DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 % Skq d Ck lib. 
 
 By HAIN ^RISWELL, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "the SHAM PAMPHLETS,'' ''THE YOUNCf COUPLE," ETC. 
 
 LONDOI^ 
 
 hejntey lea, WABWICK LAIJ^E. 
 
 1858. 
 

 TO 
 
 THE REV. SYDNEY TURNER, M.A*., 
 
 (INSPECTOK OF HEB MAJESTY'S BEFOEMATORIES), 
 
 WITH 
 TEELIKGS OF FRIENDSHIP, RESPECT, AND ESTEEM, 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
 394 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES, 
 
 A STORY OF TWO LIVES. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 IN WHICH A YOUNG LORD IS INTRODUCED TO THE READER AND 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 A CEETAiN very auspicious event was about to happen 
 in the "house'* of Ingot. By house, one of course 
 means a family ; so that if we were to apply that; 
 grand and princely term to the races of the poor, we 
 might speak of one miserable tenement containing 
 many houses, but the phrase would be wrongly ap- 
 plied. The word " house," used as a family, belongs, 
 like other titles, privileges, and their concomitant 
 pride, exclusively to the rich. 
 
 That which was about to happen to the House was 
 an event to any family, and indeed to any kind of 
 people. It was no less than the birth of an infant, 
 which cannot be looked upon anywhere — no, not even 
 in a workhouse — with carelessness or disdain. A 
 human soul was about to spring into existence, with 
 all the cares, sorrows, troubles, and aspirations of 
 
2 diamojs'ds afd spades. 
 
 humanity, and those amongst whom it should be born 
 held their breath and their feelings pent. 
 
 The people most concerned were the Marquis of 
 Silverspoon and his young wife. I should, in duty 
 bound, have placed the lady first in a little afiair of 
 this kind, but then, as my Lord Marquis only married 
 the young lady with the direct purpose of having 
 heirs male, I think his lordship has a right to the 
 precedence. It was he who had sent a notice to the 
 Morning JPost — the notice that made the Hon. Tom 
 Ingot, his lordship's nephew, and heir presumptive to 
 his estates and title — swear like a bargeman, and de- ♦ 
 clare in his club that he did not believe it, and that the 
 ** infernal " editor had been hoaxing him. It was the 
 Marquis w ho had ordered the house in Curzon Street 
 to be listed, not in the army, but round its doors, and 
 to be kept as still as the residence of a church mouse, 
 which, I presume, must be the church itself. He it 
 was, also, w^ho had ordered the street to be covered 
 from end to end with straw ; and who had issued, by 
 the mouths of his footmen, orders to the police for 
 the summary expulsion of all organ boys. Punches, 
 tumblers, and street-noises ; and also, for the entire 
 extinguishment of all riotous boys, who, sometimes for- 
 getting themselves, did dare to shout, whistle, or sing 
 in that aristocratic guartier. 
 
 In consequence of these orders the place was as 
 silent as a tomb ; within and without, not a sound was 
 heard in that house of Ingot. The very valets and 
 footmen were shod wdth list, and the doctor as he 
 came up the great stone staircase, so thickly carpeted, 
 did not let his boots once creak. He was a polite and 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 6 
 
 aristocratic doctor ; and his pale, sinister face wa« as 
 placid as a mask of stone. He had no occasion to be 
 otherwise. The case was proceeding most favourably, 
 so let us follow him to that chamber where my lady 
 lies. 
 
 How oppressive the silence was ; not a healthful 
 natural silence, but the silence of a desert in a popu- 
 lous place. So quiet it was, that the doctor heard the 
 puffing and blowing, and rising and falling of the 
 breath ; nay, even the creaking of the bracer straps 
 of the great, tall, hulking footman who went up to 
 announce him. The breathing was, indeed, so plain, 
 that the doctor at once set it down to incipient 
 asthma ; and no doubt he w^as right. 
 
 "Within the chamber sat Lady Silverspoon, waiting 
 for the " ^vent," for the hour was not yet come. Her 
 face was calm, but sharp and worn; her eye restless. 
 She w^as a young woman, in the bloom of youth and 
 beauty ; but youth and beauty were both blooming 
 in an uncongeJnial place. When she greeted the doctor, 
 who was no less than the celebrated Sir James Shark, 
 M.D., she looked at him with disgust and hatred, for 
 it was, indeed, upon that learned gentleman's recom- 
 mendation that the young lady was sold to my Lord 
 Marquis of Silverspoon. She had no affection for my 
 Lord, as one need scarcely say ; but, with the reader's 
 leave, we will retire from the heavy, silent chamber, 
 and leave the lady, whilst we visit my lord. 
 
 The Marquis of Silverspoon sat down stairs in a 
 small breakfast parlour, which seemed to be his 
 peculiar domain. It was here that he took his pri- 
 
 B 2 
 
^ DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 vate meals ; here lie dined when not encumbered by 
 state, and, in the language of the papers, receiving 
 a "selecli and distinguished circle of guests;" and 
 here, now waiting for the birth of a son and heir, sat 
 the melancholy old man, gazing vacantly at the empty 
 fire-place, with one hand laid listlessly upon the title- 
 deeds to some of his vast estates, and the other raised 
 to his mouth, whilst he gnawed and bit at the fingers 
 and nails. What disturbed his lordship ? "What 
 made him think, at that moment, when he was about to 
 perpetuate his name and race, that the name and race 
 were not worth perpetuation ? His solicitor had 
 been with him during the whole morning ; and the 
 brown and venerable parchments which my lord 
 then held had been subjected to a rigid scrutiny. 
 There he sat, old and worn, unwashed, careless, and 
 haggard, biting at his finger nails with bitterness and 
 remorse in his heart ; and from the face and figure of 
 the old man one could not have conceived him to 
 be what he was. He had prayed and hoped for an 
 heir ; his wish was about to be fulfilled, and yet he 
 was as miserable a man as one would wish to see, or 
 to avoid. 
 
 Suddenly he heard the rustling of a dress down 
 the stairs ; he looked out and saw the housekeeper 
 pass, and presently he heard a gentle ring. The fat 
 porter started from his easy chair and opened the 
 hall door for the departing guest ; and immediately 
 afterwards the doctor came down, smiling and bowing 
 as he saw my lord. He beckoned to him. 
 
 " Well, doctor how is my lady ?" 
 
DIAMOl^DS AKD SPADES. 5 
 
 " Excellently, your lordship," said the latter ; " but 
 I am afraid you will not be gratified to-day." 
 
 " Why not ? Come in, doctor, come in ! " The 
 doctor accepted the invitation ; and the porter, half 
 opening the door, made a sign with his hand to the 
 physician's quiet but expensive brougham which rolled 
 noiselessly away upon the straw. 
 
 The interview of the doctor and Lord Silverspoon 
 had lasted for nearly three quarters of an hour, when 
 a nurse rushed hurriedly down stairs and summoned 
 the doctor. The latter turned quickly round to my 
 lord and gave him a meaning look, and then bounded 
 with unusual activity up the wide flight of stairs ; but 
 ere he could arrive a small weak voice had burst forth 
 freshly into the world, crying and wailing sharply, and 
 disturbing the solemn silence of that large house; 
 and as the door opened to admit the doctor, the proud 
 old lord heard for the first time the voice of his son 
 and heir — that voice for which he had so long listened 
 in vain. A smile of joy and satisfaction lighted up 
 the old man's withered features, and he sat down 
 again placidly to read his rent-roll. 
 
 An hour had passed when the nurse summoned the 
 Marquis to his wife's chamber. The Marchioness lay 
 with her eyes closed, her hair waving dankly from 
 her forehead; and by her side, in placid sleep, 
 a newly-born infant. It was remarkable that the 
 mother scarcely turned her head towards it, and was, 
 indeed, turned from it, in her sleep, as if she loathed 
 it. The father, on the contrary, rushed toward it, 
 and knelt down by the side of the bed with his hands 
 
6 DTAMOIiTDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 raised. ISTear the window of the lofty chamber stood 
 the doctor, and opposite to him an extremely hand- 
 some young woman, who had been engaged as 
 wet nurse, and from whose bosom the child had 
 but just been taken. At the fire-place in the 
 chamber, busied with a basket filled with fine 
 linen, was the monthly nurse, a respectable old lady, 
 who, nevertheless, was as talkative as the .majority of 
 her class. 
 
 The doctor, apprehensive that some scene might 
 occur, walked to the bed-side and gently raised the 
 old lord, who turned towards his lady, and bending 
 over her, kissed her brow. A strong shudder which 
 shook the recumbent figure of the lady was the only 
 answer. 
 
 " You had better leave the room, my lord," said the 
 doctor ; " all is now quite well." 
 
 The Marquis moved sadly away, but before he could 
 reach the door the old nurse spoke. 
 
 " Well, aye ! and your lordship's the father of as 
 fine a boy as ever was born." 
 
 " Of a Lord, woman," said the old man, harshly ; 
 "you must call him, in future, my Lord Hallmarke ; " 
 and with this passed out of the room. 
 
 Pride, even in that place ! Pride in the look ; pride 
 in the silence; pride in the very hangings of the room; 
 pride in the very coronets on the silver fittings of the 
 dressing-case ; pride in the very paintings in the 
 panels ; pride in the new-born infant on the bed. 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 TWO CHARACTERS MAKE THEIR ENTRANCES AND EXITS IN THE STOBT. 
 
 Thebe is a street running on the nortli side of the 
 New Eoad, which has obtained an unenviable notoriety. 
 That is the main street which bears the name of "The 
 Brill," where some ten years ago no passenger could 
 pass in perfect safety, for thieves and cut-purses would 
 rush out upon him and practise that kind of robbery 
 since become famous under the name of the "garotte." 
 Bad as the main street is, the courts and alleys lead- 
 ing from it are worse. In them are tenements crowded 
 with people in a terrible degree ; rooms and houses 
 which though but lately built at the time of the com- 
 mencement of our story, had outlived a thousand ten- 
 ants, and will outlive a thousand more. Death is al- 
 ways busy down these courts, mowing down his tens 
 or his hundreds, sometimes ceasing in his hurried pur- 
 suit, and letting them drop by ones or twos ; and then 
 again, upon such occasions as hot summers, or cold 
 and wet seasons, sharpening his scythe, and striding 
 forward and cutting down his hundreds again. 
 
 Of course, these lanes and courts bear fine names. 
 There is a " Paradise Eow," as far opposite to what 
 we dream of Paradise itself as we can imagine ; and 
 there is an " Angel Court," visited, alas ! only by the 
 
« DIAMOTTDS A.ND SPADES. 
 
 angel of death, who waits daily and nightly at the 
 
 entrance to convey away the souls of poor weakly 
 
 children, whose short life has been one of sickness and 
 
 pain — enough, let us hope, in the eyes of Mercy, to 
 
 purge away such sins as cling to flesh. An old d»a- 
 
 matist has told us to " look upon the poor with gentle 
 
 eyes," 
 
 ■ For in their figures often 
 
 Angels desire an alms. 
 
 So, perhaps, the names of these courts are not far 
 wrong; and some angels clad in rags, poverty, hunger, 
 sickness, and privation, may visit them, since we are 
 also well assured that such guests are seldom seen in 
 the courts of princes. 
 
 To Angel Court, in the Brill, we will now conduct 
 the reader, where, in number seven, upon the second 
 floor, he may find, if he chooses, a poor mechanic and 
 his wife, the latter of whom has but just gone through 
 that trial which awaited my Lady Silverspoon : for it 
 is a very noted, but not less remarkable fact, that the 
 rich and poor are absolutely born in the same manner, 
 and that a king and the poorest slave beneath him 
 come crying naked into the world with the same child- 
 ish treble, and causing to their respective mothers the 
 same pangs and cares. It may be, indeed I am sure 
 it is, that the kings are not to blame in this inconsis- 
 tency, and that if they could arrive upon earth in a 
 patent way, they doubtlessly would ; and that also, as 
 the patent way has not yet been discovered, they try 
 to make up in after life for the degradation. The pap 
 of one is mixed in gold, the sopped bread of the other 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 in earthenware ; and so od, till one drinks rieli wine, 
 and the other water ; one wears silk and velvet robes, 
 and the other fustian. The difference increases, and 
 the breach widens between them, till each having de- 
 scribed his arc of the circle, both come again to an 
 equality, and both die out alike and are turned to 
 earth, silent, harmless, motionless, and unregarded : 
 the king lies in his marble monument, and the peasant 
 in his grave of claj. 
 
 "No. 7, Angel Court — the second floor, if you 
 please ; ring twice (only there is no bell), and just 
 walk up, and you'll find 'em at home, no doiibt." 
 Such were the words which Mr. Spatula, a tall, thin, 
 studious-looking man, the parish doctor of St. Pancras, 
 heard. Mr. Spatula walked up. 
 
 He found that he had come too late ; that a little 
 boy, a fine little fellow too, had been for some two 
 hours added to the family of the 'Woodrofi'e's ; and 
 that John Woodrofi*e, the husband, was occasionally 
 bending over his wife v and moistening her lips with a 
 little warm tea, and then running to his task and 
 working as hard as he could. Mr. Spatula had come 
 too late by two hours at least ; but as the poor help 
 the poor, so some kind good woman had assisted Mrs. 
 Woodroffe in her hour of need. 
 
 Mr. Spatula went to the bed and lifted up the hand, 
 weak, worn, and thin it was, of the poor woman. He 
 felt her pulse and looked at his watch, and then with 
 a meaning look laid the hand gently down again. 
 
 It was the left hand he had taken, and upon tlie 
 third finger there was no wedding-ring. 
 
10 DIAMONDS A-ND SPADES. 
 
 John Woodroffe had his eyes fixed upon the doctor. 
 He did not look down, but met his gaze steadily and 
 answered that look. 
 
 "I know, what you mean, doctor," he said, "and I 
 know what you look for ; nevertheless, you are wrong. 
 That ring has been pawned for food." 
 
 "Then," whispered the doctor, "you had better 
 get it out of pawn, and that quickly, for women like 
 to be buried with those things, and your wife will not 
 live long." 
 
 The man's eyes fell, and he staggered to his seat. 
 
 "I have been somewhat hasty," said Spatula; 
 " but I did not know you were so sensitive. I ought 
 to have known it, though. You, I think, are the 
 man who would not let your wife come to the house." 
 
 The house again ! This time it was not the house 
 of Eaby, but the workhouse of St. Pancras. 
 
 "No," said "Woodroife, "no! I would not. She 
 could not, I could not bear it." 
 
 "Very foolish," said Spatula; "very foolish. I 
 could have attended her better there : and besides 
 that, she could have had nourishment better there 
 than here. The guardians of the poor have resolved 
 not to do too much for out-door cases." 
 
 John WoodrofFe spoke again; they were a few 
 words, but they were bitter. 
 
 " The guardians (?) of the poor : to do too much, 
 too much!" 
 
 " Well," returned the doctor, " there is one thing 
 I must say in their favom*, that they are often de- 
 ceived." 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPxVDES. 11 
 
 "Deceived! G-reat heaven, is this deceit?" cried 
 the poor man, pointing in grief to his wife. 
 
 Mr. Spatula shook his head. 
 
 The poor creature lying on the bed at this juncture 
 felt that her end was about approaching, for she 
 turned round and stretching her arms forward, with- 
 out opening her eyes, called her husband by his name. 
 
 The doctor took hold of one hand and held it by 
 the thin-waisted wrist, and with his eye upon the 
 seconds' hand of his watch, sat down upon the bed- 
 side counting the minutes of that life which was so 
 quickly fleeting away. 
 
 "John, dear John," said the yoting mother, in a 
 weak, low tone of voice, which, though not a whisper, 
 was even fainter, and was yet heard distinctly above 
 the noise of quarrel and of brawl in the wretched 
 court below. " John, I am about to leave you. Have 
 I been a good wife to you ?" 
 
 "A dear, good wife, Kate! a dear, good wife!" 
 and the man pressed down his clammy, heated fore- 
 head upon the cold dying hand he held. 
 
 "Fortune wasn't with us, John; I am afraid you 
 know that too well — as well as I do ; but you had a 
 brave heart and a true one. It has pleased God to 
 take me out of the battle, and to let me leave my 
 little one to thee, dear husband ; but you will keep a 
 brave heart still, for his sake and for mine." 
 
 " Indeed, Kate, I'll try. Indeed I will." 
 
 " I know it ; and I now feel, John, that I am better 
 for the misery which it was God's will that we should 
 sufier. * I feel quite happy now : quite happy. It was 
 
12 DIAMONDS AXD SPADES. 
 
 not for long, and I am dying, and leaving my baby 
 and you to the same fate ; but my heart will be with 
 you, indeed it will." 
 
 " Aye sure, Kate ; and I know," sobbed the man. 
 
 " Hold me up, John, and place the baby near me, 
 that I may see him before I die. I shall be near him 
 and you, I hope. I am all trust and hope now, and 
 very happy. It will be but a little time — for down 
 here neither men nor babies live — a little time when 
 you and he, John, will join me too, and we shall be all 
 three safe from harm. I don't doubt this one jot ; 
 thank Grod, thank God, we cannot suffer Tiere and 
 therer 
 
 John "VYoodroffe raised the little sleeping boy to his 
 wife's lips, and she gave the child nearly her last kiss. 
 Her last was reserved for her husband. She motioned 
 him to lay the baby down again, and then calmly and 
 quietly laid her head upon her husband's shoulder, and 
 detaching her hands from the doctor, joined them as in 
 prayer, and lay back. The doctor looked upon the 
 face of the dying woman, half curiously, half in awe ; 
 but the husband with notliing but a terrible wonder, 
 stretching forth his neck to gaze into her face, his eyes 
 opened and motionless, his nostrils dilated, and his 
 breathing short and quick. 
 
 He did not wait long. A pause in the breath ; 
 then a catching in the throat ; a slight rattle ; a con- 
 vulsive twitching of the mouth and lips ; an attempt 
 to pronounce her husband's name ; and, lastly, a con- 
 vulsive spasm ; and the wife's head fell heavily upon 
 John's shoulder, and she was dead. Then it was that 
 
DIAMOIs'DS AJfD SPADES. 13 
 
 the heart of the poor man failed him. The working 
 at the nostril ceased ; the outstretched head fell upon 
 his chest, and with a sob and groan he burst forth in 
 such a flood of tears, such a passion of weeping, as the 
 doctor had not heard for many a day. Mr. Spatula 
 laid his hand upon his shoulder, but did not try to 
 check him ; indeed, he was too busy in putting up his 
 watch and wiping from his own eyes some rebellious 
 tears. 
 
 Death, somehow or another, brings people about 
 one. No sooner was John Woodroffe's voice heard in 
 anguish, than a dozen, at least, of his fellow-lodgers in 
 that populous house were on his landing, and in a few 
 seconds were standing in his room. 
 
 " Poor Mrs. "WoodrofFe ! gone at last !" said Biddy 
 Malone. "Elessings on the corpse, and all in this 
 room ;" she said, reverently ; " and the poor babe, 
 too." 
 
 "Aye, bless the babe," said another, " it will never 
 miss its mother like the lave of us." 
 
 "Poor thing," said a third, "and to think that 
 Julie Mackenzie's just in the same state as the poor 
 creature there, barring that her baby's dead, and this 
 alive. Heaven help her ! ' ' 
 
 "Where does that woman live?" said the doctor, 
 after vainly endeavouring to move the crowd out of 
 the room. 
 
 " 'Deed an' I'll show ye, and just take the babby 
 with me," said the speaker : " we are many in this 
 house — all poor people — and it is but a few stairs 
 up." 
 
14 diamo:mds a:n"d spades. 
 
 " Wait a while tlien/' said Mr. Spatula, '* and Til 
 be with you. Come," he said to "Woodroffe, " come, 
 don't give way so — God's will be done. What he or- 
 dains man can neither cure nor avoid ; let us bow to 
 His will." 
 
 The words reached the poor man's ears, and he 
 sprung up from the bed. 
 
 " Bear witness all you people," he said fiercely, 
 waving his hand in front of him, and pointing to the 
 dead woman on the bed ; " bear witness all of you, 
 that what you have just heard is a lie. It is the old, 
 old, common lie, which they try every day to cram 
 down the throats of us poor people. We ask for bread, 
 and they give us that stone. With her dying words in 
 my ears and in my heart — with her trust, too, in that 
 Grod of kindness and love ! I say it is a lie ! It is 
 not His will that we should fester here— it is not His 
 will that we should starve and die — it is not His will 
 that we should be old in our youth, and die before we 
 are mature, in sickly, premature old age — it is not His 
 will that man should live only thirty years upon this 
 eaj?th, and spend those thirty years in pain — it is not 
 His will, that stunted in our growth, poisoned in the 
 very air we breathe, kept constantly in dirt and work, 
 our brains deadened, and our souls degraded, we 
 should yet slave for the luxuries which others absorb, 
 and die in the task. JSTo, that is not His will. It was 
 man's own wicked will — man's own greedy passion — 
 which paygf low wages, and makes them lower still, 
 until the poor are ground to dust. It was man's will 
 — his iron, cruel will — that tried her strength beyond 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 15 
 
 endurance ; it was God's goodness and His mercy 
 which took her from it early." 
 
 " I say Amen to that ;" cried Biddy Malone, with 
 tears in her eyes. 
 
 " And I ! and I ! " cried the neighbours. 
 
 " My man," said Mr. Spatula, " I have something 
 to say to that, too ; but you are too ill, too excited, to 
 listen. I will come to-morrow." 
 
 What he said was true. ^ John AYoodroffe's nostrils 
 were again working fiercely, and his eyes staring 
 wildly ; his head fell again on his chest, and his legs 
 shook under him. " Take me away," said he, " take 
 me away ;" and he fell forward by the side of the bed, 
 where lay his wife. 
 
 " He hasn't had a meal's meat for two days," said 
 one, with an appealing look to the doctor. 
 
 "Here, then," said the latter, " get him some, and 
 keep him quiet;" and he put some money into the 
 speaker's hand. " I will come again to-morrow," and 
 he strode away. 
 
 To-morrow came, and the kind-hearted doctor with 
 it ; but Woodroffe's trials were ended, and he lay still 
 and quietly by the side of his wife, and, not an un- 
 common sight in Angel-court, there were two corpses 
 upon one bed. 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 IN WHICH THE READER, TOGETHER WITH ONE OP THE HEROES, IS 
 
 CONDUCTED TO A GREAT HOUSE. 
 
 These are other great houses in London than that in 
 which my Lord Hallmarke, or, indeed, any other scion 
 of the nobility, was born. There is a house in every 
 parish — except where two or three parishes combine 
 so as to have a very large one indeed — where the old, 
 the worn out, the disappointed, and the broken in 
 spirit congregate — sometimes, much against their 
 wills ; and -whence they are carried to their last 
 home — a house narrow, indeed, being made of four 
 deal boards. The house we speak of is the work- 
 house, in which our friend Mr. Spatula spent a great 
 deal of his time, and in which he was deservedly po- 
 pular ; the reason, perhaps, of both was, that Mr. 
 Spatula had not many patients elsewhere : he hath 
 since become famous for his extraordinary skill, and 
 is now pestered with many and rich people — pa- 
 tients, too, the majority of whose illnesses arise solely 
 from their riches ; but the earlier part of his career 
 was spent in attending to the wants of the poor. 
 Strange, but natural consequence, the ailments of the 
 poor are vicarious, and the skill which the finest phy- 
 sician in the world applies to remedy the diseases of 
 
DIAMONDS AI^D SPADES. 17 
 
 the rich, has been earned years before upon the bodies 
 of the poor. 
 
 It must be confessed, however, that Mr. Spatula's 
 poor patients were fully awake to these facts, and that 
 also knowing that the doctor was paid to attend 
 them, they got as much attention out of him as they 
 could. Many an extra mile had he to dance attend- 
 ance upon them; many a worthless journey did he 
 undertake, merely because he w^as the " parish 
 doctor." 
 
 " I tell ye, woman," said he one night to the wife 
 of one of this sort of patients, " I tell ye that your 
 husband is not in a fit : he is drunk, dead drunk, and 
 ye know it." 
 
 " An' if I did," was the retort, " ain't ye the parish 
 doctor, paid for attending us poor people ? and don't 
 ye go quick enough to attend upon your rich patients 
 when they're drunk ? " 
 
 " That's true enough," muttered the doctor to him- 
 self ; "true enough. At least, I should do so for the 
 fee ; but, 'ecod, if I were to attend to all the whims of 
 these people, it's little that I should get in the way of 
 fees." And he strode away in great disgust. 
 
 Notwithstanding all this, when a case of real dis- 
 tress occurred, few people's hearts were so open to it 
 as that of Mr. Spatula. He was deeply touched at the 
 fate of John WoodroiFe and his wife, and he set him- 
 self to work to see what could be done for the child. 
 
 " There is one thing plain enough," he muttered 
 " if the child is left for long down that court he will 
 be carried off by fever, or something worse. I must 
 
 c 
 
18 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 get him out of that, and, with his foster-mother, place 
 him in here. I dare say that Mr. Bland will help 
 me." 
 
 It was therefore upon the errand of mercy that Mr. 
 Spatula went to the house of Mr. Bland, who was at 
 the same time a curate of the parish and a chaplain to 
 the workhouse. The house in which Mr. Bland lived 
 was a large one, and on the first floor were his apart- 
 ments. It was tenanted by the clergyman and a 
 widow lady, who, having two marriageable daughters, 
 not unreasonably hoped at some future time to have a 
 son-in-law in the church. 
 
 Mr. Bland's apartments were, therefore, always kept 
 scrupulously clean, and Mr. Bland's bell always at- 
 tended to ; but unfortunately for Mrs. Susan Huck- 
 aback, the divine's meditations were solely upon his 
 parish, his sermons, and his books. Besides the three 
 w^omen mentioned, there was also a certain Dick Huck- 
 aback, the only son of the widow, and the adoration of 
 his mother and intense abomination of his sisters, 
 being, it must be confessed, as wild a young gentle- 
 man as need be. To lecture this cub, the E,ev. Mr. 
 Bland was often called into the widow's parlour, and 
 when there subjected to a cruel fire from the eyes of 
 Mary and Martha Huckaback, two sisters who had often 
 quarrelled about the possession of the reverend gentle- 
 man's heart, without in the least degree consulting its 
 possessor as to whom it should eventually belong. 
 
 " There's a visitor for Mr. Bland," said the mother, 
 when she heard Mr. Spatula's knock ; " now do Mary 
 see who it is : that girl will ncA^er come." 
 
DIAMOTs-DS AKD SPABES. 19 
 
 " Oil, mother ! I saw," cried tlie young lady address- 
 ed, consulting a looking-glass set in the side of the 
 window so that it reflected every visitor ; " it's only 
 that odious old Spatula. He's come upon parish 
 business, I suppose." 
 
 ^' Drat the parish," said the widow ; " I wish there 
 were no parishes at all, with their rates and taxes. 
 There's the poor-rate now ; see how much they get 
 out of one. I wonder what they do with it all ! It 
 don't go to the poor, I know. Then, there's sewers, 
 and paving and lighting; a pretty thing, I'm sure, 
 some of them make out of it. Is that man let in ? " 
 
 " Yes, 'ma ; and Jane has shown him up stairs. I 
 hope he a'int going to take Mr. Bland out again, he 
 must be walked off his legs, poor fellow. He has been 
 doing ever so many burials to-day." 
 
 " And I hope he ar'n't going to stay to tea," said 
 the mother ; " giving extra trouble and waiting." 
 
 Meanwhile, perfectly unconscious of any remarks 
 upon him, Mr. Spatula walked up stairs and was 
 ushered into the presence of the Rev. Daniel Eland. 
 
 The latter was a thin spare man of some five or six 
 and thirty, with prematurely gray hair, and a stoop in 
 his tall form. His forehead was capacious and lofty, 
 but the chief feature to be remarked in his countenance 
 was his mouth, which always wore a very sweet smile, 
 and which expressed in a great degree three Christian 
 virtues — patience, firmness, and endurance. The 
 bumps upon Mr. Eland's head may have been excel- 
 lent or not — the present writer is not a phrenologist — 
 but the bumps which Mr. Eland's heart made against 
 
 c 2 
 
20 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 his ribs were frequently caused by pangs of pity for the 
 poor, the wretched, and the deserted ; or by great re- 
 joicing when he found, as he often did, goodness grow- 
 ing in lowly places, and the hand of Providence 
 stretched out in wonderful relief to those who had 
 almost despaired of help on this side the grave. 
 
 With feelings like the above, Mr. Bland did not, it 
 need scarcely be said, take a gloomy view of human 
 nature ; nor did he, on the contrary, take a fast, 
 hilarious, or uproarious view. He had seen both sides 
 of the question ; had rejoiced and laughed, and had 
 sorrowed and wept. He had met with friends who 
 had turned out false, and with some who had proved 
 true ; he had never railed at the world, nor did he 
 ever expect that his life should be one of unmixed 
 joyance, so that he passed calmly and quietly on 
 through life, as an autumnal day passes to eternity, 
 with a gentle warmth and glow, and with, perhaps, a 
 little sunshine, and perchance some rain. 
 
 " Mr. Spatula, welcome ! " said the clergyman, get- 
 ting up from a very big and parchment-covered volume ; 
 " sit down and take tea." 
 
 " Thank ye, I will," said the doctor. 
 
 " It's astonishing," said Bland, looking at the doctor 
 as if he were about to communicate some very great 
 thing to him, — " it's astonishing what such a book as 
 this contains." 
 
 " I should think so," said Spatula, drily ; "I couldn't 
 read it through ; it's big enough." 
 
 " Nay," returned the clergyman, " I mean, it's 
 astonishing what wisdom, what eloquence, what true 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 21 
 
 views of life, what thorough Christianity these old 
 fathers contained. One of them is sufficient to form 
 a man's whole library." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said the doctor ; " so people say of 
 others. Some take Shakespeare, some Bishop Hall, 
 some Plato, some Homer; as for me, I swear by the 
 ^ Fhannacopoeia Londiiiensis.^ " 
 
 " Every one to his trade,'* said the clergyman, 
 smiling. " And now tell me the cause to which I owe 
 your visit — one of charity, I'm sure." 
 
 " Charity," said the doctor ; " as if anything we do 
 to our fellows deserves that name. It's a case of 
 distress that I wish yqu to help me in. A poor man 
 and his wife have both died, and left helpless and alone 
 a newlj-born babe." 
 
 The clergyman referred to a book which contained 
 the list of his visitations. " Their name," he said, 
 " w^as Woodroffe, and their boy continues in the same 
 house, nursed by another woman of the name of Mac- 
 kenzie." 
 
 " I see," cried Spatula, " that you have been before 
 me. You can, therefore, guess my errand here, which 
 is to get that Mrs. Mackenzie and the baby into the 
 workhouse — (I hear she is a widow) — till she is strong 
 enough to work and support herself and the baby, 
 home I am certain she will never desert."' 
 
 So it was that the two sat to work and determined 
 to get an order out of the overseer, which, by the way, 
 was no easy thing, Mr. Hardgrain, the gentleman in 
 question, being one of those perverse people who would 
 do a good thing himself, but who hated being asked to 
 
22 diamois:ds ai^d spades. 
 
 do one. He instituted a strict inquiry into tlie state of 
 the widow Mackenzie, and finding that she was already 
 dependant upon out-door relief, reluctantly signed an 
 order for admittance. It was, therefore, through that 
 circumstance that he who will be probably one of the 
 heroes of this tale, holding his infant breath but at 
 a weak tenure, w^as baptized in the infirmary of the 
 said workhouse, and there received the good clergy- 
 man's name, Leigh "Woodrofie ; Mr, Spatula being his 
 godfather, and Julia Mackenzie his godmother as well 
 as his foster-mother ; and it was also curious that at 
 that very day, from a silver bowl presented to his parish 
 church by Lord Silverspoon, the young LordHallmarke 
 received the name of " Eoland Plantagenet " (he claim- 
 ing to be of an august race) from the hands and lips 
 of his grace the Lord Bishop of Smithfield. Still the 
 race had scarcely began, and the infants kept abreast. 
 There were the same words employed, the same holy 
 rite, the same sign which admitted them into Christ's 
 fold ; the same comforting and blessed hope expressed 
 for both. 
 
CIIAPTEE ly. 
 
 TUE HONOURABLE TOil INGOT SEEKS TO BECOME A PUBLIO 
 CHAllACTER. 
 
 It is no very pleasant thing to lose a large fortune, 
 especially when that fortune would also bring one 
 consideration, place, power, and troops of friends. It 
 maybe very well for the poor student who, fresh from 
 his Seneca, really in his heart despises riches, to rail 
 at them, and to talk philosophically against them — 
 they neither add to a man's height, nor to his real 
 worth ; but there is little doubt but that they give a 
 man weight in the country, and that weight is pre- 
 cisely what the most ambitious of us desire.- Such was 
 the desire of the Honourable Tom Ingot and he had 
 lived to see all his hopes destroyed. 
 
 The gentleman in question sat, about a couple of 
 years after the commencement of our story, in the 
 library of his club. It was a large spacious room, 
 totally walled with and surrounded with books. The 
 very door was fitted with dummies, and bore upon its 
 lying back the names of great authors, seldom or never 
 consulted when in real folio, and put there only for a 
 show ; so that when shut into the apartment, there 
 appeared no possibility of escape. From the ceiling 
 swung a large lamp with three burners, and from the 
 ground-glass globe a soft mellow light was shed upon 
 
24 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 the occupants — for there were two — the Honourable 
 Tom, and his fast friend, Mr. Savage Bones, of the 
 Inner Temple, Earrister-at-law. The former was a 
 handsome, tall man, with the air of a hon vivant, with 
 dark curling locks, high white forehead, silken mous- 
 tache, and that kind of high and haughty look which 
 is termed pre-eminently aristocratic. But the lower 
 part of the late heir presumptive to an earldom was 
 coarse, sensual, and vapid, and tinted with a red colour 
 that seemed to be spreading upwai-ds — it being ob- 
 servable that certain individuals colour their faces as 
 some industrious young fellows do their pipes. 
 
 The chosen friend of the clubbist, who had been in- 
 vited for a special purpose to dine with him, was, on 
 the contrary, a short, fair man, with that look upon 
 tim only comparable to a loaf that is half-baked. His 
 hair was a light flaxen, stubby, and stubborn, without 
 the slightest curl upon it. His eyes were of a light 
 china blue, extremely restless and vivacious, turning 
 to all parts of the room ; now resting for a moment 
 upon the form of his friend, and now upon the top- 
 most row of books in the library. He had taken up 
 the Edinburgh Eeview, and when he for a moment 
 ceased from biting his finger-nails, he made savage 
 dips into that kindly volume, and scored with his 
 finger-nail — he had only one left — the most scorching 
 passages of the erudite reviewer. Meanwhile, his 
 friend gazed stupidly and placidly into the bright 
 sparkling fire, and occasionly screwed himself more 
 comfortably into a chair, fitted an immense deal more 
 for sleep than for study. Suddenly, the barrister laid 
 
DIAMONDS AlfD SPADES. 2o 
 
 down his r&yiew, and getting up, made a dash at a 
 brass ring fitted into a kind of thin drawer, and drew 
 out nothing less than the map of England, of which 
 the mahogany formed the bottom roller. 
 
 "That's a capital dodge," said he, "I thought it 
 might have been a cabinet for coins." 
 
 "Eh! what!" said the Honourable Tom, "Oh! 
 that's what you're at, eh ? Oh ! yes, the fellows who 
 make these places are uncommonly well up in dodges. 
 I believe, now, that if you wanted a machine made to 
 put your fork to your mouth, you could get it at a 
 good club. No man marries, you know, from a club, 
 unless he's a fool, you know." 
 
 " Or the Marquis of Silverspoon," said Bones, 
 drily. 
 
 " Ah ! yes, he belongs to five or six of the dummy 
 ones : of course such as he marry, and be hanged to 
 him. I wonder what he did it for, eh ? Just to spite 
 me." 
 
 " No doubt ; but look here, here's a better dodge," 
 said Bones, pointing to the map of England, " look 
 here." 
 
 Mr. Ingot rose, and went lazily to the map, and 
 fixing his eye-glass in his right eye, bent over it. .^ 
 
 " I don't see it," he said. 
 
 " Why, the very thing we want is here ; I can see 
 it as plainly as the coloured lines which divide the 
 counties — electoral districts — this must be your 
 point." 
 
 " "What the deuce! " said his friend. 
 
 " Press it in the House," said the other ; " call 
 
26 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 meetings, talk about the inequalities of the representa- 
 tion, and propose in addition the abolition of the 
 property qualijS-cation." 
 
 " Well, and what's the use of that ? " said Tom, 
 with a tremendous yawn. 
 
 "The use? why here would be the use; after 
 having ventilated — yes, ventilated — that's the word, 
 eh ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Ingot, without a very clear idea of 
 what he was about. 
 
 " "Well then," continued Savage Eones, speaking 
 sharply, fiercely, and energetically, " your plan is this 
 — become the leader of our men, the Universalists — 
 cry out for liberty for all — 'tis a popular cry, for all 
 like liberty. Eail against the venison and wine of the 
 rich, and declare that the stomach of ^ the poor man 
 ought no longer to feed only upon bread and bacon. 
 To bring about this earthly paradise, declare that but 
 two or three things are wanted ; for if w^e reform the 
 world, we must do it piecemeal, and not grasp at too 
 many things at once. Take, I say, universal suffrage, 
 no property qualification for members, and electoral 
 districts; and then, d'ye see, when these things are 
 well talked of out of doors, and in doors — when- you 
 have bored the prime minister, and tired the House, 
 it's odds to me, if you don't get the first place which 
 falls vacant offered to you, so as to get rid of you and 
 silence you — just as a thief throws a bone to a hungry 
 dog." 
 
 " 'Pon my word, Mr. Bones," said Tom, rather rue- 
 fully, " I'm not very well pleased with the simile." 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 27 
 
 ^' What would you have ? " said the barrister, '• your 
 family influence is at an end, for you will, in all 
 human probability, live and die Tom Ingot, and will, 
 never be Lord Silverspoon; you must, therefore 
 gain by other means, which family influences would 
 have given you." 
 
 " Ah, I see that," said Tom, " and now, what will 
 you do for yourself, for of course there must be some- 
 thing in your way you know ? " 
 
 Mr. Bones drew a little way back and let go the 
 map, which rolled up of itself by aid of a spring, 
 before he answered. He saw that his friend was 
 after all a shrewd enough man of the world and that 
 he might not be very successful with him if he told 
 him a downright falsehood. 
 
 " What do I mean to do ?" he said, " why, do you 
 not see, since we must all have an interest in what we 
 do, do you not see that I shall gain influence by my 
 connection with you, and that when you have thrown 
 the people over, I shall come in second ? Besides this, 
 although you have no money, your name and interest 
 will be of use in establishing an organ, and if we get 
 a good printer and publisher I can live, at least for 
 some time, as the editor." 
 
 " Good again," said the noble Tom, " and if we suc- 
 ceed, Bones, I shall think worse of the people than I 
 do now ; seeing that they must be fools to be gulled 
 by you and me." 
 
 " lN"ot such fools either ; they are not behind the 
 scenes, nor do they see things so plainly as we do. 
 
28 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 The truth is, they want a leader, and will, in the 
 absence of a real one, " catch at a straw." 
 
 " Well, let us hope it will be all right, and now let 
 us settle the preliminaries over a cup of coffee.'* 
 
 So saying, the honourable Tom pressed in one of 
 the sham volumes of the library, and the door swung 
 back, and he and his friend passed out and went down 
 the wide stairs into the drawing-room of the club. 
 Opposite the fire-place, with its marble mantel beau- 
 tifully carved, a couch was vacant — a couch, easy, 
 luxurious and especially adapted for clubbists ; either 
 end formed a comfortable arm-chair, and in the cen- 
 tre a small table was fixed, just large enough to hold 
 the silver waiter upon which the club footman, notice- 
 able for his quiet livery and large calves brought the 
 cafe au lait in the whitest of porcelain cups. 
 
 As the two friends sat sipping their refreshment 
 and looking into the fire, their thoughts naturally re- 
 verted to each other. Ingot thought what a rascal 
 Bones must be to deceive the people who trusted him 
 — for Bones had his admirers — and the barrister 
 thought that the aristocrat must be both a fool and a 
 rogue — a rogue for betraying his order in the slightest 
 degree, and a fool for allowing himself to be made his 
 stalking torse, and giving up the quiet enjoyment of 
 such a club as that, for which he had sufficient fortune 
 always to indulge in, and endeavouring to launch upon 
 the stormy and deceitful sea of public life. 
 
 Meanwhile, through the long drawing-room win- 
 dows, the cheerful blaze of the fire, the heavy hang- 
 
DIAMOIN-DS AKD SPADES. 29 
 
 ings, the rich furniture, and the well-dressed occu- 
 pants of the room could be distinctly seen from the 
 street. The shop boj as he hurried past thought how 
 comfortable it looked — the linen-draper's assistant 
 sighed as he admired the heavy swells who frequented 
 it ; and the houseless vagrant, hungry and footweary, 
 as he limped by, cursed it in his heart. Tom Ingot 
 had finished his coffee and strolled to the window. 
 He was disgusted with life ; he had been living on 
 ^ost obits; he was overwhelmed with debt; "Ah," 
 sighed he, " that poor fellow who twirls his cane dovm 
 there, and smokes his miserable cheroot, goes daily to 
 his desk, works from nine till five, and plays the rest 
 of his time and is happy ; I wish to God I was that 
 clerk !" " I wish to heaven I was that swell," said the 
 clerk, puffing his cigar as he turned away, " how happy 
 he ought to be." The two wishes mounted upon the 
 night air and were registered in heaven, and gave 
 another pang to the Creator of all — no content — no 
 happiness — no trust in His wisdom ; each thinking 
 another's fate is better than our own. Ah, restless 
 human hearts, be still, be still ! 
 
CHAPTEE V. 
 
 THE YOUNG LOED BEGINS TO STUDY THE BELLES LETTRES, AND 
 LEIGH WOODROFFE TAKES HIS FIRST LESSONS IN A VERY HARD 
 SCHOOL INDEED. 
 
 That novel wliich. should seek to relate every circum- 
 stance in a man's life, must, indeed, be a long one. 
 Sometimes, as with man so with books, time must 
 creep withal. Frequently he must walk at a brisk 
 pace, and at others he must gallop. It suits the his- 
 torian of this truthful narrative, that he should now 
 gallop ; but, at the same time, as a horseman who 
 wishes to view the country may occasionally turn his 
 rein and revisit a spot which he has passed, so 
 the narrator claims a privilege of going back in his 
 narrative, even after he has galloped out of sight of 
 the circumstance to which he refers. 
 
 The Marquis of Silverspoon's house w^as no longer 
 a dull one. The old lord, who had nursed the property 
 before, had now become very parsimonious in his habits, 
 but though he looked out particularly sharply after 
 his rents, he was yet by no means niggard of his money 
 at home. Everything there was in rich and in proper 
 profusion, and the home had so brightened up that 
 a reflex had fallen upon the old man himself; and in- 
 stead of looking six years older he positively appeared 
 six years younger. He rejoiced in his boy's health, 
 manners, vouth, and spirits; and, as in contemplating 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 31 
 
 the good-natured and' the merry, our faces grow to be 
 somewhat like them, the Marquis had lost half his 
 wrinkles, and was a fat, tall, old gentleman, no longer 
 woebegone or miserable. Let us add also, that ^n 
 losing these, he lost a great part of his selfishness, 
 his vices, and his old tricks. He had given up those 
 delightful little champagne suppers in which he once 
 indulged, and now spent almost all his time with his 
 son, either in the country or in town, riding, walking, 
 or playing with him. 
 
 If the old gentleman gained youth irom the boy, 
 the boy on his part gained age from the old man. At 
 six his character was somewhat formed. He knew 
 the proper distance between himself and a servant ; 
 could sit his pony well ; swear at a groom, or enter a 
 drawing-room without embarrassment where he could 
 look at the fine prints and scrap-books, which the 
 ladies spread before him for his anuisement, more like 
 a connoisseur than a boy of six. He treated his mother 
 with a decent and grave respect, which won the ap- 
 plause of his father, and made honest Tom Ingot, who 
 wished him dead with all his might and main, curse 
 him for a hypocritical young monkey. As for Tom, 
 the young lord was perfectly alive to his character, and 
 required and exacted from him much respect as due 
 to the head of the house of Ingot. 
 
 And my lady mother, the Marchioness, how fared 
 she ? She was as handsome still as ever ; even more 
 so; Time had thrown a grand and pensive shadow 
 over her face ; but at eight-and-twenty one begins to 
 get used to the world, to accept its differences, and to 
 
82 DIAMONDS AXD SPADES. 
 
 think after all that it was not far wrong in its esti- 
 mate of ourselves, and that even we mioht be wrons: 
 in respect to it. " At thirty," says the grave Doctor 
 Young, " man suspects himself a fool ;" what man 
 does at thirty woman does at twenty-eight, for woman 
 ripens both in mind and body earlier, and so had 
 indeed my Lady Silverspoon ; for sometime before this 
 she began to take things as they came, and to find 
 high life, and titles, and dignities, and honours very 
 pleasant indeed, and quite to her taste. " The dyer's 
 hand," says our great national poet, " is subdued down 
 to the colour wherein it works," and so my lady and 
 many others too, after grieving and sighing and beat- 
 ing herself against the usages of society, began to find 
 society not so very much against her taste, and to get 
 a little quiet in harness. 
 
 "Was it my lord who persuaded her to this ? 
 Certainly not. She and he were as distant and polite, 
 and more so than ever. "When her ladyship had ful- 
 filled her mission, and had borne a son and heir to the 
 house of Ingot, everything went quietly enough, she 
 was treated with all due respect, and was hereafter 
 installed as one of the family. 
 
 The boy, too, had he reconciled her to this life ? 
 Again, the answer must be in the negative. He had 
 been from the first delivered to a nurse, and then to a 
 nursery governess. Ko pains, nor cares, nor troubles 
 endeared him to his mother. She was ignorant of his 
 little illnesses, of hi^ coughs, his measles, or his tooth- 
 cutting ; and indeed continued to loathe him till he 
 had gone through all those vulgar and unpleasant ad- 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 33 
 
 ventures. 'Nor, indeed, did this dislike disappear till 
 he had escaped the nursery governess, and was, at the 
 very early age of which w^e treat, confided to the care oi 
 Mr. Honeysoap, B.A., his private tutor. 
 
 Mr. Honeysoap, B.A., Eellow of Trinity College? 
 Cambridge, was a person exactly fitted to his duties. 
 He had a reverence for his patrons, the aristocracy, and 
 the church, in a backward ratio to which an adjective 
 forms its degrees of comparison. The church through 
 which Mr. Honeysoap took his degree and his bread was 
 ^^ood ; the aristocracy, whom he reverenced, was better ; 
 and his present patron, from whom he hoped hereafter 
 to get a good living, was best of all. That is, outwardly, 
 for Mr. Honeysoap was at present a deeper man than 
 a scholar ; inwardly, he reverenced none so much as 
 himself, and had set himself the common task to 'us 
 all, that of gaining his own advancement by all the 
 means that laid in his power. 
 
 To recognise the state of affairs in the Ingot family 
 was with him but the work of a few days. To ingra- 
 tiate himself both with my lady and her husband, 
 took him a few more ; nor was the pupil neglected. 
 Knowing the ardent desire of the Marquis to have a 
 clever son, he instilled into the young gentleman a 
 taste for learning which he has never lost, and taught 
 him various common and uncommon things which the 
 boy used as show- words ; and which, whilst they asto- 
 nished his father, gave him, at the same time, a very 
 high idea of the tutor whom he had chosen. 
 
 The next aim of Mr. Honeysoap was to sound both 
 the hearts of the Marquis and the Marchioness. "With 
 
 D 
 
34 DIAMOIS^DS AKD SPADEB. 
 
 tlie former he talked incessantly of tlie hopes and 
 progress of his son ; with the latter of the worthless- 
 ness, the disappointments, and the hollowness of the 
 world. Eoth listened eagerly to him. " "Well, Mr. 
 Honeysoap 1 well, sir, and how does his young lord- 
 ship progress," or " does your young pupil still con- 
 tinue to do you honour?" was his patron's constant 
 query. Then he would launch out into a description 
 of the boy's progress ; how he had already begun to 
 puzzle out the meaning of Robinson Crusoe in Latin, 
 from which excellent version, combining instruction 
 and amusement, the clergyman, indeed, taught him. 
 If at any loss for anecdote, the Eev. Job Honeysoap 
 would at once invent one ; for respect for tl-uth and 
 fair-dealing was a quality which w^as not taught at the 
 rev. gentleman's college, or perhaps he had lost it in 
 his transit through the world. 
 
 It was in a very different strain that he spoke to 
 the Marchioness. *^ My Lady Trumpington's assem- 
 bly," he would say, "was, I hear, very brilliant last 
 evening; yet your ladyship seems dull. Oh! my dear 
 madam, all these enjoyments are evanescent, all these 
 brilliant glories of fashion and state are like glow- 
 worms, and, when we look too nearly to them, we find 
 in them neither lightness nor warmth." As my la4y 
 was dissatisfied with herself, it cannot be reasonably 
 expected that she was pleased with the world, and so, 
 finding a kindred soul who could and would — for the 
 rev. gentleman had a great flow of speech — sympa- 
 thize with her, that lady poured into the breast of this 
 ghostly adviser all her troubles and her griefs, and he 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 35 
 
 in the end became the depository of her secrets. Then 
 he took to himself the religious task of fomenting old 
 griefs and quarrels, and of exasperating my lady 
 against my lord, which he did in an exceedingly skil- 
 ful way by praising his virtues ; and on the other 
 hand, irritating my lord against my lady. It would 
 have done any misanthropical person's heart good to 
 see how quietly and meekly he assumed the office of 
 peace-maker between the two ; how, when referred to, 
 he would clasp his long white hands, and fold his 
 fingers in one another, whilst he shook his head, and 
 declared that it was perfectly unfit for a person of his 
 humble sphere to bear the burden of seeing his patron 
 and patroness, whom he honoured above everything 
 on earth, ill at ease with each other. JSTeverthless, it 
 was his duty to be peacemaker, and he would conjure 
 them to be reconciled. 
 
 The end of these family squabbles was that my lord, 
 on retiring to his room, would declare to his valet, as 
 the latter undressed him, " that if it wasn't for that 
 good soul Honeysoap, and the boy, he could not live 
 under the same roof with that woman ;" and that the 
 lady declared to her maid " that the religious influ- 
 ence of that sainted clergyman only made life in the 
 present circumstances bearable." In the meantime 
 Honeysoap reaped the benefit. His salary was in- 
 creased, he was promised a living (when indeed he 
 could be spared) by the Marquis, and many little 
 gifts, amongst others a silver salver and coftee-pot 
 marked " the deep esteem," so said the inscription, of 
 the Marchioness of Silverspoon. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 DIAMQNDS AND SPADES 
 
 Little Plantagenet was generally removed from 
 these scenes of domestic strife and peace-making, and 
 in the quietude of his study reaped the benefit of his 
 tutor's schooling. The Eev. Job, to do him justice, 
 was a man of acute ideas, and knew how to instruct 
 in a way happily pleasing to himself and his pupil ; 
 and the latter had a quick and retentive memory. He 
 learnt from his instructor a great many things which 
 polished the brain, but none which reached the heart. 
 He was too clever for Watts' s hymns, or any imagina- 
 tive or baby rhymes 'S and at eight years old already 
 began to know the use of learning, and to take unto 
 himself that part which was most useful and glit- 
 tering. 
 
 Leigh Woodroffe had learnt something too. His 
 foster-mother, by the influence of the Eev^. Mr. Bland, 
 had been placed in a position to get a respectable 
 livelihood, and had done so : but hard times had come 
 upon her, and she had frequently to find how difficult 
 it is to earn a living in comfort and respectability, 
 when entirely friendless and unaided. Her very 
 good-nature and charity — and the charity of the poor 
 to the poor can alone be fully appreciated hy the poor 
 — also rendered her frequently nearly destitute ; when, 
 had she l)een selfish, she might have been in almost 
 comfortable circumstances. Still the widow Mackenzie, 
 as she was called, persisted in her charity, and daily 
 ofiered some mite of kindness to God's creatures, 
 which will doubtless be found placed to her credit 
 side when the accounts of the everlasting treasury 
 are made up. If the* "Widow Mackenzie had a loaf 
 
DIAMOI^DS AND SPADES. 37 
 
 from the workhouse, or a shilling from Mr. Spatula, 
 she generally found those to share them with; and- 
 on that account, to bear many and many a rebuff 
 from the overseer, Mr. Hardgrain. 
 
 " Well," he would say, having just come in from a 
 hearty breakfast himself, " "Well, what can you want 
 with more relief, eh ? I do not know what you do 
 with all you get, I'm sure — give it half away, I dare 
 say ; well, if you do, you must jp ay for your folly ^"^ 
 
 And the widow did pay for her folly ; but she had 
 a certain volume in the poor room which she and 
 Leigh inhabited, which perversely kept assuring her 
 that her behaviour was not folly but wisdom, and that 
 some day hereafter she would be paid, instead of 
 having to pay for it. 
 
 Par differently from her neighbours down that 
 dreadful court, far differently from the poor in all 
 that wide parish, the widow could never be got to 
 look upon parish relief as anything shameful ; or, in- 
 deed, as anything more than her due. She had seen 
 better days, and for some time — when life was quite 
 a different thing from the constant trial it had since 
 become — had, with her husband, paid taxes and rates, 
 and relieved the poor herself. So, as she reasoned, 
 as the rates were paid for the poor, it was but right 
 that through them they should be relieved ; and she 
 went boldly up to demand that as a right, which 
 others accepted as a humiliation. When she could, 
 she worked hardly and honestly ; and when she could 
 not work, she depended upon the legal provision 
 which her country had given her. 
 
38 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 Little Leigh had, under her tuition, grown a fine 
 boy. Erom the title-page of the Bible he was taught 
 his letters ; and in the pages of the sacred volume he 
 learnt to read. The "Widow Mackenzie — herself of a 
 good Scotch family — had been well educated, and 
 knew a great deal more than she liked to confess, 
 when she saw those who knew nothing, placed above 
 her in everything worldly. But this education had 
 taught her one precious gift, which was, to bear ad- 
 versity without a murmur ; and also to reckon every 
 mode of life honest which brought with it no shame 
 nor guilt. 
 
 So little Leigh went stumbling over the long Scrip- 
 tural names, reading of Paradise, and visions of beauty 
 came to him ; and then, reading of the flood, and the 
 ark, and visions of an unseen Power, and a wondrous 
 goodness overspread him. He himself, the widow 
 thought, was in a kind of moral Deluge, and she daily 
 looked for some ark to bear him from it. 
 
 When people show themselves quite ready to bear 
 God's trials without a murmur, sometimes those trials 
 are doubled, just as when we bend a bow a great 
 way down we bend it the more, to see how 
 much it will bear : so it was that when the widow 
 and little Leigh were succeeding pretty comfortably 
 by themselves, another trial came. The little boy 
 was quite useful now ; he was five years of age, and 
 when the widow went to work would lease himself 
 out to old applewomen to watch their stalls, or he 
 might be seen with two halfpenny bundles of wood in 
 his juvenile arms, driving a hard bargain with some 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 39 
 
 poor people, down the court, before lie parted with 
 them. His pretty face and clean hair — he was very 
 different indeed from his companions — used also to 
 recommend him to a certain trade in which he pros- 
 pered : this was to take out two oranges and an empty 
 basket into the large thoroughfare, and cry out, 
 " "Who'll buy my last two ? only my last two," which 
 words seemed to have a talismanic effect, for many a 
 kindly lady who had little need of the fruit would stop 
 and purchase, so that the little boy might get home 
 quickly out of the cold air. Did no idea of deceit 
 pass into the child's mind as he ran quickly to his 
 employer with the penny and took out two more 
 " last " oranges ! It is hard to say. Once or twice 
 little Leigh would feel sorrowful when a lady or gen* 
 tleman with a kind voice and manner would pat his 
 head, and giving him an extra penny, would say, 
 " There, my man, take yourself out of the cold ;" then 
 he would stop and think whether he had been telling 
 the truth ; but these periods came very seldom, and 
 most frequently he was possessed with the triumphant 
 idea, that he was doing a capital business, and so he 
 was. Unfortunately for the working and street 
 classes, whether orange-sellers or jewellers, custom 
 and society have made falsehood a very valuable com- 
 modity as a stock in trade, and those who use it find 
 that in this world at least its use repays them by a 
 very large interest indeed. So little Leigh, whose face 
 was his principal recommendation, heightened that by 
 a lie, and went on for some time flourishing. 
 
 In the meantime, whilst the little boy was thus 
 
40 DIAMOTs^US AH^D SPADES. 
 
 providing for himself, an adventure happened to his 
 foster-mother which caused a very great change in 
 her affairs. It was on one cold wintry night when 
 the snow was falling so very fast that even the nume- 
 rous footsteps in Angel Court could not tread it away, 
 that a poor woman, by chance took refuge upon 
 Mrs. Mackenzie's door-step ; not that the step in 
 question belonged more to Mrs. Mackenzie than to 
 twenty other lodgers in the house, but that she was 
 the only one who bent down over the poor creature, 
 and who had the curiosity to lift up the shawl which 
 covered something which the stranger carried, and to 
 find out that it was an infant child. "Bless me," 
 thought the good woman, " this is not a night for any 
 one to sleep here ; I wonder how she can do it so 
 thinly clad as she is, and with so young a child." So 
 thinking, she again bent down and shook the figure of 
 the sleeper. The woman awoke and looked up drow- 
 sily and heavily as one who would not willingly awake 
 to the realities of her position, but the kind face look- 
 ing down recalled her, and she passed her hand over 
 her forehead and then bent down more closely to her 
 "baby. The gesture was of such a forlorn nature that 
 Mrs. Mackenzie finished the little debate within her- 
 self at once, and bent down over her and gently took 
 up the little baby to her own arms. "What the little 
 debate was We may as well state, because some people 
 suppose that people of a generous disposition do kind 
 actions without any trouble to themselves, and that 
 upon the impulse of a moment they are good when 
 others would be bad. Such is not the case, and the 
 
DIAMONDS A^^D SPADES. 41 
 
 truth is that, when Julie found some one sleeping at 
 the door she was more than half inclined to walk in 
 and leave a charitable action for some one else to per- 
 form. " You have little enough of your own, Mrs. 
 Mackenzie," said Selfishness, " other people are rich, 
 let them help, you have quite enough to do with one 
 baby which is not your own." " Fie," whispered Con- 
 science, " if everybody said so, what would become of 
 some poor creatures ? The world is hard enough with- 
 out you making it harder ; what you give away you 
 will not miss ; if you helped one poor little child you 
 have been rewarded for it ; turn not away now or 
 others may turn from you," and then she thought 
 that she heard a voice say, "Love thy neighbour as 
 thyself." It was at that moment that the struggle 
 finished, and Mrs. Mackenzie took up the babe and 
 bidding the woman follow her, took out her key and 
 unlocked her room, wherein upon a poor but cleanly 
 bed little Leigh Woodrofie slept calmly and peaceably. 
 A kettle was singing upon the hob, and a bright fire 
 made the shadows of the two women dance, in a fantas- 
 tic way upon the wall, as they entered the room. 
 
 " Sit down. Ma'am ;" said Julie, " it is not very rich 
 that I am, but-a corner here will be better than out- 
 side the door upon this bitter night." 
 
 The woman sat down without speaking. Her baby, 
 which she had so quietly resigned, was asleep, and the 
 little thing gave a sigh and turned towards the kind 
 face of her who spoke. Mrs. Mackenzie, who had 
 lighted a candle, looked down upon it and kissed it 
 and then from it to the mother. Oh, what difierent 
 
42 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 faces were those ! The one infantine, placid, and happy 
 — the other a woman's upon which were written 
 shame, anguish, and despair ; the one so smooth and 
 plump — the other fallen, wan, and marked with care's 
 deep wrinkles ; the eyes of one were closed — those of 
 the other open, moody, and revengeful, gazing into 
 the fire with a dogged stare as if she could there read 
 some solution to the difficulties which beset her path. 
 
 The kind hostess, after this observation, set down her 
 burthen upon the bed and covered it warmly over by 
 the side of little Leigh. The warmth of the bed was 
 grateful to the young child, for it crooned and mur- 
 mured in its sleep, and turning to the boy, one of its 
 arms fell round his neck. 
 
 " You are hungry. Ma'am ?" said Julie to her guest. 
 
 "No, thank you," said the other, "no; I could not 
 eat to save my life." 
 
 " You require rest, I am sure. Will you lie down 
 in the bed ? I can rest in this chair." 
 
 " I am scarcely tired ; but have you pen and paper ? 
 I wish to write a letter ; it will make my mind more 
 easy." 
 
