
 she expressed by first moving her fingers, as if engaged in a rapid act 
 of penmanship; and then, shaking her head and lifting up her hands, 
 expressed, in the most intelligible pantomime she Avas mistress of, that 
 it was impossible for her to perform the operation — after which, she 
 smiled, boAved, and Avithdrew. 
 
 She had, hoAvever, scarcely settled doAvn to crochet again, Avhen the 
 fishing-rod once more made its appearance at the windoAv, and imme- 
 
MR. AND MRS. CDRSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 183 
 
 diately afterwards a pencil and a sheet of paper were whisked into 
 the room. 
 
 “ Well, I never !” cried Chutney, though by no means so displeased at 
 the circumstance as she tried to persuade herself she was — “ though I 
 certainly must say he’s very persevering. But I’ll olfend him — I’ll 
 scold him well for daring to send me such things. No, I wont; it 
 would look so unkind after all the trouble he’s taken. Oh, no ! I’ll 
 tell him I’m locked up here, and beg of him to desist, as it’s all 
 through him that I’ve been punished.” So, seizing the paper and 
 pencil, she hastily proceeded to indite a communication to the gentle- 
 man to that effect. 
 
 In a few minutes after the fishing-rod had disappeared with her 
 note, it returned, carrying a letter of intense condolence, and a corni- 
 chou of chocolate drops. 
 
 Now, if one thing in the world could have made Miss Chutney 
 think more highly of the Frenchman than another, it would have 
 been the present he had chosen — for, of all the young ladies in the 
 “ first class,” she was the most renowned for her love of “ sweeties.” 
 So she immediately proceeded to devour the love-letter and the bon- 
 bons at the same time, and both with all the ardour of a boarding- 
 school miss. 
 
 “ Oh, how kind of him !” she exclaimed, as she crunched between 
 her teeth the little white sugar-plums that ornamented the top of the 
 drops — “and it’s really so thoughtful. Well, I do think he’s one of 
 the nicest-mannered Frenchmen I’ve ever known. He must be very 
 good-tempered — and he writes such beautiful letters, and sympathises 
 with me so warmly. Oh, how glad I am I paid such attention to my 
 French last ‘ half.’ ” 
 
 Having finished the drops, she tore off the back of the letter 
 last conveyed to her, and scribbled, with the paper on her 
 knee, a brief expression of thanks for his commiseration and con- 
 fectionery. 
 
 This, of course, was followed by a third epistle — still more impas- 
 sioned than the last — and with it a long stick of candied angelica, 
 both of which were so extremely gratifying to the young lady, 
 that she was puzzled in her mind to know which pleased her the 
 most. 
 
 Thus matters went on till long past dusk, so that, when her supper 
 of bread and water was brought to her by Miss Wewitz’s orders, 
 Miss Chutney had already had such a feast of sweatmeats and ginger- 
 bread, that she felt delighted her appetite would allow her to tell the 
 maid to take the supper back to Miss Wewitz, with her compliments, 
 and say, that as her parents paid for something a little better than 
 bread and water, she would rather go without food altogether than 
 submit to be imposed upon ; this message the maid, who had suffered 
 from the schoolmistress’s ill-humour, was only too glad to have it in 
 her power to deliver faithfully — and the consequence was, that Miss 
 Wewitz felt herself called upon to pay a visit to the young lady. 
 
 On entering the linen-room, the schoolmistress, who had carried 
 
184 
 
 1851 ; OK, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the bread and water back with her, placed it on one of the shelves, in her 
 most dignified manner, and, telling Miss Chutney that she was utterly 
 astounded at her bad, bad behaviour, begged to inform the young lady 
 that she would get nothing else in that establishment, until she had 
 partaken of the wholesome, though frugal meal that had been pro- 
 vided for her; adding, that if she went on in the way she was now 
 going, it would not be long ere she would jump to have a meal of good 
 white bread and water before retiring to rest. There was not a more 
 proud, dainty girl in the whole establishment, she regretted to say, 
 than Miss Chutney, nor one that left more orts on her plate. Miss 
 Wewitz had long thought she wanted a good lesson on this point, and 
 now she should have one that she would carry with her through life. 
 And then the schoolmistress proceeded to narrate to the young lady 
 how her dear, dear mother had once had occasion to punish her for 
 her daintiness ; for that, in her early days, boiled rice-pudding was 
 not good enough for her ; and how her dear mother had locked her 
 up in her bedroom, for three whole days, with the plate of boiled rice 
 pudding by her side ; at the end of which time she was glad enough 
 to eat up every scrap of it, and had really enjoyed it so much, that 
 now she verily believed she preferred that kind of pudding to any 
 other, and never partook of it without blessing her parent for the 
 wholesome lesson she had taught her. 
 
 Miss Chutney said not a word, but tossed her head haughtily, and 
 smiled, as she mentally contrasted the story with the schoolmistress’s 
 total abstinence from her favourite dish on their “ horrid rice-pudding 
 days.” 
 
 Miss Wewitz, finding that her moral lecture on the beauties of 
 boiled rice-pudding did not produce that solemn impression on the 
 young lady’s mind which she had been induced to expect, requested 
 to be informed whether Miss Chutney meant to partake of the repast 
 that had been provided for her, or not 1 
 
 Miss Wewitz paused for a reply, but Miss Chutney conde- 
 scended to make no answer, and proceeded with the crimping of the 
 lace round the edge of her apron, as if she had not even heard the 
 question. 
 
 Miss Wewitz smiled, as she bit her lips with suppressed anger, and, 
 bowing in her politest manner, said, perhaps Miss Chutney would wish 
 her to go down on her bended knees, and beg of her to partake of 
 some nourishment ; adding, that of course she was nobody in that 
 establishment — and there was not the least respect due to her — oh, 
 no ! to be sure not ! — she wasn’t even worthy of being answered, not 
 she — it wouldn’t make the slightest difference to her if Miss Chutney 
 was seriously to injure her health by her perverse conduct — no ! not 
 the slightest in the world ! — and here she simpered sarcastically, as if 
 the bare idea of her want of sympathy with one of her parlour- 
 boarders was an excellent joke. 
 
 The irony of the schoolmistress, however, was wholly lost upon 
 Miss Chutney ; for though Miss Wewitz continued simpering for 
 some few minutes, the young lady did not so much as turn her head. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 185 
 
 but went on measuring tbe border of her apron over her middle 
 finger. 
 
 Miss Wewitz could endure the nonchalance of Miss Chutney no 
 longer ; so, seizing her by the arm, she desired her to be off to bed 
 that moment ; and, as she dragged the young lady up from the in- 
 verted clothes-basket on which she was seated, she bade her take her 
 bread and water with her; for long before daylight she knew she 
 would he only too glad to have it, and feel thankful for it, too. 
 
 Miss Chutney walked as leisurely as she possibly could towards the 
 shelf on which the tray was placed, and had just raised it in her hand, 
 when the exasperated Wewitz seized her by the arm, and began 
 shaking her, saying, “ Do move, girl, as if you had some little life in 
 you, do /” In the warmth of her indignation, however, she agitated the 
 young lady so violently, that the contents of the tray — bread, plate, 
 glass, water and all — were dashed to the floor and deposited at her 
 feet, splashing the front breadths of Miss Wewitz’s black satin dress, 
 much to the annoyance of the schoolmistress, and the amusement 
 of the pupil. 
 
 As the pedagogue in petticoats stooped down to wipe the liquid 
 from the bottom of her skirt, she vowed all kinds of vengeance 
 against the delighted Chutney, and among other threats she declared 
 that, before she laid her head down on her pillow that night, she 
 would pen a letter to the young lady’s guardian, and desire him to 
 fetch her from the school immediately, or she would be sure to 
 destroy her hard-earned reputation. In this manner Miss Wewitz 
 continued to threaten and rail at Miss Chutney, as she followed her 
 down the stairs to her bedroom. 
 
 The young East Indian, however, said not a word in reply : all that 
 passed her lips was an occasional sarcastic simper; and though Miss 
 Wewitz begged to assure her, on leaving her bedroom, that she 
 would have no breakfast in that establishment on the morrow, pro- 
 vided the slice of bread that she had picked up and brought with 
 her down stairs remained uneaten, Miss Chutney merely bowed in 
 answer, for she was determined not to give way. She had said 
 at the beginning that she would not be the first to make it up, and 
 she would let the sour old thing see that she was no longer a child, to 
 be kept under lock and key, indeed. 
 
 When the enraged schoolmistress had quitted the apartment, slam- 
 ming the door after her, and Miss Chutney was left alone, she could 
 not help thinking how desola‘e and friendless she was, without a soul 
 near her to share or soothe her sorrows. As her head lay upon the 
 pillow, she thought how all her schoolfellows were with their friends at 
 home, enjoying themselves, while she was thousands of miles away from 
 every one that cared for her. The only kind word she had received all 
 that day was from a stranger, and if it hadn’t been for the sweetmeats 
 he had given her, she really didn’t know what would have h ppened to 
 her. All she did know was, she would have starved before she had 
 touched that horrid bread and water. Still, she could not help 
 thinking how odd it was that the French gentleman should trouble 
 
J 86 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 himself so much about her ! what could he see in her ? His whole 
 manner had been so strange, and he had seemed so anxious to make 
 her acquaintance from the very first ! Of course, she could tell very 
 well that all he had said about the piece of music he had lost was a 
 little white fib, just as an excuse to introduce himself to her. It 
 was very impudent of him, though, aud she ought to be very much 
 vexed with him for daring to take such a liberty with her, but — she 
 knew not how it was — she really couldn’t. 
 
 Then she wondered who he was. She had heard he was a French 
 Count, and he himself had told her he was single. He’d make a very 
 good husband, whoever had him ; for if he could be so good to one 
 whom he scarcely knew at all, what wouldn’t he do for one whom he 
 had sworn at the altar to “ love and cherish.” (Miss Chutney, and 
 the whole of the first class, had the marriage-service by heart, it being 
 their usual custom to pass the time in church by reading it during 
 the sermon.) 
 
 Thus the school-girl continued ruminating and ruminating upon 
 the more pleasant part of her day’s adventures, until she gradually 
 glided into sleep. 
 
 In the morning, the self-willed Miss Chutney woke as determined 
 as ever, and though the first thing that met her sight was the piece 
 of dry bread on the chair at her bedside, she chuckled triumphantly, 
 as she said, “ I wonder which of us will be tired out first?” Then, as 
 she once more turned over in her mind all the occurrences of the 
 previous evening, and remembered Miss Wewitz’s threat of send- 
 ing for her guardian, she grew red in the face, and bit her lips with 
 vexation, for he’d be sure to read her one of his long prosy lectures, 
 and write a solemn account of the whole affair to her papa, -by the 
 very next mail to India. The moment after this, however, she was 
 laughing the threat to scorn, and saying to herself, that old Wewitz 
 was too fond of parlour boarders to think of expelling one — and 
 especially one who remained at the school all the holidays, as she did. 
 
 All of a sudden it struck her that, just to let Wewitz see she 
 didn’t mind about being locked up, she’d dress herself that minute, 
 and be off up into the linen room, so that when the old thing got up, 
 she would find that she had gone up there of her own accord, and 
 then she’d be ready to bite her fingers off with vexation — which would 
 be such fun. 
 
 Accordingly, the young lady “ slipped on her things” as rapidly as 
 she could, and, having done so, crept stealthily up to her place of 
 confinement. Then it struck her that she would open the window, 
 and just let Wewitz know that she was already in the linen room, 
 and, what was more, that she wasn’t breaking her heart about it either, 
 by singing over that lovely — 
 
 “ Tyrant ! soon I’ll burst thy chains.” 
 
 To tell the truth, too, though Miss Chutney did not dare confess as 
 much to herself, and would doubtlessly have shrieked had any one 
 ventured to hint as much to her — the young lady had a secret wish 
 
MR. AND MRS. CCJRSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 187 
 
 to let the kind French gentleman know that she was still incarcerated 
 at the top of the house. 
 
 Miss Chutney had just got to “ chains,” and was inwardly congra- 
 tulating herself on the excellent quality of her lower notes that 
 morning, when the head of M. le Comte de Sanschemise, done up in 
 a Bandana silk neckerchief, bobbed suddenly out of the best bed- 
 room window. 
 
 The head of Miss Chutney bobbed as suddenly in ; and then she 
 went through the same course of timid doubts and fears as she had 
 indulged in on the preceding day. Again she felt satisfied that the 
 Count would fancy she had commenced singing only to attract his 
 attention; again she asked herself, for about the hundredth time, 
 “ What ever would he think of her?” and again her girlish reveries 
 were put to flight by the appearance of the fishing-rod, which the 
 Count used as the postal arrangement for “ dropping her a line.” 
 
 The billet that it now conveyed was, if possible, penned in a more 
 superlative strain than those of the preceding day, and Miss Chutney, 
 after having read it, her ears burning with her blushes the while, 
 scribbled a hasty reply with the pencil that accompanied it— thanking 
 the Count for his tender inquiries, saying she was afraid she was un- 
 worthy of the high eulogiums he was kind enough to heap upon her, 
 and informing him that she was undergoing a short term of solitary 
 confinement, and bread and water, for having been imprudent enough 
 to permit him to secrete himself in the music room during the 
 absence of her schoolmistress. 
 
 The reply had not been despatched many minutes, when the piscatorial 
 post brought backa second communication from the Count, and thistime 
 it bore substantial proofs of the Frenchman’s sympathy for the tender 
 prisoner, for attached to one of the hooks that dangled at the end of the 
 line was a petit pain, while hanging to another was a bunch of 
 grapes. The bread and fruit alone would have been sufficient to 
 make a deep and lasting impression on the very impressionable 
 Miss Chutney, even had they been unaccompanied by any verbal 
 expression of commiseration or attachment ; but when she found, on 
 breaking the roll in two, a letter secreted in the crumb, vowing ever- 
 lasting affection, and protesting that he would be her slave for life if 
 she would but fly with him to La belle France, her delight knew no 
 bounds. 
 
 Miss Chutney had only just finished perusing the proposal, when 
 she heard the sound of Miss Wewitz’s foot upon the stairs. Hastily 
 dashing the line out of the window, she ran to her accustomed seat 
 on the edge of the inverted clothes-basket, and, pushing the roll and 
 grapes and letter under her apron, sat there, waiting the coming of her 
 tyrant, as calm, and almost as lifeless, as a vegetarian. 
 
 Miss Wewitz was lost in astonishment to find Miss Chutney so 
 utterly hardened, as she termed it. However, she had written to her 
 guardian, and the tone of her letter was such, that she felt confi- 
 dently he would be with them the next day, so Miss Chutney 
 could do as she pleased ; from that moment Miss Wewitz washed 
 
188 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 her hands of her — though she could not help observing that, after 
 the unremitting attention she had paid to her morals, such conduct 
 was a most heart-rending return. With this pathetic sentiment she 
 closed the door, and, having turned the key, descended the stairs with 
 it in her pocket. 
 
 Miss Chutney could hardly contain herself for passion when 
 she found that the cross, spiteful old thing, as she termed Miss 
 Wewitz, had really sent for her guardian. She never thought she 
 would have carried matters to that length. She had half a mind to, 
 and it would just serve Miss Wewitz right if she did, accept the 
 French gentleman’s offer, and place herself under his protection. 
 “ Then," she added, exultingly, “ how nicely Miss Clever would be 
 caught in her own trap, when Miss Chutney’s guardian did come 
 down, and find that that young lady had eloped with a Frenchman 
 to the Continent. Where would her trumpery hard-earned reputation, 
 that she was always making such a fuss about, be then, she would 
 like to know? — for of course,” continued Miss Chutney to herself, 
 “ the news wouldn’t be very long in travelling to all the mothers’ 
 ears, who would be sure to take fright, and leave her without a pupil 
 in the house.” 
 
 “ Oh, wouldn’t it be a game !” she exclaimed, “ and I should so 
 like to do it, just to be revenged upon her; for if there’s one 
 thing I can bear less than another, it is for persons to show their 
 ill-temper, as she has been doing to me for these last two days. And 
 I’m sure that nice, good-tempered creature of a Count would behave 
 so differently to me. It’s quite evident, from all he says and does, 
 that he would go down on his knees to be allowed to gratify my 
 slightest wish ; and, after all his kindness, it really would seem quite 
 cruel to reject him. Besides,” she said to herself, “ he was just the 
 kind of man to take it seriously to heart, and perhaps commit some 
 rash act ; for it was evident that he was quite smitten with her — 
 though she was sure she couldn’t tell why; and if anything were to 
 occur to the poor man, she felt convinced she should end her days in 
 a madhouse.” 
 
 While Miss Chutney was ruminating after this fashion, the postal 
 fishing-rod again made its appearance, bearing a small slip of paper, 
 on which were printed the well-known epistolary initials — 
 
 E V S V P. 
 
 At the sight of the request for a reply, the young lady’s courage 
 failed her; and after some little reflection, she decided in her own 
 mind that the best course to adopt would be to put it to the 
 Count’s own good sense as to how it would be possible for her to quit 
 the house with him, when she was kept in that room all day under 
 lock and key. This, she said, would not be a positive refusal to the 
 poor man, but it would be a nice gentle way of breaking to him 
 what she felt he would take as a very severe disappointment. 
 
 Accordingly, having written as much, she threw the line out of the 
 window, and sat down once more to reflect on what had occurred. 
 
ME. AND MBS. CUKSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 i 89 
 
 An answer was quickly returned, entreating the young lady, in the 
 warmest possible language, to trust to the Frenchman’s honour and 
 ingenuity, promising, that if she would but faithfully follow his 
 directions, he would not only liberate her from her confinement on 
 the morrow, but ensure her boundless happiness for ever after. 
 
 Miss Chutney’s curiosity was piqued. However was it possible for 
 the Count to get her out of that room — much less the house — with 
 Wewitz’s eyes continually watching both him and her: and then she 
 ran over several of the best means of escape among heroines similarly 
 situated. She thought of secret doors and sliding panels ; but in that 
 unromantic linen-room she felt satisfied that charming pieces of 
 mechanism were hopeless : then she fixed her mind for a moment on 
 a rope ; but, on looking cautiously out of the window, she soon con- 
 vinced herself that even if she could get down one, it would be utterly 
 impossible for him to get one up such a height; next she turned her 
 attention to tying Wewitz’s clean sheets together, and descending 
 from the attic, as she had read of young ladies doing by means of 
 their scarves ; but, oh dear ! that would never suit her, and she would 
 much prefer a fire-escape, if there were such a thing handy. After 
 this, her thoughts took a higher flight, and she dwelt for a moment 
 on the delightful convenience of signet-rings, and of flinty-hearted 
 keepers mollified by pathetic appeals, together with pampered 
 menials, bribed by “ purses of gold but these were all equally hope- 
 less ; and as she saw no other mode of escape but through the door, 
 the windows, or the panels, and had exhausted every possible method 
 of making her exit by any such means, she felt satisfied that the 
 Count spoke without weighing the difficulties of the task that he 
 proposed. However, as it was certain that there was no chance of his 
 succeeding in such a project, why there could be no harm in just letting 
 the poor man have a try — besides, it would save her the unpleasant- 
 ness of telling him that she could not listen to his request. 
 
 Accordingly, after some little cogitation, Miss Chutney wrote in 
 pencil on the blank leaf of the Count’s note— 
 
 “ I will do as you direct;” 
 
 and hooking it on to the line, flung it from the window. 
 
 In less than five minutes there was another delivery by the pisca- 
 torial post, bringing instructions for the young lady as to how she 
 was to proceed. 
 
 For the present she was not to speak a word to a living creature, 
 but to feign sulkiness with everybody, and return no answer to any 
 question that might be put to her. Upon this the success of the 
 whole plan depended. 
 
 Moreover, it would aid the plot greatly if, when any one entered 
 her place of confinement, she appeared sitting with her face buried in 
 her hands, and her apron thrown over her head, as if in deep grief. 
 
 What could it all mean 1 
 
 She really began to feel half frightened. The instructions were so 
 very odd — to pretend to be in the sulks, and to hide her face ! 
 
190 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Where could be the good of that ? How could that get her out of 
 the room 1 She had tried the sulks ever since yesterday evening, and 
 she was not a bit nearer the other side of the door than when she was 
 first locked up, she was sure. However, as that was all the Count 
 required her to do, and she felt just in the humour to carry out that 
 part of the instructions to the letter — for she had declared from the 
 very beginning that she wouldn’t be the first to make advances, and 
 she wasn’t going either — why, she didn’t mind acting as the Count 
 desired, if it was only just to see what would come of it all. 
 
 Shortly after Miss Chutney had come to the above determination, 
 she heard the key turned in the door; and immediately, in compli- 
 ance with the Frenchman’s directions, she threw her black silk apron 
 over her head, and buried her face in her hands. 
 
