* 
 

THE y'ENTRI|.OOU|!ST: 
 
 I'Mf L ADKr.l'HIA 
 HAKT. 
 
 1841 .. 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 VALENTINE VOX 
 
 THE VENTRILOQUIST. 
 
 BY HENRY COCKTON, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 "GEORGE ST. GEORGE JULIAN, THE PRINCE." 
 
 WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 UNf 'JEQUUS VIRTUT1. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 CAREY AND HART 
 
 1S41. 
 
T. X. A P. O. COLL1W8, 
 Ho. 1 Lodge Alley. 
 
ffi 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 " THE power of an accomplished Ventriloquist is well known to be 
 unlimited. There is no scene in life in which that power is incapable 
 of being developed: it gives its possessor a command over the actions, 
 the feelings, the passions of men, while its efficacy in loading with ridi- 
 cule every prejudice and every project of which the tendency is per- 
 nicious cannot fail to be perceived at a glance. The design of this work, 
 although essentially humorous, is not, however, to excite peals of laughter 
 alone: it has a far higher object in view, namely, that of removing social 
 absurdities and abuses by means the most peculiarly attractive and 
 pleasiag." 
 
 This formed the prospectus of VALENTINE Vox ; and that the design 
 has been to a considerable extent satisfactorily carried out, the popu- 
 larity which the work has acquired in the course of its publication in 
 monthly parts may be held to be some proof. 
 
 There is, however, one monstrous system, the pernicious, the dreadful 
 operation of which has been, if not vividly, truthfully portrayed a 
 system teeming with secret cruelties and horrors I mean the system of 
 private Lunatic Asylums to which it will be needful for me here to 
 refer, lest the scenes which have been described be considered too terri- 
 ble either to occur in the present day, or to have indeed any foundation 
 in fact. I will mention no particular case, I will allude to no particular 
 asylum: I will go at once to the system under which men sane men 
 can at any time be seized, gagged, manacled, and placed beyond the 
 pale of the constitution, within the walls of an asylum, there to be incar- 
 cerated for life, with no society save that of poor idiots and raving 
 maniacs, shut out for ever from the world as completely as if they were 
 
 250143 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 not in existence, without the power of communicating with a single 
 friend, or of receiving from a single friend the slightest communication. 
 
 The Act by which Private Asylums are governed, viz: the 9 Geo. 4, 
 cap. 41, is intituled, Jin Jlct to regulate, the Care and Treatment of 
 Insane Persons in England; but were it called Jin Jlct to facilitate 
 the perpetual imprisonment of perfectly sane persons, with the view 
 of promoting the unhallowed designs of the sordid and the malicious, 
 its effect would be better declared: for it is an Act, essentially an Act, 
 for the promotion of such objects as those which avarice and malignity 
 may, under certain circumstances, prompt, seeing that under it fathers 
 may be incarcerated by sons, and sons by fathers: sisters by brothers, 
 and brothers by sisters: children by parents: wives by husbands, and 
 husbands by wives, when the object proposed is either adultery, the 
 dishonest possession of property, the prevention of what are termed 
 imprudent matches, or the foul gratification of revenge. 
 
 The personal liberty of no man is safe. Any one may in a moment 
 be seized, manacled, and beaten into a state of insensibility, and carried 
 away, without the power of appealing to any tribunal, without the 
 most remote prospect of being able to let any friend know where he is. 
 He is gone: completely lost to the world: those who were dear to him 
 are led to believe that he is dead, and dead he is to society for ever. 
 All that is required to authorize the perpetual imprisonment of a man 
 under the Act is a certificate signed by two medical practitioners who 
 may be either physicians, surgeons, or apothecaries, they are not at all 
 particular under the Act or one will do. if two cannot at the time be 
 conveniently procured, should any "special circumstance exist," and 
 anything may be called a special circumstance the signature of one 
 apothecary no matter how young, how inexperienced, or how igno- 
 rant he may be is sufficient to consign either a man, woman, or child 
 to a Lunatic Asylum for life. 
 
 During the progress of this work I have been apprehensive that my 
 statements on this point might be deemed exaggerations; it is hence that 
 I embrace this opportunity of showing that in illustrating this terrible 
 subject, I have neither departed from facts nor exaggerated those facts 
 in the smallest degree. 
 
 By the thirtieth section of the Act to which I have alluded, it is pro- 
 vided, "That every certificate upon which any order shall be given for 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 the confinement of any person (not a parish patient) in a house kept for 
 the reception of two or more insane persons, shall be signed by two 
 medical practitioners, each of them being a physician, surgeon, or apo- 
 thecary, who shall have separately visited and personally examined the 
 patient to whom it relates; and such certificate shall state that such 
 insane person is a proper person to be confined, and the day on which 
 he or she shall have been so examined; and also the Christian and sur- 
 name and place of abode of the person by whose direction or authority 
 such person is examined, and the degree of relationship or other circum- 
 stance of connection between such person and the insane person; and 
 the name, age, place of residence, former occupation, and the asylum, 
 if any, in which such patient shall have been confined; and whether such 
 person shall have been found lunatic or of unsound mind under a com- 
 mission issued for that purpose by the Lord Chancellor, or Lord Keeper 
 or Commissioner of the Great Seal intrusted as aforesaid; and every 
 such certificate for the confinement of any person in a house licensed 
 under this Act within the jurisdiction of the said visitors shall, if the 
 same be riot signed by two medical practitioners, state the special cir- 
 cumstances, if any, which shall have prevented the patient being sepa- 
 rately visited by two medical practitioners; and any patient may be 
 admitted into any such licensed house upon the certificate of one medical 
 practitioner only, under the special circumstances aforesaid, provided 
 such certificate shall be further signed by some other medical practitioner 
 within seven days next after the admission of such patient into any 
 such licensed house as aforesaid; and any person who shall, knowingly 
 and with intention to deceive, sign any such certificate, untruly setting 
 forth any such particulars required by this Act, shall be deemed guilty 
 of a misdemeanour; nevertheless, if any special circumstance shall exist 
 which may prevent the insertion of any of the particulars aforesaid, the 
 same shall be specially stated in such certificate: provided always, that 
 no physician, surgeon, or apothecary shall sign any certificate of admis- 
 sion to any house of reception for two or more insane persons, of which 
 he is wholly or partly the proprietor, or the regular professional attend- 
 ant; and any physician, surgeon, or apothecary, who shall sign or give 
 any such certificate, without having visited and personally examined 
 the individual to whom it relates, shall be deemed to be guilty of a mis- 
 demeanour." 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 What then is it necessary for a bad man to do whose object is to 
 incarcerate any relative or friend whom he is anxious to put out of the 
 way for ever? He has but to bribe a disreputable apothecary and, 
 unhappily, there are many in the profession who, for the fee of a guinea, 
 have signed, and who are ready again to sign away the liberty of any 
 man, pleading to their own consciences, perhaps, like Shakspeare's 
 apothecary, that their poverty, and not their will, consents he has but 
 to bribe one of these men to certify that the victim is insane or if he 
 knows not one of these, he need but excite his victim, and call in any 
 other medical man to see him, while in a state of excitement, and to 
 declare as a "special circumstance," that he has just been attempting to 
 commit suicide, or to do himself some grievous mischief, when the very 
 energy with which he will deny the imputation, will tend to convince 
 him who has been summoned expressly to see a madman, that he is 
 mad and when the certificate is signed, the proprietor of an asylum 
 has but to be applied to, when keepers will be despatched to secure the 
 victim, and the facility with which a second signature can be obtained 
 in such a case is proverbial. 
 
 In Acts of Parliament penalties look very well, and appear prima 
 facie to be very efficient: thus in this Act it seems to be a security 
 against malpractices, that, " any person who shall knowingly, and with 
 intention to deceive, sign any such certificate untruly setting forth any 
 such particulars required by this Act, shall be deemed guilty of a misde- 
 meanour;" but how is the guilt of such person to be proved? These 
 things are done in secret; the victim is doomed, seized, hurried away, 
 and confined, without having the power to offer a particle of proof or a 
 moment's opportunity of appealing against this decision, which is ren- 
 dered thereby final. But if even he should have such an opportunity 
 if by a miracle he should escape how can he prove the misdemeanour? 
 The medical man who possesses this monstrous power is licensed to act 
 upon his judgment: he pleads that to the best of his judgment the man 
 was insane: he is thereby protected. That license indemnifies him; his 
 signature indemnifies the man who employed him, and that man's 
 authority indemnifies the proprietor of the asylum in which the victim 
 is confined: and this too in a country whose free institutions form its 
 proudest boast in England, the centre, the very heart of civilization. 
 
 Look at the position of the proprietor of a private Lunatic Asylum. 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 It is with him a pecuniary speculation. He may be an honourable man 
 he may be but look at the temptations to dishonour with which the 
 system is pregnant. His object is to obtain as many patients as he can, 
 and to keep those patients as long as he can: his manifest duty is there- 
 fore diametrically opposed to his interest, and when it is so, experience 
 proves it to be unsafe, to say the least of it, to give a man impunity, 
 and trust to his honour. It is his duty, when he finds that a patient is 
 sane, to restore him to society: his interest prompts him to keep that 
 patient, because the sum which he receives, either weekly or quarterly, 
 from the person at whose instance that patient has been confined, of 
 course ceases to be paid on his being discharged. It is his duty, when 
 the commissioners visit the asylum, to give every patient a fair oppor- 
 tunity of proving that he is of sound mind: his interest prompts him not 
 only to misrepresent the actions of every sane patient, but to excite him 
 by administering drugs or otherwise, in order that he may appear to 
 the commissioners to be insane. So also is it his duty, when his patients 
 are really insane, to do all in his power to cure them, while it is to his 
 interest to keep them till death, by repudiating those means by which a 
 cure might be effected. As far, therefore, as insane persons are con- 
 cerned, the system of private asylums is pernicious, for interest will 
 govern the actions of men in the aggregate; it will trample down duty, 
 it will be in the ascendant; but looking at the operation of that system 
 upon persons who are absolutely sane, it is monstrous that a power 
 should exist which places every man in a position to be deprived of 
 liberty for life, for the pure gratification of private avarice or revenge. 
 
 As far as regards the statement that men can be incarcerated for life 
 without any friend or relative disposed to assist them having the slightest 
 knowledge of where they are, it may be urged that on application being 
 made to the commissioners such knowledge may be obtained; and so in 
 ordinary cases it may; but when a man is missing, who ever dreams of 
 applying to these commissioners? His friends in such a case are apt to 
 suppose him to have committed suicide or to have been murdered: in 
 scarcely one case out of a thousand would they suppose him to have 
 been stolen from society and confined as a lunatic. But if even they do 
 suspect this to be the case, what security does the Act afford against 
 his perpetual imprisonment? What power does it impart to his friends 
 to aid him? By the thirty-fourth section it is enacted, "That if any 
 
Vlil PREFACE. 
 
 person shall apply to one of the commissioners, or any justice of the 
 peace of the county in which any house of reception for two or more 
 insane persons is situate, in order to be informed whether any particular 
 person is confined in any of the said houses of reception for two or more 
 insane persons, and the said commissioner or justice shall think it rea- 
 sonable to permit such inquiry to be made, and shall sign an order 
 directed to the clerk of the commissioners or clerk of the visitors for that 
 purpose, the said clerk of the commissioners or clerk of the visitors is 
 hereby required, upon the receipt of such order, to make search; and if 
 it shall appear upon search that the person so inquired after is or has 
 been confined in any of the said houses, the said clerk of the commis- 
 sioners or clerk of the visitors shall immediately deliver to the person 
 so applying, in writing, the name of the keeper in whose house the 
 person so inquired after is or has been confined, the situation of such 
 house, and a copy of the order and certificate upon which such person 
 was received into such house, upon payment of the sum of seven shil- 
 lings, and no more, for his trouble." 
 
 Well: he obtains this information provided the asylum in which he 
 is confined be within the jurisdiction of the commissioners, that is to 
 say, within seven miles of London he ascertains where his friend is, 
 and what then can he do? He cannot see him, he cannot visit him: no 
 man is permitted to enter an asylum save the commissioners and the 
 persons by whose authority the inmates have been confined. 
 
 But assuming that he has the means at his command of rendering it 
 "inexpedient," notwithstanding the certificate, for the vile party to 
 detain his friend any longer in that asylum, what need that party do in 
 order to make all sure? Why he need but remove him from the asylum 
 within the jurisdiction of the commissioners to an asylum beyond the 
 jurisdiction of the commissioners: that is to say, he need but send him 
 to some country asylum, and if he send him there in another mime, 
 there is no power on earth to discover where lie is. 
 
 In vain the victim may declare that the name in which he is entered 
 is not his right name that it is for instance Roberts, when he is entered 
 as Jones the very tenacity with which he adheres to his right name, 
 will be held to be an additional proof of his delusion: he cannot be con- 
 sidered then otherwise than mad, and thus is he lost to the world for ever. 
 
 It must not be supposed, because cases of this kind are seldom brought 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 to light, that they seldom occur: the secrecy in which everything con- 
 nected with a Private Asylum is involved, renders frequent exposition 
 of individual cases impossible; but if even they occurred less frequently 
 than they do, the fact would not diminish the enormity of the system; 
 it is enormous that in a country like this, it should be possible for a case 
 of the kind to occur at all: but the facility with which it can be done is 
 amazing. 
 
 In France, before the incarceration or interdiction of a person assumed 
 to be of unsound mind can take place, there must be a conseil defamille, 
 and subsequently the decree of a tribunal, before which when three 
 physicians appointed by the tribunal have examined the patient he 
 appears, and his acts of insanity are proved. And thus ought it to be 
 in England. Instead of dragging a man to perpetual imprisonment, by 
 virtue of the purchased signature of an apothecary, he ought, before he 
 is permanently confined, to be publicly proved to be insane. It is in 
 the last degree disgraceful to this country, that men can be for ever shut 
 out from the world, and from all communication with the world, with- 
 out having at least undergone some public examination. 
 
 With respect to the treatment experienced by patients in these Private 
 Asylums, I need only refer to the published Reports of the various Com- 
 mittees of the House of Commons for proved cases of the most frightful 
 cruelty; but as the cause of those who are afflicted or who are assumed to 
 be afflicted with this the most dire calamity which can befall man, has 
 never been made a party question, why of course, no step has been 
 taken to put an end to such brutalities, and the system continues in full 
 operation still. It is, however, to be hoped that philanthropy and faction 
 may, with a view to the removal of this blot upon civilization, be con- 
 joined, or that faction alone may take the matter in hand; for while 
 faction, without the aid of philanthropy, can thunder forth its fierce 
 denunciations, with amazing effect, philanthropy, I fear, unsupported 
 by faction, has there but a still small voice. 
 
 I have been induced thus to dwell upon this terrible subject by the 
 conviction of its being one of great importance; and if, in these hastily 
 written pages, the dreadful system shall have been sufficiently illustrated 
 to induce the legislature to take it into serious consideration, it must of 
 necessity be the means of effecting a revision, and of thereby accomplish- 
 ing one of the highest objects proposed by THE AUTHOR. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 CHAP. I. The birth and education of Valentine, with the parental peculiarities and 
 
 premature death of his immediate ancestor, ... 17 
 
 CHAP. II. The genius and characteristic honour of a great magician: Valentine 
 
 inspires the spirit of his art, ...... 19 
 
 CHAP. III. Valentine makes rapid progress. His first grand public display. Strik- 
 ing development of political injustice. A sanguinary local rebellion sub- 
 dued, - ^ 22 
 
 CHAP. IV. Maternal solicitude. Great-uncle John in convulsions. The chastity of 
 
 a maiden impugned, .......27 
 
 CHAP V. Explains how Valentine started for London; how entertaining travelling 
 companions can be; how a valiant blacksmith can be a dead shot; how firm 
 may be the faith of a coachman in witchcraft; and how it is possible for a 
 journey to be protracted, - . .- 29 
 
 CHAP. VI. Peculiar liberality of the gentleman in black. The green-eyed monster 
 
 prevents the performance of a most disinterested act of friendship, - 35 
 
 CHAP. VII. Introduces great-uncle John's friend and his affectionate relatives, with 
 a knight of a new order, two invisible burglars, and one most remarkable 
 sweep, - 39 
 
 CHAP. VIII. The consultation of an interesting family party, at which it is decided 
 
 that something must be done, ...... 44 
 
 CHAP. IX. Valentine's visit to the House of Commons, .... 45 
 
 CHAP. X. In which Goodman is honoured with a peculiar visit, and subsequently 
 
 seized in the most mysterious manner possible, 53 
 
 CHAP. XI. The mysterious seizure a gentleman drowned in imagination first 
 
 appearance of Valentine upon the stage of the Italian Opera, 55 
 
 CHAP. XII. Valentine's trip to Gravesend, .... 67 
 
 CHAP. XIII. In which Valentine is introduced to three new friends, with one of 
 
 whom he passes a very pleasant night, - - - - 75 
 
 CHAP. XIV. Goodman is conducted to his new residence the liberty of the subject 
 illustrated the commencement of an exposition of a system which cannot 
 be generally known, .... - 81 
 
 CHAP. XV. Valentine visits the British Museum imparts breath to Memnon and 
 
 raises a voice from the tomb, . . 84 
 
 CHAP. XVI. The sale of Goodman's property by Walter, and the extraordinary stop. 
 
 page thereof by Valentine, ...... 90 
 
Xll CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 CHAP. XVII. Valentine visits Guildhall Becomes acquainted with those ancient and 
 respectable warriors, Gog and Magog, to whom he imparts speech pro tern., 
 and then proceeds to discuss matters of personal importance with the elo- 
 quent members of the Court of Common Council, 94 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. Shows what a conscience Goodman's brother had, - - 101 
 
 CHAP. XIX. The widow's victim, - - 104 
 
 CHAP. XX. Contains a bird's-eye view of Goodman's unenviable position, - - 108 
 
 CHAP. XXI. The equalrightites' mighty demonstration, - 110 
 
 CHAP. XXII. In which Horace sets-to with the ghost of Goodman, and Walter burns 
 
 the spectre out, - ----114 
 
 CHAP. XXIII. Valentine attends a phrenological lecture, and inspires a murderer's 
 
 skull with indignation, - ... 117 
 
 CHAP. XXIV. Brings the reader back to Goodman, who boldly conceives a particular 
 
 plan, the execution of which is unavoidably postponed, - - 121 
 
 CHAP. XXV. Valentine visits the Victuallers' fancy fair. .... 124 
 CHAP. XXVI. In which Valentine visits the London docks, and most reprehensibly 
 
 induces a wicked waste of wine, - - - 134 
 
 CHAP. XXVII. Valentine becomes acquainted with a frightful calamity, and has a 
 
 heart-rending interview on the subject with Horace, ... 143 
 
 CHAP. XXVIII. The masquerade at Vauxhall, - 147 
 
 CHAP. XXIX. In which Valentine has the pleasure of meeting two persons in whom 
 
 he takes great interest, and whom he accompanies to a wax-work exhibition, 154 
 CHAP. XXX. Goodman matures his plan of escape. The commissioners arrive. He 
 prepares to convince them of his absolute sanity, and is goaded on to mad- 
 ness. He recovers; and having reorganized his forces resolutely makes the 
 attack, - - 158 
 
 CHAP. XXXI. Uncle John announces his intention of running up to town, and Valen- 
 tine visits a wealthy individual, to whom he fails to impart much pleasure, 165 
 CHAP. XXXII. The first concert given by the native talent association, - - 173 
 
 CHAP. XXXIII. In which Walter and his amiable family have a highly characteristic 
 
 conversation on the subject of Goodman's release, - 178 
 
 CHAP. XXXIV. Uncle John arrives in town, and with Valentine attends the civic 
 
 pageant and feast, ... - 181 
 
 CHAP. XXXV. Valentine recovers the highly valued card, and proceeds with Uncle 
 
 John to the exhibition of fat cattle, - 193 
 
 CHAP. XXXVI. The mutual recognition and the interview The polite invitation, 
 
 and the dinner, - - 198 
 
 CHAP. XXXVII. Shows how Uncle John and Valentine managed to ascertain that 
 Goodman was confined as a lunatic, and how they also managed to introduce 
 themselves bodily into the asylum, .... 205 
 
 CHAP. XXXVIII. A forcible expulsion, und a totally unexpected escape* - - 213 
 
 CHAP. XXXIX. Valentine becomes initiated into the mysteries of the anti-legal-mar. 
 
 riagc association, .217 
 
 CHAP. XL. Uncle John hns another important interview with Walter, to whom ho 
 
 declares his intentions with force and effect, - 221 
 
 ' ii \r. XLI. Valentine becomes a little better acquainted with the character of Louise, 
 
 of whom he takes his first lesson, ..... 226 
 
CONTENTS. Xlll 
 
 Page. 
 
 CHAP. XLTI, In which Goodman is liberated from the Lunatic Asylum, - - 232 
 
 CHAP. XLIII. Contains an account of a breach of the privileges of the Commons' 
 
 House of Parliament, ... . - 238 
 
 CHAP. XLIV. Shows what curious creatures ladies in love may appear, - * 242 
 
 CHAP. XLV. Valentine visits the Zoological Gardens, - 247 
 
 CHAP. XLVI. Wherein Whitely explains the real cause of all his misery, - 251 
 CHAP. XL VII. Shows how Valentine tried an experiment in the House of Lords and 
 
 failed, * .255 
 
 CHAP. XLVIII. Returns to Walter and his amiable family, whose position becomes 
 
 quite alarming, ...... . 258 
 
 CHAP. XLIX. Goodman holds a consultation with his friends, at which Uncle John 
 
 finds his judgment fettered, . - . . - 262 
 
 CHAP. L. Explains the possibility of making a man dig an extraordinary hole, - 264 
 CHAP. LI. In which Valentine argues a point in opposition to the views of many 
 
 thousands, . ' - . - - . . . 273 
 
 CHAP. LI I. Valentine at Greenwich fair, - - .. - - 277 
 
 CHAP. LIII. In which a certain interesting question is proposed, - 286 
 CHAP. LIV. Valentine visits the Royal Academy, and Raven astonishes the faculties 
 
 of Uncle John, .... ; * . . . 293 
 CHAP. LV. The day is named. Echo insists upon forming an alliance with Lle- 
 
 wellen, - . . . . . . 301 
 
 CHAP. LVI. The preparations for the marriage. A surprise, - - - 304 
 
 CHAP. LVIL Explaining various matters touching the ill-timed recognition, - 310 
 CHAP. LVIII The interview of Uncle John and Whitely with Mr. Writall, an attor- 
 
 ney-at-law, - - - - . - . 317 
 
 CHAP. LIX. In which Valentine proves a good moral physician, - . - 320 
 
 CHAP. LX. Valentine visits Ascot races, - - - . - - 323 
 CHAP. LXI. Describes several interviews, but more particularly one between Writall 
 
 and Raven, - ..... 333 
 
 CHAP. LXII. Explains a variety of matters of importance to the parties concerned, 340 
 
 CHAP. LXIII. Goodman quits the scene for ever, ..... 350 
 
 CHAP. LXIV. Horace announces the fact to Walter, - - . , . 351 
 
 CHAP. LXV. In which the day is fixed again, ..... 354 
 
 CHAP. LXVI. In which another important secret is revealed, - - - 363 
 
 CHAP. LXVII. In which a variety of matters are explained, . . . 369 
 
 CHAP. LXVIIL In which the history draws to a conclusion, - 384 
 CHAP. LXIX. Brings the history to a close, . . . . .391 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 The Family Party, . Frontispiece. 
 
 Valentine recognises Horace, - - - Vignette. 
 
 The invisible Burglars about to be ejected, - 42 
 
 Persecution of Beagle, - *' - ' 79 
 
 A new feature in Phrenology, . 121 
 
 The Head driven in to look after the Voice, . 142 
 
 False alarmjit the Cattle Show, - -197 
 
 The Sheriffs' Levee, - 240 
 
 The Proposal, - 290 
 
 Valentine at Ascot, 326 
 
 Mr. Todd attracts Valentine's attention, - - 341 
 
 The Roasting of Joseph, -^ 374 
 
THE 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 VALENTINE VOX, 
 
 THE VENTRILOQUIST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF VALENTINE, WITH THE PARENTAL PECULIARITIES AND 
 PREMATURE DEATH OF HIS IMMEDIATE ANCESTOR. 
 
 IN one of the most ancient and populous 
 boroughs in the county of Suffolk, there re- 
 sided a genius named Jonathan Vox, who, 
 in order to make a fortune with rapidity, 
 tried everything, but failed to succeed in 
 anything, because he could stick long to 
 nothing. 
 
 At the age of five-and-twenty, this gentle- 
 man, who was held to be a highly respecta- 
 ble Christian in consequence of his regular 
 attendance at church twice every Sabbath 
 day, became enamoured of the expectations 
 of Miss Penelope Long, a young lady who 
 had an uncle supposed to have made a mint 
 of money somehow, and an aunt who was 
 believed to have another mint somewhere. 
 
 To the best of Miss Penelope's belief, she 
 had not another relative in the world, and 
 as this belief was singularly enough im- 
 parted to Jonathan, he at once became in- 
 spired with the conviction that he could not 
 conveniently do better than secure Miss Pe- 
 nelope, seeing that, if even he were not 
 made wealthy at once, there was wealth in 
 the family, which must at some period or 
 other be his, as neither uncles nor aunts, 
 though they live much too long for the con- 
 venience of many, are immortal. 
 
 Accordingly Jonathan embraced the very 
 earliest opportunity of assailing Miss Pene- 
 lope's heart, and this he managed to do with 
 considerable comfort to himself, and with 
 no inconsiderable satisfaction to the lady ; 
 for while on the one hand Jonathan had 
 been cast in an insinuating mould, on the 
 Other, he and Penelope were of the self-same 
 3 
 
 " order," a circumstance, which in a town 
 where the eighteenpenny people cannot as 
 sociate with the shilling individuals, with- 
 out being regularly cut dead by the half- 
 crowners, clearly renders the first advances 
 in matters of this description peculiarly 
 agreeable. 
 
 Jonathan, therefore, at once manfully com- 
 menced the attack with an original remark, 
 having reference to the weather ; but as he 
 found this a somewhat barren topic, for a man 
 cannot well keep on talking about the wea- 
 ther, and the weather only, for many hours 
 in succession, he adroitly changed it to that 
 of the eloquence of the minister of St. James's 
 a subject with which they were both of 
 course perfectly conversant, and which last- 
 ed them, with sundry affectionate interpola- 
 tions, until prudence compelled them to 
 separate for the night. 
 
 The next evening, by appointment, the 
 attack was renewed, and the thing was fol- 
 lowed up with appropriate ardour for a period 
 of fifteen years, Jonathan being naturally 
 anxious to defer the consummation of his 
 happiness as long as he possibly could, in 
 expectation of an event which might cause 
 both Penelope and himself to sport "the 
 trappings and the suits of wo." At the 
 expiration of this period, however, it having 
 been delicately suggested by Penelope, that 
 they had known each other long enough to 
 know each other well, the day was fixed, 
 and in the presence of Uncle John and 
 Aunt Eleanor, Jonathan and Penelope were 
 united. 
 
18 
 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 In less than twelve months from this 
 period, Jonathan was generously presented 
 with an interesting pledge of affection in the 
 perfect similitude of a son. The presenta- 
 tion, of course, made his heart glad. He 
 kissed his heir, sang to him, danced him on 
 his knee, and would inevitably have killed 
 him, but for the timely interposition of the 
 nurse, who insisted upon taking the child 
 away just as Jonathan was urging him to 
 drink his pa's health in a glass of hotbrandy- 
 and-water. 
 
 Now Jonathan, as we have stated, could 
 never, in pecuniary matters, get on, a cir- 
 cumstance which was not attributable solely 
 to his inability to adhere for any length of 
 time to any one pursuit, but also to the fact 
 that, with all his ardent love of independ- 
 ence with all his eager anxiety to realize 
 a rapid and a splendid fortune, he was ex- 
 ceedingly improvident, and had a really 
 great contempt for all small sums of money. 
 He was not a man capable of being prevailed 
 upon exactly to ram a twenty-pound note 
 down his gun if he wanted wadding, but he 
 would lend twenty-pounds at any time, with- 
 out the most remote prospect of its ever 
 being returned, or accept a bill of exchange 
 for that or any other amount without a 
 chance of its being honoured by the drawer. 
 This kept him perpetually poor. The more 
 money he got, the more he thus got rid of: 
 indeed he was always in debt, and that 
 always in proportion to the amount of his 
 income. 
 
 Uncle John knowing this to be one of the 
 chief characteristics of Jonathan, and con- 
 ceiving it to be high time to convince him 
 of the propriety of acting with less impro- 
 vidence in future, sought immediately after 
 the christening of his heir, who at the in- 
 stance of Aunt Eleanor, was named Valen 
 tine to impress upon his mind the expe- 
 diency of reforming. Of course Jonathan 
 saw the force of the suggestion in a moment. 
 He promised to reform ; and he did reform 
 He was inexorable for a month. He would 
 not lend a shilling; nor would he accept a 
 bill to accommodate any man. He had a 
 family, and in justice to that family he would 
 not consent to do it. At the expiration o 
 the month, however, his resolution vanished 
 He was induced by a friend to do that which 
 he had often done before, but which he hat 
 promised Uncle John that he would neve 
 do again, and when the time came for ho- 
 nouring the instrument, neither he nor hi.- 
 friend could make up the amount, and th 
 consequence was that he was immediately 
 arrested. 
 
 Valentine was of course then too young 
 to be actively engaged in promoting the 
 release of the author of his being ; but it i 
 
 lotwithstanding a fact, that he caused him 
 
 be released, seeing that through him, and 
 hrough him alone, Uncle John paid the bill, 
 ind thus set him at liberty. This event had 
 
 1 salutary effect upon Jonathan. He had 
 no more to do with those dangerous instru- 
 ments. What he lent was lent in specie ; 
 le would not lend his name to any man after 
 hat. 
 
 Now, in obedience to nature's immutable 
 aw, Master Valentine gradually grew older; 
 and when he had arrived at the age of nine 
 years, he was placed by Uncle John under 
 the care of the Reverend Henry Paul, a 
 entleman, who being unable with any great 
 egree of comfort to support himself, a wife, 
 and seven children upon the 50/. a-year 
 which he derived from his curacy, took a 
 "imited number of pupils, that is to say, of 
 course, as many as he could get, at twelve 
 guineas per annum, and no extras. 
 
 The academy of Mr. Paul was in the 5m- . 
 mediate vicinity of Newmarket, and Mr. 
 Paul himself was an extremely benevolent 
 and virtuous man. He would shrink from/ 
 even the semblance of a dishonourable 
 action, and would, rather than be guilty of 
 one, no matter how venial in the eye cf the 
 world it might be, live glorying in the rec- 
 titude of his conduct, on starvation's brink. 
 His father had been an eminent merchant, 
 and so successful in the early part of his 
 career, that he had at one time realised a 
 fortune of at least 200,000/. He did not, 
 however, relinquish business. Determined 
 to do all in his power for his son, who after 
 having received a sound preparatory educa- 
 tion, was sent to Cambridge; he continued 
 to pursue his old course of amassing wealth 
 with as much zeal and energy as if he had 
 been labouring to procure the bare means of 
 existence. The year, however, in which 
 his son left Cambridge, was a disastrous 
 year to him. A series of unsuccessful 
 speculations completely ruined him. He 
 not only lost every guinea he possessed, but 
 was plunged into debt so deeply, that extri- 
 cation was impossible. He therefore became 
 a bankrupt, and in the room in which his 
 creditors met for the first lime, the conscious- 
 ness of his position overpowered him, and 
 he died of a broken heart. 
 
 Mr. Henry Paul was thus thrown at once 
 upon the world without a shilling, and with- 
 out a friend. lie had neglected to make 
 friends while at college, by being subser- 
 vient to mere rank, with a view to patronage, 
 and had therefore no prospect of promotion. 
 For some considerable time JIP\V,IS literally 
 starving ; but he at length obtained a curacy, 
 and soon after became enamoured of an ac- 
 complished young creature, who was a 
 governess in the rector's family, and just as 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 19 
 
 poor as himself, whom he married, and thus 
 in a pecuniary point of view sealed the fate 
 of both for ever. 
 
 From such a man Valentine need not have 
 expected severity, albeit he had a lively 
 apprehension of it at first. Mr. Paul re- 
 garded his pupils with the most considerate 
 tenderness. Had they been his own children 
 his treatment of them could not have been 
 marked with more affection. His chief 
 anxiety was to impart to them a knowledge 
 of the right course, and a full appreciation 
 of the advantages of which its pursuit is 
 productive. His censure was embodied in 
 his praise of others ; his only punishment 
 consisted in withholding reward. 
 
 When Valentine had been at this academy 
 five years, during which time he had made 
 very considerable progress, his father, while 
 trying some nautical experiment in a nar- 
 row-bellied water-butt, pitched, to the un- 
 speakable mortification of an extensive circle 
 of friends, headlong to the bottom and was 
 drowned. 
 
 This event was to Valentine a source of 
 
 deep affliction as a natural matter of course ; 
 and he left school in consequence, nominally 
 for a month, but in reality never to return, 
 for after the solemn deposit of the remains 
 of the departed in the family vault, the 
 afflicted widow, as the only means of ob- 
 taining the slightest consolation, kept Valen- 
 tine at home. 
 
 His grief, however, speedily vanished. 
 He had everything he wished for was 
 petted and spoiled. Uncle John allowed 
 the widow a respectable annuity, and the 
 widow allowed Val to do just what he 
 pleased. He was usually from home the 
 greater part of the day, either shooting, 
 hunting, fishing, driving, bathing, or crick- 
 eting, and as he soon became an adept at 
 almost every active game, he invariably had 
 some match or other on hand. 
 
 Thus matters went on for the space of four 
 years, when a circumstance happened which, 
 influenced his conduct through life so mate- 
 rially, that had it not occurred, the proba- 
 bility is that his adventures would never 
 have been published to the world. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE GENIUS AND CHARACTERISTIC HONOUR OF A GREAT MAGICIAN: VALENTINE INSPIRES 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF HIS ART. 
 
 WHEN the birth-place of Valentine was 
 visited by Signor Antoni# Hesperio de Bel- 
 lamoniac, juggler extraordinary to the King 
 of Naples, and teacher of the black art to 
 Gwang Foo Twang, the Grand Emperor of 
 China, it was announced that a wonderful 
 exhibition of the noble science of legerde- 
 main, of which the signor was for the nonce 
 an Italian professor, would take place in a 
 room at the back of the Bull, an inn cele- 
 brated for the extreme antiquity of its beer. 
 
 Now the Bull, in consequence of the 
 peculiar celebrity it had acquired, was the 
 nightly resort of a select number of towns- 
 men, of whom the chief in the estimation of 
 the company was a Mr. Timotheus Ironsides, 
 the reporter and sub-editor of one of the 
 journals a gentleman whom the signor so 
 delighted the evening previously to the 
 wonderful exhibition, that he voluntarily 
 promised to give him " a lift" in consider- 
 ation of which promise the signor gave him 
 a carte blanche to send in as many friends 
 as he pleased. 
 
 Well, the hour at which the performances 
 were to take place arrived, and the signor 
 saw with considerable dismay that he had 
 embarked in a most atrocious speculation. 
 
 There were not more than five-and-twenty 
 patrons of art present, of whom seven only 
 paid the admission fee ; namely, the small 
 charge of 3d. and therefore, as the gross 
 receipts amounted to no more than Is. 9c?., 
 Signor Antonio Hesperio de Bellamoniae 
 determined on starting the next morning for 
 some place in which genius was more highly 
 appreciated, and somewhat more liberally 
 patronised. 
 
 On mentioning this, his fixed determina- 
 tion, after the performance, to Mr. Ironsides, 
 that gentleman on the instant pointed out 
 the extreme madness of the idea, explained 
 to him that Wednesday was the grand mar- 
 ket-day, that his paper was published on the 
 Tuesday, that hundreds of farmers with, 
 their wives and daughters would then be in 
 town, and that he was perfectly certain to 
 have an audience crammed to the ceiling 
 after the just and impartial criticism he in- 
 tended to give. To this the signor listened 
 with somewhere about half a smile, which 
 was clearly indicative of the existence of a 
 species of incredulity, which they who are 
 in the habit of gulling others, invariably re- 
 gard those who, as they imagine, are desirous 
 of gulling them. He didn't see it exactly. 
 
20 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 He had not the smallest doubt about its 
 being all correct, and he knew that he was 
 able to astonish them ; but how were they 
 to be caught? What sort of critique could 
 be written to bring them 1 These were the 
 questions which the signor regarded, and, 
 very naturally, as of infinite importance. 
 
 "I'll show you," said Ironsides, "how 
 we'll proceed : step here, and you shall 
 judge for yourself." 
 
 They accordingly retired to a little back 
 parlour, in which they remained somewhat 
 more than two hours concocting a criticism 
 on the evening's performance, which cer- 
 tainly was, according to the signer's own 
 acknowledgment, *'a regular flamer." 
 
 ' Now," said the Signor, " can you get 
 this in?" 
 
 " Certain," cried Ironsides, " my ho- 
 nour!" 
 
 " 1 don't doubt your honour," said the 
 Signor ; " but have you the power ?" 
 
 " Beyond every species of doubt !" replied 
 the journalist. 
 
 " Good," said the Signor " good, very 
 gocd : the justice of it pleases. Excellent 
 good ! Now I'll tell you what I'll do. 
 That there's safe to draw 'em there can't 
 he two opinions about that. Vot say you, 
 then : I'll hire the large concert room upon 
 the Market Hill, and you shall go reg'lars 
 in the profits." 
 
 ** Agreed !" shouted Ironsides. " So cer- 
 tain am I that we shall have a good house, 
 that I'll bear half the losses whatever they 
 may be." 
 
 "That's precisely the game!" said the 
 Signor " I'm delighted ! Have you got 
 such a thing as a crown ? I 'spected some 
 remittances this morning, which can't now 
 be here before to-morrow." 
 
 44 With pleasure !" cried Ironsides, and 
 the money changed hands in an instant. 
 
 ** I want to get some bills out," continued 
 the Signor, " werry airly in the morning." 
 
 *' Leave all that to me," observed Iron- 
 sides, " I'll undertake to do that. I'll have 
 some flamers, my boy, struck off; aye, and 
 posted before you are up." 
 
 * Good again !" cried the Signor. " You 
 know more about them than I do. I'll 
 leave it to you entirely even as a child 
 will I go by thy direction." 
 
 44 You'll find no nonsense about me," 
 observed Ironsides, rising and taking ihe 
 Signor by the hand 4t Good night." 
 
 44 Be stirring with the lark, good Nor- 
 folk !" cried the Signor, as the journalist 
 his exit. 
 
 " Is this to go down to Mr. Ironsides ?" 
 anxiously inr|nirr*<l UIH landlord. 
 
 ** Of course!" replied the Sijrnor "of 
 course. Now a light !" In the space of 
 
 three minutes Signor Antonio Hesperio de 
 Bellamoniac whose real name, it may per- 
 haps be proper to observe, was John Tod 
 submitted to the embrace of Morpheus with 
 all the Christian resignation at his com- 
 mand. 
 
 The next morning Mr. Ironsides wrote 
 the placards, and had them printed and 
 posted with so much expedition, that before 
 twelve o'clock they illuminated the town. 
 
 The great magician beheld these flamers 
 with delight, and when in the evening Iron- 
 sides, whose whole soul was centred in the 
 spec, brought a paper down to show him, 
 the impartial critique, he applauded him 
 even to the very echo that did, we have no 
 doubt, applaud again. Everything was that 
 night arranged. The room was swept, the 
 chandelier polished, and the money-taker 
 hired, while the cups, and the balls, and 
 the thimbles, and the swords were placed 
 in order to the infinite satisfaction, not only 
 of Ironsides, but of Signor Antonio Hesperio 
 de Bellamoniac himself. 
 
 In due course of time, the market morning 
 arrived, and the town was, as usual, at an 
 early hour, thronged. The Signor was in 
 ecstacies, when he found so many gaily- 
 dressed persons, whose countenances seemed 
 to indicate that their possessors were per- 
 fectly ready to be duped, walking leisurely 
 up and down the principal streets, with their 
 mouths wide open, and ready to swallow 
 anything. He therefore employed himself 
 during the day in going round and round 
 the town with the view of witnessing the 
 avidity with which the contents of the pla- 
 cards were read, and took especial care in- 
 cog, to impress upon each group a mysterious 
 idea of the wonderful exhibition. 
 
 Well, seven o'clock came, and the Signor 
 
 sporting a pair of huge moustaches which 
 
 he had purchased for this occasion expressly v 
 
 wriggled his way through the crowd 
 already assembled. The arrangements were 
 admirable. Only one could pass in at a 
 time, and there stood the magician, who 
 drew a shilling from each person until the 
 room was nearly filled, when, with an in- 
 junction to suffer no one to pass without 
 paying, he surrendered his post to the 
 responsible individual whom Ironsides had 
 liberally engaged. 
 
 Now the Signor was what the world 
 would call an exceedingly clever fellow. 
 He knew that he was perfectly uneducated, 
 and was conscious of the construction of his 
 sentences being anything but strictly gram- 
 matical. To conceal this, therefore, on the 
 "in- hand, and to inspire the audience with 
 a belief of his being, what he represented 
 himself t<> be, an Italian, on the other, he 
 had recourse to a jargon of his own compo- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 sition an indiscriminate mixture of Cock- 
 ney English and Yankee French which 
 never by any chance failed him, for when 
 he happened to be " at home " he could 
 make himself well understood, and when 
 abroad, he had only to resort to his un- 
 known tongue, to render himself as myste- 
 riously unintelligible as possible. 
 
 At eight o'clock precisely the curtain went 
 up and discovered the great magician en- 
 veloped in a horsecloth, which he had bor- 
 rowed for the occasion of the ostler at the 
 Bull, and which was meant to convey the 
 idea of a robe. His appearance was sin- 
 gularly imposing, for he had tied on along 
 flowing beard, which, though black, had a 
 peculiarly cabalistic and patriarchal effect, 
 while his face instead of being vulgarly 
 daubed with vermilion had been carefully 
 rubbed over with whitening, to give him the 
 aspect of one much addicted to study ; and 
 lines had been made with the edge of a 
 burnt cork, with the view of indicating the 
 furrows which that study had established. 
 
 As soon as the enthusiasm with which his 
 appearance was hailed had subsided, the 
 great magician, with due solemnity, stalked 
 forward and addressed his audience briefly 
 as follows : 
 
 " Ladi and Shenteelmongs, I have de 
 honnare to say dis, dat I sail gotroo warious 
 parformong, and ven I sail svaller him sword 
 town him troat, I vas give you vong speci- 
 ment ob venter et loquer, dat am to say, 
 speak in him pelly." 
 
 What was understood of this gave great 
 satisfaction ; but what was most applauded 
 was that which was most unintelligible. 
 
 The performances then commenced, and 
 the Signor went through a variety of old 
 tricks very cleverly. But when he came to 
 his ventriloquism, he completely astounded 
 his audience, for never having- heard any- 
 thing like it before, they were in doubt as 
 to whether there was not in him something 
 superhuman. He then commenced playing 
 the violin ; and although he was an infa- 
 mous fiddler, he managed to ravish his au- 
 dience by producing a series of the most 
 horrible sounds that ever assailed the ears 
 of either man or beast, and thus terminated 
 the wonderful performances of the evening. 
 
 Signor Antonio Hesperio de Bellamoniac's 
 next care was, of course, to get the money 
 which had been taken at the door during 
 the performance, which added to the sum 
 he himself had received, made the gross 
 amount 23/. 15s. With this and his imple- 
 ments of jugglery the whole of which 
 were safely deposited in a small cotton 
 handkerchief he repaired to his quarters, 
 where, of course, he was soon joined by his 
 partner, the journalist. 
 
 " Oh ! my dear sir !" exclaimed the Sig- 
 nor, as Ironsides entered, "I'm bound to 
 you for never." 
 
 " Don't mention it, my boy," cried the 
 journalist. " You see I was right." 
 
 "That talented notice of yourn did the 
 trick," observed the Signor, " that vos the 
 game !" 
 
 "You have a pretty good haul," observed 
 Ironsides. 
 
 " Hexcellent !" warmly exclaimed the 
 Signor; "vords cannot hexpress my deep 
 gratitude. Vot'll you take ? I mean for to 
 stand a good supper to-night, if I never stand 
 another." 
 
 Accordingly supper was ordered and eaten, 
 and brandy-and-water ad libitum drank, the 
 whole of which was directed by the Signor 
 to be put down to the general account, 
 which was accordingly done upon Ironsides' 
 sole responsibility. 
 
 " Now," said the Signor, when Ironsides 
 had drank pretty freely, "shall we divide 
 the receipts of this glorious night now, or in 
 the morning 1" 
 
 " As you please, my dear boy," said the 
 journalist. 
 
 "Well, I want to get rid, you know, of 
 some of it," said the Signor, " but perhaps 
 arter hall it 'ud better be done in the morn- 
 ing ?" 
 
 "Perhaps it had," hiccoughed the journ- 
 alist. 
 
 "Vot time '11 you be down 1 ?" inquired 
 the Signor. 
 
 "Any time you like," replied Ironsides. 
 
 "Shall we say twelve then?" observed 
 the magician, " and by that time you'll be 
 able to put down all you have paid for bills, 
 and sutterer; and I shall insist upon your 
 having a couple of guineas hextra for that 
 critic of yourn in the paper." 
 
 " Not a copper," cried Ironsides. 
 
 "But I insist," said the Signor. 
 
 " So you may but not a copper not a 
 cop ". 
 
 " Well I don't of course want to insult 
 you. If you vont, vy there's a hend off the 
 matter. Come, drink." 
 
 But Ironsides could drink no more. He 
 felt that he had already drank more than 
 enough, and therefore left his friend and 
 partner with the understanding that they 
 were to meet the next morning at twelve. 
 
 The morning came and the journalist was 
 as punctual as the sun; but Signor Antonio 
 Hesperio de Bellamoniac was non est inven- 
 tus. He had not been seen by any one 
 connected with the Bull that morning. He 
 had in short decamped with the money and 
 his implements, without ever leaving so 
 much as his card ! Mr. Ironsides had there- 
 fore to pay for the concert-room, the flamers, 
 
 3* 
 
22 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the men, and the supper, with the collateral 
 expenses incurred at the inn, which the 
 Signor had honoured with his patronage 
 the whole of which he paid too in absolute 
 
 silence, lest the facts of the case should be- 
 come known, for he held it to be utterly 
 inexpedient to be made the perpetual butt of 
 the town. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 YALENTINE MAKES RAPID PROGRESS. HIS FIRST GRAND PUBLIC DISPLAY. STRIKING DEVE- 
 LOPMENT OF POLITICAL INJUSTICE. A SANGUINARY LOCAL REBELLION SUBDUED. 
 
 OF all the magician's auditors on the great 
 occasion to which we have alluded, Valen- 
 tine was one of the most attentive, and that 
 portion of the performances which struck 
 him with the greatest force was the Signer's 
 display of his power as a ventriloquist. In- 
 deed, so deep an impression did it make 
 upon his mind, that he firmly resolved to 
 apply to the magician the following day 
 with the view of ascertaining if it were pos- 
 sible for him to become a ventriloquist him- 
 self. Finding, however, that the Signer had 
 so unceremoniously vanished from the town, 
 he was left entirely to his own resources, 
 and after trying with desperation for several 
 days, he discovered, with equal astonishment 
 and delight, that he in reality possessed the 
 power of speaking with an abdominal into- 
 nation, and that zealous cultivation would 
 cause that power to be fully developed. 
 
 He accordingly commenced a severe course 
 of training. He rose early every morning 
 and practised in the fields, and in doing so, 
 frequently startled himself, for the power 
 that was within him, not being quite under 
 control, would occasionally send the sound 
 in one place when he fully intended it to 
 have been in another. The consciousness, 
 however, of his possessing this extraordi- 
 nary power urged him to persevere, and in 
 less than six months it was entirely at his 
 command. 
 
 He then began to astonish all whom he 
 met. He would call an individual by name, 
 and cause the sound to proceed apparently 
 from the opposite side of the street. If ladies 
 were walking before him he would instantly 
 raise the dreaded cry of "mad dog!" and 
 imitate the growlings of the animal in its 
 paroxysms to perfection. If persons were 
 passing an empty house, he would loudly 
 cry "murder! thieves!" when, if he could 
 but persuade them to break open the door, 
 he would lead them from room to room by 
 imitations of convulsive sobs and dying 
 groans, until the house had obtained the 
 reputation of being haunted. It enabled 
 him to be revenged upon all who had 
 offended him ; ana so unscrupulous was he 
 when he had such an object in view, that 
 
 he absolutely on one occasion forbade the 
 marriage of a young lady by whom he had 
 been insulted, as he imagined, at a dance, 
 by calling out in a female voice, when the 
 minister had said, "If any of you know any 
 just cause or impediment why these two 
 persons should not be joined together in 
 holy matrimony ye are now to declare it" 
 " I forbid that marriage." 
 
 " The person," said the minister on that 
 occasion with due solemnity, "by whom 
 this marriage is forbidden will be pleased 
 to walk into the vestry." 
 
 The eyes of the congregation had imme- 
 diate employment, but they twinkled and 
 strained to no purpose. Of course no per- 
 son appeared in the vestry ; but the lady 
 whose marriage had been forbidden, and 
 whom cruel curiosity had prompted to be 
 present, at once fainted, and was instantly 
 carried away by the sexton. 
 
 Valentine's first grand display, however, 
 in public, was at a meeting convened at the 
 Guildhall, for the purpose of electing a fit 
 and proper person to fill the vacancy occa- 
 sioned by the lamentable death of Mr. Pav- 
 ing Commissioner Cobb. Party-feeling on 
 that occasion ran high ; and the hall at the 
 appointed hour was crowded to excess by 
 the friends of the candidates, who looked at 
 each other as if the laws only prevented the 
 perpetration of cannibalism on the spot. 
 
 As the mayor was about to open the im- 
 portant business of the day, with the expres- 
 sion of a lively hope that all parties would 
 have a fair and impartial hearing, Valentine 
 entered the hall, and having by virtue of 
 perseverance, reached the steps of the ros- 
 trum from which the electors were to be 
 addressed, prepared at once to commence 
 Din-rations. 
 
 The first speaker was Mr. Creedale, an 
 extremely thin gentleman, with an elah.i- 
 rately-chisseled nose, who came forward 
 on the liberal side to nominate Mr. Job 
 Stone. 
 
 " Gentlemen !" said Mr. Creedale. 
 
 " Nonsense !" cried Valentine, in an as- 
 sumed voice of course, which appeared to 
 proceed from a remote part of the hall. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 " Gentlemen !" repeated Mr. Creedale, 
 with some additional emphasis. 
 
 44 Pooh, pooh !" exclaimed Valentine, 
 changing the tone. 
 
 " It may," said Mr. Creedale, " be non- 
 sense, or it may be pooh, pooh ! but, gentle- 
 men, I address you as gentlemen, and beg 
 that I may not be interrupted." 
 
 41 don't mind Tibbs ; go on!" cried 
 Valentine. 
 
 44 Oh! Tibbs; indeed!" observed Mr. 
 Creedale, with a contemptuous curl of the 
 lip. "It's Mr. Tibbs, is it!" 
 
 44 No ! no !" cried the accused individual, 
 who was a highly respectable grocer, and 
 remarkable for his quiet and unassuming 
 demeanour. 
 
 44 1 am surprised at Mr. Tibbs," said Mr. 
 Creedale in continuation 44 1 have until now 
 regarded him as an individual " 
 
 44 No, no !" again vociferated Tibbs, 44 It 
 arn't me, 1 arn't spoke a synnable." 
 
 44 If Mr. Tibbs," observed the mayor, " or 
 if any other gentleman be desirous of address- 
 ing the meeting he will have an opportunity 
 of doing so anon." 
 
 44 Upon my honour !" exclaimed Tibbs, 
 "I've " 
 
 Here there were general cries of "Order, 
 order ! chair !" when Mr. Creedale con- 
 tinued : 
 
 44 Gentlemen ; without adverting to any 
 extraneous matter, it gives me unspeakable 
 pleasure to propose " 
 
 44 A revolutionist!" growled Valentine in 
 a heavy bass voice. 
 
 44 That's me, I s'pose !" exultingly cried 
 Tibbs, shaking his head and giving a most 
 triumphant wink. 
 
 44 1 know whose voice that is," said Mr. 
 Creedale, 44 That's the voice of the conser- 
 vative bully. Yes, that's Mr. Brownrigg." 
 
 44 What !" shouted Brownrigg, in a voice 
 of indignant thunder. 
 
 44 What?" echoed Mr. Creedale. 
 
 44 Say it's me again," shouted Brownrigg, 
 44 just only so much as say it's me again." 
 
 44 Mr. Brownrigg," observed the mayor, 
 4 'will please to conduct himself here with 
 propriety." 
 
 44 What do you mean !" exclaimed Brown- 
 rigg. 44 Why fix upon me]" 
 
 44 That is not the first time," observed Mr. 
 Creedale, "that Mr. Brownrigg has been 
 here with the view of blustering for the 
 Conservatives; but it won't " 
 
 4 As true as life !" exclaimed Brownrigg, 
 44 1 never opened my lips. If I did " 
 
 Loud cries of " Order, order ! Question ! 
 Chair, chair !" drowned the conclusion of the 
 sentence, however interesting it might have 
 been, and Mr. Creedale resumed : 
 
 4t As I was about to observe, gentlemen, 
 
 when disgracefully interrupted, it gives me 
 great pleasure to propose Mr. Stone as " 
 
 44 A Dickey !" screamed Valentine, assum- 
 ing the shrill voice of a female " Don't have 
 him ! he's a dickey !"* 
 
 Here the entire meeting cried 4 ' Shame !" 
 and the candidate rose to repel the insinua- 
 tion. 
 
 44 Officers !" shouted the mayor, " instantly 
 turn that depraved woman out !" 
 
 Hereupon a corps of corporate constables 
 entered with their staves, and rushed to the 
 spot from which the sound appeared to pro- 
 ceed ; but no woman was discoverable. 
 
 44 Whoop !" cried Valentine, throwing his 
 voice to another part of the hall : and the 
 officers rushed to that part with the most 
 praiseworthy precipitation, legally assault- 
 ing every elector who stood in their way; 
 but no sooner had they reached the spot pro- 
 posed than " the depraved woman " appeared 
 to be laughing outright in the very body of 
 the meeting. Away went the constables, 
 following the sound, and enraged beyond 
 measure at their inability to catch her, when 
 in an instant another " Whoop !" was heard 
 to proceed from the spot they had just quitted. 
 Back went the constables, knocking aside 
 every man whom ihey came near, and thus 
 creating a scene of indescribable confusion. 
 
 44 Turn her out !" cried the mayor in loud 
 tones of insulted dignity, " Turn her out!" 
 
 " Blarm me !" cried the fattest of the con- 
 stables foaming with rage, " We can't find 
 her !" 
 
 Again loud laughter was heard, in which 
 at length the entire rneetingjoined on behold- 
 ing the laudable ardour with which the con- 
 stables kept up the chase. 
 
 44 You abandoned creature !" cried the 
 mayor, " why dont you leave the hall 1" 
 
 44 Let me alone ! let me alone !" cried the 
 4 creature,' " and I'll be quiet " and imme- 
 diately a scream was heard, succeeded by 
 sounds indicative of the 4 creature ' being 
 just on the point of fainting. The consta- 
 bles fancied that they were sure of her then, 
 and therefore made another rush ; but with- 
 out more success. At length the mayor 
 exclaimed, " Let her be : leave her to her 
 own conscience," when the constables with 
 the greatest reluctance withdrew, and com- 
 parative silence was restored. 
 
 Mr. Creedale then resumed : 44 A weak 
 invention of the enemy [No, no! and loud 
 cheers] I repeat " 
 
 44 Y'ou're a fool !" cried Valentine in a 
 singularly gruff tone, on which there were 
 again loud cries of" Shame !" and " Order !" 
 
 44 I'll commit the first man," cried the 
 
 * It will probably he necessary here to observe 
 that in Suffolk a " dickey " is the short for an ass. 
 
24 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 mayor with a swell of indignation, " who 
 again interrupts these important proceed- 
 ings, he he whomsoever he may." 
 
 " You can't old boy !" cried Valentine. 
 
 " Who, who is that?" said the mayor 
 " I demand to know instantly who it is that 
 dares thus to " 
 
 " Dares !" exclaimed Valentine. 
 
 " Dares ! aye dares !" cried the mayor. 
 " I'll give five pounds to any man who will 
 point out to me that atrocious individual." 
 
 The electors at this moment stared at 
 each other, and all appeared lost in amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 The mayor again rose, and assuming a 
 more tranquil tone, said, " Really, gentle- 
 men, this conduct is perfectly disgraceful. 
 Jn the course of rny experience I never met 
 with anything even remotely comparable 
 to" ' 
 
 " Jonathan Sprawl," cried Valentine, " He 
 is the man." 
 
 "If," said the mayor, " I thought that 
 but no, no, I am certain, Mr. Sprawl " 
 
 " 1 assure you," said Jonathan, " inter- 
 ruption did not proceed from me, on my 
 honour. He who says that it did, is a slan- 
 derer and no gentleman ; and I tell him so 
 openly to his teeth." 
 
 " I am satisfied," said the mayor, " quite 
 satisfied, and therefore do trust that we shall 
 now be permitted to proceed." 
 
 Mr. Creedale, who was still in possession 
 of the chair, again resumed : " I am not 
 inclined," said he, " to indulge on this occa- 
 sion in anything which may tend to create 
 feelings of irritation ; but I must be permit- 
 ted to say that I am utterly astonished at the 
 conduct of " 
 
 " Mr. Maxill !" said Valentine, imitating 
 the voice of Mr. Creedale the speaker. 
 
 44 Demme !" cried Maxill, who was a short 
 stumpy man, with a remarkably raw-beefy 
 face, "I begs to rise to order. Demme ! I 
 claims the protection of the cheer, and if so 
 be as Mr. Creedale means for to mean as it's 
 me, why, demme, I repels the insiniwation 
 
 [Applause] I repels the insiniwation, 
 and means for to say this, that all I can say is 
 
 [Bravo Maxill] all I can say is, demme, 
 is this" 
 
 " You're an ass !" cried Valentine, throw- 
 ing his voice immediately behind Mr. Maxill, 
 "hold your tongue!" 
 
 Within the sphere of the reader's obser- 
 vation, it has in all probability occurred, 
 that a man, being in nautical phraseology, 
 three sheets in the wind, and writhing under 
 the lash of some real or imaginary insult, 
 has made desperate efforts to reach an oppo- 
 nent through the barrier composed of mutual 
 friends : if so, if the reader should ever have 
 beheld an individual in that interesting posi- 
 
 tion, foaming, and plunging, and blustering, 
 and occasionally striking his dearest friend, 
 in his efforts to get at the enemy, he is quali- 
 fied to form some conception of the scene of 
 which "little fatty Maxill" was the hero. 
 He fancied that he had discovered the delin- 
 quent. Nothing could shake his faith in 
 the assumed fact, that an individual named 
 Abraham Bull, who happened to be standing 
 at the time in his immediate vicinity, was 
 the person by whom he had been insulted. 
 He therefore sprang at him with all the 
 ferocity at his command; but being checked 
 by those around, who were conscious of 
 Bull's perfect innocence, he, bent upon ven- 
 geance, continued kickingand bullying, and 
 dealing out his blows right and left, with the 
 most perfect indiscrimination, until the con- 
 stables lifted him clean off his legs, and 
 without any further ceremony rolled him 
 into the street. 
 
 The mayor now fondly imagined that this 
 would have the effect of restoring perfect 
 order; he believed that after such an exam- 
 ple as that, no individual, or body of indi- 
 viduals would dare to offer the slightest 
 interruption to the proceedings of the day ; 
 and having expressed himself quietly to that 
 effect, he bowed and waved his hand to Mr. 
 Creedale. 
 
 That gentleman accordingly came forward 
 once more, and said " Gentlemen, it is 
 with unspeakable " 
 
 " Blarney !" cried Valentine. 
 
 " Silence!" exclaimed the Mayor with a 
 melodramatic stamp that shook the pla^- 
 form. 
 
 "The eye of England," said Mr. Cree- 
 dale, " nay the eye of all Europe [Asia, 
 Africa, and America, added Valentine] are 
 upon you, and I can only say that anything 
 more " 
 
 " Laughable," cried Valentine, assuming 
 the voice of a respectable plumber who stood 
 near him. 
 
 " Good heavens !" exclaimed the Mayor, 
 " to what a depth of degradation have \ve 
 dived ! For the love of grace permit me to 
 say that anything more disgraceful never 
 came within the pale of my experience. Am, 
 I to be supported 1 (loud cries of yes, yes !) 
 Then in the name of mighty reason, I call 
 upon you loudly, boldly, emphatically, and 
 that with all the energy of which I am 
 capable to do so. (" We will, we will!" 
 '* Down with the lory myrmidons !" " Down 
 with the rank revolutionary raff!" and loud 
 cheers.) 
 
 At this stage of the proceedings the mayor 
 quietly intimated to Mr. Creedale, that it 
 would perhaps be, under the circu instances, 
 expedient to cut it short ; and Mr. Creedale 
 having with half an eye perceived the pro- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 priety of that suggestion, concluded amidst 
 general uproar, with the following most 
 pointed remark : 
 
 * Gentlemen, since you will not hear me 
 speak, I shall beg at once to nominate my 
 friend Mr. Stone, a man whose equal as a fit 
 and proper person to be a Paving Commis- 
 sioner is not to be found." 
 
 Hereupon, there were loud cheers from 
 the liberal party, and hisses and groans from 
 the tories, and when Mr. Leechamp rose to 
 second the nomination, the cheering, and 
 hissing, and groaning, were renewed. 
 
 Mr. Mac Ireling then came forward to 
 propose Mr. Slabb, who had the whole of 
 the conservative interest on his side; but 
 the moment he appeared in front of the plat- 
 form, Valentine cried, " Now for a signal 
 retaliation ! now for our revenge 1" 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Mr. Mae Ireling. 
 
 "You'll not let a rank tory speak, if you 
 are men !" exclaimed Valentine ; and Mr. 
 Mac Ireling was immediately assailed with 
 a tremendous volley of groans from the 
 liberals, who naturally believed that the 
 conservatives had created the whole of the 
 previous disturbance. 
 
 " Gentlemen ! Gentlemen ! GENTLE- 
 MEN !" reiterated the mayor at intervals ap- 
 propriately filled up with hissing, groaning, 
 cheering, whistling, and yelling. "I demand 
 to be heard. I insist I insist upon silence. 
 (' Order, order ! chair, chair !') In the name 
 of all that's gracious let it not let it not, oh ! 
 let it not go forth to the world, that the men 
 of this ancientand enlightened borough, in the 
 nineteenth century, in the heart of the British 
 empire ; in the centre, ihe very bull's-eye of 
 civilisation, are slaves to passion, idiots, 
 madmen, and fools, (loud cheers.) Am I 
 a cipher? (hear, hear!) On this instant 
 would I dissolve this most outrageous meet- 
 ing, were it not that I am determined to 
 maintain inviolate the dignity of the office 
 I have the honour to hold, and not to be 
 intimidated, frightened, alarmed, or put down 
 by mere clamour, (vehement cheering.) If 
 we are to proceed, in the name of blind and 
 impartial justice, of mighty and immortal 
 reason, of invincible and sound constitutional 
 common sense, in the name of all that is 
 mighty, respectable, and just, let us do so." 
 
 This pointed and poetic appeal, delivered 
 as it was, in tones of the most eloquent 
 indignation, had the effect of inspiring the 
 audience with awe, which induced some- 
 thing bearing the semblance of order to pre- 
 vail. 
 
 Mr. Mac Ireling then again stepped for- 
 ward, and said, "Gentlemen, I hope that 
 my conduct has been of a character to com- 
 mand the esteem of " 
 
 " The Tories !" shouted Valentine. 
 
 " Heavens !" exclaimed the mayor, with 
 his hands clenched, and raising his voice to 
 the highest raging pitch "by all that is 
 powerful and pure, I'll commit that man 
 who presumes again to utter a single sylla- 
 ble for the purpose of " 
 
 Valentine here sent into the body of the 
 meeting an awfully melodramatic " Ha ! 
 ha! ha!" which appeared absolutely to 
 electrify his worship, who loudly cried 
 " Officers ! now do your duty !" 
 
 In vain those respectable functionaries, 
 sweating with indignation, rushed to the 
 middle of the hall, with the laudable view 
 of arresting the delinquent. Loud laughter 
 was still heard, but invariably behind them, 
 whichever way they happened to turn. The 
 perspiration poured down their cheeks, for 
 their exertions were really terrific. They 
 stamped, and puffed, and tore, and shook 
 their fists, and looked eternal daggers at 
 every man in their vicinity. The laughter 
 was heard still ; and away they went again 
 with fresh energy, inspired by his worship's 
 reiterated cries of " Officers, now do your 
 duty !" At length, fairly driven to despera- 
 tion, and being in a state of the most excru- 
 ciating mental agony, they resolved on seiz- 
 ing some one, and accordingly collared Mr. 
 Lym, a highly reputable baker, whom they 
 happily discovered in the atrocious act of 
 smiling at the ridiculous character of their 
 appearance. In vain Mr. Lym proclaimed 
 his innocence ! they had caught him in the 
 act ! and hence proceeded to drag him to- 
 wards the door with all possible violence. 
 In the space of one minute Mr. Lym was 
 divested of his top coat, under coat, waist- 
 coat, and shirt! those articles of apparel 
 having been torn completely off by the en- 
 raged functionaries in the due execution of 
 their duty. Lym would have left the hall 
 quietly enough, but^the radicals would by no 
 means suffer him to" do so. They rushed to 
 the rescue; and on Valentine shouting out 
 " Down with the republicans !" in one voice, 
 and " Down with the tories !" in another, a 
 general battle ensued, w y hich was kept up 
 on both sides with infinite spirit, while the 
 mayor, duly mounted on the table, was en- 
 gaged in denouncing the irregular proceed- 
 ings with all the indignant energy at his 
 command. 
 
 The voice of Valentine was now no longer 
 needed. The electors were making amply 
 sufficient noise without his aid. He there- 
 fore mounted the rostrum, partly for safety 
 and partly with a view to the full enjoy- 
 ment of the scene, and then for the first time 
 discovered that instead of the combatants 
 being divided into two grand political par- 
 lies, as they ought to have been, they were 
 levelling their blows with indiscriminate 
 
LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 fury, regardless utterly of everything but 
 the pleasure of conferring upon some one 
 the honour of a hit. In one corner of the 
 hall there was a dense mass of electors, of 
 whom the majority were extremely corpu- 
 lent, hugging and hanging on each other, 
 like bees when they swarm, with such 
 remarkable tenacity, that the entire body 
 formed a most interesting exemplification of 
 a perfectly dead lock. In another corner 
 there were two lines of amateur gladiators, 
 hitting out as hard as they could hit, but as 
 they all, very discreetly, closed their eyes 
 to preserve them, and went in head fore- 
 most, like bucks, their evolutions were not 
 strictly scientific, although the hardest heads 
 did the greatest amount of execution. In a 
 third corner of the hall, there was a phalanx 
 of individuals who formed a complete Gor- 
 dian knot, and who contented themselves 
 with elbowing and grinning at each other 
 with most praiseworthy zeal ; while in the 
 fourth there were two distinct ranks of inde- 
 pendent electors, one-half of whom were 
 striving to protect their friends, by striking 
 over the shoulders of those friends whom 
 they kept with appropriate consideration in 
 the front, to receive all the blows. The 
 grand point of attraction, however, was in 
 the centre. Here a circle of about two-and- 
 twenty feet in diameter was strewed with 
 quick bodies, horizontally twisting in and 
 out sometimes above the surface, and some- 
 times below like so many eels in a tub, 
 without even the possibility of any one of 
 them achieving his perpendicular. They 
 could not rise. The more desperate, the 
 more abortive were their efforts to do so. 
 They writhed, and kicked, and blustered, 
 and rolled, but still preserved the true cha- 
 racter of the scene, namely, that of a general 
 sprawl. 
 
 While these really delightful proceedings 
 were being conducted, certain well-inten- 
 tioned persons, who had escaped, conceiving 
 it to be the commencement of a sanguinary 
 revolution, rushed with breathless haste to 
 the Bull, which they knew to be the head- 
 quarters of a troop of dragoons, then tem- 
 porarily stationed in the town, and at once 
 gave the alarm, that the rebellion might be 
 nipped in the bud. Before the awful tale 
 could be told twice, the trumpet sounded on 
 the Market Hill, to horse ! and in less than 
 five minutes the entire troop, headed by a 
 mounted magistrate, galloped to the scene 
 of action. 
 
 On reaching the hall, the revolutionists 
 were to the soldiers invisible. A tumultuous 
 din was heard a din which threatened to 
 burst the casement ; but nothing could be 
 seen. The doors were fast. Not one of the 
 rebels within knew how to open them ; nor 
 
 could they be conveniently opened from 
 without. Mr. Alldread, the magistrate, 
 however, in the king's name, commanded 
 hem to be instantly broken down, which 
 command was obeyed with much alacrity 
 >y the alarmists. But here another difficulty 
 >resented itself; the rebels either would 
 lot, or could not come out ! Mr. Alldread, 
 herefore, determined to surmount every 
 obstacle, in the king's name commanded the 
 soldiers to gallop in. He was for checking 
 the rebellion ere it got to a head ! so certain 
 was he, that if energetic measures were not 
 jromptly taken, the British empire would 
 je crumbled into one chaotic mass of revo- 
 ntionary ruin. 
 
 Now, for a troop of dragoons to gallop 
 Dell-mell into a densely crowded hall, was 
 egarded, very naturally, by Captain Cope- 
 and, the officer in command, as somewhat 
 of a novelty in military tactics; however, 
 partly to humour the alarmed magistrate, 
 and partly because he felt that the mere 
 sight of the soldiers would be sufficient to 
 put an end to all civil hostilities, he ordered 
 bis men to follow him with all possible 
 care, and accordingly in they all went. 
 
 The eyes of the majority of the insurgents 
 were at this crisis closed, and as those of 
 the rest were fixed firmly upon their anta- 
 gonists, the quiet entrance of the soldiers, 
 except by a few near the door, was for a 
 moment disregarded. Captain Copeland, 
 however, ordered the trumpet to sound, and 
 the trumpeter blew a shivering blast, so 
 loud, that in an instant, as if by magic, hos- 
 tilities ceased. 
 
 "Upon em!" loudly shouted Mr. All- 
 dread ; * char-r-r-r-ge !" 
 
 The gallant captain smiled; and his men 
 had absolutely the oold-blooded audacity to 
 wink at each other with gleeful significance. 
 
 "Heavens!" exclaimed Mr. Alldread, 
 utterly astonished at the manifest indisposi- 
 tion of the soldiers to cut the rebels indi- 
 vidually into mince-meat. " Why, what do 
 you fear 1 ? In the king's name, again I 
 command you to mow the traitors down !" 
 
 Captain Copeland, perceiving every eye 
 fixed upon him, at once gracefully waved 
 his bright sword until the point rested op- 
 posite the door, when the rebels, viewing 
 this as an intimation that they &ould all be 
 permitted to depart unscotched, rushed with 
 all the alacrity at their command into the 
 street, and in the space of five minutes the 
 entire body of the hall was deserted. 
 
 A council of war was then held on the 
 spot, at which the mayor was too exhausted 
 to utter an audible sentence, but Mr. All- 
 dread could not withhold the loud expression 
 of his unspeakable surprise at Captain Cope- 
 land's peculiarly unconstitutional indisposi- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 27 
 
 tion to promote the circulation of rank re- 
 bellious blood. It was, however, eventually 
 decided that no further steps need be taken 
 in the matter, and as the captain wished to 
 spend a merry evening, he invited the mayor 
 and every member of the corporation present 
 to dine with him forthwith at the Bull. The 
 invitation was accepted, and as they left the 
 hall, certain straggling knots of rebels who 
 were discussing the cause of the disturbance 
 with great energy, took to their heels and 
 ran to the various public houses they were 
 in the habit of frequenting, each, of course, 
 
 with the view of contending for the correct- 
 ness of his own version of the origin of the 
 fray. The soldiers smiled as they saw the 
 rebels running ; but, although Mr. Alldread 
 insisted upon the propriety of the troop giv- 
 ing them chace, the party proceeded with 
 due dignity to dinner, after which the bottle 
 went round merrily till midnight, when the 
 mayor and the rest of the members of the 
 corporation, at the particular desire of Mr. 
 Alldread, were conducted to the doors of 
 their respective residences, under a most 
 formidable military escort. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MATERNAL SOLICITUDE. 
 
 GREAT-UNCLE JOHN IN CONVULSIONS. 
 IMPUGNED. 
 
 THE CHASTITY OF A MAIDEN 
 
 NOTHING could exceed the delight with 
 which Valentine contemplated the result of 
 the first grand display of his latent power. 
 He went home in ecstacies, and exercised 
 his voice with so much violence, and imi- 
 tated the contortions of the constables so 
 grotesquely, that his affectionate parent ab- 
 solutely believed him to be possessed of 
 the same spirit as that which inhabited the 
 swine. Again and again she implored him 
 to explain to her what had occurred ; but, 
 inspired with the conviction that his power 
 would lose a great portion of its value if its 
 existence in him became known, he confined 
 himself to a statement of the fact of his hav- 
 ing been at the meeting and upset them all. 
 The singular style, however, in which this 
 statement was made, and the loud and irre- 
 pressible laughter by which it was accom- 
 panied, caused serious apprehensions on the 
 part of Mrs. Vox that her Valentine had 
 eaten of the insane root, and prompted her 
 to go for advice to Uncle John, while Val 
 was doing Justice to the cold remains of a 
 fillet of veal and a knuckle of ham. 
 
 Now, for somewhat more than two-and- 
 twenty years, without a day's intermission, 
 Uncle John had reclined on three well- 
 cushioned chairs, with a pipe in his mouth 
 and a glass of remarkably stiff brandy-and- 
 water by his side, from the time that the 
 cloth was removed at two o'clock until five. 
 From this position he never by any chance 
 moved until old Hannah brought up the tea- 
 tray, and it was in this position that Mrs 
 Vox found him. 
 
 Well, Pen !" said Uncle John, as the 
 poor lady entered, " come to see me eh 
 There's a good girl." 
 
 Mrs. Vox approached the chair on which 
 his head was reclining, and as she kissec 
 
 lis shining brow a tear dropped upon his 
 nose. 
 
 " What's that ! " cried Uncle John 
 ' What's the matter, my girl ! what has 
 appened ? Come, come, sit you dow'n and 
 et's know all about it." 
 
 " Oh, Uncle !" said Mrs. Vox, " do, pray, 
 see my Val." 
 
 "Why, what's the young dog been up to 
 now?" cried Uncle John. 
 
 "Once for all," said Mrs. Vox, having 
 aken a deep inspiration, " I believe thai 
 le's mad." 
 
 1 Pooh, pooh, pooh nonsense, child !" 
 cried Uncle John, " Mad ! Fiddledeedee, 
 looh, pooh, pooh what has he been 
 after?" 
 
 14 I have told you before," said the af- 
 flicted lady, u what singular noises I have 
 tieard about the house when he is in it." 
 
 "I know, 1 know," interrupted Uncle 
 John, "imagination, child, mere imagina- 
 tion pooh, pooh, pooh don't be supersti- 
 tious." 
 
 "But to day," continued Mrs. Vox, sob- 
 bing " to day, uncle, when he came home, 
 not only did I hear dreadful noises all over 
 the house, but he made up such horrible 
 faces thathe frightened me out of my senses ; 
 and all I could get from him was, that he 
 had done it that he'd been to the meeting 
 and had upset them all !" 
 
 " The meeting ! W T hat right has he to 
 interfere with politics ?" cried Uncle John, 
 ringing the bell with unusual violence. 
 " Surely there's plenty of politicians in 
 the town without him! Upset 'em! 
 Here, Hannah," he continued as the old 
 servant entered " go, and tell that boy 
 Valentine to come to me instantly. Bring 
 him with you : don't come without him. 
 
28 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Upset 'em indeed ! What right has a boy ' 
 like that he's not twenty yet " 
 
 44 No," interrupted Mrs. Vox, "he was 
 only nineteen the 14th of last February " 
 
 " What right has a lad like him to go to 
 meetings 1 /never go to such places ; that 
 boy'll be ruined." 
 
 "But it isn't only that," said Mrs. Vox, 
 "I shouldn't care, but I'm sure that he's 
 'touched: I'm quite certain the poor boy's 
 possessed." 
 
 " Pooh, rubbish, child, rubbish !" ob- 
 served Uncle John, " the boy's a splendid 
 boy, a fine high-spirited boy. ' I'd not break 
 his spirit for the world : but he mustn't be 
 spoiled no, he mustn't be spoiled. If the 
 devil be in him, why the devil shall come 
 out of him: I'll not have him there; but 
 we'll see, child we'll see." 
 
 Uncle John then proceeded to refill his 
 pipe, and having directed Mrs. Vox to mix a 
 leetle more brandy-and-water, looked earn- 
 estly at the fire, and prepared for the attack. 
 
 " Well ! young gentleman !" said he, 
 .knitting his brows and looking desperate. 
 
 Mrs. Vox turned quickly towards the door, 
 and found that Uncle John was only rehears- 
 ing. Valentine, however, immediately after 
 entered, and Uncle John commenced : 
 
 " Well ! young gentleman ! Now, sir, 
 what does all this mean 1 ?" 
 
 "All what, uncle V quietly asked Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 "All what, sir !" exclaimed Uncle John 
 
 " Why all this this conduct, sir ! 
 that's what I mean." 
 
 " What conduct?" said Val, with perfect 
 calmness. 
 
 " What conduct, sir !" cried Uncle John 
 
 " why, your conduct. Are you mad?" 
 "I hope not," said Valentine. "I am 
 
 not aware that I am." 
 
 "Don't tell we, sir, that you are not 
 aware of it!" shouted the old gentleman. 
 " Here's your poor mother here fit to break 
 her heart about your horrible noises. I'll 
 have you put into the lunatic asylum, sir ! 
 You want a strait jacket ! but where have 
 you been all day? what have you been 
 after?" 
 
 "I've been at the meeting," said Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 "The meeting !" said Uncle John " pray, 
 what business had you at the meeting ]" 
 
 " Come, uncle, don't be angry," said 
 Valentine, smiling. " I'll tell you all about 
 it : but you'll not be cross, will you ]" 
 
 " Cross, sir!" exclaimed Uncle John. 
 " I am not cross : I never am cross." 
 
 Valentine then drew a chair near the fire, 
 and commenced an explanation of all that 
 had occurred. At first he utterly astounded 
 Uncle John, by the development of his 
 
 power, and then proceeded with the relation 
 of its effects upon the meeting. In ten 
 minutes Uncle John had swallowed more 
 smoke than he had done during the whole 
 thirty years he had been a smoker. Seven 
 several times did the brandy-and-water go 
 the wrong way, and as he had a perfect 
 knowledge of almost every man present at 
 the hall, his imagination entered with so 
 much spirit into the scene, and he laughed 
 at the description of their movements so 
 immoderately, that at length he could nei- 
 ther drink, smoke, nor sit, but paced the 
 room holding his back and chest together 
 at intervals ejaculating " stop ! stop ! stop !" 
 The more, however, Uncle John laughed, 
 the more spirit did Valentine infuse into his 
 tale, and at length in an absolute convulsion 
 of mirth, the delighted old gentleman threw 
 himself upon the sofa, and rolled to and fro 
 like a butt in a groove. 
 
 "You young dog!" cried Uncle John, 
 when he had recovered sufficient steadiness 
 of breath to speak : " Don't you know, sir, 
 
 it was wrong, very wrong thus to ." 
 
 Here he was seized with another fit of laugh- 
 ter, so loud and so painful, that for relief he 
 moved his body first backwards and for- 
 wards, and then from side to side, while he 
 literally mopped the perspiration from his 
 face, which was as red as that of the sun, 
 when, through a dark hazy atmosphere, he 
 is seen to approach the horizon. 
 
 Nor did Mrs. Vox fail to enjoy the relation 
 of the scene, for burying her face in her 
 handkerchief, she was equally convulsed, 
 although not quite so loud in the manifesta- 
 tion of her mirth. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, you young rascal !" 
 was the command of Uncle John, whenever 
 Valentine re-opened his lips to relate any 
 incident that had previously escaped him. 
 Valentine, however, was not to'be silenced. 
 So long as he found the old gentleman en- 
 joyed it, so long did he keep up the fire, 
 until at last Uncle John declaring solemnly 
 that he could stand it no longer, commanded 
 him to leave the room, which he did with 
 the view of alarming old Hannah in the 
 kitchen. 
 
 No sooner had Val made his exit from 
 the parlour, than it occurred to Mrs. Vox, 
 that if the thing became known to the au- 
 thorities, the result might be anything but 
 pleasing, and as Uncle John fell at once into 
 her views, he began to think of the best 
 mode of avoiding the discovery. At first 
 he thought it sufficient to enjoin silence 
 upon Valentine, but subsequently fancying 
 that the "young dog" would deem the joke 
 infinitely too good to be concealed, he 
 thought that as he intended soon to send 
 him to Mr. Goodman, an old friend of his - 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 who resided in London, the safest plan 
 would be to start him off at once. 
 
 " But what am /to do?" inquired Mrs, 
 Vox anxiously. 
 
 " Why, come and live with me," said 
 Uncle John. " Now make no objections. 
 He'll be well taken care of by Goodman, 
 I know, or of course I wouldn't send 
 him." 
 
 It was accordingly decided that he should 
 start on the Wednesday morning, and when 
 all the preliminaries had been arranged, 
 Uncle John called Valentine just as he was 
 charging old Hannah with having concealed 
 a child, whose half stifled cries and convul- 
 sive sobs, in one of the large dresser-drawers, 
 he had been imitating to perfection. Of 
 course, on being called, Val left the surprised 
 
 and indignant old maid in the kitchen, to 
 prosecute her search ; and after having had 
 a few words with Great-Uncle John, on the 
 subject of his journey, with the idea of 
 which he was delighted, the-little family 
 separated for the night. 
 
 The whole of the morning of the follow- 
 ing day, being Tuesday, was occupied by 
 Valentine and Mrs. Vox in packing up, 
 while Uncle John was engaged for several 
 hours in the composition of a letter to Mr. 
 Goodman ; a document written with infinite 
 care, and in a style of course peculiarly his 
 own ^ and in the evening Valentine and his 
 mother again visited the old gentleman^ 
 who employed himself till bed-time in giv- 
 ing Val instructions, having reference to his 
 conduct in London. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 EXPLAINS HOW VALENTINE STARTED FOR LONDON; HOW ENTERTAINING TRAVELLING COM- 
 PANIONS CAN BE J HOW A VALIANT BLACKSMITH CAN BE A DEAD SHOT J HOW FIRM MAY BE 
 THE FAITH OF A COACHMAN IN WITCHCRAFT J AND HOW IT IS POSSIBLE FOR A JOURNEY TO 
 BE PROTRACTED. 
 
 THERE ar.e probably no feelings at all com- 
 parable with those which are experienced 
 by a sanguine country youth, on the eve of 
 his first departure for London. His mind 
 is all excitement. The single idea of 
 visiting a place of which he has heard so 
 much, and known so little, engenders thou- 
 sands. Asleep or awake, his whole soul is 
 set upon the journey, and were it necessary 
 for him to rise at four in the morning, though 
 he failed to go to sleep before two, he would 
 be just as certain to wake in time to hear the 
 clock strike four, as if the " warning " wire 
 communicated with a galvanic battery suf- 
 ficiently powerful to force him out of bed, 
 
 Valentine, after dreaming all night of the 
 great city and its glories, rose some hours 
 before his usual time, but not before Mrs. 
 Vox, who had not slept at all, had re-ran- 
 sacked every drawer and every box in the 
 house, with the view of ascertaining if 
 anything had been forgotten. 
 
 About an hour and a half before the time 
 for starting arrived, in rushed Uncle John 
 with a view of expressing his firm convic- 
 tion, that if Valentine didn't look sharp the 
 coach would certainly go without him, and 
 of explaining, moreover, that the coachman, 
 whom he knew, was like the eternal tide, 
 seeing that he would wait for no man. 
 Breakfast was therefore immediately pre- 
 pared, during the preparation Uncle John 
 compared watches, and having made them 
 agree, compared them with the house-clock, 
 4 
 
 and then sent the servant, and then went 
 himself to ascertain if the house-clock 
 agreed with the church. All this being 
 eventually arranged to his entire satisfaction, 
 down they sat to breakfast, with the watches 
 of course upon the table. Valentine had no 
 appetite. An egg however at length was 
 seduced dowr>his throat by the preliminary 
 introduction of a piece of broiled ham, but 
 even this was unconsciously swallowed, 
 while with the coffee in his hand he was 
 pacing the room. He could not keep his 
 chair; nor could Mrs. Vox keep in hers, 
 nor could Uncle John keep in his. They 
 were all three in motion, but of course doing 
 nothing, there being in reality nothing to do. 
 A dozen times the girl was despatched to 
 see if the horses were in, and after much 
 feverish excitement it was atjast announced 
 that two females were standing by the side 
 of three boxes in the gateway ! That was 
 sufficient. Off went the luggage in a 
 wheelbarrow, on went Val's two upper 
 coats, round went a large lambs-wool com- 
 forter, and down went a glass of raw brandy, 
 and all in the space of thirty seconds. Mrs. 
 Vox had been prohibited from seeing Va- 
 lentine off; they therefore at once bade each 
 other adieu, while Uncle John, standing at 
 the door, was expressing his opinion that the 
 coach would be gone ; but no sooner had he 
 succeeded in dragging Val away, than in 
 spite of the prohibition, Mrs. Vox hurried on 
 her bonnet and shawl, and started round the 
 
30 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 corner of the street, which she knew the 
 coach would pass, for the purpose of catch- 
 ing a last glance of Valentine, and waving 
 her hand. 
 
 "Now then, look alive there!" shouted 
 the coachman from the booking-office door, 
 as Uncle John and his charge approached. 
 " Have yow got that are mare's shoe made 
 comforble, Simon]" 
 
 "All right, sir," said Simon, and he 
 went round to see if it were so, while the 
 luggage was being secured. 
 
 ** Jimp up, genelman !" cried the coach- 
 man, as he waddled from the office with his 
 whip in one hand and his way-bill in the 
 other ; and the passengers accordingly 
 proceeded to arrange themselves on the 
 various parts of the coach Valentine, by 
 the particular desire of Uncle John, having 
 deposited himself immediately behind the 
 seat of the coachman. 
 
 "If you please," said the old lady, who 
 had been standing with her daughter in the 
 gateway for up wards of an hour; "will you be 
 good enow please to take care of my darter ]" 
 
 "All safe," said the coachman, untwist- 
 ing the reins. "She shaunt take no harm. 
 Is she going all the way ]" 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the old lady; * God 
 bless her! she's got a place in Lunnun an 
 I'm told." 
 
 " Hook on them ere two sack o' wheats 
 there behind," cried the coachman, "I 
 marnt go without 'em this time." 
 
 " God bless you, my dear ! God bless 
 you !" exclaimed the old lady, and the tears 
 gushed from her eyes as she kissed her poor 
 girl, whose heavy sobs choaked her ut- 
 terance. " Heaven will protect you : I 
 know it will, my child. You'll think of 
 your poor old mother] There, cheer up, 
 my dear it's all for the best; I shall be 
 very happy. You are all the world to 
 me ; but indeed I shall be very happy," and 
 the tears burst forth in fresh streams, while 
 she tried to reanimate the spirits of her 
 child by affecting to smile. 
 
 " Now, all right there ]" cried the 
 coachman. 
 
 " Good bye, my dear," sobbed the old 
 lady, almost heartbroken, kissing her child 
 again as she stepped upon the ladder. 
 "God bless you ! do write to me soon, be 
 sore you do I only want to hear from you 
 often. Take care of yourself. Here, my 
 love," she added, taking a handkerchief 
 from her neck, " tie this round your poor 
 dear throat." 
 
 " No, mother, no," said the poor girl 
 cryinir bitterly, "that's the only one you 
 have left. I'll be plenty warm enough." 
 
 Yes, do," said the old lady, " I'm sure 
 you'll takn cold." 
 
 " Hold hard !" cried the coachman as the 
 horses were dancing, on the cloths being 
 drawn from their loins. "Whit, whit!" 
 and away they pranced, as merrily as if they 
 had known that /Airload was nothing when 
 compared with the load they had left behind 
 them. Even old Uncle John, as he cried 
 " Good bye, my dear boy," and waved his 
 hand for the last time, felt the tears trickling 
 fast down his cheeks. 
 
 " No, no room, marm !" said the coach- 
 man, shaking his head as he approached the 
 corner of the street at which Mrs. Vox was 
 standing. 
 
 Valentine's attention was thus directed to 
 his mother, who was kissing her hand with 
 considerable rapidity, when the salute was 
 returned, and the coach passed on. 
 
 The fulness of Valentine's heart caused 
 him for the first hour to be silent; but after 
 that, the constant change of scene, and the 
 pure bracing air had the effect of restoring 
 his spirits, and he felt a very powerful in- 
 clination to sing. Just, however, as he was 
 about to commence for his own amusement, 
 the coach stopped to change horses, when 
 Tooler, the coachman, of course got down, 
 and as several of the passengers followed 
 his example, Valentine got down too, and 
 as they all went into the road-side house, 
 and called for glasses of ale, why Valentine 
 called for a glass like the rest, and drank it 
 with equal enjoyment. In less than two 
 minutes they started again, and Valentine, 
 who then felt ready for anything, began 
 to think seriously of the exercise of his 
 power 
 
 "Whit, whit!" said Tooler, between a 
 whisper and a whistle, as the fresh horses 
 galloped up the hill. 
 
 " Stop ! hoa !" cried Valentine, assuming 
 a voice, the sound of which appeared to have 
 travelled some distance. 
 
 "You have left one behind," observed a 
 gentleman in black, who had secured the 
 box-seat. 
 
 " O let mi run a bit," said Tooler. 
 " Whit ! It'll give un a winder up this little 
 hill, and teach un to be up in time in future. 
 If we was to wait for every passenger as 
 chooses to lag behind, we shouldn't git over 
 the ground in a fortnit." 
 
 "Hoa! stop! stop! stop!" reiterated 
 Valentine in the voice of a man pretty well 
 out of breath. 
 
 Tooler, without deigning to look behind, 
 retickled the haunches of his leaders and 
 gleefully chuckled at the idea of how he was 
 making a passenger sweat. 
 
 The voice was heard no more, and Tooler 
 on reaching the top of the hill pulled up :iml 
 looked round, but could see no man running. 
 
 Where is he]" inquired Tooler. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 31 
 
 " In the ditch !" replied Valentine, throw- 
 ing his voice behind. 
 
 "In the ditch!" exclaimed Tooler. 
 "Blarm me, whereabouts ?" 
 
 "There," said Valentine. 
 
 ** God bless my soul !" cried the gentle- 
 man in black, who was an exceedingly 
 nervous village clergyman. " The poor 
 person no doubt has fallen down in an abso- 
 lute state of exhaustion. How very, very 
 wrong of you, coachman, not to stop." 
 
 Tooler, apprehensive of some serious 
 occurrence, got down with the view of 
 dragging the exhausted passenger out of the 
 ditch, but although he ran several hundred 
 yards down the hill, no such person of 
 course could be found. 
 
 " Who saw un ?" shouted Tooler as he 
 panted up the hill again. 
 
 "I saw nothing," said a passenger behind, 
 " but a boy jumping over the hedge." 
 
 Tooler looked at his way-bill, counted 
 the passengers, found them all right, and 
 remounting the box, got the horses again 
 into a gallop, in the perfect conviction that 
 some villanous young scarecrow had raised 
 the false alarm. 
 
 "Whit! blarm them 'ere boys!" said 
 Tooler, "stead o' mindin their crows they 
 are allus up to suffen. I only wish I had 
 un here, I'd pay on to their blarmed bodies ; 
 
 if I wouldn't ." At this interesting 
 
 moment, and as if to give a practical illus- 
 tration of what he would have done in that 
 case, he gave the off-wheeler so telling a cut 
 round the loins, that the animal without 
 any ceremony kicked over the trace. Of 
 course Tooler was compelled to pull upagain 
 immediately ; and after having adjusted 
 the trace, and asking the animal seriously 
 what he meant, at the same time enforcing 
 the question by giving him a blow on the 
 bony part of his nose, he prepared to re- 
 mount; but just as he had got his left foot 
 upon the nave of the wheel, Valentine so 
 admirably imitated the sharp snapping growl 
 of a dog in the front boot, that Tooler started 
 back as quickly as if he had been shot, while 
 the gentleman in black dropped the reins 
 and almost jumped into the road. 
 
 " Good gracious !" exclaimed the gentle- 
 man in black, trembling with great energy ; 
 " how wrong, how very horribly wrong of 
 you, coachman, not to tell me that a dog had 
 been placed beneath my feet." 
 
 " Blarm their carcases !" cried Tooler, 
 " they never told me a dog was shoved there. 
 Lay down ! We'll soon have yow out there 
 together !" 
 
 "Not for the world!" cried the gentle- 
 man in black, as Tooler approached the foot- 
 board in order to open it. " Not for the 
 world ! un-un-un-unless you le-le-let me get 
 
 down first. I have no desire to pe-pe-perish 
 of hydropho-phobia." 
 
 " Kip yar fut on the board then sir, please," 
 said Tooler, " we'll soon have the varmint 
 out o' that." So saying, he gathered up the 
 reins, remounted the box, and started off the 
 horses again at full gallop. 
 
 The gentleman in black then began to ex- 
 plain to Tooler how utterly inconceivable 
 was the number of persons who had died 
 of hydrophobia within an almost unspeak- 
 ably short space of time, in the immediate 
 vicinity of the residence of a friend of his 
 in London ; and just as he had got into the 
 marrow of a most excruciating description 
 of the intense mental and physical agony of 
 which the disease in its worst stage was 
 productive, both he and Tooler suddenly 
 sprang back, with their feet in the air, and 
 their heads between the knees of the pas- 
 sengers behind them, on Valentine giving a 
 loud growling snap, more bitingly indica- 
 tive of anger than before. 
 
 As Tooler had tightly hold of the reins 
 when he made this involuntary spring, the 
 horses stopped on the instant, and allowed 
 him time to scramble up again without ren- 
 dering the slow process dangerous. 
 
 "I cannot, I-I-I positively cannot," said 
 the gentleman in black, who had been 
 thrown again into a dreadful state of excite- 
 ment. "I cannot sit here my nerves can- 
 not endure it; it's perfectly shocking." 
 
 " Blister their bowls !" exclaimed Tooler, 
 whose first impulse was to drag the dog out 
 of the boot at all hazards, but who, on see- 
 ing the horses waiting in the road a short 
 distance a-head for the next stage, thought 
 it better to wait till he had reached them. 
 "I'll make un remember this the longest 
 day o' thar blessed lives blarm un ! Phih ! 
 I'll let un know when I get back, I warrant. 
 I'll larn un to ." 
 
 " Hoa, coachman ! hoa! my hat's off!" 
 cried Valentine, throwing his voice to the 
 back of the coach. 
 
 "Well may I be phit!" said Tooler. 
 " I'll make yow run back for't any how 
 phit!" 
 
 In less than a minute the coach drew up 
 opposite the stable, when the gentleman in 
 black at once proceeded to alight. Just, 
 however, as his foot reached the plate of the 
 roller bolt, another growl from Valentine 
 frightened him backwards, when falling 
 upon one of the old horse-keepers, he knocked 
 him fairly down, and rolled over him hea- 
 vily. 
 
 " Darng your cloomsy carkus !" cried the 
 
 horse-keeper, gathering himself up, " carn't 
 
 you git oof ar cooarch aroat knocking o' 
 
 \ pipple darn 1" 
 
 I " l-I-I beg pardon," trembling, observed 
 
LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the gentleman in black ; " I hope I- 
 I ." 
 
 " Whoap ! pardon !" contemptuously 
 echoed the horse-keeper as he limped to- 
 wards the bars to unhook the leaders' 
 traces. 
 
 " Now then, yow warmint, let's see who 
 yow belong to," said Tooler, approaching 
 the rnouth of the boot ; but just as he was in 
 the act of raising the foot board, another 
 angry snap made him close it again with 
 the utmost rapidity. 
 
 " Lay down ! blarm your body !" cried 
 Tooler, shrinking back. " Here yow Jim, 
 kirn here, boi, and take this 'ere devil of a 
 dog out o' that." 
 
 Jim approached, and the growling was 
 louder than before, while the gentleman in 
 black implored Jim to take care that the 
 animal didn't get hold of his hand. 
 
 " Here yow Harry !" shouted Jim, " yare 
 nootafeared o' doogs together darng un / 
 doont like un." 
 
 Accordingly Harry came, and then Sam, 
 and then Bob, and then Bill, but as the dog 
 could not be seen, and as the snarling con- 
 tinued, neither of them dared to put his hand 
 in to drag the monster forth. Bob therefore 
 ran off for Tom Titus the blacksmith, who 
 was known to care for neither dog nor devil, 
 and in less than two minutes Tom Titus 
 arrived with about three feet and a half of 
 rod iron red hot. 
 
 "Darng un!" cried Tom, " this 'ere '11 
 maake un quit together!" 
 
 " Dear me ! my good man," said the 
 gentleman in black, " don't use that unchris- 
 tianlike implement! don't put the dumb 
 thing to such horrible torture !" 
 
 " It don't siggerfy a button," cried Tooler, 
 ' I marnt go to stop here all day. Out o' 
 that he must come." 
 
 Upon this Tom Titus introduced his pro- 
 fessional weapon, and commenced poking 
 about with considerable energy, while the 
 snapping and growling increased with each 
 poke. 
 
 " I'll tell you what it is," said Tom Titus, 
 turning round and wiping the sweat off his 
 brow with his naked arm, " this herecretur 
 here's stark raavin mad." 
 
 * I knew that he was," cried the gentleman 
 in black, getting into an empty wagon 
 which stood without horses just out of the 
 road ; " I felt perfectly sure that he was 
 rabid." 
 
 " II e's a bull-terrier too," said Tom Titus, 
 "I knows it by's growl. It's the worsest 
 and dargdest to goo maad as is." 
 
 " Well what shall us do wi* th* war- 
 ment 1" said Tooler. 
 
 " Shoot him ! shoot him !" cried the gen- 
 tleman in black. 
 
 " O I've goot a blunderbuss, Bob !" said 
 Tom Titus, "yow run for't together, it's 
 top o' the forge." 
 
 Bob started at once, and Tom kept on the 
 bar, while Tooler, Sam, Harry, and Bob 
 held the heads of the horses. 
 
 "He's got un; all right!" cried Tom 
 Titus, as Bob neared the coach with the 
 weapon on his shoulder. " Yow'll bedoon 
 for in noo time," he added, as he felt with 
 his rod to ascertain in which corner of the 
 boot the bull-terrier lay. 
 
 "Is she loarded?" asked Bob, as he 
 handed Tom Titus the instrument of death. 
 
 " Mind you make the shot come out at 
 bottom," shouted Tooler. 
 
 " I hool," said Tom Titus, putting the 
 weapon to his shoulder. " Noo the loord 
 ha' marcy on yarsool, as joodgesays sizes," 
 and instantly let fly. 
 
 The horses of course plunged considerably, 
 but still did no mischief; and before the 
 smoke had evaporated, Valentine introduced 
 into the boot a low melancholy howl, which 
 convinced Tom Titus that the shot had taken 
 effect. 
 
 "He's give oop the ghost; darng his 
 carkus!" cried Tom, as he poked the dead 
 body into the corner. 
 
 " Well, let's have a look at un," said 
 Tooler, " let's see what the warment is like." 
 
 The gentleman in black at once leaped 
 out of the wagon, and every one present 
 drew near, when Tom, guided by the rod 
 which he had kept upon the body, put his 
 hand into the boots, and drew forth a fine 
 hare that had been shattered by the shot all 
 to pieces. 
 
 " He arnt a bull-tarrier," cried Bob. 
 
 " But that arnt he," said Tom Titus. 
 " He's some'er aboot here as dead as a 
 darng'd nail : I know he's a corpse." 
 
 "Are yow sure on'tl" asked Tooler. 
 
 " There arnt any bairn dooor deader," 
 cried Tom. " Here, I'll lug um out an 
 show yar." 
 
 " No, no !" shouted Tooler, as Tom pro- 
 ceeded to pull out the luggage. " I marnt 
 stay for that : I'm an hour behind now, 
 blarm un ! Jimp up, genelmen !" 
 
 Tom Titus and his companions, who 
 wanted the hull-terrier as a trophy, entreated 
 Tooler to allow them to have it, and having 
 ni length gained his consent, Tom proceeded 
 to empty the boot. Every eye was, of 
 course, directed to every thing drawn out, 
 and when Tom made a solemn declaration 
 that the boot was empty, they were all, at 
 once, struck with amazement. Kach looked 
 at the other with astounding incredulity, and 
 overhauled the luggage again and agnin. 
 
 " Do you mean to say," s;iid Tooler, 
 " that there arnt nufl'm else in the bootl" 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 33 
 
 " Darnged a thing!" cried Tom Titus, 
 "coom an look." And Tooler did look, 
 and the gentleman in black looked, and Boh 
 looked, and Harry looked, and Bill looked, 
 and Sam looked, and all looked, but found 
 the boot empty. 
 
 "Well, blarm me!" cried Tooler 
 " But darng it all, he must be somewhere !" 
 
 " I'll taake my solum davy," said Bill, 
 "that he was there." 
 
 "I seed um myself," exclaimed Bob, 
 " wi my oarn o} r es, an didn'tloike the looks 
 on um a bit." 
 
 "There cannot," said the gentleman in 
 black, "be the smallest possible doubt 
 about his having been there ; but the ques- 
 sion for our mature consideration is, where 
 is he now 1" 
 
 "I'll bet a pint," said Harry, "you 
 blowed um away." 
 
 " Blowed um away, you fool! how 
 could I ha blowed um away 1" said Tom 
 Titus in tones of contempt. 
 
 " Why he was there," said Bob, " and 
 he baint there noo, and he baint here nayther, 
 so you must ha blowed um out o't th' boot : 
 sides look at the muzzle o' this ere blunder- 
 bust!" 
 
 " Well, of all the rummest goes as ever 
 happened," said Tooler, thrusting his hands 
 to the very bottom of his pockets "this 
 ere flogs 'em all into nuffin !" 
 
 " It is perfectly astounding !" exclaimed 
 the gentleman in black, looking again into 
 the boot, while the men stood and stared at 
 each other with their mouths as wide open 
 as human mouths could be. 
 
 " Well, in wi' em agin," cried Tooler. 
 " In wi' em ! Blarm me if this here arnt 
 a queer 'un to get over." 
 
 The luggage was accordingly replaced, 
 and Tooler, on mounting the box, told the 
 men to get a gallon of beer, when the gentle- 
 man in black generously gave them half-a- 
 crown, and the horses started off, leaving 
 Tom with his blunderbuss, Harry, Bill, 
 Sam, and their companions, bewildered 
 with the mystery which the whole day 
 spent in the ale-house by no means enabled 
 them to solve. 
 
 Valentine chuckled so desperately over 
 the success of this scheme, that he dared not, 
 for fear of being suspected, commence an- 
 other for some considerable time. The ab- 
 surd surmises of the puzzled Tooler, and 
 the inferences of the gentleman in black, 
 which were scarcely less ridiculous, kept 
 him in a perpetual fever while they met the 
 " down coach." 
 
 " You leave us here, of course !" observed 
 the gentleman in black. 
 
 'Noo," said Tooler, "worse look, I'm 
 agoin right through. I've made a 'range- 
 
 ment wi' Waddle, tother coachman. He 
 wants to goo darn and I wants to goo up. 
 It taint often I do goo to tarn, but whens'ever 
 I do, suffin's sure to be the matter. I've 
 got a 'pointmentat seven to goo wi' moi gals 
 to the play an noo you see, blarm it phit ! 
 phit ! I'm a cupple o' hours behind." 
 
 " Hallo, my cherry bounce !" shouted 
 Waddle, as he and Tooler pulled up. 
 " What's the natur o'the game now ? Here 
 a matter o' sixteen mile out!" Tooler 
 shook his head thoughtfully. "A spill my 
 old wegitable ? Anything broke 1" con- 
 tinued Waddle "Any haccidentl" 
 
 "About the rummest go," replied Tooler, 
 "as yow ever had any notion on yet. But 
 I marnt stop noo. I'll tell yow ool about it 
 to-morrow phit ! phit !" 
 
 " Well, ta ta, my turnip !" observed Mr. 
 Waddle, and away the coaches rattled in 
 opposite directions, Tooler lashing his lead- 
 ers with unparalleled severity. 
 
 Valentine, having regained full command 
 over his muscles, and perceiving that Tool- 
 er's nerves were so perfectly unstrung, that 
 the slightest thing would seriously annoy 
 him, now began to indulge in his favourite 
 imitations of a fretful child, upon the exact- 
 ness of which he prided himself especially. 
 He sobbed, and squalled, and coughed, and 
 hooped, and strained, and held his breath, 
 and then struggling convulsively with his 
 voice again, with all the vehemence of which 
 he was capable, while Tooler was whipping, 
 and shuffling, and fretting himself into a 
 fever of excitement. 
 
 " Blarm that 'ere child !" exclaimed 
 Tooler looking round, " If yow'd keep that 
 ere little un o' yourn quiet, marm, I'd thank 
 yar." Valentine, however, still continued 
 to persevere in his interesting imitations 
 until Tooler, having worked himself up to 
 such a pitch of excitement, that he could 
 scarcely hold the reins, shouted angrily, 
 " Marm ! yow must keep that 'ere child o' 
 yourn a leetle matter still. My horses 
 carnt stand it : they carntget along. Phit ! 
 Darng me, if it beant enow to drive a man 
 mad !" 
 
 "I dare say it's after its teeth, poor 
 thing !" observed the gentleman in black. 
 
 "It's teeath !" cried Tooler, "It ony 
 wants the breast. Jist listen to it ! Blarm 
 my body." 
 
 "I can't keep it quiet!" cried Valentine, 
 assuming the voice of a female. "It arnt 
 o' no use : I must throw it away," and he 
 immediately uttered a piercing shriek, and 
 exclaimed, "The child, the child! the 
 child's off !" 
 
 Tooler, of course, stopped on the instant, 
 and having given the reins to the gentleman 
 in black, got down with the view of rescuing 
 
34 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the infant from its perilous position, and of 
 pointing out to its mother in terms of just 
 indignation the extreme inhumanity of her 
 conduct. 
 
 " Where is it, yow baggage ;" cried 
 Tooler, looking anxiously along the road. 
 
 " Ha yow drapped onythin cooarchmanl" 
 inquired a countryman, sitting behind. 
 
 * Drapped any thin 1" angrily echoed Tool- 
 er. " Where, where is the child ]" 
 
 " Woot choild ?" inquired the country- 
 man. 
 
 "Why that wumman's child asshejist 
 throw'd away !" shouted Tooler. 
 
 " We arnt had noo choild here," said the 
 countryman a fact to which all who sat 
 behind bore instant testimony. 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Tooler, "do yow 
 mean to say 1 do yow mean to tell me yon 
 beant had a child there that's been cryin' the 
 last hour, an' puttin' my horses into this 
 eredarng'd sweat 1" 
 
 "I tell yow," replied the countryman, 
 "we arnt had no choild; we arnt seen 
 nuffin like a choild here." 
 
 " Well, may I be darngd !" exclaimed 
 Tooler, scratching his head very violently, 
 and swinging his right arm with great force 
 through the air. " This beats all as I ever 
 did hear on afore. It doant siggerfy 
 tawking," added he, on remounting the box; 
 "the devil's aither an inside or an outside 
 passenger. I've got 'un, to-day, sure 
 enow." And Tooler drew out his way-bill 
 with the view of ascertaining which was 
 likely to be his Satanic Majesty incog., 
 while the gentleman in black, the three 
 passengers who sat on the same seat with 
 Valentine, and Valentine himself, were 
 expressing to each other their utter aston- 
 ishment at the extraordinary character of 
 the occurrence, with great eloquence and 
 warmth. 
 
 " That's it ! I have it !" said Tooler to 
 himself as a countrywoman passed with a 
 basket on her arm. "She said so she 
 said she would. Blarm her old body !" 
 
 It was easy to perceive that at that moment 
 something had flitted across Tooler's mind, 
 which had proved to him a source of fresh 
 annoyance, for he appeared to be in a state 
 of extreme agitation, and continued to be 
 BO, muttering short, and bitter sentences, 
 scratching, his head, striking the crown of 
 his hat, and violently grinding his teeth, 
 until he arrived at the end of the stage, when 
 he ran into the stable with breathless haste, 
 and returned before a second idea of his 
 object could be conceived, with a box of 
 tools in one hand and a horse-shoe in the 
 other. 
 
 ' Hold hard a bit, Bill/' said he, kneeling 
 upon the pole and nailing the horse-shoe to 
 
 the foot-board. "There! now do your 
 worst ! Blarm yar carkus ! I defy yar !" 
 While horses were being put in, Tooler 
 shook his head most triumphantly and 
 smiled at the horse-shoe with intense 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " What, in the name of goodness," said 
 the gentleman in black, when Tooler had 
 re-mounted, ** have you nailed to the foot- 
 board 1" 
 
 " Hold hard ! Phih ! a horse-shoe !" cried 
 Tooler ; " The cooarch is bewitched, sir ! 
 least ways it was,- but I've cured it now 
 that's a settler!" 
 
 "Awful!" exclaimed the gentleman in 
 black, with due solemnity. " How can you, 
 coachman, entertain so impious a thought?" 
 
 "I know it!" said Tooler, "that wum- 
 man as we passed with a basket then 
 brought it to my mind. She's, for all the 
 world, like her." 
 
 " Like whom ?" inquired the gentleman 
 in black. 
 
 " Why, like the witch !" replied Tooler. 
 " I'll tell yow ool about it. T'other day, 
 when I wor comin' along the rooard, I seed 
 this 'ere warmint a settin on the path, with 
 a basket by her side. Young Harry, the 
 nevy of our proprietor, was on the box wi' 
 me, and so says he, Tooler, says he, I'll bet 
 yow a crown bowl o' punch, yow doant 
 hook that 'ere basket up here. Done, says 
 I. It's a bet, says he, done. So I makes 
 my whip ready, and jist as we come along 
 side o'the warmint, 1 winds it round the 
 handle of the basket, and, sartin enough, 
 up it cornes, when Harry catches it jist by 
 the middle o'the handle, and I s'pose it 
 mought ha' had in a cnpple o'score of eggs, 
 wi' the yolks of which, in course, we was 
 smothered. Well, I pulls up at once, for I 
 couldn't see my horses nntil I wiped some 
 on it off; and while Harry and me was 
 laughing at aich other, fit to split, up comes 
 the old warment, and, praps, she didn't go 
 it a good un ! Well, as soon as I could get 
 through the mess, to my pocket, I dropped 
 her half-a-crown, and Harry dropped her 
 another ; but even this didn't satisfy the 
 nasty old frump ; she wanted them 'ere 
 eggs, pitickler, it seemed, and no others 
 would do; and she swore that I should rue 
 the day 1 broke 'em. So says Harry ; Do 
 yow know who she is 1 Noo, says I, I 
 carnt say as I do. Why, says he, that's the 
 famous old witch ! The devil it is, says I, 
 and so it was ; and this is the way she's 
 been a sarvin' me out. But I've fixed her 
 wi' the horse-shoe, there, darng her old 
 carkus, she carnt do no more mischief now." 
 
 " Are you sure of that ? Beware !" said 
 Valentine, in an awfully hollow whisper, 
 sufficiently loud only to reach Toolcr's ear. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 35 
 
 Tooler trembled for an instant; but his 
 faith in the virtue of the horse-shoe being 
 fixed, he soon regained his self-possession, 
 and, giving his head a knowing devil-may- 
 care twist, sat firmly in his seat, fully 
 determined to take no heed of any thing 
 that might threaten. 
 
 " Hoa ! coarchman !" exclaimed one of 
 the passengers at this moment ; " only look 
 at this wheel !" 
 
 Tooler sat like a statue. He did not 
 deign to move a muscle. 
 
 "Coarchman! coarchman!" shouted the 
 countryman who was sitting behind ; 
 " lookee how this off-wheel's a waddling !" 
 
 " Blarm un !" cried Tooler, " let un 
 waddle ! Phit ! Phit !" and away went the 
 horses down the hill ; but in an instant 
 
 the coach coming in contact with the jutting 
 bank, turned over and deposited him and the 
 passengers upon a newly formed bed of 
 manure. 
 
 Witchcraft was, in Tooler's view, again 
 triumphant. His faith in the efficacy of 
 horse-shoes vanished. He felt himself 
 perfectly beaten, and, therefore, after having, 
 with considerable difficulty, managed to get 
 his insides out, he left his horses, coach, 
 and luggage in the care of the persons who 
 had fortunately witnessed the accident, and 
 waddled with the fragments of the whip in 
 his hand towards a road-side inn a few 
 hundred yards distant. On reaching the 
 house, of course, a thousand questions were 
 asked in a breath : not one of them, however, 
 did Tooler deign to answer. He threw 
 
 Tooler saw the wheel whizzing a-head, at himself carelessly into a large arm-chair, 
 the rate of full thirty miles an hour. and, declaring that he would not drive that 
 
 "Lean all to the left!" shouted Tooler, 'day another step, drank with infinite gusto, 
 and the passengers obeyed him, but he also in a rummer of raw brandy, "Eternal 
 pulled the horses to the left so violently that : perdition to the witch !" 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PECULIAR LIBERALITY OF THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK. THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER PREVENTS 
 
 THE PERFORMANCE OF A MOST DISINTERESTED ACT OF FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 UPON a man unused to profound thinking, 
 profound thought has a peculiarly somni- 
 ferous effect. No sooner does he get below 
 the surface than he falls fast asleep, and 
 although he dreams of his subject with 
 unspeakable zeal, draws conclusions from 
 his premises, solves collateral problems, 
 establishes positions, and carries his designs 
 into imaginary execution, his mind, when 
 he awakes, leaps back over the interesting 
 interregnum, and begins to toil again at the 
 point from which' it started. 
 
 Such had been the workings of Tooler's 
 vivid imagination, and such was precisely 
 his position when awakened by the arrival 
 of the passengers at the Inn. Having pro- 
 posed with great feeling, and drank with 
 due sincerity, "Eternal perdition to the 
 Witch," he fell at once into a train of deep 
 thought which, as a natural consequence, 
 induced deep sleep, in which he saw and 
 held a visionary conversation with the hag 
 whose unhallowed influence he was just on 
 the point of overthrowing, when the passen- 
 gers entered the well-warmed parlour" in 
 which he was snoring aloud. 
 
 " We've got un to roights," said John 
 Brown, the landlord, who headed the group, 
 "we've got un up again, Sir .'" continued 
 he in a much louder tone, shaking Tooler 
 
 with what in any ordinary case might have 
 been deemed most unnecessary violence. 
 
 Tooler unconsciously nodded an acknow- 
 ledgment, and began to snore again just as 
 loudly as before. 
 
 " Come coachman, come, come my good 
 man," said the gentleman in black ; but he 
 could make no impression upon Tooler at 
 all. At length, however, by virtue of bawl- 
 ing, tickling, and shaking, John Brown 
 succeeded in causing him to open his eyes, 
 which he at once commenced rubbing with 
 great desperation. 
 
 "Now, Sir!" said John Brown, "It's 
 all roight !" 
 
 " O ah !" observed Tooler. 
 
 "We've got on the wheel, and all's 
 ready," continued John Brown. 
 
 "Ah yes jis so well," remarked 
 Tooler at intervals, " anythin' brook 1" 
 
 "Nothin ; couldn't ha' split on a softerer 
 place." 
 
 " Well, that's a blessing anyhow !" said 
 Tooler. " Is the cooarch locked up safe ?" 
 
 " Locked oop !" cried John Brown, " noo ! 
 she's standin' at the door here all ready to 
 start." 
 
 " I shaunt stor another step this blessed 
 night if I know it," said Tooler, taking his 
 hat off and dashing it to the ground with the 
 
36 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 air of one whose mind, having been once 
 made up, possessed the quality of being im- 
 mutable. 
 
 " What !" exclaimed the gentleman in 
 black, " but, no, no ; you are jesting." 
 
 In order to prove that nothing bearing 
 even the semblance of a jest was intended, 
 Tooler proceeded to pull off his shawl and 
 box-coat, while the passengers exchanged 
 looks of utter amazement. 
 
 ** My good man," continued the gentle- 
 man in black, you surely do not mean to 
 remain here 1 come, come, let us start." 
 
 " Here I am, and here 1 sticks," said 
 Tooler firmly ; and after shaking his head, 
 he unbuttoned his boot-straps a process 
 which caused the antique tops, which were 
 as large as a pair of moderate-sized chim- 
 ney-pots, to fall upon his insteps sans cere- 
 monie. 
 
 44 1 will not believe it," said the gentle- 
 man in black, " I cannot believe that you 
 are serious ; come, come, coachman, come !" 
 
 44 It doant siggerfy tawkin' a button," 
 cried Tooler, " we carn't get to Tarn noo 
 to-night. 'Sides, if I was to break the wind 
 of all my horses, I shouldn't be up afore 
 twelve o'clock now, and what is the use 
 o'thatl" 
 
 " Yow'd be able to do it by ten," said 
 John Brown. 
 
 "And what's the use o' ten 1" inquired 
 Tooler indignantly. " What's the use o' 
 ten, when I ought to ha' bin in at six 1" 
 
 " I am a man of few words," said the 
 gentleman in black, "a man of very few 
 words ; and I beg you to understand that 
 what I say I fully mean. I must be in Lon- 
 don to-night, and therefore, if you are re- 
 solved on remaining here, I will post up to 
 town, and make you or your proprietors bear 
 
 the expense." 
 
 Having tremblingly 
 
 delivered himself 
 
 thus, the gentleman in black turned exceed- 
 ingly white, and as he prepared to leave the 
 room with the view of making certain ne- 
 cessary inquiries, Valentine, assuming his 
 voice, ordered seven large glasses of brandy- 
 and-water, and rump-steaks and onions for 
 nine. 
 
 No sooner was this order given, than the 
 whole of the domestic establishment of John 
 Brown was in an uproar. Dan was sent out 
 for the steaks ; Mary was told to peel the 
 onions ; Roger was directed to wipe the bars 
 of the gridiron, and Sally was ordered to 
 make the fire clear with salt, while the 
 hostess herself mixed the brandy-and-water, 
 and scolded all about her with due bitterness 
 and force. 
 
 While these preparations were making 
 
 not a single posting house within seven 
 miles of the place. He, therefore, deemed 
 it expedient to alter his tone, and having 
 decided upon certain persuasive arguments, 
 which he felt were too potent to fail, lie 
 returned to employ them as the hostess en- 
 tered the parlour with the brandy-and-water 
 on her best japanned tray. 
 
 " Now, coachman," said he, " my dear 
 man, do consider the inconvenience of which 
 this delay will be productive." ' 
 
 " It's o' no use," said Tooler, " it's o' no 
 sort o' use. I carn't move from this ere 
 blessed spot. It's unpossible. I arn't no 
 more power over them are four horses than 
 a babby. I carn't drive, and now yow've 
 the long and the short on't." 
 
 " O ! for that matter," cried Brown, " as 
 I never am backard in coming forard to sarve 
 a friend, I'll drive for yar." 
 
 " You're a /oo//" observed the hostess, 
 in an audible whisper, at the same time 
 tugging with great violence at John Brown's 
 coat-tails, and giving him certain significant 
 sidelong glances of great import, as affecting 
 his conjugal peace. John Brown, however, 
 still persevered in expressing the pleasure 
 he should derive from the performance of 
 this act of disinterested friendship; for 
 although he in general held the hints of his 
 spouse in high respect, and understood that 
 in this particular instance she was actuated 
 by a desire to make the most of the party, 
 one of whom had been so liberal in his 
 orders at the commencement, he regarded it 
 as being by no means improbable that Tooler 
 would be in consequence discharged, and 
 that he would be put upon the coach as his 
 successor, which happened to be precisely 
 what for several years he had been con- 
 stantly on the look-out for. 
 
 44 But do you think sariously," said Tooler, 
 after a pause, " that yovv'd be able to get 
 up by twelve?" 
 
 44 By twelve .'" cried John Brown. 44 If 
 1 don't get in afore the clock strikes ten, I'll 
 be bound to be pisoned. Ony jist say the 
 word, and whiles the ladies and gentlemen 
 is a having their snack, I'll be makin' myself 
 a leetle matter tidy." 
 
 44 Come, my good man; you'll agree to 
 it, will you not come ?" said the gentleman 
 in black, in a tone irresistibly persuasive. 
 
 44 Well, well," said Tooler, with evident 
 reluctance, ' 4 have it as yow like ;" and he 
 proceeded to button up his boot-tops a<r;iin, 
 while Mary was carefully laying the cloth. 
 
 The grand point being at length settled, 
 John Brown left the room, and the hostess, 
 assisted by her handmaid* in ( -Iran whim 
 aprons, placed the rump-steaks and onions 
 
 the gentleman in black ascertained, to his upon the table. 
 
 unspeakable mortification, that there was! " Now if you please, sir," said the hostess, 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 37 
 
 bestowing one of her blandest smiles upon 
 the gentleman in black, as she gracefully 
 placed a chair for him at the head of the 
 table. " Do'ee eat it while it's hot: there's 
 some more inguns doin." 
 
 ' Not any for me, 1 thank you," said that 
 gentleman with great politeness. " I have 
 not the smallest appetite, I'll take a glass of 
 sherry and a biscuit." 
 
 " Oh ! do'ee eat a Jeetle," urged the fas- 
 cinating hostess. " It's done very beautiful. 
 Look'ee !" added the tempter, as she took 
 off the cover, and displayed a fine steak 
 garnished with onions, the sight of which at 
 once drew the rest of the passengers towards 
 the table. 
 
 44 Do have a bit with us sir, do !" cried 
 the passengers in a chorus. " We shall 
 not enjoy it half so much without you." 
 
 44 Why not, my good people ]" inquired 
 the pastor. 
 
 * 4 Cause," replied the hostess, 44 you was 
 kind enow to order it!" 
 
 " I* mv g oc l woman !" exclaimed the 
 astonished gentleman, peering over his 
 spectacles with a look of amazement. 4 ' I 
 ordered, II" 
 
 44 In course, sir, you did," replied the hos- 
 tess, as the pleasing expression of her coun- 
 tenance vanished. 
 
 44 Dear me! my good woman," rejoined 
 the pastor, 44 you must have been dreaming." 
 
 44 1 'peal to the gentlemen and ladies pre- 
 sent," said the hostess, 44 whether you didn't 
 order seven glasses o' brandy-and-water, and 
 rump-steaks and inguns for nine." 
 
 44 Oh that's right enough," said one of the 
 passengers, "that wor the order ersackly, 
 you doan't mean to go for to say as how it 
 wasn't, sir, do yerl" 
 
 44 Upon my honour, my good people," re- 
 turned the pastor ; 44 believe me, you were 
 never more mistaken in your lives." 
 
 44 Not a bit on't," observed Tooler, 44 1 
 heerd yow myself." 
 
 44 God bless my soul ! Impossible ! im- 
 possible !" cried the pastor, as he strove with 
 great energy of mind to ascertain what sen- 
 tence in the English language, bore the 
 slightest resemblance in point of sound to 
 44 seven glasses of brandy-and-water, and 
 rump-steaks and onions for nine." 
 
 44 Well, whether or no," observed the 
 hostess, 4 ' there's what was ordered, and 1 
 'spects to be paid for it at all events." 
 
 44 Come," said the farmer, who had occu- 
 pied a seat at the back of the coach, 44 let's 
 tackle it together, for I feel raylher peck- 
 ish," and he and Valentine with two other 
 passengers commenced ; the rest modestly 
 keeping aloof from the table, lest payment 
 should be demanded of them respectively as 
 a social matter of course. 
 
 44 Yow may as well just have a mouthful 
 as not," said the farmer, 44 sin' yow do mean 
 to p-ay all the same !" 
 
 " Really," observed the gentleman in 
 black, "I am unconscious of having made 
 such an arrangement." 
 
 44 Well, well," said Valentine, in his 
 natural voice; 4 * suppose we compromise 
 the matter, as there appears to be some slight 
 misunderstanding on the subject : yon settle 
 for the steaks, and I'll pay for the brandy- 
 and-water." 
 
 44 Well, coom, that's handsome !" cried 
 the farmer, 44 and to show that I doon't want 
 to shirk from my share, why I'll be a couple 
 o' bottles o' wine, coom, what say yow 
 noo?" 
 
 44 1 cannot, under the circumstances, of 
 course object to join you," replied the puz- 
 zled pastor; "but I must be permitted to 
 say that those circumstances are in my judg- 
 ment perfectly inexplicable : I never in any 
 case like to be positive ; I know that human 
 nature is but human nature, and therefore 
 cannot pretend to claim entire exemption 
 from those weaknesses which form its distin- 
 guishing characteristics : I may be mistaken : 
 I confess that I may ; but 1 nevertheless 
 hold it to be utterly impossible for any man 
 to give such an order as that without know- 
 ing it." 
 
 44 Oh ! 'pun my loife," said the farmer, 
 44 it's a postyve fact." 
 
 "Of course I'll not presume to dispute 
 it," returned the pastor, whose scepticism, 
 on the point still developed itself strongly. 
 44 All I can say is, that I am totally oblivious 
 of the circumstances; but if I did give the 
 order, I bow to your decision." 
 
 No sooner had this arrangement been 
 completed, than the passengers who had 
 before kept so modestly aloof, lost the whole 
 of their interesting diffidence. They made 
 themselves perfectly at home, and drew 
 at once towards the table, at the head of 
 which, of course, set the gentleman in 
 black, who appeared to have borrowed, for 
 that particular occasion, the well-trained 
 appetite of an untamed elephant. As all 
 social distinctions were, for the time being 
 levelled, Tooler was invited to join them ; 
 but although he tried with zeal to compete 
 with the rest, his gastronomic powers 
 entirely deserted him. He ate scarcely any 
 thing, albeit the dish before him was one 
 which on ordinary occasions he especially 
 favoured. He experienced, however, no 
 difficulty in drinking. Of the wine and 
 brandy-and-water he partook freely, with the 
 view of drowning the unhallowed influence 
 of the witch ; but the more deeply he drank, 
 the more strongly did he feel, that that 
 influence was still in the ascendant. 
 
38 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 As soon as John Brown found the party 
 had ordered all the spirits and wine they 
 were likely to order, he entered the room to 
 announce the fact of his being ready, and to 
 explain the expediency of an immediate 
 start. The bill was consequently called for 
 on the instant, when the amount was di- 
 vided as per agreement, and paid, and the 
 passengers prepared for the completion of 
 their journey. 
 
 The moment, however, John entered the 
 room, Valentine was led to suspect that he 
 had some unfriendly design upon Tooler. 
 He therefore watched him narrowly, and as 
 his searching eye quickly discovered suf- 
 ficient to confirm his suspicion, he resolved 
 on thwarting the objectof Mr. John Brown, by 
 causing him to abandon his intention of 
 performing the act of disinterested friend- 
 ship proposed. 
 
 Accordingly, Valentine at once left the 
 room, with the view of ascertaining what 
 means were available ; and as he saw the 
 hostess standing with a butcher in the bar, 
 whose conversation touched the toughness 
 of a certain leg of mutton, he awaited in the 
 passage the arrival of John Brown. He had 
 scarcely, however, decided the course to be 
 pursued, when John made his appearance 
 whip in hand. Valentine saw that no time 
 was to be lost, and therefore, assuming the 
 voice of the hostess, whispered loud enough 
 to leach John's ear : * Go now, my love, 
 go; and return by-and-bye : you have 
 nothing to fear: John will not be back to- 
 night!" 
 
 *' Indeed !" murmured John, starting back 
 at the sound of an affectionate kiss with 
 which Valentine concluded. "Indeed!" 
 he repeated, and bit his lips violently and 
 breathed with vehemence, as the group in 
 the back ground pressed him towards the 
 door, and thus forced him to see the pride 
 of his heart and home in conversation with 
 one who happened to be the identical 
 butcher upon whom he had long looked with 
 a peculiarly jealous eye. 
 
 Valentine now felt that he had struck the 
 right chord, for the complexion of John 
 turned as pale as it could turn that is to 
 say, it turned to a pale Prussian blue, as the 
 nearest approach to whiteness of which 
 it was capable, while his huge teeth rattled 
 like a pair of castanets, and indeed his 
 whole frame shook convulsively with pas- 
 
 sion pent up. Contrary, however, to the 
 expectation of Valentine, John, after turn- 
 ing in the direction of the bar, his flashing 
 eyes, which appeared to pierce the wooden 
 partition with more facility than could a 
 pair of the brightest girnblets, conjured 
 up all his courage, and mounted the box. 
 The start was a false one, for he dropped 
 one of the reins and his whip at the same 
 time. This, however, was soon remedied ; 
 but they had not proceeded far, before the 
 attention of Tooler was drawn to the excited 
 state of John's nerves. 
 
 " A'n't yow been havin' a drop o' suffin 
 extra ?" inquired Tooler, as they rolled from 
 side to side. 
 
 "Not a drain!" replied John; and the 
 coach gave another lunge. "But the fact 
 of the matter's this," continued he, looking 
 round to ascertain if they could be seen from 
 his once happy home " the fact is, I feels 
 so uncommon poorly, that I'm afeered I 
 shan't be able to go much furder arter all.*' 
 
 " Well give me the ribbons, then," said 
 Tooler, who, feeling somewhat better, began 
 to be ashamed of his inactive position. " I 
 can manage, I des say. Do yow go back 
 I'm obleedged to yer, you know, all the 
 same." 
 
 " Well, if you think you can drive," 
 observed John. 
 
 " Why," interrupted Tooler, whose pro- 
 fessional pride had been touched by that 
 remark, " if I can't do it better than that, I 
 can't do it at all !" 
 
 This was enough for John Brown. He pull- 
 ed up on an instant; and after apologising for 
 his inability to perform his promise, alight- 
 ed, with the view of acquiring that know- 
 ledge which would most grieve his heart, 
 and of disturbing the development of the 
 assumed illicit loves of his amiable spouse* 
 and the cold-blooded butcher. 
 
 The moment, however, Tooler regained 
 possession of the reins, the dreaded influence 
 of the witch regained possession of his soul ; 
 but Valentine, who had removed to the 
 vacant seat on the box, did all in his power 
 to cheer him, and, as he firmly resolved 
 to annoy him no more, he succeeded, after 
 an infinite deal of persuasion, in inspiring 
 him with the belief of its being an immuta- 
 ble ordinance of Nature, that the power of 
 no witch should extend beyond the radius of 
 forty miles. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 39 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 INTRODUCES GREAT-UNCLE JOHN'S FRIEND AND HIS AFFECTIONATE RELATIVES, WITH A 
 KNIGHT OF A NEW ORDER, TWO INVISIBLE BURGLARS, AND ONE MOST REMARKABLE SWEEP. 
 
 MR. GRIMWOOD GOODMAN, Great-Uncle 
 John's friend, to whom Valentine had been 
 consigned, was a gentleman possessed of 
 some considerable wealth, derived chiefly 
 from a series of successful speculations in 
 sperm oil. He was remarkably thin 
 so thin, indeed, that his heart beat against 
 his bare ribs with an energy which alone 
 might have caused it to be discovered that 
 that organ is more insensible to feeling than 
 to sight. If, however, the heart of Goodman 
 was like the hearts of men in the aggre- 
 gate physically insensible, morally it 
 was by far the most sensible of all the 
 organs he possessed. A tear touched it 
 acutely ; a tale of distress at once caused it 
 to open : indeed, sorrow in any shape had 
 but to approach, to find itself surrounded by 
 feelings of benevolence, which caused it to 
 dry up its natural tears, and to shed those 
 only of gratitude and joy. 
 
 In stature, Grimwood Goodman although 
 he boasted with pride of having stood full 
 six feet without his shoes when a private in 
 the Loyal Volunteers was, at the time of 
 which we write, about five feet eight. He 
 would never allow that he had sunk so many 
 inches ; but he could not have been more, 
 for he was able to walk under the six feet 
 standard with his military cap on without 
 moving a hair. He had never been married. 
 His relatives the only relatives of whom 
 he happened to have any knowledge, to wit, 
 a brother, a nephew, and their wives had 
 disinterestedly taken especial care of that, 
 for in order that the idea of marrying might 
 be effectually banished from his mind, he 
 never visited them, nor did they ever visit 
 him, without the occurrence of those inter- 
 esting family broils with which the matri- 
 monial state is occasionally enlivened. Not 
 that his brother and nephew lived unhappily 
 with those whom they had respectively 
 pledged themselves to love and cherish: 
 on the contrary, they enjoyed a greater share 
 of domestic comfort than commonly falls to 
 the lot of married men ; but the arrangement 
 between them was to appear to be steeped 
 to the very lips in domestic misery whenever 
 Grimwood happened to be present, with the 
 view of deterring him from entering into 
 that state of life to which certain maids and 
 widows had modestly called him. And the 
 scheme proved effectual. He trembled at 
 the thought of embarking in a business, 
 which they had led him to believe was 
 
 extremely tempestuous at best,- for what 
 deterred him more than all, was the earnest 
 anxiety which they manifested on all occa- 
 sions to convince him that, although they 
 snarled, and frowned, and growled, and 
 wished each other dead, they in reality 
 lived as happily together, if not more hap- 
 pily, than married people in general. He 
 therefore having no sort of taste for the 
 loving specimens of matrimonial felicity, 
 which they so constantly placed before his 
 eyes, kept aloof, resolved firmly to live a 
 life of single blessedness unto the end. 
 
 Now, when these peculiarly affectionate 
 creatures heard that Valentine was t;oming 
 to London, they were thrown, perhaps natu- 
 rally, into a feverish state of alarm ; for, 
 although they had never seen him, the 
 accounts of "the young wretch" which had 
 reached them, had been singularly flattering, 
 and therefore they held him to be one who, 
 by making a favourable impression on him 
 in whom the whole of their expectations 
 were concentrated, might "rob" them, as 
 they termed it, of some portion of that 
 wealth, for which, through the medium of 
 Grimwood's death, they so ardently panted. 
 They therefore lost no time in meeting, with 
 the view of devising some scheme by which 
 the loudest of their fears might be hushed, 
 and as Mr. Walter Goodman had been 
 deputed by his brother Grimwood to meet 
 Valentine at the Inn, it was, after a long 
 consultation, decided that he should repre- 
 sent himself to be Grimwood, secure Valen- 
 tine in certain private lodgings, and eventu- 
 ally either procure for him a berth on board 
 some man-of-war about to sail for a foreign 
 station, or send him out as an adventurer to 
 seek his fortune abroad. 
 
 Accordingly, Walter proceeded to the inn 
 at the appointed time, while his hopeful son, 
 Horace, prepared everything for Valentine's 
 reception it being arranged that the moment 
 he arrived he should be hurried away, and 
 that when he had reached his new residence, 
 Grimwood should be informed that he had 
 not arrived at all. Fortunately, however, 
 for Valentine, the coach was so late, that 
 Grimwood, having despatched the pressing 
 business he had in hand, became seriously 
 alarmed, and on going down himself to the 
 inn, he insisted upon relieving brother Wal- 
 ter from all responsibility, and to the bitter 
 mortification of that gentleman, waited in 
 the coffee-room the arrival of the coach. 
 
40 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 The design, however, of the affectionate 
 family-parly was not to be frustrated thus. 
 No sooner had Grimwood determined on 
 waiting himself than Walter started off to 
 meet the coach, with the view of securing 
 Valentine still ; while Grimwood was seated 
 in the coffee-room, drinking, without enjoy- 
 ment, the pint of claret he had ordered, and 
 mechanically reading the Times. Although 
 his eyes were on the paper, his thoughts 
 were on the coach, and he had just drank his 
 last glass of wine, and began to marvel at 
 the possibility of a man reading for hours 
 without bringing his mind to bear upon any 
 single sentence, when the clock struck ten. 
 
 " Waiter," said he to a sleek, round-faced 
 person in pumps, " this is very extraordi- 
 nary is it not?" 
 
 * Why, sir," replied that interesting per- 
 son, who being extremely fussy, and unable 
 to speak without using his napkin, com- 
 menced wiping the bottom of Goodman's 
 glass with great energy. " Why, sir, it is, 
 sir, rayther, sir ; but not werry neither, sir, 
 cos the down coachman's comin' up, sir, to- 
 day, and he's always extrornary late." 
 
 " I fear that some serious accident has 
 occurred," observed Goodman. 
 
 " Oh, no fear of that, sir ;" cried the fussy 
 individual, who had commenced operations 
 upon the bottom of the decanter; " it's all 
 right enough, sir: old Tooler's rather slow, 
 but werry sure Ineverknowed him, how- 
 ever, to be quite so late as this, I must say." 
 
 Relieved somewhat by the fact of the 
 delay not being deemed, under the circum- 
 stances very extraordinary, by the waiter, the 
 old gentleman walked to the door of the inn 
 not exactly with the view of accelerating 
 the arrival of the coach, but in order to 
 speculate upon the probability of every 
 vehicle that came in sight being the one for 
 which he was so anxiously waiting. He 
 had scarcely, however, taken his position on 
 the threshold, when he saw brother Walter, 
 followed by his hopeful son, Horace, bust- 
 lino about the place in a state of feverish 
 excitement, and inquiring again and again 
 of the porters at the gate if they were per- 
 fectly certain that the coach had notarrived. 
 
 Walter ! Horace !" shouted Grimwood ; 
 and those gentlemen for the moment shrank 
 back at the sound; but finding no means of 
 escape, they approached, and after falter- 
 ingly muttering something having reference 
 to their astonishment, expressed their convic- 
 tion that as the evening was cold, and as the 
 coach might not come in till midnight, he 
 had better go home and let one of them 
 remain to take charge of Valentino when he 
 arrived. 
 
 " I consider it very kind of you, Walter 
 and Horace/' said Grimwood, taking both 
 
 1WOOQ 
 
 Grim- / 
 
 nnt trk ' 
 
 by the hand, " to manifest so much anxiety 
 about one in whom 1 take an interest I 
 shall not forget it. However, he cannot be 
 long now ; therefore, let us wait together, 
 and have a glass of mulled wine." 
 
 Both Walter and Horace tried hard to be 
 excused, but Grimwood resolved on secur- 
 ing them as firmly as if he had known the 
 source from which all their anxiety sprang. 
 They had scarcely, however, taken their 
 seats in the coffee-room when the arrival of 
 the coach was announced, and Grimwood 
 instantly left his affectionate relatives in 
 order to receive Valentine in the yard 
 
 " It's all up !" said W T alter, when 
 wood had left. " What a fool I was not to 
 remain at the turnpike ; but, Lord, I made 
 sure that the infernal coach had passed." 
 
 "/couldn't imagine what the devil was 
 the matter," cried Horace, " so I pelted 
 down here like the devil to see." 
 
 "Well, it's of no use now," observed 
 Walter ; " we are completely done this 
 time. But never fear, Horace," he con- 
 tinued, after a pause, " we shall be able to 
 manage it yet," and both father and son 
 became mute. 
 
 " Your name, 1 believe, is Valentine Vox?" 
 said Mr. Goodman, addressing the youth 
 who had just alighted. 
 
 " It is," returned Valentine. 
 
 "My name is Goodman I am happy to 
 see you. I hope that you met with no acci- 
 dent on the road ?" 
 
 " Nothing of any very great importance," 
 replied Valentine. 
 
 " Doant arks me any more questions," 
 cried Tooler, as he strove to emerge from 
 the group of inquiring horsekeepers and 
 waiters, by whom he had been anxiously 
 surrounded. " It's o' no use blarm me if 
 I arnt sick and tired o' the very thoughts 
 on't. I have," continued he, addressing 
 Goodman, "to thenk this young gentleman 
 for gittin' up at all. If it hadn't ha' bin for 
 he we shouldn't ha done it to-night, any 
 how." 
 
 This remark had at once the effect of ex- 
 torting five shillings from Valentine instead 
 of half-a-crown, and of creating a very 
 favourable first impression in the mind of 
 Mr. (Joodman, who having seen the luggage 
 secure, presented Valentine to Walter and 
 Horace, who received him with looks indi- 
 cative of anything but delight. 
 
 " Now, my young friend," said Mr. Good- 
 man, taking Valentine again by the hand 
 and shaking it with much warmth, "I am 
 so fflad that you are safe ; you are faint and 
 cold I know you are. W'aiter ! coffee for 
 this gentleman ; what on earthcould have 
 detained you ? But don't tell me now you 
 are fatigued." 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 41 
 
 " Not at all, I assure you," said Valentine, 
 who felt himself perfectly at home with the 
 old gentleman, although he viewed with an 
 eye of suspicion the sinister looks of Wal- 
 ter and Horace. 
 
 " Come, take a glass of wine," said the 
 warm-hearted Goodman, who felt as highly 
 delighted with Valentine as if he had been 
 his own son. " My dear boy !" he con- 
 tinued, pressing the hand of his protege, and 
 looking earnestly in his face. " God bless 
 you !" 
 
 This was wormwood to Horace and his 
 father. They could not conceal its effects, 
 and therefore, after having addressed certain 
 sneering observations to Valentine, who 
 bowed without replying, they departed with 
 the view of designing some villanous scheme 
 which might induce the revival of those 
 hopes which appeared to them to be on the 
 point of being blasted for ever. 
 
 " Well, now," said the old gentlemen, 
 when his relatives were gone, and Valentine 
 appeared to be sufficiently refreshed, "come, 
 tell me the cause of this extraordinary 
 delay." 
 
 Valentine gazed upon him earnestly and 
 smiled. He was at first almost afraid to 
 explain the real cause ; but the general ex- 
 pression of the old gentleman's countenance 
 was so peculiarly fascinating, that it quickly 
 inspired him with confidence: he felt that 
 he might trust him with the secret of his 
 power, which might moreover be to him a 
 source of constant amusement, and there- 
 fore, after a little hesitation, confessed that 
 the delay was attributable solely to him. 
 
 "But," said Goodman, "1 understand 
 that had it not been for you, the coach would 
 not have reached London to-night." 
 
 " That is perfectly true," rejoined Valen- 
 tine, " but it is also true that had it not been 
 for me, it would have arrived here four hours 
 at least before it did." 
 
 "Indeed !" exclaimed Goodman with an 
 expression of astonishment; and Valentine 
 hesitated again ; but at length, feeling cer- 
 tain that the opinion he had formed of Good- 
 man's charac'er was correct, he proceeded 
 to explain the whole of the circumstances 
 described in the fifth and sixth chapters of 
 this history the relation of which caused 
 the old gentleman to be so irrepressibly con- 
 vulsed, that his contortions alone were suffi- 
 ciently ridiculous to excite the mirth of all 
 present, and at length the room rang with 
 peals of sympathetic laughter. 
 
 " Now now my dear boy," observed 
 Goodman, the very moment he had regained 
 sufficient command over his muscles, "be 
 sure that you tell this to no one. We shall 
 have such amusement ! But keep it, my 
 boy, mind keep it a secret." And here he 
 5 
 
 was seized with another fit of merriment in 
 which the whole room again most ridicu- 
 lously joined, while Valentine congratulated 
 himself on the manner in which he had 
 been received by his warm-hearted patron. 
 
 As soon as the frame of Grimwood Good- 
 man became capable of assuming the sem- 
 blance of tranquillity, he began to manifest 
 impatience to witness the effect of that which 
 appeared to him still to be almost impos- 
 sible. He therefore strongly urged Valen- 
 tine to give him a specimen on the spot, and 
 as Valentine felt that he would be too much 
 amazed for the moment to indulge in those 
 loud bursts of laughter which might tend to 
 create suspicion, he consented to do so at 
 once. 
 
 " But, be careful, my dear boy, be care- 
 ful," said Goodman. 
 
 " Oh ! there is not the slightest danger of 
 discovery. Waiter!" said Valentine, throw- 
 ing his voice into a box in which two ex- 
 tremely stout individuals were eating devil- 
 led kidneys. 
 
 " Yes, sir," cried the person in pumps, 
 throwing his napkin under his arm, and 
 approaching the box in question. 
 
 "Waiter!" said Valentine, assuming a 
 voice which appeared to proceed from the 
 box opposite. 
 
 "Yes, sir," repeated the waiter, turning 
 round on ascertaining that that party had no 
 orders. 
 
 " Waiter /" cried Valentine in precisely 
 the same voice as at first. 
 
 " Yes, sir !" exclaimed the sleek func- 
 tionary returning, " you call, sir ]" 
 
 " No," said the gentlemen, " we did not 
 call." 
 
 " WAITER!" shouted Valentine, throwing 
 his voice to the other end of the room, to 
 which end he of the pumps of course imme- 
 diately pelted. 
 
 " Now, where is that bottle of port ?" 
 cried Valentine, bringing the voice about 
 halfway back. 
 
 " Beg pardon, sir, I'm sure, sir," said the 
 waiter addressing the person from whom he 
 imagined the sound had proceeded, "did 
 you order a bottle of port, sir?" 
 
 " No," said the person addressed, " I'm 
 drinking negus." 
 
 " WAITER !" shouted Valentine with all 
 the force of which he was capable. 
 
 " YES, SIR !" cried the waiter with cor- 
 responding energy, and again he followed 
 the sound, and continued to follow it until 
 Valentine ceased, when the knight of the 
 napkin, whose blood began to boil, approach- 
 ed the fire and poked it with all the power 
 at his command. 
 
 "Jim!" cried Valentine, sending his 
 voice up the chimney, while the waiter was 
 
LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 taking his revenge " get up higher : I'm 
 roasting." 
 
 "Hush!" said Valentine, assuming the 
 voice of "Jim," who appeared to be half- 
 choked. " Hush ! don't speak so loud." 
 
 The waiter, who still grasped the instru- 
 ment of his vengeanee with one hand, raised 
 the other to enjoin silence, and walked on 
 tip-toe towards the bar, from which in an 
 instant he returned with the landlord, the 
 hostess, the barmaid, the boots, and in fact 
 nearly the whole of the members of the 
 establishment, who crept with the utmost 
 care upon their toes towards the fire, when 
 Valentine conducted the following interest- 
 ing conversation between " Jim" and " Joe," 
 in the chimney. 
 
 " It's flaming hot here, Jim, but there 
 that'll do. Did you ever in your born days 
 see sich a fire 1" 
 
 " Hold on a bit, Joe, our sweat '11 soon 
 damp it." 
 
 " I wish he as poked it was in it." 
 
 " Oh that would'nt do at any price. His 
 fat 'ud blaze to sich a hextent, it 'ud do us 
 brown in no time." 
 
 The landlord approached. " So we've 
 caught you at last then, you blackguards. 
 Hollo !" cried he, peering up the chimney. 
 
 " Hush !" said the invisible Jim. 
 
 "Aye, you may say hush," said the host, 
 "but you're trapped now, my tulips : come 
 down, d'ye hear!" 
 
 The tulips did not condescend to reply. 
 
 " Here Jerry," continued the host, "run 
 out for the policeman," and Jerry, of course, 
 ran with all possible speed. 
 
 "You'd better come down there you 
 
 >ones," cried the landlord. 
 Hexcuse us," said Jim, " you are werry 
 perlile." 
 
 "If you don't, I'll blow you bang through 
 the pot !" cried the landlord. 
 
 " You haven't enough powder," said the 
 invisible Joe. 
 
 The policeman here entered, and bustling 
 up to the grate, shouted " now, young fel- 
 lows, come along, I wants you." 
 
 "Do you," said one of the young fellows. 
 
 " It's o* no use, you know," cried the 
 policeman, who held his authority to be 
 contemned, and his dignity insulted, by that 
 tranquil remark. " You'd better come at 
 once, you know, my rum uns." 
 
 * That's werry good advice, I des-say," 
 said one of the rum uns, "only we doesn't 
 think so." 
 
 " Why, it taint o' no use," urged the 
 policeman, "you an't got a ha'porth o' 
 chance. Here, give us hold of a stick or a 
 broom," said he to the waiter, and the cham- 
 bermaid ran to fetch one, when another 
 policeman entered, to whom the first said, 
 
 " Smith, go and stand by them ere chimley 
 pots, will yer," and accordingly up Smith 
 went with the boots. 
 
 " Now then," said the policeman, having 
 got a long broom, " if you don't come down, 
 my crickets, in course 1 shall make you, and 
 that's all about it." 
 
 In reply to this acute observation, one of 
 the "crickets" indulged in a contemptuous 
 laugh, which so enraged the policeman, that 
 he on the instant introduced the long broom 
 up the chimney, and brought down of course 
 a sufficient quantity of sool to fill an imperial 
 bushel measure. This remarkable descen- 
 sion, being on his part wholly unexpected, 
 caused him to spit and sneeze with con- 
 siderable vehemence, while his face was 
 sufficiently black to win the sympathies of 
 any regular philanthropist going. 
 
 " Now then, you sirs !" shouted Smith 
 from the top ; " Do you mean to come up 
 or go down 1 Ony say !" 
 
 As soon as the first fit of sneezing had 
 subsided, the policeman below was just 
 about to give vent to the indignation which 
 swelled his official breast, \\hen he was 
 seized with another, which in its effects 
 proved far more violent than the first. 
 
 " Good luck to you," said he on regain- 
 ing the power to speak, " give us some- 
 thing to wash it down, or I shall choke. It 
 '11 be all the worse for you, my kids, when 
 I gets you. Do you mean to come down 
 now? that's all about it. It's o' no use, 
 you know, for in course we don't leave you. 
 Onc-e for all, do you mean to come down ]" 
 
 " You are werry perlite," replied one of 
 the kids, " hut we'd much rayther not." 
 
 " Why then," said the constable in dis- 
 guise, who as far as the making up of his 
 face was concerned, appeared perfectly ready 
 to murder Othello "in course we mu^t 
 make you." 
 
 As this observation on the part of the 
 policeman, was followed by another con- 
 temptuous laugh, that respectable function- 
 ary became so indignant that he entertained 
 thoughts of achieving their annihilation by 
 virtue of fire and smoke. While, however, 
 he was considering whether a jury timlrr 
 the circumstances would bring it in justi- 
 fiable homicide, manslaughter, or murder, it 
 was suggested that as there lived in the 
 neighbourhood an extremely humane and 
 intellectual sweep, who had become par- 
 ticularly knock-kneed in the profession, and 
 peculiarly alive to the hardships which the 
 corrupt climbing system inflicted upon the 
 sooty generation in general, had a machine 
 which was patronized by the nobility and 
 gentry, and which might in this instance 
 have the effect of accelerating the process 
 of ejectment. For this remarkable master 
 

VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 43 
 
 sweep, therefore, boots was despatched, 
 while the policeman, bent upon a wicked 
 waste of coals, endeavoured to persuade the 
 invisibles to descend by making the fire 
 blaze with a fury which a couple of young 
 salamanders only could stand. 
 
 Nothing, however, bearing the similitude 
 of blazes could bring the burglars down, 
 and just as Valentine's guardian pro. tern. 
 was declaring that he must either laugh 
 loudly or burst, a stout stumpy man, who 
 stood about five feet five, upon legs to 
 which nothing stands recorded in the an- 
 nals of legs, at all comparable in point of 
 obliquity, was led in by boots, with the ma- 
 chine on his shoulder, and at once assumed 
 the air of an individual conscious of the im- 
 maculate character of his motives, and of 
 the general integrity of his professional re- 
 putation. 
 
 " I understand," said he, bowling with 
 all the importance of which a master-sweep 
 is comfortably capable towards the fire 
 "I understand that you have certain burg- 
 larious burglars up the flue. Well! as the 
 integral integrity of this glorious and empi- 
 rical empire demands that all sich dishonest 
 thieves should, be brought when caught to 
 the barrier of judicial justice, ergo, that is 
 for to say, consequently, therefore, they 
 must descend down, and this '11 bring 'em ! 
 It was never known to fail," he added, 
 drawing forth a huge bread-and-cheese knife 
 to cut the cord which bound the machine 
 together, "in any thing successfully at- 
 tempted. It is patternised by the titled no- 
 bility, and clerical clergy in oly orders, be- 
 sides the official officers of the loyal house- 
 hold, and the principal aristocratic members 
 of the aristocracy in high life, and ought to 
 be known in every particle of the globe and 
 her colonies. It was ony t'other day as I 
 was called in to hoperate upon the chimneys 
 of one of our tip topmast dukes, a great 
 agricultural proprietor of landed property, 
 and a petickler friend of mine, wot had 
 heered from some vagabone wot I holds 
 werry properly in contemptuous contempt, 
 that my machine had turned out a dead 
 failure. * So,' says he, when I'd done the 
 job, ' Shufflebottom,' says he, you're a werry 
 ill-used man, a hindiwidual wot's werry 
 much respected uniwersally by all, and 
 therefore, it's a werry great pitty that you 
 should be sich a wictim of misrepresenta- 
 tion.' * Why,' says I, ' my lord duke, you 
 knows werry well as how I treats all sich 
 wagabones with suitable contempt. But 
 I'm obleeged to you, my lord duke, and I 
 feels werry grateful as I allus does feel for 
 any favour as is showed, and I allus likes 
 to return it too, 'specially if them as shows 
 it puts themselves you know werry much out 
 
 of the way in the most friendliest spirit, and 
 has their motives in consequence suspected." 
 
 " Well, come," said the host, interrupting 
 this remarkable sweep, who displayed a 
 disposition to go on for an hour, " let us 
 see if we can get these rascals out of the flue." 
 
 Shufflebottom marvelled at this ungentle- 
 manlike interruption, but after hurling a 
 look of contempt at the illiterate landlord, 
 he introduced the head of his machine into 
 the chimney, and sent it up joint by joint. 
 Of course, during its progress a considerable 
 quantity of soot descended, but when the 
 brush had reached the pot, the policeman 
 above grasped it firmly, conceiving it to be 
 the rough hair of one ofthe burglars,and pulled 
 it completely out of Shufflebottom's hand. 
 
 " The blaggards is at lop !" cried Shuffle- 
 bottom loudly. "They've stole my ma- 
 chine ! go, go upon the roof!" 
 
 " Come with me," said the policeman, but 
 as Shufflebottom had not sufficient courage 
 for that, the policeman and boots went up 
 together, with the view of rendering all ne- 
 cessary assistance. On reaching the roof, 
 they of course discovered the cause of 
 Shufflebottom's great alarm, and having sent 
 his machine down the chimney again, de- 
 scended with the view of deciding upon 
 some oilier course. It was the conviction of 
 the policeman above, that no burglars were 
 in the chimney at all, for he himself had 
 been nearly suffocated by simply looking 
 from the top ; but as this very natural idea 
 was repudiated as monstrous by all below, 
 Shufflebottom in the plentitude of his hu- 
 manity, suggesied that a sack should be tied 
 tightly over the pot, in order that the invi- 
 sible burglars might be stifled into an uncon- 
 ditional surrender. As this appeared to be 
 decidedly the most effectual way of com- 
 pelling ihem to descend, the policeman 
 urged it strongly, and as the host did by no 
 means object to its adoption, orders were 
 given for the sack to be tied over at once. 
 
 This humane and ingenious operation had 
 scarcely been performed, when the room 
 was of course filled with smoke, and in less 
 lhan Ihree minutes, every soul had departed 
 with the exception of the policeman and 
 Shufflebottom the sweep, who soon deemed 
 it expedient to crawl oul on their hands and 
 knees to avoid suffocation. 
 
 Valentine and his guardian, with several 
 other gentlemen, repaired to the bar, when 
 orders were given for the removal of the 
 sack, and on its being decided, that when 
 ihe smoke had evoporated, one policeman 
 should remain in the room, and another on 
 the roof of the house all night, a coach was 
 ordered, and Goodman with his charge pro- 
 ceeded home irrepressibly delighted with 
 the evening's entertainment. 
 
44 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE CONSULTATION OF AN INTERESTING FAMILY PARTY, AT WHICH IT IS DECIDED THAT 
 SOMETHING MUST BE DONE. 
 
 " WELL, my love," exclaimed the affec- 
 tionate Mrs. Goodman, as Walter and his 
 son entered the room, in which she and 
 Mrs. Horace had been anxiously waiting 
 4 we have been in such a way you can't 
 think, for Julia would have it you had 
 failed." 
 
 "She was right," muttered Walter, 
 sinking into a chair heavily. 
 
 " Right?" cried Mrs. Goodman. ' What, 
 have you not secured the young wretch? 
 Horace! tell me?" 
 
 Horace shook his head. 
 
 "Ah!" said the old lady, playfully 
 patting the cheek of Walter, and giving 
 him a series of matrimonial kisses " he 
 has not arrived." 
 
 " But he has," cried Horace, " and 
 Uncle has got him!" 
 
 The old lady sank into her chair. 
 
 " Dear me!" said Mrs. Horace, who had 
 derived a latent feeling of satisfaction from 
 the circumstance of her having predicted 
 a failure, "how could you have been so 
 stupid?" 
 
 Horace explained, and the old lady 
 wept, and Walter pulled his boots off 
 with desperate violence. 
 
 "Then you did see the wretch?" said 
 the old lady spitefully. 
 
 "Of course," returned Horace. 
 
 "What sort of a creature is he?" in- 
 quired the junior Mrs. Goodman. 
 
 "Why, I don't know," said Horace, 
 ' a sort of a rakish-looking scamp. What 
 struck me more than all was his eye." 
 
 " Has he but one?" cried the old lady, 
 somewhat revived. 
 
 "Not exactly," returned Horace, "he 
 has two " 
 
 "And they are odd ones?" interrupted 
 the old lady, with confidence, which 
 seemed to be teeming with pleasure. 
 
 " They are," replied Horace, " the 
 oddest eyes that ever looked through a 
 man: such piercers! They'd dart through 
 the dome of St. Paul's or the earth, and 
 see what was going on at our antipodes. 
 He'd make the money fly! he'd show 
 the world how to spend it, if he ever had 
 the chance. 
 
 The mere mention of money had the 
 effect of arousing Walter from the le- 
 thargy into which he had fallen. He 
 drew at once towards the table, and hav- 
 ing placed his arms deliberately upon it, 
 
 said firmly and emphatically, "Something 
 must be done. I saw," continued he, 
 after a pause, "the impression the young 
 scamp had made upon Grim wood. I 
 watched them both narrowly, and when I 
 perceived the extreme warmth with which 
 Grimwood grasped his hand, and looking 
 earnestly in his face, said, * My dear boy 
 God bless you!' I could not but feel 
 that the boy the dear boy stood a very 
 fair chance of becoming his heir." 
 
 " Great Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Goodman, senior, turning up the yellows 
 of her bloodshot eyes, and throwing one 
 of her arms round the delicate neck of the 
 amiable Mrs. Goodman, junior, to express 
 affection, while the other was raised as far 
 above her head as possible, in order to 
 express the highest pitch of surprise. 
 "His heir! Good Gracious! What are 
 his claims? his pretensions? W 7 hat is 
 the relationship existing between them? 
 What right has he to rob us of any portion 
 of that which by every law of nature be- 
 longs to us alone?" 
 
 To this interesting string of interroga- 
 tories Walter replied simply by remarking, 
 that none were ever robbed by right. " The 
 question to be considered," said he, "does 
 not apply to the natural right of the one: 
 it has reference solely to the legal power 
 of the other." 
 
 " But what a monstrous shame it is," 
 said Mrs. Goodman, "that a man should 
 have the power to leave his property to 
 any but his relatives!" 
 
 "It is useless to talk about that," ob- 
 served Walter. " He has the power, and 
 that's sufficient. The question is, how is 
 the exercise of that power to be in this 
 case prevented?" 
 
 "But Uncle may not intend to do any 
 tiling of the kind," said the junior Mrs. 
 Goodman. 
 
 "May not!" cried Walter. "He may 
 not; but what if he should? \Vhat if he 
 were to leave every shilling to this follow: 
 where then should we be? W'hy instead 
 of living in afllucnce as we ought to live, 
 we should be at once reduced to a state of 
 destitution." 
 
 "Aye, that is the point, dear," said Mrs. 
 Goodman, senior. "Just look at that! Fur 
 my I'-'rt 1 tremble to think rm't." 
 
 " But do you think it likely," observed 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 45 
 
 the junior Mrs. Goodman, "that Uncle has 
 the heart to behave so unkindly?" 
 
 " There's no telling 1 , child," replied 
 Walter. "If he happen to take a fancy 
 to this boy, he may make him the inheritor 
 of all; and if he should, my pitiful in- 
 come from the stamp-office of 200/. a-year 
 will be all that we shall have to exist 
 upon; and that, when I go, will go too. 
 I must, however, say, what I have said a 
 thousand times, that if Horace had played 
 his cards well, he might have been a 
 greater favorite of Grimwood than he is." 
 
 "Why, .what could I do with the old 
 buck?" cried Horace, smoking a black che- 
 root with unequivocal desperation. 
 