 Mrs. Mackenzie said nothing, but quietly placed 
 before her a little packet of note paper, of which she 
 happened that day to have laid in the large stock of 
 one pennyworth, and pens and ink, and then showing 
 her where the bread and tea, and other provisions were 
 generally placed and being herself tired with her work, 
 lay down upon the side of the bed without undressing 
 herself, and was soon fast asleep. 
 
 It was not for a long time after she had fallen asleep 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 43 
 
 that her guest had finished writing although she wrote 
 rapidly. Sometimes she would pause and gaze upon 
 the sleepers. More than once she arose suddenly and 
 kissed the baby with an irrepressible fondness, and 
 then she would sit down and write as rapidly as before. 
 The fire had buried out, and the candle was nearly 
 exhausted when she had finished her task. "When she 
 had done so, she knelt down by the side of the bed 
 and prayed earnestly, and sobbed, and prayed again ; 
 then she kissed her baby and little Leigh, and making 
 a cross upon her forehead as if to charm away all evil 
 spirits, she stole softly down the stairs and fled away 
 over the snow into the stormy night. 
 
 When Mrs. Mackenzie awoke the nest morning she 
 found herself in the possession of another fine baby^ 
 a little girl, and of two letters ; one whereof was ad- 
 dressed to herself, and one to the Hon. Tom Ingot, 
 ' Club. 
 
CHAPTEE YI. 
 
 A POLITICAL CLtJB, AND WHAT WAS DONE THEREAT. 
 
 The office of the Weekly Democrat — of whicli, through 
 the interest of the Honorable Tom Ingot, Mr. Savage 
 Eones was the editor — was in Holywell Street, Strand. 
 Everybody knows what sort of a street this is — a liv- 
 ing disgrace to London, where publishers of the worst 
 literature congregate, and where the worst of passions 
 have their literary organs, and are written to and ad- 
 dressed as if they were necessities instead of vices. 
 Prints of the vilest description, imported from abroad, 
 are displayed in the windows ; and the clothes shops 
 of Jews divide with them the honour of having the 
 street to themselves.* Occasionally, the Jews strike 
 out into the gay and fancy line, for Avhich they seem 
 so wonderfully adapted, and a big mask, used at some 
 ancient pantomime, and battered and beaten sorely 
 about the face, betokens, that at the shop where it 
 hangs, any one can procure masks and dresses for a 
 fancy ball ; tickets for these sometimes decorate the 
 windows, and a pair or two of buff boots, gilt spurs, and 
 a theatrical sword throw an air of the playhouse over 
 the window, which is completed by a bill of gay colour 
 pink, green, or yellow, which announces that a cele. 
 brity either in tragedy, comedy, farce, or pantomime 
 will take his benefit at the Theatre Eoyal, So-and-So. 
 
 * Lord Campbell's Act has somewhat altered this, since this 
 was written. 
 
DIAMONDS Al^fD SPADES. 45 
 
 Beyond these shops there are, perhaps, a half-dozen 
 respectable houses in the street — which, by the way, 
 boasts of a dissenting bookseller — and that is all. The 
 great majority are open emporiums of vice, and put 
 forward the attractions of that false goddess as un- 
 blushingly and openly as others advertise tlieir wares. 
 "Why the authorities, whoever they may be, allow such 
 things, is not known, unless it be that governments, 
 either national or local, think that it is their business 
 to punish sin, and not by any means to prevent it. 
 But the seeds sown in Holywell Street bear fruit else- 
 where, and licentiousness and immorality break out 
 all over the country, infected at a distance by that 
 strange plague-spot in the heart of London. 
 
 Besides the shops we have mentioned, there is a 
 newspaper office in Holywell Street, where some vici- 
 ously radical and infidel papers had emanated; but 
 trading in such things had been but a bad speculation, 
 and the proprietors of that slashing paper, the Weelchj 
 Democrat, which was to reform all the world, and to 
 make everybody happy, and everybody who was not 
 happy extensively rich, foand an easy bargain, and so 
 took th'e old, ramshackled offices for three months 
 certain. 
 
 The offices consisted of a front warehouse, wherein 
 a printing machine placed there by some former tenant, 
 and seized for rent by the landlord, still stood, a back 
 room for compositors, and a room for the editor, with 
 "private" and "no admission" painted upon the 
 whitened glass. As the Weekly Democrat was put in 
 type out of doors, there was no necessity for the 
 
46 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 printers' room, and it had therefore been taken into 
 that of the editor, and the whole formed a very re- 
 spectable apartment for the democrats to meet in. 
 
 It was upon one of these occasions that Tom Ingot 
 was about to be presented to the club, and was to 
 make his maiden attempt at being a statesman. At 
 ^ye o'clock, therefore, upon a wintry afternoon, any 
 one might have seen various shabby-looking men wind- 
 ing their way to the office and plunging in there, look- 
 ing round first to see if any one noticed their entry 
 into so important a place. ^ 
 
 In the editor's room sat Mr. Savage Bones, and at 
 his side Mr. Johnson, the sub-editor, a gentleman w^ho 
 boasted that he knew how to turn a paragraph as well 
 as any one, and who had been everything possible to 
 be — a teetotaller, a vegetarian lecturer, a peace-ad- 
 vocate, a war spouter, an anti-corn-law, and even a 
 protectionist orator. He was of the middle size, with 
 bright eyes, dark beard and complexion, and well skilled 
 in pleasing his employers and in gulling the public. 
 Opposite to him sat a cheap novelist, one Mr. P. G-. 
 Eobinson, whose novels boast of a great many readers, 
 and of very little morality, and whose sympathies are 
 entirely with the class by which he gets his bread. 
 He was a fat-faced man, with a restless, roguish eye, 
 and a coarse, sensual mouth. A pair of blue spectacles 
 hid, in a great measure, the expression of his eyes ; 
 but the expression of his mouth it was impossible to 
 conceal. 
 
 The apartment, which was ornamented and at the 
 same time furnished by a quantity of Windsor chairs, 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 47 
 
 and a long table covered with green cloth, was rendered 
 quite official by a number of pens, quantities of paper, 
 and three or four printed bills lying upon the table. 
 The printed bills were all of the same nature. One 
 or two of them announced that the celebrated advocate 
 of the people, Mr. Bones, was about to visit the manu- 
 facturing districts, and to organize a society which 
 should give employment to every one, and make all 
 mankind happy. Eut it so happened that in the glow- 
 ing prospectus every kind of religious feeling was left 
 out — indeed Mr. Bones' doctrine was entirely subver- 
 sive of religion — and Mr. Bones, who added to his 
 acquirements that of antagonism to the religion of the 
 State put forward his determination to baptize children 
 in the faith of reason. Of a piece with this blasphemy 
 was also a placard which delared that there would be 
 in a Hall near Tottenham Court Eoad, a soiree in 
 honour of that incomparable and incorruptible patriot, 
 Maximilian Eobespierre. 
 
 With such as these had the Honourable Tom Ingot 
 leagued himself to obtain honour : for it is a sure sign 
 of honesty and earnestness that they ever eschew vio- 
 lent extremes, and of charlatanism and roguery that 
 they seek the most novel and violent contrasts to ex- 
 isting things, because those contrasts are the most 
 glaring and striking. 
 
 The day upon which we introduce the reader to the 
 office of the Democrat was a white day for Mr. Bones, 
 for all the former democrats who had hitherto despised 
 and looked down upon him, were now inclined to envy 
 him because he had caught an aristocrat in his toils. 
 
48 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 and had enlisted upon their side a man with a name ; 
 for all may be very well aware that these violent 
 parti zans well knew the worth of a name, and hailed 
 the new accession with great gladness. To this 
 end, several of the leading country democrats had ex- 
 pressly arrived in town, and awaited the coming of 
 Mr. Ingot with some anxiety. 
 
 That gentleman was of too cautious a temper to be 
 entrapped into a scheme without seeing a good deal 
 of it ; and he had, to the great disappointment of his 
 friends, ordered his neat brougham, with the Ingot 
 arms upon the panels, to remain in Clements' Inn, 
 waiting there at the door of a gentleman, who was 
 partly money-lender and partly solicitor, whilst he 
 himself walked through AVych Street into Holywell 
 Street, and thence to the office. He was dressed with 
 particular attention, and was "turned out," as he 
 expressed it, regardless of cost ; and being of a hand- 
 some and gentlemanly exterior, really appeared hand- 
 some and engaging. His frock coat, of a faultless 
 make, was blue ; his waistcoat buff ; his trousers of 
 a light gray cloth, made very fashionably, and sitting 
 well over a pair of exquisite japan leather boots, fit for 
 any dinner party on record. It being ^ye in the 
 afternoon, Tom was dressed in the approved style of 
 morning costume, and assumed with his dress a gay, 
 jaunty air, which seemed to sit upon him like a part 
 of his dress, and was indeed put on, like his primrose- 
 colour kid gloves. 
 
 The effect of such an apparition upon the dusky 
 atmosphere of Holywell Street was astonishing. Jews 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. ^ 40 
 
 did not dare to ask him if he wanted a bargain. Young 
 fellows involuntarily cried, "What a swell!" and the 
 printers' devil, who admitted the notorieties of the 
 club, fell back in astonishment as he opened the door. 
 Mr. Bones vacated his chair, and introduced the new 
 member with a grim smile of satisfaction, and the 
 occupants of the AVindsor chairs who now filled the 
 office, arose and bowed to him with a subservience 
 which his air, his manners, and his dress demanded. 
 
 After the introduction was over, Mr. Bones arose 
 to address the club. It was a curious assemblage. In 
 the place of honour, on the right hand of the President, 
 sat the son of a peer; next to him was a learned 
 shoemaker who had burst through the trammels of 
 ignorance and his trade, and rushed to represent 
 the people of Nottingham ; next to him sat the very 
 popular author of the day, and by his side a Scotch 
 newspaper editor, of violent politics, who had come to 
 London in the hope of extracting something new for 
 his paper. In the vice-chair was a people's lecturer, 
 Mr. Cheek, who held "conventions of freedom" on 
 Sunday afternoon, and who denounced all religion as a 
 systematized priestcraft. A publisher of Tom Paine' s 
 works and " Yoltaire's Philosophical Dictionary " 
 supported him on the right; and a gentleman who 
 had been in the Church of England, but for some 
 offence had been suspended from his living, sat upon 
 his left. The others of the, company were delegates 
 from three or four towns who had been sent up to 
 London by their respective townsmen to watch the 
 proceedings, and to report as to what could be done 
 
 E 
 
OU DIAMONDS Al^Jy SPADES. 
 
 for the cause of the people. These formed the excep- 
 tion to the general rule of roguery, and were really 
 honest, but very far from able men, who were cajoled 
 by those amongst whom they found themselves. Alas ! 
 that the cause of the people, that holiest of all human 
 battle cries, should fall into such hands as these. 
 
 We have said that Mr. Bones addressed the club ; 
 his speech might have been called an ^" oration," 
 in the American sense of the word, it was so florid and 
 so full of fluent metaphor, which alike destroyed and 
 concealed the sense. There was nothing very new in 
 it. He said that the people had been betrayed, and 
 that their betrayers feasted upon their labour ; but 
 that truth was so old and self-evident that it did not 
 even elicit a " hear, hear." He next declared " that 
 every patriot had in his turn promised and deceived, 
 except one, the Incorruptible, who had himself been 
 betrayed ; but that the time was coming when they 
 should no longer be subject to betrayal. The press 
 should be their guard — the press, that watchful and 
 ever wakeful giant, which, like Briareus, had a hun- 
 dred arms, and like Argus, had hundreds of eyes. 
 Once held up and established by this giant, the 
 cause of the people would triumph and their rights 
 would be secured against aristocratic influence, pecula- 
 tion, and general dishonesty." He then went on to 
 say that, " although the general aristocracy were cor- 
 rupt, yet he would not include all. They were favoured 
 that evening — highly favoured — by the presence of 
 one born of the first families in the land — of one who 
 adorned his station as much as others degraded theirs 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 51 
 
 — of one who, whilst he naturally belonged to the 
 aristocratic class, distinguished by nothing so much as 
 by their selfish indulgence, yet despised the con- 
 ventions of society, broke through the iron bands of 
 rank, and never felt himself so truly noble as when he 
 was shaking hands with the oppressed working man 
 and claiming him as a friend and a brother." At this 
 point, Mr. Bones feeliug he had made a hit, paused, 
 and the cheering was loud and long. " It was by his aid 
 and help that the new paper, the Weekly Democrat, was 
 about to be established, and in return for the support 
 which so popular an organ would give to the cause of 
 the people, he only asked one return — a return which 
 he was sure that they would do their utmost to grant 
 him — which was, in fact, he (Mr. Bones) considered, 
 a mutual benefit, that he should be allowed to have 
 the honour of representing them in parliament." 
 Mr. Bones stopped ; the cheers were enthusiastic. 
 To have a member of the aristocracy an ardent demo- 
 crat was suflicient honour, but to have that member 
 desirous of carrying their opinions into parliament was 
 even more than an honour. The delegate from the great 
 manufacturing town of Muddleborough made a note of 
 it, and determined to make a point of it in his next 
 leader in the Muddlehorough Lion, a paper which 
 roared weekly to the delight of the burgesses. 
 
 " The flattering way in which the speech of his friend, 
 Mr. Bones had been received" — so said Tom Ingot, 
 pressing one yellow kid glove upon the place where 
 vulgar people wear a heart — *' had rendered it incum- 
 
52 diamo:n^ds and spades. 
 
 bent on liim to say something to tlie members of this 
 club. Would they allow him to say to his honourable 
 friends — (cries of 'Yes, yes') — Mr. Bones had been 
 humorous, he had forestalled him ; he did dream of 
 having the honour of one day representing a town of 
 democratic opinions in a house, whereof all were aris- 
 tocrats. He hoped that his would be the first voice 
 in that assembly which governs the nation and the 
 world (hear, hear) raised in the cause of the people ; 
 but his honourable friend must pardon him for saying 
 that he had been too sanguine, too fast— (a serious 
 look spread itself upon the faces of the club, ' was he 
 about to back out ?') ; he had been too fast in this 
 way ; he (Mr. Ingot) hoped, before he had that ho- 
 nour, to do good service to the cause (vehement 
 cheers) ; he would win his spurs first, and then be re- 
 warded. That was a cheap honour which was got for 
 nothing ; it was, in fact — he must be hard upon the 
 class to which he was ashamed to say he belonged — it 
 was an aristocratic honour, and he would have none of 
 it. No, my friends," he concluded as he sat do\vTi 
 amidst loud cheers, " No, my friends, I hope first to 
 serve you out of the House, and then, as a reward, to 
 be permitted to serve you in it ; and permit me to 
 say, you will never find a more zealous or true ser- 
 vant." 
 
 No sooner had this passed through the lips of Mr. 
 Ingot than Mr. Cheek got up, gave a preliminary 
 cough, and would, with the permission of the Presi- 
 dent, put a few questions to his honourable friend Mr. 
 
DIAMONDS AXD SPADES. 53 
 
 Ingot concerning the paper. That gentleman referred 
 his honourable friend to the Editor, Mr. Bones, who 
 would be happy to answer everything. 
 
 "Then," said Mr. Cheek, "will you tell me. Sir, 
 whether the paper is to advocate * universal suf- 
 frage?'" 
 
 Mr. Bones said " Yes," and the club " hear, hear." 
 
 " Would it write up the cause of the many, and 
 write down the cause of the few ?" 
 
 "It would." 
 
 ""Would it advocate the abolition of the punish- 
 ment of death ? in fact of every harsh treatment, and 
 support the movement for the total suppression of the 
 police ? " / 
 
 "It would." 
 
 "Would it endeavour to banish the bishops and 
 archbishops, to confiscate church property, and to 
 make religion of any sort illegal in education?" 
 
 " It would." 
 
 " Would it do away with titles, take off the national 
 debt, uphold seventeen points to the new charter, and 
 destroy workhouses by making the employment of the 
 poor compulsory ? " 
 
 Mr. Bones answered all this in the affirmative. 
 "Then," said Mr. Cheek, stretching out his hand and 
 giving Tom Ingot brevet rank — " I, for one, will give 
 you my undying support, my Lord ;" and thereon 
 the two shook hands, and then the whole club shook 
 hands; the Secretary, Mr. Splitnib, wiped his pen, 
 and rested from entering these important miuutes ; 
 and the business was at an end. Mr. Ingot was, 
 
54 DTAMOIS^BS AKD SPADES. 
 
 "however, still the centre of attraction, and enter- 
 tained his hearers with a great deal of talk and twad- 
 dle, and gave vent to more noble lords and ladies' 
 names than some of the worthies had heard for a 
 twelvemonth ; then he pretended to remember an 
 engagement at the house of no less a person than the 
 Dowager Duchess of Buzfuz, and bowing most po- 
 litely, and giving the hands of Tom Eones a meaning 
 squeeze, he departed, leaving his friend to hear his 
 praises sung and to deepen the favourable impres- 
 sion he had made, and also to complete the business 
 arrangements necessary to the production of the 
 Weehhj Democrat, 
 
CHAPTEE YII. 
 
 MR. HONEYSOAP MAKES A DISCOVERT. 
 
 A TEAB had passed since the events described in the 
 last chapter — a year fruitful in adventures and in ac- 
 cidents. Mr. Bones had become an excellent editor, 
 full of importance and of cares, for the Weeldy De- 
 mocrat prospered. Mr. Ingot had become a man of 
 mark, who presided at dinners and political clubs, 
 and who never failed making an impression by his 
 speeches and his yellow kid gloves. The money, in- 
 deed, which the paper brought in was little, and the 
 Democrat had to be nursed carefully, and to be fed by 
 little drops of caudle, in the shape of subscriptions ; 
 nay, the great Mr. Cheek was more than once called 
 in to hold a soiree and to make an oration in praise 
 of the Hon. Tom " Hmgot," as he called him, and in 
 support of "that thorough-going people's paper, the 
 Democrat'' "With these little shoves it went along 
 pretty well ; other papers occasionally quoted it, and 
 it was winning its w^ay. 
 
 Meanwhile Tom was no laggard. Two deputations, 
 got up in a manner which we will not pretend to de- 
 scribe, had already waited upon him to ask him to 
 represent certain boroughs in parliament ; but Tom 
 knew very well that his interest lay in making him- 
 self dear, not cheap, and he had wisely declined, and 
 
56 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 had more wisely published his reasons, which were 
 always modest and well worded. So much good, in- 
 deed, had this popularity done Tom, that his creditors 
 began to respect him, and his relations to look upon 
 him as a rising man. Old Lord Swillborough, indeed, 
 offered him a seat at once, but the gentleman to whom 
 it was offered had higher game to play for. 
 
 Whilst he is playing it, it becomes the duty of 
 the novelist to lead his reader elsewhere ; to the 
 house, indeed, of my Lord Silverspoon, wherein we 
 left Mr. Honeysoap, B.A., quietly settled as tutor, 
 and where he had ingratiated himself with all parties. 
 It is, in fact a very easy thing to please all persons, if 
 one only determines to do so ; and Mr. Honeysoap 
 had done so because his interest lay that way. Some- 
 times people are astonished and perplexed at their 
 success, and so it was here. The old Lord was very 
 fond of the tutor's society, and absolutely let pass one 
 or two opportunities of presenting him with an ex- 
 cellent living rather than part with him ; a circum- 
 stance which embarrassed Mr. Honeysoap not a little. 
 He pretended ill health, and talked about his harass- 
 ing duties, but the only result of this was that the 
 family immediately prepared to leave town, and took 
 themselves down to their country mansion near Brid- 
 port in Dorsetshire, in the seclusion of which re- 
 treat Mr. Honeysoap's health and his resolution came 
 back. 
 
 It naturally happened that the Marchioness and 
 himself were left more with each other than in town ; 
 for the boy and his father would ride through the old 
 
DIAMONDS ATiTD SPADES. 0/ 
 
 woods of the park, and the young Lord would chase 
 the deer upon his pony, and leap the fallen timber in 
 the woods, with a boldness and recklessness which his 
 tutor did not choose to follow. 
 
 Whilst father and son were upon these excursions, 
 which generally resulted in their coming home hungry 
 and weary to an early and & plain dinner, Mr. Honey- 
 soap spent his time in the old library or picture gal- 
 lery, pulling out the old books, and musing over the 
 old portraits. He could not but be struck with the 
 fact that none of these paintings, representing people 
 of all ages and of a great many generations, bore any 
 resemblanpe to the Marquis of Silverspoon or to his 
 son ; which was the more remarkable, because in some 
 families the very features are preserved through cen- 
 turies ; but he put it to the account of the painters, 
 or to the fact — for he despised the family — of the 
 pictures being at some distant period purchased from 
 some dealer. He had occasion, however, to return to 
 this subject. 
 
 One day, whilst looking through the gallery, he was 
 joined by his mistress ; she talked with him upon the 
 pictures ; she told him their histories. There was one 
 Ingot, she said, who, being a catholic, had suffered in 
 Queen Elizabeth's time ; another, so she had been 
 told, who had also suffered on the side of Protestant- 
 ism, in Queen Mary's. The pictures were both those 
 of dark stern men without any imagination about 
 their bony foreheads, and with their lips tightly com- 
 pressed and their brows gathered into a frown • worthy 
 men, no doubt, who suffered, as they believed, for the 
 
58 DIAMONDS ATTD SPADES. 
 
 cause of truth ; but tliey were as different in look and 
 feature from Lord Silverspoon as could possibly be. 
 There were other pictures in the gallery : one, of a 
 fine girl with golden hair and a fair beautiful com- 
 plexion ; she was a daughter of the race, but of her 
 there was little else told than a legend that, in the 
 time of the Second Charles, she had run away with a 
 servitor, and had died in London very unhappily, some 
 years after. 
 
 Lady Silverspoon was still handsome and young, 
 and as she told this legend her cheeks warmed into a 
 blush, and she looked fairer than ever. Her voice, 
 too, had a sound of noble sadness about it as she told 
 the story. The Eev. Mr. Honey soap noted the change, 
 and glanced furtively at her Ladyship as he said, 
 
 " It was a sad end, no doubt ; all these stories told 
 in the place whence the lady fled have a sad end ; but 
 do you not believe. Madam, that in flying with one 
 she loved the girl embraced a happiness sufficient to 
 atone for all her after misery ?" 
 
 "I scarcely know," answered Lady Silverspoon, 
 sadly ; " but I know this, that she who marries him 
 she does not love, suflfers for her ambition, or her 
 parents, such a hell of torment — such a constant pang 
 — that the fate of that poor girl dying of want is but 
 little in comparison. Oh, sir, the heart of woman must 
 be set upon something. The higher, the nobler, the 
 better the object, and the earlier that the aflection is 
 set, the better. But she is happier who truly loves 
 an idiot, a rogue, a scoundrel, and lives with her love, 
 than she who is chained to a prison which moves when 
 
DIAMONDS AIS'D SPADES. 59 
 
 s"he moves, and wliicli custom makes not easier to bear 
 but more loathsome to endure." 
 
 Honeysoap merely answered, " Madam 1 " The lady 
 proceeded. 
 
 "Embittered and imbruted, made worse by this 
 severance from the right, what wonder if such a wo- 
 man overlooks the weak social distinctions of the 
 world, and loves another ? " 
 
 So saying, the lady fixed upon Mr. Honeysoap a 
 penetrating look, and then let her eyes fall upon the 
 picture : waited for a moment as if for a reply, and 
 walked from the gallery. 
 
 " Phew ! " whistled the tutor ; " I see it all ; she is 
 in love with me ; she waited for me to speak ; but no, 
 I am too clever for tliat. ISTay, but this is awkward ; 
 nevertheless, this must be turned to some advantage. 
 In love with me ! Well, I had some inkling of this, 
 but this is too short a notice. Nothing can happen 
 but a wise man will turn it to his advantage. Heyday ! 
 I warrant me I get some profit even from this. Poor 
 lady, poor lady ! I will go and meditate upon this ;" 
 and he walked away to the old library, wherein in a bay 
 window with the sun setting behind the broad woods 
 of the park, and casting its beams upon the oak ceil- 
 ing of the room, Mr. Honeysoap, B.A., sat for a long 
 hour, thinking upon what he had discovered, and 
 wondering how he was to steer his course. 
 
 He had in his hand a large folio, a black letter 
 volume — for he did not like to be without a book, i 
 looked unlearned ; and so there he sat and meditated 
 
60 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 till the quick steps of his pupil running along the cor- 
 ridor warned him that dinner was served and that the 
 young lord sought him. 
 
 Honeysoap would not be caught, and turned to the 
 title of the book, so as to know it in case he was asked 
 its nature: for Lord Silverspoon often talked about 
 books to him. If was a black-letter volume, S. Au- 
 gustini Opera, but in turning over the title-page, be- 
 tween the treatise and the imprimatur, Mr. Honey- 
 soap found a letter of faded yellow paper and brown 
 ink, which fell upon his lap. He read its title, and 
 started. He had made another discovery — one of the 
 utmost importance. He folded it hurriedly and placed 
 it in the breast-pocket of his long clerically-cut coat. 
 He had hardly done so when his pupil entered. 
 
 "Ah!" he cried, merrily ; "hallo, old Honeysoap. 
 Caught you again poring over old books. Come, old 
 fellow, grub is on the table, and we are all as hungry 
 as hunters.'' 
 
 In such language, caught, it must be confessed, 
 more from grooms than from Honeysoap, B.A., did 
 the young fellow address his tutor. 
 
 " Grrub ! " said the tutor, " is that how you speak ?" 
 
 "Well, then, 'Prandium paratum est, will that do, 
 old boy?" said the youth; "but, whatever you do, 
 come along, and good luck to you ;" and he hurried off. 
 
 " G-ood luck, indeed," said Honeysoap as he put by 
 the folio, and pressed his hand against the paper which 
 rustled in his pocket. " Good luck, indeed ! and so 
 say Ij" and he hurried away to his chamber to smooth 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 61 
 
 his hair, make his white hands a little whiter, and his 
 bland face still blander, since he was to have the 
 extreme honour — there being no company present — of 
 dining with a Marquis and Marchioness and their son- 
 and-heir. 
 
CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 LITTLE LEIGH, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE, SEES A MAGISTRATE. 
 
 Theee existed in the court wherein one of our heroes 
 was educated, a youth whose precocious talent would 
 have shone to great advantage in another sphere. Not 
 but that he had his admirers even there ; but, unfor- 
 tunately for him, his talents in Angel Court met only 
 with those who gave them a wrong direction. At 
 Eton, or at Harrow, he would have been a bold, dar- 
 ing boy, the terror of some of the little ones, the ad- 
 miration of others, and the botheration of the masters ; 
 but in Angel Court he was nothing more nor less than 
 a thief, known as " Pip, the game 'un." Grame he was. 
 He knew at ten years of age more " dodges" than I 
 hope to know at sixty. He knew the best way to 
 bother a policeman, the easiest method of slipping 
 under his legs and throwing him down ; he was ac- 
 quainted with the really clever way of cheating bene- 
 volent old gentlemen into the idea that he was a " lost 
 orphan," and then, whilst they bent down to pity his 
 distresses, some of his friends would ^teal their hand- 
 kerchiefs. But he had more accomplishments than 
 these ; he knew where to dispose of his stolen goods, 
 and could chaffer and huxter with any old hand at a 
 bargain, and could get a very good price from a "fence." 
 He could, when needed; put on a very innocent face, 
 
DIAMONDS AND SHADES. 63 
 
 and win the pity of any magistrate, however obdurate. 
 Moreover, he was brave, and could fight and beat any 
 boy of his size ; he was generous, and never saw a 
 " pal " in distress without helping him ; he was lucky 
 and skilful in games of chance, and could often win 
 away a day's ill-gotten gains from some of his young 
 friends, and perhaps the next minute toss half of it 
 back again : no wonder he was called the "game 'un." 
 
 Little Pip, for he was very little, was about eleven 
 years of age, but about thirty in experience. His eyes 
 were black and full of fire, and his face round and 
 dimpled, with a merry laugh. His forehead was low 
 indeed ; nor could you have found under his glossy 
 black hair any bump of conscientiousness, though one 
 might have perceived large organs of acquisitiveness ; 
 but a physiognomist would have discovered no worse 
 passions in his face than in many a luckier boy's. Pip 
 took his education kindly ; saw that his vocation was 
 to steal, and his emulation made him excel at it, as it 
 would have done had society made him a lawyer. He 
 went into win, as he said, and he won. 
 
 He was a favourite in tbe court ; and little Leigh, 
 though often cautioned against him, could not help 
 associating with him. Pip, indeed, took a fancy to 
 Leigh, and often walked out with him on his excursions 
 into the next street, and patronized him, as a man of 
 his experience might do a boy of nine. 
 
 He used too — for he was clever at many things — 
 to tell Leigh what oranges to buy, and how to dispose 
 of his bundles of wood ; and even went so far as to 
 give Leigh fivepence to set him up in a small way in 
 
64 DIA:if(JNDS AND SPADES. 
 
 lucifer matclies, whereby Leigli in a day made as mucli 
 as one-and-three-pence, which he offered to Pip, who 
 magnanimously refused it, saying that it was slow 
 work, and not so good as his trade, 
 
 "What is your trade,. Pip?" said the little boy. 
 " I wish you'd teach me." 
 
 " "Well," said Pip, slightly colouring before Leigh's 
 open blue eyes, " my trade is in the cly lay, and you're 
 too young to learn, you are. Not to begin, perhaps, 
 at home ; but you couldn't make your salt, and you'd 
 soon be cotch'd." 
 
 " Who by ? " said the youngest. 
 
 "Them coves in blue," said Pip, with an almost im- 
 perceptible nod at a policeman who strolled down the 
 court with that air of mastery and freedom which dis- 
 tinguishes that gallant force. "' How do, sir ? " said 
 Pip, with mock reserve. " Take me with you to-day, 
 sir?" 
 
 The policeman smiled at this exquisite banter ; and 
 replied, that he didn't want Pip just yet, but that no 
 doubt he soon should. 
 
 " That's right, sir," said the thief, thrusting his 
 tongue in his cheek, "I long for a ride in the big 
 coach." 
 
 Little Leigh wondered at this, and held up the little 
 tin tray with which he was ornamented to his mentor, 
 rapping at the bottom of it, and dancing round him in 
 triumph. " Oh, Pip," he cried, " what a clever fellow 
 you are to chaff a policeman ! " 
 
 Pip liked the flattery. 
 
 "Ah, little Mac!'' he said, calling Leigh by bl$ 
 
DIAMO:sri)S AND SPADES. 65 
 
 foster-mother's name, " some day you may do tlie 
 same." And he strutted off down the court just as 
 would some young ensign when he is aware of the 
 presence of an admiring school-fellow, and when he 
 himself has on a new and wonderful uniform. 
 
 Little Leigh went to his foster-mother's room. He 
 found her busy rocking the little girl to sleep, for she 
 had become very fond of the cbild left her upon that 
 wintry night. She had not heard since of her mother, 
 and it was now two years since she had taken the 
 note to the Hon. Tom Ingot, who had himself turned 
 rather red, and contemptuously thrown it in the fire. 
 Julie Mackenzie held up her finger as a warning to the 
 boy, and then depositing the little girl in her humble 
 bed, came forward and patted Leigh on the head. 
 
 " Look here, mother," said he, " here's some money," 
 and he slipped the day's earnings into her hand. 
 
 " And how did ye get it ? " she said. 
 
 " Why," said the other, " I sold some lucifers, and 
 little Pip gave me the money to buy them, and lent 
 me the tray and all." 
 
 Mrs. Mackenzie knew that the boy was speaking 
 the truth, and looked puzzled. She knew Leigh's new 
 friend to be a thief, and she told him so, and warned 
 him against playing with him, at which little Leigh 
 felt very puzzled, but promised obedience, having a 
 vague idea that his mother spoke the truth, and so 
 they sat down to tea. 
 
 Leigh was a good and a dutiful boy, and determined 
 to do as his mother had bidden him, but he could not 
 help wondering why little Pip was wicked when he 
 
 IP 
 
66 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 was such a clever fellow ; and he. thought, perhaps, 
 not knowing the meaning of his thoughts, that if he 
 were only as clever, he should not mind being as 
 wicked too. And then he went on with his tea. 
 
 The next morning his obedience was to be tried. 
 There was to be a grand review in the park, and Pip, 
 the " game 'un," who had scented the battle afar off, 
 told Leigh that he would take him, and see him safe 
 home again if he came. ISTot without sore forebodings 
 the boy went. "What a wonderful place that park was 
 to him who had been bf ed up in a noisome court ; how 
 bright the sun was ; how beautiful the ladies ; how 
 tall and grand the soldiers. Little Leigh was giddy 
 with delight, and drank in enjoyment at every sense ; 
 when suddenly Pip, who had bidden the boy to stand 
 up by a tree, re-appeared, and thrust a handkerchief 
 into his hand, and again ran off; but in a moment he 
 was brought back, by a policeman, and a gentleman 
 crying out that he was robbed, pointed out Leigh as 
 the boy. It was no use for him to protest and cry 
 that he was no thief; he was hurried away from the 
 review, and the soldiers, and the grand park, and 
 hauled along roughl^^ by the policeman; and when 
 arrived at the station-house the depositions were taken 
 down, and the two boys thrust into a dark, narrow, 
 cold cell, with a stone bench running along it, and 
 Leigh with a shudder which ran into his very soul, 
 heard the harsh grating of the bolts, as they were 
 locked in for the night. "What v/ould he not have 
 given to liave taken the advice of his mother ; why 
 did he not do so ? How soon had guilt and punish- 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 67 
 
 ment come upon him ! These reflections linrt him 
 so much, that the little boy, although stout-hearted 
 usually, bent down his head and cried. 
 
 " Well," says Pip, " wot are you about, young 'un ? 
 here's a jolly row we're in, and likely to be in too. 
 Eut you needn't snivel. "Wot are you crying for ? " 
 
 " Oh, Pip," sobbed the little boy, " what shall I do— 
 what will mother say ? Where can she think I am? " 
 
 " Say," answered the veteran, " it's little she'll say, 
 I'm thinking. She'll hear it soon enough, in course ; 
 my pals will take home word. Thank my stars that 
 there wasn't anything found on me but the fogle you 
 picked up." 
 
 " I picked up," said Leigh, with astonishment. " I 
 picked it up ! why you gave it me." 
 
 "Say that again," said Pip, fiercely; "say that 
 again, and I'll smash you; " and he gave an ugly look 
 at Leigh, for the little fellow could see by the dusky 
 light his eyes flash and roll. " Ton know you picked 
 it up, in course you does. My eye, what a lot of fools 
 them reviews brings together, and precious soon they 
 find themselves so. I don't know which I like best, 
 them or races; but races have, confound 'em, such a 
 quantity of police about 'em now." 
 
 Meanwhile Leigh had his own thoughts, which were 
 painful enough, and he did not listen to the " game 
 un's" lucubrations; but there was a less welcome 
 visitor who had heard all, and who began to see the 
 plans of Mr. Pip. The latter was not unaware of the 
 listening propensities of the former, and, therefore, 
 soon began his second attack on Leigh. 
 
 F 2 
 
68 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 " "Where did you get that wipe from ? " said he. 
 " I never thought you were so good a hand at it." 
 
 " A hand at what ? " said Leigh. 
 
 " Faking ! '* returned Pip. 
 
 "What's that ?" was the answer. 
 
 " Oh, my eye, ain't you hinnocent when you likes," 
 cried the other. " But come, when you comes before 
 the beak, don't you go and say it's me." 
 
 " I shall tell the truth," returned Leigh, who, 
 though only nine years of age, had some firmness in 
 him, and was now so driven and bewildered that he 
 turned in desperation upon his tormentor. 
 
 " Oh, you sneak ! the truth ! Now, I'll tell you 
 wot I'll do, if you don't say as you picked it up your- 
 self. I'll " — and here he sank his voice to a whisper, 
 " I'll smash you, I will by ." 
 
 Little Leigh had been bred in a hardy school, and 
 knew how to use his fists. He had used them before, 
 and could again. He saw what his friend wanted, 
 and jumped off the stone seat, and put himself in an 
 attitude. 
 
 " Tell you what it is, Pip," said he, " I came out 
 with you when I should not have done so. I told a 
 lie to my mother whom I promised I would not go 
 with you, and now you want to make me go to prison 
 instead of you. You stole that handkerchief it's my 
 belief; and if you want to make me say I did, I won't, 
 and so come on." 
 
 Pip gave a shriek of rage ; he was a " game 'un," as 
 we all know, and could use his fists too. He jumped oif 
 the seat, and turned up his cufi's, and began twirling 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 69 
 
 his arms about in that mysterious manner in which 
 street-boys do, and then hit out fiercely at Leigh, 
 catching that young fellow upon the temple; for he 
 stopped it as well as he could, but the dim light pre- 
 vented him from doing so completely ; besides this, 
 Pip was the larger boy. How long, and with what 
 results the contest might have proceeded, this history 
 cannot pretend to say, since the policeman who had 
 been getting up the case, and who had listened to the 
 colloquy, flashed his bull's-eye into the cell, and then 
 opened it and separated the combatants. Admonish- 
 ing the " game 'un" to be still, and strengthening that 
 admonition by a playful tap upon his head with his 
 truncheon, he then marched off with Leigh to another 
 and a quieter cell. 
 
 Hardly had they got there when Mrs. Mackenzie 
 came rushing in in great trouble. Poor little Leigh, so 
 bold a minute before, now melted into tears. 
 
 " Oh, mother," said he, " I was very bad, I know I 
 was ; but I didn't steal nothing, I didn't," and he cried 
 ready to break his heart. 
 
 " Come, ma'am," said the inspector, " you must make 
 haste. If that's your boy, you will see him up to- 
 morrow morning after the drunken cases are gone 
 through." 
 
 " That's him, sure enough," said poor Julie, " and 
 I never thought he'd come to grief so soon ; but he's 
 honest, indeed he is, sir." 
 
 " "Well, we shall see," said the policeman, with a 
 tone that plainly said the appearances were against 
 
70 DIAMONDS AlfD SPADES. 
 
 him. "Well, we shall see to-morrow. Bid him good 
 night ; he'll be taken care on here." 
 
 " He ma J have this, I suppose, sir," said Julie, 
 putting a penny loaf and a cold sausage into the boy's 
 hand. 
 
 " All right," said the officer ; and Julie, with a heavy 
 heart went away, leaving the boy to toss about rest- 
 lessly in the lock-up, munching his sausage and his 
 bread, and meditating upon the truth of the old psalm 
 which good Mr. Bland had taught him : — 
 
 '* How blest is he who ne'er consents 
 By ill advice to walk, 
 Nor stands in sinners' ways, nor sits 
 Where men profanely talk." 
 
 "When he had by this experience arrived at his own 
 conclusion, the little boy said a short but hearty prayer, 
 which the same friend also had taught him, and went 
 to sleep. 
 
 In the morning he was regaled with some bread, and 
 a cup of hot coffee ; and then, after a dreary, painful 
 waiting, brought before the magistrate. 
 
 The policeman who took him related the case, and 
 the magistrate looked very solemn, and poor Julie, who 
 with a friend or two from Angel Court had come to 
 watch the proceedings, felt very faint, and gave her 
 boy up for lost. When Pip was examined, and gave 
 his evidence in an exceedingly clever way, laying all 
 the blame upon Leigh, and none upon himself, she was 
 beside herself with indignation. But, luckily for her, 
 the magistrate knew the sort of story which Pip told, 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 71 
 
 and with all his cleverness the " game 'un" was too 
 clever, and said too much. The magistrate let him go 
 on his own way, and then asked Leigh what he had to 
 say for himself. Leigh told his story plainly, truly, 
 and straightforwardly, and the policeman who heard 
 the quarrel in the cell partly corroborated it. Pip was 
 again questioned, and this time differed very much 
 from the clerk's notes ; and in the end, when the ma- 
 gistrate asked, " Does any one know these boys ? " 
 and Mr. Bland stepped up and spoke for Leigh, and a 
 policeman spoke for " Pip" as a very " noted charac- 
 ter," that young gentleman was sentenced to be kept 
 at the House of Correction for six calendar months, 
 and little Leigh was warned not to consort •wdth such 
 friends again. Pip, the " game 'un," was game to 
 the last. 
 
 " Well," said he, familiarly to the magistrate, " you 
 are right, old 'un, that you are. Since I am in for't, 
 I won't hurt the boy's character. It was all a scheme 
 o'mine. Good bye, Mac ; I'll see you again this day 
 six months. Morning, your wortchip. And I say, 
 Mrs. Mackenzie, tell 'em at home to send mj carpet- 
 bag." 
 
 "When the laugh which Pip had intended to cause 
 had subsided, and he was gone, the magistrate asked 
 Leigh why he did not go to work. 
 
 "Because," said the boy, "I can't get any, sir. 
 They won't have boys for errand boys who come 
 from our court." 
 
 " Could you mind a pony ? " said the magistrate. 
 
 "I never did yet, sir," said Leigh, "but I'll try." 
 
72 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 "Well, I'll give you a chance then. But stay; 
 come here at four o'clock, and I'll give you a letter 
 for admission to an Industrial School, and if you do 
 well there I'll try you myself. It's a pity," said the 
 good old gentleman to the clerk, " that a fine boy like 
 that should be wasted upon London Streets." 
 
 Mrs. Mackenzie thanked the magistrate with tears 
 in her eyes ; the poo^ curate assured him that the boy 
 was honest, and Leigh left the court with a grateful 
 heart. Out of evil comes good. Little did the poor 
 orphan boy, crying on the stone benches the night 
 before, and moistening his dry bread with his tears, 
 think that through that very misfortune he should be 
 put in a way to earn his bread honestly, and help — 
 oh! how he would like to do so — those who had 
 assisted him, when he was a baby, helpless and alone. 
 That night Julie Mackenzie, with her two orphans 
 said their prayers fervently ; and little Ellie, the girl, 
 wondered at the big round tears of happiness which 
 fell from the eyes both of Julie Mackenzie and little 
 Leigh. The next morning the boy, not without many 
 tears, left Angel Court, and set out for Eedgate. 
 
CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 EIGHTY YEARS AGO. 
 
 When Mr. Honeysoap, B.A., retired to his room, 
 which he did, after spending a very pleasant evening, 
 and being quite hilarious over his wine, he set to work 
 at once upon his manuscript. It is not for us to peer 
 over his shoulder ; authors generally do so, but in this 
 instance it will serve our purpose better to condense 
 and arrange the matter which he had to wade through 
 and to put our reader in possession of the facts at 
 once. 
 
 The truth is, luck had put that into the hands of 
 Mr. Honeysoap which the Marquis of Silverspoon 
 would have given thousands of pounds not to have 
 fallen therein, being nothing more nor less than an 
 attested copy of the dying confession of a certain 
 body-servant of the Marquis's grandfather, referring 
 to a little event which took place in the family of the 
 Marquis. How this copy got to be concealed in the 
 works of St. Augustine, or indeed how it got to be 
 be made at all, remained, for some time at least, a 
 secret with the reverend gentleman who discovered 
 the papers. 
 
 It would appear that the great-grandfather of the 
 Marquis of Silverspoon was a deep gambler, and 
 at the same time a rake. He lived at the time of 
 
74 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 John "Wilkes, and was indeed a personal friend of that 
 patriot, and a member of the Hell Fire Club. His 
 debaucheries were, as the sins of most people are, 
 visited upon his own head in the person of his son, for 
 a long time after his marriage — an affair which he con- 
 siderately permitted, so that he might repair his health 
 and his fortune at the same time. But at last his 
 wishes, if not his prayers — and with some men wishes 
 are the only prayers uttered — were heard, and a little 
 girl was born. Then came a long interval, during 
 which time the hopes of his brothers— as wicked but 
 less rich than himself— grew like flowers after a fresh 
 rain ; they were, however, destined not to bear fruit : 
 the Marchioness gave her husband a son. 
 
 Such a son, so weak, so puny, so destitute of any- 
 thing like babyhood, that the very nurses shuddered, 
 and the old ladies who praised everything did not dare 
 to call it " a fine boy." Such a child, so weakly, moan- 
 ing and panting as it lay in its nurse's arms, that the 
 doctor would not have given a penny for the fee-simple 
 of its life, and went his way expecting to be recalled 
 every moment to see it dying. Eut, such as he was, 
 he was destined to balk the hopes of more than one. 
 He lived, grew daily stronger and more strong, and 
 blossomed at last early in life — a weakly flower, a man 
 in stature, but in brain an idiot. 
 
 Some gleams of sense he had indeed, but these 
 showed themselves as such sense does in those poor 
 creatures, in affections and in the feelings of the 
 heart. The doctors had medicined his body, and he 
 was strong enough ; but the diviner mind had left, and 
 
DIAMONDS A:^D SPADES. 75 
 
 returned but seldom, like a guest dissatisfied with his 
 lodging. 
 
 How his uncle, a great, strong, coarse-minded man, 
 with a son as strong, and not destitute of talent, 
 cursed the boy. The poor idiot stood between him 
 and vast estates. He told his son so every day, and 
 the two spake of the heir as if he did them wrong in 
 living, and as if every hour of his existence was a 
 personal wrong to them. 
 
 " I wish he'd die ! " said the son. 
 
 "Die," re-echoed the father; "die! I would give 
 fifty pounds if any one would kill him." 
 
 " Kill him ! " said the son, and he smoothed out the 
 stiff curls of his wig, and half unsheathed his court 
 sw^ord. He was a handsome man, clothed in a dark 
 green riding suit with a long flapped waistcoat edged 
 with gold, and with long riding boots which reached 
 above his leg. 
 
 "Aye, kill him!" said the father. "It can't be 
 much more sin to kill such a man than it would be 
 to slay some noxious reptile. He has about as much 
 sense. Jack;" and the old man leaned forward over 
 the little table of the coffee-house in which they were 
 (it was in "Will's Coffee House, Lincoln's-inn Fields, 
 that this took place), and balancing the cup in his" 
 hand looked into his son's face. "I am a ruined man, , 
 Jack," said he, with a hoarse whisper, " a ruined man ; 
 that cursed idiot ruined your poor father and his sons 
 too. There are you and Cyril, good boys, too, and likely 
 men, and you will have nothing in this world to look 
 to but your commissions in Lund's Poot. I wish wo 
 
76 DIAMONDS Al^D SPADES. 
 
 could hit upon a plan to take him off. He will live us 
 out, my poor boy, I know he will ; those idiots are 
 always long-lived. I wish we had some of that poison 
 — the Aqua Tqfana, which St. Cyr discovered, and 
 which left no trace." 
 
 " Poison's not the thing, father," said the son, who 
 was a bolder man than his father. " It would neces- 
 sitate a third person ; . now, if we do it, we must do it 
 ourselves." 
 
 " Grood, my boy," said the old man, " that's good ; 
 but how to do it without discovery. There are plenty 
 of highwaymen about. Jonathan "Wild hath left some 
 of his descendants, and I don't see why we should not 
 take to the road and shoot him." 
 
 " Tut, tut : he is seldom out when the gentlemen of 
 the road meet. We must have some other plan." 
 
 " I am plainly of opinion," said the old reprobate, 
 "that in killing an idiot you do no more harm than in 
 smothering a monster." So they broke up the meet- 
 ing — the father lounging down the Fields through the 
 turnstile where chairmen stood to ply for hire, and 
 there calling a chair, he went gaily to St. James's and 
 then to Leicester Fields, where at the houses of some of 
 his friends he was exceedingly gay and jocular. 
 
 The words of the father, however, sank deeply into 
 the son's mind. He saw the stake he was to play for, 
 and he determined to win. There was little conscience 
 about him. Some men appear to have none ; not that 
 the Creator of all does not gift them with conscience, 
 but that they at an early period get rid of that trouble- 
 some commodity ; and John Ingot was one of these. 
 
DIAMOI^'DS AKD SPADES. 77 
 
 So lie strode on into tlie night air, listening to the 
 noises of the streets, and marking the citizens as they 
 trudged homewards by the light of the dull oil lamps. 
 It was election time, and elections about the time of 
 which we write (1780) were not so quiet as they are 
 now. The taverns were crowded. It was on the eve 
 of the " no popery " riots, and the low beetled-browed 
 doors of the taverns — then very different from the well- 
 lighted gin-palaces of to-day — disgorged their tens 
 and dozens, as they reeled from them shouting and 
 singing. North was then prime minister, and the 
 popular odi|jm was raised against him. John Ingot 
 heard as he passed a dozen or so different political 
 songs, all against the minister and the king. One fel- 
 low was shouting at the top of his voice a song called 
 the "Botching Sailor," in which North and the minis- 
 try were rallied and abused as to the state of the gar- 
 ments which they made out of the British constitu- 
 tion ; another wished the king and all his ctew back 
 to Hanover ; and a third, with a louder voice, con- 
 signed the ministry, the peers, bishops, and the king 
 himself to a warmer place. Taking advantage of the 
 tumult, which the feeble police of the time — consisting 
 of worn-out old watchmen or timid special constables 
 were unable to quell, some ruffians formed themselves 
 into gangs and robbed passengers with impunity, but 
 none were so bold as to try to intimidate the stout 
 soldier who wore good steel by his side. 
 
 Before he had settled his plan of attack John Ingot 
 had wandered as far as London Bridge, and had de 
 scended the steps which led to the water, and watched 
 
78 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 it roilmg and swirling tliroiigli the narrow arches of 
 the old bridge. The tide was running down, but the 
 arches of the bridge were so narrow, and the piles so 
 wide, that the water above the bridge was many feet 
 higher than that below, and the river roared, and fell, 
 and foamed through each arch in a cascade which was 
 enough to swamp any boat. The soldier looked upon 
 that dark water, and then out into the broad river, 
 upon whose breast lay many a ship and barge, from 
 the stern of which a lantern threw a dim spark which 
 reflected a faint line of broken light on the troubled 
 waters. John Ingot mused for a long tiiHe, and then 
 his resolution was made up. " If I could only get 
 that accursed cousin of mine aboard one of those ships, 
 and ship him off anywhere — to America — or the Con- 
 tinent — he would never trouble us more. His ab- 
 sence would break his father's heart, I hope; aye, I 
 trust it would." He was about to turn away to ma- 
 ture this plan when a lithe and stalwart boatman 
 stopped him and said, " A boat, your honour ? "Will 
 you cross or shoot the bridge ? I will do it with any 
 one, whether he has won the badge or not ; you can 
 trust me, sir, trust Ned Bates, sir ; take his boat, your 
 honour." 
 
 " A boat," said Ingot, " and what on earth do I want 
 with a boat now ? " 
 
 "Don't know, sir ; but many gentlemen like to be 
 put on board now-a-days. We could drop down of a 
 night and steal up again, and run a keg or two, or some 
 tobacco, may be." 
 
 Ingot listened to the man. He was the very man 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 79 
 
 he wanted. He stopped suddenly in his walk, and 
 faced about. 
 
 " And what/' said he, " if I wanted such a job, could 
 you be trusted ? " 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir," was the answer, " you may trust me 
 further than that." 
 
 " "Well, then," said the soldier, "be ready here to- 
 morrow evening. 'No, the evening after to-morrow. 
 "Wait till you see me approach. I may have more than 
 myself with me. Take us quietly and quickly to the 
 ship which I shall then point out. Here is a guinea ; 
 do your job well, and you shall earn another." 
 
 " Aye, aye, sir," was the reply ; and in a moment 
 his employer had ascended the stairs, and with one 
 backward glance at the river had vanished. 
 
 ISTight came again, and found the waterman on the 
 watch for his employer. It came again and again, but 
 he saw no more of him, yet he determined to watch on 
 the next night ; he came, and with him two other per- 
 sons, one of whom was old enough to be his father. 
 The other was youDger than Captain Ingot, and was 
 led and ordered by the other two, whom he answered 
 with a vapid, meaningless laugh. It was the hated 
 cousin. How he had been enticed away is now un- 
 known ; suffice it to say that, with an idiotic grin of 
 delight, he stepped into the boat, and clapping his 
 hands, leant down and dabbled them in the water, as 
 they shoved off towards the bridge. Scarcely, how- 
 ever, had they got afloat when his merriment was 
 changed into alarm, and that alarm into positive terror 
 when they neared the eddying, swirling waters of tlie 
 
80 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 bridge. The captain bade him sit still, and the water- 
 man also told him that if he stirred he might over- 
 throw the boat, whilst the eldest, whispering to Ned, 
 pointed out the ship whereon he wished to be put. It 
 had a faint green light hung from the stern, and was 
 some distance down in the pool. As they rowed along 
 the old gentleman whispered to the boatman that the 
 rioters were out, and pointed to some lurid clouds 
 which hung over the city, and showed that they had 
 already begun their work of destruction. Hardly had 
 he spoken the words when a bright flame shot out near 
 the water side, and lighted up their faces, and then 
 danced and roared towards the sky, whilst a thousand 
 throats burst forth in a jubilant triumphant shout. 
 
 They had by this time neared the bridge, for the 
 waterman, in order to shoot it, had rowed against the 
 tide for some time, and then had made for the centre 
 arch. But no sooner was he near it, than a sense of 
 his danger seemed to flash upon the mind of the idiot, 
 and he prayed piteously to be set on shore, shouting 
 out that he would not go, and that they were going 
 to murder him. 
 
 " Accursed fool," cried the captain, " be still, or we 
 shall all be lost." 
 
 " Sit still, sir, sit still," shouted the boatman ; but 
 his voice could not be heard for the roaring of the 
 water as it rushed through the arches of the old 
 bridge. 
 
 At certain periods of their lives idiots seem to re- 
 ceive back a portion of their lost senses, and to become 
 almost wljat the Turkri deem them, prophets. So it 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 81 
 
 was with the heir of the marquis. He suddenly started 
 up and cried — 
 
 " I will not go further, by Heaven ; you are about 
 to murder me. Back your oars, man, and take me 
 from these accursed men;" but the waterman only 
 held down his head, and ba;lancing his oars in the row- 
 locks, prepared to shoot the bridge. 
 
 The poor idiot gave another helpless prayer, and 
 then when they were beneath the arches, jumped up, 
 crying that he w^ould not die alone, sprang towards 
 the captain. Both were powerful men ; for the weak- 
 ness which had afflicted the former in early life had 
 been driven away by judicious care and country air 
 and exercise. Besides this, though not so strong as 
 the captain, he was animated by fear, and a desire of 
 life. As it was, he nearly overthrew the frail bark, 
 and made it rock to and fro, the w^aterman and the 
 other passenger alone saving it from being overset. 
 But in a moment more she righted ; the two combat- 
 ants lost foot-hold, and fell over into the boiling tide. 
 Then it was that the waterman heard the stranger 
 wail piteously, and shout, " My son ! oh, my son ! " 
 as he bent down into the dark w^aters as if searching 
 for him. Once again he saw him. Beyond the shadow 
 of the bridge, when the boat drifted down the river 
 rapidly but safely, two human heads were seen above 
 the waters, lighted up by the glare of the distant fire, 
 with hatred and despair in their faces. They were 
 those of John Ingot and his idiot cousin. 
 
 " He will b^ safe yet," whispered the father to the 
 boatman. Eow towards him ; save him, save him 1 " 
 
 a 
 
82 DIAMOIS-DS AKD SPADES. 
 
 Bat before tlie boat readied tlie spot tliey were 
 gone — gone to strnggle in the water ; gone to cboke 
 and feel the swirling, eddying waters in their eyes 
 .and ears; gone to strain for the blessed lambent air 
 which we all breathe ; and alas ! but to fill their lungs 
 with the noisome water. 
 
 John Ingot was a strong swimmer, but the idiot was 
 too strong for him ; clinging about his neck, seizing 
 his hair, twining his legs around him, each time he 
 rose in despair pulling him down to death ! In those 
 few minutes that he lived, he suffered a hell of tor- 
 ture; lived all his life again, and saw how wrong, 
 how wicked he had been, and how inevitable his 
 after fate. 
 
 Then eame a weakness, a faintness, and exhaustion; 
 then a trance, with but the feeling of some heavy body 
 clinging to him ; then his grasp of his cousin loosened, 
 and the body, ten feet deep in water, rolled over and 
 over in the rapid tide which hurried toward the sea. 
 
 The same effect had taken place with his cousin ; 
 his brain lighted up with a last brilliancy ; he recol- 
 lected little acts of love — prayers when he was a boy — 
 kisses when an infant — but with all these was 
 mixed the consciousness of some dread power hurrying 
 him to death. He must cling to something. Suddenly, 
 in his dying fancy, the weight disappeared, and he 
 clutched with a dying grasp at something lest it 
 should escape him. It was the bucket of a ship which 
 had been let down by a stalwart sailor. " Heave ho !" 
 he cried, " the water's heavy," and with a great pull 
 he lugged the idiot to the surface, senseless and inani- 
 
BIAMOXDS AND SPADES. 83 
 
 mate, but witli still the blind passion to bold to bis 
 cousin. 
 
 "By beavens, it's a man ! " cried tbe sailor, as be 
 bauled bim over tbe slimy, slippery sides of tbe old 
 collier ; " and plenty of water in bim too. Eut, come, 
 be's not dead yet." And so it was tbat murder 
 failed to do its worlv. The body of the Captain was 
 never found, nor indeed v/as tbat of tbe idiot by those 
 who searched for bim. Tbe brother of tbe Captain 
 became heir to tbe marquisate — tbe poor idiot was 
 suj)posed to have been lost amongst those dreadful 
 riots, and bis mother, who loved bim, wept long and 
 sorely for bim ; but far away, under another name, a 
 stalwart, frightened man lived upon tbe seashore in 
 Northumberland, cunning in fishing, and growing 
 rich by tbe produce of bis nets, marrying and rearing 
 children imder another name, and having a cunning, 
 confused dread of something indefinable, which be 
 searched for in tbe dark waters upon stormy nights. 
 It was the idiot Marquis ; life bad been spared, but 
 with it came a further prostration of mind, and an 
 impenetrable secrecy. Only two people in the world 
 knew who be was : they were JSTed Eates, the water- 
 man, and tbe Captain's father, with whom be lived 
 now as a servant, master of a mighty secret, always 
 with bim, always caressed and feared. 
 
 G 2 
 
CHAPTEE X. 
 
 WHICH CONCERNS A REFORM BILL GENERALLY OVERLOOKED BY 
 POLITICIANS. 
 
 The "worthy magistrate," wliicli conjunction of ad- 
 jective and noun I hold to be perfectly noxious, 
 vicious, and frequently untrue, was, in reality, a 
 " worthy " man, else I would not call him one. 
 
 Look you, Mr. Eeader, it is all very well for you, 
 or for Miss Eeader there, or Mrs. Eeader, for all or 
 for any one of you to pass over terms carelessly. For 
 you know every magistrate is " worthy," every cap- 
 tain "gallant," and every member of the House of 
 Commons "learned;" but, by the two-fronted Janus, 
 neither of them are so to me, nor shall they be without 
 question ; and Mesdames and Monsieur, inasmuch as 
 my voice is somewhat louder than yours, and reaches 
 further (unless, indeed, the male creature be an editor 
 of a newspaper, and the female person a writer of 
 popular novels), it is of some importance that it dis- 
 pleases me. I will be heard, look you, that I will. 
 
 It is all owing to those stupid penny-a-liners — 
 those low-class reporters — who hang about police- 
 offices, and who haunt newspaper letter-boxes — it is 
 they who, having a very thin and spare vocabulary, 
 have, like Costard, stolen a few terms from the " alms- 
 basket of words," and take care to use them at every 
 opportunity. 
 
DIAMONDS AI^TD SPADES. 85 
 
 It is they who dubbed Mr. Laing — a more unjust 
 and stupid man never disgraced the English police 
 bench — a " worthy magistrate." 
 
 It is they who denominate old "Widow Toothacre, 
 who ran away and married her man-servant, t?ie 
 " beauteous bride." 
 
 It is they who, having set dashes and marks for the 
 terms, call poor Miss Niobe (the poor beauty of the 
 family who was forced into the match,) and Lord 
 Pleurisy the " happy couple." 
 
 Lord Proth, son of the Marquis of Esdaile, ran away 
 from the trenches in the Crimea, and was nearly hav- 
 ing his brains blown out by his own Serjeant. He has 
 left the army, the affair being too gross to be over- 
 looked even there, and has lately turned Member of 
 Parliament. It is the " liner " of a superior class who 
 calls him " the honourable and gallant member." 
 
 In short it is the liner through whom every fire is 
 " terrific and destructive," every murder is " appall- 
 ing," every accident is " unforeseen," every policeman 
 is "an active and intelligent officer," and every ten 
 policemen constitute " a strong body of the — • divi- 
 sion,' who are on the ground," etc., etc., etc. It is 
 through him that, being deprived of anything like 
 truth, we degenerate into a mere set of lying for- 
 malists. It is he who will not call a spade, a spade ; 
 it is he who perpetually interrupts "the right man" 
 from getting into " the right place," although he has 
 used those terms a thousand times, dash his buttons. 
 