 Miss Wewitz, as she saw the girl’s figure bent down, her head 
 almost resting on her knees, apparently overcome with sorrow, smiled 
 with satisfaction, regarding the assumed attitude as evidence of that 
 penitence which she was so anxious to bring about. 
 
 Finding that her presence was unheeded by her pupil, the school- 
 mistress gave one or two slight coughs, to apprise the young lady that 
 she was in the room, and fidgeted rather noisily about the “ presses,” 
 pretending she had come up to put out some linen. 
 
 Miss Wewitz, however, was too gratified with what she was pleased 
 to call a great alteration for the better, to think of interfering with 
 the natural workings of Miss Chutney’s better nature, as she termed 
 it; and accordingly stole out of the room again, satisfied that every- 
 thing was going on so well, that when she again visited her pupil, 
 she would find the piece of dry bread had been eaten, and the young 
 lady dissolved in tears of shame and repentance. 
 
 Immediately the schoolmistress had quitted the apartment, Miss 
 Chutney burst into as loud a titter as she felt it safe to give vent to 
 under the circumstances, and again began wondering whatever would 
 come of it all. 
 
 Then, to relieve her tedium and appease her hunger, came another 
 packet from the Count, filled with affection and “ goodies,” in the 
 shape of a slice of a German sausage, a petit pain, and a small dab of 
 mortar-like Pdte de Guimauve, accompanied by a tender epistle, in- 
 forming her that all was progressing most favourably ; that he and his 
 friends had come to terms with Miss Wewitz, and had consented to take 
 £20 as a small compensation for the inconvenience they would be put 
 to in leaving, and that they intended to quit the establishment early 
 the next morning : concluding by entreating her to be discreet, and 
 carry out to the letter the instructions he had given her. 
 
 The Pdte de Guimauve — to which Miss Chutney was particularly 
 partial — was a fresh force brought to bear against the heart and 
 stomach of the susceptible young lady ; and as she devoured the 
 sugared words, and sucked the sweetmeat, she had a twofold reason 
 for thinking the Count the kindest and most polite person 6he had 
 ever known. 
 
 Still, the notion of leaving on the morrow was far from being 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 191 
 
 agreeable to her. She wished the Count had made it a day or two^ 
 later. And yet, how stupid she was ; there was not the least chance 
 of her being able to get out of the house — so, of course, it would be all 
 the same to her ; — and, perhaps, after all, if would be better, as it would 
 put an end to a very silly transaction on her part : not that she 
 wished to break off her acquaintance with the Count, but the mis- 
 fortune was, she had not been formally introduced to him. And 
 people did make such a fuss if a girl even looked at a stranger. On, 
 that account alone she knew she never could be happy with him. 
 
 At this juncture, the key again sounded in the door, and again 
 Miss Chutney hastily threw her apron over her head, and hid her face 
 in her hands. 
 
 This time, the visitor was Mrs. Wewitz; for the old lady, hearing 
 that the dry bread still remained untouched, had grown alarmed at 
 the fancied stubbornness of the girl, and had come to see whether 
 she could not prevail upon her to comply with her daughter’s- 
 injunctions. 
 
 But Mrs. Wewitz had what is called an unfortunate way with her, 
 and although, as usual, she did everything for the best, she unluckily 
 dwelt so long and so forcibly on the coming of Miss Chutney’s 
 guardian, that the girl grew more sulky than ever, and maintained 
 a solemn silence, notwithstanding the old lady’s entreaties and threats; 
 so that, on her quitting the room, Miss Chutney, who before had felt 
 inclined to waver in the course she was pursuing with the French- 
 man, was now most anxious to embrace any opportunity that pre- 
 sented itself of avoiding an interview, which, as the time drew near, 
 she got positively to dread. 
 
 Thus matters progressed until dusk, and then came a letter from 
 the Count, informing her that on her retiring to rest that night, she 
 would find secreted between the mattresses of her bed the garb of a 
 Sister of Charity — (it would become her admirably, he said) — and 
 requesting that she would favour him with her own clothes in ex- 
 change for the others. He would be in the playground after dark, 
 and construe the extinguishing of her candle as a signal that she was 
 about to drop them from her window, when he would place himself 
 immediately below the balcony ready to receive them. 
 
 “Dear! dear!” exclaimed the anxious Miss Chutney, “how myste- 
 rious he is. What ever is he going to do! If it wasn’t for the dress 
 of the Sister of Charity, I’m sure I should never consent to do what 
 he asks me ; but everybody tells me I look well in black, and I do 
 think the costume of those dear good creatures is so interesting, and, 
 what’s more, so very becoming to persons of a dark complexion. 
 
 Then she thought it would be a good bit of fun, and how the other 
 girls in her class would laugh over it when they came to hear of it; 
 besides, she assured herself nobody could kill her for doing it : and 
 she seemed to derive no little consolation from the assurance. But 
 why was she dressed up in such an odd way ? that was what she 
 wanted to know ; and though Miss Chutney amused herself by framing 
 
192 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 many reasons for the masquerading - , none, upon reflection, seemed suffi- 
 cient to account for the strange proposal. 
 
 The remainder of the evening she passed in considerable suspense, 
 anxious for the arrival of Miss Wewitz to conduct her to her bed- 
 room — for she was longing to make her first appearance as a Sister of 
 Charity ; and to while away the time, she kept turning hack her 
 hair, and making a cap of a pocket-handkerchief, by way of trying- 
 how her new costume would suit her. 
 
 Nor did Miss Chutney utter one word to Miss Wewitz when that 
 lady unlocked the door, previous to escorting her to her bedchamber ; 
 for the girl had now made up her mind to quit the house, if possible, 
 before the coming of her guardian, and was desirous of strictly ful- 
 filling the instructions of the Count. 
 
 The schoolmistress, who was growing alarmed at what appeared to 
 her the extraordinary firmness of the young lady, but neverthe- 
 less, too proud to think for one moment of giving way to her, as 
 she descended the stairs did not forget to tell Miss Chutney that, 
 on the morrow, her guardian would take her under his care. 
 
 On being left alone, the first act of Miss Chutney was to lock the 
 door, and look between the mattresses for the promised dress, and, to 
 her great delight, there it was, rosary and all. She was not long in 
 exchanging her own for that of the “ chere sceur ,” and as she put on 
 each fresh portion of the costume, she stood for several minutes 
 before the cheval glass, examining the effect of it, and laughing to 
 herself at the novel appearance it gave her ; and when she had finally 
 arranged the cap and veil, she placed the candle on the ground, the 
 better to see herself from head to foot, remaining - no little time 
 in front of the glass, now kneeling down and crossing her hands upon 
 her bosom, and now telling her beads, with upturned eyes, with all 
 the affectation of excessive devotion. 
 
 Suddenly, as she heard the rain- drops pattering like shot against 
 the window-panes, she thought of the poor Count, whom she was 
 keeping out in the wet all the while she was admiring herself; 
 so, putting the extinguisher hastily on the candle, she seized the 
 clothes she had recently discarded, and making them into a bundle, 
 she opened the window as noiselessly as possible, and dropped them 
 into his arms. 
 
 She had no sooner closed the sash than she began to look with 
 considerable trepidation on what she had done, and proceeded to 
 divest herself of the disguise, lest Miss Wewitz should return and 
 discover all. Nor was it until she began to take off the clothes she 
 had so imprudently received in exchange for her own, that she thought 
 to inquire what she was to do with them on the morrow. To be 
 seen by any one but the Count in them, would be to “ let out” the 
 whole affair. “ What a great big silly she was !” 
 
 The exclamation had barely escaped her lips, when her fingers ran 
 against the sharp point of a pin inside the bosom of the dress, and 
 she discovered fastened there a three-cornered note. This was some 
 
MR. AND MRS. CORSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 193 
 
 little relief to her ; but in tlie dark, as she was, how was it possible 
 for her to know what was in it? It was just like her thoughtlessness 
 — why didn’t she examine the dress well before putting it on? — she 
 might have known the Count, after all the consideration he had 
 shown, would never have dreamt of leaving her in such a predica- 
 ment. And thus she went on talking to herself — reflecting and 
 imagining the future — now regretting her imprudence, and now view- 
 ing the coming adventure as a “good bit of fun” — then glorying 
 in the discomfiture of the schoolmistress when her flight was found 
 out — and then thinking over all the Count’s kindnesses to her, and 
 assuring herself of his extreme goodness, until sleep put an end to 
 her reveries. 
 
194 
 
 1851; OE, THE ADVENTUEES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 “ Luok, whar i’ th’ nuok o’ yonder tent 
 Yon crew are slyly smugglin’. 
 
 I warrant ye now thar gang are bent 
 To tek fwoak in by jugglin’ ; 
 
 Some cut -purse dow-for-nougbt, nae doubt, 
 
 That deevilments hev skill in, 
 
 An’ some’at com’ weel leaden out 
 May gang widout a shillin’.” 
 
 Bosley Fair, by J. Stagg. 
 
 The intimate friend and bosom companion of M. le Comte de Sans- 
 chemise was Adolphe Sheer, Peinteur et Philosophe, and a recent 
 addition to the small French colony that had located itself in the best 
 bed-room of Parthenon House. 
 
 Adolphe was, by profession, an artist in hair — ingeniously forming 
 weeping willows out of auburn tresses, and baskets of flowers out of 
 chesnut, or, indeed, any other kind of locks. His hairy nosegays, 
 he boasted, were the admiration of all who had seen them; and his 
 flaxen roses and raven lilies he prided himself upon being the perfec- 
 tion of imitative art. Still, the hairy art was merely an imitative 
 one, and the talented Sheek had a soul for nobler things. He had 
 occasionally soared as high as a fancy composition in hair, and had 
 executed an elaborate hairy marine piece, displaying a hairy sea and 
 a hairy ship in the distance, with a hairy cottage, thatched with hair, 
 in the foreground, and a small hairy pond in front of it, with two 
 hairy ducks swimming among a thicket of hairy weeds. 
 
 But, alas ! there was no encouragement for genius in hair, so the 
 magnanimous Adolphe had determined — in an artistical point of view 
 at least — to cut his hair, and devote himself to what he was pleased 
 to call the sister art. This consisted in taking portraits in black 
 paper by means of the “machine” — and adding the additional attrac- 
 tion of gold hair and whiskers, for a small extra charge. But Sheek, 
 in his heart, despised the means of living that prudence compelled him 
 to adopt — though he occasionally indulged in a full, or three-quarter 
 face, executed in crayon, water colours, or oil, whenever he was for- 
 tunate enough to obtain a sitter; and though he had already produced 
 several highly natural “ larder pieces,” in the shape of quartern loaves, 
 gammons of bacon, pots of porter, and wedges of double Glo’ster, 
 each having the same small mouse nibbling at the corner; and 
 though his moonlight pieces had been highly admired, especially the 
 reflection of the moon on the water, and the light in the cottage- 
 window beside the water-mill, still Sheek longed to signalize himself 
 in higher branches of the pictorial art, and was now devoting his 
 leisure to the completion of an historic production, that he hoped 
 might link his name with the great artists of the age. 
 
 At the time we write of, M. Adolphe was busily engaged upon au 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 195 
 
 elaborate allegory, commemorative of the cosmopolitan character of 
 the Great Exhibition. 
 
 In this great work of high art, Britannia, who is attended by the 
 four quarters of the globe, has thrown one of her boxing-gloves to the 
 ground, in token that she invites all nations to a friendly trial of skill ; 
 while France, in the garb of a Sister of Charity, is, in the same 
 friendly spirit, pointing with one hand to the retreat of the English 
 from the field of Waterloo, and, with the other, extracting the thorn 
 from the foot of the British Lion. 
 
 For the true perfecting of this grand, and, according to M. Sheet’s 
 friend, national work of art, the dress of the Charitable Sister had 
 been hired expressly from a masquerade warehouse, and the lay 
 figure, which the talented Adolphe used to guide him in the arrange- 
 ment of the drapery for his half-lengths, appropriately costumed for 
 the occasion. It was this dress that the Count had prevailed upon 
 his friend Adolphe to permit him to forward to Miss Chutney, as a 
 means of facilitating her escape the following day, on the understand- 
 ing that the painter should share with him any property that the girl 
 might be entitled to on her marriage. 
 
 At daybreak on the morning appointed for the Frenchmen’s de- 
 parture from Parthenon House, the Comte de Sanschemise and his 
 friend, Adolphe Sheek, were preparing for the perilous adventure 
 they were about to enter upon. Having assured themselves no one 
 was yet stirring in the house, they proceeded to dress the lay figure 
 of the artist in the apparel of .Miss: Chutney: and, the toilet of the 
 dummy being finished, the two Frenchmen crept stealthily up the 
 stairs without their shoes, carrying the wooden model between 
 them. 
 
 On reaching the linen room, they bent the legs of the huge Dutch 
 doll in such a manner, that it could be made to sit upon the edge of 
 the inverted clothes-basket; then, depressing the back, they threw 
 Miss Chutney’s black silk apron over the face of the model, and, 
 raising the arms, forced down the head until the face appeared to be 
 buried in the hands. 
 
 This done, they retired a few paces to observe the effect, and when 
 they perceived how closely it resembled the description the young- 
 lady had given of the attitude she had adopted, in compliance with 
 the Count’s request, it was as much as the pair of them could do to 
 repress their laughter. Then, to assure themselves that the deception 
 was as perfect as possible, they retired from the room, and, closing 
 the door -gently after them, retreated a few paces along the passage, 
 after which they returned, and entered the room suddenly, so as to 
 judge what effect the figure would be likely to produce upon a stranger, 
 on first coming into the apartment. 
 
 In suppressed whispers they both pronounced it to be “ Soopairb !” 
 and in the ardour of their admiration proceeded to embrace one 
 another. 
 
 They then noiselessly descended the stairs, and, returning to 
 their rooms, began to arrange their toilet against the coming 
 
 p 
 
196 
 
 1851; OK, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 of Miss Chutney — the Count being engaged in the gentlemanly 
 operation of taking his hair out of paper, while M. Sheek was busy 
 removing the cabbage-leaves, and brushing the lime-powder from his 
 whiskers, in which elegant occupations we will for the present leave 
 them. 
 
 Miss Chutney was awake long before daylight, anxious to learn the 
 contents of the note, and growing more and more timid as the time 
 for her departure drew near. Even before there was sufficient light 
 whereby to decipher the characters in the letter, she was standing by 
 the window with the note in her hand, poring over each word in the 
 dusk, and so making out the wishes of the Count, as it were, piece- 
 meal. In this manner she found out that, before Miss Wewitz was 
 stirring, she was to descend to the Frenchmen’s apartment in the dis- 
 guise of the Sister of Charity, when she would be apprised of all the 
 arrangements that had been made for her safety. 
 
 It was impossible now to retract — with her guardian coming in 
 a few hours. It would be a nice story for Miss Wewitz to tell him — 
 and a very pretty tale she would be sure to make out of it. So, come 
 what might, she had made up her mind to throw herself on the 
 Count’s protection. Accordingly, she proceeded to dress herself in the 
 disguise the Count had provided for her, her hand trembling the 
 while so violently, that she could scarcely fasten the clothes ; and 
 though she strove to make as little noise as possible, there was not a 
 brush nor a glass she touched without knocking it against some 
 neighbouring thing, and then was nearly ready to faint at the noise. 
 
 At last, however, her toilet was completed, and she opened the 
 door as gently as possible on her way to the Count. As the handle 
 still remained in her hand, she heard, to her great horror, the voice of 
 Miss Wewitz calling to her from her bedroom — for the schoolmistress, 
 knowing that it was the day for the Frenchmen’s departure, and expect- 
 ing that there would be a scene of some kind or other before she got 
 them clear out of the house, had herself been awake since daylight ; 
 and having caught repeated sounds of glasses jingling, and other 
 noises, proceeding from Miss Chutney’s room, had felt satisfied that 
 all was not right, and had been sitting up in her bed for some little 
 time, listening attentively to what was going on, when she was con- 
 vinced she heard the door of that young lady’s bedroom opened. 
 
 Miss Chutney no sooner heard the voice, than she felt it was no 
 time for her to hesitate ; so, descending the stairs as rapidly as she 
 could, she hurried to the Count, begging of him to hide her, for Miss 
 Wewitz was following her. 
 
 The Count did not take long to tell the terrified girl how well he 
 had arranged matters in the linen-room, and that she need be under no 
 fear of detection if she would but do as he requested her; and then 
 he explained that he intended her to take the place of the lay figure 
 of his talented friend, Adolphe, and to have her removed immediately 
 from the house in that character. All she had to do was, to keep 
 every limb perfectly rigid, and not to move a muscle of her body on 
 any account. 
 
ME. AND MBS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 197 
 
 The schoolmistress, who now grew considerably alarmed for the 
 safety of the wayward girl, hastily threw on her dressing-gown, and 
 hurried as quickly as possible to the linen-room. To confess the 
 truth, however, she had little hope of finding her in that place ; and 
 as she mounted the stairs, she panted with trepidation, lest she should 
 discover that the young lady had sought protection from that wretch 
 of a Frenchman. 
 
 It would be impossible to picture Miss We witz’s astonishment 
 and joy at perceiving, on opening the linen-room door, the figure of the 
 girl, bent down in the same attitude of penitence and shame as she 
 had observed her in on the preceding day ; she felt like a female Atlas, 
 with the weight of the world suddenly taken off her shoulders. Then, 
 noticing that the despised crust of dry bread was no longer there, (the 
 fact was, M. Adolphe Sheek had eaten it that morning, with the view 
 of keeping the wind off his stomach,) Miss Wewitz threw up her 
 hands with delight, to think all was progressing so favourably, and 
 again congratulated herself that, if the girl was only left to the work- 
 ings of her better nature, she would have her at her feet before 
 dinner-time. 
 
 With this consolatory reflection the schoolmistress closed the door, 
 and having locked it securely, placed the key in her pocket, exclaiming 
 to herself as she did so, “ Thank goodness, my lady, you’re all safe !” 
 
 Miss Wewitz descended the stairs with a much lighter step than she 
 had mounted them a few moments before, comforting herself with the 
 reflection, that precisely the same change was taking place in Miss 
 Chutney as had been wrought in her own nature, on the memorable 
 occasion of her refusing to eat that delicious boiled rice-pudding. 
 
 On reaching her bedroom, however, she thought, as she overheard 
 the Frenchmen on the move, that it would be advisable just to “ pop 
 down,” and assure herself that all was right; “for she could not rest easy,” 
 she said, “ until she had seen the last lock of their back hair.” Not- 
 withstanding she felt satisfied she had got her parlour boarder safe 
 under lock and key, there was no telling what tricks the creatures 
 might be at — they were such a set !” 
 
 Accordingly, having adjusted her cap and patted down her front 
 hair, she tripped down the stairs with one of her most amiable smiles 
 on her countenance, and putting her head in at the door, said in her 
 softest tone, and in a mixture of English and French, “ I am ready to 
 pay you voire argent, Monsieur le Comte, whenever you please.” (Miss 
 Wewitz was to be numbered among the many ladies who understand 
 the language perfectly, but cannot speak it.) 
 
 The Count and M. Adolphe had just finished “ posing” Miss Chut- 
 ney in the same attitude as the model, and had retired a few paces 
 back to admire her, as she stood with her hands crossed on her bosom, 
 and her head bent down, as if at her devotions, and were congra- 
 tulating one another on the perfect resemblance the young lady bore 
 to the “ lay” sister, when the head of the schoolmistress was discovered 
 peeping round the door. 
 
 Miss Chutney no sooner heard the voice of Miss Wewitz, than she 
 
 p 2 
 
198 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 felt all the rigidity she had been throwing into her limbs suddenly 
 leave her, and her legs become as limp and bendy as sugar-sticks in 
 hot weather ; and it was merely the conviction that they would all be 
 ruined if she moved a joint, that sustained her in her statuesque 
 position. 
 
 The Count ran to the door, and bowing in the face of the school- 
 mistress, so as to obstruct her view, thanked her for her polite infor- 
 mation, and excused himself for shutting her out, by saying that some 
 of his friends were not yet dressed. 
 
 Immediately the schoolmistress had left, Miss Chutney, who began 
 to feel in no wa} r equal to the task she had undertaken, entreated of 
 the Count to allow her to return to the linen-room. But this, of 
 course, was a proposition that the Frenchman, now that he had 
 obtained possession of the girl, felt in no way inclined to listen to ; 
 so, by dint of compliments on her charming appearance in her new 
 character, and protestations of the most fervent devotion, and assur- 
 ances of the unceasing happiness that awaited her in Paris, he at 
 length succeeded in calming the young lady’s perturbation. 
 
 Miss Chutney, however, had not much time to think over the con- 
 sequences of the step she was about to take, for scarcely had the 
 Count finished his exhortation and eulogium, when the servant an- 
 nounced that the cab was at the door, and the men were ready to carry 
 down the luggage. 
 