 "Do!" replied Walter. "Why, you 
 should have endeavored on all occasions to 
 please him." 
 
 "Well I have," shouted Horace; "I 
 have tried just as hard as any fellow could 
 try, and he wouldn't be pleased. Haven't 
 I asked him fifty times to go with me to 
 the masquerade] didn't I bite the best part 
 of Bulhead's tail clean off when he had 
 fast hold of the old boy's boot] and when 
 I pitched him into the water the day they 
 rowed for the silver sculls, didn't I hook 
 him out again like a Whitechapel needle] 
 And yet I'm no favorite because I've not 
 played my cards well !" 
 
 " You have not gone the right way to 
 work," rejoined Walter. 
 
 " Why, what would he have," shouted 
 Horace in a rage. "What's the use of 
 blowing me up about it] If he wont't be 
 pleased, how can I make him] I've done 
 all I could, and if he don't like me, why he 
 must do the other thing." And Horace, 
 finding the cheroot during his speech had 
 gone out, threw it indignantly into the fire, 
 and proceeded to light another. 
 
 " Well, well," said the senior Mrs. Good- 
 man, " it is useless to dwell upon that sub- 
 ject now. What's done can't be undone, 
 and therefore we should turn our thoughts 
 to what we have to do." 
 
 11 Something must be done," repeated 
 Walter, " and soon. The will is in our 
 favor now. I know it: I have seen it. 
 How, then, are we to keep him from alter- 
 ing that will]" 
 
 "Yes, that is the question: that's just 
 the very point," observed Mrs. Goodman 
 senior. " It would be such a very dreadful 
 thing, if, after having tried so hard all these 
 years to secure it, we should be robbed of 
 it, just as his constitution's breaking up. 
 I'm sure none could have taken more pains 
 than we have: none could have taken more 
 trouble to earn it. Heaven knows it has 
 cost us a world of anxiety. We could not 
 have watched him more closely than we 
 
 have, if the sum had been fifty times as 
 much as it is. That's impossible. He has 
 been our thoughts by day, and our dreams 
 by night. He has never been out of our 
 heads, aud therefore the idea of being rob- 
 bed of it at last is quite shocking." 
 
 "Let's persuade the old boy," observed 
 Horace, " that he can't expect to sleep very 
 quiet when he's gone, unless he leaves the 
 whole of his blunt to those who have the 
 greatest right to it." 
 
 " Pooh!" said Walter contemptuously: 
 "Grimwood's no fool!" 
 
 " Well, I'm sure," remarked the senior 
 Mrs. Goodman, " that he ought to be made 
 to feel that he cannot be so happy." 
 
 " Of course he ought," said Horace; 
 " and that's just the way the old boy's to 
 be walked over, too! Why, look at old 
 Thingermybob there what's his name] 
 Sniggers! he had left nearly the whole of 
 his dubs to build a jolly lot of alms-houses, 
 for a crew of old women that didn't belong 
 to him at all. Well, what did his son 
 Harry do when he heard of it] Why, he 
 no sooner found that he was to be pensioned 
 off at so much a-month, that he sent old 
 Fizgig there Simpkinson to talk about 
 the old buffer's ghost, and the result was 
 that Harry got it all]" 
 
 " Well, look at the late Mr. Lucas," said 
 the senior Mrs. Goodmnn, in order to give 
 an additional illustration of the position as- 
 sumed: " He had very correctly left the 
 whole of his property to his relatives; but 
 no sooner did he connect himself with Can- 
 tail's congregation, than Cantall got hold 
 of him, and worked up his feelings to a de- 
 _ree which induced him in the first place 
 ;,o build a new chapel, and a large house 
 adjoining, and in the next, to will them, 
 with the whole of his other property, to him 
 who had thus poisoned his mind, and now, 
 while the Cantalls are lolling in the lap of 
 uxury, the relatives of Lucas are starving." 
 
 "To be sure," said Horace, lighting ano- 
 ther very black cheroot. " And as the old 
 boy's not always exactly wide awake, he's 
 to be got over just in the same way. Only 
 make him believe that if he should be guilty 
 of so dirty and disreputable a swindle, his 
 oily old ghost will cut about in a most un- 
 comfortable state of excitement from gene- 
 ration to generation, and we shall nail him 
 dead as a herring." 
 
 " And you think that he wouldn't see 
 through it]" said Walter, with a sneer. 
 
 * Not if the thing were managed pro- 
 perly," replied Horace. " It wouldn't of 
 jourse do exactly for me to pitch the blar- 
 ney, because I might come it a little too 
 strong; but a fellow with a serious phiz, 
 "ike old Neversweat what's his name] 
 
 5* 
 
46 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 he who sits behind the black barnacles 
 perched upon the stool next to yours the 
 fellow who won't die, you know, although, 
 aware that you have been waiting about a 
 couple of generations for his shoes." 
 
 " What, Coggle!" suggested Mrs. Good- 
 man senior. 
 
 " Aye, that's the cove Goggle: a vene- 
 rable out-and-out old fool, now, like that, 
 who never had above half a laugh in him, 
 would be able to do the trick in no time." 
 
 " Pooh! nonsense!" cried Walter. 
 
 "Well, there could be no harm, you 
 know," said Horace, " in trying it on!" 
 
 " I tell you," said Walter, " it is not to 
 be done in that way." 
 
 " In what other way is it possible to do 
 ill" inquired Horace. 
 
 Walter Goodman either could not or 
 would not explain; but after supper this 
 really interesting family party separated 
 with the mutual understanding that SOME- 
 THING MUST BE DONE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 VALENTINE'S VISIT TO THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. 
 
 NEITHER Walter nor Grimwood could sleep 
 during the night, but oh! from what oppo- 
 site causes! It were curious and interest- 
 ing doubtless to inquire how many causes 
 are capable of producing the same effect; 
 but as the subject need not be long dwelt 
 upon here, it will be perhaps quite suffi- 
 cient to explain that while Walter was 
 engaged in concocting certain intricate 
 schemes of villany, Grimwood, delighted 
 with the almost unbounded prospect of hap- 
 piness which had opened before him, lay 
 stretched in the unrestrained indulgence of 
 those pleasing anticipations which sprang 
 from the conception of innumerable scenes 
 that crowded to tickle his vivid imagina- 
 tion. 
 
 Having wished for the morning all night, 
 night avenged itself by introducing morn- 
 ing just as Grimwood had begun to w r ish 
 morning at a distance'. His head, howev- 
 er, continued to stick to its pillow with all 
 the tenacity of the polypus until he heard 
 the church clock strike eleven, when he 
 rang for his water, and rolled out of bed. 
 
 Now Valentine, who had slept like a dor- 
 mouse all night, and whose usual hour for 
 rising had been six, could not understand 
 this eleven o'clock business at all. He had 
 been five hours awake, and was as hungry 
 as a wolf; but as Grimwood's last injunc- 
 tion the previous night had been, " do not 
 get up on any account until you are called," 
 he felt bound to act in obedience to that in- 
 junction, and to await the call with all the 
 Christian patience he could muster. For 
 the first three hours he amused himself tole- 
 rably well by endeavoring to understand 
 what the fellows had to dispose of, who 
 kept continually bawling out, " Yar sto!" 
 "Meyarc mickrell!" "clo! clo!""weep!" 
 * ool ar rowin an ool ar' lowin!" and from 
 
 nine o'clock till ten he listened attentively 
 to the strains of a barrel organ, with a re- 
 markably shrill whistling accompaniment; 
 but when he heard the clock strike eleven, 
 he fancied he might as well give the thing 
 up. He had, however, no sooner turned 
 upon his side to compose himself, if possi- 
 ble, for another night's rest, than he heard 
 the knock of Grimwood, who had come to 
 inquire if he would like to have breakfast 
 in bed. The very knock was sufficient. 
 He felt himself free; and having answered 
 the question in the negative, proceeded to 
 dress with all possible speed. 
 
 His reception in the parlor was most ar- 
 dent. The delighted old gentleman pressed 
 his hand again and again, and during break- 
 fast reviewed the occurrences of the pre- 
 vious evening with rapture. 
 
 " Well now, my dear boy," said he, 
 when Valentine had satisfied his appetite, 
 " what shall we do to-day 1 ?" 
 
 "I have but to write home," returned 
 Valentine, " and then I am entirely at your 
 disposal." 
 
 *' You have never," said Goodman, " been 
 in the Commons! of course you have not. 
 Would you like to go?" 
 
 " Exceedingly," returned Valentine. 
 
 " Well, then, remember me at home; seal 
 your letter; and we'll call upon a member 
 who will take us to-day, I have no doubt." 
 
 Accordingly, an early dinner was ordered, 
 and Valentine and his guardian proceeded 
 without delay to the residence of a highly 
 distinguished member of parliament. 
 
 Valentine's spirit had never been broken. 
 His tongue had never learnt to assume the 
 accents of a slave, nor had his soul !> ( n 
 taught to shrink from the presence of a 
 man, however high might be his station in 
 society, or however severe and piercing 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 47 
 
 might be his glance. He did, however, 
 feel in some slight degree tremulous on 
 entering the house of this eminent senator, 
 of whom he had frequently heard, whose 
 speeches he had frequently read, and whom 
 he knew to have been distinguished for 
 years in a place in which pretenders so soon 
 find their level. 
 
 Conceive then his astonishment on being 
 ushered into the sanctnm of this eminent 
 personage, whose indefatigable exertions 
 he had heard so many curse, when, instead 
 of beholding in a magnificent library stud- 
 ded with richly bound volumes, a stately 
 individual enveloped in a long flowing robe, 
 with whose splendor the carpet alone miWht 
 be comparable, he saw a stout common 
 looking person in a singularly short jacket, 
 whose tightness developed to perfection a 
 tremendous swell a posteriori, perched upon 
 a stool with his toes dangling down within 
 half a dozen inches of a piece of old oil 
 cloth, which as some sort of an apology for 
 a carpet had been nailed to the floor. 
 
 At first, Valentine naturally imagined 
 that the creature whom he beheld was the 
 senator's butler, for he saw that he was 
 anxiously casting up, what he felt might 
 be the baker's account, and was just on the 
 point of concluding, that if the consumption 
 of the family were not immense, the baker 
 gave very long credit, when the person in 
 question said, " Seventy-nine nine and 
 carry seven, how are you? nine seven, 
 how do 1 ?" And he cocked a stumpy pen 
 into his mouth, and extending his inky 
 hand, added, " Glad to see you: what can 
 I do for you]" 
 
 " We want to go to the House to-night," 
 said Goodman. 
 
 "Yes; will you call for me or meet me 
 in the lobby!" 
 
 " We may as well meet you." 
 
 " I shall be down at a minute to four. 
 Good day." And Goodman, who seemed 
 to expect nothing more, dragged Valentine 
 out of the studio, as the senator muttered 
 in a sonorous wobble, " Seven: seven nine 
 sixteen, twenty-four, thirty-one, forty, forty- 
 six, fifty-two, sixty-seven, seventy-six, 
 eighty, eighty-three," arid was thus going 
 on with amazing rapidity, when the door 
 closed and shut in the sound. 
 
 "Is that the man?" said Valentine, when 
 he had got fairly out. 
 
 " It is the very man!" replied Good- 
 man. 
 
 " Well, I shouldn't have supposed it 
 possible," said Valentine, who had still in 
 his mind's eye the singular jacket, and that 
 which it set off to so much advantage. 
 
 'You will see him in a different charac- 
 ter to-night," observed Goodman. " He 
 
 has something important to effect, I can see 
 by his manner." 
 
 Without being impressed with any ele- 
 vated notions having reference to the style 
 and address of a British senator, by the 
 eminent specimen whorn he had seen, Val- 
 entine was led by his guardian towards 
 home, from which, after having had a 
 somewhat hasty dinner, they proceeded at 
 at once to the house. 
 
 It wanted precisely a quarter to four 
 when Goodman and his charge passed 
 Westminster Hall, and as the eminent 
 statesman who was about to introduce them 
 was certain to be neither a moment before 
 nor a moment behind the time appointed, 
 they continued to walk opposite the Abbey, 
 endeavoring to discover in the countenances 
 of the various members who approached 
 the house, something indicative of extraor- 
 dinary talent, until finding that they were 
 within one minute of the time, they walked 
 through a room, in which they saw two 
 functionaries, who looked as if the mending 
 of an additional pen would very seriously 
 annoy them, and thence into a passage, in 
 which were several hundred hooks, from 
 each of winch was suspended a piece of 
 dirty pasteboard, on which the name of 
 some honorable member was written. 
 
 They had scarcely reached the stairs at 
 the end of this passage when the statesman 
 whom they had seen in the morning arri- 
 ved. He had exchanged his short jacket 
 for a yellow waistcoat and a blue coat with 
 gilt buttons; and having hurried them up, 
 he went into a room in which sat a select 
 committee, the members of which were im- 
 mediately informed that the Speaker was at 
 prayers. From this room they proceeded 
 at once into the house, and when their 
 guide had placed them upon an elevated 
 seat near the entrance, they began to look 
 round them. 
 
 "And is this the British House of Com- 
 mons]" thought Valentine. " Can it be 
 possible that these are our statesmen]" 
 
 Whatever surprise the dimensions of the 
 house, or the mean appearance of its mem- 
 bers, might tend to create, he felt that, as 
 there could be no doubt about the matter, 
 he might as well direct the whole of his 
 attention to what was going forward. 
 
 In the first place, the Speaker cried 
 "Order, order! order at the table! order, 
 order!" and a mob of honorable members 
 who had been standing round the table, 
 immediately repaired to their seats. It was 
 interesting to Valentine to behold the re- 
 spect which the members paid the Speaker. 
 When seated, they kept their hats on; but 
 if they moved but a yard, they pulled them 
 off, and replaced them the moment they 
 
48 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 were seated again; and if they passed from 
 one side of the house to the other, they 
 bowed to the chair as they passed, if they 
 went over even but for an instant. 
 
 When a spare individual, who sported a 
 court-dress, and whose only occupation ap- 
 peared to be that of bowing profoundly, 
 and carrying a mace which was nearly as 
 large and as heavy as himself, had been 
 trotting about for some time behind the bar, 
 " Order, order!" was called again; and a 
 certain bundle of parchment having been 
 placed in the hand of the Speaker, he gave 
 a brief, a very brief description of its title, 
 and then observed, "This bill be read 
 second time many's 'pinion say Aye cont' 
 'pinion s'no The Ayes have it this bill be 
 committed many's 'pinion say Aye cont 
 'pinion s'no the Ayes have it;" without the 
 members saying either Aye or No or at- 
 tending, in fact, to the matter at all ! 
 
 The speaker then called the name of an 
 extremely spectral personage, who albeit 
 the eldest son of a duke, looked as if he 
 had lived all his life upon chips, and who 
 shuffled up to the table, in remarkably short 
 nankeen trousers, which scarcely reached 
 that part of his leg at which Nature had 
 intended to establish a calf. He had a 
 petition to present, and in describing its 
 character, displayed as much eloquence as 
 Demosthenes ever could display, before he 
 had recourse to the pebbles. "Laid upon 
 the table," said the Speaker; and a stout 
 red-faced man at once crushed it together, 
 and threw it under the table, as a matter of 
 course, when the noble earl by whom it 
 had been presented returned to his seat, 
 and having cocked upon his head an ex- 
 tremely small hat, put his left leg carefully 
 over his right, with the air of a man con- 
 scious of having done all in his power to 
 promote the peculiar objects the petitioners 
 had in view. 
 
 " Sergeant!" cried the Speaker, when this 
 job had been jobbed; and the individual in 
 the court-dress bowed three times during 
 his progress towards the table, when, taking 
 up the mace which had been placed there, 
 bowed three times during his backward re- 
 treat, and having said something to a 
 couple of masters in chancery, who were 
 the bearers of a couple of documents from 
 the lords, he and they walked abreast to 
 the bar, when they took four steps, and then 
 bowed like a leash of Mandarins, then took 
 four steps more, and again bowed, and then 
 another couple of brace of steps, which 
 brought them up to the table, at which they 
 bowed again, when, after mumbling some- 
 thing having reference to something, and 
 putting the documents down, they w;ilk <1 
 backwards four steps, and then bowed, then 
 
 took four steps more, and bowed again, 
 when, by way of a finish, they made four 
 stops more, and having bowed, turned 
 round, and rushed out of the house, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 This proceeding appeared to Valentine to 
 be supremely ridiculous, but what tended 
 in some degree to neutralise his disgust 
 was the fact, that not only were the masters 
 in chancery afraid to walk backwards, 
 without looking behind to see if anything 
 happened to be standing in the way, but 
 the person in full dress, whom Valentine 
 ascertained to be the deputy-sergeant, was 
 compelled to retreat, just as if he had been 
 bartdy from his birth, because he could not 
 persuade his sword to keep from between 
 his legs. Despite, therefore, every other 
 feeling which this ceremony might natu- 
 rr.lly tend to create in one utterly incapable 
 of perceiving its great national importance, 
 Valentine could not repress a smile, and 
 the moment he had arrived at the conclu- 
 sion that neither a sergeant-at-arms, nor a 
 deputy-sergeant, nor a master in chancery, 
 could do the thing well without having 
 served an apprenticeship to a rope-maker, 
 "Order!" was again called; and then the 
 name of a certain honorable member, who 
 at once rose to direct the attention of the 
 house to the continued existence of a cer- 
 tain abuse, with the bearings of which 
 Valentine was not profoundly conversant. 
 
 The style of this honorabis member was 
 inflexible his voice loud and sonorous. 
 He had a certain provincial accent, which, 
 to a refined ear, had a tendency to counter- 
 act the effect of whatever eloquence he 
 might possess, and he assumed the tone of 
 a man who had been accustomed to address 
 myriads willing to hear and to applaud. 
 He spoke frequently of the masses, of 
 paper currency, of the markets, of specie, 
 and commercial ruin, of imports and of ex- 
 ports, of America, France, Portugal, China 
 and Spain; in short, he seemed resolved to 
 leave no stone unturned in any quarter of 
 ihe globe, which he conceived might tend 
 to illustrate the position he had assumed. 
 
 It soon became manifest to Valentine, 
 that whatever degree of importance might 
 be attached to the opinions of this nvmU- 
 man elsewhere, in that house they had no 
 weiyht at all; for the few, the very few, 
 who appeared to be attentive, were, min- 
 gling their smiles with their sneers, while 
 the rest were conversing and joking, ami 
 laughing, apparently unconscious of 
 thing bat that Which had inuue.liate n ler- 
 ence to themselves. It was easy to per- 
 ceive that this trentleman \v;is capable of 
 far more eloquence than that which lie dis- 
 played; but the coldness of the members 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 49 
 
 whom he addressed, appeared to chill his 
 natural ardor, and he eventually resumed 
 his seat without gaining- a cheer. 
 
 This seemed to be a consummation that 
 that had been devoutly wished, and no 
 sooner had it arrived than the attention of 
 the house was directed to one, who, albeit in 
 person extremely small, appeared to be ex- 
 tremely great in the estimation of those who 
 occupied one entire side of the house. He 
 had risen with the view of showing that 
 the arguments of the honorable member 
 who had preceded him were entirely base- 
 less and absurd; and although his tone and 
 deportment were by no means commanding, 
 while his eloquence sank to a great depth 
 below mediocrity, his ahem-ing and a-ar-ing 
 reputation was applauded with vehemence^ 
 by those who had failed to devote the 
 slightest attention to the arguments to 
 which the refutation applied. 
 
 When this small but important individual 
 had concluded, a fine portly person whose 
 hair was neither auburn nor absolutely red, 
 and whose fort seemed to He in the delivery 
 of the bitterest sarcasms clothed in the 
 sweetest tones, rose with what appeared to 
 be a portfolio in his hand, for the purpose 
 of impugning one particular branch of the 
 policy pursued by the then existing govern- 
 ment. He appeared to be regarded as an 
 oracle, for the house when he rose was as 
 silent as the grave. Every p.oint that he 
 made was cheered with rapture by those 
 who sat on the same side of the house, and 
 whenever he happened to place a strong 
 emphasis upon the conclusion of any sen- 
 tence in which no point was perceptible, he 
 looked round with the view of making his 
 friends understand that although they might 
 not exactly see it, the sentence did contain a 
 point, when they hailed it with enthusiasm 
 accordingly. 
 
 The moment this political god had re- 
 sumed his seat, amidst loud and protracted 
 cheering, an honorable member whose coun- 
 tenance had been said to resemble an ugly 
 portrait of Charles the First, and who ap- 
 peared to hold razors in sovereign contempt, 
 for he clearly had not used one for many a 
 day, rose simply to observe that he agreed 
 with every sentence that either had been 
 said, might be said, or could be said, against 
 the members of the existing cabinet, whom 
 he held to be the vilest, the meanest, the 
 shabbiest, and most atrocious political 
 scoundrels with whom the British empire 
 ever was or ever could be cursed. " I de- 
 nounce them," said he with a cannibalistic 
 scowl, which he had assumed with the view 
 of imparting a most withering effect to the 
 peroration of his philippic "I denounce 
 them as a gang of degraded political ruf- 
 
 fians; who, with a profligate and most un- 
 constitutional suck, have drained the cup 
 of degradation to the very dregs, and I 
 shouldn't care so much as the ghost of a 
 dump, if the whole crew were nailed to the 
 walls of this house, and stoned to death with 
 sacrificial brickbats to-morrow!" 
 
 To the astonishment of Valentine, this 
 burst of indignation was productive of no- 
 thing but laughter, and before Mr. Goodman 
 had time to explain that the house always 
 laughed when that senator spoke, a states- 
 man in miniature, knitting his brows, started 
 up with almost as much velocity as if he 
 had been sent like a shell from a mortar to 
 scatter destruction around. 
 
 "That's a great gun," said Goodman; 
 and Valentine thought so, for he at that 
 moment heard a tremendous report, which 
 he subsequently, however, ascertained to 
 proceed from a box which adorned one cor- 
 ner of the table, and which the little man 
 struck with the force of a young blacksmith, 
 while he writhed and wriggled and tortured 
 his poor little body into every conceivable 
 attitude, precisely as if those who sat in his 
 immediate vicinity, were out of pure wan- 
 tonness pinching him behind. Even the 
 reporters left off to indulge their amaze- 
 ment, for although his delivery revelled 
 between a squeal and a shriek, his address 
 was thickly studded with the most beauti- 
 fully poetic images that ever developed the 
 scope -and power of man's imagination. 
 How the speeches of this little gentleman 
 could be followed by the reporters, Valen- 
 tine could not conceive. He knew that 
 those speeches did appear, and having heard 
 that the reports were most faithful, he was 
 just on the point of concluding that the re- 
 porters must, depend upon their memory, 
 which he felt must be very extraordinary, 
 seeing that they on one occasion gave a 
 most faithful report of a speech which he 
 only intended to deliver, when the shrieking 
 stopped in an instant, like an alarum run 
 down, and the general cheering became en- 
 thusiastic. 
 
 Before time had subdued this vehement 
 applause, the honorable member by whom 
 the miniature statesman had been preceded, 
 rose obviously in a state of excitement, to 
 inquire if a certain observation which had 
 fallen from the little gentleman, and which 
 appeared to have reference to buffoonery in 
 general, was intended to apply personally 
 to him. " If it were," said the honorable 
 member, with a swell of indignation, "I 
 hurl back the insinuation with scorn! I am 
 not a man to be with impunity insulted by 
 any dirty" ("order! order! chair! chair!") 
 
 " The good sense," observed the Speaker, 
 "by which the conduct of the honorable 
 
50 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 member is so distinguished, will enable him 
 to perceive that the course he is now pur- 
 suing is not strictly in order." 
 
 "I am willing," cried the honorable and 
 indignant member, " to pay all due defer- 
 ence to the chair; but in the strongest terms 
 the forms of the house will allow, will I 
 denounce any vagabondising, dirty" The 
 extraordinary force with which he swung 
 his arm round, in order to give full effect to 
 the last word, caused the honorable member 
 who had evidently dined, to fall heavily 
 upon the heads of the members below him. 
 This occurrence, of course, produced a loud 
 burst of merriment, which had scarcely 
 subsided, when Valentine, whose feelings 
 of contempt had been aroused, cried "Buf- 
 foon!" assuming the voice of the mercurial 
 statesman, who had made so exceedingly 
 free with the box. 
 
 The members at this moment looked with 
 astonishment at each other, for they did not 
 expect that from him. 
 
 " I am sorry," said the speaker, in his 
 blandest tone, without noticing the conten- 
 tions of the member who had fallen "I 
 am sorry to be compelled to observe that 
 such language is disorderly in the ex- 
 treme." 
 
 The honorable member then rose to ex- 
 plain: " If, Sir," said he, " if it be imagined 
 that / gave utterance to the offensive ex- 
 pression, which has called for that remark, 
 I can assure you that it is altogether a mis- 
 take, for upon my honor I did not." 
 
 " I certainly did conceive," said the 
 Speaker, "that the expression proceeded 
 from the honorable member; but if " 
 
 "It did it did!" shouted several honor- 
 able members. 
 
 "No, no! it did not!" shouted several 
 others, who were equally sure that it did. 
 
 " I have certainly no desire to interfere 
 in this matter," said an honorable member 
 who had a remarkable profile, and whose 
 bushy hair was flowing luxuriantly down 
 his back, "but I must say that I heard the 
 
 honorable member distinctly make " 
 
 Cries of " No, no!" from one side of the 
 House, and loud cheers from the other, 
 effectually drowned this honorable mem- 
 ber's voice. Again he endeavored to make 
 himself heard, and again, but was again 
 and again interrupted, until at length In; 
 cried aloud in a voice of desperation, N 
 will not hear me now, but the time will 
 come when you shall hear me! Yes, the 
 time will come when you SHALL!" 
 
 "Sir," said an honorable and gallant 
 member, who appeared to have been in tlm 
 heat of some sanguinary battle, "if it did 
 not proceed from the honorable mr-mhrr, I 
 should like to know from whom it could 
 
 proceed] Ts there in this house another 
 member with such a voice]" 
 
 " Hear, hear!" exclaimed an honorable 
 member, who prided himself upon his long 
 top-boots and the bare-faced integrity of 
 principle. 
 
 " Hear, hear, hear!" shouted another 
 honorable member, whose small twinkling 
 eyes imparted lustre to a remarkably full- 
 blown countenance, of which the naturally 
 good-humored expression was spoiled by 
 some rather malicious feeling, which ap- 
 peared to be in the ascendant. 
 
 " Is not the honorable and gallant mem- 
 ber satisfied]" inquired the honorable mem- 
 ber who had been accused. "Is not my 
 word of honor sufficient]" 
 
 "Of course," replied the honorable and 
 gallant member; " the forms of this house 
 will not allow me to suppose it even possi- 
 ble for any honorable member to be guilty 
 of a deliberate falsehood." 
 
 " Do you mean to impute deliberate 
 falsehood to me]" shrieked the honorable 
 member in question, who, as the reply was 
 "I certainly heard it," attempted to rush 
 from the house with what was supposed to 
 be an extremely cold-blooded design, for 
 the Speaker's attention was called immedi- 
 ately to the fact by an obviously important 
 personage, who might in Greece have been 
 mistaken for King Otho incog. " Does he 
 mean to impute deliberate falsehood to 
 me]" cried the honorable member again, as 
 his friends were doing all in their power to 
 exorcise the rampant little devil that was 
 within him. 
 
 "The honorable and gallant member," 
 observed the Speaker, " I am sure will per- 
 ceive the necessity for doing that which the 
 house has a right to demand." But the 
 honorable and gallant gentleman stubbornly 
 kept his seat. Member after member rose 
 to beg of him to withdraw the offensive 
 imputation; but his inflexibility \vas heroic! 
 He knew, of course, that he should be com- 
 
 ' pelled either at once to retract or to languish 
 until he did in the custody of the sergeant, 
 who, with that peculiar courtesy for which 
 he had ever been distingushed, would have 
 
 , been but too happy to afford him every ac- 
 commodation; but he felt that his reputation 
 for courage might be perilled, unless ho 
 firmly hold ont till the last. The Speaker 
 
 ; rose ajr.iin -.mil a<rain to demand in his 
 peculiarly bland manner the withdrawal 
 of that express!. ui which had given so 
 
 | much pain; but nothing cmihl move the 
 honorable and gallant iM'iitleman, until a 
 personage \\itli beautifully tinted cheeks 
 proceeded to make a well understood mo- 
 tion, when he declared, what he could not 
 before have declared, without involving his 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 51 
 
 honor, that, in imputing deliberate false- 
 hood to the honorable member, he meant 
 nothing- at all personally offensive, and here 
 the matter ended. 
 
 An attempt was now made to recall the 
 attention of hpnorable members to business; 
 but as the majority of them manifested a 
 strong disinclination to attend to any thing 
 of the sort, Valentine, on being urged by 
 Goodman, resolved upon releasing that ma- 
 jority from their legislative functions for 
 the night. 
 
 Accordingly, just as a prosy individual, 
 who had evidently placed a written speech 
 , in his hat, was trying to pick up the thread 
 of the debate, Valentine, throwing his 
 voice under one of the galleries, cried 
 " Question!" 
 
 "Why, that is the question!" said the 
 honorabfe member, who was compelled 
 again to look at the speech in his hat. 
 
 " Let it be read by the clerk!" shouted 
 Valentine. 
 
 " Order, order, order!" said the Speaker. 
 
 "Aye, give it to the clerk," cried two 
 juvenile senators. 
 
 " Question! question!" and the cry on 
 one side of the house becoming general, 
 the hon. member indignantly resumed his 
 seat. 
 
 At this moment two honorable members 
 rose together, and the calls ^pr both became 
 general and loud. Both seemed extremely 
 anxious to speak, and therefore neither felt 
 disposed, for some time, to give way. At 
 length, however, one of them yielded; but 
 he had no sooner done so, than Valentine 
 shouted out, "Down!" which shout found 
 at least a hundred echoes, for in an instant 
 nothing but "Down, down! down!" could 
 be heard. The honorable gentleman, how- 
 ever, still stood firmly, and folded his arms 
 with a look of defiance which seemed to 
 enrage about fifty other honorable members 
 who had previously been silent, but who 
 now appeared to have caught a very sud- 
 den and severe cold, for they began to 
 cough and sneeze with unspeakable vio- 
 lence. 
 
 No sooner had this coughing and sneez- 
 ing been added to the loud shouts of 
 "Down!" than several honorable gentle- 
 men favored the company with a little 
 howling; and then a little yelling was 
 heard, and then admirable imitations of the 
 languages peculiar to certain interesting 
 zoological curiosities, and then mingling 
 cries of "Order!" "Sharne!" and "Bravo!" 
 and then a very violent clapping of hands, 
 and then loud and apparently hysterical 
 laughter, until at length there arose a mass 
 of hideous sounds, to which nothing could 
 be comparable save those which might pro- 
 
 ceed from a den in which five hundred ma- 
 niacs were battling with a corresponding 
 number of very wild beasts. 
 
 Valentine had no idea that a storm could 
 have been raised so soon; indeed, he never 
 imagined thatsucA a storm as that could have 
 been raised there at all; but as it had been 
 raised, he very quietly proceeded to analyse 
 the body of sound by separating the various 
 little interesting noises of which it was 
 composed. 
 
 Upon one of the benches sat a couple of 
 highly intellectual individuals who were 
 naming the speaker for the next harmony 
 by knocking him down for "a jolly good 
 song," and behind them an honorable mem- 
 ber was seriously engaged in whetting the 
 ghost of a knife upon a spectral grindstone. 
 A short distance from him sat a statesman 
 promoting the prosperity of the country in 
 general, and the interests of his constituents 
 in particular, by buzzing through his teeth 
 in imitation of that notorious hurdy-gurdy 
 which won't go to more than one tune, and 
 what that in its infancy might have been, 
 it is utterly impossible to determine; for, 
 having been played for so many years, it 
 appears now to have been almost wholly 
 worn away. A little farther on a profound 
 politician was contending for the eternal 
 nature of his principles by shouting " Quack! 
 quack!" with an energetic feeling, which 
 any duck in the universe might naturally 
 have envied. By his side sat a senator re- 
 solved on upholding the dignity of the 
 crown by playing what by a stretch of the 
 imagination he had conceived to be a regu- 
 lar trombone, and immediately above him 
 one who might have been a Premier in 
 embryo, was drawing a lot of imaginary 
 corks. Several aristocratic individuals un- 
 der the gallery, who ought to have had 
 " Ears pierced" painted over the doors of 
 their respective residences, were whistling 
 with the shrillness of gods, while a merry 
 old boy who had several slips of paper 
 stuck under the collar of his coat, was 
 playing what he conceived for that particu- 
 lar occasion to be a Jew's harp, which, as 
 a mere matter of justice it must be admit- 
 ted, he managed with senatorial sublimity 
 and tact. On one of the back benches sat 
 a row of individuals, who being determined 
 to support the Agricultural Interests by "a 
 long pull, a strong pull, and a pull alto- 
 gether," had imagined that they were haul- 
 ing up an extremely heavy anchor, and as 
 each had his arms round the waist of the 
 victim immediately before him, they pulled 
 each other backwards and forwards in a 
 line, shouting out with great energy, " Yeo 
 heave ho!" 
 
 The great point of attraction, however 
 
LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 that which tended more than all to inspire 
 Valentine with the conviction that he was 
 then in the midst of the collective wisdom 
 of the nation, inasmuch as those around 
 him knew how to do everything was a 
 section of politicians who had formed them- 
 selves into a sort of a knot, and who not 
 only seemed quite resolved to do all in their 
 power to contribute to the harmony of the 
 evening, but who absolutely did, to a sensi- 
 ble extent, succeed in swelling the general 
 sound. One was striving to obtain justice 
 for Ireland, by braying in the most natural 
 manner possible; another was saving the 
 country from revolution by squealing "A 
 week, a week!" in humble imitation of a 
 juvenile pig oppressed, a third was aveng- 
 ing the insults offered to the British flag by 
 an extraordinary effort to crow like a cock; 
 a fourth was sustaining the integrity of the 
 empire by imparting an idea of the sound 
 of a French horn; a fifth was supporting 
 the Established Church by 
 
 shouting, "Yoiks! Tallyho!" a sixt 
 pledged to procure the abolition of mili- 
 tary torture, was showing precisely how 
 cat calls to cat; a seventh was endeavoring 
 to put an end to the sanguinary civil war in 
 Spain, by converting his own hat and that 
 of a statesman who sat immediately before 
 him into a couple of kettle-drums, which 
 he certainly continued to beat with an 
 energy that " nothing else could match;" 
 an eighth who had been pledged to the 
 abolition of the slave-trade was engaged in 
 giving effect to a popular air; while a ninth 
 was endeavoring to impress upon the house 
 the necessity for an immediate extension of 
 the suffrage by imparting to all around 
 what he conceived to be a highly correct 
 notion of the moral and physical effects of 
 hydrophobia. 
 
 In vain the Speaker, during these irregn- 
 lar proceedings, tried to show that such 
 conduct was not exactly consistent with 
 the character of a deliberative assembly; in 
 vain he strove to direct the attention of 
 honorable members to the fact that the in- 
 terests and the feelings of the country in 
 general could not be thus really represent- 
 ed; he thundered forth "Order," and rose 
 twenty times to enforce it in vain; his pre- 
 sence was unheeded, his authority con- 
 temned; and he therefore at length sank 
 back in his chair to view the scene with 
 mingled feelings of indignation and sorrow. 
 Valentine felt for the ol<l gentleman, for he 
 appeared to be shedding tears; and being 
 therefore determined to put an end to these 
 proceedings if possible, he took advantage 
 
 of a moment when the throats of those who 
 composed the first assembly of gentlemen 
 in the world displayed symptoms of ex- 
 haustion, and sent a most extraordinary cry 
 of " Shame!" into one of the reflectors, 
 which appeared for the moment to be under 
 some supernatural influence, and which 
 caused the majority of the senators below 
 to look up with an expression of amazement. 
 As the noise became in consequence 
 somewhat subdued, Valentine raised an- 
 other sepulchral cry of " Shame," which 
 was heard with far greater distinctness than 
 the first, and which induced the identical 
 old gentleman who had been playing the 
 imaginary Jew's harp, and who was evi- 
 dently indignant at this strange interruption, 
 to rise with the view of directing attention 
 to an extraordinary fact one of which he 
 appeared to have had no previous know- 
 ledge namely, that of there being strangers 
 in the gallery! The very moment this ho- 
 norable gentleman rose, a loud burst of 
 laughter drowned every other sound; for 
 the whole house perceived that an humble 
 petition had been cut into slips, and not 
 only secured by the collar of his coat, but 
 stuck firmly with wafers all over his back, 
 reaching even below his expansive coat- 
 tails. Of this the honorable member of 
 course was unconscious; but as his object 
 had been gained in so far as that the noise 
 had been renewed, he very quietly sat 
 down with the view of playing a few more 
 popular and interesting tunes, with the in- 
 strument which he conceived he held tightly 
 between his gums. 
 
 He was, however, soon interrupted again, 
 for an honorable member who had made 
 many ineffectual attempts to obtain a hear- 
 ing, taking advantage of a temporary sup- 
 pression of noise, rose to move an adjourn- 
 ment. The motion was followed by shouts 
 of " No, no!" and a really extraordinary 
 species of yelling; but as the honorable 
 member declared that he was determined to 
 take the sense of the house to the utter 
 astonishment of Valentine, who could not 
 conceive where the sense could be found 
 the adjournment was agreed to without a 
 division, and the immediate rush towards 
 the door was tremendous. 
 
 As soon as the coast became sufficiently 
 clear, Goodman and his charge left the 
 house and proceeded homewards; but while 
 the feeling which prevailed in the bosom of 
 the former was that of unqualified delight, 
 that which reigned in the breast of the lat- 
 ter was one of unmingled and boundless 
 surprise. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 53 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN WHICH GOODMAN IS HONORED WITH A PECULIAR VISIT, AND SUBSEQUENTLY SEIZED IN 
 THE MOST MYSTERIOUS MANNER POSSIBLE. 
 
 WITHOUT presuming to enter those pecu- 
 liarly chaotic regions Geology might tempt 
 the imagination to explore without, in- 
 deed, going any farther back than the days 
 of Adam and Eve it may with safety be 
 asserted taking for a point that interesting 
 period of our history when young Creation 
 beat old Chaos hollow that of all the de- 
 structive wars which have afflicted man- 
 kind, the War of Attachments has raged 
 with the greatest constancy and fierceness. 
 From the birth of the sun, moon and stars, 
 to the deluge, from the deluge to the com- 
 mencement of the Christian era, and from 
 thence to the period of the publication of 
 these adventures, the attachments have 
 been savagely cutting each other's throats 
 scourging, smothering, and torturing each 
 other in every conceivable variety of forms 
 in a word, all the evils with which man 
 has been cursed are attributable solely to 
 this War of the Attachments. 
 
 Now, in proportion as Goodman's attach- 
 ment to Valentine increased, his attachment 
 to his amiable relatives diminished; in fact, 
 the one was very quietly smothering the 
 other, when those relatives in turn formed 
 certain new attachments which they con- 
 ceived might promote the great object they 
 had in view. 
 
 One heavenly morning, about twelve 
 o'clock, when the leaves of the aspen 
 were shivering in the breeze, when the 
 cows were each moment expecting to be 
 milked, and when, Valentine having been 
 sent to the banker's, Goodman was reading 
 in his library alone, the servant entered ! 
 with a couple of highly glazed cards, which 
 bore the following remarkable inscriptions I 
 Dr. Emanuel W. Bowlemout, and Dr. ! 
 
 DlONYSIUS DOBB. 
 
 "Dr. Emanuel W. Bowlemout 1 ? Bowle- 
 mout Bowlemout," said Goodman, con- 
 sidering " Dr. Dionysius Dobbl Dobb] ; 
 Dobb] I have not the slightest know- I 
 ledge of these gentlemen. Ask them to 
 walk in." 
 
 While the servant was seducing the two 
 doctors out of the parlor, Goodman read the 
 cards again and again, conceiving that their 
 names might strike their full length por- 
 traits on his memory. 
 
 " Good morning, sir," profoundly ob- 
 served a remarkably short and apoplectic 
 individual, who appeared to have been 
 afflicted with the dropsy from his youth. 
 6 
 
 " Good morning," said Goodman, waving 
 his bar d towards a couple of chairs, of 
 which the doctors took possession. 
 
 " My name is Bowlemout," observed the 
 dropsical person. "My friend Dr. Dobb." 
 
 Goodman bowed and placed the cards 
 upon the table. 
 
 " You are quite well, I hope 1 ?" said Dr. 
 Emanuel W. Bowlemout. 
 
 " Perfectly," said Goodman; " thank God 
 I never had a day's illness in my life." 
 
 Dr. Bowlemout looked at Dr. Dobb, who 
 cocked his chin upon his stick, and eyed 
 Goodman intently. 
 
 "May I," observed Goodman, after 
 waiting in silence some considerable time 
 May I inquire the object of this visit 1 ?" 
 
 "Most certainly, my dear sir," replied 
 Dr. Bowlemout, looking again at Dr. Dobb 
 who still continued to sit like a statue in 
 mourning for some dear friend " It may, 
 my dear sir, appear somewhat extraordi- 
 nary that we should have called upon you 
 thus without a previous introduction; but it 
 is perhaps in these cases quite as well- 
 quite." And Dr. Bowlemout looked once 
 more at Dr. Dobb, who did condescend 
 then to nod, by way of signifying that that 
 observation had met his views precisely. 
 
 Goodman was still unable to imagine 
 what the object of these gentlemen could 
 be; but he ventured to suppose that he 
 should know in good time, and therefore 
 waited for its natural development with 
 patience, while those gentlemen were view- 
 ing him with what he conceived to be an 
 expression of pity. 
 
 " Do me the favor," at length said Dr. 
 Bowlemout, placing his finger delicately 
 upon Goodman's wrist, as his hand rested 
 upon the table "allow me." 
 
 " Gentlemen!" said Goodman firmly, 
 withdrawing his hand, " You have honored 
 me with a visit, and you have, I presume, 
 some object in view; need I add that I con- 
 sider it necessary for that object to be ex- 
 plained?" 
 
 " Why, my dear sir," replied Dr. Bowl- 
 emout, "the fact is, we have called at the 
 request of certain intimate friends of yours, 
 who fancy that you have not been looking 
 quite so well of late to ascertain the pre- 
 cise state of your general health." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Goodman smiling, "I 
 ought to be exceedingly obliged to those 
 friends. May I know to whom I am in- 
 
54 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 debted for this extraordinary act of kind- 
 ness?" 
 
 " Why that, my dear sir, is a matter of 
 extreme delicacy," replied Bowlemout. 
 '* You will perceive that they are naturally 
 apprehensive that they might be deemed 
 too officious too fond of parading their 
 friendship." 
 
 "They," said Goodman, "who imagine 
 that I should fail to appreciate this or any 
 other act of kindness, can know me but 
 imperfectly. There surely can be no seri- 
 ous objection to their names being men- 
 tioned"?'" 
 
 " I really," said Dr. Bowlemout, " do 
 not feel justified in naming them." 
 
 "No, no, no!" gruffly exclaimed Dr. 
 Dobb. " There is no necessity for that 
 sort of thing." 
 
 "I can perceive no necessity for the 
 other sort of thing," observed Goodman 
 somewhat piqued at the roughness of Dr. 
 Dobb. "This visit ! trust did not originate 
 in any idle curiosity!" 
 
 " Oh! not at all! not at all, my dear sir; 
 not at all !" cried Dr. Bowlemout, " God 
 bless me, no, not at all !" 
 
 " Then, gentlemen," said Goodman, "I 
 am able to inform those exceedingly kind 
 friends through you, that I am capable of 
 forming a judgment on the state of my own 
 health -" 
 
 "That's the point! the very point!" in- 
 terrupted Dr. Bowlemout, turning to Dr. 
 Dobb, who gave several short nods. 
 
 " What's the point 1 ?" inquired Goodman. 
 "That men are not always able to form 
 such a judgment," growled Dr. Dionysius 
 Dobb. " You, for instance, may be afflict- 
 ed with one of the most serious maladies 
 that are incident to the numan frame with- 
 out being in the slightest degree conscious 
 of the fact. Have you heard by-the-bye 
 from your friend the emperor lately!" 
 
 "lam perhaps," said Goodman after a 
 pause during which Dr. Bowlemout gave 
 Dr. Dobb certain slight but mysterious 
 winks "I am perhaps bound to presume 
 that your object is not to insult me!" 
 
 " Oh! dear me, no, not at all !" cried Dr. 
 Bowlemout. 
 
 " I must say that that question appears to 
 me to be extraordinary indeed, the whole 
 proceeding is of so strange a character, that 
 1 scarcely know even now what to make of 
 it. Have you any thing more to say, gen- 
 tlemen!" 
 
 " Why, there are," said Dr. Bowlemout, 
 ** two or three points upon which I should 
 like to be informed. You are related, 1 
 believe, to the Royal Family!" 
 
 "Sin!" thundered Goodman, and his 
 eyes flashed with all their wonted fire. 
 
 * Old as I am, I am not a man to be insult- 
 ed with impunity." 
 
 ' Calm yourself; come, come, rny dear 
 sir, be cool!" said Dr. Bowlemout. 
 
 'Cool, sir!" cried Goodman; "do you 
 take me for an idiot! Think you that I'll 
 consent to be made the sport of fools! Who 
 sent you! Were you in fact sent at all! If 
 you were, why do you not, like men " 
 
 * Mr. Valentine has returned," said the 
 servant, who, after knocking for some time, 
 had entered." He wishes to know, sir, if 
 may speak with you." 
 Yes, "said Goodman, "tell him I want 
 him," and Valentine, who was then at the 
 door, walked in. 
 
 " My dear boy," said Goodman, "I have 
 been grossly insulted; I never was before 
 so insulted as 1 have been by these two 
 persons, of whom 1 have no sort of know- 
 ledge." 
 
 ' We simply asked him," said Bowl- 
 emout, " if he were not related to the Royal 
 Family!" 
 
 "And why ask so ridiculous a question!" 
 said Valentine, with one of his peculiarly 
 piercing glances. 
 
 " Because," replied Dr. Bowlemout, " we 
 were informed that he claimed the British 
 crown." 
 
 "And what if you were thus informed! 
 What, if even he had such a claim, would 
 it interfere with any claim of yours! What 
 have you to do wiih the matter! what is it 
 to you! Have you," added Valentine, ad- 
 dressing Goodman, "any desire to detain 
 these gentlemen?" 
 
 " None whatever," replied Goodman; 
 " on the contrary, I wish them gone." 
 
 "Then you will probably \v;ilk with nrm 
 at once to the door," observed Valentine to 
 the gentlemen in question, who still kept 
 their seats. 
 
 " We came here, young man," said Dr. 
 Bowlemout pompously, to perform a pub- 
 lic duty; and we shall go when we please." 
 "Then, if you do," rejoined Valentine, 
 "you must please to go immediately." 
 " WHY!" thundered Dr. Dionysius Dobb. 
 " Because, if you do not," replied Valen- 
 tine, " I shall be compelled to make you go 
 before you please." 
 
 At this moment a laughing duett of de- 
 rision burst from Drs. Bowlemout and 
 Dobb. They soon, however, found that 
 they had made a slight mistake in thrir 
 estimate of Valentine's character, for on 
 the instant he seized Dr. Bowlemout by 
 the collar, and without the smallest diii'i- 
 culty brought him to the ground. Tho 
 moment Dr. Bowlemout was down. Dr. 
 Dobb sprang at Valentine with the ferocity 
 of a tiger, and Goodman sprang at him; 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 55 
 
 but before he bad time to reacb him, Valen- 
 tine, who was then on one knee, caught 
 hold of the legs of Dr. Dobb, and threw 
 him cleverly over Dr. Bowlemout's back. 
 
 "Keep the fat one down!" shouted Va- 
 lentine. "Don't let him stir! I'll come 
 back for him in a moment." And he pro- 
 ceeded to drag 1 Dr. Dobb to the door, which 
 he opened, and having thrown him into the 
 street, closed it again, and ran back for the 
 other. 
 
 "Now, sir!" said Valentine to Dr. 
 Bowlemout, who was panting for breath, 
 and seemed nearly exhausted, " Do you 
 wish to be thrown headlong after your 
 friend, or will you walk 1 ?" 
 
 Of the two, Bowlemout decidedly pre- 
 ferred the latter mode of proceeding, and 
 hastened at once to the door; but the mo- 
 
 } raent he had reached the step in safety, he 
 turned round, and scowling at Goodman, 
 cried, with all the breath he appeared to 
 have in his body, "0A/ you shall suffer for 
 this! we'll have our revenge!" and Valen- 
 tine pushed him off the step and closed the 
 door. 
 
 About half an hour after the departure of 
 these gentlemen, Walter and Horace looked 
 in to invite Goodman to meet a few friends 
 at their house, in the evening. 
 
 To them he explained what had occurred, 
 and they expressed their astonishment with 
 extraordinary warmth. He also explained 
 that he and Valentine were just about to 
 start for Gravesend,at which they appeared 
 to be equally surprised; and after having 
 ascertained the precise time the boat started 
 they hastily quitted the house. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE MYSTERIOUS SEIZURE A GENTLEMAN DROWNED IN IMAGINATION FIRST APPEARANCE 
 OF VALENTINE UPON THE STAGE OF THE ITALIAN OPERA. 
 
 WHEN Goodman had adjusted the week's 
 accumulation of papers, he and Valentine 
 walked leisurely towards Cornhill, but as 
 he had some little business to transact in 
 the immediate vicinity of the Bank, he sent 
 Valentine forward to amuse himself for 
 half an hour, on the steam packet wharf. 
 
 Before the half hour had expired, Good- 
 man had completed the business on hand, 
 and as he felt that he might still be in time 
 for the three o'clock boat, he walked rather 
 briskly towards the quay from which it 
 started. He had scarcely, however, turned 
 into Fish-street-Hill, when two powerful 
 looking fellows hastily crossed from the 
 opposite side, and placed themselves im" 
 mediately before him. 
 
 " Fine day, sir," said one of these per- 
 sons in a singularly rough heavy tone. 
 
 " It is a fine day," observed Goodman, 
 endeavoring to pass them, " a very fine 
 day." 
 
 " You'd better have a ride along with us, 
 sir," said the fellow, seizing Goodman's 
 right arm. 
 
 " What do you mean, man!" cried Good- 
 man, as he strove to wring his arm from the 
 fellow's firm grasp. 
 
 " Why on'y that we're going to take a 
 quiet country ride, and we wants you to 
 obleedge us with your company, that's all;" 
 and a coach, that had been waiting on the 
 opposite side, drew up to the spot on the 
 instant. 
 
 "In Heaven's name!" exclaimed Good- 
 man, who had become much alarmed, 
 " what can all this mean?" and again he 
 made an effort to disengage his arm, but 
 found it held as firmly as though it had 
 been in a vice. 
 
 " Come, come, you know, be quiet; it 
 an't o' no use, you know; none o' your tricks; 
 it won't do," said the fellow. 
 
 " My good man," cried Goodman, "you 
 are laboring under some strange mistake 
 indeed, indeed you are mistaken." 
 
 "Not a bit of it," growled the fellow, 
 "not <i ha'porth! your name's Goodman, 
 an't it 1 ? Mr. Grirnwood Goodman?" 
 
 "It certainly is, but" 
 
 "Oh! it's all right! the fus cousin to 
 the emperor of Chany, you know! now if 
 so be as you want to be treated like a genel- 
 man, you'll get in at once, without any 
 more bones." 
 
 "But I will not get in!" exclaimed 
 Goodman. 
 
 " Well," said the fellow, calmly, " there's 
 not the least compulsion in life, you know 
 on'y you must." 
 
 " What, what does it mean, sir 1 ? where 
 is your authority for this monstrous proceed- 
 ingl" 
 
 " Oh, we have got lots of authority," cried 
 the fellow; and his assistant proceeded to 
 let down the steps, while the coachman 
 held open the door. 
 
 " Help! help!" shouted Goodman as a 
 
LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 gentleman passed. "For Heaven's sake, 
 save me from these ruffians!" 
 
 " What is all this about?" said the gen- 
 tleman, approaching. 
 
 "It's all right, sir; all quite regular," 
 replied the fellow, first tapping his forehead, 
 and then placing his thumb by the side of 
 his nose, "you understand]" 
 
 " Poor fellow!" exclaimed the gentleman 
 in accents of pity. 
 
 " My good sir, but hear me pray hear 
 me!" cried Goodman. 
 
 "Go quietly, there's a dear man," said 
 the gentleman, evidently affected. "It is 
 all for the best; these persons will not harm 
 you, indeed they will not come, come." 
 
 ** Sir!" exclaimed Goodman "Oh! hear 
 me explain! stay, stay but for an instant! 
 stay sir, if you are a Christian!" but the 
 gentleman, who appeared to be in haste, 
 sighed deeply while a tear stood in his eye, 
 and passed on. 
 
 " Now are we to clap on a jacket or not!" 
 cried the fellow, who began to be impatient. 
 
 " Good God!" exclaimed Goodman 
 " will no one assist me? Help! help! For 
 the love of Heaven! Help! help!" he re- 
 peated in tones the most piercing, while he 
 struggled with all the strength at his com- 
 mand. He was, however, but as a child 
 in the grasp of a giant; for the principal 
 ruffian at once thrust him into the coach, in 
 .which Goodman, the benevoleut warm- 
 hearted Goodman, sunk back and immedi- 
 ately fainted. 
 
 While this most extrordinary seizure was 
 being made, Valentine was waiting with 
 much impatience at the wharf. The packet 
 by which they were to have started had left, 
 and the latest, which had immediately after 
 glided like a swan to the spot, was rilling 
 fast. It being Saturday, hundreds of per- 
 sons, consisting chiefly of merchants, ware- 
 housemen, and clerks, whose families annu- 
 ally reside at Gravesend three weeks or a 
 month, hastened down with the view of 
 joining those families that night, and re- 
 turning to buisness early on Monday morn- 
 ing. With these persons almost every seat 
 upon deck was soon occupied. Some began 
 to peruse the weekly journals, some to 
 arrange the papers with which their pockets 
 had been filled, while others, with their 
 arms folded under their coat-tails, were 
 thoughtfully watching the progress of the 
 tide. 
 
 At length the men on board began to 
 bustle about the deck, and the captain 
 mounted one of the boxes by which the 
 paddles were partially concealed and com- 
 menced giving orders about the adju-tnn m 
 of certain ropes. As every motion was now 
 indicative of an immediate start, Valentine 
 
 at once- rushed on board, feeling certain 
 that he must have missed Goodman in the 
 crowd. He searched the deck and cabin, 
 however, in vain; and as he looked with 
 anxiety from the side of the vessel, to as- 
 certain if Goodman were coming, the Cap- 
 tain gave his orders to let the boat go. 
 
 " But one moment!" cried Valentine, ad- 
 dressing the Captain. "I expect a friend 
 here in an instant." 
 
 " Time's up, sir; can't stop," said the Cap- 
 tain. " Now, my lads, come, look alive!" 
 and his people began to unfasten the ropes, 
 whem Valentine leaping upon the barge to 
 which the vessel had been secured, resolved 
 on detaining her a few moments longer. 
 
 " Captain!" shouted Valentine, making 
 his voice proceed apparently from a little 
 wooden watch-box of an office, adorned with 
 flaming red and blue placards. 
 
 " Hollo!" cried the Captain. 
 
 " You are wanted in the office!" shouted 
 Valentine. 
 
 " Why, we're off! who wants me?" 
 
 " One of the proprietors. Here! you must 
 come!" 
 
 " Blow one of the proprietors!" growled 
 the indignant Captain, sotto vote. " Here, 
 old fast a bit: I wonder what's the matter 
 now." And he jumped from the deck upon 
 the landing barge, and proceeded towards 
 the office, with a countenance expressive of 
 anything but delight. 
 
 Valentine again looked most anxiously 
 for Goodman, and just as he saw some one 
 hastening towards the wharf whom he con- 
 ceived might be him, the gallant Captain 
 returned, and after knocking aside every 
 man who stood in his way shouted, " W T ho 
 was it said I was wanted? I should just 
 like to know," he added, gruffly, on receiv- 
 ing no answer. " I'm blowed if I wouldn't 
 pitch him right overboard bang!" and having 
 scrambled to the top of the paddle-box, again 
 gave the signal for starting. 
 
 Valentine, however, being determined to 
 give Goodman a few minutes more, no soon- 
 er heard the well known signal given, than 
 sending his voice under the stern of the 
 vessel shouted " Help! help! a boat, a boat! 
 Help! help! help!" so loudly, that in a 
 moment the persons who were standing on 
 the wharf joined in the cry simultaneously 
 with the passengers on board. Down dash- 
 ed the boat which had deen hawled up to 
 the stern, with a force which must have 
 killed any man out and out if one had hap- 
 IM neil t. luvve been then; while other boats 
 instantly came to the spot, and every avail- 
 able rope was in immediate requisition. 
 The boats darted round and round the ves- 
 sel, in vain, followed by the eyes of the 
 passengers, who appeared to be in a state of 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 57 
 
 great excitement, while the steam was hiss- 
 ing, panting, and snorting with as much 
 angry violence as if it had been perfectly 
 cognisant of the trick. 
 
 " Poor soul!" exclaimed a stout old gentle- 
 man, who stood upon the barge, " he has 
 sunk, I fear, to rise no more!" 
 
 " Help! Here ,here, here!" shouted Valen- 
 tine, and away the boats flew to the spot 
 from which the sound appeared to proceed, 
 while the passengers rushed from side to 
 side with the most painful anxiety. 
 
 " Where, where are you?" cried one of the 
 boatmen. "My good fellow now, now! 
 give another hail! where are you?" 
 
 " Here!" cried Valentine. 
 
 "Starn! starn!" shouted the Captain in 
 haste. " Look alive?" And away went 
 the boats again astern. * Have you got 
 him?" he inquired of the men; " have you 
 got him?" But the reply was, "If we 
 could but only see him we shouldn't care. 
 
 " Make haste," shouted Valentine. 
 
 " Where?" cried the Captain, " where, 
 where, my poor fellow where are you?" 
 
 " On the wheel," exclaimed Valentine, 
 faintly. 
 
 " Hold on but a moment! now, now, my 
 lads now! to the wheel; now, hurrah!" 
 cried the Captain, whose eyes at once spar- 
 kled with joy, for he felt that he should save 
 the poor fellow at last. 
 
 " Move ahead!" cried Valentine, assum- 
 ing the voice of a lad whom he had heard 
 give the order before, and the wheels on 
 the instant dashed violently round amidst a 
 general shout of horror! 
 
 The wheels were stopt; the foam subsided; 
 but the voice was heard no more. The pas- 
 sengers looked at each other aghast. The 
 Captain stared at the boy and the boy stared 
 at the Captain; but neither of them uttered 
 a word indeed for several minutes a death- 
 like silence prevailed, and the general con- 
 viction was, that the wheel had dashed down 
 the unfortunate man, who had become too 
 much exhausted to rise again to the surface. 
 
 Valentine again looked round for his 
 guardian, but again was most grievously 
 disappointed. The vessel was then half 
 an hour behind time; and as he felt that it 
 would be useless to detain her any longer, 
 he made up his mind to let her go. The 
 men in the boats were still watching the sur- 
 face of the river intently; the Captain was 
 explaining to the boy what he had done, and 
 the boy was declaring to the sceptical Cap- 
 tain that the order to move ahead had not 
 proceeded from him, while the passengers 
 and the persons who stood upon the barge 
 were relating to each other how the poor 
 fellow struggled as they saw him in imagi- 
 nation go down; and descanting very freely 
 
 upon all that was known of the character- 
 istics peculiar to a watery grave. 
 
 The captain at length, feeling that nothing 
 more could be done for the " poor fellow," 
 again prepared to start, and Valentine, in 
 order to relieve his mind, sent a loud shout 
 of laughter immediately behind him. The 
 effect was electrical. Nothing could exceed 
 the astonishment displayed by the Captain. 
 He turned sharply round, with a bosom 
 swelling with indignation, in order to ascer- 
 tain what manner of man he could be who 
 thus had the cold blooded inhumanity to 
 laugh at so awful a moment as that. 
 
 " It was only a joke!" said Valentine. 
 
 " A joke!" cried the Captain, indignantly 
 "a joke!" 
 
 " Why, yes, I wasn't overboard at all!" 
 shouted Valentine. " I only made believe!" 
 
 " Made believe!" cried the Captain, look- 
 ing scornfully towards the quarter from 
 which the sounds appeared to proceed. 
 " Who is it that spoke? who only made 
 believe? I'll give a crown out of my own 
 pocket to know! for that man, if he was 
 even the king of England, should not re- 
 main aboard of my boat another instant. 
 I'd make him go ashore, if 1 wouldn't who 
 was it?" 
 
 As the inhuman person in question re- 
 fused to reply, and as the indignant captain 
 found it impossible to discover the delin- 
 quent, he with evident reluctance again gave 
 the signal for starting, when the vessel was 
 released from her moorings, and glided ma- 
 jestically down with the tide. 
 
 The very moment the boat was out of 
 sight, Valentine started to the residence of 
 the citizen upon whom Goodman had called 
 on his way to the wharf, and having there 
 ascertained that he had left in great haste, 
 he proceeded home fancying that something 
 of importance might have occurred to in- 
 duce his guardian to return. On hearing, 
 however, that he had not returned, he con- 
 cluded at once that he must have started by 
 the first boat, unseen in the crowd, and aftef 
 allowing the servant to bring up the tray 
 with some cold beef and salad, he began to 
 think how he should amuse himself until 
 the morning, when he intended to follow 
 by the earliest boat. 
 
 No sooner had he finished his meal and 
 drank a couple of glasses of port, which 
 had been left in the decanter, than Horace 
 arrived in a state of great excitement, to in- 
 quire if within the last hour his father had 
 been there? On being informed that he 
 had not, his excitement increased, but on 
 learning that Valentine had just returned 
 alone, he smiled with intense satisfaction, 
 and entered the parlor at once. 
 
 " Well, my young ancient!" cried Ho- 
 6* 
 
LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 race, " why, I thought you were off to the 
 aristocratic regions of Gravesend!" 
 
 " I did start for that purpose," said Va- 
 lentine, " but I unfortunately missed your 
 uncle." 
 
 "Of course! Why you didn't expect 
 any other thing, did you] It's just like the 
 old undeniable. He and my governor in 
 that little particular are just as much alike 
 as two wheelbarrows. Only let 'em slip, 
 and they go in-and-out, in-and-out, like a 
 couple of crocodiles, and if you ever catch 
 so much as a sight of 'ern again, why you 
 must have an eye like a Flanders brick. But 
 I say, my little antediluvian, haven't you 
 got a glass of wine to give a fellow"? 
 Where does old owe-nothing keep it 1 ?" 
 
 * Upon my word I don't know, but Ann 
 will get us some, doubtless," replied Va- 
 lentine, ringing the bell. 
 
 "Aye that's the very card," observed 
 Horace, " for I'm about fit to drop." And 
 he cocked his legs deliberately upon the 
 table. " I say, my Seraphina," he con- 
 tinued as Ann entered the room, " here's a 
 dreadful state of mind for a bottle to be -in! 
 come give it a belly full of something, old 
 girl." 
 
 The order was confirmed by a nod from 
 Valentine, and a bottle of port was brought 
 up with the corkscrew, when Horace first 
 pronounced Ann to be an out-and-outer, and 
 then seizing the carving knife with which 
 he cracked the shoulder of the bottle, very 
 dexterously wrung its long neck off. 
 
 " Dear me, Mr. Horace!" exclaimed 
 Ann, " how I wish you'd draw the corks, 
 you do make such a mess." 
 
 "Bring us another glass, my old girl," 
 said Horace, who, on its being brought, 
 added, " now you'll know how much better 
 it tastes in this way," and as Ann express- 
 ed a great disinclination to try it, he simply 
 threw her down upon the sofa, when, hav- 
 ing kissed her and forced her to swallow 
 the wine, he laughed at her indignation, 
 and allowed her to retire. 
 
 " It strikes me with just about the force 
 of a sledge-hammer," said Horace, after 
 having replenished his glass three times 
 without relinquishing the bottle for a mo- 
 ment, " that you are neither more nor less 
 than an out-and-out brick. Now what do 
 you dream of doing with your body to- 
 night?" 
 
 " I scarcely know," replied Valentine. 
 
 " Well then, I'll tell you what it is; 
 just cock yourself comfortably under my 
 care, and 1 11 show you a little of life." 
 , " But I fancied," observed Valentine, 
 that you were going to have a party to- 
 night." 
 
 And so we are," returned Horace, '* but 
 
 you don't suppose that I'm such an out-and- 
 out flat as to join them, do you? If uncle 
 had been going, why I must then have 
 stuck there of course, for he's such an ex- 
 cruciating old file, that he couldn't be happy 
 without me; but as he'll not, you know, be 
 there at all, don't suppose that I'm going to 
 waste the evening with a parcel of jolly old 
 dummies, some mumbling about the wea- 
 ther, some growling about the high price of 
 bees'-wax, some whining about the anti-di- 
 minishable character ot the national debt, 
 and others showing how a jolly revolution 
 might be averted by allowing pickled cab- 
 bage to be imported in the raw. A rubber's 
 the very utmost to which they could be 
 goaded, and then they're such wide awake 
 warmint, you can't even so much as palm a 
 card without being told of it, which hap- 
 pens to be the very thing I most hate. Why, 
 then, should I join a crew of this particular 
 kidney, unless indeed I wanted to cut the 
 throat of time, or to commit an act of self- 
 smotheration? It is true I shall have tea 
 with them just for the wetness of the thing, 
 and then of course I bolt; so if you like, 
 you know, to place yourself under my care, 
 I shall just put you up to a thing or two 
 that isn't known to here and there one." 
 
 " Oh, I shall be most happy," observed 
 Valentine. 
 
 " Well then, we'll finish this bottle, and 
 stop just an hour at home, and then we'll 
 run a regular trump to earth, who can take 
 us where you never were before. But, re- 
 member, when 1 light my cheroot, and you 
 see the old out-and-outers cocking up their 
 jolly old noses, leave the room, and I'll be 
 after you with all the alacrity of a bum." 
 
 Accordingly, the bottle was emptied, al- 
 most solely by Horace, and they proceeded 
 to the house of his father, where they found 
 half a dozen disagreeable old shrews whose 
 husbands were expected to join them after 
 tea. 
 
 " Have you seen your father, Horace?" 
 inquired Mrs. Goodman. 
 
 "No," replied Horace, who winked at 
 his dear and anxious mother, and drew her 
 towards the window, where they kept up 
 for some time a low conversational whis- 
 per. 
 
 " There he is," exclaimed Mrs. Horace 
 Goodman. 
 
 " Not a bit of it, I know," said Horace, 
 "that isn't the old bufier's knock." 
 
 " I know it is," observed Mrs. Goodman 
 junior. 
 
 " I tell you it is not," cried Horace snap- 
 pishly, "1 think I ought to know. He'd 
 never give such an out-and-out know-no- 
 thing tat-a-rat, rat-a-tat business as that. 
 It's somebody that's just got over a soft 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 59 
 
 single knock, and now doesn't know ex- 
 actly when to leave off." 
 
 At this moment Walter entered as pale as 
 a ghost, and, on catching the eye of Valen- 
 tine, gave an involuntary shudder. He 
 rallied, however, in an instant; but on ex- 
 tending his hand, Valentine found that it 
 trembled violently. 
 
 As soon as Mrs. Goodman could conve- 
 niently manage it, she whispered, "Is it 
 done"?' 5 and on receiving an intimation in 
 the affirmative, she communicated the fact 
 to Mrs. Horace Goodman, and it appeared 
 to be highly satisfactory to both. 
 
 Tea was then brought up at once, and the 
 whole party drew round the table; but it was 
 easily perceptible by all, that Walter had 
 on his mind something which bid defiance 
 to tranquillity. When addressed on any 
 subject he spoke with affected gaiety and 
 smiled, but in an instanthis brow again sank, 
 and his features became sullen and rigid as 
 before. 
 
 As Horace had described, it would have 
 been dull work indeed, to spend the even- 
 ing in the society of the persons there as- 
 sembled. There was talking, it is true, a 
 great quantity of talking, but not a single 
 word was uttered in an hour, worth remem- 
 bering a minute. 
 
 As soon, therefore, as this weary tea 
 affair was over, Horace pulled out his case, 
 and began to wet a cheroot by rolling it over 
 his tongue with peculiar rapidity. 
 
 " You are not going to smoke," observed 
 Mrs. Goodman junior. 
 
 "These ladies, I'm sure, will not mind 
 it," said Horace. 
 
 " Oh! certainly not!" simultaneously ex- 
 claimed the majority of the ladies, at the 
 same time bringing out their scent-bottles 
 to prepare for the infliction. 
 
 " Mrs. Shrewell cannot bear it, I know," 
 said the junior Mrs. Goodman. 
 
 " Oh, never mind me!" cried that amiable 
 lady. 
 
 " If that's the case," said Horace, "why 
 of course " 
 
 " Dear me, no! by no means! I never 
 allow Mr. Shrewell to smoke, but I don't 
 at all mind it. On the contrary, I think it 
 rather pleasant than not." 
 
 "Of course!" exclaimed Horace, who 
 well knew that the old lady would cough 
 with sufficient violence to make her black 
 in the face in five minutes. "Of course! 
 and after pulling out a peculiar description 
 of lucifer, the nipping of which sent forth 
 a villanous odor, he proceeded to ignite his 
 cheroot. 
 
 This being the signal for starting, Valen- 
 tine gladly left the room, and was instantly 
 followed by Horace and his cheroot, to the 
 
 unspeakable gratification of those amiable 
 ladies of whom he was anything but ar- 
 dently enamored. 
 
 "Now," said Horace, "let us be off," 
 and accordingly he and -Valentine started 
 in the direction of the Haymarket, both 
 highly pleased at having escaped. 
 
 "It strikes me," said Horace, on reach- 
 ing Leicester-square, " that we shall just be 
 in time for old Leatherlungs; and if so, 
 you'll have a bit of a treat to begin with." 
 
 " Who's LeatherlungsT" inquired Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 "That's only his professional name," 
 replied Horace. " His real name is Growl- 
 away. He's in the Opera chorus, and a 
 regular trump he is too; this is the crib he 
 patronises," And Valentine was dragged 
 into a little dirty pot-house, and eventually 
 reached a dark room at the back. 
 
 At first he was able to distinguish no- 
 thing, for in addition to the room being 
 dark, it was densely filled with smoke, 
 while a circular ventilator was rattling 
 round and round at the rate of full thirty 
 miles an hour. Horace, however, at once 
 grasped the hand of a man who was smok- 
 ing a remarkably long pipe, and when 
 Valentine had been formally introduced to 
 this gentleman, they all sat down cosily 
 together. 
 
 "Well, what are you going to stand?" 
 was the first question asked by Mr. Growl- 
 away. 
 
 "Just whatever you like," replied Ho- 
 race. " What have you been drinking 1 ?" 
 
 " Half and half," said Mr. Growlaway. 
 
 " That I can't stand," observed Horace. 
 " Let's have some brandy-and-water," and 
 the chorister's eyes sparkled, and he pulled 
 away at his pipe with additional perse- 
 verance, until the brandy-and-water arrived, 
 when he as nearly as possible swallowed 
 the whole without taking his lips from the 
 glass. 
 
 " We wan't to go behind the scenes," 
 said Horace. " You can manage it for us, 
 can't you 1 ?" 
 
 " Why," said Mr. Growlaway, "they're 
 getting so nasty particular, one doesn't 
 know how to act. You must take your 
 chance, you know. Follow me right in. If 
 you attempt to look round you are done, for 
 they'll know in a moment you don't belong 
 to the house." 
 
 "All right," said Horace. 
 
 "But had we not better pay at once?" 
 inquired Valentine. 
 
 Horace smiled at his simplicity, and ex- 
 plained that no money was taken at the 
 door they were to enter; and it having been 
 eventually arranged that they should follow 
 the steps of Mr. Growlaway, Valentine paid 
 
60 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 for the brandy-and-water out of a well filled 
 purse, which Growlaway no sooner saw 
 than he suddenly recollected that he was 
 going to have a benefit on the following 
 Monday evening, at the Bull's-eye and 
 Rat-trap Tavern, at the same time pulling 
 out a bnndle of tickets, five of which Va- 
 lentine felt compelled to purchase, at the 
 remarkably small charge of half a sove- 
 reign, and they then proceeded at once to 
 the stage door of the Italian Opera. 
 
 Having passed the gate at the end of the 
 hall, Mr. Growlaway intimated that all was 
 quite safe, and they leisurely proceeded 
 along a narrow dirty passage, which hap- 
 pened to be dimly illumined here and there 
 with the remains of a narrow candle delibe- 
 rately stinking in the socket of a tall tin 
 lamp. 
 
 On arriving at the end of this passage 
 they ascended a few stairs which led to a 
 wide open space, in which certain painted 
 people disguised as brigands, and peasants, 
 and Spanish noblemen and Turks, were 
 promenading. At the back sat a number 
 of persons with their shirt-sleeves tucked 
 up drinking porter, while above were sus- 
 pended innumerable pulleys and ropes and 
 ragged slips of painted canvass. On the 
 leftof this space stood what Valentine at 
 first sight conceived to be a tall iron column, 
 but which was in reality a round flight of 
 cast iron steps, and the gaily dressed people 
 who were perpetually ascending, imparted 
 the idea of a regiment of butterflies run- 
 ning up a corkscrew. 
 
 44 Now then," said Growlaway, darting 
 up this singular flight of steps, and Horace 
 and Valentine followed as fast as possible, 
 and after twirling round until they were 
 perfectly giddy, they turned into a little 
 filthy room near the roof, in which about 
 twenty individuals were dressing. 
 
 In this room Valentine at once seated 
 himself upon the edge of an old chair with 
 one arm and no bottom, which stood by the 
 side of an ancient washing stand, the top 
 of which was secured to the legs with what 
 might in its infancy have been a towel, 
 twisted tightly and ingeniously into the 
 similitude of a rope, while in the hole stood 
 a basin with about half a brim, which was 
 occasionally supplied with water from a 
 brown stone jug, which happened to have 
 neither a handle nor a spout. 
 
 As soon as the giddiness occasioned by 
 the twirling ascent had gone off, Valentine 
 directed his attention to the proceedings of 
 the professional gentlemen present, whose 
 attitudes few could have failed to admire. 
 One was endeavoring to perfect himself in 
 the bass part of the opening chorus, by 
 leaning over a book and singing the notes 
 
 with infinite spirit, and certainly looked ex- 
 tremely cool and interesting, seeing that at 
 that particular time he had nothing on but 
 his shirt; another, in precisely the same 
 costume with the exception of a pair of 
 purple stockings, was engaged in making 
 really desperate efforts to act; a third who 
 had nearly completed his disguise, was 
 splitting his habiliments in all directions, 
 while striving to pull on a remarkable 
 couple of buff cut-throat boots, which ap- 
 peared to be about seven sizes too small; a 
 fourth was jumping into a pair of panta- 
 loons which might have been built for a 
 twenty-stone Dutchman; a fifth who had 
 dressed for a high-born Spaniard, and who 
 looked like ajourneyman tinker incog., was 
 adjusting the mantle of another noble per- 
 son, who, in order that no time might be 
 lost, was eating the remains of a cold pork- 
 chop, which he had brought with bread and 
 mustard in the crown of his hat. 
 
 In the middle of the room stood a table, 
 round which several other professional 
 gentlemen were engaged in giving the 
 last tranquil touches to their formidable 
 countenances, which really as a whole look- 
 ed extremely picturesque. One was arch- 
 ing his eyebrows with a piece of burnt cork; 
 another was bringing out his nose by draw- 
 ing black zigzag lines on either side with 
 apiece of smoked wire; another, being a pea- 
 sant, was establishing upon his long upper 
 lip an exact representation of a pair of mili- 
 tary moustaches; another was laying on his 
 cheeks with a rabbit's foot, a thick coat of 
 red brickdust upon a waistcoat of poma- 
 tum; another was endeavoring to adjust a 
 judge's wig, which had adorned the heads 
 of a thousand professional gentlemen before 
 him, while another was transforming a 
 waggoner's hat into the perfect similitude 
 of an Italian noble's, by carefully pinning 
 the brim up in front, and making an addi- 
 tional hole in the crown for the reception of 
 a long peacock's feather. 
 
 " Will you not dress and go onl" in- 
 quired Horace, when Valentine had feasted 
 his eyes on this scene, "you will not get 
 a view of the house unless you do." 
 
 14 Oh, with all my heart!" replied Valen- 
 tine, who seemed rather to like the idea 
 than not. 
 
 44 Of course!" observed Horace, throw- 
 ing towards him a pair of yellow lights, 
 which IK; had taken from a heap. 44 On 
 with 'em and then you'll enjoy your noble 
 self." 
 
 44 But I'd rather not strip," said Valen- 
 tine, approving the cut of the tights by no 
 means. 
 
 44 Well, tuck up your trowsrrs, and wind 
 this affair round your calves" suid one 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 61 
 
 who appeared to be the master of the cere- 
 monies, throwing several yards of red and 
 blue worsted binding, which was intended 
 to convey to some distance a silken idea 
 " you can as well be a brigand as not." 
 
 Accordingly up went the trowsers above 
 the knee, and round went the blue and red 
 binding, when a jacket with spangles was 
 selected and put on, and the man who had 
 been fetching the professional gentlemen 
 bread and cheese and half-and-half, politely 
 offered to make up the face of the bri- 
 gand. 
 
 As soon as this interesting operation had 
 been performed, the overture commenced, 
 and the call-boy came up to announce the 
 important fact, conceiving probably that the 
 whole of the professional gentlemen might 
 suddenly have been seized with total deaf- 
 ness. Valentine just caught a glance of 
 himself, and a beautiful brigand he fancied 
 he looked! He then turned round to exhibit 
 to Horace, but the chair in which Horace 
 had been sitting, was at that moment occu- 
 pied by " a malignant and a turban'd Turk," 
 tying up his garters. He had no time to 
 make farther scrutiny then, being pressed 
 towards the door by the professional group; 
 he therefore, conceiving that he should find 
 his companion below, rushed down the 
 iron stair-case with the stream, and having 
 remained at the side until the curtain drew 
 up, tucked a little plump peasant girl under 
 his arm and gracefully made his debut. 
 
 It happened to be one of the grand nights 
 of the season, and the house had an ex- 
 ceedingly brilliant effect. All the boxes 
 were full, and while the people appeared to 
 be dovetailed into the pit, the spacious gal- 
 lery presented one mass of human beings, 
 which reached from the rail to the ceiling. 
 
 As soon as he could see clearly over the 
 foot-lights, which had in the first instance 
 dazzled his eyes, Valentine felt that as he 
 was there ostensibly with a view to the ex- 
 ercise of his talent, he might as well com- 
 mence operations as not; and as he saw a 
 small personage in one of the boxes on the 
 second tier near the proscenium, applaud- 
 ing the Prima Donna with extraordinary 
 vehemence, by shouting out, "bravo! bra- 
 vissimo!" and clapping his hands most vio- 
 lently, with the obvious view of catching 
 the eye of the lady, he thought that he 
 would proceed to promote the views of that 
 personage, at least so far as to render him 
 an object of attraction. 
 
 Accordingly when the applause, which 
 succeeded a really delightful scena, had 
 subsided, he dexterously threw his voice 
 into the identical box in which the lady- 
 killing personage in question was seated, 
 and exclaimed in tones of ecstacy, " Beau- 
 
 tiful! ye gods! oh! excellent! never heard 
 anything like it! encore! delicious, dernme." 
 
 " Order! order!" cried at least a hundred 
 voices on the instant. 
 
 "I tell you it is beautiful! demme! did 
 you ever? bravissimo! encore, encore, en- 
 core!" exclaimed Valentine; and the small 
 individual, whose voice he had assumed, 
 sat twiddling his whiskers and grinning 
 like an ape taking a bird's-eye view of the 
 country from a descending parachute. 
 
 "Order! order!" again became the gene- 
 ral cry, and every eye was directed towards 
 the particular box in question. 
 
 "Demme!" continued Valentine, "don't 
 I say that it's beautiful; and am I not per- 
 fectly in order] Did you ever hear any thing 
 half so magnificent! She's a great creature 
 oh! she's a great creature, demme!" 
 
 " Silence!" exclaimed several highly in- 
 dignant persons in the pit, "turn him out!" 
 
 " I repeat it," cried Valentine, " she is a 
 great creature." 
 
 Loud shouts of " Order, order! silence! 
 turn him out! drunk!" now proceeded from 
 every part of the house, while the little ill- 
 used gentleman, in a state of interesting 
 unconsciousness, sat wondering why every 
 glass in the house, both single and double 
 barrelled, was so impertinently brought to 
 bear upon him. 
 
 During the whole of this time the legiti- 
 mate performances were stopped; and as 
 the heroine of the opera had struck a cer- 
 tain position from which she could not 
 possibly move before she had uttered a cer- 
 tain exclamation, and could not possibly 
 give utterance to that exclamation before 
 she had received a certain cue, she very 
 quietly intimated the extreme propriety of 
 dropping the curtain, which was accord- 
 ingly done amid general uproar. 
 
 The very moment the curtain had fallen, 
 the attention of the little individual was ar- 
 rested by two persons who had been deputed 
 to expostulate with him on the excessive in- 
 convenienceof the course which they natural- 
 ly imagined he had been pursuing. To these 
 persons he was heard to proclaim his per- 
 fect innocence with considerable earnestness 
 and force, but they were seized with a fit of 
 the most inflexible incredulity, and marvel- 
 led that he should so far disgrace the name 
 he bore, as to descend to the utterance- of 
 so deliberate a falsehood as that of declaring 
 that the interruption had not proceeded from 
 him. Yet what could they do] They 
 could have sworn, and would have sworn, 
 that it had proceeded from him and him, 
 alone: yet here was a man, a highly dis- 
 tinguished patron of the opera, a nobleman! 
 who declared that if they had thus sworn 
 they would have committed an act of per- 
 
62 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 jury! What could they do? Why they 
 could do no more than they did express a 
 hope that the interruption might not be re- 
 newed, and retire. 
 
 As the little ill-used personage immedi- 
 ately after this became invisible to the 
 audience, the uproar speedily subsided; and 
 when the curtain again rose, the accom- 
 plished heroine was discovered in precisely 
 the same attitude as that in which she had 
 stood before it had fallen. The long-ex- 
 pected cue was then given, and then came 
 the piercing exclamation, and then a loud 
 burst of enthusiastic applause, during which 
 the group of choristers marched off the 
 stage, and as Valentine of course was com- 
 pelled to march with them, the audience 
 were left to the uninterrupted enjoyment of 
 the recitative, the duetts and the trios that 
 were to follow. 
 
 Now, when Valentine had ascertained 
 that the ladies and gentlemen of the choir 
 had two or three thousand bars' rest, he felt 
 it to be his duty to keep them out of that 
 mischief into which they were displaying 
 a disposition to enter by glancing, and kiss- 
 ing, and squeezing, and whispering the 
 softest possible nonsense to each other as 
 they stood indiscriminately at the wings. 
 Acting upon this amiable impulse, he look- 
 ed anxiously round with the view of occu- 
 pying their minds with something of a 
 more virtuous tendency, for he at that mo- 
 ment felt more strongly than ever that it 
 was absolutely incumbent upon every man 
 to check the progress of indiscretion by all 
 the means at his command. 
 
 Scarcely had he turned from these profes- 
 sional ladies and gentlemen, whose eyes 
 appeared to be swimming in liquid naughti- 
 ness, when he saw about thirty old pieces 
 of old scenery resting against the wall, and 
 conceived that he could not conveniently 
 promote the great cause of morality more 
 than by setting the gentlemen to work to 
 remove them. 
 
 With this extremely laudable object in 
 Tiew he therefore introduced behind the old 
 scenery in question a shrill cry of "mur- 
 der!" at which, of course, the ladies and 
 gentlemen started and stared at each other 
 in a really interesting state of amazement. 
 The cry was repeated; and the ladies be- 
 came alarmed, and crept to the panting 
 bosoms of the gentlemen for protection. 
 Again the cry was heard, and the excite- 
 ment became more intense, but as the 
 gentlemen, were equally affrighted with 
 the ladies, and manifested no disposition to 
 move, Valentine exclaimed in the voice of 
 a female, Release me! oh! help! get me 
 out! remove the scenes! remove the scenes, 
 or I faint!" 
 
 "Why don't 3 T ou come here and lend a 
 hand?" cried one of the carpenters who had 
 been attracted to the spot, "don't you hear! 
 haven't none of you got any bowels'?" 
 
 This forcible appeal to the humanities 
 had the effect of inducing the professional 
 gentlemen to approach the old scenes in a 
 body, when Valentine introduced a low 
 melancholy moan which inspired them 
 with the conviction that unless aid came 
 speedily all would be over. They there- 
 fore at once set to work, regardless of the 
 dust which lay upon each scene an inch 
 thick, regardless of the splendor of their 
 dresses, and of the dignity they had as- 
 sumed, in fact, regardless of all but the 
 removal of those frames which they natu- 
 rally imagined were pressing the life out of 
 some one. 
 
 " Stoop down!" cried the carpenter, when 
 about half the scenes had been removed, 
 " stoop down and creep out at the bottom." 
 
 "I cannot; I cannot! oh! do, do, remove 
 them!" cried Valentine in the voice of one 
 gasping for breath. 
 
 "Now bear a hand, gentlemen! bear a 
 hand quick!" cried the carpenter, and the 
 nobles, and the brigands, and the pure un- 
 sophisticated peasantry, already complete- 
 ly covered with thick black dust, again set 
 to work with unprecedented zeal, while 
 the ladies, whose natural curiosity had sub- 
 dued their alarm, were most anxiously 
 peeping as each scene was removed to 
 ascertain who on earth it could be, and 
 expressing certain rather unequivocal sus- 
 picions, having reference to the purpose for 
 which a lady had thus been induced to get 
 behind. 
 
 As each scene increased both in weight 
 and in size, the difficulty of removing them 
 at lengih became extreme; but Valentine 
 being resolved to keep them at it, stimu- 
 lated them perpetually to renewed exertions 
 by renewing his cries for instant succor. 
 Every man who was not actually engaged 
 upon the stage, was called upon loudly to 
 assist; and as the necessary, or rather the 
 required assistance was soon found to be 
 incompatible with the progress of the opera, 
 the lessee directed the curtain to be dropped, 
 and went forward to state that a lamentable 
 accident had unaccountably occurred, and to 
 solicit the indulgence of the audience for a 
 few moments, which the audience displayed 
 a highly laudable disposition to concede. 
 
 All hands were now at work with un- 
 questionable energy, and they rattled the 
 old scenes about in a style in which they 
 never had been rattled before. On tin- n - 
 moval of each, a dense cloud of dust 
 descended, but neither the nobles, the 
 peasants, nor the brigands, were to be 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 63 
 
 deterred from the performance of an act of 
 pure humanity by any consideration of that 
 kind. They worked away like colliers, and 
 were nearly as black, while the perspiration 
 gushed from every pore. 
 
 At length, by dint of almost super-human 
 exertions, they got to the three last scenes, 
 and as they appeared to be infinitely supe- 
 rior to the rest in point of weight, it was 
 suggested that, instead of removing them 
 bodily, it would answer every purpose if 
 their bases were drawn from the wall. 
 This excellent suggestion was acted upon 
 at once, but Valentine would not cease to 
 moan. 
 
 " Vill you not pe apel to come now out of 
 it?" inquired the stage-manager, who was a 
 Frenchman, and prided himself upon his 
 ability to speak English with the purity 
 and force of a native. 
 
 " Oh! no, no," cried Valentine faintly, 
 '* remove them oh! do remove them all." 
 
 " Vale, vale; put you mosh pe ver pig if 
 you vas non be apel to come avay now. 
 Vat for you vas git pehind a tall!" 
 
 "Quick! oh quick!" cried Valentine; 
 and another large scene was removed. 
 
 " Now giv to me you hand," said the 
 stage-manager, kneeling, and extending his 
 arm behind the two remaining scenes. 
 "Now ten, now," he continued, "come, 
 and I sail pull you out." 
 
 "I cannot reach it," said Valentine, "oh 
 give me some water." 
 
 " Poor ting!" exclaimed the amiable 
 stage-manager, "some vatare!" he shouted 
 to the men who were standing by, and 
 some water was immediately brought in a 
 can which he placed behind the scenes, and 
 pushed as far as he could reach. 
 
 As there were but two scenes now re- 
 maining, they were pulled further out from 
 the wall; and as the moaning had ceased, 
 and the general impression was that the 
 female had fainted, a lanthorn was brought, 
 with which the manager went behind, but 
 in a moment fell over the can and extin- 
 guished the light. Another lanthorn, how- 
 ever, was instantly procured, and he then 
 began to prosecute his search. 
 
 "Vhere vas you?" said he; "vere you 
 you creep to, poor ting! Come to me! 
 vere sail you pe got! vere te tepple hap you 
 creep?" he continued in a most emphatic 
 tone; and becoming somewhat alarmed on 
 being able discover no one, he came out at 
 once, and exclaimed with a shrug, " tere is 
 nopotty in tere a tall!" 
 
 " What!" cried the carpenter, seizing the 
 lanthorn, "I'll find somebody, I'll bet a 
 crown," and in he rushed, but in an instant 
 returned with the confirmation of the inte- 
 resting fact upon his tongue. 
 
 "Well! have you got her out?" inquired 
 the lessee, approaching. 
 
 " Non, che vas nevare in tere a tall!" re- 
 plied the astounded stage-manager. 
 
 " Not what!" cried the lessee. 
 
 " Nopotty vas tere." 
 
 " Pooh! nonsense! she has fainted. Here 
 give me a light," and in went the highly 
 indignant lessee; " are you sure," he in- 
 quired, after having looked in vain, " that 
 she did not glide out to escape detection?" 
 
 " Te tepple a pit!" replied the manager. 
 "I hap von eye upon him hole all te time! 
 che could not possible." 
 
 " You don't mean to suppose that you'll 
 make me believe she was not there, do you!" 
 
 " It is ver extraordinaire, ver mosh rum, 
 put tere vas noting ven I vas go in but te 
 vatare which we place in ourselfs." 
 
 As the audience at this moment began to 
 manifest impatience, the lessee, conceiving 
 it to have been some favorite of the stage- 
 manager whom he had allowed to escape, 
 uttered several indignant exclamations, and 
 ordered the legitimate performances to be 
 immediately resumed. The principals en- 
 gaged in the. next scene were therefore 
 summoned, and the curtain again rose de- 
 spite the earnest entreaties of the chorus- 
 master, who viewed the extremely dirty 
 condition of those whom he led with a 
 feeling of horror; for, independently of the 
 dust which adhered firmly to their poma- 
 tum-covered countenances, streams of per- 
 spiration thickly coated with vermillion, 
 had established themselves in all directions 
 and looked like distant rivulets of veritable 
 gore. The necessity for allowing these 
 professional individuals time to beautify 
 themselves, was therefore obvious to the 
 meanest capacity; but the lessee was in- 
 flexible, and, as shortly after this the next 
 chorus was called, on they went as they 
 were. 
 
 The excitement which at this particular 
 moment prevailed caused them naturally 
 enough to strike up the wrong chorus a 
 circumstance which so highly incensed a 
 fat ruby-nosed person who was prompting 
 in a little covered pigeon-hole justabove the 
 foot-lights; that after shouting violently 
 " Cedi il campo alia vendetta! cedi il campo 
 alia vendetta!" he was about to pitch his 
 book at the head of an individual who look- 
 ed like a long-faced fiend who had just been 
 scratched and" pelted by a mob of young imps, 
 when the band at once ceased operations. 
 This remarkable little incident had singu- 
 larly enough the effect of bringing the profes- 
 sional group to their recollection. They there- 
 fore commenced the right chorus at once, 
 and after dashing clean through it in a style 
 of which novelty was its only recommenda- 
 
64 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 tion, the first act concluded amidst a volley 
 of hisses, which five thousand serpents 
 might have endeavored to emulate in vain. 
 
 Between the first and second acts the pro- 
 fessional gentlemen were busily engaged in 
 washing and repainting their faces, while 
 the ladies w r ere wondering who it was that 
 had got behind the scenery, being all of 
 them firmly convinced that it was one of the 
 choir, and that she had glided from that 
 equivocal position unseen. The stage-ma- 
 nager, however, with whom they were con- 
 versing, would not admit even the bare pos- 
 sibility of such an escape. " Tere vas put 
 von vay," said he, " for to come out of te 
 place, and I hat my eye upon him, and no- 
 potty pass and so terefore it vas be te tep- 
 ple it vas any potty a tall, and he vas knock 
 me town ven I entare, and ten fly avay vit 
 himself." 
 
 During the whole of the time the profes- 
 sional gentlemen were making themselves 
 fit to be seen, Valentine was highly amus- 
 ed at their ridiculous and most improbable 
 surmises. It was, however, at length car- 
 ried unanimously, that whoever she was she 
 really " no better than she should be," but 
 how she escaped from behind was a mys- 
 tery which they all declared their utter iria- 
 hility to solve. 
 
 The call-boy now entered to summon the 
 choristers who descended, and the second 
 act commenced. The audience were evi- 
 dently piqued about something which might 
 have been easily explained; but as the im- 
 mediate object of Valentine was to restore 
 them to perfect good humor, he directed his 
 voice into the middle of the pit, and ex- 
 claimed in a half-suppressed tone, " mind 
 your pockets." 
 
 No sooner had this simple exclamation 
 been uttered, than a simultaneous move- 
 ment on the part of the gentlemen proved 
 how extremely anxious they were to pro- 
 fit by the advice which it conveyed; and 
 while each was ascertaining if all ho had 
 brought with him were safe, he cast an eye 
 of unwarrantable suspicion upon every in- 
 dividual in his immediate vicinity. 
 
 " Ladies! have a care!" shouted Valen- 
 tine; and the rustling of silk dresses be- 
 came really unexampled. * My watch!" 
 he continued in the voice of a female, " you 
 have pol it! my watch! oh my dear little 
 Witch!" 
 
 At this interesting moment the entire pit 
 rose, while the persons in the boxes look- 
 ed with great anxiety, but to the perfect 
 amazement of them all, they were utterly 
 unable to discover the lady from whom the 
 eaitl (l-ar little watch had been stolen. 
 
 "Officers! officers!" criod Valentine, is- 
 suming the same voice; and officers from 
 
 various parts of the house rushed at once 
 into the pit. 
 
 "I've got him!" continued Valentine. 
 
 k ' Where!" cried a gentleman armed with 
 a staff. 
 
 " Here! officers! officers!" and those re- 
 spectable functionaries followed the sound 
 with considerable zeal and dexterity. 
 
 " You know that you have it! you know 
 it too well! oh, give it me back and I'll let 
 you escape." 
 
 " No! hold him! hold him!" cried an 
 officer, who rushed to the spot from which 
 the sound had apparently proceeded, but 
 having reached the point proposed, he was 
 stung with disappointment. He could find 
 neither a person who had stolen a watch, 
 nor a person from whom any watch had 
 been stolen. The people around him were 
 staring at each other with astonishment, he 
 could not obtain even the slightest informa- 
 tion, and as the voice was heard no more, 
 it was taken at once for granted, that the 
 felony had been compromised. 
 
 With this conviction impressed deeply 
 upon their minds, the people gradually re- 
 sumed their seats, and when order was 
 somewhat restored, another desperate at- 
 tempt was made to proceed with the opera. 
 
 On the preliminary chord being struck 
 by the gentlemen in the orchestra, who had 
 just taken snuff all round with extraordi- 
 nary violence four of the principal artistes 
 dashed forward in a rage to sing an affect- 
 ing quartette. They commenced with an 
 apparent contempt for the music, and pro- 
 ceeded in an extremely careless style, as if 
 anxious to let the audience know that they 
 didn't care whether they sang it or not. In 
 order, therefore, that the house might be 
 somewhat enlivened, Valentine, before the 
 quartette was half finished, introduced a 
 faithful echo into the omnibus-box; and as 
 it was brought to bear upon some of the 
 Prima Donna's brilliant passages, that lady 
 gave a series of granite-piercing glances at 
 the echo, and bounced off the stage with 
 more fire than grace. 
 
 The progress of the opera was, there- 
 fore, again checked, and the audience be- 
 came highly indignant. They called loudly 
 and imperatively upon the lessee to appear, 
 and when he did appear they would not per- 
 mit him to speak. They saw him bowing 
 with due humility, and trembling with due 
 violence, but although they demanded an 
 explanation of these irregular proceedings, 
 they would by no means allow him to com- 
 ply with that demand. As he bent his 
 graceful body nearly double, and shru^ed 
 and grinned, and grunted, and pl.ire.l his 
 hand with great solemnity upon his IK -art, 
 he seemed to bo asking himself a series of 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 65 
 
 highly important questions, and answering 
 himself in the most unsatisfactery manner 
 possible. At length, however, he ventured 
 in an unrivalled attitude, to glide very 
 cleverly off the stage, with the view of 
 persuading the Prima Donna to re-appear. 
 But he found that that lady was still inex- 
 orable. Nothing could induce her to yield. 
 She declared that she would rather suffer 
 death than go forward again then; and 
 after having knocked one of her attendants 
 fairly down, and pitched a looking-glass 
 dexterously at the head of the other, she 
 vented her indignation upon the unhappy 
 lessee with extraordinary force and effect. 
 
 The noise in the body of the house still 
 continued; for, as the lessee had anticipated, 
 the audience viewed his departure as a 
 mark of disrespect. He peeped through a 
 hole in the curtain and trembled; then 
 listened at the wings, and kicked a carpen- 
 ter for sneezing; when, on being repeatedly 
 called for in tones that were particularly 
 unpleasing, he threw his hat at an innocent 
 scene-shifter with unwarrantable violence, 
 and went forward with the most profound 
 humility again. His reappearance was 
 hailed with a tremendous burst of anger, 
 but he boldly maintained his ground until 
 the lungs of the audience began to manifest 
 unequivocal symptoms of exhaustion; when, 
 getting as near the foot-lights as he com- 
 fortably could, he begged leave to announce, 
 that in consequence of the sudden and 
 severe indisposition of Madame Placidi, 
 Madame Gratiani, with their kind permis- 
 sion, would have the honor of going through 
 the remaining scenes. 
 
 On this proposition being put to the vote, 
 it was impossible to decide whether the 
 ayes or the noes had it; the lessee, however, 
 assumed that his motion had been carried 
 by an overwhelming majority, and left the 
 stage in order to prevail upon Madame 
 Gratiani, whom envy had placed upon the 
 shelf to go through the remainder of the 
 opera. The lady at first expressed her 
 unwillingness to do this, but when the 
 lessee had portrayed the deep enthusiasm 
 with which he stated the announcement of 
 her name had been hailed, the glowing 
 picture re-inspired her with hope, and she 
 hastened to prepare for a triumph. Just, 
 however, as Madame Gratiani was ready to 
 go on, the astounding fact became known 
 to Madame Placidi, who so suddenly recov- 
 ered from her serious indisposition, that she 
 insisted upon finishing the part herself. 
 The lessee, as a sort of punishment, de- 
 clared that as she would not, when she 
 felt that it could not be done without her, 
 she should not now she knew that it could; 
 but this had no other effect, than that of 
 7 
 
 making her the more desperate, and as the 
 lessee had had many striking proofs of her 
 amiable disposition, he eventually conceived 
 it to be more discreet under the circum- 
 stances to yield. He, therefore, appeared 
 before the audience again, to announce the 
 extraordinary fact of Madame Placidi hav- 
 ing happily recovered, and the performances 
 were once more resumed. 
 
 Now, as the lessee had been unable to 
 punish Madame Placidi, Valentine deter- 
 mined that, as a mere matter of justice, he 
 would. He therefore, again gave breath, 
 to the interesting echo, which at length, 
 seemed to amuse the audience rather than 
 not, but nothing could exceed in power, the 
 rage of Madame Placidi. Whenever she 
 came off the stage, no soul dared to approach, 
 her. She stamped and ground her teeth, 
 and bit her lips, until they bled; and if, 
 during her progress from the wings to her 
 room, any little inanimate object such for 
 instance, as a brush or a banner happened 
 to stand in her way, she seized it at once, 
 dashed it violently to the ground, and 
 trampled upon it with ineffable scorn. 
 
 Under all these circumstances, therefore, 
 the expediency of cutting the epera short, 
 was suggested with great feeling by the 
 bewildered stage-manager; and as this 
 really excellent suggestion was approved 
 in the proper quarter, the finale came before 
 it was expected, but it certainly appeared by 
 no means to be on that account the less wel- 
 come. 
 
 "Now," said the gentleman, who looked 
 as if he might have been half an Italian 
 and half a Turk, but whom Valentine 
 eventually found to be Horace, " let us 
 change our togs at once, and we shall be 
 down before the ballet commences." 
 
 Accordingly, up he and Valentine ran, 
 and after having hastily metamorphosed 
 themselves into something bearing the 
 semblance of respectable Christians, they 
 descended the cast-iron column once more. 
 
 The stage now assumed a totally different 
 aspect. The curtain was still down, and 
 innumerable sylph-like forms, with dresses 
 so short, and necks so white, and cheeks so 
 rosy, and ankles so thin, were gaily flitting 
 about in all directions. In the back ground 
 a group of little fairies were reclining on a 
 piece of deal board so painted as to convey 
 the idea of a bank of wild roses, while on 
 either side a row of angelic creatures were 
 engaged in lifting up their legs to an extra- 
 ordinary height an operation which they 
 repeated with so much perseverance, that 
 Valentine positively blushed. He felt it 
 to be impossible, however, for vice to re- 
 side in beings who looked so amiable, so 
 pure! yet while he was willing to attribute 
 
66 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 these games, in which they seemed to take 1 you think of 'em, eh! 
 delight, to a buoyant, playful spirit; he never- they!" 
 theless contended within himself, that they I "They are indeed 
 were games which ought strictly to be con- 
 fined to the play-room. But then, oh! how 
 beautiful they appeared! so innocent oh! 
 so happy! 
 
 Fine animals, aVt 
 
 ' They are indeed elegant creatures," 
 said Valentine; "but don't it strike you 
 that they are somewhat indelicate!" 
 
 Indelicate!" echoed Horace with 
 smile, " why you didn't expect to find 
 "Get along, you beast!" cried one of much delicacy here!" 
 them, addressing a very venerable looking " But look!" exclaimed Valentine, point 
 gentleman, who had transferred the roseate ing to a sylph whose left foot was on a 
 hue of her cheeks to the palms of his white level with the crown of her head; "now 
 kid gloves. " I'll slap your face for you, that appears to me to be highly improper, 
 you old fool!" observed the angel in con- Horace again smiled, and after a few 
 tinuation, and in driving past Valentine, more equally innocent observations, on the 
 she left a great portion of the snowy white- | part of Valentine, exclaimed, " Why, what 
 
 ness of her neck upon the sleeves of his coat, 
 while the venerable old gentleman trying 
 with all his might to look fascinating, 
 continued to hobble after her with all the 
 youthful agility he could assume. Valen 
 
 do you think these old venerables come 
 here for! Don't you see how spicily they 
 gloat over the scene! But look presently 
 at those who have their families in the 
 house. See what out-and-out jolly long 
 
 tine was amazed " Is it possible that such faces they'll pull! Why by the time they 
 an exclamation," thought he, "could have get round to their wives and daughters, who 
 proceeded from so elegant a creature as are perhaps quite as beautiful as the crea- 
 that!" And he looked at his coat-sleeve tures that are here, they will all look as 
 again; but as he subsequently heard this moral as maggots." 
 
 identical angel call the venerable gentleman At this moment a bell began to ring, 
 in question her dear, he fancied that he when the stage was cleared, and up went 
 must have run against either a baker or a the curtain. As Horace had predicted, the 
 newly-whitewashed wall; but could by no majority of the old gentlemen at once trot- 
 means obliterate the impression, that al- ted off, and as Valentine had learned quite 
 though the old gentleman might be her grand- sufficient to convince him that virtue was 
 papa and very tiresome, moreover, and teas- not the distinguishing characteristic of 
 ing, it was still extremely wrong of her to those who remained, he felt that he might 
 call him a beast. probably be conferring an essential benefit 
 
 Having taken a general survey of this upon society by subjecting them to a griev- 
 interesting scene, he proceeded towards a ous disappointment. 
 
 group of aristocratic individuals the major- "Wait for me, love, in the hall!" said 
 ity of whom were about sixty years of age he, whispering in the ear of an ancient in- 
 near the curtain. They had formed dividual with the palsy, as a nyrnph glided 
 themselves into a circle, and in the center past him to go upon the stage, 
 a most beautiful girl was dancing apparently "Yes, yes, my little dear, yes I will," 
 in a state of the most perfect unconsciousness said the old gentleman, conceiving that the 
 of the presence of those by whom she was invitation had proceeded from the nymph; 
 surrounded. Her hair was studded with and he rubbed his hands rapturously, and 
 flowers and golden combs, while her beau- pressed his withered lips, and sighed, and 
 tifully symmetrical neck was adorned smiled, and looked as killing as he conve- 
 with a row of sparkling diamonds secured niently could. 
 
 to her bosom by almost invisible pieces of "Oh, monstrous!" cried Valentine, throw- 
 thread. Her dress was of the purest white- ing his voice behind the old gentleman; " for 
 ness and most delicate texture, and as it shame, sir, an old man like you!" 
 scarcely descended twelve inches below her The palsied old gentleman turned round 
 hips, it had the appearance of an open para- amazed; but being unable to ascertain 
 sol, as she twirled round and round upon whence the sound had proceeded, he, in- 
 the point of her toe. While bounding, and spired at that, moment some feeling \\ Inch 
 pirouetting and cutting all sorts of graceful induced him to move from the spot with all 
 capers, the elderly gentlemen around her possible despatch. 
 
 appeared to be lost in admiration; but there In this labor of love Valentine was '/.pal- 
 was in the countenances of them all an ously engaged for the next half hour, and 
 expression so peculiar, that Valentine was when he had made about fifty nppnintnn-nts, 
 utti-rly unable to divine what description of the whole of which were to be kc |>t in tin 
 feeling it portrayed. hall, hr was urged by Horace to <|uit the 
 
 " W T ell," said Horace, who had just scene, which hi; did without being hy any 
 escaped from one of the fairies, "what do means satisfied that its tendency was to 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 promote the cause of virtue or to cultivate 
 those feelings which bind man to man. 
 
 Horace now endeavored to prevail upon 
 Valentine to accompany him to what he 
 called his "club," a large house in the 
 vicinity of the theatre, the door of which 
 was partially open, and which appeared to 
 
 67 
 
 be brilliantly illuminated; but as it was 
 then twelve o'clock, and as he wished to 
 rise early in the morning, he excused him- 
 self, and having called a coach, he left 
 Horace to keep some appointment at the 
 "club," and proceeded to the house of his 
 guardian alone. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 VALENTINE'S TRIP TO GRAVESEND. 
 
 WITH all their knowledge of the human 
 heart, and of the springs of human actions, 
 of the impulses, the promptings, and the 
 guides of the soul, philosophers have never 
 yet deigned to decide whether it be in 
 reality natural for a perfectly unsophisti- 
 cated youth to view the general conduct of 
 our dashing metropolitan rips with con- 
 tempt or emulation. Such a youth, if he 
 be an observer at all, cannot fail to perceive 
 in those rips the total absence of every vir- 
 tuous or really honorable principle; he can- 
 not fail to mark that they are selfish, 
 heartless, brutal, and dead to every sense 
 of common justice; and yet our grave men 
 will not honor the world by deciding whe- 
 ther nature inspires him who perceives all 
 this with the spirit of rivalry or that of 
 disgust. 
 
 Now this is indeed a most extraordinary 
 piece of business; but, without dwelling 
 long upon a subject so profound without 
 stopping the current of these adventures to 
 inquire whether the feelings which actuate 
 those who delight in setting honor, virtue, 
 justice, and decency at defiance, are attri- 
 butable to property, blood, or education it 
 may be said with perfect safety, that Va- 
 lentine, whether naturally or not, was im- 
 pressed with no very high notions of Horace, 
 with reference either to the strength of his 
 head or to the soundness of his heart, for 
 having watched his actions narrowly, and 
 viewed the direct tendency of each, he had 
 seen quite sufficient to convince him, that 
 circumstances might make him a really 
 great villain, but never could make him a 
 really great man. 
 
 With this conviction deeply impressed 
 upon his mind, he wound up his watch and 
 went to sleep, and having dreamt of fairy 
 land throughout the night, he rose unusually 
 early, ate a most substantial breakfast, and 
 started at once for the Steam Packet wharf. 
 
 It happened to be an extremely hot morn- 
 ing, and as the sun was making desperate 
 efforts to send its bright rays through the 
 
 vapors which mantled the earth, the spar- 
 rows, resolved to do business while they 
 were able, were hopping about gaily from 
 tile to tile, and from brick to brick, well 
 knowing that when the mist had been dis- 
 pelled, those tiles and those bricks would 
 be too hot to hold them. 
 
 As he proceeded, the public vehicles 
 were rattling over the stones with remark- 
 able velocity, and while the horses were 
 adorned with blue and yellow rosettes, with 
 the view of enabling them to enjoy them- 
 selves with the knowledge of its being 
 Sunday, each driver proudly sported his 
 gayest clothes and the largest bunch of 
 wall-flowers a penny could procure. 
 
 As Valentine drew near the wharf, crowds 
 of persons were hastening in precisely the 
 same direction: some with children in their 
 arms, some with baskets of provisions in 
 their hands, and others, who, although with 
 neither children nor provisions, appeared 
 just as happy as those who had both. 
 
 It was interesting to analyse the mass of 
 individuals who crowded the deck of the 
 vessel, for they indicated their social posi- 
 tions as plainly as if each had been stamp- 
 ed with a " distinctive die." 
 
 There stood the mechanic, the creases in 
 whose coat told plainly not only that it was 
 worn but once a week, but that infinite care 
 had been taken to preserve the pristine 
 beauty of the nap by keeping it folded in a 
 trunk or drawer. There was, however, a 
 strongly marked difference between the mar- 
 ried and single mechanic; for while the 
 former was calculating precisely how much 
 the trip would cost, the latter, in the pleni- 
 tude of his liberality, was priding himself 
 upon the force with which he sent to perdi- 
 tion all idea of the expense. Nor was the 
 distinction between the married and the 
 single of this class developed by the gen- 
 tlemen alone: the countenance of the mar- 
 ried lady displayed an anxiety about her 
 little household gods, and a strong disposi- 
 tion to show her authority as a wife by find- 
 
68 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ing fault with every trifling thing that oc- 
 curred, while the single lady had little 
 thought indeed of home, and being resolved 
 to appear highly delighted with every thing, 
 laughed very merrily at anything or no- 
 thing. But the mode of wearing the shawl 
 was alone sufficient to mark the distinction 
 between them; for while the married lady 
 would have hers spread upon her back in 
 order that the whole of the pattern might be 
 seen, the single lady carried hers gracefully 
 upon her arm, with the only ostensible view 
 of showing that she had such a thing as a 
 shawl in her possession. 
 
 Aloof from these persons stood those who 
 kept chandlers', butchers', and green-gro- 
 cers' shops; and each gentleman belonging 
 to this class prided himself especially upon 
 having a handsome turn-out by his side in 
 the shape of his " missis" a lady who not 
 cnly dresses herself, but superintends the 
 adornment of her husband. He must wear 
 his chain thus, and his shirt pin thus, and 
 as she allows herself only, to tie his cravat, 
 she has, of course, whatever knot she may 
 happen to fancy. His hair must go so, 
 and his waistcoat so in a word, there is 
 nothing in which she has not a hand, for al- 
 though it may be true that she permits him 
 to shave his own chin, he must be careful 
 not to place his domestic peace in peril by 
 spoiling the shape of his whiskers. With 
 regard to the adornment of her own person, 
 she exercises of course, her undoubted 
 prerogative, by wearing precisely whatever 
 she thinks proper. If she cannot procure a 
 couple of red roses sufficiently large, she 
 will establish a brace of becoming sunflow- 
 ers between her cap and bonnet, the size of 
 which latter affair is invariably immense; 
 and she will have a long white veil and a 
 plume of feathers, whether veils and fea- 
 thers be worn by the aristocracy or not; 
 and beyond all dispute when ladies in this 
 sphere are dressed, they are dressed, for 
 there never did appear in any rainbow a 
 color that they have not got something 
 about them to match. But even these with 
 their husbands did not constitute in fact the 
 elite of the vessel; there were very, very 
 different beings on board; the milliners, 
 the shopmen, and the clerks! but although 
 the clerks and shopmen might he said to 
 form one class of persons, the difference be- 
 tween even them was distinctly developed, 
 for tho clerks had pale faces and delicate 
 hands, while the faces of the shopmen 
 were full and their hands red as blood. 
 'J'li' re was moreover something in i! 
 pression of the rye, by which this dis- 
 tinction was marked. The eyes of the 
 clerks were comparatively quiet and unas- 
 !, but the shopmen had really very 
 
 impudent eyes, and while they were lost in 
 admiration of the ladies, the clerks appear- 
 ed lost in admiration of themselves. 
 
 When the clock struck ten between five 
 and six hundred individuals had managed to 
 establish themselves upon the deck, and as 
 the band, consisting of a harp, a violin, and 
 a fife, began to play a highly popular tune, 
 the boat started. Ginger beer and bottled 
 stout were in immediate requisition, and 
 while many of the unencumbered gentlemen 
 were smoking their cigars, Valentine was 
 learning the various orders that were giving 
 by the Captain through the boy who stood 
 just above the place in which the engine 
 was working. 
 
 The vessel had not proceeded far, when, 
 fancying that he could imitate the voice of 
 the boy exactly, he determined to try the 
 effect of the experiment; and as he had be- 
 come quite au fait to the orders that were 
 given, the very moment the boat had passed 
 the shipping, he commenced with " Ease 
 ar!" 
 
 "No, no: go on," said the Captain. 
 
 " Go on!" cried the boy. 
 
 " Ease ar!" shouted Valentine again. 
 
 " Who told you to ease her?" said the 
 Captain to the boy. 
 
 " Stop ar!" cried Valentine, and the en- 
 gine stopped at once. 
 
 11 What are you about, sir!" shouted the 
 Captain, " you'd better mind what you are 
 after. Go on sir, and let's have no more 
 of that nonsense." 
 
 " Go on!" cried the boy, who couldn't 
 exactly understand it, although he looked 
 round and scratched his head with great 
 energy. 
 
 At this moment a wherry was seen just 
 ahead waiting to put three passengers on 
 board, and as the vessel approached her, 
 tlje Captain raised his hand. 
 
 " Ease ar!" cried the boy who was watch- 
 ing that hand, and as it moved again, he 
 ! added " stop ar!" when the steps were let 
 j down, and a man stood ready with a boat- 
 hook secured by a rope, while the water- 
 ! man was pulling away with all the strength 
 he had in him. 
 
 ' Go on!" cried Valentine, just as tho 
 
 ! boat had reached the side, and the vessel 
 
 dashed away and left the \vhcrry behind her. 
 
 "Stop her!" shouted the Captain very 
 angrily; " what is the matter with you, sir, 
 tins morning?" 
 
 kk Stop ar!" cried the innocent boy; and 
 the waterman, who was very old and not 
 very strong, pulled away again as hard as 
 he could pull; but as he had to row against 
 i In- tide, and had been left some considera- 
 ble distain-r behind, it was a long time, 
 before he could manage to get up 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 69 
 
 although he perspired very freely. He did, 
 however, at length succeed in getting along- 
 side; but just as he was reaching the steps 
 again, Valentine cried, "Move her astarn!" 
 when, as the vessel went back very fast 
 with the tide, she left the wherry some con- 
 siderable distance ahead. 
 
 " Stop her! you scoundrel! go on! What 
 d'ye mean, sir?" shouted the Captain in- 
 dignantly. 
 
 " Stop ar! Go on!" cried the boy, who 
 could not make it out exactly even then 
 " ease ar!" he cried again, as the captain 
 waved his hand " stop ar!" 
 
 44 Go on!" cried Valentine, in precisely 
 the same tone, and the vessel again left the 
 wherry behind her. 
 
 As the Captain, at this interesting mo- 
 ment, threw his hat at the boy, and as the 
 boy began to rub his head violently, as if it 
 ha,d struck him, the vessel proceeded so 
 far before the order to " go on," had been 
 counteracted, that the waterman, feeling 
 that they were having a game with him, 
 quietly gave the thing up. 
 
 Now the Captain was really a remarkable 
 man, but the chief characteristics of his 
 mind were even more remarkable than 
 those of his body. He had been a most 
 extraordinary swearer, but having imbibed 
 a propensity for literature and art, a ten 
 months' quiet indulgence in that propensity 
 had made him altogether a different indi- 
 vidual. Instead of going, like a man with- 
 out a soul, every evening to a neighboring 
 public house to smoke his pipe, and to 
 have his stint namely, seven four-penny- 
 worths of hot gin and water, and he always 
 knew when he had had that stint by the 
 seven pewter spoons which he had placed 
 in a row before him he kept philosophi- 
 cally at home, with the view of obtaining 
 a perfect mastery over the subjects of 
 Theology, Geology, Phrenology, and Phy- 
 siology, and as for swearing! it will be 
 necessary only to say this, that he had 
 sworn that he would never swear again. 
 
 How then to express his feelings when 
 irritated, became a difficulty which he had 
 every day to surmount. He had not the 
 least notion of bridling his passion; his 
 object was simply to bridle his tongue; and 
 as swearing if use be indeed second na- 
 ture had clearly become natural to him, 
 he was frequently in danger of bursting 
 some very important blood-vessel, because 
 he would not give vent to his rage in the 
 language to which he had been so long 
 accustomed. He would keep it pent up, 
 and it was pent up while the steamer was 
 dodging the wherry; but when he found 
 that the waterman had ceased to ply his 
 sculls, and that the opposition vessel would 
 
 have the three passengers in consequence, 
 his rage knew no bounds, "You beauty!" 
 cried he to the boy at length, finding that 
 he must either say something or burst. 
 "Oh! bless your pretty eyes! You under- 
 stand me!" 
 
 " Ease ar!" cried Valentine. 
 
 "At it again!" exclaimed the Captain; 
 "oh, you darling, you sweet pretty boy! 
 Oh, I'll give you pepper! ony let me come 
 down to you, that's all, you duck, and I'll 
 give you the beautifullest towelling you 
 ever enjoyed. Let her go, sir." 
 
 "Go on!" whined the boy. "It a'n't 
 me; I can't help it." 
 
 " What! Say that again ony say it 
 and if I don't make you spin round and 
 round, like a lying young cockchafer, seize 
 me. And the poor boy began to dig his 
 knuckles in his eyes, and to whine a repe- 
 tition of what was held to a falsehood. 
 
 "Ay, whine away, my dear!" cried the 
 Captain, "whine away! If you don't hold 
 that noise, I'll corne down and give you a 
 clout o' one side o' th' head that you never 
 had afore!" 
 
 " Ease ar!" cried Valentine. 
 
 " What, won't you be quiet]" 
 
 "Stop ar!" 
 
 " What is it you mean, you young 
 angel? What is it you mean?" cried the 
 Captain, as he stood in a sitting posture, 
 with his hands upon his knees, "c?o you 
 want a good welting] ony say, and you 
 shall catch, my dear, the blessedest rope's- 
 ending you ever had any notion on yet. 
 Now I give you fair warning. If I have 
 any more of this, if it's ever so little, I'll 
 come down and give you the sweetest 
 hiding that ever astonished your nerves! 
 So ony look out, my dear! Take a friend's 
 advice, and look out. Well! are we ,to 
 perceedl" 
 
 " Go on!" cried the boy; and he still 
 worked away with his knuckles, and screw- 
 ed up his features into the ugliest form they 
 were capable of assuming. 
 
 " Oh you young beauty! you know what 
 I mean, cried the Captain, as he ground his 
 great teeth and shook his fists at the inno- 
 cent boy, whose eyes were by this time so 
 swollen, that he could scarcely see out of 
 them at all. " You stink for a good tan- 
 ning, and I'll ease your mind, my dear if 
 I don't, may I be saved! So now you 
 know my sentiments." And having de- 
 livered himself loudly to this effect, he 
 thrust his hands triumphantly into his 
 breeches pockets, and directed the whole 
 of his attention ahead. 
 
 His eye was, however, no sooner off the 
 boy, than Valentine again cried " Ease ar! 
 stop ar!" but long before the sound of the 
 
 7* 
 
70 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 last " ar" had died away, the captain seized 
 a rope about as thick as his wrist, and with- 
 out giving utterance even to a word, jumped 
 down upon the deck with a deep inspiration 
 of the spirit of vengeance. 
 
 " Away boy! run!" cried Valentine, 
 quickly; and the boy, who was anything 
 but an idiot, darted, like lightning, among 
 the passengers. The Captain, at starting, 
 was close to his heels; but the boy shot 
 ahead with such skill, and then dodged 
 him round and round, and in out with so 
 much tact and dexterity, that it soon be- 
 came obvious that he had been chased in a 
 manner not very dissimilar before. 
 
 " Lay hold of that boy," cried the Cap- 
 tain, " lay hold of him there!" but the pas- 
 sengers, who rather enjoyed the chase, 
 refused to do any such thing. They, on 
 the contrary, endeavored to shield the boy; 
 and whenever they fancied that the Captain 
 was gaining ground, although he would not 
 have caught him in a fortnight, a dozen of 
 the stoutest would of course accidentally 
 place themselves quietly before him. 
 
 " Come here!" cried the Captain, panting 
 for breath, " Will you mind what I say, sir? 
 come here!" but the boy, who didn't seem 
 to approve of that course, did discreetly re- 
 fuse to accept the invitation, and the Cap- 
 tain was, in consequence, after him again. 
 
 At length Valentine raised a contemptu- 
 ous laugh, and as it had in an instant at 
 least a hundred echoes, the Captain's 
 philosophy opened his eyes, and he saw 
 the propriety of giving up the chase. 
 
 ** Here, Robinson!" said he, "just give 
 a look out here. Bless his little soul, he 
 shall have a quilting yet," and after telling 
 the gentlemen below to go on, he silently 
 ascended the paddle-box again, and Robin- 
 son took the boy's place. 
 
 The vessel now proceeded without inter- 
 ruption, and as Valentine could not con- 
 veniently imitate Robinson's voice, until 
 he had actually heard Robinson speak, he 
 left foj a time that particular spot, for the 
 purpose of looking a little about him. The 
 first person he encountered was a stoutly 
 built black-whiskered gentleman, who was 
 engaged in the destruction of a nice little 
 book, by wantonly tearing out the leaves, 
 and disposing of each for two shillings. 
 The remarkable avidity with which these 
 leaves were purchased, led Valentine nalu 
 rally to believe that they contained some 
 very valuable information. He, therefore, 
 bought one of them at once, and having 
 easily made himself master of its contents, 
 cried throwing his voice behind tin d< 
 stroyer "Now, where are my seven?" 
 -even?" said the destroyer, "yes; three 
 
 ive, seven," and seven of the leaves were 
 orn out at one pull. 
 
 " Now then!" said Valentine, assuming 
 the same voice. 
 
 " Here they are, sir, here they are," said 
 the destroyer. 
 
 " Well, hand 'em over, will you?" cried 
 Valentine. 
 
 ' Here, sir; seven, sir? seven?" and the 
 seven were offered to every man near him. 
 
 " Me and my missis vonts two," observed 
 a gentleman who held his pocket open with 
 one hand, and dived the other down to the 
 bottom. 
 
 " Tip us a couple, old boy," said another, 
 who sported a hat with a nine-inch brim. 
 
 i4 O pie sir, pa wants flee," said a very 
 little lady with four ringlets hanging down 
 behind rather thicker than her arm. 
 
 " Well! where are my seven?" cried Val- 
 entine again, assuming the same voice as 
 before. 
 
 "None o' your larks yer know; cos it 
 wont fit," said the angry destroyer without 
 turning round. 
 
 " Then I'll just go ashore without paying- 
 at all," observed Valentine. 
 
 " Will yer?" said he who held the book 
 with an ironical smile, at the same time 
 looking full in the face of an individual 
 who happened to be laughing at the mo- 
 ment. "Then praps you jist wont; for I'll 
 jist keep a hextry look out. You call your- 
 self a genelman, don't yer? So don't I;" 
 and his blood began to boil, and his veins 
 began to swell, and he tore some more 
 leaves out with great indignation. 
 
 Valentine then at once proceeded to the 
 " Saloon," but as he found only a few 
 young ladies with their lovers indulging 
 tenderly in sweet discourse, and sipping 
 from time to time dead ginger beer, he left 
 them to open their hearts to each other, and 
 made his way into the "cabin." In this 
 place the ladies and gentlemen seemed for 
 the most part to have the same object in 
 view, but were infinitely less sentimental 
 in its pursuit. Bottled stout was apparent- 
 ly the favorite beverage, but some had a 
 little gin-and-water on the top, and as most 
 of the gentlemen were smoking, each ap- 
 peared to be then in the full indulgence of 
 the very purest sublunary pleasure, by 
 holding a pipe in his right hand, and clasp- 
 ing the waist of his intended \vith the left. 
 
 Their conversation was by no means of a 
 strictly private character. That which pre- 
 vailed, touched the lowness of wages gene- 
 rally, and in order to demonstrate the cause 
 of this remarkable state of things, an in- 
 dividual was creating an immense sensa- 
 tion, by showing the absolute necessity for 
 the adoption of universal suffrage. The 
 
VALEiNTINE VOX. 
 
 71 
 
 noise which proceeded from this highly ac- 
 complished orator, drowned the voices of 
 all who wished to get a word in " edge- 
 ways," and if any one presumed to offer an 
 opinion, which happened to be even in the 
 slightest degree opposed to that which he 
 had expressed, a volly of abuse, couched in 
 terms neither elegant nor grammatical, was 
 perfectly sure to assail him. 
 
 At length, Valentine, anxious to ascertain 
 the extent to which he would go in support 
 of his principles, took occasion to observe 
 in a very gruff voice, as the orator was 
 denouncing every man as a traitor, who 
 hesitated to go what he termed "the ole 
 og," with him " We don't want uniwersal 
 suffrage here." 
 
 " Ve don't vont huniwersle suffrage!" 
 cried the orator. " Lor sen I may live! 
 not vont it? Veil strike me! not vont huni- 
 wersle suff Veil, may I be kicked to the 
 middle o' next veek! Vy ve vont nothink 
 helse! I am for hevery man bein alike vith- 
 out hextinction; and I means for to say this, 
 that hevery man as isn't of the same senti- 
 ments, ought to be druv out o' society. 
 Not vont huniwersle Well may I but 
 stop, let's ave a little hargriment about that 
 ere. Now then Vy don't ve vont the 
 suffrage to be huniwersle? That's the ques- 
 tion!" and the orator winked and gave his 
 head a most significant nod. " Vy don't 
 ve vont the suffrage to be huniwersle?" 
 
 " Because," replied Valentine, throwing 
 his voice to the other end of the cabin 
 " Because every fool like you would have 
 it then to abuse." 
 
 That was sufficient. The orator laid 
 down his pipe; took a deep draught of stout; 
 pulled his coat off; tucked his shirt-sleeves 
 above the elbows, and challenged the voice 
 to a "kipple o' rounds jist ony a kipple!" 
 
 In one moment the w^liole cabin was in 
 an uproar. The ladies were respectfully 
 begging their beloveds to abstain from all 
 interference, while the orator's lady clung to 
 his neck, and with tears in her eyes, im- 
 plored him not to " bemean himself by 
 dirtying his hands with any sich low-bred 
 feller." 
 
 For some considerable time, the enraged 
 orator was inexorable; but he was at length 
 prevailed upon to put on his coat, when, al- 
 though he vowed vengeance upon all who 
 dared to differ with him in opinion, the 
 minds of the ladies and their lovers were 
 once more at ease. 
 
 There were, however, several married 
 gentlemen here whose ladies were languish- 
 ing on deck, and as Valentine thought this 
 extremely unfair, he went up with a view 
 to their immediate re-union. 
 
 "Do you know," said he, whispering, 
 
 in an assumed voice of course, in the ear of 
 a highly dressed dame, " do you know 
 whom your husband is kissing in the 
 cabin?" The lady looked round with an 
 expression of amazement. " Do you know 
 her!" he continued, and although quite un- 
 able to discover who had spoken, she start- 
 ed up at once and went to take a survey. 
 
 "Don't let your husband drink any more 
 of that gin," said he to another with pre- 
 cisely the same result. "Do you suffer 
 your husband to treat every girl he meets'?" 
 and thus he went on until he had sent 
 nearly all the married ladies, whose hus- 
 bands had absented themselves, into the 
 cabin. 
 
 " Ease hor?" cried Robinson, in a rough 
 heavy tone. 
 
 " That's the voice to imitate!" said Va- 
 lentine to himself. " Now's the time for 
 me to reinstate the boy," and as he saw a 
 boat making towards the vessel ahead, he 
 shouted with true Robinsonian energy, 
 "Goon!" 
 
 " No, no!" cried the Captain, " no, no! 
 you're as bad as the boy!" 
 
 " Ease hor!" shouted Robinson, " / 
 didn't speak!" 
 
 " Go on!" cried Valentine, and round 
 went the paddles again, for the engineer 
 himself now began to be excited. 
 
 " Do you want to drive me mad!" cried 
 the Captain. 
 
 " What d'yar mean?" shouted Robinson, 
 "that wasn't me!" 
 
 " What! what!" exclaimed the Captain, 
 " not you! Oh Robinson, Robinson! don't 
 you know, Robinson, how very wrong it is 
 for to tell a blessed falsity for to hide a 
 fault?" 
 
 " I tell you it wasn't me then! If you 
 don't like to believe me you may call out 
 yourself!" and Robinson walked to the 
 head of the vessel, and laying very violent 
 hands upon a rope, dashed it desperately 
 down upon the deck, when, having thus 
 taken his measure of vengeance, he folded 
 his arms, and seemed to feel a little bet- 
 ter. 
 
 " Will you promise to behave yourself, 
 boy, if I take you on again?" cried the 
 Captain. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the boy, as well as he 
 could, considering that his mouth was at 
 that moment full of bread and butter; when, 
 watching the motion of the Captain's hand, 
 he cried " ease ar! stop ar!" for the boat 
 was still approaching. 
 
 The boy now emptied his mouth as soon 
 as possible, and wiped his lips clean with 
 a handfull of oily tow, when Valentine, de- 
 termined to let the little fellow recover the 
 good opinion of the Captain by pursuing 
 
LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the. proper course, proceeded to the side of 
 the vessel. 
 
 In the boat, which drew near, sat an 
 ejderl.y gentleman, and an exceedingly ele- 
 gant young 1 person, who appeared to be his 
 daughter. Valentine was struck with the 
 extreme beaut^ of her countenance, and 
 gazed on her intently. He felt that he had 
 never beheld so beautiful a creature before; 
 and the nearer she approached the side of 
 the vessel which was still, although the 
 engine had been stopped, going gently, the 
 more his rapture increased. Just, however, 
 as the person who had the management of 
 the hook caught the head of the boat, the 
 old gentlemen rose from his seat, when the 
 suddenness of the unexpected jerk which is 
 invariably given at that moment, sent him 
 back with so much violence, that he was 
 plunged into the river in an instant. 
 
 "My father!" shrieked the lady, "my 
 father!" and extending her arms, she fell 
 breathless upon him. 
 
 " Save them!" shouted fifty of the pas- 
 sengers at once. 
 
 " Let the boat go!" cried the waterman, 
 "let the boat go!" But the hand of the 
 man who held the boat-hook was powerless, 
 and as the bodies clasped together were 
 floating with the tide, Valentine rushed to 
 the stern of the vessel, and dashed at once 
 into the stream. The force with which he 
 plunged carried him down to a great depth, 
 and his clothes became so weighty that 
 they would scarcely allow him to rise, and 
 when he did rise he found himself still 
 some considerable distance from them; but 
 he struck out gallantly, and reached them 
 at the moment they were sinking to rise no 
 more. The first thing he caught was the 
 hair of the father, whose effort to seize the 
 hand which held him was instantaneous; 
 but Valentine dexterously evaded his grasp, 
 and having caught the dress of the lady, 
 whose arms were still twined round her fa- 
 ther's neck, he held them up at arm's 
 length, while the boats were approaching. 
 The struggles of the old gentleman to seize 
 Valentine now became desperate. His 
 contortions were violent in the extreme. 
 He dashed, and plunged, and struck at him 
 like a maniac, and did at length succeed in 
 winding his legs round the body of Valen- 
 tine so firmly, that had it not been for the 
 aid which arrived at the moment, they must 
 inevitably have gone down together, for 
 even when they had been dragged into the 
 boat, the old gentleman would not relin- 
 quish his hold until they had managed t<> 
 convince him of the fact, that he and his 
 daughter were perfectly safe. 
 
 Tin: vessel, which had been backing all 
 the time with the tide, now arrived at the 
 
 spot; and when the poor old gentleman had 
 been assisted on board, Valentine took the 
 young lady, who had fainted, in his arms, 
 and having reached the deck, proe^ded at 
 once to the saloon, where every attention 
 was paid to her and her father, with a view 
 to their immediate restoration. 
 
 All being now perfectly secure, Valentine 
 left the saloon for the cabin, and on his \vay 
 a hundred hands were extended towards him 
 by the passengers, who warmly exclaimed, 
 " God bless you, my fine fellow! Nobly 
 done! God bless you!" The ladies were 
 deeply affected; and shed tears of joy as he 
 passed, and would have dried his dripping 
 clothes in their bosoms. 
 
 On reaching the cabin, he sent one of the 
 men to the steward for a shirt and what- 
 ever other clothes he might happen to have, 
 and while the steward was engaged in look- 
 ing out a complete suit, he undressed, and 
 after drying himself as well as he could 
 without assistance, he got one of the pas- 
 sengers, who happened to be a master- 
 blacksmith, to rub him down with a rough 
 towel until his entire body became red as 
 blood. 
 
 As soon as this glowing operation had 
 been performed, he received a full suit from 
 the hands of the steward. The first thing 
 he put on was a rough-checked shirt, and 
 then followed a pair of fine white lambs- 
 wool hose which belonged to the amiable 
 stewardess; he then drew on a pair of 
 breeches, in which Daniel Lambert himself 
 would not have felt at all uncomfortable, 
 and then a pair of real smuggler's boots, 
 which were indeed a decent fit, considering; 
 then a waistcoat which had to be doubled 
 over and over again at the back, but even 
 then all the persuasion in the world couldn't 
 make it come close, and when by way of a 
 finishing touch, he got into the steward's 
 striped jacket the sleeves of which he 
 tucked up about a quarter of a yard, in order 
 to give his hands a breath of air his tout 
 ensemble was so complete, that a stranger 
 might naturally have been led to infer, that 
 if the clothes he then wore did lit him tho 
 day previous, he must have had a very bad 
 night of it indeed. 
 
 However, thus attired he returned to the 
 saloon, to see how those whom he had res- 
 cued were faring. He found the young 
 lady recovering fast, and her father giving 
 utterance to many fervent ejaculations; hut 
 the moment they were informed that he who 
 had saved them was present, the old g-n- 
 tlem.m alVectionatoly grasped one hand, 
 while the lady seized the other and kissed 
 it w. irmly. 
 
 "My brave young fellow! ('<><! hless 
 you!" exclaimed the old gentleman, when, 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 73 
 
 conceiving from his dress that he belonged 
 to the vessel, he added, " Here, here is my 
 card: call at my house, and I'll reward you; 
 my brave young man, I'll reward you." 
 
 Valentine, perceiving his mistake, smiled, 
 but took the card and spoke to the lady, 
 who though extremely pale, looked more 
 beautiful than before. 
 
 " Come, drink, my fine fellow! I like 
 you! you're a trump!" cried a jolly look- 
 ing gentleman, in checked trousers, as he 
 held out a glass of hot brandy-and-water. 
 " You did it nobly bravely! drink it up, 
 my young hero, and then we'll have another. 
 Up with it, my boy! it'll keep all the cold 
 out." 
 
 Of this fact, Valentine had not the small- 
 est doubt, for he found it remarkably strong; 
 but as he had drank with several persons 
 before, he politely declined taking more 
 than a sip. 
 
 The vessel now drew near Gravesend, and 
 Valentine proceeded to take leave of her of 
 whom he already felt too deeply enamored. 
 
 " You will call and see us, will you 
 not 1 ?" said the lady as she pressed his hand 
 and raised her eyes which looked like bril- 
 liants set in gold. 
 
 Valentine gazed on her beautiful face, 
 and was silent. 
 
 " You will" she continued " you will 
 promise to call! Papa will, I'm sure, be 
 delighted to see you! Why will you not 
 promise!" 
 
 " I do," said Valentine, who, while lis- 
 tening to the music of her voice, had been 
 perfectly unconscious of a reply being ex- 
 pected, " I do, I do promise; and when I 
 assure you that nothing could impart so 
 much pleasure" He pressed her hand, but 
 could say no more, for her eyes were again 
 turned full upon him, and seemed to be 
 beaming with gratitude and love. 
 
 " Come, take another sup!" cried the 
 jolly looking gentleman, again approaching, 
 " It strikes me you look rayther pale; and 
 as for you not taking cold! why my missis 
 won't have it at no price." 
 
 " Not any more," said Valentine, who 
 although he appreciated the warmth of his 
 heart t at that moment wished him any- 
 where but there. 
 
 * The young lady perhaps, will have a 
 drain!" continued the persevering pest. 
 "Oh! have a little, Miss! It'll do your 
 heart good. My missis is sure you'll be 
 laid up if you don't, and whatever she says, 
 why of course you know is gospel." 
 
 The lady, however, gracefully declined, 
 and after many warm acknowledgments, 
 on her part and on the part of the old gen- 
 tleman her father, Valentine took leave of 
 them, and went upon deck. 
 
 The Pier was now in sight, and the mind 
 of the Captain had happily recovered its 
 wonted tranquillity; but the boy, although 
 he had endeavored to do his duty with the 
 utmost zeal, was by no means sure that the 
 Captain did not still intend to keep his pro- 
 mise with reference to the "quilting." It 
 was true, the Captain spoke to him with 
 perhaps a somewhat greater degree of kind- 
 ness than he ever had spoken before; but 
 this tended to increase the apprehension of 
 the little fellow who having heard of the 
 prelude to the crocodile's attack, at once 
 fancied that this was but the prelude to an 
 attack on the part of the Captain. He 
 therefore most anxiously watched his every 
 movement, and when the vessel had reached 
 the pier, he trembled violently, for the Cap- 
 tain immediately descended from his post 
 an operation which he usually deferred until 
 after the whole of the passengers had land- 
 ed. Nothing could exceed the steadiness 
 with which the boy kept his eye fixed upon 
 him, and whenever he went within reach of 
 a rope, he drew himself up for an imme- 
 diate start. His fears were however vain; 
 for the Captain's admiration of Valentine's 
 conduct had effectually subdued every angry 
 feeling, and as it became obvious that he 
 had descended with the view of expressing 
 that admiration, the boy began to feel a lit- 
 tle comfortable again. 
 
 "I am delighted," cried the captain, 
 taking Valentine by the hand, " I am per- 
 fectly delighted with your hero-like conduct 
 in saving them two feller creturs. There's 
 somethink wery like it in Ossian's Iliad 
 Ossian's! of course, it is Ossian's where 
 a gentleman, I think it was Artaxerxes, but 
 that I'm not sure of, dived down to the bot- 
 tom of the Po to fetch up Peter the Great, 
 who was washing his feet on the bank with 
 Cassius, who was, you know, one of the 
 Grecian gods. 
 
 "Ah, and did he succeed 1 ?" inquired 
 Valentine, with apparent anxiety. 
 
 " I don't think it says," replied the Cap- 
 tain; " butat all events he never rose again." 
 
 " What a pity! Tut tut! what a pity to 
 be sure! Then, of course he couldn't in- 
 form the world whether he did or not!" 
 
 " By no means," observed the Captain, 
 " and that you see's the mischief of history. 
 No man was ever able to write his own life 
 complete. He's certain to go off the hooks 
 before he has finished it: that's the misfor- 
 tune. It strikes me," he continued, look- 
 ing earnestly at Valentine, " it strikes me, 
 unless I am werrymuch mistaken, that you 
 have the organ of courageousness power- 
 fully deweloped. I should like to examine 
 your head. That organ there, just above 
 the eye there, seems to be werry full, and 
 
74 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 when that is combined to the one that is 
 sittivated-uinder the ear, it makes up cou- 
 rageousness perfect. But I was sure that 
 you'd got it when you dived so heautiful. 
 We find it in ducks werry strong." 
 
 44 A phrenologist, I perceive." 
 
 *' I take great delight in the science. 1 
 can tell a man's character to a hair. I've 
 the whole of the organs at my finger's ends; 
 now this, for instance " 
 
 "You've a fine sharp lad here," said 
 Valentine, as the Captain was about to fin- 
 ger his organs, " he appears to be very at- 
 tentive." 
 
 "Yes, he's all werry well," said the 
 Captain, " but he an't got no soul. Be- 
 sides, he don't know exactly how to behave 
 himself sometimes. Did you see how he 
 went on this morning!" 
 
 44 Boys, you know, are but boys," ob- 
 served Valentine, and the novelty of that 
 remarkable observation, proceeding as it 
 did, from so remarkable a man, had so stri- 
 king an effect upon the Captain, that he at 
 once consented to defer the promised 4 ' pep- 
 per," until the conduct of which he com- 
 plained should be repeated. 
 
 44 Now," said Valentine, "will you do 
 me the favor to allow the boy to carry my 
 wet clothes on shore'?" 
 
 44 By all manner of means in the world!" 
 replied the Captain. 44 Here, boy! attend 
 to this gentleman. Go and see after his 
 things; and mind how you behave yourself, 
 sir, d'ye hear?" 
 
 The boy obeyed with alacrity, and Val- 
 entine escaped from the Captain apparently 
 with the view of surveying the pier. The 
 passengers were still, as usual, crowding 
 from the vessel. Had they gone in turn 
 quietly they would all have got on shore 
 much sooner, and with an infinitely greater 
 degree of comfort to themselves; but they 
 must crowd, and plunge, and show their 
 teeth, and work away with their elbows, as 
 each strove to get before the other. One 
 lady was loudly lamenting over the fact of 
 her bonnet being desperately crushed; ano- 
 ther was endeavoring to recover her reticule, 
 the strings of which she held, while the 
 bag itself was fixed between the hips of 
 two ladies who were going with the stream 
 about five rows behind her, while another 
 was looking particularly unamiable at a 
 gentleman who was innocently digging his 
 elbow into that particular cavity which is 
 just beneath the ear. 
 
 44 For goodness sake!" cried one, 44 don't 
 squeedee." 44 Where are you drivin to?" 
 shouted another. 4 I say, you sir!" cried a 
 third, "jist take your fist out of the small 
 
 of my back, good luck to you!" They 
 still, however, crowded on, and displayed 
 as much anxiety to quit the vessel as if she 
 then had been in flames. 
 
 44 Have you lost any thing, sir 1 ?" whis- 
 pered Valentine in the ear of a tall gentle- 
 man, whose efforts to drive past his neigh- 
 bors had been really very desperate. 
 
 The gentleman in an instant drew back, 
 inspired with the horrid suspicion of having 
 lost something, although it did not certainly 
 appear that he had much to lose. In the first 
 place, he felt in all his pockets at once, and 
 then searched them again and again in detail; 
 and then labored to recollect if he had 
 brought anything from home, which he had 
 not then about him; but even then, although 
 he emptied his pockets and found all quite 
 safe, he was anything but sure that he 
 hadn't been plundered. 
 
 44 Do you allow that?" said Va!entine, 
 throwing a whisper into the ear of an old 
 lady, to whom nature, in consideration of 
 her having but a single eye, had bounteously 
 given a double chin. 
 
 44 Mr. Jones!" cried the lady, who per- 
 ceived two females by the side of Mr. Jones, 
 44 I'm ashamed of you. Keep back, sir; 
 and let them gals pass." 
 
 44 What's the matter, my dear?" said 
 Mr. Jones. 
 
 44 Don't dear me, sir! I saw you!" cried 
 the lady; and Mr. Jones looked as if he at 
 that moment felt that if he had never seen 
 her it would have been a great comfort. 
 
 44 Have you got your pass?" said Valen- 
 tine, throwing his voice behind the person 
 who was taking the tickets. 44 7 want no 
 pass," he added, assuming another voice, 
 44 1 can always pass without." 
 
 44 O! can yer?" cried the black whiskered 
 gentleman, by whom those interesting little 
 slips of paper had been sold. 44 Then I 
 don't think you can. Jim! be a little hex- 
 try partickler there, will yer?" and he 
 winked at Jim; and Jim winked at him as 
 he stood in the gangway perfectly pre- 
 pared to take his revenge out of the first 
 man whoattempted to pass without a ticket. 
 
 While the black-whiskered gentleman 
 and Jim were thus occupied, \ 'aleutine 
 went to the steward, who lent him a largo 
 hairy cap; and when his clothes had been 
 can 'fully deposited by the amiable steward- 
 ess in a shawl, he, followed by the boy, 
 took his leave of the philosophic Captain, 
 and left the vessel, portraying the pleasura- 
 ble Hl< cts of that astonishment, with which 
 he fondly conceived poor (ioodman would 
 view the ( \tiaordiuary character of his 
 dress. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 75 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN WHICH VALENTINE IS INTRODUCED TO THREE NEW FRIENDS, WITH ONE OF WHOM HE 
 PASSES A VERY PLEASANT NIGHT. 
 
 THE surprise with which Valentine, on 
 reaching the residence of Mr, Plumplee, 
 ascertained that his guardian had not ar- 
 rived, was as great as that with which he 
 had intended to inspire Goodman, but of a 
 character of course diametrically opposite. 
 Nor, when the circumstances were explain- 
 ed, was that surprise felt by Valentine 
 alone; Mr. Plumplee, and Mr. Jonas Beagle, 
 an eccentric old gentleman, who murdered 
 his time at Gravesend, with a view to the 
 perfect restoration of his health, which had 
 never, in fact, deserted him even for a day, 
 felt and expressed a corresponding amount 
 of astonishment, while Miss Madonna 
 Plumplee, the virgin sister of Goodman's 
 friend, begat at once to indulge in all sorts 
 of conjectures having reference to the cause, 
 for like most unaccountable occurrences, 
 the scope which it afforded for the play of 
 the imagination was unbounded. 
 
 " Who knows!" cried that amiable per- 
 son, " he may have been run over and 
 crushed to death, or a thousand things! 
 the drivers about London are so horribly 
 reckless. I'm sure it was only the other 
 day I was three quarters of an hour endea- 
 voring to cross Fleet street; and after all 
 it was an absolute miracle I wasn't killed, 
 for a dog-cart, with a dirty person sitting 
 upon the edge, rattled down the street at 
 such a dreadful rate that I thought, be run 
 over I must! It is shameful such things 
 are allowed. There sat the filthy creature 
 deliberately smoking his pipe, and taking 
 no sort of notice of the peril in which he 
 was placing the lives and limbs of people, 
 not even the slightest! He was, however, 
 I am happy to say, properly punished, for 
 no sooner had he passed me than the wheel, 
 over which he had been sitting, bounced 
 into the hole, when, happily, the entire 
 concern upset, and he was instantly covered 
 with cat's meat and mud." 
 
 " Oh! I don't expect that any serious ac- 
 cident has occurred," said Mr. Plumplee. 
 "The report of such an occurrence would 
 be certain to have reached home before this 
 morning, for he never goes out without his 
 card case; and his name and address are 
 printed on his pocket-book, I know." 
 
 " But," suggested Miss Madonna, "he 
 might have had his pockets previously 
 picked, and then strangers, you know, 
 would have no clue at all. London is such 
 a place. I'm sure I was reading the other 
 
 day, in one of the papers, of a gentleman 
 who, having lost his handkerchief, went in 
 to purchase a new one, ready hemmed, and 
 he hadn't left the shop five minutes, before 
 he lost that." 
 
 "And did he go in to buy another?" in- 
 quired Mr. Jonas Beagle. 
 
 " It didn't say; but such doings are posi- 
 tively dreadful," replied Miss Madonna. 
 " I'm sure, I've said it a thousand times, 
 and will maintain it the police are of no 
 sort of use. They are never at hand when 
 people are being plundered." 
 
 " For my own part," said Mr. Jonas 
 Beagle, " I think he has been kidnapped. 
 The fact of his having been out all night, 
 looks, I must say, remarkably suspicious. 
 What business has a man to be out all 
 night] None whatever, not the slightest; 
 and I hold it to be, therefore, particularly 
 shocking." And Mr. Jonas Beagle leered 
 wickedly at Miss Madonna, while his little 
 twinkling eyes seemed to indicate that in 
 his judgment Goodman was not quite im- 
 maculate. 
 
 The attention of Mr. Plumplee and his 
 amiable sister was now directed to Valen- 
 tine's dress. A tailor in the vicinity was 
 applied to at once, but as he had nothing 
 likely to answer the purpose made up, the 
 case was stated to a family next door, of 
 which one of the younger branches politely 
 sent in a complete suit, which fortunately 
 happened to fit Valentine to a hair. 
 
 " Now then," said Mr. Beagle, " for a 
 walk;" and as the conviction had obtained 
 that it was useless to wait for Goodman, 
 who might not arrive until the evening, 
 Beagle, Plumplee, and Valentine left the 
 house, and at once got into a stream of gay 
 persons, who were heavily laden with chil- 
 dren and provisions, and who appeared to 
 have made a dead set at a windmill. 
 
 " Let's go to the Belly woo!" shouted 
 one of these persons, who had one child on 
 his arm and another on his back, while he 
 dragged a third along by the hand. 
 
 "That's by fur the most delightfullest 
 place," observed a lady, who appeared to 
 be the mother of those interesting babes, 
 and who carried a handkerchief, in which 
 the shape of a dish was to all distinctly 
 visible. "I prefers the Belly woo 'cause 
 there we can set out at top and see the 
 wessels so nice." 
 
76 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "The Belly woo!" cried Valentine. 
 " Whatythe Belly woo?" 
 
 "The Bellevue, they mean, a little tavern 
 on the hill," replied Mr. Jonas Beagle, who 
 had no sooner imparted this interesting in- 
 formation, than he turned into what he 
 called the Tivoli Gardens, which appeared 
 to be the principal place of resort. On the 
 right, as they entered, a marquee was fixed 
 for the accommodation of those who pre- 
 ferred a cold dinner for a shilling to a hot 
 one for eighteen pence; on the left stood a 
 long wooden shed, or grand dining-room, 
 established for the exclusive accommodation 
 of the eighteen-penny people, round the 
 doer of which several polite gentlemen 
 hovered, with a view of soliciting the plea- 
 sure of the company of all jvho looked as 
 if they really had such a thing as one-and- 
 nine-pence about them, while at the farther 
 end were boxes for the convenience of 
 those who* had brought their own provi- 
 sions; but as the public spirited proprietor 
 of the establishment charged, according to 
 the printed scale, something like three- 
 pence for the loan of a table-cloth, two- 
 pence for plates, three-half-pence for a 
 knife and fork, a penny for pepper, the 
 same for mustard, the same for vinegar, the 
 same for salt, and for everything else ex- 
 tremely reasonable in proportion, these 
 boxes were not very liberally patronised. 
 
 Having taken a survey of these gardens, 
 they made for the hill, the summit of which 
 they reached after an infinite deal of pant- 
 ing on the part of Mr. Plumplee and Mr. 
 Jonas Beagle, and which certainly com- 
 manded a most extensive and delightful 
 view of the surrounding country. Mr. 
 Beagle's first task was to point out to Val- 
 entine the various features of the scene both 
 rural and naval, and having developed in 
 the performance of this task no inconsidera- 
 ble amount of descriptive power, he led the 
 way to a favorite spot under the brow of 
 the hill to which he and Mr. Plumplee re- 
 paired daily for the purpose of unravelling 
 whatever knotty point might happen to sug- 
 gest itself at the moment. On reaching 
 this spot they spread their handkerchiefs 
 and took iheir seats, while below them 
 groups of persons were sitting up to their 
 lips in thick furze, and up to their hips in 
 dusty sand, discussing internally the vari- 
 ous viands with which they had been ex- 
 ternally laden. 
 
 It was not long before a point of the 
 knotty kind was started, and while Plump- 
 lee was engaged in refuting the extremely 
 tritable position of Mr. Beagle, that 
 practically the world's definition of friend- 
 ship was that whirh prompts men to study 
 the interests of others with a view to the 
 
 promotion of their own, Valentine was oc- 
 cupied in watching the actions of one par- 
 ticular group that sat immediately below 
 him. It was obviously a family circle, and 
 in the centre stood a large beef-steak pie 
 upon a sheet of the IVeekly Dispatch, which 
 had been spread with the view of convey- 
 ing the idea of a table cloth, and of thereby 
 imparting to the whole thing an unques- 
 tionable air of respectability. The crust of 
 this pie was in proportion as thick as the 
 thatch of a barn, while the little et-ceteras 
 by which it was surrounded, bore a corres- 
 ponding aspect of delicacy; and when all 
 seemed prepared to commence operations, 
 the cork of a well-washed blacking bottle 
 was drawn, and the company, by way of 
 grace before meat, had a glass of gin round. 
 When this feat had been performed with 
 really infinite gusto, the carver walked into 
 the pie, and in the plenitude of his bene- 
 volence submitted to each man, woman, 
 and child, an amount of matter which would 
 certainly have taken any but a highly gifted 
 stomach three days and three nights to di- 
 gest. It was not, however, by any means long 
 before every hand was empty again; far as 
 the process of mastication seemed quite by 
 the way, they no sooner got a mouthful 
 fairly in than they rinsed it down their 
 throats, as in duty bound, with porter. The 
 purified blacking-bottle again went round, 
 and its contents seemed to induce renewed 
 gastronomic vigor: to each was submitted 
 another lump of pie, and when that had 
 been washed away precisely as before, the 
 gentlemen began to unbutton their waist- 
 coats, and the ladies to unhook their dresses 
 behind, in order to enjoy another small glass 
 of gin without any unpleasant sensation of 
 satiety. 
 
 It now became clearly perceptible that 
 their stomachs were about to assume cer- 
 tain aristocratic airs of pseudo-delicacy, for 
 instead of being assisted to legitimate doses, 
 they began to fish out the most tempting 
 little bits they could find, until by virtue of 
 each taking the piece which the others had 
 rejected, the dish was eventually cleared 
 with the exception of sundry little lumps of 
 crust with which by way of a wind up the 
 ladies proceeded to pelt the gentlemen, to 
 the infinite satisfaction of all parlies con- 
 cern. <!. 
 
 This mutually interesting transaction had 
 no sooner been closed, than one of tlu> ladies, 
 in order to cap the climax, produced a very 
 small but a very unexpected bottle of brandy, 
 of which each with great pleasure partook 
 of a glass, for the purpose of keeping all 
 down. This was evidently, however, in- 
 tended as an apology for Non Nubis, for the 
 moment the ceremony had been performed 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 77 
 
 the gentlemen proceeded to light their pipes, 
 while the ladies seemed determined that it 
 should that day be known which was able 
 to laugh the longest and the loudest. 
 
 By the time they had succeeded in tor- 
 turing their muscles into the merriest pos- 
 sible shape, Mr. Plumplee and Mr. Jonas 
 Beagle, had finished their argument accord- 
 ing to an invariable custom of theirs, by 
 each convincing himself that the other was 
 wrong. Having thus brought this highly 
 important affair to a happy issue, Mr. 
 Plumplee applied to his watch, and after 
 making an original remark, having refer- 
 ence to the rapid flight of time, they pro- 
 ceeded down the hill, passed a multitude of 
 donkeys, which, while they bore their pat- 
 ronesses on their backs, were very delicate- 
 ly touched up behind by their owners; and 
 reached home precisely at the very moment 
 their presence became absolutely essential 
 to the continuance of Miss Madonna's tran- 
 quillity of mind. 
 
 The first question asked was of course 
 about Goodman, and as also of course Good- 
 man had not arrived, they at once sat down 
 to dinner, after which Beagle and Plumplee 
 got into an argument touching the lament- 
 able state of things in general, while Val- 
 entine and Miss Madonna were amusing 
 themselves at the windows by making all 
 sorts of deeply interesting remarks on the 
 appearance of the persons who were con- 
 stantly passing. 
 
 Towards evening, however, Valentine 
 began to feel uneasy, and expressed a de- 
 sire to return by the last boat; but Miss 
 Madonna, whose word in that house had ac- 
 quired the reputation of being law, very 
 strenuously opposed it. It was by no means 
 safe, she contended. The boats in the even- 
 ing were crowded so densely, especially the 
 last, that to escape being pushed over the 
 side really amounted in her judgment almost 
 to a miracle. Any attempt to refute an 
 argument so potent as that would of course 
 have been indicative of madness, and there- 
 fore it was decided that he should stop there 
 all night. 
 
 Now there happened to be only four bed- 
 rooms in the house; the best of course was 
 occupied by Miss Madonna, the second by 
 Mr. Plumplee, the third by Mr. Beagle, 
 and the fourth by the servant; but that in 
 which Mr. Beagle slept was a double-bed- 
 ded room, and Valentine had, therefore, to 
 make his election between the spare bed 
 and the sofa. Of course the former was 
 preferred, and as the preference seemed 
 highly satisfactory to Mr. Beagle himself, 
 they passed the remainder of the evening 
 very pleasantly together, and in due time 
 retired. 
 
 8 
 
 Valentine, on having his bed pointed out 
 to him, darted between the sheets in the 
 space of a minute, for as Mr. Jonas Beagle 
 facetiously observed, he had but to shake 
 himself, and everything came off, when as 
 he did not by any means feel drowsy at the 
 time, he fancied that he might as well am use 
 his companion for an hour or so as not. 
 He, therefore, turned the thing seriously 
 over in his mind, while Mr. Beagle was 
 quietly undressing, being anxious for that 
 gentleman to extinguish the light before he 
 commenced operations. 
 
 *' Now for a beautiful night's rest," ob- 
 served Mr. Jonas Beagle to himself as he 
 put out the light with a tranquil mind, and 
 turned in with a great degree of comfort. 
 
 " Mew! mew!" cried Valentine softly, 
 throwing his voice under the bed of Mr. 
 Beagle. 
 
 "Hish! curse that cat!" cried Mr. 
 Beagle. " We must have you out at all 
 events, my lady." And Mr. Beagle at 
 once slipped out of bed, and having opened 
 the door cried " hish!" again emphatically, 
 and threw his breeches towards the spot as 
 an additional inducement for the cat to 
 " stand not on the order of her going," 
 when, as Valentine repeated the cry, and 
 made it appear to proceed from the stairs, 
 Mr. Beagle thanked Heaven that she was 
 gone, closed the door, and very carefully 
 groped his way again into bed. 
 
 " Mew! mew! mew!" cried Valentine, 
 just as Mr. Beagle had again comfortably 
 composed himself. 
 
 " What? are you there still, madam 1 ?" in- 
 quired that gentleman in a highly sarcastic 
 tone, " I thought you had been turned out, 
 madam! Do you hear this witch of a eat]" 
 he continued, addressing Valentine with the 
 view of conferring upon him the honorable 
 office of Tyler for the time being; but Va- 
 lentine replied with a deep heavy snore, and 
 began to mew again with additional em- 
 phasis. 
 
 44 Well, I don't have a treat every day, it 
 is true; but if this isn't one, why I'm out in 
 my reckoning that's all!" observed Mr. 
 Jonas Beagle, slipping again out of bed. 
 "I don't much like to handle you, my lady, 
 but if I did, I'd of course give you physic!" 
 and he " hished!" again with consummate 
 violence, and continued to " hish!" until 
 Valentine scratched the bed-post sharply, a 
 feat which inspired Mr. Beagle with the 
 conviction of its being the disturber of his 
 peace in the act of decamping, when he 
 threw his pillow very energetically towards 
 the door, which he closed, and then return- 
 ed to his bed in triumph. The moment, 
 however, he had comfortably tucked him- 
 self up again he missed the pillow which 
 
78 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 he had converted into an instrument of ven- 
 geance, and as that was an article without 
 which he couldn't even hope to go to sleep, 
 he had of course to turn out again to fetch it. 
 
 " How many more times, I wonder, he 
 observed to himself, "shall I have to get 
 out of this blessed bed to-night? Exercise 
 certainly is a comfort, and very conducive 
 to health; but such exercise as this why 
 where have you got to!" he added, address- 
 ing the pillow, which, with all the sweep- 
 ing action of his feet he was for some time 
 unable to find " Oh, here you are, sir, are 
 you?" and he picked up the object of his 
 search and gave it several very severe blows 
 in the belly, when, having reinstated him- 
 self between the sheets, he exclaimed in a 
 subdued tone, " Well, let's try again." 
 