 But to resume ; the magistrate — I have not done 
 with you Mr. Liner yet, though perhaps enough of 
 
86 DIAMONDS Al^D SPADES. 
 
 you, in this novel — was a really Avorthy magistrate 
 who sought to do his duty. He had long noticed, and 
 with the greatest concern, the number of little boys 
 who are day after day brought up before such tribu- 
 nals as his, and are condemned and punished for abso- 
 lutely obeying their pastors and masters in vice. 
 
 For mind you, just " as the twig is bent," you know 
 the rest of Mr. Pope's line ; and if you bend a twig 
 towards vice, you cannot call it bad wood because it 
 naturally turns that way. You and I, for instance, 
 have a pretty strong impulse towards evil, and had that 
 been cultivated in our early youth, and the little buds 
 of good nipped off just as they appeared, what splen- 
 did Howers of naughtiness should we have borne. My 
 friend the gardener, in that little London paradise the 
 Temple G-ardens, cultivates his chrysanthema so ; he 
 nips off all the buds but the top one, and then, you 
 have merely to walk round the gardens next year and 
 see the result. A flower which originally would have 
 been small enough, turns out as big as a dahlia. 
 
 Mr. Beakley, the magistrate, however, so far from 
 condemning little boys, pitied them, and that with his 
 whole soul, and therefore one will not be surprised to 
 hear that he was associated with one of the best men 
 we have in this country, in a scheme to reteach the 
 poor little castaways virtue, and to restrain them from 
 vice. 
 
 He and his friend had been eminently successful ; 
 crowds of good people had flocked around them. The 
 [Reverend Magister Artiam had been made secretary 
 to one of the best institutions of which this country 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 87 
 
 can boast, and had, b j strenous exertions, been enabled 
 to buy a large farm for the society in a breezy part of 
 Surrey, whereat the bodies of the little castaways 
 grew healthier and stronger ; and also wherein, taught 
 by the reverend gentleman aforesaid, and many assist- 
 ant angels, their little crooked souls were straightened 
 out, and the young trees, however much the twigs 
 had been previously bent, were pointed Heavenward. 
 
CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 lEIGH WOODROFFE VISITS A NEW WORLD. 
 
 Mes. Mackenzie, getting out of the third-class rail- 
 way carriage which brought her to Eedhill, looked 
 around her for a guide, but seeing none, she, with 
 much timidity, addressed a porter, and asked him the 
 way to the " Eeformatory." 
 
 "Oh," said the fustian functionary, very kindly, 
 dropping his eyes upon Leigh with some surprise, as 
 one who should say, " Why this is not the boy for a 
 reformatory." " The Farm School — the Philanthropic, 
 you mean." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Mrs. Mackenzie. 
 
 "Well, marm," cried the porter, taking hold of 
 her arm just by the elbow, "well, marm," and he 
 turned her round carefully, as if to save her the trou- 
 ble of turning herself, " you will just go up there, 
 past that Swish-cottage looking public-house, up that 
 sandy lane, then turn down to the right, and you will 
 see the farm. Going to visit the little boy's brother, 
 marm?" added the curious fustian wearer, patting 
 Leigh on the cheek, with a bright assurance, as one 
 who could not believe that Leigh himself wanted any 
 reform. Perhaps he was right ; there is an intuition 
 in honest souls which puzzles the wise ones of this 
 world, and beats them all to nothing sometimes. 
 
 Mistress Julie Mackenzie quietly let the question 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 89 
 
 rest, and thanking tlie porter for his kindness, set her- 
 self to follow^ his directions. 
 
 The " Swiss Cottage," a puhlic-house of some pre- 
 tensions, but which possibly promised a much greater 
 variety of wines than it could set before the asker, 
 once passed, Mrs. Mackenzie and Leigh walked up 
 the sandy lane, and turned to the right, and soon 
 found themselves on the enchanted ground; which, 
 more wonderful than the Arab merchant who gave 
 "new lamps for old ones, gave back to society good 
 boys for bad ones. 
 
 The air was deliciously clear and calm, and balmy 
 and fresh. It was about the end of October, and the 
 leaves had fallen plentifully for the last two or three 
 three days, a copious rain had rotted their stalks, and 
 a smart wind had swept them off; so they lay about 
 the feet of the travellers, not crisp and rustling, but 
 moist and mouldering, sending up a grateful incense to 
 the nostril of the Londoners — but telling also of the 
 grave and of decay. So between two thick hedge- 
 rows, and down a road cut deep into the sand, Julie 
 pressed with her charge ; thinking sadly, but quietly 
 of the past, but hopefully, too, of the future. 
 
 They reached a turning in the lane, whereat, upon 
 the high sand bank, a finger-post had been set up, 
 which pointed them the way to the Philanthropic Farm 
 School. They followed the direction, of course. Who 
 in this world can afford to neglect finger-posts ? 
 
 Hardly had they turned into this lane, and begun to 
 ascend the hill — the whole country was all hill and 
 dale — when two country boys, with ruddy cheeks and 
 
90 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 bright, innocent-looking eyes, made their appearance 
 at the top of the embankment, bending back the bare 
 hazel twigs, and now and then, as they stared at the 
 new comers, popping on a stray blackberry and swal- 
 lowing it. 
 
 " Can you tell me, little boys," said Mrs. Mackenzie, 
 " the way to the Farm School here ?." 
 
 " Oh yes, marm," cried both the lads eagerly ; 
 " come along, we will show you." So they dropped 
 down into the sandy road, and ran on before the 
 visitors — somewhat like Cupid did before Eather 
 ^neas and his friend, w^hen he conducted them, in a 
 disguised form indeed, to visit Madame Dido and her 
 court. 
 
 " We shan't be long, marm," said one of the boys, 
 '^it is behind this hedge here; we belongs to it, 
 marm." 
 
 " Belongs to it." "Well I am sure, thought Julie, 
 to think that these boys here are little London 
 thieves! She looked down into their healthy faces 
 and blue eyes, as she thought so. Ah, she ruminated, 
 they don't look much like thieves, but, bless you, 
 there ar'n't so much difference as people w^ould ima- 
 gine. 
 
 Mrs. Julie was right. Strip a noble lord and a 
 thief, make them change clothes ; smear the face of 
 my lord with greasy, unwashed stains ; let his hair be 
 unkempt, and his hands uncleansed ; then wash and 
 scent the thief, let Ids hair be dressed by Truefit, and 
 make Ms coat fit him with the grace of a true Stultz, 
 and who shall tell ? 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 91 
 
 " There it is, marm,'* cried one of the young re- 
 formadoes, pointing out to the widow a red-brick 
 farmhouse, very handsomely built in the Tudor style, 
 " That is the chaplain's house. The school is attached 
 to it.'' 
 
 The beauty of the scenery, the pureness of the air, 
 and the freshness which a journey from London 
 gives to all dwellers in town, exhilarated our two 
 travellers not a little. Oh, thought Leigh, how happy 
 could I be there ! Happy indeed ; who would not 
 be happy with a prospect before him of rising — 
 
 " from liis dead self . 
 
 To higher things," 
 
 and with a hope of living in such a scene as that 
 described in the next chapter ? 
 
CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 THE FARM SCHOOL. 
 
 The sight wliicli rose before Mrs. Mackenzie and her 
 young charge, as she stood facing the chaplain's house, 
 and looking towards tl^e farm-school, was indeed a 
 sight to thank God for, and to make one's heart beat 
 high. The Emperor Charles said that the view from 
 the top of the Colosseum at Eome was one " only to 
 be looked at on Sundays," and some such thought 
 entered the heads and hearts of Mrs. Mackenzie and 
 her protege as they stood looking over the fair English 
 landscape.* 
 
 The skies were bright overhead, the air was fresh 
 and bracing, and before them was some of the finest 
 landscape painting from the easel of the Almighty 
 artist. Around them, at a distance, arose an amphi- 
 theatre of hills, white chalk-cliiFs indeed, covered 
 with a short, brilliant green verdure, a garment with 
 which dame Nature kindly hid their nakedness. Here 
 and there, however, were rents in this garment, and 
 the bare chalk-cliff stood confessed. Labourers' cot- 
 tages, at a distance the very pictures of comfort and 
 
 ♦ Should the reader recognize this scene, he is informed that 
 he may have met with the description before, since the article 
 " Boy Crime and its Cure," in which it appeared in the " Eclectic 
 Eeviev)," was much quoted. It is, however, fair to borrow from 
 oneself. 
 
DIAMOISTDS AKD SPADES. 93 
 
 cleanliness, dotted the landscape here and there, and 
 in a distant field a flock of sheep, looking so small, 
 that it seemed you could take up at least fifty in your 
 hands, cropped the sweet grass, and with every move- 
 ment sent a faint dulcet tinkling to the pleased ear. 
 
 Down in one part of the valley was a little town 
 with a few spires, and some white, tall houses, ob- 
 scured too by a veil of thin smoke which hung over 
 the roof-tops. But it was not destined to be hidden 
 long ; a gentle breeze rises, and the smoke, charged 
 upon its flank, is scattered before Captain Zephyrus. 
 In a moment the town stands out plainly in the clear 
 atmosphere. 
 
 Cum circumfusa repente 
 
 Scindit se nubes, et in gethera purgat apertum." 
 
 To the left of our travellers also, the Eedhill Station 
 was tt) be seen, and immediately before them, a puff 
 of white vapour arose, showing them a cutting hitherto 
 hidden, through which the train to Dover passed 
 rapidly onwards. 
 
 The sight recalled Mrs. Julie's thoughts to her 
 object. She and the three boys had been drinking in 
 the beautiful landscape, and had forgotten the present, 
 the future, and the past. 
 
 "Hallo! marm," cried one of the boys, joyfully, 
 " why here is the chaplain." 
 
 As he spoke, a tall, thin gentleman, dressed in the 
 work-a-day dress of a work-a-dayparson,came forwards. 
 His clothes were black indeed, but of a decidedly uncle- 
 rical cut, if we except the step-collar waistcoat, and 
 
94f BIAMOliTDS AH^D SPADES. 
 
 the conventional white cravat. His coat was of the 
 clerical colour, it is true, but of a partly shooting jacket 
 mftke, and of so thick a material, that my Lady Psalter, 
 who isfolle about parsons and popular preachers, would 
 not admit it to one of her religious evenings. His 
 hat was nothing more nor less than a wide-awake dyed 
 black, and^ his ^lace-up boots were, I believe, products 
 of the hundiwork of his pupils. And, yet, there he 
 stood, Eeverend, yes, Eight Heverend ! much more so 
 than the Bishop of Smitjifield, or the Cardinal of 
 Prudentia. 
 
 Long lines of thought had pulled down the clergy- 
 man's face, long hours of care had scattered many gray 
 hairs in his hair and in his whiskers; and habits of deter- 
 mination, and the fact of dealing not only with young 
 convicts, but with an executive which, generally, would 
 not admit the plainest facts, and which for a long time 
 withheld the most necessary help, had made large and 
 deep farrows from cheek to chin, and had sown deep 
 wrinkles in the high forehead of the man. But joy- 
 ance, and hopefulness, and boldness, which Jiad, no 
 doubt, in their time done good service in smoothing 
 out those wrinkles and in filling up time's trenchwork, > 
 had served him nearly as bad. They had encamped 
 round his good-humoured soft eyes, and round his 
 capacious mouth, and had planted their lines too, so 
 that when he smiled, which he did very often, you 
 easily distinguished where the jolly company had 
 pitched their tents. 
 
 " AYell, my lads," said he, " what are you doing 
 here ? " 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 95 
 
 " Please, sir," cried tlie eldest, making a dasli at his 
 forelock, the coarse Scotch cap which he wore not 
 allowing him to touch his hat— "please, sir, here's a 
 lady wants you." 
 
 " Xot a lady, sir," hastened Mrs. Julie to say, " I 
 have brought this little boy to you, and this letter." 
 
 " The boy was quite right, marm," said the chaplain, 
 kindly. " JN'ow, boys, run away and finish your walk, 
 and I will look at this letter." 
 
 ' It did not take the chaplain long to get to the end 
 of Mr. Beakley's note. 
 
 "The boy has never been in prison, marm," said 
 the chaplain, casually. 
 
 " Grod forbid, no," cried Julie, earnestly. 
 
 The chaplain smiled. "I was going to say," said 
 he, " that I was sorry for that. But I see it pains 
 you. I am not sorry. It will be as well for us to have 
 one or two pure boys amongst us. This way, if you 
 please." 
 
 The chaplain here held open the gate of his gar- 
 den with as much politeness as if Julie was a 
 duchess. 
 
 " You see, marm," continued he, as they .walked 
 towards the house, " you see, marm, that long custom 
 has made me regard vice as a disease, and as a very con- 
 tagious one too. Long habits of association with 
 those who have caught the moral sickness, have taught 
 me that in many other respects they are just as good 
 as I am, or as any clergyman I know of. As having 
 had the measles, or the scarlet fever, does not tho- 
 roughly debase the physical nature, although it may for 
 
96 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 the time render it weaker ; so, yielding to temptation 
 does not thorougMy debase the moral nature. If it 
 did so, God help all of ns," said the clergyman, 
 piously. " On the contrary, we may sometimes become 
 better for the attack, and, indeed, it is our province 
 here to take care that boys do become better. Heaven 
 knows that we all succumb to vice at one time or an- 
 other. I have lived long enough, and seen enough 
 now, aye, and been tried enough now, to be kindly and 
 forgiving to others." 
 
 "Thank you for that, sir — thank you for that," 
 said Julie, pressing little Leigh's hand. 
 
 " As it is," continued the chaplain — " as it is, I am 
 rather glad than otherwise that our little friend here 
 has escaped the contagion. He will soon be amongst 
 his companions, and as I depend very much upon the 
 help which boys afford, and the good example which 
 they set, he will, I hope, be soon a very valuable addi- 
 tion to the farm-school." 
 
 " Upon my word, I'll try, sir," stammered out little 
 Leigh, who had conceived a strange liking to the 
 chaplain. 
 
 " Will you indeed, now ? there's a man." The 
 chaplain patted Leigh on the head. " Nay, if you will 
 try, it is past hope ; it is certain." 
 
 "What an optimist was this same person. Always 
 hoping, always with something to say joyously about 
 the matter. Here was he, at fifty years of age, sur- 
 rounded by those who, at any rate, were not speci- 
 mens of the virtues of humanity, talking as certainly 
 of goodness and virtue in human breasts, as others do 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 97 
 
 of wickedness and vice. His success lay in this— he 
 believed in good, and so good was around him. Great 
 is the power of faith. There is no prayer in the whole 
 Testament worth that one of the Apostles ; and if any 
 one of my readers, being now desponding and un- 
 happy, wishes to bring peace home to his bosom, and 
 to banish the black rider from behind his chariot, let 
 him use the chaplain's receipt, which was, to think 
 well and hopefully of all mankind, and to believe that, 
 however this man may betray, and that one may de- 
 ceive, yet that the human heart inclines to virtue 
 rather than to vice, and that, if you go on your course 
 trustingly and hopefully, you will count, as you look 
 back over life's ways, more good men than bad ones. 
 
 Even poor Dick Savage, who had two causes for 
 misery more than most men — firstly, he was an out- 
 cast, and secondly, a poet — was hopeful and chari- 
 table to the last. He saw more " life " than you or I, 
 reader, or any one of this linsey-woolsey age can do. 
 He had regular fits of " starvation," and irregular 
 periods of splendid life, with lords and great men. 
 He saw two extremes. He was tried for murder, 
 cast for death, pardoned, released, pensioned by a 
 queen, and yet finally died in a debtor's prison. And 
 yet says grand old Dr. Johnson, " As the knowledge 
 of life was indeed his chief attainment, it is not with- 
 out some satisfaction that I can produce the suffrage 
 of Savage in favour of human nature, of which he never 
 appeared to entertain such odious ideas as some, who 
 perhaps had neither his judgment nor experience, have 
 published, either in ostentation of their sagacity, vin- 
 
 H 
 
98 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 clication of their crimes, or gratification of their 
 malice." 
 
 There, Mr. Ecader, I don't know a writer living 
 who could do better than that paragraph, or who 
 could vindicate a wise opinion in wiser words ; and 
 therefore, throughout life, determine to believe in the 
 good, but be prepared for the bad in humanitj, so 
 shall you be a wise and a happy man, and escape the 
 folly of one sort, and the wicked misanthropy of the 
 other. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 NOVUS OKBIS. 
 
 "This, madara," said the chaplaiiij very politely, as 
 they entered a little side-door of the house, " is our 
 steward's room. Here we look to the accounts of the 
 farm ; and this is Mr. Hopef ull, one of my chief 
 assistants." 
 
 Mr. Hopefull looked up. 
 
 "Farmer Tubber," said he, "has advanced three- 
 pence a sack for the potatoes. They are very fine, 
 but he does not now offer a bad price." 
 
 " Very good," said the chaplain, " let him have 
 them, but mind he must pay more for the hay." 
 
 " All riglit, sir ; and there are two porkers down at 
 the bottom farm just fit for the knife. The boys take 
 quite a pride in them, but we shall want pork next- 
 week." 
 
 Very good," said the chaplain, "let the butcher 
 attend to it. He will be with you again soon. In 
 the meantime, here is Jackson." 
 
 Jackson, who was the bailiff — a rough-set, but kindly 
 man — came in, and touclied his hat to the worlcing 
 parson, to his Saint Paul working there at moral tent- 
 making. " I'll be vath you in a minute, Jackson," 
 said the parson ; " in the meantime, come along here, 
 my little man." 
 
 He took his visitors into a library, wherein were 
 
 H 2 
 
100 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 fine books, desks, and papers, and upon a side-board 
 of whicb, some home-made bread, some cheese, and 
 home-brewed ale, stood ready for the parson's lunch. 
 
 " You will be hungry after your journey, Mrs. Mac- 
 kenzie," said the kind host, " sit and eat. "We have 
 always something of this sort ready, for we have many 
 visitors from London. T'other day Prince Albert and 
 Lord "Wellesmere were here." (The great names hit 
 Mrs. Mackenzie and her pupil so full in the breast, that 
 they nearly lost their appetites.) " They were shown 
 over the farm, and his Eoyal Highness, who, indeed, 
 laid the stone of the new building, again subscribed 
 towards its support." 
 
 " Bless him for it," thought Julie. 
 
 "You find the ale good, I think," cried the par- 
 son. " Our boys brew it. But as I was about to 
 say, as the Beformatory was not intended for such as 
 the Prince, I would much rather show it you, Vvho, 
 going amongst the poor, can tell them and show them, 
 what is doing for their good." 
 
 " Thank you, sir,' indeed, thank you ; my little boy 
 will be, I am sure, in a Paradise here." 
 
 "Well," answered the parson, "if he be a good 
 boy, and he looks one, I am sure he will ; and now 
 come with me, and look at his future residence." 
 ' So away Julie and Leigh and workaday Parson 
 trudged. Parson never tired of showing his work, 
 his grand work, his wonderful work, which turns bad 
 boys into good ones. 
 
 " There is a grand mass of buildings where the chap- 
 lain lives, because on the farm, which the Society pur- 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 101 
 
 chased, was a veiy capital Tudor residence, much too 
 good for me," says the parson. Mrs. Julie looks as if 
 nothing could be too good for so good a man. " And 
 then they added to this a very nice chapel and a school 
 or so." This is the largest mass of buildings ; at other 
 parts of the farm, are other houses where, as Julie 
 saw, under the superintendence of a matron and mas- 
 ter, other families of boys lived. " I do not think it 
 wise to have too many boys together. About thirty 
 in a house is enough ; they then are infected with the 
 spirit of emulation, and one house or family strives 
 against another. There is one house called the Queen's 
 House, and one the Prince's, and one the Duke's. 
 Come and see the Duke's," concluded the parson. — 
 
 So away they went over the field, neatly and well 
 ploughed ; and as they passed along, they met a batch 
 of young fellows, dressed, like the lad they had pre- 
 viously seen, in moleskin or in fustian suits, working 
 away at laying down drain pipes for the field. A stout 
 agricultural labourer directed and assisted them, and 
 their cheeks glowed with the healthy labour. 
 
 "Tou would not think, ma'am," said the chaplain, 
 " that a dozen weeks ago, some of those boys, brought 
 out of the fever courts and alleys of London, were 
 rickety and scrofulous. Eegular meals, healthy la- 
 bour, and fine air have done it all. "We do not want 
 cod liver oil and doctor's stuff" here." 
 
 No, indeed, these healthy English boys were not the 
 people that the excellent purveyor of that luxury "the 
 light brown cod liver oil" addresses. They looked up 
 at the chaplain with an affectionate and a familiar re- 
 
102 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 gard, as they miglit look at a father, and then went on 
 with their work. The one great peculiarity of all the 
 lads being that they seemed absolutely very fond of 
 their business. 
 
 " This is our principal farm-yard," said the pai^son. 
 Julie and her little charge entered, as he spoke, a spa- 
 cious building, one side of which was a cowshed, in 
 which forty-six milch cows were being curry-combed 
 and rubbed down by a number of boys. It was evi- 
 dently some part of the system of reward which al- 
 lowed the young fellows to do this, and very pleased 
 were they with the occupation. "How should you 
 like to go and help them ?" said the clergyman, kindly. 
 
 " Yery well, sir," cries Leigh. " I long to be at 
 worli in this nice place, to do something." 
 
 " It is the old cry, Mrs. Mackenzie," says the chap- 
 lain, " all the young are anxious to work, if they are 
 only permitted. They do mischief, just because wo 
 will not let them be useful. I am persuaded that if you 
 were to let the most mischievous boy amongst the rich, 
 clean his own shoes, he would be more delighted with 
 the treat than with the little eccentricity of filling the 
 w^orks of his mother's watch with brickdust, a feat 
 which now pleases him." 
 
 "I think so too, sir." 
 
 "And I am also of opinion," said the chaplain, 
 " that the children of the poor who are employed, are 
 much happier than those of the rich. The little shoe- 
 blacli boy who earns his food, is by no means to be 
 pitied. He has an independent manly feelingj which 
 stands him in the stead of hours spent in little else 
 
DIAMONDS a:jtd spades. 103 
 
 but fooiisli play, ^ot but wbat I do not tbink play- 
 is, in its place, a very good thing. Botb for man and 
 boy, ma'am — for man and boy. 
 
 " This is our dairy," continued the reverend ma- 
 gister, " those are the pans of new milk, Leigh ; they 
 have been filled to-day. Yesterday's milk, you see, is 
 thick with cream ; and there is a little of our butter. 
 "We sell that to the gentry round about, and can 
 hardly make enough of it, I can tell you. Come 
 along here; here is the piggery. Look at that 
 Chinese sow ; is she not a beauty ? 
 
 " Here is our stable. Pour horses, you see, and a 
 donkey, a very useful fine fellow, bigger than those 
 you see in London, is he not ? He is quite a 
 favourite here, and gets well groomed every day. 
 
 " Come up here, we will visit the tailors — they make 
 all the clothes of the establishment. You will see 
 tliem all at work ; should you like to be a tailor, 
 Leigh ? " 
 
 Leigh shook his head, as they peeped in at the door, 
 and saw a long range of little boys, with their shoes 
 off", sitting with stockinged feet cross-legged, and sew- 
 ing away at an immense rate. A man, as usual, 
 superintended them, and taught the young idea how 
 to sew. They seemed happy and jovial. 
 
 " So you do not wish to be a tailor ? eh, — well some 
 boys like it. We ask them what they will be, and 
 there are more who choose to be tailors than we can 
 well employ. Here are the shoemakers." 
 
 An outhouse door was opened, and in a large room 
 sat a dozen or so of young shoemakers, making indeed 
 
104 diamo:j7ds attd spades. 
 
 rough, but useful shoes. The greater portion of the 
 shoes, or rather Bkicher boots, have a plate made of 
 iron under the right instep ; such are intended for the 
 lads who work at spade husbandry. 
 
 "Would a shoemaker satisfy you?" asked the 
 chaplain. 
 
 " Better than a tailor, sir," answered Leigh. 
 
 " Yery good, very good," returned the clergyman ; 
 "here are the blacksmiths — what say you to them ? " 
 Yes, there they were; some of the boys blew the 
 forge, some used the anvil, but the hammer work was 
 chiefly done by a stalwart smith. 
 
 " Well, sir," answered Leigh, looking on the 
 brightly- sparkling fire with interest, " even this trade 
 does not quite please me. I think, sir, a boy ought to 
 be satisfied witli what he is to be, sir, because you 
 know, sir, if he makes a mistake, it spoils him for life, 
 as I take it, sir." 
 
 "And a very sensible way of taking it, too," 
 answered the clergyman. 
 
 " Come along now then, and see the schools." 
 
 So away they went, " thorough mud and thorough 
 mire, thorough brake and thorough briar," till they 
 arrived at a farmhouse on a hill, wherein teachers are 
 busy at work. 
 
 On the raised benches, whereon the boys sit to dine, 
 are a school or lads learning to read with all their 
 might and main. They are quick, lively -looking lads, 
 and recollecting what they were, Mrs. Mackenzie 
 thinks that a great many of the very best boys in 
 London, at any rate of the very quickest in intel- 
 
DIAMONDS ANB SPADES. 105 
 
 lect, must have taken the preliminary steps of going 
 before a police-magistrate, and then to prison before 
 coming to this school. 
 
 They are so quick, so clever, these boys. When 
 one cannot answer a question, another little lad, in 
 perfect silence, pops up his little arm, as a signal that 
 he will try ; and, ten to one, answers it at a nod from 
 the master. By the side of the reading class, another 
 lad, of about twelve years of age, is teaching a class 
 of boys, quite as old as he is, arithmetic. The lad 
 has evidently a head for figures, as the phrase goes, 
 and inspired, by the presence of the chaplain, put his 
 pupils through tremendous questions, and gets them 
 through it very well. 
 
 " Should you like this sort of work, my young 
 friend ? " asks the reformator, laying his hand on the 
 shoulder of little Leigh. 
 
 "Yes, sir," cries the little boy, with enthusiasm, 
 " yes, sir ; I should like to work hard at this ; and to 
 play, sir, at digging in the fields, and attending to the 
 cows and pigs, and so on." 
 
 " Then you shall do so ; yours is a very sensible 
 idea of work and play, upon my word. Work and 
 play well, and you will have your name hung up 
 here." 
 
 He tapped, as he spoke, a board hanging on the 
 wall, upon which lists of names were inscribed as 
 upon the tables cVhonneur at Mettray. The names 
 are those of boys whose conduct has been good for 
 three months, by which they have gained an immunity 
 from punishment, and moreover, this honour. " You 
 
106 DIAMOl^DS AI>rD SPADES. 
 
 see, madam," said tlie cliaplaiu, continuing to treat 
 Mrs. Mackenzie witli the politeness due to a lady, 
 " you see we omit no incitement to make boys good. 
 When they get- into the world in after life, they may 
 miss, or they may meet with, more substantial rewards 
 and punishments ; but here, we feel it to our interest to 
 bring them back to virtue as quickly as we can, and to 
 root them in goodness, and in the practice of right as 
 firmly as possible." 
 
 " Thank Grod that this child has been sent here," 
 said Mrs. Mackenzie, fervently, turning to leave the 
 room. 
 
 " Stay, let us see where the boys sleep," said the 
 reverend magister; "those boxes" — he pointed to 
 some heavy sea-chests — " belong to boys who are 
 about to emigrate. They are going to JNTatal. They 
 are some of the very best lads in the school, and will 
 be sure almost to make a fortune when they get 
 abroad. Look here ! " — he opened one of the trunks, 
 and there, amidst some capital clothing, home-made, 
 indeed, with shoes and shirts, &c., lay a Bible and 
 prayer-book, and sheets of paper, and pens for them to 
 write home to their friends, or to their greatest friend 
 the good chaplain himself. " I have," said he, " a box 
 full of grateful letters — of letters fall of good feeling, of 
 nobility of soul, of hope, of determination. They are 
 letters which I read, when received, to their compa- 
 nions in the school — letters which repay me, and that 
 richly, for devoting my life to this object, this great 
 object." 
 
 Ventilation, cleanliness, comfortable iron beds, and 
 
DIAMONDS AIS^D SPADES. 107 
 
 warm blankets, distinguish tlie dormitories, wMch a 
 boy, who performs in his turn the office of the house- 
 maid, is assiduously scrubbing out. After looking at 
 these, Mrs. Julie finds that it is time to go away, and 
 descends the stairs, and passes with Leigh and her 
 kind entertainer to the gate. 
 
 There is a small plantation in front of the chaplain's 
 house, and in the midst of it, amongst box-trees, holly, 
 cypress, and the flowering arbutus, a little boy, healthy, 
 bright, and good-looking, but with a serious face, is 
 fastening a little wooden tablet to a tree. He rises 
 and salutes the chaplain gravely and respectfully, and 
 then proceeds with his work. 
 
 "Please, sir," says Leigh, looking up to the chap- 
 lain, " what is that boy doing ? is he putting the hard 
 name to the tree ? '* 
 
 " JN'o, not a hard name — merely his own, "William 
 Eaker — each boy as he leaves has the liberty to do 
 that. He has cut also on that tablet the day of his 
 departure from England • and, as that tree grows aijd 
 flourishes, so the little boys here will think that Wil- 
 liam Baker grows and flourishes at ISTatal. It is a 
 harmless thought, ma'am," — the chaplain spoke to 
 Mrs. Mackenzie — "but we hear that the good flourish 
 like a tree planted by the side of a fair stream ; and I 
 like to let these boys have their fancies, especially 
 when they bind them to their country. They come 
 back from America, from JN'ew Zealand, from Austra- 
 lia, or India, to see their tree, and to decipher their 
 name, and to recall old times. Bless you, when I am 
 an old man, and my head is white, and my back bent, 
 
108 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 I shall have "William Baker, a rich and prosperous 
 colonist perhaps, returning from abroad to look at 
 the tree, which has never grown in his memory, and 
 to recall kindnesses, as he regards the moss-grown 
 tablet which bears his name." 
 
 So away, Julie, with tearful eyes but light of heart, 
 the good chaplain to his books and study, and little 
 Leigh to the care of the honest matron who superin- 
 tended the " Duke's house." 
 
CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 PIP RIDES IN A CARRIAGE, BUILT ON PURPOSE FOR HIM. 
 
 "Whilst dear little Leigh is in Paradise, fortune and 
 the novelist's pen lead Mr. Pip to a very different 
 scene. In the world's idea, Pip was undoubtedly the 
 most clever of the two, and having the worldly advan- 
 tage of being the most unconscientious, he was, in his 
 profession, by far the most successful. 
 
 It would have been just the same had he been in 
 trade. In that " sphere" Mr. Pip, would, upon the 
 principles which guided him, and a small stock in 
 trade, have realised — to use a vile phrase — a fortune. 
 
 But the very wisest of us are plagued by that jade 
 fortune. Mr. Pip was arrested as we have said, and 
 sent to prison. 
 
 The first thing which the Grovernment provided 
 him was a carriage to ride in. 
 
 A carriage which might have been called a public 
 convenience, and which bore the Queen's cypher, and 
 was driven by a gentleman in the livery of the State. 
 Behind this curious and sombre vehicle sat another 
 person, who, being dignified as an officer, should needs 
 be a gentleman, and who had a covered seat, very 
 much like the porter's chair in the great house belong- 
 ing to my Lord Marquis of Silverspoon, provided for 
 him at the back. 
 
 More persons have, as is usual I believe with all 
 carriages, seen the outside of this grand vehicle than 
 
110 DIAMOIS^DS AND SPADES. 
 
 the inside ; as the writer of this novel is perfectly- 
 acquainted with both, he may as well describe the 
 latter. 
 
 The inside, then, which inside as large as that of 
 the new Saloon Omnibuses, shows but very blankly 
 to the observer, and indeed did to young Mr. Pip, 
 when first seen. A long passage, down the middle 
 of the vehicle, having about half a dozen doors on 
 eitl^er side opening into it. One of these doors being 
 opened, Mr. Pip was presented with a little white- 
 painted and clean cupboard to sit in, and a very close 
 and comfortable little box it was, when he got inside ; 
 only as it opened only from the outside, our young 
 friend, who kept up his spirits admirably to himself, 
 remarked (of course entirely for his own benefit) that 
 in case they forgot him it might not be very pleasant 
 to go rolling about from police-court to prison, and from 
 prison to police-court. He was, however, consoled 
 when he found a little aperture covered with wire in 
 the centre of the door, which was intended for him 
 to call through should he be poorly. The only use 
 the young gentleman made of it was to whistle very 
 violently through it, for which he was immediately 
 reproved by the policeman, and thereby quieted. 
 
 Has any one of my readers ever been shut up by 
 himself ? Mind, I do not mean to say, has he shut 
 himself up, there being an immense difierence all over 
 the world between the active and the passive verb, 
 and perhaps in no verb more than in this. The young 
 ladies who are infected with a religious fervour, and 
 who, mistaking the command "go ye out," will retire 
 
BIAMONDS AND SPADES. Ill 
 
 from the world and merely fright themselves — those 
 pretty nonnettes — they who sacrifice auhurn ringlets in 
 the eternal pages of Mr. Heath's hook of beauty — they 
 shut themselves up. They run away from a husband, 
 an equipage, a station in society. I do not wonder at 
 their despising these things ; only if they would not 
 shut themselves up, if they would not put their lights 
 under the bushel basket of a nunnery, tut come out 
 into the world and teach others to despise it, and set 
 the riders and drivers, dress wearers, and silly "swell " 
 people in it an example, you cannot think what a 
 much better idea I should have of them. They would 
 escape, too, those deadly rumours, those naughty 
 stories which the Signer Eoccaccio, Fra Aretino, Mon- 
 sieur de La Pontaine, and our own Mr. Chaucer, 
 liave whispered about them, whether truly or falsely 
 I know not ; perhaps half true, half Mse, I will not 
 pretend to judge, only I hope not true, for the sake of 
 those pretty nonnettes. 
 
 But this is a digression, apropos of being shut up. 
 It is clear to me, that if these little nuns did not shut 
 themselves up they would not like it so well. I will be 
 bouiid to that. Even as it is they get uncommonly 
 tired of their role, I meet them often in the streets, 
 these poor nonnettes, and when they have grown a 
 little old in harness wliat sad, sad faces they wear ! 
 They need not dress their wan faces in that linen 
 coif to look so like the Mater Dolorosa of Prancia. 
 Their poor red eyes, and pale thin cheeks do that, 
 Heaven knows, now. They look, too, out of their sad 
 head-dresses with dim eyes upon the w^orld, as if they 
 
112 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 were searchiDg for husband, child, or friend, and could 
 never, never find them. Nor will they ever ; it is all 
 very well, by St. Dominique, to talk of other children, 
 other friends, and of being the bride of Heaven ; but, 
 oh ! the ties of earth are heavy on us now, and no 
 child's cheek is so soft to press as our own, no red lips 
 kiss so softly or so sweetly, no little tiny hands wander 
 so fondly amongst our hair, as do those we have our- 
 selves given as hostages to mother earth. 
 
 Whilst I have been galloping after these nonnettes 
 by the way, I have left the piccaro Pip alone in his 
 whitewashed cupboard, which he said very much 
 resembled a "box," and by the word box, he meant 
 something which my prettiest young lady reader, I 
 wonder who she may be, would shudder at — he meant 
 his coffin. I daresay he was not far wrong. The 
 inside of a coffin must look very differently from 
 the outside ; and by the w^ay one is shut up in 
 that. Even the nonnettes will not shut themselves up 
 there. 
 
 Left to his reflections, Mr. Pip placed his hand 
 upon the only piece of property he had in the world, 
 an old livery button, worn very bright and brassy, 
 with which he had won innumerable games down 
 Angel Court. Somehow or another, this button con- 
 nected him with the world outside the four deal 
 walls which pressed so closely on him, and Pip thought 
 of his friends outside. "A negro has a soul an' please 
 your honour ? " queried Corporal Trim, and so I say to 
 the public. "A pickpocket has friends," if you please ? 
 Pip thought of these friends, thought of his only 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 113 
 
 other piece of property, an old horn-laaiidled knife, 
 with a worn blade, which used to keep company with 
 the button, and at last, being tender-hearted, as all 
 merry people are, began to take pity on himself and to 
 cry and whimper. 
 
 Presently, the banging of the door of the Queen's 
 omnibus, and the opening and shutting of the cup- 
 board doors inside, gave our little passenger notice 
 that other travellers to the sad bourne he was bound 
 to had taken their seats — and, no doubt, the (itn-) 
 necessary oaths — and in a few minutes the carriage 
 was full. Then came a tug and a strain, and a shout 
 from the curious gazers thereat, and they were in 
 motion. Mr. Pip dried his tears, again took up his 
 whistle, and by the time he had assumed a thoroughly 
 defiant look, which he assumed for the benefit alone 
 of the policeman who sat in the porter's chair at the 
 door, the Queen's omnibus had reached its destina- 
 tion, and, turning into an open court-yard, was ready 
 to deposit its load of crime, ignorance, and vice at the 
 gate of the prison. A new-born hope sprang into 
 Pip's breast. 
 
 He was not inexperienced in the ways of the 
 world he had trod. He had often seen similar gaol 
 deliveries, and had noticed that, after descending from 
 the vehicle, the prisoner had to walk some ten or a 
 dozen steps before he entered the iron gateway of the 
 place of durance. He conceived, therefore, the bold 
 design of popping under the policeman's arm, and 
 making a dash at the gate, and if he were lucky enough 
 to pass that, to dash down the street near it, and to 
 
 I 
 
114' DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 lose himself in the close net-work of alleys which were 
 adjacent. The young felon then, never for a moment 
 ceasing his careless whistle, so as to put his guards 
 quite at ease, curled himself up like a ball, crouched 
 down as low as he could, and prepared for his despe- 
 rate bolt. 
 
 ""Well," said the policeman at last, fitting the key 
 into the door which locked in our young friend, " You 
 won't whistle much longer I know ; come along, sir ! " 
 
 He put his hand in mechanically, at about the 
 height to which an ordinary man's collar would reach, 
 and opened the door. Pip's cupboard was next to the 
 door of the vehicle, and the only answer the official 
 received was, a sudden spring at his legs, which pre- 
 cipitated him into the cupboard, at the very moment 
 at which Mr, Pip sprang out. The latter was down 
 the steps in a moment, and with fair start would have 
 certainly made his escape, had not a third person, a 
 policeman, also been coming to the prison, to make 
 some inquiry at the very, moment. 
 
 The sudden chaDge from the darkness of the prison 
 van to the light of heaven outside, also blinded our 
 young friend, and as the new arrival was an adept at 
 catching boys, he very easily captured Pip by stoop- 
 ing down quickly, extending his arms, and closiDg 
 them suddenly on the wriggling form of the unfortu- 
 nate young thief. 
 
 "Hallo," he said, "you are in a hurry, a running 
 away from the place where they will treat you so well, 
 and where they are so fond of you. That won't do, 
 young'un." 
 
DIAMOITDS AND SPADES. 115 
 
 He spoke not unkindly, the great rougli man, but 
 he held Pip with the grasp of a giant. 
 
 " I'll teach him to come those games over me," 
 cried the one Pip had baffled, unbuckling his belt, and 
 hitting at the loins of the boy with the buckle end as 
 hard as he could. 
 
 Pip's captor caught the blov»^, and winced under the 
 pain it caused. 
 
 "Don't do that again, "Wilkins," he said, "if you 
 had hit the boy, you would have injured his spine for 
 life. Take more care of your prisoners, it was your 
 own fault." 
 
 " Come on, you young devilskin," returned Wilkins, 
 an active and intelligent officer no doubt, but not half 
 active and intelligent enough. " Come on, will you ?" 
 He caught the boy by the collar, and, ingeniously 
 forcing his knuckles into his throat, nearly choked 
 him. " You ain't going to cut again, I know," and 
 with a sudden twitch which nearly dislocated every 
 bone in his body, literally * chucked' him through the 
 strong iron gates of the prison, and into a strong 
 court-yard. 
 
 I 2 
 
CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 ORBIS VETERIBUS NOTUS. 
 
 Leig^h Woodeopfe had entered upon a novel scene, 
 and had paid a visit to a new world, discovered, indeed, 
 but within this century. 
 
 To Pip, on the contrary, it was reserved to go to a 
 very old world indeed, a very sad wicked old world, per- 
 fectly well-known to the ancients, known to the Romans 
 when they imprisoned Paul, to the Jews when they 
 shut up Peter, to the Egyptians when they incarce- 
 rated their refractory slaves, and made thembuild those 
 pyramids which we of the younger world rather won- 
 der at; that is, when we can get our heads and our 
 thoughts away from our money-desks and wonder at 
 all. 
 
 We have chronicled the little pickpocket's first en- 
 try into this world. He did not much like it. It 
 reminded him, that is just where he stood, somewhat 
 of a large birdcage ; tall iron bars certainly ran all 
 round him, and he was not set much at his rest when 
 a number of officials, in nicely-made coats, smart boots, 
 and a costume which gave them a semi-military ap- 
 pearance, came and stood around him, and took his 
 portrait, by staring at him sufficiently long to get his 
 countenance fully stamped upon their minds. 
 
DIAMONDS Al^TD SPADES. 117 
 
 In the meantime Mr. "Wilkins, the active and intel- 
 ligent officer whom Pip liad capsized, gave a list of the 
 prisoners, with their sentences, and the crimes which 
 thej had been charged with to the head warder, who 
 received it for the governor. Near the head ward- 
 er's lodge was a rack, upon which certain books, 
 letters, and parcels intended for the prisoners had been 
 placed. 
 
 " I wonder what those are for," said Pip. inquiringly. 
 
 "Stow your gab," said Wilkins, chucking him under 
 the chin in such a way that had our young friend not 
 put his tongue quickly out of the way it would have 
 infallibly been bitten off. 
 
 " Prisoners must not talk," cried the warder, in a 
 voice of thunder. "Policemen must not interfere 
 with prisoners." 
 
 " Oh, very well, then," said "Wilkins, "only mind, if 
 you come to any harm with that young limb, mind, / 
 warned you." 
 
 "He's not much of a chap," said the warder, kindly. 
 
 "Ain't he though ? " said the other. " He is a limb, 
 a regular limb, a devil's limb." 
 
 Pip, who quickly recovered from the shock Wilkins 
 had given him, thrust his tongue in his cheek, and 
 looked defiantly at that worthy. 
 
 " There now," said Wilkins, " look at him ! He tried 
 to escape just now. If you don't watch him he will 
 be off. He nearly bobbed under my arm." 
 
 " Made a dash for it," said the warder. 
 
 " Yes," said Wilkins. 
 
 " Very nat'ral too," answered the warder, " but they 
 
118 DIAMOKDS AND SPADES. 
 
 as makes a dash for it are not tlie ones to get out 
 here. It's the slow, patient, plodding fellows as tries 
 that. Besides, there's no chance. All right, police- 
 man." 
 
 He gave back the receipt signed by himself, for the 
 governor, as he said this, and quietly openicg the door, 
 not of the birdcage, but the prison, let out the officer, 
 that worthy again cautioning the warder against the 
 " limb" which he had left in his possession. 
 
 At the same time another warder beckoned to 
 young Pip and one or two of his compagnons de 
 voyage^ and led them away. 
 
 Through close corridors arched overhead, and white- 
 washed, with red-bricked floors, so beautifully clean, 
 that it is no exaggeration to say that a dinner might 
 be eaten with great comfort upon them, through pas- 
 sages one side of which were formed of iron bars, the 
 attendant led Pip. Presently they came to a yard, in 
 which was a pump, the exterior of a boiler, and two or 
 three iron cupboards. One of these the warder un- 
 fastened, and, finding it empty, pointed it out to Pip. 
 That young gentleman looked with an inquiring eye 
 upon his guide, philosopher, and friend. 
 
 " "What am I to do, governor ? " he said. ' 
 
 "Pris'ners mustn't speak," repeated the official. ' 
 " Just go in there. Strip yourself naked, and jump into 
 that warm bath. Leave your clothes. You will find 
 others ready aired by the hot air of your bath ready 
 for you." 
 
 Pip did as he was desired, and after a short interval 
 came out a new man, clothed in the coarse blue shirt 
 
DIAMOIS-DS AND SPADES. 119 
 
 and woollen garments of the convict, having the 
 name of the prison on the back of his coat, and hav- 
 ing lost a great deal of dirt by the transaction, but 
 still joyous at having been able to secrete his brass 
 button. 
 
 The clothes and shoes, which were also found at the 
 government expense, were a trifle too large for him, 
 but that only served to disguise him. Directly he 
 was out of his bath, a barber rushed up to him and 
 cut his hair so closely that he affected a disguise 
 which, I will not say his mother, as Pip was popularly 
 reported to have none, but his dearest friend, could not 
 have penetrated. His own clothes were bundled up 
 and thrown into an oven, there to be baked till puri- 
 fication by fire should free them from those para- 
 sites which the young Pips of society always en- 
 courage, and then the warder, giving him a brass 
 badge, which bore his number, 70, told him that he 
 was all right. 
 
 All right, eh ? Pip in his new baptism had lost every- 
 thing. He was no longer a person, but a thing. He 
 had no nam.e. He was merely a number. He was out 
 of the world. Not a thread which he wore was his own. 
 He had lost liberty, name, everything on earth, but his 
 brass button, and that he hugged with a fondness which 
 one can hardly conceive. He found that the fact of his 
 having no little personalities allowed him by govern- 
 ment, such as keys, gold trinkets, a watch, lockets? 
 pass keys, pencil, knives, and a porte monnaie, had been 
 kindly taken into consideration by the persons who 
 made his clothes for him, and that he had no pockets 
 
120 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 about theiD,. but yet he managed to secrete his button, 
 and was quite ready to follow the warder. 
 
 "All right," cried young Pip, therefore, to his 
 question, "all right, sir." 
 
 " "Well then," returned the other, " put that on your 
 head, No. 70, and follow me." 
 
 That ! What was that ? 
 
 Simply that which Mr. Pip and the other prisoners 
 dreaded as much as anything, and hated as much as 
 the solitary confinement. It was a rough red woollen 
 cap, with a long peak descending in front, nearly or 
 quite to the upper lip. Two holes with glass in them 
 permitted the wearer to see the external world, and to 
 look at the face of the governor, visitors, or warders. 
 The faces of his companions, being, like his own, 
 obscured by such masks, he of course could not see. 
 There was something very dreadful in the appearance 
 of the prisoners as they shambled past on their work. 
 Their names had been lost. They were now not so 
 much individuals as numbers ; their personality was 
 gone, for who could recognise a man by the mouth 
 and chin, the lowest and most meaningless features of 
 his face ? Pip, if he did not employ this language, felt 
 much more than this expresses, and put on the cap 
 with a heavy heart. 
 
 "There you are, 70," said the warder, looking 
 at him with an artistic eye. "You feels clean and 
 comfortable now ; and your own mother would not 
 know you in that 'ere cap and suit. And then to 
 think of the advantage," he continued, with a grim 
 sarcasm ; " s'posing any one of your fine friends should 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 121 
 
 come on a visit to the governor, and get shown round 
 the prison, they won't know you. It wouldn't be plea- 
 sant, p'raps, for your feelings that they should, and so 
 we kindly takes care of you, by hiding your little 
 mug in that way." 
 
 The warder felt that he was giving way to a vice 
 of gossiping, which, perhaps, confinement and solitude 
 had encouraged in, rather than eradicated from him. 
 He therefore stopped suddenly, the more especially 
 since he saw the governor of the place coming towards 
 him. The gentleman who held that office was a man 
 eminenljy qualified for it. He had been in the army, 
 was firm, kindly, and systematic. His prison was a 
 model to other prisons ; its healthy state everywhere 
 acknowledged ; its admirable arrangements appreciated 
 and understood even by the county magistrates, and 
 any one who knows the general density of those func- 
 tionaries will concede, that I am saying a great deal 
 when I say so much. Further of the secrets of this pri- 
 son-house I will not disclose, simply because its captain 
 and governor, retiring from his office, hath written a 
 work upon it himself, which will tell such of our 
 readers as desire to know, the time observed, the punish- 
 ment, and internal economy of the prison — everything 
 they require. Besides which I have yet to learn, that 
 bare details of this sort are interesting to my readers, 
 believing that dryness of all kinds should be avoided 
 by writers of novels, except indeed dry discussions on 
 religion (about which the writers know very little), 
 which are carried on with the verbosity, ignorance, 
 and bigotry of the very worst theologists by those who 
 
122 DIAMONDS AITD SPADES. , 
 
 seem to be able to imitate the prolix vices of every 
 English divine, but never to approacb tbe eloquence of 
 Taylor, nor the judiciousness of Hooker. 
 
 " And this," said the governor, looking at Pip, and 
 comparing notes with a paper which he held in his 
 hand, "this is 'No. 70. Well, well, what can 
 we find for JSTo. 70 to do?" He said this partly 
 to himself, rubbing his chin as he spoke ; and No. 
 70 looked up to him, and for the first time in 
 his life to any one, with something like a nascent 
 feeling of veneration. This was not occasioned 
 by any peculiar external appearance, the governor 
 being, like all governors of prisons whom I have 
 ever seen, plainly, not to say shabbily, dressed. ISTor 
 was it due to any majesty or severity of countenance, 
 for he was a khidly-featured man ; but to the simple 
 fact that No. 70 felt that his fate lay in the hands 
 of the governor, and that for some time at least the 
 human being who stood before him was absolute 
 master of his fate. So the little fellow stood blinking 
 and winking at the governor, through the eye-lit 
 holes of his impenefcrable mask. 
 
 The governor, on his part, looked down with equal 
 interest at ISTo. 70. "Ah," thought he, "the usual 
 sad old story — want, degradation, poverty, ignorance, 
 guilt. They all follow each other as regularly as 
 the cases in a Latin declension ; and now, to complete 
 the number, comes punishment ! Punishment, too, 
 for this poor lad, a very child in body, and more than 
 a child in mind. 
 
 " Johnson," he said to the warder, " it's too late 
 
diamo:nds and spades. 123 
 
 now for mucli ; just put liim in his cell, and let him 
 reflect a little ; in the morning put him to oakum ; 
 he's altogether too small for the crank.'* 
 
 " Two sizes, at least, sir," returned Johnson; " come 
 along, 70!" 
 
 Seventy answered the summons at once, and 
 touched his cap very respectfully to the governor. 
 Johnson, perhaps as a lesson to his prisoner, took 
 him by a circuitous route to his cell, passing in their 
 way a gang of grown prisoners, each dressed like 
 'No. 70, and each staring from their eye-holes at 
 the new comer. They were going to crank-work, 
 and their recent arrival had the opportunity, as the 
 warder lingered near the spot, to see what kind of 
 machine the crank was. A number of little doors, 
 each next to each other, were open, and in each a 
 grating. These doors shut in small spaces, about as 
 large as a good-sized old-fashioned cupboard, wherein 
 a man could easily stand upright and exert himself. 
 The exertion consisted in turning an iron handle, both 
 ends of which were fixed in the wall, and which was 
 serviceable in pumping up to the top of a high reser- 
 voir the water used in the prison. JSTear it was a 
 circular railing enclosing walk, which radiated from 
 a hollow centre, like the longer threads of the un- 
 finished web of a spider. In the centre of this web 
 was a little chamber full of peep-holes, through which 
 the officiating warder looked, and could keep a strict 
 watch over each of his charges, without any one of 
 them being able to see the other. These were the 
 exercising grounds, and No 70 had the pleasure, 
 
124j diamonds AISTD SPADES. 
 
 certainly a rather rueful one, of seeing several of his 
 companions pacing up and down these segments of 
 the circle, like wild beasts. Their action and motion 
 showed the different dispositions of the men. Some 
 walked up and down quickly and regularly, as if de- 
 termined to take a constitutional exercise. Others 
 paced as slowly as if at a funeral, and others swiftly, 
 fiercely, and spitefully, with desperate action, getting 
 over twice as much ground as the slow ones. Some 
 slouched, a few strutted, some almost trotted, and 
 some dragged their weary, weary feet along, as if at 
 each step they prayed to Heaven to ease them of the 
 heavy burden of life which they bore. 
 
 Turning away from these, ISTo. 70 saw others of 
 his comrades go into the little cupboards described 
 above, each, as he entered, taking up his little 
 bright brass badge, and hanging it up (so that its 
 number could be seen by the warder outside) 
 before the little grating in the door, then he bent 
 down to the work, and began turning the crank slowly 
 but vigorously round and round, till the back of the 
 operator felt as if it w^ere, to use a salt-water phrase, 
 "about to part amidships." 
 
 " Now then," said the warder, marching off. His lit- 
 tle prisoner followed him through a large room where 
 prisoners, seated on benches, were picking oakum 
 from bundles of rope cut about seven inches long, 
 w^hich they untwisted with their fingers, and pulled to 
 fine yarn by means of a steel hook strapped on their 
 knee ; in the midst of them, raised on a high stool, sat 
 a warder, keeping a watchful eye on the workers. 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 125 
 
 No. 70 saw enough of that work to know that it 
 would be desperately tedious, and that the fingers 
 during the first two or three days would become 
 nearly raw. He shook his little head, and evi- 
 dently did not like the internal arrangements of the 
 prison. 
 
 Passing thence, 70 and his guide entered a long 
 corridor in which were, on each side, a number of 
 doors. It was scrupulously clean, and a door, the 
 number of which corresponded with the brass badge he 
 wore, was open, and showed him the internal economy 
 of his cell. Whitewashed walls, a brick floor, bright 
 steel eyes in the wall, to which the hooks of the cocoa- 
 nut sacking, which constituted his bed, were attached. 
 A little corner cupboard, where the mug, tin plate and 
 spoon for his meals were placed, and on the top of 
 which, packed away by being rolled up, was the cocoa- 
 nut matting for the bed, the blanket, and counterpane. 
 A little clean wooden stool, a deal board fixed in the 
 wall, at once a table and a desk, and above which were 
 hung printed rules for the prisoner's perusal, and a 
 prayer, evidently adapted from the Church of England 
 service. When he had looked at these, No. 70 found 
 that he had taken an inventory of all his furniture, 
 his goods and chattels. 
 
 "There, you go in there," said the warder. "I say, 
 35," he cried to a prisoner who was working at 
 making some cocoa-nut matting in the corridor, "35, 
 just show 70 what to do with his bed, and how to 
 manage his cell." 
 
 Thirty-five, to whom any interruption of his mono- 
 
126 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 tonous task was a luxury, hurried towards them, and 
 in a few moments cleverly unrolled the matting, 
 hooked it up, and then the blankets and counterpane 
 over it, making a very nice bed. He then, looking at 
 70 to catch his eye (whereat 70 immediately, and 
 not unobserved by the warder, winked), unhooked 
 the bed, unrolled the sacking, and packed up neatly 
 as before. He then, pointing to the rules and direc- 
 tions on the printed paper, which hung by a wire 
 hook, commenced sweeping the cell, and was pro- 
 ceeding further, when the warder stated that 70 
 could read and that that was enough, and so oiF went 
 35 to his work again, leaving the warder alone with his 
 charge. That functionary, after calling No. 70 to 
 the fact that it was nearly six, that at six he would 
 have some cocoa and bread given him, and that 
 from then till eight he might sit and think, or do 
 what he liked, and that at eight he might turn in, left 
 him to his meditations. 
 
 Such as they were, these were not pleasant. Six 
 o'clock, bringing cocoa and bread, came soon enough, 
 and the novelty of the situation caused the young 
 fellow to pass the hours between that and bed-time, 
 if not pleasantly, at least not wearily. Then the 
 little fellow made his own bed, and having, according 
 to the rules of the prison, deposited his clothes in a 
 bundle outside the door, he turned in. The clock 
 struck eight, the heavy tread of the warder sounded 
 through the corridor, and then the key rattled and 
 grated in the doors, and the prisoners were shut up 
 for the night. Poor little 'No. 70 was soon asleep in 
 
DIAMONDS A.ND SPADES. 127 
 
 a more cosy bed indeed than lie usually enjoyed, 
 and dreamt of Angel Court, a'nd of various predatory 
 excursions, all carried on witli tlie greatest success, 
 and in defiance of the police. 
 
 Six o'clock of the morning came, a gun fired at that 
 hour went *'bang," its echoes reyerberated through 
 the corridors of the prison, the numbered convicts 
 hastened to dress themselves, the warders unlocked 
 their cells, the bed-clothes were packed up, the prison 
 garb resumed, the cell cleansed, the cocoa served, and 
 the life again begun which was to last for so long. 
 This day was varied by oakum-picking, a little school- 
 ing, and the exercise in the segmentary yard before 
 described. So time passed; a week seemed as long 
 as six, but longer than all was the space between tea 
 and bed-time. That space of time little 70 found 
 dreadfully dull. The hardest work would have 
 pleased him better, far better, than those dreary two 
 hours. 
 
 " He might," suggests a religious man, " have said his 
 prayers ; " so he might, but he did not. He used the 
 prayer in the hall certainly, but to a very difterent 
 purpose than that intended by the authorities. He 
 counted the letters, first backwards, then forwards. 
 Then he numbered the words and lines, then he left 
 out every other word and read it to see what sense it 
 made ; in short, No. 70 twisted and turned the com- 
 position into as many forms as tlie creatures of 
 Pouche did a letter when they suspected that it con- 
 tained a cypher. He then even went the length of 
 
128 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 counting the bristles on his hair brush, and in that 
 operation nearly drove himself mad. G-ame as he un- 
 doubtedly was, this imprisonment and isolation had 
 an immense effect upon No. 70. He grew melancholy 
 and thin, and very, very wretched. 
 
 Some quiet and calm souls, for even in a prison 
 such are met with, found that the regularity of the 
 treatment agreed excellently with them, slept away 
 the long hours allotted them by the rules, and grew 
 fat. The hero of this chapter was not one of these. 
 He could not rest'. The place was too vast, too clean, 
 too uniform, too regular for him. He sighed for the 
 diet and squalor, the noise, closeness, and irregularity, 
 the want and privation, and the liberty and licence of 
 old Angel Court. 
 
 The history of an active mind, brooding over its 
 sins and its sorrows, and by an inevitable fate cast 
 back to reflect upon and to wear itself, would, if it 
 could only be written, appal the guilty, and make wise 
 the free. Some of the prisoners, simply for excitement, 
 tried to remember old jocular stories, and under such 
 influences would suddenly laugh out loudly in a 
 manner which make the warders fancy that they were 
 about to turn mad. A sudden transition from this 
 state of mind to another of the deepest gloom 
 and contrition marked another phase of character, 
 then followed a dull, quiet apathy, too often mistaken 
 for a sign of subdual and content. 
 
 No. 70 at last, after a three weeks' incarceration, 
 during which the good doctor had been twice on. 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 129 
 
 the point of ordering him to the infirmary, and of 
 giving him additional stimulants, began to mend. 
 
 He polished his old brass button ; he looked even 
 cheerful ; he jumped out of bed, dressed and cleaned 
 his cell with alacrity. 
 
 What caused this change? Why, the truth is 
 No. 70 had at last caught an idea. 
 
CHAPTEE XYI. 
 
 NO. 70 PUTS HIS IDEA IN PRACTICE. 
 
 I WAS walking, 'tis but the other day, along the 
 Strand, when turning up a court which leads into 
 Drury Lane, a* classical but not very sweet nor 
 respectable neighbourhood, when I saw two little boys 
 running up to a yellow qfficlie, which told those who 
 could at the same time run and read what excellent 
 productions of our dramatists were about to be acted. 
 The colour of the bill tells any one that it was of a low 
 theatre, and our young critics perused it eagerly. They 
 did not " seem to care " — to use their own slang — about 
 the " Idiot of the MHl," nor for the Miser of Shore- 
 ditch. "I have seen the Hideot!" shouted one, 
 " and it's nuffin." " Oh, here ! Thursday's the day, 
 Teddy, it's Jack Sheppard." 
 
 " And how many times," said the present instructor 
 of the public, paying for forthcoming information 
 with a halfpenny, *^have you seen Jack Sheppard ? " 
 
 " About a dozen, sir," returned the lad. 
 
 '* Grive me a penny, sir," cried the other, ^' lie hasn't 
 seen it as much as me. I've seed it twenty times 
 sir. 
 
 JS'ow that estimable production, so wisely licensed 
 by the Lord Chamberlain, and which does so much 
 good to our rising male population, had been a great 
 
DIAMONiD^ AND SPADIJS. 131 
 
 favourite, not only as a play, but as a lesson to 
 imitate. "When in prison the boy thought of no- 
 thing so much as the wonderful escapes of Jack, 
 and wished a thousand times for Edgeworth Bess and 
 the other young lady to bring him some ropes and 
 files, so that he might try the bars of his residence, 
 after Jack's fashion. It was the utter hopelessness of 
 escape which made him wretched. The window was 
 too high ; the door was too thick ; the warders too 
 watchful. But at last as he sat, not even counting the 
 letters of his prayer-board, bmt merely staring at it, 
 a great Idea came into his head. 
 