 It was then arranged that Adolphe should escort the rest of the 
 Frenchmen out of the house as soon as possible, so that the girl might 
 not be flurried by the presence of so many. And as soon as this 
 part of the operations had been executed, the Count, who had remained 
 continually by the side of the wavering girl, exhorting her to have 
 “courage” but for a few moments longer, quitted her for a few 
 minutes, in order to come to a settlement with Miss Wewitz. 
 
 He had scarcely left the room when the cabman and his companion, 
 in obedience to the instructions of M. Adolphe Slieek, stepped up 
 from the hall to remove the lay figure, with the greatest possible care, 
 to the cab. 
 
 On entering the apartment, the men were mightily taken with the 
 figure of the Sister of Charity, and declared to one another that 
 if they hadn’t been given to understand it was an artist’s model, they 
 should have taken it for a living woman. 
 
 For some little time they amused themselves by merely contem- 
 plating the model, and wondering what character it could be intended 
 to represent. The sombreness and peculiarity of the costume seemed 
 to take their fancy vastly. In a few minutes, as the novelty of the 
 impression began to wear away, they commenced handling the 
 rosary, lifting up the white apron, and, ultimately, the black crape 
 veil. 
 
 This was a severe trial for the nerves of Miss Chutney; but with 
 her teeth firmly set, and holding her breath, she remained with her 
 eyes upturned, and with every feature and limb as rigid as if they 
 were petrified. 
 
ME. AND MES. CUESTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 199 
 
 The men grew more pleased than ever with the life-like appear- 
 ance of the figure, and could not keep from laughing at the apparent 
 intensity of the model’s devotion. Presently, the cab-driver drew the 
 short clay pipe from under the band of his hat, and saying to his 
 companion, “ I say, Jem, here’s a lark !” thrust the end of it into the 
 corner of poor Miss Chutney’s mouth. 
 
 The girl, though ready to shriek with horror and faint with dis- 
 gust, still, by a violent effort, held the “ dodeen” between her lips. 
 The Count, she said to herself, would be sure to return directly, 
 and then she would be free from all further insult and per- 
 secution. 
 
 The friend of the cab-driver, determined not to be outdone by his 
 companion, and discovering on the hob a lump of the charcoal that 
 the Frenchmen had used to heat their bachelor’s kettle, seized it, and, 
 approaching the alarmed Miss Chutney, began tracing on her upper 
 lip a huge pair of black mustachios. 
 
 This drollery tickled the driver of the cab to such a degree, that, 
 spurred on by the comical appearance of the “ model,” he ran to the 
 grate, and having provided himself with another piece of the dingy 
 material, began, in his turn, to adorn the lady’s cheeks with an 
 equally enormous pair of whiskers. 
 
 The wretched Miss Chutney felt every minute that she must give 
 way under the accumulated insults she was enduring, and had it not 
 been for her reliance on the Count’s immediate return, she would have 
 startled her tormentors by taking to her heels ; but every minute she 
 consoled and sustained herself with the assurance, that the next mo- 
 ment would bring her protector to her relief. “ Oh !” she thought to 
 herself, as she felt the cabman charcoaling her eyebrows, “ if I had 
 only known half I should have to go through, I’m sure I should never 
 have dreamt of making such a silly of myself.” 
 
 The embellishment of the “ model’s” countenance being finished, 
 the cabman and his “ buck” retired a few paces to examine the effect 
 of their handiwork, and burst into a suppressed fit of laughter at the 
 extreme incongruity of the lady’s appearance — and certainly the 
 extraordinary hirsute character of Miss Chutney’s countenance at that 
 moment, embellished, as it was, with the most extravagant hairy 
 appendages, was sufficient to burst the waistcoat-strings of any gen- 
 tleman gifted with the slightest sense of the ridiculous. 
 
 The cabman and his companion were roused from their mirth by 
 the sound of footsteps on the stairs. In their fear of discovery, it 
 was the work of a moment for the driver to pull his wash-leather 
 from his pocket, and endeavour, by rubbing at Miss Chutney’s face, to 
 remove the black marks from it. This, however, had the effect of 
 distributing the charcoal evenly over the whole of the young lady’s 
 countenance, so that the operation served merely to transform her into 
 a negress. 
 
 But there was no time for the men to resort to more effectual means 
 of cleaning the face of the model, so, letting fall the black crape, they 
 began to prepare for the removal of the “ figure ” down stairs 3 and 
 
200 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 tlien Miss Chutney, to her indescribable horror, heard the men propose 
 that one should take the “old gal” by the head, and the other by the 
 feet. A dispute, however, arose as to the practicability of that mea- 
 sure, owing to the peculiar construction of the staircase, whereupon it 
 was suggested by the driver, that the best way perhaps, after all, 
 would be to have up the rope from the foot of the cab, and lower the 
 thing down out of the window ; and no sooner was this course agreed 
 upon, than the men retired together for the cord with which to put it 
 into execution. 
 
 Immediately the driver and his companion had quitted the apart- 
 ment, the terrified Chutney lifted up the long black robe of the Sister of 
 Charity, and scampered off as fast as her legs, under the circumstances, 
 could carry her. She had just reached the door, when the Count, 
 who was hurrying back to her with all possible speed, ran bump 
 against her, and, seizing her by the arm, exclaimed in as good English 
 as he was master of — 
 
 “ Mon petit chou! vot go you to do? Reste tranquille, je t’en 
 prie ! In von minoot you sail be mine for nevare !” 
 
 “Oh, if I could tell you all!” she cried,' falling into his arms ; “take 
 me away !” she whispered — “ take me away ! if you would not have 
 me die!” 
 
 “ Silence ! silence, mon ange ! von leetel minoot more, and you 
 sail be mine for nevare !” he said in her ear, as he lifted her in his 
 arms, and proceeded to carry her down the stairs. 
 
 In the passage, to the great discomfort of himself and the alarm of 
 the girl, stood Miss Wewitz beside the door, determined to see the 
 Frenchmen safe off the premises. Placing the girl carefully in the 
 corner of the hall, with her face turned towards the wall, he whispered 
 in her ear, “ Courage ! courage! rria souris f and then requested to 
 speak a word with the schoolmistress in the music-room, so that he 
 might there occupy her with some little matter, while he returned and 
 placed the trembling girl in the cab. 
 
 The men no sooner perceived that the figure was in the passage, 
 than they began arranging which was the best place to stow it in the 
 cab; whereupon the half-dead Chutney was doomed once more to 
 hear the driver and his companion discuss the most effectual plan of 
 removing her from the premises. 
 
 The cabman was for laying her at full length on the roof of his 
 vehicle, and lashing her down with the cord, so that, as he said, “ there 
 wouldn’t be no chance of the thing’s rolling off.” 
 
 The “ buck,” however, hinted that, in going over the stones, “some 
 of her j’ints might get broke, so he was for tying her up on the 
 board behind the cab ; but this proposal was quickly overruled by the 
 cabman, who observed that “ that there would never do, for them boys 
 would be sartin to get pelting the thing with stones and mud on the 
 road, and a pretty pickle it would be in by the time they got to town. 
 No ! no! he was for shoving the old gal right across the foot-board; 
 she could lay there very heasy under their feet; and where was the 
 hodds, if so be as her legs did stick out a little bit ; there wouldn’t 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 201 
 
 be no danger of their getting broke off, with them right under 
 his hi.” 
 
 The last proposition being considered quite unobjectionable by the 
 cabman’s companion, Miss Chutney heard the heavy boots of the men 
 moving across the passage towards the corner in which she stood. 
 She made up her mind to give a good shriek immediately the fellows 
 laid hands upon her again, and, indeed, had just got her mouth wide 
 open, ready to utter one of her most piercing, when, to her unbounded 
 delight, she caught the voice of the Count de Sanschemise at the end 
 of the passage, shouting — 
 
 “ JVe la toucliez pas ! Toosh it not ! toosh it not !” 
 
 Hurrying towards the girl, the Frenchman seized her in his arms 
 and carried her to the cab; — there he pretended to adjust the joints 
 of the imaginary figure, much to the delight of the cabmen, so that 
 it might be made to assume a sitting posture, and occupy the cushion 
 beside him in the interior of the vehicle. 
 
 He had but barely completed the pretended adjustment, when Miss 
 Wewitz emerged from the music-room, bearing the receipt in quit- 
 tance of all claims upon the Count de Sanschemise, which that gentle- 
 man, as a means of keeping her out of the way for a few minutes, 
 had requested her to write for him. 
 
 The Count hastened back to the schoolmistress, thanking her for 
 her kindness, raised his Spanish hat from his head, and then, making 
 her a profound bow, he saluted her with the greatest possible respect, 
 and jumped into the cab, with his leathern reticule of a portmanteau 
 in his hand. 
 
 In another minute the vehicle was whirling across Wimbledon 
 Common; the driver and his companion turning round on the “ box,” 
 as they dashed along, to make signs to the servants, who still loitered 
 about the gate, indicative of the novel character of their fare, and 
 folding their hands across their bosom, in imitation of the attitude of 
 the fancied model within. 
 
202 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 “ Them that’s fash’d wi’ nae bairns iver happy mun be, 
 
 For we’ve yen, and she’s maister o’ haith thee and me. 
 
 “ I can’t for the life o’ me get her to work, 
 
 Nor aw the lang Sunday to go near a kirk; 
 
 Nor frae week en’ to week en’ a chapter to read, 
 
 For the Bible ligs stoury abuin the duir-head. 
 
 “ She venee end ha’e crnmmel’d and writ her awn neame, 
 
 And Sunday and warday was teydey at heame: 
 
 Now to see her whol’d stockin’s, her brat, and her gown. 
 
 She’s a shem and a byzen to all the heale town. 
 
 “ O wad she be guided, and stick to her wheel, 
 
 There’s nane kens how fain 1 wad see her dui weel.” 
 
 “ O Wife,” by Anderson. 
 
 The house once cleared of the Frenchmen, Miss Wewitz’s first act 
 was to throw up all the windows of the best bed-room, amid an 
 infinity of lamentations as to the state of her property in that apart- 
 ment — and endless doubts as to the possibility of ever getting the 
 smell of that horrid tobacco-smoke out of the curtains, or restoring 
 the place to its wonted cleanliness and sweetness. 
 
 This done, she mounted the stairs towards the linen-room, congra- 
 tulating herself on having got rid of the fellows without something 
 dreadful occurring between them and Chutney, the bare thoughts of 
 which had prevented her having a wink of sleep for the last two 
 nights. 
 
 On entering the linen-room, there sat the figure in the same 
 dejected attitude as that in which Miss Wewitz had found it in the 
 morning. The schoolmistress began to grow alarmed at what she 
 imagined to be the extreme stubbornness of the girl ; and addressing 
 the figure in her most impressive manner, said — 
 
 “ I hope and trust, Miss, you have by this time been awakened to a 
 sense of the impropriety of your conduct.” 
 
 Miss Wewitz paused a moment or two for a reply, and obtaining 
 no answer, she continued, raising her voice — 
 
 “ I did hope, Miss Chutney, I repeat, that you had become sensible 
 of the shameful manner in which you have been behaving for the last 
 two days.” 
 
 Here she paused again. 
 
 “ But,” she continued, finding no notice taken of her observation 
 on the subject of Miss Chutney’s penitence, “ from your silence I am 
 led to believe that you still require some few hours more self-com- 
 munion, to bring you to a perfect consciousness of the wickedness of 
 your ways.” 
 
 Miss Wewitz made another pause in her discourse, believing that 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 263 
 
 the girl’s sulkiness could not possibly hold out much longer; and then 
 proceeded to inform her, that, in consideration of her attention to her 
 French last “ half,” if she chose to ask her pardon for all she had done, 
 she might leave her place of confinement, and go down stairs imme- 
 diately. 
 
 Still, to Miss Wewitz’s horror at what she could not but consider 
 as an instance of stubbornness unparalleled in the whole annals of 
 scholastic misdemeanours, not a syllable was spoken by way of reply 
 to her liberal offer. 
 
 “ 'What am I to think of you 1” she exclaimed, in the depth of her 
 indignation. “ Are you aware what will become of you, if you per- 
 sist in your present line of conduct ?” (Here she stopped once more.) 
 “ Are you aware, Miss,” she cried, in a loud voice, as she grew angry 
 at the continued inattention to all she said — “ that your behaviour is 
 most insulting to those whom it is your duty to respect i In all my 
 long experience, I never knew such wicked, wicked sulkiness on the 
 part of any of my pupils before. Well, Miss,” she added, as she 
 bowed sarcastically to the lay figure, “ all I have to say is, that as it 
 is not my place to play the suppliant to you, I must leave you until 
 such time as your guardian arrives, and then we shall see, perhaps, 
 whether his authority can make any impression on your stubborn 
 nature.” 
 
 With this dignified remonstrance, Miss Wewitz turned round to 
 leave the room ; and as she grasped the handle of the door, she 
 thought she would try one more appeal. 
 
 “ Slow, come, there’s a good thing,” she said, appealing tenderly to 
 the figure, “ do give over your sulks, and come down stairs with me, 
 like a dear.” 
 
 But finding that neither remonstrances, upbraidings, nor entreaties 
 produced the least effect upon the object of her discourse, she turned 
 haughtily upon her heel ami slammed the door after her, mentally 
 observing, as she descended the stairs, that she wouldn’t take it upon 
 herself to say what would be the end of that wicked, obstinate 
 thing. 
 
 It was not long after Miss Wewitz’s visit to the linen-room that a 
 loud ring at the gate-bell, making it sound half across the Common, 
 announced the arrival of Miss Chutney’s guardian. 
 
 Miss Wewitz received the gentleman with great joy, for she was 
 growing quite alarmed at the peculiar and unaccountable conduct of 
 the young lady, and wished to consult her “ friend” as to the best 
 means of dealing with her. 
 
 The schoolmistress was not long in detailing to her visitor all the 
 occurrences of the last two days, and concluded by informing him that 
 the young lady had partaken of no nourishment but a small piece of 
 dry bread during the entire forty-eight hours ; and that she would 
 really take it as a personal obligation if he would exert his influence 
 in bringing her to a right sense of her conduct. 
 
 The guardian, who was a shipping agent in a “ large way,” and 
 had a habit of talking of his ships on every possible opportunity, in 
 
204 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 such a manner, that, christened as they mostly were after private and 
 public individuals, it was often difficult to understand whether he was 
 alluding to a thing of flesh and blood, or merely wood and iron. 
 
 “ You astonish me, my dear madam,” he said, in as pompous a tone 
 as possible — for the gentleman was particularly anxious at all times 
 to produce an impression upon strangers — “ Miss Chutney’s conduct 
 reminds me forcibly of our ‘Maria of North Shields.”’ 
 
 “Indeed!” cried Miss Wewitz, judging from the name that the 
 gentleman alluded to some young lady-friend of his resident in that 
 quarter of the kingdom, and smiling blandly at the bare idea of the 
 chance of adding the said Maria to the list of her parlour-boarders. 
 
 “Yes,” returned the shipping-agent; “our ‘ Maria’ was as pretty 
 a little thing as ever you set eyes on ; but, you see, she was so queer 
 about the head, we couldn’t get her to steer the right course any 
 how.” 
 
 “Bless me!” exclaimed the astonished Miss Wewitz, “you don’t 
 say so.” 
 
 “ Yes,” continued the shipping-agent, leaning back in the easy- 
 chair, and swinging his seals round and round ; “ but that’s a very 
 common fault. Why, there was our ‘ Eliza,’ that’s being overhauled 
 now, she was so cranky, that I’m sure she wanted ballast enough for 
 six ; but then, you see, she was so long in the back, that she was 
 always a-missing her stays.” 
 
 “ Dear me ! — poor thing ! she found them a great support to her, I 
 dare say,” observed the ingenuous Miss Wewitz, fancying that the 
 said Eliza was none other than a daughter of her visitor, and a young 
 lady suffering under weakness of the spine. 
 
 “ But gentlemen in my way of business,” continued the shipbroker, 
 “ always expect these kind of casualties. N ow, only this last season, 
 there was my ‘ Saucy Jane,’ that was coming from Russia with as 
 much tallow and hides as she could carry, when, hang me, if she didn’t 
 go ashore at Portsmouth; and the captain didn’t do his duty to 
 her, and so she was abandoned there.” 
 
 “ Lord bless my heart, how shocking !” exclaimed the moral Miss 
 Wewitz ; “ but those seaport towns are dreadful places for all young 
 persons ; and maybe, sir, there was not that strict attention paid to 
 her in her early days, that is so necessary to future well-being.” 
 
 “ Oh, yes ; hut my Saucy Jane, you see, had every attention paid 
 to her that was requisite,” responded the pompous shipping agent. 
 “ She was splendidly victualled, and, what was more, she had her full 
 complement of hands.” 
 
 “ Her full complement of hands !” echoed the astounded school- 
 mistress. I suppose he must mean that she wasn’t deformed ; “but 
 maybe your poor Jane, sir, went astray through temptation; for, you 
 know, it is said we cannot serve two masters.” 
 
 “ Not serve two masters !” exclaimed the man of ships ; “ why, 
 I’ve several masters, and I know many that would jump to serve 
 them. But my time’s precious ; so if you’ll just let me step up to 
 
MK. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 205 
 
 this young lady, I’ll just give her a bit of a talking to, and see what 
 can be done with her.” 
 
 Miss Wewitz, who was too glad to put an end to a conversation 
 that was far from interesting to her, owing to the apparent oddity of 
 the characters to which it referred, rose from her chair, and request- 
 ing the gentleman to follow her, proceeded to conduct him up the 
 stairs to the linen- room. 
 
 The schoolmistress held back the door as she pointed to the figure 
 of the young lady, with her face still buried in her hands, and 
 whispered in the ear of the gentleman, “ that she had been in the 
 same attitude a good part of the previous day, and the whole of that 
 morning.” 
 
 The shipping agent advanced pompously into the room, and, as he 
 stood in the centre of the small apartment, he addressed himself to 
 the figure, saying-— 
 
 “ I have been requested to speak to you, in the name of my old 
 friend, your father, on the perverseness of your late conduct to your 
 preceptress, Miss Wewitz, and I have now to command you, in the 
 name of your parents, to leave your present position, and follow me 
 and your schoolmistress down stairs.” 
 
 To the ineffable astonishment of the guardian, not a limb of the 
 form before him moved. 
 
 “Do you hear, miss!” he exclaimed, stamping his foot on the 
 boards, as if to give additional force and authority to his commands, — 
 “do you hear me, I say! Get up this minute, when I command 
 you !” 
 
 The semi-nautical gentleman was so unused to this utter disregard 
 of his orders, that when he saw not the least effort made to stir, even 
 at the end of his second appeal, he stood, as it were, dumbfoundered 
 for a moment, at the determination of the fancied school-girl. 
 
 Then he shouted sharply, and in a tone of extreme anger, “ Miss 
 Chutney, I say !— Miss Chutney ! — do you mean to rise from your 
 present position, or do you wish me to degrade you so far as to force 
 you to do so 1 ” 
 
 Still no movement was made; whereupon the impatient guardian, 
 unable to brook the slight any longer, seized the figure roughly by 
 the arm, and began shaking it violently. 
 
 In the act of so doing, the hands were forced down, and the black 
 silk apron fell from before the face, revealing the wooden features of 
 the artist’s model. 
 
 The schoolmistress no sooner discovered the trick that had been 
 played, and thought of the pains she had taken to expose her misfor- 
 tune to the young lady’s guardian, than she uttered a piercing shriek, 
 and swooned into the arms of the shipping agent. 
 
 “ D n it, madam !” cried the city gentleman, who had but little 
 
 belief in hysterics, fainting fits, or, indeed, any other of the feminine 
 arts of producing an impression, “ this will never do and seizing 
 the glass of water that had been originally placed there, with the 
 
•206 1851 ; or, the adventures of 
 
 “bread, for the imprisoned Chutney, he dashed the whole contents into 
 the lady’s face. 
 
 Miss Wewitz started up suddenly, and shaking the water from her 
 hair, till the sprinkles flew about as from a twirling mop, she hurried 
 down the stairs, shrieking, in her shrillest voice, “ She’s gone ! she’s 
 gone! she’s gone!” 
 
 In a minute the whole establishment were in the hall — staring in 
 mute astonishment at one another — and endeavouring to pacify the 
 frantic Wewitz. 
 
 No sooner did the schoolmistress set eyes upon her respected 
 mother, than she rushed madly to her, and told her that she had been 
 the ruin of her, and that if it hadn't been for her, Miss Chutney would 
 still have been in the house: this so affected the elder Wewitz, 
 that she began, in her turn, to tear her hair ; but, unfortunately, each 
 time she clasped her head, as if distracted, the front of her wig was 
 seen to move gradually round, until the natural parting stood right 
 over one ear, while the top-knot was seen projecting above the 
 other. 
 