 Now Mr. Jonas Beagle was a man who 
 prided himself especially upon the even- 
 ness of his temper. His boast was that 
 nothing could put him in a passion, and as 
 he had had less than most of his contem- 
 poraries to vex him, he had certainly been 
 able, in the absence of all cause for irrita- 
 tion, to preserve his equanimity. As a per- 
 fectly natural matter of course he invariably 
 attributed the absence of such cause to the 
 innate amiability of his disposition; and 
 marvelled that men, men of sense and dis- 
 cernment, should so far forget what was 
 justly expected of them as reasonable be- 
 ings, as to suffer themselves to be tortured 
 by excitement, inasmuch albeit as human 
 nature and difficulties are inseparable, hu- 
 man nature is sufficiently potent not only to 
 battle with those difficulties, but eventually 
 to overcome them. If Mr. Jonas Beagle 
 had had to contend against many of the 
 " ills that flesh is heir to," he in all proba- 
 bility would have acted like the majority of 
 his fellow-men; but as he had met with 
 very few, and those few had not been of a 
 very serious complexion, he could afford to 
 be deeply philosophical on the subject, and 
 felt himself competent, of course, to frame 
 laws by which the tempers of men in the 
 aggregate should be governed. He did, 
 however, feel when he violently smote the 
 pillow, that that little ebullition partook 
 somewhat of the nature of passion, and had 
 just commenced reproaching himself for hav- 
 ing indulged in that little ebullition, when 
 Valentine cried " Meyow! pit! Meyow!" 
 
 " Hallo!" exclaimed Mr. Jonas Beagle, 
 " here again!" 
 
 44 Mew!" cried Valentine in a somewhat 
 higher key. 
 
 44 What another come to contribute to the 
 harmony of the evening!" 
 
 44 Meyow! meyow!" cried Valentine in 
 a key still higher. 
 
 44 Well, how many more of you!" in 
 
 quired Mr. Beagle. " You'll be able to got 
 up a concert by-and-bye;" and Valentine 
 aegan to spit and swear with great felicity. 
 
 ' Swear away, you beauties!" cried Mr. 
 Jonas Beagle, as he listened to this volley 
 of feline oaths; "I only wish that I was 
 not so much afraid of you for your sakes! 
 At it again 1 ? Well this is a blessing. Don't 
 you hear those devils of cats!" he cried, 
 anxious not to have all the fun to himself; 
 but Valentine recommenced snoring very 
 loudly. " Well, this is particularly plea- 
 sant," he continued as he sat up in bed. 
 " Don't you hear! What a comfort it is to 
 be able to sleep soundly!" which remark- 
 able observation was doubtless provoked by 
 the no less remarkable fact, that at that par- 
 ticular moment the spitting and swearing 
 became more and more desperate. " What's 
 to be done 1 ? he inquired very pointedly. 
 What's to be done? my breeches are right 
 in the midst of them all. 1 can't get out 
 now: they'd tear the very flesh off my legs; 
 and that fellow there sleeps like a top. 
 Hallo' Do you mean to say you don't hear 
 these cats, how they're going it?" Valen- 
 tine certainly meant to say no such thing, 
 for the whole of the time that he was not 
 ngaged in meyowing and spitting, he was 
 diligently occupied in snoring, which had a 
 very good effect, and served to fill up the 
 intervals exceedingly well. 
 
 At length the patience of Mr. Jonas Beagle 
 began to evaporate; for the hostile animals 
 continued to battle apparently with great 
 desperation. He, therefore, threw a pillow 
 with great violence into the bed of his com- 
 panion, and shouted so loudly, that Valen- 
 tine, feeling that it would be deemed perfect 
 nonsense for him to pretend to be asleep 
 any longer, began to yawn very naturally, 
 and then to cry out " Who's there?" 
 
 "Tis 1!" shouted Mr. Jonas Beagle. 
 " Don't you hear these witches of cats?" 
 
 "Hish!" cried Valentine, "why there 
 are two of them!" 
 
 "Two!" said Mr. Beagle, " more likely 
 two-and-twenty! I've turned out a dozen 
 myself. There's a swarm, a whole colony 
 of them here, and I know no more how to 
 strike a light than a fool." 
 
 " Oh, never mind," said Valentine: " let's 
 go to sleep, they'll be quiet by and bye." 
 
 44 It's all very fine to say, let's go to sleep, 
 but who's to do it?" cried Beagle empha- 
 tically. "Curse the cats! I wish ihrrr 
 wasn't a cat under heaven I do, with all 
 my soul! They 're such spiteful vermin too 
 when they happen to be put out, and there's 
 one of them in a passion, I know by her 
 spu tincr, confound her! I wish from the 
 bottom of my heart it was the very last spit 
 she had in her." 
 
, 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 79 
 
 r * While Mr. Jonas Beagle was indulging 
 in these highly appropriate ohservations, 
 Valentine was laboring with great energy 
 in the production of the various bitter cries 
 which are peculiarly characteristic of the 
 feline race, and for a man who possessed 
 but a very slight knowledge of the gram- 
 matical construction of the language of 
 that race, it must in justice be said that he 
 developed a degree of fluency which did 
 him great credit. He purred, and mewed, 
 and cried, and swore, and spit, until the 
 perspiration oozed from every pore, and 
 made the sheets as wet as if they had just 
 been " damped for the mangle." 
 
 44 Well, this is a remarkably nice posi- 
 tion for a man to be placed in certainly," 
 observed Mr. Beagle " Did you ever hear 
 such wailing and gnashing of teeth'? Are 
 you never going to leave off, you devi/s?" he 
 added, throwing the bolster with great vio- 
 lence under the bed, and therefore, as he 
 fondly conceived, right amongst them. 
 Instead, however, of striking the cats there- 
 with he unhappily upset something which 
 rolled with great velocity from one end of 
 the room to the other, and made during its 
 progress so singular a clatter, that he began 
 to " tut! tut!" and to scratch his head audibly. 
 
 " Who's there]" demanded Plumplee in 
 the passage below, for he slept in the room 
 beneath, and the rolling of the article in 
 question had alarmed him, "Who's there! 
 d'ye hear! Speak! or I'll shoot you like a 
 dog!" and on the instant the report of a 
 pistol was heard, which in all probably had 
 been fired with the view of convincing all 
 whom it might concern that he had such a 
 thing as a pistol in the house. " Who's 
 there!" he again demanded: " You vaga- 
 bonds, I'll be at you!" an intimation that 
 may be held to have been extremely natural 
 under the circumstances, not only because 
 he had not even the slightest intention of 
 of carrying so desperate a design into ex- 
 ecution, but because he in consequence of 
 having supped off cucumbers and crabs, of 
 which he happened to be particularly fond, 
 seeing that as they didn't agree with him 
 and invariably made him suffer, they par- 
 took of the nature of forbidden fruit he 
 had singularly enough been dreaming of 
 being attacked by a party of burglars, and of 
 having succeeded in frightening them away 
 by holding out a precisely similar threat. 
 
 44 Beagle!" he shouted, after waiting in 
 vain for the street-door to bang. 
 
 44 Here!" cried Beagle, "come up here! 
 It's nothing: I'll explain! For Heaven's 
 sake," he added, addressing Valentine, 
 44 open the door;" but Valentine was too 
 much engaged to pay attention to any such 
 request. 
 
 At this moment the footsteps of Plumplee 
 were heard upon the stairs, and Mr. Beagle, 
 who then began to feel somewhat better, 
 cried, " Come~ in! my good friend, come in!" 
 
 44 What on earth is the matter]" inquired 
 Mr. Plumplee, as he entered the room pale 
 as a ghost in his night-shirt, with a pistol 
 in one hand and a lamp in the other. 
 
 "It's all right," said Beagle, 44 'twas I 
 that made the noise. I've been besieged 
 by a cohort of cats. They have been at it 
 here making most healthful music under 
 my bed for the last two hours, and in try- 
 ing to make them hold their peace with the 
 bolster, I upset that noisy affair, that's all." 
 
 44 Cats!" cried Mr. Plumplee, 44 cats! 
 you ate a little too much cucumber, my 
 friend! that and the crabs were too heavy 
 for your stomach! you have been dream- 
 ing! you've had the night mare! We 
 haven't a cat in the house; I can't bear 
 them." 
 
 44 You are mistaken," rejoined Beagle, 
 44 they're about hero in swarms. If I've 
 turned one cat out this night, I'm sure that 
 I've turned out twenty! I've in fact done 
 nothing else since I came up! In and out, 
 in and out! Upon my life, I think I can't 
 have opened that blessed door less than a 
 hundred and fifty times; and that young 
 fellow there has been all the while fast as 
 a church!" 
 
 44 1 tell you, my friend, you've been 
 dreaming! We have never had a cat about 
 the premises." 
 
 44 Meyow meyow !" cried Valentine 
 quietly. 
 
 44 Now have I been dreaming!" trium- 
 phantly exclaimed Mr. Beagle, 44 now have 
 I had the night mare]" 
 
 44 God bless my life!" cried* Mr. Plum- 
 plee, jumping upon Mr. Beagle's bed, 
 44 they don't belong to me!" 
 
 44 1 don't know whom they belong to;" 
 returned Mr. Beagle, 44 nor do I much care: 
 I only know that there they are! If you'll 
 just hook those breeches up here, I'll get 
 out and half murder them! Only hook 'em 
 this way! I'll wrino- their precious necks 
 off!" 
 
 44 They're out of my reach," cried 
 Plumplee. 44 Hish! Irish!" Finding, how- 
 ever, that harsh terms had no good effect, 
 he had recourse to the milder and more 
 persuasive cry of 44 Pussy, pussy, pussy, 
 pussy! tit, tit, tit!" 
 
 44 Hish! you devils!" cried Mr. Jonas 
 Beagle, who began to be really enraged! 
 
 44 Titty, titty, titty, titty! puss, puss, 
 puss!" repeated Mr. Plumplee in the bland- 
 est and most seductive tones, as he held 
 the pistol by the muzzle to break the back 
 or to knock out the brains of the first un- 
 
so 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 fortunate cat that made her appearance: but 
 all this persuasion to come forth had no 
 effect; they continued to be invisible, while 
 the mewing proceeded in the most melan- 
 choly strain. 
 
 *' What on earth are we to do 1 ?" inquired 
 Plumplee, " I myself have a horror of 
 cats." 
 
 "The same to me, and many of 'em!" 
 observed Mr. Beagle, " Let's wake that 
 young fellow, perhaps he don't mind them." 
 
 " Hollo!" cried Plumplee. 
 
 " Hul-lo!" shouted Beagle; but as neither 
 could make any impession upon Valentine, 
 and as both were afraid to get off the bed to 
 shake him, they proceeded to roll up the 
 blankets and sheets into balls and to pelt 
 him with infinite zeal. 
 
 "Who's there"? What's the matter 1 ?" 
 cried Valentine at length, in the coolest 
 tone imaginable, although his exertions 
 had made him sweat like a tinker. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, my dear young 
 friend," said Mr. Plumplee, "do assist us 
 in turning these cats out." 
 
 44 Cats! Where are they] Hish!" cried 
 "Valentine. 
 
 44 Oh, that's of no use whatever. I've 
 tried the hishing business myself. All the 
 hiahing in the world won't do. They must 
 be beaten out: you're not afraid of them, 
 are you]" 
 
 " Afraid of them! afraid of a few cats!" 
 exclaimed Valentine with the assumption 
 of some considerable magnanimity, "Where 
 are they?" 
 
 44 Under my bed," replied Beagle, 
 44 There's a brave fellow! Break their 
 blessed necks!" and Valentine leaped out 
 of bed and after striking at the imaginary 
 animals very furiously with the bolster, he 
 hissed with great violence and scratched 
 across the grain of the boards in humble 
 imitation of those domestic creatures scam- 
 pering out of a room, when he rushed to 
 the door, and proceeded to make a very 
 forlorn meyowing die gradually away at 
 the bottom of the stairs. 
 
 "Thank Heaven! they are all gone at 
 last!" cried Mr. Beagle, " we shall be able 
 to get a little rest now, I suppose;" and 
 after very minutely surveying every corner 
 of the room in which it was possible for 
 one of them to have lingered, he lighted 
 his candle, bade Plumplee good night, and 
 <1 him to go immediately to Miss 
 Madonna, who had been calling for an ex- 
 planation very anxiously below. 
 
 As soon as Plumplee had departed, Val- 
 entino assisted Beagle to remake his bed; 
 suul when they had accomplished this high- 
 ly important business with the skill and 
 dexterity of a couple of thoroughbred cham- 
 
 bermaids, the light was again extinguished, 
 and Mr. Beagle very naturally made up his 
 mind to have a six hours' sound and unin- 
 terrupted sleep. He had, however, scarcely 
 closed his eyes when the mewing was re- 
 newed, and as he had not even the smallest 
 disposition to "listen to the sounds so 
 familiar to his ear," he started up at once 
 and exclaimed, " I wish I may die if they're 
 all out now! Here's one of them left!" 
 added he, addressing Valentine, but Valen- 
 tine having taken a deep inspiration an- 
 swered only by respiring with a prolonged 
 gargling sound. " He's off again by the 
 living Jove!" continued Beagle. " I never 
 heard of any one sleeping so soundly. 
 Hollo! my good fellow 7 ! ho! Fast as a 
 four-year-old! Won't you be quiet, you 
 witch? Are you determined not to let me 
 have a wink of sleep to-night] She must 
 be in the cupboard: I must have overlooked 
 her; and yet I don't see how I could. Oh! 
 keep the thing up, dear! Don't let me 
 rest!" and he fumbled about for his box, 
 and having taken a hearty pinch of snuff, 
 began to turn the thing seriously over in 
 his mind and to make a second person of 
 himself, by way of having, under the cir- 
 cumstances, a companion with whom he 
 could advise, and if necessary remonstrate. 
 
 "Well, what's to be done now?" in- 
 quired he of the second person thus esta- 
 blished. " What's to be the next step, 
 Jonas] It's of no use at all, you know! 
 we can't go to sleep; we may just as well 
 try to get a kick at the moon! nor must 
 
 we again disturb Hish! you , Jonas! 
 
 Jonas! keep your temper, my boy! keep 
 your temper! Don't let a contemptible cat 
 put you out!" and Mr. Beagle took another 
 pinch of snuff, from which he apparently 
 derived a groat degree of consolation. 
 44 What, at it again]" he continued, " I 
 wish I had the wringing of your neck off, 
 madam! You want to put me in a, passion; 
 but you won't! you can't do it! therefore, 
 don't lay that flattering unction to your 
 soul! Well* Jonas: how are we to act] 
 Shall we sit here all night, or take up our 
 bed and walk, Jonas] eh]" 
 
 Jonas was so struck with the expediency 
 of the latter course, that he apparently 
 urged its immediate adoption; for Mr. 
 Beagle, in the first placo, half-dressed him- 
 self in bed, and in the nrxt, threw the 
 counterpane, a blanket, and a sheet over 
 his shoulder; when, tucking a pillow and a 
 bolster under his arm, said, " NYe'll leavo 
 you to your own conscience, madam! Good 
 night!" and left the room with the view of 
 i iT repose upon the sofa. 
 
 Valentine \\as astonished at the coolness 
 displayed by Mr. Beagle throughout the 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 81 
 
 entire transaction; and after reproaching the 
 spirit of mischief that was within him, and 
 striving hy way of a punishment, to disturb 
 his own repose, and succeeded too as well 
 as the monks of old did when they inflicted 
 the scourge upon themselves he proceeded 
 to justify himself upon the ground that his 
 object was to learn the true characters of 
 men, and being perfectly satisfied with that 
 justification, went soundly and solemnly to 
 sleep. 
 
 In the morning, of course, nothing but 
 tales of horror went down. Mr. Plnmplee 
 told his with the air of a man conscious of 
 having been inspired with the spirit of 
 
 valor; and Miss Madonna told hers with 
 great feeling and effect; but when Beagle 
 began to explain to them how he had been 
 persecuted, they forgot their own troubles 
 and laughed heartily at his, which was cer- 
 tainly, under the circumstances, extremely 
 reprehensible, however natural philosophers 
 may hold it to be for the risible faculties of 
 men to be provoked by the little vexations 
 which others endure. 
 
 But where, during the whole of this 
 time, was poor Goodman"? While Valen- 
 tine is on his way to town for which he 
 immediately after breakfast prepared to 
 start the next chapter will briefly explain. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 GOODMAN IS CONDUCTED TO HIS NEW RESIDENCE THE LIBERTY OF THE SUBJECT ILLUS- 
 TRATED THE COMMENCEMENT OF AN EXPOSITION OF A SYSTEM WHICH CANNOT BE GENE- 
 RALLY KNOWN. 
 
 WHEN Goodman, who had fainted on being 
 thrust into the coach, had been restored to 
 a state of consciousness, he found himself 
 perfectly wet, for the ruffians, when they 
 perceived all animation suspended, became 
 apprehensive of having carried their vio- 
 lence too far, and, therefore, at once pro- 
 cured a bottle of water, with which they 
 continued to sprinkle him, until he awak- 
 ened to a sense of his position, when, 
 grasping the arm of the fellow who sat 
 beside him, and looking intently in his 
 face, he cried, "Tell me, my good man, 
 tell me the meaning of this monstrous out- 
 rage! " 
 
 " Oh, you'll know the meaning on't soon 
 enough, don't be impatient," replied the 
 fellow. 
 
 " But why have I thus been seized like 
 a felon 1 ? What have I done? Whom have 
 I injured? I am unconscious of having 
 offended a single soul." 
 
 "Don't ask us any questions," replied 
 the fellow. " We know nothing at all 
 about it. We've got our orders, and that's 
 enough." 
 
 " But tell me this," urged Goodman, 
 " only this, to what place are you taking 
 me now!" 
 
 "Oh, you'll know fast enough! All in 
 good time! wait a little, and then an 
 idea'll strike you." 
 
 " But surely you can have no serious 
 objection to let me know that 1 ?" observed 
 Goodman. 
 
 "0! tell the genelman," cried the ruffian 
 who sat opposite. " He a'n't like some on 
 
 'em, you know. 0! tell him! it can't make 
 much odds you know now!" 
 
 " It taint reg'lar," cried the other; " I 
 haven't no partickler objection, only it taint 
 the thing. Howsever, I don't dislike him, 
 'cause he is a genelman, so I don't mind." 
 
 " Tell me, then," said Goodman, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Don't be in sich a hurry!" cried the 
 fellow; "you patients always is in sich a 
 sweat." 
 
 "Don't trifle with me, for Heaven's 
 sake." 
 
 "There you go again!" cried the fellow, 
 " there you go! why can't you be cool? I 
 don't mind telling you! we're going to take 
 you where you're going to be taken care 
 on." 
 
 " To a Lunatic Asylum? Is it not so 1 ?" 
 cried Goodman. 
 
 " You couldn't have guessed it much 
 nearer if you'd tried every day for a month. 
 But it's a werry nice place; werry private 
 and genteel. None o' your public 'uns! 
 every thing slap and respectable!" 
 
 Goodman had heard much of private Lu- 
 natic Asylums: he had heard of the villa- 
 nies practised therein villanies, however, 
 which he had conceived to be mere fictions, 
 coined in the diseased imaginations of those 
 who had been properly confined, for he had 
 hitherto repudiated the idea of its being 
 possible for such monstrous proceedings to 
 to be tolerated in a country like this. Those 
 acts of barbarity, however, which he had 
 assumed to be fictions, at this moment 
 flashed across his mind in the shape of 
 
LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 realities, and prompted him to make a 
 desperate effort to escape, for he felt quite 
 convinced, that if once they secured him 
 unknown to his friends, they in all proba- 
 bility would keep him there, lingering in 
 tortures till the day of his death. He, 
 therefore, in order that no suspicion might 
 be excited, assumed an air of perfect calm- 
 ness, and after having, as he imagined, suf- 
 ficiently ingratiated himself with the ruf- 
 fians by whom he had been seized, placed 
 five sovereigns in the hand of him who 
 appeared to be the principal, and explained 
 to him that he would give him a cheque for a 
 hundred more, if, instead of driving him to 
 the so-called asylum, he would permit him 
 to return. * 
 
 " It's no go," said the fellow. " It can't 
 be done. I wish it could. It's impossible. 
 We're watched. The two doctors is be- 
 hind with your " Here the fellow 
 
 checked himself suddenly. 
 
 " With whom, my good friend, "with 
 whom 1 ?" inquired Goodman. 
 
 " Why with with the genelman as 
 sent for the doctors," replied the fellow 
 with considerable hesitation. 
 
 " And who is that 1 ?" said Goodman, 
 anxiously. "Who is it? Tell me but 
 that!" 
 
 " Why, that's against the law!" cried 
 the fellow " It's a secret! howsever, you'll 
 know by and bye, I des say." 
 
 " Are they behind us now?" inquired 
 Goodman, attempting to look out of the 
 window. 
 
 " Yes, yes, they're acoming; sit down, 
 sit down," said the fellow and Goodman, 
 whose object was to allay all suspicion, at 
 once resumed his seat. 
 
 " Have we far to go now?" he inquired. 
 
 " Not far; we're just at hand; we shall 
 be there in the matter o' ten minutes." 
 
 Goodman now saw that no time was to 
 be lost, for he had made up his mind to 
 make one desperate effort. He knew that 
 if he once got fairly out of the coach, it 
 would require an exceedingly swift man to 
 overtake him, and, emboldened by that 
 knowledge, he prepared for a spring. 
 
 " Another five minutes will do it," said 
 one of the men, thrusting his head out of 
 the \\indow a movement of which Good- 
 man took instant advantage, and, making a 
 desperate plunge, dashed clean through the 
 opposite door. 
 
 * He's off, by Stop! coachman, 
 
 stop!" shouted one of the fellows. "We 
 shall never be able to catch him, for he has 
 no flesh to carry." Nor would they have 
 caught him, had it not most unfortunately 
 happ< -tied that in plunging he sprained one 
 of his ankles and !'<!!. 
 
 The coach stopped on the instant, and the 
 ruffians leaped out; and as Goodman was 
 unable to use both feet with firmness, they 
 easily overtook him, when one of them 
 struck him a sledge-hammer blow upon the 
 back of the neck, and felled him at once to 
 the ground. 
 
 " Is this the way you serve us for all our 
 kindness"*" cried the fellow, as he kicked 
 him most cruelly in the stomach. " Is this 
 your gratitude?" 
 
 "Villains!" shouted Goodman, and the 
 cowardly scoundrels kicked him more 
 severely. 
 
 " Up with you!" cried one of them, 
 " Sam! here, where are the ruffles?" and the 
 fellow addressed instantly produced a pair 
 of handcuffs, and begun to unlock them. 
 
 " I will not be manacled!" cried Good- 
 man, seizing the handcuffs, and holding 
 them up as a weapon of defence, "It is for my 
 personal liberty I fight, and will peril my life 
 to defend it. Although not mad, I am despe- 
 rate now, and the blood of him who attempts 
 again to seize me be on his own head!" 
 
 The fellows for the moment held back. 
 Accustomed as they had been to deal with 
 desperation, they for an instant appeared to 
 be appalled. "Let me have justice!" con- 
 tinued Goodman, "If lam mad, let it be 
 proved before the world! I will not be 
 stolen from society thus!" 
 
 At this moment a coach drew up to the 
 spot, towards which Goodman's eyes were 
 directed with an expression of anxious hope, 
 which the ruffians no sooner perceived, than 
 they sprang at him, seized him by the 
 throat, and kicked his legs from under him 
 violently. 
 
 " Help!" shouted Goodman, as he saw 
 the coach stop, " Help! murder!" 
 
 " We'll help you!" cried a person alight- 
 ing, " Oh! yes; we'll assist you with a ven- 
 geance!" cried another, who instantly fol- 
 lowed, "We'll help you!" 
 
 Goodman remembered those voices well, 
 and on turning to the quarter whence they 
 came, every hope he had inspired was blast- 
 ed by the sight of Doctors Bowlemout and 
 Dobb. 
 
 " In with him!" cried Dobb, with a fiend- 
 like smile. 
 
 "Your yonnjr bully is not here now!" 
 shouted Ho\\ leinout; and he and Dobb seized 
 Goodman's legs, while the t\v<> keepers 
 lilted his body and carried him towards tho 
 coach door. 
 
 Goodman, however, still strnggled with 
 all the strength at his command, and several 
 times succeeded in thrusting the two doc- 
 tors from him; and although they returned 
 each time to tho charge with renewed des- 
 peration, every effort to throw him into the 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 83 
 
 coach proved abortive, which so enraged the 
 two keepers, that after kicking- him brutally 
 in order to compel him to bend his legs, 
 they again seized him violently by the 
 throat with the view of making him insen- 
 sible by partial strangulation. But all 
 would not do. His struggles were still 
 desperate. They could not get him in. 
 They applied to the coachmen for aid; but 
 in vain: they would render no assistance; 
 they would not interfere. 
 
 " Tell him," at length cried Dobb, " that 
 he must come! It's of no use; we shall 
 never get him in; come, he must!'' 1 And as 
 a man, who, had till then kept concealed in 
 the second coach, was being dragged forth 
 by Bowlemout, Goodman shrieked, " Mer- 
 ciful God! my brother! Oh, Walter! Wal- 
 ter; dear Walter, save me! Save me from 
 these murderous men!" 
 
 Walter approached; and Goodman strug- 
 gled more violently than before, but instead 
 of rescuing him from the hands of the ruf- 
 fians, he assisted in throwing him into the 
 coach like a dog! 
 
 The very moment he was in, the keepers 
 followed, and the doctors followed them; 
 when the former at once seized him by the 
 collar and stuck their knuckles furiously into 
 his throat; while the latter tied his legs and 
 held them down. 
 
 " My brother!" cried Goodman " my 
 brother against me! God! can it be 1 ?" and 
 tears of agony rolled down his cheeks, and 
 he sobbed like a child. " You need use no 
 violence now," he continued. " My bro- 
 thermy own brother! whom I have cherish- 
 ed, is my enemy: do with me as you please; 
 I shall now make no further resistance!" 
 
 " No!" cried one of the ruffians, shaking 
 him brutally, " we'll take care you don't! 
 We've had enough of you for one bout, at 
 all events. We'll take care we don't have 
 any more of it." And the villain again 
 thrust his knuckles into his throat, and con- 
 tinued to shake him like a fiend. 
 
 The coach stopped. The outer gates of 
 an attractive and well built house opened 
 to admit them, and closed again the moment 
 they were in, when the fellow relaxing his 
 hold, cried, " Now, you old scoundrel, con- 
 sider yourself booked here for life. You 
 are safe enough now! Give us as much of 
 your nonsense as you dare!" 
 
 As soon as the door of the coach had 
 been opened, the doctors alighted, and when 
 the keepers had unbound Goodman's legs, 
 they left him for a moment alone, still 
 sobbing. 
 
 44 Now, a'n't you coming out 1 ?" demanded 
 one of them, at length; and poor Goodman, 
 who felt quite exhausted, made an effort to 
 alight, but before he had descended two 
 
 steps, the heartless ruffian pulled him vio- 
 lently forward, and dashed him with his 
 face downwards upon the rough gravel path. 
 
 44 Come! up with you!" shouted the ruf- 
 fian, kicking him over as he would a dead 
 dog; when, as Goodman was utterly una- 
 ble to rise, he proceeded to drag him along 
 the ground, as the blood gushed in streams 
 from his nose and ears. 
 
 ' 4 Act like men!" cried the coachman, 
 who sickened at the sight. "If he is mad, 
 damme don't tr^at him like a varmint!" 
 
 44 Mind your own business," cried a black- 
 looking scoundrel, who appeared to be the 
 proprietor of this infamous den. 44 What's 
 your fare!" 
 
 44 Seven shillings!" indignantly shouted 
 the coachman. 
 
 44 Here it is. Now be off! we want 
 none of your insolence here." 
 
 44 Lor send I may never have such ano- 
 ther job as this!" cried the coachman on 
 mounting his box. 4< If I'd ha' knowed it, 
 you should ha' pulled me up five hundred 
 times afore I'd ha' taken such a fare." 
 And he lashed his horses violently with a 
 view of expressing his indignation, and 
 gave the fellow who held open the gates an 
 apparently accidental cut across the cheek," 
 as he drove through. 
 
 Poor Goodman, as well as he was able, 
 now looked for his unnatural brother, who, 
 however, remained in the coach outside 
 but no sooner had he turned his head round, 
 than he was dragged into a room, when, 
 another flood of tears having somewhat re- 
 lieved him, he said faintly to the person to 
 whom a paper in which Bowlernout and 
 Dobb had certified to his insanity, was de- 
 livered. 44 Are you, sir, the proprietor of 
 this establishment]" 
 
 44 1 am!" said that person, with a scowl. 
 
 44 Will you do me the favor then to show 
 me your authority for my detention?" 
 
 4 Hold your tongue, sir!" 
 
 44 1 merely wish " 
 
 4 ' Silence!" interrupted the scowling 
 brute; 44 strip him, and put him to bed!" 
 added he, addressing his myrmidons. 44 If 
 he dares to show any of his devil's tricks 
 here, why you know how to serve him." 
 
 Goodman was accordingly dragged into 
 a narrow dark cell, stripped and thrown 
 upon a pallet! when the ruffians, after 
 swearing that they would come and. knock 
 his brains out if he made the slightest noise, 
 locked him up for the night. 
 
 44 Heaven's will be done!" exclaimed 
 Goodman, on being left alone. 44 But, oh 
 God! am I mad 1 ? I must be I feel that I 
 must; for I thought and still think I saw 
 my brother! that brother to whom I have 
 never been unkind whom I have cherished 
 
84 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 through life, with the most affectionate ten- 
 derness whom I have sustained. Oh! it 
 cannot impossible! I am, 1 am mad' 
 And yet surely, this cannot be a dream? 
 No! no! I am awake now! GOD! what 
 can it be? Not madness? I can remember 
 every circumstance can connect and re- 
 view. Those physicians! they spoke of 
 my connection with an emperor! / never 
 
 imagined myself to be thus connected! It 
 must be a mistake. Yet who sent them? 
 Walter? his motive? immediate posses- 
 sion! It must have been! Oh! what a vil- 
 lanous system is this! what man is secure 
 from being seized, confined, murdered? If 
 I am not mad, I soon shall be!" And thus 
 he proceeded until mental and physical 
 agony induced absolute exhaustion. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 VALENTINE VISITS THE BRITISH MUSEUM IMPARTS BREATH TO MEMNON AND RAISES A 
 
 VOICE FROM THE TOMB. 
 
 ON reaching the residence of Goodman, 
 Valentine found the old servant in tears, 
 and, as he became apprehensive of some- 
 thing of a very serious character having 
 occurred, he walked immediately into the 
 parlor, and desired her to follow him. 
 " Something has happened, Ann," said he 
 with much earnestness, " tell me, what is 
 it?" 
 
 Ann sobbed bitterly, but managed to ob- 
 serve, " I don't know what I've done, 
 sir I thought I gave good satisfac- 
 tion." 
 
 "What on earth is the matter?" cried 
 Valentine impatiently. 
 
 "Master, sir's given me wa-arning." 
 
 " Oh when did he return?" 
 
 " I haven't set eyes on him since Satur- 
 day, when he left with you, sir." 
 
 "Then how can he have given you 
 warning?" 
 
 " He sent it by his brother," cried Ann. 
 " Mr. Walter has been here and read a let- 
 ter he'd just received from master, where 
 he says he's going to be out of town for a 
 time, and that I must look out for another 
 place." 
 
 "And where is he now?" 
 
 "Mr. Walter says that mayn't be known." 
 
 "He read the letter to you?" 
 
 " Yes, all but where it came from, and 
 dear me, I'd almost forgot: he wished me 
 to say, sir, that master's kind regards, and 
 as he shouldn't p'rhaps come back for some 
 weeks or a month, he thinks you'd better 
 return to the country, and he'll send you 
 another invitation by and bye." 
 
 "This is very extraordinary!" thought 
 Valentine, " I'd no idea of his being even 
 in the slightest degree involved. When 
 are you to leave, Ann?" 
 
 " To-night, sir." 
 
 " To-night!" 
 
 "Yes, sir, this blessed night! Mr. Wal- 
 
 ter has settled with me and paid me my 
 month, and I'm to leave this night, sir! 
 would you believe it?" 
 
 " And who's to take charge of the house?" 
 
 " Mrs. Horace is coming this evening, 
 and she and her husband are going to re- 
 main." 
 
 " Indeed! I must see Mr. Walter." 
 
 " Yes, do, sir. But won't you have 
 nothing to take? You'll come home to 
 dinner, sir, wont you?" 
 
 " No, I shall dine out," said Valentine; 
 and he left the house at once with the view 
 of calling upon Walter. "Poor old gentle- 
 man!" he murmured, on his way, " He has 
 been entering into some unsuccessful specu- 
 lation. What an extraordinary passion is 
 this love of wealth! An old man like that 
 now, having plenty, to risk probably all 
 that he possessed with a view of gaining 
 more than he could possibly enjoy! How 
 is it that men are never satisfied with that 
 which they have?" Before he had framed 
 a satisfactory answer to this question ho 
 reached the door of Walter's residence. 
 
 "Mr. Goodman is not at home sir," said 
 the servant, in answer to Valentine's in- 
 quiry. 
 
 " Nor Mrs. Goodman?" 
 
 "No, sir; they went out with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Horace, and I don't expect them home 
 before night?" 
 
 " Valentine perceived in a moment by the 
 unsteady eye and the hesitating speech of 
 the girl that what she had stated was not 
 exactly correct. He did not, however, press 
 the matter farther, but left his card, and 
 bade her say that he would call in the 
 evening. 
 
 "Now what shall I do with myself?" 
 thought Valentine, as he walked very 
 leisurely from the house. " I wish that I 
 knew a little more about London. How- 
 ever, I must, I suppose, be content to 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 85 
 
 my chance." Aud he continued to walk, 
 without knowing or caring much where. 
 He had not, however, proceeded any very 
 great distance before he came to an old- 
 fashioned red hrick building, on either side 
 of the gates of which a sentinel was walk- 
 ing, with a view to the uninterrupted cir- 
 culation of his blood. 
 
 " What place is this 1 ?" he inquired of one 
 of these national guardians. 
 
 " Brish Museum," returned the sentinel, 
 marvelling at his ignorance, and walking 
 away as stiffly as if he had that morning 
 swallowed his ramrod by mistake. 
 
 "The British Museum!" said Valentine, 
 without thanking the soldier for his extra- 
 ordinary politeness! "The very place I 
 want to see!" And he entered the court- 
 yard at once, and after looking with a curi- 
 ous eye at a creature in a long wooden wig, 
 and at a canoe of great antiquity, which ap- 
 peared to have been constructed by some 
 ingenious wild gentlemen out of the bark 
 of a tree, he reached the hall, when, after 
 having purchased a catalogue of one indi- 
 vidual, and delivered his stick to another, 
 he passed a well stuffed rhinoceros that had 
 evidently known what it was to have a bul- 
 w ' let or two in his body, and proceeded up 
 stairs, at the top of which stood a few very 
 gigantic giraffes, with necks sufficiently 
 long to have enabled them to dine without 
 the slightest inconvenience in an attic, while 
 standing outside the street door. 
 
 Having surveyed these lofty creatures, 
 he passed through the rooms in which the 
 specimens of various animals were so nu- 
 merous that a student in Natural History 
 might spend the full term of his natural life 
 without acquiring a perfect knowledge of 
 their respective characteristics! These, 
 however, did not appear to the majority of 
 the visitors to be the most attractive animals 
 in this vast collection. The chief attraction 
 seemed to be centred in the visitors them- 
 selves, and from the number of nods of re- 
 cognition, and meetings by appointment 
 which came under the immediate cogni- 
 sance of Valentine, he was naturally led to 
 infer that this national establishment was a 
 national place of assignation. He never 
 had lavished upon him at any one time so 
 many really wicked glances. The widows 
 were desperately intent upon something; 
 they appeared to be especially on the qui 
 vive, and as his eyes met theirs at every 
 turn, he jumped at once to the conclusion 
 that if they were really virtuous they were 
 really not very discreet, and after taking a 
 good steady look at a lobster, that was 
 pinned very closely to the wainscot, he pro- 
 ceeded to the Gallery of Antiquities below. 
 
 This place he found remarkably cool and 
 
 pleasant. He surveyed, without the slight- 
 est interruption, a legion of little gods which 
 appeared to have been barbarously muti- 
 lated in their infancy; and then turned his 
 attention to a number of young artists, who 
 had obviously inspired the conviction that 
 they were on the high road to immortal 
 fame. 
 
 One was sketching a goddess without 
 a nose: another was portraying a ram-head- 
 ed lady; a third was engaged upon a strik- 
 ing colossal fist; a fourth was drawing the 
 fragment of some hero, who appeared to 
 have lost the greater part of himself in some 
 desperate battle; a fifth was depicting an 
 excellent woman, who had not only lost 
 her head and one of her shoulders, but out 
 of whose arm a large piece appeared to 
 have been bitten, and who was represented 
 kneeling behind a tablet well covered with 
 exceedingly interesting hieroglyphics; while 
 a sixth was engaged upon three very bandy 
 little deities, who looked as if they might 
 have accomplished great things in their 
 time. 
 
 Having inaudibly awarded to these artists 
 all the praise which appeared to be due to 
 them respectively, Valentine passed on un- 
 til he came to a figure of which a number 
 of persons appeared to be at that moment 
 lost in admiration, This figure was placed 
 upon a huge block of stone, and although 
 its face was by far the most pleasing of 
 them all, one side of its head had been 
 chopped off, apparently with sorae heavy 
 implement, while the left arm and shoulder 
 with the whole of the bedy below the third 
 rib had been blown clean away. 
 
 On referring to his catalogue, Valentine 
 found this to be the bust of young Memnon, 
 and as certain elderly gentlemen who formed 
 part of the group were conversing on the 
 subject of oracles in general, he listened 
 with considerable attention to their dis- 
 course, and found them to be exceedingly 
 communicative men. 
 
 " There is nothing," said one of the 
 elderly persons, " that can have so great a 
 tendency to prove the rapid progress of the 
 human intellect as an oracle. If any man 
 of the present age were capable of even 
 dreaming that a mere mass of stone had 
 the power to speak, he would be set down 
 at once as a natural fool; yet to what an 
 extent did the priests and false prophets, 
 the eugastrimandi of the Greeks, the ma- 
 gicians, the soothsayers, and sorcerers of 
 Rome impose, in the remote ages, upon the 
 superstitious multitude!" 
 
 "Surely," thought Valentine, "those 
 prophets and priests knew nothing of ven- 
 triloquism!" 
 
 " They were artful cards doubtless," ob- 
 
86 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 served a tall thin person, who wore a sin- 
 gularly small pair of spectacles; "but how 
 did they manage it? thai puzzles me. By 
 what means were they able to carry on 
 their games'?" 
 
 " It is utterly impossible to say," replied 
 the elderly gentleman who had started the 
 subject. " It is reported, you know, of the 
 famous Kireber, that, in order to undeceive 
 the credulous people, and to account for 
 certain strange things relating to the cele- 
 brated Delphic Oracle, he fixed a tube in 
 his bed-chamber, so that when persons 
 came to his garden gate, he could hear 
 them if they but whispered, and by means 
 of this tube he asked questions and gave 
 answers, and that he afterwards removed it 
 to his museum and fixed it in a figure, so 
 that it seemed to be animated, and distinct 
 sounds apparently issued from its mouth, 
 for he clearly supposed that the pagan 
 priests by using such tubes, used to make 
 the superstitious believe that the idol itself 
 returned answers to their questions. And 
 there can be no doubt that it was done by 
 some trickery on the part of the priests, 
 who, when they found their power waning, 
 sought to sustain it by the performance of 
 miracles of this kind." 
 
 " \Vas this Memnon a vocal god?" in- 
 quired the tall thin gentleman. 
 
 " Of course he was! and one of the very 
 greatest." 
 
 " He appears to have been a big one, but 
 I can see no tube, nor any place into which 
 a tube could possibly have been inserted." 
 
 "It was not done with tubes!" said Va- 
 lentine to himself. " In those days I should 
 have made an excellent miracle-monger; I 
 may as well try the effect now;" when, 
 placing himself in a favorable position, 
 "Fools," he cried, in a deep sepulchral 
 tone, making his voice proceed apparently 
 from the thick lips of Memnon, " Think ye 
 that Memnon was never inspired?" 
 
 The group at once shrank back appalled; 
 some felt quite faint for the moment, as 
 they stared at the statue and trembled, 
 while the rest looked amazed at each other, 
 but neither of them ventured to utter a 
 word. 
 
 "Be off!" shouted Valentine through 
 Memnon. "If they hadn't left my legs 
 behind in Egypt, I'd jump down and kick 
 you out of the place!" 
 
 " Wonderful!" involuntarily exclaimed 
 the old gentleman, who had been BO severe 
 upon the pious men of old. 
 
 " Wonderful!" cried Valentine, contempt- 
 uously; "convince thyself! Test my pro- 
 phetic soul! test it! Would'st thou know 
 thy destiny? Speak!" 
 
 * Ye^yes!" cried the stout old gentleman, 
 
 who evidently prided himself upon his 
 courage. " Who's afraid?" 
 
 "Tip then!" cried Memnon. "Tip! I 
 never did duty without it, and I shan't com- 
 mence now!" 
 
 The astonished group again stared wildly 
 at each other. "Did you see his lips 
 move?" inquired one. "I thought that I 
 did!" replied another; "I fancied I saw 
 them move." 
 
 " Fool!" exclaimed Memnon; "dost thou 
 wish to insult me? Think'st thou, idiot, 
 the inspired Memnon would condescend to 
 wag his sacred lips like a grovelling mor- 
 tal?" 
 
 At this moment an individual who had a 
 remarkably red face, and whose breath told 
 a tale about his having indulged recently in 
 hot rum-and-water, approached, and when 
 the assumed fact of Memnon having spoken 
 had been communicated to him, he laughed 
 very heartily as a matter of course. 
 
 " You will not believe it? Speak to him 
 and be convinced," urged the stout old gen- 
 tleman seriously. 
 
 "Speak to him?" cried he with the florid 
 face; " speak to him? Well, my old trump, 
 how's your mother?" 
 
 " Irreverent wretch!" exclaimed Memnon 
 indignantly; "know thyself and drink less 
 rum!" 
 
 " Hollo!" cried the gentleman with the 
 highly colored countenance. "Hul-lo!" 
 and he closed one eye in order to have a 
 good stare at the statue with the other, 
 while his mouth was as wide open as a 
 mouth of that size could conveniently be 
 strained. 
 
 "Are ye satisfied?" cried Memnon. "Learn 
 to respect what ye cannot comprehend. I 
 want repose. D'ye hear? Be off; and dis- 
 turb me no more!" And Valentine viewed 
 with silent pleasure the astonishment de- 
 picted in the countenances of the group 
 while engaged in conversing on the mar- 
 vellous nature of that which they imagined 
 they had witnessed. 
 
 Having heard these amazed individuals 
 declare, that although they might meet 
 during their progress through life with 
 many staunch unbelievers, nothing on earth 
 would ever be able to shake their faith in 
 the assumed fact that the oracle had abso- 
 lutely spoken, Valentine proceeded to sur- 
 vey the Elgin marbles, and derived much 
 amusement from a couple of highly-git'ird 
 connoisseurs, who were loudly and learn- 
 edly descanting on their peculiar excel- 
 lencies. 
 
 ' Well, Jones," said one of these gen- 
 tlemen, " What do you think of UHMM rh ?" 
 
 "Think of %>in!" contemptuously cried 
 Jones, thrusting his hand into his ample 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 87 
 
 coat pockets. *' I wouldn't give two-pence 
 for the lot." 
 
 "You don't know the value of them 
 surely!" 
 
 " I don't if they're worth more money. 
 Did you ever in all your born days see such 
 rubbish 1 ? Why I wouldn't pick 'em up in 
 the street! I wouldn't own 'em! If they 
 belonged to me I'd pitch the whole failing 
 into the Thames." 
 
 " But look, my dear fellow take this for 
 example just look at the symmetry " 
 
 " Symmetry! What's the good of that 1 ? 
 He aint got no head and not above half a 
 body. Where are his legs gone to] look 
 at that arm there chopped all to smash at 
 the elbow! Symmetry! come, that's good, 
 Why I've got a group of goddesses at 
 home that I gave fifteen pence for, that 
 would, in point of Symmetry, beat the 
 whole biling into fits!" 
 
 " But take them as fragments." 
 
 " That's precisely what I do take 'em as! 
 I can't take 'em as any thing else! and 
 pretty fragments they are!" 
 
 " But their age, my dear fellow!" 
 
 " Now, don't tell me! Just look at this 
 woman here! Send I may live! why there 
 aint above a quarter on her left!" 
 
 " But you must look at the parts that are 
 remaining!" 
 
 " And so I just do! There's nothing eke 
 to look at! It won't do, you know, at least, 
 it won't do for me! However they can gam- 
 mon the people to believe that there's any 
 thing fine in such rubbish as this, puts me 
 out altogether. There isn't one of 'em per- 
 fect, nor any thing like it. That fellow 
 there's the best of the bunch, and they've 
 smashed off the biggest part of his corpo- 
 ration! to have a post mortal examination 
 I s'pose! Of all the rum rotten trash that 
 ever was scraped together this queer lot 
 bangs all! Come!" he added, seizing the 
 arm of his friend and dragging him from 
 the room; " let's go and look at something 
 a leetle worth while." 
 
 Valentine derived so much pleasure from 
 the learned observations of this individual 
 and the John-Bull-ish, solemn, self-satisfied 
 air with which those observations were 
 made, that he left the Elgin marbles to fol- 
 low him and his friend, with the view of 
 still farther indulging his taste for the sub- 
 lime. 
 
 "This is a pretty good sized coffin," ob- 
 served Mr. Jones approaching a ponderous 
 granite sepulchre, the lid of which was held 
 up by a strong wooden frame that the whole 
 of the interior might be viewed. "It 
 would hold a couple of dozen dead bodies 
 well packed! The water couldn't get in 
 very well here I say, could it? And as to 
 
 the worms! they might try till they ground 
 their teeth down to the level of their old 
 gums before they'd be able to nibble their 
 way through. This is just the sort of coffin 
 that I should like to have now only it 
 would cost so much to carry it to the grave. 
 It would take twenty men, and even then 
 they'd make a muddle of it. Here's an- 
 other of them," he added as he crossed to 
 the opposite side, " they appear to be fel- 
 lows." 
 
 Now as the lid of this happened to be 
 down, and as it was perfectly obvious that 
 Mr. Jones had entered the Museum ex- 
 pressly in order to be astonished; it recur- 
 red at once to Valentine, that it would be a 
 pity to allow him to depart disappointed. 
 He, therefore, while apparently admiring 
 with others an exceedingly broad Egyptian 
 pedestal, introduced a quiet groan into the 
 sepulchre, as Jones was engaged in point- 
 ing out to his friend the ridiculous character 
 of certain heiroglyphics. 
 
 " Hush! hush!" cried that gentleman, 
 starting back suddenly and seizing the arm 
 of his friend. " Hush! didn't you hear]" 
 
 " I thought I heard something," observed 
 his friend whispering. 
 t " Hush! hush-sh! Listen!" and Valen- 
 tine sent in another small groan. 
 
 " Send I may live! 'tis a man!" ex- 
 claimed Jones. 
 
 " Impossible!" cried his friend. " Why, 
 do you know the age of this thing]" 
 
 " I don't care a dump about the age! If 
 it is in its fifty millionth year it don't mat- 
 ter a button: there's something alive in it 
 now listen again!" and the violence of 
 his action drew several persons round, of 
 course anxious to ascertain what had caused 
 so much excitement. 
 
 Now Valentine happened to be by no 
 means conversant with the language of the 
 Egyptians, and as he conceived that it 
 might spoil the whole thing if he ventured 
 to speak, he confined himself simply to the 
 introduction of a long drowsy yawn which 
 he presumed to have been well understood in 
 all ages and climes. Before he had finished 
 yawning, however, Jones again started up, 
 and addressing an individual who was sleep- 
 ing in a chair with a long white wand in his 
 hand, cried, " Here! he's been buried alive! 
 He's just awoke! do you hear]" 
 
 The individual with the wand opened his 
 eyes, and scratched his head and approached 
 crying, " What's the matter] what's all 
 this eh]" 
 
 " Why here's somebody been buried 
 alive here," said Jones. 
 
 " Pooh! nonsense! are you mad]" cried 
 the person with the wand assuming some 
 considerable amount of official dignity. 
 
88 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "I don't care a straw what yon say,"] 
 returned Jones, " I know that there's some ! 
 one in there! did you never hear of a man 
 being buried in a trance?" 
 
 " Why you must he insane!" cried the 
 functionary. " That tomb has been empty 
 ever since before you and your grandmo- 
 thers and grandfathers before you were 
 born!" 
 
 " I don't care a button how long it has 
 been empty! I'll bet fifty pounds that 
 there's some one in now!" 
 
 "I certainly myself heard something," 
 observed a gentleman who had been attract- 
 ed with others to the spot. 
 
 " Oh nonsense!" cried the official 
 " Why it was only cleaned out the other 
 day!" 
 
 " But satisfy yourself!" exclaimed Jones, 
 really wondering at the stubborn cool- 
 blooded incredulity of the man. 
 
 " I am I am satisfied!" cried the official; 
 but another yawn which Valentine dexte- 
 rously introduced at the moment, caused 
 him to start back amazed. Down went his 
 wand, and away he flew, in order to pro- 
 claim as well as he could the fact to his 
 brother officers; who, inferring from the 
 highly excited state of his nerves that some- 
 thing was the matter, returned with him at 
 once, with the view of rendering whatever 
 assistance the case might demand. 
 
 The very moment, however, that the case 
 was explained, they treated the thing with 
 an air of derision. They all laughed as 
 heartily as men could laugh, and in a man- 
 ner well calculated to be serviceable to 
 them in a physical point of view inasmuch 
 as it gave them great pain, as they had not 
 had a really good lauijh for an age. 
 
 " W 7 hy, Sirnpkins," cried one, " upon my 
 soul, I didn't think you'd been so soft!" 
 But Mr. Simpkins by no means regarded it 
 as so excellent a joke as they appeared to 
 imagine, He took an altogether different 
 view of the matter, for although he felt per- 
 fectly sure that the tomb did not contain an 
 Egyptian, as he had seen it but a few days 
 previously open and empty, he was not quite 
 so sure that the workmen in closing the lid 
 had not shut in some poor devoted laborer, 
 whom they had either forgotten or cared not 
 to release. He, therefore, heeded not their 
 derision; but being an extremely humane 
 man kept his ear very closely to the tomb, 
 while they were laughing and joking with 
 glee by his side. 
 
 " For Heaven's sake!" at length he ex- 
 claimed, "be silent for a moment!" Hut 
 they would not be silent: they continued to 
 laugh very loudly and very wantonly, until 
 Jones and several others made an earnest ap- 
 peal to their humanities, begging them to 
 
 hold their peace, but for an instant, in order 
 that they themselves might be convinced 
 that the sounds were not the offspring of 
 mere imagination. 
 
 " Well, let's give these very silly people 
 a chance!" cried one of the men who had 
 been so strongly moved to laughter. " Let 
 us listen to the cries and groans of this 
 mummy. Now hush! hush!" And several 
 of those who had been thus enjoined to 
 silence commenced groaning very furiously 
 a feat which not only excited another 
 peal of laughter, but inspired Mr. Jones 
 with much real indignation. "Inhuman 
 wretches!" he exclaimed, "assist me in 
 raising the lid of this tomb, I tell you there's 
 some one inside; I know it; I'm sure of it; 
 I'll bet any one of you fifty younds of it!" 
 And Mr. Jones produced a pocketbook con- 
 taining a roll of notes, which astonished 
 the official eyes of the functionaries around 
 him and caused them respectfully to open 
 their ears. The effect was electric. Their 
 countenances dropped in a moment. A 
 more powerful argument could not have 
 been adduced, for they began to believe at 
 once that there must be something in it, 
 and, hence, to pay all due attention. 
 
 Finding that the general impression was 
 that he whom they imagined to be in the 
 tomb, was not an Egyptian, but a laborer, 
 Valentine concluded that as a laborer must 
 of course mean an Irishman, he couldn't go 
 very far wrong if he gave them a spice of 
 the brogue. 
 
 " Och! what the blazes will I do thin!" 
 he cried, " be me sowl I'm clane didd althe- 
 gidher entirely murther!" 
 
 "Now, what d'ye think of it!" cried 
 Simpkins, triumphantly. 
 
 " Somebody's there, sure enough;" said 
 one of those who had previously tre:it--d 
 the whole thing with contempt. " Eut how 
 could he get in 1 ?" 
 
 "Never mind a dump," cried Jones, 
 "how he got in; let's try to get him out." 
 
 " Dirthy wather to ye, lit me thin have a 
 brith of air I'll be slimudher'd complate 
 wid th' want of it och!" 
 
 " Hut a moment, my good fellow now 
 now give a lift!" And Mr. Jones and 
 the whole of the officials put the palms of 
 their hands to the lid of the tomb, which 
 however (UTied all their strength.' 
 
 " Run run, for the workmen!" cried 
 Simpkins, " bring them at once, or tho man 
 will be a corpse!" and two wand-bearers 
 started off immediately for the men who 
 were engaged in a different part of the mu- 
 seum. 
 
 "What a lucky thing it was that I hap- 
 pened to hoar him!" observed Mr. Jones. 
 It' 1 hadn't, the chances are that he'd 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 89 
 
 never have come out alive. It was the 
 merest miracle in nature I heard him groan." 
 
 "Why," said Simpkins, "he must have 
 been in five days the thing hasn't^been 
 opened since Wednesday." 
 
 " Five days!" exclaimed several of the 
 visitors, in a breath, as a violent thrill of 
 horror ran through them. " Five days!" 
 and they made up their minds to see a 
 skeleton. 
 
 "Shall nobody thrag me out of this!" 
 cried Valentine. " Will I be shmudher'd 
 at last!" 
 
 " Wait a moment, my good fellow, wait 
 but a moment!" cried Jones putting his lips 
 to the lid of the tomb. 
 
 " In a moment I'm didd widout doubt. I 
 fale dhreadful. Arrah thin you devils! Is 
 it thin at yer aise ye'd be afther shtanthing 
 whin yer say a boy murther'd to dith! Take 
 the top off cornplate, or be the sowl that's 
 inside o'me " 
 
 "Don't be impatient!" cried Jones 
 "You must not be impatient." 
 
 " It's impatient yer mane! Opin the top 
 then, bad luck t'yer, opin the top! Aint it 
 just like a baste I've been thrated sure! 
 Opin the top!" 
 
 At this moment the workmen arrived with 
 their tools, and after some slight delay 
 during which the imaginary Irishman was 
 engaged in calling out very fiercely they 
 succeeded in introducing a lever. This was 
 no sooner done than Valentine perceiving 
 that the game was nearly up, cried, " It's 
 all complately over wid me now. I'm quite 
 murthered I'm gone I'm at pace!" and 
 turned round with a view to the full enjoy- 
 ment of the scene. 
 
 The visitors were in a state of the most 
 painful anxiety; the wand-bearers felt 
 scarcely able to breathe; while the workmen 
 perspired with infinite freedom, for the 
 weight of the lid was immense. They did, 
 however, eventually succeed in raising it 
 sufficiently to enable them to examine the 
 interior, and this was no sooner accom- 
 plished than a dozen simultaneously looked 
 in, very naturally expecting to behold a 
 fellow-creature lying prostrate at the bot- 
 tom. 
 
 " Where is he!" cried one. " I can't 
 
 see him!" cried another. " Not here!" cried 
 a third "the thing's empty!" 
 
 " Oh nonsense!" shouted several of the 
 visitors who were behind. 
 
 " ; Well you'd better come and find him," 
 said those who had looked, giving way to 
 the incredulous creatures who had not. 
 
 " Where can he be got to!" inquired Mr. 
 Jones. 
 
 " He was never there at all!" cried the 
 very official who had previously laughed 
 the very heartiest of the lot. "It's pre- 
 cisely what I said! The idea of a man 
 being in! How could he have got there!" 
 
 "Do you mean to say," observed Jones, 
 " that you don't think a man was in this 
 thing at all!" 
 
 " I do!" replied the official very firmly. 
 
 " Then / mean to say you know nothing 
 about it! The go is a rum go certainly, a 
 very rum go; but isn't a man to believe his 
 own ears! I heard him myself! Didn't 
 you, sir! and you!" As several of the 
 visitors bore testimony to the fact of having 
 heard some voice proceed from the tomb, 
 Jones continued, " Of course! W 7 e all 
 heard it! One may be deceived, or two may 
 be deceived, or even three may be deceived, 
 but, send I may live, we can't all be de- 
 ceived!" 
 
 " Well where is he now! where is he!" 
 
 " That's jist the very pint that I can't 
 make out: it's in fact the only pint to be 
 considered." 
 
 And the point was considered very 
 deeply considered but the consideration 
 yielded nothing bearing even the semblance 
 of a conjecture! They could not conceive 
 how a man could have escaped, nor could 
 they believe that no man had been there. 
 j They examined the tomb minutely again 
 and again, but failed to find even so much 
 as a crack to give weight to any opinion 
 having reference to the exit of any thing like 
 a human being. They still, however, tried 
 I very hard very, very hard indeed torecon- 
 I cile the fact of their having heard the voice of 
 [ a man, with the fact of no man being there; 
 and as Valentine's appetite began to be 
 somewhat troublesome, he left them engaged 
 in unravelling that mystery which he per- 
 fectly well knew they were unable to solve. 
 
90 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTUERS OF 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE SALE OF GOODMAN'S PROPERTY BY WALTER, AND THE EXTRAORDINARY STOPPAGE 
 
 THEREOF BY VALENTINE. 
 
 HAVING dined at the first decent tavern ' 
 he came to, Valentine started for poor 
 Goodman's house; but as he found it locked 
 up and entirely deserted, he proceeded at 
 once to the residence of Walter, with the 
 view of ascertaining-, if possible, the cause 
 of this unusually sudden change. 
 
 On reaching the house, he found the ser- 
 vant at the door, and in answer to his nu- 
 merous inquiries, the girl told an interesting 
 tale about how Mr. Goodman, her master, 
 had been out all the day with her mistress: 
 how Mr. and Mrs. Horace had been out all 
 day with them; how they were all out to- 
 gether on some pressing business, then, and 
 how she didn't expect they would be home 
 before midnight. 
 
 "I'll leave a note for your master," said 
 Valentine; "I suppose 1 shall find a pen 
 and ink in the parlor 1 ?" 
 
 "Oh," said the girl, placing herself hur- 
 riedly before him, " Missis has locked up 
 the parlor, sir; she always does when she 
 goes out for any time." 
 
 " Has she locked up the drawing-room 
 tool" inquired Valentine. 
 
 "Yes, sir there's a tavern over the way, 
 6ir: if you'll write a note there, sir, if you 
 please, I'll be sure to give it master, directly 
 he comes home." 
 
 At this moment Walter, of course quite 
 unconscious of the door being open, rushed 
 out of the parlor in his morning gown and 
 slippers, and was about to proceed up stairs, 
 when he caught a glance of Valentine in 
 the passage. 
 
 " Oh! how do you do 1 ?" he cried, making 
 an extremely awkward attempt to conceal 
 the confusion into which he had been 
 thrown. " Happy to see you! very happy 
 to see you! walk in," and he gave a most 
 withering look at the girl, although it was 
 clearly by no means her fault. 
 
 On entering the parlor Valentine found 
 the whole family engaged in the perusal of 
 a mass of papers with which the table had 
 been strewed; and although they received 
 him with much affected pleasure, he per- 
 ceived in a moment that he was an unwel 
 come guest. 
 
 " So the old buffer's bolted and left you 
 in the lurch," observed Horace, trying to 
 conceal the iron safe which belonged to 
 Goodman. "It's just like the old out-and- 
 outer." 
 
 "I hope nothing serious has occurred," 
 bserved Valentine. 
 
 " Oh, not a ha'porth of it! serious! no 
 chance of that!" returned Horace. " But 
 you know he's such a jolly old rum un 
 here's no such thing as holding him any 
 how." 
 
 c I feared," said Valentine, " that he had 
 entered into some unsuccessful speculation, 
 and had thus become involved." 
 
 'Speculation!" cried Horace, "well, 
 come, that's rich! Why, did you ever 
 suppose that a regular old know-nothing 
 out-and-out cove of his kidney had half 
 
 enough pluck to " 
 
 "My dear Horace, how you do talk!" 
 interrupted Mrs. Goodman, " when you 
 
 know that he has been speculating " 
 
 " Oh! ah! exactly!" said Horace, who 
 had evidently forgotten his part. 
 
 " The fact is," said Walter, " he has 
 been dabbling a little, aud that has rendered 
 it inexpedient for him to be seen for a week 
 or two you understand!" Valentine nod- 
 ded, for he did understand what they wish- 
 ed him to understand; but no more. There 
 is something behind, thought he. These 
 hesitating speeches and secret looks mean 
 something. 
 
 "And what do you think of doing, my 
 trump?" said Walter, as Valentine was 
 steadily watching their actions. " Do you 
 mean to remain here in this little village, or 
 do you mean to cut back!" 
 
 " Why the thing is so sudden, I've not 
 at present made up my mind. Of course 1 
 shall eventually return." 
 
 " My brother," observed Walter, "in his 
 letter to me, states that he should advise 
 you to return at once, and that when every- 
 thing is settled he shall again be most hap- 
 py to see you." 
 
 " Had he written to me to that effect," 
 said Valentine, " I should doubtless have 
 acted at once upon his advice; but as he Ir.is 
 not and 1 cannot but think it must extraor- 
 dinary that he has not I feel justified in 
 looking to my own feelings for a guide. 1 " 
 
 ' \\ e ought, I'm sure, to make a thou- 
 sand apologies," observed Mrs. Goodman; 
 as she pinned three pieces of parchment to- 
 gether, and rnarked them; "but I hope that 
 the next time you favor us with a visit wo 
 slr.tll not be so deeply engaged." 
 
 "Where do vou think of holding out 
 until )ou cut It!" inquired Horace. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 91 
 
 " T hardly know yet," replied Valentine. 
 
 " I'm sorry," said Mrs. Goodman, " that 
 we have not a bed to offer you; but we 
 shall be truly happy to see you whenever 
 you will favor us with a call." 
 
 "My boxes," said Valentine, "1 sup- 
 pose that if I send for them to-morrow, I 
 can have them?" 
 
 " Most certainly, my dear sir," replied 
 Walter, " I'll see that they are safely deli- 
 vered myself." 
 
 " Well, ta, ta, my tulip, if you will go," 
 cried Horace: "Take care of yourself, and 
 let's know where you are, you know!" 
 
 Valentine promised to do so, and after 
 taking leave of the ladies was attended to 
 the door by W'alter, who displayed an ex- 
 traordinary degree of politeness; and left 
 the house deeply inspired with the convic- 
 tion that something was exceedingly wrong. 
 
 As he wandered down the street review- 
 ing steadily all that he had seen, it occur- 
 red to him that in a window immediately 
 opposite the house in which he and poor 
 Goodman had resided, he had noticed a card 
 on which was printed "APARTMENTS FOR A 
 SINGLE GENTLEMAN;" and as he strongly 
 suspected foul play, and felt that by engag- 
 ing those apartments he should be able to 
 - watch the movements of Walter and his 
 family unseen, he went at once to the house 
 came to terms with the widow by whom 
 it was kept, and after stating the fact of his 
 having lived opposite a fact which ap- 
 peared to be perfectly well known took 
 immediate possession. 
 
 He had not been seated long at his win- 
 dow, which commanded of course a full 
 view of Goodman's house, when he saw 
 Walter, Horace, his wife and her servant, 
 with two workmen, enter. The moment 
 they were in, the door closed, and soon 
 after the workmen were seen in the draw- 
 ing-room and then at the windows above, 
 where they appeared to be receiving in- 
 structions from Walter, with reference to 
 the removal of certain fixtures, and shortly 
 afterwards quitted the house with him, 
 leaving in charge of it Horace and his wife. 
 
 As the evening drew on, the shutters 
 were closed, and all seemed secured for the 
 night, when Valentine, who had had but 
 little sleep the night previously in conse- 
 quence of having persecuted Beagle with 
 the cats, had a very early supper and re- 
 tired. 
 
 In the morning the whole family were at 
 work long before he was up, and through- 
 out the entire day they were busily engag- 
 ed with clerks, carpenters, and porters with 
 green aprons, examining, tying up and lot- 
 ting the furniture. Valentine watched their 
 actions narrowly, and towards the evening 
 
 slipped ou-t, took a coach, and called him- 
 self for his boxes, without apparently 
 noticing the confusion that prevailed; and 
 after driving right away that they might 
 not know where he resided, came back to 
 his lodgings unseen. 
 
 That night about ten a cart came to the 
 door, and when a number of baskets which 
 evidently contained plate, china and glass,- 
 had been deposited with care it drove off, v. 
 when Valentine watched it to the house of 
 Walter, saw it emptied, and returned. 
 
 Nothing more was removed that night, 
 but early the following morning three large 
 vans were loaded with great facility. Whi- 
 ter appeared to be extremely anxious for 
 them to start, and when they did start, Va- 
 lentine followed and saw their contents de- 
 posited at the rooms of an auctioneer. He 
 then knew of course that they were to be 
 sold off at once, and as he saw by the 
 papers that a sale of household furniture 
 was to take place the following day at those 
 rooms, he resolved to be there, in order to 
 fathom the thing, if possible, to the bottom. 
 
 Accordingly at twelve the next day he 
 started off, and having arrived at the en- 
 trance, on either side of which were exhi- 
 bited a variety of catalogues and placards 
 he proceeded up a long narrow passage, 
 and then ascended a small flight of steps, 
 which led immediately into the Sale Room. 
 
 In the centre of this room stood a circu- 
 lar table, round which certain children of 
 Israel were seated with a view of securing 
 all bargains to themselves, while behind 
 them stood small mobs of people of the 
 same persuasion, conversing on the expe- 
 diency of giving certain sums for certain 
 lots, and of out-bidding any Christian per- 
 son who might have a desire to purchase 
 those " lots worth the money." 
 
 The moment Valentine entered, he look- 
 ed round for Walter and his amiable family, 
 whom, in a short time, he saw in a state of 
 great consternation, which had evidently 
 been induced by his unexpected presence. 
 He seemed, however, to take no notice of 
 them; but apparently directed the whole of 
 his attention to the actions of those who 
 by constantly attending these Sale Rooms 
 raise fortunes upon Fortunes' ruins. 
 
 Before he had concluded the minute sur- 
 vey he had commenced, a tall white-faced 
 personage entered the room, and having 
 jumped upon the circular table, shut him- 
 self quietly in a juvenile pulpit, made a 
 sort of speech touching the matter in hand, 
 stuck an eye-glass very dexterously be- 
 tween his cheek bone and his brow, and 
 brought forth his professional hammer. He 
 was a remarkably short-sighted person, and 
 had to brinsf his head down within an inch 
 
LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 of the catalogue in order to ascertain the 
 exact number of the first lot; and when this 
 had been accomplished to his entire satis- 
 faction, he very delicately scratched his 
 head, every whitey-brown hair upon which 
 seemed to be too independent to stand on 
 any but its own bottom, when after having 
 slightly rubbed his nose, which, albeit, it 
 was hooked like the majority of the noses 
 present, was yet of a totally different caste, 
 inasmuch as in his caso the hook was in- 
 verted; he coughed twice with spirit, gave 
 several a-hems! and then boldly commenced 
 operations. 
 
 The first lot was put up and knocked 
 down without the slightest interruption from 
 Valentine, for although he had made up his 
 mind to stop the sale, he was compelled of 
 course to wait until he had ascertained pre- 
 cisely how the thing was conducted; but 
 when the second lot came which happened 
 to be poor Goodman's writing desk, worth 
 about forty or fifty shillings he felt him- 
 self sufficiently aufait to begin. 
 
 "A pound," said a Jew-looking gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " One pound is bid," said the auctioneer. 
 
 "Thirty shillings," cried Valentine, in 
 an assumed voice of course. 
 
 " Thirty shillings; a splendid rose-wood 
 writing desk, secret drawers complete for 
 thirty shillings." 
 
 "Two pounds," cried Valentine in a 
 different voice. 
 
 "Two pounds bid going for two 
 pounds!" 
 
 " Five," said an Israelite. 
 
 " Five two five for two pounds five" 
 when as this was the highest legitimate 
 offer. Valentine's voices had it all their own 
 way" Going for two five!" 
 
 " Two pounds ten," cried Valentine. 
 
 "Two ten two pounds ten Any ad- 
 vance on two ten 1 ?" 
 
 "Three pounds." 
 
 "Three bid; three pounds" 
 
 " Ten." 
 
 "Thank you three ten! This elegant 
 writing desk going for three ten." 
 
 " Four pounds." 
 
 " Four pounds bid; four pound. Any 
 advance on four pound" 
 
 " Four pounds ten." 
 
 " Four ten in two places; four ten. This 
 most valuable writing desk going for four 
 ten." 
 
 "Fifteen." 
 
 "Four fifteenfour fifteen going for 
 lour fifteen!" 
 
 " Five pounds." 
 
 "Five pounds bid: no advance on five 
 pound!" 
 
 " Five pounds ten." 
 
 " Five ten for five ten going for five 
 pounds ten! I'm sure the value of it can- 
 not be generally known. Any advance on 
 five ten?" 
 
 " Six pounds." 
 
 " Six pounds this is really a most valu- 
 able desk six pound going for only six 
 pound." 
 
 "Ten." 
 
 " Six ten six pound going for six ten." 
 
 " Seven bid seven pounds any ad- 
 vance on seven pounds going for seven!" 
 and down went the hammer. 
 
 The Israelites marvelled exceedingly, 
 and began to reproach themselves for not 
 bidding higher; feeling perfectly certain 
 that in one of the drawers either notes, gold, 
 or diamonds were secreted. 
 
 " What name for this writing-desk!" in- 
 quired the auctioneer. 
 
 " Goodman!" cried Valentine, assuming 
 Goodman's voice, at which Walter and his 
 family started up amazed, and trembled 
 violently as they looked round the room in the 
 full expectation of seeing Goodman himself. 
 
 The clerk went to the spot from which 
 the voice appeared to proceed, but no pur- 
 chaser could be found. 
 
 " Who purchased this writing-desk!" 
 demanded the auctioneer; but no answer 
 was returned. 
 
 " Putsh te pargain up againsh," cried an 
 Israelitish gentleman, " tatch te fairesht vay 
 ma tear, tatsh te fairesht vay!" and it was 
 put up again, and as the Jews bid higher 
 under the impression that it contained some- 
 thing valuable, Valentine easily ran it up 
 again to seven pounds, when the auctioneer, 
 whose sight was not sufficiently strong to 
 enable him to see who had bid, stopped to 
 inquire the name of the bidder, " Who bid 
 seven pounds!" said he. 
 
 "Goodman!" cried Valentine. 
 
 * 4 Cootmansh againsh!" cried a Jew, 
 " Arl for Cootmansh!" 
 
 The clerk looked again for the purchaser, 
 while the violence with which Walter and 
 his family trembled had the effect of con- 
 firming the suspicion of foul play which 
 Valentine had so deeply inspired. Had 
 they murdered poor Goodman, thought he, 
 they could not be more alarmed at the sound 
 of his voice; and the idea of their having 
 murdered him absolutely seemed to be under 
 the circumstances extremely reasonable. 
 
 " This is very extraordinary," observed 
 the auctioneer, when he found that no pur- 
 chaser came forward. " If there be any 
 persons hero who have come with the view 
 iting confusion they had better leave 
 before they are turned out! our time can- 
 not be wasti-d in this way. Put the desk 
 aside;" he added, addressing the porter, 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 93 
 
 " and let's have the next lot. The next lot, 
 gentlemen, is an elegant silver gilt tea ser- 
 vice, milk jug, and finely-chased basin, 
 complete. What shall we say for this ele- 
 gant service?" 
 
 From thirty shillings the Jews rarr it up 
 to four pounds, and from four pounds Val- 
 entine ran it up to ten, when of course, on 
 its being knocked down, no purchaser was 
 discoverable. 
 
 " What's the meaning of this?" demanded 
 the auctioneer, indignantly. " Who is the 
 purchaser of this lot?" 
 
 " GOODMAN?" cried Valentine, and Mrs. 
 Walter uttered a loud shriek and fainted. 
 
 " Cot plesh ma hart! Cootmansh? 
 veresh Cootmansh? Nothing put Coot- 
 mansh!" and the whole of the Israelites 
 looked round amazed as Mrs. Walter was 
 borne insensible from the room. 
 
 Under any other circumstances Valen- 
 tine would have rushed to her assistance, 
 but the impression that she must have been 
 a party to the execution of some dark design 
 upon Goodman caused him to regard what- 
 ever pain he might have inflicted as a mea- 
 sure of retributive justice. Indeed, so per- 
 fectly convinced did he feel that the absence 
 of Goodman had been induced with a view 
 to the promotion of some villanous object, 
 that he absolutely saw with delight Walter 
 struggling with those feelings which his 
 conscience had created. 
 
 44 This is very extraordinary," observed 
 the auctioneer. "If this course be pur- 
 sued, it will be utterly impossible to go on 
 with the sale." 
 
 ** Veresh Cootmansh!" cried a Jew. 
 *' Vat ish he? Letsh know vat he ish, ma 
 tear! tatsh te propersh vay ma tear to 
 shettle arl tish." 
 
 "Will Mr. Goodman step forward?" said 
 the auctioneer; and at that moment Walter 
 being unable to stand, fell into the arms 
 of Horace, who, with the assistance of a 
 broker, carried him into an adjoining room. 
 
 "Te shentilmansh fainted arl avay," 
 cried an Israelite. " Vatsh to pe tun wit 
 tish lotsh?" 
 
 " Put it aside," said the bewildered auc- 
 tioneer. "The next is a pier glass with 
 richly carved frame. What shall we say 
 for this lot?" 
 
 The Jews bid with their accustomod 
 liberality, and then Valentine commenced, 
 and when the thing had been knocked 
 down for five times its value, the name of 
 the purchaser was called for again, and the 
 reply was again, " Goodman." 
 
 " Shtill Cootmansh! arl Cootmansh! 
 he'll puy ush arl upsh," cried a Jew, whose 
 bright sally was received with a loud burst 
 of Israelitish merriment. 
 
 " It's of no use going on thus," said the 
 auctioneer, warmly. " I must ascertain 
 the meaning of this," and he bounced out 
 of his pulpit and proceeded to the room into 
 which the trembling, conscience-stricken 
 Walter had been carried. During the 
 whole of the time he was there, the Jews 
 were laughing and joking with infinite 
 glee. One of them, seizing the greasy hat 
 of another, called out, " Mishter Cootmansh 
 ma tear! vill you pid for tish lotsh?" 
 This produced another loud burst of laugh- 
 ter which lasted till the auctioneer returned. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, let us proceed;" said 
 he, on remounting his pulpit, and the next 
 lot was brought by the porter and put up, 
 and bid for with precisely the same result, 
 when the auctioneer really began to exhi- 
 bit strong symptoms of pent-up rage. 
 
 At length Valentine cried in a loud com- 
 manding voice, which apparently proceeded 
 from the other end of the room. "Who 
 authorised this sale?" 
 
 " Mr. Goodman," replied the Auctioneer. 
 
 " Cootmansh againsh! Veil, shtrike 
 ma!" exclaimed all the tribe, in a breath. 
 
 " He has no authority," cried Valentine. 
 "The goods are not his." 
 
 '* Veil vatsh tat mattersh ma tear?" said 
 several of the Israelites looking 'towards 
 the spot from which the voice had appa- 
 rently proceeded. " Te shentelmansh re- 
 shponshible ve sphosh if he shtole 'em!" 
 
 " Will that gentleman accompany me 
 into the other room?" said the auctioneer, 
 who was really a respectable man, and who 
 had inferred from the highly excited state 
 of Walter's feelings that something was 
 wrong. " Will he be kind enough to fol- 
 low me?" he added, going again towards 
 the room in which Walter was still trem- 
 bling. 
 
 No one followed, but in he went, and the 
 Jews became more and more lively. They 
 still called for Goodman to bid for the vari- 
 ous articles which they held in their hands. 
 " Vill you puy ma stockingsh, Mishter 
 Cootmansh?" cried one of them. " Vat 
 vill you pid for ma shirtsh?" cried another. 
 " Heresh a coot pair of beautiful pootsh," 
 cried a third, as he forced the legs of his 
 neighbor upon the table, and displayed a 
 pair of bluchers rather dropsical and airy, 
 while a fourth cried, " Shelp ma! I'll shell 
 ma own shelf to Mishter Cootmansh!" 
 
 The auctioneer returned, and having 
 mounted his desk, said, " Gentlemen, I'm 
 sorry to inform you that this sale cannot 
 proceed." This announcement was met 
 with a burst of much Israeiitish murmur- 
 ing. "I am sorry," he continued, "as 
 sorry as any of you can be, but I will not 
 be a party to any thing wrong. (Cries of 
 
 9* 
 
94 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "Vynotsh? You're intemnified, I shposh?") 
 No indemnity, gentlemen, will do for me, 
 unless I am satisfied that all is correct." 
 An observation which was treated with 
 marked contempt by the Israelites general- 
 ly. " I, therefore, gentlemen, will not de- 
 tain you any longer, and can only express 
 ray sorrow that I have taken up so much 
 of your valuable time." 
 
 The countenances of the tribe at this 
 moment developed much dark indignation, 
 and by degrees their murmurings swelled 
 into a loud Jewish yell, which seemed to 
 threaten extensive destruction. The fact 
 of its being suspected that all was not 
 right, appeared to possess the sharpest 
 
 sting, for they looked at the loss of what 
 they thereby might have gained. In vain 
 the auctioneer endeavored to calm them. 
 They would not be pacified. " I'll preak 
 arl te cootsh in te plash!" cried one. 
 " Vatsh you mean by making foolsh of us!" 
 shouted another. " Vy don't you go on wit 
 te sale 1 ?" cried a third; and the auctioneer 
 perceiving their rage likely to increase, left 
 the room, followed by the indignant sons of 
 Israel, who hooted, yelled, and pushed him 
 about, until he had locked himself securely 
 in an office below, when Valentine, who 
 had then no desire to see Walter, or any 
 part of his family, quitted the place with 
 the angry Jewish stream. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 VALENTINE VISITS GUILDHALL BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH THOSE ANCIENT AND RESPECT- 
 ABLE WARRIORS, GOG AND MAGOG, TO WHOM HE IMPARTS SPEECH PRO TEM., AND THEN 
 PROCEEDS TO DISCUSS MATTERS OF PERSONAL IMPORTANCE WITH THE ELOQUENT MEMBERS 
 OF THE COURT OF COMMON COUNCIL. 
 
 WHAT a thimble-rig is human life! the 
 thimbles being the emblems of fate: the 
 peas the types of its slippery chances. 
 How mortals gamble at this rig even from 
 the cradle to the grave! They fix intently 
 on a pea and see it covered; they watch its 
 windings, firmly convinced of its being 
 there, or there; they back that firm convic- 
 tion with a stake; and when they lose they 
 lavish curses on their adverse stars; but 
 should they win, how pleasantly they 
 swindle themselves into the belief of the 
 fact being attributable solely to their own 
 most extraordinary acuteness! they cannot 
 tolerate the slightest reference to the power 
 by which the thimbles move that power 
 which holds the pea at pleasure to place it 
 where it will. A moment's reflection will 
 enable all well-disposed persons to perceive 
 that this juggle, which has been so vehe- 
 mently denounced, really comprehends all 
 human actions, and that its invention if an 
 invention it may be called instead of being 
 dated from Alfred the Great, may be traced 
 clearly back, without any mistake, to "the 
 good old days of Adam and Eve." 
 
 Now in this most remarkable "rig** Va- 
 lentine began to take an extremely active 
 part. He congratulated himself very natu- 
 rally upon the skill with which he found 
 out the Furniture pea; but there yet was a 
 pea which he had to discover, and that pea 
 was Goodman. His energies were there- 
 fore directed to the task of ascertaining 
 under what earthly thimble poor Goodman 
 could be found. 
 
 Bent upon this subject, he on the morn- 
 ing after the day of the intended sale by 
 auction, started for the city for the purpose 
 of consulting with Mr. St. Ledger, the 
 merchant upon whom Goodman had called 
 on his way to the steam-packet wharf. The 
 Royal Exchange clock, as he passed, struck 
 twelve, and the chimes were playing mer- 
 rily the favorite tune of " See the conquer- 
 : ing hero comes!" as he entered the office 
 of Mr. St. Ledger, and found that genlle- 
 1 man not only at home, but disengaged. 
 
 " I have called," observed Valentine, 
 I after the usual brief ceremonies had been 
 ! performed, "to solicit your advice in a mat- 
 I ter which to me appears very extraordi- 
 nary." 
 
 " Well, my young friend, what is it 1 ?" 
 inquired Mr. St. Ledger. "You may com- 
 mand my best judgment; but why not so- 
 I lick the advice of friend Goodman?" 
 
 " It is precisely because I cannot find 
 him," returned Valentine. 
 
 " What! have you not seen him since 
 you called upon me before! did you not 
 find him at home?" 
 
 " He has not been at home since; and I 
 therefore wish to know by what means I 
 can ascertain where he is to be found." 
 
 "Upon my word 1 can't guess. llm> 
 you been to his brother?" 
 
 " I have; and he says that in conse- 
 quence of some unsuccessful speculation 
 he is at present compelled to keep out of 
 the way." 
 
 " Indeed!" exclaimed Mr. St. Ledger, as 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 95 
 
 he pulled down a thick heavy book, and 
 referred to a certain page with some appa- 
 rent anxiety. " It's very, very singular," 
 he continued, having closed the book with 
 an air of satisfaction, that / should have 
 known nothing about it. Speculation! 
 Oh! Spanish of course. Very foolish! I 
 could have told him all about it; but if men 
 will act without advice in matters of this 
 kind, they must of course take the conse- 
 quences. Don't, however, disturb yourself 
 about it. It will all come round right by 
 and bye, I dare say. Foolish man! fool- 
 ish man!" 
 
 " But is it not very extraordinary that " 
 
 " God bless my life, not at all ! I know 
 fifty in the same predicament, and in an- 
 other week mark my words we shall 
 hear of fifty more. I know it; I'm sure of 
 it; I'd stake my existence upon it. I saw 
 how it was going from the first." 
 
 " But the whole of his furniture " 
 
 "My dear young friend," interrupted 
 Mr. St. Ledger, "when you are older you'll 
 know more;" and having made this re- 
 markable observation, he placed his hand 
 firmly upon Valentine's shoulder, and in a 
 lower tone added, "Don't say a single syl- 
 lable about it to any soul. You iay injure 
 his credit materially. He may be involved 
 in other matters, you know, and if he be, 
 men will pounce upon him like tigers as 
 they invariably do, when there happens to 
 be anything like a screw a little loose." 
 
 "But I fancied that he was a man of 
 some considerable property." 
 
 "And so he is; but men don't let their 
 property sleep. Few men are able to pay 
 all demands at an hour's notice. You have 
 heard of a run upon the Bank? Same thing 
 same thing. Foolish man! He'd no 
 business to do anything of the sort; but 
 make no stir, no noise, no inquiries; not a 
 word on the subject to any single soul if 
 you dont't wish to injure his credit." 
 
 Valentine had certainly no wish to do 
 that, and as he found that he could get 
 nothing more from Mr. St. Ledger, who 
 treated the whole thing as a business-like 
 matter of course, he left the office conside- 
 rably relieved; albeit when he reflected 
 upon the extraordinary conduct of Walter 
 in the sale-room as he imitated Goodman's 
 voice, he still felt that there was something at 
 the bottom of the affair which had not enter- 
 ed into Mr. St. Ledger's purely commercial 
 calculations. He therefore resolved to keep 
 an eye upon the family, and just as he had 
 made up his mind to be silent for a time, 
 he crossed a well-built business-like street, 
 at the bottom of which stood an old-fash- 
 ioned edifice, whose front was adorned with 
 a couple of rampant and highly respectable 
 
 looking griffins which seemed to be grin- 
 ning with remarkable energy at an over- 
 grown cauliflower cap which stood between 
 them, and digging their claws into a poor 
 devoted heart which already contained a 
 dagger, and which, with the griffins, sur- 
 mounted the motto of " Domine Dirize 
 Aos." 
 
 As the gates of this remarkable edifice 
 stood open, and as persons were walking in 
 and out with great freedom of step, he at 
 once passed the portal, and introduced him- 
 self into a fair-sized hall with a flag- stone 
 floor, two apologies for galleries, four 
 groups of sculpture upon rather lofty pe- 
 destals, and a queerly stained window at 
 each end. As Valentine entered, the place 
 seemed to wear a vacant hungry aspect, but 
 on turning to the western extremity, he 
 perceived a rather interesting couple of 
 full-blown gentlemen on guard, and con- 
 cluded, that if they had been trained in that 
 hall, it was clearly no place for the genius 
 of starvation. As these two gigantic gen- 
 tlemen seemed to form the chief attraction, 
 Valentine approached them with a view to 
 a more minute survey. The first that he 
 examined sported a pair of white trousers, 
 which he had outgrown considerably, and 
 he stood in his shirt sleeves quite ready for 
 action. His breast was adorned with a 
 broad crimson scarf, and in his right hand 
 he held a long pole, from the top of which 
 hung a ball studded with interesting spikes, 
 invented obviously to puzzle the brains of 
 all with whom they might come in imme- 
 diate contact. This personage looked down 
 very mournfully, albeit his countenance was 
 very much flushed, and his brows were 
 adorned with a painted wooden circlet, 
 which conveyed to the imaginative the idea 
 of a wreath of laurels. The other was a 
 bolder looking fellow altogether, but even 
 he looked as if he had not for some time 
 been quite comfortable in his mind. He 
 wore a green tunic, held a shield in one 
 hand, and a spear in the other, while his 
 sword belt and sandals were so painted, as 
 to impart a correct notion of sapphires, 
 rubies, and pearls. 
 
 Just as Valentine had concluded his sur- 
 vey of these warriors, two pale thin diminu- 
 tive individuals approached. They were 
 Spital fields weavers, and had been con- 
 ducted to that quarter of the world to re- 
 ceive a magisterial admonition for hunting 
 an old cow, which, by an extraordinary 
 stretch of the caoutchouc imagination, they 
 had conceived to be a raving mad bull. 
 
 " Sen I may live, Bill! - My hi, vot a 
 vunner!" exclaimed one of these interesting 
 young gentlemen. " Jist on'y twig his 
 shanks! Vy it'd take seven yards and a 
 
96 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 arf o' thrums on'y to make that 'ere cove a 
 pair o' garters!" 
 
 " Vich is Gog and vich is Magog]" in- 
 quired his companion, who was an emblem 
 of simplicity in his way. 
 
 " Vy him in the smalls to be sure!" re- 
 plied the other, "an they both on em cuts 
 avay to dinner ven they 'ears that 'ere clock 
 strike vun." 
 
 " Yorker!" observed his companion, as 
 with a knowing wink he pointed to his left 
 shoulder. " Tell that to the moreens." 
 
 *' Vel on'y jist vait till they 'ears it, an' 
 then you'll be conwinced," said the other 
 with a chuckle. "Them 'ere's the on'y 
 two vich Jack the Giant-killer couldn't 
 vop" an observation which induced his 
 companion to gaze upon the long-bearded 
 giant with mingled admiration and amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 " Well! exclaimed Valentine, imparting 
 a deeply indignant tone to the great Gog; 
 '* What are you staring ateA?" 
 
 The greener individual grasped the arm 
 of his guide, and as he was at the moment 
 in the act of shrinking back himself, the 
 additional impetus knocked him fairly 
 down, and his friend fell heavily upon him. 
 
 '* Away!" cried Gog, through the imme- 
 diate instrumentality of Valentine. " How 
 dare you insult my friend!" exclaimed 
 Magog, through precisely the same medi- 
 um; "Retreat!" and the two little terror- 
 stricken weavers scrambled up with all 
 imaginable alacrity, and rushed towards 
 the portal. The moment they had reached 
 it, a personage, evidently high in office, 
 enveloped in a robe trimmed tastily with 
 fur and embellished with an immense gold 
 chain, preceded by a military individual, 
 with a Marshal's hat in one hand and a 
 staff in the other; and a graver looking per- 
 son, who carried a remarkably long sword, 
 happened to be proceeding, with unequivo- 
 cal solemnity, into the hall, from the gaily 
 emblazoned carriage, from which he had 
 just alighted. Against those who composed 
 this truly dignified procession, the little 
 weavers ran, most certainly without pre- 
 meditation, and almost unconsciously, but 
 with so much force, that in an instant the 
 personage, adorned with the chain, was on 
 the ground, with the two little weavers 
 struggling desperately upon him. The 
 grave bearer of the long sword, and the 
 military-looking individual, at once dropped 
 their dignity and rushed to his assistance, 
 while several minor officials tried to secure 
 the little weavers, who managed, however, 
 to bob through their hands like a couple of 
 small silver eels, and succeeded eventually 
 in darting right away. 
 
 The affectionate concern manifested by 
 
 those around towards the personage who 
 had been so unceremoniously placed in a 
 horizontal position was excessive. Their 
 apprehensions for the safety of his person 
 as a whole, and for the perfect integrity of 
 each particular limb, were unspeakable. 
 They could not by any process make up 
 their minds to believe, that he was unhurt: 
 they were perfectly certain that he had been 
 in the receipt of some serious injury; and it 
 was not until he had earnestly reiterated 
 his assurance that all was quite right, that 
 the procession moved slowly and solemnly 
 across the hall, and then up a flight of steps 
 into a long narrow passage. 
 
 "To what place does that lead]" in- 
 quired Valentine, of a person who was 
 standing very thoughtfully with his thumbs 
 stuck firmly in the arm-holes of his waist- 
 coat. 
 
 " Which] That] Oh, to all sorts of 
 offices, and rooms, and courts, and places," 
 replied that thoughtful person. 
 
 "Indeed!" observed Valentine, grateful- 
 ly acknowledging the extremely explicit 
 character of the information; " Is there any 
 thing of importance going forward]" 
 
 " Why, I s'pose," said the communica- 
 tive creature, " they're agoing for to hold a 
 Court of Alderman perhaps, I shouldn't 
 wonder, or something of that sort no doubt, 
 but I don't exactly know;" and he walked 
 towards the statue of the great Lord Chat- 
 ham. 
 
 In Valentine's mind the idea of an alder- 
 man was associated with all that is fat. 
 Steaming spectres of barons of beef, veni- 
 son, turtle, ox-tail, and mulligatawny flitted 
 vividly across his imagination the very mo- 
 ment he heard the sound of the name. He 
 expected to see them all with glorious 
 countenances, adorned, of course, with rich 
 purple pimples, and noses resembling fine 
 bunches of grapes, without double chins, 
 immense backs, and bellies immeasurable, 
 extending, in fact, so far forward as to 
 render it impossible for any one of them to 
 catch even a glimpse of his toes, which, as 
 a natural matter of course, he conceived 
 must be gouty. Ho had, from his earliest 
 infancy, been led to believe, by every print 
 which had even the smallest pretensions to 
 a faithful portrayal of aldermanic character- 
 istics, that no kind of men could in reality 
 be aldermen, unless they were beefy-faced, 
 broad individuals, whose most capacious 
 paunches imparted to them the power of 
 gorging, and stowing away quantities of 
 matter altogether unexampled. lie, tin re- 
 fore, at once made up his mind to see 
 twenty-four natural curiosities, exclude 
 of the Lord Mayor, whom, of course, he 
 imagined to be the fattest and the j oiliest 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 97 
 
 of the lot, and hence proceeded up the pas- 
 sage, placed a coin into the open hand of a 
 person in a blue stuff gown, and requested 
 to be shown at once into the Court. 
 
 "It ain't a Court of Aldermen to-day," 
 said that person. 
 
 " Well, what is it then?" 
 
 "It's a Court of Common Council." 
 
 "Indeed! who presides?" 
 
 " Vy, the Lord Mayor in course!" 
 
 "Oh, that will do," said Valentine, and 
 into the chamber he went; but as he saw a 
 small thin-faced personage in the chair the 
 very personage, in fact, whom he had seen 
 knocked down by the little weavers Jie 
 felt perfectly sure that there must be some 
 mistake! He, therefore, came out at once, 
 and addressing the individual in the gown, 
 said, " I wanted to go into the other court!" 
 
 " Vot other court?" 
 
 "Why, the Court of Common Council!" 
 
 " Veil! that is the Court of Common 
 Council!" 
 
 " Indeed," observed Valentine, with an 
 expression of increjulity; "when will the 
 Lord Mayor arrive?" 
 
 " The Lord Mayor has arrived! That's 
 him in the cheer." 
 
 Valentine looked at the fello\y as if he 
 meant to pin him to the wall. " Do you 
 mean to tell me," said he, " that that little 
 man is the real Lord Mayor?" 
 
 "In course he's the real un, and nothink 
 else," replied the man. " Don't you see 
 his goold chain, and the sword of jistice 
 afore him?" 
 
 "Well," thought Valentine, "this is 
 extraordinary." " Has he been ill?" he in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Hill? no; vot made you think of that 
 'ere?" 
 
 " Simply because he seems to be wasted 
 almost wholly away." 
 
 " Oh, he never was bigger," replied the 
 man. " He was always the same size since 
 1 know'd him, and a good size too." 
 
 Valentine again felt amazed. " Is it pos- 
 sible," thought he, "that a person so small 
 can be the Lord Mayor of London! Why, 
 he is only the ghost of a Lord Mayor! the 
 mere skeleton of one! If the whole of the 
 aldermen at the present day are any thing 
 like the same size, what a strangely degen- 
 erate race they must be!" 
 
 With such reflections as these he re-en- 
 tered the court, which was really an unique 
 and a well-arranged place, not certainly 
 quite so large, but far more elegantly fitted 
 up than the present House of Commons. 
 At the extremity sat the president, who, in 
 spite of the unjustifiable incredulity of Val- 
 entine was the real Lord Mayor, while on 
 either side of the chamber, compact rows of 
 
 civic senators were arranged on remarkably 
 well-stuffed benches, and they all looked 
 extremely nice and comfortable, except 
 when they ventured to rise. Valentine 
 could not help smiling at the change which 
 the mere act of rising induced in the coun- 
 tenances of the honorable members gene- 
 rally. When sitting they appeared to be 
 perfectly at ease, confidence glowed upon 
 their cheeks, and they looked as fierce as 
 Bengal tigers whenever the development of 
 fierceness was deemed essential to the safe 
 conveyance of an idea of opposition to any 
 sentiment advanced; but when they rose 
 they became as pale as spectres crossed in 
 love, and each trembled with more energy 
 than a Neapolitan greyhound with a cold. 
 There were, however, two or three honora- 
 ble exceptions who laid about them, right 
 and left, with extraordinary force and effect, 
 as men who are great among little ones 
 will, more especially when the whole of 
 our glorious institutions are about to crum- 
 ble into sanguinary dust, and revolution 
 stares us full in the face without moving a 
 muscle. 
 
 Valentine had no desire to interrupt busi- 
 ness. He, therefore, waited with patience 
 until all the important questions of the day 
 had been duly considered, when he felt that 
 he might as well enliven the honorable 
 members, of whom the majority as was 
 indeed under the circumstances extremely 
 natural manifested a strong inclination to 
 sleep. 
 
 Accordingly, as a prosy individual was 
 proceeding to explain how essential to the 
 security of the city's health it was that a 
 certain Augean stable, which formed a short 
 arm of the Thames, should be purified; 
 Valentine ventured to cry, " enough!" 
 making his voice proceed apparently from 
 the other end of the court. 
 
 " My Lord Mayor," said the honorable 
 member, who was then on his legs; " it 
 may, my Lord Mayor, be 'enough' for the 
 honorable members opposite. Every thing 
 in nature is ' enough' for them. They 
 would have things remain as they are. 
 They would have, my Lord Mayor, they 
 would have every thing stagnant. They 
 would have, not a huge heap of physical 
 filth alone, but one chaotic mass of moral 
 muck, that nature might wallow in reeking 
 corruption. They would have, my Lord 
 Mayor, the city covered with intellectual 
 chickweed, spreading its contagious influ- 
 ence from Temple Bar to Aldgate pump!" 
 a highly poetical observation, which was 
 loudly cheered by the honorable members 
 on the eloquent gentleman's side, of whom 
 several cried sotto voce, " Walk into him! 
 give it him home! sarve him out!" 
 
98 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " They would have," continued the speaker, 
 " they would have, my Lord Mayor " 
 
 44 Sitxlown!" cried Valentine. 
 
 "Oh! of course! doubtless;" resumed the 
 interrupted individual, in a highly sarcastic 
 tone. "They would like me, my Lord 
 Mayor, to " 
 
 " Stick to the question!" cried Valentine. 
 
 44 The question," observed the speaker, 
 44 is the very thing to which I do stick? It 
 is solely in consequence of my sticking 1 to 
 the question that makes me " 
 
 44 An idiot!" cried Valentine. "Down! 
 Don't expose yourself." 
 
 u Order! order! order!" shouted several 
 honorable members; while several others 
 chuckled at the prospect of a somewhat 
 lively scene. 
 
 44 Will the honorable member who was 
 pleased to make that observation stand forth 
 like a man?" cried the eloquent speaker 
 very loudly, and with no inconsiderable 
 wrath. 
 
 Valentine inquired the name of an honor- 
 able member who happened to be asleep in 
 one corner of the court, and having ascer- 
 tained his name to be Snobson, proceeded, 
 in various voices, to call upon Mr. Snobson 
 for a prompt and unconditional apology. 
 The name of Snobson was loudly reiterated 
 by honorable members, who felt sure that 
 Snobson was the man, and that he was then 
 feigning asleep for the sole purpose of avoid- 
 ing detection. 
 
 At length the calls for Snobson became 
 so loud, that that gentleman awoke, and 
 after rubbing his eyes with some consider- 
 able energy, begged naturally enough to 
 know why he was called upon, seeing that 
 he had no motion whatever to bring before 
 the court. His innocence, however, was 
 felt to be assumed, and it was held that 
 such an assumption ought not to protect 
 him. They therefore called still more ener- 
 getically, " Snobson! Snobson!" accom- 
 panying that call, with the demand for a 
 most ample apology. 
 
 Mr. Snobson felt confused. He was a 
 stout stumpy person, but still he felt con- 
 fused. He looked pale and red alternately 
 for some few minutes, when his complexion 
 settled down into a yellowish blue; and as 
 the demand for an apology was reiterated 
 with increased zeal, he at length said, with 
 all due solemnity and point: " My Lord 
 Mayor, I can't say as I exactly understand 
 the true natur of this 'ere business; but all 
 I've got to aay is, that all I can say is this 
 'ere, wiz: that if I've done any body any 
 how wrong, I am willing in course to make 
 it right; for there's no indiwidnal in this 
 'ere court more readier to apologise for the 
 tame." 
 
 44 Apology! apology!" shouted several 
 honorable members. 
 
 44 Vot for! Vot have I done? Tell me 
 that?" cried Mr. Snobson, who really began 
 to get warm upon the subject. 
 
 44 If the honorable member," observed 
 the Mayor, with much precision and dignity, 
 "made use of the expressions attributed to 
 the honorable member, I am sure that the 
 honorable member will perceive the neces- 
 sity which exists for its immediate with- 
 drawal." 
 
 Here the demand for an apology were 
 loudly reiterated by those who were anxious 
 to fix upon some one, it mattered not whom 
 a single straw, so long as he happened to 
 be a political opponent, for party feeling at 
 that period ran high, and as every question 
 brought before the court was made a pnrely 
 party question, that which had immediate 
 reference to Mr. Snobson was regarded as 
 an exception by no means. 
 
 44 My Lord Mayor," said the honorable 
 accused calmly, after a pause, during which 
 he had been looking about him as if he had 
 lost some dear friend. "Ven I know the 
 percise natur of the acquisation, I'll per- 
 ceed for to rebut the same, and not afore." 
 
 44 It wont do, Master Snobson! it wont 
 do, my boy!" cried Valentine in a sonorous 
 wobbling voice, whose tones singularly 
 enough resembled those of an honorable 
 member who appeared to be deriving much 
 amusement from the manifest confusion of 
 the accused. 
 
 The Lord Mayor, as soon as he had re- 
 covered from the state of amazement into 
 which he had been thrown by the anti-sena- 
 torial style of that wobbling address to Mr. 
 Snobson, rose steadily and solemnly, and 
 looking with due severity of aspect full in 
 the face of the honorable member whose 
 voice had been so unjustifiably assumed, 
 said: 44 ! really am sory to be compelled to 
 make any remark touching the conduct of 
 any honorable member, but I have a great 
 public duty to perform, which duty I cer- 
 tainly should not perform, were I not to say 
 that honorable members should remember 
 that they are where they are!" 
 
 The tail of this stinging rebuke was so 
 pointed, that it appeared to pierce the soul 
 of the honorable member for whom the 
 whole of its poignancy was designed, for 
 he instantly rose, and placing his hand with 
 much solemnity upon his heart, said: " My 
 Lord Mayor. Hif it be imagined it was 
 me, it's a hutter mishapprehension, 'cause 
 
 n't!" 
 
 "Why you know that it was!" shrmtrd 
 Valentine, throwing his voice just behind 
 the honorable member, who on the instant 
 turned round with the velocity of a whip- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 99 
 
 ping-top, and scrutinized the countenance 
 of every member in his vicinity, with the 
 view of ascertaining who had uttered those 
 words! 
 
 "Really," said the Mayor, "these pro- 
 ceeedings are most irregular;" and the jus- 
 tice of that observation was duly appreciat- 
 ed by all, save Valentine, who, with the 
 most reprehensible temerity, exclaimed, 
 44 Mind your own business!" and that to the 
 Lord Mayor! 
 
 "Mind my own business!" cried his 
 Lordship, utterly shocked at the monstrous 
 character of that injunction. " Mind my 
 own business!" he repeated in a still more 
 intensely solemn tone; and he looked round 
 amazed, and held his breath to give his 
 bosom an opportunity of swelling with in- 
 dignation, and then turned to the Recorder, 
 and said, "Did you ever?" to which the 
 Recorder replied, " No, I never." 
 
 " Shame! Shame!" snouted several honor- 
 able members the very moment they had 
 recovered the power to shout. 
 
 41 Mind my own business!" cried his 
 lordship for the third time, and Valentinr, 
 regardless of the official dignity of the fir^jt 
 magistrate of the first city in the world, 
 absolutely cried again, " Yes! mind your 
 own business!" 
 
 A thrill of horror ran clean through the 
 court. Every member appeared to be para- 
 lysed. However cold-blooded, however 
 atrocious, however unequivocally vile that 
 observation might have struck them as 
 being, it was one to which they were unable 
 to conceive a sufficient answer. Several 
 of them made desperate efforts to rise, with 
 the view of protesting against and denounc- 
 ing its spirit, but every faculty, physical as 
 well as moral, appeared to have forsaken 
 them, and death-like silence for some time 
 prevailed. 
 
 At length his lordship, reccollecting 
 what was due to himself as a Mayor and 
 as a man, broke the spell which had bound 
 him, and said "I demand an explanation!" 
 
 44 An explanation 1 ?" said Valentine. 
 
 44 Aye! an explanation!" cried his lord- 
 ship with great magnanimity. " 1 have 
 been told by some honorable member to 
 mind my own business. I am, I beg to 
 say, 1 am minding my own business. I 
 beg the honorable member to understand 
 that it is my own business; and I beg to in- 
 form him farther, that so long as I have the 
 honor to occupy this chair, the respect 
 which is due to the office I have the honor 
 to hold shall be enforced" 
 
 At this moment Valentine had the auda- 
 city to make three distinct bursts of laugh- 
 ter apparently proceed from three different 
 quarters. 
 
 44 1 wish," continued his lordship, tug- 
 ging desperately at his official habiliments; 
 1 wish honorable members distinctly to 
 understand that I am not to be insulted. 
 The dignity" 
 
 44 Dignity!" interrupted Valentine, in a 
 tone of bitter mockery, which, under any 
 circumstances, would have been extremely 
 culpable. " Dignity!" 
 
 44 1 repeat it!" cried his lordship with 
 considerable warmth. "The dignity of 
 the office to which I have been elected 
 shall descend from me untarnished!" 
 
 Before the cheering which this majestic 
 observation elicited had completely died 
 away, an honorable member, whose portly 
 person and crimson face met Valentine's 
 views of what an alderman ought to be, 
 rose for the purpose of moving a direct vote 
 of censure; but no sooner had he explained 
 the object for which he had risen, than Va- 
 lentine shouted, " Upon whom]" and in a 
 moment there were loud cries of " Name! 
 name! name!" which seemed to puzzle the 
 honorable member exceedingly. " I am 
 not," said h'e at length, after having held a 
 conference with those around him, "in pos- 
 session of the honorable member's name, 
 but probably some other honorable member 
 will inform me." 
 
 Valentine had unfortunately heard but 
 one honorable member's name mentioned, 
 and therefore had no hesitation in calling 
 out " Snobson!" 
 
 44 No, no!" cried that honorable member, 
 starting up and appealing energetically to 
 many other honorable members who bore 
 instant testimony to the fact of his being 
 innocent. 
 
 44 As far as I am personally concerned," 
 observed his lordship, who had been strug- 
 gling to regain his apparent equanimity, 
 " I should take no farther notice of the in- 
 sulting expression, but, I feel it to be rny 
 duty as chief magistrate." 
 
 44 You a chief magistrate!" cried Valen- 
 tine, who had really a great contempt for 
 the size of his lordship, albeit he held, the 
 office in very high respect. " You are 
 joking!" 
 
 44 Joking!" cried his lordship with an 
 expression of horror. 
 
 44 Do you think that you are fit now to 
 be a chief magistaatel" said Valentine, 
 44 Why you don't weigh above nine stone 
 two!" 
 
 An honorable member knitting his brows 
 and looking remarkably fierce, rose to move 
 that the offensive expressions be taken 
 down; and " Mind your own business." 
 44 You a chief magistrate!" " Do you think 
 that you are fit now to be a chief magistrate"?" 
 and " Why, you don't weigh above nine 
 
100 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 stone two" were taken down accord- 
 ingly. 
 
 " Now," said the honorable gentleman, 
 "I will not, my Lord Mayor, look for pre- 
 cedents with the view of ascertaining how 
 to act in this case, for as conduct like that 
 which we have witnessed is altogether un- 
 precedented, no precedent for such conduct 
 can be found; but I mean to say this, my 
 Lord Mayor, that nothing more utterly dis- 
 graceful, more desperately atrocious, more 
 palpably irregular, or more altogether out 
 of the way, ever occurred in this or any 
 other court, either in this or in any other 
 country, laying claim to the highest point 
 in the scale of civilisation; and all I can 
 say, my Lord Mayor, is this, that such con- 
 duct reflects the very lowest aud most 
 abominable pitch of shame upon the honor- 
 able member I care not who he is for 
 he has not the common manliness to avow 
 like a man the detestable atterance of lan- 
 guage on the one hand so monstrously vile, 
 my Lord Mayor, and so rash and extremely 
 leatherheaded on the other!" 
 
 This burst o'f indignant eloquence was 
 hailed with loud cheers, and as the general 
 impression was that the offending party 
 never could stand such a broadside as that, 
 honorable members looked round with con- 
 siderable anxiety for the rising of the delin- 
 quent. For several seconds the suspense 
 was profound, when, as the offender by no 
 means came forth, due contempt was in- 
 spired for the character of such a man, and 
 an alderman rose with the most perfect 
 self-possession for the purpose of express- 
 ing his sentiments on the subject. 
 
 Jt was evident at a glance, that this 
 worthy individual was one of the most 
 brilliant of the sparkling wits with which 
 civic society is so abundantly studded. He 
 appeared to be perfectly at home, and after 
 smiling a most interesting, if not a most 
 fascinating smile, observed: "Really this 
 appears to be a very queer business; but that 
 branch of the business.which seems the most 
 queer, is that which refers to your lordship's 
 weight. The honorable member complains 
 that your lordship don't weigh more than 
 nine stone two, and his estimate appears to 
 be, as far as it goes, as nearly correct as 
 possible; but he contends that your lord- 
 ship is not a fit and proper person to be a 
 chief magistrate, because you don't \v i<jli 
 more than nine stone two! Why what in 
 the name of all that's rational would he 
 have a chief magistrate weigh"? Would he 
 like to have every Lord Mayor a huge 
 mountain of flesh a human porpoisel 
 Would he have him elected by weight with 
 the standard fixed at twenty or live-and- 
 twenty stone!" 
 
 " He ought certainly to have a little flesh 
 upon his bones," cried Valentine, throwing 
 his voice behind the speaker. 
 
 " Flesh!" cried the worthy and eloquent 
 alderman, wheeling sharply round, ** A 
 little flesh! Upon my word this is very 
 extraordinary. An error has been engen- 
 dered in the minds of the ignorant an error 
 which has descended in fact, from genera- 
 tion to generation with the most hereditary 
 regularity, until it has partaken of the 
 character of an heir loom that aldermen 
 possess all the external characteristics of 
 gluttons in consequence of their assumed 
 unconquerable inclination to feed to satiety, 
 when, in point of fact, aldermen, instead of 
 being gorgers, and crammers, and stowers 
 away of immense masses of food, are de- 
 cidedly the most abstemious body of men 
 in existence. I know nay, we all know, 
 that aldermen, like bishops, are, to please 
 the morbid taste of the vulgar, represented 
 as persons with red bloated cheeks, mul- 
 berry noses, and immense corporations, 
 although the great majority of them are ex- 
 tremely narrow-bellied, with no more incli- 
 nation to obesity than drummers; but when 
 I hear an honorable member of this court, 
 who must know all the aldermen personal- 
 ly, contend that a man is unfit to fill the 
 office of chief magistrate because he don't 
 weigh above nine stone two, I must say, 
 that in the annals of queer affairs, a queerer 
 don't stand upon record." 
 
 This novel and eloquent speech did not 
 appear to give general satisfaction. It is 
 true, the worthy aldermen present of whom 
 there were several held their savory breath, 
 and tried desperately to make their abdomi- 
 nal drums look genteel, and endeavored 
 with a virtuous view doubtless to swallow 
 the belief that they really were very ab- 
 stemious men; but the commoners, who had 
 been in the habit of looking forward with 
 delight to the grand periodical feasts, keen- 
 ly felt that if such an inhospitable, hungry 
 idea as that of abstemiousness being In M 
 to be one of the civic virtues, were to ob- 
 tain, the glowing members of the corpora- 
 tion would be frozen into whole-hog tee-to- 
 tallers, and the Mansion-house itself would 
 be metamorphosed, eventually, into a shiv- 
 ering temperance den. That so revolting a 
 state of things ought by no means to be 
 promoted, they were perfectly and naturally 
 convinced: they, therefore, felt it incum- 
 bi'iit. upon them as citizens, to repudiate thr 
 notion with sovereign contempt, and, as 
 Valentine perceived the expression of this 
 feeling to be almost universal, he raised a 
 loud laugh at the conclusion of the worthy 
 alderman's oration, which was promptly 
 responded to in tones of bitter irony. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 101 
 
 " It's hall werry well for the court to be 
 merry," said an honorable member, when 
 the laughter had subsided; "but touching 
 the hinsult! vot about that] the indignity 
 showered upon the cheer! that's vot I 
 mean for to contend should be noticed." 
 
 " Vot a hanimal!" said Valentine, " ex- 
 asperating the A, and contemning the cor- 
 rect pernounciation of the wowell." 
 
 " Such language," cried his lordship in- 
 dignantly, " cannot be tolerated." 
 
 " Why don't you then make him speak 
 better?" cried Valentine, which was cer- 
 tainly, under the circumstances, extremely 
 reprehensible. 
 
 " Order!" exclaimed the Lord Mayor, 
 " I will not sit here to be thus insulted!" 
 
 " Shame! shame!" shouted several honor- 
 able members simultaneously, while his 
 lordship conferred with the recorder. 
 
 "It's perfectly disgraceful!" cried several 
 others, but the majority were smiling as if 
 they enjoyed it. 
 
 " I do not," said his lordship, having 
 taken the opinion of his legal adviser, " by 
 any means envy the feelings of those honor- 
 able members whose conduct this day has 
 been so highly discreditable, but I do hope 
 and trust that they will reflect upon the 
 course they have adopted, and as I find it 
 impossible to recall due attention to busi- 
 ness, I have only to add, that this court is 
 adjourned." 
 
 His lordship then rose, and as the honor- 
 able members were forming themselves 
 into groups, with the view of expressing 
 their private opinions on the subject, Val- 
 entine left them to revel in conjecture, and 
 quietly quitted Guildhall. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 SHOWS WHAT A CONSCIENCE GOODMAN'S BROTHER HAD. . 
 
 IT has bf>en said that some men have no 
 conscience; but if such men there be, they 
 must be dead men; and as dead men have ! 
 been said to be no men at all, the two posi- 
 tions form a problem, of which the solu- 
 tion is not easy. It seems plain enough j 
 yet who knows? that a man without a 
 conscience must be be without a soul; and 
 were the existence of such an animal re- 
 corded in natural history, the thing would 
 be at once as clear as crystal; but as we : 
 have no record of any such thing, the fair | 
 inference is, that the first grand position 
 has yet to be established. Be this, how-! 
 ever, just as it may, it is perfectly certain : 
 that Walter had a conscience; and one, too, | 
 which belonged emphatically to the work- 
 ing class of consciences a conscience ; 
 which delighted in the cultivation of moral 
 thorns, which pricked and stnng him day 
 and night with much point and effect. His j 
 brother's form was perpetually in his | 
 44 mind's eye;" his brother's voice as per- 
 petually rang in his imagination's ear: na- 
 ture's sweet restorer was conquered and j 
 kicked about by nature's grim disturber, 
 and a very fine lime of it he had upon the j 
 whole. Nor were the minds of his amia- 
 ble family much more at ease; forasmuch 
 as they had no precise knowledge as to the 
 whereabout of Goodman, they were induced 
 by the horrible state of Walter's nerves to 
 apprehend that he had either murdered him, 
 or caused him to be murdered, but dreaded 
 10 
 
 that only in consequence of such an event 
 being calculated to bring down upon him 
 the vengeance of the law. 
 
 " It's of no use," observed Mrs. Walter, 
 a few evenings after the furniture had been 
 sold by private contract; " It isn't of the 
 slightest earthly use, you know, attempt- 
 ing to go on in this way. I must have 
 a separate bed. I really cannot sleep with 
 you I cannot indeed; for you talk, and 
 groan, and sigh, and throw your arms about, 
 and kick! I'm sure my legs are nothing 
 but one mass of bruises; and as for the 
 clothes! if I pull them on once during the 
 night, I have to pull them on at least fifty 
 times. I can't endure it I really cannot 
 if you go on in this way, and so it don't 
 signify talking!" 
 
 "It's very unpleasant!" observed Mrs. 
 Horace, sympathetically. 
 
 " Unpleasant, my dear! it's really dread- 
 ful! I wonder, I'm sure, that I don't catch 
 my death. There was only last night you 
 know how tired I was? well, I hadn't 
 been asleep five minutes when he turned 
 on his right side, and off they all went! 
 blankets, sheet, counterpane every thing 
 in the world; although I pinned them, as 
 I thought securely to the palliasse, and 
 tucked them well in before I got into 
 bed." 
 
 "That's just for all the world like my 
 Horace, when he comes home a little bit 
 tipsy." 
 
102 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " Of course!" cried Horace. " What is 
 it I don't do?" 
 
 "Why you know yon do every thing 
 that's disagreeable, then; you turn about 
 and snore, and " 
 
 " Now you have said it! /snore! come 
 that's good you won't beat that to-night! 
 I never snore; I'd scorn the action! If I 
 were ever to catch myself at it, I'd get up 
 and cut my own throat. I detest it I 
 can't snore." 
 
 " My goodness, Horace!" 
 
 "I never do it, I tell you! Snrely I 
 ought to know!" 
 
 "But how can you know when you're 
 asleep!" 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me that you'll 
 make me believe that if I were to snore 
 away, and grunt like a JQlly old hog in dis- 
 tress, I shouldn't wake myself 1" 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Walter, "I don't 
 know, I'm sure, who it was; but when you 
 slept in the next room to us, I know one of 
 you used to make a horrible noise." 
 
 " Why, of course! that was Poll!" ob- 
 served Horace, " she's a regular out-and-out 
 snorter." 
 
 " Why, good gracious, Horace!" 
 
 " Well, you know that you are! It's of 
 no use denying it. Before I got used to it 
 I couldn't get a wink while you were cut- 
 ting away in that dreadful state of mind; 
 but, like every thing else, it has become so 
 natural that I look for it, and can't close 
 my eyes till you begin." 
 
 " Well, your father never snores," said 
 Mrs. W alter, "I must say that; but he 
 does kick most cruelly." 
 
 " Well! some more grog!" growled 
 Walter, whose obsequious manners had 
 been changed into those of a bear, and 
 whose countenance developed a fixed and 
 sullen gloom. 
 
 "Don't drink any more, there's a love!" 
 said Mrs. Walter, "you've had five very 
 strong glasses already." 
 
 " What if I've had five-and-fifty! I don't 
 care a dump: I want more!" 
 
 " Well, it must be a very, very little, and 
 that very weak." 
 
 44 Here, push it this way! I'll mix for 
 myself. You scarcely take the rawness 
 off the water." And he did mix, but 
 scarcely took the rawness off the brandy; 
 and having mixed, and swallowed the 
 greater part of the mixture, his muscles ap- 
 peared to be a little relaxed, and he made 
 a very lamentable effort to sing 
 
 ** Mynheer Van Dunk, who never got drunk, 
 
 Sipped brandy and water gaily; 
 Ik quenched his thirst with two quarts of the 
 
 To a pint of the latter daily, 
 
 To a pint of the latter, daily." 
 
 "The governor's getting mops nnd 
 brooms," whispered Horace to his amiable 
 spouse; " he's going it! I shouldn't at all 
 wonder if he opens, by-and-bye, like a por- 
 cupine. I say," he continued, addressing 
 his venerable father, *' won't you have a 
 cheroot! Here's an out-and-outer here!" 
 and he picked out the blackest and strong- 
 est he could find, which Walter took, and 
 began to smoke desperately. 
 
 "Try him now," whispered the senior 
 Mrs. Goodman. 
 
 "Well, how do you like it!" 
 
 " Not at all: it's particularly nasty," re- 
 plied W T alter, "but any thing to drive the 
 blue devils away. 
 
 4 Begone dull care! I pr'ythce begone from me!' 
 I say, old girl! let's have a bowl of punch! 
 
 ' If any pain or care remain, 
 Let's drown it in a bo o owl.' 
 
 Who cares! who cares, eh! Give us a kiss, 
 old girl! Why don't you sing! Come, 
 let's have a song all round!" 
 
 "The thing was well managed," said 
 Horace, " after all, eh! wasn't ft!" 
 
 " No! not at all! it wasn't well managed! 
 he saw me; it wasn't well managed!" 
 
 " I wonder how he liked it." 
 
 "Ask him!" cried Walter, directing his 
 eyes to a vacant part of the room. " There! 
 ask him! there he is!" 
 
 " Where!" shouted Horace, as he, his 
 wife, and mother turned to the spot to 
 which Walter still pointed. 
 
 " Why, there! Are you blind! He has 
 been standing up there for the last hour!" 
 
 "Good gracious! how you frighten me!" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Goodman, "you make my 
 very blood run cold. It's just the way you 
 went on last night. You would have it 
 that he was standing at the foot of the bed." 
 
 "And so he was! but who cares!" and 
 he nodded to the space to which he had 
 pointed, and emptied the glass. "\Vell, 
 why don't you sing! Here! mix some 
 grog." 
 
 "I say, where have you stowed him!" L 
 inquired Horace. 
 
 " Don't I tell you he's there!" V 
 
 " Oh, nonsense! but where did you take 
 him to!" 
 
 Walter pushed the candles aside, and 
 having closed one eye to make the other 
 more powerful and steady, looked earnestly 
 at Horace, and said, " Don't ask me any 
 questions, and then you'll not have to tell 
 lies. Now, where's this brandy-an<l-\\ ah r? 
 The treacherous crew! They'd no ri/lit 
 to 1 t him out! They promised tlu-y 
 wouldn't, so loner as I kept up my pay- 
 ments; yet there he is now!" and he cover- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 103 
 
 ed his eyes with his hand, and sank back 
 in the chair, in which, yielding to the com- 
 bined influences of brandy and tobacco, he 
 soon fell asleep. 
 
 " He has dropped off," said Horace, 
 " don't wake him. I never before saw him 
 above half so far gone." 
 
 " But how strange!" said Mrs. Goodman, 
 "is it not] There is, however, one conso- 
 lation; I think he hasn't rushed into ex- 
 tremes." 
 
 " No! that's pretty certain," said Horace, 
 " I thought he had at first. But where can 
 he have stowed him! That puzzles me 
 above a bit. He couldn't have cocked him 
 into a workhouse; nor could he well have 
 fixed him in prison. It certainly is about 
 the rummest thing I ever heard of." 
 
 " Probably," suggested Mrs. Goodman, 
 " he has sent him abroad!" 
 
 "Not a bit of it!" cried Horace, "he's 
 somewhere near at hand. Besides, you 
 know, he isn't a fool. He wouldn't be kept 
 there hush!" he added sharply, for Walter 
 at the moment gave a strong convulsive 
 start. 
 
 " That's the way he goes on throughout 
 the night," gently whispered Mrs. Good- 
 man, " hush, listen! he's dreaming!" 
 
 "There are a kind of men so loose of soul, 
 That in their sleep will mutter their affairs;" 
 
 and one of this "kind" was Walter. 
 
 " Now do your worst!" cried he, folding 
 his arms with an air of defiance. " Do 
 your worst! I am safe! The certificate! 
 that was the authority. Well, I know it! 
 what of that 1 ? And so you were!-r-you 
 were mad! No! not at all! W T hy for your 
 safety! Look to those who certified. Not 
 a word! Do il! I'm ready to defend my- 
 self! Cool! very cool Never! don't be- 
 lieve it." Having uttered these sentences, 
 as if in answer to a series of interrogatories, 
 he curled his lip proudly; but in tossing his 
 head, he struck it against the back of the 
 chair with so much force, that he awoke on 
 the instant, and started up, exclaiming, 
 " Oh, you shall pay dearly for that! that 
 blow shall be your last! Now!" 
 
 "Walter!" exclaimed Mrs. Goodman, 
 who, with the assistance of Horace, sus- 
 tained him. " Walter! awake!" 
 
 " Did you not see him strike me!" 
 
 " No! no! he is not here." 
 
 " How can you tell me that! why there 
 he stands now! Am I not to believe my 
 own eyes! Have you all turned against 
 me! Curse you all! Why do you hold 
 me! I'll strangle him! Why do you hold 
 me!" and he stared again wildly, and point- 
 ed to the imaginary form of him whom he 
 had injured. " Let me go!" he continued 
 
 struggling with additional violence; " Am I 
 to be pinioned here, while he thus triumphs 
 over me!" 
 
 " Come, come!" said Horace, " fight it 
 out another time. I'll bet ten to one you. 
 can beat him; but let's have a clear stage, 
 you know, and no favor." 
 
 "My dear, dear Walter, wake up," said 
 Mrs. Goodman, " it is nothing but a dream. 
 Indeed, indeed, he is not here, love! he is 
 not, indeed!" 
 
 " No, he isn't here now; you have let 
 him escape!" 
 
 " Of course, he has cut it," said Horace. 
 " Never mind; take it out of him to-morrow. 
 He has got no bottom, you know; he never 
 had. Come, governor, come!" and as Wal- 
 ter had sunk into their arms in a state of 
 exhaustion, they quietly carried him up to 
 bed. 
 
 "The murder's out now," said Horace, 
 returning to the parlor. " He has put the 
 old boy into some private madhouse: there 
 can't be two opinions about it. I see it all 
 now." 
 
 " Good gracious me, impossible!" ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Goodman. " Why, he is not 
 mad!" 
 
 " Oh! that makes no sort of odds at all!" 
 rejoined Horace. 
 
 " But surely frhey would not take him in 
 unless he were!" 
 
 "Wouldn't they! W T hat does it matter 
 to them whether a man's mad or not, so 
 long as he's paid for! I could shove the 
 old governor there to-morrow if I chose; 
 and he could do the same for me. It don't 
 matter a straw who it is. They've only to 
 send for a couple of jolly mad-doctors, the 
 majority of whom are to be bought for half 
 a sovereign, and they'll sign away like rat- 
 tle-snakes." 
 
 " What! without knowing whether the 
 man's insane or not!" 
 
 " Without knowing! what is it to them? 
 They are called in to certify; they are paid 
 to certify; they therefore do certify, and 
 pocket the coin." 
 
 "You perfectly astonish me!" exclaimed 
 Mrs. Goodman. 
 
 "That's good! Astonish you! Why 
 one-half the world would be astonished to 
 learn how the thing is arranged by these 
 medical snobs." 
 
 " But they examine them of course!" 
 
 " Not a bit of it! They will occasionally 
 certify without even seeing the ' patient;' 
 and if they do take the trouble to visit him, 
 they question him, and harass him, and put 
 him into a most uncomfortable state of ex- 
 citement, in order that they may satisfy 
 their beautiful consciences that he is in 
 reality insane.'' 
 
104 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " But isn't that very wrong 1 ?" 
 
 " Why it's very convenient. Of course, if 
 we come to the rights of the thing, it is clear 
 that no man should be confined in any one 
 of these dens, until his case had been fully, 
 and publicly investigated. But then, you 
 see, that wouldn't answer! They would 
 never be able to get a sane man out of the 
 way, however rich he might be, if that sys- 
 tem were adopted." 
 
 " But how do they manage ill" inquired 
 Mrs. Goodman. 
 
 " Why, suppose, now, I wanted to lock 
 up the governor. Well, I have only to 
 write to the proprietor of one of these private 
 bastiles to this effect: 
 
 " Sir: 1 beg you will send me two blank 
 forms of order and certificate to-morrow 
 morning, together with two stout keepers, 
 for a very violent patient who is dangerous, 
 and whom I desire to commit to your care, 
 and if you will send also two doctors to 
 certify, it will save a deal of trouble, and 
 much oblige." 
 
 " Well, at the time appointed, in walk 
 the doctors, who bore the old govenor with 
 a series of out-and-out questions, until they 
 excite him to such a pitch of glory, that he 
 threatens, very naturally, to kick them out 
 of the house; and he no sooner reaches this 
 point of the compass, than they call in a 
 couple of coal-heaving keepers, who clap a 
 strait jacket, or a pair of handcuffs upon 
 him, without any ceremony, and bundle him 
 off, with the certificate signed, to the bastile 
 to which they belong." 
 
 "And would you be justified in doing 
 this by law?" 
 
 "Law! What should I care about law 1 ? 
 Law has little to do with private lunatic 
 asylums. Once in, the poor devils are I 
 booked for the whole distance: it must be, 
 indeed, an extraordinary occurrence which 
 enables them ever to get out. There they 
 
 are, and there they stick, so long as the 
 payments are kept up; and when they die, 
 why what does it matter where or how they 
 are buried? If they are murdered, it's just 
 the same thing: no inquest is held upon the 
 body. The coroner has no power there 
 not a bit of it nothing of the sort." 
 
 "This really appears to me," said Mrs. 
 Goodman, " to be very dreadful; but of 
 course they are well treated?" 
 
 "Oh! of course!" returned Horace ironi- 
 cally; " of course! they have every com- 
 fort in life, and all its luxuries. The pro- 
 prietor is paid for each so much a-year; and 
 of course he don't want to make anything 
 out of them! He is generally a mild, out- 
 and-out nice man a man whose humani- 
 ties are conspicuously developed and he 
 spends all the money he receives, no doubt, 
 in administering to their several necessities, 
 and becomes at once so fond of them, that 
 he never parts with one if he can possibly 
 help it, while the payments continue to be 
 regular: nay, his attachments are so ex- 
 tremely strong, that if one of his patients 
 should die or escape, he regards it as a very, 
 very serious loss indeed." 
 
 At this moment the cry of " Murder!" 
 was heard from above, and that cry was 
 succeeded by a heavy crashing fall. Mrs. 
 Goodman gave a shrill scream and fainted; 
 and Horace rushed into the bed-room of 
 Walter, whom he found lying prostrate 
 upon the floor. On being raised, he was 
 perfectly insensible, and it was some con- 
 siderable time before animation could be 
 restored; and when it was, his delirium con- 
 tinued wild and powerful. Horace, there- 
 fore, consented to sit up all night; and having 
 sent his wife and mother to bed, got a bot- 
 tle of brandy and a box of cheroots, and 
 then dropped into a large easy chair with 
 appropriate resignation. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE WIDOW'S VICTIM. 
 
 As Valentine sat in his own room alone the j and says she hopes you'll excuse the liberty, 
 evening on which the conscience of Walter but she has a little party to-night, and she 
 
 had developed itself to his amiable family, :n u " -~ u -"~ " :f '" -*-t - 
 
 wondering what had become of the card 
 which had been given to him by the father 
 of the lovely creature, whom he rescued 
 
 \\ill be so happy if you'll join 'em, as she's 
 sure it must be lonesome to be here alone." 
 " Yonr mistress is very polite," said 
 Valentine, " I'll do myself the pleasure 
 Oh, have you seen a small glazed card 
 
 from "Old Father Thames," the servant 
 
 of the widow with whom he lodged knocked about the room?" 
 
 ypiitly at the door, and having entered, said, I No, I haven't, sir least ways, not to 
 
 " O, if you pie, sir, miaseses compliments, ; my knowledge, but if I should see" 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 103 
 
 * I have it!" said Valentine. " My com- 
 pliments to your mistress; I'll be down in 
 five minutes." 
 
 Although it may probably be inferred from 
 Valentine's exclamation, " I have it!" that 
 he had it, he had it not; but simply recol- 
 lected at the moment that he had left it in 
 the pocket of the steward's striped-jacket, 
 which had been lent to him to go on shore 
 at Gravesend. He knew not the name of 
 the steward, nor did he know the name of 
 the vessel to which he belonged, but then 
 which was certainly the next best thing 
 he knew the name of the wharf from which 
 she started. He, therefore, at once made 
 up his mind to go down to that particular 
 wharf the next morning, with a view to the 
 recovery of the card, and proceeded to join 
 his fair landlady's party in the parlor. 
 
 Now of all the speculations whose fruits 
 have a tendency to confer immortal honor 
 upon the learned, there is probably not one 
 so directly, so eminently calculated to send 
 a man down to posterity, as that which has 
 reference to the origin of personal names. 
 That there are so many Smiths, may be 
 easily accounted for, seeing that there are 
 so many Smiths namely, white Smiths, 
 black Smiths, silver Smiths, gold Smiths, 
 lock Smiths, coach Smiths, gun Smiths, 
 and so on, whose descendants have assumed 
 the pure name, although clearly the son of 
 the first Mr. Smith should have called him- 
 self Smithson; the son of Mr. Srnithson, 
 Smithsonson; and the son of Mr. Smithson- 
 son, Smithsonsonson; or, for shortness, 
 Smithsonsonsgrandson. This, however, 
 might have been very fairly objected to, on 
 the ground that such a course, however 
 proper, would, in a few generations, draw 
 the names of the descendants of the original 
 Smith to a somewhat inconvenient length. 
 But how the thousands, nay, the millions 
 of names which are to be met with in civi- 
 lised society, were originally got hold of by 
 our ancestors respectively, is a question 
 which opens a very wide field for antiqua- 
 rian research a field whose cultivation 
 would doubtless confer upon mankind, in 
 the aggregate, benefits incalculable. They 
 who minrht enter this glorious field might 
 meet with a few proper names of a very 
 queer character; they might, indeed, be for 
 a time, in some slight degree, gloriously 
 puzzled; but there could be no doubt of their 
 eventual success if they boldly and reso- 
 lutely proceeded upon the just and eternal 
 principle, that every effect must have a 
 cause. 
 
 This profound vein of reflection has been 
 opened by the fact that Valentine's land- 
 lady possessed the name of Smugman. 
 That she got it from her late lamented hus- 
 
 band is manifest, but how did the original 
 Smugman obtain it? The solution of this 
 mystery is not, however, absolutely essen- 
 tial to the progress of these adventures, and 
 therefore it may as well at once be observ- 
 ed, that Mrs. Smugman had been languish- 
 ing in a weary state of widowhood for 
 nearly twelve months, and that, however, 
 ardently she might have loved the name of 
 Smugman at one time, she then had an 
 equally ardent desire to change it. Her 
 husband had been in the navy, and from the 
 Admiralty she received, in consequence, 
 seventy pounds per annum, to which, in 
 conformity with the general practice, she 
 was entitled so long, but only so long, as 
 she remained a widow a practice whose 
 tendency is far more immoral than the wise 
 men by whom it was established, conceived; 
 for, as the annuitants cannot legally marry 
 without sacrificing their respective annui- 
 ties, the temptation to marry illegally is 
 sometimes too strong to be resisted by those 
 who do not in reality prize virtue as it ought 
 to be prized, above all other sublunary 
 blessings. 
 
 That such considerations, however, en- 
 tered not into the head of Mrs. Smugman, 
 all are bound to believe, for, independently, 
 of her being strictly virtuous, she had her 
 eye upon two mostrespectable bachelors 
 namely, Mr. Foxglove, a quiet bank clerk, 
 and Mr. Crankey, a money-making grocer, 
 the latter of whom she did rather prefer, 
 but in consequence solely of his wealth 
 being calculated to cause the match on her 
 part to obtain the direct sanction of prudence. 
 
 The gentleman upon whom this prefer- 
 ence was bestowed was a sour-looking, por- 
 cupine-headed person, whose smiles were 
 so forced, that they gave pain to all who 
 beheld them; yet the widow was conversing- 
 with him very affectionately when Valen- 
 tine entered the room. A variety of greet- 
 ings and fussy introductions to the ladies 
 and gentlemen, who were engaged in the 
 purely commercial game of speculation, 
 were immediately consequent on his entree, 
 for the fair widow really felt honored by 
 his presence, and scarcely knew how to 
 lionize him enough. 
 
 It soon became manifest, however, to 
 Valentine, that Crankey by no means ap- 
 proved of these attentions; that he looked 
 dark and dreadful, and scowled very furi- 
 ously, both at the widow and at him; and 
 as he subsequently made himself particu- 
 larly disagreeable, indulging occasionally 
 in certain very pointed insinuations having 
 reference to the impropriety of such atten- 
 tions to young men in general, Valentine 
 resolved on punishing Mr. Crankey for his 
 bear-like behavior. 
 10* 
 
106 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ** What a sour old crab, to be sure," said 
 he, making his voice apparently proceed 
 from the speculation table. " I can't say I 
 admire the taste of Mrs. Smugman." 
 
 " Indeed!" muttered Crankey, knitting 
 his black bushy brows, and looking round 
 the table in question, with the view of as- 
 certaining who it was that had spoken. 
 "My presence," he added, addressing Mrs. 
 Smugman, " doesn't appear to be very 
 agreeable to some of jam friend*!" 
 
 11 Oh nonsense!" observed Mrs. Smug- 
 man. "It's nothing but a silly remark, j 
 There's no meaning in it: nonsense!" 
 
 " You should not invite persons to meet j 
 we, Mrs. Smugman, who are capable of 
 making silly remarks with no meaning in 
 them." 
 
 The widow bit her lips, but said nothing. 
 Mr. Crankey, however, was by no means 
 disposed to be silent, for he enlarged rather 
 eloquently upon the fact of his not having 
 come there that evening to be insulted. 
 
 * Did you ever!" cried Valentine, throw- 
 ing his voice in the same direction. "The 
 fellow's a bear!" 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the widow, approach- 
 ing the table as a burst of surprise had been 
 induced, by the fact of a lady having turned 
 up the ace after selling the king for five- 
 pence-half-penny, "I really must beg of 
 you not to indulge in unpleasant observa- 
 tions." 
 
 The whole of the speculators stared at 
 the widow, with an expression of amaze- 
 ment. " You must remember," continued 
 that lady, " that Mr. Crankey is my friend, 
 as you are all my frieuds, and I should not 
 like to hear an unpleasant observation ap- 
 plied to any one of you." 
 
 " Mr. Crankey, I'm sure, must be mista- 
 ken," observed one of the gentlemen at the 
 table, " I have heard no such observation 
 made." . 
 
 " But I have!" growled Crankey. 
 
 " Well, all I can say is that / have heard 
 nothing of the sort," returned the gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " Nor have I," cried the whole of the 
 speculators in a breath, which was literally 
 the fact, for they had all been too busy turn- 
 ing up prematurely and estimating the value 
 of the best card turned in proportion to the 
 wealth of the pool, to pay attention to any- 
 thing else. 
 
 Mr. Crankey was not satisfied; but the 
 speculators were, that Mr. Crankey had 
 been mistaken, and the merry game pro- 
 ceeded. 
 
 Valentine had by this time understood 
 the- precise terms upon which Mr. Cninkrv 
 and the widow were, and very naturally felt 
 that the sooner such a match were complete- 
 
 ly broken off, the better it would be for the 
 lady; and although he clearly recognised 
 the right of that lady to choose and to judge 
 for herself, he resolved that she should be- 
 come that evening acquainted with Mr. 
 Crankey's disposition, of which she really 
 appeared to be totally ignorant. 
 
 44 Come." said the widow, after a very 
 awful pause, during which Crankey looked 
 as black as a thunder-cloud just on the point 
 of bursting; " what say you to a rubber?" 
 
 " Any thing you like, ma'am," said 
 Crankey, " I am ready for any thing!" and 
 he hurled at the speculation table a dark 
 look of defiance. 
 
 " W'ell come, you'll cut in, will you 
 not!" observed the widow, addressing Va- 
 lentine, whom she honored with one of her 
 sweetest smiles, which appeared to make 
 Crankey's blood boil. 
 
 Valentine expressed his willingness to 
 join them, and when they had cut, he had 
 Crankey for a partner, and their opponents 
 were Wrightman and Foxglove, who really 
 were very quiet gentlemanly men. 
 
 By the desperate character of his play, it 
 very soon became manifest that Crankey's 
 whole soul was in arms, and he devoted so 
 much attention to the noise which proceeded 
 from the speculation table ipply ing almost 
 every observation to himself that in play- 
 ing the very first hand he revoked. The 
 fact was duly noticed by Mr. Foxglove, 
 who at once enforced the penalty. 
 
 "Then you mean to play the strict game!" 
 said Crankey, with much earnestness. 
 
 " Of course, my dear sir, we play the 
 game!" 
 
 " Very well. As you please. It makes 
 no odds tome: not a bit," said Mr. Crankey, 
 shuffling the cards with unequivocal despe- 
 ration. "Now, sir! It's my deal." 
 
 " Oh, he can't play!" whispered Valen- 
 tine, throwing his voice behind Mr. Cran- 
 key as he dealt. Mr. Crankey looked 
 round, and albeit, he simply said, " Can't 
 he!" the consequence was a misdeaj. 
 
 " Who the devil can deal cards or play, 
 or do any thing with such interruptions as 
 these!" exclaimed Crankey. 
 
 " What interruptions!" inquired Mr. 
 Foxglove. 
 
 " Why these ungentlemanly observa- 
 tions, these whisperings and titterings 
 while a man is dealing." 
 
 " I heard no observations," said Mr. 
 Foxglove. 
 
 lint I did, sir! I am not deaf, sir, if 
 other people arc!" 
 
 "I told you he couldn't play," cried 
 Valentine, throwing his voice among the 
 speculating people. 
 
 Crankey rose and gnashed his teeth with 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 107 
 
 considerable violence, and grasped the back 
 of his chair with great energy and firmness, 
 and after having taken a comprehensive 
 view of the speculating group, cried, "In- 
 deed! If he can't he'll play you any day in 
 the week for what you like. It makes no 
 odds to me; from a crown to ten pound!" 
 and he jingled what money he had in his 
 pocket, with the view of imparting the con- 
 viction that he was a man of some conside- 
 rable pecuniary substance. 
 
 The entire party looked at Mr. Crankey 
 with an expression of wonder, but as no 
 one accepted the challenge, he hurled a 
 look of contempt upon the speculators in 
 the aggregate, and eventually resumed his 
 seat. 
 
 The game was then continued, but Mr. 
 Crankey was so excited that he was unable 
 to recollect a single card that had been 
 played. His opponents were making almost 
 every trick, and the game looked particu- 
 larly desperate, when as Wrightman was 
 considering which card he should next lead, 
 Valentine made it appear that Mr. Foxglove 
 softly whispered "diamonds," which hap- 
 pened to be trumps, and accordingly Wright- 
 man conceiving that his partner had a hand 
 which would carry all before it a diamond 
 was led. 
 
 "Oh! that's it, is it 1 !" cried Crankey 
 sarcastically, throwing up his cards. " I 
 knew it was something of that, /thought 
 we were playing the game!" 
 
 " And so we are," said Mr. Foxglove, 
 " are we not 1 ?" 
 
 " Do you call intimations, sir, playing 
 the game]" 
 
 " What do you mean 1 ?" said Mr. Fox- 
 glove. 
 
 " Why this is what I mean, sir that you 
 had no right to tell your partner to lead 
 trumps, sir! that's what I mean!" 
 
 " / tell my partner to lead trumps! I 
 deny it, sir, flatly deny it," and the denial 
 was so palpably barefaced in the eyes of 
 Mr. Crankey, that he was at the moment 
 too utterly astounded to reply. 
 
 " You are making yourself very disagree- 
 able," continued Mr. Foxglove. "I will 
 not descend to argue the point, but in order 
 to prove that I did not call for trumps, there 
 are my cards, sir, I have not a single trump 
 in my hand," and the cards were duly placed 
 upon the table. 
 
 "/have all the trumps," said Valentine, 
 exhibiting no less than seven, which would 
 of necessity have carried the game; but that 
 game was of course claimed by Mr. Fox- 
 glove, in consequence of Crankey having 
 thrown up his hand. 
 
 "You are satisfied, I hope," said Mr. 
 Foxglove. " I presume that you are satis- 
 
 fied. Come, if we are to play the game, 
 for Heaven's sake, sir, let us play it plea- 
 santly. I hate to have any dispute." 
 
 "And so do I, sir; but if I didn't hear 
 it" 
 
 " You must have been mistaken," inter- 
 rupted the widow, who began to be really 
 ashamed of his conduct, and to recognise 
 the justice of Mr. Foxglove's observations, 
 very much to the satisfaction of that gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 " I tell you I heard diamonds called, Mrs. 
 Smugman!" cried Crankey, with a look 
 which seemed to chill the widow's blood. 
 " Isn't a man to believe his own ears'?" 
 
 " Then it must have been mentioned at 
 the speculation table." 
 
 "I don't know where it was mentioned, 
 ma'am, nor do I care; I only know it was 
 mentioned, and that's enough for me." 
 
 " Well," said Valentine, "shall we have 
 another game!" 
 
 " Oh, with all my heart!" said Mr. Fox- 
 glove. 
 
 " We'll see them once more, Mr. Crarsk- 
 ey 1 ?" said Valentine, and as that gentleman 
 doggedly consented, the cards were again 
 dealt. 
 
 Mr. Crankey made the first three tricks, 
 but just as he was about to lead off for the 
 fourth, Valentine throwing his voice imme- 
 diately behind him, whispered "hearts." 
 
 " I'm obliged to you; but I play my own 
 game. I want no advice, no instruction," 
 said Crankey, turning round with a most 
 unamiable scowl, of course expecting to 
 find some gentleman at his elbow, but as 
 he could see no one standing on the right, 
 he twirled round to the left, and as he 
 couldn't find any one near him at all, he 
 led spades in the spirit of opposition. His 
 hand happened to be a good one; and as it 
 enabled him to score seven points, he took 
 a deep sip of brandy and water, with a huge 
 pinch of snuff as an obligato accompani- 
 ment, and began in reality to feel a little 
 better. 
 
 " I wish to goodness he would go," said 
 Valentine, assuming the voice of a female. 
 
 " Do you"?" cried Crankey, inspiring at 
 that moment a fresh stock of indignation. 
 " If you do, madam, why I shall stop all 
 the longer!" and he honored the speculators 
 indiscriminately with a purely sardonic 
 smile, aud waved his hand very gracefully, 
 and bowed with great politeness, and then, 
 with a look of supreme contempt, turned 
 round to examine his cards. 
 
 "What a comical wretch!" said Valen- 
 tine, assuming a totally different voice. 
 
 "A wretch, sir! a comical wretch!" cried 
 Crankey, starting upon his legs. " What 
 do you mean by a wretch 1 ?" 
 
108 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " For goodness sake what is the matter 1 ?" 
 cried the widow. 
 
 "The matter, ma'am? this is the mat- 
 ter! I did not come here to be insulted, 
 ma'am, grossly insulted!" 
 
 " Who has insulted you who who is 
 it?" 
 
 " Who is it, ma'am? Why it's one of 
 your friends, that's who it is!" 
 
 " But which of them?" 
 
 "What do I care!" cried Crankey, and 
 he turned from the widow and dropped upon 
 his chair, with a force which most power- 
 fully tested the stability of its bottom. 
 
 Had young love himself been lingering 
 in the heart of the widow, in order to ad- 
 vocate Crankey's cause at that moment, his 
 retreat would have been perfectly certain; 
 but as it was as the widow preferred Mr. 
 Crankey to Mr. Foxglove only in conse- 
 quence of his being a little more wealthy, 
 she simply acknowledged his politeness by 
 a bow, and took no farther notice of the 
 matter. 
 
 " W T hat's trumps?" cried Crankey. " If 
 people think that Pm to be insulted, they're 
 mistaken I can tell 'em as mistaken as 
 ever they were in their lives!" 
 
 " Oh indeed!" said Valentine. 
 
 "Yes! indeed!" cried the victim, turn- 
 ing again to the speculation table; " why 1 
 could buy up the whole kit, if that's what 
 you mean!" 
 
 " There's the knave to beat," said Valen- 
 tine in his natural voice. 
 
 "I see there's the knave to beat," cried 
 Crankey, dashing down the queen with ex- 
 traordinary force. 
 
 "W T ell, well," said Valentine calmly, 
 " don't be angry with me." 
 
 "Who the devil, sir, can help being 
 
 angry? Curse me, if it ain't enough to 
 turn the very sweetest disposition into ver- 
 digris. But/ won't stand it! They've got 
 the wrono- man the vvronor man, sir, I can 
 tell 'em!" 
 
 At this moment a burst of merriment 
 proceeded from the speculation table, and 
 Mr. Crankey immediately started up again, 
 and commenced an active scrutiny, but as 
 he found all, save one, laughing heartily at 
 the fact of that one having given seven- 
 pence-halfpenny for the queen, when he had 
 both the ace and the king in his own hand, 
 Mr. Crankey again resumed his seat, mut- 
 tering something which sounded not much 
 like a blessing. 
 
 " Your play, sir," observed Mr. Fox- 
 glove. 
 
 "I know it," cried Crankey, who could 
 not then bear to be spoken to. 
 
 " Hearts," whispered Valentine, assum- 
 ing the voice of Mr. Foxglove, and the ace 
 of hearts was led by Mr. Foxglove's part- 
 ner; which Crankey no sooner perceived, 
 than he started up again, dashed the cards 
 very violently upon the table, and, having 
 hurled upon those around him a withering 
 look of scorn, placed his arms most majes- 
 tically beneath his coat tails, and bounced 
 out of the room. 
 
 His departure was hailed with satisfac- 
 tion by all; and the remainder of the even- 
 ing was spent most agreeably. The specu- 
 lators played until twelve, then had supper, 
 and then sang some very sweet songs; and 
 Mr. Foxglove, who was really a very f 
 decent fellow, had that night the high sa- I- 
 tisfaction of hearing the amiable widow ' 
 acknowledge that he was the absolute mas- 
 ter of her heart. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CONTAINS A BIRD'S-EYE VIEW OF GOODMAN'S UNENVIABLE POSITION. 
 
 ALTHOUGH it may be very profoundly con- 
 tended, that use is second nature, and that 
 afflictions, however poignant, lose their 
 virtue in time; although theorists, in il- 
 lustration, may bring forth the fact of a 
 man having been sentenced to sleep upon 
 spikes so long that, when compulsion h;ul 
 ceased, he still stuck to his spikes when he 
 wanted to sleep, as a matter of comfort; 
 it seems to be abundantly clear that there 
 are certain states of existence which, how- 
 ever much used to them men may become, 
 shut out all prospect of reconciliation. 
 
 Goodman was an universal-happiness 
 man. Ho delighted in contending that 
 happiness was equally diffused; biU from 
 the moment of his incarceration in Dr. 
 Holdem's den, his views on that subject 
 had gradually changed. It may appear at 
 lir>t siirht extraordinary that a man < i 
 principles like Goodman should have been 
 so inconsistent; but lost his inconsistency 
 shouM be deemed reprehensible, it \\ill ho 
 perfectly proper to describe ihe exact pro- 
 cess by which the change in his opinion* 
 on this matter had been wrought. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 109 
 
 It was about eight o'clock on the morning 
 after the seizure, that a fellow unlocking 
 the door of the cell in which Goodman had 
 spent a most horrible night, shouted, " Now 
 then! up with you! d'ye hear]" 
 
 Goodman, at the moment, involuntarily 
 shrank from the scowl of this ruffian. He 
 however soon recovered his self possession 
 and attempted to rise, but found every 
 limb so stiff and sore, that he sank back 
 groaning with agony. 
 
 "Now then! Come, none of that rub- 
 bish! It won't do here!" 
 
 " My good man," said Goodman, " pray, 
 pray don't be harsh. I am too ill I really 
 am too ill to rise." 
 
 " We'll see about that," cried the ruffian, 
 catching hold of the edge of the mattrass, 
 and with a sudden jerk flinging poor Good- 
 man upon the floor. " Come, tumble up 
 with you! I'm not going to stay here all 
 day!" 
 
 Goodman made another desperate effort 
 to rise; but the pain which accompanied 
 that effort, at once caused him again to sink 
 back. 
 
 " Oh! I'm not going to stand all this 
 here, you know!" shouted the fellow, as he 
 seized him by the throat and dragged him 
 up. 
 
 "If I am to be murdered," cried Good- 
 man, "be merciful; kill me at once; don't! 
 pray don't torture me thus!" 
 
 " Do what!" cried the ruffian, clenching 
 his fist, and grinding his huge teeth despe- 
 rately; "Give me any more of it say 
 another word, and I'll show you what's 
 what in about half a minute." 
 
 Goodman, finding that he was completely 
 in the ruffian's power, was silent; and hav- 
 ing managed, in a state more dead than 
 alive, to draw on his clothes, was dragged 
 into a room in which a number of persons 
 were sitting at breakfast. 
 
 As he entered, a chorus of sighs burst at 
 once from the group, and they gazed upon 
 his countenance with an expression of 
 sorrow. A person of gentlemanly exterior 
 rose, placed a chair for him at the table, 
 and then sat beside him, and having 
 pressed him with much delicacy to partake 
 of the refreshment provided, which con- 
 sisted of lumps of bread and butter and 
 weak tea, he endeavored to cheer him, and 
 did at length succeed in making him feel 
 that he should have at least one consola- 
 tion, namely, that of his society. 
 
 "Now then! come into the garden!" 
 shouted a fellow, when the lumps of bread 
 and butter had vanished; and the patients 
 as they were called, but the prisoners as 
 they were rose, and walked away mourn- 
 fully: Goodman alone lingered. 
 
 "Now then! are you going 1 ?" cried the 
 ruffian. 
 
 "I'm really too ill," said Goodman 
 faintly, " to walk." 
 
 "Oh, rubbish! be off ! Now then 
 start!" 
 
 " I wish to write a letter!" 
 
 " Be off into the garden, I tell you! Do 
 you hear what I say?" 
 
 "Yes, yes! but can I see the proprie- 
 tor!" 
 
 "Don't bother me! Come, start! there, 
 that's all about it!" 
 
 On his way to the garden he met Dr. 
 Holdem, whom he ventured to address. 
 
 "I know nothing," said he, "of your 
 regulations; but, pray do not suffer your 
 servants to treat me so brutally!" 
 
 "Brutally!" cried the doctor; " My ser- 
 vants treat you brutally! pooh, pooh! it's 
 all your delusion!" 
 
 " No, sir!" said Goodman emphatically; 
 "it is not a delusion. I am, sir," 
 
 " Hullo! hullo! none of your insolence!" 
 interrupted Dr. Holdem" Be off !" And 
 one of his myrmidons seized him by the 
 collar and dragged him away. 
 
 On reaching the place which was digni- 
 fied with the appellation of a garden, in 
 which there were about a dozen withering 
 plants, poor Goodman*- was joined by Mr. 
 Whitely, the gentleman who at breakfast 
 had so kindly addressed him. From him 
 he learned the rules of this dreadful place; 
 and received advice with reference to the 
 mode in which he might escape much ill- 
 treatment. He advised him to make no 
 complaint to bear whatever indignities 
 might be heaped upon him in silence, and 
 to hope for the means of eventually escap- 
 ing." 
 
 " Escaping!" cried Goodman, " why, can 
 I not write to my friends!" 
 
 " No, that is not allowed." 
 
 "Not allowed! you have visiting ma- 
 gistrates!" 
 
 " The commissioners visit us occasional- 
 ly. They are compelled to come four times 
 a-year, but that is frequently at intervals of 
 five or six months." 
 
 " Well, when they do come, and I appeal 
 to them, they will, of course, see that 1 am 
 not mad!" 
 
 "Ah! that was my impression. There 
 was my hope; but the first time they came, 
 the keeper gave me a certain drug, and then 
 goaded me into a state of excitement, which, 
 when I was examined, made me appear to 
 be insane, and that impression has never 
 been removed." 
 
 " God bless me!" said Goodman; " but 
 there are some insane persons in this 
 wretched place!" 
 
110 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "There are some; but very, very few," 
 replied Mr. Whitely. 
 
 "That is one, I presume?" said Good- 
 man, pointing to a melancholy creature, 
 who was hand-cuffed and chained to a log. 
 
 " He is no more insane, sir, than I am," 
 said Whitely; "but having, about twelve 
 months ago, made an effort to escape, he 
 has been handcuffed and chained day and 
 night ever since." 
 
 At this moment one of the keepers ap- 
 proached, and with a single blow, knocked 
 down a man for throwing a stone over the 
 wall. The poor fellow took no notice of 
 this outrage, but rose to avoid being kicked, 
 and walked away. 
 
 "What a monstrous proceeding!" cried 
 Goodman indignantly. 
 
 "Nothing," said Whitely, "is too mon- 
 strous to be perpetrated here. But silence! 
 he's coming this way." 
 
 " So you'll go and tell the doctor you're 
 ill-used, will you!" cried the ruffian with 
 whom the doctor had expostulated, fearing 
 that as Goodman was exceedingly weak, 
 too much cruelty would deprive him of life, 
 and thereby deprive the establishment of a 
 certain sum per annum. "You'll tell him 
 I hurt you again eh! will you?" he con- 
 tinued, grasping Goodman by the throat, 
 and shaking him with violence "I treat 
 you brutally, do II Brutally! brutally! 
 brutally!" 
 
 At each repetition of the word "brutally" 
 he kicked him with all the force at his 
 command, and then left him to fall upon 
 the ground in a state of exhaustion. 
 
 While this atrocious outrage was being 
 committed, many of the inmates came to 
 
 the spot. Whttely's blood boiled, but he 
 dared not interfere; and several of the other 
 sane victims felt equally indignant but 
 equally powerless. A religious enthusiast 
 looked up to Heaven as he pointed to the 
 ruffian's brutal exercise of his power, while 
 two poor idiots dangled their hands, and 
 appeared to be utterly lost in amazement. 
 
 The moment the fellow had left the spot, 
 
 shouting, "There! now tell the doctor 
 
 again!" Mr. Whitely lifted Goodman from 
 
 I the ground, and endeavored to console him. 
 
 | He begged of him not to mention the occur- 
 
 | rence to Dr. Holdem, as the ruffian would 
 
 be certain to have his revenge, and labored 
 
 to impress upon his mind the iuutility'as 
 
 well as the danger of complaining. Good- 
 
 j man sobbed bitterly, and big scalding tears 
 
 chased each other down his cheeks as he 
 
 acknowledged the kindness of his friend. 
 
 At one o'clock they were all ordered in 
 to partake of a miserable dinner, and im- 
 mediately afterwards turned again into the 
 . yard. At five, being tea-time, the same 
 i degrading ceremonies were performed; and 
 I at eight they were all locked up for the night. 
 | There was the same round of wretchedness, 
 i day after day, without the slightest em- 
 ployment or amusement of any description. 
 Not a letter could be written: not a book 
 could be procured: nothing calculated to 
 mitigate their misery for a single moment 
 was permitted, from the time they rose in 
 i the morning till they were driven, like cat- 
 i tie, into their cells, there to linger for twelve 
 ! weary hours in darkness, torturing iheir 
 minds by reflecting on the monstrous inhu- 
 manity of those to whom nature had prompt- 
 ed them to look for affection. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE EQUALRIGHTITES' MIGHTY DEMONSTRATION. 
 
 WHY are not all men socially equal! Are 
 they not born with equal rights! Have 
 they not sprung from one common parent, 
 and have they not, therefore, a right to 
 share equally every comfort the world can 
 afford! If nature herself be perfection, 
 does it not follow that that which is not in 
 accordance with nature must be in propor- 
 tion imperfect! Why, of course! And 
 hence, as a state of civilisation is diame- 
 trically opposed to a state of nature, civili- 
 sation is palpably the mostimperfectscheme 
 tli.it ever afflicted the world. Nature pre- 
 scribes no social inequality! yet some men 
 
 ] are wealthy, while others are poor; and 
 those who toil zealously, day by day, are ab- 
 solutely, in a social point of view, worse off 
 than those who are not forced to labor at all! 
 
 With a view to the correction of this 
 monstrous state of things, an appropriately 
 organized body of patriots had a mighty de- 
 monstration on Clerkenwell-green, the very 
 day on which Valentine learnt with much 
 pain that, by some young gentleman acting 1 
 upon the same eternal principle of equal 
 right the steward's striped jacket had been 
 total. 
 
 As he strolled towards the place which 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 Ill 
 
 had once been an actual Green, doubtless, 
 but which was a Green only nominally 
 then, he was not in the happiest spirits; for 
 although he had previously thought little of 
 the card, or of the lady whose name that 
 card bore, he now began to be unspeakably 
 anxious about the one, and to feel himself 
 desperately in love with the other. On 
 perceiving, however, the mighty masses 
 assembled, he forgot for the moment both, 
 and pushed through the crowd towards a 
 waggon which had been drawn to the spot 
 by an animal, looking about the ribs really 
 wretched, but still, as he then had his nose- 
 bag on, he kept nodding his perfect ap- 
 probation of the arrangements, as far as 
 they went. In the waggon or to write 
 with more propriety upon the hustings, 
 stood a dense*mass of partriots, sweating 
 with indignation, and panting to inspire the 
 mighty masses with a perfect appreciation of 
 the blessings which would, of necessity, 
 flow from a system of social equality; nay, 
 so intense was the anxiety of the patriots 
 present to advocate boldly their dear coun- 
 try's cause, that when the waggon was full 
 of them, literally crammed, many very pa- 
 triotically hung on behind, which clearly 
 proved to the sovereign people, that there 
 was absolutely nothing which those patriots 
 would not endure, to carry out that essen- 
 tially glorious down-with-every-thing-no- 
 nothing principle, of which they professed 
 to be so ardently enamored, 
 
 When the time had arrived for the com- 
 mencement of the highly important pro- 
 ceedings of the day, it was most inconsis- 
 tently felt by some of the leaders, that they 
 ought to have a chairman; but an eminent 
 patriot no sooner stepped forward for the 
 purpose of nominating a highly distinguish- 
 ed Flamer, than certain whole-hog-equal- 
 rightites contended that all of them pos- 
 sessed an equal right to be in the chair; and 
 that therefore no one had a right to be 
 placed above another. This was clearly 
 very appropriate, and very consistent with 
 the eternal equalrightite principle; but as it 
 was suggested that they might, without 
 compromising that principle, so fai yield 
 to the grossly corrupt prescriptions of civi- 
 lisation, the mighty masses at once recog- 
 nised the Flamer as their president, and 
 hailed him, as he pulled off his hat to ad- 
 dress them, with three very vehement 
 cheers. 
 
 "My Fellow Countrymen!" said he, 
 conceiving doubtless that to address them 
 as " Gentlemen" would be rather too much 
 of a joke to tell well "This indeed is a 
 glorious sight! When 1 behold the sove- 
 reign people pouring down like a mighty 
 torrent which sweeps all before it, and 
 
 which nothing can stem when I behold 
 the glorious masses with agony groaning 
 beneath the iron hoof of oligarchical tyran- 
 ny and crushed to the very earth by a mon- 
 strous accumulation of bitter wrongs when 
 I behold you, my countrymen, rushing here 
 to burst your degrading chains asunder, and 
 to shout with one universal voice 4 WE 
 WILL BE FREE!' my heart throbs with de- 
 light, my eyes sparkle with gladness, my 
 soul seerns inspired, and my bosom swells 
 with joy [immense cheering!} What are you, 
 my countrymen what are you? Slaves! 
 base, abject, spiritless SLAVES! Slaves, in 
 the eyes of the world, of the vilest descrip- 
 tion: Slaves, with the power to be free! 
 Arise! Shake off that apathy which acts 
 upon your energies like an incubus. Down 
 with the tyrants by whom you are op- 
 pressed. Arm ! arm to the very teeth 
 [vehement applause!'] Follow the glorious 
 example of your brave fellow countrymen 
 in the North ! Join them in the Holy 
 Month. Strike! and run for gold ! Con- 
 vert all your notes into specie! let that be 
 the first grand step towards the universal 
 paralysation ! Be resolute! Be firm! Act 
 like men who know their rights and will 
 maintain them! The hour is at hand! Hurl 
 the base tyrants into universal chaos!" 
 