 The board was hung up, not by string, but, on 
 account of durability, by wire, — three inches of stout 
 wire, — and this was the instrument by which the pri- 
 soner determined to escape. 
 
 The door of his cell when closed shut closely into 
 the wall. There was no handle on the inside, and 
 where the keyhole should be was merely an iron plate, 
 smooth .and hard. The small prisoner had, however, 
 noticed two things. The first was, that in the day* 
 time the catch or bolt of the lock was pulled back by 
 the handle easily ; and the second, that when locking 
 up, the warder turned the key twice, shooting the bolt 
 in with great force and strength, and that in the 
 morning, the key alone could unlock that bolt. There 
 is no hope there, thought JNTo. 70. 
 
 At six, too, they were shut in by themselves, but 
 the key was not used. The bolt, though strong, 
 was so easy that thereon 70 founded his hopes. 
 Having matured his plans, therefore, he, one evening, 
 
 K 2 
 
132 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 when lie had aBcertained from hearing that the war- 
 der did not visit it, that the cell next to his was 
 empty, as the warder shut the door after him, quietly 
 slipped a wire hook, which he had pinched up, partly 
 by the aid of his fork, partly by his oakum hook, and 
 partly by his fingers, on the bolt of the door and held 
 it while the warder shut him in, without of course 
 double locking him. The weight of the door bent the 
 wire, but when the little convict, with much trembling 
 and fear, tried the lock, he found that the hook 
 adhered, and that he could easily pull back the bolt. 
 His heart beat so rapidly for joy that he was obliged 
 to sit down. He waited and waited for a long time, 
 heard the pacing up and down of the warders, and 
 about the usual time made up his bed ; he did not, how* 
 ever, put in the under blanket, that he tore in two. 
 He then took off his shoes, reserving his stockings, 
 made one portion of his blanket into a figure some- 
 thing like a dummy of himself, which he stufied in the 
 bed. His plate, jug, fork, cup, everything he could 
 use, served for this purpose, in stuffing out the body 
 and head of the figure. He then undressed all but 
 trousers and shirt, stuffed the other part of the blanket 
 and the waistcoat into his jacket, tied the bundle by 
 the two sleeves, and put it near the door, a perfect 
 facsimile of his usual bundle of clothes. 
 
 He then waited with a beating heart, and absolutely 
 prayed, and that heartily, for luck, and listened with 
 a practised ear till the warder had passed his cell. 
 Then he pulled back the bolt, opened the door, and 
 ^quickly stole into the empty cell \ hardly was he safe 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SiPADES. 133 
 
 when the eiglit o'clock bell resounded through the 
 prison, and the warders, looking in each cell, locked up 
 for the night. 
 
 The warder kicked against 70's bundle, and looked 
 in at the curled-up figure in the bed. "Taking it 
 easy," said he to himself. " That boy will do well, 
 now." He put the clothes outside. 
 
 Then, greatly to the young convict's satisfaction, he 
 double-locked the door and passed on. 
 
 70 scarcely dared to breathe. The warders are 
 up all night, every quarter of an hour they are 
 bound to pass up and down, and to make a mark, on 
 a time-reckoner. Each time he passed him on that 
 eventful night the prisoner shuddered. How he 
 escaped him he does not now know, but at last he 
 managed to crawl across from the empty cell whilst 
 his back was turned, and then vanished down a 
 passage which led to a wood storehouse. The prisoner 
 breathed more freely. 
 
 After that feat he lay ^erdu for some time, and 
 then, shivering with excitement — not cold — crept 
 amongst the wood and coals, intending, if possible, 
 to force the door which-«led to the exercising yard 
 open. 
 
 As he crept on he stumbled over a ladder. He 
 almost wept for joy. Everything seemed to favour 
 him that night. The door which led down stairs was 
 unlocked, and now, to his great delight, the door of 
 the wood store was unlocked. 
 
 70 crept back to fetch the ladder, which was tall, 
 but very light. He dragged it; to the door, and 
 
134 DIAMONDS a:ptd spades. 
 
 crept out into the yard on all fours, with the ladder 
 balanced on his back, the only way in which the 
 wiry little fellow could carry it. 
 
 When the fresh breeze blew upon his face and fore- 
 head, unhindered by the mask and cap, he was indeed 
 delighted; he quite cried for joy. The moon shone 
 brightly but fitfully, and under the passage of a heavy 
 cloud, 70 crept with his ladder to the garden of the 
 prison, itself surrounded by a high strong wall. 
 
 The longest toil must end ; he reached it at last, 
 raised the ladder to the wall ; dragged it after him, 
 descended, staggered with it to a slimy ditch, where 
 he hid it 'midst nettles and mud, and then, with the 
 swiftness of a deer, bounded away, no more a prisoner, 
 but free ; no more 'No. 70, but Pip, the " Game' un." * 
 
 * This escape is an actual fact. It is just possible that some 
 of the readers of this book may be able to identify the prison 
 and the locality. 
 
CHAPTEE XYII. 
 
 THE WORK OF TEN •SEARS. 
 
 Teu years ;— and so time lapses. What will it not 
 do ? How it alters all things ! The twig of yesterday 
 is grown into a tree, and bears fruit and seed which 
 has itself borne fruit ; the parent stem itself grown old 
 and crabbed. 
 
 Ten years ; — the little girl who played at your feet, 
 a blooming young bride ; the bride a matron, staid and 
 stately now ; the ardent lover, with a brow wrinkled 
 and changed with care ; those cares, vows, hopes, all 
 forgotten which bound him so heavily ten years 
 ago. 
 
 Ten years ;— the puppy which gambolled on your 
 hearth is a toothless old dog, moving with pain and 
 stijffly lying down, with the same love and affection 
 beaming from his blinking old eyes as he looks up at a 
 form changed, indeed, but not so changed as his. His 
 master looks down on him — Poor old dog! Come 
 here, old fellow! With the same obedience which 
 marked him ten years ago, the eyes looking a loving 
 answer, the beast rises, lays his head upon his master's 
 knee, and licks the hand which pats his head, and 
 pricks his old ears at the voice which says, but not un- 
 kindly, " Poor old dog ! poor fellow, then, you're old 
 now, Ponto — old now. We must shoot you some fine 
 
136 DIAMONDS Aiq-D SPADES. 
 
 morning, and buiy you under the laurel in tHe gar- 
 den." 
 
 Ten years ; — from dog to man all things are changed. 
 The master might have ybeen a hot politician. The 
 people had wrongs in his young days, ten years ago ; 
 but, now ! well, well, the government hasn't done much 
 certainly, but he himself is well to do — is- comfortable, 
 is happy — nay, he is rising in the world, and things 
 are changed, and they are better now. 
 
 Changed in ten years ! aye, so they are, with all 
 races, from the rotation of the star worlds to the lapsing 
 waters of a little rill which has worn its stony channel 
 somewhat deeper in ten years. Changed, all changed, 
 but one changeless class — the poor ; and one class of 
 opinions, those of the good, deep-hearted man, who, in 
 early life had proved the truth and had clung fast to it 
 — whose every day's experience but deepened his con- 
 victions. These know no change, not in ten years ; 
 no, nor in ten times ten. 
 
 Por with the poor, if an individual springs from 
 their ranks into comfort, it is but an exception. The 
 sun rose and set ; the same dull round of ceaseless 
 labour came ; the seasons passed ; the sun flooded his 
 glory down over meadow and corn-field, and penetrated 
 into hot feverish courts, and bred a pestilence, or the 
 " sword of winter sharp and keen" smote them with 
 ague, with consumption, and with cramp ; and in ten 
 years youth — a short, foolish, ignorant, thoughtless 
 season — came and went, and left no recollections to 
 hallow old age. Changed from youth to premature 
 age, but their condition the same ; their hopes no 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 137 
 
 Mgher, their fears as dark as ever. So changeless, 
 indeed, that the Eev. Daniel Bland cries and groans in 
 spirit, being unable to do so much good as he ought to 
 do, and preaches melancholy sermons to his congrega- 
 tion — one especially, on the text, " Por we know the 
 whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain toge- 
 ther until now" (Eom. viii. 22), by reason of which 
 his congregation falls off, and gets scantier and more 
 scanty each day, thinking that the duty of a preacher 
 whom they pay, is to make them comfortable and jovial, 
 and to send them home with an appetite for their 
 dinner. And, indeed, as things are constituted they 
 are right, and the clergyman wrong; but if the 
 clergyman is wrong, what shall we say of the wretched 
 novelist, who instead of making people laugh and be 
 merry, tries to make them think and be in earnest ? I, 
 for my part, think that such a man is to be compared 
 with a tumbler, who after gathering people in a ring to 
 watch him throw a somersault and tie himself in a 
 knot, most absurdly persists in preaching a sermon or 
 in playing a tragedy. Tragedy is altogether out of the 
 vocation of the tumbler ; and fast young men, who read 
 only to laugh and be amused and to see life, have great 
 reason to be angry with the sentimental novelist. Dash 
 his impudence! let him throw his somersault, toss 
 head over heels, and swallow the dagger with which he 
 kills the chief person in the tale ; at least, that's my 
 opinion. Vo^ue la galere I — drive away and be merry. 
 Ten years : they had made little Leigh — who per- 
 fected his education at Eedgate Industrial Training 
 School, and in the service of the good magistrate— 
 
138 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 quite a man. He could do anything in the way of 
 farming, riding, stable work, or outdoor work ; he knew 
 how to read and to write, and having an insatiable 
 desire of knowing, and a good deal of time on his hands 
 ■ — as gentlemen's servants have — had read through the 
 magistrate's library, and some of the books he has mas- 
 tered twice over. All this time the good magistrate 
 had not one reason to repent his kindness, and used to 
 quote his groom as the best fellow in the country — the 
 best fellow, of course, as a servant — but as to being an 
 equal, somehow a very different thing. 
 
 Leigh "Woodroffe was now, therefore, something 
 more than nineteen — handsome, tall, straight as an 
 arrow, with an open countenance embrowned with 
 health, with short, crisp, curling hair, and with deep, 
 blue earnest eyes, which fixed themselves upon the per- 
 son their owner spoke to with a deferential, perfectly 
 respectful air, but yet with a kind of equality expressed 
 in them, which some young men — accustomed to 
 grooms of a very different character — called imper- 
 tinence. " Dam's 'zimpudens," hiccupped one young 
 fellow, fumbling away at the button of his glove, and 
 biting the end of his cigar lightly previous to mount- 
 ing his horse, " Dam's 'zimpudence, he puts one out 
 of count enans." 
 
 " And lucky too," cried another gaily, " so that he 
 could put you into another." • 
 
 " Very good, my lord ; very good, indeed," said a 
 staid gentleman of fifty, dressed quietly in clerical 
 black, and with a broad-brimmed hat ; being no less 
 than the very Eev. Archdeacon Honeysoap, D.D., a 
 
DIAMOKDS AND SPADES. 139 
 
 great friend of tlie Marquis of Silverspoon ; the young 
 gentleman whose sally lie had applauded being no less 
 than the only son of and heir apparent of the mar- 
 quis. 
 
 Ten years ; was it indeed thus ? was that young 
 fellow scarcely twenty then; that boy home from 
 college, with marks of dissipation in his face, with a 
 trembling hand, weak form, and slight figure, but the 
 same age as the groom who, with his hands shading 
 his eyes from the slanting rays of the evening sun, 
 watched the retreating figures of the three horsemen ? 
 It was indeed so. Time had been at work upon all 
 the personages of this story- — upon my lord and lady — 
 upon the man of law — upon the grave divine — upon 
 the servants within their gates — upon the dwellers in 
 the noisome courts — for in this world truly " Time 
 tries all.'' 
 
CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 THE YOUNG LORD, WITH A VERY GOOD HAND, THINKS OF PLAYING 
 THE "knave OF HEARTS." 
 
 Little ElKe and Mrs. Mackenzie, you may be sure, 
 were not forgotten by Leigh. He had done his best 
 to serve them, and, as we all know, our best very sel- 
 dom fails to turn out powerful for good or evil. A man 
 has only to " try his best" to be a downright ruffian, 
 and he succeeds beyond expectation ; and it may be 
 truly said that if that man had tried as hard to become 
 a saint he would have done so. Saint or sinner, as 
 far as they go, are within the reach of all humanity, 
 and though the crime deepens at every step, or the 
 goodness becomes more beautiful and apparent, much 
 of the virtue or the wickedness lies in the first earnest 
 resolve to do good or evil. 
 
 Leigh "VVoodr off e haddonehis best,and the result was 
 that, after some years spent at training and in teach- 
 ing, Mrs. Mackenzie had settled down in a very pretty 
 village in Surrey as the matron, and the orphan girl as 
 the teacher and instructress, of a simple village school, 
 of Avhich place EUie was as proud as she possibly could 
 be, and only now and then gave a sigh of pity and love 
 as, when patting the rosy cheeks of her village pupils, 
 she thought how many other cheeks might glow like 
 
^ DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 141 
 
 theirs, wliich now were white and sickly in Angel 
 Conrt. 
 
 It is one of the privileges of the inhabitants of a 
 village to know everything, and the village of Eedgate 
 carried this privilege to the highest possible extent. 
 If any one was ill, they were as well acquainted with 
 his symptoms as the doctor himself. Did any one in 
 that little community fail in business, the good people 
 knew he was going quite as soon as the unfortunate 
 man himself; and long before a dividend was declared, 
 could have told to a fraction how much in the pound 
 it would be. This extensive knowledge — which all vil- 
 lages possess — sometimes, indeed, has great inconveni- 
 ences ; but the people will persist in it, and will not, 
 for twenty sermons, be persuaded to attend to their 
 own aifairs instead of their neighbours'. 
 
 The whole history of Ellie and of Leigh, therefore, 
 was known in Eedgate. Gossips, as they told it, en- 
 larged upon the wickedness of London; and, romantic 
 to the last, as almost all women are, persisted that 
 little Ellie must be a born lady at least. 
 
 A " born lady," aye, that she was ; so good, so 
 gentle, so fraught with every wish to please, that her 
 benevolence almost amounted to a weakness, and what 
 could a " bom lady" be more ? 
 
 Will blood assert itself in men as in animals ? Are 
 we the stronger, the wiser, the taller, or the more 
 powerful, because our fathers and mothers moved in 
 such a rank of life? Or if we are to be reckoned, not 
 by wisdom, nor by beauty, nor by strength, do we sup- 
 pose that the kindly hand of nature packs up the em- 
 
142 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 bryo souls of the highly born in separate parcels, so 
 that when they arrive at this world they may be dis- 
 tributed through the ranks of the peerage whether of 
 Great Britain or of Timbuctoo ? 
 
 Ellie was a lady. She was no doubt deficient in 
 breeding, but she had in her heart that which dictates 
 the laws of politeness all over the world — a will to 
 oblige others, and to set them at their ease. Many a 
 fine lady patroness who came to look at Ellie's school, 
 went away astounded at the girl's breeding ; and some 
 retired abashed at a superiority she showed, not so 
 much in action or in gesture, as in a gentle self-asser- 
 tion, neither obtrusive nor rude. Some of these ladies, 
 indeed, tossed their heads at her, and declared she was 
 " a minx," and others, puzzled to account for her polite- 
 ness, set it down to her having been bred up in 
 London. 
 
 " London, my dear," they would say to each other, 
 "being very difierent from these rude, outlandish 
 places.'* 
 
 But it was to be remarked that principally London 
 ladies said this ; and that indeed they did so without 
 reflecting that little Ellie received her first instruction 
 in a court. 
 
 If she pleased the ladies — which is, it is said, a very 
 hard thing for one of their own sex to do — you may be 
 sure she charmed the gentlemen. Old Mr. Hardgrain, 
 who had retired frombeing a churchwarden and drysalter 
 to his " box" at Bedgate, used to declare that she was 
 the " prettiest girl who ever stepped." Mr. Skullcap, 
 a gentleman of very ancient family, who hunted the 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 143 
 
 Surrey hounds, and who spoke a language of which 
 ISTimrod might have understood a verhatim translation, 
 was always so good as to compare the young lady to 
 his handsomest filly ; and as he honoured all women 
 in this way, from the little girl who was, he said, " as 
 skittish as a foal," to the lady who sat at the head of 
 his table, who, he used to say, was " as sober as his 
 oldest brood mare," the speech must be taken as a rich 
 compliment. 
 
 When a novelist has told his readers that the heroine 
 is pretty, it is a cruelty to demand a description of her ; 
 for if he is rash enough to declare that she was black 
 as night, and had ebon locks, and all the properties 
 which distinguish dark heroines, it will indubitably 
 happen that the fair ones will be offended. If, on the 
 other hand, she be gifted with golden hair, and be very 
 fair, the dark ones may object ; for it is a truth, 
 although not before stated, that every lady, in reading 
 a book, tries to find out in herself similar characteris- 
 tics to the heroine, and every gentleman dresses him- 
 self up in the fashion of the hero. 
 
 Copying nature, however, I must declare that Ellie 
 was fair; not very much so, but fair. A pretty, 
 brown-haired girl, with a broad, but low, white fore- 
 head, over which the brown hair, with a warm tinge in 
 it, curled in a pretty, fantastic way, as if indignant at 
 being drawn into straight bands. Her eyes were large 
 and blue, with large dark pupils, that looked like little 
 wells of clear water, at the bottom of which one would 
 have found truth. 
 
 Her mouth was small, red, and very pretty her 
 
144 DIAMONDS AI^D SPADES. 
 
 chin round and well formed, but without a dimple ; 
 and her neck, which was very graceful, was of that in- 
 describable whiteness which is only seen in the flesh 
 of women, and for which I am not going to puzzle my 
 brains to find a simile, after so many wiser heads have 
 failed. Alabaster, marble, drifted snow, lilies, and 
 other beautiful white flowers innumerable, have been 
 tried and tried in vain. It has no rival but itself, and 
 white and red roses are no more like that charming 
 red and white which health, purity, and modesty give 
 to women, than Primrose Hill is to Mount Vesuvius. 
 When I add that Ellie was, at the time we are speak- 
 ing, about eighteen, and that she was of a beautiful 
 and very graceful figure, I hope I have said enough to 
 make all my young lady readers envy, and all my gen- 
 tlemen readers fall in love with her. 
 
 One thing is certain, that the heir to the Marquisate 
 of Silverspoon did so ; for having, when he went on a 
 visit to a house of his father's at Eedgate, been invited 
 by the obsequious clergyman of the place to visit and 
 inspect his schools — which ceremony, by the way, he 
 went through with the gravity of a man of fifty — he 
 had the good, or bad, fortune to meet her, and could 
 no more resist being attracted by her sweet face than 
 he could in passing through an ordinary garden resist 
 admiring the finest and best flower. 
 
 Henceforth his lordship's stay was prolonged at Jiis 
 father's old country house. He kept there, he said, 
 for the sake of his health, and with a fond and indul- 
 gent father his word was law. The Archdeacon Honey- 
 soap, D.D., also came ; he was always hanging about 
 
DIAMONDS ATS'D SPADES. 145 
 
 the family — always welcome — yet always bringing 
 with him some indefinable dread. He had been ad- 
 vanced by his patron in the church — he had accumu- 
 lated money — he had advanced in dignity and respect- 
 ability, and being really a man of some learning, or 
 reputation for it, which with the world is just as good, 
 might have very reasonably looked forward to the time 
 when he should be a bishop. Still, however, he kept 
 about the person of his Lordship .; he had, or seemed 
 to have, a great regard for him — he had a wonderful 
 esteem also for my lady. Eeing a very high church- 
 man, he initiated certain schismatic gentlemen in the 
 "Establishment" — to use a dissenting phrase — and 
 openly professed to be ready to receive the confession 
 of any person. Two or three of the younger clergy 
 of his diocese — young men with meek looks, very little 
 common sense, and collars cut like those of a Eomish 
 priest — at once offered themselves, and gave their in- 
 teresting experience into the ear of the reverend gen- 
 tleman. 'Nbj, indeed, his fame as a consoler was so 
 great that many sanctified ladies and gentlemen came 
 from far or near for his spiritual counsel, which he, 
 nothing loth, gave them. 
 
 Strange, indeed ! that a man who fc half his life 
 had been declaring in church that he had no strength 
 of himself to help himself, should yet have the auda- 
 city to become the spiritual adviser of others, and pre- 
 tend to absolve others from sins of which he could 
 have heard but a partial account, and for which con- 
 science still held the doer guilty ! 
 
 It was about this time, perhaps, that Mr. Honey- 
 
146 DIAMONDS A.WD SPADES. 
 
 soap heard the confessions of Lady Silverspoon ; who, 
 as the father grew devout, grew still more so herself, 
 and who went the length of having an oratory fitted 
 up in her dressing-room. It was to be remarked that 
 Mr. Honeysoap, with the sanction of my Lord, was 
 often in this oratory, closeted with my lady, for devo- 
 tional purposes, no doubt. 
 
 To return to our young Lord, who, as we have said, 
 was nearly twenty years of age, but who looked con- 
 siderably older, and who was genteel and tolerably 
 handsome, and would have been much more so had he 
 not looked so dissipated and self-possessed ; he had no 
 sooner got the image of little Ellie into his head than 
 he determined to possess her, nor ever took the trouble 
 to get it out. 
 
 He had been so used to the indulgence of every wish 
 and whim, that it was indeed hard to curb his passions. 
 He believed himself irresistible, and was fully aware 
 of the importance which his rank and station gave 
 him. It was, therefore, with full self-confidence that 
 upon one Sunday afternoon he dressed himself in a 
 very fascinating way, and set off at once to the little 
 church at Eedgate, having heard from his groom (a 
 clever fellow, a few years older, and about six times as 
 wicked as his lordship) that Ellie walked home through 
 the green lanes each Sunday evening by herself. Con- 
 sequently the plan of the young man, which was simple 
 in the extreme, was to commence his intimacy by walk- 
 ing by her side, and by a few grand airs and well-turned 
 compliments, in which he did not for a moment doubt 
 he was proficient, to charm her into love. 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 147 
 
 When Sunday came, therefore, long ere the bell had 
 done ringing, his lordship with a strange palpitation of 
 the heart found himself seated in an ancient and very 
 comfortable pew, which belonged to the family, in Eed- 
 gate Church. 
 
 A lord in church, — a scion of the aristocracy about 
 to say his prayers. It may appear a strange thing ; 
 the former, at least, was actually the case. The vene- 
 rable old fellow who, in a black velveteen shooting 
 jacket, acted firstly as beadle or verger and lastly as 
 clerk, ran up and whispered it to the bellringer ; the 
 bellringer being, as well he might be, astonished, gave 
 an extra jerk and jingle to the solemn old bells. The 
 boys of the neighbouring gentleman's school, who each 
 thought themselves as grand as his lordship, caught 
 sight of his white thin hand, as he pulled back the red 
 moreen curtain. The old men who, with long heads 
 (such heads as you don't see in London) and palsied 
 hands resting on curiously-hooked old sticks, had come 
 for the consolation of the prayers and to try to under- 
 stand the sermon, any time these fifty years, knew it, 
 and felt an interest in their feeble hearts. The old 
 w^omen with huge bonnets, the very opposite of the 
 present fashion, who sat in the free seats, and who dare 
 not miss a Sunday for fear of angering the parson ; all 
 knew it and ventured to whisper to each other " that 
 the young lord was in church." 
 
 I warrant you the clergyman knew it, and absolutely 
 fidgeted himself as the clerk helped him on with his 
 surplice, because he had not brought his best sermon. 
 The young ladies of the school knew it, and thought 
 
 L 2 
 
148 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 that he had perhaps come to see them ; whilst their 
 governesses were extra strict with their pupils iinder 
 the idea that he might have come to peep at them. So 
 the whole congregation was in a fluster. The family 
 second in rank was jealous ; the parson unprepared ; 
 the clerk in a flurry — all because there was a lord in 
 the church. 
 
 A lord there ! ah, no : there must have been some 
 mistake in the lessons. They declared all men equal ; 
 that he who would be greatest must serve the rest ; 
 that men were all one flesh and blood ; that none were 
 before and none after the other. The very clergyman 
 blushed at the revolutionary doctrine, but the Litany 
 carried it on and the psalms confirmed it, asking who 
 was he who exalted himself, for he should be brought 
 low ; and blessing the poor and lowly rather than the 
 rich and proud: so that it was plain that after all, 
 whatever he might have been out of it, there was no 
 " lord " in church after all. 
 
 Then came the evening hymn, as the sun was setting 
 behind the old church, casting a glory through its old 
 painted window, and flooding the aisles with a mellow 
 light, and touching the upturned faces of the old men 
 and women with a saintly glow ; so they sang — 
 
 " Keep me, oh, keep me, King of Kings, 
 Beneath the shadow of thy wings." 
 
 The old men quavered the hymn in their worn-out 
 old throats; the smooth-faced children sang it; the 
 matrons intoned it calmly and quietly; Little Ellie 
 sang it as she stood amidst her children, her blue 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 149 
 
 eyes upturned and open, tlie music coming from 
 her parted lips, and the golden sunset on her wav- 
 ing hair. 
 
 It is over; the boys and girls throng out of the 
 church ; the ushers muster the gentleman's school ; 
 the governesses arrange the young ladies ; and with a 
 longing, lingering look after young EolandPlantagenet, 
 they march off to their respective abodes. The old 
 men and women hobble out next ; then comes Ellie 
 with her mother, who walks soberly away with the 
 children, whilst the girl stays behind to talk to the 
 clergyman ; then the great centre of attraction walks 
 out, seeming loth to go, and apparently interested in 
 the monuments of that church. But soon after Ellie 
 trips away he follows, leaving the clerk and clergyman 
 in the vestry talking about the events of the forthcom- 
 ing week. 
 
 Ellie trips along quickly through the wicket gate of 
 the church, through the village, over a meadow, and 
 through the wood. Her pursuer is, through trepida- 
 tion and hurry, almost out of breath ; but at last he 
 jumps through some underwood, scattering the leaves 
 and tender twigs before him, and having a good run 
 for it, gets on a-head. He then strikes into the path 
 again, wipes his forehead, arranges his hat so as to 
 take it off in a polite manner, and waits for Ellie. 
 
 It is not long before she is before him, whereupon 
 he makes the prepared bow rather stiffly, and remarks 
 that it is "a fine evening." The girl, opening her 
 blue eyes more widely than ever, quite assents to 
 the fact, and the conversation is begun. Ellie walks 
 
150 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 a great deal too fast for his lordship ; lie wishes that 
 she would stay and enjoy the beauty of the evening 
 in that wood ; it really was so very fine, so delightful. 
 But to this El lie replies only by hurrying on, and 
 laughing at his eagerness to stay her. She addresses 
 him by his name, which, indeed, he does not half like, 
 dreaming, as all people do when they are doing wrong, 
 that no one can possibly detect him. ^Nevertheless, 
 he grows more and more complimentary, talks (as 
 boys, foolish fellows, will do), about the personal 
 beauty of the lady ; how that she is a flower born to 
 blush unseen down in that village, and how, also, 
 she would grace a drawing-room. 
 
 Ellie, who has private opinions upon all these points, 
 and who would have been much less confused and 
 more interested if he had talked less about her, and 
 more about himself, blushes and holds down her head. 
 Her suitor thinks this is a sign of pleased, but modest 
 acquiescence, and grows more and more loud in her 
 praises. At length the end of the wood is reached, 
 and his young lordship gets quite pressing in his 
 suit. 
 
 " "Will she meet him again ? " 
 
 Ellie looks mortified and angry; but Eoland mis- 
 takes these looks, being in full cry after the game, 
 and despising all difficulties. She does not answer, 
 but silence gives consent. So he thinks, and proposes 
 a yet bolder step. 
 
 " "Will she give him a kiss at parting ; but one little 
 kiss?" 
 
 The girl steps back alarmed as her suitor ap- 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 151 
 
 proaches ; and quickly bounding past him, runs to- 
 wards home. The young fellow looks after her with 
 a mortified air, and then moodily turns round to walk 
 back into the wood. He has not gone a dozen paces 
 when a footfall startles him; he looks up, and sees 
 his quondam tutor looking on with a sardonic smile 
 upon his pale face. 
 
 " What," says the pupil, angrily ; " what, you here, 
 Honey soap, playing the spy ?" 
 
 " No, my dear young sir ; no," says that worthy, 
 with still the same calm smile. " I do not play the spy, 
 but you are playing a different sort of game. "Well, 
 well, you have a good hand ; and at present, hearts are 
 trum'psP 
 
 So saying the Archdeacon made a low bow to his 
 pupil, and walked off, leaving the latter standing in 
 the darkening wood. 
 
CHAPTEE XIX. 
 
 AN OLD AOQUAINTANCK. 
 
 It requires some little philosopliy to bear a repulse ; 
 and those whose ordinary life is full of success, tri- 
 umph, and self-indulgence, are naturally the worst in 
 the world to do so. So it was with many mingled 
 and bitter feelings that the young Lord walked home- 
 wards through the wood, meditating his revenge, and 
 chewing the cud of " bitter fancy." 
 
 The light " thickened," and the wood seemed, after 
 the sultry summer day, to awaken to life. There 
 was a stir amidst the branches of the trees as of a 
 slight wind whispering — an evening breeze sighing for 
 the departure of the sun. The lizard and toad peeped 
 forth, and the frog croaked from amidst the damp and 
 luxuriant foliage ; but the young man did not heed 
 such signs of nature, and was too much occupied in 
 his own thoughts to watch the sombre shadows of 
 the sleeping woods. Presently, however, he thought 
 he distinguished footsteps stealthily trodden on the 
 soft, grassy path ; but muttering that it " was but 
 some country lout," he still strode on moodily — look- 
 ing for all his gay dress, his dangling chains, and 
 dehonnaire attire, a much more miserable creature 
 than any "country lout." 
 
 He had walked but a few steps further, still sunk 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 153 
 
 in his own thouglits, wlien lie was seized forcibly 
 by the arms, and Ms throat was at the same time en- 
 circled by a small cane, which, when drawn closely, 
 prevented him from breathing, and almost seemed to 
 suspend vitality. At the same moment, a hand quick 
 as lightning over-ran all parts of his dress, dipped 
 into his pockets, snatched his chain and watch, took 
 from him his gold studs, and left him entirely denuded 
 of everything valuable which he had about him. The 
 pressure round his throat was then relaxed, but he fell 
 heavily on the ground from exhaustion, the blood 
 gushing from his nose and ears. 
 
 As he fell, a hoarse, ropy voice, apparently worn 
 out in debauchery, cried out, " Now Pip, all right, old 
 fellow — ^cut;" and one of his assailants, jumping 
 through the brushwood, was soon lost in the darkness. 
 Not so the other. A strong athletic form barred 
 his way, and the little, wiry, London blackguard, who 
 was known by the appellation of "the Mouse," found 
 himself collared by an arm from which he could not 
 escape. "Oh!" he muttered, glancing up at his 
 opponent, who was no other than Leigh WoodrofTe, 
 " if that's your game, here goes ;" and quicker than 
 lightning a blow from a heavy life-preserver fell upon 
 the shoulder of the arm which held him ; stricken so 
 truly, and with such anatomical knowledge, that the 
 arm fell as if paralyzed ; and before the other could 
 be brought to hold him, the Mouse had twisted from 
 his captor, and plunged into the underwood with 
 a mocking laugh, in an opposite direction to that 
 which his friend had taken. 
 
154 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 All this, as the trite observation in such cases is, 
 which takes so long to tell, did not take long to do ; 
 and in less than five minutes from the attack, his lord- 
 ship and Leigh found themselves alone and free — the 
 first with a confused idea of being assailed, with a 
 rustling in his ears, and a weakness in his limbs ; the 
 other perfectly free from hurt, with the exception of 
 his right arm, ^hich hung prostrate, slowly recovering 
 from its powerlessness. 
 
 "My lord," said the latter, passing his left arm 
 under that of his lordship so as to support him ; 
 " My lord, I think we had better get home as soon as 
 we can." 
 
 "Who the devil are you?" was the polite reply, 
 "and where's my watch and money?" 
 
 " There cannot be much doubt about that," said 
 Leigh, "the robbers have made ofi* with them." 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed his lordship, shaking his head, as if 
 to awaken himself from a very unpleasant dream, 
 " Ah 1 I suppose we had better get home as quickly 
 as we can, and set the men after these fellows." 
 
 " Shall we pursue them ourselves ?" asked Leigh. 
 
 "JS^o," said the other, calmly and coolly; "better 
 set the servants to look after them.' ' And here it may 
 be noted that one of the peculiarities of this young 
 nobleman was, that he never wished to engage actively 
 in anything except that which brought him imme- 
 diate pleasure ; and in regard to the most necessary 
 things in existence seemed to think that it was his duty 
 to be waited upon, and the duty of others to wait on 
 him. 
 
DIAMONDS AHiD SPADES. 155 
 
 It was a lucky thing for Mr. Pip and his coadjutor 
 that the gentleman from whose person they had 
 abstracted certain properties, did think as he did ; for 
 not knowing the country, had a vigorous pursuit been 
 instituted, they would indubitably have been taken. 
 As it was, they got safe off to their place of meeting, 
 whither we will now follow them. 
 
 The country round Eedgate is, as everybody knows, 
 a sporting country. Long, flat, dreary downs, over 
 which, in the quietest day, a sharp wind careers at 
 about six miles per hour, stretch round and about it. 
 Part of these downs are covered with furze bushes ; 
 part, again, have been dug for chalk pits ; part are 
 reserved for sheep-walks ; and another, and the most 
 valuable part, brings to the lord of the manor some 
 eight hundred a-year rent as a race-course. There is 
 a lone stand upon it, which can be seen for miles 
 around, and which upon other days than race days is 
 as lonely as a lighthouse, boasting of only two in- 
 habitants ; but upon those days is full enough, and 
 resounds with laughter and jokes, anxious cries, offers 
 of ten to one, and curses from the losers. The green- 
 sward without it ^" seems principally to be manured 
 with corks of champagne or stout bottles, broken 
 necks and heels of the same, fragments of racing 
 cards, and bits of common crockery, such as is gene- 
 rally used at pic-nics. These remain from year to year 
 till the old corks, from the rain and the sun, assume a 
 ghastly and ghostly appearance, and wear a look over 
 which one might meditate very deeply, having pre- 
 viously lost " five hundred on the race." 
 
156 DIAMOKD^ AltD SPADES. 
 
 At tlie time that tlie robbery took place the heath 
 was becoming tenanted ; for either in order to ensure 
 good places, or to pick up the early comers and strag- 
 glers, the gipsies and nomadic tribes who attend race- 
 courses usually locate themselves in the neighbour- 
 hood for some days previously to the grand event. 
 Upon which days, also, the disappearance of poultry — 
 not usually reckoned birds of migratory habits — is a 
 fact which has never been accounted for ; nor even 
 chronicled by the Eev. Author of the History of Sel- 
 borne ; nor, indeed, by any other ornithologist of this 
 or foreign countries. 
 
 The tents these nomadic tribes use are such as 
 would, without doubt, not quite accord with the ideas 
 of certain romantic young ladies, who sigh for a life 
 "in the greenwood shade;" nor, indeed, with the 
 ideas of the youn^ gentlemen of corresponding know- 
 ledge and personal attractions, who shout out, " A 
 gipsy's life for me ;" being nothing less than four 
 hoops, such as constitute the heading of a covered 
 cart, upon which is stretched some dirty and antique 
 canvas, which seems unable to stand the slightest 
 shower. The conventionalities of their peculiar so- 
 ciety, however, do not interfere with the health of the 
 inhabitants ; for the children of these tribes may be 
 seen running about with free limbs, red cheeks, and 
 merry looks, such as many a mother of poor, sickly 
 heirs to vast estates envies. 
 
 It was to one of these huts, owned by a friend of 
 his, that "the Mouse " made his way. Bending down 
 in his running, and with great swiftness shooting from 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 157 
 
 clump to clump, the little wirj fellow could scarcely 
 be distinguished from one of the children. 
 
 He was no sooner in the tent than he cried out to 
 be covered up, lest any one should see him ; and in 
 a second afterwards his voice proceeded in whispers 
 from under a bundle of rags ; whilst the perspiration 
 poured from him, so hard had been his run, and so 
 great his exertion. 
 
 Mr. Pip had, meanwhile, reached his destination, 
 which was a lone public-house not far from the race- 
 course, whereat, in the olden times, before crowds 
 were great, the jockey^used to mount ; and which, on 
 that account, theirefore, bore the time-honoured sign 
 of the " Horse-block." 
 
 The respectability of the place had, however, been 
 long gone ; and the frequenters of the " Horse-block" 
 were nothing else than the worse portion of farming 
 men — fellows half labourers, and, in the season, whole 
 poachers — cast-off jockeys, boys from the neighbour- 
 ing training stables, and other company of a sort 
 which it would be neither advisable nor pleasant to 
 get amongst. These respectable individuals were 
 gathered in great strength on the night in question, 
 and more than one dusky face looked up with sur- 
 prise — and more than one mug of beer was offered — 
 when Pip darted in, out of breath and exhausted, and 
 threw himself down on the settee. 
 
 " Whoy, lad," asked one who had the appearance 
 of a game-keeper. " Whoy, thou hast been a pace, 
 and art of a muck sweat. You should go into training, 
 and then thee wouldst not turn a hair. What's up ? " 
 
158 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 As this gentleman did not receive any answer, the 
 remainder of the company were discreet enough not 
 to ask any more questions, and the subject dropped ; 
 some of the guests proceeding with an interesting and 
 intricate game of cards, till Pip himself broke out — 
 
 " Grent'm," said he, " if any one comes an inquires 
 for me, you all know that I hav'n't stirred out from 
 here this blessed day." 
 
 " 'Cept for a bit of a run," said the first speaker. 
 
 " 'Cept for a bit of a run ; and as you all remembers 
 that — 'specially the landlord — why, I'm quite ready 
 to stan' something as will fetch our breath back." 
 
 The company received this generous ofier with a 
 grunt of applause ; the game of cards — which afforded 
 an opportunity for extensive quarrelling, and during 
 which a very plentiful crop of oaths was sown broad- 
 cast — still went on ; and Pip, pulling out a very bright 
 new sovereign, handed it to the landlord to pay for 
 the drink. 
 
 That worthy looked at it peculiarly, and spun it 
 with a smart flick with his thumb-nail, rattling the 
 ringing piece of gold with his hand, and turning to 
 his customers, asked what they'd have to drink. 
 
 " 'A' you got any more o' them ? " said the ex- 
 gamekeeper, when the orders had been given. 
 
 " Oh, a plenty," said Pip, satirically ; " my grand- 
 mother banks with some of the London nobs, and they 
 al'us changes their checks with new sov's. 'Straordi- 
 nary, isn't it ? " 
 
 " "Wonder whether I could find such a banker," 
 said the other, with a sneer. 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 159 
 
 " Gro out and try," said Pip, seizing a glass of rum- 
 and-water from the landlord, and emptying it at a 
 draught. " Some more of that," he said, and then 
 went out of the room to the rear of the premises, 
 where it is presumed that he made secure the pro- 
 perty which he had about him. 
 
 He had scarcely come back when a low tap was 
 heard at the door, and " the Mouse," dressed as a 
 benevolent-looking countryman would be, entered, 
 and at once was invited to drink. He immediately 
 did so ; and then the two confederates drew off into 
 a corner, talking very earnestly; "the Mouse," in- 
 deed, claiming a much larger portion of the spoil 
 than the other seemed inclined to allow him. 
 
 The game of cards went on with various fortunes : 
 some winning, some losing. The drinking was getting 
 faster, the company uproarious, and Pip and his friend 
 seemed to have quite forgotten all danger, when a 
 galloping of horses was heard upon the gravelly road 
 which ran across the heath and near the house, and 
 presently the landlord rushed into the parlour, bidding 
 his guests put up the "books," for the police were 
 upon them. 
 
 On this notice, the "books" — i. e. the cards — were 
 hurried into various pockets, and a carelessness of be- 
 haviour was thrown hastily upon all present. Mr. Pip 
 lay extended upon the bench in apparent sleep, whilst 
 " the Mouse," in a half-drunken tone, was pretending 
 to explain some Peninsular battle to the gamekeeper, 
 aiding his explanation by pieces of tobacco-pipe and 
 drawings with his finger tip in the spilt beer. 
 
IGO DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 At the same moment the clash of a sabre was heard 
 outside, a hurried dismounting of two or three men, 
 and a horse patrol, in company with Leigh "Woodroffe, 
 two grooms in the Silverspoon liverj, and the indus- 
 trious and ubiquitous Archdeacon Honey soap burst 
 into the room. 
 
CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 A RIDE BY NIGHT. 
 
 The surprise and indignation expressed by tlie house 
 and attendants of his lordship, wlien it was found 
 that he had been robbed, maj, in the stereotyped 
 phrase of the novelist, be " more easily imagined than 
 described." 
 
 Flunkey dom was in an uproar. " What !" shouted 
 the potentates of the kitchen, " rob our young master, 
 the heir to the marquisate ? " — and far and near the 
 indignant query resounded. Por it may be known to 
 the reader, that any sin against an exalted class is 
 especially to be wondered at and punished. Thus an 
 outrage on a poor woman is passed by without notice, 
 whereas one upon a " respectable female " is severely 
 commented upon; and should, perchance, any one 
 knock down a " born lady," or say, for instance, a 
 viscountess, all the world, from Belgravia to Blooms- 
 bury, would be in an uproar. JSTor indeed do the sexes 
 make a difference. One may assault or kick an un- 
 offending cabman with impunity, nay, with glory ; 
 but should the cabman kick a gentleman, or " a re- 
 spectable housekeeper," or a nobleman, the world 
 wonders why the statute-book does not rain hail and 
 fire on him. When these dreadful offenders come 
 near to us the effect is greater. The house of Ingot 
 was electrified, and although more than one disobedient 
 
162 DIAMONDS AI^D SPADES. 
 
 Johnny was guilty of making faces behind his young 
 master's back, and declaring that he was glad " as the 
 young fellor had come to grief," yet the majority could 
 not find bounds to their surprise and anger. 
 
 The first thing which his lordship the marquis did 
 was to summon three very excellent and worthy cler- 
 gymen, who were in the commission of the peace ; and 
 having thus got his magistrates — he being one also 
 himself — his next idea was to catch the thief and try 
 him. So devoted were these exemplary magnates to 
 his lordship, that'it would have been ill for the most 
 innocent person to have been placed before them. 
 
 It happened, for the benefit of these excellent and 
 unpaid worthies, that Archdeacon Honeysoap had re- 
 turned to his room, and had been, in the latter part 
 of the turmoil, consulted as to the manner of pro- 
 ceeding. As the Dogberries of the town of Eedgate, 
 who had gathered in great force and were particularly 
 anxious to arrest one of the footmen, or indeed any 
 mortal being they could lay hands on, seemed more 
 zealous than skilful in tjieir method of procedure, it 
 naturally happened that to the Archdeacon the onus 
 of catching the thief fell. It could not have fallen in 
 worthier hands. Had not Dr. Honeysoap been a 
 parson he would have no doubt been a very worthy 
 fellow ; but the cassock bound him and fettered his 
 free soul. Every opportunity of escaping from such a 
 restraint was welcome to him, and he examined Leigh 
 with an ardour and a skill which surprised everybody. 
 
 " There's no time to be lost," he cried, when he had 
 heard the story. "It's plain enough to mej they 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 163 
 
 are over the downs, lurking about in some dangerous 
 place. ' When it smokes get near the fire,' said a 
 philosopher ; and that's the thief's maxim." 
 
 " A bad one then, Honeysoap," said the young lord. 
 
 " JSTot at all so. You will find that nine men out of 
 a dozen run a field for that which lies under their 
 noses. Come, let's to horse and after them." 
 
 Young E-oland was by no means unwilling ; so, 
 calling two of his grooms, he bade them saddle five 
 horses and bring them round at once. 
 
 Night had set in dark arid dismal, as some autumn 
 nights are, as if in contrast with the brilliance and 
 beauty of the day. There was no moon nor stars, but 
 the country roads were well known, and there was an 
 indistinct gloaming which showed the hot dusty road 
 stretching before them like a serpent, for some few 
 hundred feet, easily distinguished from the green 
 sward, and beyond that losing itself in darkness. 
 
 On they rode in the direction of the downs, now 
 and then passing a pool of water which lay like a 
 white sheet, and at which the horses would start aside. 
 l^ow by cottages in which the inmates were gathered 
 by the light of the fire, or of a miserable candle. 
 Then by a church, standing alone, a mass of black 
 masonry, against the dark sky. At length they 
 reached the common. 
 
 " Forward, my lord," cried Honeysoap, " we shall 
 have them yet ;" and the Archdeacon gave his horse 
 his head and urged him forward. 
 
 On went the party over the soft turf — the 'grooms 
 riding a short distance a-head. On went Leigh, ex- 
 
 M 2 
 
164 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 Hlarated by the chase. On went his young lordship 
 thinking that it was prime fun, and occasionally 
 digging his spurs into his horse, and taking a flying 
 leap over a gipsy's tent, their eyes having grown 
 accustomed to the light. 
 
 "Here, you," cried Honeysoap to Leigh, " come to 
 my side here. You can swear to one of the ruffians, 
 eh?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," cried Leigh, bending towards his 
 questioner; "a little man, walks lame." 
 
 " That's right ; and the other ?" 
 
 " Of him I know nothing." 
 
 " Do you, my lord ? " shouted the priest. 
 
 " J^ot a bit of it, he throttled me so preciously." 
 
 " Hem ! " said the ex-tutor ; " well, we shall see." 
 
 He had hardly said the words when the whole party 
 was brought to a dead halt. A mounted patrol, 
 standing with his horse like a statue, had stopped the 
 grooms. Honeysoap rode to the front. 
 
 " You're the very man we want," said he to the 
 policeman ; " there has been a highway robbery com- 
 mitted. Come with us." 
 
 The officer at once rode up, and in a few hurried 
 words Honeysoap told the tale to him as they rode. 
 
 " And a sharp plan o' yourn, sir," said the officer, 
 patronisingly ; " they aint got a far off. They are 
 London birds no doubt, from the neat way in which 
 they works." 
 
 " Neat, d'ye call it ?" interrupted the young lord ; 
 " I only wish you'd had the choking instead of me." 
 
 " Pardon, your honour," said the policeman, " I 
 
DIAMOKDS AKD SPADES. ' 165 
 
 only means as to the way they did it. 'S'pose they 
 didn't leave you a single coin ? " 
 
 "INTot a halfpenny," was the answer; "I was 
 cleared out as clean as if I had been gambling." . 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed the officer, " that's clean enough, 
 I dare say." 
 
 " Silence, gentlemen! " cried the Archdeacon ; " we 
 are near the enemy. You, fellows," he continued, 
 addressing the grooms, "come^in." 
 
 The two young men reined in their horses, and the 
 little cavalcade stopped. 
 
 " They're an awkward lot in there," said the police- 
 man ; " have ye got anything to defend yourselves 
 with, gentlemen, if they cut up rough ? " 
 
 Honeysoap pulled out a pistol, a little toy of a thing, 
 but dangerous in close quarters. 
 
 " I'll use that," said he. 
 
 " Pretty well," said the officer. " Hope they won't 
 need it. "Would either of you, gents, like one of 
 these ? " and he opened his holster. 
 
 " I'll take one," said the young lord ; and he put it 
 half cock, and handled it as if used to pistol practice. 
 Leigh, however, declined the weapon, and shortening 
 his riding whip in his grasp, said that the butt end of 
 that would be sufficient. 
 
 " And I think so too," said the policeman. " Bar- 
 kers may do for gents, but give me this." So saying, 
 he drew his truncheon, and having ordered the two 
 grooms to wait outside, and not to enter unless there 
 was a row, the little party rode up to the " Horse- 
 block," and, lifting the latch, burst into the parlour 
 where the two thieves lay. 
 
CHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 Little Ellie was not mucli frightened, nor indeed 
 quite so alarmed as a heroine ought to have been, 
 when she escaped from the young lord. The truth is, 
 that pretty girls know that they are made to be 
 admired, and therefore she took the attention quite 
 naturally, and already forgave the offender. She was 
 also transported with a strange feeling ; the admiration 
 of another had awakened in her a respect, almost a 
 fascination, for herself, and a new world had opened 
 to her eyes. 
 
 A new world ; not that a world ever existed in the 
 human heart, but that we, at certain periods of our 
 lives, first awake to the consciousness of its presence. 
 What had been the purport of the words he had 
 spoken to her ? Love, devotion, admiration. She to 
 attract love and devotion ; how strange it was, yet 
 how pleasant ! She, whose life had been so calm, who 
 had found herself born to hard labour and poverty, 
 and had gone on through life, each day widening her 
 sphere of utility, each moment adding to her pleasure 
 and happiness ; for it is certain that those only who 
 have known state, riches, and comforts, miss them; 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 167 
 
 and that the poor, who have been richer, are those 
 only who feel acutely ; and Ellie still had gone on 
 hitherto improving. 
 
 " He to love me," thought Ellie, as she bounded 
 along ; " Why does he say that ? Does he love me ? 
 He has looked at me very often and very seriously ; 
 but I do not like that look ; he looks so proud, too 
 much my superior ; he must be only in jest. Yet 
 what a curious time to trifle or to joke;" and 
 then she thought of the quiet calm Sunday evening, 
 of the prayers and sermon, of the walk through the 
 wood. 
 
 She reached home some time before Mrs. Mackenzie. 
 She prepared their supper. She took off her bonnet 
 and shawl, and sat thinking on the matter ; now flush- 
 ing up with indignation ; now smiling with a curious 
 glee ; now reverting to some other subject too deep 
 for smile or laughter — one which made her brow 
 serious, and her eyes fix in meditation. 
 
 Love ! What was it — what was this that this young 
 man professed to feel ? Then came a flushing of the 
 face and a bounding of the heart, and Ellie rose from 
 her chair — a woman. She had hitherto been an Un- 
 dine without a soul ; but the power which comes to 
 every one of us had come to her ; and Ellie had 
 undergone a total change. 
 
 A woman ; for without intending any special com- 
 pliment to the sex, it is difficult to tell a woman's age. 
 It is quite certain that age does not depend upon 
 years. To suppose that it does, is to own oneself 
 bound down to the prejudices of antiquity. I have 
 
168 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 known, and I do not arrogate to myself any extra- 
 ordinary experience, girls of forty ; and, on the con- 
 trary, I have had the pleasure of being introduced to 
 some sedate old ladies of fourteen. IN'o ; age depends 
 upon that magic time when woman knows her power 
 over man, and feels also how Ms power can influence 
 her through life, for good or evil. 
 
 So this knowledge came to EUie. She sat there, 
 with the pretty simple bonnet hanging by its strings 
 from her hand, her pretty head bent down, the fading 
 sunlight playing upon her brown hair and kissing her 
 white neck, dreaming all sorts of things, in which, 
 strange to say, weddings and coaches and fine clothes 
 and horses and lords and ladies were mixed, she 
 knew not why ; and imagining a vista, at the end of 
 which a very pretty cottage, and uncommonly nice 
 husband, and a cultivated garden, were situated. 
 Eoolish, foolish Ellie, to think that the pesterings of 
 a coxcomb upon an autumn evening could work so 
 great a change. 
 
 She awoke from her reverie when she heard the 
 sound of feet upon the gravel walk which led up to 
 the cottage. It was Mrs. Mackenzie who had returned, 
 and who, after seeing all the scholars (who assembled 
 to go to church) gently running to their own homes, 
 had returned to hers. The cloth was laid and the meal 
 spread, Ellie having purposely hurried home to prepare 
 it ; but the girl sat there still distraite, wondering 
 and dreaming. 
 
 " My dear child," said Julie Mackenzie, who had 
 now grown a portly matron, redolent of health, good 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 169 
 
 looks, and good liumour ; " my dear child, what ails 
 you ? what is the matter ? Has Leigh been ? "Why 
 is he not here?" 
 
 " Leigh ! Leigh! " said EUie, with a pause, as if she 
 didn't recognise the name. " No." 
 
 "Strange," said the matron, "he always comes on 
 Sunday evenings, and is usually so punctual." 
 
 "I do not think that he will come to-night," said 
 ElHe. 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 "Merely because I do not," said the girl; "I can- 
 not explain these fancies, mother; but I have them, 
 nevertheless ; and," she continued hurriedly, " and, 
 oh! mother, I've had such an adventure." 
 
 " Indeed," said Julie, " what is it ?" 
 
 Then it was, in answer to the query, that Ellie 
 poured forth her story, in a quick voice, sometimes 
 blushing, sometimes smiling; but the other woman 
 did not smile ; and said that she was sorry to hear of 
 it, and that, if it again happened they must go away, 
 far away, from Eedgate. 
 
 "From Eedgate!" cried the girl with surprise. 
 " "Why surely, mother, I can defend myself from my 
 persecutor ; besides, he is a gentleman, a nobleman, 
 and my answer of to-night will be a certain rebuff to 
 him." 
 
 Mrs. Mackenzie shook her head; she knew more 
 of life than the girl did. " ISTo," she cried, " no ; there 
 is a fatality in it, Ellie ; we must move from this place 
 if he continues his persecutions." 
 
 There was no more said on either side ; Ellie became 
 
170 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 suddenly silent, thinking over many things, and Julie 
 was likewise so, reflecting on the curious coincidence 
 which existed, when she remembered that to the uncle 
 of the very same young nobleman, who now it appeared 
 sought to seduce Ellie, EUie's mother owed her ruin. 
 
 Erom this she naturally reverted to old times how 
 — now many years ago — it was that Ellie' s mother 
 came in distress and agony to her door, how she had 
 relieved her, or intended to do so, but that the 
 wretched woman fled, leaving her the legacy of her 
 child. "What could have become of her? Julie 
 shuddered as she thought of the downward steps of 
 guilt, each one more dreaded than the last, which the 
 fallen take, and of the impossibility of her being able 
 to recover from her fall. She prayed that it might 
 have been otherwise, and as she glanced towards the 
 young girl, so pure, so innocent, so good, she sent up 
 to Heaven a mental prayer that she might be enabled 
 to guard her from every wrong and every harm in 
 life. 
 
 The night came on apace ; the supper passed — usu- 
 ally with them so cheerful a meal, gladdened often by 
 the presence of Leigh — passed, and in dulness and 
 • silence, each occupied with her own thoughts, and 
 those of neither so cheerful as they might be. Time 
 sped on ; the hands of the American clock pointed to 
 eleven, and yet Leigh had not been there ; but a few 
 more tickings, and the old chime of Eedgate bells was 
 heard, and the clock, as in duty bound, followed after. 
 Mrs. Mackenzie supposed something had happened to 
 keep Leigh, and proposed to retire to rest ; and, light- 
 
DIAMONDS AKB SPADES. 171 
 
 ing EUie to hep little room, kissed her and bade her 
 good night. 
 
 Before they went to rest that night both women 
 prayed, and prayed heartily, and the two prayers as- 
 cending in the same moment differed as far as those 
 of youth and age can do. The widow prayed for the 
 welfare of those she loved, for the memory of the dead, 
 with something of the feeling of her Irish faith, for all 
 whom she knew, and lastly, for herself; that she might 
 be taught, instructed, and relieved of a charge which 
 lay heavy upon her ; and then she reverted to one she 
 had loved dearly, and prayed that she might soon join 
 him in heaven. 
 
 The maiden's prayers were as free from selfishness 
 and as pure, but far different ; she prayed for all her 
 friends, for herself, for forgiveness of her enemies ; 
 and then with a deep emotion for the preservation and 
 welfare of one ; that he might be preserved and blessed. 
 How fervently she prayed — how purely, how devotedly 
 she prayed for a happy life, not in the next, but in this 
 world. This was to her full of joy, full of promise ; to 
 the other it was worn, faded, and unrefreshing. Both 
 were utterances of the soul. Which pleased the 
 Pather of all more ? the hope in this world or the 
 trust in the next ? Ah, who will answer it ? Like 
 the new toy of a child, life seems never to be suf- 
 ficiently tasted, and to have no satiety, till at last the 
 bauble palls upon us, and we gladly cast it off, indif- 
 ferent to its rattle or its paint. 
 
CHAPTEE XXII. 
 
 MESSRS. BONES AND INGOT APPEAR AGAIN IN THE STORY. 
 
 When success comes to many men it alters them 
 rather for the worse than the better. The discontented 
 man, who has been for years declaring that he " wants 
 only a little good fortune to make him happy," in too 
 many cases finds the good fortune long before he does 
 the happiness. Perhaps it stays too long, and comes 
 to find a man sated with the world, ill at ease at home, 
 disappointed, and at enmity with himself. We cry 
 out our wants continually ; we are like babes sitting 
 on a nurse's lap, we weary for this and then for that 
 toy ; the toy is obtained, and we are still dissatisfied. 
 So it was with the Hon. Tom Ingot. He had gained 
 popularity; and popularity in one of his order was 
 tantamount to power and wealth. It gave him the 
 latter : a rich widow fell in love with the prosperous 
 politician, just after he had delivered one of those 
 telling speeches which we find in the papers of that 
 day, after the words, " The Hon. Tom Ingot rose and 
 said " — and married him ; his debts were paid ofi\, his 
 tradesmen were more deferential than ever, and had 
 the gentleman been blessed with as good a heart as 
 he had a constitution, there is little doubt but that he 
 might have retired from public life a very prosperous 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 173 
 
 and contented gentleman, just to re-appear on country 
 hustings, or to constitute the Magnus Apollo of some 
 great provincial meeting. 
 
 But it was not to be so. There was a peerage in 
 the case, and Tom and his wife also — for to give them 
 their due, women are just as fond of great state and 
 of titles, aye, and more so than men are — sighed for a 
 distinctive title. It is not very clear what he would 
 have gained by it, but he could not bear to think that 
 there should be in the family one who, by prescriptive 
 right, was greater than he, and who, although his 
 junior by so many years, was in the world's eyes the 
 more to be observed. 
 
 Such a feeling is by no means either uncommon 
 nor unknown. History tells us of several earls who 
 moved all around them to become marquises, and of 
 several of the latter who would descend to any mean- 
 ness to gain a dukedom. Tom Ingot was one of these. 
 
 On the other hand, his close ally and friend, Mr. 
 Savage Bones, knew, to use an expression of his own, 
 upon which side his *^ bread was buttered." He was 
 an agitator, and could very well subsist by agitation, 
 where quietude would scarcely leave him a dry crust. 
 Thus it was that his reform was chimerical and Uto- 
 pian in the worst sense of the word ; like a cabman 
 who is paid by the hour, he naturally took those whom 
 he guided the longest way round. Eeform with him 
 had no possible termination. The more one reformed, 
 he once remarked, the more one had to do. " Agitate, 
 agitate, agitate," were words continually quoted by 
 him, and exemplified in his life* 
 
174 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 His prospects were now excellent. The race of 
 believers in political charlatans is never quite extinct, 
 nor is it- right that they should be ; the believers are 
 for the most part sincere but uninitiated men, who 
 endeavour earnestly for the good of the cause, who be- 
 lieve till they find they are deceived, and who, if mis- 
 taken, yet carry on the great cause of freedom. 
 
 It is ten years since we have met either Mr. Bones 
 or his patron ; ten years, in which, in England, not- 
 withstanding that staple phrase of the newspapers, 
 "great commercial prosperity," the poor had been 
 growing poorer, and tlie rich richer. The combat be- 
 tween capital and labour, which has yet to be termi- 
 nated, had been daily becoming hotter and more hot, 
 and to say the truth, labour had been getting a great 
 deal the worst of it. 
 
 Plenty of men were out of work, and down one of 
 the courts which lead out into Gray's Inn Lane a 
 knot of workmen, with some idlers and others, was 
 gathered. They were discussing that question which 
 neither force nor kindness, neitlier police nor religious 
 education, can restrain them from discussing, viz. 
 " the rights of labour." Some were for higher wages, 
 some for less taxes, but there were other and shrewder 
 heads amongst them who told them that neither more 
 wages nor less taxes would benefit them at all. 
 
 "I'll tell ye what, Sandy M'Crae," cried one, a 
 shoemaker, who had not long left his stall ; " it is not 
 wages more nor less that will benefit us ; it is a dif- 
 ferent state of things which we want. It is this : it 
 is that our work should be made worth working for, 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 175 
 
 that we should liave an interest in the prosperity of 
 the firm we work for ; in short, that we should not 
 merely be paid machines — machines worked as hard 
 as the machinery can stand together." 
 
 "Aye, and harder too," cried a voice. 
 
 " And harder, too," continued the speaker, " merely 
 for the master's profit ; a master who absorbs all the 
 profits of our earnings to himself." 
 
 "What revolutionary doctrines ! " whispered a young 
 man, dressed as a workman, to another. 
 