 The schoolmistress, who, notwithstanding the intensity of her 
 agony, observed the eyes of the shipping agent fixed upon the wig of 
 her respected mother, ordered her parent to retire to her room imme- 
 diately, and then endeavoured to apologize as best she could, for the 
 disappearance of his ward, to the shipping agent. 
 
 That gentleman was not to be appeased by any such means, how- 
 ever, and left the house, vowing that he would commence an action 
 at law against her immediately for damages, and publish the transac- 
 tion to the whole world. 
 
 What poor Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys, their son and daughter, had 
 been doing all this while, must be reserved for the next chapter. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 207 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 “ And is it tliee, my Johby lad — 
 
 And safe return’d frae war ? 
 
 Thou’rt dearer to thy mother’s heart 
 Sin’ thou hast been sae far. 
 
 But tell me aw that’s happen’d thee, 
 
 The neet is wearing fast ; 
 
 There’s nought I like sae weel to hear, 
 
 As dangers that are past.” 
 
 The Sailor Lad’s Return. 
 
 I 
 
 We must now return to our poor lost muttons, “ Mr. and Mrs. Sand- 
 boys, their son and daughter.” 
 
 The journey of Master Jobby to Wimbledon and back was suffi- 
 ciently long to try the patience of poor Mrs. Cursty. Though the 
 youth was fleet of foot, the “ busses” on the road were unluckily on 
 the most amicable terms, and being unopposed, the “Celerities” 
 drawled along at little better than hearse-pace, as if they belonged to 
 the “ Mors omnibus” species, and had no great inclination to “ look 
 alive .” 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys, after having been dragged by the authorities from 
 the presence of the magistrate, at the commencement of an oration, 
 in which she was about to tell his Worship a “ bit of her miud,” and 
 torn in the outer office from the coat-tails of her beloved Cursty, 
 passed the time — when her paroxysm of conjugal sympathy had in a 
 measure subsided — by inquiring of such of the officers as she could 
 seduce into conversation, what wretched fate awaited the ill-starred 
 Christopher, in the event of Jobby not arriving in time with the 
 expected witnesses to character. When the lady was informed, to her 
 indescribable horror, that the police van, under such circumstances, 
 would remove Mr, Sandboys that evening to the nearest prison, she 
 drew a vivid but melancholy picture in ideal black-lead upon ima- 
 ginary paper, of the partner of her bosom ushered across the flag- 
 stones, between files of giggling unsympathetic boys, to become 
 an inside passenger in that dismal-looking, mulberry-coloured ’bus, 
 which runs daily between the Police Offices and the Houses of Correc- 
 tion — “'nothing all the way.” And when Mrs. Cursty learnt, more- 
 over, in auswer to her numerous queries as to the treatment of the 
 inmates of the Metropolitan Prisons, that there was a special costume 
 and coiffure set aside for such persons, and to which every one, on 
 conviction, was made to conform, she commenced executing a series 
 of mental cartoons in unsubstantial crayons, portraying her lord and 
 master with his hair cropped as short as the plush of a footman’s 
 bree — ahem ! — that is to say, gentle reader, trouserlets, picturing 
 him done up in pepper and salt, and looking like a representation in 
 Scotch granite of one of the very lowest of the “ lower orders.” Then, 
 as the scenes of her visionary diorama glided dreamily along, she 
 
208 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 beheld the phantasm of the wretched man, whom she had taken for 
 better or worse, at one moment busily engaged in the arduous process 
 of mounting a spectral treadmill, or “ everlasting staircase,” and now 
 reduced to the not particularly honourable nor lively occupation of 
 picking phantom oakum — for as the authorities described the manners 
 and customs of prison life to Mrs. Cursty, there popped up imme- 
 diately before the eyes of the excited lady an air-drawn picture of 
 each discreditable scene, with a phantasmagoric Mr. Sandboys figuring 
 prominently in the foreground. 
 
 The long hand of the official clock moved on as slow and uncon- 
 cerned as a government clerk • but in the eyes of the anxious Mrs. 
 Sandboys it seemed to be spinning round like the index to a pieman’s 
 gaming-dial ; Time, to her, appeared to have parted with his scythe 
 for a reaping machine, and to be mowing down the miniates as if they 
 were incipient bristles on a chin undergoing “ a clean shave for a half- 
 penny.” It wanted bait a shoi't time to the appointed hour for the 
 arrival of the dreaded van ; and Mrs. Sandboys, with the weeping 
 Elcy at her side, sat trembling in her Adelaides, and experiencing at 
 each fresh opening of the door the same breathless and “ sinking” 
 sensation as is peculiar to steamboats on pitching deep down into the 
 trough of the sea. To her ineffable relief, however, the red-faced 
 Jobby at length darted into the office, cari’ying the reply from Par- 
 thenon House in his hand. The boy was unable to speak for the 
 speed he had made (for he believed the letter he boi’e would be suffi- 
 cient to gain his father’s liberty), and stood panting — now wiping his 
 forehead, and now, to cool himself, tearing open the collar of his 
 shirt. 
 
 His mother, in her anxiety, had not sufficient patience to wait till 
 the boy had breath to tell the issue of his journey, but snatching the 
 letter from his hand, tore it eagerly open. She had, however, no sooner 
 run her eyes over its contents, than she uttered a faint cry, and fell back 
 against the wall. Jobby aaad Elcy were instantly at their mother’s 
 side, endeavoaaring to comfort hea’, and seeking to know what fresh 
 catastrophe had befallen them • and when Jobby learnt that Mrs. 
 Wewitz had declined vouching for the respectability of his father’, the 
 effect of the news upon the lad, who had made certain that all was right, 
 was almost painful to contemplate. For a moment, he turned pale as 
 marble, and stood as if half incredrrlous of what he heard ; then the 
 blood crimsoned his face, and the tears filled his eyes, as he fell on 
 his another’s neck, and sobbed like a child with her'. Elcy, however, 
 seemed to gain new courage fr’om their combined distress, and as she 
 loosened the strings of her mother’s bonnet, and entr’eated Jobby, in 
 a whisper, to r’emember where he was, telling him all the people wei’e 
 looking at him, she suddenly recollected Mrs. Fokesell, who she 
 felt sure would willingly come and speak for her father 1 . As the 
 thought flashed across her mind, she firmed hastily to the clock, and 
 then, bending over her mother’, told her in a low voice to be of good 
 heart, for she still saw a way of obtaining her father’s liberation. 
 Mrs. Sandboys no sooner caught the words, and learnt from Elcy the 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 209 
 
 course she meant to pursue, than she became as confident as the girl 
 of success, and bidding her take a cab, she told her that there might 
 be yet time, if she departed with all possible speed. 
 
 Kiev had forestalled her mother’s injunctions, and before Mrs. 
 Sandboys had finished what she had to say on the subject, had quitted 
 the office, and was hastening along on her way to' Craven-street. 
 Winged by her anxiety, she was but a few minutes in reaching their 
 former residence ; but there, alas ! a new disappointment awaited her. 
 
 The partner of the hand and lodging-house of Mrs. Fokesell had 
 suddenly returned from a long voyage, and after having passed a week 
 in a state of almost helpless intoxication, and been deprived of his 
 boots on the previous day by his superior moiety, with a view to pre- 
 vent the possibility of his leaving the premises for more drink, and so 
 reducing him to a state of sufficient sobriety to accompany her to the 
 Great Exhibition, the sailor and his wife had left the house early that 
 morning for the World’s Show, intent upon making a good long 
 day of it. 
 
 The maid of all work — and something more — had just been called 
 away from the week’s washing, in which she was busily engaged, to 
 brush' the highlows of the Baron de Boltzoff, who occupied the draw- 
 ing rooms, and had been obliged to throw them aside to giye the 
 newsboy the Times — which she was in the act of doing when Major 
 Oldschool, in the parlours, desired her to bring up the tea-things ; and 
 no sooner had she filled the urn, than Mrs. Quinine, in the second 
 floor, “touched her bell” to know whether she had got the hare down 
 yet for her dinner ; and while the maid was making up her fire for 
 roasting it, down popped the medical student from the back attic 
 with a request that she would just run up the street and get him 
 half-an-ounce of “ bird’s-eye,” for which she was about to start when 
 Elcy’s double-knock “came to the door.” 
 
 The girl, who had hurried up to answer the summons, and still held 
 the knob of the street-door in her dirty hand covered with her apron, 
 had no sooner informed the young lady of the absence of Mrs. 
 Fokesell, than Elcy, who had borne up bravely against the previous 
 misfortunes, suddenly lost all hope and courage, so that when she 
 heard that there was no probability of the landlady returning home 
 till late that evening, she could control her feelings no longer, and 
 the pent-up tears burst from her eyes with double anguish. 
 
 The maid, who had always been partial to Miss Elcy, and had taken 
 a liking to her from the first, when she found that the young lady, 
 “ though she were a real lady bred and borned,” was not above think- 
 ing of how she could save a poor girl’s legs, was moved not a little 
 by the sight of Miss Sandboys’ distress — and declared, as she led the 
 staggering girl into the passage, and helped her to the hall chair, that 
 she “ couldn’t abear to see her take on so.” 
 
 But Elcy’s misery did not admit of consolation. Her last chance 
 of saving her father from prison had vanished ; and now that the hope 
 which had sustained her had gone, her grief knew no bounds — though 
 she strove with all a woman’s pride to hide her sorrow from strangers, 
 
 Q 2 
 
210 
 
 1B51 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 and would willingly have left the house for fear of causing a “ scene” 
 in such a place, she had no power to move a limb ; and do what she 
 would, there was no checking the sobs that rose, despite her every 
 effort, louder and louder, as she thought of the utter friendlessness of 
 them all. 
 
 In a few minutes the sound of Elcy’s continued sobbings attracted 
 the attention of Major Oldschool, who was waiting in the “ parlours” 
 rather impatiently for his tea, and he popped his head out of the door 
 as he half opened it, partly to learn what was the matter in the hall, 
 and partly to see about the cup that cheers, but not, &c. The sight 
 of “ the British female in distress” was of course sufficient to excite a 
 lively interest in the bosom of the gallant soldier. “ The white flag 
 hoisted in the cheek of beauty,” as the gentleman engaged for “ general 
 utility” on the stage metaphorically expresses it, when done up in full 
 regimentals, was always the signal for a truce with Major Oldschool ; 
 and though but the moment before he had felt ready to burst out like 
 a bombshell for the want of his Twankay, he no sooner caught sight 
 of the young lady in tears, than he became — as Mr. Braham sings — 
 “ mild as the moonbeams” — and almost as sentimental into the 
 bargain. 
 
 “ Ods ! grapeshot and canister !” of course the Major should have 
 cried, to have kept up the character of the veteran ; but like the 
 generality of soldiers off the stage, he gave vent to no such military 
 exclamation, and was about to advance towards the young lady, when 
 Mrs. Coddle, his female Mentor, and tor-mentor too, detained him by 
 the skirt of his dressing-gown, informing him that his behaviour was 
 “ exceeding onpolite,” and begging to know what was the use of bells 
 in a house if he was to go dancing after the servants in that there way 
 — and observing, moreover, that one would imagine he had never been 
 accustomed to genteel society in all his life. 
 
 As the unceremonious and excited Major struggled to get away 
 
 from the clutches of his punctilious housekeeper, he d d her and 
 
 all her genteel society, and then with a sudden jerk that made the 
 stitches of his duffel skirts crack again, freed himself from the 
 grasp of the mistress of the ceremonies of his front parlour, and 
 hobbled towards the weeping girl. 
 
 Elcy, on being patted consolingly on the shoulder, looked up for a 
 minute, and the Major no sooner recognised the features of the young- 
 lady who had so recently been an inmate of Mrs. Folcesell’s establish- 
 ment, than he took her by the hand, and saying that was no place for 
 her, bade her step into his room and let him know all about what had 
 happened. Then, as he raised the hesitating girl from her seat, and 
 led her along the passage, he said, comfortingly — “ There — there : you 
 need have no foolish ceremony with me ; for, do you know, I find, on 
 talking with Mrs. Fokesell, that your papa is the neighbour of my old 
 East Indian friend, Colonel Benson. Why, I’ve heard the colonel 
 talk by the hour of old Cursty Sandboys, and all his family, till 
 I’ve known you evei'y one without seeing you, as well as if I’d 
 been bred and born in Buttermere, you’re Elcy Sandboys, I’m 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 211 
 
 certain : you’re the little girl that used to be so fond of pet squir- 
 rels and doves, — oh ! yes, I know all about you : and there’s that 
 hairbrained young brother of yours, Master Johby : and Mrs. Sand- 
 boys, that cleanly and tidy mother of your own, whom Colonel 
 Beuson gave away to your father at Lan-something-or-other Green 
 Church, — ch ? There, you needn’t fidget with me ! You see I know 
 all about the whole of you : and how ever I could have been so 
 foolish as not to have guessed when I first heard your name that 
 you were the Colonel’s old friends, I can’t say. I’ve been puzzling 
 my head about it ever since Mrs. Folkesell told me where you came 
 from. But, you see, London and Buttermere are so wide apart, that I 
 never should have dreamt of your being the same people, if I hadn’t 
 learnt as much the day after you had gone.” 
 
 Then, as the Major saw the girl half rise from her seat, as if she 
 wished to depart, he exclaimed, in as tender a tone as he could 
 manage, “ Come ! come ! what are you fidgeting about there 1 Come, 
 tell me now, where’s your father and mother? I quite long to shake 
 them both by the hand. But what’s all this fretting about, my little 
 one, eh ? Come, now ; make a friend of me ! Have some of those big- 
 
 whiskered foreign fellows been insulting you in the street. D n 
 
 ’em, I only wish I could have caught them at it, I’d have let them 
 feel the tip of my wooden leg, I warrant them. Come, tell me about 
 it, like a good girl j for if it were only for Colonel Benson’s sake, you’d 
 always find a friend in me.” 
 
 The kindness and the friendship of the Major came so unexpectedly 
 upon the heartbroken girl, that she could scarcely speak for very joy. 
 The change from utter hopelessness to assurance of assistance had 
 been so sudden, too, and the transition from one intense emotion to 
 another of a precisely opposite character so unprepared, that the con- 
 flict of feeling was too much for Elcy. The tears now flooded her 
 eyes with exceeding happiness, while her sobs were changed to an 
 hysteric laugh, till at length it became impossible for her to repress 
 her feelings any longer, and the “ scene,” whose occurrence she had 
 so much di'eaded before strangers, ultimately came to pass. 
 
 The Major, unused to such events, no sooner saw the unconscious 
 girl fall heavily back in the chair, and heard her shriek one minute, 
 as if with intense agony, and laugh the next, as if convulsed with the 
 wildest mirth, than believing she had become suddenly crazed, he 
 rang every bell he could lay hands upon, and swore at his old 
 housekeeper in a manner, as she said, that she had never been accus- 
 tomed to in all her life afore, having lived only in the first of families — 
 and which, in the vivid language of Mrs. Coddle, made her blood run 
 quite cold down her back, as if some one was emptying buckets and 
 buckets of spring water over her head. 
 
 At length, by the aid of cold water, and sal-volatile, and vinegar, 
 and burnt feathers, and hartshorn, and all the other approved methods 
 of female revivification, the young lady was restored to consciousness, 
 and in a few minutes afterwards was able to communicate to the 
 open-hearted Major the many troubles of herself and family. 
 
212 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 The old soldier was all excitement when he heard that the intimate 
 acquaintance and early companion of one of his oldest friends was 
 detained in custody, and about to be removed to the House of Correc- 
 tion, for the want of some one to vouch that he was not the common 
 pickpocket he had been mistaken for ; and the Major fumed and 
 swore at his old housekeeper worse than ever when she whispered 
 in his ear, while helping him on with his coat, that he had much 
 better stop at home and take his tea, than trouble his head about 
 other people’s affairs — exciting hisself in the way he was a-doing 
 about parties he had never even so much as spoken to. She could see 
 plain enough what it would all end in ; — he’d go and overheat hisself, 
 and catch cold on top of it : and then, if it only struck inn’ards, who 
 would have to nuss and take care on him, she would like to know ! 
 
 Though the Major called the dame “a suspicious old fool,” and kept 
 abusing her all the while she was fastening the hooks and eyes of his 
 military surtout, she continued to give vent to her feelings, and 
 begged to remind him that it would be no fault of hern if he went 
 and got his blood chilled, and had the cold lay in his bones to the end 
 of his days. Nor would she let him quit the house until she had 
 placed the cork sock in his shoe, and stowed away his comforter 
 in the crown of his hat, saying, that there was no telling how late he 
 might be kept on such a herrand. And as she accompanied him to 
 the street-door, she drew her little bag of camphor from her bosom, 
 and slipping it into his hand, bade him keep it about him ; for with 
 that in his pocket, there was no chance of his ketching any of the 
 nasty fevers that was always flying about in such low places. 
 
 The Major, impatient as he was, could hardly refrain from laughing 
 at Mistress Coddle’s extreme care ; and as they hurried up the street, 
 he dilated on the medicinal and domestic virtues of his housekeeper — 
 half by way of apology for the familiarity of her manner, and half as 
 the means of diverting or alleviating the distress of his young 
 companion. 
 
 But poor Elcy paid little attention to' what was said ; she was too 
 much alarmed, lest they should reach the office when it was too late 
 to save her father from being consigned to prison, and responding 
 Yes and No, smiled mechanically at the Major’s remarks, without 
 understanding one word of what he was telling her. As the old 
 East Indian warmed in his description of the valuable services of his 
 housekeeper, he occasionally paused on the way, standing still, much 
 to Elcy’s horror, to give her a more vivid idea of the doings of his 
 female factotum. Then the anxious girl would strive, by every 
 gentle art, to lead him on, and when she found she could stir him 
 by no indirect means, she would timidly remind the Major that they 
 had little time to spare ; then away they would hurry again — the 
 Major’s wooden leg sounding on the pavement, as they went, like a 
 cooper’s hammer at an empty cask. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 913 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 “ True friendship leyfe’s deleyte still pruives, 
 
 Nor ever flings mankeyn’ to woe, 
 
 The gud whea still their brethren luives 
 What leads to virtue ay will shew. 
 
 “ True friendship that can neer cause streyfe, 
 
 But e’en keep frae distress and pain, 
 
 An’ shew what bliss it gie’s thro’ leyfe 
 In every bwosom still s’ud reign.” 
 
 “ To Friendship," by Anderson. 
 
 In less than an hour after the incident above recorded, Major Old- 
 school was seated in the parlour, at the head of the table, entertaining 
 “ Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys, their son and daughter,” to a “ quiet cup of 
 tea while Mrs. Coddle kept continually fidgeting in and out of the 
 room — bobbing in now with a plate of muffins — and now with a pot 
 of marmalade ; and each time she did so, whispering in the Major’s 
 ear, as she placed “ the delicacy” on the table, some fresh instructions 
 as to the mode of conducting the ceremonies on such important occa- 
 sions. At one time she would nudge his elbow, as she leant over the 
 table, and say, aside, to him, “ There you are again draining the tea- 
 pot down to the very dregs !” and at another, she would exclaim, in 
 an under-tone, “ What ever are you about, filling up the cups without 
 emptying the slops !” — until the poor Major grew so confused as to 
 the formalities of the tea-table, that he emptied the entire contents of 
 the cream jug into the slop-basin ; and in his anxiety to hand the 
 tea-cake to Mrs. Sandboys, and prevail upon her to take “just one small 
 piece more,” left the tap of the urn running, and was not aware of his 
 neglect until Cursty suddenly jumped up from his chair, startled by a 
 stream of boiling-hot pouring on to his knees. 
 
 The Sandboys, however, were all too well pleased with their recent 
 good fortune to do other than laugh at the little mishaps of the tea- 
 table ; and Mr. Sandboys himself had been so often in hot water of 
 late, that after the first smart of that from the urn, he coidd afford to 
 chuckle over the accident almost as heartily as his son Jobby, who no 
 sooner saw his father start up, and wildly drag the front of his 
 ti’ousers from his knee, than guessing what had happened, the lad was 
 seized with a comic convulsion while in the act of drinking his fourth 
 cup, and spurted the entire contents of it over the clean cap of 
 Mrs. Coddle as she rushed frantically to the urn to stay the scalding 
 torrent that was pouring from the tap. 
 