 " We will! We willf ' cried the mighty 
 masses holding up and brandishing a forest 
 of knives which glittered picturesquely in 
 the sun. 
 
 Valentine no sooner saw this display than 
 he drew out his knife the blade of which 
 was full an inch and a half long- with a 
 view to his own safety, by making it appear 
 to those around that he was ready to go the 
 whole hog, and feeling that he was bound 
 as a loyal subject to put an end to these 
 proceedings if possible at once, shouted 
 " Soldiers! soldiers!" throwing his voice 
 just behind the chairman and the mighty 
 masses buried their knives in their breeches' 
 pockets, and looked round eagerly for the 
 appearance of the troops. 
 
 " The soldiers!" cried the chairman, hav- 
 ing satisfied himself that none were near. 
 "The soldiers are our friends! And if even 
 they were not, why why need we care for 
 the soldiers'? But 1 know that they are 
 ready to join us to a man! Let but the 
 Holy Month" 
 
 " The Holy what?" cried Valentine. 
 
 The chairman contemptuously turned to 
 the quarter from which the voice appeared 
 to proceed, but scorning the ignorant cha- 
 racter of the question, disdained to make 
 any reply. " I say let but the Holy Month," 
 he continued, "be commenced, and you will 
 see the soldiers" 
 
112 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " Mowing you down like grass!" cried 
 Valentine. 
 
 " No, no! Let them try it on!" shouted 
 the mighty masses, again brandishing their 
 clasp knives and yelling like furies. 
 
 " We have, my fellow-countrymen, trai- 
 tors in the camp!" cried the chairman. " We 
 are surrounded by spies from the Treasury; 
 but let the degraded hirelings go back to 
 the tyrants whom they serve, and tell them 
 from us, that we not only bid them defiance, 
 but hold them in sovereign contempt!" 
 
 This burst of courageous indignation was 
 followed by three dreadful groans for the 
 spies; and when the Treasury tyrants, by 
 whom they were employed, had been sim- 
 ilarly honored, the chairman introduced a 
 Mr. Coweel for the purpose of proposing 
 the first resolution. 
 
 " Feller-kuntrymen! I'm a hopperative!" 
 shouted Mr. Coweel who was a powerful 
 man, but very dirty; "I'm for down with 
 all taxes, all pensions, all sinnycures, and 
 all other speeches off rotten corruption. 
 I'm hallso for down with the church! Why 
 should we have a holly-garkle harmy of fat 
 bishops? Why should we pay 'em a mat- 
 ter o' nineteen million o' money a-year to 
 support their kids and konkybines eh? 
 What is the good on 'em 1 ? Why, I'd " 
 
 " Down! down!" cried Valentine, assum- 
 ing the chairman's voice. 
 
 " W T hat d'yar mean by down 1 ?" said Mr. 
 Coweel to the chairman. 
 
 The chairman bowed to Mr. Coweel, and 
 assured him that he had not spoken. 
 
 " Well, I thought," said Mr. Coweel, 
 " the hobserwation was rayther too huncon- 
 stitutional for you; but as I was a say in the 
 holly-garkle bishops " 
 
 " Get down, you fool!" cried Valentine, 
 throwing his voice behind the speaker. 
 
 " What d'yar mean 1 ?" cried Mr. Coweel, 
 " I'll down with you in just about no time, 
 my cove, if yer any ways nasty. What! 
 d'yer think I care for you 1 ? PYaps you'd 
 like to take it out on me, 'cos if yer would, 
 yer know, why ony say so, that's hall!" 
 and Mr. Coweel looked daggers at every 
 patriot whom he at that moment caught in 
 the act of smiling, and having signified his 
 ability to "lick seventy dozen on 'em, jist 
 like a sack, one down and tother comoon," 
 he returned, at the suggestion of the pat- 
 riotic chairman, to the episcopal business 
 he wished to explain. " Well!" said he, 
 again addressing the mighty masses, " I'm 
 for down with all hunconstitutional " 
 
 " Silence, you idiot! I'll kick you out of 
 the waggon!" shouted Valentine with all 
 the power of which he was capable. 
 
 " What!" cried Mr. Coweel, turning 
 round with due promptitude " what'll yer 
 
 do? kick me 
 many on yer, 
 
 out o 
 eh? 
 
 ' the waggon? How 
 I should werry much 
 
 like to give you a quilting any how! kick 
 me out! try it on! kick me out o' the 
 waggon!" 
 
 At this interesting moment a patriot, who 
 was panting to address the sovereign peo- 
 ple, and who was standing about six feet 
 from Mr. Coweel, had the temerity, in the 
 plenitude of his impatience, to cry, " either 
 go on, or cut it!" 
 
 " Oh ho!" exclaimed Mr. Coweel, " I've 
 found you out, have I, my tulip? It's you 
 that'll kick me out o' the waggon then, is 
 it?" and Mr. Coweel aimed a blow at the 
 tulip, but missed him by about two feet 
 and a half. This miss did not, by any 
 means, impart satisfaction ^o Mr. Coweel. 
 He was anxious to hit conviction into the 
 mind of the tulip that he was not the sort 
 of man to be kicked out of a waggon. He, 
 therefore, struck out again very forcibly and 
 freely, but every blow aimed, fell more or 
 less short. This seemed to enrage him. 
 He looked very fierce. His elbows were 
 sharp, and he used them: he dug them with 
 so much decision and point, and, moreover, 
 to such an extraordinary depth into the 
 backs and the stomachs of those who stood 
 near him, that really his struggles to get at 
 the tulip became so particularly unpleasant 
 to the patriots who were standing in his 
 immediate vicinity, that, feeling it to be a 
 duty incumbent upon them a duty which 
 they owed, not only to themselves as indi- 
 viduals, but to society at large they pin- 
 ioned his arms, caught hold of his legs, 
 and pitched him among the mighty masses 
 below. 
 
 A loud shout burst from the sovereign 
 people! a shout which was echoed by 
 Hick's Hall, and reverberated clean through 
 the house of correction. The masses, albeit 
 they clearly perceived that the principle 
 upon which Coweel had been pitched from 
 the waggon was that of purely physical 
 force, could not at the moment precisely 
 comprehend the great fundamental principle 
 upon which that physical force had been 
 developed. They fancied at first that he 
 was one of the spies; but when he mounted 
 the nave of the near hind-wheel, and after 
 having dealt out his blows with really des- 
 perate energy, and that with the most abso- 
 lute indiscrimination addressed the mighty 
 masses as Britons and as men, denouncing 
 this unconstitutional act of tyranny, and 
 calling upon them, as they valued" tlirir 
 liberties, to aid him in turning the waggon 
 upside down they held him to be a man 
 who simply sought the redress of wrongs, 
 and hence felt themselves bound, by every 
 just and eternal principle by which their 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 113 
 
 their souls were guided, to assist him in 
 pitching the vehicle over. 
 
 Just, however, as those who were nearest 
 to the hustings were proceeding with due 
 promptitude to carry this design into actual 
 execution, a loud and warlike shout of " THE 
 PEELERS! THE PEELERS!" burst upon their 
 patriotic ears, and induced them to defer 
 their labor of love; while mighty sections of 
 the sovereign people rushed with due mag- 
 nanimity from the scene, rolling over those 
 masses which had fallen before them, and 
 forming themselves, in turn, stumbling 
 blocks to those of whom they had courage- 
 ously taken the precedence. 
 
 "The Peelers!" thought Valentine 
 "the Peelers! what manner of men are 
 the Peelers, that their presence should gene- 
 rate so much alarm in the minds of the 
 Sovereign People 1 ?" 
 
 His conjectures, however, having refer- 
 ence to the probability of their being either 
 hideous monsters, or gigantic fiends, were 
 very speedily put an end to by the approach 
 of six policemen, who marched with due 
 solemnity of step towards the hustings; and 
 as they approached, those sections of the 
 mighty masses who still kept their ground, 
 were as quiet as lambs. 
 
 It at once became abundantly manifest, 
 that those six Peelers had arrived with some 
 object in view; and before the Sovereign 
 People had time even to guess what that 
 object might be, one of the Peelers very 
 coolly deprived the horse of his nose-bag; 
 another just as coolly returned the bit to his 
 mouth; and a third, with equal coolness, got 
 hold of the reins, when a fourth, who was 
 certainly not quite so cool, did, by virtue of 
 the application of a short round truncheon, 
 persuade the passive animal to move on. 
 
 At starting, the horse had so tremendous 
 a load, that, in order to draw it all, he was 
 compelled to put out all the physical force 
 he had in him, but the patriots displayed so 
 much alacrity in leaping out among the 
 Sovereign People, who were roaring with 
 laughter, that before, long before it had 
 reached Mutton-hill, the mighty masses 
 beheld the vehicle perfectly empty. 
 
 Valentine was lost in admiration of the 
 tact, and tranquillity of spirit displayed by 
 the Peelers. It is true they met with no 
 opposition; it is true that they had only to 
 lead the horse off to compel the patriots 
 either to leap out of the wagon, or to have 
 a ride gratis to the Green-yard; but the cool, 
 the dispassionate, the business-like manner 
 in which they conducted the whole thing, 
 struck Valentine as being admirable in the 
 extreme. 
 
 The vehicle, on reaching Mutton-hill, 
 
 was lost to view; and as Valentine turned 
 
 11 
 
 to ascertain what the mighty masses con- 
 templated next, he met the full gaze of a 
 person who looked like a decent master 
 blacksmith, and who, addressing him, said, 
 " Are you an Equalrightite'?" 
 
 " I certainly profess to have at least an 
 equal right," replied Valentine, " to ask 
 you that question." 
 
 " You have a knife about your person, 
 have you not?" 
 
 "I have," said Valentine, "What then 1 ?" 
 
 " You had it open in the crowd near the 
 hustings." 
 
 " Well! and what is that to you?" 
 
 The individual, who was a Peeler incog., 
 at once beckoned to his undisguised com- 
 rades, who came to the spot, collared Val- 
 entine firmly, and proceeded to drag him 
 away. 
 
 The mighty masses had their eyes upon 
 those Peelers, whom they viewed as their 
 natural enemies. They had previously sus- 
 pected that they were anxious to capture 
 some one, and as there were but two of them 
 then, they felt, of course, bound by every 
 principle they professed, to oppose with 
 firmness whatever tyrannical movement 
 they might make. When, therefore, they 
 saw in the seizure of Valentine the liberty 
 of the subject contemned, they raised a 
 shout of indignation and rushed boldly to 
 the rescue. The Peelers saw in a moment 
 and it really is astonishing how quickly 
 those fellows do see that the sovereign 
 people meant something. They, therefore, 
 pulled out their truncheons and grasped the 
 collar of Valentine with more firmness still; 
 but in spite of these palpable signs of de- 
 termination, the mighty masses rushed like 
 a torrent upon them and tried to persuade 
 them, by knocking them down, to relin- 
 quish their tyrannous hold. The Peelers 
 were firm. Although down, they held on. 
 They were resolute men, and would not be 
 defeated. They applied their short trun- 
 cheons, with consummate force, to the 
 ankles and shins of the sovereign people, 
 and that too, with so much effect, that they 
 again rose up like giants refreshed, with 
 Valentine still in their grasp. The mighty 
 masses once more rushed upon them, and 
 the Peelers once more shook them off by 
 the prompt application of their tyrannous 
 truncheons to the sacred hats of the sove- 
 reign people, and to the sacred heads of 
 those whose hats were at their Uncle's. 
 It was in vain that Valentine begged of 
 them to desist. They wouldn't hear of it! 
 No! they returned to the charge, caught 
 hold of his legs, and felt victory sure! 
 
 "Let go!" shouted Valentine indig- 
 nantly. " You asses, let go!" which, how- 
 ever ungrateful, was perfectly natural under 
 
114 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the circumstances, seeing that between the 
 sovereign people and the Peelers, he was 
 really being torn limb from limb. 
 
 The mighty masses were, however, too 
 near the consummation of their hopes to j 
 attend to this burst of ingratitude. They 
 wanted him away, and would have him! j 
 if it were only to defeat their natural ene- 
 mies. They therefore gave another loud 
 "Hurrah!" and in a moment in the \ 
 twinkling of an eye! when Valentine 
 thought that his arms and legs were all off 
 
 together they got him away from the 
 Peelers! 
 
 A loud shout of triumph rent the air as they 
 held up their trophy aloft; and having given 
 three cheers for the sovereign people, and 
 three gorgonian groans for the Peelers, they 
 converted their high and mighty shoulders 
 into a species of triumphal car, upon which 
 they paraded him round the scene of action 
 until they were ready to drop; when he 
 broke away from them, jumped into a coach, 
 and happily made his escape. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 IN WHICH HORACE SETS TO WITH THE GHOST OF GOODMAN, AND WALTER BURNS THE 
 
 SPECTRE OUT. 
 
 '* COME, come! I say, governor! come!" 
 exclaimed Horace, about the middle of the 
 third night of his sitting up with his vene- 
 rable father, whose delirium continued to 
 be active and strong; " this won't do, you 
 know flesh and blood can't stand it." 
 
 " Hush!" cried Walter, raising his hand 
 as he fixed his glazed eyes on vacancy; 
 "there!" he continued in a thrilling whis- 
 per " there! there again! Turn him out! 
 turn him out!" 
 
 There are times at which even the most 
 thoughtless, the most reckless are struck 
 with a feeling of awe; when the blood 
 seems to chill, and the heart seems to faint, 
 and all physical power appears to be gone 
 when the soul is startled and the cheeks 
 are blanched, and each function appears to 
 be under the influence of some indescriba- 
 ble paralysis. Oh! it is, questionless, one 
 of the most 'strikingly beautiful feelings of 
 which human nature is susceptible, and 
 this feeling crawled over Horace, as he 
 exclaimed, " Pooh! it won't fit, you know! 
 it's all out-and-out stuff." 
 
 Unconscious of having inspired this ami- 
 able sentiment, unconscious of the charac- 
 ter of his affectionate son's reply, Walter 
 grasped his arm firmly, and pointing to the 
 spectre, cried " Now! get behind him! there! 
 seize him by the throat!" 
 
 " I say, 1 say, governor!" exclaimed Ho- 
 race, shaking his parent with more force 
 than feeling, "can't I any how drive into 
 your stupid head, that there's nobody here 
 but ourselves! Just listen to reason; do 
 you mean to tell me that you'll make me 
 believe that you think that if he were really 
 here 1 couldn't sea him? Is it likely? Is 
 it like anything likely? Pooh! rubbish, I 
 tell you! Shut your eyes, there's a trump, 
 and go to Bleep." 
 
 " I will have him out!" cried Walter 
 fiercely, "out! out!" 
 
 " Well, well, then I'll turn him out; come 
 
 if that's all." And Horace opened the 
 
 door, and addressing the apparition, said, 
 
 " Now, old boy! just toddle off, will you? 
 
 you're not wanted here; come, cut it!" and 
 
 j he walked round the room, and lavished 
 
 I upon the apparition a series of kicks, 
 
 ; which, in a spectral sense were extremely 
 
 j severe, and after grasping him firmly in 
 
 imagination by the incorporeal collar, he 
 
 [ gave him a spiritual impetus behind, and 
 
 closed the door with an air of the most 
 
 absolute triumph. 
 
 His venerable father was not to be de- 
 ' ceived, however, thus; the pantomine of 
 Horace was really very excellent he ma- 
 ' naged the thing with consummate ability, 
 nay, with " artistical" skill; but the phan- 
 tom was still in the mind's eye of Walter; 
 to him it appeared to have been untouched! 
 and therefore, when Horace returned to the 
 I bedside to receive that applause which the 
 ' development of genius ought ever to en- 
 j sure he was utterly astonished to find, not 
 j only that his exertions had not been appre- 
 ; ciated, but that Walter still glared at the 
 1 spectre as before. 
 
 " Come, 1 say, he's off now!" exclaimed 
 Horace; " I've given him a little dose at all 
 events, if I haven't broken his jolly old 
 neck. He wont come back here in a hurry. 
 I say! didn't you see how he bolted! I 
 should think he's had enough of it for one 
 night any how, eh? shouldn't you?" 
 
 Walter took no notice of these appro- 
 priate observations. He made no reply. 
 Hi appeared not to know that a word had 
 IxM'ii uttered. His spiritual enemy was there! 
 and his eyes were still wildly fixed upon 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 115 
 
 him. " I will have him out!" he exclaim- 
 ed, after a pause, " he shall not be here." 
 
 " He is not here," cried Horace, seizing 
 the arms of his father; "I wish I could 
 drive a little sense into your head. I say, 
 governor! why, don't you know me?" 
 
 Walter turned his eyes for an instant, and 
 then again glared at the spectre; I'll not 
 have him here!." he cried, "out he shall 
 go! If you will not do it, I will," and he 
 made another effort to rise, but Horace held 
 him down; he struggled, and Horace strug- 
 gled with him, until he was struck with 
 an idea that the self-same power which 
 caused him to imagine some one there, 
 might cause him also to imagine that he 
 had driven him away, when, in order to give 
 him every possible chance, he very quietly 
 relinquished his hold. 
 
 Walter was no sooner free than he darted 
 towards the space to which he had pointed, 
 and made a really desperate effort to clutch 
 the phantom, which, however, appeared to 
 retreat, for he chased it round and round 
 with great swiftness and zeal, until he be- 
 came so exhausted that Horace lifted him 
 again into bed, exclaiming, " Come, come, 
 it's no sort of use; you can't grab him!" 
 
 " But I will!" cried Walter, again strug- 
 ling to rise. 
 
 "No, no! I'll tackle him! stay where 
 you are. I must," he continued in an under 
 tone, " swindle the old boy somehow," and 
 he pulled off his coat, and threw himself at 
 once into a gladiatorial attitude, and after 
 having very scientifically squared at the 
 apparition for some considerable time, he 
 struck out with great force and precision, 
 and continued to strike right and left until 
 he found that he had struck his arms 
 pretty well out of their sockets, when, pre- 
 cisely as if the enemy had been regularly 
 vanquished, he put it to him whether he 
 had had quite enough, and then, without 
 farther ceremony, threw up the sash, and 
 " made him believe" to pitch him out of 
 the window. 
 
 All this was, however, good energy 
 thrown away; for while he was laboring to 
 inspire the belief that he was breaking the 
 neck of the spectre, that spectre, in Wal- 
 ter's imagination, was still in the self-same 
 position as before. Horace was amazed, 
 when, on closing the window, he found his 
 father staring as wildly as ever. " It's of 
 no use," said he to himself, in despair, as 
 he mixed another glass of warm brandy- 
 and-water, and pulled out another cheroot; 
 " I may just as well drop it he's not to be 
 done. Come, I say," he continued, ad- 
 dressing his father, " it's all stuff, you 
 krvew! shut your eyes, and then he'll start; 
 he won't move a peg till you do." 
 
 Walter now lay perfectly motionless. 
 His last effort seemed to have exhausted 
 him completely; and as he continued to lie, 
 without uttering a word, Horace fondly con- 
 ceived that he should have an hour's peace, 
 and therefore threw himself back in the 
 easy chair, and very soon became extremely 
 interested in the report of a fight between 
 Simon the Tough un and Konky Brown. 
 
 Now, those who have had the intense 
 satisfaction of sitting up with a delirious 
 person all night will recollect, that between 
 three aud four in the morning, the mind re- 
 verts with peculiar pleasure to a cup of 
 strong coffee and a muffin. If the patient 
 then under your special protection be at 
 that hour silent, the silence which reigns 
 over the chamber is awful, and nothing in 
 nature, save coffee with a muffin, seems 
 calculated either to occupy the mind or to 
 arouse the dormant energies of the body. 
 This hour this dreary, solemn hour had 
 arrived, when Horace perceiving that his 
 father's eyes were closed, stole softly from 
 the chamber, and proceeded to the kitchen, 
 where the coffee was on the hob, and the 
 muffins were on the table, with everything 
 essential to a comfortable breakfast. 
 
 The very moment, however, Horace left 
 the room, his father, who had cunningly, 
 watched every movement, an^l had only 
 pretended to be asleep, leaped at once from 
 the bed with the full determination to turn 
 out the phantom by which he had been 
 haunted. He first tried to clutch it then 
 lost it for a time then stared about wildly 
 then saw it again, and then chased it 
 round the room, until he fancied that he 
 had driven it beneath the bed, when he 
 caught up the candle, set fire to the clothes, 
 and in an instant the bed was in a blaze. 
 
 "Now!" he cried, "Now will you go? 
 Ha! ha! ha! ha! I can't get you out! Ha! 
 ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 Horace heard the loud hysterical laugh, 
 and darted up stairs in a moment. Dense 
 volumes of smoke issued forth as he burst 
 in the door. He could not advance! the 
 whole room was in flames! 
 
 "Father!" he cried, "Father! fly to the 
 door! save yourself! save yourself! Father!" 
 
 The laughter was heard still; but the 
 next moment it died away and Walter 'fell. 
 
 "Fire! fire! fire!" cried Horace, and his 
 cries were immediately answered by screams 
 from above. He rushed into the street, and 
 there raised the alarm, and the neighbor- 
 hood resounded with cries of " fire! fire!" 
 
 The police were immediately on the spot; 
 and several laborers who were going to 
 work came at once to their assistance. 
 
 " My father! My father's in the room!" 
 shouted Horace. "For God's sake save 
 
116 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 himsave my father!" and he darted up 
 stairs with the view of rescuing his mother 
 and his wife. His wife had fainted, and 
 his mother was too terror-stricken even to 
 move. " Help! help!" he shouted, " Here!" 
 and a laborer rushed in a moment to his aid 
 and seized the mother, as Horace caught 
 his fainting wife in his arms, when both 
 were in safety borne into the street. 
 
 The fire was now raging fiercely. The 
 Dames were bursting forth in all directions. 
 The rafters had caught, and the crackling 
 was awful. 
 
 " Who's in the house now!" shouted one 
 of the laborers. 
 
 " My father! my father!" cried Horace, 
 returning. 
 
 " Where's the girl? where's the ser- 
 vant 1 ?" demanded a policeman. 
 
 "Up stairs!" replied Horace, by whom 
 she had been forgotten, and away went the 
 policeman; but the girl could not be found. 
 
 "Father! father!" he again shouted, and 
 at that moment a deep thrilling groan reached 
 his ear. " To the door! to the door!" 
 
 Crash went the windows, and a stream 
 of water poured into the room in which 
 Walter was writhing in agony. No one 
 could enter. That room was one sheet of 
 vivid fire, and the flames, as the water 
 rushed in at the window, were driven with 
 violence hissing towards the door. 
 
 Another groan was heard. It appeared 
 to proceed from a spot near the wainscot. 
 Horace instantly tore down the bannister, 
 with part of which he dashed in thepannel. 
 An angry stream of fire burst like lightning 
 through the orifice, but there lay Walter! 
 
 " He is here!" cried Horace, seizing him 
 eagerly and dragging him into the passage. 
 " He is not dead! Help!" 
 
 Assistance was at hand; and Walter was 
 borne at once into the street; but presented 
 so frightful a spectacle, that a shutter was 
 procured, upon which he was placed and 
 carried to the house of the nearest surgeon. 
 
 The engines now arrived from all quar- 
 ters, and began to play gallantly upon the 
 flames, which were bursting through the 
 bricks, and streaming in liquid curls fiom 
 every window. Horace, notwithstanding, 
 rushed again into the house. His object 
 was to secure his father's papers. He 
 reached the room which contained them, 
 and burst in the door! another step woi.hl 
 have precipitated him at once into a gulf of 
 hissing fire. The floor of the room had 
 f illi ii in, and the flames were ascending in 
 forked streams from below. The specta- 
 cle struck him with horror. He stood for 
 a moment paralysed. A crash was heard 
 behind him! The stairs the stairs up 
 which he came had given way. AH retreat 
 
 was cut off. The flames were gathering 
 round and like hideous monsters ready to 
 devour him. What was to be done! One 
 hope one poor forlorn hope urged him 
 forward! he dashed through the crackling 
 blazing passage, reached the stairs, and 
 darted up, with the fire following fiercely at 
 his heels. By a miracle he gained the 
 attic. The window was open. He leaped 
 upon the parapet, and there, turning his 
 eyes to the opening heavens which reflected 
 the flames, he clasped his hands and with 
 fervor thanked God! 
 
 A falling beam beneath him warned him 
 from the spot; and he crept on his hands 
 and knees, along the roof until his blood 
 chilled on touching a human face! It was 
 that of the servant, who, having escaped 
 through the window, had fainted. He 
 shrank back for the moment, appalled; but 
 on recovering himself he placed the poor 
 girl upon his back, and proceeded over the 
 roofs of the adjoining houses until he reached 
 a stack of chimneys which impeded his 
 further progress. 
 
 Here he put his burden down, and turned 
 to the ruins from which he had escaped, 
 and for the first time felt the dreadful effects 
 of the fiery ordeal through which he had 
 passed. He was frightfully scorched. His 
 hair had been singed completely off his 
 head, and the clothes that remained on him 
 were reduced to mere tinder. He cried 
 aloud for help, but he could not be heard: 
 he could see the mob below but he could 
 not be seen. The engines were playing, 
 and the shouts of those who worked them 
 would have drowned the most dreadful clap 
 of thunder. 
 
 " LOOK OUT!" shouted fifty of the firemen 
 in a breath; and a rush was made to the op- 
 posite side. The next moment a tremen- 
 dous crash was heard. The roof had fallen 
 in; and the clouds of smoke and dust which 
 ascended with a roar were succeeded by a 
 shower of blazing laths and sparks which 
 threatened destruction to all around. The ef- 
 fect was terrific. The sky itself seemed to be 
 one sheet of fire descending to mantle the 
 earth. 
 
 Another shout burst forth: Horace was 
 perceived! every object being now dis- 
 tinctly visible. An escape-ladder was rais- 
 ed, and a fireman ascended, "/fere/" he 
 cried addressing the startled Horace, who 
 had just caught a glimpse of his head, " Get 
 into this canvass! Now don't be afraid." 
 
 Horace carried the poor fainting girl to 
 the parapet, and wished her to IT taken 
 down first. 
 
 ive mo the girl," continued the fire- 
 man. "There! Now you got in, but mind 
 don't go fast." And Horace got into the 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 117 
 
 canvass tube, and gradually slipped to the 
 bottom. 
 
 On coming out of this tube he was liter- 
 ally naked, for during the descent, his 
 clothes, which were but tinder, had been 
 rubbed completely off. A blanket, however, 
 was immediately thrown around him, and 
 he was carried at once with the girl to the 
 surgeon's. 
 
 By this time the house was completely 
 gutted, and the engines were playing only 
 on the hot party walls that the fire might 
 not reach the houses adjoining.- This effect 
 was produced: those houses were saved; 
 and in a short time although the engines 
 still kept playing, nothing but smoke could 
 be seen. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 VALENTINE ATTENDS A PHRENOLOGICAL LECTURE, AND INSPIRES A MURDERER'S SKULL 
 
 WITH INDIGNATION. 
 
 WHAT a beautiful science is that of Phre- 
 nology! In the whole range of sciences 
 where is there one which is either so useful 
 9r"so ornamental? Fortune-telling is a fool 
 to it. It stands with consummate boldness 
 upon the very pinnacle of fatality. To the 
 predestinarian it is a source of great com- 
 fort: to all who desire to take themselves 
 entirely out of their own hands to get rid 
 of that sort of responsibility which is some- 
 times extremely inconvenient it is really 
 a positive blessing. When this delightful 
 science shall have made its way home to 
 the hearts of mankind universally, as it 
 must, what a lovely scheme of life will be 
 opened before us! what a charming state 
 of society will be based upon the ruins of 
 our present dreadful system of civilisation! 
 Then, and not till then, will mankind be 
 quite happy! Then will perfect liberty ob- 
 tain. Then will men see the sand-blind- 
 ness of their ancestors, and sweep away 
 like chaff the dreadful injustice which forms 
 the very essence of punishment. Then 
 will it be seen that law and liberty are in- 
 imical a thing which has but to be seen 
 for our statute books to be converted into 
 one monstrous cinder and placed upon a 
 pedestal as an everlasting relic of excruciat- 
 ing tyranny. It will then be acknowledged 
 that men are but men that they are by no 
 means accountable for their actions that 
 they do thus or thus simply because they 
 have been predestined to do thus or thus 
 and that therefore they cannot be censured 
 or punished with justice. It will then seem 
 amazing that punishments should have been 
 countenanced amazing that men should 
 have been made by their fellow-men to 
 suffer for actions over which they clearly 
 had no control nay, actions which they 
 were, in fact, bound to^ perform! for, why, 
 it will be argued, do men commit murders'? 
 Why do they perpetrate rapes and pick 
 
 pockets'? Why clearly because they can't 
 help it! And what line of argument can 
 be shorter] And as for its soundness! 
 why that will of course be perceived at a 
 glance. 
 
 It is lamentable absolutely lamentable 
 to think that this extremely blessed state 
 of society stands no sort of chance of being 
 established before the next generation; and 
 we, who endure the atrocities of the present 
 cramped-up scheme, may with infinite fea- 
 son envy the sweet feelings, the delightful 
 sensations, the charming state of mind, 
 which the establishment of a phrenolo- 
 gically social system must of necessity in- 
 duce. There are of course some unhappy 
 individuals in existence sufficiently ill-con- 
 ditioned to contend that phrenology never 
 can bring about this unspeakably glorious 
 state of things; and really none can w7>mler 
 at it! none can wonder that the cool contem- 
 plation of such a delightful state of society 
 should confirm the incredulity of the natur- 
 ally incredulous but that it will, when 
 carried out to its legitimate length, be pro- 
 ductive of all those extraordinary bless- 
 ings, reflection disinterested reflection 
 will render abundantly clear. It is all very 
 well and very natural for lawyers, physi- 
 cians, and such kinds of people to uphold 
 the present system, inasmuch as it is by that 
 system they thrive. They perfectly well 
 know that if a system were established 
 upon these two bold and eternal principles 
 first, that " Whatever is, is right," and 
 secondly, that " They who are born to be 
 hanged can never be drowned;" their res- 
 pective occupations would be gone! seeing 
 that nature would then be allowed to take 
 the entire thing into her own ample hands. 
 
 But there are also ** phrenologists suffi- 
 ciently weak to maintain that there own 
 immortal science is by no means Designed 
 to accomplish the great objects to which 
 
 11* 
 
118 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 reference has been had. These, however, 
 are not pure phrenologists. They take an 
 extremely rotten view of the thing, and are 
 much to be pitied. The professors of a 
 science ought never tounder-ratethe advan- 
 tages of the science of which they are pro- 
 fessors. It isn't right; such a course has a 
 direct and natural tendency to bring the 
 thing eventually into contempt. If nature 
 has implanted in our skulls certain organs 
 containing the germs of certain passions, 
 whose internal working not only produce 
 an external development, but force us to act 
 as they direct or in obedience to their will, 
 we have clearly no right to the reputation 
 of being responsible creatures, and we have 
 but to believe that we possess no such right, 
 to recognise the injustice involved in all 
 punishments, and thus to lay the foundation 
 of that sweet social system which cannot 
 be thought of without pure delight. 
 
 Now with the view of inspiring a due 
 appreciation of the blessings with which 
 this delightful science teems, a distinguish- 
 ed professor was about to deliver a highly 
 interesting lecture as Valentine passed an 
 institution to which his attention had been 
 directed by a crowd pouring in. 
 
 Valentine happened to be dull that even- 
 ing; for while he could obtain no tidings of 
 Goodman, he saw no probability of finding 
 out'the residence of her of whom he felt more 
 than ever enamored. He therefore, with an 
 hour's amusement for his object, applied 
 for a ticket, and having obtained one, en- 
 tered a well constructed room, in which 
 there were seats raised one above the other, 
 and capable of accommodating about four 
 hundred persons; while on the rostrum stood 
 a table, upon which were placed several 
 peculiarly formed skulls, the nominal relics 
 of some of the greatest scoundrels, fools, 
 philanthropists, and statesmen, that ever 
 had existence. The place was crowded, 
 and when the appointed time had passed 
 without the appearance of the professor, the 
 audience began to manifest that respectable 
 sort of impatience which develops itself 
 in a gentle timid tapping of sticks and 
 umbrellas. The amount of intelligence dis- 
 played by the audience was truly striking; 
 and as Valentine was able at a glance to 
 perceive who were really phrenologists, and 
 who really were not, by the mode in which 
 their hair was arranged for the phrenolo- 
 gists wore theirs entirely off their foreheads, 
 in order that every bump which could be 
 seen might be seen, while the anti-indi- 
 viduals suffered theirs to hang roughly, or, 
 if it would curl, to curl accordingly upon 
 their latent brows he became extremely 
 interested in speculating upon the extent to 
 which the advocates of the science would 
 
 be, at once, prepared to go. He had not, 
 however, speculated long when a move- 
 ment was made upon the rostrum a move- 
 ment which was palpably indicative of 
 something. Every eye was of course di- 
 rected most anxiously towards the door; 
 and when the professor, who formed part of 
 a solemn procession entered, the applause 
 was exceedingly liberal and loud. The 
 members of the committee then seated 
 themselves at a most respectful distance on 
 either side, and when the professor had 
 recovered his self-possession, he coughed 
 slightly, gave several peculiar ahems! and 
 then in sweet silvery tones said: " Ladies 
 and Gentlemen: In speaking of the science 
 of phrenology the first consideration which 
 suggests itself is, whether the external de- 
 velopment of man's propensities and pas- 
 sions be the cause or the effect of those pro- 
 pensities and passions. Now, in order that 
 I may illustrate clearly that such develop- 
 ment is the effect, not the cause, 1 propose 
 to direct your attention to the peculiar 
 organization of the heads of certain well 
 known characters, whose skulls I have 
 here. Now," continued the learned pro- 
 fessor, taking up a very singularly formed 
 skull in both hands and looking at it very 
 intently" this is the head of Tim Thorn- 
 hill, the murderer." 
 
 " The what!" cried Valentine, dexte- 
 rously pitching his voice into the skull. 
 
 The startled professor dropped it on the 
 instant; and as it rolled with peculiar in- 
 dignation upon the rostrum, the audience 
 simultaneously burst into a convulsive roar 
 of laughter. 
 
 The professor at first did not laugh. By 
 no means; he looked amazed, turned pale, 
 very pale, and slightly trembled, as he 
 stared at the rolling skull. But when he 
 had sufficiently recovered himself, to know 
 that all were laughing around him, he cer- 
 tainly made a lamentable effort to join them. 
 And this gave him courage, for he proceeded 
 to pick up the object of his amazement; but 
 no sooner had he got his hand upon itajain, 
 than Valentine, cried, " A murderer!" in a 
 tone of great solemnity. 
 
 The professor again started back; but the 
 laughter of the audience was neither so loud 
 nor so general as before, seeing that many 
 had been struck with the idea that there 
 was something supernatural about it. 
 
 41 This is strange, very strange- extraor- 
 dinary!" said the professor, with great in- 
 tensity of feeling "very, very extraordi- 
 nary!" 
 
 41 A murderer!" repeated Valentine, in a 
 deeply reproachful tone, \\hieh of course 
 
 seemed to proceed from the relic of Tim 
 Thornhill. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 119 
 
 The audience laughed no more. They 
 did not even smile. They looked at each 
 other with an expression of wonder, and 
 felt that the skull was under some ghostly 
 influence, while the learned professor, alheit 
 by no means prone to superstition, was 
 utterly lost in amazement. 
 
 " Is it possible," thought he, " that this 
 skull can be inhabited by the spirit of Tim 
 Thornhill 1 ? Is it possible that that spirit 
 can have spoken 1 ?" He was not prepared 
 to say that it was impossible, and the as- 
 sumption of its not being impossible gene- 
 rated the consideration of its probability, 
 which, added to the evidence of his own 
 ears, at length reduced the thing to a cer- 
 tainty, or something very like it. And this 
 seemed to be the conclusion at which the 
 members of the committee had arrived, for 
 they looked extremely grave and altogether 
 at a loss to give expression to their feelings 
 on the subject. 
 
 " Ladies and Gentlemen," said the pro- 
 fessor, after a vjery awful pause, during 
 which it happened to strike him that he 
 ought to say something. " I scarcely know 
 how to address you. This occurrence is of 
 so extraordinary a character, that I really 
 don't know what to think. With a view 
 to the promotion of science " 
 
 * Ha! ha! ha!" cried Valentine, in a 
 O smithian tone, and at melo-dramatic in- 
 tervals, throwing his voice behind the pro- 
 fessor, who started, but dared not look 
 round " Ha ha! ha!" he repeated, ma- 
 king the voice appear to proceed from a 
 much greater distance; and while the chair- 
 man, the professor, and the gentlemen of 
 the committee had scarcely the power to 
 breathe, the skulls on the table seemed to 
 enjoy the thing exceedingly; for they really, 
 in the imagination of all present, appeared 
 to be grinning more decidedly than ever. 
 
 There is nothing in nature which startles 
 men more than a noise for which they can- 
 not account. However strongly strung 
 may be their nerves: however slight may 
 be the sound which they hear, if they can- 
 not account for that sound, it at once chills 
 their blood, and in spite of them sets their 
 imagination on the rack. If the voice which 
 apparently proceeded from that skull had 
 reached the ear of a man when alone, the ef- 
 fect would have been infinitely more striking; 
 inasmuch as, if pious, he would have looked 
 for that protection for which we all think of 
 looking when no other aid is near; while, if 
 impious, he, with the greatest possible 
 promptitude, would have exclaimed, "why, 
 the devil's in the skull," and run away. 
 As in this case, however, there were nearly 
 four hundred intellectual persons present, 
 they stuck to each other for protection, and 
 
 during the awful silence which for some 
 time prevailed, the more reflecting began to 
 to reason themselves over the shock thus: 
 " Why what have we to fear 1 ? We never in- 
 jured Tim Thornhill. He might have been a 
 very'ill-used man: but we never ill-used him: 
 he might have been innocent of the crime 
 for which he suffered, but we did not cause 
 him to suffer. His spirit therefore cannot be 
 angry with us, unless indeed it be a very un- 
 reasonable spirit. What then have we to 
 fearl" 
 
 By virtue of this profound course of 
 reasoning many recovered their self-posses- 
 sion, and as Valentine remained silent to 
 enjoy the effect he had produced, he had 
 time to reflect upon that moral weakness of 
 which we are peculiarly the victims. 
 
 " It is probable, thought he, " that there 
 are in this assembly many strong-uiinded 
 men men whom nothing on earth tangible 
 could appal, who would fight like lions un- 
 dismayed, and who have courage to endure 
 the most intense physical torture without a 
 groan: yet see how the slightest sound 
 alarms them! they can stand unmoved 
 while the mighty thunder roars; yet let them 
 hear but a whisper for which they cannot ac- 
 count, and their blood runs cold and their 
 hearts sink within them." 
 
 There are, however, some individuals in 
 the world, who, as soon as the shock has 
 subsided, begin to ridicule that which 
 alarmed them, and one of these happened 
 to be the chairman of the committee. He 
 had been startled by the sounds perhaps 
 more than any other man present; but when 
 he could hear it no longer, he no longer 
 feared it; and therefore commenced laugh- 
 ing at and pinching those gentlemen who 
 sat near him, and tried to bring the whole 
 affair into contempt. This course of pro- 
 ceeding was not, however, relished by those 
 gentlemen much; for although they very 
 naturally shrank back when he pinched 
 them, they preserved a solemnity of aspect, 
 which was, under the circumstances, highly 
 correct. He then approacheed the professor, 
 and labored to convince him that it was 
 " after all, nothing," and did certainly suc- 
 ceed in relaxing the rigidity of that gentle- 
 man's features. 
 
 ** Pick up the skull!" cried Valentine, 
 who was anxious to see what he would do 
 with it; and the chairman adjusted his cra- 
 vat, looked magnanimous, and picked up 
 the skull! Valentine was silent, the pro- 
 fessor was silent, and the audience were 
 silent, while the chairman held the skull in 
 his hand, and examined it minutely. He 
 felt that his courage had excited admiration, 
 and was by this feeling prompted to show 
 off a little more. He therefore turned the 
 
120 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 skull over again and again, and after placing 
 its grinning jaws to his ear very boldly, he 
 tossed it up as if it had been a mere ball, 
 and caught it again with considerable skill. 
 
 This had the effect of restoring the au- 
 dience to something bearing the semblance 
 of good humor. A smile seemed to be anx- 
 ious to develope itself upon their features, 
 and although it was more than half sup- 
 pressed, the valiant chairman grew bolder 
 and bolder, and being determined to throw 
 contempt upon their fears, he rolled the 
 skull from one point to another, put his fin- 
 gers between its huge teeth, and really treated 
 it altogether with unparalleled indignity. 
 
 " What is the matter with you, eh?" 
 said he, playfully patting the skull; " what 
 ails you] Are you not well, Mr. Thornhill] 
 Dear me, I'm exceedingly sorry you've 
 been so disturbed." 
 
 The audience now began to laugh heartily 
 again, and to believe what they had wished 
 all along to believe, that they had been very 
 grossly mistaken. But just as they were 
 about to feel ashamed of themselves for 
 having suffered the sounds which they had 
 heard to alarm them, the chairman rattled 
 the skull of Tim Thornhill against that of 
 an eminent philanthropist so violently, that 
 Valentine, in a deep hollow tone, which ap- 
 peared to proceed from behind the commit- 
 tee, who were joking with great freedom 
 and spirit, cried " forbear!" 
 
 The effect was electric. The members 
 of the committee were on their legs in an 
 instant; the chairman dropped the skull, and 
 stood trembling with due energy; the pro- 
 fessor turned pale, opened his mouth, and 
 held his breath, while the audience were, if 
 possible, more amazed than before. " Bless 
 me!" cried one, " what on earth can it 
 mean!" " Good heavens!" cried another, 
 "it must be a spirit." "The place is 
 haunted," cried a third. "Let's go!" said 
 a fourth; and " let's go," had at once about 
 fifty female echoes. 
 
 There was a rush towards the door. The 
 whole of the ladies departed, and none re- 
 mained behind but really strong-minded 
 men, who had been induced to do so in 
 consequence of Valentine having shouted 
 *' surely two hundred of us are a match for 
 one ghost!" 
 
 This however was an excessively wicked 
 observation. It was felt to be so generally, 
 although it had the effect of inducing them 
 to stop; for however impious might be the 
 notion, that a ghost, if it felt disposed to 
 tackle them, could not beat them all into 
 fits, they felt that it was probable that one 
 might appear, and that in the society of two 
 hundred men, they should rather like to see 
 it. They therefore looked for itt appear- 
 
 ance with considerable anxiety, while the 
 members of the committee were expressing 
 their amazement in decidedly cabalistic 
 terms. 
 
 " What's to be done, gentlemen?" at 
 length said the professor; " what is to be 
 done?" 
 
 Those gentlemen raised their eyes to the 
 ceiling, and shook their heads solemnly. 
 The chairman looked very mysterious. He 
 shuffled and fidgetted and pursed his thick 
 lips, and scratched his head violently in 
 fact his appearunce altogether was nothing 
 at all like what it was when he playfully 
 patted the skull of Tim Thornhill. 
 
 At length one of his colleagues a scraggy 
 individual, whose nose was quite blue and 
 as round as a ball rose to observe that he 
 had always maintained through thick and 
 thin, right and left, that every effect must 
 have a regular legitimate cause; that although 
 it would sometimes occur that when the 
 cause was absent the effect would be 
 present, it might not be so in that particu- 
 lar instance and that he would therefore 
 suggest that if the sounds which they had 
 heard did proceed from that skull, it was 
 perfectly probable that if the skull were re- 
 moved, the sounds would go quietly with it. 
 
 This was hailed as an excellent sugges- 
 tion. They all marvelled how they could 
 have been so stupid as not to have thought 
 of it before. They felt that of course it was 
 likely that nothing in fact could be in 
 reality more likely than that the removal of 
 the skull would have precisely that result: 
 they were certain that it would; they were 
 never so certain of any thing in their lives 
 but the question was, who would remove 
 it] The professor did not appear anxious 
 to do so: the chairman did not seem to like 
 the job at all: the gentleman by whom the 
 suggestion had been made thought naturally 
 enough that he had done his share towards 
 it, and his colleagues as naturally imagined 
 that by urging the expediency of acting 
 upon that suggestion, they had done quite 
 as much as they could under the circum- 
 stances be reasonably expected to do. 
 
 At length the chairman was struck very 
 forcibly with a bright and novel thought. 
 The porter was in the hall? He might have 
 heard something about the extraordinary 
 occurrence from those who had departed, 
 hut it was held to be very unlikely, seeing 
 that he was not only an Irishman, but a 
 very sound sleeper. The porter was there- 
 fore sent for at once, and he came. He 
 seemed rather confused as he bowed most 
 respectfully, first to the professor, and 
 secondly to the chairman, thirdly to the 
 gentlemen of the committee, :md fourthly 
 to the audience, for as it was clearly his 
 
>- 
 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 121 
 
 first appearance on any stage, he felt very 
 awkward, and looked very droll. 
 
 " Murphy," said the chairman, "pickup 
 that skull, and take it into the hall." 
 
 "It's the skull yer mane, sorr] Yes, 
 sorr]" said Murphy; and he opened his 
 shoulders precisely as if he had been about 
 to remove some remarkably heavy weight, 
 but he had no sooner got it fairly up, than 
 Valentine, sending his voice very cleverly 
 into it, cried, " Beware!" 
 
 " Murther!" cried Murphy, dropped the 
 skull, and raising his hands with his fingers 
 stretched as widely as possible apart. He 
 appeared not to have sufficient breath to 
 give utterance to another word, but standing 
 in that attitude with his mouth wide open, 
 he stared at the skull with an expression of 
 horror. 
 
 " Well, sir 1 ? well 1 ?" said the chairman 
 after a pause. " What's the matter] Take 
 it up, sir, this moment." 
 
 Murphy stared at the chairman, then at 
 the professor, then at the audience, and then 
 at the skull. He had no wish to be dis- 
 obedient, although he feared to obey. He 
 therefore kicked the skull a little; then 
 shrank from it a little; then examined it a 
 little; and then kicked it again. 
 
 "Do you hear, sir]" shouted the chair- 
 man. 
 
 " Ye-es, sorr!" cried Murphy, who trem- 
 bled with great freedom. " It's alive, sorr! 
 taint didd!" 
 
 "Nonsense!" cried the chairman, "away 
 with it at once!" 
 
 " What the divil will I do," said Mur- 
 phy, whining in a most melancholy tone. 
 
 " Do you hear me, sir] Take it below 
 instantly." 
 
 Murphy again approached it; then rubbed 
 himself all over; then tucked up his sleeves 
 to gain time, and then touched it again with 
 his foot, while he shook his head doubtfully, 
 and eyed it with great fierceness. 
 
 "Now then!" cried the chairman, and 
 Murphy again stooped, and then put out his 
 hand within a yard of the skull, and drew 
 near to it gradually inch by inch; but the 
 moment he was about to place his hand 
 again upon it, Valentine again cried, " Be- 
 ware!" 
 
 " OcA'" cried Murphy, striking an atti- 
 tude of terror, in which, with his eyes fixed 
 firmly upon the skull, he shrank to the very 
 back of the rostrum. 
 
 The chairman and the professor here held 
 a consultation, of which the result was an 
 announcement that the lecture must be of 
 necessity postponed. "What we have 
 this night heard," said the professor, " is so 
 mysterious so strange, that I really can- 
 not trust myself to speak on the subject. 
 It is, however, a mystery which I trust we 
 shall be able to solve by " 
 
 " Bury me," interrupted Valentine, " Let 
 me rest in peace, and seek to know no more." 
 
 The professor did not finish the speech 
 he had commenced; but bowing to the audi- 
 ence, he left the stage, followed by the 
 chairman and the gentlemen of the com- 
 mittee. Murphy could not of course take 
 the precedence of any one of them: he there- 
 fore, with his eyes still fixed upon the skull, 
 backed out as closely to the last man as 
 possible, but before he had made his exit 
 an idea seemed to strike him and that too 
 with horror that when all had departed, 
 he was the man who would have to extin- 
 guish the lights! 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 BRINGS THE READER BACK TO GOODMAN, WHO BOLDLY CONCEIVES A PARTICULAR PLAN, THE 
 EXECUTION OF WHICH IS UNAVOIDABLY POSTPONED. 
 
 ALTHOUGH Goodman strongly felt that the 
 parties to the conspiracy of which he was 
 the victim would not escape eventual pun- 
 ishment, little did he think that retribution 
 had already descended upon the head of his 
 unnatural brother. Walter, he thought, 
 might be living in luxury; having obtained 
 possession of all, he might be squandering 
 it away, or existing apparently at ease, but 
 he envied him not; he, on the contrary, 
 pitied him sincerely: he felt that his out- 
 raged conscience would afflict him with 
 mental torture, but he of course had no con- 
 
 ception that he was at that time writhing 
 in the most intense physical agony. 
 
 There is a spirit let us disguise its ef- 
 fects, or labor to repudiate its power as we 
 may which prompts us to cherish a feeling 
 of gratification when they who have deeply 
 injured us suffer those pangs which sooner 
 or later bad actions induce. The entertain- 
 ment of this feeling may indeed be attribu- 
 ted to want of charity; but as it forms one 
 of the chief characteristics of the human 
 heart, it must be at the same time deemed 
 perfectly natural, and as we are not divine, 
 
122 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 it may with safety be asserted that no mere 
 man ever existed on earth, to whom retri- 
 butive justice upon those who had deeply 
 injured him failed to impart secret pleasure. 
 
 Goodman was never vindictive; few in- 
 deed could boast of being actuated so 
 slightly by the spirit of revenge: belabored 
 to forgive his enemies; he would have for- 
 given Walter freely, heartily would he 
 have forgiven him; still when he reflected 
 upon the misery which springs from the 
 wounded conscience, when he reflected that 
 his brother must absolutely hate himself 
 for doing that which he had done, the re- 
 flection imparted that amount of gratification 
 which made him feel that, after all, he was 
 the happier man. 
 
 This feeling enabled him to bear up 
 with firmness against all those indignities 
 and brutalities to which he was then sub- 
 jected: in fact he became in a short time 
 comparatively reconciled, and he and his 
 friend Whitely, who was his constant asso- 
 ciate, resolved to make the best of their po- 
 sition, by amusing themselves as much as 
 the bitter circumstances would allow. 
 
 Goodman very often thought of Valentine, 
 whom he had introduced by name to his 
 friend Whitely, and they frequently occu- 
 pied their minds all day in conceiving the j 
 various scenes he had the power to produce. 
 This was indeed to them a source of great 
 enjoyment. They bound each other down 
 to imagine and to describe scenes alter- 
 nately, and for hours and hours they forgot 
 their cares, and laughed as heartily as if 
 they had been free. 
 
 Their laughter, however, struck them 
 very often as sounding strangely, mingling 
 as it did with the screams of a female who 
 was shut up alone within four brick walls at 
 the bottom of the garden. Goodman had 
 frequently expressed a desire to see this 
 poor lost creature; and Whitely, who was 
 in favor with one of the keepers, succeeded, 
 after much solicitation, in persuading the 
 fellow to take him and Goodman into one 
 of the upper rooms, which directly over- 
 looked the den in which she was confined. 
 
 From the harsh screams and bitter im- 
 precations which proceeded from this den, 
 Goodman was led to imagine that its inmate 
 was an old withered, wretched looking 
 creature, whose intemperance had reduced 
 her to a raving maniac, and whose former 
 life had been spent among the vilest and 
 most degraded. Conceive then, his aston- 
 ishment, when, instead of a miserable, 
 Wasted, haggard being, he beheld a fair 
 girl, whose skin was as pure as alabaster, 
 and whose hair hung luxuriantly down her 
 back in flaxen rn.<j]. ts, running round, 
 shouting, screaming, and uttering the most 
 
 dreadful imprecations that ever proceeded 
 from the lips of the most vicious of her sex. 
 
 "God!" exclaimed Goodman, "what a 
 sight is this!" 
 
 " Horrible!" said his friend, "most hor- 
 rible!" 
 
 " Poor dear girl! my heart bleeds for 
 her. Has she no friends!" 
 
 " Relatives she has," replied Whitely, 
 or she would not be here." 
 
 " But she is insane 1 ?" 
 
 " Doubtless; but is that the way to cure 
 insanity? Is it fit that a young creature 
 like that not yet arrived at womanhood, 
 scarcely eighteen, should be buried within 
 four walls, and not suffered to see a single 
 soul save the wretch who casts her food 
 into her den during the day, and chains her 
 down to her pallet at night? Is that the 
 way, I ask, to effect a cure? Is it not, on 
 the contrary, directly calculated to increase 
 the disease? But she has not been sent 
 here to be cured; poor girl! Eternal shame 
 on her unnatural relatives! their only ob- 
 ject is to keep her confined." 
 
 " But suppose," suggested Goodman, 
 " that having done all in their power, they 
 found her incurable?" 
 
 " Her age," replied Whitely, " forbids 
 the supposition. The malady with which 
 she is afflicted could not have developed it- 
 self until she had arrived at the age of fif- 
 teen or sixteen, and she is not eighteen yet. 
 The idea of their having done all in their 
 power to cure her is, therefore, absurd. If 
 they had wished to have her cured, they 
 would not have sent her here. It is mon- 
 strous that the lovely young creature, in the 
 bloom of youth and beauty, should be sub- 
 jected, under any conceivable circumstan- 
 ces, to such horrble treatment as this." 
 
 " Hear how wildly she calls upon the 
 skies," said Goodman, " as if she expected 
 aid from there." 
 
 " From there, and from there only, poor 
 girl! will aid ever come to her." 
 
 " Well, you two! have you seen enough 
 on her?" cried the keeper, on re-entering 
 the room in which he had left them for a 
 moment, as a special mark of favor. 
 
 "Thank you, Johnson," said Whitely, 
 who knew how to manage the ruffian. 
 " How long has this poor girl been with 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh, a matter of two year. That there 
 place was built for her. Nice place fora 
 small party, ain't it? capital patient, 
 though pays more than any on 'em mo- 
 pusses comes in reg'lar as clock-work." 
 
 " And has she IMTII always as violent as 
 she is now?" 
 
 " No, she wasn't at first; but she soon 
 found her voice. 1 say, ain't she got a 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 123 
 
 throat"? Can't she come it when she likes? 
 and that's in course always, for she 
 never sleeps, she don't. That's the rum- 
 mest go. I don't suppose she's had above 
 a dozen winks the last twelvemonth. She's 
 night and day, night and day, eternally 
 howling." 
 
 "That is her bed-room, I suppose," said 
 Whitely, pointing to the upper part of the 
 den, for the place was constructed like a 
 pig-sty, one part being roofed, and the other 
 quite open. 
 
 "Yes, that's where she sleeps, I was 
 going to say but it's where she don't 
 sleep ony where she's chained down." 
 
 " The character of her disease," observed 
 Whitely, " I suppose, is very dreadful?" 
 
 " No, there ain't much the matter with 
 her. She only wants a husband; but as 
 she ain't much chance of meeting one here, 
 why she ain't much chance of leaving us 
 yet awhile." 
 
 At this moment the poor girl saw them 
 at the window, and her shrieks were truly 
 awful. She raved, and spat at them, and 
 flew round the den, and endeavored to clutch 
 them, and folded her arms as if she had one 
 of them in her embrace, and then shrieked 
 again horribly. 
 
 " Come," cried the keeper, " come, come 
 along down; you've seen quite enough on 
 her now;" and he led the way back into the 
 garden. 
 
 During the whole of that day the two 
 friends spoke of nothing but the appalling 
 spectacle they had witnessed, and when the 
 time for being driven into their cells had 
 arrived, they retired with hearts full of 
 sorrow. 
 
 In the morning, however, Goodman was 
 a different man. His spirits were buoyant, 
 if not, indeed, gay; and as he shook the 
 hand of his friend with more than usual 
 ardor, he smiled with intense satisfaction. 
 Whitely was delighted with his altered ap- 
 pearance. He felt that he must have heard 
 some good news, and being well assured 
 that his liberation would be the prelude to 
 his own, he manifested the utmost anxiety 
 during the whole of the time they were at 
 breakfast. 
 
 On reaching the garden, Goodman again 
 smiled; when Whitely grasped his hand, 
 and looking intently at him, said, " My 
 dear friend! you have heardsomething?" 
 
 " No," said Goodman, still however 
 smiling" No." 
 
 " Heard nothing?" cried Whitely whose 
 hopes at once vanished. " Then why do 
 you smile?" 
 
 " Because I have thought of something," 
 replied Goodman, "which may perhaps 
 answer our purpose as well." 
 
 " Indeed!" cried Whitely, whose hopes 
 again revived. " What is it?" 
 
 " I can of course confide in you, and will 
 therefore explain. I have arranged it all in 
 my own mind. I have been nearly the 
 whole of the night bringing the plan to 
 bear. We cannot fail. We are perfectly 
 certain to be successful." 
 
 "Well, what is it? what is it?" cried 
 Whitely with great impatience. 
 
 " I conceived a scheme last night," said 
 Goodman, "which has but to be carried 
 into execution, for our freedom to be at once 
 secured." 
 
 "I see I see," said Whitely shaking 
 his head, " an escape. Ah, my friend, don't 
 believe it to be possible." 
 
 " But I do," said Goodman, " I cannot 
 but believe it to be possible. In the first 
 place, how many of these fellows these 
 keepers are there here?" 
 
 " Six," replied Whitely, " with the man 
 at the gate." 
 
 " Six; very well. How many patients 
 or prisoners are there who are perfectly 
 sane?" 
 
 " Thirty, perhaps; but say twenty-five." 
 
 " Well, say that there are but twenty. I 
 am an old man, still I have some strength; 
 you are much younger, and have more 
 strength than I, and many whom I could 
 point out have much more than you. Now 
 is it not disgraceful that twenty or five-and- 
 twenty strong hearty fellows should suffer 
 themselves to be kept in so dreadful a place 
 as this by half a dozen tyrannous scoundrels, 
 whom, if it were necessary, they could 
 strangle in five minutes! Is it not, I ask, 
 monstrous, that we, who have health and 
 strength and justice on our side, should per- 
 mit half a dozen degraded myrmidons, hired 
 to sustain one of the most frightful systems 
 with which men were ever yet cursed, to 
 tyrannize over and trample upon us, to chain 
 us down like felons, and to kick us like 
 brutes, when by simply displaying the 
 strength which we possess, we might at 
 once obtain our liberty?" 
 
 Mr. Whitley shook his head, and slightly 
 smiled, and then sighed; but he made no 
 
 " I admit," continued Goodman, " that, 
 man to man, they would be more than a 
 match for us that we could not compete 
 with them at all; but twenty-five to six 
 that is, more than four to one! Upon my 
 life, I do think that the fact of our being 
 here reflects disgrace upon us as men. 
 There would not be the smallest necessity 
 for hurting those persons. God forbid that 
 I should injure any man however cruelly he 
 may have injured me; but what, my friend 
 what if we were to go in a body to the 
 
124 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 gates, and to tell them firmly and reso- 
 lutely to refuse us egress at their peril! 
 Is it to be supposed that they would make 
 more than the mere show of resistance, or 
 that if they even were to resist us, we could 
 not at once overcome them 1 ? Does it not, 
 I ask, strike you as being dreadful, that 
 five-and -twenty men, who have been stolen 
 from society as we have been stolen, should 
 continue to suffer these brutal indignities, 
 should be kept here like convicts by a 
 handful of wretches whom we have the 
 power to crush?" 
 
 "It does," said Whitely, "it does seem 
 dreadful." 
 
 " Then why do we continue to endure if?" 
 
 " Because simply because we cannot 
 help ourselves, my friend." 
 
 " But why can we not! What is there 
 to prevent our escape in a body, and that 
 too at once!" 
 
 " Do you think," observed Whitely, with 
 great calmness, " that you and I now could 
 thrash the six keepers, were we to set to 
 work manfully, and put out our strength!" 
 
 " Alone! certainly not. I have already 
 said that man to man they would be more 
 tharf a match for us; but twenty-five to six! 
 consider that." 
 
 " I have, my friend, considered it, calmly 
 considered it, and have arrived at this con- 
 clusion, that if we cannot thrash the six 
 keepers ourselves, your scheme is, under 
 the circumstances, utterly impracticable!" 
 
 " But why is it impracticable!" 
 
 " Because," replied Whitely, " we should 
 have to depend solely upon ourselves; we 
 could not calculate upon having the slight- 
 est assistance. Our poor fellow-prisoners 
 have been here so long, that their minds 
 have become enervated; they have not the 
 strength the moral courage to join us. I 
 readily grant, that if all, or even a third of 
 them were staunch, we might, by taking 
 these myrmidons by surprise, effect our ob- 
 ject; but their spirits are broken; they have 
 lost all energy; they could not be depended 
 upon for a moment; they have no heart, no 
 
 resolution. Were we to propose the thing 
 to them, no matter with what eloquence 
 and force they would shrink from the at- 
 tempt; they would not dare to join us; they 
 would at once agree with you, that our im- 
 prisonment under the circumstance, reflects 
 disgrace upon us as men, and that, if an 
 attempt were made, success would be al- 
 most certain; but they would look at the 
 consequences of (ifailure, and that would 
 be sufficient to deter them from acting; for 
 they know by sad experience, that albeit 
 they are assumed to be unconscious of their 
 actions, they are punished for those actions 
 in spite of that assumption, and that the 
 punishment which would inevitably follow 
 the failure of an attempt like that which 
 you have suggested would be dreadful. I 
 myself thought of the same plan the day 
 I came here, and felt as certain as you now 
 feel, that it might with ease be carried into 
 immediate execution; but when I had 
 sounded several of those whom I had fan- 
 cied were likely to join me, I found their 
 minds so enfeebled, their spirits so low, 
 that if even I had succeeded in goading 
 them on to an attempt, they would in all pro- 
 bability have deserted me at the very mo- 
 ment when energy and resolution were 
 most essential to success. They have not 
 the courage, my friend depend upon it 
 they have not the courage. Every man, 
 sir, in an enterprise of that kind, would act 
 like a child." 
 
 Goodman was silent, but by no means 
 convinced of the impracticability of this 
 scheme. He still felt sure that it might be 
 carried into effect, for " what," thought 
 j he, " if the minds of these persons are 
 enervated, is it impossible for their ener- 
 ' gies to be aroused!" As, however, precipi- 
 tation was in a matter of this kind to be 
 condemned, the subject was for that time 
 dropped; but he still resolved to make 
 every effort in his power to inspire his 
 1 companions with spirit sufficient to join 
 | him and Whitely in effecting their escape. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 VALENTINE VISITS THE VICTUALLER^ FANCY FAIR. 
 
 IK the Coffee Room of the tavern at which 
 Valentine occasionally dined he saw, a few 
 days after his display among the phrenolo- 
 gists, a placard, which was headed, "'I'm 
 LICENSED VICTUALLERS' ASYLUM," and 
 which announced that a FANCY FAIR and a 
 
 FETE CHAMPETRE were about to take place 
 under most distinguished patronage. 
 
 "The Licensed Victuallers' Asylum!" 
 thought Valentine, who had been taught to 
 associate Licensed Victuallers with all that 
 is selfish, grasping, and gross; is it possi- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 125 
 
 ble that they can have erected an asylum 
 that they can have been prevailed upon 
 to sustain the unfortunate, the aged, and 
 the infirm! And yet why should they not!" 
 
 He stuck at this question. He couldn't 
 answer it. He. couldn't tell why they 
 should not be benevolent; and being anx- 
 ious to study the character of every class 
 of men with whom he came in contact, he 
 invited a remarkably corpulent, good-na- 
 tured looking old fellow, who he felt could 
 be nothing but the landlord, to have a glass 
 of wine. 
 
 "What is the nature of this asylum 1 ?" 
 said Valentine, when the old boy had squat- 
 ted himself down, which he did without a 
 second invitation, and began to pant fierce- 
 ly, blowing out his cheeks at every pant, 
 as if, conscious of the remarkably precious 
 nature of breath, he wished to retain it in 
 his mouth as long as possible. 
 
 "Why, sir," said the landlord whose 
 name was Broadsides, " that, sir,'s the 
 Witlers' 'Sylum, 'stablished by Witlers, 
 and a capital 'sylum it is, sir, too." 
 
 "No doubt," observed Valentine, "but 
 what are its objects'?" 
 
 " Why of course, sir, to perwide a good 
 home for old broken down Witlers, and a 
 werry good home it perwides. We take 
 care of their children, too, poor things! 
 We've a school for 'em fit for any noble- 
 man in the land. You should see 'em, God 
 bless 'em, how happy they are. It's a bless- 
 ing to look at 'em, that it is, a blessing." 
 
 " You are going to have a Fancy Fair, I 
 perceive 1 ?" 
 
 " Of course, sir! We always do, annally, 
 and an out-and-out thing it is too. You'd 
 be pleased, if you never was there. If 
 you've nothing better to do, I'd adwise you 
 to go. It's a treat sir. I love it, the ob- 
 ject is so good." 
 
 Valentine was delighted with the feeling 
 tones in which the old gentleman spoke, 
 more especially when he alluded to the 
 children; for tears stood in his eyes, as he 
 said, " Poor things! God bless 'em!" 
 which, without the slightest effort to con- 
 ceal them, he mopped up mechanically with 
 his thick Belcher handkerchief, and seemed 
 to blow away with considerably more free- 
 dom. 
 
 " There is much of the pure spirit of be- 
 nevolence in this man's composition," 
 thought Valentine, " rough as he is; and if 
 he be in reality a fair sample of the lot, 
 they are indeed a very good set of fellows." 
 
 " Say you'll go?" cried Broadsides, slap- 
 ping the thigh of Valentine, as if he had 
 known him for years. 
 
 " Well, 1 will!" cried Valentine, rubbing 
 his thigh, and smiling. 
 12 
 
 " Then I'll tell you what it is. I rayther 
 like you; I think you're a good sort, and I'm 
 not often out of my reckoning; if you'll go 
 I'll drive you down, and give you as good 
 a glass of wine as can be got when we get 
 there." 
 
 " You must leave the wine to me in that 
 case," said Valentine; " but I hope that I 
 shall not be depriving any part of your fa- 
 mily of a seat?" 
 
 " By no means in life! My Missus and 
 the girls goes the second day, 'cause you 
 know, business must be attended to; so, of 
 course, I shall be glad to have your com- 
 pany down." 
 
 It was settled. The morning came, and 
 Valentine went to the house of Mr. Broad- 
 sides, who shook him by the hand with the 
 warmth of a friend; introduced him to his 
 wife and two daughters, and after having 
 what he termed a " leetle snack" in the 
 bar, the gig was brought to the door, and 
 they started. 
 
 The very moment they were off, the old 
 boy began to talk. He, in the first place, 
 gave the pedigree of his horse, explained 
 how many miles an hour he had done, how 
 many miles an hour he was able to do then, 
 and how about twenty years ago, when he 
 was younger, he trotted from London to 
 Brighton within the six hours, and that, 
 without sweating a hair. He then spoke 
 of the peculiarly good qualities of Mrs. 
 Broadsides, as a woman of business; he 
 explained that she was "an extrornary 
 good wife, and an excellent mother," but 
 that she had a "particular nasty temper," 
 and that that was all he had to complain of. 
 He then touched upon the virtues of his 
 daughters, whom he described as " the best 
 girls any where none could be better, let 
 them come from where they might;" he 
 showed very clearly what treasures they 
 would be to those who might have the good 
 fortune to marry them; and after having 
 dwelt upon their peculiar characteristics for 
 some considerable time with great eloquence 
 and pride, they reached a road-side inn, at 
 which he put up his horse, and then wad- 
 dled by the side of Valentine down a lane, 
 which led at once to the Asylum. 
 
 A scene of gaiety presented itself the 
 moment they reached the gate; and after 
 passing the marquee, in which toys of every 
 description were set out for sale, they en- 
 tered the building, which was really very 
 extensive, and reflected great credit upon 
 the "Victuallers as a body. 
 
 Broadsides was recognised at once by a 
 number of jolly-looking persons, who wore 
 their hats on one side, and their hands in 
 their pockets, and never took them out, ex- 
 cept indeed for the purpose of greeting their 
 
126 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 friends. After an infinite deal of nodding, 
 and slapping, and squeezing through the 
 passage, Valentine and Broadsides pro- 
 ceeded up stairs to the board-room, round 
 which the names of the donors and the 
 amounts of the donations were emblazoned 
 in letters of gold. 
 
 "That," said Broadsides, pointing to a 
 well-executed portrait which hung at one 
 end of the room, " that, of course is the 
 founder of the institution." 
 
 Valentine could not resist the temptation; 
 he therefore threw his voice into the picture, 
 and said, " How are you? how do?" 
 
 Broadsides started; and the expression 
 of his countenance was singularly droll. 
 "Didn't you hear?" he cried, seizing the 
 arm of Valentine, who replied that he heard 
 something. 
 
 " Something!" he continued. " It's the 
 picture!" and he began to blow away with 
 great energy. 
 
 "Don't be alarmed! don't be alarmed!" 
 said Valentine, again throwing his voice 
 towards the portrait, and the founder seemed 
 to smile as Broadsides nodded, but in a 
 way that seemed to indicate that he didn't 
 understand it all. 
 
 "I say, Bowles! Bowles!" cried Mr. 
 Broadsides, seizing the arm of a friend who 
 had just entered. " I say, here; look at 
 that pictur! I just heered it speak! 1 ' 
 
 " Heered it what 1 ?" cried Mr. Bowles, 
 with a smile of incredulity. 
 
 " Speak!" returned Broadsides, and Mr. 
 Bowles laughed very heartily. 
 
 "As true as I'm here, it's a fact; I heered 
 him, as plain as I ever did when he was 
 alive!" 
 
 " Why what are you talking about, you 
 jolly old fool?" said Mr. Bowles. " Have 
 you been having a drain already this morn- 
 ing? What have you. got into your stupid 
 old head?" 
 
 " I don't care a farden about what you 
 say. I tell you I heered the pictur speak 
 as plain as flesh and blood!" 
 
 " But how could it?" 
 
 " I don't know how it could; I only know 
 that it did, and that's enough for me." 
 
 Bowles slapped Mr. Broadsides on the 
 back, and told him in friendly terms, that 
 he was an out-and-out old ass; and more- 
 over observed, that he should see him again, 
 he supposed, by and bye. 
 
 " Well, this is sartny about the rummest 
 ffo," said Mr. Broadsides, when Bowles 
 had left the room, " that mortal man ever 
 heerd tell on." 
 
 " By no means," said Valentine, through 
 the medium of the founder; "did you never 
 hear of a spirited portrait?" 
 
 The idea of a spirited portrait appeared 
 
 to strike a light into the soul of Mr. Broad- 
 sides. He had heard of a spirited portrait, 
 and felt that he never knew, till then, to 
 what species the term legitimately applied. 
 He fancied, however, that he saw it then 
 clearly; and, although he did not exactly 
 tremble, he felt very queer. 
 
 " Did you know him?" inquired Valen- 
 tine, who feigned great amazement. 
 
 " Know him!" replied Broadsides. " Him 
 and me were buzzum friends! Many's the 
 bottle of wine we've had together! 1 ' 
 
 " Well, then, you've no reason to fear 
 him." 
 
 "Fear him!" cried Broadsides, he 
 wouldn't hurt a hair of my head. It isn't 
 that it's only the rumness of the thing, 
 you see, that gets over me." And Mr. 
 Broadsides sat down, and gazed upon the 
 portrait, until he fancied that he could see 
 the benevolent founder's lips curl and his 
 eyes sparkle, as they were wont, when 
 the original received an unusually large 
 order. 
 
 "Well, shall we see what they are 
 doing below?" said Valentine. 
 
 " Yes yes!" replied Mr. Broadsides, 
 whose eyes were still fixed on the portrait. 
 " Yes: the only thing, you see, that puzzles 
 me is, that it isn't his voice;" .a fact which 
 was certainly by no means extraordinary, 
 seeing that Valentine had never, of course, 
 heard the founder speak. " But I suppose," 
 continued Broadsides, " that spirits don't 
 speak in the same tones as regular flesh 
 and blood." 
 
 "Good day," observed Valentine, throw- 
 ing his voice again towards the portrait. 
 
 " God bless you! Good day," said Mr. 
 Broadsides, who after taking another long 
 gaze, caught hold of the arm of Valentine 
 and waddled from the room. 
 
 Now when Broadsides had got about half 
 way down stairs, it struck him again as being 
 very extraordinary. He therefore stopped 
 short; and after blowing out his cheeks to 
 the fullest extent, and looking with consi- 
 derable earnestness at Valentine, said, 
 " Well, this is out of all doubt the most 
 singularest thing I ever met with in all my 
 born days," and having delivered himself of 
 this remarkable sentiment, he and Valen- 
 tine slowly descended. 
 
 On reaching the end of the passage 
 which led through the building, Valentine 
 found that, although the Fancy Fair was 
 confined to the front of the Asylum, the 
 chief attraction was behind; for a spacious 
 lawn opened before them, which was lite- 
 rally crowded with gaily dressed persons, 
 promenading with groat propriety, and look- 
 ing very happy; while at the bottom of the 
 lawn there were several well constructed 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 127 
 
 marquees, which were uniformly pitched, 
 and had a striking effect. 
 
 " Well, now, this exceeds my expecta- 
 tions," said Valentine, waving his hand 
 towards the scene which so brilliantly 
 opened before him. 
 
 "Yes," observed Broadsides, "yes, yes; 
 very pretty, very pretty; but that pictur I 
 can't get that out of my head; that gets 
 over me above a bit." 
 
 " Oh never mind the picture," said Val- 
 entine. " What are they doing here!" and 
 he dragged Mr. Broadsides, who looked 
 very solemn, towards one of the marquees, 
 before which a crowd of persons were 
 standing. In this place there was a very 
 great variety of toys, but the attraction was 
 an affair which was termed " the wheel of 
 fortune," out of which, by paying the small 
 charge of one shilling, any lady or gentle- 
 man was entitled to draw a slip of paper, the 
 number emblazoned upon which referred to 
 some valuable little article in stock. An 
 interesting child about seven years old 
 turned the wheel, and when a bluff indivi- 
 dualwho kept continually recommending 
 the ladies and gentlemen present to " try 
 their luck, for as they was all prizes and 
 no blanks at all. they couldn't do nothing 
 but win" had looked at the papers drawn, 
 he called the numbers, and another indivi- 
 dual with a list in his hand named the arti- 
 cles to which the numbers respectively 
 applied, which articles were delivered to 
 the individuals who had had the extraordi- 
 nary good fortune to gain them. 
 
 When Valentine had ascertained how 
 this business was managed, he could not 
 be silent; he felt himself bound to play 
 some of his highly reprehensible tricks. He 
 therefore imitated the voice of the bluff in- 
 dividual to such perfection, and called so 
 continually certain numbers which had 
 never been drawn, that at length that indi- 
 vidual became extremely angry with the 
 other individual, who kept as continually 
 naming little articles which had not been 
 won. 
 
 "Now then," said the former, " twenty- 
 two." 
 
 " No, twenty-seven," cried Valentine, 
 assuming his voice. 
 
 " Twenty-seven," said the person who 
 held the paper. "Twenty-seven ." 
 
 "Twenty-two!" cried the bluff indivi- 
 dual. " Mind what you're about." 
 
 "But you said twenty-seven," said his 
 assistant, who didn't at all like to be spoken 
 to thus before company. 
 
 "I say that I said twenty-two, sir," 
 shouted the bluff individual, looking par- 
 ticularly black. 
 
 " Twenty-two," said his assistant, " is a 
 
 shaving brush," which article was at once 
 handed over to the lady by whom it had 
 been so appropriately won. 
 
 Valentine perceived that if he went on in 
 this way he should probably destroy that 
 good understanding which had previously 
 existed between these two persons, and as 
 he had no desire to do that, especially as 
 one of them clearly felt compelled to put 
 up with the blustering insolence of the 
 other, he took the arm of Mr. Broadsides, 
 who still kept harping upon the "pictur" 
 and walked to the principal marquee. 
 
 " Oh, ho!" cried Valentine on entering, 
 " all who drink here will not go home sober 
 to-night!" which, although it was unheeded 
 by Mr. Broadsides, was certainly a very 
 natural exclamation, inasmuch as the mar- 
 quee in question was lined with flaming 
 pink-and-white festooned glazed cambric, 
 which had so exceedingly dazzling an 
 effect, that a single pint of wine drank 
 there would have excited a man as much as 
 a couple of bottles would, drank in a quiet- 
 colored room. 
 
 "Come," said Mr. Broadsides, "now 
 let's have a little bit of summut to eat here. 
 Here, waiter! Now, what have you got!" 
 and an ugly little rascal, who was the 
 counterpart of Fieschi, and who personated 
 the character of a waiter for that particular 
 occasion, replied, ";Fowls, sir, ham, sir, 
 fowls and ham, roast beef, ham and beef, 
 sir, tongue and roast duck." 
 
 Fowl and ham were ordered for two, and 
 part of a leg with part of awing were even- 
 tually placed upon the table. 
 
 " What d'ye mean by bringing us these 
 two mites!" cried Mr. Broadsides, indig- 
 nantly digging his fork into one of them, 
 with the view of inspecting its dimensions 
 more closely. 
 
 " Fowl and ham for two, sir, you order- 
 ed," said the waiter. 
 
 * D'ye call this fowl and ham for two? 
 Bring us a whole un, and plenty of ham, 
 not two tiny dabs like them!" 
 
 Fieschi looked if possible more ugly than 
 before, as he took away the dish, the con- 
 tents of which looked, after having been 
 disturbed, by no means calculated to impart 
 satisfaction to any man's stomach. He 
 soon however returned with what was by 
 courtesy termed a whole fowl, particularly 
 small and very skinny. But such as it 
 was, Broadsides pushed it towards Valen- 
 tine for the purpose of dissection, andJVal- 
 entine not being a family man, thought the 
 shortest way of carving up the animal 
 would be to cut at once right across the 
 breast bone, and thus to divide the thing 
 equally; but he had no sooner made the 
 first cut, which effectually severed the body 
 
128 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 in twain, than Broadsides cried, " Send I 
 may live! What are you at? Here, give us 
 hold" and called upon Fieschi to bring 
 him a skewer. Fieschi accordingly pro- 
 duced a skewer which he said he had 
 *' d rawed from a buttick o' beef," with 
 which Mr. Broadsides stuck the fowl again 
 together, and then proceeded to cut it up 
 very scientifically into a number of pieces 
 which Valentine fancied unnecessarily 
 small, as it would be all the same in the 
 Jong run which was about to take place in 
 the course of five minutes Mr. Broadsides 
 observing, as he dexterously took out the 
 small bones which young ladies in farm 
 houses pull to ascertain whose fate it is first 
 to be married, that he had been " head cook 
 in the principalist tavern in London, and 
 never in all his experience seed a chicken 
 attempted to be carved in sich a fashion as 
 that.'' He contended that half the beauty 
 of it was in the carving, while Valentine 
 thought it all consisted in the eating; but 
 as the experience of Broadsides enabled 
 him to get the better of the argument, he 
 felt satisfied, and called for a bottle of wine. 
 
 " Have you got a bottle now," said he, 
 "at all fit to drink?" 
 
 " Capital wine, sir 1 ?" replied Fieschi. 
 
 44 Well, bring us some of the decentest 
 you have, d'ye hear?" and a bottle of 
 sherry was accordingly brought, which 
 Broadsides no sooner tasted, than he began 
 at once to spit, and to blow, and to make 
 up such a very extraordinary face, that 
 Fieschi imagined that he had by mistake 
 brought forward a bottle of vinegar. 
 
 " Do you call this wine?" cried Broad- 
 sides, spitting and blowing still with re- 
 markable energy. 
 
 "Beg pardon," replied Fieschi, putting 
 the cork to his nose, "it smells like wine, 
 sir." 
 
 " Smells like wine," echoed Broadsides, 
 contemptuously. " It has nay ther the smell 
 nor the taste of wine. It's enough to give 
 an elephant the deliberate tremens. Give 
 my compliments to your master, and tell 
 him that may name's Broadsides, and if he 
 can't send me a little better bottle of wine 
 than that, he'd better set to work at once 
 and drink it himself. Here, leave this now 
 a8 it's opened, and go fetch something a little 
 matter fit to go into a Christian's stomach. 
 Did yon ever taste such wine?" he con- 
 tinued, addressing Valentine, who thought 
 it very fair wine, and said so; hut Broad- 
 sides declared that "if he ever brought up 
 such a bottle of wine as that to any cus- 
 tomer of his, he'd go and cut his throat." 
 
 Tim name of Broadsides appeared to hav- 
 
 t tli ct upon the master of Fieschi, 
 
 for ho not only sent a bottle of wine of 
 
 which Broadsides approved, but ordered 
 Fieschi to bring the other bottle away! 
 This act of liberality had in return a great 
 effect upon Broadsides, who praised the 
 last bottle before he had lasted it, and told 
 Fieschi to let the other remain. Fieschi, 
 however, respectfully insisted upon obeying 
 his master's order, and Broadsides in return 
 insisted upon Fieschi's master coming to 
 take a glass with him as soon as he had a 
 moment to spare. 
 
 " Now, this is very decent, considering," 
 said he. "but lor! it ain't no more like 
 what's in my cellar but then, lor, how can 
 you expect it!" 
 
 By this time Valentine had demolished 
 his share of the chicken, and had even com- 
 menced the process of flaying the back bone, 
 when another was produced, which Mr. 
 Broadsides instructed him how to carve 
 properly; and he eventually did it to the 
 entire satisfaction of that gentleman, who 
 declared that, after that, he " would be fit 
 to cut up anything in the world, at any table 
 in life." 
 
 Now, when Valentine and Broadsides 
 had finished their meal, Mr. Bowles came 
 into the marquee with three remarkably red- 
 faced friends, to whom Broadsides, although 
 he knew them well was introduced as 
 " the man wot heard the picture speak." 
 
 "I just did," said Broadsides, "and no 
 mistake!" Upon which Mr. Bowles and 
 his red-faced friends began to laugh very 
 heartily and very loudly. " 1 don't care a 
 dump," he continued, "about what you 
 think, or what you say. If I didn't hear 
 it speak, why I never heered nothing." 
 
 " You always was a rum 'un," observed 
 Mr. Bowles. 
 
 "I don't care for that," returned Broad- 
 sides. " Come, I'll tell you what I do now, 
 I'll bet you a rump and dozen I heard it 
 now, come!" 
 
 This favorite and highly approved method 
 of settling an argument, seemed for a mo- 
 ment to stagger Mr. Bowles, for he felt that 
 he could not prove that Mr. Broadsides 
 didn't hear it, and that if the onus of proof 
 even rested with Broadsides, he had the 
 evidence of his own ears at least, to bring 
 forward, while he himself could produce 
 no evidence at all; thinking, however, sub- 
 sequently that the affirmative could not be 
 l>rov< (!, he said, "Done," and Valentine 
 throwing his voice behind Mr. Bowles cried, 
 " You've lost." 
 
 " How lost?" shouted Mr. Bowles, turn- 
 inr slmrply round. "Who says I have 
 lost?" His red -faced friends stared at e;u-!i 
 other, but neither of them spoke. " Who 
 
 I liavu lost?" hu UP a iu i 
 " \N hu's toprovo it?" 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 129 
 
 "I, "cried Valentine, sending his voice 
 above. "I! the spirit of Hodgson!" 
 
 " Now, will you believe me?" cried 
 Broadsides, triumphantly, "Now am I a 
 stupid old ass!" 
 
 Mr. Bowles looked amazed, and so did 
 the red-faced friends of Mr. Bowles. They 
 stared, first at each other, and then round 
 the marquee, and after Mr. Bowles had ex- 
 pressed his decided conviction that the thing 
 was " onaccountably rum," he and his 
 friends at once sat down, and having thrust 
 their hands to the very bottom of their 
 breeches pockets, began to look particularly 
 solemn. 
 
 "Isn't it queer?" said Mr. Broadsides, 
 who was the first to break silence. 
 
 " Queer!" replied Bowles" Here, give 
 us some wine, and don't say a word more 
 about it." And Mr. Bowles helped himself, 
 and then pushed the bottle round, and when 
 his friends had filled their glasses, they 
 said with due solemnity, " Here's luck," 
 and the wine was out of sight in an instant. 
 
 Another bottle was ordered; and when 
 Fieschi had produced it, Mr. Broadsides 
 begged leave to propose as a toast, " The 
 immortal memory of the Founder," which, 
 of course, was duly honored in silence. 
 
 A pause ensued. They were all deep 
 in thought; they were turning the circum- 
 stance over in their minds, and were, appa- 
 rently, just about coming to the conclusion 
 that the sounds were imaginary after all, 
 when Valentine, throwing his voice into the 
 folds of the pink-aud-white cambric, said 
 in tones of appropriate solemnity, " Gentle- 
 men, I rise to thank you for the honor you 
 have conferred upon me, and beg, in return, 
 to drink all your good healths." 
 
 Mr. Broadsides, Mr. Bowles, and his 
 red-faced friends, held their breath. They 
 stared at the cambric with an expression of 
 astonishment, but for some moments neither 
 of them uttered a word. At length, Mr. 
 Bowles broke silence. " Well, said he, 
 " this beats all my acquaintance. I'm not 
 going to stop here, and that's all about it." 
 
 The friends of Mr. Bowles seemed to 
 like this idea; and as Broadsides did not 
 appear to be by any means opposed to such 
 a proceeding, the bottle was emptied, and 
 when the amount of what was termed the 
 " damage," had been paid, the whole party 
 left the marquee. 
 
 On reaching the lawn again, where they 
 began to breathe with infinitely more free- 
 dom, the firing of cannon was heard, and 
 several persons in the crowd exclaimed, 
 "the children! the children!" Again and 
 again the cannon were fired, and the visit- 
 ors rushed to the sides of the lawn, round 
 which the poor children were to pass. The 
 
 band by which they were preceded drew 
 nearer and nearer, and all hearts seemed 
 gay, although the eyes of the old people 
 glistened with tears. 
 
 At length a policeman marched out of the 
 passage which led through the asylum. He 
 was followed by the band; then came a 
 double row of octogenarian pensioners, 
 whose appearance was calculated at once 
 to upset all the tea-total doctrines in the 
 world, at least, as far as those doctrines 
 have reference to longevity: then came the 
 gentlemen of the board, with their blue 
 rosettes and smiling faces: then came the 
 children, and then the schoolmaster! whose 
 head, albeit remarkably large, and attached 
 to a body weighing, at least sixteen stone, 
 seemed inclined to repudiate the idea of its 
 being impossible to find out perpetual mo- 
 tion. Thus formed, the procession marched 
 round the ample lawn, and the children ap- 
 peared to impart great delight to the bosoms 
 of their benevolent patrons. 
 
 " I don't know how it is," said Mr. 
 Broadsides, when they had passed, " but 
 them children there always makes me feel, 
 I don't know how;" and a couple of big 
 tears, as he spoke, dropt into his white 
 waistcoat-pockets. 
 
 " I say, Broadsides," said Bowles, who 
 at the moment approached with his red- 
 faced friends, " what fools we all are!" 
 
 " What about?" said Mr. Broadsides. 
 
 " Why about that there voice, there," 
 replied Mr. Bowles. "I see it all now. 
 Why mightn't it have come from some 
 vagabone at the top?" and Mr. Bowles gave 
 Mr. Broadsides a dig in the ribs, and laugh- 
 ed again loudly, and his red-faced friends 
 joined in full chorus. 
 
 Mr. Broadsides dropped his head on his 
 left shoulder, thoughtfully; but after a time 
 an idea seemed to strike him, and he ex- 
 claimed, " so it might! some wagabone 
 might have been a top o' the tent; but how 
 could he get in the pictur?" 
 
 This, in return, seemed to puzzle Mr. 
 Bowles: but after scratching his head for 
 some considerable time, he cried, "well! I 
 don't care; I won't believe in any of your 
 supernatteral nonsense. I say there must 
 have been some blaggard outside. Will 
 you make me believe that a ghost could re- 
 turn thanks in that there way? Ain't it out 
 of all reason? Come, let's go and see 
 where the vagabone could have stood." 
 And he dragged Mr. Broadsides to the back 
 of the marquee, when Valentine, fancying 
 that if he remained with them the wine 
 would go round perhaps a little too fast, 
 left the spot, and proceeded to another mar- 
 quee, in which the whole of the provisions 
 were dispensed. 
 
 12* 
 
130 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 The person who presided over this large 
 establishment was a man whom nothing 
 seemed to please. He cut about among the 
 bottles in such a dreadful state of mind, 
 freely sweating, and loudly swearing that 
 every body robbed him, and laboring appa- 
 rently under the horrible apprehension that 
 he was working very hard to make himself 
 a ruined mau. The good which he did him- 
 self was, indeed, very trifling; but he jump- 
 ed from one end of the tent to the other 
 with the velocity of a grasshopper, pushing 
 aside all who happened to come in his way 
 scolding some for putting too much spirit 
 in the grog, and others, for not putting in 
 enough declared that one hadn't paid him 
 for a bottle of stout, and that another wished 
 to swindle him out of a plate of boiled beef 
 in short, he seemed to be, on the whole, 
 a most unhappy individual, although a de- 
 cidedly good-looking man. 
 
 " Well, old boy," said Valentine, throw- 
 ing his voice behind this remarkable per- 
 son; " and how do you get on?" 
 
 *' On!" cried that person, " good luck to 
 you, don't say a word to me now, whoever 
 you are. I shall go raving mad; every 
 body's robbing me; every body's at it; I 
 don't believe I've got a single honest man 
 about me." 
 
 44 Do you see," cried Valentine, " how 
 your wine's going under the tent there?" 
 
 "Under the tent!" cried the busy person, 
 " where? Here, Tomkins! Smith! Lucas! 
 run behind, and knock down those vaga- 
 bond s,dy'ehear! Behind there! behind!" and 
 away went three waiters. " I thought," he 
 continued, " that the wine went somewhere. 
 I've lost a couple of dozen, at least; and 
 nobody Ml look out, nobody '11 assist me, 
 although I am surrounded by plundering 
 thieves; nobody Ml move hand or foot; 1 
 must do all myself." 
 
 44 There's nobody behind!" cried Lucas, 
 returning; and Tomkins, and Smith bore 
 testimony to the fact. 
 
 44 1 tell you they've been forking out the 
 wine! but you're all in a gang. I expect to 
 see you all, by and by, as drunk as devils. 
 If I've lost one bottle, I've lost five dozen. 
 But let 'em come again only let them try 
 it on! /'// keep my eye upon 'em I'll sarve 
 them out, the warmint!" and he placed an 
 empty bottle near a hole in the canvass, and 
 a carving-knife upon a hamper beside it, 
 with the view of having a cut at the very 
 next hand that happened to be clandestinely 
 introduced. 
 
 Valentine feeling that it would be cruel 
 to tease this unhappy man under the cir- 
 cumstances any longer, left the spot, ;nn 
 proceeded across the lawn with the view o' 
 inspecting the female visitors, of whom al 
 
 vere well dressed, and some very beautiful, 
 nt none in his judgment one-half so 
 eautiful as the fair unknown whom he had 
 saved to lose, he feared, for ever. There 
 was in the crowd one who, with soft sleepy 
 eyes, which when opened were brilliant 
 and full, bore some slight resemblance to 
 idol; but even she was not comparable 
 ;o her of whom he felt so much enamored, 
 'or while her features were irregular, and 
 ler figure inelegant, her voice, which he 
 leard as he passed, contrasted harshly with 
 those sweet silvery tones which he so well 
 remembered. 
 
 His ear, was, however, at this moment 
 assailed with a different species of music, 
 or the band commenced the overture to Der 
 Friesckutz, with the wild unearthly phrases 
 of which he had before felt enchanted. He 
 bad scarcely, however, reached the lawn in 
 front of the Asylum, on which the band was 
 stationed, when he was startled by a remark- 
 ably heavy slap on the shoulder, which on 
 turning round he found to proceed from Mr. 
 Broadsides, who had evidently been taking 
 more wine, and who exclaimed, 4 ' Well, old 
 fellow, why, where have you been poking 
 to! We've been running all over the place 
 to find you. Come, let's see what's agoing 
 forrard here;" and taking the arm of Valen- 
 tine, he at once led the way into the booth 
 termed the 4 ' Ladies' Bazaar," in which all 
 sorts of toys were exposed for sale, and the 
 avenue was crowded, but they nevertheless; 
 stopped to inspect every stall. 
 
 " Will you buy me a work-box, please, 
 Mr. Broadsides," said Valentine, assuming 
 a female voice, which appeared to proceed 
 from a very gaily dressed little lady who 
 stood just beside him. 
 
 Mr. Broadsides chucked the little lady 
 under the chin, and said, 4 ' Certainly, my 
 little dear, which would you like?" 
 
 44 Sir!" cried the little lady, tossing her 
 head proudly, and turning away with a look 
 of indignation. 
 
 Broadsides blew out his cheeks with an 
 energy which threatened to crack them, and 
 after giving a puff which nearly amounted 
 to a whistle, he tossed his head in humble 
 imitation of the little lady, and turned round 
 to Bowles. 
 
 44 Hullo!" said that gentleman, 44 Can't 
 let the girls alone, eh? still up to your old 
 tricks? 1 shall tell M-s. Broadsides." 
 
 Now, although Mr. Bowles had no inten- 
 tion whatever of carrying this threat into 
 actual execution, the bare mention of that 
 lady's name caused Broadsides to blow with 
 more energy than before. " \\liy," said 
 he, " didn't you hear the cretur ask me to 
 buy her a work-box?" 
 
VALENTINE vox. 
 
 131 
 
 " It's all very fine," replied Bowles, 
 " but it won't do, old boy, it won't do." 
 
 " Well, if she didn't, I'm blessed!" re- 
 joined Broadsides, "and that's all about it." 
 Mr. Bowles, however, still very stoutly 
 maintained that if she had, she would never 
 have bounced off in that way, and as that 
 was an argument over which Mr. Broad- 
 sides could not very comfortably get, he 
 seized Valentine's arm and pressed back 
 through the crowd. 
 
 " Well," said he, on returning to the 
 lawn, " how do you find yourself now?" 
 
 " Why," replied Valentine, " particularly 
 thirsty, can't we have some tea 1 ?" 
 
 "Tea is a thing I never do drink," said 
 Broadsides; " but if you'd like to have some 
 I'll tell you what we'll do; we'll give one 
 of the old women a turn, you know, instead 
 of going down to that there tent." 
 
 Valentine, of course, was quite willing 
 to do so; arid as the charitable suggestion 
 was applauded by Mr. Bowles and the only 
 red-faced friend he had with him, they went 
 into one of the little rooms in the Asylum, 
 and after Broadsides had warmly kissed its 
 occupant, who was remarkably old, but 
 remarkably clean, he at once ordered tea for 
 half a dozen. 
 
 " There are but four of us," observed 
 Mr. Bowles, as the delighted old lady left 
 the room to make the necessary prepara- 
 tions. 
 
 Oh! never mind," said Broadsides, "it'll 
 be all the better, you know, for the old 
 woman. She don't have a turn every day. 
 You wouldn't believe it," he continued, 
 " but that old cretur, there, when 1 first 
 knew her, kept one of the best houses of 
 business in London!" 
 
 " Is she a widderl" inquired Mr. Bowles. 
 *' Now she is, but she wasn't then; old 
 Sam was alive at that time." 
 
 " And when he died I suppose things 
 went to rack and ruin'?" 
 
 " Oh, that occurred before he went home. 
 He was the steadiest man any where, the 
 first seven years he was in business, and 
 made a mint o'money; but when he lost his 
 daughter, a beautiful girl, just for all the 
 world like my Betsy, he all at once turned 
 out a regular Lushington, and everything 
 of course went sixes and sevens. He al- 
 ways made it a pint of getting drunk before 
 breakfast, and ruination in one way of course, 
 brought on ruination in another, until he 
 was obliged for to go all to smash. Poor 
 Sam died very soon after that time you see, 
 because he couldn't eat. It don't matter 
 what a man drinks, so long as he can eat, 
 but when he can't eat, he ought to leave off 
 drinking till he can. That's rny senti 
 ments." 
 
 "There's a good deal in that," said Mr. 
 Bowles, " a good deal." 
 
 ;< Well, dame," said Broadsides, as the 
 widow re-entered the room; " why you are 
 ooking younger and younger every day. 
 It's many years now since you and me first 
 met." 
 
 "Ah!" said the poor old lady, with a 
 sigh, " I've gone through a world of trouble 
 sin' then; but, God be praised for all his 
 goodness, I'm as happy now as the days 
 are long." 
 
 " That's right, my old girl," said Mr. 
 Broadsides, "that's right! I say now, 
 an't you get us a bottle of decent port any- 
 where about here?" 
 
 "I dares to say I can," replied the old 
 lady, and she put on her bonnet, and having 
 received a sovereign, trotted out. 
 
 Mr. Bowles now began to roast Mr. 
 Broadsides about the little indignant lady 
 and the work-box; but that gentleman turned 
 the tables on Mr. Bowles by reminding him, 
 that when he lived at Brixton, and was at 
 a party at Kennington, he insisted upon 
 seeing a young lady home, not knowing 
 where she lived; and when the favor was 
 ranted, he had to walk with her, at twelve 
 o'clock at night, into Red Cow Lane, near 
 Stepney Green. 
 
 " Is that a fact!" inquired the red-faced 
 friend of Mr. Bowles. 
 
 " Oh that's true enough," replied Bowles, 
 " and all I could do, 1 couldn't get her to 
 ride." 
 
 Hereupon Mr. Broadsides and Valentine, 
 and the red-faced gentleman indulged in 
 loud laughter, and Mr. Bowles very hearti- 
 ly joined them, and when the old lady en- 
 tered with the wine, she laughed too; but 
 the sight of the bottle subdued Mr. Broad- 
 sides, who in an instant began to uncork it. 
 "Keep the change, old girl, till I call for 
 it," said he, and the old lady said that he 
 was a very good man, and hoped that God 
 would bless him, and that his family might 
 prosper. 
 
 Valentine had to make tea; and Mr. 
 Broadsides sat at another little table over 
 his wine, which he drank very fast and 
 very mechanically, for his thoughts were 
 on the mysterious occurrences of the day. 
 Valentine, however, would not let him rest, 
 for taking advantage of an unusually silent 
 moment, he introduced under the table at 
 which he was sitting, an exact imitation of 
 the squeaking of a rat. 
 
 "Hallo!" cried Broadsides, starting up 
 in a moment, and seizing the poker, and in 
 doing so, knocking down the shovel and 
 tongs; " only let me come across you." 
 
 " What's the matter with you now? 11 ex 
 claimed Mr. Bowles. 
 
132 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " Shet the door, shet the door!" cried 
 Broadsides to the widow, who had entered 
 on hearing the rattling of the irons. " Here's 
 a rat a rat!" and the old lady dropped upon 
 a chair and wound her clothes in an instant 
 round her legs as tightly as possible, while 
 Broadsides was anxiously removing every 
 article of furniture in the room, and search- 
 ing in every comer with the poker in his 
 hand. 
 
 " Lor' bless us!" cried the widow, " I 
 didn't know there was a rat in the place,' 
 and another squeak was heard, upon which 
 Mr. Broadsides jumped upon a chair with 
 all the alacrity at his command, which was 
 not very considerable, and looked very 
 fierce. 
 
 The laughter of Mr. Bowles and his red- 
 faced friend at that moment was particular- 
 ly hearty, for they were not afraid of rats! 
 but Mr. Broadsides was, and so was the 
 old lady, who continued to sit in an inter- 
 esting heap. 
 
 " Only let me ccme across him!" cried 
 Broadsides again, and doubtless had a rat 
 at that moment appeared, it would have 
 stood a very fair chance of giving up the 
 ghost, for Mr. Broadsides shook the poker 
 with great desperation, and looked altogether 
 extremely ferocious. 
 
 " Come down from that chair, do, you 
 jolly old fool," cried Mr. Bowles; " as true 
 as life, I shall bust!" and another roar of 
 laughter proceeded from him and his friend, 
 in which Valentine could not help joining. 
 Indeed he laughed so heartly, that all alarm 
 subsided, for as he couldn't squeak for laugh- 
 ing, Broadsides eventually descended from 
 the chair. 
 
 "They're nasty things are rats," said 
 he, " particular nasty things. I can't abear 
 'em," and he began to give an account of 
 the ferocious characteristics of those little 
 animals, describing the different species and 
 the different parts at which each of those 
 different species took it into their heads to 
 fly; and while he was drawing the line be- 
 tween the grey rat and the black rat, the old 
 lady still holding her clothes down very 
 tightly, managed to rush, with great pre- 
 sence of mind, from the room. 
 
 Mr. Bowles and his friend, however, con- 
 tinued to laugh, and as the squeaking had 
 ceased, Mr. Broadsides laughed too, while 
 Valentine, who then had a stitch in his 
 side, slipped away in a dreadful state of 
 muscular excitement. 
 
 The very moment he got out of the place, 
 he met one of the red-faced friends of Mr. 
 Bowles, walking between two gaudily 
 dressed ladies, one of whom was remarka- 
 bly short and fat, while the other was re- 
 markable only for her decided skeletonian 
 
 characteristics. To these ladies Valentine 
 was formally introduced; the short fat lady, 
 as the wife of the red-faced gentleman, and 
 the tall thin lady, as Miss Amelia Spinks. 
 
 " We are going to have a dance," said 
 the red-faced gentleman, "will you join us!" 
 
 " With pleasure," replied Valentine, 
 looking into the little laughing eyes of the 
 short fat lady, who mechanically drew her 
 arm from that of her husband, and Valen- 
 tine as mechanically offered her his. 
 
 Thus paired, though by no means matched, 
 they proceeded across the lawn, and having 
 reached the dancing booth, they paid the 
 admission fee, and entered. 
 
 The place was dreadfully hot, as were 
 indeed all who were in it, for they not only 
 danced with all their souls, and with all 
 their strength, but, in consequence of the 
 place being so crowded, they bumped up 
 against each other's bustles at every turn, 
 while the professional gentlemen in a sort 
 of box were scraping and blowing away, 
 like North Britons. 
 
 Valentine solicited the hand of the short 
 far lady for the next set. 
 
 "Oh dear," said that lady, "I'm so 
 werry horkard; but is it to be a country 
 dance 1 ?" 
 
 Valentine hoped not, from his soul, under 
 the circumstances, and was gratified to learn 
 that country dances were there repudiated, 
 as vulgar. He, however, ascertained that 
 they were going to have a Spanish dance, 
 which certainly was the next best thing; 
 and, having communicated that interesting 
 fact to the lady in question, he prevailed 
 upon her eventually to stand up. 
 
 The gentlemen now clapped their hands 
 with due energy, with the view of intimat- 
 ing to the musicians, who were sweating 
 like bullocks, that they were perfectly pre- 
 pared to start off, and after a time those 
 professional individuals did consent to sound 
 the note of preparation. 
 
 Now in order that all might be in motion 
 together, every third couple were expected 
 to lead off, and as Valentine and his partner 
 happened to form a third couple, they of 
 course changed sides, and the dance com- 
 menced. 
 
 i4 1 do hope," said she, when they had 
 got to the bottom, " that we shall have to 
 jo all the way down agfain, it is beautiful." 
 Hut unfortunately for her the music ceased 
 the next moment, and the dance was at an 
 end. And then, oh! how she did run on! 
 Nothing was ever half so lovely, out* quar- 
 ter so nice, or one hundred and fiftiiuli part 
 so delightful as that Spanish dance. Sh< 
 was sure there never was such an elegant 
 dancer in this world as Valentine, and she 
 did sincerely hope to have the pleasure of 
 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 133 
 
 seeing him often at "the Mountain and 
 Mutton Chops." 
 
 And Valentine was very happy; and the 
 red-faced gentleman was very happy; and 
 they were all very happy, and laughed 
 very merrily, and perspired very freely. 
 
 " Come," said the red-faced gentleman, 
 holding forth a glass of hot brandy-and- 
 water. " Drink, sir: I'm happy to know 
 you as the friend of Mr. Broadsides, and 
 you're worthy of being the friend, sir, of 
 any man drink!" 
 
 Valentine sipped. He fancied that hot 
 brandy-and-water would not be exactly the 
 thing after the work he had had to perform, 
 and therefore went for some ices and sun- 
 dry bottles of lemonade for himself and the 
 ladies, who, during his absence, were lost 
 in admiration of his pleasing companionable 
 qualities, which certainly were very con- 
 spicuous. 
 
 The next dance was called the Caledo- 
 nians! " Now," thought Valentine, " I am 
 in for it beautifully." 
 
 " I shall have you again for a partner," 
 said he, " of course 1 ? 1 ' 
 
 " Oh, dear rne, yes, I shall be so happy," 
 cried the little fat lady, starting up, " but 
 you must teach me, you know; and then I 
 don't mind." Nor did she. Had it been 
 a minuet or even a hornpipe, it would have 
 not been of the slightest possible importance 
 to her then, so loug indeed as Valentine 
 consented to instruct her. 
 
 The music commenced. " Hands across, 
 back again to places," cried a person who 
 officiated as master of the ceremonies in a 
 a voice so peculiar that Valentine fancied 
 that he might as well imitate it as not. The 
 first figure was accomplished; and the little 
 fat lady who would not stir an inch without 
 being led by Valentine, went through it 
 very well; but just as they were commenc- 
 ing the second, Valentine assuming the 
 voice of the M. C. cried, "Uete!" and 
 those who happened to hear him, began to 
 do ISete in defiance of the master of the 
 ceremonies, who shouted, " no, no! Cale- 
 donians! not the first set!" 
 
 The error, after some slight confusion, 
 was rectified, and they went on advancing, 
 and retiring very properly; but when they 
 arrived at the " promenade" Valentine cried, 
 " chassez croisez!" and those who obeyed, 
 met those who were promenading with 
 great euergy of mind, well knowing that 
 they were right, and so violent was the 
 contact, that in a moment at least fifty 
 couples were on the ground! The promen- 
 aders had the worst of it decidedly, for they 
 galloped round at such a rapid rate, that 
 when one couple fell in a set, the others 
 rolled over them, as a purely natural matter 
 
 of course. The confusion for a time was 
 unparalleled, and the laughter which suc- 
 ceeded amounted to a roar, but Valentine 
 gallantly saved his little partner; for, sus- 
 pecting what was about to occur, he seized 
 her by the waist, and he drew her at once 
 into the centre, where he stood viewing the 
 tumult he had thas reprehensibly induced 
 with feelings of intense satisfaction. 
 
 Of course the fallen parties were not long 
 before they scrambled up again, and when 
 they had risen, the brushing on the part of 
 the gentlemen, and the blushing on the part 
 of the ladies, were altogether unexampled, 
 while the musicians, whose eyes were firm- 
 ly fixed upon the notes, worked away as if 
 nothinor had happened, until they had com- 
 pleted l;he tune. 
 
 " Why did you call chassez croisez?" 
 shouted several of the gentlemen, in tones 
 of reproach. " We were all right enough 
 until you interfered." 
 
 The master of the ceremonies assured 
 those gentlemen, individually and collect- 
 ively, that he did not call out " chassez- 
 croisez" at all, and that somebody else did. 
 
 Valentine now thought that it would be 
 a pity to disturb the clear current of their 
 enjoyment again. He, therefore, permitted 
 them, without interruption, to go through 
 the various figures prescribed, and made the 
 fat little lady perform so much to her own 
 satisfaction, and that of her husband who 
 appeared to be exceedingly fond of his little 
 wife that at the conclusion, their pleasure 
 knew no bounds. 
 
 Every dance after that, she stood up for, 
 and she and her husband appeared to be so 
 grateful to Valentine, and made him feel so 
 conscious that the highest possible pleasure 
 is involved in the act of imparting pleasure 
 to others, that he really felt happy in giving 
 her instructions, although she did work him 
 most cruelly. Indeed, so much did he en- 
 joy himself, that he continued in the booth 
 until the band struck up the national an- 
 them, whem finding that it was past ten 
 o'clock, he took his leave, and went to look 
 after Broadsides. 
 
 That gentleman, he ascertained, after 
 having searched for him in all directions 
 but the right one, had started ten minutes 
 before with Mr. Bowles. He therefore 
 immediately left the gay scene, and having 
 found that every vehicle about the place 
 had been previously engaged, he set off on 
 foot towards town. He had not proceeded 
 far, however, before he arrived at a spot, on 
 one side of which was an open field, and on 
 the other a row of houses, which stood 
 back some distance from the road. All was 
 silent, and dark: it appeared so especially 
 to him, having just left the glitter and noise 
 
134 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 of the fair. He, however, walked on pretty 
 briskly; but just as he had reached the ter- 
 mination of this field, two fellows stood 
 immediately before him. He could see 
 them but indistinctly, but he heard them 
 with remarkable distinctness cry, " stand! 
 your money, or your life!" 
 
 " Oh, oh!" muttered Valentine, " that's 
 the game, is it!" and he drew himself back 
 with the view of striking out with freedom, 
 but the fellows, as if conscious of his ob- 
 ject, seized him in an instant, and one of 
 them holding to his head something, he 
 couldn't tell whether it was the muzzle of 
 a pistol, or the end of a bludgeon, nor did 
 he much care, cried " out with it! quick! 
 and your watch!" 
 
 Valentine did not like to part with his 
 watch; nor was he very anxious to part with 
 his money: he, therefore, finding the rascals 
 particularly impatient, and by no means 
 disposed to wait until he had consulted a 
 friend shouted, throwing his voice behind 
 him "here they are! here are the scoun- 
 drels! secure them!" 
 
 The fellows, on the instant, relinquished 
 their hold, and turned round with unspeak- 
 able velocity; and just as the last man was 
 darting away, Valentine presented him 
 with a souvenir, in perfect similitude of a 
 kick, and proceeded towards home without 
 further molestation. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 IN WHICH VALENTINE VISITS THE LONDON DOCKS, AND MOST REPREHENSIBLY INDUCES A 
 
 WICKED WASTE OF WINE. 
 
 As a matter of Christian courtesy, Valen- 
 tine called upon Broadsides the following 
 morning, and found that gentleman under- 
 going the connubial operation of having his 
 ears pierced painfully by the amiable Mrs. 
 Broadsides, in consequence of his having 
 returned from the Fancy Fair, in her judg- 
 ment, a little too affectionate and merry. 
 The very moment, however. Valentine pass- 
 ed the bar-window. Broadsides felt some- 
 what relieved, seeing that, strange as it 
 may appear, he had been waiting all the 
 morning for the entrance of some friend, 
 whose presence might cause his lady's 
 tongue to sound sowewhat less harshly. 
 He, therefore, on the instant started up, and 
 having grasped the hand of Valentine, ob- 
 served that he really was a very pretty fel- 
 low, for running away the previous evening; 
 and, having made this truly remarkable ob- 
 servation, he caused him at once to sit down 
 in the bar, and slapped his thigh with all 
 the force of which he was capable, and 
 wished, very particularly, to know how he 
 felt himself then. 
 
 " Why, he's not like somebody I know," 
 observed the highly sarcastic Mrs. Broad- 
 sides, volunteering an answer to the ques- 
 tion proposed. " He can go out and have 
 a day's pleasure without making a beast of 
 himself, and that's more than some people 
 can do." And she looked very spitefully 
 at Mr. Broadsides, and bottled some bitters, 
 and, having driven the cork against the 
 edge of the bar very violently, began to 
 darn up an extraordinary hole in Mr. Broad- 
 sides' speckled worsted stockings. 
 
 "Why," said Valentine, addressing Mr. 
 Broadsides, " you were all right when you 
 came home, were you not?" 
 
 " Right, sir!" cried the lady, " he never 
 is right. Go where he may, and when he 
 may, he always comes home like a beast. 
 It's wonderful to me it really is wonderful, 
 that men can't go out without drinking and 
 swilling, and guttling to such an extent, as 
 to make themselves stupid. What pleasure 
 what comfort what enjoyment can there 
 be in it? That's what I want to know! 
 We can go out, and be pleasant and happy, 
 and come home without getting tipsy: but 
 you! there, if I wouldn't have every man 
 who gets in that state, kept on brown bread 
 and water for a month I'm not here! What, 
 if I were to go out, and come home like 
 you, reeling!" 
 
 " Oh, that would be a werry different 
 thing," observed Broadsides. 
 
 " Not at all! Don't tell me! We have 
 just as much right to get tipsy as you have. 
 It's just as bad for one as for the other, and 
 no worse. If a woman gets tipsy, she's 
 everything that's dreadful. Oh ! nothing's 
 too bad for her: it's then the fore-runner of 
 all sorts of wickedness. But a man! he 
 has only to get sober again, and nothing 
 more is said or thought about the matter. 
 I say, that like many other things, it's as 
 bad for the man as for the woman, only the 
 mischief of it is, it isn't thought so, that's 
 all." 
 
 During the rapid delivery of these inte- 
 resting observations, Mr. nnr.nlsi.li-s was 
 scratching his whiskers, and fidgeting, and 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 135 
 
 winking, and nodding towards the door, 
 with the view to inspiring 1 Valentine with 
 the conviction, that by leaving the bar, 
 their mutual comfort would, in all proba- 
 bility, be very materially enhanced. It was 
 some time, however, before he was able to 
 make these peculiarly cabalistic signs un- 
 derstood; but he was at length successful, 
 and Valentine; acting upon the natural sug- 
 gestion, directed a pint of wine to be sent 
 into the coffee-room, and invited Mr. Broad- 
 sides to join him. 
 
 " You had better stay here," said the 
 lady, addressing Valentine, " I don't allow 
 every one to be in the bar, but I don't mind 
 you; and it shall be more comfortable here 
 than in that cold room: it has just been 
 scoured out and is still very damp." 
 
 Valentine apparently felt flattered. He 
 had not the smallest objection to remain; 
 but Broadsides most certainly had, and 
 this was no sooner perceived by his lady, 
 than she inquired, with bitter earnestness, 
 whether he had any particular wish to have 
 another fit of the gout 1 This affectionate 
 interrogatory settled the business. They 
 remained in the bar, and Valentine, with 
 appropriate solemnity, inquired if Broad- 
 sides were really very bad when he re- 
 turned. 
 
 " As sober as a judge, sir!" replied that 
 gentleman. 
 
 "Good gracious!" exclaimed the lady, 
 as Broadsides left the bar to look after a 
 boiled chicken. " How can you say that, 
 when you know that you were as tipsy as 
 tipsy could be?" 
 
 " Well," cried Valentine, throwing his 
 voice immediately behind Mrs. Broadsides, 
 "that's a good one." 
 
 " The lady, on the instant, wheeled round, 
 expecting, of course, to see some person 
 there; but, as this expectation was by no 
 means realised, she felt, in some slight 
 degree, alarmed, and looked very myste- 
 rious, and then turned to Valentine, of 
 whom she inquired if he had heard that 
 extraordinary remark. 
 
 Valentine, who seemed to be reading 
 most intently, took no apparent notice of 
 this natural question, but added, with his 
 eyes still fixed upon the paper " I intend- 
 ed it for you. It could reach no farther. 
 Why, I ask, are you a scold 1 ?" 
 
 The tones in which this observation was 
 made, bore, in the judgment of Mrs. Broad- 
 sides, some resemblance to those of the 
 voice of the waiter, who happened to be 
 standing a shortdistance from the bar, count- 
 ing his money again and again, scratching 
 his head with great violence, and endeavor- 
 ing to recollect whether two very hungry in- 
 dividaals, who had consumed nine chops and 
 
 six kidneys the previous night had, in 
 reality paid him or not. 
 
 " What's that you say, sir 1 ?" inquired 
 the lady, with a sharpness which quite 
 confused all his calculations. 
 
 " Me, mum!" cried the waiter, turning 
 round with great velocity, " Jdid'nt speak, 
 mum." 
 
 " You did speak! I heard you, sir! Let 
 me have no more of your impertinence, I 
 beg." 
 
 The waiter felt confused. He couldn't 
 understand it! He twisted his napkin and 
 swung it under his arm with great energy 
 of mind; but he could not unravel the mys- 
 tery at all. He did, however, eventually 
 venture to observe that, upon his soul, he 
 had never opened his lips. 
 
 " How dare you," cried the lady, " tell 
 me that wicked falsehood, when I heard 
 you as plain as " 
 
 " No! you heard me, mum!" cried Val- 
 entine, throwing his voice with reprehensi- 
 ble dexterity into the mouth of the waiter. 
 
 " Don't I say so!" continued the lady, 
 " I know it was you, and yet you have the 
 impudence to tell me to my face, that upon 
 your soul you didn't open your lips!" 
 
 " No more I did! 'twasn't me!" cried the 
 waiter, whose blood really began to bubble 
 up. 
 
 " If it wasn't you, who was it then, sir] 
 That is what / want to know!" cried the 
 lady; but the waiter couldn't tell her. He 
 looked extremely puzzled, and so did his 
 mistress, who at length began to believe 
 that it couldn't have been him, and while, 
 with their mouths wide open, they were 
 giving each other a lingering look, which 
 plainly signified that it must have been 
 some one; Valentine who seemed to be 
 still intent upon the paper, cried in a deep 
 hollow voice, w r hich appeared to recede 
 gradually " Farewell! treat him better. 
 He's kind to you: be kind to him!" " 
 
 Now, whether the tender conscience of 
 the lady was pierced by these pointed re- 
 marks: whether she felt it impossible to 
 treat Broadsides better, or was anxious to 
 keep him in a blissful state of ignorance of 
 better treatment, having thus been enjoined, 
 a liberal and highly enlightened public 
 will in all probability be able to guess, on 
 being informed that not a syllable having 
 reference to the mystery was breathed 
 when Mr. Broadsides returned to the bar. 
 It was, however, easy to perceive that an 
 impression had been made upon the mind 
 of the lady, for albeit she appeared to be 
 thoughtful and gloomy, her tone was con- 
 siderably changed, when in reply to Mr. 
 Broadsides' inquiry, as to whether she in- 
 tended to go with the girls to the fair, she 
 
136 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 snid "Well, dear, I don't much care ifl 
 do." 
 
 " That's right, my good girl!" exclaimed 
 Broadsides, absolutely electrified. 4k I love 
 the old woman when she's pleasant and 
 happy!" and he rewarded her at once with 
 a smacking kiss, which might have been 
 heard in the midst of a storm. 
 
 44 But," said the lady, "how long shall 
 yon he gone]" 
 
 44 Oh, not above a couple of hours: but 
 don't wait for me; run away now and make 
 yourself tidy, and go off at once. I'll 
 make it all right before I leave. I'm 
 going down to the docks," he continued, 
 addressing Valentine. 44 You never were 
 there I suppose? What say you] you 
 may just as well run down with me." 
 
 Valentine consented; Mrs. Broadsides 
 left the bar; and the waiter, who had evi- 
 dently not got quite over it, brought in the 
 Iray. 
 
 44 That's the best wife in the world," ob- 
 served Broadsides, "that of mine. It is 
 true, there ain't none on us perfect, but if 
 she could but get over that temper of hern, 
 sir, she'd be perfection, and not a ha'portli 
 less." 
 
 44 But you were of course tipsy last even- 
 ing 1 ?" said Valentine. 
 
 44 Why as to the matter of that, perhaps 
 I was, you see. a little bit sprung, I don't 
 deny it; I might have been a small matter 
 so, but, lor? that makes no odds in the 
 least. I've been married now two-and- 
 twenty year, and I don't suppose that during 
 that period of time I ever came home drunk, 
 or sober, without being, according to the 
 old woman's reckoning, a beast. But lor! 
 practice makes perfect, and use is second 
 natur. She has done it so long, that she 
 has brought the thing at last to such per- 
 fection, that I railly shouldn't feel myself 
 quite at home without it. But she's a 
 werry good sort: and you know there's 
 always something; and the best thing a 
 man can do, is not to look at either the 
 dark or the bright side alone, but to mix 
 'em up together, and see then what sort of 
 a color they produce. They say that white 
 is the union of all colors, and depend upon 
 it woman is the same. They're in the 
 lamp, the union of all that's good and bad; 
 yet the mixtur you see is so particular 
 pretty, that we can't get on at all without 
 loving 'em, no how." 
 
 Valentine agreed with this practical phi- 
 losophy, and in due course of time, which 
 was not inconsiderable, Mrs. Broadsides 
 descended full-dressed not indeed in ;m 
 aristocratic sense, for in that sense the 
 term 44 full-dressed" may signify, when in- 
 terpreted, the state of being nearly half 
 
 naked; but in a really legitimate sense full- 
 dressed, swelled out to an enormous extent 
 at every point; and as she was an extremely 
 stout lady, and rather tall for her age, which 
 fluctuated at that interesting period of her 
 existence, between forty-five and sixty, her 
 tout ensemble was particularly fascinating 
 a fact of which she appeared to be by no 
 means unconscious. She sported, on the 
 occasion, a lilac satin dress, with four full 
 twelve-inch flounces, which were delicately 
 edged with crimson fringe, a yellow velvet 
 shawl, striped with crimson, to match the 
 fringe of the flounces, and trimmed with 
 bright emerald bullion; a pink-and-blue 
 bonnet of extraordinary dimensions, with a 
 bouquet of variegated artificials on one side, 
 and a white ostrich plume tipped with scar- 
 let on the other; and a long white veil, 
 sweetly flowered all over, and so arranged 
 as to form a sort of festooned curtain, which 
 hung about six inches over the front. Nor 
 will it be improper to speak of the jewellery, 
 with which certain points of her person 
 were adorned, for she had on a pair of really 
 Brobdignagian ear-drops studded with Lil- 
 liputian spangles, an elegant mother o'pearl 
 necklace with a cross attached in front; a 
 massive gold chain, which hung completely 
 over her shoulders, and which communica- 
 ted with an immense gold chronometer on 
 one side of her waist, and on the other to 
 an extraordinary bunch of about a dozen 
 seals of all sorts and sizes; an eye-glass 
 attached to a chain made of hair, which 
 enabled it to hang down in front quite as 
 low as her knees; an average of three rings 
 on each particular finger of each particular 
 hand, and a scent bottle adorned with a 
 chased gold top, which peeped for a breath 
 of air just out of her heaving bosom. Thus 
 equipped, she had a small glass of brandy- 
 and-water warm, and when the two young 
 ladies had pronounced themselves ready, 
 Valentine submitted a glass of wine to each, 
 and then handed them elegantly into a de- 
 cent hackney coach, the driver of which 
 had engaged to take them there and bring 
 them back for twelve shillings and two 
 drops of something to drink. 
 
 44 Now," said Mr. Broadsides, the mo- 
 ment they had started " we'll be off," and 
 after having given certain instructions to 
 his servants, he and Valentine walked to 
 the stand, and got into a low sedan-chair 
 sort of a cab, which, as Broadsides very 
 justly observed, might have been kicked 
 into very little bits if the horse had felt dis- 
 posed to be handy with his hind legs. 
 They sat, however, in the most perfect 
 safety, for they happened to be behind one 
 of those poor devoted animals which have 
 not more than half a kick in them, albeit in 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 137 
 
 the space of half an hour he brought them 
 to the entrance of the London Docks. 
 
 " Well, here we are," said Broadsides, as 
 they passed through the gates, at which cer- 
 tain official individuals were looking with pe- 
 culiar suspicion at every person who passed 
 out. "Them are the sarchers which sarch all 
 the laborers afore they go home, which I 
 don't like the principle of, 'cause it is treat- 
 ing them all just as if they was thieves." 
 
 "And I suppose by that means they are 
 kept honest 1 ?" observed Valentine. 
 
 " Why I des-say it keeps a good many 
 from stealing; but that's altogether a dif- 
 ferent thing you know from keeping 'em 
 honest. Honesty's honesty all over the 
 world. If a man has the inclination to 
 steal, he ain't a ha'porth the honester 'cause 
 he can't do it. That's my sentiments." 
 
 " I suppose that, notwithstanding, there 
 is a great deal of smuggling going for- 
 ward!" 
 
 " 1 believe you! The men does a pretty 
 goodish bit in that way; but the women 
 are by far the most reglarest devils, 'cause, 
 you see, them at the gate can't so easily 
 detect 'em. They wind long bladders, 
 filled with spirits, round their bodies to 
 such an extent you'd be surprised. But 
 they can't smug quite so much away at a 
 time now, 'cause in consequence you see 
 of the alteration of the fashion. But when 
 the balloon sleeves and werry large bustles 
 were in wogue, they could manage to walk 
 away gallons at a time." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Valentine, "but how?" 
 
 " Why, you see, independent of the blad- 
 ders which they wound werry comfortably 
 round 'em, they could stow away nearly 
 half a gallon in each sleeve, for as them 
 sort of sleeves required something to make 
 'em stand out, they werry natterally fancied 
 that they might just as well have the bul- 
 gers blown out with rum and brandy as 
 with air, so all they had to do was to strap 
 their little water-proofs carefully round 
 their arms, and their sleeves look as fash- 
 ionable as life; and then, as for their bus- 
 tles, why that you know, of course, was 
 werry easily managed, for they had but to 
 tie their big bulgers with different compart- 
 ments round their waists, and they could 
 stow away a gallon of stuff any hour in the 
 day, and then walk through the gates with 
 it hanging on behind, just as natteral as 
 clock-work." 
 
 Valentine smiled; but Broadsides laughed 
 so loudly at the idea, that his progress was 
 for a very considerable time impeded. He 
 did, however, after having blown out his 
 cheeks with great vehemence to check the 
 current of his mirth, succeed in regaining 
 the power to waddle onwards. " There," 
 13 
 
 said he, stopping at the window of one of 
 the little shops which are let to certain 
 merchants who deal in ship's stores, and 
 directing the attention of Valentine to a row 
 of little canisters, labelled "Roast Beef," 
 " Beef and Vegetables," &c., " That there's 
 the stuff to make your hair curl! That's 
 the sort of tackle to take out on a long 
 woyage! There's a pound on it smashed 
 into about a square inch. Of course the 
 merest mite on it will fill a man's belly. 
 He can't starve any how, so long as he's 
 got a quarter of an inch of that in him. But 
 come, we must keep on moving, you know, 
 or we sha'nt get half over the business to- 
 day." 
 
 " Are those empty 1 ?" inquired Valentine 
 pointing to several hundred casks which 
 were lying to the left of the entrance. 
 
 " Empty! Full of wine, sir full, sir, 
 every man jack on 'em. But lor! that's 
 nothing to what you'll see below. Why 
 they've got in the wault about a hundred 
 thousand pipes; and the rent, if we awerage 
 'em at five and twenty shillings a- year a- 
 piece, will be something like a hundred 
 and twenty -five thousand pounds, while the 
 walue, if we take 'em all round at five and 
 forty pound a pipe, will be nearly five mil- 
 lion of money! five millions, sir! What 
 do you think of that 1 ?" 
 
 Valentine thought it enormous, and said 
 so; and Broadsides expressed his opinion, 
 that England could never be conquered, so 
 long as she possessed such an immense 
 stock of wine. " What," said he, "has 
 made the British nation so glorious? What 
 has made our generals and admirals so wic- 
 toriousT Wine, sir, wine, and nothing but 
 wine! Wine, sir! as sound as a nut. 
 That's my sentiments;" and the eloquence 
 with which those sentiments were delivered, 
 threw him into such a state of perspiration, 
 that he stood at the entrance of the vault 
 for some considerable time with his hat off, 
 in order to wipe himself dry. 
 
 " Lights!" shouted a man, as they even- 
 tually descended; and two very oily indi- 
 viduals fired the wicks of two circular 
 lamps, which were stuck upon sticks above 
 two feet long; one of which it was the cus- 
 tom to give to each person to carry in his 
 hand round the vault. Broadsides then 
 drew forth some papers, and having arranged 
 them to his own satisfaction and that of the 
 clerk in attendance, a cooper was called, 
 who conducted them at once into the far- 
 famed place which contained, according to 
 Broadsides, a hundred thousand pipes of 
 of the essence of Great Britain's glory. 
 
 Valentine was for some time unable to 
 see any thing distinctly, but the lamps, 
 which were stationed in various parts of the 
 
138 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 vault, and which burned very dull and 
 very red; but Broadsides who had long 
 been accustomed to the place, was not 
 nearly so much affected by the gloom. " I 
 say," said he, holding up the lamp he had 
 in his hand, "only look at the fungus!" 
 and Valentine saw, suspended from the 
 arches, huge masses of cobweb, which had 
 the appearance of fine black wool. Some 
 of these cobwebs were hanging in festoons 
 from point to point, about as thick as a 
 man's leg, while others hung in bunches 
 about the size of a man's body, and formed 
 altogether an extraordinary mass of matter, 
 which certain learned members of the Brit- 
 ish Association would do well to examine 
 with appropriate minuteness, with the 
 praiseworthy view of reporting thereon at 
 the next merry meeting. 
 
 " How much of this rail is there down 
 in the waultT' inquired Broadsides, of the 
 cooper, as he pointed to the iron plates 
 which were planted along the middle of 
 each avenue, for the purpose of rolling the 
 casks with facility. 
 
 " Nine-and-twenty mile," replied the 
 cooper. 
 
 "Twenty-nine miles!" cried Valentine 
 in amazement. 
 
 " Nine-and-twenty mile, sir; and I'll be 
 bound to say there ain't a foot over or under. 
 Here we shall find them," he continued on 
 reaching the arch under which were some 
 of the wines that Mr. Broadsides wished to 
 taste; and while the cooper was looking for 
 the particular casks, Broadsides called the 
 attention of Valentine to one of the venti- 
 lators. "There's a glorious battle!" said 
 he; "did you ever behold such a shindy? 
 It's the foul air fighting with the fresh. 
 One you see wants to come in, and the other 
 one wants to get out; neither on 'em seems 
 inclined to wait for the other, and thus they 
 go on continally at it in that state of mind, 
 you see, world without end." 
 
 "This is No. 1," said the cooper, at this 
 moment bringing an ale-glass full of wine. 
 
 Broadsides took the glass by its foot, and 
 held it up to the light, and then shook it a 
 little, and spilt about half, and then smelt 
 it, and turned up his nose, and then tasted 
 it, and spurted it out again, and having 
 made up an extraordinary face, he proceeded 
 to blow out his cheeks to an extent which 
 made it appear that he might at that time 
 have had in his mouth a remarkable couple 
 of overgrown codlings. "That won't do 
 at no price," said he, after a time, "just 
 walk into Six," and a glass of No. C, was 
 accordingly drawn, and when he had shaken 
 it and smelt it, and tasted it as before, he 
 pronounced the whole lot to be " pison." 
 
 " I suppose," observed Valentine, while 
 
 Broadsides was occupied in bringing his 
 mouth into shape, "that you frequently 
 make persons tipsy down here 1 ?" 
 
 "They frequently make theirselves tipsy," 
 replied the cooper, " when they come down 
 to look and not to buy, you know to swill 
 and not to taste. There was yesterday, 
 for instance, three young bloods came in 
 with an order to taste five and twenty quarter 
 casks, and sure enough they did taste 'em. 
 They made me tap every cask, and swallow- 
 ed every glass that I drawed, and when I'd 
 gone right clean through 'em, they tried to 
 overpersuads me to begin the lot again at 
 the beginning. Now, there ain't above four 
 of these 'ere to a pint, so they couldn't 
 have taken in less than three bottles a-piece. 
 I warned 'em of the consequence, for I saw 
 they knew nothing at all about it, but the 
 fact was, they came for a swill, and a swill 
 they most certainly had. They didn't, 
 however, feel it any great deal down here, 
 but pre-haps they didn't when they got out! 
 I knew how it'd be, so I went up the steps 
 just to watch them, and lor! directly they 
 smelt the fresh air, and saw the light of the 
 blessed heaven, they all began to reel just 
 like so many devils. I thought that bang 
 into the dock go they must, and if they'd 
 only seen the water, in of course they 
 would have soused, for they ran right bust 
 against everything they tried to avoid." 
 
 "Then persons don't feel it much while 
 they are down here!" observed Valentine. 
 
 "No," replied the cooper, "very seldom 
 unless they happen to have had a glass of 
 ale before they come down, and then they 
 just do if they drink at all any ways freely. 
 The other day, now, a lushington of this 
 kind came in with two others, and I attend- 
 ed 'em; and when they had tasted, and 
 tasted, and tasted until I thought they'd all 
 drop down dead drunk together, this gent 
 slipped away, and his friends very natterly 
 fancied that, finding his stomach a little out 
 of order, he'd started off home, and as I 
 couldn't see him no where about, why I 
 natterly fancied so too; but the next morn- 
 ing just as I went into No. 5, north, for a 
 sample, who should I see, but this identical 
 indiwidual sitting in the sawdust with his 
 head upon a pipe as comfortable as a biddy, 
 and snoring away like a trooper. I woke 
 him of course, and he got up as fresh as a 
 daisy; but in order to avoid all row, you 
 see, I made him keep behind till a party 
 came in, and he slipped out with them 
 without any body knowing a bit about the 
 matter." 
 
 " I presume you don't drink much your- 
 selves]" observed Valentine. 
 
 " Why, that, you see, depends upon cir- 
 cumstances. The old hands don't: the 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 139 
 
 smell's enough for them; but the new and 
 werry green uns are contini/y sucking like 
 infants. It's a long time before sich as 
 them can be weaned. It was only the 
 Saturday night before last, that one of this 
 sort got locked down. We didn't know a 
 word about the matter, and the vault wasn't 
 of course going to be opened again before 
 Monday; but he got pretty sober in the 
 course of Sunday morning, and after having 
 spent a few happy hours at the grating, he 
 gave wiew holler to one of the outside 
 watchmen, who sent for the key, and got 
 him out very quietly. But it cured him. 
 I don't believe he has had so much as a suck 
 since then." 
 
 "Well, come," said Broadsides, "now 
 I am here, let's see how my extra-particular 
 get's on." 
 
 This happened to be under the opposite 
 arch, and while the cooper was in it with 
 Broadsides, Valentine, who was looking 
 very intently at some cobwebs, perceived a 
 tall dark figure march past him in a manner 
 which struck him as being extremely mys- 
 terious. He was angry, very angry with 
 himself for being startled, although he 
 couldn't help it; and after having reproached 
 himself severely in consequence, he walked 
 to the opposite arch. "A tall person pass- 
 ed just now," said he to the cooper. " Who 
 was it!" 
 
 " One of the watchmen. They walk in 
 and out in the dark to see that no indiwidual 
 pays twice. There's lots on 'em about. 
 You'll see him again by'n bye." 
 
 "Very well," thought Valentine, "if I 
 do, I'll startle him," and while the cooper 
 was broaching the extra-particular, he look- 
 ed round the vault with an anxious eye. 
 
 "Now then," said Broadsides, handing 
 him a glass, "just tell me now what you 
 think of that." 
 
 Valentine tasted, and found it so splendid, 
 that he almost unconsciously finished the 
 glass. 
 
 "That's something like, ain't it! That's 
 what I call wine! It's as sound as a nut. 
 Let's have another glass," and another 
 glass was drawn, and while Broadsides 
 was smelling it, and shaking it, and 
 spilling it, and tasting it, and spurting it 
 over the saw dust, and making it go 
 through all sorts of manoeuvres, the watch- 
 man passed again. 
 
 " Hush!' 11 cried Valentine throwing his 
 voice among the casks, which were near 
 him. " He's here!" 
 
 The watchman stood perfectly still. He 
 would scarcely allow himself to breathe. 
 He was a man who reflected upon the ima- 
 ginary rehearsal of his actions an ex- 
 tremely cautious man, and his name was 
 
 Job Scroggins. Instead therefore of rush- 
 ing like a fool to the spot, he, with admira- 
 ble tact, held up his hand to enjoin silence, 
 and tried with great optical energy to pierce 
 the extremely dense gloom of the vault. 
 This he found to be impracticable. All 
 was dark, pitch-dark, in the direction from 
 which the voice appeared to proceed. No- 
 thing could be distinguished. Twenty men 
 might have been drinking there unper- 
 ceived. Scroggins therefore having formed 
 his plan of attack, said in a delicate whis- 
 per to the cooper, " If you stand here, we 
 shall nab 'em," and crept very stealthily 
 round to the opposite side of the arch. 
 
 Now this was precisely what Valentine 
 wanted. He wished but to excite the sus- 
 picion of the watchman that persons were 
 having a clandestine treat, to enable him to 
 keep up the game. Job Scroggins had 
 therefore no sooner got round than Valen- 
 tine sent a faint whisper very near him, the 
 purport of which was that Harry was a fool 
 not to get behind the casks. 
 
 " Hallo!" shouted Scroggins in a voice 
 of thunder, on hearing the faint expression 
 of that affectionate sentiment. 
 
 " Get behind! get behind!" cried Valen- 
 tine, " we shall be caught!" 
 
 " Hallo!" again shouted Job Scroggins 
 with all the energy at his command. 
 " What are you about there! D'ye hear!" 
 
 " Hush!" said Valentine, " hush! not a 
 word." 
 
 " I hear you, my rum 'uns! Come out 
 of that, will you! Here, Jones!" 
 
 " Hallo!" shouted Jones. " What d'ye 
 want!" 
 
 " Come here!" cried Scroggins. " Here, 
 quick! No. 9! WV11 nab you, my lush- 
 ingtons! we'll find you out!" and he tore 
 away a stout piece of scantling, while 
 Broadsides handed the glass of wine to 
 Valentine, and tucked up his sleeves to 
 assist in the caption. 
 
 " Now then," cried Jones, who had been 
 engaged in the fortification of two pipes of 
 port, and whose nose glowed with ineffec- 
 tual fire. " What's the row!" 
 
 " Here's a lot of fellows here," replied 
 Scroggins, " swilling away at the wine like 
 devils." 
 
 " Where?" cried the fiery-nosed cooper 
 with extraordinary fierceness. 
 
 " Here!" shouted Scroggins. " Lights! 
 lights!" 
 
 " What's the matter! Hallo!" cried two 
 voices in the distance. 
 
 " Here! Nine! Lights! lights!" reiterated 
 Scroggins, who appeared to be in a dreadful 
 state of excitement just then. 
 
 " All safe now. Lie still," said Valen- 
 tine throwing his voice behind a lot of 
 
140 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 quarter casks which stood to the left of Job 
 Scroggins. 
 
 " Ah, you're safe enough!" exclaimed 
 Job, in a tone of bitter irony. " Pray don't 
 alarm your blessed selves! you're quite safe 
 to be nabbed in less than no time. Now 
 then there look alive now, quick!" he 
 continued, as two additional coopr-rs ap- 
 proached the spot with lights. " If you 
 get away now, my fine fellows, why, may 
 I be blowed. There, you go behind there, 
 and you stand here, and you keep a sharp 
 look out there. Now then, if they escape, 
 we'll forgive 'em!" 
 
 Having stationed the coopers with lamps 
 in their hands at various parts of the arch, 
 Job Scroggins stole gently between two 
 distinct rows of pipes, and Valentine, wish- 
 ing to render all the assistance in his power, 
 preceded him. Just, however, as he reached 
 the darkest part of the arch, he cried, in an 
 assumed voice of course, " Let's drown 
 him," and threw the glass of wine he held 
 in his hand over his head so dexterously, 
 that the whole of it went into the face of 
 Mr. Scroggins, who was looking about 
 behind in a state of anxiety the most intense. 
 
 " Here they are! Here are the thieves!" 
 shouted Scroggins, wiping his wine-washed 
 face with the sleeve of his coat. " Look 
 out there! look out!" and he rushed past 
 "Valentine with great indignation, and peered 
 with considerable fierceness of aspect into 
 every cavity sufficiently large to admit the 
 tail of a consumptive rat. 
 
 *' Hush!" cried Valentine, sending his 
 voice right a-head; and away went Scrog- 
 gins to the spot from which the whisper 
 appeared to proceed, while the coopers were 
 looking about with great eagerness, expect- 
 ing every moment to see the thieves rise. 
 
 " Quiet, Harry! quiet! They'll catch us," 
 whispered Valentine. 
 
 " Catch you!" cried Scroggins, " to be 
 sure we shall!" And he poked his stick 
 with infinite violence between the casks, 
 and rattled it about with consummate des- 
 peration, and looked! as the lamp was be- 
 neath his wine-stained face, it imparted so 
 ghastly a hue to his features, that really he 
 looked like a fiend. 
 
 " Ha! ha! ha! ha!" cried Valentine, mer- 
 rily sending his voice right under the arch 
 adjoining. 
 
 Away went Job Scroggins backed up by 
 the coopers, who struck their shins cleverly 
 against the corner casks, and stmnMnl ovrr 
 the scantling, one after the other with infi- 
 nite presence of mind. 
 
 "Away, away!" shouted Valentino, 
 tli rowing his voice towards the spot thr\ 
 hud just left; and Job Scroggins rushed back 
 with the coopers at his tail, of whom t In- 
 
 whole were inspired with the spirit of ven- 
 geance. 
 
 " Stand there!" shouted Scroggins, * they 
 must pass that way!" and he poked his 
 thick stick between the casks again des- 
 pentely, and flourished it about with unpa- 
 ralleled zeal. 
 
 " It's all up with us, Harry: we're block- 
 ed right in," whispered Valentine despair- 
 ingly. " Forgive us!" he added in a dif- 
 ferent voice, as if Harry had really become 
 very much alarmed " forgive us! we'll do 
 so no more: have mercy!" 
 
 Mercy! If there be in the English lan- 
 guage one word which tends more than 
 another to soften a truly British heart, that 
 word is beyond question, mercy. There is 
 magic in the sound of that soft soothing 
 word. A true Englishman's sympathies 
 swell when it is breathed, and his anger is 
 strangled by that string of benevolence, 
 which he winds with pride round his com- 
 passionate heart. Tears of blood, flow they 
 never so freely, are not more effectual in 
 cutting the throat of vengeance, than the 
 magical sound of this beautiful word, for 
 the moment it strikes on the drum of the 
 ear, the spirit of Ate is kicked from the 
 soul, and benevolence rises great, glorious 
 and free in loveliness, even surpassing it- 
 self. About this it is clear there can't be 
 two opinions; and hence, none can marvel, 
 that when the word reached the soft sensi- 
 tive ear of the true-hearted Scroggins, he 
 should have exclaimed with all the fervor 
 of which he was capable:" mercy! mercy? 
 You don't have a squeak!" 
 
 "Come out!" he continued; "you guz- 
 zling vagabones! mercy indeed! with a 
 hook!'; 
 
 " We have not drank a great deal," said 
 Valentine imploringly. " We haven't in- 
 deed. You shall have it all back if you 
 will but forgive us." 
 
 Scroggins smiled a sardonic smile. 
 
 " This is how the wine goes," said Mr. 
 Broadsides. 
 
 " And then we get's blowed up sky-high 
 for the 'ficiency," added the fiery-nosed 
 cooper. 
 
 " Now then! are you coming out or not!" 
 shouted Scroggins. 
 
 Valentine sent forth a laugh of defiance, 
 which caused the heaving bosom of Scrog- 
 gins to swell with the essence of wrath. 
 Ho might have been somewhat subdued by 
 humility although that was not extremely 
 probable then still ho might by such 
 means have been softened; but when he n- 
 llccti (1 on the monstrous idea of being de- 
 lied! he couldn't stand it! he wouldn't st;m<l 
 it! He flew to the spot from which the 
 laugh had apparently proceeded, and struck 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 141 
 
 the surrounding casks with peculiar indig- 
 nation. 
 
 " Will you come out or not," he exclaim- 
 ed, " before I do you a mischief!" 
 
 "No." shouted Valentine. 
 
 "Then take the sconsequence," cried 
 Scroggins, who looked at that moment re- 
 markably fierce. " Now then," he contin- 
 ued, addressing the coopers, "we'll give 
 'em no quarter: we'll have no more parley: 
 we'll drag 'em out now, neck and eels!"" 
 
 Previously, however, to the effectual ac- 
 complishment of this extremely laudable 
 object, it was obviously and absolutely ne- 
 cessary to find them a remarkable fact, 
 which struck Scroggins and the coopers 
 with such consummate force, that they set 
 to work at once, with the view of effecting 
 this highly important preliminary, and dis- 
 played an amount of zeal, which really did 
 them great credit. 
 
 " They're somewhere about here, I 
 know," observed the fiery-nosed cooper. 
 
 "Oh, we shall find 'em! we'll have 
 'em!" cried Scroggins; " and when we do 
 catch 'em, they'll know it!" 
 
 The highly sarcastic tone in which these 
 words were uttered, was clearly indicative 
 of something very desperate; and as the 
 coopers, who were beginning to get very 
 impatient, were running round the arch 
 with unparalleled -energy, Valentine, unper- 
 ceived, threw the glass he had had in his 
 hand upon a pile of pipes under the gloomy 
 arch opposite, and immediately cried: 
 " there's a fool! now we can't get another 
 drop." 
 
 " Here they are!" shouted Scroggins, on 
 hearing the crash. " Now then, boys! 
 hurrah! we shall nail 'ern!" 
 
 This soul stirring speech put the coopers 
 on their mettle, and they rushed towards 
 the arch with unprecedented spirit; but be- 
 fore they reached the spot in which the bro- 
 ken glass was lying, Valentine who did 
 not exactly comprehend the precise meaning 
 of the words: " now we'll nail 'em," albeit 
 he fancied, that if poor unhappy persons 
 had really been there, they would have 
 stood a fair chance of being mercilessly 
 hammered cried "now let us start: we 
 can get no more wine!" 
 
 "Stop there, you vagabones!" cried 
 Scroggins, vehemently, thinking to frighten 
 them out of their wits. " We are cocksure 
 to catch you, you know! You may just as 
 well give up at once!" 
 
 They had now reached the spot in which 
 the glass lay smashed into a really extra- 
 ordinary number of little pieces. " Here 
 we have hocklar demonstration," he con- 
 tinued: "here's where the vagabones was." 
 
 " Stoop down," whispered Valentine. 
 
 " Come out!" cried Scroggins. " It's o' 
 no use you know; we see you!" An ob- 
 servation which, how laudable soever its 
 object might have been, involved a highly 
 reprehensible falsehood. 
 
 " Now then! crawl gently," whispered 
 Valentine. " Come on!" 
 
 Scroggins leaped over the pipes in an in- 
 stant, and looked round and round with an 
 expression of surprise. 
 
 " Have you got 'em?" inquired the fiery- 
 nosed cooper. 
 
 " Got 'em!" echoed Scroggins, " I ony 
 just wish I had, for their sakes. I 'stablish 
 a trifle or two in their mem'ries to sarve 
 'em for life. I'll warrant they wouldn't 
 forget it a one while." 
 
 Valentine now sent a slight laugh so 
 very near the legs of Mr. Scroggins, that 
 that gentleman spun round with the velocity 
 of a cockchafer, and felt very angry indeed 
 with himself when he reflected that the 
 " Lushingtons" still were at large. " Where 
 can they be crept to!" he cried, in amaze- 
 ment. " They're not a yard from me, and 
 yet why where the " 
 
 " There's no room for two men to hide 
 their bodies here," observed the fiery-nosed 
 cooper. 
 
 "They must be particular small," said 
 Mr. Broadsides. 
 
 " They must be particular active" said 
 Scroggins; and Valentine sent another 
 laugh very near him. 
 
 Job Scroggins looked savage undoubt- 
 edly savage! He shook his red head with 
 extreme desperation, and ground his great 
 teeth with maniacal zeal. " Where can they 
 be hid!" he exclaimed, with great empha- 
 sis. " Blister 'em! Where can the scoun- 
 drels be got to!" 
 
 He paused for a reply, and fixed his eyes 
 upon his companions, and his companions 
 fixed their eyes upon him, while Broadsides 
 scratched his head with his right hand, 
 and rubbed his chin very mysteriously with 
 his left. 
 
 At this interesting moment an intelligent 
 cooper, who had theretofore searched with- 
 out uttering a syllable, ventured to offer a 
 rational suggestion, the purport of which 
 was, that they certainly must be some- 
 where. 
 
 "Somewhere!" cried Scroggins, very an- 
 grily: " We know they must be somewhere; 
 but where is that somewhere! That's the 
 grand pint!" 
 
 The intelligent cooper, who offered this 
 suggestion, was silent, for he saw that Mr. 
 Scroggins looked ready to eat him: and 
 Scroggins was a big man, and had an ex- 
 cessively carnivorous aspect. Silence was, 
 therefore, a species of wisdom, which the 
 13* 
 
142 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 little intelligent cooper displayed, and the 
 search was resumed with increased perse- 
 verance. 
 
 But Valentine himself now became some- 
 what puzzled. He scarcely knew how to 
 proceed. He was anxious to send the invisi- 
 ble " Lushingtons" off with eclat, but the 
 question was, how could he get them away] 
 "While, therefore, the watchman and the 
 coopers were hunting about in all direc- 
 tions, poking their sticks into every kind of 
 cavity, asking themselves all sorts of queer 
 questions, and answering themselves in all 
 sorts of queer ways, he was quietly con- 
 ceiving a design to carry into immediate 
 execution, with the view of thickening the 
 mystery in which they were involved. He 
 had not, however, to puzzle himself long, 
 for, being blessed with an exceedingly vivid 
 imagination, he had but to give it full swing 
 for a time, and a host of ideas would dart 
 across his brain with about the velocity of 
 lightning; and, although it occasionally 
 happened that they rushed in so wildly, and 
 upset each other so wantonly, and caused 
 so much confusion, that he was really com- 
 pelled, in self-defence, to kick them all out 
 together; in this particular instance they 
 entered in the most orderly manner possi- 
 ble, and after playing at leap-frog clean 
 down each other's throats, the most pow- 
 erful remained, having swallowed all the 
 rest; and that Valentine seized by the col- 
 lar at once, with the view of making it 
 perform that particular office for which it had 
 been created. This was, however, a despe- 
 rate idea, it being no other than that of in- 
 troducing his voice into one of the pipes of 
 wine, is order to see how Job Scroggins and 
 his companions would act; but Valentine, 
 resolved not to repudiate it in consequence of 
 its desperate character, held it firmly, and 
 just as the energetic Job, after running 
 round and round with great fierceness 
 of aspect, and vowing the most extra- 
 ordinary species of vengeance, had paused 
 to regain a little breath, and to wipe the 
 perspiration from his face, with the cuff of 
 his bob-tailed coat, he pitched his voice 
 dexterously into an extremely old cask and 
 cried, " Wasn't it lucky we found this one 
 empty eh!" 
 
 Job Scroggins stared; and so did old 
 Broadsides, and so did the fiery-nosed 
 cooper; and they drew near the cask from 
 which the sound had apparently proceeded, 
 and listened again with an expression of 
 amazement. 
 
 " Keep in the head," whispered Valen- 
 tine, very audibly. 
 
 "They're here!" shouted Scroggins, 
 snatching an adze from the fiery-nosed 
 cooper. " Look out! now they're nailed!" 
 
 and without a single moment's reflection, 
 without considering whether the cask were 
 full or empty, without even giving the 
 slightest notice to those who were with 
 him, he smashed in the head of the pipe, 
 and the wine, of course rushed out in tor- 
 rents. 
 
 " You fool!" cried the fiery-nosed cooper, 
 as the stream dashed the lamps from their 
 hands, and extinguished the lights. 
 
 " Held! help"' shouted Scroggins. 
 
 *' Silence, you ass! hold your tongue!" 
 cried the fiery-nosed cooper. " Hoist the 
 cask up on end! Now! Stick to it! 
 Now! All together! Hurrah!" 
 
 In an instant the thing was accomplish- 
 ed, for Valentine who was really very sorry 
 for what had happened, put forth with the 
 rest all the strength at his command. 
 
 44 Now, don't make a noise," said the 
 fiery-nosed cooper; "get a light from the 
 lamp, there quick!" And Scroggins, who 
 was then in a dreadful state of mind, grop- 
 ed his way at once out of the arch, while 
 the rest were, of course, in total darkness, 
 and up to their ankles in wine. It was not, 
 however, long before Scroggins returned, 
 and when he did, the very first question 
 asked was" What cask is it!" 
 
 "All right: all right!" said the fiery- 
 nosed cooper, after having examined it 
 minutely. " It's one of them old uns that's 
 been here so long." 
 
 "What one of them three!" cried his 
 comrade. " Well that's werry lucky as far 
 as it goes. It'll never be cleared. It was 
 only t'other day I was saying that I'd bet 
 any money the warrants was lost." 
 
 " Come, that's most fortunate," thought 
 Valentine. 
 
 " But what are we to do!" cried the 
 greatly alarmed Seroggins. " How are we 
 to hide it! There's such a rare lot on it 
 spilt!" 
 
 " Now don't make no noise," said his 
 fiery-nosed friend: "I'll cooper it up, and 
 you get all the sawdust you can now be 
 handy! It's an awful puddle surely; but 
 the sawdust '11 soon suck it up." And he 
 began to repair the cask, while the rest 
 were engaged in scraping sawdust together 
 and mixing it up with the wine, and then 
 throwing it, when it became perfectly satu- 
 rated, under the scantling to dry. 
 
 By dint of great labor for all, including 
 Broadsides, who puffed away frightfully, 
 assisted in the space of twenty minutes 
 the pool became pretty well absorbed; and 
 as the fiery-nosed cooper had by that time 
 completed his job, the pipe was carefully 
 placed upon the scantling again, and whi-n 
 more fresh sawdust had been strewn over 
 the spot, the place looked so much as if 
 

 P. 14$, 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 143 
 
 nothing had happened, that it might even 
 then have been passed unnoticed. 
 
 "Well," cried Scroggins, "it's well it 
 isn't no worse; but if I'd ony ha' caught 
 them 'ere warmint, whoever they are, if I 
 wouldn't have sarved 'em out, blister 'em, 
 blow me!" 
 
 " But did you ever hear of such a fool," 
 observed the fiery-nosed cooper, " to smash 
 in the head of a pipe, when he knew we 
 hadn't got an empty cask in the placel" 
 
 " Why, you see," said Mr. Scroggins, 
 in extenuation, " I did n't then give it a 
 thought. It was a mad go; I know it a 
 werry mad go; but, you see, I was eo 
 savage, that I did n't know rayly what I 
 did; and I fancied I heered the two waga- 
 bones inside." 
 
 "And so did I," said his fiery-nosed 
 friend; " but then I know'd it couldn't be." 
 
 "They must ha' been behind that 'ere 
 pipe," continued Scroggins, " I'm sartain 
 they must, and I ony just wish I'd ha' 
 caught 'em, that's all; if I wouldn't ha' 
 given 'em pepper! may I never set eyes on 
 my babbies again!" 
 
 During this extremely interesting col- 
 loquy, Broadsides and Valentine were in- 
 
 dustriously occupied in wiping their sticky 
 hands and faces, and making themselves 
 sufficiently decent to pass without exciting 
 special notice. They found this, however, 
 a difficult job, for the wine had spurted over 
 them freely; but when they had carefully 
 turned down their collars, and buttoned 
 their coats so closely up to their chins that 
 scarcely a particle of their deeply-stained 
 shirts could be perceived, it was unani- 
 mously decided that they might venture. 
 
 " But you want to taste the other pipe of 
 port, sir, don't you?" observed the cooper. 
 
 "The stink of them lamps," replied 
 Broadsides, " has spylt my taste for a fort- 
 nit: besides, I don't care a bit about it; I 
 only came to taste, what I wouldn't have 
 at no price, them six pipes of pison." 
 
 The business being therefore at an end, 
 the fiery-nosed cooper polished Valentine's 
 boots with his apron, when Broadsides 
 gave the men half-a-crown to drink his 
 health, and he and Valentine who gave 
 them half-a-sovereign were ushered very 
 respectfully out of the vault, and after 
 passing the gates without exciting more 
 than ordinary attention, got into a cab, and 
 rode home. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 VALENTINE BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH A FRIGHTFUL CALAMITY, AND HAS A HEART-REND- 
 ING INTERVIEW ON THE SUBJECT WITH HORACE. 
 
 THERE is a remarkable bit of sublimity a 
 powerful, pale, universal reflector, which is 
 sometimes above us, and sometimes below 
 us, and sometimes on a line precisely paral- 
 lel with us a reflector of which the composi- 
 tion is unknown, but which is ycleped by our 
 sublunary philosophers a moon. That this 
 moon will be ever cut up into stars, may 
 rationally, notwithstanding the idea origi- 
 nated with our own immortal Shakspeare, 
 be doubted; but there can be no doubt that 
 as it derives its pale lustre from the sun, so 
 mankind in the aggregate derive their lustre 
 from money; and albeit the connection be- 
 tween the moon and money may not at a 
 glance be perceived, except, indeed, by 
 superficial men of genius, and philosophers 
 steeped to the very lips in learned mud, 
 that there is a connection between them 
 will be acknowledged by all, when they le- 
 flect upon the fact of the moon being silver 
 by prescription. 
 
 Now, money is said to be the devil; and 
 if it be, it is beyond all dispute an extreme- 
 
 ly pleasant devil, and one of which men 
 are so ardently enamored, that they abso- 
 lutely worship it as if it were a god. No 
 matter of what material this money may be 
 composed no matter whether it consists 
 of precious metals, precious stones, or pre- 
 cious little bits of paper, for every converti- 
 ble representative of money is equally pre- 
 cious, its accumulation and distribution in 
 reality constitute the principal business of 
 men's lives. Some despise it for a time; 
 they never despise it long: they soon suffer 
 for the indulgence in that bad passion. 
 Others will do anything, however dishonor- 
 able, to obtain it. If a man has money, 
 he's all right; if he has none, he is all 
 wrong. It matters not what hermits and 
 monks may say, if an honest man be poor, 
 his fellow-men despise him; while a wealthy 
 villain, in the world's estimation, is a high- 
 ly respectable member of society, and hence 
 the penealty on poverty is greater than that 
 which is attached to any absolute crime. 
 Nor is this all, as the saying is; nothing 
 
144 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 like all. It's astonishing the spirit of inde- 
 pendence the possession of money inspires, 
 and equally astonishing are the dejection 
 and humility which the non-possession of 
 it induces. If a man has no money, his 
 mind is ill at ease; he cannot feel comforta- 
 ble any how it amounts to an absolute 
 physical impossibility for him to hold up 
 his head like a man who has lots. He can't 
 do it! It's of no use to physic him with 
 philosophy ! All the philosophy in the 
 world is insufficient to cure his pecuniary 
 disease. He can't understand your phi- 
 losophy then, and he won't understand. 
 He knows better. He knows that he has 
 got no money! a species of knowledge 
 which affects alike body and soul. And 
 yet, notwithstanding money is so valuable 
 so precious, that its absence teems with 
 misery and humiliation; notwithstanding it 
 is so dear, so highly prized when it is 
 wanted, that we will risk even our lives to 
 obtain it, how thoughtlessly we waste it! 
 how freely we squander it away, when it is 
 gained, as if its possession inspired the be- 
 lief, that we should never want another 
 five-pound note so long as we had the abili- 
 ty to breathe! Beyond all dispute for there 
 cannot exist two opinions on the subject 
 in this little matter a man is an ass. 
 
 Now, all this is very profound, but Val- 
 entine really knew nothing about it. He 
 only knew this, that in a pecuniary sense 
 he was getting remarkably short, and that 
 it became absolutely necessary to write to 
 Uncle John for a fresh supply. A blessed 
 position for a man to be placed in is that, in 
 which he has but to say, " I want so much," 
 and so much is sent as a matter of course. 
 This was precisely the position of Valen- 
 tine; but before he wrote home, he was 
 anxious to see the Goodmans, in order to 
 ascertain if they could, or would, give him 
 any farther information with respect to his 
 benevolent old friend. 
 
 Accordingly, on the morning of the day 
 on which he intended to write to Uncle 
 John, he set off for the residence of Walter, 
 and was certainly somewhat startled on 
 being unable to discover the house in which 
 he had lived. On arriving at the spot 
 where the house had stood, he could see 
 but the foundation, and a few burnt beams; 
 but on making inquiries at a shop in the 
 vicinity, he not only ascertained what had 
 happened from a person who gave him ;i 
 really heart-rending account of the occur- 
 rence, but was informed that Walter and 
 his family were at that time lodging in a 
 house directly opposite. Thither of course 
 he immediately went, and having sent up 
 his card, paced the parlor into which he had 
 been shown with considerable anxiety; for, 
 
 possessing a heart in which the kindliest 
 feelings of our nature had been implanted, 
 he deeply sympathised with those of whose 
 dreadful sufferings so frightful a picture 
 had been drawn. He had not, however, 
 dwelt upon the calamity long, when a per- 
 son dashed into the room, and exclaimed, 
 44 Hallo, my young trump! don't you know 
 me 1 ?" 
 
 Valentine in a moment knew the voice 
 to be that of Horace; but his person he cer- 
 tainly would not have known. " Good 
 God!" said he, grasping his hand, " is it 
 possible?" 
 