 " Hush ! " said the second, no less than Mr. Eones 
 himself, " he's quite right ; you won't get any one to 
 gainsay that, at least not liereP 
 
 "There is one thing certain,"' said a cadaverous- 
 looking man, with a preparatory whine, and in the 
 worst style of elocution, unnatural, forced, and de- 
 clamatory — " There is one thing certain ; you should 
 not drinh, my friends. It is the accursed drink. Touch 
 it not. Come out of the house of those who do. "Wine 
 is a snare, and strong drink an enemy; come away 
 from them or you perish." 
 
 As he uttered the last word, the speaker brought 
 his right fist heavily down upon his open left hand, 
 and turned up his eyes with the air of one who had 
 made use of a novel and unanswerable argument. 
 
 It was not so, however. A drunken little man in 
 a carpet hat, who waited about for odd jobs at the 
 corners of public-houses, and who generally managed 
 to get drunk by the close of the day, came forward, 
 and taking the pipe out of a mouth befouled by much 
 smoke, and rendered palsied and shapeless by drink; 
 
176 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 stepped forward and "smote liim with his tongue,'* 
 thus : — 
 
 " Ah ! it's all very well for you to cry out that, Mr. 
 'Totaller ; but it isn't the thing. If you were a work- 
 ing man you'd know better. It's all very well for a 
 strong-minded man ; but for a weak one, and all of us 
 is weak," — he said this with a confirmatory drivel, — 
 " what is we to do ? We ain't got no hope of doing 
 well. Say we earn thirty shillings a week, and has, 
 as many of us has, a wife and seven children, what 
 can we look for'ard to ? We can't save enough to 
 keep us out of the workhus. We can certainly put 
 summat in penny banks, and so on, but it's so little 
 that we thinks it as well spent ; so having, d'ye see, 
 no amusements and little hopes of doing anything 
 better, and working away all the day — all the blessed 
 hours o' God's sunshine, perhaps a making fine clothes 
 we never wears, or building o' fine houses we never 
 lives in, we come home to this beastly hole to live in, 
 and being disgusted, we, in course, hooks it off to the 
 gin palace. Wearied of work, we wants a stimu^lant, 
 and we takes it — and takes it kindly." 
 
 Having said this much, considerably to his own 
 satisfaction — for those who drink deeply and lounge 
 about public-houses are frequently good orators — he 
 looked round for applause, and received it in consider- 
 able quantities. 
 
 The young fellow who was with Mr. Bones then got 
 up to address the crowd ; mounting for that purpose 
 upon a stool which had been kindly lent for oratorical 
 purposes. 
 
DIAMONDS XND SPADES. 177 
 
 At the first glance one could see the practised 
 orator, and in a few words one could distinguish the 
 scholar and the gentleman. His movements were easy, 
 free, and graceful — his words simple, forcible, and well 
 arranged, so much so that, when properly read, some 
 of his speeches fell, not unnaturally;, into blank verse. 
 
 He came, he said, to preach to the dwellers in that 
 court religion. 
 
 At that word the teetotaller lifted up his eyes, the 
 drunkard smiled, and puifed out a volume of smoke 
 with much meaning ; several workmen turned on their 
 heels, and Mr. Bones tapped his polished and almond- 
 shaped nails on some very ugly front teeth which be- 
 longed to him ; but the speaker heeded [none of those 
 movements, but began his speech. 
 
 " He knows all about it," said the drunkard to his 
 neighbour; "he's going to tell us to work, always to 
 be good — not to envy other people — to behave well 
 to our pastors and masters. "Well, it's all very well 
 of him, and those like him ; they appears to think 
 that they have nought to do but to talk, talk, talk, 
 and we have nothing but to work, work, work. JSTow, 
 I think that each of us should do a little of both ; it 
 is not right for one class to have all the pull. Teach- 
 ing the people is a species of giving advice, and we 
 all know how fond all on us are of that." 
 
 The manifest truths of this inebriated individual 
 were, to his great surprise, not met ^by the court 
 lecturer; on the contrary, a great many things the 
 drunkard suggested he spoke for; for instance, he 
 insisted that it was quite as much sin to work sixteeen 
 
17S DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 hours a day as to drink sixteen hours a day ; that 
 man owed a duty to himself, to his own soul, to his 
 Creator, which he could not possibly perform if he 
 overworked himself continually ; that such a man was 
 not an industrious man, but a mere machine for get- 
 ting money for the masters ; that by working more 
 than nine hours a day he took, every extra hour that 
 he worked, employment from others. 
 
 Then the lecturer warmed in his discourse and 
 talked about, religion. He said so many very danger- 
 ous things upon this point that the modest chronicler 
 of this history does not like to record them, but, cer- 
 tainly quite to the satisfaction of the hearers, he proved 
 them all from the Eible itself. He conjured all who 
 heard him, to use John Bunyan's maxim, and to " stick 
 close by the Eible," he begged them never to leave it 
 for one moment. Eightly construed, he told them 
 that Christianity did not allow colossal fortunes while 
 others starved ; that the apostles would not have per- 
 mitted any one to call themselves by the name of that 
 holy creed who would permit such courts and places 
 as they then talked in and lived in ; that Grod had no- 
 thing to do with such a state of things ; that we were 
 here as free agents to work out His blessed will — a 
 will of kindness, love, charity; and that they who 
 even distantly upheld a state of society which would 
 pay young girls wages for binding Bibles, or for bind- 
 ing shoes, so deplorably small that they could not live 
 and dress on them, but were forced to practise an 
 enormous sin to live, were not Christians, but should 
 be excommunicated and held accursed, and neither 
 
DIAMOIS^DS Als'D SPADES. 179 
 
 they, thei^ goods, nor their property should have any 
 defence or countenance from a Christian state till 
 they remedied such things. 
 
 Mr. Bones listened with profound respect, for the 
 oratory of the young man won upon him ; he listened 
 with a smile and with pity, because he thought the 
 man a madman and a fool, and he also listened with 
 eagerness, because he thought that could he but at- 
 tach so earnest a man to himself and cause, the 
 scheme would be sufficiently visionary to last out his 
 life, or, at any rate, to last him till he made a for- 
 tune. 
 
 He therefore took advantage of the impression 
 made to rise and say, that he felt everything which 
 Mr. Mordaunt had said was true, and to call upon 
 every man to rise against their oppressors, and to 
 dare to be free. 
 
 To his surprise, however, Mordaunt, the lecturer, 
 rose again and spoke openly, and at once directly 
 against such a plan. " The field," he said, " was not 
 yet ripe for harvest ; but the time would soon come 
 when a silent i^evolution should take place, which 
 would at any rate make things better. The rich them- 
 selves felt their position — its falseness, its misery, its 
 contemptuousness, its meanness, its isolation." 
 
 "But," he continued, "beware of wolves in sheep's 
 clothing, who appear to lead you to your good, but 
 who inwardly are ravening wolves ; let them not lead 
 you to insurrection nor to infidelity. The great ones 
 of this world wish this ; and, years ago, infidel apos- 
 tles of liberty led you on the wrong track. JS'o," he 
 
 N 2 
 
180 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 continued ; " go forward like the Puritans of old — 
 conquer witli your Eibles in your hands. The tyrants 
 abroad know the freedom of that book, and will not 
 let it be read ; at home they dare not forbid it. Use 
 it as a wedge, therefore, and it will split this rotten 
 society to pieces. With that in my hand, I, weak as 
 I am, could approach a rich bishop on his sacerdotal 
 throne, strip him bare with argument, and prove him 
 no Christian, whilst he held such state and arrogated 
 such powers. 
 
 " And if," he said, sadly, " and if we should not con- 
 quer in our lifetime, those after us will. "We cannot 
 be wrong, because our aspirations are true, holy, and 
 noble, and whilst here, the Bible will be our constant 
 consolation. We see there that the world is con- 
 stantly condemned, and lives contrary to Grod ; do not 
 let us be too modest or squeamish about it; that 
 world which is condemned is our world, and those 
 who underpay, overtax, and neglect to teach you, are 
 of it, and as such damnable, or to be condemned, 
 whether they are members of Christian churches, 
 lords in parliament, or bishops themselves. 
 
 "Above all, our trials down these courts cannot 
 last long. Misery shortens a man's life ; if God di- 
 rects the trial to be sharper. He also mercifully makes 
 it shT)rter. People of the working classes, children of 
 the toilers, do not live long ; their trial is hard, but 
 the battle they wage is soon ended, and they lie in 
 peace." 
 
 Hardly had the lecture concluded when a lad passed 
 swiftly between the two policemen who stood at the en- 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 181 
 
 trance of the court watching the little quiet crowd, 
 and spoke hastily to Mr. Bones. That individual 
 jumped up at once, and spoke hurriedly and almost 
 in a whisper to his audience. 
 
 " Men and brothers," said he, "the people are out 
 — they are using the constitutional rights of English- 
 men — they are holding a meeting upon Clerkenwell 
 G-reen ; let us join them. I know some of the men 
 who will be there ; they are friends of the toilers — 
 true fustian jackets — workers of the hand and brain. 
 Come, then, let us listen to their practical teaching, 
 and no longer to the bare ideas of a visionary ! " 
 
 Por this time Mr. Bones had his own way. The 
 crowd quickly melted away, each hurrying on as fast 
 as he could to the Green : and in a few moments the 
 visionary found himself deserted by his audience, and 
 alone. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 IN -WHICH THE READER TRAVELS FROM LONDON TO REDGATK' 
 HEATH. 
 
 The sadden appearance of the " myrmidons of the 
 law," — again to borrow an expression from the cheap 
 literature of the day — rather startled Mr. Pip and the 
 " Mouse," and slightly put out of countenance the 
 honest gentlemen who were enjoying a game of cards 
 upon Sunday night. 
 
 Pip lay still without looking up, being used to 
 such little alarms, and the "Mouse," continued his 
 narrative of the Peninsular campaign ; the landlord 
 held a light up nearly to the low ceiling ; and all were 
 so still that Pip's heavy breathing, continued most 
 perseveringly and with excellent imitation of reality, 
 could be very well heard by all present. "Man 
 asleep, landlord ? " said the policeman, interrogatively. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said that individual; "has been soaking 
 a little." 
 
 " And who's wanted, my noble gentleman ? " said 
 the apparent gamekeeper. 
 
 "That's our business, not yours," was the gruff 
 answer. 
 
 The policeman then turned to his party and con- 
 ferred with them a little while, asking Leigh if he 
 recognised any of the people present : but that young 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 183 
 
 fellow, although he looked carefully amongst them, 
 did not recognise the " Mouse," that worthy being 
 capitally disguised, and having also the cleverness to 
 at once recognise Leigh, and to alter his voice into a 
 country drawl, accordingly. 
 
 " I'm afraid, sir, it's no go," said the officer ; " I 
 don't think we can pitch upon any, eh !" He again 
 looked to Leigh, and that individual shook his head. 
 
 Young Plantagenet next proposed that they should 
 examine every one separately, to see whether he looked 
 like a thief, but this juvenile idea was rejected at once, 
 and Mr. Honeysoap looked very gloomy ; and with an 
 apology for their interruption, the whole party backed 
 out of the tap -room. 
 
 "They are in the gipsies' tents, no doubt," said 
 Honeysoap. 
 
 " No doubt they may be," answered the officer ; 
 *^ but who is to find that out ? It would take us an 
 age to search them separately, and I really don't know 
 how it is to be done else." 
 
 " "Well, since we have had so hard a ride," said the 
 Archdeacon, with rather a rueful countenance, " sup- 
 pose you take a little refreshment. Here, landlord, 
 bring us something for the grooms and the officer." 
 
 The landlord was all alacrity ; and, mentally pro- 
 nouncing the Archdeacon a brick, he placed some tum- 
 blers of rum-and- water before the men. 
 
 Leigh would not drink anything, but stood at 
 a respectful distance immersed in thought, and calling 
 up the tone and appearance of his antagonist of a few 
 
184i DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 hours before. He was successful in fixing him in Ms 
 mind. 
 
 In the tap-room, meantime, the two thieves were 
 wise enough not " to holloa till they were out of the 
 wood." Pip continued his stupid sleep, and the 
 "Mouse" his occupation, descriptive of military 
 events. There was however a slight chuckle in his 
 voice, and a triumphant look about him, which 
 evidently proceeded from the supposition that he had 
 outwitted his enemies. 
 
 His triumph, however, was destined to be a short 
 one. The landlord entered for more orders, and the 
 gamekeeper, who had remembered Pip's new sove- 
 reign, took that opportunity of slipping out, and of 
 placing in the hands of the policeman a small piece of 
 paper, torn from a pipe-light, upon which was written, 
 "Ask the landlord where he got his new sov." 
 
 The constable read it, and saw at once its value. 
 He called, with the permission of the rev. gentleman, 
 for a cheroot, and folding the paper up quietly, lit 
 his cheroot with it ; then, with an imperturbable face, 
 he told Dr. Honey soap that a £5 note might be of 
 some service in discovering the offenders. Upon this, 
 the Archdeacon, thinking it would be given away as 
 a bribe, very readily produced one, and the officer, 
 turning to the landlord, asked him for change. The 
 latter, amongst other sovereigns; produced the very 
 bright one which Pip had said his aunt procured 
 from the bank. 
 
 " AVhen did this come out o' the mint, landlord ? " 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 185 
 
 said tlie officer. *' It arn't seen mucH service ; who 
 did you get it of ?" 
 
 The landlord turned red and stammered a little ! 
 but being told that his licence depended on the truth, 
 he very readily pointed out Pip. That young gentle- 
 man was still pretending to sleep when the officer 
 shook him roughly, and told him that " he must come 
 along o' him, and give an account of how he got hold 
 of the new sov." Pip, being an athletic young fellow, 
 objected to the handcuffs, or, indeeed, to coming at 
 all, and resisted violently, knocking the policeman 
 and one of the grooms down; but at last he was 
 captured. 
 
 " There were two on 'em, landlord," said the officer ; 
 " now just point me out who was this man's pal." 
 
 The landlord looked round, and sought amongst 
 his guests, who, being used to such things, looked on 
 at the capture very calmly ; but the " Mouse " was 
 not to be found. Indeed, that cunning little fellow, 
 guessing that the gamekeeper had gone out, at such 
 a critical time, for no good purpose as regarded him- 
 self, had taken the opportunity'' to slip away through 
 the opened window^ and was now some half mile 
 away, running as hard as he could upon the road to 
 London. 
 
 Ey the time the little cavalcade had mounted and 
 had got back to his lordship's house, near Eedgate, 
 the Marquis had dismissed his ^osse of magistrates, 
 and determined to wait patiently till to-morrow. The 
 return was not very triumphant ; they had gone out 
 
186 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 for two highway robbers, and had returned with one 
 very obstinate individual, the accusation against whom 
 was, that he had offered in exchange a sovereign very 
 new, and, as sovereigns naturally would be, very 
 much like certain coins which the young lord had in 
 his possession when he was robbed. As to the other 
 thief, he had made off altogether. 
 
 When the party arrived at home, therefore, they 
 were glad to find that Mr. Beakly, the London magis- 
 trate who had tried Leigh and taken him into his 
 service, had been sent for, and was now with his lord- 
 ship, for, out of gratitude for the service done, he 
 had been informed why his servant was absent. 
 
 Mr. Beakly was, unluckily for poor Pip, gifted 
 with a good memory, and immediately recognised that 
 young gentleman as having, upon two or three recent 
 occasions, appeared before him. He, therefore, con- 
 gratulated the Archdeacon upon his success, and told 
 him that he thought he had the right man, but that 
 the difficulty was to find it out thoroughly, and with- 
 out the assistance of the other, to prove anything 
 against him. 
 
 He advised, therefore, that the country magis- 
 trates should, on the morrow, commit him, leaving to 
 the judge, the jury, and to the acuteness of the 
 policemen, who get up such cases, the onus of proving 
 the fact of the robbery, which at present they could 
 not do. He hoped much, however, from the fears of 
 the " Mouse ;" it being a fact, that when two men 
 are concerned in a robbery, and one is caught^ either 
 
DIAMONDS Al^D SPADES. 187 
 
 the one who is free comes forward as king's evidence, 
 distrusting the other, or he who is in prison points 
 out the one who was concerned with him. 
 
 So it was that poor Pip was in a fair way of being 
 sent across the seas, and was locked up in the strongest 
 room in the house with a policeman at his door, whilst 
 the others retired to rest. 
 
 Eefore he went to bed, the indefatigable Archdea- 
 con called up Leigh, who had been previously yery 
 graciously thanked for his conduct in the affair by his 
 lordship, wishing to speak with him a little more 
 about the robbery ; for it was one of Honeysoap's 
 peculiarities that he neither liked to be beaten npr to 
 be puzzled by anything. It was in the library that 
 the two men met. The evening, though in autumn, 
 was chilly, and a fire had been lighted in the ancient 
 room. Mr. Honeysoap stood by it, warming his thin 
 white hands, looking into it, and reflecting upon what 
 Leigh told him. Above the mantel hung a portrait 
 of one of the old Lords Silverspoon, and above that, 
 horns, old guns, and spears. Leigh was looking up 
 at those relics with some veneration, when Honeysoap 
 said, — 
 
 " And now, my man, here is a sovereign for your 
 assistance. I may want you again in this ca|e ; you 
 seem to be both honest and acute." 
 
 " Thank'ee, sir," said Leigh, with hand upon the 
 handle of the door. " Grood night, sir." 
 
 " Stay," cried Honeysoap ; " I generally enter the 
 names of my people here ; perhaps you will oblige me 
 with yours." 
 
188 DTAMOIirDS AISTD SPADES. 
 
 " Certainly," answered the other. " Leigh "Wood- 
 roffe, sir." 
 
 " Leigh Woodroife ! " cried the Archcheacon, sur- 
 prised out of his usual calmness ; " Leigh "Woodroffe ! 
 You are quite certain? How do you spell your 
 surname ? " 
 
 Leigh spelt it, and the Archdeacon wrote it down. 
 " That will do," he said quietly ; " I will keep my 
 eye on you. Thank you." 
 
 Leigh withdrew, puzzled, and not knowing what to 
 think ; whilst Honeysoap marched up and down the 
 library, rubbing his white hands with glee, and saying, 
 " Ah ! now's the time, now's the time ; let me be 
 cautious. Festina lente, as Dr. Pangloss quotes. 
 Slow and sure, slow and sure. But an accident has 
 given me more than many years' toil. I have a clue 
 at last ! " 
 
CHAPTEE XXIV. 
 
 The crowd whicli had been listening to Mr. Eones 
 and his philosophic acquaintance, and which at the 
 end of the twenty-second chapter ran as fast as the 
 legs of the people which composed it could carrj 
 them to that centre of attraction, Clerkenwell Green, 
 amounted to many thousands. 
 
 There were earnest-browed men, and thoughtless 
 profligates ; faces lined with care and thought, or 
 marked with vice and debauchery; the young, the 
 old, the strong, the weakly, the stupid, the wise, all 
 ran to make up that London crowd. On it poured, 
 getting larger every moment ; from court and alley, 
 fevered rooms, and pestilential places, that crowd 
 swarmed on. The errand-boy who had done his work 
 for the night, and who ran whistling away, free from 
 his daily occupation, to see what was the "row ;" the 
 artizan, w^ho with a melancholy face was thinking of 
 an increasing family and a darker future, ran too, as 
 he saw others run to join in the concourse ; the ap- 
 prentice with his hair neatly brushed and his face 
 clean, and the vagabond whose face had not been 
 w^ashed for a week, nor his hair combed for a month, 
 jostled each other on the pavement, as they ran side 
 by side to see what was the " row."' 
 
190 DIAMOTiTDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 "What was the row ? Oli ! only the old story — the 
 people of England's working classes — sad shame that 
 there should be such classes in England as those who 
 work and those who never do — were turned restive for 
 a moment, and proposed a meeting of some few earnest 
 men, just to let Grovernment know that taxation was 
 heavy, and bread was dear — that meat was seldom to 
 be had — that they, and, to their comprehension, they 
 alone, had to work for ever ; gaining their bread by 
 the sweat of their brow, and that bread so scanty, and 
 so hardly earned. 
 
 Gf course Mr. Eones ran; he was, in his own 
 opinion, a great chief cause of the " row." Had he 
 not called upon the working-classes for years to rise ? 
 Had he not told them that their task-masters were 
 worse than the Egyptian task-masters, and that they 
 were more oppressed than the Israelites ? To be sure 
 he had. Had he not sold his paper by flaming and 
 exciting articles, which assured them that the only way 
 in which to ensure their liberty was to put their hand 
 to the political plough, and to turn not away from it ? 
 Had he not continually quoted — 
 
 " Hereditary bondsmen ! know ye not, 
 "Who would be free, himself must strike the blow " — 
 
 and should he now desert them ? 
 
 To say the truth, Mr. Bones felt rather timid as he 
 ran down Hatton Grarden, up Mutton Hill, and turned 
 into the vast crowd which thronged in front of Hick's 
 Hall. What, after all, if what he had prophesied so 
 long should come true ! "What if he, like another 
 Erankenstein, had created a monster which he could 
 
DIAMOKDS AKD SPADES. 191 
 
 not quell — had set in motion a vast macliine, which, in 
 its dread path would overwhelm and crush him ! Mr. 
 Bones stopped and wiped the sweat from his brow, 
 and shuddered. He was not an earnest man. His 
 lieart was not in his work ; and he felt as if he were 
 about to pay the penalty of his hypocrisy and his 
 double-faced career. Then he put on his hat, first 
 throwing the damp handkerchief into it, like a lump 
 of lead, and went onward to the crowd. 
 
 A crowd is always a fine sight. The sympathy 
 which the worst of men has with his fellow-men seems 
 to burst forth in a thousand fresh streams, when one 
 gazes on the upturned faces of a thousand men. In a 
 vast concourse we forget all our littleness and pride ; 
 and feel humbled when the fact is placed before us, 
 that amongst so many we are only a unit ; and when 
 we reflect that like all units we are contemptible and 
 weak. 
 
 Mr. Bones probably felt all this ; for it was ob- 
 servable that he retired as' far as he could from the 
 scene of action, and squeezed himself up against the 
 wall of the sessions-house, seeking only to see, and 
 not to be seen. He well might do so. The vast 
 multitude swayed to and fro ; and all with eager up- 
 turned faces watched some speakers in the centre of 
 the Grreen. 
 
 If the Green had been a green, it would have lost 
 every speck and blade of verdure upon that night. 
 Prom Aylesbury Street, from Bed Lion Street, from 
 Cow Cross, from every outlet and avenue the crowd 
 continued to pour in ; now and then cheering, riow 
 
192 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 roaring, now hissing ; following, possibly, tlie lead of 
 those who surrounded the spot where the speakers 
 were. 
 
 In the very centre of the crowd was a waggon ; such 
 as had been used, no doubt, for many a jovial trip to 
 Hampton Court, or f6r moving furniture from many 
 a happy home. This was drawn by a blind old horse, 
 and stretched across it were several boards, upon 
 which were chairs, whereon sat some of the leaders of 
 the tumult — some embryo AYat Tylers about to burst 
 their shells — who, with great noise and gesticulation, 
 addressed the people. 
 
 A few policemen strolled about along the edges of 
 the crowd, but they were comparatively so few, that 
 they made no demonstration of suppressing the riot, 
 or of dispersing the large body of people ; but con- 
 tented themselves with merely ordering down several 
 unruly boys who had crawled up lamp-posts, and 
 who, from such towers of safety, laughed at the efforts 
 of the "peelers," and mocked and jeered at them. 
 
 The windows of the surrounding houses wore 
 thrown wide open, and from them gazed many and 
 many a face, in wonderment and anxiety. The careful 
 shopkeepers who were open at that time hastened to 
 bestir themselves to shut up their shops, trembling, 
 and in fear lest the crowd should take it into their 
 heads to commit any depredations. Eut they had no 
 real cause for fear. The crowd conducted itself as a 
 sensible English mob always does; and those who 
 were near the speakers listened to the harangue ; 
 whilst others who could not do so, very sensibly 
 
DIAMONDS AiTD SPADES. 193 
 
 formed into little knots by themselves, and tad de- 
 bates witliin tbeir own small circle. 
 
 " I wisb I could bear a little plainer," said Eoncs 
 to bis next neigbbour, a man in a fustian jacket. 
 
 " Tben wbj don't you go nearer? " returned tbe 
 man. 
 
 Eones bad bis private reasons, but said nothing. 
 Tbe next moment tbe crowd gave a sbout. 
 
 " I wonder wbat tbey are saying," said Eones 
 again, more to bimself tban to bis companion. " Tbis 
 will make a splendid report for tbe paper." 
 
 "Tbe man caugbt bis words. "Paper," said be. 
 " Wbat paper ? " 
 
 " "Wby, TliG WeeMy Democrat^ to be sure." 
 
 " Are you tbe beditter ? " said tbe fellow in fustian, 
 looking witb admiration upon Bones. 
 
 ""Well," said tbat individual, led away by a foolisb 
 pride, " I must own tbat I am." 
 
 "Hooray!" cried bis friend suddenly, giving tbe 
 man before bim a sbove ; " Make way there ! Here's 
 c le of tbe press ! Here's a friend of tbe people here ; 
 make way for the beditter of The WeeMy Democrat^ 
 make way, make way ! " 
 
 Alas ! Mr. Eones was caugbt. What could he do ? 
 In vain be looked for an opportunity of escape. He 
 ' turned first to one side, and then to the other ; but 
 there was no outlet. Mr. Eones was carried in 
 triumph. The crowd parted on either side ; and bis 
 friend in fustian aided with both voice and limb the 
 advent of the friend of the people. 
 
 o 
 
194 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 " Make way there, make way, he's a comin' ; he'll 
 talk to 'em, he will; he will tell us what to do." 
 
 Mr. Bones felt flattered. 
 
 " My good friends," said he, trying once more to 
 escape, " I am really not prepared to take an active 
 part in this movement, I am not indeed ; I am here 
 only as a reporter. I have sent all my staff elsewhere 
 to attend most important meetings ; there is one at 
 Salford, one at — " But Mr. Bones' voice was stopped 
 by the shout of — "Make way, there! here is the 
 editor, bring him along — ^he'll talk to 'em — come 
 along, sir, come along." 
 
 In this way did the editor make his way to the 
 waggon of the speakers, sore against his will, and it 
 must be confessed, very much afraid. But what was 
 he to do ? How he cursed his stars that he was there 
 at all. Why could he not have remained quietly at 
 home, waiting for the chance report of an adventurous 
 penny-a-liner, or writing his rabid articles — like a fin- 
 ger-post, pointing out the way, but never going him- 
 self 
 
 He had reached the waggon — it was too late — " Now 
 then, sir," cried one of his friends, " 'Now then, sir, 
 put your foot upon that spoke, and here, Sam, give the 
 hedditor a leg up — now then, sir, there you are." 
 
 It was a plain, undeniable fact, there he was ; before 
 him stretched a vast multitude— a sea of upturned 
 faces, all gazing at him with eagerness ; all with anx- 
 ious looks waiting for his speech. Oh, for the eloquence 
 of a true-hearted man to lead that multitude of men ! 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 195 
 
 to stir their- liearts more than a trumpet. Alas ! it 
 was not in Mr. Bones' gaunt body to do so. He 
 swayed backwards and forwards, he turned giddy and 
 sick, and a terrible thought struck him. "What if the 
 people were at that moment to discover his secret 
 thoughts, his poltroonery, his incapacity, and to tear 
 him limb from limb. He trembled as the thought 
 ran through his brain. 
 
 A man was speaking earnestly when he ascended 
 the waggon, and around him several known democrats 
 stood. One of these took Bones by the hand, and 
 shook it warmly. He was one whom the editor had 
 before always mistrusted, and who had, in his turn, 
 mistrusted him ; but now he came forward and shook 
 his hand warmly, saying, " "Welcome, welcome ; really, 
 sir, I did not expect to see you here." " JN'o," mut- 
 tered the editor between his teeth, " JSTo ; nor egad 
 did I expect to find myself where I am." 
 
 There was a great clapping — the orator had finished ; 
 and the news that the chief prophet of The Weelcly 
 Democrat was among them spread like wildfire. The 
 cry was for him. Bones saw those faces turned, yet 
 more eagerly turned, towards him. He saw a thou- 
 sand anxious eyes, and every now and then a thousand 
 open mouths, which roared his name. How did they 
 know it ? How had they caught it ? He felt elated 
 and proud. He looked more boldly around him, and 
 within a few paces of the waggon, saw a well-known 
 detective in plain clothes, busily plying his pencil, 
 noting down the names of those who were present. * 
 
 In the intoxication of popularity, however, Bones 
 
 o 2 
 
196 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 despised this, and only listened to Ms name. ^^ Egad," 
 thought he, " the eyes of the Grovernment are upon 
 me; but I will astonish them. Here goes." He 
 took off his hat, bowed to the people, and planting 
 one hand in his side, and waving the other open in 
 the air, in the most approved style of speech-making, 
 began his oration. 
 
CHAPTEE XXY. 
 
 IN WHICH MR. BONES HARANGUES THE MULTITUDE, AND FINALLY 
 GETS ASTONISHED HIMSELF. 
 
 " Gentlemen I " said the orator. 
 
 But the beginning of his speech did not please him, 
 and he coughed, turned up his wristbands and began 
 again. 
 
 " Men and brothers ! " 
 
 " Hear, hear ! " cried the crowd. 
 
 " Pellow-workmen ; or rather shall I say, fellow- 
 slaves ! " 
 
 A hoarse murmur of attention was the only answer, 
 given. Mr. Bones felt that he had struck upon an 
 impressive vein and determined to continue it. 
 
 " Fellow-workmen ! " he repeated ; " or rather shall 
 I say, fellow-slaves l" 
 
 ""We've heard that before," cried a voice. 
 
 " Silence !" shouted a dozen others. 
 
 Mr. Bones continued. 
 
 " We have met here for the purpose of considering 
 our wrongs and our grievances : grievances as heavy 
 as any people have yet borne. Por you are a patient 
 and a long-suffering people, ever ready to do what in 
 you lies ; and yet we are oppressed with burthens 
 and eaten up with taxation." 
 
198 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 The word "taxation" was safely used, and the 
 crowd at a distance caught it up and shouted 
 " Hooraj !" " Go on !" " Speak up !" and other 
 encouraging and interjectionary phrases. 
 
 "We have met here, fellow-men! for the pur- 
 pose of considering what can be best done to 
 mend your, that is, our conditions ; it does seem to 
 me that the parts in this world are very badly laid 
 out, and that there is great fault to be found some- 
 where ; and shall I tell you where ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " was the cry. 
 
 " That fault is in those above us. An intolerant 
 priesthood is at the head of it all. A pampered aris- 
 tocracy assists them; and a crown, celebrated in 
 former years for cruelty and vice, connives and winks 
 at everything they do." 
 
 "That's right;" "that's true;" cried some of his 
 hearers. 
 
 Was it right and true ? Well, the reader, who we 
 dare say knows as much as the writer, must form his 
 own opinion as to that. We, personally, are merely 
 relating what Mr. Bones said, and do not pretend to 
 judge anything of the matter. 
 
 "I will tell you, my friends, what we must do," 
 continued the orator, getting excited and violent; 
 " I'll tell you what we must do. We must submit to 
 this no longer. We must not allow the working man 
 to bear all the burdens of the state. The drones 
 must be got rid of. We must rise against our 
 oppressors, and drive them far away by an exercise of 
 that power which a free nation always possesses, and 
 
DIAMOlSfDS AND SPADES. 199 
 
 which it can wield at will ; and which, when it does 
 wield, is irresistible." 
 
 Mr. Bones paused and wiped his mouth. The 
 crowd grew more eager and interested, and waited 
 for his words. His friends exchanged looks behind 
 his back ; and during all the time the sheets of paper 
 in the note-book of the detective police officer w^ere be- 
 coming fuller and more full of the little curious hiero- 
 glyphics which belong to short-hand. 
 
 " We must oppose, if necessary," cried the editor, 
 " force by force." 
 
 "Hurrah!" "Hurrah!" "Bravo!" cried the 
 crowd ; and hoarse and distant voices took it up, and 
 gave back the roar till one vast shout rose up upon the 
 night-air. 
 
 " We must, if necessary, quell violence by violence. 
 If they bring out their brutal soldiery, and -after 
 denying us redress, try upon us any of the Pall-mall 
 butchery, we must, my friends, see what the spirits of 
 unarmed Englishmen can do. We are met here in 
 as sacred a cause as ever the bold barons at the time of 
 the craven-hearted John had. We will imitate their 
 liberty; we will surpass them in their boldness. 
 Such meetings as these will, my friends, teach the 
 Government to respect us. They will not dare to 
 deny us our lawful requests: which are, work for 
 every man, universal suffrage, no rich men and no 
 poor. If they should attempt to use force, let me 
 give but one piece of advice ; let us meet them not in 
 the open street where their cannon could sweep us 
 down, or their horse soldiery sabre us and trample 
 
200 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 US beneatli tlieir horses' hoofs, but let us meet 
 them in the crowded court and stifling alley ; there 
 let us dispute inch by inch with them. I see before 
 me bright eyes looking from windows which could 
 teach us what to do. Let us from our windows find 
 missiles which will reach the traitors who attack us, and 
 let them, from the roofs of our houses, wear ' tiles' 
 heavier than hatter has yet made." 
 
 Mr. Bones sat down, satisfied with his speech, 
 warm with excitement, and almost foaming at the 
 mouth. The crowd immediately about him shouted 
 and applauded, and the democrats in the cart shook 
 hands warmly with him. The detective shut up his 
 book and moved off to another position, where he met 
 with a friend in the same line ; whilst one of Mr. 
 Eones's friends remarked to another : 
 
 " A little too rabid don't you think ? " 
 
 "Yes!" said the other; "a great deal too much 
 so." 
 
 " He has overstepped the boundaries, I think. He 
 must stick to his text now." 
 
 Meanwhile the crowd kept increasing, and ex- 
 citedly demanded a fresh speech. Thereon, one of 
 the delegates, an Irishman, with a great command of 
 language but a remarkable fine brogue, got up and 
 said — 
 
 " My hearers, — after the eloquint spache which we 
 have heard from the editor of that talented peepier, 
 the Weehly Democrat, I have but one thing to pro- 
 pose. He alluded to an evint in history. I will also 
 do so. He with great learning, and that suavitee of 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 201 
 
 spache wHich so peculiarly distinguislies him, alluded 
 to the barons of King John's time. There is yet 
 another epock in the pages of history ; I allude to the 
 times of the great democrat "Wat Tyler — to that 
 man who rose against an oppressor, and struck an in- 
 solent offinder to the ground. He came to demand 
 a poll-tax, and Tyler gave him a paymint which he 
 didn't like at all. "Well, my hearers, I have to pro- 
 pose, as the matin' is somewhat crowded, that we 
 adjourn now to that iield celebrated in history as the 
 scene of the death of so many martyrs, and I may 
 say, that none were more pure than the one of whom 
 I spake. Let us, therefore, adjourn to that field, 
 rendered sacred by his death — to that place rendered 
 holy by the blood of the martyred Tyler !" 
 
 There was a great shout when the speaker con- 
 cluded, and , several ran to the head of the old horse 
 and led it onwards up Eed-Lion Street, upsetting 
 some of the orators by the suddenness of the move. 
 The crowd gave way before them, and on they went, 
 turning up a narrow street, passing under St. John's 
 Gate, and so on to Smithfield. Long ere they arrived 
 there, Mr. Eones had cooled down, and his calm re- 
 flection told him that he had "put his foot in it." 
 He therefore determined to escape. Pretending 
 great business he slipped down from the waggon, and 
 at a convenient opportunity got through the crowd, 
 and made his way to Exeter Street, Strand, where his 
 chambers were. He thought somebody dogged him, 
 and walked fast, and went all sorts of obscure ways. 
 He at last reached his door, but what was his surprise 
 
202 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 when lie found some one standing before it, who 
 pushed past him into the house as he opened the door 
 with a latch-key, and said, " Mr. Bones, I presume." 
 
 " Ye — e — s ! " stammered the editor ; " I am he." 
 
 " Exactly so," cried the officer. " Then you will 
 oblige me by coining along with me quietly. I have 
 a cab at the bottom of the street." 
 
 " For what ! " gasped Bones. 
 
 The officer showed him the warrant. Bones's jaw 
 fell, and he turned pale. 
 
 " Come, come along," said the policeman, taking 
 the editor in a peculiar manner under his cuff. " Of 
 course you won't make any resistance." 
 
 Mr. Bones did not reply, and in a few moments the 
 editor of The WeeMy Democrat and the officer were 
 bowling away in a Hansom cab towards the police- 
 office at Bow Street. 
 
CHAPTEE XXYI. 
 
 *' THE GAME 'un'S " STRATAGEM. 
 
 Pip, " the game 'un," as he sat in the strong room of 
 the house of the marquis, had no very pleasant reflec- 
 tions, and his thoughts shaped themselves somewhat 
 after the following manner : — 
 
 " Well, here's a precious go ; here am I, in for it 
 regular. I've missed my tip this time, and these 
 precious ' sovs.' '11 do for me ; I know they will ; 
 I shall be lagged as sure as fate. I wonder what's 
 become of the Mouse. He hooked it precious quick, 
 but I dare say they'll be down on him; and I 
 shouldn't at all wonder if he didn't peach. Well, if I 
 am lagged what shall I do, eh ? It ain't so much what 
 I shall do. I shall have food and lodgin' found for one, 
 but what will my old woman do ? what will poor Bet 
 do ? poor Betsy, poor girl." 
 
 Prom this recurrence to "poor Bet," it may be 
 inferred by the reader that the young gentleman was 
 married ; and, indeed, young gentlemen in his station 
 of life do enter upon the state matrimonial at 
 a very early period, and bring upon themselves all 
 the sorrows and cares of paternity just when the higher 
 classes are matriculating at an university, or plea- 
 santly engaged in that moral occupation of sowing 
 *^ their wild oats." 
 
 The truth is, Pip, if not married, was certainly in 
 
204 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 the same position. He was not yet nineteen, but 
 was possessed of a loving wife and a smiling child, 
 who looked to him for support just as the wife and 
 ciiiidren of my solicitor do to their father ; and Pip, 
 to do him justice, acted quite as well as that esti- 
 mable lawyer, and went out and sought food in a 
 manly way, gaining his occupation in the way he 
 had been taught, and never shirking either its toils, 
 its dangers, or its responsibilities. 
 
 "My Betsy," thought Pip, "wiU be thinkin' o' 
 me, and will be looking for me a comin' from these 
 races, and a bringing of her lots o' fairins, and I shan't 
 bring her none at all ; no, I shan't bring even myself 
 back." And Pip put up his hands to his eyes, and as 
 well as he could, being handcuffed, wiped away a 
 little moisture which in an unwonted manner rose to 
 his eyes. 
 
 Which, of us would not do the same ? Let none of 
 us blame Pip, and not consider him still the '* game" 
 young fellow which he was. He was placed under 
 trying circumstances ; and the truth is, that if the 
 present writer was taken away from Ids Betsey, or 
 the reader, as Pip would say, from liis'n, they would 
 probably do the same as Pip did, who was but young 
 after all, and find solace in a tear. 
 
 " Arter all," continued the unfortunate young 
 gentleman, " faint no use a snivelling, is it ? Blow it, 
 I wish I could get out of this room ; that I wish I 
 could, but it ar'n't no go : what with that fellow a 
 sleeping in the corner and these bracelets on me, 
 what can I do?" Pip for a moment thought he 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 205 
 
 could do nothing, but presently hope revived, and 
 he sat up 'and listened. All were in bed in the 
 house, that was certain. There was no noise : but at a 
 distance some solitary farmer's dog bayed the moon, 
 or the bat squeaked as it flew past the old iron- 
 barred windows. 
 
 Pip looked at the windows, and sighed. 
 
 " It's no go," said he ; " I can't get through 
 there. They are a precious sight too narrow even for 
 my small body ; but, I could — yes ! I'm hanged if I 
 could not ;" and Pip started up with quickness and 
 energy. 
 
 A sudden thought had struck him, making him flush 
 all over with excitement and joy. 
 
 He got up softly, and with a violent strain tugged 
 again and again at his handcuffs, twisting the swivel 
 round as far as he iould, but for some time without 
 any success. 
 
 "We have noticed before in the beginning of this 
 history that Pip was a little fellow. He was in fact 
 small in his make ; not very short, but thin, and with 
 exceedingly small bones. His hands were very diminu- 
 tive, and, indeed, to their size and lissomness he owed 
 much of his accomplishments, being, in the language 
 of cracksmen, very "fly" with "his forks." He 
 could pick the most diminutive pocket and perforni 
 any kind of trick with cards, or peas, or thimbles, 
 with those dwarf dike fingers of his, which looked so 
 white and so much like a lady's. Greatly to his joy, 
 therefore, he found that the handcuffs were made for 
 country wrists, and that, with a little straining and a 
 
20(3 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 slight pain, lie could absolutely squeeze the knuckles 
 of his left hand through the handcuff. 
 
 When he had accomplished this feat, Mr. Pip looked 
 around him, and set himself seriously to consider 
 what he should next do. 
 
 His guard, a great powerful footman, who could 
 with one blow have knocked Pip senseless, was asleep. 
 Pip looked wistfully at him and listened. 
 
 He was sleeping lightly. It was impossible to 
 escape without waking him. 
 
 Pip waited a few moments, then thought of his 
 Eetsy ; and like a skilful general, formed his plan of 
 attack. A heavy brown pitcher of water stood by the 
 side of the footman, and by the aid of this Pip hoped 
 to conquer. 
 
 He therefore coughed, and made a noise. 
 
 The footman woke and sat bolt upright, looking 
 rather sheepish and foolish at being caught asleep. 
 
 " Halloo !" said he, sharply ; " what's the row now ? 
 You ar'n't goin' to run away, are you ? " 
 
 " Not exactly, with these pretty bracelets on, young 
 fellow," said Pip, with his hands apparently joined 
 together ; " not exactly ! " 
 
 " "Well, what then ?" said the big footman, sulkily. 
 
 " JN^othing, only I'm thirsty." 
 
 " Thirsty ! are you," said the giant ; " and a precious 
 thing it is that I'm to be kept out o' my precious 
 ^^leep just to watch you. AYhat did you go for to do 
 it for?" 
 
 " Do what ? " 
 
 '' Do what ? Why, rob that young man of all his 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 207 
 
 money. A pretty rumpus you've kicked up in this 
 house, and me kept out of my quiet bed through you." 
 
 " Well, it's a pity," said Pip, " but I didn't go to 
 get caught ; and as for the robbery, why I'm as inno- 
 cent as a babe unborn." 
 
 " Precious likely," returned the giant. 
 
 " Likely ! well, so it is ; it's more than likely, it's 
 the truth. But, I say, I'm thirsty. Grive us a 
 drink of water, there's a good cove ; and, as you don't 
 want to go to sleep, why, if you like, I'll tell you a 
 story." 
 
 "Mighty condescending," said the big man; but 
 being like all great men, very good-natured, he did as 
 he was asked, and got ^p and came towards his 
 prisoner with the jug. 
 
 That was what Pip desired. 
 
 " "Wliat a big jug," said Pip. 
 
 "Big, is it?" said the other. "There's mighty 
 Httle in it." 
 
 "Little or not," said Pip, "I can't hold it when 
 I'm chained up so. I say, there's a good fellow, tip 
 it up for us while I take a drink." 
 
 The unsuspecting footman did as he was asked, and 
 was about to hold the pitcher to Pip's mouth, 
 when that individual, quick as a flash of lightning, 
 sprang upon him, seized the heavy pitcher from his 
 hands, and with all his force discharged it on his 
 head. 
 
 The man fell as if shot, struck senseless by the 
 blow ; but luckily for the prisoner he fell in such a 
 manner that he came prostrate on a mattrass stretched 
 
208 DIA.MOKDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 for Pip to lie on, and did not make mucli noise. Pip 
 instantly knelt upon liis ctest, and put his hand over 
 his mouth, but it was needless : he was stunned so 
 completely that he could not make the slightest 
 resistance, whilst Pip dexterously hound and gagged 
 him with his own handkerchief and his livery coat. 
 
 Pip could not even then forget his old games. He 
 searched the footman's pockets, and finding one and 
 fourpence halfpenny in money, and an old pocket- 
 knife, and a thimble, appropriated, the money and 
 returned the articles; then casting a rapid glance 
 round him he sprang to the windows, shook every 
 iron bar, but found none loose ; and then, without a 
 moment's hesitation, made for the chimney. * 
 
 How he fared in that perilous ascent, in which 
 luckily he found the bars which impeded his progress 
 loose and easily removed, our readers may surmise, 
 ^vhen we tell them that the next mornmg when the 
 patrol called to look after the prisoner and his guard, 
 he found only the latter, who was in a stupid and 
 wounded condition ; and who, in answer to a great 
 deal of hurried cross-questionings, merely shook his 
 head and pointed to the chimney. 
 
 " That w^, eh ?" said the officer.' "Well, he's a 
 clever one and no mistake ; and how did he knock you 
 down?" 
 
 John Thomas looked ruefully at the policeman, and 
 then on the broken pitcher on the floor. 
 
 The policeman looked at it, and picked up the vessel, 
 which was terribly fractured ; he then examined the 
 head of John Thomas, and gently stirred the shock 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 209 
 
 hair whicli grew upon it. He tlien gave a whistle of 
 surprise. 
 
 " Phew ! oh, bless me ! " said he ; " why he's 
 broken the pitcher, and has only contused your head. 
 Well, I didn't think that any person's skull could 
 be so thick ;" and with this consolation he left the 
 room. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVII. 
 
 ) 
 LEIGH WOODROPFE GETS A NEW PLACE, 
 
 The escape of Pip, tliougli it annoyed many, made 
 Mr. Beakly, the London magistrate, langb, and had 
 very little effect upon Mr. Honeysoap, who had now 
 a new game in his hands, and who only smiled softly 
 to himself, and praised the ingenuity of the thief. 
 
 As for the Marquis of Silverspoon, he was indignant 
 in the extreme. That a thief should rob his son, and 
 after that should break from the strong room of 
 his house ; a room which had for years baffled the 
 most notorious and desperate poachers, and had held 
 them in durance vile till such time as they were com.- 
 mitted to the couDty jail, he could hardly credit. 
 
 " Oh, sir," said Mr. Beakly, " our London thieves 
 are very clever, very clever.'* 
 
 " So it appears," said th^ Archdeacon. 
 
 " Clever do you call it ? I call it atrocious," said 
 the old nobleman, who was getting very pettish, and 
 was every day more attached to his dignity and rights. 
 " It is atrocious, firstly to rob a young nobleman, and 
 then to complete the business by nearly killing one of 
 my servants, and breaking away from custody." 
 
 " Why they will do it," said Mr. Beakly ; " some of 
 them take naturally to thieving, and would not be 
 
BTAMONDS AND SPAPES. 211 
 
 honest if you were to oiFer them a thousand a year, 
 and a carriage to ride in." 
 
 It must be confessed that the London magistrate 
 here transgressed a little from the strict truth ; but 
 he had been so accustomed to consider his word law, 
 and his speeches were so attentively listened to, that 
 he sometimes was tempted to think that he was a kind 
 of oracle, whose utterances were absolute wisdom ; 
 and in such a belief, unfortunately, Mr. Beakly was 
 not singular among the London magistrates. 
 
 The Archdeacon listened with a calm smile of con- 
 tempt to the speech of the two old gentlemen, and 
 merely rapped his almond-shaped finger-nails upon the 
 table, and muttered, "dangerous classes, dangerous 
 classes." 
 
 As he said this, the door opened, and in came young 
 Plantagenet. 
 
 " How do, Beakly ? " he said, with a patronising air. 
 
 "How do, my lord?" said that gentleman; for 
 Beakly was, it must be confessed, a man kindly dis- 
 posed towards young men of high station, and one 
 who never lost an opportunity of sh6wing his defer- 
 ence to the nobility. 
 
 " That's a capital groom of yours," said the young 
 man, looking through the drawing-room window to- 
 wards Leigh, who was mounted upon an excellent 
 roadster, and was walking his master's hack up and 
 down. ^ 
 
 " Aye, that he is," said Beakly, " an excellent young 
 fellow ; I first picked him up out of a police court. 
 Tour lordship would not think it, but it is the fact." 
 
 p 2 
 
212 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 ^^ Indeed," said the Archdeacon. 
 
 " H'm," said Plantagenet. 
 
 " Yes ; and this is how it \Yas." And the garrulous 
 old man told how he had first met with Leigh, and 
 also averred that he had never had any cause to repent 
 of his kindness. 
 
 " The young fellow ought to be rewarded and ad- 
 vanced in life," said the Archdeacon. 
 
 "That's a dangerous practice, and a bad doctrine 
 Honeysoap," said his lordship. 
 
 " "Why so ? " said the rev. gentleman. , 
 
 " Why don't you see that you are lifting people out 
 of their station ? " said the marquis. 
 
 " Indeed, my lord," answered the clergyman, with 
 a meaning look ; " before we talk like that, w^e ought 
 to be sure that all of us are in our right places. ^^ 
 
 The marquis turned ashy pale at these words, and 
 said nothing. 
 
 *^But really," continued Honeysoap, "the young 
 man should be rewarded. "What do you say, your 
 lordship, to taking him from Mr. Beakly's service 
 and engaging him as confidential servant with you ? " 
 ' " Well," said Plantagenet, with a yawn, " I do want 
 a man." 
 
 " To be sure you do ; and," he added, " I am sure 
 that the marquis would desire to reward his zeal. It 
 was not Ms fault that the thief escaped." • 
 
 " JSTo, that it was not," said Beakly. 
 
 " I should like it very much," returned the marquis, 
 talking of Leigh as if he had been a dog, or any other 
 good or chattel, living or dead. " I should like it very 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 213 
 
 much ; but I do not like robbing any one of a valuable 
 servant ; these people are not to be got every day, and 
 Mr. Bealdy might object." 
 
 " JVTot a bit, my lord, not a bit. I am only too happy 
 to get the lad an excellent place, and to put your lord- 
 ship in possession of an excellent servant." 
 
 "You are too kind, Beakly." 
 
 " JSTot a bit, my lord, not a bit. I will send him to 
 you in a day or two ; and now about our business." 
 
 " Aye," said the old man, " now about the business." 
 And the three seniors plunged into an ocean of talk 
 about parish affairs, county unions, the state of the 
 crops, and of political parties ; a conversation wherein 
 Mr. Honeysoap led the way, and in which he shone 
 with an original light, which astonished and sometimes 
 confused his companions. 
 
 In the meantime, young Plantagenet strolled to- 
 wards Leigh and looked at him and the horses. Leigh 
 touched his hat as the young nobleman approached, 
 and the latter stood calmly surveying the three animals 
 as they paraded up and down the wide gravel drive 
 which encircled the lawn. 
 
 " I say my man, d'ye like your place ? " 
 
 "Yes, my lord." 
 
 " "Well, you are going to leave it." 
 
 Leigh did not answer. 
 
 " M^hj, you must know that old Beakly is going to 
 turn you over to me, just as a reward for good con- 
 duct, you know. You will have a capital place, and 
 see a little more life in my service than in that of 
 yonder old slow-coach." 
 
214 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 Leigh thought the young man was jesting, and said 
 nothing. 
 
 " Oh ! it's true enough," said Plantagenet, answer- 
 ing the other's look. " It's true enough ; isn't it Arch- 
 deacon ? " he called out to that reverend gentleman. 
 
 " Yes," said the person referred to ; " and Mr. 
 Eeaklj, young man," he said to Leigh, "has been 
 kind enough to speak to me very highly in your praise, 
 and of your endeavours to educate yourself; and if you 
 enter the service of his lordship I shall be very happy 
 to aid you." 
 
 Leigh touched his hat again, and said he would 
 speak to his master. He did so, and from him received 
 such a glowing account of the excellence of the place, 
 and of the advantages to be derived from it, that in a 
 few days afterwards he left with some regret his old 
 master ; and leaving his neat groom's coat and livery, 
 assumed the dress of a private and confidential ser- 
 vant in the family of the Marquis of Silver spoon. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 IN WHICH LEIGH WOODROFFE LEARNS A LESSON. * 
 
 Theee is a great deal of trutli in that proverb which 
 declares that "a laew broom always sweeps clean;" 
 and it is undoubtedly pretty certain that during the 
 first few days, or in extreme cases a week, a servant 
 in a new place pleases both himself and his master 
 better than he did in the old one. So it is with the 
 ladies ; a new menial has a dozen virtues which the 
 old one had not, and not one-half of the vices ; at least, 
 that it is to say, the faults are not found out ; but in 
 a short time the thin covering of novelty wears off, 
 and like a shilling which has been just washed with 
 gold, the covering rubs away and the true metal is 
 seen underneath. 
 
 Leigh liked his new place pretty well ; there were 
 characters to study. There was Mr. Honeysoap, a host 
 in himself; there was the young lord, and the Swiss 
 valet of the old one, a gentleman who spoke a great 
 many languages equally badly, had travelled almost 
 everywhere, and had contrived to pick up from these 
 various countries such an assemblage of strange 
 tongues and strange vices that one could not' help 
 being shocked and amused at him. 
 
 Eut in a short time Leigh found that his new place 
 
216 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 was not quite tlie place for liim. There was little 
 peace and quietness. The young lord had all sorts of 
 strange company to risit him, who seemed to enjoy 
 themselves amazingly till the *^ small hours" of the 
 morning, and who cared very little for the servants 
 within their gates, who were kept sitting up for the 
 sole purpose of waiting on them. Luckily, Leigh was 
 fond of reading, and amused himself upon those long 
 and dreary nights with books which the Archdeacon 
 had lent him. 
 
 Eut for the latter, it is very certain that the whole 
 menage of the Silverspoon family would have gone to 
 that " undiscovered country whence no traveller re- 
 turns" — that is, the dogs. Eiot in the young man, 
 and carelessness in the old one, made the money go 
 pretty fast; and he had need be a careful steward 
 who would look after the expenditure. This, however, 
 the old clergyman did. He paid my lady's bills, and 
 took care that a very heavy percentage should be 
 deducted for prompt payment ; he engaged careful 
 Scotch bailiifs for the various estates ; he was a check 
 upon my lord and upon his son, and worked with such 
 hearty good will that he caused eveiybody about tlie 
 place at once to admire and to hate him. 
 
 " If it wasn't for that precious old parson there," 
 said one of the footmen — our friend, indeed, with the 
 broken head ; " if it wasn't for that precious old pry- 
 ing prig of a parson there, we should be a deal better 
 supplied in the servants' hall." 
 
 *' Indeed ! " said Leigh. 
 
 " TeS; and indeed," returned the other ; " and I say, 
 
DIAM01!TDS AND SPADES. 217 
 
 young man, when you gets out in life never you seek 
 to enter a nobleman's family, 'cos you always gets 
 worse off if you do so. If your governor happens to 
 he a great lord you gets a house-steward placed over 
 you, who collars all the perquisites and takes precious 
 good care you shan't make much by the family, 'cos, 
 d'ye see, he intends to make it all himself." 
 " Indeed ! " said Leigh. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! " returned the other. "Then in a 
 small lord's family perhaps the master may take to 
 religion or to some other dodge, and may look, as he 
 calls it, after the moral advancement of his servants — 
 that won't do, you know, no how." 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because you don't get any warm dinners tliere 
 more than once a week ; all the rest is cold or hashed, 
 young man ; that's why not." 
 
 " Oh ! is it ?" said Leigh, with a smile. 
 " Then," continued the footman, " they are dread- 
 fully strict in such families, and look precious sharp 
 after the wine and spirits. There's little comes doAvn 
 to the servants' hall in tliat house, I can tell you, 
 besides a dozen other unpleasantnesses. The maid- 
 servants ar'n't worth living with tliere.''^ 
 Leigh smiled again. 
 
 " Oh ! it's no use, your grinnin," said the footman ; 
 " truth is truth. The maids are a precious set of stilf- 
 necked, pale-looking creatures, as go to church three 
 times on a Sunday, or it may be to chapel once or 
 twice, just for a change : and besides that they attends 
 church lectures and tea-meetings of a week. Oh ! I 
 
218 DlAMO:tfDS AND SPADES. 
 
 hate such precious families as that. They keeps mis- 
 sionary boxes, floods you with tracts, preaches sermons 
 at you, never gives you a penny beyond your regular 
 wage, cuts down all your perquisites, never goes 
 abroad, and when they leaves town for a friend's 
 liouse in the country, puts you on board wages starva- 
 tion low.'* 
 
 " But this house," said his companion, " is different." 
 
 " Oh, yes !" said the other ; " or I wouldn't be here. 
 This ar'n't such a bad place. We might get drunk here 
 three times a week — and there are some good wines 
 in the cellar, let me tell you — if it were not for the 
 parson. But mind me, young man, except it is for the 
 dignity of the thing and for the respect that the trades- 
 men show you, you never enter a lord's family again. 
 Once is enough in your life; and then you should 
 only use that once just to refer to, so as to say, when 
 any of the masters found fault, " Oh, sir ; when I lived 
 in Lord So-and-so's family we did things very differ- 
 ently." 
 
 "And you find that has an effect ?" said Leigh. 
 
 " I believe you, it has a stunnin' one too. Why, an 
 Englishman naturally loves a lord. He can't help it, 
 it's nature ; and he looks to what lords say and do, 
 and takes pattern by them, to be sure." 
 
 "No, my young fellow," said the elder servant, im- 
 pressively ; " no, don't enter the family of one of the 
 aristocracy but once in your life. Arter that look to 
 the families of your rich commoners, tradesmen, and 
 other fellows who have made money — no end of money 
 — and who want you to help 'em spend it. If you 
 
DIAMONDS ATs^D SPADES. 219 
 
 gets tired of that kind of vulgar life, you can go into 
 a lord's family again, but /should not." 
 
 The bell of young Plantagenet's room here rang. 
 
 Leigh started up. 
 
 "Now then," said the footman; "what are you 
 going to do?" 
 
 " Why, answer that to be sure." 
 
 " Bless me ! bless my stars and garters," cried the 
 other, throwing up his hands and arms and eyes all at 
 once. " Bless me ! what a green one you are. Ton 
 should never answer a bell at once ; stop till they 
 pulls it nearly down. I tell you what, young man, 
 when you have seen as much of the world as I have, 
 you will be of the same opinion, and you will know 
 as how masters get spoilt, as well as servants, by at- 
 tending too much on them." 
 
 "With this lecture the footman got up and went 
 about his business, muttering to himself as he went, 
 " that the new chap was a green fellow after all." 
 
 JSTot long after this occurrence Leigh asked for a 
 lioliday, and having obtained it, went to visit his 
 god-mother and little EUie. He found those worthy 
 people quite well ; little Ellie was blooming and 
 fresh as a little summer apple, but she did not, as 
 before, run to kiss Leigh like a brother. On the 
 contrary, she hung back and seemed quite distant and 
 cold. 
 
 Mrs. Mackenzie on her part was troubled. The 
 pious widow, who had learnt to reverence religion, 
 purity, truth, and temperance in all things, feared and 
 trembled for Leigh when she heard that he had left 
 
220 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 Lis old master and entered the service of Lord Silver- 
 spoon. She warned the young man of the danger of 
 such a place ; she told him how loose habits and loose 
 ideas sap, little by little, the finest resolutions of virtue 
 and of right ; and she told him that she was sorry for 
 the change. 
 
 Eilie, in the meantime, stood at a little distance, 
 near the cottage-door; and occasionally lifting her 
 eyelashes, shot such glances at Leigh that he felt quite 
 uncomfortable and puzzled, and wondered what he had 
 done to call forth such a change in the two people he 
 loved most on earth. 
 
 " Why, mother," said he kindly to Mrs. Mackenzie, 
 " Mr. Beakly said that it would advance me in life ; 
 that it would bring me more money, and " 
 
 " Leigh," said the matron, gravely, " what, after all, 
 has ' more money ' to do with happiness ? "What has 
 advancement in life to do with it ? We are very 
 humble in our way ; but certainly we are better off 
 than we were some time ago, still we are not rich ; 
 but would you change, or wish us to change, with 
 those a dozen times richer, who are, as you call it, 
 more advanced in life?" 
 
 As she said this she glanced out of the open door 
 and into the garden filled with sweet flowers, w^hereon 
 the evening sun played, and listened with a deep con- 
 tent to the distant tinkle of the sheep-bell borne upon 
 the evening breeze. 
 
 Leigh answered that he did not act upon his own 
 ideas when he left Mr. Eeakly, and that for himself 
 he should have preferred staying, but that the Eev. 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 221 
 
 Mr. Honeysoap persuaded liim to change his place ; 
 and that after all everything was for the best. " And 
 now," said he, "let Ellie put on her bonnet and walk 
 with me through the wood, for I must be off home. 
 'Neyev fear for me, mother," he said, kindly ; " I'll 
 trust I shall not go astray." 
 