 When the tea-things had been removed, and the party had settled 
 themselves down for a friendly chat, Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys recounted 
 to the Major all the adventures they had gone through since their depar- 
 ture from Buttermere ; and the Major, in his turn, when he had sym- 
 pathized and laughed with them at their many troubles, ran over the 
 several feats of arms performed by himself and their mutual friend^ 
 
214 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the Colonel, in India. He told them how they had gouged a diamond 
 worth several lacs of rupees out of the eye of one of the idols they 
 had taken ; — and the Sandboys, on the other hand, informed him how 
 they had been defrauded of their season ticket for the Great Exhibition 
 by a scoundrelly Frenchman styling himself the Count de Sangshimmy. 
 And thus they continued, each narrating to the other the several scenes 
 in which they had figured as principal actors, till Mr. Sandboys, in 
 summing up the long list of mishaps he had experienced in his endea- 
 vours to get a sight of the contents of the Great Exhibition, was 
 irresistibly led to the conclusion that the whole series of events was 
 the work of a stony-hearted Fate, and that it formed part of the 
 records of Destiny, as kept by the Registrar-General of Calamities-to- 
 come, that neither he nor any member of his family should ever set 
 foot in the interior of the Crystal Palace. He began to regard himself 
 as the hero in some Greek tragedy, which he had a faint remembrance 
 of reading in his college days at St. Bees. Accordingly, he commu- 
 nicated to his dear Aggy the resolution which the recapitulation of his 
 many trials had induced in his mind — namely, that it was sheer pig- 
 headedness on their part to attempt to swim against the current of 
 events, or to play the Canute of 1851, and seek to drive back the tide 
 in their affairs. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys did not require much persuasion to bring her to the 
 same opinion. She was sick and tired of t’wretched place, she said, 
 and would gladly send, “t’first thing” on t’morrow to Mrs. Wewitz 
 for their boxes, so that they might start for Cocbermouth by that 
 evening’s train. Major Oldschool did all he could to laugh the 
 Cumberland couple out of their fatalistic fancies, but his gibes and 
 jests were of no avail. Mr. Sandboys assured him he was as im- 
 moveable as the Great Pyramid, and that Archimedes himself, even 
 with his huge lever and the required fulcrum, would find that some- 
 thing more than a straw was needed to stir him. And thus the 
 evening passed, the Major striving by every means to induce them 
 to prolong their visit, telling them of the many wonders of the 
 “ Great Show” — at one moment describing to them the splendour of 
 the glass fountain — and the next, picturing the beauty of the Veiled 
 V estal now speaking in hyperbolical raptures to Mrs. Sandboys of the 
 magnificence of the silks and velvets from Lyons, and the ribbons from 
 Coventry, — then turning to Elcy, and descanting on the size and 
 value and brilliance of the far-famed Koh-i-noor, and the admired jewels 
 of the Queen of Spain, — and afterwards trying to excite the curiosity 
 of Mr. Sandboys with a glowing detail of the marvels of machinery in 
 motion — the self-acting mules, and the Jacquard lace machinery, and 
 the centrifugal pumps, and the steam printing-press, and the envelope 
 machine — but despite the enthusiasm of his friend, Cursty remained 
 fixed in his determination; and so as not to allow the Major even 
 tire chance of shaking it, the resolute Mountaineer took his chamber 
 candlestick, and retired with his family to the apartments that the 
 Major had directed Mrs. Coddle to have prepared for them. 
 
 In the morning, Mr. Sandboys, having slept upon his determination 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 215 
 
 of the previous evening, and being several hours nearer to the time 
 which he had fixed for liis return to Buttermere, began to think what 
 his neighbours down there would say, when they heard that he and 
 his whole family had been up to London to see the Great Exhibition, 
 and had come away again without ever setting foot in the place. He 
 would be the laughing-stock of the country for miles round ; there 
 wouldn't be a keeping-room far or near but what would have some 
 cock-and-a-bull story or other to tell about them. Besides, why 
 should he deprive the children of the sight 1 If Fate had decreed 
 he was never to witness it, that was no reason why Elcy and J obby 
 should be kept away ; and after all that dear girl had gone through 
 for him, he was sure she deserved some little return for her goodness. 
 Then again, he knew Jobby, poor boy, was mad to have a peep at the 
 machinery room, which he had heard and read so much about ; and it 
 would be something for him to talk about when he got to be an old 
 man, that he had seen the first Exhibition of Industry in this country : 
 besides, the lad was naturally of a mechanical turn of mind ; he had 
 spoilt no less than three Dutch clocks out of the kitchen in trying 
 to clean them ' and then at making bird-traps and artificial flies for 
 fishing, there wasn’t a boy in the village could come near him. 
 Who could say what effect the Great Exhibition might have on such 
 a mind 1 And thus Mr. Sandboys continued inwardly framing excuses 
 to himself why they should delay their departure to Buttermere for 
 four-and-twenty hours longer at least. 
 
 While the preceding train of thoughts had been passing through 
 the mind of the wavering Cursty, a like chain of reasoning had beeu 
 going on in Mrs. Sandboys’ brain, unknown to her husband. She, 
 too, had been asking herself “ how it would look,” when the neighbours 
 came to know that they had never so much as put their heads inside 
 the doors of the very place they had come hundreds of miles to see ; 
 and she, like her lord and master, had been persuading herself, that at 
 least, if she chose to keep away, it was her bounden duty to let the 
 “ dear” children see the grand sight. 
 
 Neither, however, ventured to give the least hint to the other as 
 to the nature of their morning’s reflections 3 and it was only when 
 Mr. Sandboys sat in front of the looking-glass, rubbiug the lather 
 over his chin previously to shaving, till he looked like a twelfth-cake, 
 that he communicated to his darling Aggy, while she was in the act 
 of hunting after the grey hairs among her front curls, his doubts 
 as to the propriety of their quitting London for Buttermere that 
 evening. After he had exhausted the arguments in favour of the 
 children — to all of which Mrs. Sandboys, as she poked the top 
 part of her head close against the looking-glass over the mantelpiece, 
 the better to find the stray silver threads she was searching for, gave 
 her most cordial assent — the Cumberland gentleman touched upon 
 the point which constituted, as it were, the fulcrum upon which his 
 moral lever turned, and confessed that he did not like to be beaten in 
 the object he had undertaken. If they had tried to gain admittance 
 to the Exhibition only once, he urged, and had been prevented by 
 
216 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 some unforeseen accident, it would not have mattered so much, and 
 they might have returned then with even a good grace ; but now 
 that they had made so many attempts, and failed so repeatedly, they 
 would naturally look ridiculous in every person’s eyes, provided they left 
 London without succeeding in their purpose, after all the pains they 
 had taken, and the sufferings they had endured to accomplish it. Of 
 course, all the neighbours would say, “ Well, hang it ! I wud ha’ seen 
 t’ pleace, if I’d died for it !” and only laugh at them for their weakness. 
 
 Aggy, who seemed to have excellent sport that morning, and 
 kept twitching out the grey hairs like a Thames angler does gudgeons, 
 fully concurred with all the sapient Cursty uttered, and expressed her 
 approbation with each fresh jerk, though with greater warmth, perhaps, 
 than she otherwise might have done, owing to the sharp twinge which 
 accompanied the delicate operation in which she was engaged. 
 
 But Mr. Christopher Sandboys had yet to tackle the moral part of 
 his subject ; and as, in the process of shaving, he laid hold of himself 
 by the nose the better to accomplish the razorial fancy-work round 
 the corners, he frankly acknowledged, that to run away from the 
 metropolis, after what they had experienced, would betray a deficiency 
 of moral courage on their parts, which would be utterly unworthy of 
 the sturdy mountain race to which they belonged. Besides, it was 
 the sure criterion of a weak mind to give way to the force of circum- 
 stances ; and he asked himself and his wife, what was nobler than to 
 see an honest man driving his head, like a moral battering-ram, against 
 a thick wall of difficulties, and ultimately overthrowing it. Then, 
 as he called to mind the fortitude of the Grecian and Homan heroes 
 of his college days, he added — “ Did not moral greatness consist merely 
 in bearing and subduing the misfortunes that beset us, and certainly 
 not in packing up our boxes and running from them by the first 
 express train.” And as Mr. Sandboys delivered himself of this heroic 
 sentiment, he, in the ardour of his enthusiasm, gave his head so self- 
 satisfied a jerk, that, forgetting the perilous act in which he was en- 
 gaged, he inflicted a gash that put his powers of endurance severely to 
 the test, and immediately dissipated the whole of the stock of courage 
 upon which he was priding himself. 
 
 The upshot of the above conjugal consultation was, that there 
 was passed that morning at the breakfast-table a resolution, pro- 
 posed by Mr. Sandboys, seconded by his darling Aggy, and carried 
 with acclamations by the Major and the entire family, declaring 
 that one more attempt should be made to visit the Great Exhibition, 
 and expressive of the opinion of the meeting, that the sooner such 
 attempt was made the better. Accordingly, it was finally arranged, 
 as the weather at that time looked particularly promising, that the 
 whole family should “ slip on their things” immediately after break- 
 fast, and start for the Crystal Palace by the first omnibus. 
 
 Again the Sandboys were, one and all, in high glee at the prospect 
 of witnessing the “World’s Show” at last, and Elcy and Jobby imme- 
 diately lost their appetite in expectation of the coming treat. 
 
 The morning meal finished, the boy flew up the stairs four at a time, 
 
MB. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 217 
 
 dragging his laughing sister after him, and kept bobbing in and out of 
 her room all the while she was dressing, intent upon playing her some 
 monkey trick or other. Now, to his sister’s horror, he would seize 
 her white drawn-bonnet, and putting it on the crown of his head like 
 an apple -woman’s, scamper off with it, sliding down the banisters ; 
 then he would bounce suddenly into her room again, and dab down 
 a cup of sour milk on her dressing-table, telling her she would find 
 that a plummy thing to bathe her freckles with. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys was perhaps more fidgety than ever over the toilet 
 of herself and Cursty. She zuould insist upon arranging his neckcloth, 
 and tying his waiscoat in for him ; nor did she spare any pains to set 
 herself off to the best possible advantage. 
 
 And when they were all ready, they assembled in the parlour to 
 receive the instructions of the Major as to the precautions they should 
 take against losing one another in the monster building. The old 
 soldier was in the course of impressing upon the family the necessity of 
 keeping together, and arranging to meet at the glass fountain in the 
 transept at a stated hour, in case they should get parted from one 
 another in the crowd — or else, as he said jokingly, they might be all 
 the day hunting after each other through the several countries of the 
 globe — first bobbing into China, and then scampering through Russia, 
 and after that scouring round America, while perhaps the missing one 
 was wandering quietly among the Channel Islands, or taking a five 
 minutes’ lounge through India ; and he had scarcely completed his 
 many injunctions as to how they were always to keep an eye upon 
 “ the party” who carried the sandwiches — for they must remember that 
 he was the most important member of the whole body, and that if he 
 were lost, their dinner was lost too — when — 
 
 There was a faint tap at the parlour door, and the moment after 
 Mrs. F okesell, popping her head into the room, requested to speak 
 with Mr. Sandboys. 
 
 A cold shiver passed through Cursty’s frame at the mysterious 
 nature of the summons. After so many slips ’twixt the (crystal) 
 cup and his lip, he could not help having a presentiment that some- 
 thing dreadful was about to happen ; and as a means of acquiring 
 additional courage to bear up against the calamity, whatever it might 
 be, he begged Mrs. Fokesell to step in and communicate what she had 
 to say in the presence of the company. 
 
 The landlady coughed hesitatingly, and nodded, and beckoned to 
 Mr. Sandboys, so as to indicate to him, in the most expressive pan- 
 tomime she was mistress of, that she wished to speak with him alone. 
 
 Cursty, who was now more alarmed than ever, hurried over to 
 Mrs. Sandboys, who had been intently watching the landlady’s ges- 
 tures, and requested her to see what it was the woman wanted. 
 
 Aggy stepped across to the door, and in a whisper begged to be 
 made acquainted with the nature of Mrs. Fokesell’s business ; but the 
 landlady still hesitated, saying, “ in a nasty insinuating way, that Mrs. 
 Sandboys didn’t half like,” that “ she had rayther tell what she had to 
 tell to the gentleman hisself.” When Mrs. Sandboys, whose curiosity 
 
218 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OE 
 
 was now piqued almost to a painful degree, found that it was use- 
 less trying to get out of the woman the purport of the tidings she had 
 to communicate, she returned and intimated as much to her husband, 
 who, though pretending to be deep in conversation with the Major, 
 had been listening the while to what was passing at the door. 
 
 Cursty felt his heart sink heavily into his boots, like a stone in a 
 well, and solemnly summoning Mrs. Fokesell into the room, bade 
 her, in as firm a voice as he could manage under the Circumstances, tell 
 him then and there what it was all about. 
 
 Mrs. Fokesell, who grew angry on finding that her regard for 
 delicacy was in no way appreciated, bounced boldly into the room, 
 and, looking Mr. Sandboys full in the face, said, as she shook her 
 head rapidly at him — 
 
 “ Well, then, if you will have it ! there’s the beadle from the 
 work’us has come after you.” 
 
 Mr. Sandboys stood aghast ; — his jaw fell like a French toy nut- 
 cracker’s, and his hair stood on end till it looked almost like a 
 grenadier’s cap. 
 
 The Major, to conceal the smiles which he could not suppress, 
 turned a half pirouette, on his wooden leg, as if he were a pair of ani- 
 mated compasses describing the arc of a circle. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys looked a whole library, or several hundred volumes, 
 of doubt and fears at her wretched partner. What could it all mean ? 
 she mentally inquired, as she untied her bonnet strings, and began 
 fanning herself violently with her pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 A solemn silence reigned for a minute or two after Mrs. Fokesell’s 
 announcement — a silence like that which succeeds a violent peal of 
 thunder. 
 
 “T’ beadle from t’ workhouse !” exclaimed the amazed north country- 
 man. “ What in t’ warld can t’ man want wi’ me V' 
 
 “ Want !” echoed the indignant landlady, with a jerk of her head 
 that made the grubby artificial flowers in her cap shake again. 
 “ Well, if your own conscience wrnnt tell you, there’s the beadle hisself 
 in the passage, and you’d better step out and ask him ; for it ain't my 
 place to breed words in a family.” 
 
 Here the shoulders of the Major, who was pretending to be look- 
 ing out of the window, were seen to shake violently, while Mrs. Sand- 
 boys cried, “ Breed words! What can t’ woman mean!” 
 
 Cursty, who began to perceive that matters were assuming a very 
 serious complexion, summoned all his little philosophy to his aid, and 
 making the greatest possible show of it in his countenance, like a 
 tradesman with a small stock of goods dressing his shop-window to 
 the best advantage, directed Mrs. Fokesell to desire the parish func- 
 tionary to step in. 
 
 The next moment the Terror of boys at church, and the Leader of 
 parish engines to chimneys on fire, marched into the room in all the 
 imposing pomp of gold lace, cocked hat, and capes, and the countenance, 
 which was all austerity to the children in the free seats, relaxed into a 
 pleasing benignity immediately the possessor of it discovered that the 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 219 
 
 “party” of whom he had come in quest belonged to the “respectable 
 classes.” 
 
 Mr. Sandboys, in the best style of injured innocence, inquired briskly 
 of the officer what was the nature of his business with him. 
 
 The discreet functionary looked cautiously round the apartment, 
 and then winking the eye that was nearest to Mrs. Sandboys, as much 
 as to remind the gentleman that ladies were present, began fiddling 
 with the gold lace round his cocked hat, and replied that he had been 
 sent on to him by the Board. 
 
 “ T’ Board ! — what Board 1” shouted Christopher. 
 
 “ The Board of Guardians,” was the reply. And then the beadle 
 proceeded to ask the gentleman whether his name was not Christopher 
 Sandboys ; and receiving an answer in the affirmative, he begged 
 further to be informed whether the gentleman did not reside in Butter- 
 mere, in the county of Cumberland. Mr. Sandboys having assented, 
 the functionary then inquired whether he had not been married at 
 Lanth waite Green Church : and on learning that such was the case, he 
 told the horror-stricken Cursty that he regretted to say he must go 
 with him on to Marrowbone workhouse, where the Board was 
 a-sitting. 
 
 “ But what for ?” shrieked Cursty, as he stamped rapidly up and 
 down the room, in positive bewilderment at the extraordinary cha- 
 racter of the occurrence. There could be no mistake this time as to 
 his being the person who was wanted, for the man had got his name 
 and place of residence, and evidently knew all about him. 
 
 The only reply the parish officer made to the inquiry was to wink 
 his eye a second time in a more marked manner than before, and to 
 jerk his elbow two or three times in the direction of Mrs. Sandboys. 
 
 “ Don’t stand there, man !” shouted the infuriated mountaineer, 
 
 “ winking your d d eye at me ! But tell me what you want 
 
 here !” 
 
 The parish functionary, who was anxious for the sake of the pro- 
 spective perquisite, to break the matter as mildly as possible to the 
 gentleman, replied that he had a hunpleasant hoffice to preform, and 
 that he was hanxious to preform it in as delikit a manner as he could — 
 and hoping no offence, if the gen’elman would step into the passage with 
 him, he’d give him all the particlers : but it wasn’t hexactly a case to 
 speak on afore ladies. And here the official winked his eye again, and 
 nudged his elbow in the direction of Mrs. Sandboys. 
 
 “Ladies !” echoed the almost maddened Christopher — “that lady is 
 my wife, and I’ve no secrets from her, man and so saying, he drew 
 forth his handkerchief, and wiped away the perspiration that now stood 
 upon his brow like the moistiu’e on the inside of the windows of a 
 hackney-coach on a frosty day. 
 
 “ In coorse she is !” responded the beadle, with a knowing air ; 
 “ every party I wisits says the very hidentical same thing ; but it ain’t 
 no business of mine, and I’m not the kerackter to take a pleasure in 
 ruining the peace of families ; so, if you’ll just step outside here for a 
 minute, I’ll tell you about it, and I’ve no doubt but what the whole 
 
220 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OE 
 
 sore can be heasily ’ealed with a little palm-oil, you know.” And here 
 the functionary described a small circle inside his hand, and winked 
 once more at the wonder-stricken Mr. Sandboys. 
 
 Mr. Cursty, on second thoughts, began to imagine that perhaps it 
 might end the affair more quietly if he did as the man urged, and 
 though Mrs. Sandboys was for having the whole matter explained in 
 her presence, Cursty deemed it more prudent to retire in company 
 with the beadle, and accordingly stepped into the passage to ascertain 
 what on earth could be the nature of the present charge against him. 
 
 There the parish official explained to the gentleman, in as low a 
 tone as possible, that he was wanted at the work’us on a case of 
 desertion. 
 
 “ Desertion of what 1 — of whom 1 — shouted out the innocent Mr. 
 Sandboys, in the height of his indignation. “ I never was in t’army 
 in all my life.” 
 
 But the beadle mildly insinuated that he was afeard the matter didn’t 
 consarn the harmy, though p’raps it might have summat to do with 
 the hinfant-ry ; but whether it were a child or a wife what Mr. Sand- 
 boys had left chargeable to the parish, he couldn’t say ; all he knowed 
 was, that he had horders to take the gen’elman back with him, on 
 a charge of that naytur, and then he hoped no offence, and he axed 
 the gen’elman’s pardon, but he’d a delikit dooty to preform, and 
 he always struv to preform it with every regard to the feelings of 
 the ladies and gen’elmen consarned ; whereupon, having looked cau- 
 tiously l’ound, and whispered in Cursty ’s ear that if he’d leave it all to 
 him, it shouldn’t stand him in no more than 3s. 6cl. a week, and what 
 was more, he’d take care the papers didn’t get hold on it, the officer 
 kept touching his hair and nodding his head in a manner that plainly 
 indicated he expected some small gratuity for the discretion he had 
 used, and the services he had proffered in connexion with the 
 “ delikit” dooty he had to preform. 
 
 “ I thought I’d keep it dark, you know, sir, from your old ’ooman,” 
 he added, as Mr. Sandboys seemed disposed to pay no attention to his 
 hints. “Females takes these little tender matters to heart, so that many 
 gen’elmen’s told me it’s been worth scores of pounds to ’em my minding 
 my p’s and q’s in the presence of their good ladies. Bless you, if I was to 
 out with all I knows, I should ruin the peace of half the families in 
 our parish. Gen’elmen will be gen’elmen, you know, sir;” and then 
 making that peculiar noise out of the corner of his mouth, in which 
 the drivers of horses delight, he nudged the astounded Cursty 
 familiarly in the ribs, while he added, “ but ladies can’t, for the lives 
 on ’em, make no allowance for the secret hammers of the lawful 
 partners of their buzzems.” And “the authority” having delivered 
 himself of these sentiments, went through the same insinuating pan- 
 tomime as before. 
 
 But Mr. Sandboys being wholly unaccustomed to hints of such a 
 nature, hurried quickly past the obsequious functionary, and telling 
 his bewildered Aggy that some other misunderstanding had occurred, 
 though what it was, and what it referred to, was more than he could 
 
MB. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 221 
 
 make out just then, seized his hat, and without waiting to listen to 
 her remonstrances, suddenly left the house in company with the 
 parochial officer. 
 