 "It just is," cried Horace, " and no mis- 
 take about it. Don't I look a beauty, eh? 
 Did you ever see such a Guy? But thank 
 Heaven for all things," he continued, pull- 
 ing off a large wig, and displaying his 
 head, the black skin of which had just be- 
 gan to peel. " It's a comfort no doubt, if 
 you can but just look at the thing in the 
 right light." 
 
 " And how is your father?" inquired Val- 
 entine. 
 
 " Why," replied Horace with great so- 
 lemnity of aspect, " he's as much like a 
 jolly old cinder as possible. He's frizzled 
 all up into one lump of coke. Vm rummy 
 enough, but lor! he?s out and out! There's 
 no mistake at all about him." 
 
 "But he's out of all danger, I hope?" 
 
 "Oh! yes; he's getting on like a brick. 
 I thought he was booked though at one 
 time, for of all the unhappy looking bits of 
 black crackling! did you ever happen to 
 see a smoked pig? Because if you ever 
 did, you have seen something like him. 
 You wouldn't believe him to be flesh and 
 blood. You wouldn't know him in fact 
 from a jolly old piece of burnt cork. He 
 stood it, however, throughout, like a trump, 
 and I'll back him after this against any 
 regular salamander going." 
 
 " And the ladies, how are they?" 
 
 " Why, they're only tollolish. You 
 know what women are. They don't like 
 the look of the governor at all, and certainly 
 he don't look particularly fresh." 
 
 "Well," said Valentine, rising, "I'm 
 really very sorry for what has occurred, 
 and if you think that I can be of service 
 to you in any way, I hope you will com- 
 mand me. I'll not detain you now." 
 
 "I wish you would, old boy," said Ho- 
 race, with much earnestness. " You'd be 
 doing me a very great favor. The fact is, 
 our out-and-out old fool of a doctor won't 
 let me have more than one glass of win. a 
 1 iv, which of course is particularly rotten, 
 more especially now I'm gelling all right 
 again. But the old fool won't listen to 
 reason; nor will the tww womi-n, who are 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 of course on his side, and who keep the 
 blessed wine locked up, just as if body and 
 soul could be kept on decent terms with 
 each other, by that nasty lush which he ex- 
 pects me to swallow by the pailful. Upon 
 my soul, that little wretch of a boy, to 
 whom he gives about two pence a month 
 to carry out all his poison, is everlastingly 
 at the door with his basket full of some in- 
 fernal tincture of filth. I've kicked him 
 right bang into the road three times; but he 
 still comes, and comes. I'll half murder 
 him some day." 
 
 " But of course it does you good?" 
 " Is it rational to suppose it? Is it any 
 thing like rational to entertain the idea, that 
 such hog-wash as that can do any fellow 
 good? It's the nastiest muck that ever 
 was concocted to disorder the bowels of a 
 Christian. Do you happen to know what 
 assafcetida is? Because, if you do,' you 
 know what sort of physic I swill, for they 
 shove a lot of that into every blessed bottle. 
 I'm certain it's that: there can be no mis- 
 take, I should know it a mile off; that, and 
 the stuff they sell to poison the bugs, con- 
 stitute * the mixture as before,' and an ex- 
 tremely pleasant mixture it is, if you can 
 but get it down. Now, I want you, there- 
 fore, to do me this kindness; if you'll stop 
 if it be only for a quarter of an hour, I 
 shall take it as an especial mark of friend- 
 ship, for I can gammon them out of some 
 wine for you, and that's the only way in 
 which I can see my way clear to get a 
 glass for myself; for of course I can't stir 
 out of the house with this jolly old smoke- 
 dried countenance, tattooed and scored like 
 the nob of a Chocktaw Chief. It's worse, 
 ten to one worse, than having the small- 
 pox. The measles are a fool to it; and as 
 for the itch! there, you may believe me or 
 not, as you like, but if all the infernal tribes 
 of wasps, bugs, musquitoes, fleas, and every 
 other kind of vermin in nature were march- 
 ing about me in everlasting legions, they 
 couldn't produce an itch like it. I'll defy 
 them to do it! and yet that old donkey that 
 scours me out, has the face to tell me that 
 I ought not to scratch it! I'm regularly 
 drowned about seven times a day, in what 
 he christens lotion the nastiest, greasiest, 
 slipperiest muck that ever made a tom-cat 
 sick. It does me no good; it only makes 
 me itch more, as I tell the old fool, who 
 however takes no sort of notice at all of 
 what I say, as if I didn't know about my 
 own feelings best! If I seriously expostu- 
 late with him, he only laughs and directs 
 them to 'rub it in; rub it in! Oh! never 
 mind; rub it in!' And they do rub it in 
 like devils. But don't go just yet, there's 
 a trump," he added, and rushed from the 
 
 145 
 
 room quite delighted with the idea of 
 having an additional glass of wine. 
 " Whatan extraordinary creature!" thought 
 Valentine, on being left alone. " How 
 dreadfully he must suffer; and yet how his 
 spirits sustain him. Most men, if in his 
 present state, would be lying in bed, in- 
 creasing by dwelling upon their agony, and 
 groaning as if groans alone were capable of 
 effecting a cure." 
 
 "All right! all right!" cried Horace, 
 bouncing into the room, I've done the 
 trick. I've gammoned them both, that 
 you've been walking a very long distance, 
 and feel most particularly faint. So it's to 
 come down directly. They wouldn't 
 trust me with it, though; I suppose they 
 fancied that I should walk into the decanter 
 on the stairs. But no matter come in! 
 Now I look upon this as very friendly." _ 
 
 The servant at this moment entered with 
 the wine, and Horace observed that there 
 was no mistake about her. 
 
 " If you please, sir," said the girl, ad- 
 dressing Valentine, " Missises compli- 
 ments, and she'd take it as a particular fa- 
 vor, if you wouldn't allow Mr. Horace to 
 have more than half a glass." 
 
 " Why you out-and-out, know nothing, 
 wretch! what d'ye mean!" cried Horace. 
 " Is this your gratitude 1 ? Didn't I carry 
 you over the tiles'? Be off! I hate the 
 sight of you!" and he pulled off his wig and 
 threw it at her with great energy, as she 
 darted like lightning from the room. " You 
 see!" he continued, as he picked up his wig, 
 "this is just the way they serve me day 
 after day. If I hadn't the temper of an 
 angel, they'd drive me into fits. But come! 
 May we never want nothing." 
 
 Having earnestly delivered this beautiful 
 sentiment, and emptied his glass, he 
 smacked his lips with really infinite gusto, 
 and replenished. 
 
 " Bring me a bottle of wine, there's a 
 trump!" said he. "J9o, if you have any 
 charity in you. You haven't an idea what 
 a favor I should esteem it. It's the hand- 
 somest present you could possibly make 
 me. You could call to-morrow, you know, 
 and bring it snugly in your pocket. But 
 don't let them see it, if you do, I'm done. 
 It would be to me the highest treat in na- 
 ture. Success to you, old boy!" he con- 
 tinued, again emptying his glass. " You 
 don't know how happy I am to see you!" 
 
 "Well, now," said Valentine "how did 
 this dreadful calamity occur 1 ?" 
 
 " Why, you see," replied Horace, " the 
 old governor was a little bit thick in the 
 clear, and they fancied that somebody ought 
 to sit up with him. Of course, I saw in a 
 twinkling, who that somebody must be; I 
 
146 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 knew that, being a pleasant job, I was to 
 have it; and I wasn't at all out of my reck- 
 oning. I did have it, naturally; I had it for 
 three blessed nights, and as I went to bed 
 immediately after breakfast, I snoozed very 
 soundly till supper time came. Well, you 
 see, on the third night the governor was 
 unbearable, for what must he do but take 
 it into his jolly old sconce, that Uncle Grim 
 was in the room! It's a fact upon my soul! 
 He would have it that he was standing at 
 the foot of the bed, and nothing could drive 
 it out of him. I tried all I knew to swindle 
 the old ass into the belief that I had pitched 
 him neck and crop out of the window; but 
 no; he wouldn't have it; he fancied he saw 
 him there still; and after cutting away like 
 a jolly old lunatic for two or three hours, 
 he dropped off as I thought to sleep. Well! 
 as soon as I saw his eyes closed right and 
 tight, I left the room to get a cup of hot 
 coffee, which I knew was all regular in the 
 kitchen, and I suppose that as soon as my 
 blessed back was turned, the old ass jumped 
 out and set fire to the bed-clothes, for on 
 running up again, which I did like a wheel- 
 barrow, I found the room in flames, and him 
 laughing like a fool fit to split. I called 
 to him again and a^ain, but he took no 
 notice; I put it to him whether he didn't 
 think he was a donkey, but he made no 
 reply; I couldn't drag him out; I couldn't 
 get at him; I couldn't even get into the 
 room, and it was not until the whole house 
 was one flake of fire and he was as black 
 as an old tin pot, that I was able, by smash- 
 ing in the panel of the wainscot, to lug him 
 into the passage, and thence out of the 
 house. I ran up again after that, to lay 
 my fist upon a little lot of documents; but 
 lor! the room was full of blazes, and to add 
 to the comfort of my position, 1 wish I may 
 die if the jolly old stairs didn't fall the very 
 moment I wished to descend. Well, up to 
 the attic I flew, and out upon the tiles I 
 bounced like a ball. It was there, that I 
 met with that girl whom you saw who 
 certainly did startle me a little above a bit 
 and there we were forced to remain, till 
 one of the firemen who was a trump every 
 inch of himcame to our assistance. Well! 
 hnving caught hold of the girl, with about 
 the same coolness, as if there had been no- 
 thing the matter, he cocked me into a sort 
 of a long cotton stocking, and down I slipped 
 gradually from the parapet to the ground. 
 But the friction! Oh don't mention it! My 
 skin was like the crackling of a roast leg of 
 pork overdone; and as for my poor t 
 the fire had made it so particularly r< n< n, 
 that I came out as naked as a now-born devil. 
 
 I didn't however feel much more then; but 
 in the morning, when the excitement had 
 gone a little off, perhaps I didn't! Talk of 
 Pox's Book of Martyrs! I'll bet ten to one 
 here wasn't a martyr among them that suf- 
 fered a tithe of what I did. It made me so 
 savage! But don't let us talk any more 
 about it. Every evil is pregnant with good; 
 the offspring of this is the fact of its being 
 over, and that is an absolute blessing." 
 
 Valentine listened to all this with the 
 utmost attention; but that which struck 
 him with greater force than all the rest, was 
 the fact of Walter having endeavored to 
 burn the apparition of his brother out of the 
 room. ** What could possibly have in- 
 duced him," thought he, "to have recourse 
 to such an expedient 1 ? One would have 
 thought that the notion of his brother being 
 present, instead of exciting angry feelings, 
 would have been calculated to comfort and 
 onsole him. But every thing tends to 
 confirm my belief of his being the victim of 
 some foul play." 
 
 There was a pause; but it was not of long 
 duration, for Horace again replenished his 
 glass, and gave as a toast: " the knock- 
 kneed quaker." 
 
 " Have you seen or heard any thing of 
 your unclel" inquired Valentine with con- 
 siderable earnestness. 
 
 Horace looked at him intently, as if he 
 wished to read the motive which prompted 
 the question, and then answered, " No, I 
 can't say that I have; I believe that he is 
 all right somewhere, but where I don't 
 know, nor does any one else but the gover- 
 nor." 
 
 " Then," thought Valentine, " when the 
 governor is convalescent, since his imagina- 
 tion is so susceptible of apparently super- 
 natural influences, I'll wring the secret from 
 him by apparently supernatural means." 
 
 " What, are you off!" cried Horace as 
 Valentine rose. 
 
 " I have letters to write, which will take 
 me some time." 
 
 " Well, if you must go, you know, why you 
 must: but mind, don't forget me, there's a 
 charitable soul. You've no idea what a 
 relief this glass or two of wine has been to 
 me to-day. If you can't bring a bottle, you 
 know, bring a pint. That thief of a doctor, 
 I know, wants to rattle my life out, with his 
 nasty messes; therefore, don't forget to bring 
 me some, there's a good fellow." 
 
 Valentine promised that he would not, 
 and after wishing him well over it, and 
 requesting to be remembered up-stairs, he 
 li-lt the hniK-ip, with the view of writing 
 forthwith to Uncle John. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 147 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE MASQUERADE AT VAUXHALL. 
 
 MORALISTS declaim against masquerades; 
 they contend that they are things which 
 ought not to be countenanced; they will not 
 hear a syllable advanced in their favor, al- 
 though it is manifest that they who denounce 
 them, are extremely inconsistent, if they fail 
 to denounce the whole world, inasmuch, as 
 the world is one grand masquerade, and all 
 who live in it are maskers: from the king 
 to the mendicant, all are masked and their 
 actions form neither more nor less than one 
 grand social system of mummery. Decep- 
 tion is the primary object of all, and there 
 is nothing they seek to disguise more than 
 that. What man can tell what another man 
 is? He may guess; he may make up his 
 mind that he is this or that; but he is able to 
 discover his true character no more, than 
 he is able to discover the seat of the soul; 
 for while each assumes a character he wish- 
 es to sustain, all strive to appear to be that 
 which they are not. 
 
 Masquerades are therefore the'types of the 
 world, and are, with the world, to be ap- 
 plauded or censured equally. Each is a 
 miniature world of itself, in which goodness, 
 vice, folly, and knavery mix with the most 
 absolute indiscrimination, aud whether our 
 view be comprehensive or limited, we see 
 that the object of all is disguise. 
 
 Independently, however, of this high 
 consideration, masquerades are an exceed- 
 ingly pleasant species of entertainment, and 
 the only wonder is, that in private life they 
 are not to greater extent upheld. When 
 men say, that vice invariably attends them, 
 they say but that which is applicable to all 
 entertainments; but if they be properly con- 
 ducted a more really delightful kind of 
 amusement can scarcely be conceived. 
 
 Now Valentine had heard much about 
 masquerades, but of course, as they are 
 confined to the metropolis, he had never 
 been at one. Having an anxious desire, 
 however, to witness the scene, he embraced 
 an opportunity which a " carnival" at Vaux- 
 hall "afforded, and having purchased on the 
 evening appointed a ticket, and a very extra- 
 ordinary nose, which he placed in his hat, 
 that it might n,ot be spoiled, started off in 
 
 high spirits alone. 
 
 was a beautiful evening, and as the 
 moon shone brightly and the air was re- 
 freshing, he made up his mind to walk at 
 least half the distance; but he had not pro- 
 ceeded far, before his attention was attracted 
 
 towards a really magnificent-looking creature 
 in a splendid Grecian dress, who was hold- 
 ing a conversation with a dirty-looking cab- 
 man. Valentine thought the association 
 odd, but as he heard, in reply to the cab- 
 man's remark, " It's a hateenpenny fare" 
 the Grecian beauty say, " I have but a 
 shilling," the mystery was solved in a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 " I can lend you some silver," said Valen- 
 tine, " how much do you want]" 
 
 ' I feel obliged," said the Grecian beauty 
 who seemed greatly confused, " I want but 
 sixpence." 
 
 Valentine placed half-a-crown in her hand, 
 and walked on until he came to the coach- 
 stand, at Kennington Cross, when fancying 
 he had walked far enough, he jumped into 
 a cab, and was whirled to Vauxhall in the 
 space of five minutes. 
 
 There was a crowd round the entrance, 
 consisting of about a thousand persons, who 
 had assembled for the purpose of catching 
 a glance of the maskers; and as Valentine 
 had seen, at the bottom of the bills, an an- 
 nouncement to the effect, that no person 
 would be admitted without a mask, he 
 fancied it proper to put on his nose before 
 he alighted from the cab. 
 
 " Oh! oh! there's a conk! there's a smeller! 
 Oh! oh!" exclaimed about fifty voices in 
 chorus. 
 
 Valentine felt flattered by these notes of 
 admiration, and having bowed to the crowd 
 passed in. 
 
 Now when their Royal Highnesses Rieza 
 Koolee Meerza, Najaf Koolee Meerza, and 
 Saymoor Meerza, of Persia, were in London, 
 they went to Vauxhall on an ordinary night, 
 and this is their description of the place and 
 its glories: " In the evening we visited a 
 large garden, beautifully lighted up, and 
 the fireworks we saw here made us forget 
 all others that we had already seen. A 
 garden, a heaven; large, adorned with roses 
 of different colors in every direction, the 
 water was running on the beautiful green, 
 pictures were drawn on every wall. Here 
 and there were young moonly-faces selling 
 refreshments. There were burning in this 
 place about two millions of lights, each 
 giving a different color; the lanterns and 
 lights are so arranged as to make poetry, in 
 such a manner that they have no end. On 
 every side there appeared the moon and the 
 sun, with the planets, each moving in its 
 
148 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 orbit; and in every, there were about 10, 000 
 Frank moons, walking and gazing about, 
 where the roses and their tribes were ad- 
 miring their beautiful cheeks. Each was 
 taken by the hand; such a company in 
 such a place says to the soul, * Behold thy 
 paradise!' " 
 
 Now, however absurd this description 
 may seem however ridiculous it may in 
 reality be, it portrays the feelings with 
 which Valentine was inspired, when the 
 brilliant scene opened before him. He felt 
 absolutely enchanted, and gazed upon the 
 spectacle in a state of amazement the most 
 intense. He beheld the appareutly inter- 
 minable festoons of variegated lamps, and 
 heard the merry shouts, and the martial 
 music in the distance. His whole soul was 
 inspired, and he felt that peculiarly thrilling 
 sensation which modern philosophers so 
 beautifully describe, when they say of a 
 mortal, that " he don't know exactly 
 whether he is standing on his head or his 
 heels." He pulled off his nose, but that 
 made no difference: he was still completely 
 lost in admiration; and when he did at length 
 manage to find himself again, he saw around 
 him groups of gaily dressed creatures, who 
 appeared to have come from all quarters of 
 the globe, with the view of imparting life 
 and spirit to the scene. Greeks, Germans, 
 Chinese, Russians, Dutchmen, Turks, Per- 
 sians, Italians, apes, bears, sylphs, wild 
 Indians, and devils, were the most distin- 
 guished foreigners present; while the most 
 distinguished natives were, beadles, clowns, 
 pantaloons, soldiers, sailors, sweeps, jug- 
 glers, barristers, knights, jockeys, beef-eat- 
 ers, firemen, nuns, footmen, widows, harle- 
 quins, ballad-singers, romps and old maids. 
 The Persian princes saw the " full moons" 
 in petticoats only; Valentine but beheld a 
 great variety of them in trowsers, and after 
 having reviewed them for some consider- 
 able time, his astonishment somewhat sub- 
 sided; he began to feel himself again, and 
 replaced his nose, and having got into 
 the middle of a stream of mortals and 
 immortals, who were following the sound 
 of a bell, he soon found himself within a 
 really elegant little theatre, in which a poor 
 man was mouthing what were termed 
 " imitations" of some of the most popular 
 actors of the day. 
 
 Valentine listened to the commencement 
 of this pitiful buisness with an expression 
 of contempt. He felt it to be a dreadful 
 waste of time which ought not, on such an 
 occasion, to bo tolerated; and, therefore, 
 throwing his voice just behind the poor 
 creature, said solemnly in the notorious 
 jumping wobble of tho particular actor 
 whom the man was pretending to imitate, 
 
 " Sir-r-r, do you-er expect me to endure-er 
 this insult]" 
 
 The fellow turned round very sharply in 
 the full expectation of seeing his prototype 
 behind him; and although he was in this 
 little particular disappointed, the confusion 
 into which the idea of his being there had 
 thrown him, made him look so exceedingly 
 droll, that the audience began to laugh very 
 naturally and very merrily. 
 
 " Enough! enough!" shouted Valentine, 
 and the shout had at least a hundred echoes, 
 which had the effect of confusing the poor 
 man still more; and although he tried des- 
 perately hard to recover his self-possession, 
 every faithful imitation he attempted drew 
 forth such ludicrous expressions of ridicule, 
 that he eventually shuffled oft' the stage 
 with a look of scorn which was highly 
 theatrical, appropriate, and telling. 
 
 The audience, however, remained to see 
 some other dreadful buisness a fact which 
 Valentine held to be, under the circumstan- 
 ces, monstrous. He therefore rushed from 
 the theatre with the laudable view of hunt- 
 ing up the individual who had the manage- 
 ment of the bell, and having happily found 
 him with the instrument under his arm, he 
 made up his mind to get hold of it somehow. 
 
 " Well) old fellow," said he, sitting down 
 in one of the boxes, * Do you ever drink 
 brandy-and-water?" 
 
 ** Always, sir, when I can get it," replied 
 the witty bellman. 
 
 '* Well," said Valentine, throwing down 
 a shilling, then run and get a glass and 
 bring it hot." 
 
 The unsuspecting individual placed his 
 bell upon the table, and trotted off at once 
 with an expression of pleasure the most 
 profound, which happened to be precisely 
 what Valentine wanted, for he immediately 
 laid hold of the noisy instrument in question 
 and taking it with him into one of the dark 
 walks near the back of the theatre, commen- 
 ced ringing away with unparalleled fury. 
 This suited his views to a hair. The effect 
 was instantaneous throughout the gardens: 
 nil were in motion a living stream issued 
 from the theatre in fact, from all quarters 
 the rush towards the spot in which he rang 
 the bell so furiously was sufficiently tre- 
 mendous to realize his fondest anticipations. 
 He beheld with delight the mighty torrent 
 coming towards him in the full expectation 
 of seeing something very grand; but as they 
 approached, he slipped away through the 
 shrubbery which led to mother walk rqually 
 dark, where holding the bell in both hands, 
 he began to ring again with all the energy 
 in his nature. Back went tho crowd 
 thinking naturally enough that they had 
 taken the wrong direction, and as Valentine 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 149 
 
 kept ringing as if he wished to raise the 
 dead, their curiosity was excited to an ex- 
 traordinary pitch, and they increased their 
 speed in proportion. The stream turned 
 the corner; and down the walk it rushed, 
 when Valentine, perceiving 1 a somewhat 
 short cut into the middle of the gardens, 
 walked very deliberately in that direction, 
 deriving at the same time considerable 
 amusement from the fact of the people 
 still rushing- down the walk, of course 
 wondering what on earth was to be seen. 
 By the time this particular walk became full, 
 he had reached the open space in the centre 
 of the gardens, and having- jumped upon 
 one of the tables which stood just behind 
 the grand orchestra, he recommenced ring- 
 ing as furiously as before. The crowd for 
 a moment hesitated, as if they really doubt- 
 ed the evidence of their own ears; but hav- 
 ing satisfied themselves as to the quarter 
 from which the sound of the bell proceeded, 
 they rushed back at once, and there Valen- 
 tine stood, still ringing away with all the 
 force at his command. He did not attempt 
 to move an inch from the spot, nor did lie 
 mean to move until he had drawn them all 
 round him, which he had no sooner accom- 
 plished, than, perceiving the hoax, they si- 
 multaneously burst into one roar of laughter. 
 
 Determined to keep up the spirit of the 
 thing, he now began to issue a formal pro- 
 clamation; but the crowd were so convulsed, 
 and made so deafening a noise, that his own 
 voice was drowned in the general clamor. 
 
 ** Hurrah! now my lads!" shouted the 
 leader of a press-gang " Now, then! bear 
 a hand!" and a dozen stout fellows, whom 
 he led, raised the table upon which the 
 Herald Valentine was standing, with the 
 praiseworthy intention of bearing him in 
 triumph round the gardens. 
 
 Any thing but that would have met his 
 views precisely; but it did so happen that 
 he had been borne in triumph before! the 
 equalrightites had borne him in triumph 
 round CJerkenwell Green a fact of which 
 he had so lively a recollection, that, he 
 seized the very earliest opportunity of leap- 
 ing from the table, when, pulling off his 
 nose, that he might not be recognised, he 
 mixed with the crowd, who seemed to enjoy 
 the thing exceedingly. 
 
 His first object now was to restore the 
 bell to the individual who had the really 
 legitimate management thereof, and having 
 accomplished this to the entire satisfaction of 
 that individual, he proceeded very leisurely 
 towards the spot in which Neptune was 
 represented sitting majestically in his shell 
 drawn by fiery looking steeds, out of whose 
 extended nostrils issued streams of living 
 water. This group looked extremely pic- 
 14 
 
 turesque, and while it was being admired 
 by Valentine, a little fellow dressed as a 
 school boy with a hoop in his hand, ap- 
 proached with a child who had a skipping 
 rope tied round her waist. 
 
 "That, my little dear," said the school- 
 boy, u is Neptune the god of the sea," and 
 the tones in which this information was 
 conveyed, had the effect of even startling 
 Valentine, who thought it a most extraordi- 
 nary voice to proceed from a boy; and yet 
 he was dressed in every particular like a 
 boy, and had on an exceedingly juvenile 
 mask. 
 
 " It's very pretty, isn't it 1 ?" observed the 
 little girl. " But what does it mean!" The 
 school boy began to explain to her Nep- 
 tune's transformations and their object; but 
 Valentine no sooner perceived his design, 
 than throwing his voice towards Neptune, 
 he exclaimed, " Wretch! Forbear!" 
 
 The boy trembled, and dropped his hoop, 
 and then fumbled about his pockets, and 
 eventually drew out a pair of gold specta- 
 cles; but the moment he lifted up his juve- 
 nile mask to put them on, the child shrieked 
 and ran away, for he displayed the shrivelled 
 face of a decrepit old man, who really ap- 
 peared to be an octogenarian. 
 
 Valentine naturally felt disgusted, and 
 drew a little aside; when, as he took no ap- 
 parent notice of what had occurred, the boy 
 pulled off his cap, and exhibited a little 
 head perfectly bald, and having lifted his 
 juvenile mask up higher in order to see 
 through his spectacles with greater dis- 
 tinctness, he examined the group with an 
 expression of amazement. 
 
 " Shame!" cried Valentine, sending his 
 voice in the same direction, " You wretched, 
 wretched old man! Are my actions fit to 
 be explained to a. child!" 
 
 The " boy" trembled again violently, and 
 while looking and shuffling about in a state 
 of great alarm, he placed his foot upon the 
 edge of the hoop that had fallen, and as it 
 rose on the instant it came in contact with 
 his shin with so much force that he ab- 
 solutely groaned with the pain it occa- 
 sioned. 
 
 "Away!" cried Valentine, through Nep- 
 tune, " Reform! ere it be too late!" and the 
 " boy" hobbled away as fast as his feeble 
 legs could carry him towards a spot in 
 which the lights were most brilliant. Here 
 he got into one of the boxes to look at his 
 old shin, and while he was rubbing away 
 with great energy, and cursing both Nep- 
 tune and the hoop very profoundly, Valen- 
 tine entered the same box and sat down un- 
 perceived. 
 
 " Have you hurt yourself much, my little 
 fellow!" said he at length. " Oh! never 
 
150 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 mind, my man. It will soon be well! 
 Don't cry! Let me rub it with a little cold 
 brandy-and-water. Here, waiter! some 
 brandy-and-water, cold quick!" 
 
 The very moment, however, the "boy" 
 became conscious of Valentine's presence, 
 he left off both rubbing and cursing, and 
 limped with considerable dexterity into the 
 next box. 
 
 "That poor little boy has hurt his leg," 
 said Valentine, on the brandy-and-water 
 being produced. "Just see what you can 
 do for him will you?" and he and the waiter 
 proceeded at once to the box in which the 
 little boy was rubbing his shin, still in 
 great apparent agony. " Here, my little 
 man," he continued, "let the waiter rub 
 some of this in for you, there's a good boy. 
 I'm sure you must have injured yourself 
 very much." 
 
 The good little boy left off rubbing again, 
 and having muttered something which 
 sounded very much like a naughty excla- 
 mation, he limped across the gardens with 
 his dear little hoop. 
 
 *' You'll excuse me, sir," said the waiter, 
 who had been laboring very laudably to 
 suppress a fit of laughter, " but how werry 
 green you are, sir! Why that little boy's 
 a hold man!" 
 
 "I know it," said Valentine, "I was 
 anxious to make him ashamed of himself, 
 that was all." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed the waiter, shaking his 
 head very piously, " you'd never do that, 
 sir; he's too far gone. He's a lord, sir, and 
 nothing can shame him. He's always here 
 after the werry little gals, and the leetler 
 they are, sir, the better he likes 'em." 
 
 As Valentine made no farther observa- 
 tion, the waiter of course left him, and he 
 continued in the box until the fireworks 
 were announced, when he proceeded at once 
 to the gallery, in order to have an uninter- 
 rupted view. 
 
 " Oh! oh! oh!" exclaimed at least a hun- 
 dred voices, as the first splendid rocket 
 ascended with a roar; but, albeit these ironi 
 cal exclamations were perpetually uttered 
 they failed to divert the attention of Valen- 
 tine, who really thought the whole exhibition 
 magnificent. He had never witnessed any 
 thing at all comparable in point of grandeur, 
 and hence the only thing which failed to de- 
 light him, was the fact of the last device 
 shooting itself away. 
 
 The very moment the fireworks were 
 over, there was a freslt importation of noise 
 A mob of sweeps, and a legion of recruits 
 were introduced, and the clamor they raised 
 was decidedly terrific. The sweeps had 
 apparently been boiled for the occasion, and 
 then very delicately tinted with soot; while 
 
 the recruits were preceded by the "merry 
 fife and drum," which had an effect so en- 
 livening, that Valentine almost unconscious- 
 ly marched with them, until he came in front 
 of a place which was called the grand pa- 
 vilion, and which commanded a view of 
 the greater portion of the gardens. 
 
 "That's a delightful place to sit in," 
 thought Valentine, " I may as well go up 
 at once;" and accordingly into the pavilion 
 he went, and found it thronged with very 
 droll-looking creatures, apparently full of 
 life and spirit. 
 
 Having seated himself in one of the boxes 
 in front, so as to have a full view of the 
 scene, he again took off his really extraor- 
 dinary nose to look round him with more 
 perfect freedom. Immediately beneath him, 
 some remarkable characters were having a 
 quadrille, and this had a very curious effect, 
 inasmuch as all distinctions appeared to be 
 levelled. A dustman was dancing with a 
 Persian princess; a wild red Indian with a 
 nun; a learned judge with a nut-brown gip- 
 sy; and a sweep in his May-day habiliments 
 with a sylph; while the style in which each 
 of them moved, was so strikingly charac- 
 teristic, that they appeared to have studied 
 to make the scene as grotesquely ludicrous 
 as possible. 
 
 " Most potent, grave, and reverend sig- 
 nors," said a scraggy creature, stalking into 
 the pavilion, in the character of Othello, 
 with a remarkably short pipe in his mojuth, 
 " that I have ta'en away this old cock's 
 daughter ." He was about to proceed, 
 but as he had placed his heavy hand upon 
 the head of a very fiery old gentleman, he 
 received in an instant a glass of champagne 
 in his sooty countenance an insult which 
 the "valiant Moor," put in his pipe, and 
 stalked out with appropriate solemnity to 
 smoke it. 
 
 " What did you order, sir 1 ?" inquired one 
 of the waiters addressing Valentine. 
 
 " Nothing: what have you to eat]" 
 
 " Ham and chicken, sir, roast " 
 
 " That will do: let me have it as soon as 
 possible," said Valentine, who in the ex- 
 citement had altogether forgotten his sto- 
 mach, which now began to hint at the fact 
 of its being empty. 
 
 He had scarcely, however, time to reflect 
 upon this circumstance, before the dishes 
 were placed before him, and having ordered 
 some wine, he commenced a very pleasing 
 operation, to which the gay scene imparted 
 an additional zest. 
 
 As the place in which he sat was so con- 
 spicuous that those who passed the pavilion 
 could scarcely fail to see him, it was not 
 long before he was recognised by tlio idrnti- 
 c.il (Grecian beauty, whom hi- had seen in 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 151 
 
 conversation with the cabman, and who 
 entered the pavilion at once. 
 
 44 1 have to thank you," said she, remov- 
 ing her mask, "for your kindness to me 
 this evening. It is more than I could have 
 expected from a perfect stranger." 
 
 *' Oh, the cab!" said Valentine, recollect- 
 ing the circumstance, don't name it. You 
 have been here of course ever since?" 
 
 44 I have," she replied; " I have been 
 looking in vain for a person whom I fully 
 expected to see." 
 
 
 shall be intruding. 
 
 44 Not at all! not in the least! sit down." 
 And she did so, but with evident timidity. 
 
 44 There is," thought Valentine, "in the 
 midst of this scene at least one heavy heart 
 a heart probably susceptible of all the 
 most amiable feelings of our nature, yet 
 blasted by the consciousness of guilt." And 
 he gazed with a feeling of pity upon the 
 beautiful creature before him, and as he 
 gazed, he perceived the tears trickling down 
 her cheeks, which she appeared to be most 
 anxious to conceal. 
 
 Fancying that his steady look had some- 
 what embarrassed her, he assumed an air 
 of gaiety although he did not at that mo- 
 ment feel gay and began to direct her at- 
 tention to the most grotesque creatures that 
 came within view. He could not, however, 
 extort from her a smile. She appeared to 
 feel grateful, exceedingly grateful, for all 
 the attentions shown, but her features were 
 as rigid as marble. She ate but little, and 
 was silent, except indeed when it became 
 necessary for her to answer the direct ques- 
 tions of Valentine. 
 
 44 You are not in good spirits this eve- 
 ning?" he observed, after having for some 
 considerable time tried to divert her. 
 
 44 1 never am," she replied faintly; 44 I 
 have not been for many, very many dread- 
 ful months." 
 
 There was something irresistibly touch- 
 ing in the heart-broken tones in which these 
 words were uttered; but as Valentine was 
 anxious not to increase the pain she evi- 
 dently endured, he at once waived the sub- 
 ject, and tried again to cheer her. 
 
 44 Is that the earl?" inquired a person who 
 sat behind Valentine, pointing to a small 
 sallow consumptive-looking creature, who 
 was leaningagainst the side of the pavilion, 
 as if he had not the power to stand without 
 support. 
 
 The Grecian beauty started, and appeared 
 much confused. 
 
 " Why do you tremble?" inquired Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 "'Tis he," she replied, " he who has 
 been the cause of all my affliction." And 
 the tears again sprang into her eyes, and 
 she sobbed, while endeavoring to conceal 
 them. 
 
 Valentine turned towards the earl, and 
 looked at him with an expression of con- 
 tempt. 
 
 44 But for him," continued the miserable 
 girl, " I should still have been virtuous- 
 still pure." 
 
 44 Is it possible?" said Valentine, " that 
 a wretched-looking creature like that could 
 have robbed you of virtue?" 
 
 44 It was his title," she replied, " it was 
 that by which I was fascinated not by his 
 person." 
 
 44 But how came you first to know him?" 
 inquired Valentine. ' 4 Come, come, tell me 
 all;" and having at length succeeded in 
 somewhat subduing her emotion, he pre- 
 vailed upon her to explain to him, briefly, 
 the circumstances out of which her afflic- 
 tion arose. 
 
 44 My poor father," said she, 4< is a clergy- 
 man residing nearly a hundred miles from, 
 London, and the disgrace which I have 
 brought upon him, afflicts me more, far more 
 than all besides. By him, about six months 
 since, I was taken to our election ball. The 
 earl was there; 1 danced with him; he paid 
 me marked attention throughout the evening, 
 and called the following day, and on be- 
 coming acquainted with the circumstances 
 of my father, who had then an exceedingly 
 limited income, he exerted his influence in 
 his favor, and the result was, my father's 
 preferment. I was grateful we were all, 
 of course, exceedingly grateful to him for 
 this act of kindness, and he became a con- 
 stant visitor; but his object although, alas! 
 it was not then perceived was my ruin, 
 and that he eventually accomplished. I 
 eloped and came with him to London, where 
 he engaged a house for me, and was for a 
 few short weeks most attentive and kind, 
 but after that his visits gradually became 
 less and less frequent, until at length he 
 deserted me entirely." 
 
 44 And is your father aware of your pre- 
 sent position?" 
 
 44 He is not; I have not dared to write to 
 him." 
 
 44 Do you think that he would not receive 
 you again, if you were to explain to him 
 how you are situated, and that you are 
 anxious to return?" 
 
 44 1 fear not: I much fear that he would 
 not; but having heard that the earl would 
 be here to-night, I borrowed this dress, 
 which is like one he gave me, and came 
 expressly in order to prevail upon him, if 
 possible, to give me a sum sufficient to en- 
 
152 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 able me to return to my poor disgraced 
 father, that I may throw myself in penitence 
 at his feet, and on my knees implore for- 
 giveness." 
 
 44 How much do you require for that pur- 
 pose]" said Valentine, whom the relation 
 of these circumstances had touched most 
 acutely. 
 
 ' 4 1 could manage it with even thirty shil- 
 lings," she replied, 4t> even that would en- 
 able me to return." 
 
 Valentine instantly drew out his purse. 
 He had but two sovereigns and some silver. 
 He gave her the two sovereigns, and urged 
 her not to speak to the earl, but to go home 
 at once and prepare for her journey. 
 
 The poor girl appeared to be overwhelmed 
 with gratitude. She a thousand times thanked 
 him with eloquence and warmth, and hav- 
 ing blessed him and kissed his hand fer- 
 vently, left the pavilion unseen by the earl. 
 
 Valentine now tried to shake off the feel- 
 ing which the tale of this beautiful girl had 
 inspired. He replaced his nose, walked 
 again round the gardens, went to look at 
 the hermit, and astonished the persons who 
 were standing around, by sending his voice 
 into the moon-lit cell, and making the old 
 anchorite apparently repeat certain passages 
 in Byron's Corsair. 
 
 Still he felt somewhat dull, and returned 
 towards the theatre, and as he found that 
 the maskers were dancing there merrily, he 
 joined them at once, and having engaged an 
 active partner, in the similitude of a little 
 female midshipman, he became again one 
 of the gayest of the gay. 
 
 Having enjoyed himself exceedingly for 
 about an hour here, his ears were suddenly 
 assailed by a series of extraordinary shrieks 
 which apparently proceeded from the pavil- 
 ion, and as several of the females rushed in 
 to inform their friends that "Slashing Soph" 
 was having a glorious set to with a broom 
 girl, he ran with the stream which at once 
 issued forth, towards the spot. 
 
 In front of the pavilion a crowd had as- 
 sembled: a ring was formed, and the spec- 
 tators stood a dozen deep. He could still 
 hear the shrieks, mixed with loud exclam- 
 ations of " Cut away, Soph! Pitch into 
 her, Broomy!" and so on, but could not 
 obtain even a glimpse of the belligerent 
 powers. 
 
 "I will see who she is!" shrieked a fe- 
 male in the centre. 
 
 "That voice!" thought Valentine, * that 
 voice!" He instantly elbowed his way 
 through the crowd, and "beheld in " Slash- 
 ph" the Grecian beauty! 
 
 He rushed to her at once and drew her 
 back; but she desperately resign I 
 effort to hold her. 
 
 "Let me alone!" she exclaimed, " I can 
 lick her! I'll murder her! Let me alone!" 
 
 44 Foolish girl! I will not!" cried Valen- 
 tine firmly; but he had no sooner uttered 
 the words, than she turned round and struck 
 him in the face with considerable violence. 
 
 He indignantly relinquished his hold, and 
 she no sooner found herself free, than she 
 sprang at the broom-girl, who was backed by 
 a dustman, and tore her cap and mask in an 
 instant to tatters. The broom-girl, although 
 a much more formidable-looking person, 
 stood no chance whatever with her, for she 
 stood up firmly, and struck fairly out right 
 and left, like a man; and while she did so, 
 indulged in the most horrible language that 
 ever proceeded from human lips. 
 
 Valentine was so utterly disgusted, that 
 he pressed at once out of the ring, and on 
 approaching a female in the character of a 
 nun, he inquired if she knew the Grecian 
 beauty. 
 
 44 Know her!" exclaimed the nun, 44 what, 
 Slashing Soph! who don't] Why, I've 
 known her ever since she wasn't higher 
 than six-pen'orth of ha'pence. We were 
 brought up together only she happened 
 to have a better education than me, and 
 that has made her the most artful card that 
 ever walked on two legs." 
 
 44 But her parents are respectable, are 
 they not]" said Valentine. 
 
 44 Her father was, no doubt," replied the 
 nun, 4t for her mother made him pay pretty 
 handsomely for her. Why, she's the 
 daughter of old mother Maxwell, don't you 
 know]" 
 
 Most certainly Valentine knew nothing 
 of the sort: he knew, well knew, that he 
 had been duped, and that was all he did 
 know about the matter. 44 But what was 
 the cause of this battle]" he inquired. 
 
 44 Why, you see," replied the nun, 
 44 about an hour ago, Soph got together a 
 few of the girls, and stood champagne all 
 round, and then brandy-and-water. She 
 had just been playing modest, she said, to 
 a sensitive young fool, whom she wheedled 
 out of a couple of sovereigns, to enable her 
 to return to her father, and she laughed so 
 heartily as she explained to them how she 
 did it, and drank so freely, that when she 
 had spent all she had, she became so quar- 
 relsomeas she always is when she has 
 been drinking that she pitched into the 
 very first girl she could lay hold of, who 
 happened to be this poor Broomy, as harm- 
 less a creature as ever lived." 
 
 44 Hut he who gave her the money must 
 have born a fool indeed!" observed "Valen- 
 line, liy no means expecting a reply very 
 
 llatteriii'J to himself. 
 
 " Why, I don't know so much about 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 153 
 
 that," said the nun, " when she makes a 
 dead set at a man, she never leaves him un- 
 til she has accomplished her object. He 
 is down to every move on the board, who is 
 able to get over Soph." 
 
 At this moment another fight commenced. 
 The dustman, who had backed the broom- 
 girl, becoming excessively indignant at 
 what he considered an unwarrantable inter- 
 ference on the part of an ape, thought pro- 
 per to strike that gentleman, who at once 
 returned the blow with full interest thereon, 
 and at it they went with appropriate des- 
 peration. The ape being by far the more 
 active of the two, had decidedly the best of 
 the battle, a fact which so enraged a very sin- 
 gular looking Scotchman, that, determined 
 to take his revenge out of some one, he 
 began to hammer away at a tall thin mili- 
 tary individual, who was conversing with a 
 lady in a Turkish dress, and this a sailor 
 regarded as so strikingly unfair, that he 
 rushed upon the Scotchman, and beat him 
 most cruelly. This in return had the effect 
 of arousing the pugnacity of many others, 
 and in a short time the battle became gene- 
 ral. Nor was it confined to this particular 
 spot, for as a gentleman in the character of 
 Punch, while leaning over the front of the 
 pavilion, had amused himself by pouring a 
 quantity of wine into the mouth of a mask 
 which its owner had raised expressly for 
 the purpose of kissing a flower-girl, the in- 
 dividual thus operated upon, was so indig- 
 nant at the outrage, that he rushed up at 
 once with the laudable view of deliberately 
 pummelling Punch in the pavilion, which 
 he did so unmercifully, that, as some cried 
 " shame!" and others, cried " bravo!" two 
 parties were immediately formed, and the 
 fight became general there. 
 
 From the pavilion, the battle gradually 
 spread over the gardens, and a series of 
 running fights were kept up with great 
 spirit. The peaceably disposed shrieked 
 with fear, and ran about in all directions 
 with desperate energy. Some sought refuge 
 in the theatre, but even that soon became a 
 gladiatorial arena, while others rushed into 
 the bar, near the entrance, and the rattling 
 of* punch bowls and glasses became awful. 
 Boxes were broken down, and benches 
 
 were pulled up, trees were shorn of their 
 branches, and tables were smashed in 
 short, every thing which could be made 
 available as a weapon, was with the utmost 
 avidity seized by the more desperate, while 
 at the extreme end of the gardens, the more 
 rational were engaged in the interesting 
 occupation of pulling down the variegated 
 lamps, and pitching them dexterously at 
 each other, which had a very good effect, 
 inasmuch as each lamp contained a quantity 
 of oil, with which those whom they struck 
 were profusely anointed, and contrasted 
 very amusingly with the furious onslaught 
 made by those, who appeared to feel that 
 they were bound by some just and eternal 
 principle to do all the serious mischief in 
 their power. 
 
 Valentine wisely kept aloof from all this. 
 He saw the combatants dealing out des- 
 perate blows with the most perfect indis- 
 crimination, and had no disposition what- 
 ever to join them, for their weapons were 
 employed, in some instances, with frightful 
 effect. The men were shouting and swear- 
 ing, while the women were screaming; 
 some were struggling on the ground, while 
 others were trampling over them; some 
 were climbing into the pavilion, while 
 others were leaping from it upon the heads 
 of those below; in fact, they fought so 
 fiercely, and yelled with so much fury, that 
 had a corresponding number of maniacs 
 been let loose, they could neither have made 
 more noise, nor have battled with more des- 
 peration. 
 
 The police did all in their power to quell 
 the riot, but were incapable of accomplish- 
 ing much; their authority was utterly con- 
 temned, for their numerical strength was 
 but small. They did, however, eventually, 
 by dint of great exertions, succeed in get- 
 ting hold of the Grecian beauty, whom they 
 dragged out of the gardens, with the view 
 of locking her up; when Valentine who 
 by no means regretted this proceeding, and 
 who had seen quite enough of the madmen 
 who were battling, they knew not why nor 
 with whom left them, while they were 
 still very desperately at it, with just suffi- 
 cient money in his purse to carry him home, 
 and no more. 
 
 14 
 
154 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 IN WHICH VALENTINE HAS THE PLEASURE OF MEETING TWO PERSONS IN WHOM HE TAKES 
 GREAT INTEREST, AND WHOM HE ACCOMPANIES TO A WAX-WORK EXHIBITION. 
 
 IT is!" exclaimed Valentine, one calm 
 delightful evening, as he turned into Gros- 
 venor-square. "It must be the dear, sweet 
 girl whom I rescued!" And this was un- 
 questionably, under the circumstances, an 
 exceedingly natural exclamation; for he at 
 that moment met a most elegant creature, 
 whose glance, as she passed him, appeared 
 to pierce his soul. 
 
 He stopped on the instant; and breathed 
 extremely hard. His blood thrilled through 
 his veins: he heard his heart beat violently, 
 and felt altogether particularly odd. 
 
 " I am sure," he continued, " quite sure! 
 and and why what an idiot I am!" and 
 he began to be really very angry with him- 
 self for entertaining a feeling so essentially 
 queer; still he had not the power to shake 
 it off. " VAL! VAL!" he exclaimed, ad- 
 dressing himself in the second person sin- 
 gular, " What, what are you about 1 ? Do 
 you mean to remain standing here like a 
 statue 1 ?" The person thus addressed, ap- 
 peared to repudiate the idea; for he instantly 
 commenced an irregular rush towards the 
 object of his adoration. 
 
 With what graceful dignity she moved! 
 with what elegant ease did she hang on 
 the arm of him who, as a natural matter of 
 course, was her father! Her air was, in the 
 bright imagination of Valentine, that of a 
 sylph, or of an angel! there was poetry 
 even in the folds of her train as it swept the 
 ground clean at each fairy-like step. 
 
 He approached her! and experienced that 
 peculiar heart-sinking sensation in a greater 
 degree than before. He passed! and felt 
 that he had never in the whole course of 
 his life walked so awkwardly. He could 
 scarcely walk at all! and as for keeping on 
 the same row of flags! that became at once 
 an absolute impossibility. And then, where 
 were his hands'? His right was sometimes 
 in his breast; then it wandered to the arm- 
 hole of his waistcoat then up to his stock 
 and then into his coat pocket while his 
 left was, if possible, more restless still. 
 He could not tell exactly how it was, but 
 he had never found his hands at all trouble- 
 some before. He drew off his gloves, and 
 then drew them on, and in doing so, split 
 ,one of them clean across the back. Well, 
 then, that wouldn't do: he pulled it off 
 again, and carried it in his hand; and after 
 fidgetting forward in this most undignified 
 fashion for a very considerable distance, he 
 
 made a dead set at some celestial body 
 which his vivid imagination had established 
 in the heavens for that particular occasion, 
 and stopped with the view of making a few 
 profound astronomical observations thereon, 
 until the beautiful creature came up. This 
 he held to be an admirable ruse, and there- 
 fore looked and looked and felt so droll! 
 She was a long time coming! a very 
 long time. He must have shot a-head very 
 fast! He became quite impatient he ven- 
 tured to look back; and found to his horror 
 that she had vanished! Which house could 
 they have entered 1 ? It must have been one 
 of them! Did they reside there! It was 
 then too late for them to be making flying 
 calls! Well! what was to be done? Was 
 he to remain there till midnight, or, to give 
 a look up in the morning? He stood still, 
 and turned the thing over in his mind, and 
 eventually arrived at the conclusion, that it 
 would be, under the circumstances, best for 
 him to walk up and down for an hour or so 
 then, when, if they did not come out, the 
 probability would be, that they did reside 
 there, in which case he would simply have 
 to come every morning until he saw her, 
 which he argued must, in the natural course 
 of things, be very soon. The instant, how- 
 ever, he had arrived at this remarkable con- 
 clusion, a most extraordinary idea struck 
 him! They might have turned down the 
 street he had just passed over! They 
 might! He flew to the corner of that par- 
 ticular street, and there they were walking 
 very leisurely in the distance. 
 
 " Well of all the stupid idiots," thought 
 he, " but no matter. I pass them no 
 more until I see them safely housed." And 
 he followed them straight; and walked 
 much more steadily, and felt himself very 
 considerably better. " And have I disco- 
 vered you at last?" he exclaimed as he 
 viewed the graceful creature before him 
 with a feeling which amounted to ecstasy. 
 His heart told him that he had; and he be- 
 gan to consider how he should act when he 
 had succeeded in tracing them home, and 
 continued to be occupied with this impor- 
 tant consideration until he saw them step 
 into a house, near which stood a long line 
 of public and private carriages. He hur- 
 ried forward and reached the spot. It was 
 not a private house. " Some concert," 
 thought ho, " and I am not dressed. Well, 
 have 1 not time to run home?" He looked 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 155 
 
 round for a cab; but before he called one, 
 he inquired of a person who was standing 
 at the entrance, what place it was. 
 
 41 The Wax-work Exhibition, sir," replied 
 that person. 
 
 "Excellent!" thought Valentine; "no- 
 thing could have been better;" and he pass- 
 ed through the hall and ascended the stairs, 
 and having given some money, he scarcely 
 knew what, to a little old lady who sat on 
 the left, he proceeded at once into a fine 
 lofty room, in which a variety of life-like 
 figures were arranged in strikingly pictu- 
 resque groups; while from the ceiling were 
 suspended innumerable lamps, which impart- 
 ed an additional lustre to the scene, which, 
 on the whole, looked extremely imposing. 
 
 Without, however, giving more than a 
 cursory glance at these figures, he walked 
 round the room, and, of course, soon found 
 himself immediately opposite the fair one, 
 for a sight of whose beautiful features, he 
 had so long, and so ardently panted. Her 
 veil was down; and as she held it in her 
 hand, it was fluted, of course, treble, and it 
 was, moreover, one of those tiresome thick 
 veils which ought not, in any Christian 
 country, to be tolerated. He could not see 
 her face. Her eyes he could perceive, and 
 they appeared to sparkle brilliantly, but 
 that was not enough: he wished to see her 
 entire face, and that he could not do. Well! 
 how was he to act] He looked at her fa- 
 ther again and again, and he certainly ap- 
 peared to be a different man; but then, men 
 will look different under different circum- 
 stances, and he had to consider that when 
 he saw him before, he had just been res- 
 cued from the muddiest part of the Thames. 
 His altered appearance was therefore held 
 to be no proof at all of his not being the 
 same individual. But that was of very 
 little moment. The object of Valentine 
 was to see the fine features of her and his 
 panting heart told him in language the most 
 intelligible that it was her of whom he 
 was so deeply enamored; yet those features 
 continued to be concealed by this villanous 
 veil. 
 
 " Patience, Val* patience," he whispered 
 to himself; "she may presently raise it." 
 And she might have done so; but as he 
 perceived no symptoms of the fond hope 
 involved in that act being realized, he felt 
 himself bound by every principle of love 
 and manhood to have recourse to some quiet 
 manoeuvre. But what could he do? He 
 considered for a moment. An idea flashed 
 across his brain. They were examining 
 every figure minutely: they would not 
 suffer one to escape notice. W T ell, could 
 he not himself represent a wax figure, and 
 thereby attract their especial attention? It 
 
 was then the only thing he could think of: 
 he determined to do it, and being thus de- 
 terminedj he placed himself firmly by the 
 side of a life-like representation of some 
 diabolical person at which he appeared to 
 be looking most intently. 
 
 He had scarcely been standing in this 
 position a moment when a company of ladies 
 drew near, and gazed upon him with an ex- 
 pression of wonder. " Bless me," said one, 
 " Did you ever see anything so perfectly 
 natural?" " Why it seems absolutely to 
 breathe," said another. " Well I declare," 
 said a third, in a somewhat merry mood, 
 " I don't know what they will bring things 
 to next, but I suppose they will be brought 
 by and bye to such perfection that we shall 
 be having for husbands wax men, by mis- 
 take." 
 
 Valentine felt that it would do, and there- 
 fore kept his position, while the ladies were 
 first looking about him to see if he were 
 ticketed, and then referring to their cata- 
 logues respectively, in order to ascertain 
 what distinguished individual he could be; 
 but as he soon became anxious for them to 
 depart, he turned his eyes full upon them, 
 when they shrank back almost as much 
 alarmed as if he had absolutely risen from, 
 the tomb. He could not avoid smiling at 
 the astonishment displayed, and as the smile 
 had the effect of destroying the illusion, the 
 amazed ones, after indulging in a few highly 
 appropriate exclamations of surprise, sotto 
 voce, passed on. The very moment they 
 had left him he perceived the approach of 
 her whose attention he was anxious to at- 
 tract and therefore stood as before like a 
 statue. 
 
 "That's very good! -excellent indeed! 
 Is it not?" observed the father of the lady, 
 waving his hand towards Valentine. " Who 
 is it?" 
 
 The lady referred to her book, and Val- 
 entine stood with a firmness which really, 
 under the circumstances, did him great 
 credit. Being unable to find anything like 
 a description of him in the catalogue, she 
 again raised her eyes, and looked earnestly 
 at him, and as she found it impossible to 
 see him with sufficient distinctness, she 
 lifted her veil! In an instant Valentine 
 turned his eyes upon her, and beheld not 
 her in whom all his hopes were concentered! 
 no, nothing at all like her! It was a lady 
 with dark, piercing eyes, it is true, but 
 with a face thickly studded with scarlet 
 carbuncles. 
 
 " You did it excellently well, sir," ob- 
 served the old gentleman, smiling, and tap- 
 ping him playfully on the shoulder: " Upon 
 my life I imagined you to be a real figure." 
 
 Valentine of course felt flattered highly 
 
156 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 flattered; but was really so enraged that he 
 would scarcely be civil. He did, how- 
 ever, manage to force up about half a smile, 
 of a particularly wretched cas/e, and walked 
 at once to the other end of the room. He 
 had never before met with so serious a dis- 
 appointment, and he felt so exceedingly 
 vexed, that he could with pleasure have 
 quarrelled with any man breathing. He 
 threw himself carelessly upon one of the 
 seats, and looked upon all around him as if 
 they had been really his natural enemies. 
 He several times called himself a fool most 
 emphatically, and twisted, and fidgetted, 
 and knocked himself about very naturally, 
 it is true, for he was then extremely 
 wretched but certainly with most unwar- 
 rantable violence. He felt that he wanted 
 something, either to do or to drink, he 
 neither knew nor cared which, albeit at that 
 moment he could have drunk a pint of wine 
 off with infinite gusto. Wine, however, 
 could not be had there; but, as he saw a 
 very decent old fellow in spectacles sitting 
 beside him, and looking about very quietly 
 with a little black box in his hand; he felt 
 that perhaps a pinch of snuff, if it gave him 
 no comfort, might somewhat revive him; 
 and, therefore, addressing this spectacled 
 person said, " Will you oblige me?" 
 
 The old boy appeared not to hear him. 
 He continued to move his head right and 
 left, and to turn his eyes about in all direc- 
 tions, but neither uttered a syllable nor 
 offered the box. Valentine, therefore, fancy- 
 ing that he must be either deaf or lost in a 
 maze of admiration, said, raising his voice, 
 " May I trouble you?" 
 
 The old fellow still looked about him, 
 but positively took no more notice of the 
 request than if it had never been made! Of 
 course Valentine thought this extraordinary 
 conduct, and began to be very angry with 
 the cross old bear; but just as he was about 
 to expostulate with him to ask him what 
 it was he really meant for he was just in 
 the humor to consider himself insulted 
 he heard a half-suppressed tittering, which 
 he found to proceed from two merry little 
 ladies behind him, when in an instant his 
 eyes were opened, and he saw at once that 
 wax was the materiel with which the old 
 boy had been built. 
 
 Well, this is extraordinary!" thought 
 Valentine, whom the incident restored to 
 good humor; and he smiled at the deception 
 indeed he as nearly as possible laughed 
 and on looking round, saw many very pleas- 
 ant people who were laughing both at him 
 and with him. 
 
 " Thau's a dead tak in, zir, than tin T< 
 be," observed a ruddy-faced person, who 
 was dressed like a farmer; " I thowt mysel 
 
 it wor flash and blud, darng me if I didn't;" 
 and he grinned very desperately, and cram- 
 med a great portion of his handkerchief into 
 his mouth, feeling, probably, that, although 
 he had a very sweet laugh when it had its 
 full natural swing, it migltt not be altogether 
 decent to allow it to break loose there. 
 
 "It is very amusing," said Valentine, 
 addressing this person; and he absolutely 
 felt it to be so, and that feeling prompted 
 him to walk round the room with the view 
 of examining the rest of the figures, which 
 he did with that species of pleasure which 
 is at once very natural and very remarkable; 
 for although curiosity may be generally ac- 
 knowledged to be a feeling, of which the 
 indulgence is essential to the pleasurable 
 existence of us all, there is probably nothing 
 in which that feeling is so strikingly mani- 
 fested as in the peculiar gratification which 
 we derive from a sight of the most famous, 
 and most infamous men of the age. Whe- 
 ther they, who step out of the ordinary 
 track, be philanthropists, murderers, war- 
 riors, or villains, we are anxious to see what 
 sort of men they are, and if that be impossi- 
 ble if we cannot see them in proprid per- 
 sona why the next best thing in public es- 
 timation, is to see their portraits being 
 public lions, or objects of public curiosity 
 and as wax models are a species of por- 
 traiture which is by far the most striking, 
 and which approaches (he nearest to nature, 
 the gratification they impart, if they be per- 
 fect, is greater than that which is derived 
 from representations on canvass. Nothing 
 can give so correct an idea of the features 
 and figures of men as wax models: every 
 shade, every line, every little peculiarity, 
 may be so portrayed as to make it appear 
 that the originals are living and breathing 
 before you. It is impossible to take a por- 
 trait on canvass for life; but a perfect wax 
 model may be taken for a living man; and 
 hence, if the most exact imitation of nature 
 be the perfection of art, the art of wax-mo- 
 delling, as far as portraiture is concerned, 
 may be held to be by far the most perfect. 
 
 This is, however, by no means establish- 
 ed; nor is it absolutely essential to the pro- 
 gress of this history that it should be; for if 
 all the legitimate orthodox artists in the 
 universe were to form themselves into one 
 grand corporation, with the view of up>vi- 
 ting it in totn, it would not interfere with 
 the indisputable fact, that Valentine was 
 pleased with the whole exhibition, ;m<l I'.m- 
 cied that as he had taken one of the figures 
 for lifr, he ought, in justice to himself, to 
 extend the deception, in order to witness its 
 effect upon others. 
 
 Now this singular fancy had no sooner 
 been conceived, than he observed at the up- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 157 
 
 per part of the room a little ancient indivi- 
 dual, who was obviously, in his own esti- 
 mation, a decided Narcissus. His hair was 
 powdered, and his coat was powdered too: 
 a white cravat sustained a very highly 
 glazed collar, which appeared to entertain 
 the design of sawing off both his ears; and 
 while his waistcoat was white, and his hat 
 was white, he sported white cords, and 
 white tops to his boots, and carried in one 
 hand a pair of white gloves, and a scented 
 white handkerchief gracefully in the other. 
 Valentine of course became highly amused 
 with the bearing and dress of this respect- 
 able individual, whose politeness was so ex- 
 cessive, that when persons approached in 
 an opposite direction, he would bow and 
 slip aside to allow them to pass an opera- 
 tion which he had to perform about ten 
 times per minute. He nevertheless looked 
 at every figure most intently, and as Valen- 
 tine almost unconsciously drew near, it 
 struck him that he might, perhaps, for a 
 moment inspire the belief that there were 
 fewer inanimate objects in the room than 
 there really were. Accordingly, just as the 
 ancient Narcissus was about to examine 
 the representation of an elderly gentleman 
 standing alone, Valentine, throwing his 
 voice towards that elderly gentleman, ex- 
 claimed, "Ah! glad to see you! how do 1 ?" 
 
 Narcissus gazed very curiously, and 
 bowed very profoundly, and then with a 
 sweet smile, observed, " Upon my honor, 
 you have the advantage of me really I 
 beg pardon but positively 1" 
 
 " What! have you forgotten me quite?" 
 said Valentine. 
 
 "Why where have I had the pleasure of 
 meeting tut! bless my life and heart, how 
 stupid to be sure! I know those features; 
 and yet, for the life of me, I cannot call to 
 mind" 
 
 "Do you mean to say," observed Valen- 
 tine, " that you don't remember me?" 
 
 Narcissus dropped his head upon his 
 shoulder, and tried with all the energy of 
 mind he possessed to recollect where he had 
 met that gentleman before. " Why I know 
 you," said he, "as well as possible; and 
 yet, do you think that I can call to my re- 
 collection? bless my life and soul, what a 
 memory I have! Now this is really very 
 extraordinary. But wait wait a bit," he 
 continued, raising his hand to enjoin silence; 
 "At Brighton! Why to be sure! Mr. 
 Pringle. My dear friend, how are you! I 
 hope I have the pleasure" 
 
 Narcissus paused and very properly; 
 for albeit he held out his hand with the 
 view of grasping that of Pringle with affec- 
 tionate warmth, Mr. Pringle by no means 
 displayed a corresponding amount of affec- 
 
 tion. Narcissus looked utterly amazed! He 
 was perfectly unconscious of having offend- 
 ed Mr. Pringle; and therefore felt quite at a 
 loss to account for that gentleman's cold- 
 ness. He could not at all understand it. 
 He felt that an immediate explanation was 
 due, and was just on the point of demanding 
 such explanation with appropriate firmness 
 and force, when a remarkable idea flashed 
 at once across his mind, of which the sub- 
 stance was, that Pringle was not the man 
 he took him for that he was, in a word, a 
 man of wax! He therefore pulled up his 
 fiery indignation, and examined the figure 
 before him more minutely, and having even- 
 tually satisfied himself on the particular 
 point at issue, he took off his hat and ex- 
 claimed, "Well! I never!" And the fact 
 of his having indulged in this extraordinary 
 exclamation was, under the peculiar circum- 
 stances of the case,- an extremely natural 
 fact; and here the matter would have ended, 
 but for the mystery ! he had distinctly 
 heard a voice! His eyes might have been, 
 and evidently had been, deceived: he was 
 fully prepared to admit that; but he certain- 
 ly was not prepared to admit that his ears 
 had been deceived at the same time. And 
 yet, whence could the voice have proceeded"? 
 The thing was inanimate! It could not 
 have proceeded from that: it was impossi- 
 ble; and yet he had heard it. He examined 
 it again from head to foot very minutely, 
 and drew his hand across his chin very 
 lightly, and very thoughtfully; but he could 
 not get over it, and Valentine, leaving him 
 lost in conjecture, adjourned to a seat in the 
 centre of the room. 
 
 Now on the left of this seat there was a 
 figure which he had not seen before, but 
 which was nominally an exact representa- 
 tion of the beautiful Madame St. Ama- 
 ranthe, of whom the wretch, Robespierre, 
 became enamored, and whom he eventually 
 destroyed for being sufficiently virtuous to 
 reject his addresses. This figure was lying 
 at full length on a couch; and it certainly 
 did look as much as possible like a lovely 
 little creature asleep. It was perfectly 
 evident that the sympathies of those who 
 stood around were very strongly excited, 
 and as they were descanting very freely 
 upon the character of the sanguinary mon- 
 ster of whom Madame Saint Amaranthe 
 was the victim, Valentine threw a series of 
 well-directed sobs beneath the veil with 
 which the figure was covered, when in an 
 instant the persons who were standing 
 around simultaneously shrank back ap- 
 palled. 
 
 " My goodness !" cried a remarkably 
 stout matron, "if it isn't alive, I'm not 
 here!" 
 
158 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " Gracious, ma!" exclaimed one of her 
 interesting daughters, " How excessively 
 ridiculous!" 
 
 "Don't tell me, child," rejoined the af- 
 fectionate matron, "when I heard the poor 
 dear sobbing, fit to break her heart." 
 
 Valentine here introduced a short cough 
 and after that a long yawn, which, seeing 
 that the arm of the figure was placed above 
 the head, had a strikingly natural effect. 
 
 "There, there! 1 knew it was alive! I 
 said so!" continued the old lady, who being 
 disposed to render all the assistance in her 
 power was about to remove the veil. 
 
 "You reely mustn't touch, mam, if you 
 please," said a girl who was stationed near 
 the couch, and who began to explain to an | 
 individual in her immediate vicinity how 
 extraordinary a thing it was, that notwith- 
 standing there was an announcement on al- 
 most every figure to the effect that visitors 
 were not to touch, touch they would, and 
 nothing in nature could keep them from 
 touching. 
 
 " Depend upon it, dear," said the matron, 
 in a whisper, it's all an imposition; it's alive, 
 dear, and that's the very reason why we 
 musn't touch, to see whether it is or is 
 not." 
 
 "This acute observation, on the part of 
 the old lady, induced her exemplary daugh- 
 ter, who was dressed with extraordinary 
 gaiety, to toss her head proudly, and to curl 
 her lip contemptuously, and to exclaim very 
 pointedly, " Dear me, ma! how excessively 
 vulgar to be sure!" 
 
 " You may say what you please," rejoin- 
 ed the matron, " but I know what I know," 
 and having made this highly appropriate 
 and self-satisfactory observation, she looked 
 at Madame St. Amaranthe very earnestly 
 again. 
 
 " Where are you pushing?" cried Valen- 
 tine, assuming the shrill voice of a scolding 
 woman, and throwing it towards the figure 
 of a little old lady, in a black silk cloak 
 which stood at the foot of the couch. 
 
 "You are very polite, I must say," ob- 
 served a rough individual, turning very 
 sharply round; " where did you go to school! 
 You'd better have the whole room to your- 
 self, marm! Well I'm sure! what next!" 
 and he looked very fiercely, and felt very 
 indignant, until he discovered his mistake, 
 when he laughed very heartily, and the 
 people around, of course, joined him very 
 freely. 
 
 At this moment, however, the two per- 
 sons who had been the immediate cause of 
 Valentine's visit to the exhibition walked 
 past, and the sight of them plunged him 
 into misery again. He felt wretched, par- 
 ticularly wretched. His dearest hopes had 
 been dashed from the eminence to which 
 they had been raised, and that eminence 
 was so high that they appeared to have 
 reached the very depths of despair. " Am 
 I never to see her again," thought he, 
 " never 1 ?" He rose and left the room; and 
 as he proceeded towards home, two lines of 
 a song which he had heard in infancy sug- 
 gested themselves, and which ran somehow 
 thus: 
 
 "Shall I never again hear her voice 
 Nor see her loved form any more?" 
 
 And the peculiarly interesting interrogatory 
 involved was so appropriate, that he in- 
 voluntarily hummed the poetical reply, 
 namely: 
 
 " No, no, no, I shall never see her more! 
 No, no, no, I shall Viever see her more! 
 No! no! no! I shall never see her more!" 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 GOODMAN MATURES HIS PLAN OF ESCAPE. THE COMMISSIONERS ARRIVE. HE PREPARES TO 
 CONVINCE THEM OF HIS ABSOLUTE SANITY, AND IS GOADED ON TO MADNESS. HE RECOVERS; 
 AND, HAVING REORGANISED HIS FORCES, RESOLUTELY MAKES THE ATTACK. 
 
 NOTWITHSTANDING Whitely labored to in- 
 spire his friend with the conviction that the 
 design he had conceived would be imprac- 
 ticable, Goodman, who saw no other nros- 
 pect before him than that of perpetual im- 
 prisonment if that design were not carried 
 into actual execution, had been busily occu- 
 pied, maturing his scheme every day since 
 that on which the important Kulij -t \\;is 
 broached. He sounded all in whom ho felt 
 
 that confidence might be placed, and with 
 pleasure found all whom he sounded will- 
 ing to join. Still Whitely felt doubtful of 
 success. He saw twenty men, of whom 
 the majority were young and muscular, 
 pn-pjiri'd to make a simultaneous effort to 
 , ilr.it liberty of which i!i;\v h:ul been 
 with rt-;i!ly cruel injustice deprived; yet, al- 
 though there were but five or six kn-prr* 
 to be conquered, he believed that the minds 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 159 
 
 of the twenty had become so enfeebled, 
 that their spirits had been, by brutal treat- 
 ment, so broken, and their native resolution 
 so completely subverted, that however de- 
 lighted with the project they might be, how- 
 ever anxious they might seem to carry it 
 into effect, when the moment for action ar- 
 rived, they would shrink back dismayed, 
 and thus secure to the six ruffians a signal 
 triumph. 
 
 The process of organization, notwith- 
 standing, went on the day was fixed; but 
 in proportion as Goodman became more re- 
 solute and sanguine of success, his friend 
 Whitely became more feverish and fearful. 
 
 The day arrived; and on the morning of 
 that day, they ascertained that two of the 
 keepers out of the six were to be absent, in 
 all probability with the view of seizing 
 another victim. 
 
 " Now," exclaimed Goodman, on hearing 
 this news, " we are safe! Nothing could 
 have been more fortunate. Everything, my 
 friend, is in our favor. There will now be 
 but four of these men to overcome, and, if 
 taken by surprise, there may be but one. 
 What, therefore, think you now? Why if 
 even the hearts of two-thirds of our com- 
 panions were to sink, success would be 
 certain." 
 
 Whitely shook his head mournfully and 
 sighed, and slightly trembled. 
 
 "My dear, dear friend," continued Good- 
 man, "be firm. Upon my life, I doubt 
 your resolution more than that of any man 
 to whom I have spoken on the subject. 
 Consider the monstrous character of our 
 position. Consider how we have been kid- 
 napped stolen from society; consider also, 
 that unless we do make our escape thus, 
 imprisonment for life is inevitable." 
 
 "I do, "returned Whitely, "I do consid- 
 er all; but I cannot avoid looking at the 
 consequences of a failure." 
 
 "A failure!" exclaimed Goodman; "It is 
 madness to think of it. Think of success, 
 my dear friend, not of failure. Suppose we 
 admit the possibility, or even the probabili- 
 ty of failure; what then 1 ? Is not the chance 
 of regaining our liberty worth all the risk? 
 Are we, or are we not to make the attempt] 
 If we are, why then, perish the thought of 
 a failure! Why should we think of it? 
 What was ever achieved by entertaining 
 the thought? What would have been our 
 national character if the consequences of 
 failure had preyed upon our souls? We 
 have been, as a nation, invariably success- 
 ful, because we have invariably felt sure of 
 success, even under the most adverse cir- 
 cumstances. Had it not been for that, we 
 should have been in the world's estimation 
 a nation of cowards. Why speak of a fail- 
 
 ure, then, now? In a case like this, which 
 entirely depends upon individual firmness 
 and resolution, we must succeed, if we 
 believe we shall succeed; but we cannot 
 succeed if we fear that we shall fail. Come! 
 come! be a man. Think of twenty opposed 
 to four; and the cause of that twenty indis- 
 putably just: think of this, and feel ashamed 
 to dream even of a failure. If we be but 
 firm, our freedom will be achieved: I feel 
 perfectly certain of that. All depends upon 
 us. We are to lead, and have therefore the 
 power within ourselves to inspire our com- 
 panions with the courage of lions, or to 
 cause them to cringe like spaniels again. 
 Shall we not make the attempt?" 
 
 " We will!" cried Whitely, with unusual 
 firmness, grasping the hand of Goodman as 
 he spoke, " We will! come what may, 
 the attempt shall be made." 
 
 Goodman was delighted. He felt far 
 more sanguine than ever. He went round 
 to his companions, spoke to them cautious- 
 ly one by one, lest suspicion should be ex- 
 cited, and found them all impatient to com- 
 mence the attack. Twilight, however, was 
 considered the fittest period for the com- 
 mencement of operations. Goodman was 
 then to give the signal by drawing forth a 
 sheet which he had cut into strips, with 
 which the principal keeper was to be bound, 
 when, having obtained the keys, they were 
 to rush to the door which led to the resi- 
 dence of the proprietor of the asylum, and 
 which they had but to pass to be free. This 
 was well understood by them all, and all 
 were anxious for the day to wear away; 
 but just as they were about to be summoned 
 to what, by an extraordinary stretch of the 
 imagination, was conceived to be a dinner, 
 it was announced that the commissioners 
 had unexpectedly arrived, when, of course 
 a general rush was made by the servants of 
 the establishment, with the view of getting 
 things in order for the mockery of an inspec- 
 tion about to take place. 
 
 "Now," said Whitely, the moment he 
 heard of their arrival, " as far as you are 
 concerned, this attempt need not be made. 
 The commissioners were not expected: the 
 keepers have therefore no time to excite 
 you; and as you are the only * patient* 
 whom they have not yet seen, you are per- 
 fectly sure to be called before them. Be 
 firm; be composed: for Heaven's sake, my 
 friend, say nothing which may develop the 
 smallest degree of excitement. Appeal to 
 their judgment. Be calm quite calm. The 
 keepers may wish you to take a glass of 
 wine before you enter the drawing-room: if 
 they should, be sure that it is drugged; be 
 quite sure! on no account touch it. Re- 
 member, my friend, the way in which they 
 
160 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 excited me, and thus made it appear that I 
 was really insane, which the commissioners 
 believe to this day. Therefore do not touch 
 anything before you see them, as you value 
 your liberty." 
 
 This caution was received with gratitude 
 by Goodman, who felt sure that he should 
 be able to convince the commissioners that 
 he was a perfectly sane man, and therefore 
 at once began to think of the best mode of 
 commencing his appeal; but while he was 
 thus engaged in the full conviction of suc- 
 cess, the proprietor was occupied in giving 
 instructions to his head-keeper; for he also 
 felt certain that Goodman whose mildness 
 and perfect self-possession he had had 
 ample opportunities of witnessing would, 
 if fair play were allowed, succeed in estab- 
 lishing his perfect sanity; and he did not 
 forget that, in such an event, he should, of 
 course, lose one of the most profitable pa- 
 tients he had. 
 
 Accordingly, Goodman had scarcely time 
 to decide on the commencement of his ad- 
 dress, before the head-keeper entered the 
 garden, and addressing him, shouted, " Now 
 then here you! This way here, you're 
 wanted!" 
 
 "Success! success!" exclaimed Whitely; 
 " Be calm! God bless you! My dear friend, 
 God bless you!" And as the friends shook 
 hands, the tear which stood in Whitely's 
 eye portrayed the feelings of his heart with 
 far more eloquence than words. 
 
 " Now then!" shouted the keeper, " how 
 much longer are you going for to make me 
 keep waiting here, hay!" 
 
 Goodman joined him at once with the 
 utmost firmness. He felt that all depended 
 upon his tranquil bearing then, and hence 
 determined not to notice any indignity that 
 might be offered. Instead, however, of 
 being introduced to the commissioners, 
 who were appropriately taking wine in the 
 drawing-room, the keeper led him to the 
 cell in which he slept, and in which he 
 found another keeper loaded with an arm- 
 full of chains. 
 
 " Now then," cried the principal ruffian, 
 44 come, strip! and look alive." 
 
 44 Am I not to see the commissioners?" 
 inquired Goodman, calmly. 
 
 44 And no mistake, you are. They're a 
 coming here directly. So you'd better look 
 sharp!" 
 
 44 Pray," said Goodman, humbly, yrt 
 earnestly, " allow me to see them as 1 am." 
 
 :rip, I say, and be quick! d'y< 
 mo! come! I'm not going to stand all thish 
 'ere dilly dallying. Sam! here, just lug off 
 his coat." And the fellow threw the chains 
 upon the ground, and tore the coat off ac- 
 cordingly. 
 
 44 My good men, pray tell me your object 
 in " 
 
 44 Silence!" interrupted the ruffian. "Hold 
 your mouth, or I'll make yer!" 
 
 The very moment the coat was off, they 
 slipped on a strait waistcoat, and then 
 threw him down upon the bed; and while 
 one of them was fastening an iron collar 
 round his neck, and locking the chain at- 
 tached to a stanchion, the other was engaged 
 in pulling off his shoes and stockings, and 
 chaining his legs firmly to the bottom of 
 the bed. 
 
 Goodman remained silent. " Let them 
 do what they please," thought he, " I shall 
 still have the power to speak to the com- 
 missioners. Let them load me with chains^ 
 I must not be excited." 
 
 The sleeves of the strait waistcoat, were 
 now tied to the bedstead, on either side; 
 his bare feet were chained securely; he was 
 unable to move hand or foot, he had not 
 even the power to raise his head. 
 
 " Now," said the principal ruffian, ad- 
 dressing his assistant, "Do you go down, 
 and let me know when they're a-coming." 
 
 The fellow obeyed, and the moment he 
 had done so, the keeper deliberately drew 
 a feather from his breast, and having 
 straightened it, and looked at it with an air 
 of the most intense satisfaction, knelt down 
 at the foot of the bed. 
 
 44 What, in heaven's name," thought 
 Goodman, " is about to take place! My 
 good man," he exclaimed, in a state of great 
 alarm, " what, what are you going to do 
 with me!" 
 
 Scarcely had the last word been uttered 
 when the miscreant began to tickle the soles 
 of his victim's feet! 
 
 44 Oh! o/*/" exclaimed Goodman; " Oh! 
 Do not! Pray do not! Ok' God! I can- 
 not endure it! Mercy! Murder! Murder! 
 Murder!" and he struggled and shrieked, 
 and the more he shrieked and struggled the 
 more quickly was the feather applied. The 
 blood rushed to his head. He strained hor- 
 ribly. The torture was exquisite. His 
 cries might have pierced the heart even of a 
 fiend, yet that wretch still kept up th 
 dreadful process. " My God! My God!" 
 exclaimed Goodman, " What agony!" 
 
 These were the last words he conscious- 
 ly uttered, for his veins began to swell, ami 
 his face became black, and his eyes ap- 
 peared to be in the act of start i MIT from their 
 sockets. The room shook with his convul- 
 sions. He raved with maniacal fury! In 
 a \vi-nl, lie had been goaded to madness. 
 
 44 They are here! they are here!" cried 
 the assistant, rushing into the room. 
 
 44 All right; I've done the trick," saiil 
 the miscreant, concealing the iVathrr, and 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 16L 
 
 throwing a blanket over the feet of his 
 victim. 
 
 The commissioners entered! Goodman 
 was a maniac! laughing and raving, al- 
 ternately torturing his features into shapes 
 the most hideous writhing with frightful 
 energy to get loose, and screaming horribly. 
 
 "Here is the poor man," observed the 
 humane proprietor, with an expression of 
 the purest sympathy; " Poor gentleman! 
 Really, it is enough to make one's heart 
 bleed to see him." 
 
 "Dreadful!" cried one of the commis- 
 sioners. 
 
 " Dreadful, indeed!" exclaimed another. 
 
 " Poor fellow! Is he often thus?" in- 
 quired a third. 
 
 " Not very often so out-and-out bad, sir," 
 replied the brutal keeper; " only about 
 twice a week; and he's much to be pitied: 
 there ain't a patient I pities more than him." 
 And he winked at the proprietor, and the 
 proprietor winked at him, as the commis,- 
 sioners drew near to the bedside, while 
 poor Goodman was shouting, " Villains! 
 Murderers! Fiends!" He was mad! rav- 
 ing mad! The commissioners were satis- 
 fied. Accustomed as they had been to such 
 scenes, this struck them with horror, and 
 they prepared to leave the room. 
 
 " It's shocking when they are so," ob- 
 served the Christian proprietor, " truly 
 shocking. Take care of him, Johnson; 
 treat him tenderly, poor man!" 
 
 " I will, sir, depend on't," replied the 
 keeper; and the commissioners quitted the 
 scene, much affected. 
 
 The very moment they had left, the mis- 
 creant burst into a loud roar of laughter, 
 and congratulated himself on the success 
 of his brutal experiment. He had tried it 
 before frequently; and although one of his 
 victims had died under the dreadful opera- 
 tion, while another had been struck with 
 paralysis, and a third had been reduced to 
 a state of idiotcy, in which he continued 
 till death, it had occasionally so far failed 
 as to induce almost immediate exhaustion, 
 which had been found not to answer the 
 proposed end so well. In this case, how- 
 ever, he had been perfectly successful, and 
 therefore, after having remained in the 
 room until the commissioners had quitted 
 the asylum, he left his raving victim with 
 a fiend-like smile to receive the applause of 
 his infamous master. 
 
 Poor Goodman's dreadful paroxysm lasted 
 without a moment's intermission for more 
 than six hours; and when consciousness 
 returned, his exhaustion was so absolute, 
 that he instantly sank into a deep heavy 
 sleep a sleep, indeed, so profound, that 
 although the two keepers divested him of 
 15 
 
 the chains, the strait waistcoat, and the iron 
 collar, and even completely undressed him, 
 he did not awake. 
 
 About twelve o'clock, however, that 
 night, he was aroused by a series of despe- 
 rate pinches, and, on opening his eyes, he 
 perceived the proprietor who had become 
 apprehensive of losing a patient for whom 
 he was so liberally paid standing over 
 him. 
 
 "Wa-ater!" he gasped, after a violent 
 effort to uncleave his tongue from the roof 
 of his mouth; and the proprietor gave him 
 a cordial, which in a short time considera- 
 bly revived him. 
 
 " How horribly! oh! how horribly have 
 I been used!" said Goodman, faintly, as 
 soon as he had recovered the power to 
 speak. "I hope you did not authorise this 
 dreadful treatment?" he continued, as the 
 feverish tears rolled upon the pillow on 
 either side as he lay. 
 
 " Dreadful treatment!" exclaimed the 
 proprietor, with an expression of utter 
 amazement. " What dreadful treatment!" 
 
 Goodman briefly, but warmly explained. 
 
 " Pooh! It's all your delusion," exclaimed 
 the proprietor " It's all your delusion!'' 1 
 
 "Delusion!" echoed Goodman in a 
 mournful tone. "That man, that despe- 
 rately wicked man well knows that it is no 
 delusion. May God in his mercy forgive 
 him!" he continued; and again the tears 
 gushed from his eyes; his heart was full, 
 and he sobbed bitterly. 
 
 "Johnson!" said the proprietor in an 
 angry tone, " Have you been ill-using this 
 patient]" 
 
 " Me, sir! Me ill-use patients! I never 
 ill-uses 'em: on the contrayry, I always 
 treats 'em in the kindestest manner. How 
 ever patients can get up sich 'bom'nable 
 lies, puts me out altogether: but then they 
 know nothink, you know, when they're that 
 way. The commissioners seed that there 
 warn't no mistake." 
 
 "The commissioners!" cried Goodman, 
 "Then they have been here. They have 
 seen me, in all probability, raving. They 
 are satisfied that I am mad! Oh, villany! 
 Monstrous villany!" 
 
 " Come, come! none of that! none of 
 that!" cried the proprietor; "compose 
 yourself, and don't run away with such 
 fancies. I tell you, it's all your delusion, 
 and nothing but delusion: go to sleep: go 
 to sleep." And thus he left him. 
 
 " Now," said the ruffian, when his mas- 
 ter had left, "do you want any other little 
 thing afore I go; cos if you do, you don't 
 have it. I ill-uses you, do 1? Never 
 mind. I'll sarve you out for that, one of 
 these here odd days, mark my words; now, 
 
162 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 you mind if I don't!" And he slammed the 
 door of the cell, and having locked it se- 
 curely, poor Goodman was left to his re- 
 flections for the night. 
 
 For one entire week he never quitted his 
 cell; which, independently of the acute 
 physical pain he endured was, of itself, a 
 dreadful species of torture, for neither a 
 book nor a paper of any description was he 
 allowed; not a soul was he permitted either 
 to speak to or to see, with the single excep- 
 tion of that savage ruffian, the very sight of 
 \vhom induced an involuntary shudder. 
 
 Meanwhile, his companions in misfor- 
 tune were marvelling what had become of 
 him. The keepers would, of course, give 
 them no information. They could not hear 
 of his being still in the asylum, nor could 
 they hear of his having obtained his liberty; 
 but when four or five days had elapsed, the 
 impression became general that, having 
 succeeded in convincing the commissioners 
 of his sanity, he had been quietly suffered 
 to depart. 
 
 At the expiration of the week, however, 
 he again appeared amongst them, and the 
 feelings which were excited by his re-ap- 
 pearance, were those of mingled pleasure 
 and regret. As far as they were concerned, 
 they were delighted to see him; for the 
 goodness of his heart, which was at all 
 times conspicuous, had won their affections; 
 but as far as regarded himself, they beheld 
 him with sorrow. 
 
 Their gladness was, however, soon per- 
 mitted to preponderate; for although he 
 was feverish and physically weak, his 
 strength of mind had been unimpaired by 
 the monstrous outrage to which he had 
 been subjected, and being, if possible, more 
 firmly determined than before, to effect an 
 escape, they viewed him as their liberator, 
 and placed implicit confidence in his judg- 
 ment and resolution. He aroused their en- 
 thusiasm by an explanation of what had 
 occurred, and they looked upon success as 
 a matter of course. There was, however, 
 one whose enthusiasm he could not excite, 
 and that was Whitely the horrible conse- 
 quences of a failure having again taken 
 possession of his soul. 
 
 " My friend," said that gentleman, when 
 Goodman had labored to warm him again 
 with his eloquence, " let us now trust en- 
 tirely to Providence. He never deserts 
 those who put their whole trust in Him." 
 
 I believe it," said Goodman, " I firmly 
 religiously believe it: I do trust in Provi- 
 dence, and have implicit confidence in His 
 goodness: it is hence that I believe that our 
 enterprise will be successful, being, as it is, 
 indisputably based upon justice; bat be as- 
 sured that it never was intended that a man 
 
 should trust in Providence and be inactive 
 that he should suffer those faculties with 
 vhich he has been endowed, to lie dormant, 
 ooking to Providence for the accomplish- 
 ment of that which Providence has given 
 him the power to achieve." 
 
 *If we believe," rejoined Whitely, "that 
 He who works the universe, guides even 
 he worm; that He permits the varied ills 
 of human life, and forms the varied moulds 
 n which the minds of men are cast, and 
 that in His judgments He is merciful and 
 ust: how can we believe that He will ever 
 desert those who put their whole trust and 
 onfidence in Him"? We have suffered; we 
 suffer still; but did suffering increase in 
 sower with its age, we must have been 
 goaded to death or to madness; but even in 
 our position, we see that pain and pleasure 
 cannot be divorced, for there is no wound 
 which can be inflicted, at which we do not 
 'eel the God of Nature administering, at 
 east, the balm of hope. Man never des- 
 pairs. He cannot do so wholly. He looks 
 to Him with confidence, even in the last 
 extremity. In Him, therefore, let us con- 
 fide. Let us look to Him for aid. Let us 
 hope! still hope! and be resigned." 
 
 44 My friend," said Goodman, solemnly, 
 " the presence of resignation in such a case 
 as this of necessity supposes the absence of 
 hope. When liberty is wounded, men will 
 hope; they mourn, and mourn, and call her 
 virtues up, and pant and pray for her re- 
 overy the slightest change reanimates 
 their souls while they believe that she yet 
 may be restored: it is when she becomes to 
 us dead, when we are sure that she is gone, 
 never, never to return, that hope gives place 
 to resignation. I feel, with you, that they 
 who firmly confide in Him will not do so 
 in vain; but that feeling by no means 
 prompts the conviction, that all human ex- 
 ertion is therefore unnecessary, or that all 
 such exertion, of necessity, amounts to op- 
 position to His will. We look to Him for 
 aid; but is it, therefore, our duty to lie dor- 
 mant? That, indeed, would be illustrating 
 with a vengeance the apathetic faith of the 
 fabled waggoner, who called for the aid of 
 Jupiter. We must put our own shoulders 
 to the wheel, my friend. Aide tot, et It del 
 t'aidera." 
 
 It by no means required all this to con- 
 vince Mr. Whitely of the fact, that trusting 
 in Providence did not suppose it to be the 
 duty of man to remain inactive; but being 
 anxious to induce Goodman to forego his 
 design, he had recourse to every thing 
 bearing even the semblance of an argument 
 which might tend to subvert his resolution. 
 Kim) ing, however, that this was impossible, 
 he again declared his readiness to join him, 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 163 
 
 and promised to think no more of a failure, 
 but to act with the resolute firmness of a 
 man of feeling 1 perfectly sure of success. 
 
 Accordingly, the next day was fixed upon 
 as the one on which the attempt should be 
 made, about twilight; and Goodman, by 
 calling into action all the eloquence at his 
 command, succeeded in inspiring his com- 
 panions with so much courage, that they 
 were to a man as determined as himself. 
 
 The morning came; and on being turned 
 into the garden, they all seemed to have 
 the impression, that it was for the last time. 
 They breathed more freely, and stepped 
 more lightly, and smiled at each other with 
 an air of satisfaction the most absolute. 
 The day appeared to wear away but slowly, 
 for they held as little communication as 
 possible with each other lest the keepers 
 should have their suspicion aroused. 
 
 Twilight approached! and all, save Good- 
 man and Whitely, who remained firm as 
 rocks, were in a state of the most feverish 
 excitement. 
 
 Their lips were pale, and their hearts 
 beat violently. They walked round and 
 round, and to and fro, with hurried steps, 
 tugging at the sleeves of their coats, trying 
 the firmness of the muscles of their arms, 
 and grinding their teeth with apparent des- 
 peration. They could not control the de- 
 velopment of their feelings. " Be firm!" 
 whispered Goodman to each as they passed 
 him, " be firm!" and each replied with a 
 look of resolution. 
 
 " Now," said Goodman, addressing 
 "Whitely, as the ruffian who had tortured 
 him entered the garden. "The time is 
 come! Every eye is upon us. See! all 
 are prepared. They will rush to our aid 
 in an instant. Not a man will keep back; 
 not one of them I know it! Now, all is 
 understood. The very moment we have 
 him down, we bind him; when, having ob- 
 tained possession of his keys, we rush to 
 that door which leads into the house, and 
 we are free, my friend free! Once com- 
 mence, we must, of course, break through 
 all opposition." 
 
 The friends shook hands. " I am ready," 
 said Whitely. The keeper approached, 
 with his hands in his pockets, whistling 
 snatches of popular tunes. Every eye was 
 fixed on Goodman. The keeper passed! and 
 Goodman, in an instant, drew the cord from 
 his breast, and having thrown it over the 
 head of the ruffian, brought him heavily to 
 the ground. 
 
 ^"Now!" cried Whitely, "Now!" and 
 his companions rushed like lightning to the 
 spot. " Help! Murder!" shouted the keep- 
 er, struggling desperately, and dragging 
 down several of his assailants. 
 
 "Stop his mouth," cried Goodman, 
 " bind his legs! Now his arms! The keys! 
 the keys!" he shouted, holding them up, 
 and his companions gave a deafening cheer. 
 
 Such a cheer had never before been heard 
 within those walls. The poor insane peo- 
 ple appeared perfectly electrified, and began 
 to laugh and shout, and to perform the most 
 extraordinary antics, dancing, capering, and 
 rolling about the garden in a state of ecsta- 
 tic delight. 
 
 Two keepers rushed out! The insane 
 people ran into a corner; but Goodman's 
 companions were firm. ** Down with 
 them!" cried Whitely, and the keepers 
 were dashed to the ground on the instant. 
 Another appeared! " Offer no opposition!" 
 shouted Goodman, "stand aside!" But 
 the fellow at once sprang at him and seized 
 him by the throat, which Whitely no sooner 
 perceived, than with one well-aimed blow 
 he struck the ruffian to the earth; and 
 another shout, louder than the first re-in- 
 spired them. 
 
 " To the door!" cried Goodman, " to the 
 door! Follow me!" and they darted 
 through the asylum to the door which com- 
 municated with the residence of the pro- 
 prietor. 
 
 At that door, a gigantic keeper armed 
 with a bludgeon, stood waiting to receive 
 them. "Stand back!" he cried, " stand! 
 I'll dash the brains out of the first man that 
 dares to come near me!" 
 
 Goodman sprang at him on the instant, 
 and the uplifted bludgeon descended upon 
 the head of Whitely with so much force, 
 that it brought him to the ground. 
 
 "Villain!" cried Goodman, seizing the 
 instrument, which he eventually wrenched 
 from the ruffian's grasp. 
 
 " Go on!" shouted Whitely, " I am not 
 hurt; go on! Now! the keys!" 
 
 They were lost! "No matter!" cried 
 Goodman, and he dashed in the door at one 
 blow with the bludgeon. 
 
 " Hurrah!" again shouted the prisoners. 
 Another door had to be passed. The pro- 
 prietor on hearing the shouts, had darted to 
 that door, which he opened the very mo- 
 ment it was about to be dashed down. 
 
 " Stand aside!" cried Goodman; " stop 
 us at your peril!" and he and Whitely 
 sprang through the house and were free! 
 
 None followed. " Let us go back," 
 cried Goodman, " to their assistance." 
 
 " Not for your life!" exclaimed White- 
 ly, " come on!" 
 
 On they went. Still none followed; 
 not one! The very instant they had passed, 
 the proprietor, with desperate energy forced 
 to the door and locked the spring! In vain 
 the prisoners dashed up against it. It de- 
 
164 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 fied all their efforts. They could not make 1 
 it yield. They eventually succeeded in | 
 kicking in the weakest portion of the lower 
 panel, but at the moment three of the keep- 
 ers, armed with pitchforks, caroe round, 
 and, by striking at the legs of the patients 
 through the aperture, lamed all who stood \ 
 within their reach. 
 
 "Back! back!" they shouted, " back! 
 if you value your souls; 1 ' and having stuck 
 their forks into the flesh of the patients un- 
 til they retreated in despair, they threw 
 open the door, rushed upon them with sav- 
 age desperation, and in less than ten mi- 
 nutes they were in a state of the most abso- 
 lute insensibility, handcuffed and chained ! 
 
 "Where's Johnson? Where's Johnson]" 
 cried the proprietor, when this had been ac- 
 complished. " W T here's Johnson"?" 
 
 He was still in the garden, where he lay 
 bound and bellowing with rage, while half 
 a dozen idiots were dangling their hands 
 and dancing round and round him with in- 
 finite glee. 
 
 His brother ruffians now heard him. He 
 was instantly released, and, on being in- 
 formed of the escape of Goodman and 
 "Whitely, he and the giant rushed into the 
 stable, twisted the halters into the mouths 
 of two horses, and, taking a rope with them, 
 gallopped off at once without either saddle 
 or bridle towards town. 
 
 The two friends had got some considera- 
 ble distance, when, being exhausted, they 
 crept behind a hedge. They heard the 
 horses tearing along the road, and saw the 
 keepers urging them forward with looks of 
 desperation. They approached; and the 
 two friends would scarcely allow them- 
 selves to breathe. They passed! at full 
 gallop. " Bravo!" said Whitely; " now, 
 now we are secure. Now let us be off." 
 
 "No, no!" cried Goodman; "not yet, 
 not yet: they are not out of sight." 
 
 " Be guided by me," rejoined Whitely; 
 " I know every inch of the road. Let us 
 once get across this field, and we shall be 
 far more safe than we are here. Come, 
 come! there's not a moment to be lost." 
 
 Goodman yielded: they started off, and 
 the keepers saw them in an instant. 
 
 "Quick, quick! we are perceived !" cried 
 Whitely. 
 
 The keepers turned; leaped their horses 
 
 over the hedge, and were in the field before 
 Goodman had got half across it. 
 
 ** Come on!" shouted Whitely; " Come 
 on!" 
 
 "They must catch us," cried Goodman; 
 " let us stop to take breath, and meet them 
 firmly man to man." 
 
 " Come on! come on!" reiterated White- 
 ly- 
 
 "Turn!" shouted Goodman, "we shall 
 be exhausted: we shall not be able to cope 
 with them. Turn!" 
 
 Whitely did turn. "Be resolute," he 
 cried; " give me the stick: I am stronger 
 than you." 
 
 The next moment the keepers were on 
 the spot. " As you value your lives," ex- 
 claimed Whitely, "keep off!" 
 
 The keepers alighted with an expression 
 of contempt, and at once rushed upon them. 
 Whitely aimed a desperate blow at the head 
 of Johnson, and struck him to the ground, 
 and, at the same instant, Goodman was 
 felled by the giant. 
 
 "Fly and save yourself! Fly!" shouted 
 Goodman, as the giant knelt upon him. 
 
 " Never!" cried Whitely, " until you are 
 free." And he rushed upon the gigantic 
 ruffian, who caught him as he rushed, and 
 held them both down together. 
 
 " Now, now!" cried the giant, " bring 
 the ropes! bring the ropes!" 
 
 Johnson rose and shook his head. White- 
 ly's blow had confused him. He did, how- 
 ever, manage to stagger up to the spot, and 
 the giant, while kneeling upon Goodman's 
 neck, bound Whitely hand and foot. 
 
 "Now for the horses! Bring the horses! 
 here!" shouted the giant. Johnson stag- 
 gered towards them and fell. 
 
 Goodman could not be bound. They had 
 no more rope left. To secure him, the 
 giant, therefore, gave him a blow upon the 
 head which stunned him, and ran for the 
 horses himself. He soon brought them to 
 the spot,' and threw Whitely across the 
 back of one of them just as he would have 
 thrown a sack of oats; and, having placed 
 Johnson behind, he threw Goodman in the 
 same way across the back of the other and 
 mounted himself; and thus the two friends 
 were carried back to the asylum as nearly 
 as possible dead. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 165 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 UNCLE JOHN ANNOUNCES HIS INTENTION OF RUNNING UP TO TOWN, AND VALENTINE VISITS A 
 WEALTHY INDIVIDUAL, TO WHOM HE FAILS TO IMPART MUCH PLEASURE. 
 
 ON the morning of the day on which the 
 occurrences recorded in the preceding chap- 
 ter took place, Valentine received a long- 
 expected letter from Uncle John, which ran 
 as follows: 
 
 " MY DEAR BOY: I wish to know what 
 it is you mean, sir, by wanting more money 1 ? 
 Have you any idea how much you have 
 had? Does it happen to strike you that you 
 are living at a ruinous rate? I dare say 
 that you have been at some expense in en- 
 deavoring to discover friend Goodman; and 
 you are a good boy, no doubt, for your 
 pains, poor fellow! But do you think that 
 I am made of money, eh? I shall send you 
 no more, sir! not another shilling. It puz- 
 zles me however you get rid of so much. 
 When I was your age, a hundred a-year 
 would have enabled me to live like a prince; 
 and here you have been living away at the 
 rate of four! What do you mean, sir? Do 
 you think that I pick money up in the 
 street? An extravagant dog! Why, you'd 
 beggar the bank of England, and so your 
 mother says, and I perfectly agree with 
 her; and she insists upon your keeping an 
 account of every shilling you spend, and 
 how you spend it, that we may know that 
 you spend it properly. No doubt you get 
 sadly imposed upon, and living in London 
 is very expensive I dare say; but these 
 extravagances must be checked, and they 
 ought to be checked; your mother says that 
 they ought to be checked; and I am exactly 
 of her way of thinking. Mark my words, 
 sir, extravagance is the root of all evil; and 
 I therefore don't feel myself justified in en- 
 couraging you in any thing of the sort, by 
 supplying you with the means of being ex- 
 travagant. But don't return. I'll not allow 
 you to come back until you have found 
 Goodman. I am quite of your opinion 
 that there has been some foul play. I'll be 
 bound to say that it is so; but I'm not at 
 all satisfied with your exertions in the mat- 
 ter. Do you suppose that if I were in Lon- 
 don I should not have discovered him long 
 before this? You don't go the right way 
 to work about the business. I'm sure you 
 don't. You can't. And now I come to 
 think of it, I'll run up to London myself. 
 I'll soon find him out. It is all very well 
 to look, and look; but it is always my plan 
 to go to the fountain head at once. You 
 will see me some day, about the week after 
 
 next. I don't exactly know which day; 
 but, as you have nothing much to do, you 
 can be at the inn, where the coach arrives, 
 every evening till you see me. 
 
 " Your poor mother has not been so well 
 the last two or three days. She caught 
 cold the other evening coming from the 
 Beeches. I knew she would, because she 
 always does; and I said so, but she wouldn't 
 believe me, and now she finds out her mis- 
 take. She sends her dearest love, which is 
 more than you deserve, and accept the same 
 from, 
 
 " My dear boy, 
 
 44 Your most affectionate Uncle, 
 "JOHN LONG." 
 
 "P.S. I have said, that I'll not send 
 you up another shilling, and I'll not break 
 my word; but, if you should mark! if you 
 should want any money, before you see 
 me, you can go to Mr. Fledger; you know 
 his address, and as there is a balance be- 
 tween us of sixty pounds or so in my favor, 
 you may get him to give you five pounds, 
 if you like, but on no account draw more 
 than twenty mind that. 
 
 * 4 Expect to see me about next Wednes- 
 day se'nnight. Be sure, my dear boy, that 
 you meet me at the coach. God bless you. 
 J. L." 
 
 The portion of this affectionate epistle 
 which gave the greatest pleasure to Valen- 
 tine was the announcement of Uncle John's 
 intention to visit London. He knew that, 
 whatever might be said about extravagance 
 in the body of the letter, there would be 
 something in a pecuniary point of view ra- 
 ther pleasing in the postscript; but he did 
 not expect that the old gentleman could 
 ever have been prevailed upon to come up 
 to town. It was precisely what Valentine 
 wanted him to do, and he was therefore de- 
 lighted with the announcement; and having 
 ascertained from the widow, Smugman, that 
 she would, with much pleasure, and more- 
 over could, with great convenience and 
 comfort, provide the accommodation re*- 
 quired, he began to think of Fledger, who 
 resided at Bermondsey, and of whom he 
 was to receive not more than twenty pounds. 
 Valentine had frequently heard of Mr. 
 Fledger. He had heard of his being the 
 owner of an immense number of houses, and 
 onsequently a man of considerable wealth. 
 He knew that Uncle John became acquaint- 
 
166 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ed with the existence of such an individual 
 through a friend to whom he had sold some 
 property in Essex, of which Pledger became 
 subsequently possessed, in consideration of 
 his paying to Uncle John the balance of the 
 purchase-money due, and this was all that 
 he knew of Mr. Pledger. 
 
 He had however heard, in addition to 
 this, that there was no chance of catching 
 that gentleman at home until the evening, 
 and having accordingly waited until the 
 evening drew near, he started off, with his 
 heart and purse equally light. 
 
 It struck him, however, as he passed 
 down Regent street, that the distance to 
 Bermondsey was rather too great for him to 
 walk; and being anxious on that particular 
 occasion to act upon the most approved 
 principle of economy, he decided upon pa- 
 tronising an omnibus as far as the Elephant 
 and Castle. He, therefore, hailed the very 
 first that came up, and jumped in; but, be- 
 fore he could reach a vacant seat, the con- 
 ductor, who perceived at that moment an 
 opposition omnibus approaching, slammed 
 the door, when, as the horses, knowing the 
 signal, at once started off, he was forcibly 
 thrown backwards upon the knees of the 
 passengers, who permitted him to slip very 
 quietly upon the straw. 
 
 This was pleasant. He thought it very 
 pleasant; especially as the people at that 
 interesting moment began to laugh very 
 loudly and very merrily. He scrambled 
 up, however, by no means disconcerted, and 
 having at length reached a seat, he waited 
 patiently until the burst of merriment had 
 subsided, when being determined to take 
 his revenge out of the conductor, he shouted, 
 " Ho!" throwing his voice towards that per- 
 son, who was perched upon a board by the 
 side of the door, where, with one of his 
 arms hooked in a strap, and the other raised 
 high in the air, he perpetually bawled, 
 "Cas-a/// El'phant Cas-ff/// Cas-c///" 
 
 44 //o.'" shouted Valentine, louder than 
 before. 
 
 'Hold hard!" cried the conductor, and 
 the vehicle stopped. Of course no one at- 
 tempted to move. " Look alive, sir, please," 
 he continued, as the opposition omnibus 
 passed him. "Any lady or gentle want to 
 get out?" 
 
 "The Circus!" cried Valentine, in an as 
 sumed voice, of course. 
 
 "The Cirkiss! Why couldn't yer say 
 sol" observed the conductor, and he slam- 
 med the door to with additional violence. 
 
 It thus became clear, that this course ol 
 proceeding was one of which he did not ex 
 actly :i||.Mvr. He, notwithstanding, cried, 
 " 1 1 old hard," on reaching the Circus, and 
 descended from his perch to reopen the 
 
 door. "Now then, sir! The Cirkiss!" he 
 continued, "what genelman wants to get 
 down at the Cirkiss?" 
 
 To this natural question no answer was 
 returned, a fact which struck the conductor 
 as being most extraordinary! he didn't know 
 exactly what to make of it! he couldn't un- 
 derstand it at all! 
 
 " You will not forget to put me down at 
 the Athenaeum Club," observed an elderly 
 gentleman who sat near the door. 
 
 "The Athneem! you said the Cirkiss 
 just now! I wish people could know their 
 own minds!" cried the conductor, who was 
 not perhaps the mildest individual in exist- 
 ence, and who had possibly been prompted 
 to make that observation by the fact, that at 
 that particular instant, another opposition 
 omnibus passed him. 
 
 "It was not I," observed the elderly 
 gentleman, who evidently prided himself 
 upon the strikingly grammatical construc- 
 tion of his sentences. " It was not I who 
 said the Circus: it was the gentleman whom 
 you previously addressed." 
 
 Long before this highly appropriate 
 speech, short as it was, had been brought 
 to a conclusion, the conductor had closed 
 the door, and the horses had started off 
 again; while the passengers were looking 
 very earnestly at each other, with the lau- 
 dable view of ascertaining who it was that 
 had signified a wish to alight at the Circus. 
 
 They were utterly unable, however, to 
 get at the fact which at that particular 
 period of time interested them, so deeply. 
 They had their suspicions; and the object 
 of those suspicions was a cadaverous look- 
 ing person, with black wiry whiskers, who 
 appeared to be fast asleep at the farther end 
 of the vehicle; but that, of course, according 
 to the general impression, was a feint. 
 
 " Now," said the conductor, as he opened 
 the door on arriving at the corner of Water- 
 loo-place, "p'raps this ere 'li suit yer]" 
 
 "It is here that I wished to alight," 
 replied the Athenaeum gentleman emphati- 
 cally. 
 
 " Well, come, that's a blessing any 
 how," rejoined the conductor, who was by 
 no means an ill-tempered man, but occa- 
 sionally very sarcastic. 
 
 " What is that you say, sir?" cried the 
 Athenaeum gentleman, whom the conduc- 
 tor's ironical observation had failed to pro- 
 pitiate. 
 
 44 Why, only that it's a pomfort you're 
 suited at la^t." 
 
 " I beg," said the gentleman of the Athe- 
 naeum, handing over his sixpence, "that 
 y<>u will not be impertinent, or I shall be 
 under the disagreeable necessity of taking 
 your number." 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 167 
 
 This roused the indignation of the con- 
 ductor, who very promptly, and very loudly 
 cried, "Take it! D'yer want to stop the 
 buss a million o' times, while all the other 
 busses is cuttin past us?" 
 
 The gentleman of the Athenagum looked 
 perfectly amazed, and was about to give 
 expression to his sentiments on the sub- 
 ject; but before he had time to commence, 
 the conductor having intimated that that 
 wouldn't agree with his complaint, banged 
 the door, hopped with infinite alacrity 
 upon his perch, and renewed his tl Gas-all! 
 El'phant, Gas-all! Cas-a///" and continued 
 thus to shout until they stopped at Charing 
 Cross. 
 
 In front of the house before which the 
 "buss" stopped, stood a person enveloped 
 in a peculiarly constructed great coat, a 
 small pocket on one side of which had been 
 made for the reception of a watch, upon the 
 face of which he gazed, on the average, 
 about twenty times per minute. He held 
 a paper in his hand, and a pen in his mouth, 
 and appeared to have been established in 
 that particular spot for the express purpose 
 of proving to all whom it might concern, 
 that time would fly away, despite his efforts 
 to keep it. 
 
 " You're behind Bill again, Bob, and Joe 
 too, this time," observed that individual, 
 addressing the conductor. 
 
 "Behind Bill and Joe!" cried the con- 
 ductor, "and no wonder, nayther. An old 
 file has been a havin' a game with me a 
 comin' along, makin me pull up at one 
 place to tell me he wanted for to stop at 
 another. I should ony just like to 've had 
 a fair kick at him; that's all the harm 1 wish 
 him. I'll warrant he wouldn't be able to 
 sit in my buss a one while with any degree 
 of comfort," and having delivered himself 
 thus, he proceeded into the house with the 
 view of drowning his cares in a pint of 
 porter. 
 
 After remaining in this spot for about 
 three minutes during which time the pas- 
 sengers had been engaged in the expression 
 of the most conflicting opinions, having 
 reference immediately to the subject which 
 had so much confused them the individual 
 with the watch cried, "All right!" and the 
 conductor resumed his professional posi- 
 tion. 
 
 " Downing-street, please," said Valen 
 tine, assuming the voice of a female. 
 
 "Yes, marm," said the conductor, who 
 appeared to have got over it a little; but the 
 passengers looked round and round with 
 great curiosity. They had not perceived 
 the lips of either of the ladies move; but 
 that was attributed to the fact of its being 
 dusk. At all events, the suspicion which 
 
 attached to the individual who sported the 
 wiry whiskers, was not, in this particular 
 nstance, strengthened, and the omnibus 
 went on until it arrived at the corner of that 
 street, the offices in which are considered 
 so extremely eligible. 
 
 The door was opened. The conductor 
 stood holding it in his hand. "Now, 
 marm!" said he, when he found that no one 
 offered to alight. " Downing-street, marm, 
 if you please! Is this 'ere another game]" 
 
 " Please bring a lamp to find a purse in 
 the straw," said Valentine. 
 
 " Well, this is pleasant!" observed the 
 conductor, " we shall get the buss along by 
 and by, p'raps, no doubt! I wish people ud 
 just keep their pusses in their pockets. I 
 aint got no lamps" which was a fact; 
 although one of which Valentine had no 
 previous knowledge. 
 
 "I don't care!" said he, "I'll not get out 
 without my money." 
 
 "Then you must go a little further till 
 we gets to the shops," cried the conductor; 
 who, after having shouted " All right!" be- 
 gan to mutter away desperately, and to give 
 indications of something being, in his view, 
 decidedly "all wrong." 
 
 Having turned the corner of Bridge- 
 street, he politely procured a lantern, and, 
 on opening the door, cried, "Now, then, 
 where's this puss?" 
 
 " Here," said Valentine, throwing his 
 voice to the extreme end of the vehicle, and 
 the conductor thence proceeded, treading, 
 of course accidentally, but not very lightly, 
 upon the toes of the passengers during his 
 progress, when having at length arrived at 
 the spot, he knelt down and searched with 
 great perseverance among the straw. 
 
 " I can't see it no where about. It isn't 
 here, marm!" said he, raising his eyes to 
 the lady at whose feet he had been so dili- 
 gently prosecuting the search. " Are you 
 sartin you dropped it!" 
 
 " It does not belong to me," replied the 
 lady addressed. 
 
 "Then it's yours!" inquired the con- 
 ductor, of the lady who sat opposite. 
 
 " Oh! dear me, no; it's not mine!" 
 
 " Well, there's no other lady in the buss!" 
 cried the conductor, " it must belong to one 
 on yer, any how! Who does it belong to, 
 ony say! Who told me to pull up at 
 Downing Street!" 
 
 " Not I," said one of the ladies. " Nor 
 did I," said the other. 
 
 "Well, then, what d'yer mean!" cried 
 the conductor. " This here's a nice game, 
 and no mistake! 11 And he looked very fierce, 
 and grumbled very naturally; and as ano- 
 ther opposition buss passed as he retired, 
 he gave it as his opinion, that in this, his 
 
168 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 extremity, it was enough to drive a man to 
 make a hole in the water. 
 
 " What's in the wind now, Bob!" shouted 
 the driver. 
 
 "What's in the wind!" echoed Bob. 
 ' I've a nice load this journey, and no mis- 
 take about it. They're only havin' a lark." 
 
 * A lark!" exclaimed the driver. " We 
 can't stop for larks!" and with great impar- 
 tiality he lashed both his horses, apparently 
 that one might not laugh at the other, and 
 they flew over the bridge as if unable to 
 forget it. 
 
 " Marsh Gate!" cried Valentine, " Stop 
 at the Marsh Gate!" 
 
 The conductor descended from his emi- 
 nence to the steps beneath the door, and 
 having introduced his head into the omni- 
 bus, in which he saw his " nice load" in a 
 convulsion of laughter, said, with a drollery 
 of expression which was of itself irresisti- 
 ble, " Now, is this another game, or ain't 
 it, ony say? Does any body want to get 
 out at the Mash Gate!" 
 
 Did I not say the Marsh Gate!" replied 
 Valentine, assuming a tone which seemed 
 to be indicative of some slight degree of 
 anger. 
 
 " Oh! very well, sir, very well! I only 
 asked! There ain't much harm in that, I 
 suppose! 11 
 
 They reached the gate in question, and 
 the omnibus stopped. " Mash Gate!" cried 
 the conductor, "Now then, sir, Mash Gate! 
 What another dodge!" he continued, on 
 perceiving that no one attempted to move; 
 " Oh! It's all very fine, but 1 don't stop no 
 more, you know, for nobody: that's all about 
 it! All right!" 
 
 The conductor kept his word. He would 
 not stop. Valentine tried him in vain. An 
 individual was anxious to get out at the 
 Obelisk; but although this was perfectly 
 legitimate, he could make no impression at 
 all upon the conductor, who amused him- 
 self by quietly informing that individual 
 that he would take him right on to the 
 Elephant and Castle, without any extra 
 charge; and having reached his destination, 
 he inquired very deliberately if they were 
 perfectly satisfied with their evening's en- 
 tertainment, and, moreover, wished par- 
 ticularly to know if they were going to 
 return that same night, because, as he ex- 
 plained, if they were, he would rather if it 
 made no difference at all to them that they 
 patronised some other " buss." 
 
 This sally had the effect of inducing him 
 to believe, that he really had the best of it 
 after all, and as Valentine was by no means 
 anxious to diminish the pleasure with which 
 this belief very evidently teemed, he passed 
 through the merry group of passengers, who 
 
 continued to laugh with extraordinary zeal, 
 and proceeded along the New Kent Road, 
 until he arrived at an inn, ycleped the 
 Bricklayers' Arms. 
 
 Not being well acquainted with the 
 locality of the place, he entered a shop to 
 make the necessary inquiries; and on being 
 informed that he was to take the first turn- 
 ing to the left, and the second to the right, 
 and then to keep straight on till he got to 
 the top, he went down a street which led 
 to the bottom of the Grange Road, and 
 which appeared to be a spot to which the 
 whole of the laboring poor of the metropolis 
 had sent all their children to play. He had 
 never before beheld such a dense mob of 
 infants. They were running about in 
 legions, shouting, laughing, crying, fight- 
 ing, pelting each other with mud, tumbling 
 into the gutter, and scraping the filth off 
 their habiliments with oyster shells and 
 sticks. Some of the young gentlemen, larger 
 than the rest, had, with bits of ragged pack- 
 thread, harnessed others, whom they were 
 driving in the imaginary similitude of teams 
 of prancing horses: some were valiantly 
 tucking up their sleeves, and giving ex- 
 pression to their anxiety that certain other 
 young gentlemen, by whom they had been 
 assaulted, would only just hit them again; 
 some were squatting near the base of a 
 highly popular piece of architecture, while 
 others whom they had chosen as the most 
 eloquent members of the corporation they 
 had formed, were importuning every pas- 
 senger for a slight contribution, and begging 
 of him earnestly to "remember the grotto." 
 By far the most striking and apparently 
 pleasureable species of amusement, how- 
 ever, was the perpetual shaking of two bits 
 of slate or broken crockery, which by being 
 placed ingeniously between the fingers did, 
 by dint of zealous exertion, produce a rat- 
 tling which might in the dark ages have 
 been taken for the soul-stirring music of 
 the Spanish castanets; but, beyond all dis- 
 pute, the great majority of the young ladies 
 and gentlemen were bawling, and running, 
 and rolling about, without any specific ob- 
 ject, apparently, in view, save that of pro- 
 moting the circulation of their blood. Val- 
 entine had never in the course of his life 
 seen so many little children together. He 
 could scarcely get along for them! really 
 it was like walking through a flock of sheep. 
 
 He did, however, succeed eventually in 
 wading through the swarm; and having 
 reached a certain point, \\ Inch appeared to 
 be their boundary, he had nothing to do but 
 to walk on and snift, for the air appi-an <! to 
 have a scent different from that of any air 
 he had ever before inhaled a remarkable 
 fact which he was inclined to attribute to 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 169 
 
 the children, but which was in reality at- 
 tributable to the tan. 
 
 On arriving at the top of the Grange 
 Road, he inquired for the residence of Mr. 
 Fledger, and was directed to a dirty, old 
 dilapidated house, which stood fifty feet 
 from the road, and which appeared to have 
 been erected in a hole. The gate was split 
 in divers directions, and the rails which 
 once adorned it were crumbling deliberately 
 away. Nearly the whole of the windows 
 were broken the apertures being filled up 
 with old rags while the tiles, the majority 
 of which had already fallen off, appeared to 
 threaten to split the heads of all who had 
 the boldness to venture beneath them. 
 
 As everything, therefore, indicated penury 
 and want, it was but natural for Valentine 
 to suppose that this could not be the resi- 
 dence of the wealthy Mr. Pledger, and 
 hence, on perceiving a little shop almost 
 immediately opposite, he crossed the road 
 at once to inquire again. 
 
 " Can you tell me," said he, addressing 
 a person behind the counter, " where Mr. 
 Fledger lives?" 
 
 " Fledger! over the way, sir," replied 
 that person. 
 
 " I mean the Mr. Fledger," said Valen- 
 tine, emphatically, " the rich Mr. Fledger." 
 
 ** Well, that's it; you can't make a mis- 
 take," replied the man. "There is only 
 one Fledger in Bermondsey." 
 
 Oh, indeed! ah, thank you," said Val- 
 entine, who began to be extremely appre- 
 hensive about the sum of twenty pounds, 
 which he thought it most unreasonable to 
 expect that he should ever get there; and it 
 must be conceded, that appearances were 
 decidedly in favor of the irrational charac- 
 ter of such expectation. Across the road, 
 however, he went, and having opened the 
 gate of which the timber was particularly 
 rotten, while the hinges were remarkably 
 rusty, he walked over the space in front of 
 the house very firmly, and knocked at the 
 door very boldly. 
 
 " Who's there!" demanded the cracked 
 voice of a female, after a pause. 
 
 " Is Mr. Fledger within?" inquired Val- 
 entine. 
 
 " Yes; what do you want?" cried the 
 female. 
 
 " I want," replied Valentine, " to see 
 Mr. Fledger." 
 
 The mild tones in which this appropriate 
 information was conveyed seemed to allay 
 the suspicions of the female inside, for after 
 drawing a few bolts, and removing a few 
 bars, and turning a few keys with very 
 great apparent difficulty, she opened the 
 door as far as the chain would allow it to 
 be opened; and having taken a survey 
 
 through the aperture thus established, she 
 made certain inquiries which had immediate 
 reference to the business in hand. 
 
 " I wish to see Mr. Fledger," repeated 
 Valentine, "my business is with him." 
 
 " Well, so I suppose," returned the fe- 
 male, somewhat piqued, and having again 
 examined him minutely, and being eventu- 
 ally satisfied that there was nothing very 
 desperate in his appearance, she closed the 
 door, for the purpose of unhooking the 
 chain, and Valentine was admitted into a 
 most filthy passage, where he remained in 
 the dark, until the woman had taken in his 
 name and that of his uncle. 
 
 "W 7 ell," thought he, "this is rather a 
 black beginning, but there may be some- 
 thing a little more lively inside." 
 
 " You may come in!" shouted the misera- 
 ble looking woman, as she returned with, 
 her rushlight; and Valentine was accord- 
 ingly ushered, with the smallest possible 
 ceremony, into a truly wretched den, which 
 appeared to be the kitchen, parlor, bed- 
 chamber, scullery, and all. 
 
 "Sit down," said Mr. Fledger, whose 
 features bore some slight resemblance to 
 those of a respectable fiend, newly white- 
 washed. " Well, what is your business?" 
 
 " I have received," replied Valentine, 
 " a letter, in which my uncle states, that on 
 applying to you I shall receive twenty 
 pounds." 
 
 "Ah," said Fledger, pursing his lips, 
 "I have no authority for paying you that 
 sum. I can't do it without an order." 
 
 " Will not this be a sufficient authority?" 
 said Valentine, producing thv3 letter, and 
 pointing to the postscript. 
 
 Fledger coolly drew his spectacles from 
 his forehead, and cocked them upon his 
 nose. 
 
 " Five pounds," said he, having read the 
 important postscript. 
 
 " Or not more than twenty," added Val- 
 entine. " Twenty is the sum that I want." 
 
 " Ah; but this you know isn't an order. 
 It should have been an order to me to pay 
 the bearer, and so on." 
 
 " But will not my acknowledgment do as 
 well?" 
 
 " No. How do I know that you are the 
 person to whom this letter is addressed?" 
 
 " Do you take me for a swindler?" ex- 
 claimed Valentine, fiercely. " Do you 
 think that I should make application for 
 this money, if I were not the person to 
 whom this letter is addressed?" 
 
 " I cannot tell;" was the laconic reply. 
 
 "You cannot tell!" echoed Valentine, 
 whose blood began to boil. " Do I look 
 like a swindler?" 
 
 Fledger opened the drawer of the table 
 
170 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTUERS OF 
 
 at which he sat, and after searching for 
 some considerable time, produced a coin, 
 which he breathed upon, and rubbed very 
 deliberately: he then drew forth another 
 from his pocket, and having placed them 
 before Valentine, said, " Did you ever see 
 two coins look more like each other?" 
 
 44 That has nothing to do with me!" cried 
 Valentine, very angrily; " 1 came to you on 
 business." 
 
 " I see that you are too hot to answer 
 this question. I will answer it for you. 
 They seem to have been struck from the 
 self-same die to be equally valuable. To 
 all appearance they are precisely alike; and 
 yet one is a counterfeit! Sir, I took that 
 for an honest shilling: I was deceived. 
 What follows? Why, that if I take you 
 for an honest man, I may be equally de- 
 ceived. As nothing looks so much like a 
 bad coin as a good one, so no man looks so 
 much like an honorable man as an accom- 
 plished villain. Were it not for the resem- 
 blance they bear to each other, villany could 
 never, to any great extent, succeed." 
 
 Valentine felt that he was correct in this 
 particular, and therefore became more sub- 
 dued. 
 
 ** How then am I to know," continued 
 Pledger, " that you are an honest man 
 that you are really the person you represent 
 yourself to b?" 
 
 "The possession of this letter, I should 
 think, would be sufficient " 
 
 " Not at all! not at all! You may have 
 stolen that letter mark me well!" he con- 
 tinued, on perceiving that Valentine was 
 again getting up in his stirrups, " I say you 
 may have stolen it! How am I to tell that 
 you have not?" 
 
 Valentine indignantly crushed the letter 
 into his pocket, and rose. 
 
 44 Don't be rash! don't be rash, young 
 man! don't be rash! I am an older, a much 
 older man than you. / have lived long 
 enough to know that no one can thrive in 
 this world, who does not look upon and 
 deal with every man as a rogue, until he 
 has proved him to be an honest man. I 
 don't mean to say that I believe you are 
 one; but I do mean to say, I can't tell that 
 you are not." 
 
 ** Then, of course, you refuse," said 
 Valentine, with impatience, " to let me 
 have this money?" 
 
 "I did not say that. I am disposed to 
 believe, in this instance, that all is straight- 
 forward and correct. It is a risk, it is true; 
 but I am inclined, notwithstanding, to run 
 that risk at least I should have been in- 
 clim-d, but that it happens that I have no 
 money by me just now." 
 
 "Had you told me that at first," said 
 
 Valentine, " you might have saved yourself 
 all this trouble; and he again rose, and look- 
 ed very angrily at Mr. Pledger. 
 
 " Do you particularly want the money?" 
 inquired that gentleman. 
 
 " Of course I do, or I should not have 
 come here." 
 
 " Well, if you want it particularly now, 
 you can draw upon me if you like for three 
 months." 
 
 "Draw upon you!" said Valentine, who 
 was ignorant of the meaning in this case, 
 of that popular term " Draw upon you?" 
 
 " Aye; I've no objection to give you my 
 bill for the amount." 
 
 " And of what use would that be to me?" 
 
 *' Of what use! Why certainly of no 
 other use than this that you could get it 
 cashed immediately." 
 
 " Where?" inquired Valentine. " Who 
 would do it?" 
 
 " I don't know whether you are aware of 
 it, young gentleman, but my bill is as good 
 as a bank note, sir! Any man in the habit 
 of doing bills, will do mine." 
 
 " But I know of no man who is in the 
 habit of doing bills." 
 
 " Well, in that case I tell you what I'll 
 do: I have got, I think, as nearly as possible, 
 twenty pounds in the house, which I must of 
 necessity pay away to-morrow; but as I am 
 anxious to do the utmost in my power to 
 oblige your uncle and I suppose that by 
 obliging you, I shall be also obliging him, 
 draw the bill for twenty pounds, deduct 
 the discount, and I will give you the money 
 now. It strikes me very forcibly that a 
 friend of mine will be able to get it done 
 for me in the morning." 
 
 " Well," thought Valentine, " this is 
 certainly better," and according to dictation 
 he drew the bill. ** Now," said he, " what 
 am I to deduct for discount?" 
 
 " Oh, the usual business: fifteen per 
 cent.," replied Pledger. 
 
 Valentine knew nothing about the " usual 
 business," but he deducted fifteen per cent, 
 which reduced the amount to nineteen 
 pounds five. 
 
 44 But you have only deducted fifteen per 
 cent, per annum," said Fledger. 
 
 41 I know it. Is not that correct?" 
 
 44 No; fifteen per cent, upon the amount; 
 that is to say, a shilling in the pound, per 
 month." 
 
 44 Why that's sixty per cent.!" returned 
 Valentine; * I have then to receive, instead 
 of twenty pounds, only seventeen?" 
 
 " Kxactly!" replied Fledger, " with a 
 villanous prin, 44 deducting two-and-six- 
 pence for the stamp, and a penny which 
 they always charge for profit. I see you 
 understand it." 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 171 
 
 " But 1 don't understand. I think it most 
 exorbitant." 
 
 "And so it is," rejoined Pledger, " so it 
 is most exorbitant; but these people always 
 are most exorbitant, always. The question 
 amounts simply to this: will it be worth 
 your while to pay them for the accommoda- 
 tion]" 
 
 " I had no idea that I should have all 
 this difficulty about the matter, and I am 
 sure that my uncle had not. I fancied the 
 money was due." 
 
 "I know it's due," replied Pledger; " I 
 don't dispute that. But then, what's to be 
 done 1 ? You want the money, and I have 
 not got it; and a man without money can't 
 pay! The question therefore is, will it an- 
 swer your purpose better to give a shilling 
 in the pound, per month, for it now, or to 
 wait until I can pay, which will be in the 
 course of three months, I've no doubt." 
 
 Valentine could not wait three months, 
 that was clear: he therefore consented to 
 take off the sixty per cent. ; when Pledger, 
 delighted at having made so good a bargain, 
 proceeded to a cupboard, and brought forth 
 an iron-bound box, which he placed very 
 carefully upon the table. 
 
 Of course Valentine knew not that this 
 man had been a notorious money lender 
 himself that he had ruined more persons 
 by discounting bills, than any other man 
 alive that he had obtained the whole of 
 his houses by insisting upon holding the 
 titles as collateral security for dishonored 
 acceptances, and by goading the acceptors 
 by renewals, extortion, and legal expenses, 
 either to commit suicide, or to surrender all 
 claim to those titles and that he had then 
 become an abject, miserable miser, and had 
 given up the recognised game of extortion, 
 in consequence solely of his having become 
 so distrustful, that he had not sufficient 
 courage left to risk even a shilling. Of all 
 this, Valentine was utterly ignorant; but 
 there was something in the creature's coun- 
 tenance when he brought out the box which 
 inspired him at once with the conviction 
 that he was, in reality, an usurious wretch; 
 and therefore richly deserved to be fright- 
 ened at least. 
 
 Well, he opened the box, and placed the 
 back of it towards Valentine, who could 
 tell in an instant by the sound, as the sove- 
 reigns were carefully extracted one by one, 
 that the box was as nearly as possible full, 
 and that, therefore, in stating that he had 
 but twenty pounds in the house, the wretch 
 had told him an abominable falsehood, with 
 the view of swindling him out of the sixty 
 per cent. He therefore felt that, as a matter 
 of justice, he ought to be punished; and 
 having imbibed this feeling, which was not, 
 
 under the circumstances, highly reprehen- 
 sible, he cried, throwing his voice into the 
 jassage, just as ten of the sovereigns had 
 )een counted, " In this room! now the 
 door!" 
 
 The effect upon the miser was electric. 
 He instantly leaped up, as if he had received 
 a pistol-shot in his heart; and in doing so, 
 upset the ricketty table. Down went the 
 jox, and away flew the sovereigns! five 
 hundred, at least, were rolling in all direc- 
 ions upon the floor. This was somewhat 
 more than was anticipated by Valentine, 
 who smiled; but the miser stood aghast! 
 rembling with the utmost violence, and 
 rolling his eyes from the door to the gold, 
 and from the gold to the door, while his 
 sister, who was not quite so utterly lost, 
 seized the broom as the miserable girl 
 whom they nominally kept, and who dis- 
 played far more courage than either of 
 them, peeped through the keyhole of the 
 door. 
 
 In this position they remained for some 
 considerable time, as if utterly unable to 
 move hand or foot. Valentine, however, at 
 length broke silence by inquiring if he 
 should assist in gathering up the gold. 
 
 14 No, no, no!" cried the paralysed wretch, 
 whom the question at once restored to a 
 state of consciousness, and he placed his 
 skinny hand upon the shoulder of Valentine, 
 as if in order to compel him to remain in 
 his seat. He then flew to the cupboard, 
 and bringing forth a brace of pistols, thrust 
 them hurriedly into the hands of Valentine, 
 and implored him to shoot through the 
 heart of the very first man that entered, 
 when, sinking upon the ground, he com- 
 menced at once picking up the gold with 
 unparalleled zeal and dexterity. 
 
 His sister still kept near the door, her 
 fears prompting her to fancy that she heard 
 strange breathings, divers delicate whisper- 
 ings, and an infinite variety of footsteps 
 outside; while Valentine quietly amused 
 himself with watching the grasping exer- 
 tions of the wretch upon the ground, who 
 still trembled as energetically as if he had 
 been seized with a violent fit of the ague. 
 
 At length he completed his task. The 
 whole of the sovereigns at least all he 
 could find were restored to the box, which 
 he locked, and placed securely in a hole up 
 the chimney, when, dropping into a chair 
 by the side of Valentine, apparently half 
 dead, he inquired what was best to be done. 
 
 "Be silent!" said Valentine, "let us first 
 see what they mean to do. I am perfectly 
 prepared to receive them." 
 
 "I thank you! I thank you! I know that 
 you are brave! very brave!" cried the 
 miser, "you'll be a match for them I 
 
172 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 know you'll be a match for them. Hark; 
 didn't yon hear?" 
 
 ** No, no!" replied Valentine very firmly, 
 and looking very valiant, " I think the noise 
 alarmed them. It strikes me they are gone. 
 If not, why let them come! they will meet 
 with a warm reception." 
 
 The unflinching firmness exhibited by 
 Valentine gradually inspired the wretched 
 trio with courage. The females withdrew 
 from the door, the table was raised, the 
 miser resumed his old position, and Valen- 
 tine began in an ironical strain to congratu- 
 late him on the sudden acquisition of so 
 much wealth. 
 
 It is astonishing how much easier men 
 find it to do evil than to bear to be told of 
 the evil they have done; and it is equally 
 astonishiug that men who can utter a series 
 of straight-forward falsehoods, without a 
 blush, find it difficult to endure the painful 
 process of conviction. Even this wretched 
 miser, dead as he was apparently to every 
 feeling which actuates the human heart, 
 save that of avarice, shrank from the gaze 
 of Valentine whom he could browbeat 
 before when he found that that gaze was 
 intended to convey to his sordid soul the 
 impression, that the falsehood of which he 
 had been guilty was now too apparent to 
 deceive. 
 
 " Well!" said Valentine, when the limbs 
 of the wretch had in some degree resumed 
 their accustomed tranquillity; " since it 
 seems that you have a little more money in 
 the house than you expected, you will be 
 able to give me the twenty pounds in full?" 
 
 " No no," said the miser, " at least, not 
 now, not now we'll talk about it: give a 
 look up in the morning." 
 
 "Why, that," said Valentine, "will be 
 very inconvenient." 
 
 " I cannot help it. I'm sorry for it, but 
 cannot help it. I would not touch that box 
 again now for the world." 
 
 '* Why you have nothing to fear," rejoin- 
 ed Valentine, who now felt determined to 
 have the money; " I will still keep strict 
 guard." 
 
 "I don't care," said the miser, "it's safe 
 where it is. It shall not come out of that 
 place to-night, if 1 know it." 
 
 "Indeed," thought Valentine, "we'll 
 very soon sec about that." And he rose 
 from his seat, saying, " well then, 1 
 suppose that I must call upon you in the 
 morning." 
 
 " If you please," said the miser; " yes, 
 do." 
 
 "Have you got ill" inquired Valentino 
 throwing his voice very dexterously into 
 the chiiiin 
 
 " I'm ruined! I'm ruined!" cried the 
 
 miser. "I'm ruined!" and he darted, like 
 lightning, across the room; and having 
 found the box, of course, where he had 
 placed it, he drew it forth, and hugged it 
 fondly to his heart, shouting, " thieves! 
 fire! murder! thieves! thieves!" 
 
 His sister at this moment followed his 
 example, " thieves! thieves!" she cried, 
 opening the window which overlooked a 
 field; but as the room was at the back of 
 the house, and they dared not go in front, 
 the wind carried their voices from the road, 
 and they gradually died away, unheard. 
 
 " Where are the pistols!" shouted Valen- 
 tine. They were lying upon the table. He 
 seized one in an instant, and having cocked 
 it with an air of invincible valor, let fly up 
 the chimney. 
 
 Of course nothing but soot descended; 
 but it did the chimney good, for it was pre- 
 viously choked as nearly as possible up to 
 the pot: it therefore cured that completely, 
 and this was all the good it could do; but 
 the bravery involved in the act so excited 
 the admiration of the miser, that he almost 
 relinquished the box to embrace him. 
 
 " Do you think that there could have been 
 any one there?" inquired Valentine, very 
 mysteriously. 
 
 "I heard a voice!" cried the miser, "I'm 
 sure I heard a voice! Didn't you?" he con- 
 tinued, addressing his sister. 
 
 " Of course 1 did !" replied that respecta- 
 ble female, with infinite promptitude and 
 spirit; " Do you think that I'm deaf? It's 
 my belief there's a man in there now." 
 
 " If there be, he's a dead man," said Va- 
 lentine, " if the pistol I discharged contain- 
 ed a ball." 
 
 " Oh yes! oh yes!" cried the miser; " oh 
 yes! and a capital ball it was too. It's a 
 pity it was fired off for nothing." 
 
 " It is a pity, when you come to think of 
 it," said Valentine. 
 
 " That powder too: powder costs a deal 
 of money; its very expensive very." 
 
 " Well," said Valentine, apparently in 
 the act of departing an act which he had 
 really no intention to perform, without hav- 
 ing the sum of twenty pounds in his pocket 
 " 1 suppose that I can be of no more ser- 
 vice now!" 
 
 "Stay, stay!" cried the miser. "Pray 
 do not ffo yet., Stay a quarter of an hour 
 longer; but a quarter of an hour!" 
 
 " I really cannot," returned Valentine, 
 4k if I'm to come up here again in the morn- 
 
 Well stay! I'll give it you now I'll 
 give it you now. Only stop." 
 
 Of course Valentine stopped ! He had 
 not the least intention of going, until he had 
 gained possession of that which he came 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 173 
 
 for. He therefore sat down again, without 
 a second invitation, and displayed a very 
 laudable anxiety to come to the point at 
 once. " You mean, of course," said he, 
 " to pay me now in full." 
 
 " Well, well; but you must take me off 
 discount." 
 
 44 What, sixty per cent!" exclaimed Va- 
 lentine. 
 
 No no!" said the miser; I'll be satis- 
 fied with ten. You must take me off ten?" 
 
 44 As the money is due, I don't feel my- 
 self justified in consenting even to that. But 
 perhaps," he added, rising again, * I had 
 better look up in the morning." 
 
 No no," said the miser, still dread- 
 fully alarmed; " I'll not trouble you; no, I'll 
 not trouble you. But really you must take 
 me off five! It's a regular thing, you know, 
 quite quite a regular thing." 
 
 "Well, you'd better settle that with my 
 Uncle, when you see him. He understands 
 more about the business than I do." 
 
 "Well, well; I suppose I must. Hush!" 
 he exclaimed, and, having listened most at- 
 tentively for several seconds, he opened the 
 box. 
 
 All was silent. He would not suffer one 
 of the sovereigns to click against another. 
 He drew them out one by one, very care- 
 fully and very reluctantly ; and, having 
 counted them over again and again, lock- 
 ed his box and said: "There, there are 
 twenty." 
 
 Valentine had been in the habit of count- 
 ing money only when he paid it away; but 
 in this particular instance he felt that, as a 
 matter of common justice to himself, he 
 ought to adopt the same plan when he re- 
 ceived it. He therefore did count it: he 
 counted it twice as the sovereigns were 
 lying on the table, and the result was a 
 natural result, under the circumstances, see- 
 ing that there were but nineteen. 
 
 44 There's one short," said he, eyeing the 
 miserable dog: " only one." 
 
 44 Dear rne, I thought I counted twenty, 
 I'm sure!" cried the wretch, with a villan- 
 ous smirk, and he counted them again and 
 again, for the show of the thing, and then 
 added, " Why there are but nineteen! How 
 singular!" 
 
 "Very!" said Valentine, sarcastically, 
 " F~ery!" and he looked at the wretch as he 
 reluctantly drew forth the twentieth, with, 
 an expression which seemed to confuse him 
 a little. He nevertheless counted them 
 over again, being firmly determined not to 
 suffer him to reap, even from sleight-of-hand 
 villany, the smallest advantage; and having 
 satisfied himself as to the correctness of the 
 sum, he surveyed the wretched group with 
 a feeling of disgust. 
 
 There sat the miser, whose soul seemed 
 to have sunk beneath the weight of his ini- 
 quities, trembling and groaning under the 
 lively apprehension of losing that which, 
 to him, was intrinsically valueless, seeing 
 that, with the means of procuring all the 
 luxuries, he denied himself even the com- 
 mon necessaries of life; and while his sister, 
 the very type of sordid wretchedness, sat, 
 with her elbows upon her knees, and her 
 chin upon her hands, in a chair, the ragged 
 horse-hair of which, that once formed its 
 plump bottom, hanging down to the floor, 
 the poor girl, whom fate had doomed to live 
 beneath the same roof, lay miserably hud- 
 dled up in one corner of the room, starving, 
 absolutely starving in the midst of wealth! 
 
 Valentine sickened at the sight, and there- 
 fore put on his hat. 
 
 " Must you go?" said the miser. 
 
 41 1 must," replied Valentine. 
 
 44 Well, well!" said the miser, seizing 
 the pistol that was loaded, " do carry this 
 for me till you get to the door. My hand 
 trembles. I'm sure I can't take a true 
 aim." 
 
 Valentine carried the pistol accordingly, 
 and after an infinite deal of listening, they 
 reached the outer door, which was no sooner 
 opened than he fired the pistol off, which 
 so alarmed the trembling wretch, that he 
 closed the door instantly, shutting his un- 
 suspected tormentor outside. 
 
 44 What shall I do with the pistol!" 
 thought Valentine. 
 
 He had not to think long. He dashed it 
 at once through the window, and departed; 
 while the feelings with which the inmates 
 were inspired by the rattling of the glass, 
 were questionless very lively, but not very 
 
 gay- 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE FIRST CONCERT GIVEN BY THE NATIVE TALENT ASSOCIATION. 
 
 VALENTINE had from childhood been ex- 
 tremely fond of music. He was unable to 
 play upon any instrument; he knew no- 
 16 
 
 thing of the technicalities of the science, 
 nor had he the slightest wish to know. 
 The enchanting effects were sufficient for 
 
174 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 him; he cared not to study the minutiae of 
 the cause. Having iiad, however; an ardent 
 desire at one period to become acquainted 
 with musical men, that desire had been 
 gratified to no inconsiderable extent, and 
 he for some time enjoyed their society, 
 being delighted with their apparent simpli- 
 city of soul; but the charm which their 
 companionship primarily imparted was 
 quickly broken, when their prevailing cha- 
 racteristics were laid open to his view. He 
 found them reckless, gay, improvident, 
 polite, but not one was he able to point to 
 as being a really virtuous man. He was 
 aware of course that virtue in classes was 
 difficult to be found, but although in every 
 other class he had perceived it shining 
 brightly in the actions of individuals, he 
 had never had the pleasure to meet a pro- 
 fessionally musical man, whose private cha- 
 racter would bear even a superficial in- 
 vestigation. As men they were indolent 
 and dishonorable; as husbands they were 
 faithless; as fathers they were heartless; as 
 friends they were envious and insincere. 
 
 Valentine had in all probability been un- 
 fortunate in his introductions to these musi- 
 cal people, seeing, that doubtless he might 
 have been introduced to some who were 
 really good men; but having been in a po- 
 sition to analyse the characters of many 
 from the highest to the lowest in the pro- 
 fession, it was but natural for him to infer 
 from the result of his experience, that how- 
 ever kind, generous, and amiable they might 
 appear, they were all at heart equally hol- 
 low. 
 
 This consideration, however, by no means 
 subdued the ardor of his passion for music, 
 and he was anxious to do all in his power 
 to promote its cause, by the cultivation of 
 a musical taste among the people, it being, 
 to him at least, manifest, that nothing could 
 have a more powerful tendency to soften 
 their tone, to counteract their bad passions, 
 or to induce that refinement in popular plea- 
 sures which is so absolutely essential to a 
 high state of civilisation. It is true, that 
 when this was placed in juxtaposition with 
 the view which he entertained of the pri- 
 vate characters of professionally musical 
 men, k they at first appeared inimical; but 
 when he looked at the mode of life so pecu- 
 liar to those creatures, when he saw the 
 temptations to vice and dishonor with which 
 they were perpetually assailed, and per- 
 ceived that if their minds were not indeed 
 too weak to make any resistance to those 
 temptations, they exhibited no inclination 
 to resist them; when he found that every 
 thing bearing even the semblance of domes- 
 tic happiness was their abhorrence, and that 
 all they had to talk about, or cared to talk 
 
 about, or even seemed to have the ability to 
 talk about, was music mixed up with in- 
 trigue, he very soon became convinced that 
 their characters were not formed by music, 
 but in spite of its softening influence, by 
 their pernicious communication with those 
 by whom vice and dishonor in every shape 
 are applauded. 
 
 Now, it happened, that at this particular 
 period of our history, a great outcry was 
 raised about what was then yclept NATIVE 
 TALENT. The court was denounced; the 
 aristocracy was denounced; the whole . 
 country was denounced because native ta- 
 lent failed to be patronised with commen- 
 surate liberality. Cargoes of foreign ar- 
 tistes were imported from time to time, and 
 exported with wreaths of laurel and purses 
 crammed with British gold, to the great 
 discouragement of native talent. At the 
 Royal Concerts none but foreigners were 
 engaged; at the soirees of the nobility none 
 but foreigners were engaged, while every 
 theatre in which foreigners were not engag- 
 ed was empty: in fact, native talent ap- 
 peared to be in such a dreadful state, that 
 they who possessed the real and recognised 
 ability to snatch it from contempt, crossed 
 the Atlantic it being well understood that 
 the Americans upheld native talent, which 
 was certainly much to their credit while 
 our citizens gloried in being jammed in the 
 pit, or stewed to rags in the gallery of the 
 Opera, to hear that which they could by no 
 means understand, with the view of hav- 
 ing it in their power to speak with enthusi- 
 asm of the brilliancy of the prima donna, 
 and the surpassing richness of the primo 
 buffo, and to explain how the adored You 
 know wochee poke afar; and how deeply 
 they were enamored of Dye pitch her my 
 balsam core. 
 
 Such being the lamentable state of the 
 case then, certain highly influential and re- 
 markably staunch, musical individuals, 
 entertaining an extremely laudable anxiety 
 to rescue native talent from the impending 
 doom of extinction, conceived the idea of r 
 establishing a Native Talent Association, /__ 
 with the view of getting up a series of na-/ 
 tive talent concerts, at which nothing of' 
 course but native talent should be deve- 
 loped; and having perfected their project, \ 
 they proceeded to carry it at once into exe- 
 cution, in order to prove that, although fo- 
 reign talent might then be the rage, native 
 talent was of an infinitely superior caste, and, 
 therefore, ought to be more liberally p;itr< - 
 nised by a truly enlightened British public. 
 
 Accordingly, the first of the series was 
 announced, and Valentine having purchased 
 a ticket, attended. , The room was crowded. 
 He at first saw no prospect at all of obtain- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 175 
 
 ing a seat; but having secured one at length 
 near the orchestra, he commenced a perusal 
 of the programme which had been given to 
 him at the door. It began with a prospec- 
 tus, and that prospectus read well; very 
 well; it promised much, it is true; but 
 it promised no more than might with 
 ease have been performed. He was there- 
 fore delighted with the prospectus; but how 
 great was his astonishment, when, on look- 
 ing below he found that nothing but Ger- 
 man and Italian pieces were to be sung! 
 " Is this," thought he, " intended to deve- 
 lope native talent! Why, at best, it can be 
 but the native talent of imitation! Here 
 we have a selection of Italian and German 
 music to be sung by English singers, after 
 the fashion of the Italians and the Germans 
 and that with the view of inspiring an ap- 
 preciation of native talent!" He of course, 
 and very naturally, felt that this ought not 
 to be; and as he -wished most sincerely to 
 promote the cause which its more active 
 advocates, doubtless with the best possible 
 intentions, had labored with so much zeal 
 to injure, he felt himself bound, as one who 
 possessed the power to warn them with 
 effect against the course they were pursu- 
 ing, to impress upon their minds that the 
 act of imitating the singing of foreigners, 
 however excellent that imitation might be, 
 developed native talent no more than the act 
 of imitating the language of foreigners, and 
 that instead of inducing a higher apprecia- 
 tion of native talent, its tendency was to 
 depreciate it, seeing that it raised foreign 
 talent in public estimation. 
 
 This to Valentine appeared to be indis- 
 putable; and while he was endeavoring to 
 decide upon the course, which, under the 
 circumstances, he ought to pursue, the band 
 commenced the overture to Zauberflote, and 
 certainly went through it very well. The 
 audience applauded vehemently, and de- 
 manded an encore, which was of course ex- 
 tremely grateful to the feelings of the per- 
 formers in the aggregate; and while they 
 were taking snuff with due gusto and effect, 
 the conductor very quietly winked at the 
 leader, who as quietly winked at the con- 
 ductor in return. 
 
 Having inquired of a polite old gentleman 
 who sat in his immediate vicinity, Valen- 
 tine ascertained that the projector of the 
 scheme was the identical individual who on 
 this occasion wielded the baton, and as he 
 felt that he was, therefore, the man whom 
 he ought to address, he fixed his eyes very 
 intently upon him. 
 
 Now the visage of this individual was 
 extremely long, and strongly marked, and 
 pale in proportion. His hair was black; 
 and while it was parted in front with the 
 
 utmost nicety, it hung in wild ringlets upon 
 his shoulders. He had on an undeniable 
 black satin stock, figured delicately with 
 very little lilies, and studded with three 
 remarkably suspicious-looking Brobdigna- 
 gian brilliants. An eye-glass attached to 
 a piece of black ribbon was stuck with con- 
 summate ingenuity between his left cheek 
 bone and brow: and a gold colored chain of 
 surpassing circumference was really very 
 tastefully arranged over a white satin vest. 
 His coat was of course a full dress coat, an 
 indigo blue coat, with black velvet collar, 
 silk facings, and figured silk buttons, and 
 while his left hand was adorned with a 
 delicate French white kid glove, the taper 
 fingers of his right were embellished with 
 a variety of rings, which he positively felt 
 himself bound to display as much as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 Valentine could not avoid smiling as he 
 inspected this elegant, fantastic, and really 
 fascinating creature; but as the overture was 
 now again brought to a conclusion amidst 
 thunders of applause, he was on the qui vive. 
 A rattling Italian buffo song stood first 
 upon the list, and as he perceived a profes- 
 sional genius stepping forward to do execu- 
 tion on the same, he very naturally con- 
 ceived that it was then the time for action. 
 
 Well! the symphony commenced; and as 
 the professional gentleman whose uvula 
 appeared to be down, was a-heming with 
 unprecedented violence, Valentine throwing 
 his voice behind the exquisite conductor, 
 who was then at the piano-foite, ran up and 
 down the scale in such a singularly unpro- 
 fessional fashion, that all eyes were directed 
 towards the spot in an instant. 
 
 44 Hist! hist!" hissed the conductor, look- 
 ing very sharply round, "Hish! hish!" 
 But Valentine kept on changing the key 
 for the express accommodation of each par- 
 ticular roulade with a perseverance, which 
 under any other circumstances certainly 
 would have been highly reprehensible. 
 
 The conductor became indignant, and 
 cried "hish! hish!" with greater vehemence 
 than before. It seemed perfectly clear to 
 him, that there was some one very near him 
 in a truly provoking state of inebriety. But 
 who was it? He could not tell. He took 
 the glass from his eye, for as he could see 
 better without it, he thought it highly pro- 
 bable that that might have theretofore pre- 
 vented the discovery upon which he had 
 set his soul. But no, he saw the instru- 
 mental people looking with amazement at 
 each other, and the bosoms of the vocalists 
 swelling with scorn; but he could see no- 
 thing more: nothing more. He tried back: 
 he recommenced the brilliant symphony, 
 and the stout vocal genius, who felt much. 
 
176 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 confused, for he could not at all understand 
 it, again plucked up his courage and his 
 collar to begin, when Valentine introduced 
 a very admirable imitation of the French- 
 horn. In an instant every eye was upon 
 the French-horn players, who were zealous- 
 ly engaged in amputating their instruments, 
 with the laudable view of pouring out the 
 concentered perspiration, which the per- 
 formance of the overture had induced. It 
 could not have been them. That was clear. 
 The conductor looked at them! No: their 
 instruments were in bits. This was held 
 to be most extraordinary; but Valentine did 
 not stop to wonder much at it, but proceeded 
 to give excellent imitations of a variety of 
 little instruments until the conductor became 
 so enraged, that he started from his seat, 
 and looked round with an expression of in- 
 dignation, the most powerful his strongly 
 marked features could portray. 
 
 The harmony produced by Valentine 
 ceased, and all was silent. The audience 
 were amazed, they were utterly unable to 
 make it out; but as anon they begun to hiss 
 with unequivocal zeal, the conductor, who 
 looked as if he couldn't really stand it much 
 longer, bounced down upon his stool, and 
 struck the chord with an energy altogether 
 unparalleled in musical annals. 
 
 The vocal genius became nervous. The 
 truth flashed across his mind, that in this 
 world men have not the choice of their own 
 positions. He would clearly not have 
 chosen that in which he then stood, for it 
 certainly was a most unpleasant position. 
 He slightly trembled: Valentine saw that 
 he trembled, and pitied him nay he was 
 eventually so far melted as to suffer him to 
 go through his Largo Factotum. 
 
 The style, however, in which he accom- 
 plished this song was particularly droll. It 
 was abundantly manifest that the genius 
 did not know the meaning of a word he had 
 to utter, and equally manifest was it that he 
 didn't want to know: all he cared a single 
 straw about, was an imitation of the voice 
 and gestures of the particular primo buffo, 
 whom at the opera he had heard sing the 
 piece with great applause, and as the ges- 
 tures which he labored to imitate were re- 
 markably extravagant, the whole exhibition 
 was a caricature of the most gross and ri- 
 diculous caste. 
 
 This Valentine held to be monstrous, and 
 felt it to be incumbent upon him to express 
 his extreme dissatisfaction, when the 
 features of the genius who during the ap- 
 plause had smiled blandly as he bowed 
 underwent a most extraordinary change as 
 be retired. 
 
 " Native talent!" cried Valentine, throw- 
 ing his voice into the middle of the room, 
 
 " Is this the development of native talent?" 
 
 The conductor stared wildly, and so did 
 the whole of the gentlemen in the orchestra; 
 but although two or three individuals cried 
 " silence!" in a very authoritative tone, the 
 majority of the audience were so powerfully 
 struck with the novelty of the question, that 
 they glanced at the programme, and looked 
 at each other very mysteriously, and really 
 began to consider it an extremely proper 
 question, and one which ought therefore to 
 be answered. 
 
 " English music! English music!" again 
 shouted Valentine, and the audience now 
 responded to the shout with loud cheers, 
 which caused the conductor to shrug his 
 shoulders and pass his taper fingers through 
 his curls, and to open his eyes very widely, 
 and to look altogether remarkably odd. He, 
 however, said nothing; but began to play 
 the symphony of an Italian scenes, as Val- 
 entine repeated his demand for English 
 music, the propriety of which was acknow- 
 ledged by the audience again. 
 
 Several gentlemen who were stationed 
 near the orchestra, and who appeared to be 
 members of the native talent committee, 
 now conferred with the conductor, who 
 after the conference came forward and said 
 with due emphasis, "Ladies and gentle- 
 men: if there be any person in the room at 
 all dissatisfied with the performances, his 
 money will be returned on application being 
 made at the doors." 
 
 This was fair, very fair: nothing in fact 
 could have been fairer, but this was not at 
 all what Valentine desired: he wished to 
 make them understand that mere imitations 
 of the Italians could not tend to the de- 
 velopment of native talent, and therefore 
 cried "No: the money is not what we want: 
 we simply want English music!" and as 
 this was again hailed with loud cheers, the 
 conductor again conferred with the gentle- 
 men of the committee, and during the con- 
 ference, Valentine was occupied in assum- 
 ing various voices, and sending them in 
 various parts of the room expressive of an 
 anxiety to open the eyes of those gentle- 
 men, that they might clearly see the course 
 which they ought to pursue; and eventually 
 their eyes became opened: they appeared 
 to be enlightened on the subject as if by 
 manic! but what was to be done? the 
 singing people had studied those pieces for 
 the occasion, and although they had ques- 
 tionless the ability to sing others, it was 
 held to be unsafe for the experiment, with- 
 out notice, to be tried. They therefore pro- 
 tended to bo still completely blind to the 
 propriety of the suggestion, a course which 
 Valentine held to oe remarkably stupid, 
 inasmuch as they had but to announce that 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 177 
 
 the error would in future be rectified, and 
 the concert might have gone on without any 
 further interruption; but as it was, as the 
 committee were still stubborn, and as the 
 conductor, who didn't like it, as the selec- 
 tion had been left to him began to look 
 extremely big, and to shake his head 
 angrily, and to purse his lips contemptu- 
 ously, and to frown and pitch the music 
 about the orchestra, and knock down the 
 stands in the fulness of his rank official 
 pride, of course Valentine felt determined to 
 bring him to his senses, and therefore again 
 loudly demanded a display of native talent. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen!" said the con- 
 ductor, stepping again in front of the orches- 
 tra, 'after indulging in an additional series 
 of really unbecoming airs " If any rival 
 society has employed noisy persons to in- 
 terrupt the performances of the evening " 
 
 "No, no!" shouted Valentine, "no, no! 
 We are simply anxious to promote the cul- 
 tivation of native talent!" And as loud 
 cheers followed this appropriate explana- 
 tion, the conductor felt it to be a duty in- 
 cumbent upon him to be signally savage, 
 and he retired to the piano forte, and struck 
 a variety of chords with unprofessional 
 violence; and after amusing himself in this 
 way for several seconds, he commanded a 
 female to come forward in order to sing the 
 next scena. The lady did not much ap- 
 prove of the tone which the conductor had 
 assumed in this particular instance, but she 
 nevertheless glided very gracefully forward 
 with a dirty piece of music in one hand, 
 and in the other a lace-edged handkerchief 
 pinched precisely in the middle; but she 
 had no sooner reached the front rail of the 
 orchestra, than Valentine introduced a highly 
 correct imitation of the trombone. 
 
 This the conductor very naturally con- 
 ceived to be dreadful, and he therefore began 
 to perspire with rage. He thought it quite 
 enough and so it was quite enough that 
 the audience was against him; but the idea 
 of his own instrumental performers having 
 joined in the opposition made his blood 
 bubble up! He therefore instantly turned 
 towards the professional individuals who 
 performed on the delicate instrument in 
 question, and discovered them in the very 
 act of enjoying a quiet pinch of snuff 
 together in the utmost amity. The trom- 
 bone nevertheless did apparently continue 
 to sound. This he thought more extraor- 
 dinary still! He couldn't tell, he didn't 
 know, what to make of it at all. It was 
 clearly not the men whom he had suspected, 
 and yet well: the trombone ceased, but at 
 that particular moment another most un- 
 pleasant sound broke upon his ear! The 
 majority of the audience were roaring with 
 
 laughter! and that too at him! This he 
 held to be extremely inconsistent with the 
 character of a British audience, and he con- 
 sequently felt quite confused. 
 
 " Go on! Go on!" exclaimed several 
 voices in the distance; but albeit these 
 highly appropriate exclamations were be- 
 nevolently intended for his especial solace, 
 they in reality did not console him at all. 
 
 The professional lady whose plume waved 
 proudly about a foot and a half above her 
 forehead, now became extremely fidgetty, 
 and felt very awkward and very warm, and 
 was about to retreat, when the conductor 
 struck a chord with unexampled desperation. 
 
 "Retire!" said ^Valentine, throwing a 
 whisper just behind the fair artiste; and the 
 lady, to whom the whisper appeared to be 
 most welcome, bowed and blushed, and re- 
 tired accordingly. 
 
 " Madam!" cried the conductor, as she 
 passed him, " remain." 
 
 " You requested me to retire," said the 
 lady. 
 
 " No such thing! No such thing 1 , madam. 
 No such thing!" But the lady," who felt 
 much confused, without appearing to notice 
 these hasty observations, passed on. 
 
 The conductor now imagined and per- 
 haps it was but rational for him to imagine 
 that it was a regularly planned thing 
 that all in the room had conspired against 
 his peace. He therefore bounced up again 
 with the view of conferring with the com- 
 mittee, who saw plainly that a very wrong 
 course had been pursued; but then he didn't 
 see it, and couldn't see it, and wouldn't see 
 it! The committee, however, at length in- 
 sisted upon his expressing their sentiments 
 on the subject, when he accordingly, but 
 with infinite reluctance, came forward and 
 said: "Ladies and gentlemen: it appears 
 to be the opinion of the committee of man- 
 agement, that the fact of English artists 
 singing nothing but foreign music, tends 
 rather to create a morbid taste for such 
 music, and to enhance it in the estimation 
 of the public, than to promote the cultiva- 
 tion of native talent, which is of course 
 their chief aim. I am, therefore, ladies and 
 gentlemen, directed to state that as this ap- 
 pears to be also your impression, ladies and 
 gentlemen, if you will be kind enough to 
 permit the performances chosen for this 
 evening to proceed, as we are not exactly 
 prepared on so short a notice to change 
 them, especial care, ladies and gentlemen, 
 will be taken, that in future, at these con- 
 certs, English music alone shall be sung." 
 
 The audience cheered this announcement. 
 
 It was all they required, and as Valentine 
 
 wished for nothing more, the performances 
 
 proceeded without the slightest additional 
 
 16* 
 
178 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 interruption; although every piece tended to 
 convince him and them more and more that 
 the view he had taken of the subject was 
 correct, inasmuch as if it even were ad- 
 mitted that those pieces were well sung 1 , it 
 must also be admitted that the Italians sang 
 them better, which alone had the effect of 
 inspiring the conviction of their superiority, 
 instead of a due appreciation of that style 
 in which the English excel. 
 