 Ellie ran away and presently returned with the 
 prettiest little bonnet in the world, looking so fresh, 
 and blooming that Leigh proposed kissing at once, 
 but she would not allow it. " They were grown up 
 now ; they were no longer boy and girl." 
 
 " What a very old woman ! " said Leigh, mockingly. 
 
 She put her arm through his, letting her little hand 
 rest more gently than before upon his sleeve, and the 
 two went out of the gate followed by the looks of the 
 widow, expressive of love, admiration, and at the same 
 prescient sorrow and gloom. 
 
 Away trudged Ellie and her friend, whom she had 
 through life regarded as a brother, towards the wood, 
 comfortably talking about various subjects in life — 
 about EUie's school and Leigh's new situation. 
 
 Ellie would not go far into the wood, but not far 
 from the beginning of it stayed and bid Leigh good- 
 bye. Leigh kissed her tenderly, more tenderly than 
 before ; and Ellie struggled with an unwillingness 
 which she had never shown before. 
 
 " "Why," said Leigh, " what's the matter, Ellie ? 
 Are we not brother and sister?" 
 
 "No," answered the girl; " no, Leigh, you know 
 wc are not so, and must no longer regard ourselves in 
 that light." 
 
222 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 ^' Why not ? " cried Leigli, with surprise. 
 
 " "Why I don't know, but you know we are not 
 brother and sister, and so good-bye, Leigh;" and so 
 saying she gave him a little kiss — -just a little one — 
 and tripped away. 
 
 What a funny girl, thought Leigh, looking after 
 her ; and then he began to think also what a pretty, 
 pure, good girl she was, and to be rather glad that 
 after all she was not his sister ; and thus musing and 
 meditating he stayed, rooted as it were to the spot, 
 for some few minutes. Presently he heard a voice. 
 
 He listened ! 
 
 It was a woman's voice crying for help. He lis- 
 tened again, and the wind bore it more clearly towards 
 him. 
 
 It was the voice of Ellie. 
 
 Leigh hesitated no longer, but dashed away as fast 
 as he could towards the spot from whence the cries 
 proceeded. As he came nearer the cries grew fainter, 
 and he urged on his steps till at a turn in the wood, 
 not very far from the opening, he saw two men — the 
 largest with Ellie in his arms, carrying her away; 
 whilst the other had thrown a cloak over her head, 
 and was aiding as he best could in the abduction. 
 
 To spring to her side, and to hit the man who held 
 her such a vigorous blow that he let fall his burden, 
 to knock the other down, who, it must be said, was 
 startled and surprised to an amazing degree, so much 
 so that he could not defend himself, was with Leigh 
 the work of about a minute. 
 
 Uttering an oath and an exclamation of surprise, 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 223 
 
 the biggest man turned and fled, and tlie otlier who 
 lay flat on his back did not stir. 
 
 Leigh therefore turned to Ellie, and took the cloak 
 from wrapping her head. The fresh air caused her to 
 revive. " Are you hurt, Leigh ?" was the first ques- 
 tion she asked. 
 
 " jN'o, Ellie, dear," said Leigh ; " but let us get away 
 from this place — in the meantime, let us see who we 
 have here." 
 
 He turned the man towards him and looked in his 
 face. The eyes opened slowly ; he had been stunned 
 by the vigorous blow. Leigh started back with sur- 
 prise. It was the face of his young master. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIX. 
 
 WHICH IS SHORT, BUT, IT IS TO BE HOPED, SATISFACTORY. . 
 
 It was without any pity or compunction upon Leigh's 
 part that he left young Plantagenet lying in the wood, 
 and hastened home with Ellie. When he reached the 
 cottage he, however, consented to send somebody to 
 look after the young lord ; but the men soon after 
 returned bringing word that that young nobleman had 
 got up and. apparently had walked home himself, un- 
 less, as the countryman suggested, he had been carried 
 off by the fairies. 
 
 Leigh, in the meantime, prepared to get homewards 
 himself, after receiving a very tender adieu both from 
 Mrs. Mackenzie and Ellie, who could not sufficiently 
 thank him for his help or admire him for his courage ; 
 for women always admire and love those who are 
 strong and victorious. 
 
 "With a strange mixture of feelings Leigh walked 
 quickly towards the house of his master, determined, 
 to say nothing about the adventure that night, but to 
 go to his young master in the morning and bid him 
 good-bye for ever, for he was determined never to 
 serve him again. The night passed over quietly 
 enough. 
 
 Plantagenet had come home, and after sending for 
 some hot water, and inquiring whether Leigh had 
 come home, had gone to bed. 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 225 
 
 The big footman, also, whom Leigh strongly sus- 
 pected of aiding his lordship in the attempted ab- 
 duction, was not to be seen ; so nothing was said 
 about the matter, and Leigh went to bed and slept 
 quietly. 
 
 In the morning his lordship's bell rang as usual ; 
 and Leigh, who had been up and waiting for it, went 
 up to his chamber. 
 
 " AVTiere the devil were you, sir, last night?" 
 said his lordship, with a vicious look at the young 
 fellow. 
 
 He had a terribly large bruise on his temple, which 
 he had been treating with a warm embrocation ; but 
 it had had no effect, unless, indeed, it had made mat- 
 ters worse. 
 
 "I was out, my lord, in the wood," said Leigh, 
 firmly. 
 
 "Oh! in the wood, were you?" cried the other. 
 " Well, then, now go down, and be d d to you." 
 
 "I have a few words to speak first," said Leigh. 
 " I last night prevented you from doing a very wicked 
 and cruel action." 
 
 " Oh, you did, did you ? Who the devil made you 
 a judge over my actions ? " cried the other. " G-et out 
 of the room, with you." 
 
 " I will, and that soon," said Leigh ; "but first I 
 mean to tell you that I shall never enter it again, and 
 that I can no longer dwell in the service of one 
 whose every action, though it may proclaim him a 
 lord, yet declares that he is not a gentleman." 
 
 Young Plantagenet turned, white, and the contu- 
 
 Q 
 
226 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 sion on his forehead looked yet more ugly, angry, and 
 red. 
 
 " IN'ow, I tell you what it is," he said, with a terri- 
 ble oath ; *' if you don't get out of this room I will 
 shoot you ; by Grod I will. I knew it was you who 
 struck me in that cowardly way — " 
 
 " It was you who was the coward," answered Leigh. 
 
 " Gret out!" cried the other, springing towards a 
 pistol case and opening it. 
 
 Leigh stood iirm, and the young nobleman, trem- 
 bling with rage, took the weapon. 
 
 "Are you going, fool?" he roared. " One, two, 
 three—" 
 
 " My lord, my lord 1" said a soft silvery voice, calm 
 and quiet, heard amidst the storm of anger like oil on 
 the troubled waters. 
 
 " My lord, my lord, what is this ? Why this tem- 
 per ? Why this dreadful passion ? " 
 
 It was the Archdeacon. He walked calmly up to 
 the young nobleman, in front of the loaded pistol, 
 laid his hand upon his arm, took the weapon out of 
 his hand and placed it in the case. 
 
 " N'ow," said he, " we can argue calmly ; we could 
 not with these instruments before us. ]^ow let me 
 know the difference between this young man and 
 yourself." 
 
 Plantagenet's eyes fell before the steady gaze of 
 Honey soap. He was no match for him ; and, with a 
 muttered " damn," he sat down sulkily and rested his 
 head upon his hands. 
 
 " The matter is this, sir," said Leigh, calmly and 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 227 
 
 quietly ; " I have had occasion to disagree with his 
 lordship, and I leave this place at once." 
 
 "The dispute," said the omniscient Iloneysoap, 
 " was about a woman. Pie, my lord, my lord ; receive 
 back this young servant, who hindered you from sin, 
 and thank him for his interference." 
 
 " I will not live a moment longer with him," said 
 Leigh. 
 
 "Young man," returned the Archdeacon, "be not 
 rash ; you may repent this." 
 
 " No," cried Leigh, sturdily, " I do not think I 
 shall." 
 
 " He'll leave this place without a character, except 
 one for impudence and insubordination," said Plan- 
 tagenet. 
 
 Leigh smiled. 
 
 "Well!" cried the Archdeacon, "what must be 
 must be. I am sorry to part with you, young man ; but, 
 if you ever want a friend, you will remember me." 
 
 As he said this he put a small glazed card in Leigh's 
 hand, upon which was engraved "The Eev. Arch- 
 deacon Honeysoap" in a small Italian hand, soft, and 
 flowing like the Archdeacon's character ; and he ever 
 shook hands with Leigh, and that kindly and cor- 
 dially. 
 
 Leigh bid him respectfully, " Good morning," and 
 walked away. 
 
 The old man looked after him very sadly, and then 
 turned with the same quiet smile to his former pupil, 
 muttering calmly — " that it should come to this, that 
 it should come to this ! " 
 
 Q 2 
 
CHAPTEE XXX. 
 
 IN \VHICH MR. BONES, VERY MUCH AGAINST HIS WILL, IS MADE A 
 MARTYR OF. 
 
 Mb. BojS^es had scarcely awakened from the surprise 
 into which he had been thrown, when the rattling of 
 the cab-wheels over the stones of London streets 
 ceased, and the driver pulled up at the station-house 
 in Bow-street. 
 
 Mr. Bones was then civilly told to alight from the 
 cab, and brought before the inspector on duty for the 
 night, who took down the charge against him, entered 
 it in a book, and then very quietly directed him to be 
 locked up for the night. 
 
 Mr. Bones looked blue with surprise, but being told 
 that he could have a messenger to go in search of bail 
 for him if he pleased, he took a shilling out of his 
 pockety and directed an urgent note to Mr. Tom Ingot, 
 begging him to come and stand by his friend in 
 trouble. 
 
 It happened, however, that Mr. Ingot was from 
 home, and also that several other people, upon whom 
 our political friend depended, were not in the humour 
 to help him ; and so Mr. Bones had the pleasure of 
 passing the night in the lock-up. 
 
 The night was bitterly cold ; and the cells of our 
 police offices are, it must be confessed, not made with 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 229 
 
 tlie same attention to luxury as are the chairs and 
 couches of our fashionable clubs. Mr. Bones groaned 
 in spirit. He began to be a martyr to the cause, and 
 he really did not like it. 
 
 Martyrology, thought the selfish but philosophic 
 politician, is all very well if it endures only for a short 
 time, and is accompanied with a certainty of a retiring 
 pension when it ends ; but I really do not see the fun 
 of this. 
 
 ]N"either did the government see the " fun" of it. 
 The various members of that august body, which does 
 the work of absolute monarchy both here and also 
 abroad, were rather frightened by the emeute, and 
 determined to punish the ringleaders. They thought 
 that these same leaders were not of sufficient import- 
 ance to be cajoled, so they determined to punish them ; 
 a strange determination certainly, which has been 
 acted upon more than once, as any one who reads the 
 history of England can easily tell. 
 
 " Treason!*' says the old epigram by Harrington — 
 
 " Treason doth never prosper. What 's the reason 1 
 When 'tis successful, none dare call it treason'' 
 
 And so it is. The successful leader of the reform 
 movement gets rewarded with a peerage, where the 
 unhappy and unsuccessful first man of a popular 
 tumult, perhaps not half so obnoxious to the aristo- 
 cracy as the reformer, gets punished by being shut 
 in a jail. 
 
 The government were determined to make an exam- 
 ple of somebody ; and Mr. Bones and some of his fellow- 
 
230 DIAMONDS Al^D SPADES. 
 
 patriots in the waggon, who had been quietly picked 
 up, far away from their friends or from any chances of 
 rescue, were brought before the sitting magistrate 
 charged with rioting, sedition, conspiracy, and ex- 
 citing the multitude against their rulers. 
 
 The excitement of Mr. Bones during the night may 
 well be imagined. He had gone further than he 
 intended, but he determined to stand to his guns and 
 to be made a martyr of. 
 
 " They can't do much to me," he thought. " I know 
 the Home Secretary won't be very severe on me." 
 And he was comforted and confirmed in this opinion 
 by his Mend Mr. Ingot, who arrived soon after break- 
 fast. 
 
 Meantime, when eight o'clock came, those prisoners 
 who had not had any bail were allowed to walk out 
 into the yard and to wash themselves in a tin bowl of 
 water, pumped by their own exertions from a well in 
 the centre of the yard. " For they were treated," as 
 he afterwards observed, " with every species of indig- 
 nity." They were then allowed the soothing refresh- 
 ment of some bread and about a pint of hot coffee 
 each, which the editor certainly enjoyed, and which 
 warmed and prepared him for the struggle. 
 
 Ten o'clock came and the magistrate took his seat 
 on the bench. The night charges were first disposed 
 of; sundry people for getting drunk and disorderly 
 were fined five shillings ; and sundry others, who, 
 whilst under the influence of liquor, did assault and 
 otherwise maltreat the police, by pulling their noses 
 
DIAMONDS A^B SPADES. 231 
 
 and otherwise ill-using them, were fined higher and 
 heavier sums. 
 
 Then came the important riot prisoners. The police- 
 man who took the charge came into the room in which 
 the prisoners waited, and called out their names ; and 
 after being ushered through a dirty passage, they 
 emerged into a dirtier court, smelling of the police 
 and populace in an almost equal degree, stumbled up 
 a few short stairs, and stood **at the bar." 
 
 Mr. Bones looked around him ; the court was 
 crowded. 
 
 To the left of him sat the magistrate, an old gentleman 
 with small blinking eyes, sandy hair, and a hook nose, 
 who blinked at the prisoners through his spectacles. 
 Eight in front of him were some of the gentlemen of 
 the press, with two of whom Mr. Bones was ac- 
 quainted. They smiled, nodded, twisted their report- 
 ing pencils, and adjusted the pads of paper. 
 
 Before the magistrates and nearer to the prisoners 
 sat the clerk, who seemed to do a great deal the most 
 of the business, and at the right of the spectator was 
 the crowd — a motley assemblage — a great majority of 
 whom were dirty, lazy-looking fellows, probably friends 
 of the prisoners who were afterwards to be brought 
 up ; but amongst them were a few gentlemen, and here 
 and there a respectable female. 
 
 The inspector read the charge, the witnesses were 
 sworn, and the trial commenced. Just, however, as 
 the clerk was examining a principal witness — a gen- 
 tleman of most elastic memory, who was most ready 
 to swear to anything — a policeman came in with a 
 
232 DIAMONDS AT^D SPADES. 
 
 card, and immediately afterwards tlie Hon. Tom 
 Ingot was ushered in, and allowed "a seat on the 
 bencli;'' which, by the way, in this instance, only meant 
 a chair near the worthy magistrate, within that railed 
 and sacred place which was devoted to his worship. 
 
 Tom was the same as ever ; the same imperturbahly 
 calm-looking, smiling, well-dressed fellow, with the 
 same well-gloved hand. The gloves, in this instance, 
 were of a light lilac colour, for Tom was in half-mourn- 
 ing for some noble relation. He waved his gloved 
 hand to Mr. Bones, raised his hat from his head, 
 bowed to the magistrate, and took his seat by him, 
 holding his hat in one hand and wearing the same 
 perpetual smile upon his face. 
 
 There was one peculiarity about Tom also, which 
 we have not before noticed ; his hats always seemed 
 new. Let him be seen when and where he might, he 
 always had a hat with a beautiful new cream-coloured 
 lining, which pressed easily against his white, smooth 
 forehead, and sat gracefully upon his ambrosial curls. 
 
 *' D — ^n him," thought Bones, as he looked at him ; 
 " d — n him, I wish he was here instead of myself." 
 
 Tom put his eyeglass in his eye and looked calmly 
 at the court and people ; but in that look there was 
 great meaning, and if Mr. Bones read it right it 
 conveyed a very different wish from that to which he 
 himself had just given expression. 
 
 The trial went on. Why should we turn this novel 
 into a mere police report ? — sufRce it to say, that Mr. 
 Bones and his comrades were committed to ta^e their 
 trials at the approaching sessions ; and that, with the 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 233 
 
 exception of Mr. Bones, none of them could find bail, 
 and so were taken away to the house of detention ; 
 whilst the Hon. Tom Ingot and a patriotic butcher 
 having gone through the necessary forms, Mr. Savage 
 Bones walked away to the cab of his honourable friend, 
 and got greatly cheered by a sympathetic mob as they 
 drove away. 
 
 "Why the devil," said the Hon. Tom peevishly, 
 " why the devil, Bones, did you get into such a mess 
 as this?" 
 
 Bones glanced at his companion from out of the 
 corner of his wicked eyes, and then determined on his 
 plan. 
 
 " Mess do you call it ?" he said with dignity. " Let 
 me tell you, sir, that with the convictions I have, there 
 was no course but that left open to me. With those 
 convictions — " 
 
 " Convictions ! " said his friend, with a sneer. 
 
 "Yes, convictions," returned the martyr; "with 
 these, and with the sights of want, misery, and oppres- 
 sion before me, what could I do but, when called upon, 
 go forward ? " 
 
 " Oh— h— h," whistled Tom. " JSTow Bones," he 
 said, giving a smart cut to his horse, which made that 
 high-bred animal start and plunge forward in so fu- 
 rious a way that the tiger behind, who was not attend- 
 ing to his business, was nearly jolted off, for which he 
 kindly rewarded both his master and the horse with a 
 curse ; " 'Now Bones, none of your nonsense ; you are 
 not going to deceive me." 
 
 "Perhaps not," said the latter, as he folded his 
 
234 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 arms in a dignified way, and leant back calmly in the 
 cab. 
 
 "Hang the fellow," said the Hon. Tom, looking at 
 bim with surprise ; " he is either taking me in now, or 
 has been doing so all his life. I should not wonder 
 whether he is not an earnest democrat after all. Well, 
 if he is, I honour him." 
 
 As he said this the cab turned down Essex Street, 
 and in a few moments Mr. Bones was deposited. safely 
 at his own door. 
 
CHAPTEE XXXI. 
 
 WHICH SHOWS WHAT LEIGH WOODROFFE BECAME WHEN HE LEFT 
 
 SERVICE. 
 
 The first steps of Leigh were directed towards the 
 house of his old master, Mr. Beakly ; but as that gen- 
 tleman had ridden over to call upon his lordship, hav- 
 ing found some traces, he fancied, of Pip, the magis- 
 trate and Leigh very naturally missed each other. 
 
 So Leigh waited and waited many a weary hour. 
 At last the old gentleman came back, and the new 
 groom hastened to take his horse. Leigh walked 
 forward, and knocked at the door of the old gentle- 
 man's parlour. 
 
 Now Mr. Beakly was not in a very good humour. 
 He had chosen, in the recent trial of Messrs. Bones 
 and Co., at which he was the presiding magistrate, to 
 make some very foolish remarks about the poor ; and 
 the papers, ever on the look-out for such little trips, 
 there being an almost perpetual war between the press 
 and the bench, were very severe upon the old gentle- 
 man, and had wounded his feelings very much. 
 
 " Hang the fellows ! " he thought to himself; " here's 
 that young WoodrofFe been and kicked against con- 
 stituted authorities, and one don't know what else. I 
 don't know what we shall come to ; I really don't. 
 The country is in a very bad state — a very bad state, 
 indeed." 
 
236 DIAMOl^DS AND SPADES. 
 
 Just as he had arrived at that wise conclusion — 
 which, let me say, other heads than his have arrived at 
 any time these hundred years — Leigh knocked at the 
 door. 
 
 " Come in ! " cried the magistrate. 
 
 Leigh opened the door respectfully, and stood with 
 his hack against it. 
 
 "Oh!" said Mr. Eeakly, with magisterial dignity; 
 "Oh! it's you, is it?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Leigh. "I've come to ask you to 
 be my friend." 
 
 " Have you ?" cried Beakly. " If you have, you are 
 mistaken ; I cannot consent any longer to be the 
 friend of one who shows so much insubordination, and 
 who knocks his master down. Is that the way that 
 you behave, sir ? Is that the return you make for my 
 kindness?" 
 
 " Tou have heard about it then, sir ?" said Leigh. 
 
 "Yes!" said the testy old fellow; "and I don't 
 want to hear any more. You may pack yourself off 
 from my house ; I am very well suited ; and, indeed, 
 it would not be consistent with my friendship for his 
 lordship to receive you after such behaviour. Go, sir ! 
 I can neither receive you nor give you a character." 
 
 Leigh did not answer a word ; he was smitten with 
 the injustice of the speech. All his faithful service 
 was to be reckoned as nothing. Eut so it is in this 
 world ; the master is all, the servant is nothing. 
 
 " I will no longer wear livery or be'a servant," said 
 he, as he walked rapidly away ; " I will walk up to 
 London, where there is plenty of work for me, I am 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 237 
 
 sure ; and in some otlier occupation I shall be free 
 from the stupid temper of these people, and not so 
 dependent on their will." 
 
 He strode forward, and soon came to Mrs. Mac- 
 kenzie's cottage, when Ellie came running out to 
 meet him, with concern painted on her countenance. 
 " "What is the matter, Leigh?" she said. 
 "Little, verj little, Ellie," he answered; "I am 
 only going to leave this place, and am going to seek 
 my fortune in London." 
 " In London ! " she said. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, "in London; but come in, I 
 will tell you all." 
 
 They w*ent in together. Mrs. Mackenzie was out, 
 and they were alone. He sat down in an old walnut- 
 tree chair, and the young girl at his feet ; and he told 
 her his dream of ambition, his determination, and his 
 hope. 
 
 She looked up proudly to him. 
 "I shall be happy, Ellie," he said; "happy, be- 
 cause free from any restraint ; because I shall be my 
 own master ; because if I struggle harder, I shall yet 
 depend upon myself." 
 
 " Tou will succeed, Leigh, I am sure. We will 
 pray for you every night ; we do now ; we think of 
 you with love and gratitude." 
 
 The young girl took his hand and gave it a bro- 
 therly kiss ; he put it round her neck, and drew her 
 towards him. 
 
 " You will think of me, then, always, Ellie ; always ?" 
 
238 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 "Yes! dear Leigh." 
 
 " Tou will not desert me, if I don't succeed ? We 
 cannot always promise success. We may work early 
 and late, but you will not the less love me if I fail ?" 
 
 "]^o, no! dear Ldgh," she said, proudly and ten- 
 derly ; " I will love you as a sister." 
 
 Leigh put his arm round her waist, and patting her 
 long clustering hair with his hand, kissed her on her 
 forehead. 
 
 " Tou will love me," he said, " more than you would 
 love a brother. You told me so yesterday. "We were 
 no longer brother and sister, you said, and no more we 
 are." 
 
 " More than a brother, Leigh," she answered ; " more 
 than a brother." 
 
 She placed her hands in his, and, looking up to him, 
 kissed him, and said no more. The compact was ra- 
 tified. Leigh no longer felt lonely or deserted ; he 
 felt his heart grow stronger beneath the new and 
 sacred trust, and calmly looked forward into the 
 gloomy future, with all its doubts and anxieties. 
 
 How happy they were ! The first glow of love 
 always sheds a gleam of comfort over the most 
 troubled life ; and Leigh felt that now he could brave 
 anything. 
 
 So they passed the evening till Mrs. Mackenzie 
 came home, planning out future exertion, and reaping 
 in idea future rewards. The old lady was soon ap- 
 prised of their secret, and was as happy as they were 
 themselves. Leigh passed the night under their cot- 
 
DIAMOKDS AND SPADES. 239 
 
 tage roof, and in the morning, after a sweet parting 
 with his friend and future wife, set oif for London. 
 
 London, mighty London ! friend of the homeless ; 
 hope of the wretched ! To thee the refugee, the patriot, 
 the outcast come. To thee how many a noble heart 
 has turned ; how many an iron will has rushed ; how 
 many a timid genius has ventured, and amidst thy 
 countless throng has won for himself fame, name, 
 and wealth, or has sickened, broken-hearted, and 
 died I 
 
CHAPTEE XXXII. 
 
 PIP, ''the game 'un," at home. 
 
 The outcasts of the world are not always outcasts in 
 every sense. ' The man whom everybody avoids fre- 
 quently finds one who cherishes ; indeed, if it were 
 not so, the outcast would soon return back to the 
 bosom of society, and renounce every vice and in- 
 dulgence, rather than the society of his fellow-man. 
 Thus the beggar, into whose hat, upon the brim of 
 which he has written ^^ starving, ^"^ we drop a penny, 
 has, no doubt, a select company of friends who keep 
 him in countenance, and with whom he occasionally 
 spends a very merry evening. He has a Mrs. Beggar 
 also whom he supports, and a variety of little beggars 
 who call him father. He has all the troubles of the 
 world about him, and although he pays no income-tax, 
 and is not bothered with poor's rates, and has little to 
 do with the parish business, except being an occa- 
 sional expense to it, he still iinds life hard to bear ; 
 and if he does not work, still bears toil, anxiety, and 
 care, and all those ilk which a wise man has declared 
 no one is free from. 
 
 There is an old song which tells us — 
 
 '^ There's a difference between 
 i, A beggar and a queen." 
 
DIAMOITDS AND SPADES. 241 
 
 And certainly tlie difference does exist, but it scarcely 
 amounts to more than a distinction, and it would 
 puzzle a wiser head than that of the present writer 
 to say which role in life is the hardest to play. 
 
 Young Pip, " the game 'un," was no exception to 
 the rule. AYhen he was locked up in the strong room 
 at the Marquis of Silverspoon's, his thoughts reverted 
 to Mrs. Pip and the young ones at home ; and though 
 not accustomed to despair, his heart sank within him 
 as he thought that possibly he might get " lagged," or 
 transported, and never see t'hose whom he loved 
 more. 
 
 The affection which he bore them was a weakness. 
 All great men have weaknesses, and a love for a wife 
 and family is certainly a very serious one with him 
 who shall determine on a public life. Why did Pip 
 get married? There was the rub. I have heard a 
 Member of Parliament declare that a British senator 
 who devotes himself to his country, should not have 
 a wife, because he must pay some of that attention he 
 owes to humanity to the lady at home ; and I have 
 been present whilst a very clever writer stated that all 
 authors should be single men, so that they may study 
 life, and not have their deep reflections upset and put 
 out of order by the sex feminine. Why, therefore, 
 should a pickpocket and a man who lived upon the 
 public have one ? 
 
 Mr. Pip's affection in this instance caused him to 
 do a very foolish thing ; he struck straight forward to 
 London, and reached his home in that great city just 
 as Aurora was about to light the candles of the morn, 
 
242 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 or, in other words, as day was going to break and ren- 
 der the parisli light of the gas-lamp unnecessary. 
 
 Pip ran hastily down the familiar court, passed in 
 at the house which had no door, and sought those apart- 
 ments sacred to him. He found a light still burning, 
 and raised the latch to enter. As he did so, he was 
 struck by a familiar voice talking to the lady whom he 
 was proud to call his own. 
 
 " I tell you," said the voice — a worn-out ropy 
 organ, like the crow which belongs to a Cochin China 
 which has reached mature age — " I tell you it's all up 
 wi' him. Beakly will be on to him, and he's fly to 
 the doings of * the game 'un.' " 
 
 His wife replied by sobbing. 
 
 " I came a long way round," continued the Mouse, 
 for he was the speaker, " and I'm a-dry. I have been 
 to several friends, too. Come, cheer up a bit, Betsey, 
 and take a drop." 
 
 " I can't," said Betsey ; " and to think that Samuel 
 has come to grief," — and the affectionate young per- 
 son fairly burst out into a torrent of tears. 
 
 " Come, come," said her companion, " it's all right ; 
 it won't be for long. He may get off ; maybe, too, 
 they won't bring it home to him." 
 
 " No,'* said Pip, suddenly bursting in; " no, Betty, 
 they won't neither this month." 
 
 A cry of joy, a hurried welcome, and a donation of 
 a great number of kisses, was the answer which the 
 young fellow received. The Mouse sprang backwards, 
 dropped his pipe, and upset a measure of porter with 
 which he had been solacing himself. 
 
DIAMONDS Al^D SPADES. 243 
 
 " Why, Pip ! " said the veteran, " you've beat every- 
 thing. You are quick ; I've been a hiding myself, 
 and I only just stepped up to see Betsy here, and to 
 tell her the news." 
 
 " Thank ye for nothing, Joe," said Pip, drily. " You 
 .cut away pretty quickly yourself." 
 
 " In course I did ; I was too old a hand to stay and 
 get cotched. But how did you give 'em the slip ? " 
 
 ^- Just this way," said Pip, laughing, and pointing 
 to his clothes soiled with soot ; " I did the climbing 
 dodge, and here I am.'* 
 
 The Mouse and Betsy at once began to laugh at 
 Pip's plight ; and that young fellow declared he was 
 tired to death and wanted to go to bed ; whereupon, 
 after the explanation of the whole matter, the veteran 
 retired to some private hotel in the neighbourhood, 
 leaving Pip and his wife to congratulate themselves 
 and each other on the escape, and to concoct schemes 
 for a future livelihood. 
 
 " I tell you what," said "the game 'un," suddenly ; 
 " I tell you what, Bet, this 'ere is too deep a game for 
 me, and I won't play at it any more. Why, you might 
 as well expect an innocent cove as had never seen a 
 pin set up in his life to beat a skittle-sharp, as expect 
 a fellow in my line to get. quietly on in life. I'll 
 just go down there in a week or two, and get enough 
 money to keep us quietly, and then I'll set up in 
 some industrious line, turn coster or something o' that 
 sort ; but I won't be a thief any longer, dashed if I do." 
 
 Here Pip swore a tremendous oath, and kissed his 
 wife to ratify it. 
 
 E 2 
 
244 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 The woman looked up into his face with a pleased, 
 loving expression. " That's right, Sam," she said, 
 "that's right;" and she bent down and kissed her 
 baby, and thanked Grod that she would not be the 
 mother of a thief. Eor in woman, especially if young, 
 the seeds of right are seldom so entirely destroyed as 
 in man ; and it did this one good to think that she 
 should no longer wait with anxiety every time Mr. Pip 
 went out upon business ; not that she conceived that 
 that talented young fellow was doing any wrong thing 
 Avhen he committed his depredations. She had never 
 had a religious education ; and, in fact, her whole exist- 
 ence so depended upon robbery, that she regarded 
 Mr. Pip's frequent detentions and slips rather as mis- 
 fortunes and martyrdoms, and himself as an unfortu- 
 nate fellow when he was ' cotched.' Thus society re- 
 gards the merchant who speculates beyond his means, 
 and many others whose business is a system of dis- 
 honesty, winked and connived at in the world. 
 
 Pip was hungry ; he, therefore, sat down and ate 
 the remains of yesterday's dinner with some voracity, 
 and when he had done intimated to his wife that they 
 must be off. 
 
 Light was quickly penetrating the dark crowded 
 court as they stole down the stairs, the woman with a 
 blanket and shawl wrapped round the child, and the 
 man carrying a small bundle in which the valuables of 
 his house — heirlooms we should have said, but that 
 Pip did not inherit from his long line of ancestry any- 
 thing but their cuuning and boldness. 
 
 On they went, passing by the drowsy policeman and 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 245 
 
 into tlie open road, striking across Ilolborn, passing 
 down Little Queen Street, and making for a net-work 
 of courts which run between Lincoln's Inn Eields and 
 Drury Lane. In these Pip hoped to be at peace ; nor 
 was he for some time deceived. He engaged a quiet 
 lodging, deposited his valuables, his wife and his child, 
 as sureties ; and then, taking a stout heart with him, 
 went into London to try and earn an honest penny. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 A STRANGE MEETING. 
 
 Let any one who doubts my word Jtry the experi- 
 ment, when I tell them that for one who has no charac- 
 ter nor recommendation, it is rather hard to be honest 
 in London. Mr. Pip, who had in his pocket only that 
 small quantity of coin which he had abstracted from 
 the pockets of the big flunkey, wandered about a great 
 while offering to do odd jobs before he got anything 
 to do. 
 
 If he offered to hold a gentleman's horse, he was told 
 that he was too big to go begging about, and that a boy 
 could hold a horse whilst he might go to work himself. 
 " What work, master ? " said Pip, more than once ; but 
 the kind-hearted stranger did not vouch to point out to 
 him the method whereby he was to earn money. 
 
 "Ah," thought the thief, " it is hard work to be 
 honest. I could have turned over a dozen shillings 
 where I haven't taken so many farthings, if I hadn't 
 determined to be honest." 
 
 Pip, as he thought of his lost opportunity, gave a 
 sigh ; but when he reflected that he dare not go near 
 a "fence" even if he stole anything, and could not 
 possibly, therefore, dispose of it ; that he must not 
 associate with his old companions for fear they should 
 peach about him, as he knew the police would soon be 
 on his track, he shrugged his shoulders and submitted 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 247 
 
 to his fate, and thinKing of liis wife and child deter- 
 mined to be honest. 
 
 Evening was falling and he had not had anything 
 to eat all day since the morning, when Pip made his 
 second resolve. He was leaning against the side of a 
 shop wherein glittered a great quantity of cheap Bir- 
 mingham jewellery, with those sorts of miscellaneous 
 articles which shops kept by women generally contain. 
 Pip stood leaning against the shop side, looking earn- 
 estly at the brooches, and thinking very likely that he 
 should like to take one or two home for private uses, 
 when an old withered woman in a wig came out and 
 said — "Young man, can you shut up a shop ?" 
 
 Vila's forte lay more in breaking them open than in 
 shutting them up ; and, indeed, he generally looked 
 upon shutters as very stupid and obnoxious articles ; 
 but he answered boldly and at once — " Yes, ma'am, I'll 
 do it." 
 
 " 'Cos,'* said the little old woman, leaning forward 
 and showing her very apparent wig, " 'Cos I tell ye, 
 my young man has gone and hemigrated, and I want 
 some one just to shut up." 
 
 With great misgivings, and with a presentiment that 
 he should put the shutters through several panes of 
 glass, Pip volunteered his services, and somehow or 
 another accomplished his job without any accident. 
 "When he had done it the old lady presented him with 
 threepence, and told him that if he did the same thing 
 regularly at seven every evening, he should be re- 
 warded with the sum of three shillings per week ; for 
 which Bum also he was to open the shop in the morn- 
 
248 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 ing, and to perform occasional odd jobs as tlie other 
 young man did. 
 
 Upon this hansell Pip spat for luck, and ran towards 
 his new home with the first money he had honestly 
 earned for many a day. 
 
 Certainly threepence was not very much for a man 
 and his wife and child to live on, but Pip had made a 
 commencement, and he was happy. He determined 
 on the morrow to lay out his money in some fruit and 
 sell it in the streets ; and when he got home was quite 
 gleeful, and supped in state upon some fresh herrings 
 and a twopenny loaf, and talked of the projects of the 
 morrow. 
 
 The first essay of our friend towards living honestly 
 was destined to be successful. The old lady seemed 
 quite satisfied, and the apples which Pip bought went off* 
 uncommonly well. On the Saturday night, in addition 
 to his three shillings, he found that he had earned 
 eighteen more ; and like a good fellow, a great part 
 of this he deposited at home. Indeed, as he observed, 
 he found honesty to be so much better than dishonesty, 
 that he was sorry he was not acquainted with it before, 
 and was proud to say, that at present he could nearly 
 look a policeman in the face. 'Not quite yet, however, 
 for the remembrance of his misdeeds haunted him ; 
 he was always in dread of recognition by a detective, 
 and he hung down his head and looked into his basket 
 of apples very gloomily one day, when his quick eye 
 caught sight of an old ' pal,' who was on the look-out 
 for ' business,' at a distance. 
 
 It might have been a fortnight after his first en- 
 
DIAMONDS XT^-D SPADES. 249 
 
 gagenient that Pip, with his wages in his hand, 
 bumped against a person who, instead of covering him 
 with abuse, as is usually the case, begged his pardon, 
 and rather imputed the fault to himself. 
 
 "That chap," thought Pip, "is a countryman, or 
 he would not be so precious civil." 
 
 He was right ; it was none other than Leigh "Wood- 
 roffe, who, travel-stained and weary, with a bundle on 
 his arm, was looking round about him for a comfort- 
 able lodging. 
 
 Woodroffe recognised Pip immediately. " Halloa ! " 
 cried he in astonishment. 
 
 " Halloa ! " cried the other ; and then he put himself 
 in an attitude of defence and cried out — 
 
 " Come, you're not a-going to lay hold of me, I'm 
 not a comin' with you neither ; don't think so, so stand 
 off." 
 
 "I'm not going to try to take you," answered the 
 other, sadly ; " I am come to London friendless myself. 
 I want a place of some kind, and want work.'* 
 
 " Oh ! " whistled Pip, " that's all, is it ? " 
 
 " That's all," said "Woodroffe, resting his bundle on 
 an iron post, and looking with blank eyes at the great, 
 wide, desolate streets ; desolate to him, though to 
 others they seemed cheerful and friendly enough. 
 
 "I suppose," said Pip with a struggle, looking at 
 the honest brown face of his companion ; " I suppose, 
 as how you're too proud to take the advice of a thief. 
 However, let it be whatever you think, I'm not one 
 now ; no, nor I never will be, so help me. But if you 
 
250 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 arn't too proud, come along o' me ; I'll take you to a 
 safe place to sleep in at any rate for to-night, and I'll 
 give you good advice too, although it ivas all along of 
 you that we got tripped up on that night." 
 
 WoodrofFe felt so lonely and so perfectly friendless 
 that he looked once or twice steadily into Pip's face, 
 and seeing there earnestness and a certain expression 
 of honesty, he told him that he would trust him, and 
 then, as Pip started forward, followed him. 
 
 They passed through a net-work of many courts, 
 and other places foul and dirty, for Pip had not yet 
 recovered from his old custom of keeping out of the 
 principal thoroughfares — a custom which originated 
 in a reason which the acute reader will at once guess. 
 The atmosphere was very different to that of Redgate ; 
 and the exhalations from the various drains were not 
 by any means pleasing to the nostrils of the young 
 countryman. 
 
 At the corners of these streets sat squalid and 
 withered old women with baskets of fruit, for it was 
 now advanced far into autumn. Pears, sleepy and 
 rotten, damaged apples, and spoilt plums, formed their 
 stock in trade ; and occasionally a little ragged boy 
 with a few of the best-looking apples ran about trying 
 to sell them, but such a young interloper was looked 
 upon with great disdain by the regular professionals, 
 who occasionally rose and chased him from the imme- 
 diate neighbourhood of their stalls. The women were 
 haggard, even in their early youth ; and young mothers 
 whose forms bore marks of poverty, and whose faces 
 
DIAM0:N"DS Al^D SPADES. 251 
 
 sliowed care and misery, nursed little babies, which 
 looked white and sickly, like plants which have been 
 long kept from sun and light. 
 
 The men, on the contrary, belonging to these streets, 
 alleys and courts, were strong and stalwart. Some 
 had a brutal and cunning look, and sharp pinched 
 faces ; but others were broad fellows in flannel jackets, 
 and with brown faces and brawny arms which would 
 have done honour to a purer atmosphere. These 
 were, however, bricklayers and labourers, who con- 
 tinually toil in the open air, and whose occupation 
 gave them that appearance. As it was evening, they 
 had done work, and it was a bad sign that many of 
 them stood lounging at public-house doors, smoking 
 short pipes, and bandying chaff* with others who were 
 with them. 
 
 Inside these public-houses — and the opening of a 
 swing door occasionally gave the passer-by a glimpse 
 of the interior — were others of the some class, who 
 drank and smoked, and now and then swore and 
 quarrelled — as an occasional fight and rapid expulsion 
 of the quarrelsome showed. 
 
 It is but right to add that good-feeling and kindli- 
 ness also abounded in these regions ; that many a 
 poor woman might be seen bestowing her charity upon 
 one poorer than herself, and that many a homeless 
 child was housed, and many a sickly one fed by the 
 stalwart fellows who seemed at first glance to be 
 capable of only two things — hard work and crime. 
 
 The journey through this region forcibly reminded 
 Leigh "Woodrooffe of scenes never obliterated, al- 
 
252 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 tliougli it may be sometimes forgotten : and he sighed 
 and felt lonely and sad, as he thought that after 
 so many years he should return at last to a place as 
 miserable as that from which he started. 
 
 At length Pip came to a door through which a small 
 piece of twine ran, just at the place where the key-hole 
 should have been. Pip pulled this and they went in ; 
 and, on going up-stairs to the first-floor, found Mrs. 
 Pip and the boy in a very comfortable apartment, 
 with a fire blazing and a kettle singing for tea. 
 
 " Put down that bundle," said the host, " and sit 
 down." 
 
 Woodroff'e did so. Tea was made, and a conversa- 
 tion ensued, in which the two young fellows found 
 that they were old acquaintances, and told their ex- 
 perience to each other. The past life of Pip had been 
 full of " hair-breadth 'scapes and moving accidents ; " 
 that of the other, quiet and passive. The one had 
 been honest : the trade of the other that of a thief. 
 
 "Ah!" cried Pip, with something like triumph; 
 " Ah ! I have been through a good many things. I've 
 lived jolly, and here am I a'most better off than you." 
 
 Leigh looked sadly at him ; it was true enough, but 
 there was some comfort ; Leigh at any rate had a good 
 conscience, and was in dread of nobody. 
 
 " You'll find it deuced hard to get a living, Leigh," 
 said the other, " because no one will give you a charac- 
 ter, I dare say ; and I wouldn't be a servant on no ac- 
 count. You'd better join me, and we can buy a 
 barrow of fruit. I knows how to sell them. Buy 
 fine ones and they are sure to go ; and you havn't got 
 
DIAMOITDS AKD SPADES. 253 
 
 a bad voice of your own for the coster line." And 
 the merry young fellow shouted out in imitation of 
 those itinerant venders — " Hy'ars yer fine apples — 
 Pine ripston pipp-ends, oh — ! ! ! " 
 
 " 'Now do be quiet, Sam," said Betsey ; " you'll 
 rouse the neighbours. Here's some one comin' now." 
 
 It was, indeed, as she said. A light footstep came 
 up-stairs, and the room hadn't done ringing when the 
 door was opened, and the head of the Mouse peeped 
 in ; and the same little ropy, worn-out voice, which 
 Pip remembered but too well, broke out in — 
 
 " I thought I knew that woice. Law bless us, Pip, 
 to think that we should ha' been living not many 
 streets off and never to see each other. Old friends 
 shouldn't live so, Pip ; should they, missus ? And 
 you, sir, to think I should see you to ! I 'spose I may 
 sit down." 
 
 Pip turned pale and trembled all over. His voice 
 was hoarse when he said — " Oh, yes ; sit down, sit 
 down." 
 
 "And to think," said the Mouse, taking his seat 
 gingerly on the very edge of an old "Windsor chair ; 
 " and to think as we should meet again. "Well, Pip, 
 my boy, and wot's the lay now?" 
 
 Pip looked up full in his face, and said boldly : 
 
 " I arn't on no lay now, old fellow, I'm a doing wot 
 you had ought to have been a-doin' long years ago, 
 and I gain my living by honesty.''^ 
 
 " Honesty ! " returned the Mouse with a sneer and 
 a grin ; " honesty ! why that's a poor game anyhow. 
 
254 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 Ah, "game 'un," you wont be able to keep it up. 
 Honesty's a poor game for you and me." And the 
 withered old fellow rolled backwards and forwards on 
 his chair, laughing, gasping, and coughing. 
 
 " Honesty," he said, when he could speak ; "honesty ; 
 oh, my old eyes ! I didn't think, Pip, as you had been 
 so precious green." 
 
CHAPTEE XXXIV. 
 
 THE ARCHDEACON MAKES A SUDDEN REVELATION. 
 
 "Whilst Leigli was making Ms way towards Mrs. 
 Mackenzie's cottage, the big footman returned ; and 
 finding bis young master had recovered, took him 
 home to the house of his noble father, near Eedgate, 
 where he remained, as we have seen, boiling with rage 
 and indignation ; nor was that indignation at all dis- 
 sipated or softened by the after-behaviour of Leigh 
 Woodrooife. Indeed, so much hurt was the young 
 fellow by his defeat, that for nearly two or three days 
 he was in a fever of disappointment, rage, and malice. 
 
 He ! he to be thwarted by a country groom ! He, 
 who was always successful ! He, who had won prizes 
 at college, and to whom proctors and tutors were so 
 polite ; and to whom, as in duty bound by his rank, 
 the gentlemen commoners and students always cap- 
 ped, and by whom they were only too proud to be 
 acknowledged. 
 
 " I'll serve him out," he said to his old tutor. " I'll 
 serve him out, Honeysoap ; by Glad, I'll have him 
 transported." 
 
 " What for, my lord ? " said the Archdeacon, in a 
 bitter and sarcastic tone. " What for ? for doing 
 what was perfectly right ? Here was a damsel walking 
 in the woods suddenly pounced upon by two * salvage 
 
256 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 men,' as Spencer would call tliem — two violent 
 ravisliers, who are happily driven from their prey by 
 one bold knight, who comes up just at the moment 
 when he is wanted, and rescues her. I repeat, my 
 lord, that I never knew common life so very much 
 like romance, and I quite thank you for affording me 
 such an illustration." 
 
 " D n him ! " cried the young fellow stung to 
 
 the quick ; " d n him for a coward to hit me 
 
 whilst my hands were engaged ; aye, and curse that 
 hulking big fool too, who, instead of turning to like 
 a man, ran away like a great big booby as he was." 
 
 " He did the wisest thing possible, my lord. He 
 did the very thing he ought to ]iave done. Ton were 
 engaged in a nice pretty business, I am sure, very 
 creditable to you both." As he said this, the Arch- 
 deacon lifted his gold double eye-glass gingerly upon 
 the bridge of his nose, and walking to the bay window, 
 looked out into the broad stretching park which lay 
 before them dotted with browsing cattle and deer, 
 and looking radiant and beautiful in the morning 
 sun. 
 
 ** Pish 1" said the young man. 
 
 "My lord," said Honeysoap, in the same tone, 
 V that young man has saved you from the committal 
 of a sin which you would deplore your whole life 
 through." 
 
 *' Oh ! " ejaculated the other, "now you are going 
 to be moral : a pretty fellow you are to be moral, 
 you, Honeysoap ! aye, or any of you clergymen, who 
 lend your countenance to all the rich, no matter how 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 257 
 
 the poor are served by them, and then preach duties 
 to them, and occasionally moralities to us." 
 
 *' Tou speak quite truly," returned the Archdeacon, 
 " such is the position of the Church ; but allow me to 
 tell you a little story. A friend of mine has travelled 
 a good deal, and amongst other places has been to 
 Philadelphia, which, although a town of the very 
 strictest morality, has within its bosom those pests of 
 a moral society — which, however, do exist where least 
 expected — assignation-houses, where strangers, male 
 and female, who have no outlet for their passions, 
 meet. I may tell J;his to you who practise every 
 vice, but were I to mention it in society, it would be 
 called immoral, and yet society prays in church to be 
 delivered from all deadly sin, mumbles over words 
 which out of church it pretends it does not under- 
 stand, and calmly calls the people of which it is com- 
 posed, ' miserable sinners ;' and prays to be delivered 
 from the works of ' the flesh and the devil.' " 
 
 *' "Well, in Philadelphia, at these houses of assigna-' 
 tion — mind I am telliug the truth, and no fiction — a 
 young friend of the person who told me the story 
 went to meet any one whom chance might throw in 
 his way; but that he might possibly know her again 
 should he meet her in society, he took the precaution 
 to carry a pair of scissors with him. He met a lady. 
 The room wherein they met, as in all such cases, was 
 purposely darkened, and after some time the young 
 fellow thought of his precaution, and used his scissors 
 by cutting off a little bit from one of the flounces of 
 the lady's dress. ' It was a small triangular portion, 
 
 s 
 
258 DIAMOlH^DS AND SPADES. 
 
 and after they had separated, the young fellow had 
 the curiosity to examine the pattern. The texture 
 was muslin, a beautiful light blue, with small white 
 sprigs of flowers on the blue ground. He put it into 
 his waistcoat pocket, and went on his wsi,y laughing ; 
 for he was a bold, bad man ; and thinking that pos- 
 sibly he might recognise on the dress of some of his 
 female acquaintances, so prim and strait-laced in so- 
 ciety, the same pattern as the piece which he had cut 
 from the robe of a wanton. But he was punished. God 
 does strike crime now and then, although the days of 
 miracles are past ; and man is so distrustful of Pro- 
 vidence that he walks on, revelling in his sin, and 
 caring for nothing but his passions. Aye, what with 
 lust, ambition, pride, intolerance, hatred, and greed of 
 gold, a pretty piece of earth hath this round ball be- 
 come." 
 
 The Archdeacon paused, and his up-turned face 
 lost, as he spoke, all its cunning and its sneer ; and 
 the light which fell upon his head and hair — silvered, 
 although in the prime of life — gave almost a sacred 
 look to the man, usually so supple, so calm, and so 
 quiet. 
 
 *' Gro on with your romance. Honey soap," sneered 
 the young nobleman ; " I did not think that you were 
 so romantic. Your tale is going to finish like one by 
 Eoccacio. This young rake of yours was married, and 
 the woman he met was his wife. I know it all." 
 
 " Not so," cried the Archdeacon, " or I should not 
 have told you. It is not so. When morning came, 
 and the young fellow came down to breakfast with his 
 
DIAMOIS'DS AISD SPADES. 259 
 
 family, what should he recognise but the very dress 
 from which he had cut the piece the night before, 
 lighted with the morning light, and making the per- 
 son who wore it look chaste as an angel, as she sat, 
 quiet, demure, and staid, with a downcast modest look. 
 That person was his favourite, much-loved sister !^^ 
 
 " That's all very well," said the other calmly, " but 
 how does this apply to me ? ' ' 
 
 "Why," returned Honeysoap, leaning across the 
 table, and speaking slowly, " why, that that young 
 woman whom you have attempted to draw away is 
 of as good a blood as your own ; for she is your 
 cousin." 
 
 The old Marquis entered the room as the last words 
 were spoken. His son at once addressed him. 
 
 "Is this true, father?" he said, "is that village- 
 school teacher yonSer — is she our qousin ? Does she 
 belong to our family ? Here's Honeysoap has been 
 and made some strange revelations." 
 
 The old man looked aghast, and paused as he turned 
 with a frightened stare from one to the other. He 
 had grown to look suddenly very old, indeed he was 
 so ; but art had given him a more juvenile appearance. 
 JN'ow, all that was neglected, and the few hairs upon 
 the old lord's head were thin and straggling ; the skin 
 was polished, and shining with a dry lustre ; the eyes 
 sunken, and the cheeks withered and wrinkled. The 
 hands too, which he held up, were thoroughly old and 
 shrunken, the knuckles appearing large and staring, 
 starting up from the withered old hand. He gushed 
 out — 
 
 S.2 
 
260 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 " You have not, Honeysoap — you have not been so 
 cruel — you have not been telling my boy all !" 
 
 "Hush! my lord," said Honeysoap, "he knovrs 
 nothing. I have been merely telling him that a young 
 lady, whom he wished to run away with for a mere 
 playmate, was his cousin." 
 
 " Aye," said the young one savagely, " and I ask 
 you, father, if it's true ?" 
 
 The old man laughed feebly. 
 
 " True !" he said, "true ! oh yes ! everything that 
 Honeysoap says is true ; it always is true. He is a 
 wonderful man, Honeysoap, a wonderful man." 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 HOW MR. BONES COMPLETED HIS MARTYRDOM. 
 
 Theee is a certain court in Chancery Lane, or rather 
 leading out of it, which rejoices under the name of 
 Quality Court. It reminds one of the days of Beau 
 [Nash, and other worthies of the same school, who talked 
 about the " Quality" much as snobs in our day talk 
 about the aristocracy ; and who thought that no one 
 could be either a good Christian or a good man — that 
 is, they pretended to think so — unless he had some 
 little taste of the "Quality" in him. 
 
 It must have been, therefore, we imagine — not being 
 so learned in the curiosities of London as Mr. Timbs — 
 it must have been some cast-off chambermaid, or some 
 retired footman, who had seen all the virtues of the 
 aristocracy, all their humility, their entire want of 
 arrogance, their good nature, their industry, and their 
 charity, who built up " Quality Court." Now it has 
 fallen into disrepute. It should have been tenanted 
 by aristocratic scions, younger sons whose great grand- 
 fathers were younger sons of dukes, widows of of&cers 
 who had distinguished themselves at court levees, and 
 at the orgies of his gracious Majesty King Greorge the 
 Pourth, gentlemen of birth who were the go-betweens 
 with the Duke of York and Mrs'. Clarke, or with his 
 Grrace of Clarence and Mrs. Jordan — these should 
 live in Quality Court. 
 
262 DIAMONDS ATTD SPADES. 
 
 Eut we liave before said, that it is a fallen place. 
 The truth is, that few but lawyers live there. An 
 auctioneer has taken up his residence at the corner of 
 the court, and sells estates, libraries, pictures, and 
 books. "Whether he is connected with any of the 
 gentlemen of the long robe is more than we can say ; 
 but auctioneers and lawyers are intimately connected, 
 and perhaps this one may owe to his situation amongst 
 the fraternity some of the success with which he car- 
 ries on his business. 
 
 We have, however, nothing to do with the sage who 
 wields the hammer so dexterously. We have no com- 
 fortable little estate yielding so many pounds a 
 year, and capable of much improvement, to put up to 
 auction. Our business lies in another direction ; not 
 at the end, but at the beginning of Quality Court, at 
 a set of chambers wherein Mr. Eones, a solicitor, and 
 the Honourable Tom Ingot, were assembled in close 
 consultation. 
 
 The room in which they are seated is close and dark, 
 the furniture is dusty and shabby. Old tin boxes are 
 ranged around on the tops of the book-cases, and 
 busts and portraits of the sages of the law hang from 
 and ornament the walls. Lord Cottenham smiles 
 placidly ; Lord Coke looks on with a grave serenity ; 
 and Lord Erougham, in a chancellor's wig, thrusts his 
 celebrated nose into the air, with an assurance and confi- 
 dence which has never deserted that celebrated states- 
 man. All these portraits have the same look and charac- 
 ter about them. Lord Eldon, who is also there, does 
 not differ much, except as to the nose, from Lord 
 
DIAM0:JTDS Al^D SPADES. 26.1 
 
 Erougham ; but whether this likeness consists in a 
 similarity of wig, or in an agreement of character 
 between the individuals, the reader must determine. 
 We fancy that it arises from both. The men who in 
 a particular cause have each achieved notoriety must 
 have something in mind and feature akin to each 
 other. 
 
 "I am afraid," says the solicitor, calmly, "that 
 there is no help for it. The witnesses against you are 
 so numerous, their depositions are so well-attested, and, 
 
 indeed, your popularity and character depend so " 
 
 " Popularity and character be d d 1 " broke in 
 
 the demagogue, coolly. " Could not something be 
 done ? an alibi now " — — 
 
 " Is impossible," said the other. 
 " JNTo, Bones ;" broke in Tom Ingot, very calmly ; 
 " no, I do not see any way out of the wood for you 
 except you go to prison." 
 
 " Prison be " 
 
 *' No, sir, do be calm. We shall be able to make 
 you very comfortable there. You will be visited by 
 many sympathisers; and instead of hurting you in 
 society, it will give you the stability arising from the 
 name you will acquire of being an honest man ; your 
 paper will rise in circulation ; you will be feted and 
 pitied, and, egad ! I should not wonder if they got up 
 a subscription for you." 
 
 " I will be the first on the list," said his patron ; 
 " and if they ill-use you in prison, why, I'll be con- 
 tinually bringing your name before the House and 
 the public." 
 
264 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 "Well," said the martyr, calmly, "I suppose I 
 must do as you say ; there is no way of getting out of 
 it, and the only way is to put a good face on it. At 
 first I was thinking of giving my bail the slip, and 
 bolting to America." 
 
 " Deuced glad you didn't do it," said Tom; "but 
 now you have all this over, the best thing we can do 
 is to go to dinner." 
 
 " Come along then," said the editor, " it is the last 
 comfortable one which I shall have for some time, I 
 dare say." Aiid so saying, he took up his hat, told 
 the solicitor to get his case up well, and the two then 
 passed out of doors into Quality Court, and at the 
 end thereof got into Tom's cab, and dashed away to 
 the "West-end club, which we have before visited in 
 company with our readers. 
 
 On the next morning — we perhaps ought to pre- 
 mise that Mr. Bones did ample justice to a very excel- 
 lent dinner — the sessions began, and, as in duty 
 bound, Mr. Bones met his bail*, and surrendered him- 
 self into the hands of justice, that lady being very 
 busily employed in the Old Bailey. After waiting 
 for some short time while the grand and traverse 
 juries were sworn in, the trial began, and Mr. Bones, 
 in company with four others, found himself placed at 
 the bar with his fellow democrats. 
 
 Now there is no doubt but that democracy is ab- 
 stractedly a very excellent thing, and if adjusted to 
 the people and the state, that a democratic govern- 
 ment is the very best government which a people can 
 have. But democracy in the hands of justice, and at 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES, 265 
 
 the bar of a court which acknowledges the Queen's 
 supremacy, and which holds its power from an aris- 
 tocratic monarchy, is a very different thing indeed; 
 and' does not come out with that grandeur and presence 
 which it should do. If we add to this the fact, that 
 people in this world are very fond of striking that 
 which is down ; and that the papers, organs of the 
 government, or owing their existence to the support 
 of the aristocracy, or of the trading communities, had 
 made the movement as ridiculous and as wicked as 
 mockery and invective could do, it is not to be won- 
 dered at if the movement, to use the forcible er.pres- 
 sion of the counsel for the Crown, stank in the nostrils 
 of the court — the court in this instance signifying the 
 judge who was to try the rioters. 
 
 How could it be otherwise ? That judge had been 
 brought up at college, and owed his place, his income, 
 and the honour he was held in, to the government of 
 the day. His politics never went beyond that of a 
 slight knowledge of party. He found that he was 
 quite comfortable, and had succeeded in life ; his chil- 
 dren would tread in his steps ; he had been subser- 
 vient, so would they. He had gained, step by step, 
 his position, by subservience, why should not they ? 
 
 In his address to the jury therefore — a listless set 
 of tradesmen, many of them led away by the novelty 
 of the situation, and a great portion of them thiuking 
 that anything like a popular meeting for a redress of 
 evil was but an opportunity for picking pockets, or 
 for plundering shops — the judge enlarged so much 
 upon the heinous nature of the offence, of the bless- 
 
2GG DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 ings of the paternal government under wliicli we lived, 
 and the horrible anarchy of the French Eevolution, 
 which is always recalled to mind on any political 
 Smeute, that before he had done the listless look of 
 the tradesmen changed into one of decided an- 
 tagonism to the prisoners at the bar. 
 
 Then came the address of the Crown lawyer, who 
 was ten times worse, and who treated the jury witli 
 such a speech that the prisoners themselves began to 
 feel guilty, and Mr. Bones felt that his chance of ac- 
 quittal w^as very small indeed. "When the counsel had 
 finished, the witnesses were called, and stood up in a 
 small box somewhat similar to a pulpit, with a sound- 
 ing board above it like a shell. These were so well 
 arranged, and being chiefly policemen, ^and employes 
 of the government, they gave their testimony in such 
 a few words, and so clearly, that it could not be 
 shaken ; and all this was dead against the prisoners. 
 
 Some of the jury took notes, and occasionally one 
 brighter than the rest would ask a question. The 
 counsel for the prisoners, with whom was Mr. Ingot, 
 who got violently cheered as he drove up to the court, 
 once or twice cross-examined the witnesses, but he 
 could elicit nothing, so he sat down, and in a whisper 
 complimented his opponent — whom he had been but 
 a moment before violently abusing— on his tact in 
 getting up the case. 
 
 The reply made by the counsel for the prisoners, or 
 — as it is usually called — the defence, was a very weak 
 one. He could, in fact, deny nothing ; he enlarged 
 therefore upon general topics ; talked about the liberty 
 
DIAMONDS AT5D SPADES. 267 
 
 of the subject, as in duty bound, brought in some 
 allusions to Magna Charta, and sat down, throwing, 
 as he said, himself and his clients on the mercy of the 
 court. 
 
 The court was, however, in this instance, not in- 
 clined to mercy, but summed up dead against them, 
 particularly pointing out Mr. Bones, as one who " had 
 conspired against the peace and safety of millions, and 
 disgraced the profession w^hich he belonged to." He 
 did not, we may be sure, say that any of those millions 
 might be better governed ; nor did he tell the others 
 who were tried with the democratic editor, that they 
 were honest and fearless men, desirous of doing the 
 best for their order, and they should therefore be ho- 
 nored. Nay, he said nothing of that whatever ; but, 
 with a rancorous hate to every popular movement, 
 which possibly was the means of obtaining him sub- 
 sequently his peerage, he inveighed against the pri- 
 soners at the bar more angrily than ever he had spoken 
 against the worst felon w4io had stood at the bar. 
 