 On reaching the workhouse, the mystery concerning which the 
 bewildered Cursty had been puzzling his brains for the last hour, was 
 quickly explained. The Flower Hawker, who had become possessed 
 of Mr. Sandboys’ inexpressibles, had retired into the country on the 
 “ tramp,” leaving, his “ pardner” behind to take up her abode in the 
 workhouse until his return. On entering that establishment, however, 
 and undergoing the change of dress customary on such occasions, the 
 “marriage lines” belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Sand boys, which the woman 
 had appropriated (owing to the total absence of any similar document 
 appertaining to herself) were discovered secreted in her bosom, and 
 the name Christopher Sandboys being recognised by the authorities as 
 that of the pickpocket who had been arrested at the Crystal Palace, 
 the parish officers had made it their business to track out the where- 
 abouts of the said Christopher ; and learning at the police-office that 
 he had recently been discharged from custody, and had afterwards 
 retired in company with his witness, a gentleman from Craven-street 
 in the Strand, they had directed their constable to bring “ the man” 
 before them, so that he might be made responsible for the maintenance 
 of his wife. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys had no little difficulty in making “the Board” compre- 
 hend and believe the facts of the case ; for though the woman denied 
 that he was her husband, as stoutly as Cursty did that she was his 
 wife, the ever suspicious authorities could not help fancying but what 
 there was some trick in the affair, and that the woman persisted in 
 her statement of having picked up the paper in the street, merely 
 from a desire to keep “ her pardner” out of trouble, so that it was not 
 until Mr. Sandboys had sent for Major Oldschool to speak once more 
 to his respectability, that he was allowed to return to the bosom of his 
 family. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys was too delighted at obtaining possession of her 
 marriage certificate once more to do other than laugh heartily at what 
 had occurred, and though Cursty felt inclined to trace the finger of 
 Destiny in the whole affair, Aggy, from the pleasant termination of 
 the occurrence, could not consent to look upon the circumstance as a 
 disappointment, and made up her mind to go the very next shilling- 
 day to the Exhibition. Cursty, however, was fully persuaded that 
 they should never set foot within the Crystal Palace, and was for 
 going home by the first train in the morning ; and it was not until 
 Major Oldschool consented, provided Mr. Sandboys would remain his 
 guest till the Monday following, that he himself would accompany 
 them and see them safe through the entire expedition. 
 
 This offer was more than Mr. Sandboys could withstand ; and ac- 
 cordingly, on the condition that, come what may, the family should 
 leave town for Buttermere the day after their visit to the Exhibition, 
 lie at length consented to make one more trial under the guidance 
 of his excellent friend, Major Oldschool. In this frame of mind we 
 
222 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 must now leave the family for awhile, to revert to another member of 
 the same establishment. 
 
 Mrs. Quinine, whose health had in no way improved since we left 
 her, lay still stretched upon the sofa of Mrs. Fokesell’s second floor, 
 enacting the part of the interesting invalid as usual. For the last 
 three months, however, her hand had been removed from her cheek, 
 and her fingers busily engaged in inserting tiny embroidered crowns 
 into tiny muslin caps— little things that seemed fit only to serve for 
 the head-dress to an apple-dumpling. Dr. Twaddles had called daily 
 at the house for eight weeks past to inquire “ how we were getting 
 on,” and had held himself in readiness, for the same lengthened space 
 of time, to answer the lady’s summons with the least possible delay. 
 Mrs. Pilchers had arrived with her bundle, and had been sleeping on 
 chairs in the studio for the last six weeks. The white satin pincushion 
 ornamented with the well-known infantine greeting of 
 
 WE1LCOME 
 
 1LITT1LE STKlIGElo 
 
 inscribed in pins, had been forwarded by one of the lady’s “ dearest” 
 schoolfellows, so long since that it had lost much of the original deli- 
 cacy of its complexion. “ The basket” had been prepared for many 
 weeks, and stood on the toilet table in the lady’s bedroom with its 
 powder-box and puff, and its little soft goat’s-hair brush stuck in the 
 side-pockets, and the bassinet remained done up in silver paper in the 
 corner of the room ; but though all these extensive preparations had 
 been made for the “ little stranger,” and its welcome had been pinned 
 by a friendly hand, the lady and all her female friends were kept in a 
 state of the most tantalizing suspense ; for no “little stranger” 
 came. 
 
 Each day some new article was added to the infantine wardrobe or 
 furniture, in anticipation of the arrival of the long-looked-for littleguest. 
 To-day, Mrs. Pilchers was despatched for the newly-invented “artificial 
 mother” that the lady had seen advertised, and thought it best to be 
 prepared with ; to-morrow, the same accommodating dame was hurried 
 off after a half-guinea bottle of the immortal Mrs. Johnson’s Soothing 
 Syrup. Then Mr. Quinine would signalize himself as a “dear man,” 
 by one day presenting his wife with a “ sweet pretty” coral and bells, 
 and another, sending her home a “love” of a baby-jumper. All the 
 preliminary arrangements were on the most extensive scale ; quarts of 
 dill-water, pound packets of “ soujie,” cashmere cloaks and hoods, 
 india-rubber rings, wicker rattles, nursing-aprons, pap-warming night’ 
 
jOJUJ Pr&ns lh&, J 
 
 \AA AJl 
 
 
 OlioatiS '’". 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 223 
 
 lamps— each and every of the several puerperal properties had been 
 got ready, even down to the white glove for the knocker, (indicative 
 of a “little kid,”) together with the small five-shilling advertisement 
 in the morning papers concerning “ the lady of Fuseli Quinine, Esq.” 
 Indeed, the entire mise en scene of the forthcoming spectacle had 
 been “ got up,” as the theatrical managers say, “ utterly regardless 
 of expense.” 
 
 Suddenly, however, it struck “ the lady of Fuseli Quinine, Esq.,” 
 that one thing was still wanting to complete her stock of infantine 
 furniture. She had forgotten that time-honoured preserver of the 
 peace of families — a nurse’s chair ; and felt convinced that, without 
 the aid of the popular soporific seat, her “tiddy ickle sing” would 
 never close its eyes ; for Mrs. Quinine, enlightened by the profound 
 experiences of Pilchers, was assured that that kind of wabbly, waggly, 
 bobby motion which is peculiar to steam-boats, and the horror of 
 children of a larger growth, was the delight of all those of a tender 
 age, as if the homuncule was specially pleased in having a taste of 
 “the ups and downs” of life at the earliest possible period in its 
 existence. 
 
 And certainly Mesdames Pilchers and Quinine were fully borne 
 out in their opinions by the prevailing pacific treatment adopted by 
 mothers and nurses in general. The fashionable theory among those 
 entrusted with the care of infants seems to be, that babies, like physic, 
 “ when taken should be well shaken and. accordingly, the early 
 existence of the poor little things is made to consist of a series of 
 agitations in every possible direction. In the arms they are bobbed 
 up and down — in the rocking chair they are waggled backwards and 
 forwards — in the cradle they wabble from side to side — on the knee 
 they are joggled till they shake again, like lumps of blanc-mange — 
 and if allowed to remain quiet for a few minutes in that position, they 
 are continually thumped on the back, as if they had swallowed a fish 
 bone in their pap. 
 
 “ The lady of Fuseli Quinine, Esq.,” was sufficiently impressed 
 with the correctness of what may be styled “ the undulating theory” 
 of nursing, that she no sooner discovered sh'e had overlooked what, 
 as newspaper critics say, “should be in every nursery,” than the lady 
 began to think how she could remedy the defect. 
 
 A domestic consultation was held with the sagacious Pilchers, when 
 it was arranged that it would be useless purchasing a new chair for 
 the express purpose of wabbling the little stranger about, when “ any 
 old thing could be cut down, and have the rockers put to it, at a 
 quarter the expense ; whereupon Mrs. Quinine suddenly remembered 
 that they had a spare arm-chair in the studio, which would be “ the 
 very thing.” Mrs. Pilchers having retired to try the quality of the 
 article, returned in a few moments, saying that the legs would want 
 cutting down about one-half, and then “ it would do capital.” It was 
 accordingly arranged that “ Nurse” should learn the address of Mrs. 
 Fokesell’s jobbing carpenter, and get him to come in for an hour or 
 two, and make such alterations as were wanted. 
 
 R 
 
22d 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 While Mrs. Pilchers is thus engaged, we will avail ourselves of the 
 uninteresting circumstance to return to “Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys, 
 their son and daughter.” 
 
 The day appointed for the family’svisit to the Great Exhibition, under 
 the escort of the gallant Maj or Oldschool, had at length arrived ; and 
 the old soldier and his friends having partaken of an early breakfast, 
 the Sandboys retired to their rooms, to prepare once more for the 
 eventful occasion, confident that at length their long-pent-up curiosity 
 was about to be gratified. 
 
 Mrs. Sandboys had not only to arrange her own toilet, but to look 
 after that of her boy Jobby, and his father Cursty as well. She had 
 to tie the neckcloth and the waistcoat-strings of the elder Sandboys, 
 and to sew fresh strap buttons on to the trousers of the younger male 
 member of the family, as well as to take in a large sippet in the back 
 of one of his father’s “ white vests,” before that boy could be made 
 to look, as his mother said, in any way decent ; adding that, really he 
 did grow so fast, that it was as much as she could do to keep his 
 trousers strapped down below the top of his socks. 
 
 Elcy’s toilet, too, was not a matter of a moment to arrange. 
 There was her front hair to take out of the “ crackers,” which she had 
 concealed during breakfast behind her bandeaus, and there was her 
 “back hair” to plait, and this, even with a young lady from the 
 mountains of Cumberland, was a good half-hour’s occupation. 
 
 During the unusually long toilet of the Sandboys family, Major 
 Oldschool fidgeted about his room for a few minutes, and then it 
 struck him that as he should have to “ beau” the ladies about, he 
 really ought to treat himself to a pair of new gloves for the occasion ; 
 for really, as he said, he had carried his black kid about with him 
 screwed up in his hands so long during the hot weather, that they 
 were as stiff and crinkly as French plums. A ccordingly he put on 
 his hat, and, lest he should detain the ladies, hurried as fast as his 
 wooden leg would carry him into the Strand, there to purchase, for 
 the “ first time these thirty years,” a pair of “yellow kids.” 
 
 In the meantime, the jobbing carpenter had stepped round “first 
 thing in the morning - ,” as he had been ordered, to cut down the 
 arm-chair, and fix on the rockers which he had brought with him. 
 Mrs. Quinine was no sooner informed of his arrival than she directed 
 Mrs. Pilchers to take the chair to the man, and let him do it down 
 stairs, for that to have him sawing in the next room to her would be 
 more than her nerves could bear. 
 
 Accordingly, “ Nurse” having called the carpenter to fetch the 
 chair, followed him with it into the passage : there she happened to 
 catch sight of the open door and unoccupied state of Major Oldschool’s 
 apartments, and having heard on the previous evening in the kitchen 
 that the “ parlours” were going to spend the day at the Great Exhibi- 
 tion, she immediately concluded that the Major had left with his 
 friends for the Crystal Palace : so Mrs. Pilchers, being a discreet 
 woman, and averse to “noises” and “breeding words,” as she called it, 
 in sti’ange places, thought it would be better, since Mrs. Fokesell 
 
MB. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 225 
 
 was a very odd person and had very odd ways with her, if the man just 
 stepped into Major Oldschool’s room, while the old gentleman was 
 out, and did what little he had to do to the chair in that place, with- 
 out asking any favours of the landlady. Then having strictly en- 
 joined the man to be careful and make no dirt, she told him he might 
 go into the parlour, and there alter the chair. 
 
 The carpenter accordingly carried the arm-chair into the Major’s 
 apartment, while Mrs. Pilchers returned to “ her lady.” The work- 
 man, to obtain as much light as possible, proceeded with the chair to 
 the window, and placed it down on its side, the better to shorten the 
 legs. He was in the act of opening his basket of tools, when hearing 
 Mrs. F okeseil’s voice calling him from above stairs, he hastened away 
 to learn what she desired. On reaching the drawing-room, the land- 
 lady requested the carpenter to bring his tools with him, saying that 
 she wanted him to look to the lock of the cheffonier in the first floor, 
 for that Baron de Boltzoff, the foreign gentleman who had her draw- 
 ing-rooms, and was as mean as a Scotch pawnbroker, complained that 
 the thing wouldn’t fasten properly, and had even lowered his-self to 
 that degree to accuse her and the poor girl of pilfering his trumpery 
 tea and sugar, confessing that he actually counted the lumps, and 
 marked where the gunpowder stood in the caddy in black-lead pencil. 
 Mrs. Fokesell then told the man she should like him to cobble the 
 lock up somehow, but not to put her to any expense about it, as it 
 was only an old rickety affair that she had picked up in Brokers’-row 
 cheap, and to make it lock at all fast it must have a new bolt put to 
 it, she knew, but that was more than she could afford to have done to 
 the thing. All she wanted was just to keep the gentleman quiet by 
 letting him see she had had it attended to. 
 
 The carpenter having hastened down stairs again for his basket of 
 tools, hurried off, as requested, to the drawing-rooms for a short 
 while, leaving Mrs. Quinine’s arm-chair lying on its side in front of 
 the parlour window, as he had placed it. 
 
 The man had scarcely quitted the parlour of Major Oldschool, 
 when that gentleman returned, admiring the unusually delicate 
 appearance of his hands, as he entered the room. The first thing 
 that struck his attention, after having taken off his gloves, and placed 
 them carefully on the brim of his hat, in readiness against the coming 
 of the Sandboys family, was the “ strange chair” lying on its side by 
 the front window of his apartment. 
 
 “ Bless my soul ! — how extraordinary ! Who on earth could have 
 brought this thing here 1 — and whatever could they have been doing, 
 for it to get thrown down on its side in this manner 1 It’s very odd, 
 — very odd, indeed 1” exclaimed the Major, as he stood for a minute 
 or two, eyeing it suspiciously behind his glasses. 
 
 But, nothing resulting from his profound reflections, Major Old- 
 school lifted up the chair from its recumbent position, and having 
 placed it on its legs, sat himself down in it to try what kind of 
 accommodation it might afford a gentleman of his “ build.” 
 
 “ ’Pon my soul !” he inwardly ejaculated, as he wriggled himself 
 
 r 2 
 
226 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 into the seat, and rested his shoulders against the back ; “ it’s deuced 
 comfortable — -just suits me, for all the world, as if it was made to 
 measure ! Precious deal better than those d — d “ confessionals” that 
 they have now, and that keep you as upright as a ramrod, and shove 
 your knees almost into your mouth ; or those cursed Yankee things, 
 that keep you on the wabble like a rocking-horse, and make you look 
 as rickety and short-legged as one of those Italian ‘ tombelas.’ ” 
 
 “ A-ah !” he exclaimed, with great gusto, as he stretched himself 
 far back in his new seat, “ there’s nothing like your good old- 
 fashioned arm-chair, after all, with double the regulation allowance of 
 horse-hair.” Then stretching his arms above his head as he yawned, 
 he added, “ ’Pon my word, if it wasn’t for the swarms of flies at my 
 bald head, I do think I should drop off to sleep in the chair, for 
 really it is so precious comfortable and I got up so plaguey early, 
 that it’s as much as I can do to keep my eyelids apart. Well, bless 
 me, those Sandboys are long enough pipe-claying their facings ; if 
 I’d known only as much, I might have managed to have treated 
 myself to forty winks more this morning, instead of being up with the 
 milk.” 
 
 “ ’Pon my life !” he cried /as he shook himself after the first drowsy 
 nod, “if the ladies are not down soon, they’ll find me driving my 
 pigs to market when they do come then, suddenly giving a violent 
 pat on his forehead, that ‘ went off’ like a percussion cap, he ex- 
 claimed, “ D — n the flies, how they do bite ; — and I was just dropping 
 off so nicely ; — there is no resting for the sharp, needle-like things, — 
 one would fancy my head was a small sugar-cask, from the way in 
 which they dig their proboscises into it. D — n the flies !” he roared 
 again, giving his cranium another and a harder slap ; “ they’ll pick 
 me to the bone if they go on in this way.” Then, to screen him- 
 self from the flies, he seized the red moreen curtain that hung close 
 beside the chair in which he was seated, and withdrawing it from the 
 brass sunflower-like pin, threw it over him, so that his whole body 
 was concealed behind its drapery, and there was no trace of him to be 
 seen, beyond his wooden leg, which struck straight out from the side 
 of the curtain, and had very much the appearance of the handle of the 
 cinder-sifter, as it projects half out of the dust-bin. 
 
 In a few minutes, what with the warmth of the day, the early 
 rising, and the relief from the fangs of his tiny tormentors, the flies, 
 the Major was dead asleep. 
 
 It was at this critical point that Mrs. Pilchers descended the stairs 
 to see how the carpenter was proceeding with the transmogrification 
 of the arm-chair, into a nurse’s ditto — and as she bobbed her head in 
 at the parlour door, she discovered, to her great surprise, that the 
 room was apparently empty. 
 
 With that due regard to the interest of “ her lady” which distin- 
 guishes every “ monthly nuss,” when in no way benefited by the 
 defrauding of her, Mrs. Pilchers proceeded to search the house in a 
 state of high excitement for the truant journeyman, and learning 
 from Mrs, Fokesell that the man was engaged in the drawing-room. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 227 
 
 at an odd job for her, the consciousness that this same odd job was 
 being performed at “ her lady’s” expense, caused Mrs. Pilchers, in the 
 height of her indignation, to give a jerk of her christening cap, that 
 made its ultramarine geraniums bob backwards and forwards on their 
 wire stalks like the ship in the paper sea of the clock-work pictures. 
 The “ nuss” then bounced out of the kitchen as if she wei'e a baby’s 
 india-rubber ball, inflated with anger, mentally dilating on the “ un- 
 heerd on imperence” of the act, and made the best of her way to 
 the first floor in quest of her carpenter. 
 
 Having called the man out of the room, Mrs. Pilchers communicated 
 to him “just a bit of her mind” on the heinousuess of his allowing 
 “ any one” to take an hour of his time out of “ her lady’s half day 
 and having lectured the carpenter in her most moral style, she desired 
 him to take his tools down that minute and do the chair, or she 
 would have in “ somebody what would.” 
 
 The poor man, who, like the rest of the “jobbing operatives,” was 
 of rather an obsequious, if not servile turn, stammered out an apology, 
 and returned in a state of considerable flurry to the drawing-room to 
 fetch the saw required for the operation. 
 
 For fear of giving offence to Mrs. Fokesell, the carpenter descended 
 the stairs as softly as he could, but he had scarcely reached the 
 passage before the drawing-room bell was rung violently, and Mrs. 
 Fokesell, suspecting that “ nuss” had been and taken the man off the 
 job she had set him, hurried up from the kitchen. 
 
 The carpenter, who shrewdly imagined that the bell was rung to 
 inquire into the cause of his leaving his work in the drawing-room 
 before it was finished, and being anxious, above all things, not to give 
 offence to the landlady, who was one of his best customers, hastened 
 into the parlour to get Mrs. Quinine’s job over as quickly as possible. 
 With scarcely a thought as to what he was doing, the nervous man 
 rushed saw in hand to the window, where he had left the arm-chair, 
 and perceiving the wooden leg of Major Oldschool protruding from 
 behind the window curtain, he, in the flurry of the moment, mistook 
 it for the upper fore-leg of the chair that he had left lying on its side, 
 and immediately set to work to reduce it one half. 
 
 At this moment, the united voices of Fokesell and Pilchers were 
 heard wrangling as the ladies descended the stairs, and the carpenter, 
 in his trepidation, sawed quicker than ever. He had nearly severed 
 the Major’s wooden limb in two, when, to his horror, he felt the leg 
 suddenly withdrawn from his hold, and immediately he saw the cur- 
 tains thrown on one side, and the face of the angry Major Oldschool 
 glaring fiercely at him. 
 
 The man stood for a moment spell-bound, as it suddenly flashed 
 across his mind that he had mistaken a human wooden leg for one 
 of the lower limbs of a chair, and that he had been caught in the act 
 of curtailing it of its proper proportions ; and the old Major no 
 sooner discovered the nature of the attack that had been made upon 
 his artificial limb, than he remained transfixed with astonishment at 
 the outrageous audacity of the deed. 
 
228 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 The two stared wildly at each other, utterly tongue-tied for the 
 instant ; and before the Major could proceed to wreak his vengeance 
 on the man, the carpenter had rushed madly from the room. 
 