 Valentine was therefore quite satisfied. 
 He felt that he had inflicted some pain by 
 the confusion he had created; but he also 
 felt that he had thus succeeded in accom- 
 plishing an excellent object; namely, that of 
 promoting the cultivation of native talent, 
 by inducing Englishmen, instead of imitat- 
 ing, and thereby enhancing the value of 
 foreign singers, to leave foreign talent to 
 itself. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 IN WHICH WALTER AND HIS AMIABLE FAMILY HAVE A HIGHLY CHARACTERISTIC CONVER- 
 SATION ON THE SUBJECT OF GOODMAN'S RELEASE. 
 
 ALTHOUGH Walter had been gradually re- 
 covering from the effects of the fire, he was 
 still extremely weak, and continued to be 
 occupied night and day by Nature, whose 
 efforts to restore him to his pristine com- 
 plexion were accompanied by a certain 
 cutaneous excitement which he held to be 
 particularly disagreeable. His appearance 
 at this time was indeed very singular: the [ 
 skin on one side of his face being black, ! 
 while on the other it was as sanguine and 
 shiny as that of a fair-haired boy. This 
 rendered it natural, perhaps, for him to 
 amuse himself by prematurely peeling off 
 the dead skin by inches, in order to re-esta- 
 blish a facial uniformity. This was not, 
 however, the most interesting part of his 
 active occupation: by no means. While 
 under the regimen originally prescribed by 
 the physician, his mind was comparatively 
 at ease; but no sooner was he permitted to 
 take somewhat more generous food, and a 
 glass or two of wine every day, with a view 
 to the restoration of his physical strength, 
 than this vivid imagination began to revel 
 again in the creation of the most extraordi- 
 nary phantasms which failed not to afford 
 him perpetual entertainment. Nor were 
 the minds of his amiable family at this 
 time unoccupied: their nights were spent in 
 dreaming, and their days in relating those 
 dreams to each other, for the purpose of 
 ascertaining and establishing the most ap- 
 proved interpretation thereof. The house 
 of Walter was therefore a very busy house; 
 but the business of its inmates was unhap- 
 pily not of a character calculated to increase 
 their joy. On the contrary, their spirits 
 were dreadfully depressed: even those of 
 the volatile Horace albeit ho still retained 
 bis vulgarity sank several degrees below 
 par; for while confinement did not meet his 
 views, three somewhat severe attacks of 
 
 fever, induced by his going out too early, 
 and drinking too freely, had convinced him 
 that such confinement, how unpleasing so- 
 ever it might be, was absolutely essential 
 to his perfect restoration. 
 
 Of course every member of the family 
 was now acquainted with the manner in 
 which Walter had disposed of poor Good- 
 man, and the female portion failed not to 
 ascribe the whole of their recent misfortunes 
 to that. 
 
 " I am sure," said Mrs. Horace, one 
 evening when the family, for the first time 
 since the accident, were having tea in the 
 parlor, " I am perfectly sure that we shall 
 never have a moment's peace of mind until 
 uncle is released from confinement." 
 
 '* I am quite of your opinion, dear," ob- 
 served Mrs. Goodman, "for we really have 
 had nothing but misfortune and misery" 
 since; and 1 am fully persuaded by the truly 
 frightful dreams I have had of late, that \ve 
 can expect no comfort, no happiness, no 
 peace, so long as he remains where he is." 
 
 " Then I deserve all I've got, 1 suppose! 
 You regard it as a species of retributive 
 justice," cried Walter with a scowl. 
 
 " No, no, my love! 1 did not say that." 
 
 " Didn't say it! I know you didn't say 
 it; but you mean it nevertheless." 
 
 " All I mean to say is this," rejoined his 
 wife with unusual firmness, " that the hor- 
 rible dreams I have had of late convince me 
 that until he is released, we shall have 
 nothing but misfortune; and it really is 
 very dreadful that he should be thus im- 
 prisoned, you know, when you come to 
 think of it/' 
 
 41 The only question at issue," said 
 Horace, "is this will thn old boy's re- 
 lease tend to improve our position? That's 
 the only point now to be considrn-d. Never 
 mind about dreams, because they arc all 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 179 
 
 rubbish, and may be produced by pickled 
 salmon or stewed cheese; let us look at the 
 thing as it stands, thus: what will be the 
 effect of his release upon us?" 
 
 " Why this!" replied Walter, " we shall 
 be at once reduced to a state of absolute 
 beggary." 
 
 " Well, in that case, you know," rejoined 
 Horace, " there can't be two rational opin- 
 ions about the conclusion at which we 
 ought, as reasonable beings, to arrive." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure," said Mrs. Horace, 
 " that for my part I had rather be poor and 
 happy, than live in such continual misery 
 as this." 
 
 "Poor and happy!" cried Horace, " It's 
 all very fine. I might say the same thing: 
 /might say, oh, I'd much rather live poor 
 and happy: O yes! but who's to do itl 
 Had we been reared with the heavy hand 
 of poverty upon us, we should probably not 
 be much startled by her slaps, because a 
 thing, you know, is nothing when you are 
 used to it; but fancy yourself now in a state 
 of destitution! I know that I should be 
 walking into the jugular, or perpetrating 
 some other sanguinary business; while you 
 would be flying off the Monument, or pitch- 
 ing head first over Westminster bridge; and 
 then how would you bring it in? not, 
 'poor and happy!' " 
 
 " But I'd work the very flesh off my 
 bones, rather than continue to live as we do 
 now." 
 
 " Work the flesh off your bones!" echoed 
 Horace contemptuously. " How could you 
 get it to do; and if you did get it, how could 
 you do it? and what do you fancy you are 
 fit for? I might say that I'd work the very 
 flesh off my bones; but who'd employ me! 
 Chat's the point; and then what could I do? 
 While thousands upon thousands, who are 
 capable of performing the various jolly little 
 offices of life are unemployed, how can I, 
 who know nothing at all about anything, 
 hope to walk over their heads? I know bet 
 ter, you know; it's all stuff." 
 
 "It certainly would, I must confess," 
 said Mrs. Goodman, " be a very dreadful 
 thing to be reduced; but do you really think 
 we should be so utterly destitute?" 
 
 "Nobody can doubt it for a moment," 
 replied Horace; "for what resource have 
 we? What have we got to fly to? The 
 governor has given up his berth, which I 
 have said all along he ought not to have 
 done; and then what are my prospects? I 
 have no profession! we have nothing to 
 look to." 
 
 " But don't you really think," said Mrs. 
 Goodman, addressing her husband, " that 
 we might manage it so as to set him free, 
 and yet be as well off at least as we were?" 
 
 " How absurdly you talk!" replied Wal- 
 ter. " Why any one would think you were 
 an idiot! What on earth have I to hope 
 for from him? Suppose, for a moment, that 
 I were to release him; what would be the 
 consequence? He knows that I placed him 
 where he is; the house in which he lived 
 of course is clean gone, and I have sold all 
 his furniture. Well! he comes out. I am 
 the first man to whom he applies. He can- 
 not proceed crimirrally against me, because 
 the certificate of the doctors had the effect 
 of taking from me the whole of the respon- 
 sibility of the seizure ; but he demands 
 the restitution of his property, and how is 
 it possible for me to meet that demand? A 
 great portion of that property is not now in 
 my possession; he has, therefore, but to 
 bring an action against me, and rny ruin is 
 complete. But let us take the most favor- 
 able view of the case. Suppose he insists 
 only on the restoration of his papers. They 
 are restored; and he, as a matter of course, 
 instantly discards us. What then are we 
 to do? I have no property, no income. We 
 must starve. Any assistance from him 
 were altogether out of the question. He 
 would have, of course, nothing whatever to 
 do with vis. How should we act in that 
 case? We could not act at all; we should 
 go to the dogs." 
 
 " Of course!" cried Horace. " And that's 
 the very bottom of it. We can't be such 
 fools as to believe that he wouldn't at once 
 cut us dead. He might not, as the governor 
 says, proceed you know legally, but blis- 
 ter this itching!" he added rubbing his 
 back against the chair very violently, and 
 making up a very extraordinary face. " I 
 shall rub all the flesh off my bones: I know 
 I shall; and now the old governor's at it! 
 Well, what was I saying? Come, come! 
 I must rub if you do. If it were not for 
 you, I shouldn't do it at all. You put me 
 in mind of it. Come, I say, governor! 
 Give it up, come! I cannot think of any- 
 thing while you keep rubbing away thus." 
 And really the process of itching is a very 
 extraordinary process. It amounts to a 
 contagion. Mankind itch by virtue of sym- 
 pathy; and it is highly probable that most 
 living philosophers have observed that the 
 power of sympathy is extremely compre- 
 hensive; but whether the profound observa- 
 tions of those philosophers have extended 
 to this interesting particular or not, it is 
 nevertheless true, that of this most extra- 
 ordinary power men are absolute slaves. 
 
 " But do you not think now," observed 
 Mrs. Goodman, " that if you were to ac- 
 knowledge that you have acted very wrong, 
 and were to throw yourself as it were at 
 once upon his generosity, that " 
 
180 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " Pooh!" exclaimed Horace. " G.enero- j now 
 sity! Fancy the governor throwing himself is." 
 upon any thing like the old boy's generosity! 
 How would he have to go to work? I'll 
 
 retreat: he must remain where he 
 
 As a natural matter of course!" cried 
 Horace. " It would never do now. Let 
 
 just tell you, and then you'll know how it j him be. The old boy, I've no doubt, is as 
 would sound: ' My brother' he would j happy as a Hottentot, and what can he want 
 have to say, pulling the longest possible j more? The idea of his being locked up 
 phiz, ' my dear brother, I cocked you into there as an old lunatic is rather of the ra- 
 a madhouse, in order of course to swindle , therest, certainly; but he'll soon get over 
 you out of your property. You are not that. And then they shouldn't have such 
 mad, my brother; you never were mad I laws. Blister the laws! they make it posi- 
 know that remarkably well; but notwith- lively dangerous for a man to be safe. There- 
 standing into the lunatic den you were fore, henceforth, lay all the blame upon the 
 thrust, as indeed you are in all probability laws, and let him remain. I don't suppose 
 aware. Now, I really am sorry, particu- j I can't suppose he wants for any comfort: 
 larly sorry; I have sold the house, sold the 1 1 dare say they treat him as a friend of the 
 whole of the furniture, pocketed the pecuni- I family: at all events we must not bring 
 ary chips they produced, and as a matter of upon ourselves an uncomfortable load of 
 course, spent those chips liberally. My j starvation, that's clear." 
 
 conscience, however, told me that I had 
 
 Well, 
 
 I cannot but feel," said Mrs. 
 
 done extremely wrong, and that I ought to Goodman, " that \\e shall never be happy 
 release you. I acted upon the suggestions again that we shall never have anything 
 of that unhappy wretch of a conscience, j but misery and ill luck." 
 and released you accordingly; and now, j "And what sort of luck would that be 
 my dear brother, having acknowledged my i which reduced us to a state of destitution?" 
 error, I throw myself upon your generosity.' rejoined Horace. " It strikes me that such 
 Now I know the old boy pretty well: I luck would be extremely rotten: it would 
 know him to be occasionally rather of the not, at all events, be particularly brilliant; 
 warmest; but leaving what he would be , and as for your miseries! compare them 
 likely to do for a moment out of the ques- with the miseries with which abject poverty 
 tion, I'll just explain to you how /should teems, and then say no more about it. We 
 act in a case of the kind myself: In the j of course have no practical knowledge of 
 first place, then, I should secure all the j those miseries; but it occurs to me that they 
 papers, and having secured them, I should must be unpleasant in the extreme. It is 
 say, ' Now I tell you what it is: you're my j true that if we were thus reduced, the old 
 
 my brother 
 prospects in 
 room before 
 
 my best to kick you into the autumn of next bread and che'ese; but when I take into calm 
 
 year; and if ever I catch you near my house consideration all the rotten ramifications of 
 
 again, I shall consider it my duty on purely the business, I really don't think that it 
 
 public grounds, to hunt you at once from would answer our purpose so well." 
 
 society.' 'But I throw myself upon your ! "No, no, no!" cried Walter, "it will 
 
 generosity!' you would exclaim, ' I am not bear a thought. Come what may, he 
 
 sorry for what I have done, dear brother: I must remain where he is." 
 
 cannot say more!' 'Be off!' I should cry And to this opinion, all of them even- 
 
 with certain highly appropriate epithets, tually subscribed; for, although their dread- 
 
 4 and never, by any chance, let me see you ful dreams were recounted, and interpreted 
 again!' That I should hold, without any j according to the best book of fate, when 
 
 disguise, to be about the most generous act the miseries which they had to endure then, 
 of my life." | were fairly weighed with those \\liicli 
 
 " You are right; you are right," said Goodman's release would entail, it was 
 
 Walter, " quite right. No, no, no; it found that the former at once kicked the 
 
 won't do. I am sorry, and that's a fact, beam, and were therefore, of course, to be 
 
 sincerely sorry I went so far; but I cannot preferred. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 181 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 UNCLE JOHN ARRIVES IN TOWN, AND WITH VALENTINE ATTENDS THE CIVIC 
 PAGEANT AND FEAST. 
 
 ON the evening appointed for Uncle John's 
 arrival, Valentine went to the inn, and 
 the very first man whom he recognised 
 there was the waiter who had exhibited so 
 laudable an anxiety to expel the invisible 
 burglars. Of this person he inquired how 
 they eventually acted on that remarkable 
 occasion; and from him he ascertained that 
 it was generally deemed the most extraor- 
 dinary thing in nature, inasmuch as, not- 
 withstanding one policeman paraded the 
 leads, while another was stationed at the 
 coffee-room door throughout the night, those 
 burglarious individuals could not be cap- 
 tured. " In the morning," continued the 
 waiter, " we all thought they were still in 
 the chimbley, you know, and to tell you the 
 truth, you know., I had a hidea that, having 
 been smothered in smoke, we should have 
 found 'em a couple of corpses, you know; 
 so what did we do, but we sent for a chim- 
 bley sweeper's boy, who went up for to see 
 into the merits of the case; but no, not a 
 bit of it! they were not there they were 
 nowhere! However they managed to cut 
 away, you know, as they must have done 
 some how or another, is a mystery which 
 can't be exploded." 
 
 Valentine smiled at the recollection of 
 the scene; but as the waiter was about to 
 give additional particulars, the coach rattled 
 into the yard. There sat Uncle John upon 
 the box by the side of Tooler, and Valen- 
 tine, without waiting for him to alight, at 
 once leaped upon the wheel and grasped 
 his hand. 
 
 Uncle John was for a moment unable to 
 speak. His heart was far too full of joy; 
 and as he pressed the hand of his nephew 
 with the warmth of affection, his eyes swam 
 in tears. 
 
 " I am so pleased to see you!" said Va- 
 lentine. 
 
 " My boy! my boy!" cried the affec- 
 tionate old gentleman, gazing upon him as 
 well as he could through his tears with an 
 expression of ecstasy " God bless you! 
 God bless you! Why how you have 
 grown!" he continued after a pause. "Your 
 poor mother would scarcely believe her own 
 eyes!" 
 
 " She is well, I hope?" 
 
 " Oh, yes: quite well! quite well!" 
 and while he answered, he continued to 
 gaze upon his " boy" in the fulness of af- 
 fectionate pride. He was then so happy 
 
 that it singularly enough did not occur to 
 him that he was still on the box: nor would 
 it in all probability have occurred to him 
 for the next half hour, had not Tooler ad- 
 dressed him on the subject of his lug- 
 gage. 
 
 " Well," said Valentine, when his uncle 
 had alighted, ." what sort of a journey have 
 you had?" 
 
 " You young dog, sir!" exclaimed Uncle 
 John, " I never had such a journey! My 
 life has been in jeopardy all the way. I 
 have as nearly as possible fallen off that 
 box twenty times! How dare you serve a 
 man as you served poor old Tooler the day 
 you came up, sir? He has told me all about 
 it. I know that it was you! He has kept 
 me for the last forty miles in one continual 
 roar. The idea! and then for him to fancy" 
 here he again began to laugh with so 
 much energy and spirit, that it was with 
 difficulty he managed to point out his an- 
 cient portmanteau and trunk. This feat 
 was, however, eventually accomplished, 
 and the coachman came up ostensibly with 
 the view of expressing his most anxious 
 solicitude, having reference to its being all 
 right. 
 
 " Well, Tooler," said Valentine, "how 
 is the witch?" 
 
 " Oh! Ah! Yow were the young gen- 
 elman as were wi' me sir. How d'ye due"? 
 We were puty nigh makin a muddle on't 
 that time, sir, warn't we? the baggage!" 
 
 " Have you seen her of late?" 
 
 " Oh blarm her no, not very lately; nor 
 don't seems to want. She out to be swum, 
 sir! that ud cule her!" 
 
 " Get away, you young dog!" said Uncle 
 John, as he placed a half-crown in Tooler's 
 hand; when as Valentine smiled, and as 
 Uncle John laughed, Tooler stared precise- 
 ly as if he was unable to tell the meaning 
 of it exactly, while Valentine who had no 
 disposition to enlighten him on the subject, 
 directed one of the porters to call a coach, 
 into which he and his uncle got with the 
 luggage without any unnecessary delay. 
 
 On arriving at Valentine's lodgings, they 
 found that everything required had been 
 duly prepared by the attentive little widow; 
 the fire was blazing brightly; the tea was 
 quite ready, and a ham which had been 
 cooked for that particular occasion, stood 
 prominently forward embellished with an 
 infinite variety of devices which had been 
 
182 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 cut out of carrots and turnips with surpassing 1 
 ingenuity, and truly artistical taste. Uncle 
 John looked carefully round the room, and 
 having expressed himself satisfied with the 
 whole of the arrangements, drew the sofa 
 near the fire, and sat deliberately down with 
 the air of a man having no other object in 
 view than that of making himself quite at 
 home. 
 
 After tea, Valentine presented him with 
 a meerschaum, which he had purchased ex- 
 pressly for that occasion, and which Uncle 
 John examined and appeared to prize more 
 highly than any other thing in his possession. 
 But before he commenced smoking, he in- 
 sisted that Valentine should enter into a 
 compact of a serious character, the spirit of 
 which was, that the conversation should be 
 confined that evening to the extraordinary 
 case of Goodman, for as he had already 
 laughed enough for one day, he contended 
 that he could not endure the relation of any 
 reprehensible tricks. This was accordingly 
 understood and agreed to, and on the subject 
 of Goodman's absence, they therefore con- 
 versed. Uncle John felt quite sure that he 
 should be able to find him, being determined 
 as he explained, to go at once to head-quar- 
 ters, and with this conviction strongly im- 
 pressed upon his mind, he eventually retired 
 for the night. 
 
 Now it happened that on the following 
 morning he had occasion to go into the city, 
 and it also happened that that very morning 
 was the morning of the 8th of November. For 
 the city, therefore, immediately after break- 
 fast, he and Valentine started, and on 
 reaching Cheapside, they heard Bow church 
 bells ringing very merrily and firing very 
 fiercely, and hence naturally imagined that 
 some civic business of importance was 
 about to take place. They had not pro- 
 ceeded far before they heard a lively flourish 
 of trumpets, and saw a long line of private 
 carriages approaching, some of which were 
 extremely gay, preceded by certain official 
 individuals on horseback, having under 
 their immediate surveillance a little legion 
 of constables, of whom the majority were 
 zealously occupied in striking the noses of 
 horses attached to vulgar vehicles with 
 their staves, and commanding their drivers, 
 in a duly authoritative tone, to get out of 
 the way down the back streets at once, if 
 they wished to avoid the consequences of 
 their official displeasure. 
 
 Of course Valentine inquired into the 
 meaning of all this, and was informed thai 
 the newly elected lord mayor was about to 
 be sworn into office: he also ascertained 
 that none were admitted into tin- Guildhall 
 to witness the solemn ceremony, but those 
 who had orders. "1 should like to be pre- 
 
 sent exceedingly," said he, ** but then where 
 are these orders to be procured!" 
 
 " Probably," suggested Uncle John, 
 " we shall be able to get them of Clarkson, 
 upon whom we are now about to call." 
 
 To Clakson's they therefore hastened, 
 and after the business in hand had been 
 transacted, Mr. Clarkson sent out for an or- 
 der at once. 
 
 " But you should go to the Lord Mayor's 
 dinner," said that gentleman, when the 
 messenger had departed. " That indeed 
 would be a treat if you never were there." 
 
 " Is it possible," said Uncle John, " for 
 any but members of the corporation to be 
 admitted without a special invitation?" 
 
 " Oh dear me, yes! You have but to 
 procure a ticket of an alderman, or one of 
 the common-council." 
 
 "It unfortunately happens, that I have 
 not the honor to be acquainted with any 
 one of those gentlemen," rejoined Uncle 
 John; " but could I not purchase two, for 
 me and my nephew, by applying at head 
 quarters'?" 
 
 " They are not to be purchased there." 
 
 " I'd give ten pounds for two of them to 
 any man with pleasure." 
 
 " In that case," observed Mr. Clarkson, 
 " you have only to put an advertisement to 
 that effect into one of the morning papers, 
 to be gratified. The common-councilmen 
 frequently dispose of them in that way. 
 But, now I come to think of it, it strikes me 
 that there is a chance of my being able to 
 get them without any such expense. It is 
 certainly rather late; but I'll try I'll do my 
 utmost. Leave your address. I think that 
 I may almost venture to promise." 
 
 " My dear sir!" cried Uncle John, "you 
 can't conceive how much obliged to you I 
 should feel. Why, it would be to us the 
 highest treat in nature! Val, write the ad- 
 dress." 
 
 This was accomplished of course with 
 great alacrity, and the messenger having 
 returned with the order, Uncle John again 
 explained how highly he should esteem the 
 promised favor, and proceeded with Valen- 
 tine at once to Guildhall, descanting with 
 due eloquence on the politeness of Mr. 
 Clarkson. 
 
 On reaching the entrance, they found it 
 surrounded by a number of constables, who 
 were watching, with apparently intense in- 
 terest, certain groups of rather suspicious- 
 looking young gentlemen, who wore their 
 hats over their eyes, that the back of tlu-ir 
 heads might be sufficiently well aired, and 
 one tastefully inverted curl immediately 
 over each templo. \Yitlmut riitrrinir. how- 
 ever, into the spirit of the interest thus 
 created, Uncle John submitted the order to 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 183 
 
 a person in attendance, and they proceeded 
 at once into the body of the Hall, which 
 then assumed an appearance very different 
 from that which distinguished it when Va- 
 lentine imparted apparently speech to the 
 civic giants. On this occasion, a great 
 variety of banners, shields, and other insig- 
 nia were displayed with appropriate taste 
 in all directions; and while on the left a 
 number of workmen were engaged, some in 
 making all the noise they deemed essential 
 to the manufacture of tables and forms, and 
 others on taking the mock men in armor 
 out of blankets, with the view of placing 
 them in the various niches of the Hall; on 
 the right stood between three and four hun- 
 dred persons, who were occupied in look- 
 ing, with great apparent curiosity, at about 
 fifty solemn individuals, in gowns trimmed 
 with fur, who were sitting with appropriate 
 grace and gravity on either side of an open 
 space, at the upper end of which stood a 
 large arm chair, behind an ancient and dirty 
 little table. 
 
 " Who are those gentlemen]" inquired 
 Valentine, of a person who stood near him. 
 
 ^'The common-councilmen," replied that 
 person; " they are waiting for the Lord 
 Mayor and aldermen, who are now in the 
 council chamber up them there steps." 
 
 At this interesting moment, sundry high 
 official personages ran down those steps, 
 and after bustling backwarks and forwards, 
 and looking very mysterious, ran up them 
 again with great presence of mind. This 
 proceeding appeared to be indicative of 
 something, for it instantly caused many 
 others' to bustle, with equal dexterity and 
 tact, and, doubtless, with an equally high 
 object in view. 
 
 At length an extremely important person- 
 age made his appearance, and every eye 
 was in an instant directed to the steps down 
 which he had majestically glided. The 
 noise of the workmen ceased a procession 
 approached. A death-like silence pervaded 
 the hall: the suspense was truly awful. 
 The style in which the mighty individuals 
 who composed this procession stepped out, 
 was inconceivably grand ! Solemnity was 
 the chief characteristic of each look im- 
 portance was perched upon each ample 
 brow. Their air was noble! They seemed 
 to feel the weight of their respective re- 
 sponsibilities, albeit they bore them with 
 dignity and ease. Some were adorned with 
 violet gowns, richly embellished with mas- 
 sive chains of virgin gold; but although 
 some had gowns without any such embel- 
 lishment, and others had no gowns at all, 
 all who formed the procession looked equal- 
 ly immense, and equally resolved to inspire 
 spectators with awe. 
 
 Well ! on arriving at that part of the 
 Hall, in which the grave common-council- 
 men were sitting in all their glory, the civic 
 king, who was about to abdicate, proceeded 
 majestically to the chair. He really ap- 
 peared to know that it was for the last time, 
 but he nevertheless kept up his spirits, and 
 absolutely smiled upon all around with sur- 
 passing grace, although it was, beyond dis- 
 pute, an extremely trying moment. 
 
 It may have been in all probability ob- 
 served, that when mortals do any thing for 
 the last time conscious of its being for the 
 last time they feel it; but who that hath 
 not been a Lord Mayor himself, can appre- 
 ciate the feelings which rack a lord mayor 
 on his resigning in toto, that which had 
 for years been placed upon the pinnacle of 
 his ambition] It was suggested, some few 
 years ago, that it was hard that the Mayor 
 should lose his title with his office; and it 
 is hard, very hard, particularly hard! the 
 title ought to be retained. To be addressed 
 as "my lord," for twelve calendar months, 
 and as " sir" for ever after, is monstrous! 
 But this matter will be seen in the right 
 light by-and-bye, and posterity will hold 
 the age in which we now live, to be one of 
 the dark ones in consequence. However, 
 be this as it may, there is one thing quite 
 clear, and that is this that the Lord Mayor, 
 in this instance, sat for the last time in the 
 state chair, with truly admirable resigna- 
 tion, and that the Lord Mayor elect, who 
 was a much stouter man, sat beside him. 
 
 Such, therefore, being the state of the 
 case then, an individual, who was at that 
 time yclept the common crier, walked so- 
 lemnly in front of the state chair, and made 
 an extremely profound reverence, with the 
 mace upon his shoulder. He then took 
 three very graceful steps, and made an- 
 other low reverence, and then three steps 
 more, when, having made another reverence 
 of a character still more profound, he inge- 
 niously made the mace stand upright before 
 the table. On this highly appropriate piece 
 of unspeakable solemnity, being accom- 
 plished to the entire satisfaction of all con- 
 cerned, a grave personage, who rejoiced 
 in the extraordinary title of Town Clerk, 
 marched in front of the state chair, and after 
 taking nine well-measured steps, halting 
 three times, of course, to make three very 
 distinctly marked reverences which were 
 quite as low as those that had been made 
 by the Town Crier he happily arrived at 
 the table, when the Lord Mayor elect most 
 majesticaly rose with a view to the recep- 
 tion of the oaths. 
 
 Those oaths were administered; and when 
 the Lord Mayor elect had placed his signa- 
 ture in a journal expressly provided for that 
 
1S4 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 purpose, the old Lord Mayor left the chair, 
 and after solemnly approaching the new 
 Lord Mayor and taking him affectionately 
 by the hand, he smiled a peculiarly gracious 
 smile, said an encouraging something, hand- 
 ed him, with unexampled elegance to that 
 seat which he had for twelve months occu- 
 pied with honor to himself and advantage 
 to the city, and sat beside him amidst a loud 
 clapping of hands, which was at once very 
 solemn and very enthusiastic. The worthy 
 aldermen then rose with all the dignity at 
 their command, for the purpose of congratu- 
 lating the new civic king, and shaking 
 hands with his lordship individually, and 
 warmly, and when this had been gracefully 
 and satisfactorily accomplished, the Cham- 
 berlaina person, on the subject of whose 
 solemnity of aspect two rational opinions 
 could not be entertained, stood in front of 
 the new Lord Mayor and made a reverence, 
 and having measured the distance with his 
 eye, took four steps in consequence of his 
 steps being shorter, although his legs were 
 longer than those of the common crier and 
 the town clerk, who, in three steps got over 
 the same space of ground and made another 
 low reverence; and then he took four steps 
 more, and having made a third reverence, 
 equally profound, he presented the late 
 Lord Mayor with a sceptre, and the late 
 Lord Mayor having nothing then to do with 
 it, handed it over to the new Lord Mayor, 
 when the new Lord Mayor returned it to 
 the Chamberlain, who placed it upon the 
 table and made a fourth low reverence, and 
 took four steps backwards to make a fifth low 
 reverence, and then four steps more to make 
 a sixth low reverence, when he held out his 
 hand for the seal, and having advanced and 
 retired in like manner, taking the same num- 
 ber of steps, and making the same number 
 of reverences, he gracefully held forth his 
 hand for the purse, with which the same 
 solemn ceremony was performed, with this 
 addition, that the new Lord Mayor did shake 
 the purse with the view of ascertaining what 
 was in it a proceeding which shocked the 
 grave personages present, who obviously 
 held it to be a species of levity which was, 
 under the awful circumstances of the case, 
 reprehensible in the extreme. 
 
 This feeling, however, lasted but for a 
 moment, and the Chamberlain had no sooner 
 finished his task, which ho appeared to hold 
 in high admiration, than the junior clerk ad- 
 vanced in the self-same fashion, but with 
 somewhat less grace than the Chamberlain 
 had displayed, and having taken the sceptre, 
 seal, and purse from the table, retired, step- 
 ping backwards as a matter of course, and 
 nr.iking six profound reverences altogether, 
 when another individual bearing a sword, 
 
 which seemed to be within an inch or two 
 as long as himself, advanced and presented 
 it to the late Lord Mayor, who presented it 
 to the new Lord Mayor, who returned it to 
 the individual who had submitted it to their 
 notice, and who retired with it backwards, 
 having made the prescribed number of re- 
 verences with a tact which the junior clerk 
 must have envied. 
 
 This was all very solemn and very inte- 
 resting; but Uncle John could not appreciate 
 its importance! "What," said he in a 
 whisper, " what in the name of reason is 
 the use of it? What does it all mean"!" 
 
 Valentine was not then prepared to ex- 
 plain either its use or its connection with. 
 the name of reason, but he suggested that 
 the probability was that it meant something, 
 and hinted at the possibility of those rever- 
 ences being absolutely essential to the pre- 
 servation of the city's charter. It struck 
 him, however, at the same time forcibly 
 that a sufficient number of reverences had 
 not been made, for he remembered that at 
 the House of Commons they made eighteen 
 bows that is to say three to every four 
 steps whereas here they had made but six, 
 which amounted to a clear taking off of two- 
 thirds of the solemnity. 
 
 Thus, however, this part of the ceremony 
 was accomplished, and the late Lord Mayor, 
 when the bearer of the sword had retired, 
 rose again to shake hands with the new 
 Lord Mayor, when the aldermen rose for 
 the same solemn purpose, then the whole 
 of the common councilmen, and then the 
 great officers of the various companies, and 
 then all the rest of the functionaries attach- 
 ed to the corporation: in fine, his lordship 
 was shaken by the hand by about three hun- 
 dred individuals, and as they all shook as if 
 they were anxious to shake his hand off, his 
 lordship, immediately after the operation, 
 very carefully placed his right hand in his 
 bosom with a view to the eventual restora- 
 tion of his wrist, when the whole of the 
 ceremony being thus completed, he and the 
 late Lord Mayor, preceded by the officers, 
 and followed by the aldermen, left the hall 
 in the same solemn style as that in which 
 they had entered. 
 
 Uncle John, however, still thought the 
 whole of the ceremony with the exception 
 of the process of administering the oaths 
 most absurd. He did not approve of it: he 
 could not approve of it: he held it to be the 
 most foolishly ridiculous piece of mummery 
 he had ever beheld; but Valentine suggested 
 that men should not denounce or even <1 cm 
 that absurd, the utility and meaning of 
 which they could not understand. "In 
 those reverences," said he, " for example, 
 there may be more, much more than meets 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 185 
 
 the eye. Upon them the rights and privi- 
 leges of the citizens may for aught we know 
 entirely depend. But independently of this, 
 it is abundantly clear that in denouncing 
 these proceedings as mere foolery, we de- 
 nounce by implication as fools, all by whom 
 these proceedings are upheld, and we must 
 not allow it to escape us, that we are now 
 in the very first city in the world, the most 
 enlightened spot upon the face of the globe, 
 the very centre of civilisation. We there- 
 fore ought not to suppose it to be likely 
 that these ceremonies, however ridiculous 
 they may appear, would be upheld if there 
 were not something in them of a solemn and 
 useful character." 
 
 Uncle John was by no means convinced 
 of the soundness of this argument which he 
 fancied at the time had been seriously ad- 
 duced. He felt still that the ceremony was 
 foolish, and although he would not go so 
 far as to say that those grave and enlight- 
 ened looking personages whom he had seen 
 were really fools, he contended that they 
 ought to repudiate those absurdities as 
 things which were utterly beneath them. 
 
 "But," said Valentine, although he quite 
 agreed with Uncle John, " if we even ad- 
 mit that these ceremonies are in the abstract 
 absurd, are we sure that it is not expedient 
 to uphold them? Authority must not be 
 stripped of its trappings; and as the world 
 still consents to be deceived by ornament, 
 the universality of the deception forbids the 
 supposition of its maintenance being utterly 
 vain." 
 
 "There is certainly a little more in that," 
 said Uncle John, *' and I suppose we should 
 find it the same at head-quarters; but I must 
 say that in this case the thing has been 
 carried a little beyond bounds, for instead 
 of those ceremonies having the effect of in- 
 spiring the people with awe, they have a 
 tendency only to excite their contempt; and 
 so that question's settled." And as Valen- 
 tine permitted it to be thus settled, they at 
 once left the hall; but as Uncle John on 
 reaching Cheapside, would stop to inspect, 
 minutely, the contents of almost every 
 shop-window, their progress was indeed 
 but slow. They did, however, eventually 
 arrive at St. Paul's Church Yard, and as 
 they perceived, on passing the north door 
 of the Cathedral, that it was about half 
 open, Uncle John expressed an anxious 
 wish to enter the noble edifice, and having 
 ascended the steps, they saw the door- 
 keeper just inside, with a piece of cold 
 meat on a thick slice of bread in one hand, 
 and a clasp knife of really assassinating 
 dimensions in the other. 
 
 "Can we be admitted]" inquired Valen- 
 tine of this person. 
 17 
 
 " Tuppence each!" said the fellow, as he 
 unhooked the chain which held the door. 
 
 "Two-pence each!" cried Uncle John, 
 with an expression of indignation. " What 
 do you mean, sir 1 ? Here is my card, I 
 demand admittance!" 
 
 " It's tuppence each!" repeated the door- 
 keeper emphatically; and Valentine drew 
 out his purse. 
 
 ' By no means!" said Uncle John, re- 
 straining him, " by no means. It is not 
 the money but the principle at which I 
 look. It is a monstrous principle a princi- 
 ple that I never will encourage; it being 
 neither more nor less than that of convert- 
 ing the House of God into a twopenny 
 exhibition. It is perfectly disgraceful," 
 he continued, addressing the door-keeper. 
 "Your conduct shall be known, sir, at 
 head-quarters!" 
 
 The fellow replaced the chain, laughed, 
 and took another mouthful of bread and 
 meat, as Uncle John descended the steps 
 with Valentine, descanting with due elo- 
 quence upon the monstrous character of this 
 truly impious species of extortion. 
 
 They now proceeded home, where they 
 found that Mr. Clarkson had already sent 
 the tickets, with a most polite note, in 
 which he strongly recommended them to 
 see the procession. This they thought ex- 
 tremely kind. Uncle John at once declared 
 that he should never forget it, and a very 
 considerable portion of the evening was in 
 consequence occupied with a discussion, 
 the object of which was to decide which 
 had the preponderance in the world good 
 or evil. 
 
 In the morning, immediately after break- 
 fast, they started for Guildhall, and London 
 seemed to have poured the whole of her 
 artizans into the city. It was then, and 
 had been for the three preceding centuries 
 at least, a grand day for the sight-seers of 
 the metropolis. The streets through which 
 the glorious pageant had to pass, were 
 densely thronged with men, women, and 
 children, splashed up to their very necks, 
 while the windows of the houses on either 
 side were filled with gaily dressed persons, 
 who amused themselves by making the 
 most pleasing observations upon those who 
 were moving below them in the mud. 
 
 The nearer they got to Guildhall, the 
 more dense the crowd became, but as Uncle 
 John insisted upon going to "head-quar- 
 ters," they turned into King Street, and 
 tried with desperation to thread the mortal 
 labyrinth there established. Uncle John 
 was, however, very soon out of breath, for 
 he met with all sorts of obstructions; and as 
 those obstructions increased, and were like- 
 ly to increase as he proceeded, he wisely 
 
186 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 resolved upon seeking some spot, in which 
 he might stand comparatively free from 
 annoyance. 
 
 " What a shame it is, that women should 
 bring children in arms," said he, on hearing 
 a female, who had an infant at her breast, 
 scolding two men for " squeedging her 
 babby." On looking round, however, he 
 saw that by far the greater portion of the 
 women were similarly circumstanced, and 
 hence, assuming that the fact might have 
 some direct, or indirect, connection with the 
 privileges peculiar to the city, he said no 
 more on the subject; but passed on at once 
 to a place, in which they felt the mighty 
 pageant might be viewed without any seri- 
 ous pressure. 
 
 "The sight must, I should say, be mag- 
 nificent to draw such a multitude together," 
 observed Valentine. 
 
 44 Magnificent!" exclaimed Uncle John, 
 " I have always understood it to be the 
 most gorgeous affair the imagination of man 
 can conceive! But we shall see. I don't 
 pretend to understand the utility of it exact- 
 ly; but I expect it will be splendid. We 
 shall see." 
 
 The crowd now increased about the spot 
 in which they stood, aud all were naturally 
 anxious to get in front. " Vill you be so 
 obleeging as to let my little boy stand afore 
 you, if you please," said a woman address- 
 ing Uncle John. 
 
 "By all means, my good woman," and 
 he immediately made way for the little boy; 
 but the moment the space was opened, the 
 good woman herself, duly followed by a 
 knot of tall coal-heaving creatures, rushed 
 in, and thus placed Uncle John in a position 
 in which he could not see at all. He, there- 
 fore, made an observation, of which the 
 purport was, that such a proceeding was by 
 no means polite: and the coal-heavers heard 
 this remarkable observation; and it struck 
 them as being so novel and so good, thai 
 they enjoyed it exceedingly, and laughed 
 very loudly. 
 
 Valentine, there fore, drew Uncle John to 
 another choice spot, in which they waited 
 with due patience for some considerable 
 time, making other observations of an 
 equally remarkable caste, and being occa- 
 sionally enlivened by sundry loud cries ol 
 " Here they come!" ' 
 
 At length they saw a mighty rush, and 
 heard the trembling trumpets sound! The 
 effect was electric! The crowd was seized 
 with an universal thrill! The glorious 
 pageant was on the move! The band ap 
 preached! the drums rolled! the earth 
 seemed in convulsions! 
 
 An immense individual on horseback now 
 darted about, spurring his proud steed so 
 
 lard that already had he fretted him into 
 such a dreadful state of perspiration, that 
 lis neck, back, and haunches were covered 
 with white steaming foam. 
 
 'That's a fool! said Uncle John, as this 
 person galloped backwards and forwards 
 with the view of making himself as con- 
 spicuous as possible. " He ought to blush. 
 That horse is not his own; or if it be, it's 
 the first he ever had, and he hasn't had it 
 long. He seems to me to be quite new in 
 office: hence he thus frets and stews that 
 poor animal in order to show his official 
 assiduity." 
 
 " It's essential to the progress of the 
 pageant, no doubt," observed Valentine. 
 " Depend upon it, the procession couldn't 
 get along without him. Behold with what 
 elegance he bows! and see those respecta- 
 ble coal-heavers there, how gracefully, with 
 a nod of recognition, they wave their lily 
 hands. He has, doubtless, the honor of 
 being extremely intimate with those gentle- 
 men." And away the great officer galloped 
 again, as Uncle John boldly declared it to 
 be his unbought and unbiassed opinion that 
 the animal must very soon drop down dead. 
 
 A mounted military band now passed 
 playing fiercely; then came a mighty host 
 of distinguished individuals in blue and 
 yellow caps, and pink calico gowns, most 
 appropriately headed by an extremely dirty 
 streamer, the arms magnificently emblazon- 
 ed upon which might, in ancient times, in 
 all probability, have been sensible to sight. 
 The first of these warlike creatures groaned 
 beneath the weight of a mighty scaffold - 
 pole, of which the circumference at its base 
 was about twenty inches, and to which 
 were attached three other long poles, borne 
 by three other creatures for the purpose of 
 keeping the mighty one steady; but despite 
 all their efforts which were really very 
 desperate, ard very laudable every slight 
 gust of wind which caught the glorious 
 streamer, made them stagger like warriors 
 in the last stage of lively intoxication. 
 
 " What do they make those poor men 
 carry such an enormous thing as that for?" 
 inquired Uncle John. 
 
 "Doubtless," replied Valentine, "with 
 a view to the maintenance of the peculiar 
 rights and privileges of the city." And 
 other hosts passed with other long stream- 
 ers, looking equally ancient and equally 
 glorious; and after a line of glass-coaches 
 the drivers of which were adorned \\ith 
 cockades of extraordinary dimensions 
 there came a mighty warrior clad in com- 
 plete steel, with a countenance which, while 
 it expressed true nobility of soul, was em- 
 bellished with whitening, burnt cork, and 
 vermilion. He was mounted, of course, on 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 187 
 
 a warlike charger, which appeared to be 
 endeavoring to understand the precise mean- 
 ing of a piece of steel which had been strap- 
 ped in front of his head, with the view of 
 imparting to him the semblance of an uni- 
 corn; but the warrior himself really looked 
 very fierce, very noble, and very uncom- 
 fortable. 
 
 " What is that fellow for?" inquired 
 Uncle John, with really reprehensible irre- 
 verence. 
 
 41 In all probability," replied Valentine, 
 " to fight for the peculiar rights and privi- 
 leges of the city." 
 
 " To fight! and there's another in brass! 
 Do they look like fighting men] A cane 
 would be sufficient to unhorse them, and 
 what would they have it in their power to 
 do then?" 
 
 This was clearly a very ungracious ob- 
 servation, for the noble warriors tried to 
 look as desperate as possible as they pass- 
 ed, with the yeomen of the guard with 
 remarkably low crowned hats, and equally 
 remarkably high plaited frills on either 
 side. 
 
 The late Lord Mayor followed, leaning 
 back in his carriage, and looking very grave 
 and very gloomy. His chief object was to 
 conceal himself from the crowd as much as 
 possible, and this is acknowledged univer- 
 sally to be a development of sound discre- 
 tion. Late Lord Mayors are seldom popular 
 with the mob. In the performance of their 
 high functions, they are called upon to 
 punish so many, that were they to make 
 themselves at all conspicuous, they would 
 be sure to be popularly recognised, and re- 
 cognitions of that kind are at all times, and 
 on both sides extremely disagreeable. 
 
 The late Lord Mayor, therefore, passed 
 in solemn silence, without apparently wish- 
 ing to provoke any unpleasant recollections, 
 and was followed by six individuals who 
 sported very highly polished pumps, and 
 very delicate French-white silk stockings, 
 and who, as they walked on the tips of 
 their toes, appeared to be in a dreadful state 
 of mind, although the tact and dexterity 
 with which they all hopped from stone to 
 stone, were truly amazing. They took no 
 sort of notice of the admiration they inspir- 
 ed; and as for raising their eyes from the 
 mud! they wouldn't have looked at their 
 own mothers. Their whole souls seemed 
 centered in the one great and glorious object 
 of avoiding the innumerable little puddles 
 in the road, and to this all their moral and 
 physical energies were exclusively devoted, 
 while they bore unbrellas expecting rain 
 as a purely natural matter of course with 
 the view of imparting to all around, the 
 conviction, that a smart shower only was 
 
 required to render their happiness complete. 
 On that great occasion, however, this 
 was denied them. They, nevertheless, 
 passed on in peace, and were immediately 
 followed by the chief object of attraction, 
 
 THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE LORD MAYOR! 
 
 There sat his Right Honorable Lordship, in 
 that extremely unique and notorious ma- 
 chine, yclept by the vulgar the "civic state 
 carriage," scarcely knowing what to make 
 of it, and looking as fascinating, and bow- 
 ing as grotesquely as possible, while two 
 important personages sat looking out of the 
 windows, apparently with the view of ex- 
 citing loud laughter, their prominent cha- 
 racteristics being really so droll. 
 
 " Hooray!" exclaimed a mob of very dirty 
 individuals on the left of Uncle John. 
 " Hooray!" His Right Honorable Lord- 
 ship smiled graciousiy, and bowed with 
 excessive dignity, and looked very happy, 
 and very healthy. The sight was glorious! 
 but as this machine wound up the pageant, 
 it had no sooner passed than Uncle John 
 began to swell with indignation. "Is it- 
 can it be possible?" he exclaimed, " that 
 this trumpery, pitiful, gingerbread business, 
 should have induced so many thousands of 
 persons to leave their homes to be knocked 
 about, insulted, and covered with rnud! 
 Why, it is beyond dispute, the most vile 
 and contemptible piece of mummery I ever 
 witnessed. Is this, forsooth, your most 
 enlightened city in the world? What is the 
 object of it what does it all mean? As 
 true as I'm alive it's the most paltry, the 
 most absurd, unmeaning, tin-pot piece of 
 foolery, the most ridiculous, disgraceful 
 I've been robbed!" he continued, thrusting 
 his hand into his pockets. * I've been 
 plundered! they've stolen my handker- 
 chief." 
 
 " Nothing else?" inquired Valentine. 
 
 Uncle John felt in the whole of his pockets 
 at once, and then searched them seriatim, 
 and then said: " No no nothing else. 
 But then what could I expect? If the 
 object were to draw together multitudes of 
 thieves, it were utterly impossible to con- 
 ceive a better plan. Nothing in life could 
 be more directly calculated to give the pick- 
 pocketting scoundrels full swing. It is fit 
 for nothing else in the world. The au- 
 thorities, and those who uphold or even 
 fail to denounce it, ought to blush." 
 
 " But how can you conceive it to be pos- 
 sible," urged Valentine, " for the dignity 
 of the city to be upheld without it?" 
 
 "The dignity of the city!" echoed Uncle 
 John contemptuously, "Don't tell me that 
 the dignity of the city can be upheld by 
 
188 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 such an atrocious and trumpery mockery as 
 this. It is an absolute disgrace to the city. 
 Jt tends to bring every thing bearing the 
 semblance of dignity into contempt. It is 
 amazing, that the people at head-quarters 
 should sanction so childish an exhibition. 
 There is not a spark of reason in it nothing 
 to save it from ridicule, or to qualify con- 
 tempt. It is pardonable certainly under 
 the circumstances that we came; but if it 
 were possible for any man living to prevail 
 upon me to witness such a display of tom- 
 foolery twice, I should never forgive myself 
 never! If they must go to Westminster, 
 let them go like men but come along my 
 boy, come along." 
 
 " But you'll go and see the pageant on 
 the water?" said Valentine. 
 
 " / see the pageant on the water!" ex- 
 claimed Uncle John, " No, no; I've had 
 enough of it, more than enough;" and having 
 called the first coach that came in sight, 
 they at once proceeded home. 
 
 Valentine was highly amused at the in- 
 dignation displayed by Uncle John. He 
 regarded it as a sort of compensation for 
 the disappointment he had experienced, and 
 he could not disguise from himself that he 
 had been disappointed, for instead of the 
 procession being magnificent, as he cer- 
 tainly expected it would have been, he held 
 it to he a most senseless affair, and won- 
 dered quite as much as Uncle John, how 
 the grave authorities of the City of London 
 could uphold a species of mummery so 
 wretched. 
 
 " Well!" said Uncle John, on reaching 
 home, " we will go at all events and see the 
 end of this business; but if the banquet be 
 conducted in asmilarstyle, I shall set down 
 the great corporation of London at once as 
 a great corporation of fools." And having 
 thus expressed his sentiments on the sub- 
 ject, he began to bustle about, and con- 
 tinued to be particularly busy until the time 
 for starting had arrived, when they sent for 
 a coach, and set off for Guildhall, with no 
 very magnificent anticipations. 
 
 On entering the hall, Uncle John was, 
 however, so struck with the dazzling 
 splendor of the scene, that Valentine could 
 scarcely get him along. " Well," said ho, 
 " this is indeed very brilliant. It makes up 
 for all. They could produce nothing better 
 than this at head-quarters." 
 
 Valentine assented at once to this opinion, 
 but urged him again to proceed, and after 
 an immense deal of pulling and persuasion, 
 he succeeded in seating him at one <>l the 
 tables, when he explained that ho was at 
 that moment perfectly happy. 
 
 This was pleasant; and when the cere- 
 
 mony of receiving the distinguished guests 
 had been duly accomplished, the tables 
 began to crack beneath the weight of im- 
 mense tureens: and when grace had been 
 said with due solemnity and force, the 
 guests commenced operations in the twink- 
 ling of an eye. 
 
 Uncle John, however, at first felt quite 
 nervous. The scene had so excited him, 
 that jt was not until he had been challenged 
 by several gentlemen, with extraordinary 
 politeness and grace, that he was able to 
 enjoy himself at all. The wine, however, 
 very soon braced up his nerves by placing 
 him on somewhat better terms with himself, 
 and he began to feel perfectly at home, and 
 succeeded in eating an excellent dinner, and 
 freely expressed his sentiments on the chief 
 characteristics of the banquet, and conversed 
 with much eloquence and warmth with 
 several exceedingly communicative persons, 
 who politely pointed out the most distin- 
 guished of the guests an operation in the 
 performance of which, most men experience 
 peculiar pleasure. 
 
 Well! in due lime the Lord Mayor com- 
 menced the list of toasts, and the speeches, 
 cheers, and glees which succeeded were sa 
 enlivening and appropriate, that they seemed 
 to impart universal delight. 
 
 But it happened that at that particulur 
 period of British history, the Ministers of 
 the Crown were extremely unpopular with 
 ! the party to which their immediate official 
 predecessors belonged a fact which is of 
 so striking and extraordinary a character, 
 that it becomes highly correct to record it 
 in these adventures. They were remarka- 
 bly unpopular with that particular party; 
 but as it was usual on such occasions for 
 the Ministers of the Crown to be invited, 
 all who happened at the time to be in Lon- 
 don, notwithstanding their extreme unpopu- 
 larity, came, and moreover the health of 
 those Ministers of the Crown, was placed 
 on the list of toasts. 
 
 Now Valentine knew something of the 
 power of party spirit. He knew that prin- 
 ciple and honor were perpetually sacrificed 
 at its shrine. In the town in which he was 
 born, he had witnessed it rising upon the 
 ruins of friendship and affection; and had 
 found it in the metropolis to be equally 
 powerful, and equally pernicious. The little 
 experience he had had of its effects, had 
 hence inspired him with the conviction of 
 its being alone sufficiently powerful to sub- 
 vert almost every generous fueling by which 
 men are actuated; but he wondered if it 
 were possible for its dovelopement to be in- 
 due, d then-, where so many of the first men 
 of the age men distinguished fur wealth, 
 probity, and wisdom had assembled, and 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 189 
 
 where joy and good fellowship seemed to 
 be in the ascendant. 
 
 He looked round: they all appeared hap- 
 py. The dark passions were subdued. 
 Envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitable- 
 ness seemed, for the time being, by common 
 consent, to be extinguished. They had as- 
 sembled for no party purpose; but with a 
 view to the cultivation of those feelings 
 which impart a zest to life, and which bind 
 man to man. Every heart seemed open 
 every hand seemed ready to give and to 
 receive the warm pressure of friendship. 
 It appeared to be a moment peculiarly 
 adapted for the reconciliation of friends who 
 had become enemies, their hearts seemed 
 so ardent their feelings so pure. 
 
 Notwithstanding all this, however, Va- 
 lentine determined, for his own satisfaction, 
 on trying the experiment. He inclined to 
 the opinion, that the slightest manifestation 
 of party-spirit would, at such a time, be 
 treated as so great an indignity, that it 
 would instantly be drowned in enthusiastic 
 cheers, in which men of all parties would 
 readily join; but in order to test the sound- 
 ness of this opinion he resolved, neverthe- 
 less, when the time came, to manifest some 
 slight disapprobation, just sufficient to make 
 it understood, and no more. 
 
 Accordingly, when in due course the 
 Lord Mayor rose with the view of propos- 
 ing the health of the Ministers, Valentine, 
 the very moment their names were an- 
 nounced, sent a sound along the table, 
 which amounted to no more than a mur- 
 muring buzz. In an instant the demon of 
 party arose! That sound, slight as it was, 
 was hailed as the signal for confusion. 
 Every countenance changed as if by magic. 
 They of the Ministerial party applauded 
 with unparalleled vehemence; while they 
 of the opposition hissed and groaned like 
 tortured fiends. 
 
 The Lord Mayor knit his brows and 
 pursed his lips, and looked very indignant. 
 His exertions to restore order were despe- 
 rate but ineffectual. In vain he denounced 
 it as an irregular proceeding. Innumerable 
 were his efforts to convince them of its 
 being one of which he did not, and could 
 not, and ought not to approve. The oppo- 
 sition would not hear him. The party 
 tocsin had been sounded, and it proved the 
 knell of peace. They who a moment be- 
 fore seemed so happy and so joyous, were 
 now in fierce contention, their bosoms 
 swelling with party spite. 
 
 At length, however, the action of the 
 Mayor was so extremely energetic, that it 
 produced an effect which enabled him to 
 make a few additional observations, which 
 were really very just and very much to the 
 
 purpose; but the moment the Premier rose 
 with his colleagues, with a view to the 
 simple acknowledgment of the toast, the 
 frantic sounds which assailed them were 
 comparable only with those which Valen- 
 tine had heard in the House of Commons. 
 Had the Ministers been fiends, the oppo- 
 sition could not have expressed a greater 
 amount of indignation: had they been gods, 
 the ministerialists could not with greater 
 enthusiasm have cheered them. 
 
 They nevertheless still kept their ground 
 and that with just as much cahnness as if 
 
 Premier 
 and his 
 
 they had been used to it. The 
 slightly smiled at his colleagues 
 
 colleagues smiled slightly at him. This 
 seemed to enrage the opposition still more; 
 but the louder they manifested their senti- 
 ments on the subject, the louder were the 
 sentiments of the Ministerialists expressed. 
 The Lord Mayor again rose, and the oppo- 
 sition seemed to groan even at him, when 
 Uncle John deeming that most atrocious, 
 started up and cried * shame!" with an ex- 
 pression of indignation which nothing else 
 could match. 
 
 Valentine, however, immediately drew 
 him down, and begged of him earnestly not 
 to interfere; but Uncle John could not en- 
 dure it. " The ingrates!" he cried, " thus 
 to groan at head -quarters after having been 
 swelled out as they have been, and that 
 with all the delicacies of life! It's really 
 monstrous!" 
 
 " It is, it is, I know it is," said Valen- 
 tine, " but don't interfere." 
 
 Uncle John shook his head very fiercely; 
 he was very indignant; and the Lord Mayor 
 said something which could not be heard; 
 but which appeared to be generally under- 
 stood to be very severe, for it had the effect 
 of somewhat subduing the most noisy; but 
 the moment the Premier opened his lips to 
 address them, the opposition recommenced 
 operations, and the conflict between them 
 and the ministerialists became far more 
 desperate than ever. 
 
 ** Silence! You wretches! 19 exclaimed 
 Uncle John. 
 
 "Uncle! Uncle!" cried Valentine, pull- 
 ing him down, " they'll take you for one of 
 the opposition!" 
 
 " Let them!" returned Uncle John. " Let 
 them take me for one of the opposition; I am 
 one of the opposition; but I'd scorn to 
 
 opposition; 
 pose men in this cowardly way." 
 
 op- 
 
 The Lord Mayor a^ain rose, and with 
 most indignant emphasis said, " really;" 
 but as this was all the opposition suffered 
 him to say, he at once resumed his seat 
 with a look very strongly indicative of 
 anger. 
 
 It became quite impossible now for Uncle 
 
 17* 
 
190 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 John to remain quiet. He kept fidgetting 
 about, grinding his teeth, and biting his 
 lips, and exclaiming as he clenched his 
 fists, " oh! I should like to be at some of 
 them dearly!" He put it to those around 
 him, whether it were not most disgraceful, 
 and their affirmative replies made him in- 
 finitely worse. Had they wisely dissented, 
 they might have calmed him at least in so 
 far as to induce him to argue the point, but 
 as the case stood, Valentine found it impos- 
 sible to restrain him. 
 
 "If," said the Premier, with really ad- 
 mirable coolness and self-possession, taking 
 advantage of a temporary lull: " If the gen- 
 tlemen will only be silent for one moment " 
 No! They would not be for one moment 
 silent: they recommenced groaning like 
 furies, and this of course again induced 
 thunders of applause. 
 
 "Where are these groaners 1 ?" thought 
 Valentine. He could hear them distinctly 
 enough, but couldn't see them. " Are they 
 all Ventriloquists'?" 
 
 His attention was at this particular mo- 
 ment directed to an elderly individual whose 
 mouth was apparently closed. He watched 
 him narrowly. He was straining at some- 
 thing. His face was remarkably red, and 
 while his eyes appeared to be in the act of 
 starting from their sockets, he was obvi- 
 ously perspiring with infinite freedom. 
 Could he be a groaner? He was! He was 
 then hard at work: no man could have been 
 more zealous although he kept his eyes 
 fixed wilh surpassing firmness upon the 
 table as if watching the evolutions of some 
 very minute natural curiosity, and apparent- 
 ly noticing no other thing. 
 
 "Shame!" cried Valentine, throwing his 
 voice dexterously behind this indefatigable 
 person, who turned sharply round, bein<r 
 duly apprehensive of detection, but as, con- 
 trary to his lively anticipations, he saw no 
 one there, he very wisely returned to his 
 interesting task, which really seemed to af- 
 ford him unspeakable pleasure. 
 
 " I see you," said Valentine, throwing his 
 voice again just behind the individual in 
 question, and again he looked round with 
 an expression of intense interest; but as of 
 course he could see no one near him, he 
 a p p< -;i rod to regard it as by far the most 
 astonishing circumstance that ever occur- 
 red to him during the whole cours-e of his 
 life. "I see you!" repeated Valentine, 
 which was really the fact: he saw him in a 
 State of amazement the most remarkable he 
 ever beheld. The individual seemed not to 
 know at all what to make of it. He d It 
 that surely he could not be mistaken, th.it 
 surely he had heard some one speak, and 
 that surely he was at that moment under no 
 
 direct or indirect supernatural influence! 
 and yet, where was the man who had ad- 
 dressed him? This was a mystery which 
 he had by no means the ability to solve, 
 but it had the effect of inducing him to be 
 silent, although the groaning in other quar- 
 ters was as fierce as before. 
 
 The opposition, however, were not alone 
 to be blamed. The ministerialists them- 
 selves were highly culpable. Had they 
 left the groaning people to pursue that great 
 course, which appeared to inspire them 
 with so much delight, unmolested; had 
 they been content with giving, at the com- 
 mencement, three glorious rounds of en- 
 thusiastic cheers, and then leaving the 
 groaners to themselves, the confusion might 
 thus have been avoided. But this they 
 would not do. They would have a battle. 
 They seemed to be prompted by some eter- 
 nal, and essentially cabalistic principle, to 
 beat them. They would make more noise: 
 and they did make more noise: they made 
 ten times more noise than the groaners. It 
 was they who would not let the Premier 
 speak: it was they who drowned the voice 
 of the Lord Mayor. The groaners could 
 never have stopped the speeches them- 
 selves, and of this, the ministerialists ap- 
 peared to be conscious, for they lent them 
 throughout their most powerful aid. 
 
 It is a fact, which may in all probability 
 be held to be extraordinary, that the slight- 
 est sound of disapprobation, if persevered 
 in, is sufficient to create in an assembly, 
 however honorable and enlightened, univer- 
 sal confusion; but there is yet another fact, 
 which is not perhaps of quite so extraordi- 
 nary a character, but which is this that 
 Constant straining, to state it shortly, will 
 in fulness of time produce exhaustion; and 
 the moment a practical illustration of that 
 fact was in this particular instance afforded, 
 the Lord Mayor, who was a manly and 
 rather a handsome individual, again rose, 
 and said very properly, and very energeti- 
 cally, " that he and the sheriffs had not 
 been treated as they expected." 
 
 "Of course not!" exclaimed Uncle John, 
 who very seriously thought, that as every 
 thing had been provided in a style the most 
 delicate, and the most sumptuous, from the 
 two hundred and lifiy tureens of real turtle 
 to the several hundred thousand plates of 
 pippins, such treatment was monstrous in 
 tin- extreme. 
 
 The Lord Mayor said no more: lie re- 
 sumed his seat with dignity, hut still with 
 an expression of noble indignation, and that 
 expression was hailed \\itli loud ei 
 but the moment the Premier win) with his 
 colleagues still manfully maintained his 
 position re-opened his lips, the opposi- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 191 
 
 tion, who felt themselves bound to produce 
 the next harmony, favored the company 
 with a little more groaning. The minis- 
 terialists again knew their cue, and they 
 again set to work as one man, and did real- 
 ly succeed in the production of the greatest 
 amount of noise that ever issued from a cor- 
 responding number of human throats. Nor 
 were they content with vocal music. By 
 no means. They beat the tables with all 
 the energy of young drummers, while Uncle 
 John was striking that at which he was sit- 
 ting with the force of a Cyclops. 
 
 The glasses danced with peculiar anima- 
 tion, and shook out the wine that was in 
 them that they might do it with all possible 
 effect; and while the pippins seomed to 
 fancy, that they had been magically meta- 
 morphosed into marbles, the dishes they 
 had deserted rattled after them fiercely, 
 with the apparent view of convincing them 
 that such was not the fact. 
 
 The Lord Mayor now appeared to be some- 
 what more tranquil. It seemed to have struck 
 him with peculiar force, that it was perfectly 
 useless to manifest anger. There the belli- 
 gerents were: some were hissing, some were 
 groaning, some were shouting, and some 
 were laughing, while others were indig- 
 nantly fidgetting about and explaining what 
 they thought of the matter on the whole. 
 It was impossible therefore for his lordship 
 to do any good by being angry. He could 
 not by such means quell the riot. He 
 seemed to feel this forcibly, and hence, 
 quite conscious of having done all he had 
 the power to do, he very wisely made up 
 his mind that it was a duty incumbent upon 
 him as a magistrate, as a mayor, and as a 
 man, to endure it all with the most perfect 
 resignation. 
 
 The Premier stood like a smiling statue. 
 He was anxious to have it distinctly un- 
 derstood, that if they conceived him to be 
 the man to sit down, before he had said 
 what he had to say, they were dreadfully 
 mistaken. He, there/ore, stopd as firmly as 
 a rock, and continued thus to stand, until 
 the majority of those who were engaged in 
 the conflict, displayed unequivocal symp- 
 toms of exhaustion, when taking advantage 
 of that interesting moment, he managed to 
 say something, which appeared to have 
 some slight reference to the army and navy, 
 and resumed his seat boldly and instanta- 
 neously, amidst an unexampled burst, com- 
 posed of hisses, cheers, and groans. 
 
 This, however, m a very few minutes 
 subsided, and the glorious conflict was over. 
 The opposition party prided themselves on 
 having produced it, and the ministerialists, 
 with equal pride, felt that they had had 
 the best of it on the whole. The Lord 
 
 Mayor expressed his sentiments on the sub- 
 ject to those around him, and those around 
 him expressed theirs, with due eloquence 
 and point: in fact, every man present not 
 excluding the professional individuals in the 
 orchestra was on this subject warmly con- 
 tributing to the universal buzz, which for a 
 long time pervaded the Hall. 
 
 Valentine really was very much annoyed 
 at having tried the experiment. He con- 
 tended within himself, that he ought to 
 have known that party spirit was sure to 
 develop itself, whenever an opportunity 
 arose; it mattered not, whether it were in 
 the senate, the banqueting hall, or the 
 church. He was, therefore, by no means 
 content: for although he was perfectly con- 
 scious, that they who had permitted them- 
 selves to be so powerfully influenced by 
 party feelings at such a time, and on such 
 an occasion, ought to blush; he felt, never- 
 theless, that he had awakened those feel- 
 ings; that although it had all been accom- 
 plished by a murmur he had converted a 
 joyous happy scene into one of malicious 
 confusion. 
 
 The mischief, however, had been done, 
 and as he thought that it was, therefore, ex- 
 tremely impolitic to vex himself any more 
 about the matter then, he turned, with the 
 view of diverting the current of his thoughts 
 to some more agreeable subject, and found 
 Uncle John fast asleep! He had been beat- 
 ing the table with so much energy, and 
 shouting order! silence! and shame! with 
 such extraordinary zeal, that he had become 
 quite exhausted; and there he sat with folded 
 arms, his soul sealed to the consciousness 
 of care, and his lips pouting perfect content- 
 ment, while, as he nodded, nature gave him 
 an occasional jerk, with the sublime view 
 of keeping him up. 
 
 " Uncle!" said Valentine, shaking the 
 sleeper, who murmured and nodded, and 
 went to sleep again. " Uncle!" he con- 
 tinued, " Do you know where you are?" 
 
 The sleeper was unable, at that precise 
 moment, to tell whether he really did or not, 
 but he opened his eyes in order to satisfy 
 himself on the subject, and then said: 
 " Why, bless me! I'd no idea that 1 was 
 asleep! not the slightest! I hope no one 
 noticed it] Dear me! it's highly incorrect; 
 very wrong very wrong. But I'm all 
 right now as wide awake as I was in the 
 morning. Well ! they have settled it I see: 
 you have had no more disturbance!" 
 
 " No," replied Valentine; " but look at 
 the people: how dull they all are! The 
 Lord Mayor has been laboring very hard to 
 restore them to good humor, but without 
 any sensible effect. They have made up 
 their minds now not to be pleased." And 
 
192 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 this really appeared to be the case. They 
 seemed to be dissatisfied with every thing. 
 Toasts were proposed, and speeches were 
 made; but neither speeches nor toasts could 
 re-inspire them. 
 
 Of course the Lord Mayor could not, un- 
 der these circumstances, feel very happy. 
 He did all of which he was capable with a 
 view to the restoration of those harmonious 
 feelings which existed before the disturb- 
 ance commenced; but as he failed in this 
 signally failed he left the chair as soon as 
 he could with due regard to his dignity, 
 and, before twelve o'clock, every guest had 
 departed. 
 
 The matter was, however, by no means 
 allowed to rest here. The effects of the dis- 
 turbance were terrific! it induced a paper 
 war of the most desperate character a war 
 which raged with really unparalleled fierce- 
 ness for weeks. The opposition journals 
 hailed it as a glorious and indisputable 
 proof of the surpassing unpopularity of 
 those Ministers whom they had with extra- 
 ordinary acuteness discovered to be totally 
 unfit to rule the destinies of this mighty 
 empire. 
 
 44 How," they exclaimed, " can those 
 atrocious, and disgusting political anthro- 
 pophagi dare to drag on their disreputable, 
 dirty, and degraded official existence after 
 this unexampled this mighty demonstra- 
 tion of universal scorn? It is an insult to 
 the whole British nation! a gross, com- 
 prehensive, unmitigated insult! an insult 
 which cannot, and shall not be endured ! 
 What can be in reality more contemptibly 
 atrocious than the conduct of men who have 
 the brazen audacity the unblushing impu- 
 dence to pretend to rule a deeply reflecting 
 people who cannot regard them but with 
 loathing and disgust? Can any thing re- 
 flect more disgrace upon a mighty and highly 
 enlightened nation, than the existence of 
 men as ministers, so utterly contemptible, 
 BO justly abhorredT How, then, with any 
 show of decency, can they for a moment re- 
 tain office after such an universal burst of 
 popular execration? Yet are they in office 
 stil I ! Conscious of the whole country being 
 against them; conscious of being the laugh- 
 ing-stock of Europe; conscious they can- 
 not but be conscious of being despised 
 aad contemned by all the intelligence, all 
 the wisdom, all the wealth, respectability, 
 and virtue of this great nation; these abhor- 
 rent, these imbecile, shabby, contemptible, 
 political jugglers still cling, with the tena- 
 city of polypi, to power, that they may dip 
 their unhallowed fingers into tho public 
 purse to enrich themselves and their exe- 
 crable satellites! Englishmen! will you 
 Buffer this humiliating state of things any 
 
 longer to exist? Britons! are you prepared 
 to become the slaves the vile, crawling, 
 abject slaves of that detestable clique, of 
 which the members now bid you defiance? 
 If there be a single drop of the patriotic 
 blood of your forefathers thrilling through 
 your veins, you will arise, and, with one 
 universal and simultaneous burst of indig- 
 nation, denounce these degraded political 
 reptiles as they were denounced at Guild- 
 hall and hurl them at once from that posi- 
 tion in which they now have the impudence 
 to stand!" 
 
 While the opposition journalists were en- 
 gaged in the manufacture of these highly 
 appropriate philippics, they on the ministe- 
 rial side were contending with extraordinary 
 force and ingenuity, that the disturbance 
 in question, instead of being as pretended, 
 a striking proof of the unpopularity of the 
 ministers, in reality proved that they never 
 were so popular, seeing that whereas it all 
 originated with a disappointed alderman 
 who had under his immediate surveillance 
 just forty individuals, about twenty years 
 of age, from whom the whole of the groan- 
 ing proceeded, it would not have been worth 
 any disappointed alderman's while to have 
 organised those groaning individuals, if the 
 popularity of the ministers had been on the 
 wane, or if it had not in fact been increasing. 
 
 And this was held to be an extremely 
 strong argument one which absolutely car- 
 ried conviction on the face of it; and as the 
 opposition journalists, in their presumptuous 
 efforts to answer it, tried desperately to 
 shake it to its base, it was again and again 
 repeated with additional tropes, and here- 
 upon the fierce journalists fell foul of each 
 other. 
 
 The ministerialists commenced the at- 
 tack; they undertook to prove, with mathe- 
 matical precision, that they of the oppo- 
 sition were blackguards; and the opposition 
 journalists being equally chivalrous, as- 
 sumed to themselves the province of reduc- 
 ing to a dead certainty, that they on the 
 ministerial side were natural fools. And 
 strange to say, they both eventually suc- 
 ceeded to their own most entire satisfaction, 
 but which is still more strange they were 
 utterly unable to obtain acknowledgments 
 of success from each other! honor, at the 
 happy termination ef the struggle, they os- 
 tensibly held the same views on the subject 
 as those which they held when the struggle 
 began. 
 
 It is a duty, however, which the historian 
 owes as well to himself as to the public, to 
 state that these amiable and truly ferocious 
 journalists in all their contention! for the 
 one grand point were sincere. They who 
 were on the opposition side of the question, 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 193 
 
 did most sincerely think that the statesmen 
 who were at that particular period in office, 
 ought not to retain it that they ought to 
 make way for the statesmen whom they had 
 supplanted, and who with a species of 
 patriotism not often to be met with, but as 
 admirable as it is rare were absolutely 
 ready again to take upon themselves the 
 cares of office, and thus to sacrifice, to an 
 extent altogether unknown, their private 
 comforts and conveniences to the public 
 good: they did most sincerely feel that this 
 glorious opportunity was one which ought 
 not to be lost that the country owed those 
 patriots a debt of gratitude amounting to 
 something very considerable, for offering 
 without the slightest solicitation, to come 
 forward at that truly awful crisis, to snatch 
 the British empire from the jaws of de- 
 struction, and thereby to save those insti- 
 tutions which were crumbling into one un- 
 distinoruishable mass of revolutionary dust. 
 And equally sincere were the ministerial 
 journalists, when they declared it to be their 
 decided opinion that the ministers ought by 
 no means to resign that the government of 
 the country could not by possibility be con- 
 fided to men of whose principles and gene- 
 ral conduct they could so highly approve 
 that they were just the very men whom the 
 people should support through thick and thin 
 as the only men capable of meeting the exi- 
 gencies peculiar to that period and that 
 they could have no manner of confidence 
 in those who then formed the corrupt and 
 purely factious opposition. Hence they la- 
 bored night and day to inspire the people 
 with a due appreciation of the importance 
 of sustaining the ministers, as the only 
 chance left of averting a most sanguinary 
 revolution, and hence they were indefati- 
 gable in their eflbrts to disseminate the be- 
 lief that every act of the ministers developed 
 
 surpassing soundness of judgment, and per- 
 fectly unexampled intellectual vigor while 
 every act of the opposition displayed an ex- 
 treme narrowness of soul and a dearth of 
 judgment really pitiable. 
 
 The sincerity of those journalists being 
 then so conspicuous and extensive, it can 
 scarcely be deemed marvellous, that the 
 contest on that occasion should have been 
 so extremely desperate as it was; but that 
 which in all probability will, in the present 
 day, appear more extraordinary than all, is 
 the fact, that notwithstanding the choicest 
 epithets were culled on both sides, with due 
 care, and applied with due ferocity, the con- 
 test failed to affect in any way the stability 
 of the government, for while the zealous ex- 
 ertions of the opposition did weaken it by 
 no means, it derived from those of the min- 
 isterialists no additional strength; and the 
 result of the glorious war was, that while 
 on the one hand, the ministers were recom- 
 mended never again to accept an invitation 
 to the grand civic feast; on the other, it was 
 boldly and powerfully urged, that as minis- 
 ters they surely never would. 
 
 From this struggle Valentine certainly 
 did derive much amusement, and when he 
 had explained to Uncle John, that the whole 
 affair originated with his own slight mur- 
 muring buzz, that gentleman albeit he 
 very properly condemned the thing at first 
 viewed the progress of the battle with 
 feelings of delight. Morning after morning, 
 and evening after evening did he study the 
 various modes of attack and defence, but 
 although he laughed heartily and constantly 
 at the arguments based upon arguments 
 that were themselves based upon nothing, 
 the contest failed to increase his admiration 
 of that uncompromising zeal, which forms 
 so peculiarly the characteristic of the fourth 
 estate of the realm. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 VALENTINE RECOVERS THE HIGHLY VALUED CARD, AND PROCEEDS WITH UNCLE JOHN TO THE 
 EXHIBITION OT FAT CATTLE. 
 
 ALBEIT Uncle John had corne to London i 
 expressly to go at once to head-quarters, j 
 with a view to the discovery of Goodman; j 
 he was in town more than a month before 
 he managed to find time to take even the ' 
 preliminary step. He had formed highly i 
 laudable resolutions every evening, with a 
 species of regularity which was really of 
 itself truly striking; but every morning 
 with precisely corresponding regularity j 
 
 there had arisen fresh temptations suffi- 
 ciently powerful to set those highly lauda- 
 ble resolutions at defiance. " I never saw 
 such a place as this London," he would 
 observe; " upon my life I don't appear to 
 have time to do a thing: I keep going on 
 and on in a perpetual state of fever, driving 
 here, there, and everywhere, racing and 
 chasing, and bobbing in and out, and really 
 seem to do nothing after all. I can't unr 
 
194 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 derstand it. It's a mystery to me. The 
 place seems to have been designed express- 
 ly to worry men to death." And it really 
 is an absolute fact that he did feel occasion- 
 ally very much confused nay it would 
 sometimes happen that a temporary derange- 
 ment of his intellects would develope itself 
 and hence it will not be deemed in the 
 long run extraordinary that every day after 
 dinner he should fall fast asleep with his 
 highly-prized meerschaum in his mouth. 
 
 Now as it is not very generally known, 
 it cannot be very incorrect to observe that 
 Uncle John was one of those remarkable 
 men who invariably make a dead stop in 
 the street when they have anything striking 
 to communicate, to look at, or to learn. 
 This practice at first annoyed Valentine 
 exceedingly, for although his uncle never 
 stopped dead in the road, but flew over 
 every crossing with as much of the facility 
 of a greyhound as he comfortably could, 
 whether carriages were or were not 
 within view; he would frequently do so in 
 the midst of a mortal stream, when they 
 who happened to be behind could not avoid 
 running forcibly against him. Sometimes 
 a butcher's boy would poke his hat off with 
 his 'tray, and then a heavily laden porter 
 would send him staggering a dozen yards 
 or so, and then a carpenter shouting politely 
 44 by'r leave," would cut a piece out of his 
 coat with the end of a saw, which invaria- 
 bly disdains to be wholly smothered in a 
 basket; but even these natural results failed 
 to cure him of the practice: he would ad- 
 here to it in spite of them; but certainly the 
 most remarkable stop he ever made was 
 precisely at the bottom of Holborn Hill. 
 
 44 Now there's a place!" said he on that 
 memorable occasion. " Did you ever? 
 How people can breathe in such holes 
 puzzles me! Let's go and have a look at 
 them; come; I dare say the poor creatures 
 are all fit to drop; pale, emaciated, spirit- 
 less, and wretched. Shall we go?" 
 
 44 Oh! with all my heart," said Valentine; 
 and they entered the hole which bore the 
 semblance of a great commercial alley, the 
 ancient houses on either side of which 
 seemed as if they had been striving for u 
 century at least to lean against their neigh- 
 bors opposite for support, and had still a 
 trembling hope of accomplishing that ob- 
 ject before their tottering frames had <[uitu 
 crumbled into dust. Instead of being spirit- 
 less and wretched, however, the inhabitants 
 were all life and jollity laughing, singing, 
 joking, and chatting as gaily as if they had 
 been in the Klysian fields. Some were 
 vending old shoes, some fried fish, and 
 some tenth or eleventh-hand garments; but 
 the real aristocracy of the place were those 
 
 | who exhibited an infinite variety of hand- 
 kerchiefs pinned upon sticks, and so arrang- 
 ed that each windowless shop formed a most 
 attractive picture. Into these shops from 
 time to time sundry young gentlemen darted, 
 and taking off their hats as became them, 
 produced from the interior in some cases 
 three, and in some half-a-dozen bandannas 
 which they seemed to have been fortunate 
 enough to pick up in the street just before. 
 
 44 Can't I sell you one to-day]" said a 
 black-eyed Jewess, whose tightly twisted 
 ringlets, like well tarred cords, lashed her 
 bosom. " I should like to deal with you," 
 she continued, addressing Uncle John with 
 a perfectly heart-winning smile. 
 
 44 They don't appear to me to be new," 
 observed that really unsophisticated gentle- 
 man. 
 
 The Jewess turned her black eyes full 
 upon him, and seemed in an instant to have 
 read the whole history of the man. 4 ' I 
 think we can do a little business together," 
 she observed. "Just step inside here. 
 There's no harm done, you know: 1 have 
 something particular to show you." 
 
 44 Uncle John looked at Valentine as if 
 he did not understand it exactly; but as 
 Valentine who did understand it but smiled, 
 Uncle John at once followed the fascinating 
 Jewess, who proceeded at once to a drawer, 
 and producing a bundle, said, "Now I've 
 something here that'll do your eyes a world 
 of good to look at." 
 
 The bundle was opened, and the first 
 thing which struck Uncle John was the 
 handkerchief he lost in Cheapside while 
 looking at the Lord Mayor's pageant. 
 " Why," said he, " what's this? Why 
 that's mine!" 
 
 44 That's what every gentleman says when 
 he sees a hankecher at all like his'n," re- 
 plied the Jewess. 
 
 44 But how did you come by it?" inquired 
 Uncle John. 
 
 44 Oh, I took it in the regular way of 
 business, of course." 
 
 44 But it's mine," exclaimed Uncle John. 
 
 44 Now what a mistake that is when its 
 
 i mine," said the Jewess. 44 But how do 
 
 ' you know it ever did belong to you? Do 
 
 you think they never make two hankechers 
 
 alike!" 
 
 " ril soon convince you: mine are all 
 marked," said Uncle John; and while he 
 looked at each corner with very great mi- 
 nuteness, the Jewess smiled, and eventually 
 asked him if he were satisfied. 
 
 44 No, I am not," said ho; " I am not by 
 
 any means. Although I can't find tin- murk, 
 
 I still believe it to be mine." And as he 
 
 ; looked round, it absolutely struck him that 
 
 , the whole of those handkerchiefs which then 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 195 
 
 met his view had been stolen! an extraor- 
 dinary idea, which at that moment made 
 him so indignant, that he prepared to leave 
 the shop. 
 
 44 But come, we can deal for all that," 
 said the Jewess. " Here take it for three- 
 and-six, and say you've got a good bargain." 
 
 4i What, compound a felony!" exclaimed 
 Uncle John. 
 
 " Well, here take it for three," said the 
 Jewess, " and I shan't get a ha'penny by 
 you." 
 
 Uncle John looked remarkably fierce, and 
 said very severely, "It's my firm belief that 
 these things you have here were not honestly 
 come by," and having pointedly delivered 
 himself to this effect, he turned his back 
 upon the Jewess, who was laughing very 
 loudly, and quitted the shop. " It is really 
 my opinion," he continued, addressing Val- 
 entine, " that the whole of those things have 
 been stolen." 
 
 " Why, of course. That is well under- 
 stood." 
 
 " Indeed!" cried Uncle John, and as he 
 stopped short to wonder that things which 
 were well understood to have been stolen, 
 should be unblushingly exposed in open 
 day, the attention of Valentine was fixed 
 upon a jacket which hung at an old clothes 
 shop opposite. "It must be the same," 
 thought he, " surely! but then there's no 
 chance of the card being in it." 
 
 " Any things in ma vay to-day 1 ?" said a 
 Jew who had been watching his counte- 
 nance. " Any things to puy or to shell 1 ?" 
 
 " Let me look at that jacket," said Val- 
 entine. 
 
 " What are you about 1 ?" cried Uncle John. 
 
 " I merely wish to see that jacket." 
 
 " What, are you going to set up on your 
 own account, Val, as a barber?" 
 
 Uncle John smiled and felt much amused; 
 but Valentine smiled not at all: he took the 
 jacket with great eagerness from the hands 
 of the Jew, and searched the pockets. They 
 were empty! His hopes were again blasted. 
 He searched them again, and again; and 
 at length found a hole! He revived. The 
 card might have worked its way through it. 
 He extended his search zealously between 
 the striped material and the lining, and 
 eventually in the corner he felt something 
 closely doubled up. He drew it forth; it 
 was the card of him whom he had rescued! 
 the father of her in whom his dearest 
 hopes had been centred. He saw the name 
 of Raven distinctly: he could also make out 
 the greater part of the address. At that 
 moment how pure was his happiness! He 
 felt so delighted, so joyous! Uncle John 
 looked amazed, and the Jew, whose first 
 impression was that the card was at the 
 
 very least a fifty pound note, looked quite 
 as much amazed at Uncle John. 
 
 14 What is the price of this jacket]" in- 
 quired Valentine. 
 
 44 Vy," said the Jew, " it shan't be tear 
 at a crown. The card sheems to pe vorth 
 arl the moneesh." 
 
 44 1 want but the card," said Valentine, 
 giving the sum demanded. " I'll make you 
 a present of the jacket." 
 
 44 Nothing elsh in ma vay?" said the 
 Jew who felt very much dissatisfied with 
 himself for having asked so small a sum. 
 
 44 No, nothing," replied Valentine. " No- 
 thing," and he hurried his uncle out of the 
 lane as soon as possible. 
 
 44 Now what's all this what's all this 
 business 1 ?" demanded Uncle John, having 
 made a dead stop at the corner. 
 
 44 1 am happy," cried Valentine, " per- 
 fectly happy," and he entered at once into 
 a minute explanation of the circumstances 
 connected with the much valued card. 
 
 44 Well, and what do you want to see the 
 girl again for 1 ?" inquired Uncle John. " You 
 can do nothing more for her now." 
 
 44 But she wished me to call," observed 
 Valentine; "and so did her father, and there- 
 fore I must, as a matter of mere courtesy." 
 
 44 Courtesy! Fiddlesticks!" rejoined 
 Uncle John. "It's my opinion that you'd 
 not be so anxious about the business if it 
 were but a matter of mere courtesy. Did 
 you ever see the girl before 1 ?" 
 
 44 No, never!" 
 
 44 Then its my firm belief that you had 
 better not see her again. You'll only make 
 a fool of yourself. I don't at all like these 
 romantic affairs they never come to any 
 good. It was all very well for you to save 
 a fellow -creature. 1 admire your spirit and 
 your motive; but, take my advice, and don't 
 go." 
 
 44 But she is so sweet a girl," observed 
 Valentine. 
 
 44 Sweet! pooh! so they are all: I never 
 heard of a girl being saved who was not. 
 Besides, how do you know who she is, or 
 what she is 1 ? that's the point." 
 
 44 1 don't know of course I can't tell. I 
 am hence the more anxious to ascertain." 
 
 44 Well, I know how it will be I see it all 
 plain enough. But you can't go to-day, 
 that's quite clear." 
 
 " But, why can I not 1 ?" 
 
 44 What! have you forgotten that this is 
 the last day of the cattle show 1 ? I wouldn't 
 miss that for fifty pounds." 
 
 44 But it surely is not necessary for me to 
 go with you?" 
 
 44 Not necessary! How do you think it 
 possible for me to find my way about in 
 this wilderness alone? Besides, I may be 
 
196 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 fun over. A thousand things may occur. 
 How can you or I, or any body tell what 
 may happen!" 
 
 Of course Valentine could not pretend to 
 any knowledge of what might occur; but 
 he nevertheless wished the fat cattle were 
 drowned in the Dead Sea. He, had, how- 
 ever, one great consolation he had recover- 
 ed the card; and as they rode towards the 
 place at which the cattle were exhibited, 
 he felt twenty times to ascertain if it were 
 secure, and eventually determined to wait, 
 with all the patience at his command, till 
 the following morning. 
 
 " Now," said Uncle John, on arriving at 
 the place of exhibition, * I expect to have 
 a treat, Val a glorious treat!" and having 
 entered, they found the place crowded with 
 all sorts of people, from the nobleman down 
 to the butcher's boy without a hat. 
 
 To the pigs on the left Uncle John first 
 directed his attention. He was a great 
 judge of pigs, and there lay the poor ani- 
 mals, grunting and snoring, and panting, 
 and squeaking, while the connoisseurs 
 around were engaged in the pleasing occu- 
 pation of slapping their haunches and pinch- 
 ing and twisting their tails, with the osten- 
 sible view of ascertaining how much noise 
 it was possible for them to make. They 
 had, of course, been made so fat that their 
 ability to stand was out of the question 
 altogether; yet, although they were all in 
 the finest state of corpulency, they looked 
 as uncomfortable as pigs could look by any 
 conceivable possibility. 
 
 " Now, there's a pig for you!" observed 
 Uncle John, as he pointed to a black lump 
 of flesh, which appeared to be particu- 
 larly unhappy. "That pig weighs now, 
 what shall I say? it weighs above fifty 
 score!" 
 
 " You're wrong!" cried Valentine, throw- 
 ing his voice towards the head of the pig; 
 "I'll bet you a bottle of wine I don't weigh 
 above forty!" 
 
 Uncle John pursed his lips and knit his 
 brows, and then looked at the pig's head in 
 a very straightforward manner, and then 
 cocked his hat on one side, and scratched 
 his head with great freedom, and felt alto- 
 gether in a confused state of mind, until he 
 turned towards Valentine, who happened to 
 be smiling, when he saw in the twinkling 
 of an eye what it was, and cried, lifting his 
 stick, "You young dog! there! if I didn't 
 think that pig spoke, I'm not here!" and 
 Uncle John roared with laughter. " What 
 a fool!" he continued. "The idea of a pig 
 offering to bet a bottle of wine he didn't 
 weigh forty score!" and again Uncle John 
 burst out very merrily, until at length, 
 screwing his countenance to a very solemn 
 
 pitch, he gravely added, "But he weighs 
 fifty score for all that." 
 
 Well, they now left the pigs, and went 
 at once to the other side, where the first 
 class oxen were arranged, with backs as 
 broad as those of full-sized elephants, and 
 withal so remarkably flat, that had they 
 happened to have rolled upon those backs, 
 they would have stood no more chance of 
 getting up again, without mortal aid, than 
 a turtle, on being placed in a corresponding 
 predicament. And they appeared to be 
 perfectly cognisant of this, for whenever 
 nature called upon the beasts to lie down, 
 they obeyed her call as cautiously as 
 Christians. 
 
 "What is the use," inquired Valentine, 
 "of fattening these creatures up to such an 
 extent 1 ?" 
 
 " The use!" cried Uncle John" the use! 
 Why, the use of it is to see how fat they 
 can be made." 
 
 " But what is the use of seeing how fat 
 they can be made 1 ?" 
 
 " Why, of course, to ascertain which 
 kind of cattle will fatten, and which kind 
 will not." 
 
 "Is that the only good accomplished'?" 
 
 "The only good!" exclaimed Uncle 
 John. "Is not that good enough? What 
 would be the use of throwing away a lot of 
 fodder upon cattle that won't fatten at all?" 
 
 "There is," said Valentine, as gravely 
 as possible, "a society in this wilderness, 
 as you are pleased to term it, for the pre- 
 vention of cruelty to animals. Now the 
 officers of that society, I think, ought to 
 take special cognisance of this exhibition, 
 for in my view there cannot be a species of 
 cruelty more refined than that of fattening 
 animals up to a state in which they are 
 compelled to gasp at least a hundred and 
 twenty times per minute. Just notice those 
 poor distressed creatures, how they pant! 
 Can any man believe that they are not in 
 great pain? Suppose, for instance, that you 
 and I were in the power of graziers who 
 felt disposed to experimentalise upon us; 
 what a sweet -state of mind we should be 
 in, if they succeeded in making us in pro- 
 portion as fat as those beasts." 
 
 "The grazier who could succeed, Val, 
 in making you fat, would deserve a gold 
 medal, thickly studded with precious stones. 
 But we are men, and they are beasts; that 
 makes all the difference. The cases are 
 therefore by no means analogous." 
 
 Valentine did not suppose that they were; 
 but he conceived that Uncle John might 
 have been brought to explain more distinct- 
 ly why beasts were thus fattened to an < \- 
 tent which rendered their existence a bur- 
 den, and hence, following the example of 
 
I _i 
 
 T'r~ v^ ^ 
 
 -^Bi^rT 
 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 197 
 
 Uncle John with the pig, adhered firmly to 
 his first position, that the Society for the 
 Prevention of Cruelty to Animals were 
 bound to interfere. 
 
 Now it really was interesting to observe 
 how the farmers and the butchers felt the 
 various popular parts of the animals as they 
 stood; but more interesting still was it to 
 notice how the far more fashionably-dressed 
 individuals, having stolen a few lessons 
 from the butchers and the farmers, felt pre- 
 cisely the same parts of those animals, and 
 looked quite as learned as the butchers and 
 the farmers themselves. One individual, 
 an external pink of the purest water, made 
 himself particularly conspicuous in this 
 way; first performing the operation of nip- 
 ping the animals, and then giving his judg- 
 ment upon each to two ladies, who were of 
 his party, with infinite eloquence and point. 
 Valentine was highly amused by this ex- 
 quisite pretender: he felt his proceedings to 
 be ridiculous in the extreme, and therefore 
 watched him very narrowly until he reached 
 the ox which had gained the first prize, and 
 >vhich he began to feel, of course, with 
 consummate dexterity. 
 
 "Now, don't pinch!" cried Valentine, 
 throwing his voice towards the mouth of 
 the ox, which, as if to complete the illu- 
 sion, at that moment turned its head round, 
 "it's of no use! you durti understand it!" 
 
 The exquisite started back greatly con- 
 fused, while the ladies were excessively 
 alarmed at the announcement. 
 
 44 Well, dang my boottons!" cried a coun- 
 tryman, " if ever I heered tell o' the like o' 
 that!" 
 
 44 It is very extraordinary," suggested the 
 exquisite. 
 
 44 Strornary! I never come across such a 
 thing afore in all my boorn days. That's 
 woot he goot the prize for, dang me, I 
 shoodn't wonder, I'll be bound to say no 
 doot." 
 
 Uncle John could keep silent no longer. 
 He burst into a roar, which so powerfully 
 convulsed him, that he felt himself bound 
 to hold on by the tail of the next ox. 
 
 This seemed to awaken the suspicions of 
 the pink. He could not, it is true, under- 
 stand it exactly; but he was satisfied that 
 the animal had spoken by no means. His 
 cpurage therefore returned, and being posi- 
 tively brave, he placed his hand upon the 
 animal again. 
 
 44 Don't! there's a good fellow! pray 
 don't!" said Valentine, throwing his voice 
 as before. " You've no idea how sore I am 
 round about the tail." 
 
 And this doubtless was precisely what 
 the animal would have said, if it could in 
 reality have spoken; for as he had been at 
 18 
 
 the exhibition some days, his most popular 
 points, that is, being interpreted, those 
 points which true judges invariably assail, 
 must have been extremely tender; but 
 whether these were the words which the 
 animal would in such an event have uttered, 
 or not, it is perfectly certain that they had 
 the effect not only of inducing the exquisite 
 to withdraw his hand on the instant, but of 
 inspiring those around him with wonder. 
 
 44 Here, Bill!" cried a butcher, address- 
 ing his friend, 4 ' p'raps this aint a rum 
 start! sen I may live if this hox carn't talk 
 reg'lar." 
 
 44 Do votl" cried the gentleman to whom 
 this important communication had been ad- 
 dressed. 
 
 44 Vy, talk like a brick, and as reg'lar as 
 a Christian." 
 
 44 Yes over!" said his friend, with an 
 expression of incredulity. 
 
 44 But I tell yer I heered him so there 
 carn't be no mistake." 
 
 44 Vot! do you mean to go for to think 
 that you'll gammon me into that ere 1 ?" 
 
 "Veil arks these ere genelmen! don't 
 believe me arout you like! they all heered 
 him." And the butcher proceeded to ac- 
 cumulate such collateral evidence as he felt 
 must establish the thing to the entire satis- 
 faction of his incredulous friend; but as 
 Uncle John still roared with laughter, and 
 kept holding on by the tail of the next ox 
 with such unexampled firmness that the 
 animal must have felt that the design was to 
 pull out that ornament by the root, it was 
 deemed right by Valentine just as the 
 butcher was eloquently entering into the 
 details of the affair to leave the interesting 
 group to solve that which of course was 
 regarded as a mystery by all. 
 
 It was, however, by no means the work 
 of a moment to release the ox's tail from 
 the grasp of Uncle John. The poor animal 
 stood the tugging with really exemplary 
 patience; and being too fat to "kick, looked 
 round simply, as if anxious for a brief ex- 
 planation of the circumstances connected 
 therewith; but he clearly must have felt 
 that if an assault of such a character had 
 been made before he was fattened, the as- 
 sailant would have had his reward. 
 
 By dint of great exertion on the part of 
 Valentine, however, Uncle John was even- 
 tually severed from the tail; but before they 
 had reached the place in which the sixth 
 and seventh classes were exhibited, loud 
 cries of 44 A bull! a bull! a bull broke loose!'* 
 wereJieard, and an awful rush was made 
 towards the pigs. Some terror-stricken 
 gentlemen leaped with due agility upon the 
 broad flat backs of the cattle, others mounted 
 the frames near the horns of the beasts, 
 
198 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 which those beasts were by no means in- ' 
 clined to submit to, and hence used the 
 weapons with which nature had provided 
 them, with no inconsiderable force and ef- | 
 feet; but by far the greater portion of the ; 
 alarmed connoisseurs rushed with all dis- 
 creet haste towards the entrance with 
 countenances strongly expressive of the 
 most lively apprehensions, while the fe- i 
 males were screaming, and the male alarm- 
 ists shouting " A pole axe! a pole axe 
 there! let him be killed!" 
 
 As soon as the place from which the ter- 
 rorists had so unceremoniously decamped 
 became clear, Uncle John, who had slipped 
 with surpassing dexterity behind an ox, 
 followed Valentine in, and beyond all dis- 
 
 pute there was a short-horned heifer en- 
 deavoring with all the zeal and ingenuity 
 of which she was capable to slip the hal- 
 ter over her head, having evidently been 
 pinched until her popular points had be- 
 come so sore that she had made up her 
 mind to endure it no longer. Two laborers 
 however most bravely approached and ef- 
 fectually frustrated her ladyship's design 
 a striking fact which was duly and prompt- 
 ly announced, and as the alarmists were 
 returning with appropriate caution, Uncle 
 John ascertained that it was time for him 
 j to start, when he and Valentine left the ex- 
 hibition highly pleased with the varied en- 
 tertainment it had afforded. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE MUTUAL RECOGNITION AND THE INTERVIEW THE POLITE INVITATION, AND THE 
 
 DINNER. 
 
 IT may, as a general thing, be stated that 
 men spend their most miserable hours in 
 bed, when they are anxious to go to sleep 
 and cannot. They turn and turn, and with 
 every turn thoughts of a most uncomforta- 
 ble character are engendered; yet although 
 they pray heartily and fervently for the 
 morning, their heads really seem to be 
 sealed to their pillows, when that which 
 they prayed for arrives. Such, however, 
 was not the case with Valentine. It is true 
 he turned over and over continually through- 
 out the night, but his thoughts were of the 
 most pleasing character, being of her whom 
 he felt that he loved: it is also true that he 
 wished for the morning, but when it arrived 
 instead of finding him apparently sealed to 
 the pillow, it found him knocking violently 
 at Uncle John's door, and exerting all the 
 powers of suasion at his command to induce 
 him to get up at once. He really marvel- 
 led that men should lie in bed so long. It 
 -was then eight o'clock, and although his 
 own time had been heretofore nine, it then 
 struck him as extraordinary that it had not 
 been seven, and having eventually extorted 
 a promise from Uncle John that he would 
 rise on the instant, he returned to his own 
 room to dress. 
 
 Now, it has been said that all is vanity; 
 and if vanity be thus contradistinguished 
 from pride, that whereas pride prompts us 
 to esteem ourselves highly, vanity stimu- 
 lates us to win the esteem of others it is 
 quite clear that vanity is not a bad passion, 
 but on the contrary one which ought fondly 
 
 to be cherished. But it has also been said, 
 and that too by an ancient philosopher, that ( 
 man is too proud to be vain, and if he be, 
 it is abundantly manifest that vanity is not 
 quite so general a thing; but assuming this 
 to be wrong, that is to say, assuming that 
 
 I men are in reality vain, and that vain men 
 are in the abstract essentially wicked, it 
 
 I still appears to be quite consistent with rea- 
 son to contend that if there he a time at 
 
 i which the development of vanity is venial, 
 
 i it is that at which men are about to see 
 those whom they love, and by whom they 
 therefore hope to be loved in return. They 
 are then the most anxious to win the esteem 
 of others; and if this be the true definition 
 of vanity, it follows that Valentine himself 
 
 j was most vain on the memorable morning 
 in question. He was never so long dress- 
 
 I ing before. He was indeed so extremely 
 
 ' particular that he even astonished himself; 
 but eventually, conceiving that Uncle John 
 must he out of patience, he gave a last long 
 lingering look at the glass, and went down 
 into the parlor. Uncle John was not there. 
 
 j He too must have been more than usually 
 particular that morning, for in general he. 
 was dressed and down in less than five 
 minutes. Well, Valentine waited: he wait- 
 ed ten minutes, and thoughttli.it sullieiently 
 horrihle; but when he had waited a quarter 
 of an hour, he darted at once up to Uncle 
 John's room, and knocked as it the house 
 had been in flames. 
 
 "Aye, aye," cried Uncle John, whom 
 the knocking had awakened from a dream 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 199 
 
 which had reference to some astonishing 
 turnips which he had seen at the show the 
 day before, and immediately after he had 
 said, " Aye, aye," he gave a very, very long 
 cosey yawn. 
 
 " What, are you not up yet!" cried Va- 
 lentine. 
 
 Uncle John instantly rolled out of bed, 
 and cried, "Up! yes, of course!" which, of 
 course, was the fact. " I'll be down in 
 five minutes," he added with trnly remark- 
 able presence of mind, and within the five 
 minutes he was down. 
 
 44 What a time you have been!" observed 
 Valentine, seating himself at the table. 
 
 44 I've been dreaming," returned Uncle 
 John, 44 of those turnips. I thought that 
 you undertook to swallow one six and thirty 
 inches in circumference whole." 
 
 44 And did I doit?" 
 
 44 To the utter astonishment of all be- 
 holders it slipped clean down like a pill." 
 
 44 It must have appeared that I possessed 
 a most extraordinary swallow; but do you 
 think of going out this morning at all?" 
 
 44 Why no, my boy, really I don't think 
 I can. This racing about day after day 
 knocks me up altogether." 
 
 44 Then I'll return as soon as possible. I 
 shall not be gone long." 
 
 44 Gone? Why, where are you going?" 
 
 44 To call on those persons I named to 
 you yesterday. Don't you remember?" 
 
 Uncle John it was clear had forgotten all 
 about it; but he now recollected the circum- 
 stance, and shook his head gravely. 44 1 
 know," said he, 44 that if I endeavor to per- 
 suade you to keep away from that girl, you 
 will be the more anxious to go; that is per- 
 fectly clear. I shall therefore say no more 
 about it. You are at liberty to go, sir, but 
 remember, if you associate yourself with 
 any creature who can be picked up on board 
 a steam-packet, I disown you at once, sir, 
 I disown you." 
 
 44 Uncle!" said Valentine, in a tone of re- 
 monstrance, "can you suppose " 
 
 44 I'll hear nothing more about it," inter- 
 rupted Uncle John; 44 1 see clearly how it 
 will be. You'll make a fool of yourself, 
 sir! but go by all means, and if you are 
 not back in less than two hours, I shall go 
 out without you. I can't live in this hole 
 of London without a little exercise; no man 
 can do it. Therefore, two hours, mark! I'll 
 not wait another moment." 
 
 It will hence be perceived that Uncle 
 John was rather angry; buj he, notwith- 
 standing, shook hands with Valentine, and 
 explained before he left that, as he had 
 great confidence in his judgment and discre- 
 tion, he felt sure that he would commit no 
 act of'folly that would shake it. 
 
 The concluding observation he deemed 
 highly politic. 44 Suspicion," thought he, 
 44 is the parent of the thing we suspect; but 
 let any one feel that full confidence is re- 
 posed in him, and he will think and think a 
 long time before he betrays it." 
 
 Without hearing another discouraging 
 word, therefore, Valentine started for Bry- 
 anstone-square, but on his way felt as 
 if within the hour he should know if the 
 germ of his life's happiness would strike 
 root or wither. He had never before con- 
 ceived it to be possible for the slightest im- 
 perfection to characterise her in whom his 
 hopes were concentered. His impression 
 had been that he had but to see her again 
 to be happy. Uncle John had placed his 
 thoughts in a doubting direction: yet where 
 the grounds were that could justify doubt, 
 really Valentine could not conceive. "If 
 she be not," thought he, 44 what I feel that 
 she is, why why then must I strive to for- 
 get her: but I'll not do her the injustice to 
 suppose that she is not. I feel convinced 
 that I am not mistaken." And with this 
 conviction firmly impressed upon his mind, 
 he reached the house. 
 
 It was a large one! rather awfully large: 
 he could not help feeling that he should 
 have liked it somewhat better, had it been 
 a little smaller! he had had no idea of its 
 being such a size! It could not be the 
 right one! He must have made a mistake, 
 either in the name of the square, or in the 
 number! He passed it, and drew forth the 
 card. No! all was correct! 44 Surely," 
 thought he, 44 this must be the same card? 
 And he really began to feel not quite sure 
 even of that; but, in order to put an end to 
 all doubt on the subject, he went to the 
 door and knocked boldly albeit, there was 
 something in the sound of the knocker a 
 little too aristocratic. 
 
 " Mr. Raven," said he, when the door 
 had been opened, in a tone more than usually 
 decided and severe. 
 
 44 Not at home, sir," replied the servant, 
 whose livery was of the gayest description. 
 
 44 What time is he usually at home?" 
 inquired Valentine, drawing forth his card- 
 case. 
 
 44 About this time, sir, generally," said 
 the servant. 44 He is seldom out before one 
 or two." 
 
 Valentine having left his card, thereupon 
 turned from the door; but his eye was at 
 the moment attracted by one who had dart- 
 ed to the window, and who recognised him 
 instantly! What was to be done? The 
 recognition was mutual; yet ought he she 
 bowed to him! that was sufficient: he re- 
 turned: the door had not been closed; but 
 before he had time to say a syllable to the 
 
200 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTUERS OF 
 
 servant, an sngel, in the perfect similitude 
 of her whom he had saved, seized his hand, 
 and led him into the room. 
 
 44 I am so glad to see you!" she exclaimed. 
 " Indeed I scarcely can tell how delighted 
 I am!" and she led him to a seat, and sat 
 very, very near him; and they gazed upon 
 each other, and looked very pale, and felt 
 really very awkward and stupid. 
 
 Valentine could not get over it at all! 
 but he had always been a fool in the pre- 
 sence of ladies. He would have met Satan 
 himself, in the shape of a man, without a 
 nerve being fluttered; but if one of his ma- 
 jesty's most minute imps had appeared in 
 the semblance of a woman, that imp would 
 in limine have beaten him hollow. 
 
 It will not, therefore, by any means be 
 deemed very extraordinary, that the lady, 
 in this instance, should have been the first 
 to recover: in fact, the recovery of Valen- 
 tine was rather remote, when she exclaimed, 
 " Oh, how I do wish that papa would re- 
 turn! He would, indeed, be so happy to 
 see you. He has been talking about you 
 every day since; and we did so wonder you 
 had not called there he is!" she continued, 
 starting np, as a knock came to the door. 
 And it really was a most undeniable knock. 
 It was like the commencement of the over- 
 ture to Semiramide. She therefore could 
 not by any possible chance have been mis<- 
 taken. It seemed, too, as if the servant 
 knew something of the tune; for the last 
 bar had scarcely been executed, when he 
 flew across the hall, with an apparently 
 just and well-grounded apprehension of an 
 immediate encore. 
 
 Valentine now heard the voice of autho- 
 rity, which was also the voice of Mr. Raven; 
 and as his daughter glided gracefully to 
 meet him in the hall, he cried, " Well 
 Louise! anything turned up fresh?" 
 
 " This is the gentleman, papa, who pre- 
 served us," said Louise, as he entered the 
 room. 
 
 44 Ah! my brave fellow!" exclaimed Mr 
 Raven. " How are you] Glad to see yoi 
 very glad right glad! God bless you 
 But why have you not been before?" 
 
 Valentine whom the presence of Mr 
 Raven had relieved from all embarrassmen 
 now explained all the circumstances con 
 nected with the card; and as he dwelt will 
 considerable emphasis and eloquence upon 
 his anxiety to regain it, and the pleasure its 
 recovery had induced, Louise watched his 
 countenance with the earnestness of love 
 and every word, every tone, sank deep into 
 her heart. 
 
 * God bless you! God bless you!" ex 
 clainml Mr. Raven, and something like a 
 tear stood in his eye as he spoke; and he 
 
 hook the hand of Valentine again very 
 varmly, as he added, " You don't know 
 on can't know how anxious we have been 
 o see you! But come, come! you'll dine 
 vith us to-day, as a matter of course'?" 
 
 ' I should be happy most happy but 
 my uncle is in town," observed Valentine. 
 44 Well, bring your uncle with you of 
 course!" said Mr. Raven. " Give my com- 
 liments, and tell him I shall be happy to 
 see him to take pot-luck. I'll send my car- 
 iage for him at five." 
 
 " Pot-luck!" thought Valentine" that's 
 r ery extraordinary." He had heard of pot- 
 uck before, certainly; but never in imme- 
 diate connection with a carriage. However, 
 he fancied that all this would tend to as- 
 onish the nerves of Uncle John; and there- 
 ore having acknowledged the politeness of 
 VIr. Raven, he rose and took leave, as the 
 jell rang a peal that would have inspired a 
 whole village with spirit. 
 
 ' Well, what think you now, Val? 
 What think you now?" said he, addressing 
 himself in the second person singular, the 
 moment he had left the house. " She is 
 indeed very beautiful very! But what 
 sort of people can they be? She is elegant 
 in her manners very ladylike indeed but 
 her father is clearly not very refined; and 
 yet what a superb style they live in! He 
 must be some one of importance yet I can- 
 not remember to have heard the name as- 
 sociated with distinction!" He was puz- 
 zled greatly puzzled. He conceived that 
 Mr. Raven had scarcely the manners of a 
 gentleman, and certainly not those of 
 aristocrat! Still he found it hard to as 
 ciate vulgarity with the style in which he 
 lived. What he had been, or what he 
 could be, therefore, Valentine was unable 
 to conceive. It was a mystery altogether; 
 and one in which he continued to be so 
 mentally involved, that he had reached 
 home before he even thought that he was 
 near. 
 
 " Well, my boy," said Uncle John, who 
 as Valentine entered was sitting with his 
 heels upon the mantel-piece; " well, have 
 you seen her?" 
 
 44 1 have," replied Valentine. 
 
 44 Ah! she's a lovely girl, isn't she? fas- 
 cinating, interesting, beautiful! eh?" 
 
 44 She is indeed!" 
 
 44 Of course!" cried Uncle John, 44 1 could 
 have sworn it! She is all that is graceful 
 and fh'irant, highly, very highly accom- 
 plished, with a ( irrmaii or perhaps a (irrrian 
 nose, and a remarkable couple of beautiful 
 hl-.u-k eyes of course blazing away like 
 brilliants. That's the girl! Is she a mil- 
 liner?" 
 
 44 No, she lives with her father." 
 
 an 
 asso- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 201 
 
 " Is her father a cobbler, or does he keep 
 a snuff-shop!" 
 
 " I can't make out at all what he is. I 
 am unable to imagine what he can be." 
 
 " He lives by his wits, perhaps; a gam- 
 bler, or something of that sort?" 
 
 44 No, I don't think he is," said Valen- 
 tine carelessly. 
 
 44 Don't think he is! Pray, did you see 
 him!" 
 
 44 Oh, yes; he has invited you and me to 
 go and take pot-luck with him." 
 
 " Pot-luck!" said Uncle John; 44 1 ex- 
 pect it would indeed be pot-luck, and very 
 poor pot-luck too. What is he going to 
 have, Val, pickled pork and cabbage?" 
 
 44 1 don't at all know what he'll give us; 
 but of course you'll go!" 
 
 44 Go I go? Decidedly not." 
 
 44 But his carriage will be here for you at 
 five." 
 
 "His what!" cried Uncle John; "his 
 carriage!" The idea struck him as being 
 so amusing and so good, that he laughed 
 very heartily; he really could not help it. 
 44 What sort of a carriage is it, Val?" he 
 inquired, " what sort of a carriage, my 
 boy?" 
 
 "Upon my life," replied Valentine, " I 
 don't know what color it is, never having 
 seen it; but if it corresponds at all with 
 the liveries, and I dare say it does, it's a 
 dasher!" 
 
 Uncle John looked at Valentine earnestly. 
 He thought there was something in it 
 certainly he did go so far as to think that; 
 but then he really could not go one single 
 step farther. " Now," said he, " is this 
 one of your jokes? Because if it is, you 
 had better tell me, that I may know how to 
 act. Is it, or is it not, a joke?" 
 
 44 Upon my honor," said Valentine, " no." 
 And to the utter astonishment of Uncle 
 John, her explained all the circumstances 
 just as they occurred. 
 
 "Why, what an extraordinary piece of 
 business to be sure!" said Uncle John, with 
 an expression of amusement. " But I'll 
 go! oh! I'll go! although I'm sure to make 
 a fool of myself. I'm sure of it! / know 
 nothing of aristocratic etiquette, which 
 changes, I'm told, about twenty times a 
 month. It may, for example, be the fashion 
 to take soup with a fork, and I'm just as 
 likely as not, you see, to catch up a spoon." 
 
 44 Oh, you'll be able to manage it very 
 well. Besides, these are not very, very 
 aristocratic people." 
 
 44 1 don't know so much about that," said 
 Uncle John "you can't judge. Some- 
 times that which is in others deemed the 
 essence of vulgarity, is in them held to be 
 the very acme of refinement. They do it, 
 
 I suppose, to show off their independence 
 to prove that they can do that which, but 
 for them, others would never dare attempt. 
 I recollect that, at our last election dinner, 
 we had Lord George Rattle, who is con- 
 sidered, of course, the very perfection of 
 refinement, and every eye was, in conse- 
 quence, upon him. Well he cocked the 
 knife in his mouth, and took the wing of a 
 fowl in his fingers, and placed his elbow 
 upon the table, and picked his teeth vio- 
 lently. Why, such proceedings had been 
 considered by all rather unparliamentary, if 
 not indeed vulgar in the extreme: but then, 
 what was the consequence? Why, at the 
 next public dinner we had, there was scarce- 
 ly a fork used; the flesh of the chickens 
 was gnawed off the bones, and while almost 
 every man placed his elbows upon the table, 
 there was really such a picking of teeth, 
 you would have thought that all the crickets 
 in all the bake-houses in the empire had 
 assembled in honor of the occasion. But 
 I'll go! of course, that I have made up my 
 mind to." And he commenced at once 
 bustlinor about, with the view of making 
 himself as tidy as possible. 
 
 Well, five o'clock came, and a carriage 
 rattled up to the door. Uncle John ran to 
 the window, and was amazed! It was one 
 of the very gayest he had seen, not except- 
 ing even that of the under-sheriff. The 
 widow Smugman was struck almost dumb! 
 she could scarcely announce its arrival. 
 
 44 Are you ready?" said Valentine, ad- 
 dressing Uncle John, who really felt fid- 
 gety himself at the moment. 
 
 44 Yes, quite ready quite," was the 
 hasty reply, and they descended, of course 
 with due dignity of aspect, and entered the 
 carriage forthwith. 
 
 " I don't think that fellow could look at 
 a man," said Uncle John, as the carriage 
 drove off, " without touching his hat. It 
 comes, however, natural to him, I suppose. 
 A little less of it, perhaps, would be as 
 well. -But what will the widow think of a 
 carriage like this, lined with rose-pink satin, 
 driving up to her door! Why, she'll be 
 about as proud of it as if it were her own! 
 Did you see how astonished she looked? 
 Upon my life, she must suppose that we are 
 highly connected." 
 
 And it really was an elegant carriage; 
 but then no man could see it without feel- 
 ing sure that display was the hobby of its 
 owner. The horses, too, were of the most 
 showy character, and, as they seemed to be 
 unable to go at a less rapid rate than that 
 of ten miles an hour, they of course very 
 soon reached the house, before which they 
 stopped almost as instantaneously as if the 
 18* 
 
202 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 pole had been absolutely driven against an 
 unyielding stone wall. 
 
 "They must have gone upon their 
 haunches. I don't myself see how they 
 
 could ." At this moment Uncle John 
 
 was interrupted by an unexampled knock 
 at the door, which was instantly opened, 
 when he and Valentine alighted with all 
 the dignity of which they were capable, 
 and were shown at once into a magnificent 
 drawing-room, in which the really-beautiful 
 Louise and her father received them with 
 great cordiality and warmth. 
 
 Louise looked more lovely than ever; 
 and as Valentine was comparatively free 
 from embarrassment, he certainly did ap- 
 pear to great advantage himself. This im- 
 parted mutual pleasure, and they chatted 
 very freely and with infinite gaiety, while 
 Uncle John was nrade to feel just as much 
 at home as if he had known Mr. Raven 
 for years. 
 
 This was pleasant they all felt it to be 
 pleasant; and when dinner was announced, 
 Mr. Raven looked at Valentine, as he bow- 
 ed, and waved his hand towards Louise, 
 and then seizing the arm of Uncle John, 
 observed, " We two old fogies will go down 
 together;" an observation which was cer- 
 tainly remarkable in itself. 
 
 Now the first thing which struck Uncle 
 John, as he entered the dining-room, was 
 the plate. It was really of the most mas- 
 sive and gorgeous description, and display- 
 ed in such style, and moreover in such ex- 
 traordinary quantities, that he could not but 
 think that Mr. Raven must possess the 
 wealth of Cro3sus. 
 
 There was, however, one thing which, 
 in Uncle John's judgment, spoilt all; and 
 that was the restless anxiety of Mr. Raven 
 to inspire him with the belief that he was 
 totally unprepared to receive him. " I beg 
 that you will excuse us to-day," he would 
 observe: then, "You see we are quite in the 
 rough;" then, "I'm afraid you'll not be 
 able to make a dinner" then, " You see 
 we have only a snack, as, of course, we 
 didn't expect to have the pleasure of your 
 company." And these apologies were so 
 constantly reiterated, that UncleJohn who 
 had never in his life sat down to a more 
 sumptuous dinner was heartily glad when 
 it was over, for he didn't like to say, " Oh, 
 don't mention it;" or, " I beg that you'll 
 not apologise" or " Really it will do very 
 well;" or indeed anything of that sort, lie- 
 cause he felt that that would not convey 
 quite enough: nor did he like to say, " Upon 
 rny life, I never sat down to a more splendid 
 dinner," because he frit that that mi a/it 
 convey a little too much! he therefore said 
 nothing, in reply to those apologies; but 
 
 labored to put down the nuisance, by bow- 
 ing. 
 
 Of course Valentine could not help no- 
 ticing this; but he was then far too deeply 
 engaged with Louise, to think much about 
 the motive which prompted the annoyance. 
 It was perfectly manifest that he was not 
 annoyed. On the contrary, he had never 
 felt so happy before: nor, indeed, had 
 Louise. They were really delighted with 
 each other: and their eyes! It will probably 
 be useless to say how they looked; but that 
 they met as if the two pair had been under 
 the absolute guidance of one soul, is quite 
 certain. 
 
 Mr. Raven, immediately after dinner, 
 commenced drinking with great freedom; 
 and this had the effect of causing him gradu- 
 ally to throw off that sort of restraint, which 
 his wealth and the style in which he lived 
 had imposed. He became very communi- 
 cative indeed, and very joyous, when Va- 
 lentine, who had taken special care of his 
 own faculties, discovered the real character 
 of the man. 
 
 " Come, come! you don't drink!" cried 
 Mr. Raven, slapping Uncle John heartily 
 upon the shoulder. "Come! never mind 
 the young un's leave them to themselves, 
 while we two old codgers enjoy ourselves, 
 eh! You're just the sort of fellow 1 like! 
 None of your stiff, upstart penniless men 
 in buckram, for me! You're just the man 
 after my own heart! so let's both be jolly, 
 eh! let's both be jolly!" 
 
 Uncle John had no objection. 
 
 " But," continued Mr. Raven, with truly 
 awful solemnity, " I feel that 1 have one 
 great duty to perform. Louise, my girl, 
 fill up a bumper a bumper, my girl, for 
 this toast! 1 rise!" he continued, very 
 slowly and very emphatically, " I rise to 
 propose the health of one to whose brave 
 and noble nature we 1 and my girl owe 
 our present existence. That young man," 
 he added, pointing to Valentine and looking 
 at Uncle John, saved my life, he saved 
 the life of my child! God bless him!" 
 Here Valentine rose to take the hand ex- 
 tended towards him, the owner of which 
 was for some time unable to proceed. "I 
 can't," heat length added, "give expres- 
 sion to my feelings, my feelings won't let 
 me; but if ever I forget him, may I be for- 
 gotten! If ever I cease to be grateful God 
 bless you!" He could then say no more, 
 but sank back in his chair, and bavin*; wiped 
 away the tears which almost blinded him, 
 emptied his glass and replenished. 
 
 The pride of Uncle John at that interest- 
 ing moment was quite beyond conception. 
 His opinion of Valentine had previously of 
 course been very high; but at that moment 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 203 
 
 really, in his judgment, he was the most 
 splendid fellow that ever lived, and in the 
 warmth of his feelings he expressed himself 
 precisely to this effect, and Mr. Raven en- 
 tirely agreed with hirn, when Valentine ac- 
 knowledged the toast in a highly appropriate 
 speech, and shortly after Louise, though 
 reluctantly, retired. 
 
 "There," said Mr. Raven, addressing 
 Uncle John the very moment Louise had 
 left the room, " what do you think of that 
 girl, eh! what do you think of her for a 
 pawnbroker's daughter!" 
 
 '^Upon my life," said Uncle John, "you 
 ought to be proud of her." 
 
 " Proud, sir, I am proud! Why that girl, 
 when I was in business, kept the whole of 
 my books, sir! what do you think of that! 
 and never made an error of a penny! Would 
 you believe it! She was worth to me more 
 than fifty clerks put together. She worked 
 like a horse, and now see what she is!" 
 
 " She is indeed very elegant," observed 
 Uncle John. 
 
 "I believe you!" exclaimed Mr. Raven. 
 "Talk of your aristocracy! I'd back her 
 against the first lady in the laud, although 
 she is but a pawnbroker's daughter." 
 
 " You have of course been out of busi- 
 ness some years!" 
 
 " Five, sir, five years come Christmas. 
 I'd a long spell at it, a very long spell; 
 but Pve done the trick, although I did com- 
 mence as a poor ragged boy!" 
 
 " Nothing," said Uncle John, "can be 
 more pleasing than the reflections of a man 
 who has been the architect of his own for- 
 tune." 
 
 " Of course not!" exclaimed Mr. Raven, 
 who was highly delighted. " Of course 
 not. I glory in it. I feel that there's the 
 more credit due to me, eh! Why when I 
 began life I hadn't, if you'll believe me, 
 such a thing as a penny in my pocket, nor 
 scarcely a rag to my back, yet see now 
 what I am! I began as a boy to run of 
 errands, 'clean knives, shoes and windows 
 in short, to make myself generally useful. 
 I did so; and worked my way into the shop, 
 and then married the governor's daughter 
 and had a share in the business; and then I 
 got it all, and now I can buy up one-half of 
 your beggarly aristocracy, and be even then 
 a rich man!" 
 
 "It must be a very profitable business," 
 observed Uncle John. 
 
 " Yes, it is it is profitable: there's no 
 denying that. But people make a mistake 
 when they suppose that the profits are 
 chiefly derived from the poor. The little 
 sums tell up, no doubt; but fortunes are 
 made by supplying the wants of our proud 
 peacock beggarly aristocracy! That is how 
 
 fortunes are realised; when you come to 
 fortunes! Why I've had in one morning in 
 my little room no less than ten ladies of 
 title! in one single morning, sir! What 
 do you think of that!" 
 
 " You astonish me!" exclaimed Uncle 
 John: and it really is a fact that Uncle John 
 was astonished. He had never before heard 
 of such a thing in his life. 
 
 "Some," continued Mr. Raven, who was 
 now fairly warmed upon the subject 
 " some brought me their cases of jewels; 
 some wore them and took them off before 
 me, while others brought with them the 
 most valuable portion of their plate." 
 
 " But did they go into the shop!" 
 
 "No! bless your, soul, no; they were 
 somewhat too cunning for that. They 
 would come to the private door, and when- 
 ever they came they were sure to be trem- 
 bling on the very verge of ruin. Of course 
 I understood it! I knew what it meant. I 
 used to tease them sometimes you know 
 pretend to be poor just to hear what 
 they would say. It wouldn't do, however, 
 to carry on long, because they'd go right 
 clean off into hysterics. I have had them, 
 sir, crying and fainting, and begging and 
 praying! ' Now upon my word,' I used to 
 say, 'money is very scarce, but how much 
 will do for you!' * Oh!' they would almost 
 scream '1 must have a hundred pounds, or 
 I'm ruined. I'll leave you my jewels, which 
 cost a thousand I must have them again 
 to go to Lady Tontino's ball and I'll give 
 you for the accommodation thirty, forty, 
 fifty, sixty pounds, or anything you like to 
 name. Dear, dear, Mr. Raven, do oblige 
 me!' " 
 
 ^ I wonder," said Uncle John, " they 
 were not ashamed of themselves." 
 
 "Ashamed!" cried Mr. Raven; "your 
 beggarly aristocracy ashamed! Catch them 
 at it! Sir, they are ashamed of nothing! 
 they've got no shame in them. I've seen 
 such scenes, and heard such tales! they've 
 made my hair stand on end, sir, right up on 
 end! they have almost made me vow that 
 I'd never again put the smallest faith in 
 woman; and I surely never should, but that 
 I knew these tricks were confined to our 
 beggarly aristocracy. They'll do anything 
 to cheat their husbands anything in the 
 world; they glory in it absolutely glory in 
 it! But, really, I couldn't help laughing 
 sometimes. There was old Lady Lumley 
 she's dead now; she died about the year 
 
 , but that's of no consequence well, 
 
 she would come, say on a Tuesday, bustling 
 into the room, in such a fidget and so out of 
 breath, you'd have thought she had not got 
 another moment to live. * Well, Mr. Raven,' 
 
204 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 she would say, ' I've got into another dread- 
 ful scrape, and I must have your dear, kind 
 assistance; I lost all my money last night. 
 I positively never saw cards go so cross. 
 There really must have been cheating; but 
 I'm going to meet the same party to-night, 
 and unless I have a hundred pounds now, 
 I shall never be able to recover my loss. 
 I'll leave my suit of brilliants; I am sure 
 not to want them till Friday; but I have no 
 doubt at all of being able to call for them 
 to-morrow.' Well, I'd lend her the hun- 
 dred, and after calling rne a 'dear good 
 creature,' and the rest of it, although if I 
 passed her in the jrark, or elsewhere, she'd 
 turn up her aristocratic nose and wouldn't 
 know me; she'd trot off delighted to her 
 carriage, which she invariably left at the 
 corner. The next morning she'd call again, 
 not to take away her diamonds, but to beg 
 of me to let her have another hundred 
 pounds. She'd have lost the hundred she 
 had the day before, and perhaps two or three 
 hundred besides, which had been given to 
 her by the earl for some very special pur- 
 pose. I'd let her have another hundred, for 
 the diamonds were worth three thousand at 
 least; I believe they originally cost five; 
 and the very next morning she'd bustle in 
 again the earl had missed them! They 
 were kis first gift, and unless she could have 
 them to wear that night, she would be for 
 ever ruined! She would bring, perhaps, a 
 suit of torquoise, pearls, or anything else 
 she might happen to have worn the night 
 before, to deposit, until she could bring 
 back the diamonds. And thus she went on 
 and thus they all go on, paying in the 
 long-run at least a thousand per cent, for 
 their money; and I've had in my house 
 at one time, sir, jewels, which couldn't 
 have cost less than five hundred thousand 
 pounds." 
 
 "But of course," said Uncle John, "they 
 eventually redeemed them!" 
 
 " By no means, sir, is it a matter of 
 course by no manner of means. They 
 would go on and on, getting deeper and 
 deeper, until they could not pay the money 
 advanced, and then of course would come 
 another jewel robbery." 
 
 " Why, I'm utterly amazed!" cried Uncle 
 John. 
 
 " Amazed, sir? Why, sir, I have known 
 
 no less than three most mysterious jewel 
 robberies to be blazing away in the papers 
 in one single week, when the identical 
 jewels have been in my possession. Re- 
 | wards have been offered for the apprehen- 
 : sion of the offenders, the servants have been 
 i searched, the houses have been turned up- 
 I side down, and the track of the villains dis- 
 j tinctly chalked out, while the creatures 
 themselves, the very creatures from whose 
 hands I received them, have been running 
 about from place to place, to give color to 
 the thing, apparently in a state of the most 
 absolute distraction. Those lovely bril- 
 liants, those beautiful pearls, those ame- 
 j thysts, those rubies, which they would not 
 have lost for the world; their birthday pre- 
 i sents and their marriage gifts, were, alas! 
 ' : all gone, the cold-hearted robbers had not 
 i left a gem! These are the tricks, sir 
 I these are the tricks; and this is how fortunes 
 i are made when you come to speak of for- 
 tuneS) not by taking in a string of fiatirons 
 j for twopence, or lending a shilling upon a 
 ; chemise! But come, let us sink the shop 
 and talk of something else. But you 
 i wouldn't have supposed it though, would 
 you]" 
 
 " I should not, indeed," said Uncle John. 
 " Upon my life I could scarcely have con- 
 ceived it to be possible." 
 
 At this moment a servant entered with a 
 communication from Louise, which was 
 found to be the prelude to the introduction 
 of coffee. This induced Uncle John at once 
 to look at his watch, and to declare, when 
 he had discovered to his astonishment that 
 it was already past twelve, that he had not 
 an idea of its being so late. He however 
 had coffee, and so had Valentine, who had 
 been throughout an attentive auditor, draw- 
 ing inferences, and balancing conclusions, 
 as Mr. Raven proceeded, and at length fully 
 made up his mind to this, that he ardently 
 loved Louise, but could not have a very 
 high opinion of her father. 
 
 Uncle John now developed strong symp- 
 toms of impatience, and a servant was ac- 
 cordingly despatched for a coach, ami when 
 its arrival had been announced, he and 
 Valentine took leave of Mr. Raven, who 
 was then, as in fact he had been throughout 
 the evening, on very high terms with him- 
 self indeed. 
 
 I: 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 205 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 SHOWS HOW UNCLE JOHN AND VALENTINE MANAGED TO ASCERTAIN THAT GOODMAN WAS 
 CONFINED AS A LUNATIC, AND HOW THEY ALSO MANAGED TO INTRODUCE THEMSELVES 
 BODILY INTO THE ASYLUM. 
 
 "Now I say, governor, what's to be done 
 with this old guy?" inquired Horace, allud- 
 ing to Uncle John, the morning after he 
 and Valentine had dined with Mr. Raven. 
 " He has been here a series of times you 
 know, and I suppose he'll commence a new 
 series to-morrow. Now I think you'd bet- 
 ter see him. You can't keep on ' not at 
 home' for ever; besides, it looks rotten, 
 precisely as if you were anxious to avoid 
 him, which don't do you know, and never 
 did; therefore my undeniable opinion upon 
 the matter is, that you'd better make a 
 formal appointment, it will look more like 
 business." 
 
 " But what am I to say to the man 1 ?" 
 cried Walter. 
 
 " Say to him! stick to your original text 
 pecuniary uncomfortables unexampled 
 shortness of chips a horrid accumulation 
 of respectable duns striking his monetary 
 system with paralysis. You know how to 
 do it." 
 
 " But he's Grim wood's greatest friend," 
 said Walter. " He has come to town, 
 depend upon it, expressly in order to get 
 him out of those pecuniary difficulties in 
 which we have stated he is involved. He 
 will therefore insist upon knowing where 
 he is. He will put it to me whether I 
 would rather see my brother kept in a state 
 of embarrassment or completely disencum- 
 bered. That's the way he'll put it. I'm 
 sure of it, and what can I say then"? Can I 
 say, No, let him be; don't give him any 
 assistance; all will come right by and by"? 
 It strikes me that that wouldn't look quite 
 the thing!" 
 
 " Then I'll tell you what had better be 
 done. I've just thought of it. Suppose 
 we were to write a lot of letters, you know, 
 dating the first, for example, at Penzance, 
 there, out by the Land's End, signed of 
 course * Grimwood Goodman,' all regular, 
 inviting the old buffer to run down, and 
 when he gets there let him find another 
 dated Great Yarmouth, with a similar invi- 
 tation, and when he gets to Great Yarmouth 
 let him find another addressed to him stat- 
 ing that business, which pressed immedi- 
 ately, compelled the undiscoverable to go to 
 York, where he should be inexpressibly 
 delighted to see him, and then whon he 
 reaches York let him in a precisely similar 
 fashion be seduced over to Shrewsbury or 
 
 Welch Pool; and thus keep him cutting 
 about the country until he gives the thing 
 up as a bad job eh 1 ? don't -you think that 
 that would be about the sort of thing 1 ?" 
 
 " Horace," said his father, " you are a 
 very ingenious fellow; but you are always 
 making the one little mistake of supposing 
 that every other man is a fool." 
 
 "Well, but don't you think it would 
 answer to make him go to the extremes of 
 east, west, north, and south'? I don't know 
 what your sentiments may be upon the 
 matter, but my impression is, that there's 
 nothing in life so well calculated to make 
 a man give up a chase of this description." 
 
 " And you fancy he'd go from place to 
 place in that way!" 
 
 " Go! of course he'd go can there be 
 two opinions about it]" 
 
 " Psha! nonsense! We might get him, 
 no doubt, to any one of the places you have 
 mentioned; but what if we did 1 ? Why, he'd 
 find out at once that it was a hoax, and 
 then his suspicions for that he has suspi- 
 cions now is quite clear would be stronger 
 than ever." 
 
 " Well, have it your own way of course 
 you always will. You never were, you 
 know, guilty of being influenced by those 
 who were anxious to advise you for your 
 own good. My opinion is, still, that this 
 dodge might be managed; but if you won't 
 do it, why, then the next best thing is to 
 put a bold face upon the matter, and see 
 him at once. It is perfectly certain that 
 he'll never leave London until he has seen 
 you, and he may come across you when you 
 are quite unprepared." 
 
 "There is certainly something in that," 
 said Walter, " and as of course, I'm never 
 safe, if I leave the house but for a moment, 
 I begin to think that it will perhaps be bet- 
 ter to see him here, when I'm perfectly 
 cool and collected." 
 
 "There can't be half a doubt about it. 
 You know your old nerves are not worth so 
 much as twopence when you are taken by 
 surprise." 
 
 " Well, give me the pen and ink: I'll 
 write to him now: I'll be at home this even- 
 ing at seven"? say eight." 
 
 A note to this effect was therefore written 
 and despatched; and when Uncle John and 
 Valentine, whom Raven and Louise had 
 engaged in conversation that morning for 
 
206 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 nearly two hours, returned, they found it 
 lying upon the (able. 
 
 44 Well, come," said Uncle John, having 
 read the contents, "I'm to see this man at 
 last. We shall now, perhaps, hear some- 
 thing about Goodman." 
 
 "I fear not," said Valentine, looking at 
 the note. " His object, I apprehend, is to 
 tell you the tale he told me, and if it should, 
 there will remain but one way in which it 
 is possible to get at the truth. But then 
 that depends so much upon you." 
 
 " Well, my boy! Well! Am I not to be 
 trusted!" 
 
 44 Scarcely in this matter: I'll explain to 
 you why. This man is very nervous. He 
 conjures up spectres and so on: he actually 
 set fire to his house, with the view of burn- 
 ing out the phantom of his brother, a cir- 
 cumstance which tended, more than any- 
 thing else, to confirm my suspicions of foul 
 play. Now, if I thought that you could 
 keep your countenance, let what might oc- 
 cur, I'd so frighten that man, that, if there 
 be anything wrong, we should be perfectly 
 certain to have a full confession." 
 
 44 There's no danger," said Uncle John, 
 4 ' of my being unable to do that. The thing 
 is too serious far too serious." 
 
 44 But can you look steadily at the object, 
 and at nothing but the object, however ridi- 
 culous may be the circumstances connected 
 with its attainment!" 
 
 44 In such a case I can: I feel that I can 
 and will." 
 
 44 Then," said Valentine, "it shall be 
 tried. We shall see how he will act: we shall 
 hear what explanation he will give; and if 
 that explanation be not satisfactory and I 
 cannot suppose for a moment that it will be 
 why then we must work upon his fears, 
 and I have not the smallest doubt of the re- 
 sult. There is only one drawback: Horace, 
 his son, who is perhaps quite as reckless as 
 he is vulgar, will doubtless be with him. It 
 will not be very easy, I apprehend, to alarm 
 him; but our point will be gained, notwith- 
 standing, provided you look at the object 
 alone." 
 
 44 I'll do it," said Uncle John firmly. " I'll 
 do it! I'll not move a muscle, except indeed 
 it be with the view of expressing surprise." 
 
 Very well. This point being thus satis- 
 factorily spttled, they sat down to dinner, 
 and at half past seven precisely they started 
 for Walter's residence, where they tound 
 him and Horace with a pile of documents 
 before them, with which they appeared to 
 have been deeply engaged. 
 
 "Ah! my old tar?" exclaimed Horace, 
 seizing Valentine's hand as he and Uncle 
 John entered the room "Why what have 
 you been doing with your body for the last 
 
 half century? We havn't seen so much as 
 a bit of you for an age!" 
 
 44 You are so seldom at home!" observed 
 Valentine significantly. 
 
 44 Sir," said Walter, addressing Uncle 
 John, " I'm proud to know you. Take a 
 seat. I am sorry that I should have been 
 so unfortunate as to be out whenever you 
 have done me the honor of calling: but I 
 have been so much engaged with my bro- 
 ther's business that really I've had scarcely 
 a moment to myself." 
 
 44 Flave you heard from him lately?" in- 
 quired Uncle John. 
 
 44 The other day," replied Walter. " Last 
 what day was it Horace? Thursday? 
 Friday?" 
 
 44 Thursday, you know," said Horace. 
 ' 4 Don't you remember? The day you went 
 to Lincoln's Inn." 
 
 44 Aye! so it was, of course! it was 
 Thursday. I had forgotten." 
 
 44 He was quite well, I hope?" 
 
 44 Why, yes: as well as you might expect, 
 you know, under the circumstances. His 
 difficulties have been and are still very 
 pressing and very vexatious. When a man 
 once gets back, sir, it's a long time before 
 he gets forward again." 
 
 44 That is true," said Uncle John; " very 
 true. But what is the nature of those diffi- 
 culties, may I ask?" 
 
 44 They are of an exceedingly complicated 
 character: indeed, so complicated are they, 
 that I fear we shall never be able to arrange 
 them with any degree of completeness. These 
 papers which you now see before you all 
 relate to the various speculations in which 
 he has been engaged. My son and I have 
 been working at them constantly, almost 
 night and day for the last month, but we 
 really can make nothing of them." 
 
 44 Well, I've known him for a number of 
 years," said Uncle John, " but I never 
 before knew that he was a specualting man. 
 I know he used not to be." 
 
 44 No: it's only within the last year or 
 two that he has been mad enough to engago 
 in them, and some of them are really of the 
 wildest description that can possibly be 
 conceived. It would have been indeed a 
 happy thing could he have been satisfied 
 with that which he had. But he was led 
 into it blindly led into it." 
 
 " Hut what kind of speculations were 
 they?" 
 
 Speculations, sir; some of thorn of a 
 description so absurd, that you'd think that 
 the man must have been insane to have 
 anything to do with them." 
 
 Miit what is their natun ?" 
 
 Upon my word they are so various and 
 so mixed up together, that it is perfectly 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 207 
 
 impossible to explain. There is only one 
 thing quite certain, which is this, that he's 
 an utterly ruined man." 
 
 " That is indeed most unfortunate; but if 
 such be the case, why does he continue to 
 keep out of the way 1 ? why does he not 
 meet the thing boldly! Is he in town!" 
 
 44 Oh! dear me, no: he left immediately: 
 he wouldn't stop an hour after he found 
 how things were." 
 
 *' I suppose," said Uncle John, " in fact, 
 I believe you have explained to my nephew 
 that he is anxious for his present place of 
 residence to be kept a profound secret. Now 
 sir, we are friends of long standing: I have 
 known him now nearly forty years; and 
 during the whole of that period, our confi- 
 dence in each other has been of a character 
 the most implicit and unreserved. I there- 
 fore feel that he cannot object to my know- 
 ing where he is; my conviction, in fact, is 
 strong, that he cannot be anxious to remain 
 concealed from me." 
 
 44 My dear sir," said Walter, " if there 
 be one friend whom he respects more than 
 another, it is yourself; but he has enjoined 
 me most strictly to communicate the secret 
 to no one, not even to you." 
 
 "'Tis false!" cried Valentine, assuming 
 the voice of Goodman, and making it appear 
 to proceed from the passage. 
 
 "Hal-lo!" exclaimed Horace. "Why, 
 what's o'clock, now!" and seizing one of 
 the candles, he rushed towards the door 
 while Walter trembled from head to foot. 
 
 44 What's that!" quickly demanded Uncle 
 John looking earnestly at the trembling 
 wretch before him. 44 What's that!" he 
 repeated in a whisper, which seemed abso- 
 lutely to strike to the wretch's heart. 
 
 Walter started: he was speechless: his 
 eyes glared wildly; and although they were 
 directed stealthily towards the door, he had 
 not the courage to turn his head. 
 
 44 Who are you?" cried Horace, on reach- 
 ing the passage. 4 ' Come in! don't stand 
 shivering there in the cold! Oh, there's 
 nobody" he continued as he banged the 
 door with violence, " It's nothing but 
 fancy." 
 
 44 It's a very extraordinary fancy," ob- 
 served Uncle John, 44 if fancy it be; and 
 very mysterious in its effects." 
 
 4 ' Why governor! governor!" cried Ho- 
 race, shaking his father an operation 
 which was perfectly unnecessary seeing 
 that he was shaking quite sufficiently, with- 
 out such assistance. " Why, what are you 
 about! are you mad!" 
 
 The blood of Walter appeared to be freez- 
 ing in his veins; his lips became livi 
 while his eyes seemed glazed with an un- 
 earthly film, and he looked altogether very 
 
 horrible. He did, however, at length, on 
 being roused, manage to articulate indis- 
 tinctly, what was understood to be a de- 
 laration that, since his illness, his nerves 
 had been so weak, that the slightest noise 
 alarmed him. 
 
 "Valentine is right," thought Uncle 
 John. 4 ' There is, indeed, something very 
 wrong here." 
 
 44 Walter!" said Valentine, in a tone of 
 great solemnity, throwing his voice as 
 before. 
 
 44 Who's there?" cried Walter, with an 
 expression of terror the most absolute. 
 
 44 Governor!" cried Horace, 4 ' don't be a 
 fool! You're enough to make a man jump 
 clean out of his skin. There's no one! of 
 course, there is no one." 
 
 44 Some one pronounced the name of 
 Walter," observed Uncle John, looking 
 seriously at Horace. 
 
 41 Oh! it's only somebody having a game!" 
 returned Horace; " I should like to be be- 
 hind him, whoever he is. I'd make him 
 remember it." 
 
 44 Walter!" repeated Valentine. 
 
 44 Oh! this won't do!" cried Horace, dart- 
 ing to the door. 44 Who's there? I'll soon 
 see who it is," he continued, returning for 
 a light. 44 Now, old fellow, where are you! 
 I only want to see you, that's all. D'ye 
 hear! Susan! Have you any fellow there 
 with you! because if you have, I'll just 
 break his blessed neck, you know; and no 
 mistake about it." 
 
 Susan, on the instant, indignantly flew 
 up, with the view of repudiating the im- 
 plied imputation. 
 
 44 Have you let any fellow in, I ask you!" 
 cried Horace. 
 
 44 Feller! Me let a feller in! Well, I'm 
 sure!" 
 
 44 1 only want to catch one! that's all! If 
 I wouldn't give him pepper! Has any one 
 been!" 
 
 4 ' No!" cried Susan, " I never lets fellers 
 in; I'll not have my character taken away, 
 /know." 
 
 44 Oh! don't bother me with your rub- 
 bish," cried Horace, returning to the room, 
 and closing the door again violently. "I 
 should only just like to set eyes on him! 
 that's all the harm I wish him. But, go- 
 vernor! come! don't be a fool!" 
 
 W T alter tried desperately to shake off his 
 fears, but in vain. He still sat as if utterly 
 paralysed. His mouth was open, his limbs 
 were powerless, and he looked as if he ex- 
 pected every instant to hear the voice again. 
 
 44 This won't do, you know!" cried Ho- 
 race. 44 Here have a glass of wine." 
 And he rose in order to reach the decanter, 
 which stood on the sideboard; but the mo- 
 
208 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ment he had risen, a knock was heard at 
 the door! 
 
 Again Walter started, and caught his 
 breath convulsively; but Horace, lifting his 
 hand to enjoin silence, crept softly across 
 the room. Another knock was heard, and 
 in an instant Horace had opened the door, 
 and seized Susan by the throat. 
 
 She screamed, of course, violently, and 
 struggled with appropriate desperation; but 
 it was not until Horace whose face having 
 recently been burnt, was very'tender had 
 been dreadfully scratched, that he became 
 sensible of the error he had committed. 
 
 " Good Heavens!" exclaimed Mrs. Good- 
 man from above. "What on earth is the 
 matter]" 
 
 " Here's Mr. Horace, ma'am, been throt- 
 tling at me just for all the world like a 
 polecat, and all 'cause I knocked at the 
 door just to lell him you wanted to see him." 
 
 " W T ell, how did I know 1 ?" cried Horace. 
 "Why didn't you speak] How do you 
 think I could tell who it was in the dark"?" 
 
 ." Horace! for Heaven's sake come up!" 
 cried Mrs. Goodman. 
 
 "7'ra corning," muttered Horace; and, as 
 he returned for a candle, it was plain that 
 his personal appearance had not by any 
 means been improved. 
 
 At this moment Uncle John felt an al- 
 most irresistible inclination to smile; but 
 on turning towards Walter, that inclination 
 was subdued without an effort. There the 
 guilty creature sat, without the power either 
 to move or to speak, writhing under the 
 torturing lash of conscience, and looking as 
 pale as a ghost. He was indeed the very 
 picture of horror, presenting altogether a 
 spectacle which would have excited the 
 powerful commiseration of those who were 
 near him, but that they felt strongly felt 
 that he had been guilty of some dreadful 
 crime. 
 
 " Brother!" said Valentine, in a deep 
 sepulchral tone. 
 
 " Mercy!" cried Walter, whose agony at 
 the moment appeared to be most intense. 
 
 " Brother!" repeated Valentine. 
 
 Walter again started; and stopping his 
 ears, shrank" back appalled. 
 
 " Well! how do you bring it in now]" 
 cried Horace, re-entering the room with his 
 face bleeding freely. " What! not got over 
 ityet] Here take a glass of wine: you'll 
 feel fifty per cent, better after th.it. What- 
 ever is the matter with you, I can't con- 
 ceive." And he filled a glass, and handed 
 it to his father, who had no sooner raised it 
 to his lips than he dropped it; for at that 
 moment Valentine, throwing his voice as 
 before into the passage, again most sol. mu- 
 ly cried, " Walter!" 
 
 " It don't signify talking," said Horace, 
 " there must be some fellow in the house. 
 I'm sure of it!" And he again went to the 
 door, and listened very attentively, and 
 ground his teeth, and clenched his fists 
 with great desperation. " You'd better 
 look out, rny fine fellow," he cried, " be- 
 cause if I do happen to catch you, you'll 
 find no mistake about me! Well, how do 
 you find yourself now, after spilling your 
 wine like a senseless old infant] I'll make 
 it out now before I sleep." 
 
 " No! Horace, no!" said Walter faintly. 
 "You will find no one there." 
 
 " Oh! but I know better! You don't 
 think there is any body then, don't you]" 
 
 Walter shook his head very mournfully, 
 and heaved a sigh, which amounted almost 
 to a groan. 
 
 " Brother, brother!" said Valentine, so- 
 lemnly throwing his voice just behind the 
 trembling man. 
 
 "I will not, I cannot endure it!" cried 
 W T alter with startling energy. " It's far 
 worse than death. I must and will ex- 
 plain." 
 
 " Don't be an ass!" said Horace. " What 
 have you got to explain]" and he pinched 
 his father's arm very secretly but very se- 
 verely. 
 
 "There is evidently something," observ- 
 ed Uncle John, " that requires explanation, 
 and I certainly do think it had better be 
 done at once." 
 
 " Explain!" cried Valentine in a truly 
 awful tone, which really had the effect of 
 startling even Horace, for he looked towards 
 the spot from which it apparently proceeded, 
 with an expression, if not indeed of abso- 
 lute terror, of something which looked very 
 like it. 
 
 " Explain!" repeated Valentine in a tone 
 of still greater solemnity, and Walter, who 
 continued to tremble as if with the palsy, 
 was about to explain, when Horace stopped 
 him, and, with a countenance indicative of 
 no considerable alarm, said, " If it must be 
 known, I'll pooh I won't have it!" and he 
 looked round as if to defy that influence 
 which a moment before he had conceived to 
 be supernatural. 
 
 " Beware !" cried Valentino " be- 
 ware!" 
 
 "What is it]" inquired Uncle John. 
 
 " Why, the fact of the matter is this," 
 replied Horace, whose firmness the voice 
 had again shaken. " The fact is, the old 
 man went mad, and the governor deemed it 
 prudent, yui know, for his own personal 
 safely, to have him taken care of. And 
 that's the long and the short of it." 
 
 "M;ul!" cried Uncle John. 
 
 " Mad, sir! mad us a four-year-old." 
 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 209 
 
 11 Bless my life and soul! I'd no idea of 
 such a thing. I'd always supposed him to 
 be a remarkably strong-minded man." 
 
 "He is mad and no mistake," rejoined 
 Horace, " and I'm sorry to say that mad- 
 ness runs a little in the family. The gover- 
 nor there is frequently mad, but then when 
 the fit's on him he'll no more believe it than 
 nothing. You might just as well try to per- 
 suade a brick wall." 
 
 " My poor old friend mad ! Dear bless 
 me!" said Uncle John, who believed it, and 
 was really very sorry to hear it. " And 
 what have you done with him'? Where is 
 he confined!" 
 
 " In a nice quiet private asylum, where 
 he is well taken care of, and treated with 
 the utmost kindness and attention." 
 
 "Yes," said Walter, faintly, although he 
 felt quite relieved by the manifest credulity 
 of Uncle JoMm, " it is very expensive to me, 
 certainly, but I really did not feel myself 
 justified in sending him to any one of those 
 horrible public places where poor creatures 
 are treated you don't know how. I there- 
 fore went to the expense of placing him in 
 a respectable private establishment, where 
 he has every comfort, and is, I am glad to 
 say, as happy as possible." 
 
 " You acted well, sir. It does you great 
 credit, and proves that you possess a good 
 heart," said Uncle John. 
 
 " I feel that I have done no more than my 
 duty," said Walter. " He is my brother." 
 And having got thus far, the hypocrite be- 
 gan to breathe freely and to feel very consi- 
 derably better. 
 
 "Right; right; very right," said Uncle 
 John; "that consideration is, indeed, very 
 powerful. And with whom have you placed 
 him? what establishment is he in?" 
 
 " Dr. Holdem's," said Walter, and Ho- 
 race looked at him r as if with the view of 
 conveying his conviction that in stating that 
 fact he had done very wrong; but Walter, 
 who knew the strict rules of the establish- 
 ment having reference to communications 
 between patients and their friends, also 
 knew that unless suspicion were excited 
 and a public stir made, his brother would 
 be just as secure as before. " Dr. Hol- 
 dem," he continued, " is a most humane 
 man, and, moreover, a man of extraordinary 
 talent. I therefore feel much more satisfied 
 under the circumstances than I should if he 
 were here." 
 
 "Of course! of course!" said Uncle 
 John. "You could do nothing with him, 
 poor fellow! He is better where he is 
 much better. Then his affairs'?" 
 
 " Why, they certainly are somewhat em- 
 barrassed," said Walter; "but if even they 
 were not, such a misrepresentation would 
 19 
 
 be, under the circumstances, venial. You 
 are aware as a man of sense and reflec- 
 tion, you must be aware that it is very, 
 very painful, to have the fact of a relative 
 being confined as a lunatic generally known. 
 The calamity is sufficiently afflicting of it- 
 self, but the torture would be far more ex- 
 quisite if accompanied by the perpetual in- 
 quiries of anxious friends." 
 
 " Very true, very true," said Uncle John; 
 " you would be placed in a position very 
 similar to that of a man having multitudes 
 of friends pouring in to console him for the 
 loss of one whom he most dearly loved." 
 
 " Precisely," said Walter, who conceived 
 that he had made a most palpable hit; and 
 so he had, indeed, as far as Uncle John was 
 concerned. " You therefore see," he con- 
 tinued, "and properly, I hope, appreciate, 
 my motive in having attributed his absence 
 to the existence of difficulties of a pecuniary 
 character?" 
 
 " Oh! you acted very right. Under the 
 circumstances, no doubt I should have done 
 the same myself." 
 
 " You will believe that it was out of no 
 disrespect to you that I hesitated to explain 
 the real facts as they stood. I do assure 
 you that I esteem most highly all who take 
 a kind interest in my poor brother's wel- 
 fare; but had I not known that he and you 
 had been bosom friends so long, I really 
 could not, in justice to my own feelings, 
 have entered into this most afflicting expla- 
 nation." 
 
 " Poor fellow!" said Uncle John, " who'd 
 have thought it! I always fancied that he 
 was rather eccentric, but I never for an in- 
 stant supposed that he was not in reality 
 sane. And yet he certainly would so metimes 
 run on very strangely! I should like, al- 
 though I should, at the the same time, be 
 very sorry, to see him. I wonder whether 
 he'd know me!" 
 
 " In a moment," said Walter. " That 
 is, unfortunately, the worst of it. W 7 hile 
 none but strangers are near he is full of 
 gaiety and happiness; but if he sees an old 
 friend, he becomes so excited, and his sub- 
 sequent depression is so dreadful, that it is 
 absolutely dangerous to allow a friend to go 
 near him." 
 
 " In that case then, certainly," said Uncle 
 John, " I must subdue my anxiety to see 
 him. I would not be the means of exciting 
 him for the world; although, I must confess, 
 that I should like to have had a word if it 
 were only a word with him before I left 
 town. However, under the circumstances, 
 I shall return far more satisfied than I came 
 for even to know the worst is more tole- 
 rable than to be tortured with vague sus- 
 picions; and I trust that before long I shall 
 
210 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 have the happiness to hear that he is per- 
 fectly recovered." 
 
 Uncle John now rose, with the view of 
 taking his departure; and when Walter, 
 having; breathed an apparently fervent 
 prayer for the recovery of his brother, had 
 promised to advise him of the slightest 
 favorable change, he and Valentine, with 
 minds more at ease than when they entered, 
 left, much to the satisfaction of Walter and 
 his son. 
 
 "It's very dreadful: is it not!" said Uncle 
 John, as he left the house. 
 
 " Do you believe it]" inquired Valentine. 
 
 " Why, my boy, I don't see how there 
 can be much doubt about the business." 
 
 " I believe that they have placed him in 
 a madhouse," said Valentine. "I do go 
 so far as to believe that; but I'll no more 
 believe that he is mad than I'll believe that 
 you are mad." 
 
 " But if he's in a madhouse, he must be 
 mad! They can't answer to put a man there 
 unless he is; so that the fact of his being 
 there is proof positive of his madness! 
 don't you seel The thing is as clear as the 
 sun at noonday." 
 
 " Uncle," said Valentine, " you have not 
 heard of the system upon which these private 
 lunatic asylums are based; you have not 
 heard that under that villanous system, 
 men perfectly sane men can be seized, 
 gagged, chained, and imprisoned for life, to 
 promote the interests or to gratify the ma- 
 lignity of those to whom they are prompted 
 by nature to look for affection; you have 
 not heard that husbands can be incarcerated 
 by wives, wives by husbands, brothers by 
 sisters, sisters by brothers, sons by fathers, 
 and fathers by sons; you have not heard " 
 
 " Now, before you go any farther," said 
 Uncle John, stopping in his usual manner; 
 " have you?" 
 
 " I have," replied Valentine, " and firmly 
 believe that such things are of constant oc- 
 currence." 
 
 *' I tell you they can't answer to do it." 
 
 * To whom need they answer?" 
 
 "To the law! to the law, sir," exclaim- 
 ed Uncle John" to the law!" 
 
 " What has the law to do with private 
 lunatic asylums? They are virtually placed 
 beyond the pale of the lavr. The private 
 rules of each establishment absolutely form 
 the constitution under which the inmates 
 live; they are the only laws by which they 
 are governed the only laws to which they 
 have the power to appeal." 
 
 " But their friends, my dear boy! their 
 friends!" 
 
 " How can their friends act in ignorance 
 of the matter? A man is stolen from society 
 from his home: he is carried away secretly 
 
 none but those who have been instrumental, 
 and are interested, perhaps pecuniarily, in 
 lis capture, are cognizant of the place of 
 lis concealment: how in such a case, then, 
 an his friends appeal to the law, or act at 
 all, not knowing where he is?" 
 
 'Clearly, if they don't know where he 
 is, it's quite impossible for them to act; hut 
 do you mean to tell me that such monstrous 
 niquities are in reality practiseu?" 
 
 " Uncle," said Valentine, "I have con- 
 versed on this truly dreadful subject with 
 many who have been, like you, incredulous, 
 and they have all asked the self-same ques- 
 tion, namely, Jlre, these iniquities practised? 
 My answer has been invariably If I say 
 yes, you'll turn away, disbelieve me, and 
 think no more of it: let, therefore, the first 
 question be this Can these monstrous ini- 
 quities be practised? and when you have 
 clearly ascertained that they can, you have 
 simply to look at the temptations which 
 exist, and the facilities which are afforded, 
 to feel perfectly sure that they are. Sup- 
 pose I were a villain and wished to enjoy 
 your property, what need I do to secure it? 
 write to the proprietor of one of these 
 private hastiles, who would at once send 
 doctors to sign the certificate of your in- 
 sanity, and keepers to manacle and carry 
 you off, without a soul besides knowing a 
 single word about the matter. Suppose I 
 were married and had an abandoned wife, 
 who wished with impunity to enjoy the 
 society of her paramour, what need she do 
 to get rid of me forever? The same! Nay, 
 suppose any case in which the conceal- 
 ment of a man, or even a child is deemed 
 necessary, either to the promotion of the 
 interests, or to the gratification of the malig- 
 nant spirit of any relative or friend, the same 
 need but be done for the object to be secured! 
 1 therefore have not the smallest doubt that 
 in this case those creatures whom we have 
 this night seen, have sent our poor friend to 
 one of these dreadful places, expressly in 
 order to secure whatever property he may 
 have, paying a certain sum weekly, or 
 monthly, with the view of depriving him 
 for ever of the power to reclaim it. This 
 is my conviction a conviction which every 
 circumstance that has occurred since his 
 absence now tends to confirm." 
 
 " You amaze me!" exclaimed Uncle 
 John. " But if it should be the case, we'll 
 have him out to-morrow. He shall not be 
 there another day! We'll have him out to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " That, I fear," said Valentine, "is much 
 easier eaid than accomplished. But \\'ll 
 first ascertain where this Holdem's asylum 
 is, and in the morning we'll go and see what 
 can be done." 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 " So we will! so we will! You're a 
 fine fellow, Val! We will go in the morn- 
 ing 1 , and if he be there! Well, well: we 
 shall see: we shall see: we shall know bet- 
 ter then how to act: shall we not] Poor 
 fellow! Bless rny life! what a world this 
 is to live in! I am really so astonished that 
 I feel quite confused!" And this indeed 
 was a fact. Uncle John was confused! 
 There were so many things entirely new to 
 him pressing- upon his mind, that he scarce- 
 ly knew what he was about: in fact, he felt 
 so bewildered, and so perfectly exhausted, 
 that from eleven that night till eleven the 
 next morning- he was utterly lost to the 
 cares of the world. 
 
 Valentine, however, rose early. His first 
 object was to learn where the establishment 
 of Dr. Holdem was situated, and having- 
 eventually succeeded in this, he returned 
 just as Uncle John came down. 
 
 " Well, said Valentine, " I have ascer- 
 tained where this place is." 
 
 "There's a good fellow!" said Uncle 
 John. " Then we'll just have a little bit of 
 breakfast and start off at once. We shall 
 manage it, Val! I feel sure that we shall 
 do it! But the existence of such a system 
 as that which you explained to me last 
 night is an absolute disgrace to the country. 
 We'll not, however, say any more about 
 that now: come! let's make a breakfast." 
 
 They did so, and sent for a cab, and in 
 less than an hour they were at the gates of 
 Dr. Holdem's asylum. 
 
 "Well, this don't appear to be a very 
 dreadful place," said Uncle John. "It 
 looks quiet and comfortable enough: at all 
 events it has a very fair outside." 
 
 Without replying to this observation, 
 which was, however, quite natural under 
 the circumstances, Valentine rang the bell, 
 and in due time a person appeared at the 
 gate. 
 
 "I wish to see Dr. Holdem," said Va- 
 lentine. 
 
 "He is out," said the man, "but if it's 
 on business, Mr. Jones, perhaps, will do 
 just as well." 
 
 " It is on business: let me see Mr. Jones." 
 
 They now entered, and when the gate 
 had been secured they were shown into a 
 handsomely built private house, which 
 formed the front of the asylum. 
 
 " You have," said Valentine, addressing 
 Mr. Jones, who had immediately made his 
 appearance. " You have a gentleman in 
 your establishment named Goodman." 
 
 " How do you know that 1 ?" demanded 
 Mr. Jones. 
 
 " We have it from good authority," re- 
 plied Valentine, " and we are anxious to 
 see him if it be but for a moment." 
 
 " Oh, is that all you want!" 
 
 "That is all," said Valentine. 
 
 " Well then, if that's all, of course you 
 can't see him." 
 
 " But we are friends," said Uncle John. 
 I have known him for at least forty 
 years." 
 
 " It don't matter if you've known him for 
 at least forty thousand! I tell you again 
 you can't see him." 
 
 " But we only wish to speak one word." 
 
 "It can't be done, I tell you! So that if 
 that's all you want I just wish you a very 
 good morning." 
 
 " My good friend," said Uncle John, in 
 a soothing strain, " I have travelled be- 
 tween seventy and eighty miles in order to 
 see him, and " 
 
 " It don't matter a button," interrupted 
 Mr. Jones, "if you have travelled between 
 seventy and eighty millions of miles, it 
 don't make a bit of difference." 
 
 " But surely there can be no serious ob- 
 jection to my having one word?" 
 
 "It isn't to be done! there, that's alt 
 about it!" 
 