 " And now, gentlemen," he said, with peculiar 
 suavity, addressing the jury, " and now, gentlemen, I 
 must beg to leave the case in your hands. I am no- 
 thing here ; I can only point out the leading facts of 
 the case ; the fate of the prisoners at the bar lies with 
 you." 
 
 The jury thereupon for some few moments whispered 
 together. They were moments of intense anxiety ; Mr. 
 Bones could hear the tickings of his ow^n gold watch, 
 as it went on calmly in his w^aistcoat pocket measuring 
 the hours of his life. He could hear the rustling of 
 
268 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 the judge's silk gown ; and all this in the midst of 
 much bustle and turmoil, for the judge being an ex- 
 peditious man, would have one batch of prisoners 
 brought up before the others went down. He could 
 hear also the low whisperings of his solicitor with his 
 counsel, the former objecting to his treatment of the 
 case. 
 
 Presently he heard the foreman of the jury say, 
 " We are quite agreed, my Lord ; we find the prisoners 
 at the bar guilty ;" whereon the judge bowed to the 
 jury, and said, " Thank you, gentlemen ; it was a plain 
 case ; there could be no mistake about it." 
 
 Then the court was silenced ; the prisoners were 
 bidden by the crier to listen to their sentence, and 
 Mr. Bones and his companions found themselves sen- 
 tenced to two years' imprisonment, with Jiard labour. 
 
 The true men smiled upon their friends in court, 
 some of whom they might never see again, and walked 
 away calmly. But the ex-barrister walked away con- 
 founded and astonished, hardly trusting his own ears;' 
 and inwardly groaning at the weight of his sentence. 
 
CHAPTEE XXXVI. 
 
 Whilst Mr. Bones takes advantage of that reflection, 
 a most plentiful indulgence in which the imprisonment 
 he has to undergo affords him, it becomes the novelist 
 to take his reader and lead him to far other scenes. 
 
 To Jermyn Street, St. James's, a place of bad re- 
 pute enough, but which appears thoroughly to deserve 
 its name, the young lord hastened upon a certain even- 
 ing, as quickly as a fast-going horse could take^ him. 
 At the house of a certain milkman in that street the 
 cab stopped, and the tiger, jumping down, gave a 
 thundering rat-tat-tat, and then rushing to the cab, 
 placed his wiry little arm ready for his master to lean 
 on as he alighted. Hardly had Plantagenet stepped 
 to the ground, when the door of the house was opened, 
 and the young fellow had barely time to say, " Wil- 
 kins, keep the mare on the move," when he popped 
 into the house, the door of which was immediately 
 closed after him. ^ 
 
 "Keep the mare on the move," said "Wilkin s, with 
 a comic snigger, thrusting his tongue into his cheek, 
 and screwing up his old-looking but young face, " Yes, 
 I will, I'm blowed if I don't ;" and that worthy jumped 
 into the cab, leaned over the apron in the most degag6 
 manner, and gathering the reins up in a workmanlike 
 
270 DIAMONDS AKD «i»ADES. 
 
 style, hit the restive mare very scientifically on the 
 top of the ear, and drove off at a pretty round pace up 
 St. James's Street and down Bond Street. 
 
 The farther he went, the faster did he push along 
 the mare, till he made the old ladies fly out of the 
 way, splashed the smart young swells on the pavement, 
 and earned his own admiration, and the execrations of 
 the public. 
 
 "Keep the mare on the move," ejaculated Wilkins 
 to himself, " Oh yes ! I'm Mowed if I don't ; I'll just 
 see my Mary ; he's gone to see his'n — Jack's as good 
 
 as his master, yes, and a d d sight better too, or 
 
 else some on us 'd be bad uns." 
 
 Another flick on the ear, and the mare spun along 
 up Yere Street into Marylebone Lane and Wigmore 
 Street, and then onwards to Duke Street, Manchester 
 Square, where he pulled up, and stopped at a livery 
 stables. A groom ran out to the horse's head, and 
 Wilkins descended in a magnificent style, threw the 
 reins and whip to the helper, told him to rub the 
 mare's ears a little, and give her some wet hay, and he 
 would be back in a moment. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the man, and he absolutely touched 
 his hat to him. 
 
 "That man knows his place," thought "Wilkins, 
 " I'll remember him ;" and away the gay Lothario 
 strutted oflT to his Mary. • 
 
 Portman Square is, as all the world knows, scarcely 
 II stone's throw from Duke Street, and Mr. Wilkins, 
 with his hat upon one side, and with, if possible, a 
 more jaunty expression than he usually wore, soon 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 271 
 
 stood before the premises which contained, enclosed 
 in area railings, the form of his beloved. Having 
 whistled a popular air, and kicked his heels to no pur- 
 ])ose for a few moments, Mr. "Wilkins grew impatient, 
 and after an angry pull at the servants' bell, undid 
 the area gate himself, and descended the stone steps. 
 He had not got to the kitchen door when a very nice 
 young woman, with a clean lace cap, apron, and a 
 smart little -figure, rushed towards liim, and exclaimed, 
 " Why goodness ! gracious ! it's my "William." 
 
 " Yilliam is my name," said the worthy young 
 fellow. 
 
 " To think of surprising me in that way ; I wonder 
 you ain't ashamed o' yourself, sir." 
 
 "I alus am w'en I sees you," said William, with 
 mock penitence. 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! and why so ?" asked the young lady. 
 
 "'Cos you're so pretty, and I'm so ugly. There 
 now, you should give us a kiss for that." And without 
 further preface, the bold fellow not only took one, but 
 two ; Miss Mary pretending to struggle, but manag- 
 ing by her efforts to keep her lips somewhat longer in 
 contact than she need have done. 
 
 " Now, none o' that," she said, pretending to adjust 
 her cap. " You are always at that nonsense ; I wonder 
 you are not ashamed of yourself." 
 
 " Oh my ! ain't they good.!" answered Wilkins, cut- 
 ting a double shuffle upon the kitchen passage floor, 
 " They are so good ; I hope you don't give to anybody 
 ('Ine ; they'd make a weaker fellow than myself giddy, 
 I'll lay a wager. Keep 'em all for me, Mary, for I'm 
 
272 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 puttiii' by fourpence a week towards the weddin' ring, 
 you know I am." 
 
 The mention of the wedding gratified the young 
 lady, and she gave "Wilkins a tap on the back, and 
 said he was always so funny, that he was, and opened 
 tlie kitchen door suddenly ; upon which such a flood 
 of light came upon the young fellow's eyes, that 
 he danced so comically into the kitchen that the 
 cook, two housemaids, a page, and a still-room woman 
 burst into loud laughter, and gave him a hearty 
 welcome. 
 
 "Why, it's that young Silverspoon," muttered a 
 tall footman to himself, " a young beast, a conceited 
 young hass." 
 
 " Why, bless me ! it's Silverspoon ;" said the cook, 
 " come along and sit down o' the side of me ; I'll war- 
 rant we'll have a laugh now : why, I thought that you 
 was in the country." 
 
 " Well, ma'am," said Wilkins, " I thought so my- 
 self, till I clapped my peepers on you, and we don't 
 see such fine women down there, you know." 
 
 " Well, now, I'm sure that is pretty," answered the 
 cook. 
 
 " Like his sarse," muttered the footman to himself. 
 
 " Have a bit of supper, Silverspoon, won't yer ? " 
 cried one of the housemaids. " Here boy, go to the 
 housekeeper's room, and tell her to come down. Say 
 we've got a strange gentleman, and that he won't 
 begin till she takes the head of the table." 
 
 ''Don't tell no lies, boy," said the footman, surlily. 
 
 *' Hallo!" cried AYilkins,' "what, have you just 
 
DIAMONDS XND SPADES. 273 
 
 woke up, alderman ? and a' goin' to pervent the iad 
 delivering a civil mesage. Oli ! that's your City man- 
 ners, is it, alderman ? Give me "West End, that's to 
 my taste." 
 
 " So it is to mine," cried the cook. Mary said no- 
 thing, but looked up to Wilkins with admiration. 
 
 " "Well, I won't dispute before ladies. Here's a lady 
 at the head of our table as has lived in the best families, 
 and let her be the empire." 
 
 "The umpire, you mean," retorted the footman, 
 triumphantly. " Well, I'm bio wed ! the West End is 
 sometimes rather ignorant." 
 
 *^]N^ow, my dear Mr. Carves," cried the cook, "here 
 comes the head of the table, now do be silent — no 
 disputing. Some gentlemen's education has been 
 neglected, no doubt; but then they makes up for it 
 by knowing more o' the world; don't they, Mrs. 
 Keys?" 
 
 " What you were pleased to observe, marin, wap 
 quite right," said that person — a prim, thin, and by 
 no means unladylike-looking woman, who was dressed 
 in rustling silks, and whose hands were white and 
 delicate, and whose face was refined. " Carves, say 
 grace." 
 
 The footman said it with perfect solemnity, although 
 Mr. Wilkins, not accustomed to such decency, made 
 a wry mouth at it, and the guests fell to. The meal 
 Avas conducted with as much propriety as at any gen- 
 tleman's table ; the scullery maids and the page wait- 
 ing upon the others. The talk also was about various 
 matters appertaining to the nobility and gentry. The 
 
274 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 questions put to "Wilkins were addressed to Mm under 
 the title of his master ; whilst he himself addressed 
 the footman always as alderman, varying the appella- 
 tion sometimes into " square-toes," and " broad-brim," 
 in allusion to the religious character which that foot- 
 man bore. 
 
 Such a practice, which the wise Le Sage informs ns 
 was current in his time, and which, from Towneley's 
 farce, and other authorities, we know was in vogue a 
 hundred years ago — that of servants assuming their 
 masters' names — is by no means so ridiculous as it ap- 
 pears ; since meeting many servants, who are continu- 
 ally changing their places, it is the only safe way of 
 addressing each other. It must be confessed also, 
 that through it servants contract a liking for rank and 
 title, which they would not do otherwise. 
 
 " Don't call me ' alderman,' young man," said the 
 footman, angrily, "call me Mr. Thomas." In truth 
 the gentleman had a right to that name, he being the 
 servant of Sir Thomas Loon, the great City alderman 
 — great indeed in more senses, than one. 
 
 " Lor' bless us ! " ejaculated the cook, who, on the 
 departure of the housekeeperj had resumed the chair, 
 "Lor' bless us! you two are always a bickerin'. 
 What's up now ? Let's change the conversation. 
 How's the Marquis, Silverspoon ?" 
 
 " Oh ! he's very well," said Wilkins, " he's very 
 well. The Archdeacon manages for him, and a cun- 
 ning old file he is, to be sure." 
 
 " How do you happen to be in town then, now the 
 family's out ? " said Mary. 
 
DIAMONDS AND Sl'ADES. 275 
 
 " Why, my love," said Wilkins, pulling one of his 
 young master's best cigars out of his pocket — " You 
 allow smoking, Mrs. Cook, and ladies ?" 
 
 " Oh yes ! " said they. " "We all like a cigar — not 
 a viilgar pipe though, such as Thomas smokes here." 
 
 "An alderman, I suppose," said Wilkins, gaily giv- 
 ing a puif of great enjoyment aiid satisfaction. 
 
 " Now, you hold your tongue," answered the good- 
 natured cook. " Well, a pipe's well enough in the 
 stable, for grooms and coachmen ; but amongst ladies 
 you know, it is different." 
 
 After this preamble, Mr. Wilkins lighted his cigar, 
 and the party drew round the fire, whilst the scullery - 
 maid and the page sat down to supper. Mary sat 
 next to her sweetheart, and that young gentleman 
 passed his arm very comfortably round her waist. 
 Some grog was also mixed by the fair hands of the 
 upper housemaid ; and under the united influence of 
 the nicotine and the alcohol — to use terms with which 
 teetotallers have made us familiar — Mr. Wilkins grew 
 talkative. 
 
 " Ah ! " he said, " what a jolly row we have had 
 down at our place ; that young lord is a rip. You 
 don't know to what sort of a lady he is paying his 
 court now." 
 
 " Oh ! we can guess well enough," said the cook, 
 tossing her head, and making her gaily-ribboned cap 
 tremble in the light, ^^zoe can guess." 
 
 " But Lor' bless you ! that ain't the only one ;" the 
 young fellow here made a motion of his cigar in the 
 direction of Jermyn Street ; " that ain't the only one. 
 
276 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 He's been after a young 'oman in tlie country, one as 
 had been the sweetheart of one of our grooms — a new 
 chap, whom he had just taken on. He tried to run 
 away with her. She kept a school not far from a wood, 
 and he laid awaiting like any burglar." 
 
 *' Oh my! what a wild one he must be," said the 
 housemaids. "To think of a young woman bein' 
 runned away, with in our times." The young lady 
 who said this, looked remarkably as if sJie would not 
 object to be run away with, at any rate by a lord. 
 
 "Eut he didn't do it, you know; for the young 
 feller who had come in from gallivantin' himself, met 
 him, and I'm blowed if he didn't knock his Lordship 
 down as flat as a flounder." 
 
 " Serve him right ! " was the unanimous verdict of 
 the group. 
 
 " "Well," continued the narrator, " this young feller 
 had of course to cut his stick ; he got sacked that very 
 night, I'm blessed if he didn't." 
 
 "And the girl ? " said the cook. 
 
 "Oh! the girl," answered Wilkins, "why, it ap- 
 pears that she used to live with her mother, all alone, 
 and the young 'un not being a going to be disappointed, 
 was for persecuting her again ; but she made a bolt of 
 it up to London after her lover, that's what she did ; 
 and she's a pluck'd 'un, too, arn't she, Mary ?" 
 
 Of course Mary assented ; of course the kitchen in 
 Portman Square passed a severe sentence on the mo- 
 rality of the lordly inhabitants of Dashwood House, 
 and upon the youug nobleman. But the elder females 
 were more kindly disposed to the guilty party than 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 277 
 
 tliey ought to have been ; and several wise saws, which 
 have trotted through generations, doing harm to all 
 who hear them or use them, were quoted ; such as, 
 " Oh ! he's only sowing his wild oats ;" and " Young 
 men will be young men." 
 
 It is but fair to say that the younger part of the 
 community were justly severe against young Planta- 
 genet. The page said that he should like to " puncli 
 his head ;" and the scullery-maid vowed, and with 
 great trutli, " that he might be a lord, but he cer- 
 tainly was no gentleman." 
 
 These lucubrations were suddenly at this point 
 brought to a close, by Mr. Wilkins jumping up, look- 
 ing at the kitchen clock, and declaring that he must 
 be off, or his governor would be down upon him. 
 After a tender adieu therefore at the area gate — at 
 which certain presents were given and returned, of a 
 nature which I leave my lady readers to guess — the 
 young gentleman got back to the stables, threw the 
 helper twopence, and told him to " stick up the rest 
 in chalk," and drove off to Jermyn Street, whith he 
 reached in time to find his master fuming on the door- 
 step of the house, which he visited. 
 
 " "Where the devil have you been ? " crie^ his Lord- 
 ship, "I'll cut your little liver out, I will, you young 
 rascal." 
 
 To this address, "Wilkins touched his hat, with that 
 imperturbable and stolid air which grooms delight in. 
 
 "I just took the mare round the buildings," said 
 he ; " the mare was tired of seeing the same lamp- 
 posts, my Lord, and " 
 
278 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 "Here, come away from her head," cried Planta- 
 genet. 
 
 Wilkins did so, and came up close to his Lordship 
 
 *^ And I'm d d if you haven't been smoking." 
 
 " JSTo, your Lordship," said the groom, touching his 
 hat to his master, " ]^o, I haven't, but I bin talking to 
 a friend what has." 
 
 " Well, that's a lie, at any rate," retorted the young 
 Lord; "jump up." 
 
 But before, the groom could jump up, Plantagenet 
 whipped the mare, and went off at a rattling pace, 
 obliging Wilkins to put out almost miraculous exer- 
 tions ere he could catch him. At last, however, that 
 worthy jumped up behind, and swinging safely from 
 the straps of the cab — " Cus him 1 " he said, in allusion 
 to his master, " Cus the young cub ! if he hasn't been 
 and made me splash my white cords. I on'y should 
 like to make his mother Wi^sh 'em instead of mine ; " 
 and away the cab splashed through the streets of 
 London. 
 
 What Mr. Wilkins had related in Portman Square 
 was too true ; Plantagenet had again determined to 
 persecute Ellie, and she and her mother had left the 
 country, and had taken refuge in London. 
 
CHAPTEE XXXYII. 
 
 The news whicli, in the last chapter, Mr. Wilkin s 
 had obligingly communicated in the servants' hall was 
 perfectly true. Ellie and Mrs. Mackenzie had, shortly 
 after Leigh's departure, been obliged (to use a vulgar 
 but very significant phrase) "to shut up shop." 
 The persecutions of the heir to the Earl of Silver- 
 spoon had become more serious every day. Letters 
 were being continually delivered containing protes- 
 tations of love, and offers of a certain kind ; and other 
 and more serious annoyances were occasionally re- 
 sorted to. 
 
 The reader must not suppose from this that the 
 young fellow at whose instigation this tyranny was 
 carried on was in love. It was no such thing. He 
 had experienced a kind of evanescent passion for the 
 young girl, but had long outgrown it. But he had 
 been crossed, and checked in his headstrong will, and 
 had, from the hands of Leigh, received the severest 
 chastisement he ever experienced since he left Eton 
 School. Eevenge, therefore, was roused in his breast : 
 and the young man who had been playing all his life- 
 time with his passions, found one now which took 
 reason itself from him, and completely mastered him. 
 
 This is a very usual occurrence with those who may 
 be called the spoilt children of fortune. Like other 
 spoilt children, they sometimes meet with correction 
 
280 DIAMONDS A^J) SPADES. 
 
 from the very instrument wliicli indulged tliem. Lord 
 Saltladle has not been hitherto exhibited in this novel 
 in a very amiable light ; but as every one of the cha- 
 racters are drawn from life, the reader will excuse the 
 author, perceiving at once his reason, namely, that 
 his Lordship did not deserve well at his hands. He 
 was a selfish, vain, and foolish young man ; his very 
 virtues — or those vices which most frequently assumed 
 that garb — his easy address and his liberality — were 
 but the effects of his utter ignorance of the value of 
 money, or of the use of time. He would spend hours 
 gossiping with a sick friend ; was profuse in little 
 presents to ladies ; was remarkably free and easy with 
 his tenants, who looked upon him as some one infi- 
 nitely superior to themselves ; and in his dress and 
 appearance ostentatious and magnificent. But he was 
 utterly unable to control a single action of his mind, 
 to school himself for one instant, or to learn a lesson 
 from adversity or from uninterrupted prosperity. 
 
 Let us hope that the reader is indignant at this 
 character : let us hope he is. And yet, ah ! how 
 many readers will go over this page equally unable 
 to control himself; equally ostentatious, though a 
 much poorer man ; equally dating his virtues from the 
 same source as the young nobleman. Perhaps the 
 writer himself is as bad. "Who knows ? And you, 
 brother reader, also. But because you and I are bad, 
 shall we not throw a stone to demolish the glass win- 
 dows of others, whom we find indulgiDg in selfishness 
 and vice ? Heaven forbid ! for if we forbore to do so 
 many a reprobate w^ould have whole windows, many a 
 
'l)TAMO:^DS AND SPADES. 281 
 
 rogiie would keep plate glass in his front, who now 
 finds it economy merely to put brown paper. 
 
 But to our story. AYhen Mrs. Mackenzie and 
 Ellie found that the power of the young fellow was 
 too much for them, they wisely determined to leave the 
 place they were in ; and Mrs. Mackenzie, knowing she 
 could trust a certain friend in London, determined to 
 seek him at once. After some very short preparations 
 — necessarily secret, as they wished them to be un- 
 known to any of the persons who by my Lord's orders 
 watched them — they therefore, one fine day, departed 
 with their luggage to London. They had saved a 
 little money, and hoped by the assistance of their 
 friend — who was no other than tbe Kev. Daniel Bland 
 — soon to meet with other 'situations : for Ellie was a 
 very well educated young woman, and fit for many 
 employments, wherein— so they hoped — she could earn 
 much money. After having written to, and indeed 
 by his advice taken the step, they therefore took a 
 cab and were driven to the residence of Mr. Bland, 
 in Hatton Grarden. But a surprise there awaited 
 them. 
 
 The whole of the windows of the house were closed, 
 and the blinds down ; and as they looked to them a 
 certain indefinable dread stole upon them. Was Mr. 
 Bland ill ? "What could it be ? 
 
 JN'ay, he was not ill ; so well, that never in his life 
 had he been so well before. Daniel Bland lay dead ! 
 The servant who used to call him in the morning, 
 alarmed by his silence, went into his room, and there 
 found the shutters closed, and a lamp still burning. 
 
282 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 The bed had not been slept in ; and there — what was 
 It there ? 
 
 A scream, a start, a gasp of horror ! and again a 
 scream rang through the house. The landlady hurried 
 up, and others with her ; they found the girl trans- 
 fixed and wondering, with her arm extended pointing. 
 There, leaning against a chair, his hands still clasped, 
 his eyes open, and his mouth agape — tliere on his 
 ^ knees was Daniel Bland, dead. A book lay on the 
 bed by the side on which he had been kneeling ; it 
 was the book of Common Prayer, and a passage in 
 Simeon's Song was scored under deeply with his fin- 
 ger nail — it was, " Lord, now let thy servant depart in 
 peace, according to thy word." 
 
 He was dead ; he had . been so for some hours. 
 The doctors said that emotion killed him ; they had 
 told him months ago, they said, that his parish was too 
 much for him ; but nevertheless Daniel Bland remained 
 at his post. 
 
 "Another hard winter," said the kind Mr. Spatula 
 to him ; " another hard winter will kill you, Bland : 
 I know it will. You had better get some easier cure. 
 It won't do for a man of your extreme sensibility to 
 be always here. Ton see and hear and feel too much, 
 a great deal too much. It will never do." 
 
 "Nay, I will stay," said the clergyman meekly. 
 " My people are used to me. They would miss me? 
 and might get one who did not know them so well. 
 They and I are poor : we know and help and feel for 
 each other." 
 
 " The system," said Spatula, " of these overgrown 
 
PIAIIONDS AND SPADES. 283 
 
 parishes, Tvlierein one man does so much work and gets 
 little pay, and another gets so much pay and does so 
 little work, is abominable, and I would not submit to 
 it. Try and get out of it, Bland." 
 
 " Doctor," said the other to him, looking up with a 
 kindly smile, which had so much of suffering in it 
 that it pained the good doctor so acutely that he 
 never forgot it; "Doctor, if a captain of a ship in 
 rough weather were to desert her, and take an oppor- 
 tunity of landing on a pleasant shore, what would you 
 call him ? " 
 
 " Call him ? why, a coward." 
 
 "So should I," said the clergyman calmly; "so 
 should I, Spatula ; and, therefore, how much the more 
 cowardly should I be if I left this ship, my parish, 
 just because the waves of the world are a little 
 rough ? " 
 
 The doctor was silent. Eland put his hands to his 
 side, as if a pain had smitten him suddenly, and said 
 softly to himself, " No, no, it must be so ; it is the 
 law of God. Spend and be spent. We all do so ; the 
 very clothes we wear represent the labours of our 
 fellow-creatures, and shall we do nothing for them in 
 return ? " 
 
 Mr. Spatula wrung the good clergyman's hand, and 
 told him that he had the best of the argument that 
 time, at least ; and then, promising to send him some 
 tonic medicine, ran down stairs and jumped into his 
 neat private brougham — for fortune had rewarded 
 him ; and patients — and rich ones too — were plen- 
 tiful. 
 
284i DtAMOKDS AlTD SPADES. 
 
 After his friend had gone, Daniel Bland sat in Lis 
 arm-chair, passing in review the whole* of his life. 
 Grood as he was, and had been, yet a thousand actions 
 rose to reproach him, and he bowed his head in 
 prayer, owning meekly that he had done those things 
 which he ought not to have done, and had not 
 done those which he ought to have done. How 
 weak he had been ; how many opportunities of doing 
 good he had passed by ; how much had lassitude, and 
 ease, and selfishness interfered with his impulses to- 
 wards good. Not a day had passed without some 
 opportunity of doing good to his fellow creatures ; 
 nay, not a day, not an hour. Had he been always on 
 the watch to seize those opportunities ? Had he, in 
 showing his love and reverence to God, always done 
 his duty to man ? The clergyman's head sank' lower 
 and lower as these questions came — questions which 
 were " not to be put by." 
 
 Brother reader, do these questions ever come to 
 you ? Have you done your duty always ? Have you 
 not passed the beggar unrelieved ? Have not I, have 
 not you ? Have we not been as the Priest and the 
 Levite in the holy parable, and passed on our way, 
 leaving the traveller stripped naked and wounded — 
 just glancing at him, perhaps, and wishing for some 
 good Samaritan to come after us to relieve him? So 
 it is with us, and, alas ! with all. Let us hope for 
 mercy when we reckon up our faults. 
 
 Daniel Bland prayed for mercy; and then his 
 thoughts, leaving his own soul, thought of the neg- 
 lected souls and bodies of others in this great city. 
 
DIAMONDS A^B SPADES. 285 
 
 Pain came upon him; and pity, the handmaid of 
 charity, swelled his heart. He thought how impotent 
 he was to relieve all the trouble and suffering ; how 
 many wounds he could never bind ; how many woes 
 and sorrows he could never console. He rose up, 
 therefore, and went to his bed-room, and by his bed- 
 side knelt down to pray to a perfect and an Almighty ' 
 consoler. And as he prayed, pity again came and 
 knocked at his heart, always ready to open to his call, 
 and grief entered therein too ; and his heart swelled 
 and beat high, and his brain reeled, and the angel of 
 death stood in the room, and smote him suddenly, so 
 that he fell back, with his hands still clasped — dead. 
 His last words were a prayer for mercy upon others. 
 Let us trust, my brother, that the great God he 
 prayed to will take mercy upon him. 
 
 •Tt" W W W 
 
 Gather him up, and lift him to his bed ; close his 
 eyes, and bind up the open mouth. "Weep ! women, 
 weep. He has gone ! His place is empty and will 
 never be filled. Tell it in Gath ; mention it in the 
 streets. There shall be weeping, and much wailing ; 
 many will not be comforted ; for the death of a good 
 man, however humble he may be, leaves a void not 
 easily filled up. To how many was he a friend and 
 consoler ! Where, alas ! is their friend now ? 
 
 Mr. Spatula came, and from his honest eyes tears 
 trickled. His old, his best friend, lay dead, with his 
 hands clasped as if in prayer. What mattered success 
 or failure now ? He had done his duty. How vain 
 and empty seemed the world, with all its prizes and 
 
286 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 honours, before that calm, pale face of a dead Chris- 
 tian. 
 
 Some such thoughts as these were passing in the 
 doctor's mind, when two w^omen rushed hurriedly into 
 the room. Thej were both clothed in black. The 
 eldest looked hurriedly to the bed, as if to assure 
 herself that the person who lay there was indeed 
 dead, and then sank down in an agony of tears. Her 
 grey hair waved dankly from her bonnet. The young 
 one also who bent to comfort her, wept. 
 
 Mr. Spatula recognised the voice at once. Con- 
 trolling his own emotion, therefore, he raised her, 
 saying— 
 
 " Yes, Mrs. Mackenzie, it has' come to this. Tour 
 best friend is dead. But come, come, this is no place 
 for you. Come with me, my carriage, waits, come, 
 and at home we will settle Avhat is the best to be 
 done for you and for your adopted child." 
 
 Mrs. Mackenzie did not resist ; and in a few 
 moments she and Ellie were being driven fast away 
 to the home of Mr. Spatula, in Bedford Square. 
 
CHAPTER XXXYIII. 
 
 IN THE TOILS OF GUILT. 
 
 The Mouse had, in the language of the sporting 
 world, succeeded in doing something neat, and in 
 establishing "a raw" upon young Pip. That "raw" 
 he w^as determined upon making every week larger 
 and larger. 
 
 " Tell ye wot it is, my boys," said the cunning little 
 wretch, as he sat in a low public-house, situated in a 
 turning out of Lincoln's Inn Pields, and therefore not 
 far from that classic locality of Clare Market; 
 " Tell ye wot it is, I'm down pretty hard upon Mr. 
 Pip ; I'm down upon him, and I'll make him pay for 
 his fancy. D'ye see?" he continued, still speaking 
 partly to the fire, and partly to his pipe, " d'ye see ? 
 he wants to turn vartuous ; he — he — he!" and the 
 little WTctch gave a mean, hollow, sounding snigger 
 at the preposterous idea. " Yartuous ! young Pip ! 
 who was spawned in guilt, and bred to it as a tarrier's 
 bred to catching rats ! Yartuous ! oh my eye ! he — 
 he— he!" 
 
 "Ho! ho, ho!" echoed another voice, with a big 
 burly body to the end of it, " Why, you're enjoying 
 of yourself, you are, wdth your he ! he ! he ! " And 
 the owner of the voice smote the Mouse such a slap 
 between the shoulders, as should have made his 
 
288 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 little soul, if he had any, rattle inside his body, like a 
 dried kernel in a nut. 
 
 "Wot the devil!" cried the Mouse, "wot the 
 devil are you after? How did you come in, Saw- 
 kins ? You're as silent as an undertaker at a judge's 
 funeral." 
 
 " Yes," said the other, " I have got my goloshes on, 
 d'ye see ? " and he pointed down to a huge pair on 
 his feet, " and I walks as silent as a torn cat on the 
 tiles." 
 
 " It don't rain," said the Mouse, " so I s'pose you're 
 on some piratical excursion." 
 
 " Well, you ain't after no good," said the other, 
 bending down, and driving a pot shaped like a funnel 
 with a sharp end to it, into the coals ; " you're enjoy- 
 ing . yourselfj so I'm goin' to. I've got an appoint- 
 ment, and I'm goin' to wait here and do a little warm 
 beer and gin ; I expects a wet night — ho ! — ho ! — 
 ho!" 
 
 "He! — he! — he!" returned the Mouse, coughing 
 in his attempt to laugh; how long ha' you been 
 here?" 
 
 " Long enough to hear what you said," retorted 
 Sawkins, w^ith a tremendous look, and a lie to match. 
 The truth is, he had not heard more than a few 
 words ; but he had a great respect for the cunning of 
 the Mouse, and thought that he could perhaps make 
 something out of him. 
 
 The consequence of this proceeding was, that the 
 former gentleman in a short time, employed in fencing 
 with the question, told Sawkins how he had estab- 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 289 
 
 lished "a raw" upon young Pip, and how he meant 
 now to retire and live as a gentleman upon Mr. Pip's 
 earnings. His stray jobs would, lie said, also keep 
 him in pocket-money and tobacco ; but he was tired 
 of the dangers of a public life, and meant to make 
 some one work for him." 
 
 Sawkins heard this narration with a gruff contempt, 
 and swore a round oath at the Mouse, which that 
 gentleman did not in the least attend to, but w^ent on 
 smoking and chuckling to himself. 
 
 " Now," said Sawkins, "I'll tell you what, you old 
 rip, you're one of those blood-sucking rogues as won't 
 leave a man whilst there's a drop of blood in his body, 
 or a penny in his pocket. If so be as I was that 
 young feller, I know what I'd do for you precious 
 soon. There, go along with you, go along, and thank 
 'eaven as I ain't that young feller as you're going to 
 be hard on. But mind you this, Mr. Mouse, so long 
 as you ha' got money and I ain't none, mind yer, I'll 
 have my share ; you shan't live quite in peace, you 
 shan't." 
 
 The Mouse gave Sawkins a wicked look, as if he 
 wished that the pot of warm beer which that worthy 
 fellow was discussing were poison; but he said nothing, 
 and sneaked away, leaving his late companion to his 
 appointment, and to that "job" for which he had put 
 on goloshes. 
 
 "When the Mouse reached the door, he met with a 
 little pale-faced fellow, whose faint, sickly smile, weakly 
 eyes, and hay-coloured hair, bespoke him to be one of 
 ^ u 
 
290 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 those children of dirfc and squalid poverty who are, 
 alas ! too frequently seen in London streets, 
 
 " Well, Eichard," said the Mouse, fumbling for a 
 penny, and driving one, after a hard search, up in one 
 corner of a capacious pocket, " Well, Eichard, and 
 what news ha' you got for me ?" ., 
 
 " They've cut," said Eichard. 
 
 " Cut, have they, and where to ?" 
 
 ^' Oh ! I was arter them ; I helped the young 
 'oman to carry some o' the sticks ; they never sus- 
 pected me." 
 
 " That's a clever man," answered the Mouse, " that's 
 a clever man ; here's something for you ;" and with 
 this, he, with much liberality, bestowed a shilling 
 upon Eichard. 
 
 The boy looked at it with greedy eyes, and, with a 
 hoarse little voice, called the Mouse " a stunner," and 
 absolutely offered to stand a glass of gin. I 
 
 "JN'o, my man," said the elder reprobate, "no ; I 
 don't want none myself; but if ^ou want any, I'll 
 see you drink it. Eut come along to another house, 
 't ain't good here." 
 
 The boy did as he was bidden, and in a few moments 
 tlic two friends stood side by side at the private bar 
 of a different public-house. The young fellow, whose 
 head scarcely reached to the counter, "turned off" 
 the gin in a perfectly professional way, and gave his 
 blue thin lips the accustomed smack. ;^:i 
 
 " What," said the Mouse, " it's good, is it, Eichard ? 
 good, ilichard? it tastes hot in the mouth." 
 
DTAMOKBS AlsB SPADES. 291 
 
 " I b'lieve you," said Eichard. 
 
 '* JN'ow, come along, then, and sliow me the 
 house." 
 
 Off the two trudged, till they came to "Wild Pas- 
 sage, Drary Lane, wherein, at ]N"o. 3, little Eichard 
 stood still, and with arch finger pointed to the door. 
 The Mouse stood opposite the house, and gave a low 
 chuckle. 
 
 " And now, Dick," said he, in a low, triumphant 
 whisper, " now, Dick, vanish ! cut away ! mizzle ! " 
 
 Dick obeyed, and like a flash of lightning he was 
 out of sight. 
 
 " So," said the Mouse, after a long pause, " so you 
 wanted to bolt from me ; but I am too cunnin' for 
 you, I am, a great deal too cunnin' ; there's no doin' 
 of me, no doin'." 
 
 As he said this, a light passed along the windows, 
 and then, apparently, another candle w^as lighted up, 
 for, by an increased light, the Mouse saw the shadow 
 of a male figure pass and repass. 
 
 "It's him," he said to himself, with a savage exul- 
 tation, " my bird's trapped, sure enough, and now I'll 
 knock him off his perch." And with this charitable 
 intention of playing a game for which he was in his 
 way rather celebrated, the cunning little man trotted 
 up stairs. 
 
 Now it so happened that Pip and his wife were 
 that very moment congratulating themselves upon 
 having a yery nice lodging, and having also dodged the 
 Mouse. Pip said he knew what the old fellow w^as 
 after, and that he had " put the stopper" on him ; and 
 
 u2 
 
392 DIAMOISTDS AXD SPADES. 
 
 Mrs. Pip, in higli glee, hoped that the said stopper 
 was eifectuallj put on. 
 
 Eut there is an old proverb against counting one's 
 chickens before they are hatched, and another which 
 definitely states that if we talk of a certain old gen- 
 tleman one of his horns all of a sudden appears. The 
 force and truth of both of these this young couple 
 were made to perceive, by the sudden appearance of 
 no less a person than the very man upon whom they 
 had wished all sorts of anathemas. A gentle tap at 
 the door first announced him, and then, like the figure 
 in " Marmion," 
 
 " For no saluting did he wait, 
 But strode across the hall of state," 
 and fronted young Pip where he sat. 
 
 Pip was aghast ; and his faithful wife stared at the 
 intruder with a look of blank astonishment. 
 
 " I begs pardon, missus," said the little man, with 
 deep satire ; " I begs pardon, I'm sure, for interrupt- 
 ing such a scene of domestic felicity; but, as the man 
 says in the play, I hopes I don't intrude." 
 
 " "What d'ye want ? " gasped Pip, with a look of 
 thorough hate and indignation at him, at the same 
 time grasping a heavy brass candlestick, and looking 
 very much as if he should like to discharge it at the 
 intruder's head. 
 
 "Want!" said the Mou^e ; "why, Pip, why, it 
 warn't handsum of yer to go cutting away, and a 
 movin of all your waluable property, arrout tellin' an 
 old friend of it ; it warn't right ; it was mean ; it was 
 sneakin'. But I ar'n't a goin' to stand it no how." 
 
DIAMONDS ATTB SPADES. 293 
 
 "What d'ye want?" said tlie younger reprobate 
 again, grasping the candlestick tighter, and looking, 
 as the Mouse expressed it, " cussed ugly" at him. 
 
 " Want," cried the other — " Aye, now, try it on ; 
 just you do throw that at me, and my eyes ! I'll split, 
 that I will. Arfcer I'd put you up to so many lays, 
 arter I'd taught you cly fakin', and all the pretty little 
 games at which you air so fly at ; oh ! Pip, it was 
 mean, that it was. So you're a goin' to be honest, 
 air you ? Honest, eh ! and you begins by a deceivin' 
 of your friend." 
 
 "Blast your old eyes !" roared out Pip, stung to 
 the quick ; " speak at once, will yer ? Speak out like 
 a man, if yer have got a soul in that shrivelled old 
 carcase. What do you want?" 
 
 The old man saw that it was no time to trifle further, 
 and therefore, with an oath, which, with sundry others 
 of the same sort, is omitted here, he said, suddenly — 
 " I wants five shillin', and I shall want that every 
 Monday momin' for my reglars, or else the peelers '11 
 know all about you, my chicken ; and you knows that 
 I'm a man o' my word." 
 
 Pip dropped his candlestick, and his jaw fell, and 
 his eyes fixed. " Pay him !" he said to his wife. " Pay 
 him, Betsy. I'm in his power." 
 
 "Ah! you are, my beauty," said the old wretch, 
 spitefully ; " and unless you pays me, and that punc- 
 tual — punctual, mind yer — it'll be a sad thing for your 
 wife and child, that it will, young man ; for you'll be 
 lagged, to a dead certainty." 
 
 " Pay him !" cried poor Pip again, as he buried his 
 
294i DIAMOI^DS AND SPADES. 
 
 face in his hands ; " and let him take his cursed old 
 body out of the room." 
 
 " You'd better keep a civil tongue in yer head, that 
 you had, or I'll put on another shillin' a week, s'elp 
 me, Thomas, I will," cried the old reprobate, as he 
 pocketed the money which Betsy, with a look of 
 horror, paid him. And with other threats and scorn 
 upon his lips, mingled with sundry oaths, he left the 
 room. 
 
 Poor Pip was cut up. He had had that night an 
 advance in his wages. He had determined to be 
 honest. He had been visited by an excellent mis- 
 sionary, who was no other than our friend Mordaunt, 
 and who, with singular art, had placed before him 
 the beauty of honesty, and the folly and sin of vice ; 
 and now, just as he had determined to live well, to be 
 so haunted by his old companion in vice — to be hur- 
 ried, Grod only knew whither. 
 
 But just as Pip was about to despair, Betsy came 
 to his aid. " Never mind, Sam," she said, putting her 
 arm round his neck, and laying her head down to his — 
 " never mind, Sam, I'll work too, an.d we shall be able 
 to stand it — and perhaps he mayn't live long himself. 
 Never mind, let us live all on the square. Don't let 
 us get into trouble again, and who knows but, as the 
 kind gentleman said yesterday, we shan't find some 
 one to help us out of this trouble ?" 
 
 "If we don't," said Sam, clutching suddenly at a 
 knife, and looking with intense hatred towards the 
 door whence the Mouse had issued, " if we don't, by 
 ■ this arm shall ! " 
 
DIAMOIS^DS AKD SPADES. 295 
 
 "For God's sake don't talk so!" cried Eetsj. 
 " Don't talk so — if we do, we go from worse to worse. 
 Oh, Sam, for my sake, for the sake of the little kid, 
 he patient, and wait to see what turns up. Come, 
 Sara," she continued, and the woman's voice sounded 
 soft and beautiful as that of an angel — " come, Sam, 
 He who helps others will help us ; let us only try for 
 once, for this once, let us say our prayers." 
 
 The knife fell from the yoiing man's hand, and, 
 sobbing and penitent, he knelt down like a little child, 
 and followed the rude teachiug of his wife. Trom the 
 lips of the two a prayerj taught but a few days past 
 unto them, proceeded — that prayer which the Queen 
 utters, the bishop reads, the holy man ejaculates, the 
 babe is taught to stammer, and the dying murderer 
 gasps out — " Forgive us our sins, and lead us not into 
 temptation." Amen ; so be it unto all, from the Queen 
 to the culprit, from the babe to the sin-sodden thief. 
 There is rejoicing, we are told, over one sinner that 
 repenteth ; over these two also there was joy in 
 heaven. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 WHICH LEADS US AMONGST OLD FRIENDS. 
 
 Theee is, towards the north part of London, a very 
 strong castellated building, in which Mr. Bones was 
 incarcerated, and wherein he was, to use the language 
 of the founders, "to learn to do better, and to cease to 
 do ill." It must be said, that to a gentleman of Mr. 
 Eones' genius, the method adopted was not peculiarly- 
 suited; nevertheless, he went through it with that 
 philosophy which distinguished every action of that 
 great man. 
 
 He had to get up every morning at the ringing of 
 a horrid bell, and, after a rude ablution, was marched 
 down to take his exercise, and was afterwards break- 
 iiisted upon oatmeal gruel. Dire were the complaints 
 that he made, and heavy were the secret curses which 
 he vented upon the author of his troubles — namely, 
 himself ; but he learnt, whilst in durance vile, patience 
 and wisdom. He had also to go to bed at six, but he 
 was allowed, whilst there, to read as long as he liked, 
 the gas in the long room, wherein he and some seventy 
 more slept, being alight all night. Well supplied with 
 books by the chaplain, Mr. Bones herein applied him- 
 self to the study of laws and philosophy, and passed 
 his time pretty comfortably. Here also he composed, 
 and by stealth indited, certain " Poems," whereof the 
 
DIAMONDS Al^D SPADES. 297 
 
 fervent longings after liberty miglit be interpreted in 
 a double sense. Altogether, Mr. Bones' incarceration 
 was calculated to do him considerable good ; and, at 
 the end of the first year, he was both a sadder and a 
 wiser man. 
 
 "While we leave this worthy politician shut out from 
 the turmoil of life, in the safe custody of the Govern- 
 ment, we are at liberty to take the reader for a short 
 space outside the walls. On one side of that prison 
 is a brick wall supported by certain semicircular but- 
 tresses, and somewhat resembling, at a distance, a por- 
 tion of the Bastile. On the other side of the road 
 which runs by the side of the prison were some low 
 sheds and houses, generally, at the time we write, occu- 
 pied as workshops. One of them, into which we will 
 conduct the reader, was unfurnished and ruinous, and 
 in it lay upon a wretched pallet, no one less than our 
 hero, Leigh Woodroife. 
 
 Yes, there he lay, emaciated and ill, dying with 
 fever, and with but one friend in the world ; that friend 
 was the Socialist Mordaunt. 
 
 Leigh had been a year in London. He had tried 
 every method of getting a livelihood ; he had applied 
 in vain for a place. His character, given him by Mr. 
 Beakly, under the influence of Lord Silverspoon, was 
 not such as to tempt any one to take him ; and every 
 day saw the little money he had get less and less, and 
 his clothes grew shabbier and less respectable. He then 
 tried his hand at getting a light porter's situation, but 
 labouring under the disadvantage of not knowing town 
 well, he had also that of being like a groom as to his 
 
298 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 dress, and there is no person in tlie world so much 
 distrusted, possibly, as a dishonest groom. Everything 
 was against him, and in this plight it was no wonder 
 that Leigh's heart sank within him, and that each day 
 the weight of life grew more and more burthensome. 
 
 One night, full of sad thoughts, and yet not daring 
 to write to his only friends, who he knew so hoped and 
 trusted in his success, he was leaning against the M\all 
 of a miserable court, leading from Drury Lane into 
 some of the numerous streets about that quarter, when 
 he was accosted by a stranger. He had come there 
 in search of his old ally, Pip, but, as he thought, puz- 
 zled by the intricacies of the buildings, he had lost 
 his way. The stranger stopped opposite to him, and 
 regarded him mournfully. 
 
 " Young man," he at last said, " you are young and 
 hale, and your face seems honest; yet you have a look 
 about you of despair, and you stand as one without 
 work or employment." 
 
 " Would to God I had some ! " ejaculated Wood- 
 roffe, fervently. 
 
 " Amen !" replied the other. " Amen, if that wish 
 is earnest. There is no curse so bitter, to man, 
 woman, or child, to rich or poor, to great or small, as 
 to be without employment. Work — blessed work ! — 
 truly saith the proverb, to ' labour is to pray.' None 
 are good, none are happy, without it ; labour, honest 
 labour ! had we not the living God, I would deify it, 
 and under some beauteous image worship her as the 
 goddess of great countries and great men." 
 
 The enthusiast spake this solemnly and fervently, 
 
DIAMONDS A.'SD SPADES. 299 
 
 almost as if no one was near him ; then suddenly 
 turning to Leigh, he asked him abruptly if he were 
 willing to work. 
 
 " Great Heaven !" cried the other, "am I not ? I 
 have sought labour for months, and cannot find it." 
 
 "Are you honest ?" said Mordaunt, with a great 
 broad stare at the young fellow. 
 
 "I am," was the answer, confidently and boldly 
 given, with an emphasis which, we are sorry to say, 
 little Pip could not, from conscientious reasons, have 
 given- to such a question if put to himself. 
 
 " Well, then," said the strange questioner of our 
 hero, — " well, then, come along with me." So saying, 
 he led the way through a network of courts into 
 Drury Lane, and proceeding for a short way, he turned 
 into Craven Yard, and stopped before a very humble 
 tenement therein. The door was opened to his knock, 
 and, following his conductor, Leigh found himself in 
 the midst of a quantity of little boys, who, in a large 
 white-washed room, were engaged in learning various 
 lessons. Some of them were very young indeed, and 
 not yet far advanced to learn much beyond their let- 
 ters ; others were older and more forward. 
 
 " This,*' said Mordaunt, " is my school. In this 
 room, children gathered from the street are taught 
 obedience, love, and somewhat of religion. I am a 
 poor man myself, but my friends assist me. Tou, of 
 course, can write and read; will you assist me in 
 teaching these young ones?" 
 
 "WoodrofFe nodded his assent, and Mordaunt con- 
 tinued walking familiarly in the midst of the little 
 
300 diamo:n-ds a^d spades. 
 
 ones, who smiled proudly when he spoke to them, and 
 who looked, even the roughest of them, up to him 
 with some reverence and affection. 
 
 " This one," said the stranger, singling out a fair- 
 haired little boy, whose quick, intelligent eyes spar- 
 kled when Mordaunt placed his hand upon his head, 
 — " this one is the son, the only child, of parents, one 
 of w^hom is in a madhouse — a pauper lunatic — the 
 other in a prison. To what fate d'ye think he would 
 be doomed if some one had not plucked him from de- 
 stl"uction ? He would have been a thief. Our pater- 
 nal (?) Grovernment," — Mordaunt' s lips curled bitterly 
 as he said this — " our paternal Grovernment takes no 
 heed of him ; no, nor of thousands like him ; they are 
 left uncared for and untaught, to recruit a criminal 
 population, left like tares to grow^ up with the w^heat ; 
 left till the seeds of vice within them bear fruit and 
 fructify a thousand fold, and then in steps Law to 
 punish those whom neither wisdom nor mercy would 
 teach. Oh, shame to any city, when she shows such 
 innocents as these — shame, especially, to England, 
 Christian England, when they are found by thousands 
 in the streets, when openly and in the knowledge of 
 all, innocents like these suffer a w^orse slaughter than 
 that of Herod of Judea. "Well may Eachel — our 
 English Eachel — weep for her children, slaughtered 
 body and soul as these would have been." 
 
 Woodroffe hung his head as, prophet-like, with his 
 arm stretched, and his long dark hair Mling in masses 
 on each side of his face, the Christian Socialist spake. 
 Leigh thought of his own youth, and thanked Grod 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 301 
 
 that he had been plucked from that furnace, wherein 
 many of his companions had perished. 
 
 " Sir," he cried, " I have long prayed for this op- 
 portunity. I will assist you with all my heart and 
 soul in this good work. God give me strength to 
 do it!" 
 
 " Well prayed," returned the other. " God give 
 us all strength to follow the impulses of good which 
 He has planted within us. Children," he said, ad- 
 dressing the little ones, '* behold your new master. 
 Mr. Lambert," — he spoke to a young man of not 
 more than eighteen, who had been teaching — " I have 
 found a successor, as you see ; thank you for your 
 help. It is now time for our prayers and evening 
 hymn, after which those who have homes will go there. 
 "We have not many who stop here for the night," he 
 said to Leigh — "This little one and another." 
 
 "Woodroffe was glad to find that one of these was 
 the little boy spoken of by Mordaunt ; and the children 
 having been made to kneel, Mordaunt said a short, 
 simple prayer, and that concluded, the whole school 
 stood up, and sang, in good time, the following, to the 
 tune of the National Anthem, Mordaunt's deep voice 
 leading and mingling with the shrill treble of the 
 children's : — 
 
 " Lord, from thy blessed throne, 
 Sorrow look down upon ! 
 
 God save the Poor ! 
 Teach them true liberty, 
 Make them from tyrants free ! 
 Let their homes happy be : 
 
 God save the Poorl 
 
•3U2 DIAMONDS a:nd spades. 
 
 " The arms of wicked men 
 Do Thou with might restrain : 
 
 • God save the Poor ! 
 Eaise Thou their lowliness, 
 Succour Thou their distress — 
 Thou whom the meanest bless : 
 God save the Poor ! 
 
 *' Give them staunch honesty; 
 Let their pride manly he — 
 
 God save the Poor ! 
 Help them to hold the right. 
 Give them both truth and might, 
 Lord of all Truth and Light ! 
 
 God save the Poor!" 
 
 The words of the song,^ which Leigh AA^oodroffe 
 remembered ever afterwards, had scarcely died on his 
 ears, when, with a cheerful and universal "good night," 
 the school was left empty, with but Mordaunt, two 
 children, and himself. "There is," said the former, 
 " a rough bed-room attached to this, of which you can, 
 if you like, take possession. To-morrow we will settle 
 other plans, and you will enter upon your new occupa- 
 tion, for life is short, and there is much to do; do 
 everything you do, therefore, earnestly; and now 
 follow me." So saying, the strange enthusiast led the 
 way up stairs. 
 
 * This- song is by the Scotch poet, Robert Nicoll. 
 
CHAPTEE XL. 
 
 PoRTUNE, cries tlie poet, never will coiriC, nor ever 
 does come, with " both hands full." Is a man rich ? 
 he is probably unhealthy. Is he healthy and vigorous, 
 of fine intellect and high aspirations ? it is ten to one 
 but that he is poor. If possessor of a vast estate, he 
 has often to grieve that he is childless ; if, on the 
 contrary, he has no more landed property than the 
 present writer, and can count the whole of his guineas 
 upon his ten fingers, there is a great chance but that 
 he has a charming family, for whom he has to rack his 
 wits to provide. In, short. Fortune is Fortune all the 
 world over ; she is an arrant jade, and deserves all the 
 abuse which men bestow upon her ; and takes care 
 that through her agency the battle doth not always 
 happen to tbe strong, nor the race to the swift. 
 
 Fortune had been kind in one way to Mr. Spatula, 
 and had given him great talents and perseverance, and 
 by these he wo a plenty of riches and gained many 
 patients. But after having let her struggle with him 
 through poverty, just as he had arrived upon the 
 threshold of riches, fortune took away his wife, and 
 left him a widower. Ah me ! how bitterly the poor 
 fellow felt it ! How he would have loved to have sur- 
 rounded that faithful partner with every luxury and 
 comfort! Eut now, shfe was taken from him; and 
 
304 DIAMOI>[DS AND SPADES. 
 
 neither trouble, nor anxiet^^, nor worldly luxury, nor 
 comfort, could ever reacli her more. 
 
 So, in the midst of the struggle, some are borne 
 out of the battle, and some fight bravely on till they 
 mount the hard-won breach at last ; and then, with 
 the cry of victory sounding in their ears, a stray bullet 
 hits them, and they die. 
 
 It is the old story over again. Forty years we 
 struggle with Moses in the desert ; and then, when 
 the brave leader, the gifted seer, should be rewarded, 
 he fails, and is carried to Mount Pisgah, and from the 
 top of a mountain catches a dying glimpse of the 
 Promised Land, flowing with milk and honey : that 
 land which he had so longed to gain. 
 
 Mr. Spatula was a widower, and it was therefore 
 much to the umbrage of a truly old housekeeper that, 
 on taking Mrs. Mackenzie and Ellie to his house, he, 
 upon hearing their story, offered them an asylum until 
 at least something could be done for them ; for Ellie, 
 rather than be a burthen to Julie, had determined 
 upon trying for the situation of a governess. But it 
 was possible that Mrs. Leanribs, the housekeeper, saw 
 her fate in the eyes of these two guests of her master ; 
 for it is certain, that passing many preliminary arrange- 
 ments, all of which have nothing to do with the con- 
 duct of the story, Mr. Spatula offered to Mrs. Mac- 
 kenzie the situation of his housekeeper, and to Ellie 
 that of governess to his little girl. 
 
 The offer was joyfully accepted ; and in a very short 
 time Mrs. Mackenzie reigned supreme, vice Mrs. 
 Leanribs, cashiered. 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 305 
 
 As for Ellie, she wasMelighted with her new occu- 
 pation, and had but one trouble, and that, we need 
 scarcely say, was about Leigh. "Where was he ? "What 
 had become of him ? Should they ever meet again ? 
 All these questions — which young ladies who have 
 been in love themselves will deem very natural — often 
 occurred to Ellie, and seemed to cast a shade over that 
 which otherwise would have proved the happiest part 
 of her life. 
 
 The Eev. Daniel Bland was buried with due form, 
 and Mrs. Mackenzie and Ellie followed him to the 
 grave. The fiction of there not being a dry eye thereat 
 was in this case not realized. Many, very many, wept ; 
 but there were others whose grief was too deep, far 
 too deep, for tears. Of these, Mr. Spatula and Mrs. 
 Mackenzie formed two. They bent over the earth to 
 take a last long look at the coifin. They heard the 
 earth rattle upon its lead ; but they heard it with tear- 
 less eyes. There he lay never to come back to them. 
 There he lay, whose kindly hand should never press 
 theirs more ; whose look should never cheer them ; 
 whose kind good voice should never, on this earth, 
 sound upon their ears. " Ashes to ashes, and dust to 
 dust ;" so said the solemn clergyman in the words of 
 the Church service. " Dust to dust !'* alas ! how much 
 of this fair earth seemed but dust and ashes to them, 
 now their best friend was gone. 
 
 Mount into the mourning coach, roll away home- 
 wards, solemnly, mournfully ; enter the old house, and 
 yet feel, though all there is unchanged, though the 
 summer sun falls brightly upon the mirror and the 
 
 X 
 
306 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 carpet, that there is no joy nor comfort like that which 
 has passed from you ; and that within your heart there 
 is a void, a want of something, a continual voice, crying 
 for the old voice, the old face, the old, old friend, who 
 ne'er will come again. 
 
CHAPTEE XLT. 
 
 Me. William Sawkiks, a man of great nerve, and 
 "no chicken" — that is, having no tender sensibilities 
 or any particular regard for the difference between his 
 neighbour's property and his own — had yet a failing. 
 
 We don't mean to say that he was honest or consci- 
 entious, or sober, or any thing of that sort ; Mr. Saw- 
 kins' weakness did not lie, as he himself observed, in 
 the religious line, for he absolutely, and with more 
 wisdom than some persons may give him credit for, 
 set down honesty, and sobriety, and other moral qua- 
 lities, as religion. No, not one of these was Mr. Wil- 
 liam's weakness. His particular vanity was a love for 
 woman — for any one of the sex ; and let us say, a very 
 honourable weakness it was, keeping him from wrong- 
 ing her, and often thrusting him forward as her 
 champion. 
 
 Now, as Mr. Sawkins professed that admirable kind 
 of knight-errantry which Mr. Harrison Ains worth has, 
 in his " Jack Sheppard," so unflinchingly upheld, we 
 mean the profession of Eurglary, and as he added to 
 that profession several other excellent qualities and 
 occupations, we hope that those of our readers who 
 admire "Jack Sheppard" will not look down upon 
 Mr. Sawkins on account of his devotion to the sex. 
 
 "Dang 'em!" he would say — only this expletive 
 
 X 2 
 
808 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 was far too mild for his lips — " Dang 'em ! I'm always 
 gettin' into rows about 'em ; I wouldn't let Eill the 
 dustman give his Sal a walloping, and so Eill turned on 
 me, and he pretty nigh guv me a maltreating, he did. 
 He cut my lip dreadful, he did. Ah ! he knew how 
 to handle his bunches o' fives, did "William." 
 
 Thereon, wrapped in admiration at the admirable 
 William, Mr. Sawkins resumed his pipe ; and having 
 got rid of his goloshes, made his manly heel ring 
 through the streets as he walked along towards Wild 
 Passage, Drury Lane. 
 
 'Now, the first thing which struck the tender-hearted 
 Sawkins in Wild Passage was a woman in distress, sit- 
 ting upon the door-step of No. 3. But what should 
 be his surprise when he found that that woman was 
 none less than his — god-daughter, we were about to 
 write, only people of Mr. William's class do not indulge 
 in those luxuries, though indeed he gave her her name 
 — his young friend Betsy, or Mrs. Samuel Pip. The 
 tender-hearted burglar stooped down and comforted 
 her. 
 
 "What away. Bet," said he; " what cheer, gal ? 
 what are ye cryin' at ? I^ow don't take on ; don't pipe 
 your eye at that rate. Has Pip been and done wot he 
 ortn't to do, and been and left you ? If so be he has, 
 I'll break every bone in his skin." 
 
 "JN'o," said Betsy, still crying, "no, Samuel's as 
 good as gold, poor fellow ! Oh, no, Mr. Sawkins, it's 
 that horrid Mouse." 
 
 "William Sawkins," said that individual, dropping 
 his pipe out of his mouth, and slapping his thigh in- 
 
DIAMONDS a:n-d spades. 809 
 
 dignantly — " "William Sawkins, what a sometliing fool 
 you are! "Why, I ar'n't seen the Mouse this two 
 months, and I recklects when I did, he told me as how 
 he'd got a case on, and he was going to establish a 
 raw on Pip. Now, I was so ockipied with my own 
 affairs as I forgot all about your bein' spliced to Pip, 
 and never shook the breath out of that varmint's body 
 just to stop him." 
 
 "Ah!" said Betsy, sadly — "ah! it's too late now, 
 it's too late, Sawkins. He's kept up the raw now for 
 some time. He got it from five shillings. to fifteen a 
 wxek, and now some of his pals and himself have been 
 and robbed the old lady who employed Samuel — she 
 kep' a Birmingham warehouse — and Sam's took up on 
 suspicion, I think, for he's gone away somewheres, 
 and I can't find him." 
 
 The girl put her head down and cried bitterly. 
 Sawkins was moved, and ground his knuckles into his 
 eyes, with a wild curse against the Mouse. 
 
 " He'll be haunting about here, I now know ; and I 
 don't like to leave my baby, who's asleep up stairs to 
 his power ; and yet I wants to go and search for Sam. 
 What shall I do ? " cried the girl. 
 
 " What do ? " cried Sawkins, "why go and look arter 
 him — go at once : I'll mind the baby, I will. Least- 
 ways, I'H do my best ; where is it ? Come along, 
 Betsy, and show me." 
 
 Betsy rose and unlocked the door of her room, and 
 there, upon a humble bed, a little child was sleeping 
 peacefully. The burglar looked at it, and smiled. 
 " Look'ee here," he said, " I ar'n't got much bizziness, 
 
810 DIAMONDS AT^D SPADES. 
 
 and I may as well wait here and walk about, if so be 
 I can blow my 'baccy, and I'll take care as no one 
 hurts the kid." So saying, Mr. Sawkins coiled him- 
 self on the sofa, and lay gazing on the smouldering 
 fire. 
 
 " That's a good soul," said the girl, trustfully. ** If 
 Sam comes back, you tell him where I'm gone ; if the 
 Mouse comes " 
 
 " Aye, aye," muttered Sawkins, with a gruff voice. 
 " I knows wot to do, I does,'* and he grasped a lis- 
 som life-preserver he held up his sleeve. 
 
 "It's all along o' Sam's tryin' to live an honest life, 
 without that old brute," said Betsy, as she put a few 
 coals on the fire and then went out. 
 