 The Major, furious at the outrage, jumped from his seat, and was 
 about to give chase to the workman, but no sooner did he place 
 the half-divided limb on the ground, than snap went the wooden 
 member, breaking under his weight, and he was thrown heavily on 
 his side upon the floor ; while, at the same time, the carpenter, on 
 turning the corner of the door, ran, in his hurry, full butt against the 
 contending Fokesell and Pilchers, who, being uttei’ly unprepared for 
 so sudden a concussion, were precipitated forcibly to the ground, the 
 carpenter falling with his whole weight upon them ; and as he did so, 
 the ladies gave vent to the peculiar sound made by paviours on the 
 descent of their heavy rammers. 
 
 It was at this alarming crisis that the family of the Sandboys came 
 down from their respective bed-rooms, all smiles and ribbons, and on 
 the tiptoe of expectation for the long-looked-for peep at the Great 
 Exhibition. The first thing that met their eyes on reaching the 
 passage were the forms of the wretched landlady and nurse buried 
 beneath the heavy body of the jobbing carpenter. 
 
 It was no time to stand still and inquire what it all could possibly 
 mean, so the Cimbrians at once proceeded to clear a way to the 
 Major’s room by exhuming the bodies of the ladies from beneath the 
 superficial stratum of the bewildered journeyman; while Jobby, 
 having stepped over the heap, and entered the parlour, shrieked to 
 his terrified parents that the Major was lying prostrate there on the 
 carpet, with his wooden leg broken off sharp at the calf. 
 
 Then followed the explanation, with all its disheartening results. 
 Of course it would be impossible for the Major to accompany them to 
 the Exhibition shorn of half his leg, while to get it mended in sufficient 
 time was an equal impossibility. Though Jobby hinted that the glue- 
 pot was on the fire below, the Major felt in no way inclined to trust 
 the maintenance of his perpendicular to so weak a foundation; nor did 
 the several parts admit of being spliced, seeing that the limb would 
 be reduced several inches by the operation ; and as there was no such 
 thing as borrowing a wooden leg at a moment’s notice in a neighbour- 
 hood that was some miles distant from either Chelsea or Greenwich 
 Hospital, why it was evident that the Major must remain at home 
 until such time as he could get his injuries repaired ; for to proceed 
 without him was more than Mr. Sandboys would consent to do. 
 
 Accordingly, amid much disappointment and sorrow, the family of 
 the Sandboys once more made up their minds to abandon all hope of 
 seeing the interior of the Crystal Palace, and to return to their native 
 mountains at the earliest possible opportunity. 
 
 It was quite evident, Mr. Sandboys again repeated, that Fate had 
 set her face against their ever enjoying the treat, and, for his part, he 
 was not going to thrust his head any longer against the wall that 
 Destiny had run up between them and the building. 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 229 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 “ Waes me ! what’s this that lugs sae at my heart, 
 
 And fills my breast with seek a dispert smart ? 
 
 Can ’t be that thing eawt luive ? Wood folks now tell, 
 
 And I’se set down just how I find mysel. 
 
 “ I used to sing my sang, and crack my joke, 
 
 And shake my sides at murtk like other folk, 
 
 But I’se sare chang’d frae what I used to be ; 
 
 Luik i’ my feace, and you may fairly see.” 
 
 The Costard's Complaint , by Ewan Claris. 
 
 It was a profound remark of Mrs. Coddle — and women, however 
 humble, read characters very quickly, especially when their own inte- 
 rests are concerned — that there was no telling what ever had come to 
 her Major since them Sandboys had got back to the place. She only 
 knew he hadn’t been “ all there” for the last ten days. 
 
 And certainly a peculiar change had taken place in Major Old- 
 school’s deportment in general, and to his housekeeper in particular. 
 Do what she might, there was no pleasing him. For a long time, 
 Mrs. Coddle speculated as to the cause of the alteration of the gentle- 
 man’s conduct towards her. At first, with a true nurse’s discrimina- 
 tion, she had been inclined to refer his ill-temper to what she termed 
 the bad state of his “ digester,” being convinced that his stomach 
 rather than his head was deranged, and felt satisfied it was all owing 
 to his having left off his nightly brace of “ Cockles.” Accordingly, 
 she provided him with a miniature bandbox of the best antibilious, 
 and endeavoured to persuade him to swallow a double allowance of 
 the tiny medicinal dumplings — but all to no avail. Then she felt 
 certain it must be the nasty rheumatiz flying about him, for he’d 
 been and got his blood chilled the evening he went to the station- 
 ’us, she knew, cause, on taking his shoe off that night, she had found 
 his sock was quite damp, and the cold must have struck in’ards ; so 
 she made him tureensful of white wine whey and treacle-posset, and 
 hot milk and suet, but he would not touch a thimbleful, as she said, 
 of any of them, vowing he never was better in all his life. 
 
 At length, however, Mrs. Coddle communicated in confidence to 
 Mrs. Fokesell that she had that morning discovered the cause of all 
 her Major’s tantrums of late, for, on examining the bottom of her 
 teacup at breakfast that day, she had seen a wedding ' among the 
 grouts as plain as she had ever seed any think in all her life ; and what 
 was more, so as to satisfy herself that she couldn’t be mistaken, she 
 had took the trouble to burn a letter, and watch the sparks among 
 the ashes, and there was the parson and the clerk a-going one after 
 the other, for all the world as if they had been right afore her ; and 
 so, she said, putting this and that, and a many other things together, 
 Mrs. Fokesell might take her word for it that there would be a 
 wedding in that very house afore the twelvemonth was over. 
 
230 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Mrs. Fokesell shook her head, and remarked that there was no 
 going agin such things, and that she too remembered of dreaming 
 three times running of tumbling into a bed of nettles, and that meant 
 marriage all the world over — adding, that her Fokesell was going to 
 sea again directly, and there was no telling what might happen afore 
 the year was out. But Mrs. Coddle had, as she observed, her eye on 
 a very different party, and all she would then say was, “ that there 
 was no fools like old fools,” and she laid a most significant emphasis 
 on that part of the proverb which refers to the age of the simpletons. 
 
 Eveiy day Mrs. Coddle discovered some fresh evidence to confirm 
 her in the opinion she had formed as to the cause of the Major’s odd 
 ways of late. Now she would catch him seated at his desk, and scrib- 
 bling on his blotting-pad, in a fit of abstraction, the name of “Elcy.” 
 Then he had taken to paying daily visits to Covent Garden Market in 
 quest of bouquets and bunches of violets, or baskets of choice fruit, 
 which he always sent up stairs with his compliments to the ladies. 
 Then again he had grown all of a sudden “ so dreadful purticlar” about 
 his dress, that there was no bearing him. To-day the plaiting of his 
 frill wouldn’t suit him— to-morrow his shoe wasn’t polished to his 
 liking — and he had actually been and ordered a light poplin palletott, 
 just because he had seed some of the “ young bloods ” about in them. 
 
 And, to tell the truth, Mrs. Coddle was not very wrong in her sur- 
 mises as to the reason of the Major’s altered behaviour towards her. 
 Ever since he had first seen Elcy Sandboys weeping in the passage, 
 and had discovered the tenderness of her care and regard for her 
 father, he had had thoughts that he had never known before. Major 
 Oldschool had left England as a mere boy of a cadet, and before he 
 had been a year up at his station in India, he had discontinued cor- 
 responding with his mother’s lady’s-maid, to whom he had sworn 
 eternal attachment on quitting the country. While out in India, the 
 want of female society had, in a measure, inured him to celibacy, 
 till at last he had gradually sunk into what the ladies termed “ a 
 hardened old bachelor.” 
 
 On his return to England, however, Major Oldschool soon began to 
 find that the Indian life, food, and climate, had made such inroads 
 upon his constitution, and accustomed him to such habits of indo- 
 lence, or rather dependence upon others for the execution of even his 
 most trifling wants, that now that his retinue of black domestics was 
 no longer at his command, he found it was utterly impossible to 
 remain without some one to look after him, so he provided himself with 
 that most miserable of all matrimonial make-shifts, an old crone of a 
 housekeeper. Mrs. Coddle was not long in discovering how necessary 
 she was to the comfort of the Major, nor in taking every advantage of 
 him that his dependence upon her permitted. Major Oldschool, how- 
 ever, had not been altogether blind to the exactions of his housekeeper 
 - — but being naturally deficient in energy, and not exactly seeing any 
 way of immediately extricating himself from the web that she had 
 spun round him, he had tolerated her tyranny in as patient a manner 
 as possible. 
 
231 
 
 MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 On becoming acquainted with Elcy, the Major began to feel the 
 thraldom of Mrs. Coddle unusually irksome to him. He was con- 
 tinually contrasting the truthfulness of the young gix-1 with the artifice 
 and deceit of the old woman, and comparing the gentleness and 
 loving care of the one with the exactions and hollow sympathy of the 
 other ; and as he grew to like the younger one, he got almost to hate 
 the older in an equal degree. Still he would hardly allow himself to 
 imagine that he could be in love at his time of life; and whenever he 
 caught himself thinking how wretched he was with old Mrs. Coddle, 
 and how happy he could be with Elcy Sandboys to attend upon him, 
 he drove the thought from his mind, calling himself an old fool, 
 and mentally inquiring what the world would think of him marrying 
 a girl who was young enough to be his daughter. 
 
 The gentle cause of all this disturbance in the bosom and domestic 
 arrangements of Major Oldschool was utterly unconscious of the effect 
 she had produced ; nor did she reciprocate the feelings of that gentle- 
 man. It is true, she was much struck with his kindness to herself 
 and to her father during their trouble, and that she did not hesitate 
 to confess she thought him a very nice old gentleman indeed ; and 
 whenever the Major had formed the subject of conversation with her 
 family during his absence, she had always spoken warmly of his 
 kindness and attention to them ; but this the girl had done on every 
 occasion, frankly and without a blush. 
 
 Mrs. Coddle, however, who was sufficiently well skilled in the 
 development of the gentle passion, from the budding, as it were, to 
 the blossoming of the orange flowers — not having lived all her years, 
 as she said, for nothing, — soon required no prophetic vane to tell her 
 which way the wind blew in the front parlour of Mrs. Fokesell’s 
 establishment, and did not hesitate to confess as much to the landlady 
 herself. She knew how it would all turn out from the very first time 
 the Major set eyes on the “chit” a-snivelling in the passage. His 
 goiug out without his tea was quite enough for her : and of all artful 
 young husseys, Miss Sandboys was the wust she ever come a-nigh. 
 She couldn’t abear to see such scheming and planning as there was 
 with young gals, now-a-days, to get well settled in life — no matter to 
 them what poor cretur they threw out of bread by it : and she had no 
 doubt that after all she liad done for the Major, she’d be thrown 
 o’ one side, like an old shoe, when she wasn’t wanted no longer. But 
 she could tell the pair on ’em that she wasn’t agoing to be got rid on 
 quite so easy ; and if they didn’t know their dooty, and had never 
 given it so much as a thought what was to become of her, why, she’d 
 just let them see what she considered was her rights. It made her 
 quite ill to think of the deceit there was in the world ; and what 
 business had that “ bit of a girl” to come turning her out of house 
 and home — especially when she thought she were comfortable settled 
 for life — was all she wanted to know. 
 
 Thus matters went on, the hatred of Mrs. Coddle toward Elcy 
 Sandboys increasing in a direct ratio with the liking of the Major 
 for the same person, and when the housekeeper learnt that the 
 
232 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OR 
 
 intended visit of the Sandboys to the Exhibition, in company with 
 the Major, had been postponed by the amputation of his wooden leg, 
 she was as delighted at first as she was annoyed on hearing afterwards 
 that the Cumberland folk had been prevailed upon by the Major to 
 remain in London until such time as he could get his leg repaired, 
 and fulfil his engagement with them. 
 
 Indeed the Major, much to Mrs. Coddle’s discomfort, would not 
 listen to the departure of his friends, and promised to make all haste 
 in providing himself with a new limb, expressly for their visit to the 
 Crystal Palace. Accordingly, he set himself to work, thinking what 
 kind of a new leg he should have, and whom he should get to make 
 it. This time he made up his mind he would employ a person 
 who had some experience in the line, for the last leg he had made was 
 by a mere novice, and had cost him no little trouble ; at first the 
 manufacturer had constructed it of too great a length, and it had made 
 him lean on one side, for all the world like a human tower of Pisa, — 
 then the man cut it down too short, and he had been thrown from one 
 side to the other, like a fresh- water sailor in a heavy swell, — then, 
 too, the fellow had manufactured the thing out of green stuff, and it 
 had warped so, that the wooden leg positively looked bandy. 
 
 Having by these cogent reasons convinced himself that it would be 
 far better to place his leg in the hands of an experienced artificer, 
 the Major next began to debate within himself as to what should be 
 the style and material of the limb. One thing he had made his mind 
 up to •, he was not going to continue in the Greenwich pensioner style 
 any longer, hobbling about on a leg that was as straight, and had no 
 more symmetry in it than a stork’s. No ! he would have a cork one. 
 He had often seen in the shops some beautiful fellows, with a black 
 silk stocking over them, and a calf as plump as a footman’s in high 
 life. Yes ! he would despatch a letter that moment to the very place 
 where he remembered having seen one worthy of a fashionable phy- 
 sician in the window. Accordingly, he hopped along to his desk, as 
 best he could, and scribbled a hasty summons to the artificial limb- 
 maker. 
 
 It was not long before the human centipede — the modern Briarseus — 
 the Argus of the nineteenth century, made his appearance ; and having 
 learnt from the Major the nature of the accident, proceeded to describe 
 to the gentleman the quality of the several artifices at present in 
 vogue for supplying the various defects in the human frame. The 
 limb-maker had an odd way with him of describing the respective 
 artificial appurtenances of his business, as if they were his own indivi- 
 dual possessions, and formed part of his own frame, instead of his 
 stock in trade. 
 
 “Yes, sir, I believe I may say, without vanity,” observed the loqua- 
 cious Frankenstein of 1851, “that I have been long celebrated for the 
 make of my legs. It is universally allowed that there are not such legs 
 as mine in all Europe, sir. A lady of quality had one of my legs — the 
 right leg it was — and she danced the polka in it as well as ever she 
 could have done it with her own, sir.” 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 233 
 
 Major Oldschool threw up his eyebrows with astonishment, while 
 he smiled with delight. 
 
 “ I can assure you, sir,” continued the man, rubbing his hands as if 
 he were washing them in phantom soap and water, “you will find my 
 knees not at all stiff nor shaky ; not like the cheap slop articles, that — 
 if you will permit me to say so — are very much in the hackney-coach- 
 horse style. Then, doubtlessly, you may have heard of the superior 
 quality of my arms and hands, sir. Only the other day I sent home 
 an arm to a general officer, with a dessert service fitted up inside, 
 knife and fork, table-spoon, tea-spoon, meerschaum pipe, cork-screw, 
 and boot-hooks, and the fingers made to take a pinch of snuff posi- 
 tively with an air of grace, sir — an air of grace, I may say, sir.” 
 
 Major Oldschool was too glad to listen, and therefore refrained 
 from saying a word that might interrupt the strain of the tradesman’s 
 boastings. 
 
 “ Then again,” resumed the man, “ there are my eyes, sir, which I 
 will challenge the whole world to equal. I will put my eyes against 
 theirs for any sum they please, let them be black, blue, grey, or hazel, 
 sir. Perhaps you may have noticed my eyes in the shop window, sir. 
 I have one — a black one, sir — that obtained me the prize from the 
 Society of Arts last year, sir. I don’t think, sir, you could go into any 
 fashionable church or chapel without their being either one or two of 
 my eyes in the place. I serve all the first people, I can assure you, sir. 
 Then I have a charitable society in connexion with my establish- 
 ment, for the gratuitous distribution of eyes to the poor, and a very 
 great relief it is to them, sir. To servants they are a real blessing — 
 for mistresses object to one-eyed nurses, or lady’s-maids, or cooks, 
 you know, sir — so I let those kind of people have my eyes at what 
 they cost me, and they are very thankful for them, indeed, sir. I 
 should think I have got at least a hundred eyes in place at the present 
 time, sir.” 
 
 “ Bless me ! bless me !” cried the Major ; “ I had no idea that art 
 was carried to such perfection jr— but we live in wonderful times.” 
 
 “You may say that, sir,” replied the man of eye art. “We can 
 remedy any defect — no matter what, sir. Humpbacks we can pad out 
 into perfect symmetry ; spindle legs we can plump into the finest 
 calves. If you will take my word for it, there are several tragedians 
 and footmen in high life who are strutting about at this present time 
 in my calves ; and as for waiters and dancing-masters, we do a prodi- 
 gious business with them in the course of the year. You would not 
 believe it, perhaps, sir, but I have known a leg that was modelled 
 into mahogany bootjacks that was merely made up of my calves, after 
 all. But you will excuse me, sir ; this but little concerns you. Touch- 
 ing your own leg, sir, I think you said you should like cork ; but if 
 you will allow me to recommend, I should advise you to have a gutta- 
 percha one. We are now making up some beautiful limbs in that 
 material. I had one leg at home that I did intend to have brought 
 round with me under my arm, just for your inspection, sir. I am sure 
 you would have liked it, the article is so light and elastic : indeed, it 
 
234 
 
 1851 ; OK, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 is one of my best legs, and not at all dear, sir. Now, let me make you 
 up one of those ; for I can assure you, sir, if you will only leave your 
 leg in my hands, I will turn you out such a nice, light, elegant one” 
 — and here he smiled and bowed — “ that will make you regret you 
 have not lost the other. Our art, you see, sir, is no base imitation 
 of Nature, but I may say an improvement upon her — as, indeed, all 
 high art should be, sir. All our limbs are warranted to be true Gre- 
 cian proportions. If you will oblige me by taking a seat, I will just 
 take the dimensions of your limb, sir.” 
 
 Then, as the Major sank into the nearest chair, the leg-maker pro- 
 ceeded to take his measure, and as he pushed up the trousers, said, 
 after having passed the tape round the ankle, “ How shall we do 
 about the calf, sir 1 Shall we reduce the proportions of the artificial, 
 or plump out those of the natural limb ? For my own part, I should 
 recommend a little of both ; and if you will allow me, sir, to send you 
 round just one or two of my calves to look at, I think you would be 
 exceedingly pleased with them. I could let you have one calf at a 
 very low figure just now, for I remember I have an odd calf by me, 
 as I supplied an Admiral of the Blue with one just your size, for 
 her Majesty’s last Levee — or else, you see, sir, it would become expen- 
 sive to break the pair. The one I should send you is made on the 
 best plan ; it forms part of the web of the stocking, and so there is no 
 fear of its turning round to the shin while dancing or taking any 
 other active exercise, sir, as I dare say you remember used frequently 
 to happen with the dreadful things they wore a few years back, and 
 which you may perhaps recollect, sir, looked more like the cricketer’s 
 paddings than improvers of the ‘form divine.’” 
 
 Major Oldscliool thought of the ladies, and assented to the trades- 
 man’s proposal. 
 
 The limb-furnisher rose from his kneeling position, and having 
 rolled up his measure, and brushed his hat with his sleeve, previous 
 to his taking his departure, drew a card from his pocket, and pre- 
 senting it to the Major, said — “ Should you be in want of any teeth 
 at any time, sir, you will find that gentleman very skilful and mode- 
 rate in his charges. He has some remarkably fine china sets just now ; 
 you may have noticed one in our window, sir, in a beautiful working 
 wax head, with the eyes moving, the mouth opening, and the teeth 
 going in and out every other minute, by clock-work. I have not the 
 least doubt you remember seeing the model, sir ; it has a fine jet- 
 black beard ; at one moment the figure is as toothless as a sloth, sir 
 — and the next minute his mouth is filled with an entire set, as 
 beautiful and white as a sweep’s. But perhaps, sir,” he added, finding 
 the Major made no reply, “ you are not in want of anything in that 
 way. You will see, sir, the gentleman states at the bottom of the 
 card that his teeth are so much admired, that he has no doubt that 
 his china sets will shortly supersede all others.” Here the man made 
 a profound bow, and, saying the Major should have his leg home in a 
 day or two, quitted the room. 
 
 The limb-maker had no sooner closed the door than he returned, and 
 presenting a small pamphlet, said-— “ I beg your pardon, sir ; but would 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 235 
 
 you allow me to present you with this little list of testimonials ; you, or 
 some of your friends from the country may, perhaps, be troubled with 
 corns or bunions, and I can assure you that Professor Rootzemout, 
 Chiropodist to her Royal Highness the Duchess of Gloucester, and the 
 rest of the royal family, extracts them with no more pain than corks, 
 sir. You will see that the Professor has had the feet of the ‘first of 
 the land ’ under his hands, sir. The Bishop of Calcutta certifies 
 that the Professor has removed a bunion from his great toe, that he 
 had been suffering a martyrdom from for months ; and even the 
 Prime Minister of the country publicly expresses his gratitude to the 
 Professor for the eradication of a soft corn that had allowed him no 
 rest for years. The Professor’s specimens in his museum are really 
 quite marvellous, sir. One he has from a late Lord Mayor of London, 
 I give you my word, sir, is as big as a spring onion ; but I fear I am 
 intruding on your valuable time and so saying, the enterprising- 
 tradesman wiped his shoes several times on the carpet as he bowed 
 obsequiously and withdrew. 
 