 " Indeed, I think it very hard that I 
 should not be permitted to see a friend 
 whom " 
 
 "Now the bottom of it is," said Mr. 
 Jones, " that it isn't of any use talking. If 
 you were to stop here till doomsday, and 
 talk all the time, you wouldn't be a single 
 bit nearer the mark." 
 
 " But consider, my good friend, what a 
 dreadful thing it is to be thus precluded " 
 
 " It's of no use, I tell you! By stopping 
 here you're only wasting your own time 
 and mine." 
 
 " Then I can't see him"? Nothing will 
 induce you to let me have a word with 
 him!" 
 
 " Nothing! You may safely take your 
 oath of it!" 
 
 " said Uncle John, who now be- 
 gan to feel particularly indignant, " 1 see 
 how it is. I see it all! I'll have recourse 
 to other means! to other means! Justice 
 shall be had if it cost ten thousand pounds! 
 I'll see if the law is inoperative here." 
 
 " Oh! don't bother me with your law!" 
 cried Jones, who was really impatient 
 for them to go. " Do what you like! 
 we don't care what you do! What do we 
 care 1 ?" 
 
 "We'll see, sir! we'll see!" cried Uncle 
 John, who, after looking at Mr. Jones with 
 surpassing fierceness, took Valentine's arm 
 and departed. " I'm satisfied now," he 
 continued as he passed the outer gates; 
 "I'm perfectly satisfied that the practice 
 which you explained to me last night has 
 in this case been put into operation." 
 
212 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "I wish," said Valentine, "that we 
 could but have got inside. But I scarcely 
 expected that we should. You see how 
 impossible it is for the inmates of these 
 dreadful places to hold communication with 
 their friends. But what's to be done now? 
 We have gained one point that of knowing 
 that he is in reality there." 
 
 41 Let us go back at once to his brother," 
 said Uncle John, " and tell him plainly our 
 suspicions, and threaten him boldly with 
 exposure, unless he immediately consents 
 to release him." 
 
 44 Stop," cried Valentine, looking back 
 from the cab window. " Let us go a little 
 out of the road;" and having given the ne- 
 cessary instructions to the driver, he con- 
 tinued, " that seems to be the garden of the 
 asylum. I wish we had a ladder. We 
 might perhaps see him from the top of the 
 wall." 
 
 44 So we might!" cried Uncle John. 
 44 Stop the cab so we might. But then 
 you see a ladder is a thing we have not got! 
 However, the wall is not very high, cer- 
 tainly. We'll get out and see what can be 
 done." 
 
 They accordingly alighted, and having 
 directed the cabman to wait, went round by 
 the side of the wall. It was higher, much 
 higher than it appeared from the road, but 
 they notwithstanding walked to the back, 
 where Valentine perceived a kind of shed 
 built against it, which had been raised to 
 within four or five feet of the top. 
 
 " The very thing," said Valentine. " If 
 we can but get upon that shed, we shall be 
 able to look into the garden." They there- 
 fore went round, with the view of ascer- 
 taining to whom the shed belonged; and 
 having easily obtained the permission of the 
 owner, Valentine instantly mounted. 
 
 He was at first very cautious, and taking 
 off his hat, just peeped over the wall, lest, 
 by being seen, his object should be frus- 
 trated. He saw a number of emaciated 
 creatures crawling about; but he could not 
 distinguish poor Goodman amongst them. 
 Some looked idiotic, others seemed to have 
 reached the very depths of despair; but as 
 Valentine's object was not to contemplate 
 the chief characteristics of the scene, every 
 feeling was merged in his anxiety to distin- 
 guish his friend. 
 
 44 Can you see him?" inquired Uncle 
 John from below. 
 
 44 No!" replied Valentine, 44 or if he be 
 one of those whom I do see, he must in- 
 deed be dreadfully altered." 
 
 " Mere, let me come up," said Uncle 
 John, * 4 1 shall know him from a thousand." 
 44 1'rn afraid, sir, it wont bear you," ob- 
 served the owner of the shed. 
 
 44 Oh! I'm bulky, but not very weighty: 
 '11 try it," returned Uncle John, who, by 
 dint of great exertion, reached the roof. 
 He looked round: Goodman was not amongst 
 them! 4 ' Bless my life! I wish they'd come 
 this way," said he. " Val, can't we beckon 
 to one of them] Now, there's a man! he 
 seems to be no more mad than I am; can't 
 we attract his attention?" 
 
 ' Keep your head down," cried Valen- 
 tine; *' he sees us he's coming this way;" 
 and as he spoke, the person alluded to, who 
 happened to be no other than Whitely, ap- 
 proached. 
 
 4 ' Do you know Mr. Goodman 1 ?" inquired 
 Valentine, 
 
 " Alas, yes!" replied Whitely. 
 " Will you do me the favor to tell him 
 cautiously that Valentine is here 1 ?" 
 
 44 I've heard of you," said Whitely, at 
 once bursting into tears. " But he cannot 
 leave his bed; nor will he ever again, until 
 he ceases to breathe." 
 
 " Indeed!" exclaimed Valentine. " What 
 has been the cause!" 
 
 " Brutality, sir! absolute brutality! We 
 some time since tried to escape, and suc- 
 ceeded to a certain extent, but were retaken; 
 and, on being brought back, we were sub- 
 jected to the most horrible cruelties you 
 have the power to conceive. He happened 
 to be the originator of the scheme, and on 
 this becoming known, they inflicted upon 
 him the greatest amount of torture." 
 
 " The wretches!" cried Valentine. 44 But 
 is there no hope of his recovery?" 
 
 44 None!" replied Whitely. 44 They have 
 murdered him, sir cruelly, brutally, mur- 
 dered him. He is now on the very brink of 
 death." 
 
 44 What's that? what's that you say?" 
 cried Uncle John, starting up and leaning 
 completely over to the top of the wall. 
 44 Murdered, say you? murdered him?" 
 
 44 Hush!" said Mr. Whitely, 44 for Hea- 
 ven's sake, hush!" And he instantly walked 
 from the spot; for at that moment Uncle 
 John was seen by the whole of the patients, 
 who raised a shout, and ran towards him 
 with an expression of amazement the most 
 intense. 
 
 44 But one word!" said Uncle John, ad- 
 dressing Whitely. 4t But one single word!" 
 Mr. Whitely, however, fearful of being 
 seen by the keepers, did not turn his head. 
 Hi- had but just recovered from the dreadful 
 elVeets of the treatment he had experienced 
 on being recaptured; he therefore dared not 
 :ILT tin excite the vengeance of the keepers, 
 well knowing that if another brutal attack 
 were made upon him, it would be utterly 
 impossible for him to survive it; ;ni<l heneu 
 he \\iilked away with a heavy bursting 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 213 
 
 heart, without taking, however, the slight- 
 est apparent notice. 
 
 " Do you also know ray friend Goodman 1 ?" 
 demanded Uncle John of the poor insane 
 creatures, who were by this time beneath 
 him. 
 
 " Hooray!" they cried, dangling their 
 hands and dancing about, and looking alto- 
 gether as delighted as possible. 
 
 " Sir!" cried Uncle John, again shouting 
 after Whitely, and putting one leg over the 
 wall, in order to get as near to him as he 
 could. "Sir! but one word! Is he mad? 11 
 
 The energy with which Uncle John put 
 
 this question, and the anxiety which he 
 manifested to receive a reply, were so ex- 
 cessive, that he at once lost his balance, 
 arid fell over the wall. 
 
 Valentine, who had seized the tail of his 
 coat, and thus split it completely up the 
 back, as he was falling, now saw two brutal 
 looking fellows running fiercely towards the 
 spot. He therefore instantly leaped from 
 the wall to join his uncle, and to protect 
 him, if possible, from the keepers, who 
 appeared to be inspired with the spirit of 
 vengeance. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 A FORCIBLE EXPULSION, AND A TOTALLY UNEXPECTED ESCAPE. 
 
 As Uncle John, in falling, threw his arms 
 round the neck of a poor idiot who, conceiv- 
 ing himself to be the king of the universe, 
 had embellished his cap with a variety of 
 young onions, he alighted without sustain- 
 ing any very serious injury, although his 
 weight drove his majesty, the monarch of 
 the world, with great violence against a 
 friend who was perfectly clear only upon 
 the one grand point of his having been 
 swindled out of his privileges as the Lord 
 High Chancellor of England ever since a 
 certain antediluvian era, the chief character- 
 istics of which it appeared had been washed 
 from his memory by the Flood. 
 
 Before, however, Uncle John could rise, 
 one of the keepers had seized him by the 
 collar, with the laudable view, as he 
 promptly explained, of letting him know 
 the difference; but Valentine, in an instant, 
 sprang at the throat of the ruffian, and 
 compelled him to relinquish his hold. " No 
 violence!" he exclaimed, "It will not do; 
 with us." 
 
 " No, it won't do with us, sir!" echoed 
 Uncle John, inspiring courage from Valen- 
 tine, although it must be confessed, that he 
 even then felt rather frightened than not. 
 "There's the law against violence! the law, 
 sir! the law!" 
 
 " What's the law to do with us? what 
 right have you in here?" demanded the 
 keeper. 
 
 "I overbalanced myself," said Uncle 
 John, " I overbalanced myself. Do you 
 think that I should have tumbled if I could 
 have helped it?" 
 
 "But what business had you on the 
 wall?" 
 
 "To look for Goodman!" cried Valen- 
 
 tine. " Goodman, whom you are murder- 
 ing!" 
 
 " Valentine! Valentine!" faintly exclaim- 
 ed an emaciated form whom the noise had 
 attracted to the window of his cell. 
 
 " It is Goodman!" cried Valentine. 
 
 " My friend! my dear friend!" cried 
 Uncle John. " But one word!" 
 
 The form sank back, and was seen no 
 more. 
 
 " My good man!" said Uncle John, ad- 
 dressing the keeper, "if you are a Chris- 
 tian, you will let me see my friend. Let 
 me have but a word with him! and I'll give 
 you all the money I've got." 
 
 "What! corruption!"" exclaimed the im- 
 maculate keeper, alternately looking most 
 virtuously indignant and wistfully glancing 
 at the well-filled purse which Uncle John 
 very promptly held forth. " Do yer want 
 to corrupt me?" 
 
 "Let me speak to him but for an in- 
 stant!" 
 
 " Come along!" cried the keeper, " we'll 
 werry soon see what you're made on." 
 
 " Now then!" shouted Valentine, making 
 his voice apparently proceed from the other 
 side of the wall. " Let's attack them at 
 once! Now, down with the ruffians!" 
 
 "Hal-lo!" cried the principal keeper, 
 looking round with an expression of amaze-? 
 ment. " What, more on yer!" he continued; 
 and as at that moment the person to whom 
 the shed belonged peeped over the wall to 
 see how things were going on, he raised an 
 alarm which in an instant brought four ad- 
 ditional keepers to the spot. 
 
 "Lookout! We're attacked! There's a 
 mob on 'em coming!" cried the fellow, as 
 his scowling companions approached. 
 
214 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " Where are they!" demanded a ruffian, 
 who looked as if he had that day returned 
 from transportation. 
 
 "Over the wall!" was the reply, and a 
 ladder was procured, while Valentine still 
 in a feigned voice, kept shouting. 
 
 " Let's see how many on 'em there is!" 
 cried the creature who looked so much like 
 a returned convict; and he ascended the 
 ladder and looked anxiously round, but the 
 only man whom he could see was the owner 
 of the shed, whose person was perfectly 
 well known. 
 
 " Have you seen a mob o' pipple any 
 wheres about here 1 ?" he inquired of this 
 person. 
 
 "No," was the reply, "there's been 
 nothing of the sort." 
 
 "There's none here!" said he who occu- 
 pied the ladder, looking round. 
 
 " I know better!" cried the principal 
 keeper; "I heard 'em!" 
 
 "I tell yer there ain't then! can't yer be- 
 lieve me?" 
 
 " Well, come let's secure these ere too 
 as we've got!" and while the principal 
 keeper and two of his companions seized 
 Valentine roughly, the other three fastened, 
 like tigers, upon Uncle John. 
 
 " Keep off!" cried Valentine, " We'll go 
 where you please, and before whom you 
 please, but we will not be dragged!" 
 
 In an instant one of the ruffians seized 
 him by the legs, while two others secured 
 his arms and lifted him bodily upon their 
 shoulders, and as Uncle John was favored 
 with a precisely similar lift, they were 
 carried struggling desperately but ineffectu- 
 ally across the garden, while the sovereign 
 of the universe, and those idiotic subjects 
 whom he termed continually, and with all 
 the characteristic regularity of nature, " my 
 people," were dancing and shouting, and 
 performing the most extraordinary antics, 
 apparently with the view of rendering it 
 obvious to all that they were absolutely 
 filled with delight. 
 
 The keepers now reached the house with 
 their burden, and as Holdem the proprietor 
 of the Asylum, had just returned from town, 
 they threw Uncle John and Valentine be- 
 fore him. 
 
 " Hollo, hollo, hollo! What's all this?" 
 cried Dr. Holdem, whose grateful impres- 
 sion at the moment was, that he had 
 bern blessed with two additional patients. 
 * Won't they be quiet? What's the mean- 
 ing of it, eh?" 
 
 "Why these two owdayshus indiwidu- 
 als," re'plied the chief keeper, " is the 
 leaders of a whole mob o 1 rabble as is 
 come here to let out the patients." 
 
 " \Vl.at!" exclaimed the doctor with 
 
 an expression of unlimited astonishment. 
 " And how did they get in?" 
 
 " Why they shied 'emselves over the 
 wall: the big un come fust, and the tother 
 un follered." 
 
 " And what have you to say to this mon- 
 strous proceeding?" cried the doctor with a 
 highly appropriate scowl. " Pray what is 
 your object?" 
 
 "This:" said Valentine; "you have in 
 confinement a friend of ours whom you have 
 cruelly ill used." 
 
 " How dare you talk to me in that 
 fashion?" interrupted the doctor. 
 
 "Dare!" said Valentine; "you shall find 
 that we dare do more than talk. Our ob- 
 ject was to see that friend whose name is 
 Goodman, and who has been wickedly in- 
 carcerated here as an insane man. We ap- 
 plied for permission to see him, and as that 
 was refused us, we mounted the wall." 
 
 "I admire your impudence! But are 
 you aware that in trespassing thus upon my 
 premises, you have rendered yourselves 
 liable to be punished most severely?" 
 
 " But that was an accident!" cried Uncle 
 John, " I overbalanced myself, and fell into 
 the garden by accident." 
 
 " Indeed!" said the doctor sarcastically. 
 "Indeed! And did you overbalance your- 
 self, and slip down by accident?" 
 
 "No," replied Valentine, "I did not. 
 But we are quite prepared to answer for 
 what we have done before a magistrate at 
 once, or in any other way, for 1 presume 
 the thing will not be allowed to drop here." 
 
 "1 have a great mind to give you into 
 custody, and have you both dragged off like 
 felons." 
 
 " Do so," said Valentine, " that we may 
 have an opportunity at once of explaining 
 publicly all the circumstances connected 
 with our present position. Let us be taken 
 without delay before a magistrate. It can- 
 not but tend to promote the object we have 
 in view." 
 
 " Upon my word, young man, you treat 
 the matter very cooly. But pray how many 
 did you bring with you?" 
 
 "None," replied Valentine. 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed the pure and incorrupt- 
 ible keeper, apparently shocked at what he 
 believed to be a falsehood. "What! none? 
 when I heered a whole mob on 'em a hol- 
 lerin? U/t/" 
 
 " We came alone," said Uncle John. 
 "There was no mob with us." 
 
 " Well!" said Valentine, "are we to be 
 liven into custody, or how do you mean to 
 act?" 
 
 " As I please!" replied the doctor. " I 
 shall act as I please. If I thought you 
 were worth powder and shot I should pur- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 215 
 
 sue a very different course, but as it is, I 
 shall simply have you bundled out of the 
 place, believing you to be a couple of cha- 
 racterless vagabonds." 
 
 " Vagabonds! characterless vagabonds!" 
 exclaimed Uncle John, whose indignation 
 had gained the ascendancy over his fears. 
 "What do you mean, sir? Here is my 
 card!" But before he had time to produce 
 it, the six keepers seized him and Valen- 
 tine as before, and having carried them to 
 the entrance, threw them completely into 
 the road. 
 
 The moment Valentine recovered himself, 
 he flew at the chief myrmidon and certainly 
 did administer unto him one blow which 
 made him wink and shake his head, and 
 screw up his features, until they portrayed 
 great intellectual confusion. As, however, 
 Uncle John on the one hand dragged Valen- 
 tine away, and the doctor on the other or- 
 dered his men in at once, the gates were 
 closed before the intellects of the fellow 
 were perfectly restored, or doubtless Valen- 
 tine would have felt the full force of his 
 vengeance. 
 
 44 Thank Heaven, we are out!" exclaimed 
 Uncle John, when he saw the gates closed. 
 "I really at one time began to feel alarmed." 
 
 44 Alarmed at what?" inquired Valentine. 
 
 "Why, suppose they had kept us in 
 there with the rest?" 
 
 " Surely you did not suppose they would 
 do that!" 
 
 " Why, my boy, I didn't know what to 
 think. But if they hud kept us in, it would 
 have been dreadful, seeing that not a single 
 friend would have known that we were 
 there." 
 
 "You now see precisely the position in 
 which the victims of this horrible system 
 are placed. Their friends are not suffered 
 to know that they are there! But we were 
 quite safe, for none are kept but those who 
 are paid for. No, all that I was afraid of 
 was, that they would have taken it into 
 their heads to half murder us, for those fel- 
 lows are very powerful, and we should have 
 been able to do nothing with the six. As 
 for taking us before a magistrate, I felt sure 
 that they would not do that. Their object 
 is secrecy; it would never do for them to 
 make a stir." 
 
 "Well, well, we ought to be thankful 
 that things are no worse. But poor Good- 
 man! My heart bleeds for him! The vile 
 wretches! But we'll have him out, my 
 boy! We'll never rest till we have him 
 out." 
 
 " I fear that it is now too late," said Va- 
 lentine. " My impression is that on seeing 
 us he sank to rise no more." 
 
 " I hope not, my boy," said Uncle John, 
 
 44 1 hope not," and as he felt for his hand- 
 kerchief to wipe the tears from his eyes, he 
 became cognizant of the fact of his coat 
 being split from the waist to the collar. 
 44 Why, my boy! why what on earth! why 
 what's this?" said he, turning round and 
 pulling the tails of the coat before him. 
 44 What is it?" 
 
 44 Why it looks something like a small 
 slit," replied Valentine. "It is by no 
 means bad cloth: if it had been, it certainly 
 would not have had two tails now. It was 
 done when you fell from the wall." 
 
 44 Well, well," said Uncle John. " Well, 
 never mind that. I don't care a straw about 
 that." And as he spoke they came with- 
 in sight of the cab which they had ordered 
 to wait their return. 
 
 The driver was standing with the door in 
 his hand, and seemed somewhat confused 
 when they appeared, for he hastily closed 
 the door, mounted his box and drove to- 
 wards them. 
 
 44 W 7 e have kept you a long time," said 
 Uncle John. 
 
 44 No sconsequence at all, sir; I knowed 
 you was geneltnen," replied the man, who 
 looked anxiously inside the cab before he 
 opened the door to allow them to enter. 
 " Beg pardon, sir," he added, as Uncle John 
 was stepping in; "but de yer know, sir, 
 as yer coat's a leetle damaged in the back, 
 sir?" 
 
 44 Oh yes," said Uncle John, good hu- 
 moredly. " I met with an accident." 
 
 44 Beg pardon; I didn't know as you was 
 awares on it, that's all," rejoined the man, 
 who then mounted his box, and made his 
 horse understand that he had not only a 
 whip, but the power to use it. 
 
 44 We'll go and see that wretch of a 
 brother to night," said Uncle John, after a 
 pause, during which he and Valentine had 
 been completely lost in thought. " That's 
 the first step, my boy: that's the first step: 
 we'll work him!" 
 
 44 My friend!" said a voice which appear- 
 ed to proceed from under the seat of the cab. 
 
 44 Valentine ! Valentine!" cried Uncle 
 John, starting up as if some dog had bitten 
 his calf. " My dear boy! you should not! 
 you really should not, particularly at such 
 a time as this!" 
 
 Upon my honor," said Valentine, "it 
 
 Bless 
 
 was not I that spoke." 
 
 44 Not you!" said Uncle John, 
 my life, it was some one!" 
 
 44 My friend!" repeated the voice, and 
 Uncle John again started, for at the mo- 
 ment, he felt something touch his legs. 
 Valentine therefore examined the cab, and 
 found crouched beneath the seat poor 
 Whitely. 
 
216 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "Do not be alarmed, my good friends," 
 said he, " it is only the poor creature whom 
 you spoke to in the garden." 
 
 " I'm right glad to see you, sir," cried 
 Uncle John; " but come out of that hole, 
 you'll be smothered! There's plenty of 
 room." 
 
 "I thank you," said Whitely, "but I 
 am much safer here. They may suddenly 
 pass by and see me." 
 
 " Well, sit between our legs," said Uncle 
 John, " and then I'll defy them to see you. 
 You'll be cramped to death there." 
 
 " No, indeed I'm very comfortable," 
 said Whitely, although there was scarcely 
 sufficient room for a dog. He was, however, 
 at length prevailed upon, although with great 
 reluctance, to sit at the bottom of the cab. 
 
 " And how did you manage to escape 1 ?" 
 inquired Valentine. 
 
 " I owe it all to you," said Whitely, 
 grasping his hand. " Our poor friend had 
 told me of your power as a Ventriloquist, 
 and therefore when I heard what appeared 
 to be voices in the distance, I felt quite 
 sure that it was you. You will remember 
 that a ladder was brought into the garden 
 immediately after the shouting was heard. 
 It was by that 1 escaped. The man who 
 ascended it to look over the wall, instead of 
 taking it away with him, simply threw it 
 down to assist his fellows in carrying you 
 into the house, when, taking advantage of 
 the confusion that prevailed, I raised the 
 ladder, and having reached the top of the 
 wall unperceived, drew it over to the other 
 side, and thus alighted in safety. I had not 
 proceeded far before I saw this vehicle, and 
 having ascertained that it was waiting for 
 two gentlemen, I begged of the man to 
 allow me to lie concealed beneath the seat, 
 in order that if it had happened that the cab 
 was not waiting for you, I might still have 
 been safe; but when I heard you mention 
 our friend's wretched brother, and thus 
 knew you were alone, I ventured to speak, 
 feeling perfectly sure that you would not 
 only not betray me, but pardon my in- 
 trusion." 
 
 " My dear sir!" cried Uncle John, ex- 
 tending his hand, "I'm glad to see you. I 
 only wish that I had found my poor friend 
 here as well. But we'll have him out! we'll 
 have him out before " 
 
 "//ua/i/" cried Whitely, trembling with 
 great violence, and crouching again beneath 
 the seat. " I hear them coming! they arc 
 behind us! For God's sake, don't suffer 
 them to seize me again." 
 
 At this moment the sound of horses' 
 hoofs were heard in the distance; and Va 
 lentine on looking back perceived two per- 
 sons on horseback tearing along the road at 
 
 full gallop. "Don't be alarmed," said he, 
 " dont be alarmed, let what may occur, you 
 are safe." But poor Whitely trembled from 
 head to foot, while the perspiration poured 
 down the face of Uncle John, who was 
 scarcely less frightened then Whitely him- 
 self. 
 
 The horsemen now gained upon them 
 fast, and their excitement increased in pro- 
 portion. " These men may be after our 
 poor friend," said Valentine, addressing the 
 cabman; " if it be necessary you will stick 
 
 tO US'?" 
 
 "And no mistake," replied the man, "I 
 dont stop for nobody. Keep him snug. 
 They shouldn't ketch us at all, ony the wust 
 on it is, I carn't git this ere hold oss along. 
 Phit! keame up!" he added, as he pulled 
 out of the road. " Here they come! fit for 
 to break their blessed necks, good luck to 
 em!" 
 
 They were now just behind, and Uncle 
 John perspired more freely. They passed! 
 Two butchers were testing the speed of 
 their horses to decide a bet of some given 
 quantity of beer. 
 
 "Thank Heaven!" exclaimed Uncle John, 
 much relieved. "All right, my friend; 
 come forth, all safe." 
 
 Mr. Whitely, however, remained where 
 he was; he neither moved nor uttered a 
 word. 
 
 " There is no danger now," said Valen- 
 tine, endeavoring to rouse him. He still, 
 however, continued to be motionless, and 
 silent. 
 
 " Come, come, my friend!" said Uncle 
 John, who thought it strange. 
 
 " Are you not well, my friend? are you 
 not well 1 ?" 
 
 As Whitely made no answer, Valentine 
 gently drew him forth. He was inanimate! 
 
 "Good God!" cried Uncle John, "the 
 man has been frightened to death." 
 
 " No, he's not dead," said Valentine; 
 "I feel sure that he's not dead. He has 
 fainted only fainted. Pull up at the first 
 house you come to," he continued, address- 
 ing the cabman. 
 
 " All right, sir! there's one close at hand." 
 And in less than three minutes they were 
 before it. 
 
 Valentine now darted into the house, and 
 having procured a glass of water, applied 
 it to the temples and palms of poor White- 
 ly; but without any sensible effect. No 
 pulse was perceptible; not a muscle iimved; 
 somo brandy was brought, ;uul u !i. n thai 
 had been zealously applied for some time, 
 he inspired as Valentine exclaimed, " II. 's 
 
 alive!" 
 
 Uncle John now began to breathe \vith 
 somewhat more freedom. He h.ul been 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 217 
 
 dread ful] 5 T apprehensive of Whitely being 
 dead; but when he saw the first symptom 
 of reanirnation quickly followed by other 
 signs of returning consciousness, he felt for 
 the moment quite happy. 
 
 "My friends!" said Whitely at length, 
 looking up. " Am I still safe 1 ? God bless 
 you, my dear friends God bless you!" 
 
 " Will you go with us into the house, till 
 you revive?" inquired Valentine. 
 
 "No, my good friends, no; let me remain 
 here, I shall not be out of danger, until I 
 reach town. Pray, proceed, 1 am quite 
 well now; I am indeed quite quite well 
 now!" 
 
 Uncle John and Valentine accordingly 
 readjusted themselves, and having given 
 instructions to the cabman who drove off 
 as fast as his horse could go they stopped 
 no more, till they reached the house of the 
 Widow Smugman. 
 
 The widow was utterly but very naturally 
 astonished, when on answering the knock 
 she saw uncle John and Valentine assisting 
 a poor enfeebled creature, who looked like 
 death in a dressing-gown, out of the cab. 
 She had, however, an extremely high opi- 
 nion of those gentlemen; and, hence, when 
 Uncle John introduced Whitely as his 
 friend, she expressed herself happy to see 
 him. 
 
 " Now then," said Valentine, placing 
 Whitely upon the sofa, "you must banish 
 all your fears; you are quite secure now." 
 
 Whitely, however, was unable to rally. 
 He tried with all the power at his com- 
 mand; but sank back in a state of exhaus- 
 tion, in which Uncle John attended him, 
 while Valentine was rewarding the driver 
 
 of the cab with a liberality altogether unex- 
 pected. 
 
 The dinner was now immediately served 
 up, but of this poor Whitely was unable to 
 partake; he was, however, after a time pre- 
 vailed upon to have some slight refresh- 
 ment, and was then placed in Uncle John's 
 bed, completely overwhelmed with grati- 
 tude.- 
 
 The attention of Uncle John and Valen- 
 tine was now turned to the course which 
 they, under the circumstances, ought to pur- 
 Sue. The escape of Whitely was held to 
 be a grand point gained. " We can take 
 him with us," said Valentine, " and con- 
 vict poor Goodman's unnatural brother at 
 once." 
 
 " So we can," said Uncle John; "that's 
 quite right. So we can; and we will ! but 
 it can't be done to-night." 
 
 " No; but I think that I had better go to- 
 night, and make an appointment, if possi- 
 ble, for to-morrow. Whitely is uninjured; 
 he has only been alarmed, and will there- 
 fore be himself again doubtless in the morn- 
 ing. What do you think 1 ? Shall I go?" 
 
 " By all means, by all means. Tell him 
 I wish to have five minutes' conversation 
 with him before I leave town, which is the 
 fact, you know, of course! I do wish to 
 converse with him before I leave town. But 
 I'll leave it to you, my boy; you know how 
 to manage it. Go; go at once. I'll remain 
 at home, and see after our friend. We must 
 have him restored by to-morrow." 
 
 Valentine accordingly started, leaving 
 Whitely in the care of Uncle John, who 
 threw himself at once upon the sofa, and 
 went soundly to sleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 VALENTINE BECOMES INITIATED INTO THE MYSTERIES OF THE ANTI-LEGAL-MARRIAGE 
 
 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 ON reaching Walter's residence, Valentine 
 was informed that he and Horace were 
 out, but were certain to be at home at nine 
 o'clock or half-past at the very latest. It 
 was then but just seven; and as Valentine 
 conceived it to be scarcely worth while to 
 return to Uncle John, he walked leisurely 
 on, without having any object in view, save 
 that of strolling about for two hours. 
 
 He had not however proceeded far, when 
 his attention was attracted by a flaming 
 placard, on which was inscribed 
 
 THE UNIVERSAL ANTI-LEGAL-MARRIAGE 
 ASSOCIATION! 
 
 NOTICE! 
 
 Ji Professor of surpassing eminence will 
 deliver a Lecture on the Natural, Social, and 
 Universal Community Principle this evening, 
 precisely at seven. 
 
 "The natural, social, and universal 
 community principle!" thought Valentine. 
 " What do they mean 1 ? The universal anti- 
 legal-marriage association! Anti-legal-mar- 
 
218 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 riage association! I must look in here." 
 And having paid the admission-fee, he was 
 shown into a room in which a number of 
 persons, of whom the majority were gaily 
 attired females, had assembled. 
 
 The professor had not arrived, and there- 
 fore Valentine had time to look round before 
 the lecture commenced. He thought it 
 strange, very strange, that the persons 
 whom he saw there should patronise or in 
 any way countenance such a thing as an 
 anti-legal-marriage association. What the 
 natural, social, and universal community 
 principle might be, it is true he could not 
 very clearly comprehend; but what was 
 meant by the term, " Anti-legal-marriage," 
 was so plain, that it could not be misunder- 
 stood. And yet, was he to infer from the 
 presence of those persons that they were 
 opposed to the institution of marriage? Im- 
 possible! They appeared to him to be the 
 very persons by whom marriage would be 
 held to be one of the greatest sublunary 
 blessings. He changed his position, in 
 order to command a full view of the coun- 
 tenance of each. The females, he thought, 
 looked particularly wicked ! He really 
 never saw eyes rolling about with such ex- 
 traordinary restlessness before. Such smil- 
 ing, such leering, such glancing he beheld ! 
 He was perfectly puzzled. He could not 
 understand it! And yet they seemed to un- 
 derstand each other very well ! Had any 
 thing like a mutual dead set been made; 
 had one pair of eyes been brought to bear 
 upon another, with the view of being em- 
 ployed with reciprocal firmness the object 
 would not have been quite so inconceivable; 
 but as it was, as they wandered about with 
 such peculiar inconstancy, as if the design 
 of their owners had been to inspire the 
 souls of all at whom they glanced with af- 
 fection, Valentine could not tell really what 
 to make of it, although he did think it just 
 possible, that they had assembled for the 
 purpose of quizzing the professor. 
 
 The bare possibility of this being their 
 object was, however, repudiated on the en- 
 trance of that gentleman, for he was cheered, 
 loudly cheered, and with an enthusiasm 
 which forbade the idea of its being ironical. 
 No, it was plain that they were perfectly 
 sincere, and therefore Valentine became 
 more than ever impatient for an explanation 
 of this natural, social and universal prin- 
 ciple, of which it was clear they were deep 
 ly enamored. 
 
 " My friends," said the professor, after 
 proving to the apparent satisfaction of the 
 ladies that he knew as well how to use his 
 eyes as the best. " My friends! The last 
 lecture 1 had the pleasure to drlivrr to the 
 members of this peculiarly wide-spreading 
 
 association, had reference to the assumed 
 Free Agency of Man, and as I proved to de- 
 monstration that man is not a free agent, 
 consequently not a responsible agent, and 
 therefore no agent at all, I propose now to 
 show that human laws in opposition to the 
 laws of nature oughtnottobe upheld. [Loud 
 cheers.~\ My friends! It is on all hands 
 admitted that nature is perfection, yet the 
 state of society in which we now live is 
 essentially and purely artificial! What is the 
 inference 1 ? Why that, being essentially and 
 purely artificial, it is essentially and purely 
 the most imperfect state of society that eve,r 
 obtained. To be perfect we must be natu-" 
 ral. That I hold to be as clear as the pro- 
 position of the great Huxley in his Won- 
 derful Heart or the Liver of Love, that to be 
 natural, man must be perfect. It hence 
 follows that the nearer we approach to na- 
 ture, the nearer we are to perfection-, and 
 that that state of society is, in reality, the 
 most perfect which is, in reality, the most 
 natural. [Applause.] Now look at our pre- 
 sent social system! Is there anything na- 
 tural about it? Have our natural feelings 
 and passions fair-play* Is not their deve- 
 lopment checked at every point by human 
 laws diametrically opposed to the laws of 
 nature? Look for example at those unnatu- 
 ral laws to which I have so frequently di- 
 rected attention I mean the laws relating 
 to marriage! What is marriage? Is it not 
 a most unnatural bond? See with what 
 consummate tightness individuals are tied! 
 It is indeed a Gordian knot: there's no end to 
 it! nor can they cut it. My friends! just 
 look at its operation for one moment: a man 
 marries not naturally, but legally marries 
 well! in a month he becomes tired of his 
 wife, yet is he by law compelled to keep 
 her! She may not at all suit him: they 
 may quarrel perpetually, nay, they may 
 fight! Still keep her he must till she sinks 
 into the grave! Why, is not this monstrous? 
 But even this is not all. He may see some 
 one whom he likes infinitely better some 
 one more interesting, amiable, and accom- 
 plished, yet he cannot marry her, because, 
 and solely because, he is married to another! 
 Surely such an unnatural state of things 
 ought no longer to exist! What, I ask, does 
 a man commonly marry a woman for? The 
 law, it is true, says for better for worse.' 
 [ I .mill Iniiirhltr.'} But is it because she is 
 handsome? Well, her beauty fades: she no 
 longer possesses that for which he married 
 her; still must ho keep her! Does he marry 
 her because he believes her to bo rnir.niriniri 
 and sweet tempered? A month after mar- 
 riage she begins to let out in a style of 
 which he cannot approve, by "".y mrans 
 yet must he stick to her still! Is it for 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 219 
 
 her wealth that he marries her 1 ? Well; he 
 obtains full possession of that wealth, which 
 he may either spend or lose, but in any case 
 is he compelled to keep her even after that 
 for which alone he married her is gone! 
 Why, rny friends, this appears to be so 
 truly diabolical, that the only wonder is 
 that a system so repugnant to the perfect 
 laws of nature should not have been blown 
 up centuries ago. But let us take the case 
 of a woman for women I contend have 
 natural rights as well as men. She marries; 
 and why 1 ? Because she believes that the 
 man whom she marries will be kind 1 ? Well, 
 she finds that he is not: still must she be 
 his! Does she marry because she believes 
 that she shall be happy? She finds that 
 she is not, but she must be his still! Sick- 
 ness may overtake him; he may become 
 poor; he may have no other prospect than 
 of starvation! yet let what may happen to 
 him she must stick! Is this just? Is it 
 rational? Does it bear even the semblance 
 of any principle by which men of intelli- 
 gence should be guided? My friends! legal 
 marriages have cursed every country into 
 which they have been introduced. They 
 are the bane of society. They utterly spoil 
 both women and men. Women would in- 
 deed be very different beings were it not for 
 the institution of marriage. It destroys 
 their amiability, poisons their sweetness, 
 and renders them insolent, cross-grained 
 and vicious. When legally married, they 
 know that they are secure, and that very 
 knowledge prompts them at once to show 
 off: whereas, were they as they ought to be, 
 naturally married, the absence of that secu- 
 rity would induce them to preserve all their 
 natural sweetness of disposition, all their 
 amiability, in short, all which renders their 
 society charming. Nor would men, were 
 it not for legal marriages, be so tyrannous, 
 haughty, and overbearing. The security 
 which those legal marriages impart, has a 
 precisely corresponding effect upon them. 
 Hence, I say, let none but natural marriages 
 be sanctioned. \_Loud cheers. ] If persons 
 be unable to live happily together, let them 
 part and marry, as nature prescribes, those 
 with whom they are able to live happily. 
 Why should we, as intelligentbeings, adhere 
 to social wretchedness when we have the 
 purest social felicity within our reach? We 
 should tolerate natural marriages only!" 
 At this interesting point the enthusiastic 
 professor was interrupted by Valentine, 
 who conceiving that he had gone far enough, 
 cried making his voice apparently proceed 
 from an individual who was deeply en- 
 gaged with a lady from whom he had just 
 received a card " And pray what are natu- 
 ral marriages?" 
 
 "Natural marriages!" exclaimed the pro- 
 fessor with a look of astonishment the most 
 absolute, " What are they?" 
 
 " Turn him out! Turn him out!" shouted 
 several gentleman, by whom the natural, 
 social and universal community principle 
 was upheld. 
 
 "What are natural marriages?" repeated 
 the professor. 
 
 "Aye!" said Valentine, assuming the 
 same voice, "I simply ask you what they 
 are! Do you mean those peculiar broom- 
 stick solemnities?" 
 
 "Broom-stick solemnities!" exclaimed 
 the professor with an expression of contempt 
 the most supreme, and again the univer- 
 sal community-principle-mongers expressed 
 their strong disapprobation. 
 
 " W T ell, tell us," said Valentine when the 
 noise had subsided, " what it is you really 
 mean?" 
 
 " By natural marriages," said the pro- 
 fessor, addressing the person from whom he 
 imagined the voice had proceeded. " By 
 natural marriages I mean those which are in 
 conformity with the law of nature! mar- 
 riages by which parties are solemnly bound 
 to live with each other as long as they 
 like." 
 
 Loud applause followed this clear expla- 
 nation. The ladies waved their handker- 
 chiefs and screamed with delight; but as 
 during their enthusiasm, Valentine per- 
 ceived that the majority of them wore that 
 golden shackle by which they appropriately 
 conceived they had been enslaved, he at 
 once became perfectly disgusted. He now 
 distinctly saw what the social community 
 principle meant! he saw that it struck at 
 the very root of social virtue and fidelity. 
 
 " Is that gentleman satisfied?" inquired 
 the professor. 
 
 " Perfectly," said Valentine, " perfectly 
 satisfied that immorality forms the basis of 
 the principle in question." 
 
 "Immorality!" exclaimed the professor, 
 who really appeared to be utterly shocked. 
 " Immorality! That principle forms the 
 basis of the new moral world! It is the 
 present corrupt system of legal marriages 
 that is based upon immorality. With natu- 
 ral marriages immorality has nothing to do, 
 seeing that that which is natural cannot be 
 immoral. Is it natural, I would ask, for two 
 persons whose dispositions and feelings and 
 passions are inimical to be bound to each 
 other for life? Is it not, on the contrary, 
 natural for them to part with the view of 
 forming alliances more to their taste? I 
 contend that it is monstrous to bind two ra- 
 tional beings together when their sentiments 
 and views are diametrically opposed. Dis- 
 agreements should prompt them to separate 
 
220 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 at once and form other unions in the pure j 
 course of nature." 
 
 " How often 1 ?" inquired Valentine. 
 
 " How often! As often as they conceive 
 that their happiness will be thereby en- 
 hanced. Why should a man be bound to a 
 woman whom he once might have loved 
 when circumstances have led him to love 
 another better] Why should a woman be 
 tied to a man for whom she might once 
 have had an affection, when her natural pas- 
 sions prompt her to repudiate him, and turn 
 to one upon whom she has set her soft heart 1 ? 
 I say that the law which prohibits this in- 
 dulgence in those passions which are im- 
 planted in us by nature is an infamous law, 
 and one of which the existence reflects in- 
 delible disgrace upon us as rational and in- 
 telligent creatures." 
 
 At this point the professor was again en- 
 thusiastically cheered, and so perfectly were 
 his sentiments in unison with the views of 
 his amiable satellites, that when Valentine 
 inquired if they really expected that their 
 principles would be adopted by any but the 
 most vicious and depraved, their indignation 
 knew no bounds. 
 
 He had certainly heard yelling before 
 yelling too of a really extraordinary charac- 
 ter in sundry places and on divers occa- 
 sions; but never not even in the House of 
 Commons! had he heard any species of 
 yelling at all comparable with that which" 
 proceeded from the members of the anti- 
 legal-marriage association. They were not 
 very numerous it is true, but being extremely 
 energetic they fully made up for the absence 
 of any numerical strength, and as the room 
 in which they were, was comparatively 
 small, their shouts, groans and shrieks were 
 absolutely stunning. 
 
 " Who is he? Where is he] Drag him 
 forth!" they exclaimed. The ladies were 
 especially anxious to see him. 
 
 "That's the man in the corner!" cried the 
 professor, promptly pointing to the indivi- 
 dual to whom the lady had given her card, 
 and the association doubtless would have 
 pulled him to pieces had he not had the pre- 
 sence of mind to declare his perfect inno- 
 cence; for nothing but the tones of his voice 
 would have convinced them that the profes- 
 sor had made a mistake. 
 
 *' Wretches!" cried Valentine, throwing 
 his voice immediately behind the professor, 
 who turned with all the velocity of which 
 he was capable, and really appeared to be 
 somewhat alarmed. 
 
 "Who's that]" cried the professor. 
 Who was that]" 
 
 None could tell. He looked firmly and 
 with an eye of suspicion at every member, 
 in his immediate vicinity, but no! they 
 
 were equally amazed with himself. " Who 
 was it]" he repeated. "Who was it, I 
 ask]" 
 
 " One," replied Valentine, in a tone of 
 great solemnity, making his voice appear 
 to proceed from the ceiling. " One who 
 sees that you are faithless, abandoned and 
 profligate one by whom vice is abhorred." 
 
 In an instant every eye was directed to- 
 wards the ceiling. The gentlemen became 
 very nervous, while the ladies felt dread- 
 fully alarmed, which was not at all w.onder- 
 ful, seeing that superstition and immorality 
 invariably go hand in hand. It was held 
 to be very mysterious! They could not 
 make it out! They were filled with appre- 
 hension, and as the ladies clung to their 
 natural protectors, the gentlemen started, 
 and shrank from their touch, so cowardly a 
 slave does vice make the human heart. 
 
 The professor, who looked quite as pale 
 as the rest, however, felt himself bound to 
 say something. He therefore rose with the 
 view of addressing his satellites, when 
 Valentine cried, " Down! I denounce you 
 as a villain. But for you and wretches like 
 you, hundreds who are now depraved, would 
 have been reaping those blessings of which 
 virtue is the germ." 
 
 The professor seemed utterly paralysed: 
 and his satellites stared with open mouths 
 round the room with an expression of terror. 
 
 " Let us go," said one of the females, ad- 
 dressing her friend "pray, pray let us go, 
 I'm very frightened!" 
 
 " Go!" cried Valentine. " Repudiate 
 these proceedings, if you be not quite lost 
 to every sense of female delicacy and virtue. 
 Be not blinded by sophistry: spurn those 
 who, to gratify their own bad passions, 
 would place you on a level with the beasts 
 of the field. Be virtuous and happy in the 
 perfect assurance, that from virtue alone 
 real happiness can spring." 
 
 The females now tremblingly rushed to 
 the door; and so exceedingly terrified were 
 they, that scarcely one minute had elasped 
 before they had vanished from the room. 
 The professor was utterly astounded, and 
 stared at his male disciples, who in return 
 stared at him. Had any man come forward 
 to deliver that address, which had just been 
 delivered by Valentine, he would have con- 
 tested every point with warmth, eloquence 
 and firmness; but as his opponent was ap- 
 parently invisible, he could not say a word. 
 He seemed perfectly lost, and so indeed did 
 they all, and as Valentine, who in straining 
 to give effect to his speech, had become 
 very warm, he left them at once in a state 
 of great amazement to solve that which 
 they manifestly felt to be a mystery of no 
 inconsiderable depth. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 221 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 UNCLE JOHN HAS ANOTHER IMPORTANT INTERVIEW WITH WALTER, TO WHOM HE 
 DECLARES HIS INTENTIONS WITH FORCE AND EFFECT. 
 
 WITH those feelings of satisfaction which 
 commonly spring from the consciousness of 
 having promoted the cause of virtue, Valen- 
 tine returned to the residence of Walter, 
 and found him and Horace at home. 
 
 " Well, my young rattlesnake!" cried 
 .Horace, as he entered, " and how do they 
 bring it in now? Come to an anchor! Is 
 there anything extra o'clock? How's the 
 ancient?" 
 
 Uncle John was the gentleman to whom 
 he alluded, and Valentine said that he was 
 perfectly well; but was struck with the ex- 
 tremely wretched aspect of Walter. He 
 was the very type of misery. His cheeks 
 were hollow, and his lips were parched, 
 while his eyes swam dimly in their sockets 
 by which they were almost entirely con- 
 cealed. 
 
 " You are not so well this evening?" 
 said Valentine. 
 
 " I am not, indeed," said Walter faintly; 
 "I am not, indeed." 
 
 " No, the governor, don't look particular- 
 ly spicy!" cried Horace. " But then, you 
 see it's all his own fault! he won't be ruled! 
 If I've told him once, I have told him five 
 hundred times, that he'll never be well till 
 he gets beastly drunk. I am sure of it! 
 nothing can alter my opinion upon the point. 
 If he were but to get into a profoundly 
 elaborate state of mops and brooms, he'd 
 be as right as a Roman. But then he 
 won't do it! You may as well talk to a 
 turnip." 
 
 " 1 wish I was dead!" exclaimed Walter. 
 
 " Of course! that's a species of donkey- 
 fication you never will get over, if you live 
 a thousand years. You wish you were 
 dead! And what would you do, if you were 
 dead?" 
 
 Walter sighed. 
 
 " Are you engaged to-morrow evening?" 
 inquired Valentine, taking advantage of a 
 temporary pause. 
 
 '* Not that I am aware of at this moment," 
 replied Walter. 
 
 " My Uncle," said Valentine, " is anxi- 
 ous to have five or ten minutes' conversa- 
 tion with you, before he leaves town." 
 
 " What," cried Horace, " is he going to 
 cut it?" 
 
 " If you will say," continued Valentine, 
 " at what hour it will be convenient for you 
 to see him, he will be here; he'll not occupy 
 much of your time." 
 20 
 
 " Will eight o'clock suit him? If not, 
 say nine." 
 
 " Eight will suit him well. He will be 
 here at that hour." 
 
 " But, I say," cried Horace, " are you 
 going to toddle back with him?" 
 
 " I am not sure of that; but at all events 
 I shall see you again before I leave. Good 
 evening." 
 
 " Well, remember me, you know, to the 
 old tar," said Horace. " He's perhaps 
 about the rummest and roughest old reed 
 that ever did come to town. But I don't 
 dislike him. Good night!" 
 
 Valentine now left the house, and he was 
 no sooner gone, than Horace put it to his 
 father very pointedly, whether he did not 
 consider himself an idiot. ".What did you 
 want to sigh away for," said he, " like an 
 old distressed alligator, right before Am? 
 And why couldn't you let that old Rufus 
 trot off, without having him boring here 
 again? You know that you have got just 
 as much nerve as nothing!" 
 
 " I was anxious to make him think that 
 I was not afraid to see him," replied Walter, 
 "and thus to allay any suspicion that may 
 have been excited." 
 
 " Well, but you know that you are not at 
 all fit to be seen. Besides, there is more 
 in the wind than you expect. I know, by 
 that fellow's manner, there's something 
 o'clock. I shouldn't be a bit surprised to 
 hear that he has found it all out." 
 
 " How could ha?" 
 
 *' Why you told him all about the place 
 yourself! How do you know that he has 
 not been there?" 
 
 " And if he has, is it likely that they 
 would give him any information?" 
 
 " Well, if you'll take my advice but 
 you never will, you know, and hence it is 
 that you're invariably wrong but if you 
 wish to bo secure you'll remove him to some 
 other crib, and then no one will know a bit 
 about it." 
 
 " But how can that be done?" 
 
 "Why, don't you see? Old Neversweat 
 what's his name? Holdem, has connec- 
 tion with another den a hundred miles off. 
 Well, can't you make arrangements with 
 him to send the old boy there in another 
 name!" 
 
 " But, why in another name?" 
 
 " Because then they may search all the 
 books in the universe without ascertaining 
 
222 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 where he is. They may go to Dr. Holdem's 
 'Is Mr. Goodman here]' * No, he has 
 left!' * Where is he?' * Can't say.' They 
 may apply to the commissioners, and get a 
 sight of the register. They look for the 
 name of Goodman. Goodman was at Dr. 
 Holdem's. Discharged such a date. Don't 
 you see 1 ? Suppose he is entered as Jonathan 
 Scroggins? Who is Jonathan Scroggins? 
 They may see the name of Scroggins. They 
 know no such a man. He may call himself 
 Goodman down there, it is true; but then 
 they'll call him Scroggins, and if he insists 
 upon it that Goodman is his name, they will 
 rationally conclude that he is laboring under 
 some strong delusion, and hold it to be an 
 invincible proof of his being incurably mad. 
 To be secure, therefore, all you have to do 
 is to send him away under some assumed 
 name, when, if they ever find him out you 
 may safely forgive them, discovery in such 
 a case being an utterly impossible thing." 
 
 " There is something in that, certainly," 
 said Walter. " There certainly is some- 
 thing in that. - But had we not better, in 
 the first place, see what their object is in 
 coming here to-morrow 1 ?" 
 
 " Why, as far as that goes, there is no 
 earthly use in doing that which is useless: 
 that's as clear as cream; and his removal 
 will be useless, in the event of their having 
 no doubt about its being all right; but if 
 they have the least suspicion of anything 
 wrong, take my advice, and pack him off 
 at once." 
 
 Walter saw in a moment the force of this 
 suggestion, and as security was his object, 
 it was eventually decided, that if anything 
 should transpire to convince him that the 
 secret had in reality become known, Good- 
 man should be removed in the name of 
 Scroggins to some distant asylum, and thus 
 placed for ever beyond the reach of his 
 friends. 
 
 By the time these two amiable persons 
 had arrived at this decision, Valentine had 
 reached home, where he found Uncle John 
 still asleep on the sofa, playing loudly upon 
 his nasal organ, that notorious tune of 
 which Morpheus alone can be really ena- 
 mored. 
 
 By dint of great exertion on the part of 
 Valentine, Uncle John awoke, and when he 
 did awake, he said with great presence of 
 mind, ** Ah yes well;" and yawned, and 
 then added, " What, not off yet? Come, 
 come, you had better start. I'll see after 
 "Whitely: I'll take care of him." 
 
 " Will you do me the favor to look at 
 your watch?" said Valentine. 
 
 Uncle John did him this favor, and then 
 observed, that the thing had stopped ever 
 since eleven that morning. 
 
 "You are really a very watchful atten- 
 dant," said Valentine. " Why, you have 
 been asleep nearly five hours." 
 
 " Nonsense," cried Uncle John, " Non- 
 sense! I hav'n't had half-a-dozen winks." 
 
 "It was half-past six when I left, and 
 it's now past eleven." 
 
 "Tut! bless my life and soul! Why, I 
 couldn't have believed it. Have I been 
 asleep all that time? Dear me, how very 
 neglectful! Our poor old friend! Let's go 
 and see how he gets on." 
 
 They accordingly went into the bed-room 
 softly, and as, much to their satisfaction, 
 they found W : hitely asleep, they returned 
 with equal caution to the room they had 
 just left, when Valentine dwelt upon his 
 interview with Walter. 
 
 " He is now extremely ill," said he, after 
 an explanation of all that had occurred. 
 " My firm impression is, that he is on the 
 very brink of the grave. If, therefore, 
 Whitely cannot go with us to-morrow, it 
 will be better for me and Horace to leave 
 the room, while you explain what yon know, 
 and how you mean to proceed, if poor Good- 
 man be not immediately released." 
 
 " I see exactly," said Uncle John, " I 
 see precisely what you mean. It will be 
 better much better." And Uncle John 
 was engaged in rehearsing his part from 
 that time till he retired to bed. 
 
 In the morning, Whitely found that his 
 nerves had gained considerable strength: 
 his fears were calmed, and he paced the 
 room firmly. He felt that he was free; and 
 that feeling, however limited may be the 
 space in which he dwells, will prompt a 
 man to be content to remain within it, where 
 the knowledge of his being confined even 
 to Europe, would generate within him a 
 wish to go beyond. As however he did not 
 feel equal to the task of meeting Walter, 
 and as moreover his presence on that occa- 
 sion was not absolutely necessary, Uncle 
 John and Valentine left him, and at the 
 hour appointed found Walter and his son 
 deeply engaged with a pile of dusty docu- 
 ments as before. 
 
 When a variety of common-place observa- 
 tions had passed between them, Valentino 
 engaged the attention of Horace, while 
 Uncle John intimated to Walter that he 
 wished to say a few words in private. 
 
 " Horace," said Walter, " entertain your 
 young friend. We wish to be by ourselves 
 a short time." 
 
 Horace looked at his father with un- 
 speakable significance. He clearly did n>t 
 think it safe. However, feeling that he 
 could not with any show of politeness re- 
 mniii in the room after that, he rose, and 
 taking the arm of Valentine, said, " Come; 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 223 
 
 let us leave these old incomprehensibles 
 together." 
 
 ' Mr. Goodman," said Uncle John, when 
 he found that they were alone, " my object 
 in coming here this evening is to speak 
 upon a subject which concerns you deeply. 
 It has reference, sir, to your brother, whom 
 yesterday I saw! I perceive," he continued 
 as Walter started and trembled, "I perceive 
 that you did not expect to hear that; but I 
 saw him, sir, yesterday at the asylum you 
 named, and there discovered him to be, sir 
 not mad! but an enfeebled, emaciated 
 martyr to that foul, that iniquitous system, 
 the existence of which is a national dis- 
 grace." 
 
 " Not mad!" said Walter hurriedly. " Not 
 mad! I have proofs!" And having opened 
 his desk, he drew forth a printed paper 
 which he placed with an air of triumph 
 before Uncle John. "There, there, sir," 
 he continued, " there you have the certifi- 
 cate of two eminent physicians, Drs. Bowl- 
 emout and Dobb. That will be perfectly 
 satisfactory, I presume]" 
 
 " Not at all," said Uncle John, " Not at 
 at all. I am happily not ignorant of the 
 mode in which these things are managed, 
 although I could not till recently have con- 
 ceived it to be possible that men could in a 
 country like ours resort to practices so 
 monstrous." 
 
 44 Do you mean, sir," said Walter, " to 
 insinuate that / have had recourse to mon- 
 strous practices'?" 
 
 " Mr. Goodman! I have no inclination to 
 have any angry words; but I am not a man 
 to mince a matter of this kind. Your 
 brother is incarcerated in a lunatic bastile 
 as an insane man: he is not insane: never 
 was insane: you incarcerated him! I ask 
 you why 1 ?" 
 
 " There is my authority!" said Walter, 
 pointing to the certificate. 
 
 " Sir!" cried Uncle John, " I am not a 
 child. I know that these things though 
 potent in depriving men of liberty are to 
 be purchased with ease; and you know that 
 if 1 were villain enough I could bribe two 
 professional scoundrels to certify to your 
 insanity to-morrow. What proof then is 
 that of the madness of my friend! Under 
 the present iniquitous state of the law of 
 lunacy, it is, it is true, held to be a proof 
 a legal proof a proof sufficient to indem- 
 nify those into whose hands the victim may 
 be placed, but in reality it is no proof of 
 madness at all. Who are these men, Drs. 
 JBowlemout and Dobb? where are they to be 
 found?" 
 
 "They are eminent physicians," replied 
 Walter, "attached to Dr. Holdem's asy- 
 lum." 
 
 "I thought so. But you did not apply 
 to these eminent physicians! you did not 
 engage them! You applied to Dr. Holdem: 
 Dr. Holdem sent them to my friend: they 
 saw him once, and then signed that certifi- 
 cate. That was the process. And why 
 did you apply to Dr. Holdem?" 
 
 "Of course, because I believed my 
 brother to be insane." 
 
 " But why did you not in the first place 
 apply to two physicians of known respecta- 
 bility'? It does not follow as a matter of 
 course that you applied to Dr. Hcldem, 
 because you believed that your brother was 
 insane. But if even you had that belief, 
 what induced it 1 ? Why did you think that 
 he was mad?" 
 
 " Why," said Walter, " because he acted 
 strangely." 
 
 " Because he acted strangely! Are we to 
 pronounce every man to be mad who acts, 
 strangely? Why every man living acts 
 strangely at times. We have all our eccen- 
 tricities. We are all apt to deviate from, 
 the straight beaten path, and every such, 
 deviation is an eccentricity. Eccentricity 
 is the parent of all that is eminent. No 
 man ever yet raised himself into eminence 
 who was not eccentric. But are we to pro- 
 nounce all such men to be mad? That were 
 in itself indeed madness, and yet you have 
 not only pronounced your own brother to be 
 mad, but have stolen- him from society with 
 a view to his perpetual imprisonment, be- 
 cause he acted strangely!" 
 
 "Stolen him from society!" exclaimed 
 Walter; "I don't understand you." 
 
 " Then let me explain; for I am anxious 
 to make you understand me. Your brother 
 is not mad. Nor is he in the vulgar ac- 
 ceptation of the term eccentric. He is as 
 free from eccentricities as you are, unless, 
 indeed, it be those eccentricities which 
 characterise a benevolent heart. He is a 
 perfectly sane man; and yet you have 
 caused him to be kidnapped carried away 
 secretly dragged by brutal ruffians to a 
 lunatic asylum, with a view to his being 
 confined there for life. Now let me be un- 
 derstood. Your brother is my friend. The 
 loss of ten thousand pounds will not ruin 
 me. I am prepared to spend ten thousand 
 pounds to effect his liberation, and to punish 
 those by whom he has been incarcerated, 
 and ten thousand more when that is gone. 
 I am no idle boaster. I am resolved to see 
 him either dead or free; and in order to carry 
 into effect that resolution, I will willingly 
 spend every shilling I have. If, therefore, 
 you wish to avoid being harassed; if you 
 wish to avoid being held up to public scorn; 
 if you wish not to have your life embittered, 
 and your death accelerated by the knowledge 
 
224 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 of being universally execrated and denounc- 
 ed, you will consent, without delay, to his 
 liberation; for be assured, that if you will 
 not do this, my friendship for him is so 
 pure, and so firm, that all that can be done 
 shall be done; every available means shall 
 be had recourse to, with the view of expos- 
 ing; and punishing the parties to this nefari- 
 ous transaction; and if once I begin, sir, 
 nothing shall stop me. But let me appeal 
 to your sense of justice to your feelings 
 to your conscience. Let me reason with 
 you calmly. Like me, you are an old man 
 a very old man: we are both sinking fast 
 into the grave: we must both soon appear 
 before Him to whom all hearts are open, 
 and from whom no secrets are hid. Now, 
 assuming that I know your real motive for 
 proceeding against your brother as you have 
 done: assuming that your object was the 
 possession of his property" 
 
 " But that was not my object!" cried 
 Walter; " that was not my object!" 
 
 41 1 simply say, assuming that your object 
 was the possession of his property, how in- 
 human how unjust how unnatural do the 
 means by which you have sought the at- 
 tainment of that object appear! He is your 
 brother! your own brother! Nature, there- 
 fore, prompts him to look to you for affec- 
 tion. Persecution at your hands is abhor- 
 rent to every principle which claims an 
 alliance with nature; and yet have you bit- 
 terly persecuted him! You have deprived 
 him, in his old age, of liberty you have 
 placed every comfort beyond his reach 
 you have subjected him [to a species of 
 brutality the most horrible; you have ban- 
 ished him from all society, save that of 
 poor idiots and raving maniacs; and solely 
 with the view of obtaining possession of that 
 which, if it prove not indeed an immediate 
 curse to you, sir, you can never enjoy." 
 
 " But I tell you again, that that was not 
 my object. My object was to keep him 
 from harm." 
 
 44 And in order that that object might be 
 effectually accomplished, you placed him 
 in the power of ruffians by whom he has 
 been nearly murdered." 
 
 44 Nearly murdered!" exclaimed Walter. 
 
 " Sir, if your brother be not already dead, 
 he is dying. He, a short time since, tried 
 to escape, and on being recaptured, was 
 subjected to treatment of so brutal a charac- 
 ter, that his recovery is held to be almost 
 impossible. Humanity, therefore, cries 
 aloud for his release. I appeal to you as a 
 brother as a Christian as a man whi- 
 ther his continued incarceration be not now 
 the very acme of brutality and injustice. 
 Put it to yourself, sir. Suppose that you 
 were placed in the position he occupies, 
 
 writhing with physical agony on the very 
 verge of death, and morally tortured with 
 the consciousness of having been placed in 
 that position by a brother a brother, too, 
 whom you had ever treated with the utmost 
 kindness, and who was always at hand in 
 the hour of need. Would you not think it 
 dreadful? would it not be sufficient to 
 drive you mad indeed? But assuming for 
 a moment that you believed him to be" in- 
 sane, let me ask if you thought that his 
 madness was incurable?" 
 
 "I certainly did not." 
 
 44 Then why send him to such a place as 
 this, when you knew it to be directly against 
 the interest of the proprietor to allow him 
 to be cured?" 
 
 44 1 did not know that, nor do I know it 
 now." 
 
 44 You know, I presume, that the pro- 
 prietor established that asylum for profit: 
 you know that his object is to get as many 
 patients as he can, and to keep them as 
 long as he can; you know this, and yet 
 you are anxious to induce the belief that 
 you do not know it to be directly opposed 
 to his interest to allow them to be cured! 
 His design is not to cure, but to keep them, 
 seeing that in proportion as they are cured, 
 so in proportion do his emoluments de- 
 crease; it being from them only that his in- 
 come is derived. This is no mere assertion, 
 sir, based upon theory; but a straightfor- 
 ward, practical, self-evident truth. Why 
 then, I again ask, if you really were anx- 
 ious for the restoration of your brother, did 
 you place him in a private asylum?" 
 
 44 1 did all for the best. I was told that 
 he would have every attention." 
 
 44 But do you not see that the interest of 
 every proprietor of a private asylum runs 
 counter to his duty?" 
 
 44 It certainly, I must confess, seems 
 feasible." 
 
 44 Can you then hesitate to release him?" 
 
 Walter remained silent. 
 
 44 1 wish you to understand, sir," con- 
 tinued Uncle John, l4 that I am not in the 
 habit of holding forth threats; but as I have, 
 sir, the means at my command means of 
 which you little dream, for you cannot for 
 a moment suppose that I derived any part 
 of my information from the proprietor of 
 this asylum; but as I have, sir, the means 
 of proving not only that your brother is not 
 mad, but that the possession of his property 
 was the object the sole object at frhfon 
 you aimed, those means shall be publicly 
 employed forthwith, unless you consent to 
 restore him to society. I wish it to be an 
 act of yours. I wish to have it appear that 
 vou are willing to make all tin- reparation 
 in your power for the injury you have in- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 225 
 
 flicted, and the agony you have caused him 
 to endure. Again, therefore, I ask, will you 
 release him 1 ?" 
 
 " But what can I do with him then 1 ?" 
 cried Walter. 
 
 " I will take care of him. I'll undertake 
 to keep him secure from all harm. If he 
 be insane, let it be fairly and openly proved. 
 What objection can you possibly have 1 ? If 
 your object be to see him taken care of, and 
 treated with a view to his restoration, and 
 not the possession of his property, pray tell 
 me what objection you can have to his 
 being released 1 *" 
 
 This Walter could not tell, and therefore 
 kept silent. 
 
 " Liberate him then," continued LTncle 
 John, firmly, "and I will strive to allay 
 any ill feeling that circumstances may have 
 engendered. But you know his benevolent, 
 charitable disposition; you know that he is 
 of a most forgiving nature. If, however, 
 you will not, his liberation can and shall be 
 accomplished, without your assistance, in 
 which case I speak to you now as a mere 
 man of the world, looking solely to your 
 own interest and security I will urge him 
 to banish every feeling consanguinity may 
 have implanted in his breast, and to proceed 
 as a matter of justice to society against 
 you with all possible rigor. Your own 
 interest, therefore, if nothing else be suffi- 
 ciently powerful, the very consideration of 
 your own security must prompt you to con- 
 sent. Will you do it?" 
 
 "I will!" said W T alter. "I will. On Mon- 
 day morning, the first step shall be taken." 
 
 " I may rely upon you in this 1 ?" 
 
 *' You may. Go with me yourself. Call 
 early on Monday morning, and we'll pro- 
 ceed to the asylum together." 
 
 " Very well. Reflect upon all that I have 
 said. I depend upon you firmly" 
 
 Uncle John now pushed his chair from 
 the table, and wiped his forehead, for he 
 had been so extremely energetic that he was 
 then in a state of steaming perspiration. 
 *' Will you do me the favor to ring for my 
 nephew!" said he, and the bell was ac- 
 cordingly rung, when as Valentine and 
 Horace were summoned, they promptly re- 
 entered the room. 
 
 " Why, what in the name of all that's 
 incog, have you two unhappy old conspira- 
 tors been up to?" cried Horace. " Plotting 
 against the jolly old state? Are we to have 
 another Guy-Fawkesification?" 
 
 " Good night," said Uncle John, as he 
 rose to take leave. 
 
 " What, are you off?" cried Horace, 
 with a look of amazement. 
 
 "Good night," repeated Uncle John, 
 coolly, as he drew towards the door. 
 
 ' Well," cried Horace, " you are about 
 the rummest old " 
 
 "Horace!" cried Walter. 
 
 " Well," continued Horace, " I was only 
 going to say! because look here! directly 
 I come down, you cut it that's all! But, 
 if you will go, you know, why you will, 
 and no mistake at all about it!" And hav- 
 ing thus delivered his sentiments upon this 
 subject, he saw Uncle John and Valentine 
 out with all the politeness which charac- 
 terised him commonly. 
 
 " Well," he continued, on returning to 
 the room, " and what has that old fool been 
 gammoning you about? the one subject 
 though, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes," said Walter. "Heaven only 
 knows where he obtained his information, 
 but he knows all about it, from beginning 
 to end." 
 
 " What! has that avaricious old breeches- 
 pocketed crocodile that what's his name? 
 Holdem been splitting?" 
 
 " Not he! you may take your oath that 
 nothing has been got out of him." 
 
 " From whom then did the old fool derive 
 his information?" 
 
 "Can't tell; can't guess," said Walter. 
 " He says that he has the means at his 
 command of proving every circumstance 
 connected with the affair; and I believe 
 him, for he stated to me all that I knew to 
 be true." 
 
 " Then no time must be lost in removing 
 the old nominal." 
 
 " He can't be removed now." 
 
 " W 7 hy not? W T hat's to prevent it?" 
 
 " You may depend upon it, that this in- 
 formation has been derived from the fellows 
 attached to the asylum. It would be there- 
 fore quite useless, if even it were possible, 
 for him now to be removed. Besides, I 
 have solemnly promised to release him." 
 
 " You have done what?" cried Horace. 
 " Do you mean to tell me Oh! we are all 
 up the flue! Do you mean to say you have 
 given that promise?" 
 
 "I have." 
 
 " Then we may as well just go and 
 smother ourselves in the thickest possible 
 mud upon the face of the earth. It's all up! 
 There's no mistake at all about the matter! 
 If you release him, I'd strongly advise you 
 to sell out, and cut away as fast as you can 
 pelt over to Van Dieman's Land or New 
 Zealand, and establish yourself among the 
 blacks." 
 
 "But if/do not release him, he will bo 
 released, and I therefore may as well make 
 a virtue of necessity." 
 
 " Well, you know my sentiments. Do 
 as you like: but if you do that, mark my 
 
 20* 
 
226 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 words, you'll make a mull of it! "What do 
 you want to release him at all fnr? 
 
 "The thing is done," said Walter, "and 
 can't be helped now!" 
 
 " No; the thing is not done! it can be 
 helped now!" 
 
 44 But he is coming on Monday morning 
 to go with me to the asylum." 
 
 " What of that!" cried Horace, " what 
 of that! Can't you go down to-morrow and 
 tell Holdem all about it, and have him re- 
 moved in the night! It matters not a straw 
 about to-morrow being Sunday; all days 
 are alike to them. They think nothing of 
 Sunday there. All you have to do is to 
 trot down in the morning, and explain to 
 Holdem how the matter stands; and if he I 
 don't, before midnight, remove the old nomi- 
 nal to a far distant den, I'll be bound to to 
 swallow him whole." 
 
 ** But what am I to say on Monday morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 " What are you to say on Monday morn- 
 ing! Why don't you see] When you go 
 
 tbe bird has flown! t Bless my life! Why, 
 where is Mr. Goodman? He is nowhere to 
 be found! Who saw Mr. Goodman this 
 morning? Here, Figgins, Jenkins, Hog- 
 gins! have you seen Mr. Goodman! Go, 
 and search for him again! Search every 
 room in the asylum. I saw him last night, 
 poor man! and he seemed a little befter. 
 Well, have you found him? not found him? 
 Bless my life! how very extraordinary! He 
 must have escaped!' What then can be 
 done? How can you be involved? You 
 went expressly in order to release him. 
 What could a man do more? He has es- 
 caped ! He's not there! Let his friends 
 find out then where he is if they can." 
 
 Walter looked in the fire thoughtfully. 
 His mind was by no means made np. "I'll 
 think of it," said he, at length; "I'll think 
 of it. Say no more now. Go and sit with 
 your wife and mother; go, leave me." 
 
 Horace, feeling quite certain of gaining 
 his point, accordingly left Walter musing 
 alone. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 VALENTINE BECOMES A LITTLE BETTER ACQUAINTED WITH THE CHARACTER OF LOUISE, OF 
 WHOM HE TAKES HIS FIRST LESSON. 
 
 THE next morning, Valentine, Uncle John, 
 and Whitely went to church, and nothing 
 could surpass the pure fervor with which 
 Whitely offered up thanks to the throne of 
 Mercy for his deliverance. He had not 
 been at church before for many weary years; 
 and hence, although he had prayed con- 
 stantly to Him in whom all his hopes 
 were concentered, the sacred place at once 
 awakened the sweetest recollections of his 
 youth. All the miseries he had endured 
 were forgotten. His heart was full of joy, 
 and he wept like a child. Each prayer 
 each response brought fresh tears into his 
 eyes; and while the solemn swell of the 
 organ struck awe into his soul, the voices 
 of the children, singing the praises of the 
 Most High, seemed to him so celestial, that 
 he felt, during the service, as if in heaven 
 with the angels, and left inspired with the 
 purest happiness a mortal cnn know. 
 
 He and his friends however had scarcely 
 reached home, when the carriage of Mr. 
 Raven dashed up to the door, and when th. 
 widow who would trust no one to answer 
 double knocks had communicated some 
 Interesting intelligence, having refercnn- to 
 ictof Valentine and his" Uncle being 
 at home, Mr. Haven himself alighted, and, 
 
 I according to instructions, was shown at once 
 ! into the room. 
 
 "Ah! how do, my friends? How do; 
 how do?" cried that gentleman, shaking 
 J them both by the hand at once. " I've 
 come, you see, without any aristocratic cere- 
 mony: come to press you! must go! I want 
 you to spend the whole day with us. Come, 
 you're not engaged ?" 
 
 " Why the fact is," replied Uncle John, 
 " we have a friend staying with us who" 
 
 44 Come, now, none of ^your aristocracy! 
 can you not bring your friend with you?" 
 
 44 He is not sufficiently well," said Uncle 
 John, who was about to explain in continua- 
 tion, when Mr. Raven, addressing Valentino, 
 said, "Well, I must have you, at nil events. 
 Louise is in the carriage: you had bett. 
 in at onee, while I see what 1 can make of 
 my old friend here." 
 
 Of course Valentine did not remain very 
 long in the room after that: on the contrary, 
 he went at once to tnke leave of Whitely, 
 who had retired on the approach of Mr. 
 Haven, and whom he urged to arerpt tln> 
 invitation, if it were pressed, and then with- 
 out even the slightest unnecessary delay, 
 proceeded to the carriage to join Lnuisr. 
 
 Uncle John, to the utter astonishment of 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 227 
 
 Raven, now briefly explained Whitely's 
 case, and begged of him at the conclusion 
 to believe that he should have been indeed 
 happy to return with him; but that he was 
 anxious not to leave his poor friend so long 
 alone. 
 
 44 But why can he not come with us!" 
 inquired Mr. Raven. " He will be just as 
 well there, you know, as here. We'll doc- 
 tor him up. We'll take every possible 
 care of him. Will you go and try to per- 
 suade him to come 1 ?" 
 
 " By all means," said Uncle John, who 
 went at once for that purpose; but Whitely 
 most earnestly begged to be excused, and 
 at the same time endeavored to prevail upon 
 Uncle John not to remain at home on his 
 account one moment. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Raven, when Uncle 
 John had communicated the result, " then 
 I tell you what I'll do with you. Suppose 
 we split the difference. We dine at six: 
 will you join us then 1 ?" 
 
 " I will, with pleasure." 
 
 "That's all right! Now we'll be off. 
 When your poor friend is well enough to 
 come, I shall be happy to see him. But 
 these are your laws, my friend! the laws 
 of your beggarly aristocracy! framed on 
 purpose to swindle their own flesh and 
 blood! But they'll come down! mark my 
 words, they'll come down, and that before 
 many more years roll over their heads! 
 However, six precisely!" 
 
 44 I'll be punctual," said Uncle John, and 
 he saw Mr. Raven to his carriage, expressly 
 with the view of shaking hands with Louise, 
 who looked so beautiful and so happy, and 
 smiled so sweetly, that really, while her 
 hand was in his. she made him feel that he 
 should have fallen in love with her himself, 
 had he seen her about forty years before. 
 
 The carriage of course was not long roll- 
 ing home; but had it been dragged by a 
 couple of crabs, the time would not have 
 seemed long to Valentine and Louise. They 
 could not keep their eyes off each other 
 one moment. Every instant they met, 
 and then dropped, and met again, and al- 
 though Mr. Raven tried to fix their atten- 
 tion upon the beggarly characteristics of 
 certain aristocratic equipages which passed 
 them on the way, the attempt was in every 
 case a failure, although he was doomed not 
 to know it. 
 
 They now reached home, and Valentine 
 assisted Louise out of the carriage with all 
 possible grace, only being unaccustomed to 
 the business, he stood as a mere matter of 
 chance on the wrong side, and thus took the 
 thing entirely out of the hands of the ser- 
 vant. The importance of this was however 
 but slight: it only proved to Mr. Raven, 
 
 that he did not belong to the " beggarly 
 aristocracy," and as he led Louise into the 
 house very fairly, he thereby recovered his 
 ground. 
 
 It was not very long before Louise again 
 joined him, and although Mr. Raven was 
 anxious for him to sit over a biscuit and a 
 glass of wine, and chat about the aristo- 
 cracy, she very soon had him away. He 
 had wtf seen those beautiful pictures: he 
 had not seen those funny Dutch chairs: he 
 had not even been in the library! Oh! he 
 must come: She had so much to show him, 
 and so much to say, that she robbed Mr. 
 Raven of his society in a short space of 
 time, and they ran about the house like 
 brother and sister. She called him plain 
 Valentine, and taught him to call her Louise; 
 and they seemed to understand each other 
 perfectly; and were both very happy in that 
 understanding; and thus they spent the first 
 three hours, occasionally looking in upon 
 Mr. Raven just to see how he got on with 
 his " beggarly aristocracy," and then start- 
 ing off again upon some fresh expedition. 
 
 As the time flew away, however, Valen- 
 tine thought this really was an opportunity 
 which ought not to be lost. They were 
 then in the drawing-room, and the beggarly 
 aristocracy's natural enemy was below. He 
 therefore went to the window, while Louise 
 was looking over an annual with the view 
 of finding a piece of poetry, which she held 
 in very high admiration, and began to weigh 
 the importance of the first sentence he 
 wished to utter with as much minuteness 
 as if indeed immortality hung upon every 
 word. 
 
 " Why, whatt's the matter?" cried Louise, 
 when he had been standing in this position 
 for some time. " Why on earth are you so 
 serious 1 ? I know what you are thinking 
 about," she continued smiling archly, as 
 her laughing eyes sparkled with pleasure. 
 44 1 think that 1 could guess pretty nearly!" 
 
 " Indeed! Tell me what you imagine 
 my thoughts were now, come!" 
 
 44 Nay, I will not tell that: but it strikes 
 me that 1 could if I felt so disposed." And 
 she ran away to look for the poetry again, 
 with as much anxiety as if that really bore 
 upon the point. 
 
 " Louise!" said Valentine after a pause, 
 and she flew to the window at which he was 
 standing; but as her hasty approach drove 
 away all his courage, he simply stated it to 
 be his unbiassed conviction that appear- 
 ances were decidedly in favor of rain. 
 
 44 Oh!" said Louise. 44 And is that all 
 you called me for?" 
 
 ' 4 Why," returned Valentine, recovering 
 himself a little, 44 1 certainly had something 
 else to communicate, and have still, but " 
 
228 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " Anything very particular?" 
 
 " Very." 
 
 44 Well, tell me at once what it is. I am 
 impatient to know all about it." 
 
 44 Louise, I am really so awkward, so 
 stupid, that I wish to become at once a pu- 
 pil of yours." 
 
 " And pray what arn I to teach you?" 
 
 *' How to win your affections." 
 
 "Indeed, I know nothing about it," said 
 Louise. " I have had no experience in 
 matters of that sort." And ajrain she ran 
 away, but only pretended this time to look 
 for that extremely beautiful piece of poetry. 
 
 44 But," said Valentine, 44 1 really wish 
 you would give me a little instruction!" 
 
 44 But how can 1? How is it possible to 
 teach you that, of which I myself am ig- 
 norant?" 
 
 44 Many begin to learn, only when they 
 begin to teach; and I really think that if 
 anything can justify that practice, it is a 
 case of a precisely similar character to 
 this." 
 
 44 Well," said Louise, sitting down upon 
 the sofa, 4 ' as you seem to be so very, very 
 anxious to learn, I will give you a lesson." 
 And Valentine at once left the window, and 
 sat beside her. 44 In the first place then," 
 she continued playfully, " you must be a 
 good boy, and come very, very often. Se- 
 condly: Whenever I expect you, and you 
 find it impossible to come, you must send 
 me a note to that effect" 
 
 44 Exactly; and how am I to begin it?" 
 
 44 Why, how would you begin it?" 
 
 44 My dear Miss Raven? or my dear ma- 
 dam?" 
 
 44 Neither, sir! Were you to address me 
 as 4 my dear madam;' or even as 4 my dear 
 Miss Raven,' I would instantly tear off that 
 part, and send it back in a very sharp note. 
 My dear madam, indeed! My dear Louise! 
 or my dearest Louise! or something even 
 stronger than that; and then go on to say 
 that so and so, whatever it may be, you 
 know precludes the possibility of your 
 having the pleasure or the happiness, and 
 so on, subscribing yourself Yours." 
 
 44 1 see: et cetera, et cetera." 
 
 44 No, sir! not Yours et cetera, et cetera; 
 but Yours you may say, dear Louise! here 
 again if you please; but at all events, Yours 
 ever faithfully and affectionately; and then 
 sign your own name your own Christian 
 name at full length. Well! that is in the 
 second place. Thirdly: you must never say 
 a word in my favor, that you are not quite 
 convinced that I shall believe to be tnu ; 
 for, although 4 a little flattery sometimes 
 does well,' we cannot bear to believe it to be 
 flattery but in this littlo particular. \ u 
 may go to some extent before you fall into 
 
 any very serious error. Fourthly: you must 
 never Good gracious!" she continued, sud- 
 denly starting from her playfully energetic 
 position, and looking down as pensively as 
 possible. 
 
 Valentine slightly turned his head, and 
 saw Uncle John and Raven in the room. 
 
 They appeared to be delighted; but Louise 
 and her pupil felt really so confused! What 
 could be done? It is true, there was the 
 Annual lying by her side; but then, what 
 is an Annual in such a case as this? 
 
 44 Your most obedient," said Uncle John, 
 holding his spectacles to his eyes, and bow- 
 ing very profoundly. 
 
 Louise looked up and smiled: all her 
 courage returned, and she ran to shake 
 hands with Uncle John. 
 
 44 I thought that we should find them at 
 last!" said Mr. Raven. 
 
 44 You are two very, very naughty crea- 
 tures," said Louise; " I have a great mind 
 not to forgive you. How long, pray, have 
 you been behind that screen?" 
 
 44 I have but just come," said Uncle 
 John. 
 
 44 But this moment! You have heard 
 nothing, then? You are sure you have 
 heard nothing? quite sure?" 
 
 44 We simply heard you giving your pu> 
 pil a lesson." 
 
 44 Now that is too bad of you, really! I 
 was simply explaining" 
 
 44 Yes, yes! we are aware you were sim- 
 ply explaining," returned Uncle John. 
 44 Well, sir! and pray have you nothing to 
 say for yourself!" 
 
 Valentine smiled and took the hand of 
 Louise, but was silent. 
 
 44 Well," said Mr. Raven, who had been 
 highly amused, 44 when you have finished 
 the fourth division. It is, I believe, the 
 fourth? Yes; well, when the fourth divi- 
 sion is finished, we, perhaps, may have the 
 honor of your company below. That's 
 rather aristocratic, 1 think!" And .Mr. 
 Raven really laughed very merrily, and so 
 did Uncle John, whose arm he took, and 
 left the apt pupil and his preceptress to- 
 gether. 
 
 " Dear me! how very awkward to be 
 sure!" said Louise. 4t What tiresome peo- 
 ple to come in just then. But, gracious! 
 how odd you did look!" 
 
 44 1 have not the slightest doubt of it; but 
 then, even you satiKU'hfit changed!" 
 
 44 Did I? Well, I dare say I did. But 
 we must not remain here. You run down 
 at once, and I'll follow immediately." 
 
 44 Very well," said Valentine; " but first 
 let me whisper one word in your ear. They 
 may bo even now behind the screen." 
 
 44 Well, what is it? quick!" said Louise, 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 229 
 
 and as she held her ear towards him, he 
 kissed her! absolutely kissed her! which 
 was very extraordinary. Yet what's in a 
 kiss? Really, when people come to reflect 
 upon the matter calmly, what can they see 
 in a kiss? The lips pout slightly and touch 
 the cheek softly, and then they just part, 
 and the job is complete. There's a kiss in 
 the abstract! view it in the abstract! take 
 it as it stands! look at it philosophically! 
 what is there in it? Millions upon millions 
 of souls have been made happy, while mil- 
 lions upon millions have been plunged into 
 misery and despair by this kissing; and yet 
 when you look at the character of the thing, 
 it is simply a pouting- and parting of the 
 lips. In every grade of society there's kiss- 
 ing. Go where you will, to what country 
 you will, you are perfectly sure to find kiss- 
 ing! There is, however, some mysterious 
 virtue in a kiss after all, and as every one 
 knows what kissing is, it perhaps will be 
 just now sufficient to state, that the pecu- 
 liarly sweet kind of influence which it has 
 was by no means unfelt by either Valentine 
 or Louise, although they* actually, in less 
 than five minutes after, sat at the table, and 
 in the presence of Raven and Uncle John, 
 looking precisely as if nothing of the kind 
 had occurred! 
 
 During dinner the "lesson" was a source 
 of great amusement; for both Uncle John 
 and Raven rallied Louise and her pupil at 
 every point. 
 
 " In the first place," said Raven, " shall 
 I send you some soup?" 
 
 This kept them merry for some time. 
 
 " Secondly," said Uncle John, " shall I 
 have the pleasure to take wine with you?" 
 
 This also told well, and so indeed did 
 every division of the subject, even up to 
 the nineteenth; but as Valentine and Louise 
 took up the weapons of their assailants, 
 they eventually beat them completely out 
 of the field. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Raven, immediately 
 after dinner, " and what is your opinion of 
 the state of things in general?" 
 
 " Do you allude to the state of the coun- 
 try?" inquired Uncle John. 
 
 " The country, sir, I blush for the coun- 
 try. I blush, sir, for those who rule the 
 destinies of the country. My firm impres- 
 sion is, sir, that the country is going to 
 pot." 
 
 * Indeed! Really I have heard nothing 
 at all of it! I am sorry to hear that." 
 
 " Sorry! and so am I, sir, sorry; but how 
 can it be helped? Look at the state of 
 things in general! Every thing is in the 
 hands of our beggarly aristocracy; and 
 when that is the case, sir, what country can 
 prosper?" 
 
 " But how long has this country been in 
 the hands of the aristocracy?" 
 
 " How long? It always has been in their 
 hands, ever since it was a country." 
 
 "That is to say, that they have always 
 had the government of it the ruling of its 
 destinies?" 
 
 " Precisely." 
 
 " Then by that I am of course to under- 
 stand that they have made this country what 
 it is?" 
 
 " To be sure they have, they and they 
 alone, sir, have made it what it is." 
 
 "The envy of surrounding nations, and 
 the admiration of the world!" 
 
 " But we have not to thank the aristo- 
 cracy for that!" 
 
 " If they have made this country what it 
 is, they have made it great and glorious 
 beyond all other nations of the earth; and 
 if they have made it so great and so glori- 
 ous, they cannot in the long run have mis- 
 managed much." 
 
 " But what would this country have been, 
 sir, had it not been for them?" 
 
 " It is utterly impossible for me to tell." 
 
 "Greater," continued Mr. Raven, "ten 
 thousand times greater and more glorious! 
 But, waiving this subject, just look at the 
 set! Can you conceive a more arrogant, 
 haughty, upstart set of wretches? Why, 
 nineteen, sir, out of every twenty are pau- 
 pers, viewing the country as their parish, 
 and living upon the rates." 
 
 " But there is great wealth amongst 
 them!" 
 
 " No doubt of it; but what I complain 
 of most is, that they who have it will not 
 even support their own children. They 
 must quarter them upon the public: they 
 must make them national paupers. In their 
 view the provision for one son in each 
 family is sufficient: all the rest it matters 
 not a single straw, sir, how many there may 
 be must be provided for out of the public 
 purse. That is what I look at! and I mean 
 to contend that it is monstrous that this 
 country should be taxed for the support of a 
 legion of aristocratic locusts who suck the 
 pucuniary blood of the people, and who, 
 while they suck, tyrannise over and tram- 
 ple them to the earth. Look at them! See 
 with what aristocratic contempt they look 
 down upon a man who, by dint of honest 
 industry, has realised sufficient to buy a 
 thousand of them up! They will prey 
 upon him, borrow of him, gamble with him, 
 cheat him, but they will not associate with 
 him. Oh, no; his veins are untainted by 
 aristocratic blood, the impurity of which is 
 notorious. They will dance with a dust- 
 man, drink with a sweep, shake hands with 
 a pugilist, a jockey, or a black-leg; but he 
 
230 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 comes too near them, his wealth cuts them 
 out, he can buy them all up! they'll do 
 neither with him. The whole system is 
 rotten, sir, rotten at the core. If we have 
 an aristocracy at all, sir, let it be a mohied 
 aristocracy: an aristrocacy of wealth. He 
 who has most should stand first: the richest 
 man should be king. That, sir, is the sort 
 of aristocracy to establish; not a beggarly 
 aristocracy, composed of mean, stiff-necked 
 hereditary paupers. What would become 
 of the crew, were it not for the public purse? 
 Why, they'd run about as bare, sir, as un- 
 fledged birds: they would not have a rag to 
 their backs not a rag; but as it is they 
 make John Bull stand Sam, and John Bull 
 is an ass; but when he does kick and kick 
 he will, mark my words, soon down comes 
 your beggarly aristocracy." 
 
 To Uncle John all this was highly amus- 
 ing: he, of course, saw in a moment how 
 the matter stood between the aristocracy 
 and Mr. Raven, and felt disposed to humor 
 him, seeing that he cared to converse upon 
 no other topic; but to Louise and her pupil 
 the thing was really tiresome in the extreme, 
 and therefore Valentine no sooner lost his 
 fair preceptress than he resolved upon chang- 
 ing the subject at once. 
 
 "You see, sir," continued Mr. Raven, 
 having refilled his glass, " when we speak 
 of an aristocracy as an aristocracy " 
 
 " Ahem!" cried Valentine, throwing his 
 voice near the legs of the speaker. 
 
 "Hullo! Who have we here 1 ?" cried 
 that gentleman, looking most anxiously un- 
 der the table. " Who are you?" 
 
 " One of the aristocracy," said Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 44 One of the aristocracy?" and again Mr. 
 Raven looked under the table, but really 
 could see no one there. " One of the aris- 
 tocracy?" he repeated looking earnestly in 
 the face of Uncle John. 
 
 " I heard some one," said Uncle John, 
 say, ' One of the aristocracy,' and he also 
 looked with great apparent anxiety beneath 
 the table, although he perfectly well knew 
 from whom the voice had proceeded. 
 
 44 Ahem!" repeated Valentine, throwing 
 his voice this time beneath the easy chair in 
 which Raven was sitting. 
 
 44 Oh you're here, are you?" cried Mr. 
 Raven, starting at once upon his legs, and 
 upsetting the chair in question. 4 * Why, 
 where on earth! where can he be!" he 
 continued. 44 He must be somewhere!" 
 And he looked round the room with an 
 anxious eye, and turned the chair upside 
 down with the view of making quite sure 
 that the invisible one of the aristocracy was 
 not in reality perched upon the i 
 
 "I don't see him," observed Uncle John, 
 
 with an air of mystery, which did him 
 great credit. 
 
 41 Nor do I," said Mr. Raven, "but then 
 he must be here! A^ain I ask, who are 
 you?" 
 
 44 Again I say, one of the aristocracy!" 
 
 This was indeed held to be very strange. 
 The idea of one of the aristocracy being 
 concealed in his room, struck Raven as be- 
 ing about the most extraordinary thing in 
 life. He had heard of nothing read of 
 nothing in history either ancient or modern 
 at all to be compared with it, and there- 
 fore said, " W 7 hat do you want?" 
 
 41 To converse with you upon that great 
 topic," said Valentine. 
 
 44 What right have you here? But come 
 out and let's have a look at you!" And he 
 quietly winked at Uncle John which wink 
 seemed to signify that he simply wished to 
 see him that was all. 
 
 44 Pray be seated," said Valentine. 
 
 44 1 will nut be seated till I see who you 
 are." 
 
 44 Come, come, now be calm." 
 
 44 Calm! I will not be calm. What busi- 
 ness have you here, sir? who are you?" 
 
 44 One of the aristocracy!" said Valentine, 
 with an emphasis which implied that he 
 had said so before. 
 
 Raven thought this indeed most mysteri- 
 ous, but he cried with great energy, " Will 
 you come out?" 
 
 44 Not till you are perfectly tranquil." 
 
 44 Tranquil! I'll summon my servants 
 and expel you with the utmost violence!" 
 
 44 You have not the power. The power 
 is all in the hands of the aristocracy." 
 
 44 We'll see about that!" and he rang the 
 bell with due desperation, and then paced 
 the room with an air of some considerable 
 dignity and importance. 
 
 A servant now entered. 
 
 44 Bring William and Thomas with you," 
 said Raven. "Tell them to come instantly, 
 with John, and Coachman too, if they are 
 below." 
 
 The servant, looking very droll for he 
 did not understand it proceeded rather 
 mysteriously to obey orders. 
 
 44 I'll guard the door," said Uncle John, 
 who enjoyed it very much, but kept his 
 countenance pretty well; " and Val! suffer 
 no one to dart through the window!" 
 
 Each now took his station, and Raven 
 still walked about, chuckling at the idea of 
 how lie would trounce, when he cauglit the 
 invisible one of the aristocracy. 
 
 The servants entered. They all looked 
 remarkably odd. They had done nothing! 
 Why were they carpeted? 
 
 44 Now you fellows," cried Raven, who 
 drove them like slaves, and ruled them 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 231 
 
 with a rod of iron, because he didn't belong 
 to the aristocracy, "search the room! 
 there's some vagabond here! find him 
 out!" 
 
 A change came over the countenances of 
 the servants. There was nothing to be 
 charged against them, and as they naturally 
 at the moment held that to be a blessing, 
 they commenced a strict search, with un- 
 paralleled zeal. They looked under every 
 chair, and into every crevice sufficiently 
 large for a mouse to be concealed, but of 
 course no human being could they see, and 
 they expressed themselves eventually and 
 precisely to that effect. 
 
 " You must find him somewhere," said 
 Raven. "I know he's in the room!" And 
 again they looked about with the utmost 
 minuteness, until they positively began to 
 believe that their master must have made a 
 slight mistake! 
 
 "Ahem!" cried Valentine, seeing them 
 together in one corner, and throwing his 
 voice dexterously into the corner opposite. 
 "Ahem!" 
 
 " Now then!" cried Raven, " Now now 
 secure him!" and away flew the servants 
 to the corner of the room from which the 
 voice had apparently proceeded, prepared 
 both to clutch and to torture the very first 
 man whom they saw. But they were able 
 to see no man no ghost of a man. Their 
 master had evidently made no mistake; but 
 then, where was the vagabond in question] 
 
 They found it impossible to tell. They 
 could not so much as conceive. 
 
 "You'd better come out!" cried Coach- 
 man, desirous of conveying an idea of 
 mercy being extended in the event of a 
 voluntary surrender. " It'll be all the worse 
 for you if you don't!" 
 
 " Do you think so?" said Valentine, 
 making his voice appear to come from 
 another quarter of the room, and away the 
 servants rushed to that particular quarter, 
 but, of course, with no greater success. 
 
 Where, where could he be? He was 
 nowhere above he must be beneath the 
 carpet, and Coachman was proceeding to 
 pull the carpet up, but the rest acutely feel- 
 ing that they, in that case, should have a 
 most unpleasant job in the morning, put a 
 veto upon the proceeding in the similitude 
 of a hint, that if they heavily trampled over 
 every part of it, it would have a more im- 
 mediate effect. 
 
 They acted upon this suggestion they 
 did trample over it, and assuredly if any 
 one had been beneath, he would have 
 known it: but, no! they met with no lump 
 no obstruction the carpet was perfectly 
 smooth. 
 
 They now began to feel that all must 
 
 have been mistaken, and they looked at 
 each other with the view of imparting some 
 icjea of what they felt, and there really ap- 
 peared to be a perfect unanimity establish- 
 ing itself among them, when Raven cried, 
 "Come! look about! look about! I'll have 
 him found!" 
 
 The servants obviously had an idea at 
 this moment that it was all very well for 
 Mr. Raven to say, "I'll have him found! 
 I'll have him found!" but where were they 
 to find him! That was the grand point at 
 issue. 
 
 They did, however, recommence their 
 search with the most praiseworthy diligence, 
 looking again in every quarter in which 
 they knew that they had looked, as well as 
 in every quarter in which they conceived 
 that they had not. 
 
 Again they relaxed. They really felt it 
 to be of no use. They were tired and very 
 warm. Their collars and cravats were dis- 
 arranged; in short, their exertions were up- 
 setting each particular thing which their 
 nature had taught them the expediency of 
 keeping tidy. 
 
 " Come, come!" cried Mr. Raven, on no- 
 ticing this natural disinclination on their 
 part to do more than the existing circum- 
 stances really required. "I'll not have you 
 give up. He's about here somewhere. I 
 will have him found." 
 
 " Ahem!" repeated Valentine, find ing that 
 they required some slight additional "spur 
 to prick the sides of their intent," and they 
 were all alive again in a moment. But 
 they now looked angry and desperate; and, 
 doubtless, if they had discovered any one 
 then, they would have handsomely reward- 
 ed him for all their trouble. They only 
 wanted to find him. They wanted nothing 
 more. They knew, at that interesting mo- 
 ment, of no other wish than that! But, un- 
 blest souls! even that was denied them. 
 They could not discover the object of their 
 search, although they really did run about 
 the room with an energetic zeal, altogether 
 unexampled. 
 
 They stopped again to blow a little after 
 a time. But Raven wouldn't have it. He 
 loudly insisted upon ther keeping up the 
 search, and as Valentine cried "Ahem!" 
 again at this point, they flew across the 
 room with renewed desperation, upsetting 
 every chair which stood in the path of their 
 flight. 
 
 "What on earth is the matter?" cried 
 Louise, darting into the room at this mo- 
 ment. " Good gracious, what in the world 
 can it be?" 
 
 Raven seized the arm of Valentine, and 
 telling him to take her away, promptly hur- 
 ried them both out of the room. 
 
232 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 The game was up. The real " One of 
 the aristocracy" was no longer present. 
 Still, although they heard no more aheming, 
 they, for a long time, continued to prosecute 
 the search. 
 
 Uncle John tried to calm Mr. Raven; but 
 nothing could banish from his mind the 
 conviction that some one was still in the 
 room. He thought it strange of course, 
 he thought it very strange 'but then he felt 
 it to be impossible for them all to have been 
 deceived. He wouldn't believe it he 
 couldn't believe it! But what was to be 
 done 1 ? There were the servants panting 
 with unspeakable energy, and really look- 
 ing greatly fatigued: they had searched 
 every corner every crevice every hole 
 and yet could not find one of the aristocracy! 
 Why, it was marvellous! Raven himself 
 felt it to be marvellous; and, having eventu- 
 ally explained that he felt it to be so with 
 great promptitude and point, he dismissed 
 the sweating servants, who were really 
 quite knocked up, and sat down with a sub- 
 dued spirit to argue the case with Uncle 
 John. 
 
 Well, what do you think of this]" said 
 he " what do you think of this? It strikes 
 me. as bein<r rather of the ratherest!" 
 
 *' I certainly heard a voice," said Uncle 
 John; " I don't think that I can be mistaken 
 in that." 
 
 " Mistaken! I'd take my oath of it. 1 
 have, it is true, heard of imps and such cat- 
 tle; and I have also heard that they are in 
 the service of the aristocracy; but I never 
 had faith in the existence of such things; 
 and yet, what in the world could it have 
 been? It is pretty clear now that there is 
 no one in the room but ourselves. What 
 think you?" 
 
 " Oh, that has been abundantly proved," 
 
 said Uncle John, and he looked with an air 
 of mystery again round the room, which 
 was then in a state of the utmost confusion. 
 " Well, I've seen and heard of many 
 marvellous things in my lifetime, that's 
 clear; but this beats all that I ever saw or 
 heard of! Dear me, though, what strange 
 unaccountable things there are in nature to 
 be sure! I have heard of haunted houses; 
 but I never heard noises in this house be- 
 fore!" At this moment, quite a novel idea 
 seemed to strike him, for he at once seized 
 the poker and thrust it up the chimney, 
 which clearly contained his last hope. " No! 
 no!" he continued, having brandished 
 that instrument with infinite tact and dex- 
 terity in vain. "Well! this is extraordi- 
 nary! I will not believe it to have been any 
 supernatural thing; and yet, what on earth 
 could it have been! I'd give any money to 
 know what it was." 
 
 " You have no parrot in the house, I pre- 
 sume"?" said Uncle John. 
 
 " Parrot! bless your life, no! nothing 
 of the sort! Besides, where is the parrot 
 in nature that could articulate ' one of the 
 aristocracy' with so much distinctness? No, 
 that was no parrot!" 
 
 Uncle John, of course, kept the whole 
 thing a profound secret; and as he did so, Mr. 
 Raven could make nothing at all of it. The 
 more he tried to unravel the mystery, the 
 more entangled, in his judgment, it became; 
 and when he had so confused himself with 
 conjectures some of which were of a very 
 extraordinary character that he declared 
 that he would puzzle himself no more about 
 the matter, he most appropriately apologised 
 for the way in which the peace of the even- 
 ing had been disturbed, and, shortly after- 
 wards, Valentine and his Uncle left the 
 house inexpressibly delighted. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 IN WHICH GOODMAN IS LIBERATED FROM THE LUNATIC ASYLUM. 
 
 ON the following morning, Horace, who 
 had been quite unsuccessful the previous 
 day in convincing Walter of the perfect 
 soundness of his advice, tried again to make 
 him feel that, if he did not adopt the pre- 
 cise course he had suggested, their pros- 
 pects would be gathered within the dark 
 pale of ruin. 
 
 ** I suppose that you have been turning 
 that point again over in yonr nob?" said he, 
 alluding in the first place to the proposition 
 for sending Goodman to a distant asylum 
 
 in a fictitious name, and in the second to 
 the head of his honored father: " I suppose 
 you have deemed the point worth another 
 thought?" 
 
 " I have," replied Walter. 
 
 " Then of course you mean to go the 
 whole quadruped?" 
 
 Walter looked as if a slight interpreta- 
 tion were essential to a perfect understand- 
 ing of that question. 
 
 14 1 say," continued Horace, really mar- 
 velling at his father's dense stupidity; " I 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 233 
 
 say, of course you mean to do as I suggest, 
 and have him taken off at once 1 ?" 
 
 " Most decidedly not," replied Walter, 
 "I have considered the matter in all its 
 bearings; I have looked at it in every con- 
 ceivable point of view, and having done so, 
 I have arrived at the fixed determination to 
 set him free." 
 
 "Then of course," said Horace, "we 
 may just go and groan. We have not half 
 a chance. ^Ve must go to the pups. In 
 my view, there's nothing now stares us in 
 the face but lean, leaden-visaged, lantern- 
 jawed starvation." 
 
 "And what have we had for months 
 staring us in the face but the most appalling 
 wretchedness?" 
 
 "Wretchedness! pooh! Don't talk to 
 me about wretchedness. Have we not had 
 money? I will not contend that they can- 
 not coexist; but he who is wretched with 
 money is a fool, while he who is not 
 wretched without it must be mad. Look 
 at the wretchedness involved in starvation. 
 Stop till we haven't a dinner and can't get 
 one! then behold howenviable will be our po- 
 sition! What multitudes of friends we shall 
 have pouring in! what lots of assistance 
 they will be anxious to offer! what mobs 
 of grouse, pheasants and fawns will be sent 
 when they know that our pantry is empty!" 
 
 " Aye, aye! that is all very fine; but you 
 look at the dark side of the picture." 
 
 "The dark side! Show me, if you can, 
 that that picture has a bright one! He 
 must pursue one of two courses; he must 
 either discard you and prosecute the matter 
 no farther, or proceed at once against you 
 for the recovery of that portion of his pro- 
 perty which, of course, you are utterly un- 
 able to restore. It matters not a straw, 
 therefore, which he may choose; either 
 must involve us in beggary." 
 
 " But suppose we can persuade him that 
 we believed him to be insane?" 
 
 "I can't suppose anything half so absurd." 
 
 "I've no patience with you, Horace!" 
 exclaimed Walter, pettishly. "A more 
 rash and unreasonable fellow never lived! 
 One can't reason with you at all!" 
 
 "Oh! of course not: I knew that last 
 year! But do you mean to think that you'll 
 make me believe that you fancy yourself 
 that he can be led to suppose that we en- 
 tertained any such impression?" 
 
 " I do! Can we not say that we were 
 strongly recommended, in the first place, 
 to have the advice of two eminent physi- 
 cians, and in the second, to place him under 
 the care of Dr. Holdem understanding that 
 he was a most humane man when those 
 eminent physicians had pronounced him to 
 be insane?" 
 21 
 
 "No doubt of it! Of course we can say 
 all this, and just as much more as we please. 
 But that is not the grand point: the ques- 
 tion is, will he believe it?" 
 
 " My firm impression is, that he will: 
 for as his friend Valentine's uncle has 
 promised to do all in his power to allay 
 whatever ill feeling he may entertain to- 
 wards us, we have but to play our cards 
 well to win the game." 
 
 "Win the game!" echoed Horace. "How- 
 ever any man, in the possession of all his 
 blessed faculties, can cut away and stake 
 his future prospects in life upon an argu- 
 ment so palpably rotten, is a thing which 
 altogether surpasses my weak comprehen- 
 sion. But of course you must have your 
 own way!" 
 
 " In this," said Walter, firmly, " I will. 
 I have borne enough already. I'll endure 
 no more. Whatever may be the result of his 
 liberation, liberated he certainly shall be!" 
 
 " Oh, well; pursue your own course: I 
 have nothing to do with it." 
 
 " Yes, Horace, you have: you have much 
 to do with it. It will be useless for us to 
 oppose each other now; but by acting in 
 concert, we may succeed, at least in avert- 
 ing a great portion of that calamity which 
 you hold to be inevitable." 
 
 "Oh! if that's it; if that's what you 
 mean! why of course I shall stick to you 
 as tightly as mortar can stick to a brick. 
 My only object was to show that the specu- 
 lation was any thing but a safe one; but as 
 you are resolved to enter into it, and no- 
 thing can change you, why the oracle must 
 be worked in the best manner possible. Of 
 course I must be as anxious for his libera- 
 tion as you are?" 
 
 " Precisely; nay, more so: you must for 
 months have been doino- all you could to 
 persuade me to release him; but while I felt 
 naturally anxious to do so, I reluctantly sacri- 
 ficed that natural feeling to that which I con- 
 ceived to be essential, as well to his imme- 
 diate safety, as to his eventual restoration." 
 
 " I see!" cried Horace, " I see. It is 
 not a bad move by any means." 
 
 "So that if even he should," continued 
 Walter, " be in the first instance bitter 
 against me, the probability is that he will 
 do something for you, which will at all 
 events be one point gained." 
 
 "And a grand one!" cried Horace, "a 
 grand one. I'll work it. He shall be ut- 
 terly amazed at the constancy and zeal with 
 which I have been in the habit of advocating 
 his cause." 
 
 " Here they are," cried Walter, as a coach 
 rattled up to the door, containing Uncle 
 John and Valentine. " Come, you had bet- 
 ter go with us." 
 
234 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " Of course!" cried Horace, " I have to 
 play the first fiddle, and in a case of this 
 kind it's no fool of a fiddle to play." 
 
 Valentine now entered to ascertain if they 
 were ready to join Uncle John in the coach, 
 and, on being informed that they were, he 
 was about to return, when Horace arrested 
 his progress. "You are just the very fel- 
 low I want," said he, unhooking what ap- 
 peared to be a piece of coarse frieze from a 
 peg in the passage, "Just help me to get 
 into my new pea. It's a rum un. There's 
 no mistake about it." 
 
 Nor was there. It had two sleeves, two 
 gaping pockets, and sundry large horn but- 
 tons in front, which comprised its entire 
 shape and make, and so exceedingly conve- 
 nient was the thing upon the whole, that it 
 might have been put on upside down, and 
 worn with the tail round the throat, and the 
 collar luxuriating about the knees without 
 making any material difference in point of 
 fit. 
 
 "Well, how do you like it!" said Horace, 
 when Valentine had succeeded in getting as 
 much of it on as the maker originally de- 
 signed for that purpose; " What do you 
 think of it?" 
 
 '* Why its ugly enough," replied Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 " That's the beauty of it," said Horace. 
 "Nine and six! Lined with this blue busi- 
 ness all regular. There were 'only two of 
 them left. I wanted the Governor to have 
 the other, but no, he wouldn't bite: I did 
 all that a man could do to inspire him with a 
 high appreciation of the difference it would 
 make in his personal appearance; but it was 
 no go: the Goth wouldn't have it." 
 
 By this time Walter had entered the 
 coach, and as Valentine and Horace imme- 
 diately followed, they were the next mo- 
 ment whirled from the door. As they pro- 
 ceeded, Walter, Uncle John, and Valentine 
 felt strongly disposed to be silent; but 
 Horace displayed the most restless anxiety 
 to explain to Uncle John how inexpressibly 
 delighted he had been to find that that which 
 he had been so long and so ardently striv- 
 ing in vain to effect had at length been ac- 
 complished. "The very moment I heard 
 of his incarceration," said he, whispering 
 very mysteriously in the ear of Uncle John, 
 " I begged of the Governor to have him 
 home again that we might attend to him 
 ourselves, for, although you know he might 
 have been a little far gone, he might not 
 have been dangerous, and if even he had 
 been, we could have engaged a private 
 
 keeper; but you see " 
 
 "Young man," interrupted Uncle John 
 "it gives me no pleasure to hear any per- 
 son speak against his father." 
 
 "You mistake," rejoined Horace, "I 
 was about to observe that his argument was, 
 that as uncle weuld be much better treated 
 in an asylum, he could not in justice to him 
 consent " 
 
 "I see it all; I see it all," said Uncle 
 John. " I see it all. I require to have 
 nothing explained. You are doubtless an 
 intelligent, and a very amiable young man; 
 but, excuse me, I have something of im- 
 portance to think of." 
 
 This certainly was not what Horace ex- 
 pected. He did not anticipate that a com- 
 munication of so much interest and truth 
 would have been received with so much 
 coldness and apparent incredulity. He, 
 nevertheless, looked out of the window, and 
 having examined the horses which drew 
 them, observed that he would bet any man 
 ten pounds to a tin pot that he would buy a 
 much better pair of trotters for five-and- 
 forty shillings any market-day in Smith- 
 field; and as this observation absolutely fell 
 unheeded to the ground, he declared that he 
 was not going to strike life into a lot of 
 dummies, arid, therefore, the whole of the 
 remaining distance was accomplished in 
 silence. 
 
 They now reached the hateful bastile, 
 where Uncle John and Valentine anticipated 
 a storm, for which their companions were 
 quite unprepared. The bell was rung; the 
 gates were opened, the coach was ordered 
 to wait and they entered. Walter sent in 
 his card, and they had scarcely reached the 
 receiving room when the Doctor himself 
 made his appearance. To Walter he was 
 particularly obsequious, and to Horace, who 
 nodded knowingly, he was scarcely less 
 polite, but when he recognised Uncle John 
 and Valentine his countenance changed as 
 if by magic, and he stepped back and look- 
 ed at them with an expression of fierceness 
 which was doubtless designed to be appal- 
 ling. 
 
 " Why these are the very men," said he, 
 " these are the very persons who burglari- 
 ously entered my asylum, for the purpose 
 of stimulating my patients to break loose!" 
 
 "We had no such object," said Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 " Silence!" exclaimed Dr. Holdem, in a 
 tone of authoritative thunder. 
 
 "Silence!" said Valentine, contemptu- 
 ously; "you are the keeper of an asylum it 
 is true; but recollect that / am not one of 
 your patients!" 
 
 The Doctor looked at him scowlingly 
 through his beetle brows as if he Wy wish- 
 ed that he had been! "Do you know those 
 fellowsl" said he, addressing \Y;iltrr. 
 
 " Oh yes; they are friends of my brother." 
 
 41 Friends of your brother! They are ene- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 235 
 
 mies to society. They wish to let maniacs 
 loose upon society! They came the other 
 day and got over rny wall, and would have 
 set every madman I have in the place free, 
 had my servants not been on the alert to 
 frustrate their impudent design." 
 
 '* It is false," cried Valentine, " you mi- 
 serable mass of wickedness, you know it to 
 be false!" 
 
 " How dare you," cried the Doctor; 
 " how dare you talk in this manner to me 1 ?" 
 
 " I say again and again that it is false! 
 We had no such design and you know it." 
 
 " We told you at the time," said Uncle 
 John, * that it was purely accidental." 
 
 " Purely accidental! It was purely acci- 
 dental, I suppose, that you assisted one of 
 my best patients to escape! a raving 
 maniac! one whom I had had for a num- 
 ber of years, and who has never been heard 
 of since! that I suppose was also purely 
 accidental 1 ?" 
 
 " By one of your best patients," said 
 Uncle John with great point, " I presume 
 you mean one of those patients for whom 
 you were best paid!" 
 
 " What do you mean, sir? What do you 
 mean by that gross insinuation! I am not 
 to be insulted with impunity, and I will not 
 by any man, sir! not by any man!" and 
 he struck in an instant an extraordinary 
 attitude, and squared at his antagonist, with 
 grace it must be granted, but with a pecu- 
 liarly cold-blooded aspect; while Uncle 
 John, whose knowledge of the science of 
 pugilism may be said to have been equal 
 with that of the Doctor, had his eye upon 
 his man, while he held his hat in one hand, 
 and doubled up the other into a striking 
 gladiatorial fist. 
 
 ** Well done old pigswig!" cried Horace, 
 giving the Doctor a patronising pat upon 
 the shoulder, "you have been taking lessons 
 lately I see! Now keep up your nob, and 
 hit straight from the armpits. You have 
 nothing to do but to go in and win." 
 
 The Doctor scowled at the enemy with 
 due darkness, and firmly maintained his 
 appalling position. He would not move a 
 muscle, so perfectly conscious did he feel 
 that his picturesque attitude, being in the 
 abstract terrific, had a tendency to strike an 
 immense amount of awe into the soul of 
 Uncle John. 
 
 " We did not come here to fight!" cried 
 Valentine, who had been standing between 
 the belligerents, watching the outstretched 
 arm of the Doctor very sharply. " W T e came 
 here to liberate our friend Mr. Goodman." 
 
 The Doctor dropped his imposing guard, 
 and looked earnestly at Walter: The last 
 words of Valentine had so far unnerved him 
 as to render him for the time being quite 
 
 indisposed to do battle. "I would speak a 
 word with you," said he to Walter. " Do 
 me the favor to step into this room for one 
 moment." 
 
 " If you desire," said Uncle John, " to 
 do justice to your brother; if you desire to 
 keep faith with me; if you desire to have 
 allayed whatever feelings of enmity injustice 
 may have engendered in his breast, you will 
 hold no private communication with that 
 man." 
 
 " I desire nothing," said Walter, " but 
 that which is perfectly open and straight- 
 forward." 
 
 " Then you can have no objection to this 
 matter being arranged in the presence of us 
 all." 
 
 " None whatever! None whatever! De- 
 cidedly not. Dr. Holdem, I am anxious to 
 remove my brother forthwith." 
 
 " Am I to understand that you wish to 
 remove him now!" 
 
 " I wish to take him back with me this 
 morning." 
 
 " What! as he is!" cried the doctor. " He 
 is not fit to be removed. It will not be by 
 any means safe to remove him." 
 
 "Is he so ill!" inquired Walter. 
 
 "111! In his paroxysms, which have of 
 late been unusually powerful and wild, he 
 has been knocking himself all to pieces." 
 
 " Indeed!" said Uncle John, who found 
 it difficult to control his indignation. " Let 
 us see him. We shall then be able to judge 
 of his fitness to be removed." 
 
 " I have nothing whatever to do with 
 you," said the Doctor, " I have no know- 
 ledge of you in the transaction. With this 
 gentleman only I have to deal." 
 
 " Then be pleased to let him be brought," 
 said Walter, " that we may see if we can 
 with safety take him with us." 
 
 " Well, well; if you insist, I have but to 
 produce him, and if contrary to my judg- 
 ment you deem it safe for him to leave, you 
 are of course at perfect liberty to take him." 
 
 " Thus," said Valentine privately to 
 Uncle John, as the doctor left the room, 
 " Thus any man whom avarice or malignity 
 may prompt can take the whole of this 
 odious law of lunacy into his own hands! 
 He can liberate, you see, as well as confine: 
 and yet the law, in an enlightened age too, 
 is the instrument with which he works!" 
 
 " It is monstrous!" said L r ncle John, 
 " truly monstrous. It is amazing that such 
 a law should be suffered to exist." 
 
 " If one political faction could incarce- 
 rate the other," rejoined Valentine: " if the 
 little band who make up the majority of the 
 House of Commons: if twenty or twenty- 
 three members were to be seized just before 
 a division on some party question, though 
 
236 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 they were liberated within the hour, a 
 speedy remedy would be found; but I fear 
 that until we can drag faction into it in some 
 way, until we can make faction feel that its 
 interests are either mediately or immediately 
 involved, the glaring evil will not be re- 
 moved." 
 
 " We shall see, my dear boy," said Uncle 
 John. " We shall see. The thing cannot 
 have been properly tried. We shall see." 
 
 " What an everlasting length of time this 
 old unhappy pigswig is!" cried Horace. 
 "I wonder whether nature has implanted 
 in him the smallest idea of his being able 
 to fight! I should like to be clear upon 
 that point, because it is one of great public 
 interest, inasmuch as if she has, the fact 
 ought to be exhibited at the British Museum 
 among the rest of the natural phenomena 
 forthwith. I say Val! what wouldn't I give 
 to see him set to in a regular ring with his 
 match! The magistrate who would inter- 
 fere to put an end to such sport ought no 
 longer to be in the commission of the peace. 
 It would be one of the most interesting 
 battles that have come off since knives, 
 pikes, and daggers have been popularly 
 patronised as an improvement upon British 
 bone and muscle." 
 
 The door now opened and the doctor re- 
 appeared. He was followed by three of 
 his myrmidons, who supported in their arms 
 a pale emaciated creature of frightful aspect, 
 with hollow eyes, which seemed glazed 
 with the film of death. It was Goodman! 
 
 "My God!" cried Uncle John, as the 
 tears gushed forth in torrents. " Why 
 why!" He was unable to articulate another 
 syllable; his utterance was choked. 
 
 Goodman feebly pressed his hand and 
 that of Valentine, and having kissed them, 
 held them still, and faintly whispered, 
 *' God will bless you, my dear friends! 
 God will bless you!" but he seemed to be 
 unable to shed a tear. 
 
 The ruffians now placed him upon the 
 sofa, and as Valentine naturally imagined 
 that if Walter and Horace approached he 
 might spurn them, which they still had the 
 power to resent, as he was not yet free, he 
 suggested to his uncle the policy of keep- 
 ing them off if possible until the whole 
 thing had been arranged. 
 
 With this view Uncle John.on the instant 
 joined Horace, and urged the necessity for 
 an immediate removal. 
 
 " Then you think he is fit to be removed]" 
 said Dr. Holdem. 
 
 " Decidedly," replied Uncle John, "and 
 the sooner the better. It is the only thing 
 that can in my judgment save his life." 
 
 " And do yuu think that he ought to be 
 
 removed in that state?" said the doctor, ad- 
 dressing Walter. 
 
 " Why, I really cannot say," replied 
 Walter, displaying a strong disposition to 
 waver. "I wish to be guided. If you 
 think that he had better remain a few days 
 longer where he is, why, perhaps it would 
 be better." 
 
 " My firm impression is," said the doc- 
 tor " and I have had some experience in 
 these matters my firm impression is, that 
 if you take him with you now, he will ex- 
 pire before you reach home." 
 
 This settled the irresolution of Walter. 
 It decided the point at once. His death 
 was the very thing he most desired, for the 
 will was in his favor then! He therefore 
 turned to Uncle John with alacrity, and 
 asked him what he thought had better be 
 done, when, finding him to be still strongly 
 in favor of a removal, he said, " Well, it 
 shall be so; I am anxious to be guided en- 
 tirely by you. Dr. Holdem, we have de- 
 cided on taking him with us." 
 
 " Very well," said the doctor. " Very 
 well. Do as you please; but remember 
 you will have killed him, not I! Here," 
 he continued addressing one of the keepers, 
 " tell Jones to make out Mr. Goodman's 
 bill immediately." 
 
 " The amount, without the items, will 
 be sufficient," suggested Uncle John. 
 
 "The amount of the balance!" cried the 
 doctor. " Bring it with you. Be quick." 
 
 " Will you allow one of your men to tell 
 the coachman to drive into the gates, that 
 he may take up at once at your door?" said 
 Uncle John. 
 
 "No, I shall not," replied the doctor, 
 " I shall do no such thing. Nor will I 
 allow the coach to come inside my gates. 
 If you will take him, take him outside, and 
 the sooner you are all gone the better. Now 
 then, here is my bill," he added, taking a 
 slip of paper from the hand of his servant, 
 and passing it on to Walter. 
 
 " Bless me!" cried Walter, on looking at 
 this document, " I had no idea of its being 
 so much as this. Why, it was but the 
 other day I paid up. However, I'll send 
 you the amount in the morning of course 
 that will dol" 
 
 " By no means. I trust no man. The 
 account must be setteld before I part with 
 the patient. He is the only security I have 
 for its discharge." 
 
 "Horace," said Walter, "what money 
 have you about you]" 
 
 " Come, I like that," said Horace. 
 " That's good. It's about the richest thing 
 I have heard for some time. Why? you 
 know I've no money. I never have! you 
 always take special care of that." 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 237 
 
 " What is the amount of if?" inquired 
 Uncle John. 
 
 " Thirty pounds and six-pence," said 
 Horace; " I had no idea of its being more 
 than seven or eight." 
 
 " How much did you bring?" 
 
 44 Just ten pounds." 
 
 " We shall be able to manage with that, 
 no doubt. Val, my boy, give me your 
 purse." 
 
 11 Valentine threw it from the sofa upon 
 which he was sitting with Goodman, when 
 thirty sovereigns and a sixpence were placed 
 upon the table. 
 
 * Now," said Uncle John, " we will be 
 off." And he placed one of poor Goodman's 
 arms round his neck, while Valentine placed 
 the other round his, and having joined 
 hands, they lifted him carefully up and 
 carried him slowly to the coach. 
 
 The moment they had entered, Horace 
 prepared to follow, which Goodman no 
 sooner perceived, than he shrunk back, and 
 begged that he might not be suffered to 
 come near. 
 
 44 Your brother wishes to be with us," 
 said Uncle John, as Walter stood upon the 
 step. 
 
 "Well," said Walter, 4 ' but where am 
 I to ride 1 ? with the coachman 1 ?" 
 
 44 If you do," cried Horace, 44 where am 
 /to ridel That's the point at issue! But 
 I suppose /may hang on behind or tie my- 
 self to one of the spokes of the wheel, and 
 be twirled round and round to town in that 
 way. Of course I may do what I please 
 with my body!" And he went at once to 
 look at the state of things behind, but as he 
 found the foot-board studded with formida- 
 ble spikes, he returned on the instant and 
 exclaimed, ' 4 Now you must get inside. It's 
 all spikey behind so you see if you ride 
 with the jarvey there'll be no room for me, 
 unless I crawl into the boot, and consent to 
 be smothered between two nose-bags." 
 
 44 Do not detain us," said Uncle John 
 earnestly. " Indeed, sir, you must not de- 
 tain us. Surely there are plenty of other 
 conveyances by which you can ride to 
 town!" 
 
 44 There's short stages passes every quar- 
 terv a nour," observed the coachman, as 
 he put up the steps and closed the door. 
 44 There's vun on em comen along now." 
 
 44 Dear bless me!" observed Horace, "you 
 don't say so, Mr. Jarvis. Do you mean 
 it?" 
 
 The coachman looked at him; but, taking 
 no further notice, mounted his box to obey 
 the orders of Uncle John, to drive back with 
 all possible speed. 
 
 44 Well, if this isn't gratitude," cried 
 Horace, as the coach dashed away, 44 1 
 don't know what it is. I did expect I 
 won't deny it I did expect to be cocked on 
 the box with the jarvey, but I did not ex- 
 pect to be mulled out of it altogether. This 
 is what you get, you see, by doing an act 
 of kindness! But never mind, here is the 
 stage: we shall be in town now as soon as 
 they are. That's one consolation." 
 
 Before, however, the coach reached the 
 point at which they stood, it very suddenly 
 struck Walter that he had not a shilling! 
 He had brought but ten sovereigns out with 
 him, and those he had given to Uncle John 
 towards the payment of Holdem's account. 
 
 44 Don't hail the coach," said he, 44 don't 
 stop the coach. We can't ride. I've no- 
 money." 
 
 44 No what!" exclaimed Horace, almost 
 petrified. ' 4 No money 1 ? But come, I say, 
 governor! you don't mean that"?" 
 
 44 All that I had went to settle Holdem's 
 bill." 
 
 44 1 wish that Holdem's bill were in 
 Holdem's breeches-pocket, and that his 
 i breeches-pocket were dangling just half- 
 j way down his throat. Here we have ano- 
 \ ther proof of what men get by acts of kind- 
 ness! Well! nevermind. We must tramp 
 it. It isn't more than seven miles, or seven 
 and a half, I suppose. Come along. But, 
 I say! are you quite sure you haven't such 
 a thing as a little sixpence, just to get us 
 the ghost of a bait on the road'?" 
 
 44 1 haven't a penny!" replied Walter. 
 
 44 Well, this is a blessing! There can't 
 be two rational opinions about it! It's a 
 pure unadulterated blessing; one of those 
 which peculiarly spring from an act of hu- 
 man benevolence. But, come, let us make 
 a beginning!" And they did make a begin- 
 ning; and they walked on and on with the 
 most exemplary perseverance for six miles 
 and a half, when they miraculously met 
 with a four-wheeled cab, which took them 
 in triumph to the door. 
 
 21* 
 
238 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 CONTAINS AN ACCOUNT OF A BREACH OF THE PRIVILEGES OF THE COMMONS' HOUSE 
 
 OF PARLIAMENT. 
 
 CONTRARY to the expressed conviction of 
 the delicate and disinterested doctor, when 
 Goodman arrived at the house of the widow 
 who was delighted to see him, for more 
 reasons than one he was not only alive, 
 but, so powerful is the influence of the 
 mind over the body, much better than when 
 he left the asylum, and that which tended 
 to reanimate him still more, was the sight 
 of his valued friend Whitely, of whose 
 escape he had been, up to that hour, uncon- 
 scious. 
 
 Notwithstanding these favorable symp- 
 toms, however, Uncle John at once sent for 
 a celebrated physician, and a general prac- 
 titioner of some eminence. These gentle- 
 men came promptly. They met at the 
 house. Uncle John unreservedly stated the 
 case, and when they had duly examined the 
 patient, they decided that his frame had 
 been so shattered, and his line constitution 
 so cruelly undermined, that although there 
 was no immediate danger, his complete re- 
 storation would amount almost to a miracle. 
 
 The fact of there being no immediate 
 danger, satisfied Uncle John for the time 
 being. For the rest, he hoped! and he 
 was a man with whom hope had great 
 weight. He begged of them, earnestly, to 
 pay all possible attention to his friend, and 
 to call into action all the talent they pos- 
 sessed, and they in return gave him certain 
 instructions, which he took great delight in 
 having performed to the very letter. 
 
 Of course, as the patient was excellently 
 well nursed, having Uncle John, Whitely, 
 the widow, and her two servants constantly 
 attending to him, Valentine was not much 
 required at home. But if even he had been, 
 it is questionable whether Louise would 
 have spared him for two consecutive days, 
 BO imperative had she become, and so firmly 
 did she insist upon his visiting her daily. 
 It was therefore, perhaps, fortunate that 
 there was no real necessity for his running 
 counter to her wishes in this respect; and 
 as there was none, no man could have been 
 more constant in his attendance upon her 
 who had obtained full possession of his 
 heart. 
 
 Now, it happened at this memorable 
 period of British history, that the majority 
 of the Commons' House of Parliament, 
 being composed chiefly of men of extra- 
 ordinary sapience, and being, therefore, 
 greenly jealous of their dignity and import- 
 
 ance, moral, legal, and political, sought to 
 establish to all eternity First: That the 
 virtue of their Will was superior to that 
 of the British Constitution; and Secondly: 
 That having elevated themselves above the 
 Law, they had a clear and inalienable right 
 to denounce and to repudiate the decision of 
 any old fool of a judge who, in the due ad- 
 ministration of the Law, had nothing what- 
 ever but the Law for his guidance. The 
 marvellous wisdom involved in these two 
 eternal principles will be seen by the en- 
 lightened at a glance; but the particular 
 j species of diablerie which caused the full 
 j development of that beautiful spirit, which 
 I forms the very essence of those two eternal 
 | principles, it will be highly correct to ex- 
 plain here, that the present stiff-necked 
 generation may understand that if anything 
 analogous should occur during their brief 
 existence, they must not presume to set up 
 their dark views in opposition to the bright 
 views of those who compose by prescrip- 
 tion the first assembly of the first gentlemen 
 in the world. 
 
 In the first place then, at the period in 
 question the libel laws in England were so 
 extremely comprehensive that anything was 
 a foul and malicious libel at which any man 
 cho&e to take oflence. Of course the truth 
 or falsehood contained in that libel had 
 legally a great deal to do with the matter, 
 inasmuch as its truth was adduced in ag- 
 gravation, and vice versa it being held that 
 " the greater the truth the greater the libel," 
 truth having the greater tendency to provoke 
 a breach of the peace, so that the libel 
 which was most strictly true was the foulest 
 and most malicious, while that which was 
 really the most venial was the libel which 
 contained the most infamous falsehoods. 
 That such laws were just, may be rationally 
 inferred from their existence; but, indepen- 
 dently of this potent and indisputable proof, 
 confirmation may be gathered from the re- 
 cognised fact that innumerable petitions had 
 been presented to the Commons' House of 
 Parliament, praying for their revision in 
 vain. It is manifest, therefore, that the 
 members of that day, in the fulness of tin ir 
 wisdom, conceived that the existing law of 
 libel was so equitable and sound that it 
 ought to be neither repealed nor revised. 
 
 Such being the admirable state of things 
 then, a philanthropic publisher who, hav- 
 ing an eye to the improved morals of the 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 239 
 
 rising generation, was unlike the generality 
 of publishers, inasmuch as he published 
 works which others would have contemp- 
 tuously rejected found his celebrated name 
 set forth in a certain report on the state of cer- 
 tain prisons, as the publisherof a certain book 
 found in a certain ward in Newgate, in which 
 certain young gentlemen had been with a 
 view to their edification confined. 
 
 As this was most true, it was of course 
 a most foul and malicious libel, and the phi- 
 lanthropist accordingly brought his action 
 thereon, and as this did not succeed to his 
 heart's content, action upon action was 
 brought for the self-same libel, notwith- 
 standing the publishers of the libel were 
 the servants of the House of Commons, 
 and the members of the House of Commons 
 had declared by resolution that they were 
 privileged to authorise the publication of 
 whatever libels they pleased, and upon 
 whomsoever they pleased, and that there- 
 fore, he who dared to bring an action for 
 any such authorised libel, and all concerned 
 with the plaintiffin such action, were guilty 
 of a breach of the privileges of the House of 
 Commons, and would be mercifully dealt 
 with accordingly. 
 
 Notwithstanding this, however, the plain- 
 tiff in this case proceeded. He had at 
 length obtained a comfortable verdict, and 
 absolutely went on to execution. The ser- 
 vants of the House of Commons of course 
 would not pay: their chattels were therefore 
 seized by the sheriff and deliberately and 
 ignominiously sold! What then, under 
 these afflicting circumstances, did the ma- 
 jority of the House of Commons do 1 ? Why, 
 stung to the very quick by the contumacious 
 temerity of the wretches, they sent the plain- 
 tiff to prison; they sent the plaintiff's attor- 
 ney to prison; they sent the attorney's son 
 to prison, and the attorney's clerk to prison; 
 they also sent the sheriffs to prison, and 
 here they stopped. But why 1 ? Why did 
 they stop at this point] Why did they not 
 imprison all concerned in this villanous pro- 
 ceeding, from the judge to the broker, in- 
 cluding the jury, counsel, officers, and all? 
 This strong disinclination to do more than 
 was absolutely essential to the vindication 
 of their dignity is attributable only to their 
 proverbial forbearance. 
 
 But that which made the matter worse, 
 as far as the sheriffs were concerned, was 
 the fact of their setting up a plea of justifi- 
 cation! They pleaded, forsooth, that they 
 were compelled to act as they did act 
 by law! which was perfectly monstrous, 
 inasmuch as they were bound by an abso- 
 lute resolution in direct opposition to the law 
 to act in obedience to the will of those who 
 had set themselves above it. They, more- 
 
 over, pleaded that they could not have acted 
 in opposition to the law without violating 
 their baths; which was more monstrous 
 still, for what were their oathsl what were 
 they when compared with their manifest 
 duty to the majority of the Commons' 
 House of Parliament? They were bound to 
 obey the behest of that majority, as their 
 imprisonment proved. The mere fact of 
 their behest in this case being directly 
 opposed to the law had nothing whatever 
 to do with the matter. They were privi- 
 leged to trample upon the law if they liked: 
 they were privileged to establish whatever 
 privileges they pleased. Their power to 
 create privileges for themselves, with the 
 view of meeting every conceivable exigen- 
 cy, was unlimited, and the only wonder is 
 that that higk-souled majority, when they 
 found themselves vilified and denounced in 
 all quarters, did not start a privileged peri- 
 odical, wherein to lampoon their opponents 
 right and left, and to choke if they dared 
 to bring their actions to choke with the 
 contumacious both Newgate and the Tower. 
 Nearly all who composed that majority 
 would have contributed to such a periodical. 
 They might have got it up without any as- 
 sistance of a literary character, and brought 
 it out daily; while, being a privileged pub- 
 lication, matters would not have been min- 
 ced in any sensible degree. This is clearly 
 what they ought to have done under the pe- 
 culiar circumstances of the case, and the 
 fact of their having abstained from the per- 
 suit of such a course shows the extent of 
 their noble forbearance. 
 
 Now this question of privilege as it was 
 termed although it was in reality no ques- 
 tion at all, there being no question about 
 anything being a privilege which the majo- 
 rity chose to designate a privilege was one 
 which the anti-aristocratic Mr. Raven enter- 
 ed into with infinite spirit. He happened 
 to be on terms of close intimacy with one 
 of the sheriffs, and their incarceration was 
 a source of great comfort to him, seeing that 
 as he viewed it as an act of purely aristo- 
 cratic tyranny, he entertained a lively hope 
 that its tendency would be to bring the 
 abhorred of his soul, the aristocracy, down. 
 In this, however, Mr. Raven made a slight 
 mistake. The aristocracy had little or no- 
 thing to do with it. There were members 
 of the aristocracy in the majority, it was 
 true; but then all their political associations 
 were with the democracy; and although they 
 were joined by certain eminent men who 
 had placed themselves politically in the 
 aristocratic ranks, they were chiefly men of 
 plebeian origin, whom Mr. Raven usually 
 held in high esteem. 
 
 The fact, therefore, of its being an essen- 
 
240 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 lially democratic movement proved the 
 purity of his character, by affording a strong 
 guarantee that there was nothing in it bear- 
 ing the semblance of tyranny, it being pro- 
 verbial that democrats cannot, in the nature 
 of things, be actuated by anything like a 
 tyrannous spirit. 
 
 Mr. Raven, however, did not care to look 
 at the matter in this point of view. He 
 contended that all power was in the hands 
 of the aristocracy, and that therefore, every 
 exercise of power was an act of aristocratic 
 tyranny. " I am going to see these victims 
 of your beggarly aristocracy, these martyred 
 incarcerated sheriffs," said he to Valentine, 
 a few mornings after poor Goodman's liber- 
 ation. " Will you accompany mel" 
 
 " Oh yes! I shall feel great pleasure," 
 said Valentine, " I should like to see them 
 much." 
 
 The carriage was ordered, and they soon 
 after started, Mr. Raven having put on his 
 most haughty frown and screwed his lips 
 into an expression of contempt the most 
 superb. 
 
 " What do you think of this question?" 
 said he on the way " this unparalleled 
 barbarous question!" 
 
 " Why," replied Valentine, "my impres- 
 sion is that while on the one hand the par- 
 ticular publication complained of ought not 
 to be held to be a libel at all, on the other, 
 if the servants of the House of Commons 
 are to be privileged to write and publish 
 what they please of any man with impu- 
 nity, as we possess no security against the 
 malignity of such servants, they may as- 
 sail in their reports the reputation of any 
 honorable man and plunge him and his 
 family into inextricable ruin." 
 
 As this was an extremely narrow view of 
 the matter, Mr. Raven agreed with every 
 word, and contended, moreover, that the 
 Commons' House of Parliament had no 
 constitutional right to create for themselves 
 just what privileges they pleased, which 
 was in the abstract particularly stupid. 
 
 The carriage now stopped, and they 
 alighted, and were ushered with others, by 
 a remarkably thin individual, into the pre- 
 sence of two dark jolly looking gentlemen, 
 who were in fact the martyred sheriffs. 
 They did not appear to be much cut up: on 
 the contrary, they looked rather waggish as 
 if they would not have cared to intimate 
 privately and confidentially that as a whole 
 they rather liked it than not. One of them 
 it is true seemed to want a change of air, 
 for his breath was rather short, and he 
 wheezed sometimes slightly; but with this 
 single exception they appeared to be per- 
 fectly easy in their minds, and absolutely 
 induced the belief that they derived from 
 
 their position a very considerable amount of 
 secret satisfaction. Of course they spoke 
 firmly and boldly on the subject. They de- 
 clared that they would never give in! They 
 had by some strange perversion of reason 
 deluded themselves into the conviction that 
 in acting in direct opposition to the supreme 
 will of themajority of the Houseof Commons 
 they had actually done no more than their 
 duty, and such being the case, they gave 
 pointed expression to their fixed and immov- 
 able determination to suffer death rather than 
 yield to what they denounced as a most ty- 
 rannous exercise of unconstitutional power. 
 They couldn't do it! They wouldn't do it! 
 their principles wouldn't let them! They 
 felt of course grateful to those affectionate 
 friends who had done them the honor to 
 visit them there in the dark foggy day of 
 tribulation; but as for surrendering to the 
 tyrannous majority of the House of Com- 
 mons! they wouldn't. 
 
 Of course as these strong and nndutiful 
 expressions reached the ears of those who 
 composed the majority against whom they 
 were directed, no merciful consideration 
 could be hoped for from them. They were 
 daring expressions, remarkably daring. The 
 noble and jealous majority, who felt that 
 they ought to be treated with the utmost 
 deference by those whom they had incarce- 
 rated for a breach of their privileges, strong- 
 ly disapproved of those expressions, and 
 hence when, a few days afterwards, a meet- 
 ing was convened by the contumacious 
 sheriffs to take into consideration the cir- 
 cumstances connected with their imprison- 
 ment, and to adopt such proceedings as 
 might be expedient to effect their liberation, 
 a deputation from that noble majority, com- 
 posed of half a dozen of the most popular 
 statesmen backed by a legion of indivi- 
 duals, each of whom had been secured by a 
 small retaining fee to advocate privilege for 
 ever! marched into the hall in which the 
 meeting was to be held, about an hour be- 
 fore the regular proceedings were to com- 
 mence. 
 
 Having thus obtained possession of the 
 place, they determined, instead of waiting 
 for those tardigrade creatures whose pro- 
 vince it was to lead the business of the 
 meeting, to commence and carry on the pro- 
 ceedings themselves, and therefore one of 
 the deputation stepped forward to propose 
 that another of the deputation should be re- 
 quested to take the clrair. This |>r<'<!mv<l 
 some slight disapprobation, forasmuch as 
 there were already a few "friends of fair- 
 play" in the room, they protested a-jv.inst 
 the under-sheriffs whom the sin-rill's had 
 deputed to attend being thus by a digniuYil 
 manoeuvre forestalled. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 241 
 
 ** Gentlemen!" said the proposer, ad- 
 dressing the retainers, " Is it your wish 
 that our old and tried friend should take the 
 chair?" 
 
 In the midst of a slight senatorial yell, 
 the question was nominally seconded and 
 carried with surpassing 1 unanimity, and the 
 old and tried friend vaulted iuto the chair in 
 the due course of nature. 
 
 " We are met here to-day," said that 
 statesman, " to discuss a vital principle of 
 extraordinary vitality." 
 
 " You have not been elected to the chair!" 
 cried one of the friends of fair play. 
 
 " Haven't 1?" said the statesman. " Never 
 mind, I am in it!" and he winked at the 
 senators around him. " I am not going to 
 make a long speech," he continued. " Has 
 any gentleman a resolution to submit to the 
 meeting]" 
 
 " I have a resolution!" cried a remarkable 
 senator, who took great delight in behold- 
 ing dead bodies, and prided himself espe- 
 cially upon the statesmanlike quality of 
 making faces of a character peculiarly gro- 
 tesque. "I have a resolution to propose." 
 
 One of the friends of fair play here pro- 
 tested against the irregularity of the pro- 
 ceedings. 
 
 " Why, your honest and straightforward 
 chairman," exclaimed the remarkable sen- 
 ator, "asked if any one had a resolution to 
 propose. I answer, yes, I have one." 
 
 " I beg to rise to order," said a gentle- 
 man, who was at that time well known in 
 the city. 
 
 "Order!" cried the remarkable senator, 
 "why there's no disorder now, except that 
 which you make." 
 
 The gentleman, however, insisted upon 
 suggesting, that, in their eagerness to do 
 business, they had forgotten to read the re- 
 quisition, which, just for the sake of quiet- 
 ing that gentleman, was borrowed and read. 
 
 " Now," said the senator, who was still 
 on his legs, " we have every thing regular, 
 
 and " 
 
 But," interrupted an enemy to privi- 
 
 ' we want fair play!" 
 Why, the gintleman who calls for fair 
 play," cried one of the deputation, who 
 boasted of having tropically a tail with 
 seven million supple joints, " is ugly enough 
 to be angry. Did ye iver now say sich an 
 ugly baste 1 ? Be me soul thin, he's ugly in 
 the extrame." 
 
 This sound and unanswerable argument 
 in favor of the privileges of the House of 
 Commons, and consequently in favor of the 
 incarceration of the sheriffs, had an electric 
 effect, and again cleared the way for that 
 remarkable senator, who was still in pos- 
 session of the chair. " We have to con- 
 
 sider," he resumed " we have to consider, 
 in the first place " 
 
 "Down! down!" shouted the friends of 
 fair play. 
 
 "Indeed!" said the senator with an ex- 
 pression of contempt. "Down! down! 
 Don't you wish you may get it] Down! 
 who's to do it] Who'll put me down"? 
 that's what I ask: who'll put me down? 
 Down! It won't do! It's no go! It's been 
 tried on before." 
 
 "Are you a freeholder"?" demanded one 
 of the friends of fair play. 
 
 " Am I a freeholder 1 ? there's a pretty fel- 
 low! there's a most sensible animal! Why 
 the fellow must be a natural fool to " 
 
 Here there were loud cries of question. 
 
 "Question!" cried the senator. "The 
 question is too much for you. You have 
 too much stupidity to understand the ques- 
 tion. I arn not at all surprised at a lot of 
 idiots bawling out * question! question! 
 question!' " And the senator, screwing up 
 his legislatorial mouth, gave interesting 
 imitations of the various tones in w r hich the 
 word question was capable of being uttered. 
 
 An elderly gentleman on the hustings 
 here had the unblushing audacity to call 
 " Order." 
 
 " I wish," said the senator with infinite 
 propriety, " that I had a straight waistcoat 
 for that old lunatic." 
 
 This observation was greatly applauded, 
 but before the applause had died away 
 another gentleman, who was dressed rather 
 better than any member of the deputation, 
 suggested the propriety of the speaker con- 
 fining his remarks to the object for which 
 the meeting had been called. "What do 
 you mean]" cried the senator. "Who is 
 this man-milliner who dares to interrupt me'? 
 What has he done with his band-box]" 
 
 At this interesting stage of the proceed- 
 ings the under-sheriffs entered with their 
 friends, among whom were several highly 
 influential, but grossly deluded magistrates 
 of the county. They proceeded at once to the 
 platform, and one of the under-sheriffs had 
 the daring to request the statesman who oc- 
 cupied the chair to give it up. To this cool, 
 but extremely audacious request of course 
 that great statesman refused to concede. 
 "I am here," said he, "and here I stick, 
 and no mistake about it!" an appropriate 
 observation which called forth a remark 
 from the under-sheriff, to the effect, that an 
 attempt had been made to corrupt the meet- 
 ing, which remark had no sooner been ut- 
 tered than a rush was made from the back 
 of the platform, of which the object was 
 obviously to hurl the under-sheriffs and 
 their influential friends headlong into the 
 body of the meeting. 
 
242 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 There were many superficial individuals 
 at this time present, who conceived that 
 this \vas not precisely the fashion in which 
 a great principle ought to be discussed; but j 
 then these individuals really knew nothing i 
 at all about the matter: they foolishly! 
 imagined that it was the duty of the depu- 
 tation to allow the sheriff's friends to be 
 heard, whereas it was their duty a duty 
 which they owed to that majority whom 
 they fairly represented to silence the she- 
 riff's friends, by all the means at their 
 command. 
 
 The under-sheriffs, notwithstanding, kept 
 their ground, with that physical inflexibility | 
 by which bold bad men are in the aggregate 
 characterised, and a regular battle ensued. 
 The deputation themselves were particularly 
 
 active, while the spirit and courage deve- 
 loped by their retainers were admirable in 
 the extreme. They tore down the partition 
 that enclosed the platform, as if it had been 
 touch-wood, and crumbled the chairman's 
 table into one chaotic mass of infinitesimal 
 dust. 
 
 "The Riot Act! The Riot Act!" ex- 
 claimed one of the dastardly enemies to 
 unlimited privilege, and the under-sheriffs 
 actually did read the Riot Act, and quitted 
 the room with their friends like cowards, 
 leaving the noble deputation of the majority 
 of the Commons' House of Parliament in 
 full possession of the field, after having tri- 
 umphantly struck the conviction into every 
 British breast, that both in and out of the 
 House they were resolved to reign supreme! 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 SHOWS WHAT CURIOUS CREATURES LADIES IN LOVE MAY APPEAR. 
 
 IN the course of their lives, men frequently I 
 find their estimate of the character of ladies 
 to be incorrect; and although it may occa- j 
 sionally happen say once in an age that! 
 a lady will mistake the real character of a ' 
 man, the striking truth involved in the posi- 
 tion loses none of its legitimate force, for it 
 has but to be experienced to inspire the soul 
 with a due appreciation of its purity and 
 importance. 
 
 It does not, however, by any means fol- 
 low of necessity, that when circumstances 
 prompt men to form a second estimate, the 
 second must be more correct than the first, 
 for the qualities of ladies, especially if they 
 be loveable, lovely, and young, are so vari- 
 ously developed and concealed, that a man 
 can make sure of being somewhat out, only, 
 when after having added the little items up, 
 he discovers that he has reckoned the amount 
 to be an angel. 
 
 It will hence be perceived, that how 
 various and irreconcilable soever may be 
 the estimates of men touching this extreme- 
 ly interesting point, it is perfectly possible 
 for the first to be the true one, albeit the 
 probability inclines to the second. It is, 
 however, strictly within the scope of the 
 imagination to conceive that they may in 
 some cases be equally wrong, and in order 
 to prove this remarkable fact, it will be 
 necessary to explain how Valentino, after 
 having formed his first estimate of the cha- 
 racter of Louise, was induced to form a 
 second, and how that was found to be quite 
 as incorrect as the first. 
 
 He had for some time observed what he 
 conceived to be an inexplicable change in 
 the general tone and bearing of Louise. She 
 had become in his view more imperative, 
 more haughty, more assuming, and labored 
 apparently to make him understand that she 
 had an inalienable right to insist upon his 
 devoting the whole of his time and attention 
 to her. Whenever he failed to call pre- 
 cisely when she happened to expect him, 
 she would address him in a style which 
 bore the semblance of asperity, and demand 
 to know the reason; when, if he did not 
 explain to her entire satisfaction, she would 
 turn from him at once, and for hours sit sul- 
 lenly silent alone. 
 
 Of course Valentine did not approve of 
 this mode of displaying affection. He felt 
 that she might love him indeed, fondly, 
 passionately: still he conceived that the 
 object she had in view was to make him. 
 her slave, to which his spirit would not al- 
 low him to submit. His feelings towards 
 her were of the purest and most affectionate 
 caste: he had cherished those feelings from 
 the first, and still fostered them fondly, al- 
 beit he had been led to suspect that she was 
 not that sweet-tempered, mild, calm, pentlo 
 creature his heart induced him originally to 
 believe her to be; but when he discovered, 
 or thought he had discovered, that she pre- 
 sumed upon the existence of those feelings 
 and appeared to take delight in wounding, 
 playing with, and tyrannising over them, he 
 naturally I'ck that if thn spirit by whirli 
 >hc was actuated were not promptly check- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 243 
 
 ed, it would eventually acquire Wo much 
 strength to be subdued. 
 
 The more he tried, however, to accom- 
 plish the task he had proposed, the more 
 impatient she became. He remonstrated 
 calmly, and delicately pointed out the folly 
 of giving way to a habit which could be 
 productive of nothing but discontent. " My 
 dear Louise!" he would exclaim, " why do 
 you thus strive to make me wretched? Why 
 assume a false character! This is one to 
 which I am sure you have no real claim, 
 and I cannot for the life of me conceive what 
 pleasure you can derive from its assumption, 
 when you know it to be a source of unhap- 
 piness to me." 
 
 " Sir," she would reply, " understand 
 that I am not to be schooled like a child. I 
 will not be spoken to thus. I cannot bear 
 it. It displays an overbearing disposition 
 to which I will never submit. If I am so 
 odious that my society is the source of pain 
 to you, I do not conceive that you are bound 
 to endure it. There are others more amiable, 
 more calculated doubtless to impart plea- 
 sure. I am therefore surprised that you do 
 not prefer their society to mine." 
 
 These, and other remarks of a similar 
 character had the effect of inducing Valen- 
 tine to believe, that while her ostensible 
 aim was to monopolise the whole of his 
 time and attention, her latent object was to 
 tire him out, and thus to force him to do 
 that which she was anxious to avoid doing 
 directly herself. He knew that on the death 
 of her father she would be mistress of some 
 considerable wealth; he knew that Raven 
 belonged to the mere monied aristocracy, 
 and that his purse-proud spirit had been im- 
 bibed to some extent by Louise; it was, 
 therefore, but natural for him to imagine 
 that, on its being discovered that his expec- 
 tations were nothing at all comparable with 
 hers, her father had prompted her to resort 
 to some indirect means of breaking off what 
 he considered an ineligible match. 
 
 Of course he no sooner conceived this 
 idea than he resolved to absent himself at 
 least for a time. There had been nothing 
 in Raven's conduct towards him to justify 
 such an impression, while his hopes were 
 in favor of its being utterly false; still he 
 felt himself bound, as a matter of common 
 justice to himself, to have recourse to the 
 only available mode of ascertaining if the 
 notion he had conceived were well founded 
 or not. 
 
 He accordingly ceased to visit as usual, 
 and, as he kept away for two entire days 
 without hearing one word from Louise, he 
 began to be particularly wretched in the 
 conviction that what he had imagined was 
 really correct. On the third day, however, 
 
 his hopes revived, when he saw Raven's 
 carriage drive up to the door. He was, of 
 course, "not at home," but that was per- 
 fectly unnecessary, seeing that Louise, who 
 was alone in the carriage, simply inquired 
 after the state of his general health, and, 
 having sent in her father's card, drove oifat 
 once. 
 
 The lightness and freedom with which 
 Valentine, after this, breathed were remark- 
 able. He actually began to feel himself 
 again, and it really required but little to re- 
 assure him that Louise loved him still. 
 
 "Why, Val," said Uncle John, who en- 
 tered the room as the card was brought up. 
 " What is the matter, my boy, between you 
 and your ladylove anything wrong!" 
 
 " I am not quite satisfied," said Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 "Not quite satisfied! then you ought to 
 be. That's my impression you ought to 
 be satisfied. What would you have! She 
 is interesting, amiable, beautiful, intelli- 
 gent. What more can you desire!" 
 
 " Sincerity!" replied Valentine. 
 
 " And do you mean to tell me that she is 
 not sincere! Pooh, absurd! I'll not believe 
 it. She is full of sincerity; that girl is all 
 heart. I know it: I am sure of it! Val, you 
 must not have such fancies. You deceive 
 yourself while you trifle with her, and no 
 man has a right to play with the feelings 
 of a woman." 
 
 "That, I am sure I have no desire to do; 
 but she appears to take pleasure in trifling 
 with mine." 
 
 " Why, of course! They all do it. You 
 ought to know that. It is a thing which 
 every man must expect. It is their pro- 
 vince, but their object is simply to see 
 what men are made of." 
 
 " That may be very correct," said Valen- 
 tine, "they may all be coquettes more or 
 less; but I fear that, as I am not rich and 
 they are, the impression of Raven is that 
 Louise, by marrying me, would be to some 
 extent sacrificed." 
 
 "Sacrificed!" exclaimed Uncle John, 
 with an appropriate look of indignation. 
 " Why what does he mean by that! What 
 does he mean by his daughter being sacri- 
 ficed! Does he take you for a pennyless 
 beggar! Never enter the house again, my 
 boy! Show your independence! sacrificed 
 indeed!" 
 
 " Recollect I have no proof of this being 
 his impression." 
 
 " But have you any reason to suppose it 
 to be so!" 
 
 "I cannot say that I have any strong 
 direct reason to believe it." 
 
 " But has he ever hinted such a thing 1 ? 
 Has he ever in any shape given you the 
 
244 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 slightest intimation of anythinor of the 
 kind?" 
 
 " Never." 
 
 "Then how came you to entertain the 
 notion!" 
 
 *' Simply because I have of late observed 
 a change in the manner of Louise." 
 
 "Is that all? Why you silly fellow! 
 Did you ever expect to find her always the 
 same? do you not know that all women are 
 as variable as the wind? A change in her 
 manner! why, they are always changing. 
 They are continually at it! And so because 
 she has simply done that which is recog- 
 nised generally as being one of their privi- 
 leges, poor things! you consider yourself 
 justified in supposing that she is anxious to 
 discard you in consequence of her pecuniary 
 expectations being somewhat more brilliant 
 than your own! Don't be stupid. Go as 
 usual. If, indeed, any hint of the kind be 
 given, you will know how to act; leave the 
 house that very instant and never enter it 
 again. But I don't believe anything of the 
 sort. The girl is passionately fond of you. 
 I am sure of it. Can you imagine that she 
 would have called here this morning if her 
 object were what you suspect it to be? Is 
 it likely? My boy, you do her an injustice. 
 Go to her at once. You are wounding her 
 feelings, which you ought as a man to be 
 anxious to avoid. Depend upon it, Val, 
 she is a good little creature. She is the 
 very sort of girl with whom, if I were again 
 young, I should be likely to fall over head 
 and ears in love." 
 
 As the firmness, as well as the birth of 
 affection, in a great degree depends upon 
 our views being backed by the judgment of 
 others, Valentine heard this with pleasure. 
 He felt at the time quite sure that the opin- 
 ion expressed by Uncle John was correct, 
 and therefore made up his mind to call the 
 following morning. In the evening, how- 
 ever, while engaged in a conversation 
 touching the villany of Goodman's rela- 
 tives, a note superscribed by Louise and 
 emblazoned with the flaming crest of Ra- 
 ven, was brought into the room, with the 
 information that the servant had been 
 desired to wait. 
 
 The note was immediately opened of 
 course, and the following were found to be 
 its affectionate contents: 
 
 " Miss Haven has to apologise for having 
 thus taken the liberty of troubling one so 
 superior in every respect to herself; but as 
 she has the presumption to conceive it to 
 be possible that he may condescend to state 
 whether she may expect him to honor her 
 with a call to-morrow morning, and if not, 
 whether she will be justified in expecting 
 ever to have that high honor again; she 
 
 humbly begs the favor of some slight in- 
 formation on the subject, albeit, she is fully 
 aware of its being one which to him is ex- 
 tremely displeasing." 
 
 Twice Valentine read this affectionate 
 note, being naturally anxious to understand 
 all its peculiar points and bearings, and 
 then smiled as he submitted it to Uncle 
 John, who having laughed very merrily, 
 handed it to Whitely, upon whom it had a 
 totally differpnt effect, for he shed tears the 
 moment he saw it, and on being strongly 
 urged to state the reason, explained that it 
 was in consequence of its being precisely 
 like the handwriting of her, by whom 
 fifteen years before, he had been shamefully 
 dishonored. 
 
 " Bless my life and soul!" said Uncle. 
 John. " Why, how was that?" 
 
 'Some day," replied Whitely, "I will 
 explain. It is a long sad tale a tale of 
 wretchedness on the one hand, and infamy 
 on the other;" and fresh tears gushed forth 
 as he looked again at the writing, which 
 appeared to call up recollections of a 
 character the most painful. 
 
 While Whitely was thus occupied, 
 Valentine was preparing to answer the 
 note. He knew not how to begin, " My 
 dear Louise?" No, that would not do. 
 "Madam?" no: nor would that. At length, 
 having decided upon sending an answer>4n 
 a style corresponding with her own for the 
 time being, he wrote thus: 
 
 " Miss Raven is hereby informed, that 
 he, whose immense superiority has been so 
 happily acknowledged, will have the pecu- 
 liar condescension to honor Miss Raven 
 with a visit in the morning." 
 
 This he thought very fair and highly ap- 
 propriate, considering; and, having des- 
 patched it, he turned to resume the conver- 
 sation having reference to Goodman's posi- 
 tion with his brother. Whitely was, how- 
 ever, then deeply engaged with his own 
 thoughts, while Uncle John seemed quite 
 disposed to commune with himself in 
 silence; and, therefore, as Valentine also 
 had private considerations to entertain him, 
 the subject was not renewed, and they all 
 retired early. 
 
 Valentine slept most soundly that night. 
 His rest had, for some time previously, been 
 broken. He had had dreadful dreams: nay, 
 his vivid imagination had actually, on one 
 occasion, placed him in a position from 
 which although hotly pursued by a mob 
 of individuals whom he wished to avoid 
 he was utterly unable to stir an inch! 
 which was very unpleasant. His mind 
 was now, however, comparatively tranquil; 
 and as he, in consequence, made up to some 
 extent for the sleep which he had lost, he 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 245 
 
 rose in the morning very sensibly refresh- 
 ed, and, having eaten an unusually hearty 
 breakfast, proceeded to keep his appoint- 
 ment with Louise. 
 
 44 1 wonder," thought he on the way " I 
 wonder how she will receive me! Angrily, 
 perhaps perhaps coldly perhaps with a 
 smile." He could scarcely tell which of 
 the three was the most probable conjecture, 
 although it may just as well at once be con- 
 fessed, that, as his hopes were with the last, 
 he inclined to the belief that the greatest 
 amount of probability rested decidedly upon 
 that. 
 
 The thing was, however, soon proved. 
 He reached the house, and was shown into 
 a room, in which Louise sat in state. He 
 approached her: she bowed with that pecu- 
 liar grace which freezes on the hottest day 
 in June. He took her hand: she withdrew 
 it. He attempted to kiss her! she would 
 not allow that attempt to succeed, but waved 
 her hand towards a chair in the distance. 
 
 " Louise," said he, tranquilly, " may I 
 know your object in wishing me to visit you 
 this morning?" 
 
 44 Sir, my object was to ascertain why 
 you treat me with contempt. I conceived 
 that if even you had no regard for rne, you 
 at least had the feelings of a gentleman. 
 But it appears that even in that, I have been 
 grossly deceived." 
 
 " You are inclined to be severe, Miss 
 Raven," said Valentine, good humoredly. 
 
 " Not more so than circumstances war- 
 rant. If, after having been but too success- 
 ful in inducing me to believe that your pro- 
 fessions were sincere, you discovered in my 
 character, or general conduct, anything cal- 
 culated to render my society painful, why 
 had you not the manliness to avow it! why 
 absent yourself from me without a single 
 word of explanation without uttering a 
 syllable having reference to the cause? Is 
 it gentleman-like? Is it " 
 
 41 Miss Raven, shall I call to-morrow 
 morning? The probability is, that you will 
 then be more calm." 
 
 44 1 am sufficiently calm now, sir. I shall 
 never be more calm until you have explained 
 to me that which seems attributable, not to 
 mere caprice, but to something far worse. 
 What have I done? What offence have I 
 committed? Why have you not called here 
 as usual? Give me a single reason for your 
 absence, and then at least I shall know how 
 to act." 
 
 * 4 Louise, I will be frank with you," said 
 Valentine, who still preserved his calm- 
 ness, 44 1 will candidly explain to you the 
 cause of my absence. When I first had the 
 pleasure of seeing you, and for some time 
 after I had discovered your residence, it 
 22 
 
 was not alone your beauty by which I was 
 enthralled, although to that I was never 
 insensible " 
 
 4k Sir!" interrupted Louise, 44 1 am aware 
 that we are all sufficiently open to flattery; 
 but allow me to suggest, that there are 
 times at which it becomes too palpable to 
 be pleasing. I demand to know, as briefly 
 as possible, the reason why you have ab- 
 sented yourself from me?" 
 
 44 Upon my word, Miss Raven, you are 
 somewhat imperious." 
 
 44 Have I not a right, sir, to demand this, 
 after what has happened? What was the 
 cause?" 
 
 44 Briefly this: I have noticed, of late, an 
 extraordinary change in your conduct to- 
 wards me, and, conceiving that my presence 
 had become somewhat irksome, I" 
 
 44 How could you possibly imagine any- 
 thing of the kind, when you know that I 
 have done all in my power to induce you to 
 call more constantly than ever?" 
 
 44 Nay, nay, hear me out. Having con- 
 ceived this, I felt that there must be some 
 motive, some secret cause for so sudden a 
 change; and, being utterly unconscious of 
 having done aught to induce it, I naturally 
 attributed the fact to your knowledge of my 
 expectations, in a pecuniary point of view, 
 being greatly inferior to your own." 
 
 44 What have I to do with pecuniary ex- 
 pectations? Have I ever inquired what they 
 were? Have I ever dropped a syllable, 
 which could be construed into a hint upon 
 the subject? Never! But you conceal the 
 real cause, which lies deeper. You once 
 saved my life; you saved the life of my 
 father, and, therefore, know that I am 
 bound to you in gratitude for ever. You 
 presume upon that, and hence trifle with, 
 arid trample upon my feelings; or if not, 
 you have been introduced to some brilliant 
 coquette, some fascinating creature, more 
 accomplished and highly connected than 
 myself, in whose society you experience 
 more pleasure than in mine, and to whom 
 you devote all your happier hours." 
 