 The nature of Mr. Sawkins, like that of many gen- 
 tlemen of his profession — which, let me states, is, per se, 
 just as good and as bad as that of any nobleman in the 
 land — was an impulsive one. He was easily moved 
 by the tears of a woman, and although he lived by 
 "jobs" which a minister of state, who would truckle 
 away the lives of a thousand men, would call dishonest, 
 he had impulses to good as well as evil. So he lay 
 upon the rude sofa puffing gently at his pipe, thinking 
 of the last words of Eetsy about an honest life, and 
 repenting himself that he had not turned towards the 
 good instead of the bad, long years ago. 
 , Eut, besides these thoughts, there was another pro- 
 cess going on in the burglar's mind. He was working 
 himself into a blind fury against the Mouse. He had 
 always hated that cunning little wretch, as men of a 
 blunt aad unsuspecting nature will hate those who 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 311 
 
 deal in cunning and finesse. All his suspicions were 
 realized. His worst opinions were not bad enough ; 
 nay, nor were his worst words sufficient to characterize 
 a man who would live like a common spy upon the 
 fear of others. 
 
 Mr. Sawkins lay nursing these ideas till his fingers 
 clutched and grasped his little bludgeon with a des- 
 perate itching, and a wish for the presence of the 
 hated being. He was soon to be satisfied. 
 
 AYhat is that stumbling up the stairs in the dark, 
 and now, with feeble and uncertain hand, feeling for 
 the latch of the door ? Sawkins listened and lay still. 
 
 Is it drunken, that it hesitates ? At last the handle 
 is found ; the door opens, and in the pale, flickering 
 light of the nascent flame a diminutive form is seen, 
 bending backwards and forwards towards the sofa. 
 With a worn-out voice, and a tongue which stammers 
 in its utterance — drunkenly thick in its speech, it 
 asks, — 
 
 " "Wot, no one here ? are all out ? what have they 
 done with the kid ? Hollo ! there's some one on the 
 sofa. Ey George ! it's Pip ; I thought he'd cut his 
 lucky. I say, ole fellow, I want some more blunt, 
 some more money." 
 
 Sawkins says nothing, but his hoarse deep breathing 
 can be heard. 
 
 " Some more rowdy," continued the Mouse. " I 
 have got rid o' all you gave me ; it slips through my 
 fingers like butter. Come, don't lie snorting there, 
 stump up, or I'll inform ; by I will." 
 
 " You will, will you ?*' shouted Sawkins, in a Voiced 
 
312 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 SO harsh and horrible, that the Mouse fell back as if 
 struck. " You will, will you ? — by hell you sha'n't 
 open that mouth of yours many times more." 
 
 As he said this, he struck with all his force at the 
 head of the wretched man ; but the surprise and the 
 fall saved him, and the blow whistled past him in- 
 nocuously. 
 
 "For God's sake," cried the little man, sobered 
 completely by horror, "for Grod's sake, Sawkins, 
 don't take my life ! Spare me ! Spare me ! Don't 
 shed my blood — my blood." 
 
 But the other dropped his bludgeon, and with an 
 oath sprang towards him, and caught him up heavily, 
 and dashed him down again. Stunned and stupified, 
 the wretch struggled up and made towards the door, 
 with raised hands and bleeding face ; whilst Sawkins 
 bent down again to find the bludgeon. A dread and 
 passion at the same time took possession of the bur- 
 glar. "What if the victim of this attack should inform 
 against him ? What if he should dodge his steps 
 night and day, for years, keeping him in perpetual 
 fears ? He will prevent that — he will prevent that, 
 and save Pip as well. A passion, too, arises for beat-' 
 ing, for striking something ; hot blood seems to suf- 
 fuse his eyes, and there before him is the struggling, 
 half-stunned old man, with white head and thin hair. 
 
 Sawkins catches wildly at his victim. The old 
 wretch wore a long woollen comforter round his neck ; 
 the burglar catches it and slips it off, but catches in a 
 kind of slip knot. Ah ! he is half-strangled now, 
 and with vainly imploring hands tries to thrust his 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 313 
 
 lingers between the comforter and his neck. The 
 burglar presses his foot against his chest and pulls 
 tighter. How long he lives ! The flickering lire-light 
 lights up his face — horrent and gasping ; the eyes half 
 starting from his head, the lips swollen and the tongue 
 protruding. He is alive, yet silent. Alive, for Saw- 
 kins can feel some resistance yet to his strong pull. 
 
 " Curse him, will he never die ! Ha ! what is 
 that ? " The burglar catches again at the bludgeon. 
 " One blow will finish him, he will tell no more tales." 
 It is given, and the body falls heavily forward. How . 
 dull the sound was of that blow ! Life was almost 
 extinct when it fell ; but yet blood followed, which is 
 creeping fast along the floor, faster and yet faster, 
 till it settles in a little pool upon the white-stoned 
 hearth. 
 
 Sawkins looks at the body, and bends over it. 
 Strange to say, all his fury is gone now ; he thinks 
 of nothing but flight. What shall he do ? "Will that 
 thing there haunt him still, now it is dead ? He 
 creeps to the door softly, and is about to pass out, 
 when he recollects that the baby is there, sleeping 
 calmly and peacefully in that room of horrors. If 
 he ' does not bring it out, its mother will be sure to 
 fetch it, and she will see who is lying there. 
 
 With soft step, Sawkins steals back again, wraps 
 up the child, and lifts it on his arm. Heavens ! how 
 quietly it sleeps ! It gives a sigh of calm peace and 
 infantine enjoyment in its rest. Will lie who holds it 
 ever sleep like that again ? He goes out now, and 
 locking the door, places the key in his pocket. He 
 
31-1 DTAMOjSTDS and SP^U)ES. 
 
 has no fixed idea where to go, nor why he has bur- 
 thened himself with the child. The one single thought 
 is, to keep others from going in that room, and seeing 
 that strange sight, which the fire — now burnt up 
 and glowing— looks upon, and twinkles and sparkles 
 iis it looks. Let him lie there, surely no one will find 
 him out. 
 
 Sawkins goes out of the house, and, luckily, at the 
 corner of the court he meets with Betsy returnino^ 
 sad and disconsolate. 
 
 " Here," he whispers hoarsely, *• here's the baby; 
 he's safe enough, nobody will steal him. Here, take 
 him Betsy, take him. Take him to some public-house 
 to-night; but, at any rate, for Q-od's sake! don't 
 go up there — don't go up there." 
 
 "Why not. Bill? why not?" says the young 
 mother, taking her child gently, and pressing it to 
 her bosom. " "What for. Bill ? what for ? why not 
 up there ? " 
 
 Sawkins glanced towards the house with, trouble 
 and horror in his face, and passed his heavy hand 
 before his eyes ; and then whispered again hoarsely in 
 her ear, " Don't go there, Betsy, there's a good gal. 
 Eor God's sake ! don't go there." 
 
 A moment, and he is out of sight — vanished and 
 gone; leaving the young mother standing with her 
 child to her bosom, gazing with strained eyes into 
 darkness ; wondering what he meant by his warning 
 — dreading something, something horrible and vague — 
 she knew not what. 
 
CHAPTEE XLII. 
 
 Little Ellie, as governess to tlie daughter of Mr. 
 Spatula, won golden opinions from everybody. She 
 soon began to love her pupil ; and if love be only 
 established between those who learn and those who 
 teach, it is wonderful how much will be learnt in a, 
 very short time. Thus it is that facetious young fel- 
 lows tell us that it is the best plan in the world to 
 learn French upon, that of falling in love with a 
 demoiselle of that nation ; and thus, also, Abelard in- 
 structed Heloise in the abstruse mysteries of theology, 
 and the young abbess, who at first appears not to have 
 been a very intellectual woman, learnt to dispute with 
 the learned and engaging young friar. 
 
 But the custom of making the pupil in love with 
 the teacher is not at all indulged in at boarding schools, 
 whereat — especially in those devoted to the sex femi- 
 nine — terrible she dragons generally guard the gar- 
 dens of learning, and effectually keep the pupils from 
 plucking any fruit from the tree of knowledge. No ; 
 these pupils, although some of them may hereafter 
 form some of my respected readers, are generally made 
 to be contented with mere windfalls ; and, upon tasting 
 them, generally eschew the Iruit thereafter, as very 
 bitter, or exceedingly insipid. 
 
 Under very different management, therefore, the 
 
31G DIAMONDS a:nd spades. 
 
 little orphan pupil improved rapidly, and the love 
 grew mutual. Mr. Spatula would come sometimes 
 into the school-room, and professed himself so pleased 
 with EUie, that he told Mrs. Mackenzie that he was 
 of a mind to become pupil himself; but he thought 
 that he was now too old, and unfit for ladies' teaching. 
 
 Mrs. Mackenzie in her new situation was content, 
 and shone — as a grateful heart and industrious body 
 will do— ^to great advantage. Under these auspices, 
 therefore, Mr. Spatula grew more cheerful, applied 
 himself less to science, and used to spend his evenings 
 at home, often in conversation with Mrs. Mackenzie 
 and Ellie. 
 
 One evening, as they sat at tea, a carriage drove 
 up, and the servant shortly came to the parlour-door 
 to say that Mr. Spatula was wanted upon particular 
 business. Heartily wishing all patients (who called 
 at awkward hours) anywhere but in his house, Mr. 
 Spatula rose and went out, and at the same time Mrs. 
 Mackenzie saw an old gentleman with a shovel hat 
 descend from the vehicle ; — it was none other indeed 
 than the Archdeacon Honey soap. 
 
 Mr. Spatula was gone for a long time ; and after he 
 had bowed Mr. Honeysoap out of his passage, he re- 
 urned to his room thoughtful and meditative. That 
 night he told Mrs. Mackenzie that he should need her 
 presence privately ; and when Ellie retired to bed the 
 two talked for a long time confidentially about persons 
 and afi'airs which possibly may concern characters in 
 this drama, and possibly may not. 
 
 In the meantime, whilst the readers are supposed 
 
DIAMONDS AKI) SPADES. 317 
 
 to be kept in that wliolesome state of bewilderment 
 and suspense into which the Avriters of all novels de- 
 light to throw them, let us turn from cheerful compe- 
 tence and content to 'other scenes, where competence 
 is not, and content is not so frequently a guest. Let 
 us follow for the moment Leigh Woodroife and his / 
 fortunes. 
 
 He has been for six months and more no\r the com- 
 panion and friend of Mor daunt. He has seen strange 
 sights about town, sights which recalled early and 
 slumbering recollections, and which made his heart 
 bleed and his brain reel. Night after night, in the 
 streets of a mighty city, visiting the sick, the dying, 
 and the wretched ; relieving those who are, it may^be, 
 nearly starving ; whispering consolation and religion 
 into the ears of those who, for a long time ere this, 
 were hardened to everything but the allurements of 
 vice, or the hoarse croakings of despair. That six 
 months' pilgrimage amongst the dens of London 
 taught Leigh lessons which are not learnt by some in 
 a whole lifetime : it taught him patience and faith ; it 
 also taught him to respect the trials, however sore 
 which God sends to man, and also to find that even in 
 God's chastisements there is mercy, and that man's 
 folly, weakness, and wickedness are to be blamed, 
 rather than the goodness of Providence should be 
 questioned. 
 
 It also taught him to be of much the same creed as 
 his good and great companion, and to despise the con- 
 ventionalities of the world, to laugh at many of its 
 institutions, and to thoroughly liate that society 
 
318 DIAMONDS AXD SPADES. 
 
 which, to secure ease and luxury to a small portion of 
 liumanity — an ease and luxury, by the way, more 
 baneful to their souls than the hardest trials of poverty 
 —the greatest portion of mankind are condemned to 
 incessant toil, to want, to ignorance, to eating cares, 
 and a slavery of providing for the wants of the day, 
 whioh effectually excludes them from being wise or 
 good, and very frequently even from being either 
 cleanly or honest. He began to learn by this new 
 teaching how in such cases as these the property hekl 
 by individuals^ — consisting perhaps of vested wrongs, 
 miscalled rights — must be nothing less than the whole- 
 sale robbery of the community ; and he began to long 
 for that day when, by such sights as he had seen, other 
 eyes might be enlightened, and earnest hearts moved 
 to work towards that coming good day which shall see 
 men's rights all equal, men's opportunities made more 
 level: that day when an untaught man shall be scarce ; 
 when riches shall be mostly regarded but as yellow 
 dross, often useless, frequently most noxious ; and 
 when the aristocracy of this great nation shall be that 
 of knowledge and virtue, and not that of patent or 
 of place. 
 
CHAPTEE XLIII. 
 
 If we have left Mr. Tom Ingot alone for a long time, / 
 it is because we had to do with other persons in this 
 story, and not because we were tired of his company. 
 Tom, as we have said before, was a perfect man of the 
 world ; and having now place and power, and, moreover, 
 a rich wife, he cared little for anybody — almost as 
 little, indeed, as anybody cared for him. 
 
 He was now great friends with his nephew, for he 
 had outlived his ambition of being a marquis, and used i 
 to induct that young gentleman into a great many of 
 the gay scenes about town. "When he spoke in the 
 House of Commons it was generally upon some trivial 
 subject, but in which, perhaps,»a section of the people 
 were interested. His speech, which was written for 
 him by a clever young author who was his private 
 secretarj^, was always well timed, and generally made 
 quite a noise ; but the Ministry laughed in their sleeves 
 to think how Tom gulled the people, and how he, 
 whom they thought a Eadical, generally used his 
 unseen and most valuable influence upon the side of 
 the Tories. It must be confessed, however, that Tom 
 was listened to with respect in that august assemblage, 
 where many a better man would have been cried 
 down. The truth is, the Hon. Thomas had his part 
 
320 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 assigned to liim, and lie played it like any other pup- 
 pet, and quite successfully too. How vigorously he 
 kicked when self-interest pulled the strings. How he 
 would, upon a given signal, bully and slang the Prime 
 Minister. How many a Foreign or Colonial Secre- 
 tary w^as called by Tom an incapable, an incubus, or 
 possibly a traitor ; and yet how affably the two dined 
 together at the Carlton or the Eeform Club after- 
 wards ! The part which this gentleman, and many 
 other politicians also in this world, played, was to pay 
 tithe of mint and cummin, and yet to neglect the 
 weightier matters of the law. Yet these gentlemen 
 hold up their heads pretty highly in this world, and 
 are called patriots, and by many other glorious names 
 — which, by the way, do not belong to them in the 
 slightest degree ; for of all charlatans and quacks the 
 political charlatan is the most dangerous, and his 
 teachings, if followed, are the most disastrous. 
 
 Mr. Ingot sat at home with his wife, in his house 
 in Chesham Place, and, was, upon one winter's night, 
 very calmly sipping his tea, and dipping, in a very 
 easy and degage manner, bits of dry toast in the cup, 
 and then devouring them: for time and a hard life 
 had begun to tell upon Mr. Tom's "grinders," as he 
 called them. Presently there was a timid knock and 
 a ring at the visitor's bell. 
 
 "'Ged," said Tom, smoothing back his hair with 
 one hand and setting down his teacup with the other, 
 " I hope that it is not a politician." 
 
 ''Eeally," said his wife, deprecatingly, " I hope it 
 is not. "What with committees, and delegates, and 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 321 
 
 speaking liere and there, you liave scarcely a moment 
 to yourself." 
 
 " That I have not," said Tom. 
 
 " It's a woman's voice," returned his wife. 
 
 " A working man's wife wants me to subscribe to 
 some testimonial, I suppose." 
 
 '^Bother the testimonials!" said Mrs. Ingot, 
 sharply. 
 
 " Why, yes," drawled Tom, languidly ; "why, yes, 
 they are always at it. That comes of being reputed 
 rich." 
 
 " And of being the poor man's champion," retorted 
 the other. 
 
 " True enough there," said Tom ; " but if I were 
 not, I should have lost all my influence. A peer's 
 brother, supposing that peer has all the money, is not 
 much." 
 
 As he said this the servant opened the door. 
 
 " A person wishes to see you, sir." 
 
 " Is it a male or female ?" 
 
 " A female person, sir," was the answer. 
 
 '* Oh, it's about some political affair. Show her 
 into the library, John, and tell her that Mr. Scribble, 
 my private secretary, will see her." 
 
 " Must see you, sir." 
 
 " The deuce she must ! " answered Tom. " Well, 
 never mind, show her into the library." 
 
 John creaks away in his pumps, and presently the 
 opening and the shutting of a door was heard ; and 
 Tom, looking at a mirror as he went out, and taking 
 care to make his face look as much like that of Pitt 
 
 T 
 
322 DIAMONDS A^jy SPADES. 
 
 as possible, entered the library with a book on politi- 
 cal economy in his hand, with the page turned down 
 at a telling passage. 
 
 The library was a room devoted to political soirees 
 and deputations, and was furnished accordingly with 
 great art : portraits of Jeremy Bentham, Major Cart- 
 wright, and Sir Francis Burdett ornamenting the 
 walls, and Paine's " Eights of Man," a digest of the 
 Code Napoleon, an essay on Magna Charta, and other 
 loud-looking books, occupying the prominent places 
 in the bookshelves. 
 
 Mr. Ingot entered this room with a lofty and states- 
 man-like look, and found himself in the presence of a 
 lady in black. 
 
 She was seated with her face towards him, but it 
 was covered with a thick crape veil, through which 
 Tom's eye could not penetrate. 
 
 " To whom," said Tom, politely — for politeness 
 with him was a rule — " To whom have I the honour 
 of addressing myself?" 
 
 "That voice!" said the lady. "It is the same." 
 And the figure in black trembled violently. 
 
 Tom was puzzled. The lady evidently knew him, 
 but as she had expressly come to see him it was no 
 wonder. As for Tom, he was completely in the dark. 
 
 " Eeally, madam," said he, " you have the advan- 
 tage." 
 
 " Have you so much forgotten me, base man ? " was 
 the answer. " Or am I so much altered ? " 
 
 As the lady uttered these words she removed the 
 Tail from her face, and showed a countenance in which 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 323 
 
 beauty had been once prominent, but from wbicb care 
 and trouble bad long driven it. 
 
 Tom Ingot bent forward, stupified with astonish 
 ment. "Heaven and earth!" he cried; " whj, it's 
 Julia!" 
 
 "Yes," was the answer; "it is indeed Julia, be- 
 trayed, abandoned, seduced ; but yet your wife and 
 the mother of your child. 
 
 " My wife !" cried the politician, as he sprang 
 towards the door, closed, locked, and bolted it. 
 "Pooh, pooh, madam, you are mad!" 
 
 "I was nearly so eighteen years ago," she cried, 
 " when want made me abandon my child, but I am 
 not now. Look at this, it is an attested copy of the 
 confession of a dying man." 
 
 Tom glanced at the handwriting. " Sinclair ! " he 
 said, as he read the name with a start. 
 
 "The same," she cried. "Tour instrument, and, 
 as you thought, my ruin ; but I now know my 
 preserver." 
 
 " He was an unfrocked, loose, abandoned wretch," 
 cried Tom, " a school and college friend, who read to 
 me and you, being first well paid for it, a mock mar- 
 riage service." 
 
 " No, thank God, no," cried the woman. "Eead 
 his confession ; here is a letter to you. At the time 
 he married us he was in holy orders ; the licence was 
 not forged, as you thought — the ceremony was real.'' 
 
 " The devil !" cried Tom, in a suppressed but furious 
 voice. 
 
 " Tes," cried the other ; " and, sir, our child 
 
 y 2 
 
324 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 lives ; lives liappily and innocently, perhaps to bless 
 us both." 
 
 The words were no sooner out of the lady's lips 
 than Tom bent forward in an agony of fear and alarm, 
 and^cried out — "Say no more; for Heaven's sake, say no 
 more. I thought this ceremony false, and am married 
 again.'* 
 
 The lady who heard these words looked at Tom 
 with a bewildered stare, and then \7ith a low moan 
 fainted away. 
 
CHAPTEE XLIY. 
 
 • THE LAW TAKES ITS COURSE. 
 
 That which the reader hath gathered from the broken 
 narrative of Betsy was perfectly true. After getting 
 every possible coin from Pip, and working him into 
 such a state of frenzy that it was a mercy he was not 
 slain by his hand, the Mouse had been tempted to 
 plan and execute a robbery at the place where Pip 
 was employed. The wretched young man had come 
 into the shop too late to prevent it, was the iSrst to 
 discover and to trace it to its true source, and, unable 
 to face the accusation and the examination of the 
 police, had turned and fled. 
 
 But it so happened that the old lady who kept the 
 shop was remiss in stock-taking, and that Pip, also 
 reasoning with himself, and knowing that his every 
 movement would be watched, returned back to her 
 upon the very evening of the robbery, and throwing 
 himself on his knees, confessed who he was, and told 
 her all. 
 
 Now it also happened, and very luckily for Pip, that 
 the old lady was eccentric, and that she was religious. 
 Had she been gifted with that kind of sense which is 
 called common, she would have called in a policeman, 
 and have given Pip into custody. On the contrary, 
 she absolutely believed him, took her loss, which after 
 
326 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 all was not severe, very calmly, and told Pip to come 
 again in the morning, as if nothing had happened. 
 The young fellow sprang away towards home with a 
 lightened heart, and with a prayer on his lips for his 
 mistress. 
 
 He met Betsy, his wife, nearly in the same posi- 
 tion in which Sawkins found her, with the exception 
 that she had the baby in her lap, and that she was in 
 such a state of dread and alarm that she nearly fell 
 into hysterics upon seeing her husband. She told 
 him what had happened, and that moreover she had 
 tried the door, and had found it locked. Sawkins, she 
 said, had not been gone above half an hour, and she 
 had not dared to rouse the neighbours. 
 
 Pip also dreaded something, for he, trembling 
 violently, rushed up stairs with a bound, and with a 
 vigorous foot pushed in the door. And there upon 
 the floor, lighted by a faint glow from the red embers^ 
 lay the body of his old enemy, " the Mouse." 
 
 Aye, shout out for the neighbours, do ; hurry away 
 the women and the children ; keep that dog out which 
 smells the blood, and snuffs and sniffs and licks at the 
 little pool ; throw up the window there, and call the 
 police — Murder ! Let the word ring out : the papers 
 in the morning will tell it through the land, and boys? 
 scarce able to read, shall spell out to their parents the 
 story of this murdered man. 
 
 The police soon come and part the crowd authori- 
 tatively. A medical man comes with them, and as he 
 examines the body, shakes his head. The news has 
 spread like wildfire, the two ends of the court are 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 327 
 
 blocked up, and a stream of anxious faces peer in, 
 happy if the eyes which ornament them can get a 
 glimpse of the house wherein the murder was com- 
 mitted. 
 
 A tall policeman, with something upon his shoulder, 
 doubled up like a small bedstead, now parts the 
 crowd, and marches to the house. The necks of the 
 crowd are craned towards him ; that which he carries 
 is the stretcher, and forms an interesting object to the 
 crowd under the present circumstances. Look at 
 them how they eye it, and the man who carries it, till 
 he has passed into the house. 
 
 An interval of blank expectation follows. The 
 crowd outside are in such a state of excitement, that 
 they seem, like persons in a clairvoyant state, to 
 comprehend what is being done, although it takes 
 place between brick walls perfectly impervious to 
 human sight. " They are lifting him up now. Now 
 they strap him down. They will cover his face of 
 course," cry others, " so we can't see who it was. 
 Who murdered him? Why, young Pip — Pip, ^the 
 G-ame 'un,' and serve him right too." 
 
 Ha ! here he comes ; the crowd round the door, held 
 back with great difficulty by two policemen, who seem 
 taller and more important, now give back, and the 
 heavy tramp of two others is heard coming down the 
 stairs. 
 
 A kind of horrent whisper runs through the crowd , 
 " Give way ! give way ! — let it pass ! here it comes! " 
 cry men and boys, pressing backwards from the 
 ghastly object. 
 
328 diamoinds and spades. 
 
 The policemen emerge witli the stretcher on their 
 shoulders. Something lies within it, weighing down the 
 sacking with a dead weight. Some of the bystanders 
 can swear they see its hand, others think they catch a 
 glimpse of its face, and one, with a vivid imagination, 
 swears that it moves and groans. Meantime, march- 
 ings lowly and moving aside the crowd with authori- 
 tative gestures, the bearers of that shapeless burthen 
 pass on towards the dead room in St. Martin's work- 
 house. 
 
 Pip and his wife and child were in due course taken 
 into custody ; and Betsy, knowing well who killed the 
 man, and yet almost pitying the murderer, knowing 
 that on her part he struck the blow, hesitated for a 
 few moments to give the required evidence, but 
 knowing that her silence only tended to criminate her 
 husband, she at last, upon reflection, told all she knew. 
 The life-preserver, marked with the dead man's blood, 
 was found and recognised by a companion of jfche 
 burglar as belonging to him, and in due time officers 
 of known cunning and of repute in such things were 
 set upon the track of "William Sawkins. 
 
 But all this was of no avail. JSTo trace could be 
 found of the man. The news sped down the wires of 
 the telegraph with lightning speed. The police of 
 Liverpool, and of every other port in the kingdom, 
 watched with unceasing care lest the murderer should 
 escape. Accurate descriptions of the man, of his 
 clothes, his dress, his habits, and his figure, were posted 
 about the streets, and yet no prisoner was secured. 
 
 The public in the meantime were kept at fever heat 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 329 
 
 by the reporters, the penny-a-liners whom we have 
 objurgated. Those gentlemen gave rise to the most 
 unreasonable and vague reports, and fed the public, 
 who were dainty in such matters, with many fat lies. 
 Drawings of the hguse and court, accompanied with 
 abtruse speculations upon the cause of the murder, 
 and very often assigning any but the right one, ap- 
 peared from day to day ; and upon Sundays pilgrims 
 fi?om distant parts of the town came and gazed with 
 horrid curiosity upon the chamber wherein the deed 
 took place, the woman of the house making more by 
 turning up the carpet and showing the traces of the 
 blood — which she vowed could not be removed by all 
 the scrubbing in the world — than by all her other 
 lodgers put together. 
 
 In the meantime Mr. and IMrs. Pip and necessarily 
 also the baby — which by the way, some lover of 
 notoriety offered to adopt — were kept in close confine- 
 ment on remand. Some papers did not hesitate to 
 doubt the woman's account, and others, declaring that 
 from the siege of Troy downwards a woman could be 
 found in every species of mischief or instance of mur- 
 der, wove a pretty story out of the circumstances, 
 declaring that they did not believe the account, and 
 pointing out Pip as the actual assassin. 
 
 So far, indeed, had this feeling proceeded, that an 
 enterprising publisher of penny novels had accepted 
 the MS. of a highly talented work, purporting to be of 
 intense interest, and solving the whole mystery of 
 "Wild Court, and the murder itself, and was about to 
 issue it in numbers, each adorned with a cut of an 
 
330 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 exciting nature, — when no less an individual than Mr. 
 "William Sawldns himself walked into Eow-street 
 police-office, and wanted to speak with the inspector 
 of the night charges. 
 
 That officer, who was in a dirtj state of desJiabilley 
 came to his little window, and opening it, looked out 
 upon a face so ghastly pale, so worn and miserable, 
 that he stepped back, startled as if by an apparition. 
 "Well, man," he asked, "what's the matter? — an 
 assault, robbery, or what?" 
 
 Sawkins replied by unfolding a paper, which he 
 took from his pocket, worn and with frayed edges, 
 so long had it been carried, and pointing to the name 
 in large letters. Mtjedee stood in capitals on the top 
 of the bill, crying out loudly as print can cry, and 
 bidding her Majesty's lieges to deliver up and to eon- 
 fine in any of her Majesty's gaols 5ne William Saw- 
 kins, otherwise known as Lurching Bill. 
 
 " Here, take me in at oust," said the individual 
 described. " Grive me something to eat and drink, 
 and let me sleep. I have guv myself up, and I think 
 I could eat a bit now, now my mind's at ease. Stay," 
 said he, as a policeman, at a nod from the inspector, 
 collared him, " don't do that, I'm as weak as a baby, 
 and as quiet as a lamb ; I ain't slep for days. I'm not 
 agoin' to run away, or I shouldn't have come here. 
 Let me see the young 'oman with the baby. I should 
 like to see her afore it's all over." 
 
 # # 45: ■ # ^ # 
 
 It is of no use repeating the old story of the trial, 
 nor of the way in which Sawkins, a penitent man for his 
 
DIAMONDS AlfD SPADES. 331 
 
 past life, but, singularly, neither sorry nor alarmed on 
 account of the crime for which he was about to suffer, 
 bore himself at his trial ; suffice it to say, that he had 
 regained all his strength and burly looks when he was 
 tried, and seemed quite at peace and at ease. His 
 confession or evidence was so clear, and his descrip- 
 tion so vivid, that no doubt was left in the minds of 
 the jury, nor of the nation ; and the reason he gave for 
 the deed was, in many minds, an excuse for it. 
 
 He, moreover, never for a moment dropped one hint 
 of the real cause of the murder, and throughout 
 shielded both Pip and his wife. The man, he said, 
 was possessed of a secret, and was a common spy and 
 informer, or worse, living on people's honest gains, — 
 he emphasized the word honest — and extorted money, 
 or, as he called it, ^' screwing the browns" out of them. 
 Curiously enough, between the judge who condemned 
 him, and the felon, a sympathy seemed to exist. 
 The judge frequently shielded him from the puzzling 
 questions of the counsel for the Crown ; and in pro- 
 nouncing sentence upon him, trembled acd was more 
 affected than the prisoner himself. Sawkins heard 
 that death sentence calmly, and without a shudder, 
 and bowed his head meekly, and thanked his Lordship 
 humbly as one who had received a benefit. 
 
 A space of time elapses, short — aye, short indeed ! 
 The close of a lifetime is hurried up in those few days ; 
 sins have to be repented of, and peace with the world 
 has to be made. Eetsy and the child visit the con- 
 demned man, his only friends, save the chaplain and 
 Pip. They are often with him, and at prayers he 
 
332 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 sometimes groans and weeps, but not for this last sin ; 
 lie cannot be brouglit to call it by that name. He is 
 " game " to the last, and gives good advice to Pip. At 
 last a certain night comes, and tov^^ards the early 
 morning of the next day a scaifold grows tip against 
 the London sky, and it shows in black relief as the 
 morning dawns. Towards it there is a sea of faces 
 turned, and the crowd of bodies to which these are 
 attached grows every moment denser and more dense. 
 Children are there, held up by bawling, drunken wo- 
 men, to see the sight, for the law is going to take its 
 course, and to teach, and that publicly, the last lesson, 
 and the first it ever taught to the unhappy man. 
 
 Nay, not unhappy ; forgiven, for what we know. 
 He rose up and slew a man, one who had disgraced 
 that name ; who was utterly and thoroughly con- 
 temptible ; who himself was a teacher of sin, and a 
 learned doctor in the grand college of vice. 
 
 Hark ! the bell tolls ; the door opens, and they 
 come. The man, chief actor in the tragedy, walks 
 firmly, and listens with a stretched attention to the 
 last words of the good chaplain. If he had known 
 that good man sooner ; if he had been taught a creed 
 of mercy, temperance, meekness, would he have been 
 there now ? 
 
 Grentlemen, connoisseurs in such sights, who from 
 the first-floor windows of the surrounding houses look 
 through double-barrelled opera glasses at the face of 
 the criminal, declare that they can see his lips move in 
 prayer. 
 
 He stands upon the drop now, and is close under 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 333 
 
 the beam. He looks around at the mighty crowd of 
 upturned faces below him, and then with one strong 
 shudder at the beam and rope above him. 
 
 The executioner is near him, and affixes the rope. 
 Sawkins turns and thanks the clergyman, arid begs 
 him to keep close to him when he falls, and to pray 
 for him, as he himself will with his last words pray. 
 The cap is drawn over his face, and the culprit stands 
 for one moment without features and with white and 
 shapeless head towards the crowd. Then the clergy- 
 man bends towards him, and whispers into his ear the 
 last words of Faith and Hope; and then 
 
 W •TT W W 
 
 It is all over. Come away. The tJiin^ there, a 
 man and not a man, after the sudden jerk, turns slowly 
 round on the rope, like roasting meat. For an hour 
 yet there will be gazers on that shapeless hanging 
 mass. Hawkers in the street cry out a last dying 
 speech, and friends and sympathisers going home to 
 an early and hearty breakfast tell how it was that 
 "William Sawkins died game. But all that night and 
 morning two are praying for him with streaming eyes 
 and thankful hearts, and those two are Pip," the game 
 'un," and his wife. 
 
CHAPTER XLY. 
 
 THE AKCHDEACON 3IAKES A DISCLOSURE. 
 
 "We are again in the house in Vvhich this story com- 
 menced — in the town house of the Marquis of Silver- 
 spoon, in Curzon Street, May Fair. Tiie old Marquis 
 has been for some time dying ; there is no question 
 ahout that. He is sinking fast, and has been brought 
 up to London to his physicians. 
 
 JSTo skill can save him. A second youth — for he is a 
 very old man — has passed, and he lies there bed-ridden 
 and exhausted ; and his son rules in his place. He is 
 not yet, however, Marquis of Silverspoon ; for the 
 possessor of the title may live on in the dreamy state 
 he lies in for weeks and months, aye, and for years. 
 
 The Archdeacon is with them still, and spends his 
 time in controlling the affairs of the Church and the 
 affairs of the Marquis ; but the young Lord struggles 
 against his authority, and rules with a high . hand 
 where he can. Every day he becomes more abusive 
 to the clergyman, and more haughty in his behaviour. 
 There is an open breach between them. 
 
 The young fellow tells his old tutor, that when the 
 coronet is on his own head, he shall leave that house. 
 He will not be restrained ; he will have his own way, 
 and not be ruled by a priest. He says this with a 
 sneer ; but the face of the tutor does not alter, and he 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 335 
 
 looks at his pupil with the same kind smile as before. 
 That smile is full of power, and moves the young man 
 strangely. 
 
 He rages and foams at the mouth, and bites his lips 
 till they are white, and then he dashes away. The 
 servants down stairs talk to each other about this. 
 Some of the younger ones declare that the young man 
 is right — that they will be glad when the clergyman 
 is turned adrift. But the elders shake their heads, 
 and say that Honeysoap is the right-hand man, and 
 that but for him the family would have gone to pieces 
 long ago. 
 
 As for my Lady Silverspoon, she, long since smoothed 
 down to her state and place, weeps with her confi- 
 dants, and absolutely deplores her Lord's coming death 
 — she calls it dissolution. It will be a dissolution to 
 her. She will no longer reign as Marchioness, but 
 sink into a dowager. She upholds the Archdeacon 
 with her little authority, and always treats that gen-/ 
 tleman with the utmost respect. No satrap, indeed, 
 could have reigned more absolutely than did Honey- 
 soap in his day ; but it is plain that his day has gone 
 by, and another king has arisen — another Pharaoh — 
 who when he reigns will not know this Joseph. 
 
 The quarrel, therefore, goes on; carried on bitterly, 
 but not openly ; raging round the poor old sick man's 
 bed ; carried on in his chamber ; quiescent only when 
 — as he does every night — the Archdeacon reads 
 prayers by his old Lord's bedside. 
 
 But, as the servants say, what is the cunning old 
 clergyman about ? He has interviews with lawyers' 
 
336 DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 continually, and receives long enclosures of mysterious 
 papers almost every day. There is a plot going on, 
 they are sure ; and the house down-stairs is divided, 
 some being in the interest of one side, and some on 
 the other. 
 
 The valet of the young Lord, a supple, cringing 
 fellow, who can speak all languages almost, except 
 that of honesty, tells him of this, and in a quarrel 
 next day about some money, for Plantagenet is dread- 
 fully expensive in his habits, and extravagant in all 
 things, the foolish young man lays his hand upon the 
 clergyman — yes ! absolutely strikes him ! 
 
 Honeysoap has not been at college for nothing, and 
 in his youth knew how to fight. He is strong and 
 hale yet, and with vigorous arm repels the blow. 
 Then he speaks. 
 
 " My Lord, my Lord, it needed but this. I had 
 waited else till your father's death, for all links of my 
 evidence are completed. ]S"ow, however, that which I 
 have long nursed shall be produced. "Wait till this 
 evening, my Lord; it is early morning now, and I 
 will leave this 'house for ever, if your will has power 
 to make me." 
 
 Plantagenet answers with a curse, and is passing 
 out. 
 
 " Tour father," continues the clergyman, " is better 
 now, and in his room to-night we will meet. At 
 eight o'clock, my Lord, I shall be ready to receive 
 my dismissal from you, if you have the power.'* 
 
 At eight o'clock — the hour when generally they 
 had prayers. 
 
DIAM02fDS AKD SPADES. 337 
 
 At eiglit o'clock tliey are assembled. The old Lord 
 brightens up, and gets excited and talkative, for there 
 are strangers in the room — strangers for many a day, 
 at least. The Hon. Tom Ingot, a strangely-altered 
 man, whose face looks old and wearied too, and his 
 wife, have come by the Archdeacon's bidding to the 
 meeting. 
 
 The Archdeacon is there, quiet and triumphant. 
 Mr. Spatula is there ; Sir James Shark, a punchy, 
 little, feeble baronet, now out of practice as a physi- 
 cian, is also there. 
 
 Archdeacon Honeysoap begins in a soft voice the 
 conversation. He has a document, a legal document, 
 in his hand, and some people present have an idea 
 that it is a will. Are they called upon to witness it, 
 or why are they there ? The Archdeacon tells them 
 why. He had studied to uphold the house of Ingot, 
 he says — a noble and an ancient house — for many 
 years. He was well versed in their history — perhaps 
 no one better. 
 
 The old Lord, from the bed, garrulously confirms 
 this, and says that , the Archdeacon is a good man, 
 and wise — oh, very wise. But in doing this, the 
 Archdeacon says, that is, in upholding the family, he 
 had met Avith much ingratitude, for to him the family 
 must know they owed much ; that ingratitude pro- 
 ceeded from a single person. All eyes, upon this, 
 turn on young Plantagenet, who mutters an oath. 
 
 " In his researches amongst the deeds of the 
 family" — at these words the old man doses off into 
 a kind of lethargy ; and the others, under the idea 
 
 z 
 
338 DIAMOIS^DS AKD SPADES. 
 
 that an immense addition to tlie property is found, 
 lean forward — " he had discovered an important fact 
 — namely, that the Marquis who lay upon the bed, 
 nor his son, nay, nor his father before him, had one 
 jot of right or title to the estates they held, or the 
 title w^hich they bore." 
 
 All present start. The Marchioness trembles and 
 turns pale ; the young Lord clenches his list, and 
 mutters "liar!" But the old Lord on the bed mutters 
 in his lethargy — 
 
 " True, true ; Honeysoap is a clever man — a very 
 clever man, and knows all our secrets. What he says 
 is true." 
 
 The Archdeacon rises, and the white head of the 
 old Lord is lighted up as it lies with stream-silver 
 hair upon the pillow. "Is not this true also," he 
 says, " Plantagenet Ingot, commonly, but falsely, 
 called Marquis of Silverspoon, — is not this true, 
 that in the year 1780 your great grandfather, one 
 John Ingot, then holding a commission in his Ma- 
 jesty's guards, did cause to be carried off, and did 
 attempt to murder, one Easil Ingot, your great 
 grand-uncle, and his own cousin, the rightful heir, 
 indeed the heir presumptive, to the estates and 
 title?" 
 
 "He did so," said the old man, feebly, and with 
 closed eyes. 
 
 " Did not that John Ingot succeed to the estates, 
 and do you not, his lineal descendant, hold your 
 lands from him ?" 
 
 "I do so ; and now" — the old man gave a heavy 
 
DIAMONDS AUTD SPADES. 339 
 
 sigh — "to prepare myself for lieaven, where there 
 are no titles but goodness, no coronets but those 
 celestial, no\Y I give up all title and claim to the 
 lawful heir ; being in my right mind and senses, and 
 a Christian man." 
 
 "The lawful heir!" cried young Plantagenet, 
 starting. "The rightful heir! — where is he?" 
 
 The Archdeacon, with a face shining with triumph, 
 cried "Here!" and with a dramatic wave — for all 
 strong passions are dramatic — stamped and beckoned 
 to a closed door at his back. It opened, and from it, 
 pale and wasted with fever and disease, and leaning 
 on the arm of Mordaunt, came forth Leigh Wood- / 
 
 EOFFE. 
 
 " Here," said the Archdeacon, " are papers which 
 will corroborate what I say. Here one may read, and 
 we shall read when we have time, how the idiot 
 brother Basil was saved, and in IN'orthumberland, 
 under the name of "Woodroffe, lived for years, leaving 
 children when he died ; and how, from the eldest boy 
 of those, all else dying childless, this young gentle- 
 man was descended. Here, also, are the deeds which 
 witness his title to legitimation, lands and all, no one 
 else justly being able to bar his right." 
 
 Plantagenet, with a look of hatred, turned and left 
 the room, and at the same time a groan from the bed 
 escaped the old Marquis. 
 
 " G-entlemen," cried the eccentric Archdeacon, "we 
 have this night seen strange things, and performed a 
 singular duty. Let us say prayers." 
 
 So by the bedside all knelt, and the priest's voice 
 
 z 2 
 
340 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 sounded calm, gentle, and holy, reading tlie prayers 
 for the sick. Hearts beat in that room with strange 
 worldly passions ; but the calm words of intercession 
 and prayer went upwards still, as calmly and as gently 
 as if no trfcles were, nor as if a vast estate had not 
 been lost and won. 
 
 So let our prayers ever be, — prayers of an ancient 
 and a holy church, which, in its aspirations at least, 
 loses sight of the temporal when it addresses the 
 Eternal. 
 
CHAPTEE XLYI. 
 
 HOW SPADES WERE TRUMPS AT LAST. 
 
 The meeting of Leigh Woodroffe and Ellie, wliicli 
 took place a few days after the event recorded in the 
 last chapter, and the final triumph of the Archdeacon, 
 was — as the papers remark of the climax of a tragedy 
 — " affecting in the extreme," only there was no 
 tragedy played ; and the rightful heir might have 
 entered upon his estates with very little trouble to 
 himself, and have been received in triumph, had he so 
 wished. 
 
 At the same time, that is to say, shortly after her 
 two foster-children had again met, Mrs. Mackenzie 
 read a letter from the Hon. Tom Ingot, stating that 
 Ellie was his child by his first wife ; but in no way 
 clearing up the mystery in which that first wife was 
 enveloped. The truth is, that the Hon. Tom had, 
 with his usual luck and cleverness, managed to get 
 off with a compromise, and had persuaded the lady in 
 black (upon his entering into a bond to acknowledge 
 and protect their child) to let him remain in quiet 
 possession of his second wife and her fortune. After 
 she had agreed to this, the lady looked at Tom with 
 unutterable scorn, and told him that by a turn of 
 fortune she was now rich, and neither required nor 
 would accept pecuniary aid from him, and then she 
 
342 DIAMONDS Al^D SPADES. 
 
 swept off in triumph into the dark night ; leaving the 
 politician much perplexed, and for a short time in 
 continual dread of an exposure. That dread had a 
 wholesome effect upon him. He at once wrote and 
 acknowledged EUie as his child, and recalled to Mrs. 
 Mackenzie's recollection, the circumstance which she 
 had never forgotten, of her visit to him at his club, 
 with a letter from the child's mother. 
 
 But, to do him justice, Tom was somewhat charmed 
 with his daughter, and by some extraordinary finesse 
 made his wife acquainted Avith the fact of her exist- 
 ence ; and even introduced her to his home and 
 friends, without shocking that lady's feelings. Eut it 
 must be said that he did not inform the second Mrs. 
 Ingot of his mysterious visitor ; and also, that he-— 
 as he always was false himself, he distrusted others — 
 lived, we repeat it, for months in dread, fearing a dis- 
 closure. So much did he labour under this fear, that 
 he manag d, under the plea of a capital investment, 
 to draw several hundreds from his bankers, and to 
 prepare, if charged with bigamy, for immediate flight. 
 
 The charge never came ; and the Hon. Tom lives 
 now, and will probably still live — till he descends to 
 his grave — in the enjoyment of a most excellent wife, 
 fortune, and reputation ; though it must be owned 
 that, like the Egyptians, he feasts with a perpetual 
 death's head at the feast-board of his luxuries. 
 
 The old Marquis of SHverspoon died that night, 
 after they had left; him, and after joining in final 
 prayer for mercy and forgiveness, he turned his face 
 to the wall, and spake not. 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 343 
 
 "What to him now were pomp, dignity, and honour ? 
 The world was as a shrivelled scroll. On the face of 
 eternity he forgot time ; the coronet he had long en- 
 joyed was a bauble — a bauble, too, by him unjustly 
 worn. Vanitas vanifatum! Oh, emptiness of worldly 
 state and honour ! Oh, to die on such a bed as that ! 
 Could he say, as he lay there silent and dying, could 
 he say earnestly, " Our Father ?" iN'ay, indeed. He 
 had not used his fellow-men as brothers ; his state had 
 been too high. Could he claim lineage w^ith the serf 
 whom he had governed ? With the struggling world- 
 ling whom he had despised ? There came into his 
 mind as he lay there some reminiscences of the pa- 
 rable of Dives and Lazarus ; for as the Archdeacon 
 and Mr. Spatula bent over him, moistening his lips 
 with wine, he muttered — " send Lazarus unto my 
 brothers, that he may — " He was about to say 
 " warn them," but the words and his memory both 
 failed him, and he suddenly looked up to the Archdea- 
 con with a vacant and bright smile ; so vacant and so 
 bright, that it smote the priest with something like 
 repentance, and he bent down his head on the co- 
 verlid, covering his face with his hands. 
 
 "His mind is gone," said Spatula, "pray Heaven 
 he be accepted ere this ; he is mad and wandering." 
 
 "A Lord! a Lord! am I not a Lord?" said the 
 dying man, struggling feebly with the sheets, and 
 folding them over him like robes ; " am I not a Lord ? 
 Down with the rabble, lest they start up to dispossess 
 us." 
 
 "He raves like old Lear in the storm," said Spa- 
 
844i DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 
 
 tala. " How well Sliakspeare knew humanity ! "Will 
 not my Lady come in now ? I am of no use. You 
 had better administer the sacrament ; he has, mayhap, 
 some gleams of sense." 
 
 The Archdeacon nodded his consent, and the doc- 
 tor noiselessly withdrew, whilst the clergyman sounded 
 a little silver bell to summon her Ladyship to her hus- 
 band's bedside. 
 
 The Marchioness came, pale but tearless. She 
 trembled much, and knelt quietly by the bedside. If 
 she had not loved the man, yet she had respected him, 
 and, taught by example, had looked up to him as 
 a superior being. As she knelt, her whole empty 
 wasted life came to her remembrance. She was 
 stricken now, and repentance comes and stands a sad 
 angel at the door of her soul ; she admits the good 
 resolve, she will work for the good of others. All else 
 was vain and empty show ; slie would be a labourer, 
 even at the eleventh hour ; and so that she wrought 
 earnestly, she would — so her Saviour had promised — 
 receive wages with the rest. 
 
 As she knelt, the clergyman prepared his viaticum, 
 and from a small silver patten and cup administered 
 to him the sacred elements. Of a sudden, sense and 
 reason seemed to be restored to the dyiog man. He 
 took them with a deep humility, whilst the Archdea- 
 con read the service proper to the occasion 5 and then 
 raising his eyes, seemed to pray. But one moment — 
 but one short moment, and he lay l^ack quietly, as if 
 exhausted, and then, with a deep sigh, g^l^ve up his 
 soul, as if in haste to depart — and lay back, dead ! 
 
DIAMONDS AKD SPADES. 345 
 
 Go, give notice to tlie world that lie is dead ! Eless 
 you, the world has been warned of it, and hath waited 
 for his death these ten days. The fashionable phy- 
 sician buzzed about the news ; the fashionable 
 people hummed it each to each ; tlie fashionable 
 tradesmen knew all about it, and closed the Marquis's 
 accounts in their books, and had their invoices ready 
 against the notice from the lawyer came. There is 
 pomp and ceremony when a rich man dies ! They do 
 not leave tlie world like you or I shall, I can tell you. 
 
 Ceremony, indeed ! Mr. Moulds, the undertaker, 
 has been somewhat troubled; he has no bauble co- 
 ronet, of gilt tin-foil and velvet, to lend the Marquis 
 to place upon the coffin when he lies in state, or to 
 carry on the cushion, when he is borne, feet foremost, 
 to the door which shall never open for him more. 
 " Hearls," says Mr. Moulds, " is plenty, so is Wis- 
 counts, but I hain't got no Markis's." So he steps 
 over, some time before the old Lord is dead, and bor- 
 rows one from a great silversmith, and furbishes it up, 
 and has new sham ermine put round the edges, and 
 then is quite at ease. 
 
 A Lord ! he was a Lord ! The women w^ho bound 
 up his dead face, the very watchers of the corpse, the 
 very trimmers of the coffin, like the Egyptian em- 
 balm ers, centuries ago, knew they w^ere working for a, 
 Lord. So he never slipped his titles off in this world, 
 but in his empty epitaph, and in the parchment deeds 
 of the House, carried them right away to the sheer 
 edge of the other. 
 
346 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 There is a different scene going on at another end 
 of the town ; quite unfashionable, indeed ; but throng- 
 ing, populous, and busy. Before you come to the 
 part described, you have to pass through streets of an 
 amphibious nature ; streets which abjure landsmen, 
 and dress themselves out in the gayest attire to at- 
 tract sailors. The Jews w^ho congregate ^thereabouts 
 have a nautical eye, and ships' compasses, telescopes, 
 and sextants, are seen in great numbers ; indeed, they 
 are as plentiful as surgeons' instruments are at a 
 pawnbroker's shop, in a street near an hospital. 
 
 There is, to use the words of Shakspeare, a very 
 ^' ancient and fish-like " smell about the place ; for the 
 atmosphere partakes of the nautical tastes of its occu- 
 pants, and it scarcely needs the notices in the shop 
 windows, which meet you at every turn, to assure you, 
 that from the neighbouring dock you can proceed on 
 shipboard to any part of the world, and that from the 
 shops you can procure any amount of " outfit " on a 
 moment's notice. 
 
 Battling down one of these narrow streets is a cab, 
 with — how easily we fall into nautical language! — 
 four on board in the cabin, and on deck a large sea 
 chest, so large that it needs a strong horse to carry the 
 load. The passengers of that frail craft are Mordaunt 
 and Leigh AYoodrofie, and Pip and his wife ; the two 
 former are about to see the latter comfortably be- 
 stowed in the emigrant ship, which sails in a few days 
 for Australia. Pip is determined upon this course. 
 The death of "the Mouse," and the execution of Saw- 
 kins, have made him take it. He can no longer live 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 347 
 
 in LondoDj althougli his mistress lias quite exonerated 
 him ; and having, loj the confessiou of an accomplice 
 of "the Mouse," recovered most of her property, she 
 has a very high opinion of Pip, and would readily give 
 him constant employment. But no ; in a new-found 
 land Pip means "to build up a new name and fame. 
 
 They are soon on board the ship, and at the door of 
 his berth, which looks but like a large cupboard, but 
 which is, says the mate, " good enough for a bishop," 
 Pip three or four days ago affixed his card, with a new 
 name — Mr. Smith. It is an ancient and well-deserving 
 name, and before now a monarch has assumed it. 
 Let us rest assured that a penitent thief wdll not 
 disgrace it. 
 
 Betsy is like an April day, all smiles and tears. 
 She presses the baby to her breast, and calls him fondly 
 the " young Englishman." She feels leaving the old 
 country, and knows that her next baby will be no 
 Englishman, and that each year wdll loosen the tie 
 which binds her to the dear old land. 
 
 They are on board quickly. The baby is put to 
 sleep in the berth, and Pip, with his wife hanging 
 on his arm, prepares to bid adieu to his friends. 
 He thanks Mordaunt, with tears of gratitude in his 
 eyes ; he blesses Leigh for acting like a brotlier to 
 him. He will work straight a-hea'd now. JSTo more 
 cunning ; no more dishonesty. Hearty, manly labour, 
 while his hand can wield a spade. 
 
 " G-eo-ho ! Heave-ho ! All for the shore must 
 leave!" Eriends kiss and embrace; hands are 
 pressed and handkerchiefs waved. Hurry down the 
 
348 DIAMONDS A^D SPADES. 
 
 gangway ! — even that is on the move. She's being 
 towed out now ! God bless the ship, and all her 
 freight, especially those self-made exiles who in dis- 
 tant lands shall build up England's name. Again, 
 God bless the ship, and speed her on her way. 
 
 Mordaunt stands on the shore, side by side with 
 Leigh. The vessel moves slowly at first ; but soon, in 
 the thick atmosphere, she grows indistinct ; and now 
 she is out of sight ; and Pip and his wife are on their 
 way to try that life wherein diamonds, symbolically 
 speaking, are at a discount, and the best hand in the 
 game is that which has the best spade. 
 
CHAPTEE THE LxiST. 
 
 Six months have elapsed. Pip and his wife have long 
 got to their journey's end, and the old Lord has been 
 so long buried that he is nearly forgotten. The 
 Marchioness has entered a religious establishment, in 
 the south of England, which, though of the Pro- 
 testant Church, is made for the rest and consolation 
 of ladies who are tired and disappointed with the 
 world. The inmates of this establishment spend their 
 time in close attendance • on the poor and sick, and 
 look for a reward not in this world but in the next, 
 " where the wicked cease from troubling and the 
 weary are at rest." 
 
 But there are others in this story who do not think 
 of retiring ; and upon this very May morning of which 
 we are writing there is such a worldly affair as a 
 wedding going forward at the little village church at 
 Perrivale, not a half-dozen miles from London. 
 
 Leigh Woodroffe is going through the process of 
 being married to Ellie. Leigh is pale and thoughtful, 
 EUie all blushes and smiles. Mr. Spatula, who keeps 
 recurring to his own marriage in the same church 
 some years ago, is alternately solemn and hilarious ; 
 for he combats sadness in a manly way, and generally 
 gets the better of it. As for the Hon. Tom Ingot, 
 who, as father to the bride, is there in great glory, he 
 
350 DIAMOIS-DS A.^D SPADES. 
 
 lias suddenly assumed a new phase of cliaracter, an. 
 is very quiet, respectful to tlie clergyman, and reli- 
 giously paternal. He makes quite an impression upon 
 the clerical gentleman, who has heard a wild cha- 
 racter of him : and Mrs. Mackenzie looks upon him 
 as one changed and improved. Mordaunt is there ; 
 he has found an old college friend in the clergyman, 
 and has endeavoured to inoculate that individual with 
 some of his wild notions about improving the world ; 
 but the latter, who is a good calm man, conformed to 
 the manners of society, and less hopeful than the 
 other, shakes his head, and says that it (the world) is 
 incapable of improvement. Perhaps he is right ; cer- 
 tainly he prefers doing good in his own way, and may, 
 if he takes care, die a bishop. 
 
 The ceremony is over ; the frigid pew-opener and 
 the mouldy clerk receive their gratuity, and drop their 
 obeisance. The bride and bridegroom ascend the steps 
 of the carriage and drive off to Mr. Spatula's country 
 house, and the Hon. Tom, after leaving a five-pound 
 note for the poor of the parish, returns to town and 
 to his club, solemn and sad. His daughter is a wife 
 now, and in a short time he may be a grandfather. 
 He feels he is getting old, and grows sadder and sadder 
 every day. 
 
 Strange to say, Leigh Woodroffe bears the same 
 name still. The Archdeacon urges him to assume his 
 title, but he will not do so. He thanks the Arch- 
 deacon for all his kindness, and owns that but for him 
 he should have been still poor ; but he does not hesi- 
 tate to employ part of the wealth which is attached to 
 
DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 351 
 
 is estates in carrying out some of the excellent pro- 
 jects of Mordaunt. He has written to his reprobate 
 cousin, to tell him that, should he choose, fortune and 
 title are still his, but he has had no ans^Yer to his 
 letter. 
 
 The young Lord fled, disgusted and disgraced. 
 Everything had been taken from him but his pride. 
 That was too great to admit of being laid under an 
 obligation by one who had been a groom. The letter, 
 which, after some delay, reached him at Eaden Eaden, 
 he tore into fragments and spat upon in his rage. In 
 his wild life he had acquired one accomplishment. He 
 was an elegant billiard-player, and by this art he sub- 
 sisted ; until, having ruined a young frenchman, that 
 individual fastened a quarrel on him, called him out, 
 and shot him. 
 
 There in a low inn in a petty German town, half- 
 peopled by vagabond English, with roues and black- 
 legs, with G-erman nobility, rich English citizens, 
 fashionables of tlie worst character, and ladies of no 
 character at all, lay he who was born to high estate, 
 and who, had he properly cultivated himself, might 
 have even been an ornament to society. But that so- 
 ciety flattered, spoiled, and rendered him useless by 
 persuading him that he was something superior to the 
 common run of men. That society had neglected him 
 when title and prestige left him, and he died with a 
 cur^ against it on his lips, and with a heavier curse 
 upon Archdeacon Honeysoap and Leigh Woodrofle. 
 
 An old dramatist tell us that to the good, the curses 
 of the wicked turn to blessings. It seemed indeed to 
 
352 DIAMONDS A^D SPADES. 
 
 be so with Leigh, for no one could be happier. Trial 
 and early sorrow had passed away, and, yet in the 
 morning of life, he enjoyed the calm, still happiness, 
 which but few experience till the close. 
 
 Assisted by Mordaunt, he formed schools to teach 
 the untaught, and refuges to reclaim the guilty ; and 
 is now an example of the good one man may do, when 
 assisted by Fortune, and when he himself is earnest 
 to serve his fellow-creatures. 
 
 Mr. Spatula still lives, although deprived of his 
 housekeeper ; who of course now resides with those 
 children whom she befriended, Leigh and EUie. It 
 would be hard to say who is the happiest of the three. 
 I should say probably Mrs. Julie Mackenzie is. She 
 is a portly, stout matron now, all smiles and plea- 
 santry. EUie delights in dressing her almost extrava- 
 gantly, and it must be said that Mrs. Mackenzie be- 
 comes her clothes as well as a duchess. She sits an 
 honoured guest at her adopted children's table, and 
 they pay her as much reverence and honour as they 
 did years ago, when they were little friendless children 
 in Angel Court. 
 
 Mr. Archdeacon Honeysoap, having nothing to oc- 
 cupy his mind, turned to politics, and to the affairs of 
 the Church. Several trenchant pamphlets from his 
 pen having been published, he became, from the origi- 
 nality of his views, a leader of his party, and in due 
 time was elevated to the bench by the Whigs, as*the 
 Eishop of Hemel Hempstead — that see being oppor- 
 tunely vacant. 
 
 Mr. Eones in due time was released from the House 
 
DIAMONDS Al^J) SPADES. 353 
 
 of Correction. His friends made up a deputation to 
 meet him at his release, and conducted him to the 
 Crown and Anchor Hotel, where he had a fine break- 
 fast, and made a great speech. His hostility to the 
 Hon. Tom Ingot hath since been secret, but intense ; 
 and at present he is occupied in securing a seat in 
 Parhament for a radical borough. 
 
 The Marquisite of Silverspoon is now therefore ex- 
 tinct, and you may look in vain for the title in that 
 book which Mr. Thackeray calls the Englishman's 
 second bible, the Peerage ; and the House of Ingot 
 has but one representative, who has no heirs male. 
 As for the house in Curzon Street, it is let to a great 
 lord, as proud, as haughty, as the late Marquis ; and 
 though one be dead, the brilliant race of Diamonds 
 is, therefore, by no means extinct. 
 
 Come, put up the cards, shuffle them all up, chil- 
 dren ; place knaves, kings, queens, picture cards, and 
 common cards together; the game is played out. 
 After all, what are they ? Title, place, honour, and 
 rank are as nothing in the hand of the Grreat Player. 
 Sometimes a knave triumphs over a queen ; sometimes 
 hearts are trumps, and sometimes not. There are 
 tricks, and shufflings, and cozenings in every game . 
 but what matters, so we play our hands well, nobly 
 and honestly ; so that we are good, kindly, and virtu- 
 ous ; so that we do no foul trick or underhand action ? 
 Let us not grieve even if our best cards are trumped, 
 and after all an adversary wins j what matters, bro- 
 
 AA 
 
354 DIAMONDS AND SPADES. 
 
 ther, low in purse and heart ? It is not now your 
 turn to win, but it may be. So the game goes, as we 
 sit at the table of the world. To-day one has all the 
 counters ; to-morrow, they are more equally divided : 
 cheating does not always prosper, the rogue loses as 
 often, or more, than the honest man. You have a 
 poor hand now, but no matter, take courage ; shuffle 
 the cards : it avails little whether trumps are Dia- 
 monds or Spades. 
 
 Woodfall and Kinder, Printers, Angel Court, Skinner Street, London* 
 
VA 08800