 True to the appointed time, the anxiously-expected leg was sent 
 home carefully enveloped in silver paper, and shortly afterwards the 
 maker arrived to fit it on, and see whether his limb was sufficiently 
 well-set to be allowed to run alone. When he had fixed it the 
 man was in raptures with his own handiwork ; and while the Major- 
 paced the room, the limb-maker declared, as he bobbed about to look 
 at him from every point of viewy that the Major’s leg was the very 
 best he had yet made in the same material. 
 
 Major Oldschool was almost as pleased as the man, and exclaimed, 
 on looking at himself in the pier-glass, that he positively shouldn’t 
 have known his own figure again ; adding, as he thrust the leg for- 
 ward, and leant his head on one side to look at the calf of it, that no 
 one coirld tell it was not his own : and, as he paid the maker, he 
 expressed himself much indebted to his skill for his improved appear- 
 ance. 
 
 When the artificer had left, the Major gave full vent to his feelings, 
 and strutted about the room inwardly gloating over the surprise that 
 the ladies and old Sandboys would feel on beholding him firmly on his 
 legs once more. Then he wondered however he could have gone 
 hobbling about on that spindle of a leg so long, with the iron tip 
 thumping, as he went along, like a blind man’s stick on the ground ; 
 and he promised himself that immediately after dinner he would 
 arrange with the Sandboys to be off, the first thing in the morning, to 
 the Exhibition ; for he longed to show himself there with his new leg 
 quite as much as his Cumberland friends wished to look at the wonders 
 of the Show. 
 
 When the Sandboys did behold the Major’s new leg, they were one 
 and all as much astonished as he expected or wished them to be, and 
 the evening was spent in jests at his previous appearance, and in 
 mirthful remembrances of the accident which had brought about the 
 change. Even the fatalistic Mr. Sandboys was obliged to declare that 
 Destiny, for once, had done them a good turn, and before retiring to 
 
236 
 
 1851 ; OB, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 rest, he had grown to look upon the past adventure as a propitious 
 omen, foretelling their speedy attainment of the object they had so 
 repeatedly sought. 
 
 Nor could Elcy herself help speaking in terms of admiration at the 
 Major’s improved appearance, declaring, that had she not seen him 
 with his previous wooden substitute, she should never have been aware 
 of his loss of limb — all of which was so extremely gratifying to the old 
 soldier, that he felt more delighted with the girl than ever. 
 
 Major Oldschool got but little rest that night, for he kept thinking 
 over and over again of all that had occurred, — muttering to himself, 
 half unconsciously, when he did doze off, what Elcy had said in 
 admiration of the change that had taken place in him. Nor were the 
 slumbers of Elcy and Jobby more profound ; they both ran over in 
 their minds the several wonders they had read of in the Exhibition, 
 and longed for the daylight that was to reveal to them all the marvels 
 of the Crystal Palace. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Sandboys themselves were up with the sparrows the 
 next morning, alive with the conviction that at last the eventful day 
 which was to consummate their hopes and wishes had really arrived ; 
 and in a short time they would be back again to Cumberland in their 
 quiet mountain home, talking over the many wonders they had seen, 
 and laughing with their neighbours over the perplexing adventures 
 they had gone through. 
 
 When the party were assembled, Major Oldschool propounded the 
 order of the day’s amusements, as he had mentally arranged them pre- 
 viously to rising that morning. He had crammed the day, he said, as full 
 of sights and shows as he possibly could. He proposed that they should 
 first, as it was a lovely morning, go by the steamer up to the New 
 Houses of Parliament, and having viewed them, and looked in at the 
 Courts of Law, they were to step over to the Abbey and take a peep at 
 the Poet’s Corner. Then they could have a beautiful stroll through 
 the parks, past Buckingham Palace, and along Constitution Hill, to 
 the Wellington Statue; after which they could just drop in at the 
 St. George’s Gallery, and see the splendid Diorama of the Holy 
 Land, and Cumming's African Hunter’s Exhibition ; which done, they 
 could step along to the Chinese Collection, and look at the lady who had 
 only two inches to stand upon, instead of a foot ; and after that, just 
 to fortify them against the fatigues of the day, they could drop into 
 M. Mouflet’s restaurant, and have a nice little luncheon, for the 
 Major said it was whispered that the tepid ices, and soupy jellies, 
 and Bath buns — strongly resembling their hard and dry relations 
 the Bath bricks — which were to be had at the Exhibition, could not 
 be included among the chef-d' oeuvres of the Crystal Palace. After- 
 luncheon, Major Oldschool told them they would be ready for a good 
 four-hours’ feast of their eyes at the Grand Show ; and this over, 
 he proposed they should retire to M. Soyer’s Imposium and have 
 a nice little dinner of cold meat and pickles in the Baronial Hallj 
 at the small charge of half-a-guinea a head ; and in the evening, he 
 said, they could take a cab, and drive to Leicester-square, and have a 
 turn round the Great Globe, and be nearly broiled by the gas up 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 237 
 
 among the Polar Regions ; next, they might step across to M. Can- 
 telo’s Incubator, and see the process of hatching chickens, which was 
 remarkably curious, for he had been informed by one of the first 
 physiologists of the age that the young brood invariably evinced an 
 instinctive attachment to their maternal boiler, striving to nestle 
 themselves under their parent kettle immediately it began to sing. 
 And as a conclusion to the day’s entertainments, they might all pop 
 in at the Adelphi, and having passed an hour or two there, they 
 might then be able to get to Yauxhall just in time to see the horse- 
 manship and fireworks ; and there, after a cold fowl and lobster salad, 
 by way of a little supper, they could return home ready and thankful 
 for bed. 
 
 The Sandboys were all delighted with the Major’s programme for 
 the day’s festivities, and having swallowed a hasty breakfast, and 
 decked themselves out in their holiday costume, they once more 
 descended to the parlour, ready to start for the Great Sight, with 
 Cursty fidgeting at their heels, in inward fear of something or other 
 occurring that would once more delay their departure. 
 
 At length, however, the whole party were fairly off ; and as Mr. 
 Sandboys stood on the doorstep, wondering within himself how they 
 had succeeded in getting even that far towards their destination, he 
 said thoughtfully to the Major, as he held him by the button-hole, 
 while Jobby, Elcy, and Mrs. Sandboys went tripping along lightly up 
 the street, “I’ll tell thee what I’ll do, Major ” 
 
 “Yes, yes,” answered his friend, “but tell me as we go, or we 
 shall miss the ladies.” 
 
 Cursty paid little or no attention to the Major’s impatience, but 
 still musing, said, “ I’ll wager thee a crown, man, that we never get 
 inside t’ Girt Exhibition to-day.” 
 
 “Done !” shouted the Major, and he dragged the fatalistic Cm-sty 
 Sandboys with him, as he hobbled up the street. 
 
 CHAPTER THE LAST, 
 
 “ Wi’ sic thoughts i’ my mind, 
 
 Time thro’ the war! may gae, 
 
 And find me still, in twenty years, 
 
 The same as I’m to-day : 
 
 ’Tis friendship bears the sway, 
 
 And keeps friends i’ the e’e ; 
 
 And gin I think I see thee still, 
 
 Wha can part thee and me ?” 
 
 Song, by Miss Blamire. 
 
 In a few moments the Sandboys and Major Oldschool were safe on 
 board the penny “ Bee,” steaming along the Thames towards the 
 Westminster pier. 
 
 The Major, who had found it impossible, with his artificial leg, to 
 keep up with the ladies, had availed himself of the circumstance of 
 
238 
 
 1851 ; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 his being left alone with Cursty, to paint a vivid picture (as they 
 hobbled through Hungerford Market) of the solitary state of his 
 household, and the horrors of a life dependent for its comforts and 
 enjoyments on the tender mercies of a selfish old housekeeper, expa- 
 tiating in the meantime on the sufficiency of his funds to maintain 
 a wife in ease, if not in luxury ; and winding up with a modest eulo- 
 gium as to the amiability of his temper — the domesticity of his 
 habits — and his cat-like love of a quiet hearth. 
 
 Mr. Sandboys had just inquired how it was — if such were the bent 
 of his inclinations — that he remained in a state of wretched bachelor- 
 hood ; and the Major had just answered that it was the very thing he 
 wished to speak to him about, when a shrill voice suddenly shouted, 
 “ Pay here for the ‘ Bee,’ gents ! pay here !’ 
 
 The demand having been complied with, the Major, immediately 
 he was on board the penny steamer, sought out a retired spot where 
 he might continue the delicate subject of their previous conversation, 
 and perceiving that the most quiet part of the vessel was imme- 
 diately adjoining the line of demarcation between the lovers and the 
 haters of the “ fragrant weed,” drew his friend Cursty towards the 
 gangway : leaning their backs against the funnel, the couple resumed 
 the tender topic which had recently engaged them. 
 
 As the “ Bee” went buzzing over the water, the Major made the 
 father of Elcy his own father-confessor as to the state of his bosom at 
 that particular moment, declaring the object of his affection to be 
 none other than that gentleman’s daughter. 
 
 The simple and unobservant, because unsuspicious, Cursty was 
 nearly taken off his nautical legs by the announcement : but referring 
 the Major to Elcy herself for an answer, he confessed that, provided 
 she saw no cause or impediment, &c., he himself would not be the 
 man to forbid the banns ; whereupon they both grew so interested in 
 the “momentous question” — the Major intent on making the most of 
 his qualifications for a good husband, and descanting rapturously on 
 Miss Elcy’s possession of all the requisites for a good wife, and 
 Cursty Sandboys lost in the pleasure of listening to the praises of his 
 child — that, though the heat of the funnel at their backs was almost 
 sufficient to cook an omelette, it was utterly unheeded by them. 
 
 Now, gutta percha is a most admirable material, especially adapted 
 for boats, ropes, and other commodities to be used in the Arctic 
 regions ; but, unfortunately, it has the slight drawback of softening 
 like “ hardbake” at a high temperature, and consequently it is not 'par- 
 ticularly suited for firemen’s helmets, owing to its liability to run 
 down the faces of the “brigade” like treacle, when exposed to a “terrific 
 conflagration nor is it especially adapted to the manufacture of 
 shaving-pots, seeing that the infusion of the boiling water is certain 
 to elongate the vessel into something approximating the form and 
 appearance of a huge German sausage ; and we have known candle- 
 sticks made of the treacherous “ gutta” gutter away with the expiring 
 “ stearine” until nothing was left of the antique candelabrum but a 
 leathery pancake on the tablecloth ; picture-frames, too, composed of 
 the same uncertain substance have been found, in the dog-days, to suffer 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 2‘69 
 
 almost as much as aldermen from the extreme heat of the weather, 
 and to grow as limp and bendy at the joints as an acrobat, while 
 the cornices ran down into a series of chocolate-coloured stalactites. 
 Nor is the soluble stuff better adapted to the formation of harness, 
 for gutta percha traces have been occasionally seen, when the ther- 
 mometer stood at 80° in the shade, to elongate like vulcanized 
 India-rubber, and to leave the vehicle a considerable distance 
 behind the horse which was supposed to be drawing it, while the 
 whip which was intended for the flagellation of the animal has 
 gone as soft as a lollipop, and of no more service than a straw ; and 
 to this catalogue of commodities unfitted to be manufactured in gutta 
 percha still one other article must be added, and that is — as an Irish- 
 man would say — wooden legs ; for though legs are intended to run as 
 well as to walk, it is somewhat inconvenient to find them, on the 
 least increase of temperature, ran away altogether, and the limb which 
 was meant as a crutchlike support give way, for all the world as 
 though the wearer had become suddenly afflicted with the u rickets,” 
 his gutta percha leg gradually bending in or bulging out, like a 
 barley-sugar bird-cage at an evening party. 
 
 Presently the tender thread of Major Oldschool’s discourse was 
 rudely snapped asunder by a kind of echo duet performed by the 
 captain of the “ Busy Bee” in deep bass, and the call-boy in shrill 
 treble, -the burden of which was — “ease her ! ease her /—back her ! 
 hack her /- — stop her ! stop her /” — -and then bump went the vessel 
 against the Westminster pier, making the barge wabble on the water 
 like a yeast dranpling in a saucepan. 
 
 Until this moment the Major, whose back had been resting against 
 the funnel, had not attempted to stir a foot, and no sooner was he 
 roused from Ms reverie by the cry of “ Now, then, any one for Wesi- 
 mimifer 1” than, seizing Mr. Sandboys by the arm, he cried, “ Here we 
 are. Come along, quick I or we shall be carried off to Chelsea f and 
 made a desperate effort to reach the plank that connected the u Bee” 
 with the pier ; but no sooner did he trust the weight of Ms body to 
 the treacherous gutta-percha limb, which the heat of the funnel had 
 by this time rendered as limp as a stale sugar-stick in a confec- 
 tioner’s window, than it bent under him like a soldier’s penny cane, 
 and down went the Major on his side, dragging the terrified Cursty 
 along with Mm. 
 
 The Major was so unprepared for the mishap, that he was utterly 
 unaware of the cause of Ms sudden fall, until, on attempting to get tip, 
 and trusting once more to his “ gummy” leg, he was again precipi- 
 tated on top of the bewildered Cursty, before that gentleman had 
 time to rise. On looking to the state of his new limb, however, the 
 problem was speedily solved, for he found that his gutta percha calf, 
 softened by the heat of the funnel, had run into his boot, while his 
 artificial ankle had swollen into a “ model gout,” while what was origi- 
 nally the thick part of the leg, had been attenuated into a mere 
 tendon, no thicker than a harp-string. 
 
 Major Oldschool raved at all new-fangled inventions, and vowed 
 
 s 
 
2-10 
 
 1851; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF 
 
 as lie clasped his head with vexation, that there was nothing like 
 wood, after all, and called himself an idiot for allowing himself to be 
 talked into any such “ tomfoolery,” while the passengers laughed 
 violently at the catastrophe ; and even the Sandboys, vexed as they 
 felt at the further postponement of their visit to the Crystal Palace, 
 could not refrain from taking part in the merriment excited on 
 the occasion. 
 
 To proceed to the Exhibition with such a leg was utterly impos- 
 sible, and to the Sandboys’ great discomfiture nothing remained to be 
 done but to have the uni-ped Major carried to a cab, and conveyed 
 back to Craven-street as rapidly as possible. 
 
 Mr. Cursty Sandboys, as usual, saw that the calamity had been 
 planned by some of the invisible sprites and mischievous elfins in the 
 employ of that blind and spiteful old maid passing under the name of 
 Destiny or Fate, and whom he felt thoroughly convinced were 
 having a hearty demoniac laugh in their phantom sleeves at the many 
 annoyances they were causing him ; and no sooner was he once more 
 located within the parlour of Major Oldschool, than he registered a 
 vow on the ceiling of that apartment, that he would never again 
 move a leg to get to that bothering Crystal Palace. It was no use 
 talking to him — go home he would — and people might laugh as they 
 pleased. 
 
 That evening, as the Major and Cursty sat enjoying their toddy after 
 the family had retired to rest, and Mr. Sandboys was growing eloquent, 
 under the influence of the whisky punch, on the many beauties of his 
 native Buttermere, Major Oldschool begged Cursty to defer his return 
 to Cumberland until he (the Major) had escorted Elcy to the Exhi- 
 bition, and availed himself of that opportunity to speak to the young 
 lady on the subject of their morning’s conversation ; for, as he said, 
 half laughing, he could not think of marrying a lady who was un- 
 acquainted with the wonders of the Exhibition — he might as well pick 
 a wife from a convent at once, and unite himself with one who had had 
 her head shaved, and foresworn the world and every kind of show. 
 As an additional inducement, moreover, the Major promised that if 
 he were fortunate enough to gain the young lady’s consent, he would 
 return with the family, be married at Lanth waite-green Church, as 
 his old friend had been, and pass the rest of his days with the family 
 at Buttermere. 
 
 As soon as the Major was provided with a new limb, he accom- 
 panied Elcy and her brother to the Great Exhibition, and there, as he 
 led her through all the countries of the civilized globe, he endea- 
 voured to reveal the state of his feelings — now, as they paused 
 for a moment in France, he asked her whether she thought she 
 could be happy with him for life — and now, as they rambled through 
 China, he inquired whether she fancied she would be very miser- 
 able if she had him for a companion for the remainder of her days. 
 Elcy replied that he had been so kind to them all, -that she was 
 sure she should always be glad to be in his company, and that 
 
MR. AND MRS. CURSTY SANDBOYS. 
 
 241 
 
 ever since her first acquaintance with him, she had esteemed him as 
 one of her father’s best friends— all which so encouraged the Major, 
 that he availed himself of the solitude of America to beg to be 
 informed whether her esteem for him as a friend could make her love 
 him as a husband 1 
 
 The young lady was wholly unprepared for such an inquiry, and as 
 she thought of the disparity of their ages, she hurried on and pretended 
 to be so absorbed with the ingenuity of the sewing machine, as not to 
 have heard the question ; the Major, however, had no sooner led his 
 fair companion into Russia, than he whispered the same tender ques- 
 tion in her ear as she stood admiring the beauty of the malachite 
 doors. Elcy, finding at last that it was impossible to evade the ques- 
 tion, begged of the Major not to press her for an answer, telling him 
 that the remembrance of his great kindness would always insure him 
 her best regard, and as she said so, the frank-hearted girl shook him 
 by the hand in token of her friendship ; all of which the sanguine 
 Major construed into a modest assent to his proposal, and he plucked 
 up his shirt collar, as he felt as if the snows of some thirty winters had 
 been suddenly swept away from his head. On the return home of 
 the patty, after their day’s tour of the world, the Major announced at 
 tea that he proposed passing the remainder of his days in Buttermere, 
 and it was accordingly arranged between himself and Cursty that they 
 should leave London for Cumberland with the least possible delay. 
 
 But the departure of the Sandboys and the Major was doomed to 
 be delayed once more ; for Mrs. Cursty no sooner received a full and 
 impartial account from Elcy and Jobby, of all the many curiosities 
 contained beneath the huge glass case of the Crystal Palace, than she 
 made up her mind she would have one peep at it before she left. 
 
 And when Mrs. Sandboys had feasted her eyes on the banquet of 
 the works of Industry of all nations, she in her turn came back 
 with a glowing account of its many marvels, so that poor Cursty 
 began inwardly to long for a peep at it himself, but remembering the 
 vow he had registered on the ceiling, he still pretended to be firm, 
 though in his heart he was really waiting for his friends to press 
 him to abandon his resolution, and to find some little excuse b y 
 which he could, with any show of honour, sneak out of the determi- 
 nation he had come to ; and in the hope of their so doing, he managed 
 to put off their departure, day after day, until at last, on the Monday 
 morning fixed for their return to Buttermere, as Cursty sat at break- 
 fast, sipping his hot tea hastily, so as to be in time for the train 
 to the North, he confessed it would be a shame for him to go back 
 without seeing the Exhibition. Accordingly, he asked the Major if, 
 as a man of honour, he thought he could rescind his vow, saying that 
 it struck him that, as he had taken an oath he would not stir a foot 
 to get to the Great Exhibition, that did not prevent his being carried 
 there. The Major smiled at the equivocation, and telling his friend 
 that he might do so, and still preserve his honour unsullied, Mr. 
 Sandboys consented that the cab which was then at the door to 
 convey them to the station on their way back to their mountain 
 
242 1851 ; or, the adventures of the sandboys. 
 
 home, should go round by the Exhibition, and drop him at the 
 transept, so that he might pop his head in, and just be able to say 
 that he had seen it, after all. 
 
 The Major who, while Cursty was coquetting with his conscience, 
 stood at the window entertaining himself with the perusal of the 
 morning paper, which he had bought to lighten the tedium of the long 
 journey, no sooner heard the announcement of his friend’s altered 
 determination, than he shouted out, “ It’s no use now, Cursty ! for here 
 is a long account of the closing of the Exhibition last Saturday.” Mr. 
 Sandboys’ jaw fell like a carriage dog’s, and, knocking his “wide- 
 awake” on his head, he hurried into the cab, and in a minute the 
 Sandboys family, in company with the Major, were on their way back 
 to Buttermere, Cursty vowing that if there was ever another Exhi- 
 bition, he would never think of coming up to London again to enjoy 
 himself. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Savill & Edwards, Printers, 4, Chandos-street, Coveut-gardea. 
 

 
 
 
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