 44 Indeed, Louise, you do me wrong, and 
 I feel that in your calmer moments you will 
 acknowledge, at least to yourself, that your 
 expressed views on both points are baseless 
 and unjust." 
 
 44 You then wish me to believe that, al- 
 though you thus shun me, you neither take 
 advantage of the circumstance I have named, 
 nor court the society of another? You wish 
 me to believe this?" 
 
 44 I wish you to believe, that although 
 my affections are fixed upon you firmly, I 
 never will consent to be a passive, abject 
 slave, to be tyrannised over, and tortured 
 perpetually by the violence of her from 
 
246 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 whom I ought to expect nothing but gentle- 
 ness and love." 
 
 "You understand, sir, of course," said 
 Louise, with great dignity, " that, at least 
 as far as I am concerned, you are perfectly 
 free." 
 
 " It would give me great pleasure to 
 make you understand, that, at least as far 
 as I am concerned, these strong bursts of 
 passion are very painful." 
 
 ' You would have me then endure all in 
 silence! though spurned, shunned, con- 
 temned, and treated with every other species 
 of contumely, I must be silent! She to 
 whom you have devoted the last three days 
 may do this, but be assured that I will 
 not." 
 
 " The last three days I have devoted to 
 those poor old gentlemen, of whom I have 
 so frequently spoken." 
 
 " Assuming such to have been the case, 
 even that would not justify your conduct to 
 me. If you derive more pleasure in the 
 society of two old lunatics than in mine, I, 
 of course, feel flattered, and can only, under 
 the circumstances, say that you had better 
 return to it at once." " 
 
 " I will do so, if you wish it." 
 
 "You wilH You will leave me 1 ?" 
 
 " Most certainly," said Valentine, and he 
 rose on the instant. 
 
 " Go," said Louise, who bit her lips 
 violently, and turned pale with passion. 
 " I have no right, no wish, to detain you. 
 By all means, sir, go. But remember, if 
 you do, if you do leave me thus never, 
 never my heart will break! I cannot bear 
 it" 
 
 " Louise!" cried Valentine, who flew to her 
 side instantly, and caught her in his arms, 
 as she was falling. She had fainted. The 
 perspiration stood like dew upon her brows 
 which were icy cold, and she looked pale as 
 death. For a moment he felt paralysed. 
 He knew not how to act. He gazed upon, 
 and kissed her; but no sign of reanimation 
 appeared. He reached the bell, still bear- 
 ing her in his arms, but the rope seemed 
 useless. He tried the other. The shock 
 was far too great for that; it came down as 
 instantaneously as if it had been held by a 
 single thread, but before it descended he 
 had unconsciously made sufficient noise to 
 alarm all the servants, of whom four rushed, 
 at once, into the room, in a state of great 
 excitement. 
 
 Of course, they were all stunned on be 
 holding Louise, like a dead individual, in 
 Valentine's arms; but the attitude of the 
 coachman was the most picturesque, al 
 though many might have admired the repose 
 of the porter, an extraordinary-looking, sen- 
 timental scoundrel, whose comprehensive 
 
 mind teemed with horrid suspicions, and 
 whom the scene struck physically tranquil. 
 
 " My goodness me, what is the matter!" 
 cried the lady's maid, in whose peculiar 
 apron had been established two remarkable 
 pockets, which were always as open as the 
 day. " My dear Miss! come! poor thing! 
 Run and fetch the Eau de Cologne," she 
 continued, addressing one of the servants. 
 "It is lying on the table a long, narrow 
 bottle, all neck! You will find it but 
 stay; I'll run myself." 
 
 " You had better remain," said Valentine, 
 " you had better not leave." 
 
 " Tell Susan to get it then: tell her to 
 make haste! I hope to goodness her papa 
 will not return before she recovers; if he 
 should, there'll be such a to do! My dear 
 young lady! look up! I never saw her so 
 before. I never did. I cannot think what 
 it could be. I cannot conceive. Susan! 
 Susan! What a time the girl is, to be sure. 
 But there's no getting anything done unless 
 one does it one's self. Coachman, see after 
 Susan. What can she be about 1 ?" 
 
 Susan entered, and the Eau de Cologne 
 was applied to the nostrils, the temples, 
 and palms of Louise, who eventually sigh- 
 ed, and thus at once dispelled Valentine's 
 fears. That sigh was the prelude to her 
 recovery. Her bosom began to heave with 
 its usual freedom; the blood gradually re- 
 turned to her cheeks, and she looked round 
 with perfect self-possession. 
 
 " Lead me to my room," said she, faintly, 
 to the servants, who carefully raised her 
 from the sofa. " I am better, much better, 
 but I shall there be more quiet and at ease." 
 
 Valentine offered his hand, which she 
 pressed and kissed warmly, and as she left 
 him, he fondly conceived that her gaze de- 
 veloped a pure and affectionate heart. 
 
 " She still loves me," said he, on being 
 left alone. " She cannot conceal that; but 
 as her peace of mind as well as my own is 
 involved in this struggle, I must not yield 
 now. It is lamentable that she thus allows 
 angry passions to disguise the beauty of her 
 natural affections, but more lamentable still 
 would it be if those passions were allowed 
 to gain a permanent mastery. It is clear 
 that my impressions were false. She has 
 no wish to break off the connection. Her 
 object is simply to contend for her own 
 supremacy, with a view to the establish- 
 ment of a species of domestic despotism, 
 which all experience proves to be pernici- 
 ous; nay, utterly destructive of the happi- 
 ness both of her who is the ruler, and of 
 liim \vhom she rules. I feel that I am as 
 little inclined as most men, to be a domes- 
 tic tyrant, but this spirit must In; chiM-krd; 
 and as I imagine tha't I possess sufficient 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 247 
 
 influence to check it, I consider myself 
 bound to exert that influence by all the 
 means at my command." 
 
 Being unable to ring: the bell, he now 
 desired the peculiarly sentimental porter, 
 who was still engaged in turning up the 
 
 yellows of his eyes in the hall, to make the 
 necessary inquiries, and having at length 
 ascertained that Louise had completely re- 
 covered, he at once left the house, with a 
 firm determination to carry the object he 
 had proposed to himself into effect. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 VALENTINE VISITS THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS. 
 
 THE next morning Valentine called and left 
 his card, having learned that Louise was 
 quite well. It is true, that he was not ex- 
 actly satisfied with having done this simply. 
 Had his feelings been unfettered, had he 
 consulted them alone, he would have seen 
 her; but as prudence suggested that the 
 better course was that which he had pur- 
 sued, he started off for a long walk instead. 
 He, notwithstanding, a thousand times 
 wished she had been with him, and as the 
 morning was delightfully clear and calm, 
 he actually turned, on arriving at the gates 
 of the Regent's Park, with a view of re- 
 tracing his steps. Prudence, however, 
 again interposed, and compelled him to walk 
 on alone. 
 
 This was harsh on the part of Prudence, 
 and her dictates are often particularly harsh, 
 although it happens by mere chance of 
 course that she is almost invariably right 
 in the long run, seeing that she looks be- 
 yond the enjoyment of the passing hour. 
 It is, however, a striking fact, and one 
 which cannot be too extensively known, 
 that that which lexicographers generally 
 call Irresolution, is frequently mistaken for 
 Prudence! It is strange, that so pernicious 
 a mistake should be made that the one 
 should be taken for the other; yet it is so, 
 yea, even as a bitter bad shilling is fre- 
 quently taken for a good one. For exam- 
 ple; a man is anxious to know himself, and 
 goes to an accomplished phrenologist, who 
 finds an extraordinary bump about the mid- 
 dle of each partietal bone. " You have a 
 deal of caution," observes the professor, as 
 he gropes about in vain for some counter- 
 acting organ. "A deal of caution," and 
 assuming the "science" of phrenology, for 
 the nonce to be in this small particular cor- 
 rect, that man would be considered a pru- 
 dent man, by those who confound prudence 
 with irresolution. But see such a man in 
 the street. He wants something: he wants 
 it very much, but he doesn't know whether 
 to have it or not. He has a very strong 
 desire to enter a house. He goes up to the 
 
 door, stops to hesitate a little, and then 
 turns away to think it over again. Well, 
 shall he go in? Eh? Yes and yet no. 
 But then, let him see! and he walks 
 back again. He can't make up his mind. 
 He wants to gc in! but, perhaps no; and 
 again he walks away a few paces; and thus 
 he will amuse you by trotting to and fro, 
 knitting his brows and scratching his head 
 just as long as you like to look at him. 
 Catch such a man taking unto himself a wife, 
 or entering into anything like a speculation. 
 You cannot do it. He is not to be caught. 
 He has not a single spark of the spirit of 
 enterprise in him. He must " see his way 
 clear;" and even then he wont move, for " a 
 bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." 
 A perfect specimen of this peculiar species 
 would be a blessing to himself and an honor 
 to his country, for he would never volun- 
 tarily stir, because he would never be able 
 to make up his mind to do it. A perfect 
 specimen, however, perhaps never existed. 
 Hypochondriacal individuals approach the 
 nearest to perfection in this respect, their 
 disease being the fruit of irresolution legiti- 
 mately ripened into rottenness. 
 
 Mighty minds must therefore hold it to 
 be marvellous, that prudence should be so 
 generally confounded with irresolution, and 
 although it is perfectly possible that Va- 
 lentine might not have thought of this as he 
 walked round the park, it is clear that he 
 was guided at the time by real prudence, 
 and was sad only because he then felt it to 
 be harsh. 
 
 Having reached a gate, which he found 
 on inquiry to be that of the Zoological Gar- 
 dens, it struck him that as he never had 
 been in, he might as well spend an hour in 
 viewing the " wonderful" animals, as they 
 are termed, solely because they are in this 
 country rare, which is partial and unjust, 
 seeing that fleas, which are not rare in civi- 
 lised Europe, are equally wonderful, their 
 physical organization being equally per- 
 fect. 
 
 Caring, however, but little for this, he 
 
248 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 xvent up to the lodge, and having tendered 
 his shilling, was asked for a ticket. 
 
 "I have no ticket," said Valentine. 
 
 " You can't be admitted without," said 
 the man. 
 
 " Well, where am I to get one?" 
 
 "Oh, any where! at any of the shops. 
 But you can pass with the next party." 
 
 At this moment a person approached, 
 and, havinjr tendered a small slip of paper, 
 with a shilling, walked in, when Valentine 
 put down his shilling and followed, which 
 made all the difference. 
 
 On entering the grounds, the first thing 
 that attracted his attention was a pole, 
 established in the centre of a well, at the 
 bottom of which three melancholy bears 
 were crawling round and round, as pensive- 
 ly as possible. Two of these gentlemen 
 had very decent coats to their backs, but 
 the third was rather ragged, inconsequence, 
 probably, of his prospects having in early 
 life been blighted, by circumstances over 
 which he could have no control. 
 
 Round the verge of this well stood sun- 
 dry individuals, of whom the majority had 
 purchased buns, biscuits, and cakes, where- 
 with to treat the animals generally, and who 
 were having recourse to every species of 
 suasion, with the view ofinducingone of the 
 bears to mount the pole. Biscuit after bis- 
 cuit was thrown into the well, and bun after 
 bun, in little pieces; but, as the bears swal- 
 lowed all without even looking up to ex- 
 press thanks, the generous donors became 
 distrusted with their ingratitude, and stop- 
 ped the supplies. This had a very sensi- 
 ble effect, for, almost immediately after- 
 wards, one of the bears climbed the pole, 
 and leaned back, with his mouth wide open, 
 to receive whatever might happen to be put 
 in, which went instantaneously, without 
 mastication, down into the general stock. 
 At this moment, how pure was the delight 
 of those around! They experienced such 
 happiness! nothingcould surpass it! They 
 only, by whom buns to bears have been 
 given, can know the soft pleasure of which 
 it is the source. Every person who had a 
 bun gave it to bruin in many little pieces, 
 that the pleasure might be multiplied just 
 as many fold. Sometimes half a dozen 
 would be at it together, in which case the 
 gentlemen below stood a chance, although 
 a poor one; for, as a general thing, the one 
 on the pole caught all, without either trou- 
 ble or care. 
 
 " Now then!" said Valentine, throwing 
 hia voice into the widely-extended mouth 
 of the animal " You are not half quick 
 enough: come!" 
 
 The feeders started. Upon them the effect 
 was striking. It shook all their nerves, and 
 
 they looked at each other with an expres- 
 sion of wonder. Was it possible? They 
 turned the matter over in their minds. No, 
 surely they must have been deceived. Pooh! 
 Ridiculous! Absurd! and yet, had they not 
 heard ill and could they not believe their 
 own ears? 
 
 While they were thus trying to solve this 
 mysterious piece of business, the bear, find- 
 ing that nothing was put into his mouth, 
 thought that he might as well climb to the 
 top of the pole as not; and, having done so, 
 he placed his paws over the ball, and ap- 
 peared to be exceedingly anxious to ascer- 
 tain the true cause of the mental confusion 
 of his feeders. He looked at them steadily, 
 and they looked at him; but they did not 
 appear to understand each other, even then, 
 exactly! 
 
 "What are the odds?" said Valentine, 
 throwing his voice into the animal's mouth, 
 as before " What are the odds, that I don't 
 spring right in amongst you?" 
 
 No odds were offered. Nothing of the 
 sort. They flew, in an instant, from the 
 spot like uncivilised beings, while bruin 
 stuck firmly to the pole, wondering what on 
 earth could be the matter. The thing ap- 
 peared to him to be utterly inexplicable. 
 He couldn't make it out. He seemed per- 
 fectly puzzled. He looked at the people, 
 as if anxious to induce them to come back; 
 but no! they continued to keep at a most 
 respectful distance, until he conceived it to 
 be useless to waste any more of his valuable 
 time there, when he descended with the 
 view of communicating the circumstances, 
 as far, at least, as he understood them, to 
 his brother bears below. 
 
 The very moment he had descended, the 
 people began to explain to each other their 
 views on the subject, with eloquence and 
 force, starting all sorts of curious conjec- 
 tures, and bringing old JEsop to illustrate 
 the point, with remarkable tact and eru- 
 dition. As Valentine, however, like bruin, 
 conceived it to be useless to waste any more 
 of his valuable time there, he left the 
 amazed ones, before even the boldest of the 
 group had reinspired sufficient courage to 
 return to the well, and pursued his way 
 along the most frequented path. 
 
 As he proceeded, an infinite variety of 
 ugly animals met his view; but, regarding 
 them, as he did, as creatures formed by Ata 
 Creator, he perceived points of beauty in 
 them all. 
 
 44 Would you like to have a ride, sir?" 
 inquired a man who had charge of a irin.ile 
 rlr|ili;mt, which seemed to stand in awe of 
 ;i little ragged switch "she's as tame as 
 a Christian, and goes along as steady us 
 life." 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 249 
 
 * Does she trot?" inquired Valentine. 
 
 "Why, it aint, you see, exactly a trot, 
 'cause she ony makes a shuffle on it, 'cause 
 she's so big about the pins; but she'll do a 
 good eight mile an hour!" 
 
 "Well, mount," said Valentine, "I'll 
 have a ride by proxy." 
 
 The keeper simply said to his charge, 
 " Come," when the elephant dropped upon 
 her knees; and, having allowed him to 
 mount, rose, and shuffled along the path, 
 with a gait precisely like that of an exqui- 
 site walking upon his toes. 
 
 This was a source of great amusement 
 to sundry young ladies, whose presence 
 caused Valentine to wish that Louise had 
 been there; but as after having rewarded 
 the keeper of the elephant he went into the 
 
 glace in which the monkeys were exhibited, 
 er absence no longer annoyed him. 
 
 There had been, just previously to that 
 period, a remarkable mortality among mon- 
 keys. The sharp, easterly winds had swept 
 off the tender creatures by wholesale, and 
 the cages were, in consequence, compara- 
 tively empty. The few that remained, 
 however, did not, by any means, fail to 
 excite the admiration of the ladies, who 
 watched them as anxiously as if they had 
 been children, and applauded their playful 
 manoeuvres with really affectionate warmth. 
 "Look at that little dear! 11 said one, point- 
 ing to a ragged little gentleman, sitting in 
 a singularly graceful position, while two 
 little friends of his were hunting up the 
 fleas about his dear little person, and biting 
 off their heads as they caught them, with 
 infinite dexterity " Isn't he a love 1 ? Pretty 
 creature! Look! Bless him, how patiently 
 he sits!" 
 
 "Disgusting," said Valentine, directing 
 his voice behind her whose admiration had 
 thus been so strongly excited. "Are you 
 not ashamed?" 
 
 It appeared that she was, for she dared 
 not look round, but c'ropped her veil hastily, 
 and quitted the place with her friends, when 
 all the other ladies who were present had 
 at once the good sense and propriety to fol- 
 low their example. 
 
 Valentine now went to see the giraffes, 
 and found them exceedingly beautiful crea- 
 tures; but his attention was soon arrested 
 by what, at first sight, appeared to be a 
 little, emaciated, withered old man, who 
 had recently experienced some appalling 
 domestic calamity, or in consequence of 
 bad debts, or a falling off in business, ex- 
 pected every day to have the docket struck 
 against him, with something like fourpence 
 in the pound flitting scraggily across his 
 diseased imagination. He accordingly ap- 
 proached this diminutive individual who, 
 
 as he sat with remarkable gravity in a chair, 
 appeared to have made up his mind to begin 
 life again with a blanket but as he found 
 the cage in which that individual was con- 
 fined, duly labelled " Pithecus Satyrus.- 
 Orang Utan," all his sympathy vanished. 
 And yet the little animal looked most un- 
 happy. Indeed, it was abundantly mani- 
 fest, that he had not only caught an ex- 
 tremely severe cold, but had something then 
 pressing upon his mind, with sufficient 
 weight~to impart to his whole countenance 
 an expression of sadness. 
 
 " Now there's a striking specimen of the 
 animal creation," observed a grave person 
 in spectacles, accompanied by a friend from 
 the country, whom he felt quite determined 
 to astonish. " Do you know now, when- 
 ever I look at these creatures, I always feel 
 puzzled! Did you ever see any living thing 
 look so much like a man? Look at his 
 hands, look at his eyes, look at his lips, 
 look at his cheeks, nay, look at his general 
 aspect! Talk to me about instinct and rea- 
 son! Draw the line! draw the line, I say; 
 show me the difference distinctly point 
 out to me where the one ends and the other 
 begins, and I'll then, but not till then, give 
 in. Here we have, without doubt, the con- 
 necting link of Nature's extraordinary chain. 
 Just l(ok at him picking his teeth with a 
 straw! Is there any other thing besides 
 man, in the comprehensive scope of creation, 
 that understands how, why, and when to do 
 that? And then see how he folds that 
 blanket around him! Is there any other 
 animal on earth besides man that under- 
 stands what a blanket is for?" 
 
 " As to that," observed the friend of this 
 gentleman, " I suppose he keeps that on 
 because he finds it warm." 
 
 " Not a bit of it! Not by any manner of 
 means, because, in a blanket there's no 
 warmth to find. He knows there's no 
 warmth in a blanket. He knows that a 
 blanket would warm him no more than it 
 would a lump of lead. No! he keeps it 
 on solely because he is cognisant of its vir- 
 tue being to check the evaporation of per- 
 spiration. And does any man mean to tell 
 me, that a creature that can, aye, and does 
 do this, being moreover conscious of what 
 he is doing, is utterly destitute of reason? 
 Will any man contend that the creature be- 
 fore us don't know as well what he's about 
 as we do or that he ever does anything 
 for that't the grand point without having 
 a reason mark, having a reason, for doing 
 what he does? Why, the very idea is ab- 
 surd! Few men who have lived since the 
 ancients have studied this subject more 
 deeply than I have. You may, therefore, 
 with safety depend upon this, that that 
 
 22* 
 
250 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 animal there is a species of man. It is true 
 he is not in every particular precisely like 
 either you or me, hut then show me, if you 
 can, in the whole scope of the universe, two 
 men that are precisely in every particular 
 alike. Show me two hut two that look 
 alike, walk alike, think alike, act alike, 
 laugh alike, frown alike, or feel alike, pre- 
 cisely, and then I'll give in." 
 
 "Now, if so be as these things here 
 could talk, I'd then say something to 
 you." 
 
 "Talk, my dear sir! they can talk. 
 They can talk in their own language." 
 
 *' Aye, yaye! but not in ours!" 
 
 "What do you mean by that!" cried 
 Valentine, sharply, making his voice ap- 
 pear to proceed from the animal in question 
 " Do you wish to insult me]" 
 
 The mouth, hands, and eyes of the amazed 
 country gentleman were, in an instant, wide 
 open, while his learned friend started from 
 the rail upon which he was leaning, and 
 established his spectacles more firmly upon 
 his nose; but the creature in the blanket 
 displayed more astonishment than either, 
 for, after having turned his head right and 
 left rapidly, being startled by the sound of 
 a human voice so near him, he muttered, 
 and chattered, and sprang from his chair, 
 and having reached the highest branch of 
 the stump in the ca^e, sat and grinned with 
 extraordinary fierceness. 
 
 " What do you think of that!" said the 
 spectacled individual; but his friend could 
 not tell at all what to think of it. He shook 
 his head, and scratched it, but made no 
 reply. 
 
 " Why," said Valentine, throwing his 
 voice as before " why don't you acknow- 
 ledge your error like a man, instead of 
 standing there scratching your head like a 
 fool? Do you hear me?" 
 
 Again the alarmed animal leaped from 
 branch to branch. The thing was alto- 
 gether new to him. He had never either 
 heard of, or met with, anything like it. The 
 idea of a voice thus hovering about his ears, 
 without being able even to guess where it 
 came from, was really too much for his 
 nerves! He did not approve of it atall, but 
 shook his head, and showed his teeth, and, 
 at length, made such an extraordinary chat- 
 tering, that the man who had the care of 
 him entered the place, wondering what 
 could be the matter. 
 
 " You'd better stand a leetle furder off, 
 marm, please," said the man, as he drew 
 near the animal's cage. " If you don't, the 
 giraffe there'll nibble off the whole of them 
 green leaves of yourn, and they does him 
 no good." 
 
 In an instant the lady to whom this was 
 
 addressed placed her hand upon her bonnet, 
 and found her wreath gone. 
 
 " Now, what's the matter, Jocko 1 ?" said 
 the keeper. " What have they been doing 
 to you, eh?" 
 
 " Oh, we've been doing nothing," ob- 
 served the spectacled individual. " I was 
 merely conversing with my friend, when 
 the animal inquired if we wished to insult 
 him." 
 
 "The animal! what Jocko what in- 
 sult him!" cried the keeper, who felt quite 
 disposed to laugh loudly "and so you 
 heard him speak, sir, eh, did you? He 
 talks very well, sir, considering, don't he?" 
 
 " It's wonderful! really t never heard 
 I'd no idea of that species of creation being 
 able to talk in our language!" 
 
 " Lor bless you, sir! didn't you?" 
 
 " Never! 1 couldn't have conceived it to 
 he possible. If 1 hadn't with rny own ears 
 heard him, no power on earth could have 
 made me believe it." 
 
 " No, I dare say not. There aint many 
 that would." 
 
 " I'm astonished, absolutely astonished, 
 that the fact is not made more generally 
 known. It ought to be disseminated 
 throughout the whole scope of creation. 
 Nothing but that was required to settle the 
 point of the connecting link for ever." 
 
 " That's just my sentiments to a h lir." 
 
 " And who taught him. my friend?" 
 
 " Why, that 1 can't say, sir, exactly" 
 
 " He deserves well of his country, be he 
 whomsoever he may." 
 
 " Jocko perhaps can tell, sir, if you ask 
 him." 
 
 " Dear me, I shouldn't wonder. I never 
 thought of that. My little man," he con- 
 tinued, addressing the animal, as the keeper, 
 who was able no longer to bear it, burst 
 into a loud roar of laughter, of which, how- 
 ever, the querist took no direct notice. " My 
 little man, who taught you the English 
 language?" 
 
 " Indeed, I shall not tell you," said Va- 
 lentine, through Jocko. "I feel most in- 
 dignant." 
 
 " Hullo!" cried the keeper, whose coun- 
 tenance changed as if by magic, as Jocko 
 again jumped about and looked perfectly 
 bewildered. " What't the meaning of all 
 this? Is the creatur bewitched?" 
 
 He went round to the door at the side of 
 the cage, and having opened it said, " Why, 
 Jocko!" 
 
 " Don't speak to me," cried Valentine; 
 " I've been grossly insulted. Away! or 
 I'll be revenged on you." 
 
 As Jocko flew towards him, in all proba- 
 bility for protection, being alarmed whrn- 
 BTi r Y aluniine spoke, the keeper closed tho 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 251 
 
 door in an instant, and said, " Well, this 
 beats all my acquaintance!" He now no 
 longer addressed the spectacled gentleman 
 in tones of roguish sarcasm, for he felt that 
 however ahsurd it might have appeared, he 
 could not then dispute the apparent fact of 
 the animal having spoken. 
 
 " Why, how in the world is this?" ex- 
 claimed the person in spectacles. " How 
 comes it that you are so greatly surprised?" 
 
 The keeper felt himself compelled to ac- 
 knowledge, that he had been, as he termed 
 it, "roasting" that gentleman, never having 
 heard the animal in his life speak before; 
 which was all very well, and cleared the 
 way, of course, as far as it went; but the 
 chief point, the grand consideration, the 
 assumed fact of his having then actually 
 
 spoken the English language, with the ac- 
 cent and the emphasis of an Englishman, 
 remained. 
 
 Various were the guesses of the gentle- 
 man in spectacles, his friend from the 
 country was too much amazed to say a 
 word, and bold were the assertions of the 
 keeper touching Jocko's being victimised 
 by witchcraft; but, although they both dis- 
 played great imaginative power, and no in- 
 considerable amount of ingenuity, the more 
 they labored to unravel the mystery the 
 more entangled it became; and as Valentine 
 now began to feel that he had been suffi- 
 ciently amused by their ridiculous conjec- 
 tures, he quitted the gardens and walked 
 home to dine. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 WHEREIN WHITELY EXPLAINS THE REAL CAUSE OF ALL HIS MISERY. 
 
 FROM the moment Whitely mentioned the 
 fact of his having been dishonored by her, 
 in whom all his hopes of happiness on earth 
 had been centred, Uncle John had expe- 
 rienced an irrepressible anxiety to know 
 the whole of the circumstances involved 
 from first to last. We may hear of the 
 occurrence of such deep misfortunes daily, 
 pass them over with a word and think of 
 them no more; but when so great a calamity 
 befals either a friend or one of whom we 
 have some knowledge, however slight it 
 may be, our curiosity as well as our sym- 
 pathy is awakened, and we regard as deeply 
 interesting each minute point. 
 
 No idea of the real cause of Whitely's 
 abject wretchedness had theretofore entered 
 the imagination of Uncle John. He had 
 attributed the fact of his being then a for- 
 lorn, broken-spirited creature, to the brutal 
 treatment he had experienced in the asylum, 
 but had never thought of inquiring how or 
 by whom he had been placed in that asy- 
 lum, until, on glancing at the note of 
 Louise, Whitely mentioned the subject in 
 tears. But even then, Uncle John regarded 
 any farther allusion to the matter as a point 
 of extreme delicacy, seeing that his im- 
 pression was, that Whitely's calamity had 
 driven him to absolute madness, which had, 
 of course, justified his incarceration: still, 
 being extremely anxious to know all, he 
 resolved on giving Whitely the very ear- 
 liest opportunity of performing the direct 
 promise he had given, that all should be 
 explained. 
 
 Accordingly, after dinner, on the day of 
 Valentine's visit to the Zoological Gardens, 
 he started the subject of the character of 
 Louise, with a view of bringing the matter 
 round. " Well," said he, "how was Miss 
 Raven this morning?" 
 
 " Quite well," replied Valentine. 
 
 " Ah! quite recovered? And did she let 
 out again, Val ?" 
 
 " Oh, I simply left my card." 
 
 "What! did you not see her? I'll tell 
 you what it is, my boy: you'll play with 
 that poor little girl till you lose her. You 
 ought to have gone in by all means. You 
 ought to have made her without taking 
 the slightest notice of what had happened 
 put on her things to go for a walk. That's 
 the way I used to do when I paid my ad- 
 dresses to the girls; and it's the best way 
 too, you may depend upon that. What do 
 you think her state of mind has been to-day, 
 now, to bring the matter close? Why, 
 there she has been, poor thing! sitting alone, 
 sighing, and moping, and fretting her little 
 life out; whereas, had you taken her for a 
 walk, it would have cheered her up, and 
 made her so happy, that nothing could be 
 like it. It's all very fine, and very flatter- 
 ing, to be able to break a girl's spirit, and 
 tame her down to nothing; but what is she 
 fit for, when your object has been accom- 
 plished? What is she fit for as a wife? 
 She's fit for nothing! she is not even fit to 
 be trusted ! All she can do, is to administer 
 to the despicable vanity of him, by whom 
 the sickening milk-and-watery namby-pam- 
 
252 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 byism of slavish obedience is exacted. It 
 strikes me I'm about right there, my friend?" 
 he added, addressing Whitely, who was 
 paying great attention to every word. 
 
 "Quite, quite right," replied that gentle- 
 man. "Thousands have been plunged into 
 misery and despair, through breaking the 
 spirit of those whom they love, and thus de- 
 priving them at once of that shield which is 
 essential no matter how innately virtuous 
 they may be to the resistance of powerful 
 temptations." 
 
 44 So you see, my boy," resumed Uncle 
 John, " that you must not expect to have it 
 all your own way. But there's another 
 thing to be thought of: It isn't always that 
 a man can break a woman's spirit, if he 
 tries; and when he fails in the attempt, she 
 either rewards him before marriage, or set- 
 tles with him afterwards in full of all de- 
 mands. Besides and that's another thing 
 to look at jou'll not find every woman fool 
 enough to marry a man who displays a dis- 
 position to reign supreme: so you'd better 
 look out, Val, you'd better look out!" 
 
 " But I am quite sure," said Whitely, 
 44 that Valentine has no disposition to play 
 the tyrant." 
 
 44 And so am I," said Uncle John, *' so 
 am I. But he's such a proud independent 
 dog! I'm sure he'll lose her: I'm sure of 
 it, if he don't mind what he's about. And 
 she's a beautiful girl, too! a most beautiful 
 girl! You never saw her, I believe 1 ?" 
 
 44 No, 1 should like to see her much," 
 replied Whitely. 
 
 44 Well! you have only to sny when you'll 
 go! By the way, it is strange I have 
 often thought of it since that you should 
 have been so much struck with her hand- 
 writino!" 
 
 44 It is strange," said Whitely, 44 and yet 
 it is after all, probably attributable to the 
 fact of my not having seen a lady's writing 
 before for years." 
 
 44 Very likely. But then, hers is not a 
 common hand by any means. Where is 
 that note, my boy 1 ?" 
 
 Valentine produced it. 
 
 44 1 should know this hand from a million, 
 there is something so peculiar in the forma- 
 tion of the letters. It is what I should call 
 a remaikable hand. There is nothing, you 
 see," he continued, as he gave the note to 
 Whitely, 44 there is nothing, you see, formal 
 or stiff about the style: all is perfectly free." 
 
 44 It is not a common hand, which makes 
 the resemblance the more extraordinary. 
 Fifteen years since, I could have sworn, 
 conscientiously have sworn, to this being 
 the handwriting of her who was my wife. 
 But alas!" 
 
 Whitely paused, and both Uncle John 
 
 and Valentine watched him intently. In 
 his eye there was no tear, but his heart's 
 wound appeared to have been reopened. 
 
 " Had you been married long," said 
 Uncle John at length, " when the unhappy 
 separation took place?" 
 
 44 Five years, only: five short happy, 
 happy years." 
 
 4k You will, I am afraid, think me too 
 curious; but ever since you alluded to that 
 lamentable affair, I have felt deeply anxious 
 to have the circumstances connected with 
 it explained. It will, however, be too 
 painful to you, perhaps, to relate them]" 
 
 44 No, my friend, no; the relation of our 
 woes is sometimes a relief: but I shall 
 weary you. Calamities which strike to 
 the very hearts of those who bear them, 
 have indeed but little effect upon men by 
 whom their force has been happily unfelt." 
 
 44 You need not, my friend, be at all ap- 
 prehensive of wearying me. I feel too deep 
 an interest in the subject to be wearied. You 
 are a native of London I believe?" 
 
 44 Yes; and no man ever had or could have 
 had a fairer prospect of a long life of hap- 
 piness before him than I had from the period 
 of rny marriage, up to the time when every 
 earthly hope was blasted. My father died 
 while I was a minor, leaving me that which 
 I ever regarded as a competence, but I re- 
 mained single for some years after I had 
 attained my majority. At length, I met 
 her in whom my heart would permit me to 
 see nothing but perfection. She was an 
 orphan, and was living at the time as com- 
 panion to a lady, who had known me from 
 childhood. A more amiable or a more in- 
 teresting creature never breathed: I believe 
 her to have had, then, a heart as free from 
 guile as that of an infant. We married; 
 and for nearly five years, lived in the pure 
 and uninterrupted enjoyment of each other's 
 society, when a viper, an illiterate, low, 
 cunning miscreant whom were he now 
 before me I could strangle, poisoned the 
 mind of her whom I valued more highly 
 than my life, and eventually induced her to 
 leave me." 
 
 44 Was he a friend, as the phrase goes? a 
 villain in whom you had confided?" 
 
 44 A perfect stranger! whose assumed 
 name was Howard: his real name I never 
 could learn." 
 
 44 Well, but how did they bring it about? 
 How did she meet with him?" 
 
 44 1 know not. For some months pre- 
 viously to her leaving me, I observed an 
 extraordinary change, not only in her man- 
 ner, but in her language and style of dross. 
 I not unfrequently saw about her person, 
 jewels, which to me appeared to be of im- 
 mense value; but having the most implicit 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 253 
 
 confidence in her honor, I took no farther 
 notice than that of expressing my admira- 
 tion of their beauty; and on being asked 
 whether I did not consider them excellent 
 imitations of the most precious gems, 1 was 
 satisfied in attributing their display to that 
 species of vanity which, in a woman, is to 
 some extent venial. At length, however, 
 they became so brilliant and so numerous, 
 and were worn with so much ostentation, 
 that I felt myself bound to look into the 
 matter more closely. With that reckless- 
 ness which impunity generates, even in 
 those who are the most tremblingly appre- 
 hensive of detection at the commencement 
 of a career of vice or crime, she would 
 leave these sparkling gems carelessly about, 
 and feeling then quite justified in doing that, 
 which under any other circumstances I 
 should have held to be a pitiful act of mean- 
 ness, I on one occasion took them to a jewel- 
 ler, and having learned their real value, my 
 suspicions were aroused. Still I did not, I 
 could not believe her to be false. I felt, 
 indeed, sure that she had been tempted, nay, 
 that she was then on the brink of destruc- 
 tion; but so implicit was the confidence I 
 had been accustomed to repose in her, had 
 she then simply stated that her eyes had 
 been opened, and thenceforth concealed 
 those jewels from my sight, I should have 
 felt quite convinced that she had returned 
 them to the villain, and should have held 
 her to my heart more fondly than ever. She 
 was not, however, sufficiently subtle for 
 this. Instead of striving to allay my sus- 
 picions by the invention of falsehoods, the 
 very moment I alluded to the subject al- 
 though I did it with all possible calmness 
 and delicacy she assailed me with a vio- 
 lent burst of passion, of which I never be- 
 fore supposed her to be capable. She would 
 submit to no dictation in a matter of this 
 kind! She would not suffer any such unman- 
 ly interference! She would wear what she 
 pleased: she would receive what presents 
 she pleased, and that, too, from, whomso- 
 ever she pleased! and, having expressed 
 herself loudly and indignantly to this effect, 
 she bounced with a look of contempt from 
 the room, leaving me in a state of amaze- 
 ment. My friend: that very night she left 
 me! left me without another word! taking 
 with her our two dear children the sweetest 
 innocents that were ever sent as a blessing 
 to man. Had she allowed them to remain, 
 I might have borne the rest in silence. Con- 
 scious of her guilt, I might not have pur- 
 sued her; but, as it was, 1 made every pos- 
 sible exertion to discover her retreat, with 
 a view to the restoration of my children. 
 For weeks, for months I was unsuccessful. 
 I searched in every place in which I con- 
 
 ceived it to be even remotely probable she 
 had concealed herself; but no; every effort 
 was unavailing, every hope of recovering 
 my little ones withered. I became a wretch- 
 ed being; I felt that I had for ever lost all 
 that I cared for on earth: and was then reck- 
 less even of life. At length, however, I 
 received information of her having been 
 seen in the neighborhood of Knightsbridge, 
 and to Knightsbridge I went accordingly, 
 day after day, walking through and through 
 the place from morning till night without 
 success, until nearly a month had elapsed, 
 when I saw her one evening at a window, 
 with my children by her side. The recog- 
 nition was not mutual, and I did not then 
 wonder at it much, for I had become quite 
 careless of rny dress and person, and looked, 
 if possible, more wretched than now. I 
 went, however, instantly to the door, and 
 knocked loudly. I knew not for whom to 
 inquire, but the fact of her being in the 
 house was sufficient, and having said, I 
 know not what, to the servant, who seemed 
 satisfied, 1 made my way at once into the 
 room, at the window of which she had been 
 standing. As I entered, she was drawing 
 down the blinds, and turned instantly to 
 welcome, not me, but the villain whom she 
 expected. On perceiving me, however, she 
 stopped, as if struck with paralysis. She 
 knew me in a moment; but uttered no word. 
 I demanded my children, and she dropped 
 upon her knees, with the view of pressing 
 them more closely to her bosom. It was a 
 sight I could scarcely endure. I could not 
 attempt to tear them forcibly from her, far 
 they clung to her as firmly as she clung to 
 them. Still, still I was resolved to have 
 my children. 1 demanded them again: she 
 made no reply; she was pale, deadly pale, 
 and trembled violently, but would not give 
 utterance to a word. I spoke to them, to 
 my children, to my own dear little ones; I 
 called them by name: I was not their papa: 
 their papa would not be home till by and 
 by! Maddened at this, I determined at 
 once to separate them from her; but, before 
 I could accomplish this object, the very 
 miscreant rushed into the room, when I 
 turned to fix upon him. I sprang at his 
 throat, but I had lost my wonted strength. 
 He shook me off, and, having reached a 
 case of pistols that happened to be then 
 upon the table, he seized one, and presented 
 it firmly at my head. In an instant my 
 wretched wife flew to him, in order to in- 
 duce him not to fire; but, having by this 
 time got the other pistol in my grasp, I 
 called upon her loudly to stand aside. I 
 could have shot him dead, with less remorse 
 than 1 would a dog; but I could not shoot 
 even him through her! Again, therefore, 
 
254 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 and again, T called upon her to stand aside. I anxious: I care but little, indeed, about 
 She would not. She would cling to him ( what has become of her; but my soul yearns 
 
 still! when, taking a deliberate aim over 
 her shouldor, he fired, and I fell. The ball 
 entered my breast, but, though utterly pow- 
 
 to hear of my children.' 
 
 " Well, who knows!" exclaimed Uncle 
 John " you may hear of them still! You 
 
 erless, I was not insensible: I remember all \ may see them they may yet be a comfort 
 that occurred from first to last, as distinctly ! to you, my friend, and a blessing. Who 
 as if it had happened but yesterday. It knows! But your property: what became 
 will, however, be sufficient to state, that I j of that 1 ?" 
 
 was lified upon abed, where I remained for "Not a vestige remains. It consisted 
 nearly three hours bleeding that I was j entirely in houses, of which every one, I 
 visited then by two persons, for whom the have ascertained, was immediately sold. 
 miscreant had started soon after I had fallen j I have claimed them all, and the answer in 
 and that, having dressed my wound, each case has been the production of the 
 which they had pronounced not dangerous, title. He who was my solicitor is dead; 
 they removed me at once to a lunatic asy- ' but I have learned, from a man who was 
 lum, as one who had made a desperate at- j formerly my servant, that the sales were 
 tempt upon his own life! While on the effected, in every instance, by that wretch 
 way I knew not at all where I was going; whom I hope to meet again, before I sink 
 and if I had known, it would have been ' into the grave. I should know him were I 
 useless, for I had then no power to offer | to see him even now. Never shall I forget 
 any resistance; but the moment I entered his scowling, villanous aspect." 
 
 the asylum I saw through the infamous 
 scheme, and considered myself a lost man. 
 With all the strength that remained to me, 
 I demanded to know by whose authority 
 they had acted. The demand was regarded 
 with utter contempt. I begged earnestly 
 then, as a favor, to be informed. As a 
 favor they showed me the certificate. My 
 friend it had been signed by my wife! 
 God forgive her! There was I, stolen for 
 ever, as I imagined, from society, a poor, 
 wretched, broken-hearted creature, writh- 
 ing, moreover, with physical agony, with- 
 out a friend with whom to communicate 
 without a single soul who cared for me 
 knowing where I was; and there T remained 
 for nearly fifteen years, subjected to every 
 conceivable species of brutality, deprived 
 of every thing even of my name; for, as 
 they insisted from the first upon calling 
 me Whitelv instead of Whitbread, I adopt- 
 ed it in order to avoid annoyance, and have 
 ever since answered to the name of Whitely, 
 as if it were really rny own." 
 
 "To say," said Uncle John, " that I am 
 amazed, were, indeed, but a weak expres- 
 
 Have you no knowledge at all of who 
 he was, or what he was?" 
 
 " Not the slightest. I should say that 
 he was a dealer in diamonds, or a jeweller, 
 or something of that sort. That he was 
 wealthy there can be no doubt; but, although 
 he was dressed in the highest style of the 
 day, he was the vilest, the most vulgar, 
 low-bred scoundrel I ever met with." 
 
 "The jewels! the jewels did it all!" 
 cried Uncle John. " But I am, neverthe- 
 less, astonished that so intelligent, so ac- 
 complished a creature should have connected 
 herself with a fellow so illiterate." 
 
 "My friend," said Whitely, " be asto- 
 nished at nothing a woman may do, when 
 she yields up her virtue. If once she be 
 guided by the spirit of wickedness, she will 
 elope with a sweep or a satyr. Every 
 quality, which she before highly prized, 
 becomes nothing in her esteem then. The 
 very loveliest will cling to wretches the 
 most shrivelled and withered: the most 
 highly accomplished will connect them- 
 selves with boors. Then all considerations 
 of intellect and honor are lost: every feel- 
 
 eion of what 1 feel. But what became of ing is merged in the mere gratification of 
 her, my friend! what became of her 1 ? " 
 
 their infamous passions, for when a woman 
 becomes wicked, she is wicked indeed." 
 
 " That is true," said Uncle John " very 
 
 in my grave it was utterly impossible for j true." And this was all he did say; for 
 me to learn; nor have I, since my escape, I the circumstances related by Whitely had 
 
 T, my t 
 
 44 While there shut out, as I was, from 
 the world, as completely as if I had been 
 
 been able to ascertain whether she is, at 
 
 so amazed him, that he ran them over and 
 
 this present moment, dead or alive. I have over again in his mind, while Valentine, 
 inquired of the few that remain on earth by upon whom they had made a deep impres- 
 whom I was known, but can obtain no in- sion, had no disposition to break that silence 
 formation either of her or of the children, which throughout the remainder of the even- 
 It is my children, my friend, for whom I am ing prevailed. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 255 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 SHOWS HOW VALENTINE TRIED AN EXPERIMENT IN THE HOUSE OF LORDS AND FAILED. 
 
 IF he who was the first to abuse his fellow 
 man, instead of knocking out his brains 
 without a word, laid thereby the basis of 
 civilization, it as naturally as possible fol- 
 lows, that the more highly civilised we 
 become, the more bitterly abusive we must 
 be; and if this bright deduction be perfectly 
 sound, we may infer, without straining the 
 imagination much, that we are now fast 
 approaching the very perfection of civiliza- 
 tion, which, of course, is a very great bless- 
 ing. 
 
 Now, in a land of liberty like this, in 
 which every public man, being held to be 
 public property, is abused precisely as the 
 generous public please, it is by no means 
 an unusual thing for public men to be con- 
 sidered queer creatures in the aggregate, by 
 those who have derived their information 
 on the subject from gentlemen who write 
 satires, draw caricatures, and fulminate 
 political philippics, and hence it will not be 
 deemed droll that Valentine when about to 
 pay a visit to the House of Lords should 
 have expected to behold some of the oddest 
 individuals, on the one hand, and on the 
 other, some of the basest and most palpably 
 black-hearted villains that ever breathed. 
 
 He knew that the artistes in question were 
 worshippers of virtue: he knew that at that 
 particular period they were a peculiarly 
 patriotic species of people in the lump; but 
 although he made a liberal allowance for all 
 this taking off, perhaps, something like 
 seventy per cent. he yet thought that if, 
 in their representations, there was a suffi- 
 cient resemblance to identify the men, the 
 peers of the realm still must be a most re- 
 markable looking lot. 
 
 Well ! having been engaged all the 
 morning with the solir.itor, into whose hands 
 poor Goodman's affairs had been placed, he 
 happily made sufficient interest to procure 
 a peer's order, and went alone down to the 
 House. 
 
 There was an air of what Raven would 
 have designated " beggarly aristocracy" 
 about the various persons in attendance; 
 but, without having recourse to a phrase so 
 harsh, it may be stated with perfect truth, 
 that they wero on excellent terms with their 
 own individuals, and seemed to have an 
 amazingly high sense of their position, re- 
 garding ha-ughtily as dirt all but peers, to 
 whom their nature compelled them to cringe 
 most servilely. 
 
 Of course, Valentine smiled as he passed, 
 
 at the excessive self-importance of these 
 gentlemen; but the smile had scarcely quit- 
 ted his lips, when he found himself actually 
 within the Houss of Lords! which was 
 very surprising. Instead, however, of being, 
 as he expected to have been, introduced into 
 a gallery, he discovered himself on the floor 
 of the House, and was shown into some- 
 thing which seemed to be a superior sort of 
 witness box in a corner, while behind the 
 bar stood a number of persons, who looked 
 as if they were about to be tried for high 
 treason. 
 
 In the body of the House there were three 
 individuals, two sitting at the table in wigs, 
 and one with a dress sword standing beside 
 them. There were no peers then present. 
 It was not five o'clock. But they entered 
 in a body, when that hour arrived, with as 
 much punctuality as if they had been wait- 
 ing to hear the clock strike. As they en- 
 tered, Valentine looked at them earnestly, 
 but he really was unable to see many of 
 those oddities, whose appearance he had 
 been led to expect, nor could he discover 
 any creatures whose countenances were in- 
 dicative of any peculiar blackness of heart. 
 On the contrary, they appeared to be plain, 
 mild, unassuming people; and with the 
 exception of the Lord Chancellor and the 
 Bishops were dressed with remarkable 
 simplicity. Their manners, too, were gen- 
 tle and courteous. There was not even the 
 slightest attempt at display. They con- 
 versed in the most familiar strain; and, 
 indeed, looked as much like other men aa 
 possible. 
 
 About the period at which Valentine ar- 
 rived at this striking conclusion, the busi- 
 ness of the nation commenced. In the first 
 place, a tall and startling person approached 
 the bar, and, addressing the Lord Chancellor, 
 delivered himself precisely to the effect that 
 somebody had got something. He then 
 produced a little gentleman who singu- 
 larly enough happened to have some im- 
 portant documents under his arm and made 
 him bow three times with due distinctness 
 and humility, before he took his oath that 
 all he meant to say was true. 
 
 " What have you got there?" inquired 
 the Lord Chancellor. 
 
 The gentleman commenced a little speech, 
 that was understood by his lordship before 
 it was delivered, which was fortunate, see- 
 ing that had it not been for that, it would 
 not have been understood at all. 
 
256 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " Have yon examined them?" demanded 
 the Lord High Chancellor. 
 
 "Yes, my lord." This was said boldly. 
 
 " Do you find them correct?" 
 
 "Yes, my lord," replied the little gentle- 
 man, who spoke np again like a man; and, 
 having delivered the documents in question, 
 retired, highly pleased at the fact of the job 
 being done. 
 
 The peers now commenced the presenta 
 tion of petitions, which is beyond all dis- 
 pute the most interesting portion of the 
 business of the House, although it seems 
 highly rational to suppose, that there would 
 be fewer to present if they, by whom peti- 
 tions generally are got up and signed, knew 
 the nstounding effect they produced when 
 presented. 
 
 " My lords," a noble peer will observe, 
 with surpassing tranquillity, " Petition 
 Norwich against destruction glorious 
 constitution." 
 
 "'Tetion," the clerk at the table will 
 then echo " 'Tetion Norge 'struction 
 glorse constution." 
 
 Such petition in every section of which 
 there may be an argument sound as a nut 
 is then crushed together carelessly, and 
 thrown under the table, though heaven and 
 earth may have been moved to obtain sig- 
 natures thereto. 
 
 While the peers were thus engaged in 
 the performance of this solemn duty, there 
 was a movement at the door near which 
 Valentine stood, most strikingly indicative 
 of something. Several persons ran in, ap- 
 parently in a state of great excitement; and, 
 having glanced round and round, ran out 
 again, for the purpose of bringing in others. 
 The majority of them happened to have 
 papers in their possession, but they all 
 looked as if they had discovered some hor- 
 rible plot against the State, and were ex- 
 cessively anxious to communicate to the 
 House all they knew about the matter. In 
 this state of feverish anxiety they continued 
 for some time; but, having at length got 
 themselves together, they poured some great 
 secrets into the ear of the person with the 
 sword, who nodded, as if he was not at all 
 surprised at it, and then approached the bar 
 as before. 
 
 " My lords!" said he, " a message from 
 the House of Commons!" 
 
 The Lord Chancellor rose and at once 
 waddled towards them, and placed the re- 
 spectable-looking carpet-bag he had in his 
 hand upon the bar; and when one of the 
 gentlemen of the House of Commons had 
 delivered to him a document, and advised 
 him, as it seemed, not to drop it, he w;ul- 
 dled back to his seat as they retired three 
 paces in really admirable order. 
 
 As soon as this job had been accom- 
 plished, the person with the sword went 
 again to the bar, and said, " My lords! a 
 message from the House of Commons!" 
 
 The Lord Chancellor snatched up his 
 carpet-bajr again, and bowled down to the 
 bar as before, and having received another 
 document from another individual, bowled 
 back wiih that sweet satisfaction, which 
 springs from the consciousness of having 
 faithfully performed a great duty. 
 
 " My lords! a message from the House 
 of Commons!" cried the person with the 
 sword, the very moment his lordship had 
 returned to the table, and again the Lord 
 Chancellor took up his bag without which 
 he appeared to be unable to stir and again 
 rolled down to the honorable members. 
 
 Valentine thought it a little too bad to 
 make his lordship trot backwards and for- 
 wards so often, when they might just as 
 well have put the whole of their documents 
 into his carpet-bag at once. He did not, in 
 fact, like to see a Lord Chancellor played 
 with, and run off his legs in this way, and 
 hence perceiving that his lordship had too 
 much politeness to say a word about the 
 matter himself, although he evidently felt it 
 very deeply he threw his voice behind the 
 deputation, as they were bowing, and said, 
 " Why could you not have sent them all in 
 together?" 
 
 The members seemed startled as they 
 turned to look round, and the person with 
 the sword cried " Order!" and looked very 
 fiercely at the strangers behind the bar, of 
 course conceiving that one of them had 
 spoken. The members, however, eventu- 
 ally again reached the bag, and, having 
 placed'the third document upon it, Valen" 
 tine, making his voice apparently proceed 
 from the lips of the Lord Chancellor, 
 whispered intensely, "I say! have you got 
 any more?" 
 
 "One more, my lord only one more," 
 replied an honorable member, as the Lord 
 High Chancellor looked at the person who 
 stood, embellished with a bob wig, behind 
 him with the mace. His lordship, how- 
 ever, took no farther notice, but bundled 
 back again to his seat. 
 
 " My lords! a message from the House 
 of Commons!" again cried the deputy ser- 
 jeant, and again the Lord Chancellor 
 snatched up his bag and came down to the 
 bar with due presence of mind. 
 
 "Now, ta this the last?" inquired Valen- 
 tine, pitching his voice towards the mace- 
 bearer. 
 
 " Yes, my lord, this is the last." 
 
 " \\rli, come, that's a comfort." 
 
 The Lord High Chancellor ngain looked 
 gravely at his attendant, and hU attendant 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 257 
 
 looked gravely at him. His lordship, 
 however, with striking forbearance, said 
 nothing, but having bowed very profoundly, 
 returned to his sack. 
 
 The members of the Commons now left 
 the House, laughing, and the person with 
 the sword distinctly intimated to the stran- 
 gers, that if they did not keep quiet, they 
 should not remain. Several of the most 
 prominent protested their innocence, and all 
 the rest were very ready to do the same 
 thing; but that was perfectly absurd, he 
 knew better, and therefore advised them 
 most strongly to mind what they were 
 about. 
 
 At this moment a noble lord rose, for the 
 purpose of directing the attention of the 
 House to some measure designed expressly 
 for the promotion of the love of religion. 
 He commenced in a quiet, conversational 
 tone, as if anxious to reserve all his power 
 for his points; but, although he spoke 
 fluently for nearly an hour, he ended as 
 coolly as he began, while the only kind of 
 action in which he indulged was that of 
 occasionally tapping the palm of his left 
 hand with two of the fingers of his right. 
 
 The very moment his speech had been 
 brought to an end, another noble Ion) started 
 up to denounce it, and in doing so his vio- 
 lence was so excessive, that at times he 
 was utterly unable to express the indigna- 
 tion with which his bosom swelled. He 
 looked frightfully at the noble lords oppo- 
 siteshowed his teeth, foamed at the mouth, 
 and eventually worked himself up into a 
 passion so terrible, that the noble lords op- 
 posite actually smiled! This made him 
 still worse. He became quite hot: and the 
 more indistinct his articulation grew, the 
 more rapidly he rattled away. 
 
 " I wonder," thought Valentine, as he 
 listened to this vehement denunciation "I 
 wonder if it be possible to produce a scene 
 here at all like the one I witnessed in the 
 House of Commons!" On reflection he 
 felt that it was not; but, being anxious 
 to try the effect of an attempt, he cried 
 " Question! Down ! Down!" throwing 
 his voice behind the fulminating peer, who 
 turned in an instant and stopped. The 
 thing was really so unusual that the noble 
 lord seemed quite struck! Had it proceeded 
 from noble lords opposite, why then, indeed, 
 he might not have felt so much amazed, 
 although, impious as they all were in his 
 estimation, he had never heard anything so 
 indecent even from them; but the idea of 
 being thus interrupted by noble lords on his 
 side of the House by his own noble friends 
 his own party was shocking! he held 
 it to be, indeed, a heavy blow and a great 
 discouragement, and seemed anxious to 
 23 
 
 move that the journals of the House be 
 searched for a precedent, when the noble 
 lords around him said, " Go on go on." 
 
 " Sit down!" cried Valentine, assuming 
 a totally different voice. 
 
 " Order! order! order!" cried the peers 
 on both sides; for, although they had all 
 had enough of the eloquence of the noble 
 lord then on his legs, not one of them would 
 even by his silence seem to sanction an in- 
 terruption at once so unusual and incon- 
 venient. 
 
 The noble lord then resumed. He seemed 
 to feel a little better, although he obviously 
 could not forget it. " My lords," said he, 
 " in the annals " 
 
 "Monstrous!" cried Valentine "Why 
 do you hear him?" 
 
 44 Order, order, order!" cried the peers 
 simultaneously "Order, order, order!" 
 and again they looked round, with the view 
 of ascertaining which noble lord it was. 
 
 This, in the House of Commons, as Va- 
 lentine had proved, would have been quite 
 sufficient to produce a little yelling; but 
 albeit party feeling, at that particular 
 period, ran quite as high there as it did 
 in the House of Commons he could not 
 get a single peer to join him. He was, 
 on the contrary, opposed by them all. Not 
 one would lend his countenance to any such 
 proceeding. They were absolutely shocked 
 at the interruption, and Valentine at length 
 became convinced that no storm could be 
 raised. 
 
 This was the only Aiilure he had ever ex- 
 perienced. In every other place his success 
 had been signal, but there even Faction 
 itself refused to aid him; even Faction! 
 from which he had ever before derived the 
 most prompt and effectual assistance. 
 
 But, although it was impossible to raise 
 an actual storm, was it equally impossible 
 to shake their dense gravity? 
 
 Valentine put this great question to him- 
 self, and conceiving it to be a point which 
 might as well be ascertained, he resolved 
 at once to bring them to the test. 
 
 There were several members of the House 
 of Commons at the bar. They had been 
 running in and out continually, in order to 
 hear what was going forward, but at that 
 particular time there were about a dozen 
 present, when Valentine, assuming the 
 voice of the Deputy Sergeant, cried, " My 
 lords! a message from the House of Com- 
 mons!" 
 
 The Lord Chancellor left the Woolsack, 
 as a matter of course; and, with character- 
 istic dignity, approached the bar, with the 
 man in the bob-wig behind him. He 
 thought it strange, very strange, that he 
 should have been, troubled again, but he 
 
258 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 thought it stranger still, when, on reaching 
 the bar, he found that the members of the 
 Commons had no message to deliver. 
 
 " It is a mistake, my lord," said the De- 
 puty Sergeant, who had been startled by 
 what appeared to be the sound of his own 
 voice. "It must have been one of the 
 strangers." 
 
 " Let the strangers withdraw," said the 
 Lord High Chancellor, which settled the 
 business at once, for the strangers were ac- 
 cordingly ordered to withdraw; and as Va- 
 lentine happened to be one of the strangers, 
 of course he withdrew with the rest. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 RETURNS TO WALTER AND HIS AMIABLE FAMILY, WHOSE POSITION BECOMES QUITE 
 
 ALARMING. 
 
 " WHAT is that, Governor? what have 
 you got there?" demanded Horace, as he 
 perceived the bright countenance of his 
 honored father fall, while perusing a re- 
 markably legal-looking letter, which had 
 just been delivered by a legal-looking clerk. 
 " A six-and-eightpenny touch?" 
 
 Walter made no reply. His heart was 
 full, and he sighed, as he handed the letter 
 to Horace. 
 
 " Of course," said Horace, with elevat- 
 ed brows, having made himself master of 
 the contents. " I don't know what you 
 may think of it, Governor, but to me it ap- 
 pears to be very much like the beginning of 
 the end!" 
 
 " I knew," said Walter, " by my dream 
 last night" 
 
 " Oh, blister your dreams! your dreams 
 have done it all. We should not have been 
 placed in this blessed position, but for your 
 precious hypochondriacal dreams. I knew 
 how it would be, the very moment you took 
 to dreaming. I saw the whole business, 
 and told you all about it, directly I per- 
 ceived that you were phantomised like a 
 fool. So you can't blame me. You would 
 have your own way. You would be guided 
 by your own morbid nob, and what's the 
 consequence? Why, after having lived in a 
 state of spectralisation, frizzled up to cinder, 
 and reduced to helpless wretchedness, here 
 you are, with palsied nerves and a shat- 
 tered constitution, without twopence in the 
 world to call your own! Had you listened 
 to reason; had you taken my advice; had 
 you kept the thing dark, or even, after you 
 had thrown a light upon it, had you sent 
 the old man to another den in another name, 
 which you ought to have done" 
 
 "It matters not," said Walter, "what 
 ought to have been done: the question is, 
 what's to be done now?" 
 
 " Well, what's to be done now? 7 may 
 just as well sneeze as say a word upon 
 
 the subject. What is it you mean to do? 
 What do you propose?" 
 
 " I don't really see how I can help my- 
 self." 
 
 " Don't you?" 
 
 " The property must be given up!" 
 
 " Governor! Oh! but it's just like you. 
 Do you want to descend into the region of 
 rags? Do you want to see mother and 
 yourself in the workhouse, and Poll and me 
 bawling duetts in the street? Because if 
 you do, you'll do that." 
 
 " Why, what else can I do?" 
 
 " What else can you do! Start off to 
 America, Van Dieman's Land, Nova Scotia, 
 or any other place upon earth, and take all 
 you have with you." 
 
 " Of what use would it be to me in either 
 of those places?" 
 
 " Can you not turn it into money?" 
 
 " Not a quarter of it, unless I commit 
 forgery." 
 
 " Well! what is forgery compared with 
 starvation? But without that turn into 
 cash all you can, and let's start. They 
 can't stop us they can't do a single thing 
 with us in less than two months." 
 
 " But the letter says, that all must be de- 
 livered up immediately!" 
 
 " I know it: what of that? You will not 
 
 give it up, and what then? They bring 
 
 their action: you will defend it, and let it go 
 
 i to trial. Whyj before it can be tried, we 
 
 i can be ten thousand miles off, as jolly as 
 
 possible." 
 
 " I will not leave my country," said 
 Walter. 
 
 " You will not leave your country! Well, 
 
 that is a start! Why, what need you ran* 
 
 for your country? Do you imagine that 
 
 , your country cares about you? 1 mean to 
 
 I say, that it's a very uncomfortable country 
 
 I to live in, without either money or friends. 
 You'll not leave your country!" 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 259 
 
 " Besides, Horace, I feel that 1 cannot be 
 so great a villain." 
 
 " That's another go! Thus, little villains 
 are the greatest, because they are villains 
 to themselves. No man should commence 
 a career of villany, without being prepared 
 to go through with it; should he halt, he 
 and his family must suffer. I know you 
 have no wish to be a villain, nor have I; but 
 then you see, if circumstances prescribe 
 acts of villany in spite of ourselves, what 
 are we to' do? Just look at the thing as it 
 stands. We must either be villains, and 
 live in a style of comfort, or honest men 
 and starve. There is no middle course." 
 
 " Yes, Horace, there is a middle course, 
 and that course must be pursued. Existing 
 circumstances, you must remember, have 
 been created by ourselves, and can, there- 
 fore, afford us no justification. The pro- 
 perty must be given up!" 
 
 " You have made up your mind I hope 
 to be forgiven for calling it a mind but 
 such as it is, you have 'made it up to that]" 
 
 " Horace! Do you know whom you are 
 speaking to 1 ?" 
 
 " Yes!" replied Horace, with an expres- 
 sion of bitterness " I am speaking to one 
 who confined his only brother in a lunatic 
 asylum to gain possession of his property, 
 and who is now about to reduce himself 
 and family to beggary, because he has not 
 courage to retain it." 
 
 Walter shed tears, and if, to a man who 
 will do that of which he cannot bear to be 
 told, a word even from a stranger be suffi- 
 ciently galling, what must have been the 
 feelings of this father, on being thus re- 
 minded by his son that he was a villain! 
 
 " It were folly," resumed Horace, " to 
 mince the matter now. You have gone too 
 far to retreat, without involving us all in 
 ruin. I would not have said what I have 
 said, Governor, but that I am anxious to 
 bring you to a sense of your position. You 
 restore this property. Well! what will be 
 the consequence? Rags. What shall we 
 have to live upon? Nothing. You have 
 given up your berth, from which we derived 
 the only means we had of keeping body and 
 soul at all peaceably together, while there 
 isn't a single creature in the world from 
 whom we have any right to claim assistance. 
 As to friends! they are all very well, and 
 very pleasant, when you are rich, but a 
 man has no friends when he is poor. They 
 are too wide awake: although blind before 
 to his vices and crimes, their eyes become 
 marvellously open. Independently, there- 
 fore, of being beggars, we shall have for 
 this affair is quite sure to be known we 
 shall have the pleasing consciousness of 
 being regarded as scoundrels and thieves 
 
 by the world so completely and so sud- 
 denly does poverty change a good fellow 
 into an unrivalled, unsightly rogue. Look 
 at the thing in this light, Governor, and 
 then you'll perceive what madness it would 
 be to give up all with the view of satisfying 
 that time-serving hypocrite, conscience." 
 
 " But do you think," said Walter" do 
 you really think my brother would ever al- 
 low us to starve?" 
 
 "Why, what else," returned Horace, 
 " have we the smallest conceivable right to 
 expect? Can you expect affection from him 
 now? or do you suppose that he can be de- 
 luded into the belief that he ought to be 
 grateful to us for having delivered him from 
 the asylum? But even supposing that he 
 would not allow us to starve that is, sup- 
 posing he wouldn't mind giving us a pound, 
 if he saw us all shivering on starvation's 
 brink what if he were suddenly to die 
 and I don't think he's got a great deal of 
 life in him, which makes me so mad, for in 
 less than a month we should have had to 
 put on mourning, when all would have been 
 secured but what, I say, if he were to die, 
 where should we be then? Do you think 
 it at all likely that he has allowed his old 
 will to remain as it was? Is it likely at all 
 that he'll leave us a shilling?" 
 
 " We cannot know what he may do." 
 
 " But is it likely? It isn't as if he were 
 now well affected towards us. See how I 
 even /am treated when I call, as I have 
 done twice a-day ever since, arid that with 
 all the regularity of the clock. He'll not 
 see me. He's ' much the same, thank you,' 
 but never to be seen. If I could only get 
 at him, to tell him how affectionately 
 anxious I have been on his account, and 
 how dreadfully delighted I should be to see 
 him perfectly restored, I should make some- 
 thing of him; but as it is, I may just as well 
 get up that chimney, and smother myself 
 in soot twice a-day, as go there. I meet 
 with no sort of politeness, no ceremony, not 
 a bit. They answer me at once, without 
 quitting the door. I did make the old 
 woman go up this morning, but even then 
 Mr. Goodman could not be seen: he felt 
 obliged by my calling so frequently, but 
 would feel more obliged if I wouldn't call 
 at all. So you see, we are bound, in strict 
 justice to ourselves, to take care of ourselves. 
 He'll not leave us anything. It isn't to be 
 expected." 
 
 '* I think he will," said Walter "I still 
 think he will. Knowing him so well as I 
 do, I cannot believe that he will allow us to 
 become utterly destitute." 
 
 " How ever a man can thus struggle to 
 deceive himself," said Horace, "is to me a 
 perfect mystery. There isn't a shade of 
 
260 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 probability about it. And if even there 
 were, what madness it would be to run the 
 risk! Look at it in this point of view. Of 
 course, you will admit that he may not leave 
 us anything, and if he should not, what then 
 can we do?" 
 
 Horace paused, for he felt that he had 
 made a deep impression; but Walter, whom 
 conscience had tortured so remorselessly, 
 would not be convinced. He had proved 
 the benevolence of his brother's disposition: 
 he knew well the goodness of his heart; and 
 although he was unable, for an instant, to 
 disguise from himself the fact of his having 
 injured him deeply and most unnaturally, 
 he still felt persuaded that the injury would 
 be forgiven, and hence eventually said, " I 
 will trust him." 
 
 44 You will?" cried Horace, starting up 
 in a rage " I am to understand this to be 
 your fixed determination? You are deter- 
 mined, quite determined to pursue this 
 course?" 
 
 " I am," said Walter, firmly. 
 
 "Very well; very well! I now know 
 how to act. It is high time now for me to 
 look to myself. I'll not be ruined by you! 
 I'll not be dragged down to the lowest pitch 
 of penury. I'll have some of those pa- 
 pers." 
 
 " You shall not!" cried Walter. 
 
 " But 1 will!" 
 
 "I tell you not one shall be touched!" 
 
 "And I tell you I'll have them!" 
 
 44 Why, you insolent scoundrel! what 
 do you mean, sir? what do you mean?" 
 
 44 That all the papers that can be con- 
 verted into money I'll have?" 
 
 44 You shall not have one of them, sir!" 
 
 44 Who will prevent me?" 
 
 44 1 will! Attempt even to touch them, 
 and I'll knock you down, rascal!" cried 
 Walter, who, as Horace smiled contemptu- 
 ously, rose in an instant. 
 
 44 Now, keep off," cried Horace; "you 
 had better not come near me! I don't want 
 to hurt you! Keep off!" 
 
 Regardless of this warning, Walter rushed 
 at him wildly, when Horace caught his 
 arms, and, having pinioned them, threw 
 him at once upon the sofa. 
 
 44 What, in the name of goodness, is the 
 matter?" cried Walter's wife, who rushed 
 into the room at this moment u what is it? 
 what's the meaning of it? what's it all 
 about?" 
 
 44 Why, this old cripple " 
 
 44 How dare you?" interrupted Mrs. Wal- 
 ter 44 how dare you call your father an old 
 cripple, sir? are you not ashamed of your- 
 self? Let him get tip sir, this moment!" 
 
 44 Oh, he may get up! but I'm not, you 
 know, going to be pommelled!" 
 
 44 But what is the cause of it? What 
 does it all mean?" 
 
 44 Why," said Horace, " the meaning of 
 it all is simply this: he has taken it into his 
 head to reduce us to beggary, and, because 
 I won't have it, he must try to knock me 
 down." 
 
 44 But how? By what means?" 
 
 4 ' Why, by stripping us naked of every 
 thing we have, that he may send all back 
 to his brother." 
 
 44 Well, but surely you can talk this un- 
 fortunate matter over without fighting! 
 Come, my dear, draw to the table, and let 
 us see what can be done." 
 
 44 1 will not be thus treated," cried Wal- 
 ter, " by my own flesh and blood. 1 will 
 not be insulted by that villain!" 
 
 44 He who taught me to be a villain " 
 
 44 Horace, Horace!" exclaimed Mrs. Wal- 
 ter, 44 recollect yourself, sir!" 
 
 44 Well, why can't he be easy? I don't 
 want to quarrel. I'd rather go and have a 
 roll in the mud, ten to one; but it's a hard 
 thing" 
 
 44 Well, well, your father didn't mean it, 
 I know. Come, let us talk the matter over 
 calmly. What is it, my dear, you mean to 
 do? Have you made up your mind to re- 
 store all to your brother?" 
 
 44 1 have." 
 
 44 Well then, now, my dear, let us con- 
 sider how shocking that will be. In the 
 first place, how are we to live? " 
 
 44 Of course! that's the way to put it." 
 
 44 Be silent, Horace: let us be quite calm 
 and cool, for the thing now begins to as- 
 sume a serious aspect. If, I ask, this pro- 
 perty of your brother be restored to him, 
 how that being now our only means of 
 support how are we to live?" " 
 
 44 We must do the best we can," replied 
 Walter. 
 
 44 Do the best we can! Yes, dear, but 
 what can we do? You have no profession: 
 Horace has no profession; and, therefore,-! 
 really cannot see how on earth we shall be 
 able to manage!" 
 
 44 Then you also think that he would do 
 nothing for us?" 
 
 44 Why, my dear, place yourself in the 
 same position: what would you do under 
 similar circumstances?" 
 
 44 But he's a different man to me alto- 
 o-eiher. What I would do, therefore, can 
 airnl no criterion." 
 
 44 But, granting that he is a different man, 
 what grounds have we for believing that ho 
 will not discard us? We have no grounds 
 for any such belief. On the contrary, since 
 his liberation he has given us every reason 
 to believe that he will. He may be and 
 doubtless is of a generous and forgiving dis- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 261 
 
 position; but you see, my dear, the question 
 is, will he, under the circumstances, feel 
 himself justified in doing anything for u si 
 If he should not, Heaven only knows what 
 will become of us, or how shall we manage 
 to exist." 
 
 " Depend upon it Tie will never allow us 
 to starve!" 
 
 " No, dear, perhaps not; but how dread- 
 ful will be our sufferings before we reach 
 the point of starvation!" 
 
 " Besides," said Horace, " if I may speak 
 he'll be dead in about a fortnight; and, 
 therefore, as we have it, we may as well 
 keep it as not. What I look at most is, that 
 that fellow that Valentine should be en- 
 riched by our folly; for, of course, he'll have 
 it all, there's no doubt about that, and, 
 therefore, nothing can be clearer than that 
 by giving it up to the old man we in reality 
 give it up to him." 
 
 "Exactly," said Mrs. Walter, "and as I 
 have said again and again, it will, indeed, 
 be a shocking thing if, after having tried 
 all these years to secure it, it should be left 
 to a person who has done nothing for it, 
 and who has, therefore, no right to it what- 
 ever." 
 
 " But how do we know he will die so 
 soon"? how can we tell?" 
 
 " Very true, dear; we cannot exactly tell; 
 but then it appears that the chances are in 
 our favor." 
 
 "And do you think that he'd die and 
 leave us nothing 1 ?" 
 
 " Why, he might not, my dear; but if he 
 should? What in the name of goodness 
 should we be able to do then! There 
 should we be starving, I know we should 
 starve, for we cannot work like those who 
 have been used to it all their lives, there 
 I say we should be starving, while others 
 who have no earthly right to it are living 
 luxuriously upon that which we clearly 
 ought to have. Why, my dear, it would be 
 terrible! For goodness sake look again at 
 the matter before you decide." 
 
 " Then you too would have me continue 
 to be a villain!" 
 
 " Nay, my dear, that is a most unkind 
 word; and equally unkind is it of you to 
 suppose that I wish you to be anything of 
 the sort. Heaven knows I am sorry as 
 indeed we must all be truly sorry that you 
 were induced to go so far; but as it is, I 
 look solely at the circumstances which at 
 present exist, and I really, my dear, cannot 
 see how under those circumstances, you can 
 act as you propose without reducing us to 
 absolute wretchedness." 
 
 "I wish that I was dead!" exclaimed 
 Walter; " I heartily wish that I was dead!" 
 
 " Nay, that is mere folly." 
 
 "Just like him," said Horace; "he never 
 could grapple with a difficulty in order to 
 surmount it. The very moment it appears 
 he must wish himself dead." 
 
 " Well, well; wishing that will not at all 
 mend the matter; nor shall we do much 
 good by dwelling upon the point. The 
 question is, will it be better under the pre- 
 sent unhappy circumstances to retain what 
 we have at all hazards, or by giving it up 
 at once to run the risk of involving our- 
 selves in utter ruin'? For my part although 
 I should be but too happy to advise the im- 
 mediate restoration of all if it were possible 
 to do it with safety to ourselves I do not 
 perceive how it can be done now without 
 the result, as far as we are concerned, being 
 dreadful. We are placed you see, rny dear, 
 in so peculiar a position. I would go my- 
 self at once to your brother; but then what 
 could I say 1 ? I could not ask him to com- 
 promise the matter. I could not say to him, 
 ' Indeed, we are truly sorry for what has 
 occurred, and will restore all that belongs 
 to you if you will kindly undertake to allow 
 us so much a-year!' nor can I ask what he 
 intends to do for us when we have made an 
 unconditional surrender. I might indeed 
 say, ' I do hope that you will consider our 
 unfortunate position: I trust that our desti- 
 tute circumstances will induce you to save 
 us from absolute want;' but, although I 
 might say this and dwell with great feeling 
 upon each point, the very moment he alluded 
 to the cause of my appeal 1 should be dumb, 
 so that you see, my dear, we cannot act in 
 this case as we might in any other. We 
 must of necessity take one of two courses, 
 that is to say, we must either retain what 
 we have, and deYend the possession in the 
 best way we can, or give up all, and be 
 thereby reduced to destitution." 
 
 " 1 tell you," cried Walter, " that it isn't 
 at all likely that we shall be thus re- 
 duced." 
 
 " But, my dear! what security have we 
 against it! We have none. We can have 
 none. It is a terrible risk, and one which 
 ought not on any account to be incurred. 
 Now, if I might advise, I should say, dear, 
 convert all you can into money at once, re- 
 store all that is not available, and retire to 
 some distant part of the country. We 
 could assume another name, and 1 am sure 
 that we should live very happily: at all 
 events, we should not have starvation before 
 our eyes, which is really very shocking, 
 dear, when you come to think of it! How- 
 ever, I will not tease you any more now; 
 we will leave you to yourself, and I do hpe 
 and trust indeed I feel quite convinced 
 that, when you have thought the matter 
 over again, you will see how really abso- 
 
 23* 
 
262 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 lute the necessity is for reversing your ex- 
 pressed determination." 
 
 Even when he feels most sincerely anx- 
 ious to do so, how exceedingly difficult is 
 it for a man who has quitted the path of 
 honesty to return! Like a liar, whom the 
 first falsehood prompts with a show of ne- 
 cessity to He on, he creates, by the first 
 
 crime, circumstances which urge him to 
 proceed in his criminal career. Walter, 
 base as he had been, was most anxious to 
 make all the reparation in his power. He 
 would have given up all and trusted solely 
 to his brother's generosity, but the circunv 
 stances which his crime had created induced 
 him to pause. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 GOODMAN HOLDS A CONSULTATION WITH HIS FRIENDS, AT WHICH UNCLE JOHN FINDS HIS 
 
 JUDGMENT FETTERED. 
 
 WHILE Walter was brooding over the 
 prominent points of the interesting conver- 
 sation detailed in the preceding chapter, 
 with the view of conceiving, if possible, 
 some medium course, the pursuit of which, 
 while it in some degree satisfied his con- \ 
 science, might meet at least half-way the 
 views of his amiable family, his deeply in- 
 jured brother was engaged with Valentine, 
 Uncle John, and Whitely, in a discussion 
 which had reference to the propriety of j 
 framing a fresh will. Goodman felt the ! 
 hand of death upon him. It did not press 
 painfully, nor with sufficient weight to 
 justify the apprehension of an immediate 
 dissolution; but his frame had been so shat- 
 tered, his constitution so undermined by 
 the brutal treatment he had experienced, 
 that he had become quite convinced, that 
 although human skill might enable him to | 
 linger on for weeks or even months, that 
 hand would never more be removed till it 
 had crushed him. This rendered his spirit ' 
 quite calm. Every harsh, every irritable 
 feeling was subdued. He held it to be 
 peculiarly the time for the forgiveness of 
 injuries, and hence his benevolence reigned 
 in the ascendant. Thus actuated, he could 
 not deal justice to Walter. He felt that it 
 did not, in fact, come then within his 
 province to do so: nor did he desire to leave 
 him to his own conscience, as it is termed, 
 seeing that that would be in effect to desire 
 that he might by his conscience be tortured. 
 He was anxious to express his forgiveness 
 to make it manifest that' he believed him 
 to have been actuated, not by any innate 
 vileness, but by some evil influence, over 
 which he might not at the moment have 
 had entire control. He did all he possibly 
 could to invent excuses for him, with the 
 view of establishing a show of justification; 
 but as this was an object he was utterly 
 unable to accomplish, he began to look, not 
 at what Walter had been, but at what he 
 
 might become. He conceived that his re- 
 pentance might be sincere, that he might 
 henceforth be virtuous, and that therefore 
 he who had the power to save him from 
 those temptations to dishonor, with which 
 a state of utter destitution teems, would not 
 perform his duty as a Christian, if he per- 
 mitted the exercise of that power to be 
 withheld. 
 
 It was while in this charitable frame of 
 mind that poor Goodman solicited the 
 advice of his friends, more with the view, 
 as is customary with those who seek advice, 
 of having the satisfaction of inducing them 
 to think as he thought, than of acting upon 
 their suggestions. He could not but feel 
 that they would at first be inclined to be 
 harsh that they would repudiate the idea 
 of his pursuing the course he had proposed, 
 and hence when he inquired if they did not 
 think that he was bound to let his will re- 
 main substantially as it was, he was not at 
 all surprised at their instant reply being, 
 "Certainly not!" 
 
 "What!" exclaimed Whitely, "would 
 you reward the wretch, who sought to rob 
 you by means so unnatural, with wealth! 
 Would you give him the power of living in 
 luxury, who deprived you not only of liber- 
 ty but of health, the greatest blessing of 
 life? Rpflect upon what you have endured 
 upon the dreadful position in which you 
 were placed upon the monstrous brutality 
 to which you have been subjected and 
 upon the result of that brutality, even up to 
 the present time. Who induced all this? 
 Why he whose unnatural malignity and 
 sordid avarice you now wish to gratify, by 
 leaving him all that you possess!" 
 
 "Whatever he may have been," observed 
 Goodman, "however wrong he may li.wo 
 acted, I cannot forget that he is my brother." 
 
 44 Nor ought you to forget it, for that in- 
 creases his guilt a thousand-fold. You 
 ought to regard him as a brother, who 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 263 
 
 violated every feeling by which he ought 
 to have been actuated with the view of in- 
 juring you, and who thereby sacrificed all 
 claim upon your affections. In a case 
 of this description the admirable precept 
 which urges us to return good for evil may 
 in practice be carried too far. You, for 
 instance, would set a most pernicious ex- 
 ample, inasmuch as you would show that, 
 however infamous may be the conduct of a 
 man, however foul and unnatural may be 
 his designs, he may practise his infamies 
 with impunity upon a brother if that brother 
 possess a benevolent heart. Were he a 
 brother of mine I would discard him utterly: 
 if I did not I should consider that I had 
 failed in performing my duty to society as 
 a man." 
 
 " But what if I were to discard him?" 
 said Goodman. " What would become of 
 his family? Ought the innocent to suffer 
 for the guilty?" 
 
 " You cannot tell that they are innocent. 
 His family may be as guilty as himself, 
 and in this case the probability is that they 
 are. But even supposing that they are not, 
 what would become of justice if men were 
 not to be punished for crimes, lest the 
 punishment should be felt by those with 
 whom they are connected 1 ? If, having no 
 proof of their guilt, you could punish him 
 without involving them, you would be 
 bound, of course, to do so; but as this is 
 under the circumstances impossible, justice 
 demands that you should act as if they 
 were not concerned." 
 
 44 But would not that object be to some 
 extent attained," suggested Valentine, "if, 
 instead of the property being left to Walter, 
 it were secured to his wife, and the wife of 
 Horace!" 
 
 44 It might," returned Whitely, ' 4 it might 
 thus be attained; but it could be so only in 
 the event of the women being unfaithful. 
 If they continue to be virtuous, it will be 
 of slight" importance, it will matter not 
 whether it be left to him or them; it is only 
 in the event of their being wicked that he 
 can suffer from such an arrangement; and 
 considering how frequently women, whose 
 principles of virtue are not fixed, feel the 
 fact of their being, in a pecuniary point of 
 view, independent of their husbands, to be 
 an additional spur to an indulgence in 
 vicious practices, I never should, in any 
 case, feel myself justified in advising such 
 an arrangement to be made. No; rather let 
 the property go to him and leave his punish- 
 ment to Heaven, than secure it so as to ope- 
 rate thus as an additional incentive to vice." 
 
 44 But do you not think," said Goodman, 
 44 that he has been punished sufficiently al- 
 ready!" 
 
 44 Certainly not," replied Whitely. 44 He 
 ought to be hanged. I am not vindictive; I 
 hope I am not cruel; but a man like that, 
 sir, deserves to be burnt alive." 
 
 44 He has endured a far greater amount 
 of torture," rejoined Goodman, 44 than was 
 ever yet endured at the stake. He has been 
 burnt alive! He has been burnt until re- 
 duced to a state of insensibility, and then, 
 when death could have given him no addi- 
 tional pang, he has been compelled to suffer 
 those exquisite agonies which must neces- 
 sarily have accompanied his gradual resto- 
 ration. And this I attribute entirely to the 
 fact of his having so deeply injured me; for 
 his mind was in consequence so diseased 
 at the time that he fancied he saw me in 
 the room. I therefore cannot even looking 
 at him only feel myself justified in inflict- 
 ing upon him the additional punishment of 
 utter destitution, and when I look at those 
 who must be involved in his ruin, and who 
 may have been innocent even of the know- 
 ledge of his offence until the last, I still 
 think that I cannot, consistently with my 
 duty as a Christian, do aught else than that 
 which I propose. But what is your opinion, 
 my friend?" he continued, addressing Uncle 
 John. 44 You have been silent! Do you 
 think that 1 shall be justified in reducing 
 my brother and his family to abject wretch- 
 edness and want? Is it not your impression 
 that he has been sufficiently punished?" 
 
 44 Why," said Uncle John, "you seel 
 am placed in a peculiar position. I pro- 
 mised your brother that I would strive to 
 allay whatever ill-feeling recent circum- 
 stances might have engendered: I promised 
 this on condition that he would liberate you 
 at once from the asylum. It was a sort of 
 contract between us: but now that he has 
 performed his part, I find it exceedingly 
 difficult to perform mine. I had much rather, 
 therefore, that this affair should be settled 
 without me, for while I cannot conscien- 
 tiously say any thing in favor of the man, I 
 am bound by my promise to say nothing 
 against him, and even then 1 am not quite 
 sure that I shall have done in reality all 
 that my promise conveyed." 
 
 44 Why, "said Goodman, " you promised 
 nothing more than that you would strive to 
 allay any ill-feeling that might have been 
 engendered: and, most certainly, whatever 
 ill-feeling might have existed has already 
 been allayed. All the difficulty is, there- 
 fore, at an end: as I have no ill-feeling 
 whatever towards him now, you can have 
 no ill-feeling to repress: so that all you have 
 to do is to avoid saying anything calculated 
 to excite an ill-feeling, and you will have 
 performed your promise faithfully." 
 
 44 My promise conveyed more than that," 
 
264 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 said Uncle John. " I don't at this moment 
 recollect what I wished him to understand; 
 but I am sure that it conveyed more lhan 
 that. I am not quite certain that I did no 1 
 mean not only that I would do what I could 
 to repress ill-feelings, but that I would do 
 all I could to effect an absolute reconcilia- 
 tion. I should like to be clear upon that 
 point: I should like to know what he ima- 
 gined I meant at the time." 
 
 ** But, my friend," said Goodman, "that 
 has nothing to do with your opinion on the 
 point now at issue." 
 
 " Why, it may not have anything to do 
 with it, certainly; but, at present, I am in- 
 clined to believe that it has, because, you 
 see, if I express an opinion to the effect that 
 he has been already sufficiently punished, 
 I may perhaps be expressing an opinion 
 which 1 do not conscientiously entertain, 
 while, on the other hand, by stating it to be 
 my opinion that he has not, I may be acting 
 in opposition to the spirit of a contract 
 which, no matter with whom it may have 
 been made, ought of course to be strictly 
 adhered to." 
 
 " Well! I certainly should like to have 
 your opinion upon the subject before I de- 
 cide; because I cannot but feel that it may, 
 and doubtless will be, the last important act 
 of my life. However, as you do not at present, 
 feel justified in stating what your real opin- 
 ion is, my decision had better be deferred." 
 
 *' Yes: that will be much the better way," 
 said Uncle John, who had really no desire 
 to give an opinion upon the point; for al- 
 though he felt convinced that in reality 
 Walter did not deserve the slightest con- 
 sideration, he could not satisfy himself that 
 if he stated that as being his conviction, he 
 should be doing under the circumstances 
 that which was riorht. 
 
 The matter was therefore left open, and 
 Goodman was highly pleased to find that 
 his friend had given that promise to Walter, 
 for he feared that some powerful argument 
 might be adduced to prove that, after what 
 had happened, he ought not to leave the 
 will as it was, in favor of him by whom he 
 had been injured so unnaturally and so 
 deeply. As far as forgiveness went, he for- 
 gave him from his heart. The only point 
 upon which he was anxious. to be satisfied, 
 was the justice of the course he proposed to 
 pursue. And yet again he conceived that 
 although if the thing were made public it 
 might perhaps be deemed a bad example 
 in a private case like this he could not do 
 much wrong in doing that which his be- 
 nevolent feelings suggested. Besides, he 
 felt that, even if he were justified in taking 
 the administration of justice in this particu- 
 lar case into his own hands, it was not a 
 time at which he ought to administer it 
 harshly, and harshly he could not help feel- 
 ing it would be ad ministered, if he deprived 
 not only Walter, but his family, of all they 
 had to depend upon in the world. He knew 
 that they had no other means of existence; 
 he knew, that if he left them penniless, 
 they must either starve or plunge into the 
 vortex of infamy; and knowing this, he 
 could not reconcile the act of driving them 
 into temptation, with his duty either as a 
 Christian or as a man. He therefore even- 
 tually resolved not to renew the painful 
 subject. He had authorised the recovery 
 of the property, and that authority there 
 was no sufficient reason to withdraw; but 
 he hoped that no act on the part of Wal- 
 ter that no argument of Uncle John or 
 W T hitely that nothing, in short, might 
 occur to induce him to alter the will. 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 EXPLAINS THE POSSIBILITY OF MAKING A MAN DIG AN EXTRAORDINARY HOLE. 
 
 As Valentine had not seen Louise for five 
 days as he had called five times and left 
 hie card without finding her "at home," 
 and as he had received from her no com- 
 munication whatever he began to think 
 that Uncle John was right! that he re illy 
 had suffered his spirit of independence to 
 carry him a little too far. 
 
 And yet, what had he done? It is true 
 he absented himself for two entire days; 
 but then he was calm, quite cairn, while 
 she was bursting with passion. He did 
 
 not retaliate; he simply said, " Well, I will 
 go, if you wish it!" He had s-.iid nothing 
 more, and yet, never since then hud he hem 
 able to see her! He did think that this 
 was not strictly correct. He was not at all 
 satisfied with it: ho frit that he had been 
 somewhat ill used! For \vh;M muld she 
 expect] Could she expert him to submit 
 to every species of indignity? Could she 
 expert that IK; would ever sillier liims.df to 
 
 beherslave? He loved her, fondly loved 
 her, and she knew it; but never would he 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 265 
 
 consent to become the puppet of her caprice. 
 No, he would call once more but once! 
 and if she was denied to him, the course 
 which manliness suggested was clear, and 
 he made up his mind to pursue it. He 
 would not surrender his spirit as a man! 
 nor would Louise yield her spirit as a wo- 
 man! They were playing the same game: 
 they had both the same object in view, and 
 they were now equally sure of achieving 
 that object, for although Louise had there- 
 tofore felt herself somewhat overmatched, 
 she had a weapon now in store for him, in 
 the shape of a Welshman, whom she meant 
 to use so as to enable her to obtain a signal 
 triumph! 
 
 In the warm hearts of lovers whose affec- 
 tions are fixed, and who are really so 
 attached to each other that they seem to be 
 scarcely able to exist but in each other's 
 society, there must be some beautiful feel- 
 ing in operation while they strive to make 
 it appear that they are perfectly free. The 
 general motive may perhaps be highly 
 laudable; but with the ladies it is some- 
 times inscrutable, seeing that they will 
 labor to make men believe that it would be 
 a matter of very slight importance indeed, 
 if they were to do that which, if done, 
 would snap their dear heart-strings. This 
 course is, perhaps in many instances, pur- 
 sued with the view of testing the strength 
 of man's affection; but this was not the 
 object of Louise: she wished to obtain the 
 mastery to begin with; and she played a 
 very dangerous game; for while Valentine's 
 - love was of too manly a caste to be inac- 
 cessible to reason, he had not had sufficient 
 experience in these delicate matters to know 
 how to make ladies when they are conquer- 
 ed believe that they are really victorious. 
 Ut was unfortunate, perhaps, that he did not 
 know this; but that he did not is neverthe- 
 less a fact. He was much too serious about 
 the matter. When he called for the last 
 time, in the event of Louise being denied to 
 him, he seriously meant it to be for the last 
 time: he would not have called again with- 
 out a special invitation! It may therefore 
 be held to be on all hands fortunate that 
 when he called Louise was at home. 
 
 This he had scarcely expected; but Louise 
 expected him, and had laid her plans ac- 
 cordingly: she had directed him to be shown 
 into the breakfast-room, which overlooked 
 the garden, and the moment he entered this 
 room, he saw her leaning upon the arm of 
 a tall young fellow, with whom she ap- 
 peared to be on the most affectionate terms! 
 
 Valentine looked of course he looked! 
 and his aspect was severe. She gazed 
 at the fellow, and smiled, and chatted gaily, 
 and seemed particularly playful! Valentine 
 
 pulled a piece clean out of his glove. Who 
 was it? What right had he there 1 ? He 
 couldn't tell: he could only guess! He 
 paced the room, and knit his brows, and 
 pursed his lips, and breathed hard through 
 liis nostrils, and thrust his hands firmly to 
 the very bottom of his pockets. There they 
 were! oh, yes, there they were! there 
 could scarcely be two sound opinions about 
 it! He had a great mind to go to them: he 
 had a great mind to ascertain at once what 
 it meant. And yet well! why did she 
 not come? He rang the bell with violence 
 he rang it! he was not in a sweet temper 
 at the time. " Does Miss Raven know that 
 I am here 1 ?" he inquired of the servant, as 
 he entered. 
 
 " Beg pardon, sir; quite forgot to tell 
 her, sir: dear me, beg pardon." 
 
 "Why, you thick-headed fool!" exclaim- 
 ed Valentine and it certainly was a very 
 harsh exclamation but before he could get 
 any farther the servant who only acted up 
 to his instructions had vanished from the 
 room. 
 
 "Now," thought Valentine, "I shall 
 see how the heartless coquette will conduct 
 herself, when she is told that I am here." 
 
 He stood firmly in the middle of the room, 
 and kept his eye steadfastly upon her. 
 The servant entered the garden: he addressed 
 her, and retired. She turned, she did not 
 withdraw her arm: she did not even tremble! 
 She smiled, and looked up at the mortal, 
 and said something to him, and then instead 
 of leaving him there, led him playfully into 
 the house. 
 
 Valentine now took his seat upon the 
 sofa, and tried to look as calm and collected 
 as possible. They entered the room, and 
 she absolutely introduced the long wretch 
 to him as Mr. Llewellen. 
 
 Valentine looked at him! he was too big 
 to eat but he was not too big to be anni- 
 hilated! 
 
 " Are you not well?" said Louise. 
 
 "I am not," replied Valentine. 
 
 " What is the matter!" 
 
 " Nothing of importance; I shall be able 
 no doubt to survive it. Oh I shall survive 
 it!" 
 
 " Inteet, then look you, these pleak wints 
 plow nopotty coot," observed Mr. Llewel- 
 len. 
 
 Valentine's tongue itched to mimic the 
 mortal; but, although he felt that it was 
 perfectly impossible to treat him with any- 
 thing like common civility, he thought that 
 it might perhaps be better not to insult him 
 in any direct manner, then. He therefore 
 bowed very distantly, and looked rather 
 contemptuously at Mr. Llewellen, and then 
 turned abruptly towards the window, at 
 
266 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 which Louise was engaged in making an 
 effort to suppress a hearty laugh. He 
 knew neither what to say nor how to act. 
 He could not speak before that fellow Llew- 
 ellen, and as to speaking to him! he would 
 not deign to do it. A pause therefore ensu- 
 ed a long pause during which both gen- 
 tlemen looked particularly stupid, while 
 Louise did not dare to turn her head. At 
 length, however, Llewellen who had been 
 no more fascinated by Valentine than Valen- 
 tine had been fascinated by him happened 
 to think, strangely enough, that he really 
 was not wanted, and no sooner had he con- 
 ceived this extraordinary idea, than inspired 
 with the spirit of independence he stalked 
 from the room. 
 
 This, of course, was precisely what 
 Valentine wanted. The absence of that 
 tall wretch for as a wretch he most un- 
 charitably looked upon him then was a 
 thing which he had strongly desired; and 
 yet he did not take immediate advantage of 
 his absence. He wanted Louise to speak 
 first, and she would not speak first. She 
 still kept at the window, and appeared to 
 be lost in admiration of Llewellen, who 
 was then buisily occupied in pulling up the 
 weeds. The very moment, however, Valen- 
 tine perceived that Llewellen was again in 
 the garden, he felt himself bound to break 
 silence. " I have to apologise," said he, 
 with a bitterness both of emphasis and of 
 aspect, " for having disturbed you. Had I 
 known that you had been thus affectionately 
 engaged, I should certainly not have in- 
 truded." 
 
 " Why, what do you mean!" 
 
 " You know what I mean. Who is that 
 fellow that creature that Llewellen?" 
 
 " Llewellen! oh, he is a very old friend." 
 
 " Indeed!" 
 
 " Oh yes, I have known him from infancy. 
 \Ve were play-fellows together." 
 
 " And are /?/ay-fellows still, I perceive!" 
 
 " Why, we cannot forget the very many 
 happy hours we spent together in childhood. 
 Besides, he is such an affectionate creature, 
 and so fond of me!" 
 
 " I have not the slightest doubt of it; and 
 you appear to be equally fond of him." 
 
 " Why, you surely are not jealous!" 
 
 "Jealous!" echoed Valentine, smiling 
 very bitterly. " What, of him? He is a 
 nice compactly built, intellectual looking 
 animal fora man to be jealous of, certainly!" 
 
 " Why, what is the matter with him? 
 Really, I cannot see much to complain of. 
 He is taller than you and much stouter, 
 and I am sure that he possesses a good kind 
 heart." 
 
 " In your eyes, Miss Raven, he is perfec- 
 tion, no doubt. But look you, plesa you, 
 
 the pleak wint is plowing upon his potty. 
 It may, look you, too him no coot. Inteet, 
 his pint may' pe chilt: it may set fast his 
 pones!" 
 
 " You are satirical," said Louise, "you 
 always were; but your satire has malice in 
 it now, I am afraid. Come why are you. 
 so cross with him! What has he done to 
 offend you?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing nothing," replied Valen- 
 tine, carelessly. 
 
 " Why will you not be friendly with him 
 then! you are angry perhaps, because' you 
 saw us walking in the garden, but surely 
 there was no harm in that." 
 
 " Oh! of course not. There can be no 
 harm in anything Miss Raven does. There 
 can be no harm in clinging to him as if you 
 loved him dearly. There can be no harm 
 in allowing him to play with your hand, 
 your hair, your chin, or your waist!" 
 
 " I cannot help his being fond of me!" 
 
 " Propriety, Miss Raven, might suggest 
 that you are not exactly bound to encourage 
 his fondness. But that, of course, is no- 
 thing to me. I have no voice at all in the 
 matter, although, I must say, that had you 
 dealt somewhat more justly, it might per- 
 haps, on all hands have been quite as well. 
 However, I feel that I am in the way here, 
 now, and shall therefore at once take my 
 leave." 
 
 " You are a very cross, unkind creature!" 
 said Louise. " I did intend to press you 
 to dine with us to-day; but I am not quite 
 sure that I shall do so now." 
 
 " I beg that you will not trouble yourself. 
 I would not stay if even you were to press 
 me. You have some one else to press; 
 therefore my presence cannot be required." 
 
 " Of course it must be as you please. I 
 have not the slightest influence over you, I 
 am aware; but I certainly did hope that we 
 might have spent a vary happy day together 
 in mutual forgetful ness of all that has pass- 
 ed. But I perceive that you are of a most 
 unforgiving disposition, and perceiving this, 
 I cannot but observe in my own vindication, 
 that you were the cause of all that transpir- 
 ed at our last interview that your neglect 
 urged me to say what I did." 
 
 " Of what passed at our last interview, 
 Miss Raven, I have not since 1 entered the 
 house even thought." 
 
 "Then, why are you so angry? because 
 I walked and chatted with Llewellen in tho 
 garden? Do you know who he is!" 
 
 " No: nor do I care." 
 
 " If you do not care to know, why I do 
 not earn to tell you. But I think that \\\ 
 would like to know nevertheless, and I will 
 tell you that is, provided you ask mr 
 prettily." 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 267 
 
 "Miss Raven, you treat me like a child, 
 and as a child I will be played with no 
 longer. I perceive that you are faithless, 
 and unworthy the love of an honorable man; 
 I therefore take leave of you for ever." 
 
 " If you are an honorable man," said 
 Louise, who now became somewhat alarm- 
 ed, " if you possess any one of the feelings 
 of a gentleman, you will sit down at once 
 in that chair and explain to me clearly what 
 you mean by those words. To whom have 
 I been faithless 1 ? Why am I unworthy the 
 love of an honorable man?" 
 
 " You have been faithless to me!" re- 
 turned Valentine, "and I have this day 
 proved you to be a coquette." 
 
 " I deny it!" cried Louise, " I have been 
 faithless to no one: nor have I ever been a 
 coquette! But are you really serious 1 ? Do 
 you really mean to say that I am a coquette 
 which, if I were, I should despise myself 
 because I see no impropriety in chatting 
 with my cousin!" 
 
 "Is Llewellen your cousin 1 ?" 
 " To be sure he is!" 
 "Why did you not say so before 1 ?" 
 " You said you did not care to know who 
 he was!" 
 
 " But why did you not introduce him as 
 your cousin 1 ?" 
 
 " I certainly might have done that," said 
 Louise, instead of answering the question, 
 " but, come, for goodness sake don't look 
 so cross, you surely are satisfied now 1 ?" 
 
 The fact of Llewellen being her cousin 
 somewhat softened him, but he did not feel 
 satisfied exactly. He had heard of ladies' 
 cousins before, and he knew that it fre- 
 quently happened that constant communica- 
 tion with each other engendered feelings 
 which outstripped those of consanguinity. 
 He therefore felt that he ought to look 
 sharply after the Welshman, especially as 
 Louise had confessed that he was so fond 
 he also felt, that although they were cousins 
 those playful familiarities which he hac 
 noticed ought not to be sanctioned. 
 
 " Well," said Louise, after a pause, "you 
 will dine with us now, I presume"?" 
 
 "I still beg to be excused. My presenc 
 may have a tendency to restrain perhaps 
 the playfulness of your cousin." 
 " Oh! no; not at all!" 
 " And if it does not," thought Valentine 
 " I'll work him!" 
 
 At this moment Raven played one of hi 
 fifteen-barred stuccatoed knocks at the door 
 and immediately afterwards marched inti 
 the room. "Ah! Valentine, my boy!" hi 
 cried, extending his hand, "why, wher 
 have you been for the last half century 1 ? 
 tell you what it is you two," he continued 
 "you conduct yourselves just for all th 
 
 orld as if you belonged to the aristocracy. 
 Why can't you carry on pleasantly together"? 
 iVhat's the use of quarrelling, and mump- 
 ng, and making yourselves miserable 1 ? I 
 enow you've been at it again. I don't 
 want to be told; I saw it the very moment 
 entered the room. Now take my advice: 
 uarrel no more; let this be the last, and 
 make it up as soon as possible. You are 
 lot like the beggarly aristocracy whose ob- 
 ect in matters of this kind is not to secure 
 he affections, but to overreach each other. 
 But what's become of Fred where is he!" 
 "In the garden," replied Louise. 
 " Have you not introduced him!" 
 " Oh yes; he has been talking about the 
 wints peing pleak." 
 
 " He is a droll fellow that; it would do 
 your heart good to see him eat." 
 
 'But Valentine will not dine with us 
 ,o-day," said Louise. 
 
 ' Not dine with us! Why not! Pooh! 
 nonsense: he must; he has no other engage- 
 nent. He is here now, and here he must 
 emain. There, run away, and see if you 
 can keep from quarrelling. I have a long 
 etter to write. If you want to be amused, 
 oin Fred." 
 
 Louise at once took the arm of Valentine, 
 and they went into the garden, where the 
 Welshman was still engaged pulling up 
 weeds. 
 
 ''It's poiling hot look you to tay," said 
 Llewellen, as he wiped the perspiration 
 from his red round face. 
 
 " Do you find many weeds!" inquired 
 Valentine, who now thought it might be as 
 well to be civil. 
 
 " Weets ! my potty ! look you, there's 
 nothing put weets. They tont at all under- 
 stant how to pluck them here: they preak 
 them off at the pottoms, when they crow 
 acain, pless you, insteet you see of tragging 
 them up py the roots." 
 
 Valentine at once perceived the force of 
 this remark, and was able to look at Llew- 
 ellen with comparative pleasure. He was 
 not quite so ugly as he appeared to be be- 
 fore; he was tall, but quite straight; stout, 
 but symmetrical. The change he had un- 
 dergone was amazing, and it may seem ex- 
 traordinary to some, that although he was a 
 finely made, and rather a handsome fellow, 
 Valentine should have thought him at first 
 the ugliest wretch he ever beheld; but they 
 who know the feelings which are generated 
 in the breast of a rival will understand how 
 Llewellen could appear a very ill-condi- 
 tioned mortal in the eyes of Valentine, 
 when he supposed him to be a lover of 
 Louise, for as love often blinds us to phy- 
 sical defects, so rivalry in matters of love 
 often blinds us to physical beauties. But 
 
268 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 although Llewellen looked somewhat better 
 than before, Valentine viewed him still as 
 an awkward individual, and resolved to re- 
 ward him in some way or other for every 
 affectionate word he dared to utter to Louise. 
 
 Louise, on the other hand, resolved to 
 reward him. She had reason to be satisfied 
 with all that had occurred. She had suc- 
 ceeded in making him jealous, which was 
 to her, as it is indeed to the ladies in ge- 
 neral, extremely pleasurable; and although 
 it had been essential to her own security 
 to let him know that Llewellen was her 
 cousin, she still determined to tease him 
 by being as affectionate to the Welshman 
 as one loving cousin could be to another. 
 
 " Look you, Louey tear," shouted Llew- 
 ellen, who was really a very industrious 
 fellow, " shall hur perry these weets at the 
 pottom of the carten, or purn 'em?" 
 
 "That I must leave to you," replied 
 Louise. 
 
 Llewellen at once pulled off his coat, and 
 chalked out his plans for a hole. 
 
 " Louey tear!" thought Valentine, "Why 
 could he not have contented himself with 
 4 Louey?-' what did he want to add 'tear' 
 for?" He did not approve of this mode of 
 address; he thought it highly incorrect, not- 
 withstanding they were cousins; and al- 
 though he said nothing about it then, he 
 made up his mind to punish him even for 
 that. 
 
 Coolly and tranquilly therefore did he 
 walk, while Llewellen was digging the 
 hole; and when he fancied that he had got 
 to a sufficient depth for his purpose, he ob- 
 served that he had had a tough job. 
 
 " Yesm," said Llewellen, who looked 
 very hot, "the crount is hart, look you." 
 
 " Now is the time to work him," thought 
 Valentine, who accordingly threw his voice 
 into the hole, and groaned in the most 
 piteous manner possible. 
 
 Llewellen started. He leaped from the 
 hole in an instant, and turned with an expres- 
 sion of horror, while Louise clung to Va- 
 lentine, who also looked slightly alarmed, 
 with the laudable view of keeping up the 
 delusion. 
 
 "Tit you not hear?" cried Llewellen in 
 a sharp thrilling whisper, "tit you not hear 
 a croatt? Potty of me! phot coot it pe look 
 you? Somepotty perried? Hark! pleas you, 
 hark!" he continued, as Valentine sent 
 another groan under ground. 
 
 "Good gracious!" cried Louise, "what 
 on earth can it be! Had you not better dig 
 deeper?" 
 
 Llewellen seemed paralysed. He kept 
 his eyes fixed upon the hole, and iin 
 he saw the earth move; and yet it struck 
 him at the moment as being impossible for 
 
 any human being to be there. "Nopotty 
 could preathe!" said he, after having eyed 
 the ground in every conceivable way with 
 <rre;\t intensity of feeling, "ant nopotty coot 
 live without preath!" 
 
 Valentine, who saw the inexpediency of 
 allowing the thing to be reasoned upon, in- 
 quired with much earnestness of manner, if 
 he had ever heard of persons being buried 
 in a trance. 
 
 " Perried in a trance!" cried Llewellen, 
 quite struck with the novelty of the ques- 
 tion, "inteet hur have; put then no put 
 then never at the pottoms of cartens!" 
 
 "Let me out! let me out! oh, do let me 
 out!" cried Valentine, feigning a half smo- 
 thered voice, which appeared to proceed 
 from about two feet below the bottom of the 
 hole. 
 
 " Hur will, look you!" shouted Llewellen, 
 who had then no doubt about the matter at 
 all, " hur will tig till hur fint you!" 
 
 "If you do," thought Valentine, "you 
 will tig to an extraordinary depth." 
 
 Llewellen now set to work in earnest. 
 He used his spade with surpassing dex- 
 terity. Had he served an apprenticeship 
 to the first metropolitan grave-digger he 
 could not have been more au fait to the 
 work. 
 
 " Can I assist you?" said Valentine, as a 
 mere matter of politeness. 
 
 " No, look you, the hole is not pig 
 enough for poth." 
 
 Nor was it; it was then but about two 
 feet in diameter, and as Llewellen had got 
 about three feet deep, he could not operate 
 with any degree of comfort to himself. Of 
 course Valentine perceived this with plea- 
 sure, and being resolved to keep him at it, 
 continued to exert himself so zealously in 
 the cause, that Llewellen soon enlarged his 
 sphere of action. 
 
 "A little pit longer!" he cried, "ant 
 you'll then pe releast, look you!" 
 
 " Oh!" exclaimed Valentine, " don't tread 
 so heavily upon me." 
 
 "Hur wont, my tear poy! hur wont tret 
 upon you any more than hur can help." 
 
 "I cannot bear it!" cried Valentine. 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " Put pless you, hur must tret a little to 
 tiff. Phot part am hur upon you?" 
 
 "My back." 
 
 "Your pack!" cried Llewellen, when 
 looking up at Valentine, he added, " he's 
 perried upon his pelly!" 
 
 So exceedingly natural was this conclu- 
 sion, and so long was the countenance with 
 which it was drawn and declared, that Va- 
 lentine could scarcely refrain from laughing. 
 He did, however, by dint of great exertion, 
 succeed in preserving that gravity of aspect 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 269 
 
 which the deep and solemn character of the 
 occasion demanded, and Llewellen again 
 set to work with all the zeal and rapidity of 
 which he was capable. His first object 
 now was to cut out a small standing place 
 for himself, that he might not give pain to 
 the unfortunate person whom he naturally 
 presumed to be beneath; and as he of course 
 soon accomplished that praiseworthy object, 
 he worked away like a sapper, and exhibited 
 the most benevolent anxiety to avoid dig- 
 ging the spade into any part of the body of 
 that unfortunate person; being convinced 
 that if he did so, the wound he should in- 
 flict would be neither slight nor pleasant, 
 and might be exceedingly difficult to heal, 
 inasmuch as the dirt would be sure to get 
 in it. 
 
 " Now work away!" cried Valentine, in 
 his feigned voice, of course; and Llewellen, 
 who was already working away like a con- 
 vict, redoubled his exertions, as big drops 
 of sweat left his brow to bedew the hole. 
 
 "Come, quick!" cried Valentine; "I 
 only wish you were here instead of me." 
 
 This Llewellen conceived to be an un- 
 grateful observation; but as he felt that the 
 life of an unfortunate fellow-creature was at 
 stake, he took no further notice of the mat- 
 ter, but continued to work with all the 
 spirit and strength he had in him. 
 
 "Hollo, hollo, hollo!" cried Raven, 
 coming up at this moment, having noticed 
 the extraordinary exertions of Llewellen 
 from the window. " What do you mean 
 by cutting up the garden in this way? For 
 whom are you digging that gravel" 
 
 " Oh, papa!" cried Louise, as Llewellen 
 kept on, for he thought that no time was to 
 be lost, and very properly; " some poor 
 unhappy creature has been buried alive!" 
 
 "Buried alive! What, here? Pooh, non- 
 sense, absurd!" 
 
 "But we have heard him!" 
 
 "I tell you it's absurd!" 
 
 " How too you fint yourself now, my tear 
 poy?" inquired Llewellen of the person as- 
 sumed to be below. 
 
 " Work away!" cried Valentine. " A 
 little to the left!" 
 
 " Bless my life and soul!" exclaimed 
 Raven, who heard this. " Why, how 
 could it be? Run for those fellows, my 
 girl. Tell them all to come instantly! 
 Val, you will find a lot of spades and a pick- 
 axe in the tool-house; bring them all here 
 quick, there's a good fellow. Keep at it, 
 Fred! dig away!" And Fred did dig 
 away! no Pole on being sent to the Sibe" 
 rian mines ever dug away harder. 
 
 44 Now then!" cried Raven, as the ser- 
 vants appeared. " Now, off with your 
 coats, and help Mr. Llewellen." 
 24 
 
 The servants looked at the hole in a state 
 of amazement; but stripped, as they were 
 desired, in a moment, although they could 
 not conceive what the object was, exactly. 
 
 " Now make this place larger: be quick!" 
 cried Raven; and as two of them caught 
 hold of spades, the other seized the pick- 
 axe, and dropped into the hole. 
 
 " Get out!" cried Valentine, " you hurt 
 me!" And he with the pickaxe did get cut, 
 and that with remarkable promptitude, for 
 really he felt much alarmed. 
 
 " Work round the edge!" cried Raven; 
 " and make the hole larger! How came 
 you first to hear him?" 
 
 " Hur was tigging a hole, look you, to 
 perry the weets," replied Llewellen, who 
 nearly broke his back in standing up to 
 give an answer to the question, " when I 
 hurt a lout croan, pless you, unter the 
 crount." 
 
 " How very fortunate you happened to 
 select this spot," observed Raven; and it 
 was held to be a singularly fortunate selec- 
 tion, under the circumstances, by all. 
 
 " What do you leave off for!" cried Va- 
 lentine, as the sweating Llewellen was en- 
 gaged in readjusting the muscular economy 
 of his back. " Do you hear?" 
 
 Llewellen did not exactly like being ad- 
 dressed in so imperative a style by a man 
 to preserve whose life he had been working 
 like a slave. He still, however, felt him- 
 self bound, as a Christian, to do all in his 
 power to release him, notwithstanding his 
 manifest ingratitude, and therefore again 
 went to work, but with the full determina- 
 tion to expostulate with him the very mo- 
 ment he got him out. 
 
 The servants, under the strict surveil- 
 lance of Raven, were now digging away 
 like young sextons. They never before had 
 such a job. In less than ten minutes from 
 the time they commenced, the prespiration 
 oozed from every pore. The intense curi- 
 osity involved in the hope of digging a man 
 up alive for some short time sustained 
 them; but, as the harder they worked, and 
 the deeper they dug, the more distant the 
 actual realisation of that hope seemed to be, 
 they very soon began to flag, as if unable to 
 stand it. Raven, however, made them stick 
 to it closely; and they felt it to be, under the 
 circumstances, as much as their respective 
 situations were worth, to give in. They 
 felt already nearly exhausted; work was al- 
 together new to them; they puffed, and 
 panted, and groaned; but Raven still kept 
 them at it. 
 
 " Let's have some peer!" cried Llewellen, 
 " Hur'm poiling!" 
 
 The servants simultaneously looked at 
 their master in the hope of being ordered to 
 
270 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 run for the beer, seeing that that to either of 
 them would have been a great relief, be- 
 cause neither would have felt himself bound 
 to hurry back; but no, Raven sent Louise to 
 their manifest mortification, and made them 
 keep on, although they declared to each 
 other in strict confidence aside that they felt 
 fit to drop. Their philanthropy had van- 
 ished. That beautiful feeling of humanity, 
 which prompted them at first to work with 
 the view of saving the life of a fellow-crea- 
 ture, had died away. They now felt for 
 themselves, and that feeling was at the mo- 
 ment so powerful, that in it all others were 
 merged. It was not, however, thus with 
 Llewellen. He was determined to rescue 
 him whom he believed to be underground, 
 if possible. All considerations having refer- 
 ence to himself were set aside in the pure 
 spirit of benevolence, and therefore when 
 the beer came, he opened his shoulders, 
 and, without even taking his lips from the 
 vehicle, swallowed at least three pints. The 
 servants looked at him while he was drink- 
 ing, with astonishment, mingled with dis- 
 may, forasmuch as they beheld the wide 
 bottom of the can go gradually up into the 
 air, they became most intensely apprehen- 
 sive of his drawing every drain; for they 
 knew that that can for them alone, would 
 never by the order of their master be replen- 
 ished. When Llewellen, therefore, left them 
 a pint, it was just a pint more than they ex- 
 pected, and they felt themselves bound in 
 drinking that pint, to be just as long as if it 
 had been half a gallon. 
 
 " Come, come!" cried Valentine, " work 
 away there! you don't consider!" 
 
 " Yesm, my poy," said Llewellen, whose 
 face glowed like fire. " Are you much 
 teeper town, look you now 1 ?" 
 
 "How can I tell!" replied Valentine. 
 " Can you not guess from the sound of my 
 voice!" 
 
 " Inteet, how the tevil you can speak at 
 all, I can't think, look you!" 
 
 "Now then don't chatter, but work!" 
 cried Valentine, and Llewellen more firmly 
 than ever resolved to deliver to the invisible 
 individual a lecture upon his glaring impro- 
 priety of speech the very instant he had 
 succeeded in digging him out. 
 
 The hole was now about nine feet long 
 by six wide, while its depth was between 
 five and six, and as they had just reached a 
 stratum of brickbats and tiles, the difficulty 
 experienced in digging considerably in- 
 creased. Llewellen was nothing daunted 
 by this singular circumstance, but the ser- 
 vants who had for some time previously 
 exhibited symptoms of exhaustion, now 
 took upon themselves the responsibility of 
 
 declaring that they should not be able to 
 stand it much longer. 
 
 " Let's have some more peer!" cried Lle- 
 wellen. 
 
 " What, again!" exclaimed Valentine. 
 
 "Yesm, can't tig without peer." 
 
 Again, then, Louise was despatched with 
 the can, and, on her return, Llewellen 
 did succeed in emptying it at a draught, 
 but sent her to fill it once more for the ser- 
 vants. 
 
 " Now are you going to work away, 
 again, or are you not!" inquired Valentine, 
 whose voice now appeared to proceed from 
 abont a foot below the bottom of the hole. 
 " You think more of swilling, than of me!" 
 
 "Tont be angry, my poy. Flesh and 
 ploot must be sustain! while tigging, in 
 truth." 
 
 " If we may judge from the sound," ob- 
 served Raven, "he don't lie much deeper. 
 You had belter dig a trench round, and 
 then you'll be able to pull him up at once, 
 without injury." 
 
 "You can't jutch from the sount how 
 teep he is, pless you. Hur jutcht from the 
 sount that he wasn'f a foot teep an hour 
 ago; put hur'll try." 
 
 He then took the pickaxe, and used it so 
 dexterously that he kept the men fully em- 
 ployed with their spades, until the trench 
 had been established. "Are you pelow 
 this, look you!" he then inquired. 
 
 " I think not," replied Valentine. 
 
 "All you have to do then," said Raven, 
 " is to raise that earth there in the middle." 
 
 " Yesm. Now my poys work away!" 
 cried Llewellen; "he'll soon be out now." 
 
 The hopes of the servants revived: their 
 spirits were reanimated to a sensible extent, 
 and they did work away very laudably. 
 They now again firmly believed that they 
 should see that unhappy individual, of 
 whose existence under ground they were 
 satisfied to a man. They, therefore, used 
 their spades with really great ardor, con- 
 sidering: but, as time had cemented the 
 bricks and loam firmly together, the ground 
 was so stiff that, after the first five minutes, 
 they were quite inclined to give the thing 
 up, as being utterly hopeless. The inde- 
 fatigable zeal of Llewellen, however, again 
 urged them on. He once more seized the 
 pickaxe to loosen the earth, in utter foiL r <>t- 
 fulness of the fact that he firmly believed 
 the man to be lying in the very spot to 
 which he applied it with ;ill his powrr. 
 Valentine perceived this, of course, and 
 when Llewellen had picked a deep hole, 
 into which he was driving the implement 
 again and again, with all the strcinjih at his 
 command, lie cried, " Oh! it has entered my 
 leg! now let ine lie in peace." 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 271 
 
 Llewellen paused, and listened. All was 
 silent beneath. His impression then was 
 that he had unhappily injured the individual 
 very seriously. 
 
 "Phot's to pe tone?" he inquired, ad- 
 dressing Raven. 
 
 " Why, dig him out, of course," replied 
 that gentleman, " its only his leg! that's not 
 of much importance. We are sure he's 
 there now; therefore, let's have him out at 
 once, dead or alive." 
 
 Llewellen abandoned the dangerous pick- 
 axe, and again had recourse to the innocent 
 spade, which, after having called for a 
 " trop more peer," he continued to employ, 
 with unequivocal success, while the ser- 
 vants, who now, as they conceived, had 
 something of a tangible character to work 
 upon, seeing that the victim had really call- 
 ed out about his leg, backed the glorious 
 efforts of Llewellen most manfully, which, 
 duly considering all things, certainly did 
 them great credit. 
 
 Upwards of an hour they worked at this 
 solid piece of earth; for, as Llewellen would 
 not use the pickaxe again, their progress 
 was singularly slow. As they proceeded 
 they, of course, thought it strange that they 
 should meet with nothing indicative of the 
 presence of a man. Had they come across 
 a finger, or even a toe, they strongly felt 
 that under the circumstances it would have 
 been something; but, as they dug out no- 
 thing but bricks and tiles, it was natural 
 for them to infer therefrom, that there was 
 something about the affair rather mysterious. 
 They, nevertheless, worked away in the 
 hope of picking up anon a loose leg, an odd 
 arm, or the head of an individual, until they 
 had got below the point to which Llewellen 
 had pierced, when the mystery became very 
 dense. 
 
 44 Nopotty here!" exclaimed Llewellen; 
 44 where is the leek that hur injurt? Hur've 
 cot pelow that!" 
 
 44 And it seems to be impossible for him 
 to have moved in such hard stony earth," 
 added Raven. 
 
 44 Oh! if he has the apility to move apout 
 the crount, why we may keep on tigging till 
 toomstay. Where are you, my poy, look 
 you, where are you now]" 
 
 No answer was returned to this plain, 
 simple question. 
 
 44 Are you let!" 
 
 There was still no answer. 
 
 44 Well, this is, beyond all doubt," ob- 
 served Raven, 4 'the most extraordinary 
 thing I ever met with." 
 
 44 Extraortinary ! hur is thunterstruck, 
 look you!" cried Llewellen, and he really 
 appeared to be so at that moment. * He's 
 tet; there's no tout apout that: hur've kilt 
 
 him with the pickaxe; ant, therefore, as hur 
 can now too no more coot to-day, hur'll 
 have another tig to-morrow morning for the 
 potty." 
 
 44 But I don't see how you could have 
 touched him," said Raven. 
 
 4 ' Nor can hur, look you; put there's no 
 tout that he's there; ant, as hur can't hear 
 him speak, there's no tout that he's tet; ant 
 as he is tet, hur can't pring him to life again, 
 so that hur hat petter pegin fresh acain to- 
 morrow." 
 
 To this series of opinions all promptly 
 subscribed, and Llewellen got out of the 
 hole. The servants followed, not indeed 
 with much alacrity, but with peculiar satis- 
 faction, far as the mere cessation from labor 
 was concerned, but no further. They were 
 unable to stand erect: every attempt they 
 made to reassume that manly position was 
 accompanied by a pain of the most acute 
 character in the back. They were, there- 
 fore, content to walk for a time nearly dou- 
 ble, as the only available means of avoiding 
 immediate agony. This, however, was 
 not the case with Llewellen he gave one 
 mighty stretch, and all was over; but his 
 appearance at the time was anything but 
 aristocratical, seeing that his hands, arms, 
 and face were begrimed with dirt, while 
 his clothes were in a most untidy condition. 
 He had done more work in those three hours, 
 than his assistants could have accomplished 
 in a month; not only because he possessed 
 more strength, but because his had been 
 purely voluntary labor, while theirs would 
 of necessity be compulsory, inasmuch as, 
 except upon compulsion, they would never 
 work at all. 
 
 44 Well," said Raven, after having stood 
 over the hole with Llewellen for some time 
 in deep contemplation, ' 4 1 can't make it 
 out; I shall not be satisfied until we have 
 him up. It certainly is the strangest thing 
 I ever either heard of or met with." 
 
 44 Oh hur'll have him up to-morrow, never 
 fear. Hur'll tig till hur fint him, if he's 
 town twenty feet." 
 
 44 Well, come Fred, run away and make 
 yourself decent for dinner." 
 
 44 Hur wish it was retty look you, now," 
 said Llewellen, 4 ' hur shall eat a goot tin- 
 ner to-lay." 
 
 Of this Raven appeared to have no doubt 
 whatever, and when~he had given certain 
 instructions to his nearly exhausted ser- 
 vants, who were doubled up still, Louise 
 and Valentine were left in the garden alone. 
 
 The fact of a voice having been heard to 
 proceed apparently from the earth, rendered 
 Louise for the time being oblivious of 
 almost everything else: she could speak, 
 she could think, in fact, of nothing but that; 
 
272 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 for although the thing in itself must appear 
 extremely stupid to those who know the 
 means hy which the effects of ventriloquism 
 are produced, they, who have not even the 
 most remote conception of those means, are 
 not inclined to think so lightly of the effects 
 at the time. To them those effects are in- 
 variably astounding, and it may with per- 
 fect safety he asserted, that there is scarcely 
 a man who, on hearing a voice proceed ap- 
 parently from the earth, and being at the 
 same time unconscious of the power of 
 ventriloquy, would not dig a hole, in order 
 to ascertain the cause, as deep as that dug 
 by Llewellen. He was as firmly convinced 
 as he was of his own existence, that some 
 unhappy person was alive under ground, 
 and so was Raven, and so was Louise, 
 whose conjectures were certainly of a most 
 extraordinary character. Valentine would 
 willingly have undeceived her, but as his 
 object was to make Llewellen anon appear 
 as ridiculous as possible in the event of his 
 continuing to address her in those terms of 
 endearment of which he did not and could 
 not approve, he very naturally kept the 
 thing a secret even from her, and contented 
 himself with subduing her fears. 
 
 In a short time Llewellen reappeared in 
 the garden, very warm still, but tidy. His 
 object was to have another glance at the 
 hole before dinner, and he therefore walked 
 up to it thoughtfully and firmly, and stood 
 upon its brink, and shook his head, and 
 looked down, first in the most straightfor- 
 ward manner, and then obliquely. While 
 at his toilet he had conceived the idea that 
 he had not in reality dug below the point 
 the pickaxe had reached; but as after a very 
 minute examination he discovered that he 
 had, the thing appeared to him to be far 
 more mysterious than ever. He could not 
 understand it at all, and he said so, and 
 continued to announce the same fact, with 
 variations, until he sat down to dinner, 
 when, from the time he began till he had 
 fmishod, he did not appear to have a mo- 
 ment's opportunity for the delivery of any 
 opinion upon any subject whatever. " Hur 
 will trupple you acain," "Shall hur have 
 the pleasure?" " Hur shall pe prout" 
 " Yesm" " No" and "A littel more 
 peer," were the only words he uttered. 
 
 Valentine had been led by Raven to ex- 
 pect that Llewellen was able to eat, but hr 
 had, he could have had, no idea of the ex- 
 tent of his gormandising powers. Four 
 times he was helped to soup, three times to 
 fish, and three times to hrrf alihoujili 
 Ravfii, knowing his customer, took special 
 care to send him upwards of a pound in-li 
 time after which he demolished a chicki n 
 and a half with a fully proportionate quan- 
 
 tity of ham, and then set to work upon the 
 pastry precisely as if nothing at all had 
 happened winding up the whole by empty- 
 ing the bread-basket with a view to the full 
 injoyment of two good half-pound slices of 
 cheese. 
 
 It is true that his appetite on this occa- 
 sion had been very much provoked. As a 
 matter of justice this must be admitted. 
 He had worked very hard, and digging is 
 a species of labor which renders a man lia- 
 ble to eat a great deal. But, allowing for 
 all this, the way in which Llewellen ate 
 proved that it was not for him a very extra- 
 ordinary quantity, although sufficient to 
 have satisfied a family of twelve, if even 
 they had not had a respectable meal for a 
 month. 
 
 "How many meals a-day do you have 
 when you are at home, Fred?" inquired Mr. 
 Raven, as soon as Llewellen was disen- 
 gaged. 
 
 " Only five, look you: preakfast, lunch, 
 tinner, tea, and supper." 
 
 44 And do you have animal food at every 
 meal?" 
 
 " Yesm. A man in Caermarthen inteet 
 must have foot: he can't live without eat- 
 ing." Which, however extraordinary it 
 may appear, is a positive fact. 
 
 Dinner now being at an end, the mystery 
 again formed the topic of conversation. 
 
 "That some poor creature," said Raven, 
 "lies buried at the bottom of our garden, 
 there cannot be a rational doubt, and if I 
 were at all superstitious, I should say that 
 the fact of his being there accounts for the 
 singular noises we hare frequently heard. 
 If you remember, Valentine, the last time 
 your uncle was here, we heard a strange 
 voice in this very room! I have never been 
 able to make that out yet. You recollect?" 
 
 " Oh! yes:* One of the Aristocracy!' " 
 
 " Exactly Now that was a wonderful 
 circumstance, when you come to think of 
 it! We could find no one in the room, you 
 know! The voice would answer questions, 
 but nothing could be seen! Nearly the 
 whole of the following day was I endeavor- 
 ing to find out what it could possibly have 
 been, and as I could obtain no clue what- 
 ever to the mystery, I'd lay my life, if I 
 were at all superstitious, that this affair in 
 the garden is connected with it in some 
 way. I have heard of haunted houses, it is 
 lint then I never put faith in such 
 absurdities 1 have invariably looked upon 
 them either as the morbid imagining* of 
 hypochondriacs, or as the idle !';mri 
 iijnor.mt minds wrought upon by suprrsii- 
 tious fear. Thank Heaven I am not super- 
 stitious: I never was I am only saying, 
 that if 1 were, the chances are that I should 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 273 
 
 attribute the strange noises that I have 
 heard to the fact of some one having been 
 buried, in the garden." 
 
 44 Some of these things," observed Va- 
 lentine, " are very unaccountable." 
 
 " They are indeed. I have heard many 
 persons, strong-minded persons too, declare 
 that they have seen apparitions, and no 
 argument, no reasoning, could ever induce 
 them to believe that they had not. I con- 
 fess that if there be such things as spectres, 
 I should exceedingly like to see one; but I 
 have no belief in anything of the sort. I 
 can, of course, understand how men can 
 imagine that they behold them. We all 
 see visions in our dreams, and when men 
 see them while, as they fancy, they are 
 awake, they do but dream that they see 
 them, for the process of beholding appari- 
 tions is but a morbid species of dreaming 
 after all." 
 
 " But both these things to which you 
 have alluded may be mysterious, and yet 
 have no connection with each other," ob- 
 served Valentine. 
 
 44 Exactly. With regard to the affair in 
 the garden, I don't know at all what to 
 think about that. The fact of an absolutely 
 dead man being buried in such a place, 
 would lead one to suppose that there had 
 been some foul play, while, if it be any 
 one who has been buried in a trance, it is 
 exceedingly strange that they should have 
 
 buried him there. Of course, that people 
 have been thus buried we cannot doubt. 
 Many cases have occurred, which prove 
 beyond all dispute, the possibility of per- 
 sons under those circumstances, being able 
 to exist in the earth." 
 
 At this moment, Llewellen commenced 
 snoring most hideously. 
 
 44 Fred!" cried Raven. 44 My good fel- 
 low, come, come, we can't stand that!" 
 
 Poor Llewellen, whom the labor of love 
 in the garden had exhausted, remained quite 
 unconscious of being thus addressed. Raven 
 shook him very manfully, and bawled in his 
 ear, but although the snoring almost instan- 
 taneously ceased, it was a long time before 
 he could be persuaded to open his eyes. 
 
 44 1 say Fred!" continued Raven, when 
 he had accomplished this praiseworthy ob- 
 ject. 44 We can't stand snoring!" 
 
 "Tear me! tit hur snore? Hur peck 
 parton, look you, put really hur really." 
 Having got to this highly satisfactory point, 
 he dropped off again as soundly as before, 
 when, as the music of his *' most miraculous 
 organ" had ceased, no attempt was made 
 again to disturb him. He slept, and slept 
 on, and as Raven soon followed his exam- 
 ple, Louise and Valentine passed an ex- 
 tremely pleasant evening, although neither 
 could be said to have absolutely relinquished 
 the object they both had in view. 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 IN WHICH VALENTINE ARGUES A POINT IN OPPOSITION TO THE VIEWS OF MANY THOUSANDS. 
 
 WHEN Valentine called the following morn- 
 ing, he found poor Llewellen in the hole. 
 He had been digging away ever since six 
 o'clock, but, of course, without any suc- 
 cess. When he commenced at that inter- 
 esting hour, he had firmly resolved to keep 
 at it until he found the 4 ' potty," but as the 
 ground, when Valentine arrived, was be- 
 coming sufficiently damp to convince him 
 that he could not be very far off water, his 
 ardor was somewhat subdued, and he put it 
 seriously to himself, whether it was worth' 
 while, under all the circumstances of the 
 case, to adhere to his original resolution. 
 
 44 Still at it," cried Valentine, on looking 
 down the hole. 44 Have you had any 
 sport?" 
 
 44 Hur have not fount the potty," replied 
 Llewellen, in despair, ' 4 ant the pottum is 
 ketting rather tamp, inteet, look you!" 
 
 44 Well!" said Valentine, who really be- 
 
 gan to think that he had had enough dig- 
 ging, " if I were you I'd give the thing up." 
 
 44 Hur tont like to too that, ant yet,^if hur 
 tig much teeper hur finthur shall have inteet 
 to tig in a well." 
 
 44 Exactly; you have gone deep enough 
 now to satisfy the conscience of any man. 
 Come! give me your hand. The thing has 
 now become hopeless." 
 
 Llewellen did not at all like to relinquish 
 his task; but as reason suggested to him at 
 the moment, that he might as well do so as 
 not, he 4 ' listened to the voice of the char- 
 mer," and leaped at once out of the hole. 
 
 44 Well," said he, 44 now there's a jop to 
 fill it up acain, look you." 
 
 44 Oh, leave that to the servants. Let 
 them do it at their leisure. Don't trouble 
 yourself about that." 
 
 In this particular also, Llewellen allowed 
 himself to be guided, and he went to restore 
 24* 
 
274 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 the respectability of his appearance, while 
 Valentine was pleasantly engaged with 
 Louise. She had become quite herself 
 again, and chatted so gaily, and seemed to be 
 60 happy in his society, that every feeling he 
 had entertained of an unfavorable character 
 towards Llewellen subsided, and he began 
 rather to like him than not. And this happy 
 change of feeling was mutual. Llewellen 
 had become quite partial to him: indeed, 
 when he rejoined him on that occasion, so 
 good an understanding existed between 
 them, that they agreed to spend the evening 
 together " somewhere." 
 
 Louise, however, did not approve of this 
 arrangement. She naturally wished that 
 "somewhere" to be there, and would as- 
 suredly have put her veto at once upon its 
 being anywhere else, if she had not relin- 
 quished the imperative mood quite so re- 
 cently. As it was, she very prudently 
 deemed it expedient to withhold her coun- 
 tenance from the proposed arrangement 
 simply, although she could have delivered 
 her opinion upon the subject with no incon- 
 siderable eloquence and warmth! No direct 
 opposition therefore having been offered, 
 the arrangement remained undisturbed, and 
 Valentine, who had promised to dine with 
 his uncle, left with every feeling of jealousy 
 crushed. 
 
 He looked upon Llewellen no longer as 
 a rival, so differently do men under different 
 circumstances appear. He knew but little 
 of him scarcely anything indeed yet he 
 feltthathe possessed qualities theknowledge 
 of which would be pleasing. There are 
 some men whose characters may be seen at 
 a glance; while the characters of others re- 
 quire time to be understood, and there can 
 be as little doubt about which of the two 
 classes succeed best with the superficial as 
 about which are as associates to be prefer- 
 red; for the difference between them con- 
 sists simply in this, that whereas the former 
 strive to create a favorable impression by 
 means which are easily seen through, the 
 latter are content to leave all to be dis- 
 covered. 
 
 To this latter class Llewellen belonged, 
 and Valentine, now the film of jealousy had 
 been removed, did not fail to perceive it. 
 It was therefore with pleasure that he called 
 for him in the evening, and, whon they had 
 listened to Louise, who had prepared for 
 the occasion a few touching inuendos, which 
 had reference to social influences in general, 
 they set forth in search of some new enter- 
 tainment. 
 
 The first thing which arrested the atten- 
 tion of Llewellen, was a flaming pl:u-;m|. 
 upon which two men were represented in a 
 pugilistic attitude. 
 
 44 Oh!" he exclaimed, " bur shoot like to 
 co there and see them apove all thinks in 
 life!" 
 
 Valentine read the placard, and as he 
 found that a grand pugilistic display was 
 to take place that evening, they started off 
 at once, and soon reached the scene of ac- 
 tion. On entering the arena, they found the 
 sport had not yet commenced, and the audi- 
 ence, of whom the majority were respecta- 
 bly attired, while some of them were dressed 
 in the first style of fashion, manifesting 
 symptoms of impatience, it being then past 
 the hour announced in the placard. They 
 were not however kept much longer in sus- 
 pense, for almost immediately afterwards a 
 person appeared upon the stage, about four 
 or five-and-twenty feet square, and intro- 
 duced two finely formed athletic fellows to 
 the audience, one as "The Birmingham 
 Bull," and the other as " The Brixton 
 Chicken." They were, notwithstanding 
 this, fairly matched in appearance. They 
 were about the same height, and the same 
 weight; and while the muscles of both 
 were developed with equal beauty, their 
 skin was equally healthy and clear. 
 
 As they shook hands as well as they 
 could with their gloves on, they smiled at 
 each other good-homoredly, and then with 
 the utmost coolness set to work. For some 
 considerable time, not a single blow was 
 offered. They looked at each other's eyes 
 firmly, and prepared their defence at every 
 feint; and when they did strike out, for the 
 amusement of the spectators, Valentine 
 was amazed at the rapidity and tact with 
 which each blow was parried. It seemed 
 for some time to be impossible for either to 
 break fairly through his antagonist's guard; 
 and when at lengfh, as if tired of defending 
 themselves simply, they relinquished the 
 defence for the attack, the blows that were 
 given were mutually received with every 
 demonstration of good will. 
 
 A shower of sixpences followed this dis- 
 play, which the combatants picked up with 
 infinite alacrity, and looked as if as far as 
 their own private feelings were concerned 
 it would have been extremely pleasant to 
 see it rain thus for a month. To them, 
 however, the gods were not quite so propi- 
 tious: they very soon succeeded in clearing 
 the stage; and when they had left it, two 
 others were introduced by the master of the 
 ceremonies, whose general style was so 
 <'\lr;mrdinary, that Valentine could not re- 
 sist the temptation to have a word with him 
 
 Tho Bogpy and the Pot! the Prt! 
 the Bogey!" cried the master of the c< n - 
 monies, pointing distinctly to each in his 
 turn. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 275 
 
 "Which is the Pet]" inquired Valen- 
 tine, throwing his voice among ihe shilling 
 individuals. 
 
 "This is the Pet, and this is the Bogey; 
 this is the Bogey and this is the Pet." 
 
 " But which is the Bogey?" 
 
 4 Why this is the Bogey!" And as he 
 said so, he looked rather severely towards 
 the spot from which the voice appeared to 
 proceed. 
 
 " But the Pet!" cried Valentine, "which 
 is the Pet!" 
 
 The master of the ceremonies felt rather 
 ruffled, and left the stage determined to 
 have no more of it. 
 
 The Pet and the Bogey then commenced; 
 but Valentine's attention was arrested at 
 the moment by Llewellen, who had dis- 
 covered a friend by his side, who resided in 
 Caermarthen,and who appeared to be quite 
 shocked at the idea of being caught in such 
 a place on such an occasion. Llewellen in- 
 troduced this gentleman as Mr. Jarvis Jones, 
 - and subsequently stated, aside, that he was 
 an exceedingly charitable, kind-hearted per- 
 son, who, by his acts of benevolence, had 
 acquired throughout Wales, the reputation 
 of a philanthropist. Under these peculiar 
 circumstances, Valentine was pleased with 
 the introduction; but although, after what 
 had been stated by Llewellen, he believed 
 him to be a good sort of creature, he could 
 not help thinking that there was something 
 in his general aspect at the time inappro- 
 priately severe. 
 
 " Are you a patron of the art of self-de- 
 fence?" inquired Valentine. 
 
 "Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Mr. Jarvis 
 Jones. 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 "I came here as a matter of curiosity; 
 but I assure you that I am disgusted with 
 the whole exhibition." 
 
 " Upon my word you somewhat surprise 
 me," said Valentine, "for really I am un- 
 able to perceive anything in it at all calcu- 
 lated to excite the slightest feeling of dis- 
 gust!" 
 
 " I do not perhaps look so much at the 
 exhibition per se, as at its tendency; al- 
 though it is of itself sufficiently degrading 
 to our nature, that men should come forward 
 thus to knock each other about for gain." 
 
 " I fear that the love of gain," rejoined 
 Valentine, "prompts men to acts of a cha- 
 racter far more degrading to our nature." 
 
 44 No doubt of it! that I have no desire 
 to dispute; but it does not follow that one 
 species of degradation should be counte- 
 nanced because there may happen to be 
 another more vile." 
 
 " That of course must he admitted; but 
 if we look at the members of such profes- 
 
 sions, as are not deemed degrading, but 
 which, on the contrary, are held to be highly 
 honorable, we shall find, 1 apprehend, hu- 
 man nature in your sense degraded to at 
 least an equal depth." 
 
 " You mean of course occasionally! by 
 individuals?" 
 
 " No; in the aggregate: looking at the 
 principle which actuates them all. Take, 
 for instance, the profession of a soldier." 
 
 " Surely you do not mean to compare a 
 soldier to a pugilist?" 
 
 " Why should I not? Can the love of 
 gain be said to have no influence over him? 
 Take him as he is- as a man; and tell me 
 why, if righting for gain be indeed degrad- 
 ing, he is not in that respect as degraded as 
 the pugilist." 
 
 " But the soldier fights the battles of his 
 country." 
 
 " No doubt of it; and were he occasion- 
 ally to refuse to fight what are termed ' the 
 battles of his country,' he would be just as 
 good a patriot; but, apart from this, he fights 
 with a view to his own aggrandisement: 
 with this view he enlisted; for gain he en- 
 tered the army as one willing to kill whom- 
 soever he might be directed to kill, without 
 remorse, because the country calls it glory, 
 and without the slightest reference to the 
 justice of the cause in which he fights; for 
 that of course he is not supposed to under- 
 stand. It may be said, indeed, that the 
 leading star of the soldier is fame. Fame 
 is equally the leading star of the pugilist. 
 Its influence is equally felt; it is as dear to 
 the one as to the other. But this is not the 
 point: the question is simply this: Is the 
 pugilist degraded because he fights for gain? 
 If he be, then are all men who fight for gain 
 plunged into the depths of degradation 
 no matter with what weapon they may 
 fight, whether with swords, fists, pistols, 
 or tongues?" 
 
 " Then you would place politicians on a 
 level with pugilists?" 
 
 "All of them, of course, who do battle 
 for gain." 
 
 " And advocates generally barristers for 
 example?" 
 
 44 1 would place them considerably lower 
 in the scale of venality, for they without 
 having ignorance to plead in extenuation 
 will prostitute their talents in any cause, 
 however unjust to individuals, or pernicious 
 to society. For a fee, they will plunge the 
 most amiable and exemplary into wretched- 
 ness and want, by violating every just, 
 every honorable principle, to make the 
 worse appear the better reason; for a fee, 
 they will snatch from justice, and fling upon 
 society again, those whom they know to be 
 guilty of crimes the most hideous." 
 
276 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "You will remember," observed Mr. 
 Jones, "I admitted that the love of gain, 
 urged men to acts more degrading to our 
 nature than those even of pugilists, while 
 you in turn, acknowledged that it did not 
 follow that one species of degradation 
 should be countenanced, because another 
 existed of a character more vile. But, as 
 I said, I look more at the tendency of such 
 exhibitions as these, than at either the ex- 
 hibitions themselves, or the characters of 
 those engaged in them." 
 
 "And what do you conceive their ten- 
 dency to be 1 ?" 
 
 14 To generate pugnacity among the lower 
 orders to render them revengeful to ac- 
 custom them to scuffles and drunken brawls 
 and to lead them into scenes of de- 
 bauchery and vice." 
 
 "This is an awful account, certainly," 
 Baid Valentine. " But how comes it that, 
 since pugilism as an art has been discoun- 
 tenaced, the lower orders have been as pug- 
 nacious, as revengeful, as accustomed to 
 scuffles and braws, and as vicious at least 
 as before?" 
 
 "Because the influence of pugilism, in 
 its palmy days, has not yet been effectually 
 suppressed." 
 
 " If it has been suppressed at all, these 
 vices if attributable to that influence 
 must have decreased in proportion^ Years 
 have passed away since the art was dis- 
 couraged, and that its influence has been 
 weakened no man can doubt; for, since its 
 discouragement I may say its almost total 
 suppression the cowardly spirit which 
 actuates secret assassins, has supplanted 
 the manly courage it inspired. Knives, 
 daggers, and pikes, are now the popular 
 instruments of revenge. The use of the 
 fist is exploded. Men are murdered out- 
 right in lieu of being disfigured. Where 
 they used to have cut lips, black eyes, and 
 swollen noses, they have stabs in the throat, 
 the abdomen, and the back. Wives are 
 made widows, and children orphans, in an 
 instant; where men received blows which 
 simply made their eyes twinkle, they now 
 fall dead upon the spot." 
 
 " Deaths sometimes occurred, you are 
 aware, in pugilistic encounters." 
 
 "They did: but how rarely! But, inde- 
 pendently of all considerations having refer- 
 ence to actual death, the practice of using 
 deadly weapons in silly private quarrels, is 
 repugnant to every British feeling. If the 
 lower orders must quarrel and quarrel they 
 will let them not be made to forget the use 
 of their fists: Irt them rather be prompted 
 to pommel each other till they are tired, 
 than induced to resort to the cowardly, mur- 
 derous practice of slabbing." 
 
 " But how can we ascertain that the in- 
 crease of stabbing, which all must deplore, 
 is attributable to the suppression of the 
 pugilistic art?" 
 
 " By looking at the character of the lower 
 orders of society in conjunction with the 
 promptings of human nature in general: 
 they will quarrel; and when they do, they 
 must have weapons. Teach them to forget 
 the use of those which they have hereto- 
 fore employed, and they will deem them- 
 selves justified in flying to others. They 
 have been taught this: they have been 
 taught to forget the use of their fists, and 
 hence fly to knives, pikes, and daggers." 
 
 " But pugilists in general are such abo- 
 minable characters, so profligate, so dis- 
 honorable!" 
 
 " All this may be granted, without dimi- 
 nishing the inexpediency of running them 
 down like wild beasts." 
 
 " But do you not perceive, that, if they 
 were directly countenanced, we should be 
 in effect countenancing profligacy and dis- 
 honor?" 
 
 "I do not perceive that; but if even it 
 followed as a necessary consequence, we 
 should attach due weight to the fact that 
 they need not be in any direct manner sanc- 
 tioned! In all matters of this kind there is a 
 wide difference between direct sanction and 
 active suppression. Let pugilists no longer 
 be hunted from county to county by those 
 elderly ladies who have the honor to be in 
 the commission of the peace, and that manly 
 courage by which the lower orders used to 
 be distinguished will again be inspired; 
 they will again, in the spirit of emulation, 
 use their hands without deadly weapons in 
 them." 
 
 " Come, come!" cried Llewellen, " you've 
 pin losing all the sport, look you! Phot 
 have you been talking apout all this time? 
 Have you cot any silver?" 
 
 This put an end to the conversation: and 
 when Valentine had given Llewellen his 
 purse, he and Jones again turned towards 
 the stage. 
 
 Although by no means convinced of the 
 soundness of Valentine's arguments, the 
 philanthropist thought that there must be 
 something in them, for he found that the 
 disgust which he had before felt had va- 
 nished. He was able then to witness the 
 exhibition with comparative pleasure, ami 
 to smile at the ardor of Llewellen, who was 
 really so delighted that he continued, as he 
 had begun, to throw silver to the combatants 
 after every round. 
 
 The more the evening advanced, the 
 more judgment and scirncr v re ilisp 
 the best men had been evidently kept in 
 reserve, and their tactics were so various 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 277 
 
 and so clever, that the spirit of the exhi- 
 bition was kept up till the last. 
 
 " Hur can too it!" exclaimed Llewellen, 
 as he left with his friends. " Hur can too 
 it! Hur'll py a set of duffs, in the morn- 
 ing, ant kiff you a challench, look you." 
 
 44 Oh, I'll accept it!" said Valentine, and 
 
 the thing was agreed upon at once, when 
 the philanthropist insisted upon their having 
 supper with him, at his hotel, where they 
 remained, until Valentine, with a view to 
 his own reputation, deemed it highly ex- 
 pedient to take Llewellen home. 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 VALENTINE AT GREENWICH FAIR. 
 
 So much had Llewellen and Valentine 
 been together since their reconciliation, that 
 Louise, who had expected all sorts of 
 amusement to spring from the presence of 
 her cousin, began to wish him at Wales 
 again heartily, before he had been in town 
 a week. It was not simply one or two 
 evenings that she had been left alone: no, 
 that she might have endured: they had been 
 out together every evening! which was 
 really very terrible to her feelings. How- 
 ever men could wish to be out so often, she 
 could not conceive. Whatever they could 
 see was a mystery to her. She lectured 
 Llewellen, and insisted upon knowing 
 where he had been, and whom he had seen, 
 and appealed to her father whether she had 
 not a clear and indisputable right to know, 
 and pointedly expostulated with Valentine; 
 but in vain: they agreed with all she said; 
 but continued to go out! admitted their 
 error, but would not reform. 
 
 This was not, however, Valentine's fault. 
 He wnultf have spent his evenings with her, 
 had it not been that Llewellen was con- 
 tinually at him. It mattered net whether 
 any appointment had been actually made 
 or not, when Llewellen awoke in the morn- 
 ing Valentine was the very first person 
 whom he thought of, and immediately after 
 breakfast, if no engagement had been made 
 between them, h'e would call upon him in 
 order to seduce him out somewhere. .He 
 could do nothing at all without Valentine. 
 He could not move out without him. Va- 
 lentine, of course, must go wherever he 
 went, and when Raven insisted upon his 
 dining at home, Valentine, of course, must 
 dine with him. 
 
 While this very manifestly tended to 
 raise Valentine in the estimation of Louise, 
 it palpably diminished her regard for 
 Llewellen. Upon his broad shoulders all 
 was laid. Valentine was, in her view, 
 Llewellen's victim. Zealously did she la- 
 bor to open his eyes to this interesting fact; 
 and constantly did she express her amaze- 
 
 ment that he should suffer himself to be so 
 led away; she declared it to be her unbiassed 
 opinion, that the practice of going out every 
 evening was fraught with pernicious effects, 
 and contended, that if the thing went on 
 much longer thus, she should be justified in 
 believing that he loved Llewellen's society 
 infinitely belter than hers. 
 
 With Valentine all this had great appa- 
 rent weight; but he did not conceive it to 
 be strictly just, that all the blarne should 
 be attached to Llewellen. He, therefore, 
 with the view of taking some portion of it 
 to himself, did inquire of Llewellen, imme- 
 diately after Louise had been delivering to 
 him one of her most eloquent lectures 
 whether he would or would not like to go 
 to Greenwich Fair! 
 
 *' Apove all things in the worlt!" ex- 
 claimed Llewellen, who w ? as invariably 
 ready for anything of the sort. " Phen is 
 it to pel" 
 
 " Greenwich fair!" cried Louise, perfectly 
 astounded not only at the idea of Green- 
 wich fair, but at the fact of that idea having 
 proceeded from him whom she had hitherto 
 believed to be the victim "Greenwich 
 fair! why surely you would never think of 
 going to such a dreadful place as that!" 
 
 " Put phen is it to be! That's the point," 
 said Llewellen " phen is it to pel" 
 
 44 On Monday," replied Valentine, " and 
 the sport I understand is superb." 
 
 44 That's peautiful, look you; hur'll pe 
 retty, hur'll be retty!" 
 
 4 * Why, Valentine," said Louise, 4 'you 
 amaze me! Do you know, sir, what sort 
 of place Greenwich fair is? Are you aware 
 of its being the resort of the very lowest of 
 the low a place in which any one would 
 blush to be seen who had the slightest pre- 
 tensions to respectability." 
 
 " If anypotty sees me plush " 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Fred! you cannot 
 know anything about it." 
 
 14 1 have no desire at all to see the fair," 
 said Valentine, 4 ' 1 am anxious only to go 
 
278 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 into the park, to see the pretty girls roll 
 down the hill." 
 
 "Peautiful! Oh! I phootn't miss it for 
 the work!" 
 
 44 1 am ashamed of you, Valentine, per- 
 fectly ashamed of you. Ah! you do not 
 mean it; I see by your smiling that you do 
 not mean it do you?" 
 
 " If he ton't mean it, look you, he ought 
 to be smuttert." 
 
 *' 1 have nothing at all to say to you, sir! 
 but, Valentine, you have no real intention 
 of going now have you?" 
 
 44 Why, really I cannot see why I should 
 not. Llewellen, you know, will be there to 
 protect me!" 
 
 "Oh, hur'll protect every hair of your 
 het!" 
 
 44 1 have no doubt of that, sir. You will 
 BO far protect him as to keep him out one 
 half the night." 
 
 44 No; 1 mean to be home early, very 
 early. I do not intend to remain after 
 dark." 
 
 44 Well, if you will promise me that, I 
 shall offer no further opposition, although I 
 cannot bear the thought of your going at all, 
 I have heard so many dreadful accounts of 
 the place." 
 
 The thing was, therefore, decided; and 
 when the morning, to which so many thou- 
 sands, not in England alone, but in every 
 part of Europe, look forward with delight, 
 had arrived, Valentine called for Llewellen, 
 who, of course, was quite ready, and had 
 been for hours. 
 
 Having made up their minds to go by 
 water, they proceeded to Flungerford Stairs, 
 where they found a steamer just on the 
 point of starting, and at once got on board. 
 The vessel was crowded in every part to 
 excess. The deck was covered with a mass 
 of human beings, which must have appear- 
 ed at a distance to be as nearly as possible 
 solid. They had no room at all to shift 
 about: they were fixed in their respective 
 positions as firmly as if they had been nailed 
 to the deck. Their eyes, lips, and tongues 
 were the only things on board which, to 
 human perception, did move, and their mo 
 tion was certainly perpetual. It is true 
 there were two individuals near tfce funnel, 
 one of whom was making a peculiarly con- 
 structed violin squeak, by some cabalistic 
 means, without moving his elbow, while 
 the other was blowing away like Boreas 
 through a powerful trombone, three parts of 
 which he was of necessity compelled to 
 conceal between a stout licensed victualler's 
 legs which seemed to have been actually 
 built for the purpose, the knees, although 
 the ancles were close, were so very widr 
 apart in order to get the notes which he 
 
 conceived the tune demanded; but, with the 
 exception of these two individuals and the 
 captain, whose arms went up and down as 
 perpetually as if he had been engaged to 
 [)lay the character of a windmill all on 
 aoard were firmly fixed. 
 
 On passing London Bridge, a scene pre- 
 sented itself of a character the most impos- 
 ng. This was and still is the grand start- 
 ng-place for steamers; and thousands were 
 on the various wharfs panting for a chance 
 to get on board of them, and thousands more 
 were already on board, laughing and look- 
 ing so happy! while the water, as thick as 
 respectable pease-soup, looked at the time 
 as if Vesuvius had been beneath it, so furi- 
 ously did it boil. 
 
 Billingsgate was abandoned; but the beau- 
 tiful esplanade of the Custom-house was 
 thronged. At the Tower Stairs, which 
 used to be embellished, on these happy oc- 
 casions, with the stars of the east, the elite 
 of Whitechapel and Spitalfields, nothing 
 could be seen save a few grim, withered, 
 old watermen sitting upon the bottoms of 
 their wherries, which they had rawed in- 
 deed they knew not how oft; but which 
 were now fast turning into touchwood, and 
 mournfully bringing to each other's recol- 
 lection the bright characteristics of those 
 truly blessed times when they were able to 
 carry eight at eightpence. 
 
 Below these justly celebrated stairs, no 
 striking point presented itself on either side, 
 and the thoughts of the passengers were 
 turned towards their stomachs. It is a 
 beautiful feature in the character of Eng- 
 lishmen, that they are never truly happy 
 hut when they are either eating or drinking. 
 The rapid action of their digestive organs 
 seems to be essential to their enjoyment of 
 any scene, however exciting in itself. They 
 must set them to work upon something, or 
 their hearts are not at ease; they cannot feel 
 comfortable, their thoughts revert to pecu- 
 niary affairs, and their spirits evaporate. It 
 is hence that on this gay occasion the per- 
 sons upon deck became dull, when they dis- 
 covered that they could get nothing either 
 to eat or to drink. It is true there was 
 plenty below, but the cabin was so choked 
 up that they could not insinuate themselves 
 hy any means down its throat. They were, 
 therefore, compelled and the idea of bring 
 compelled to do anything, is one which a 
 Britun cannot bear to defer tlir commence- 
 ment of iheir pleasures until they reached 
 (in -I'liwicli, which was a pity, inasmuch as 
 a little sour stout, or even a little <_nnnvr- 
 beer, would have made them feel joyous and 
 
 They, however, made np for the mortifi- 
 cation they had endured, the very moment 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 279 
 
 they landed, by pouring into the various 
 public houses in the immediate vicinity of 
 the pier; when, having obtained a supply of 
 the essence of mirth, their features relaxed, 
 and they were all life and spirit. 
 
 Valentine and Llewellen made at once for 
 the Park, and, as they entered, it presented 
 a scene of surpassing gaiety. Little indeed 
 of the green sward could be seen, while the 
 hill which rose before them appeared to be 
 one moving mass of hats, bonnets, scarfs, 
 ribbons, and shawls. The effect was strik- 
 ing. Every color that art could produce 
 was displayed, and in the sun all harmonised 
 brilliantly. Such was the appearance of 
 the mass, but, when analysed, its softness 
 and beauty were lost. 
 
 As Llewellen was excessively anxious 
 to be active, and as Valentine was not in a 
 contemplative mood, they mounted the hill 
 without delay, and, before they had reached 
 the summit, partook freely of the pleasure 
 with which all around them appeared to be 
 inspired. It was delightful to view their 
 manifestations of happiness, for on such 
 occasions the poorest enjoy themselves the 
 most. Give a poor girl a holiday, place 
 anything like, a sweetheart by her side, let 
 her have some pink ribbon and plenty of 
 it, that the ends may hang well over her 
 shoulders with a little white handkerchief 
 to carry in her hand, and, when in the Park, 
 princesses might envy her feelings. 
 
 " How peautiful all the cirls look!" ex- 
 claimed Llewellen. " Can't we have a 
 came with them, look you 1 ? Hur want to 
 see more of them roll town the hill." 
 
 "I've no doubt we shall see plenty of 
 them do that by and by. They are not 
 yet sufficiently excited. But the people 
 appear to be nocking this way. Let us join 
 them. There is sure to be something worth 
 seeing, or the attraction would not be so 
 strong." 
 
 " Hnr ton't think we shall too much pet- 
 ter," said Llewellen, " put we'll co." 
 
 They went accordingly down the avenue 
 which leads to Blackheath, and which was 
 throngeo" by persons, of whom the majority 
 were in much better circumstances than 
 others whom they saw, and who appeared 
 to be extremely anxious that those others 
 should know it, they did walk so stately 
 and looked so severe. 
 
 The Heath was covered: not alone by 
 human beings, for there were donkeys be- 
 yond calculation, and forty-year-old ponies, 
 and marquees, and cockshies, and innumer- 
 able other great attractions, which combined 
 to swell out the importance of the scene. 
 
 Llewellen felt as if every limb hung upon 
 wires. He could not keep quiet. He ran 
 about like a young lunatic: now getting his 
 
 hat filled with gingerbread-nuts to pelt the 
 children of the gipsies who have always 
 swarms of those little articles at command 
 and then pulling the girls about and kiss- 
 ing aye, absolutely kissing them, and that 
 too in the face of the sun! He did not 
 know at all what to do with himself, and at 
 length declared that nothing could or should 
 content his soul until he had had a ride on one 
 of the ponies. " Hur'll kiff you," said he, 
 " fifty yarts, look you, out of five huntret, 
 ant peat you, ant you shall have which you 
 please. There!" he added, pointing to a 
 poor little pony, " he's a Welshman: I 
 know he's a Welshman: hur'll let you take 
 him." 
 
 Valentine looked at the little animal; and 
 he might have been a Welshman, but he 
 must have been foaled in the middle ages. 
 
 " Phot say you!" cried Llewellen, who 
 was then all impatience. " Will you accept 
 my challench?" 
 
 " I will, if you'll ride that nice white 
 one," said Valentine, pointing to a dirty 
 little wretch of a mare that in point of years 
 looked at least a thousand. 
 
 " No, no: that's too pat, there's nothing 
 in her: there's no blut in her potty; no 
 pone." 
 
 " Why she is all bone! what would 
 you have?" Take her; and I'll not have 
 the fifty yards you offered." 
 
 "Well: hur'll try her speet!" And he 
 mounted, when Valentine mounted the 
 Welshman; and they made a fair start. 
 
 The Welshman went a-head, for there 
 was a little stuff still in him; but the other, 
 with all Llewellen's jockeyship, could not 
 be prevailed upon to believe that it was ne- 
 cessary for her to go. The strongly excit- 
 ing moment of starting indeed did stimulate 
 her into a trot; during which, the active en- 
 ergies of Llewellen caused the saddle to 
 slip off, although he managed, by dint of 
 great dexterity, to stick on; but after that 
 great event the mare would not stir an inch: 
 she would not even make the slightest effort 
 to go along, knowing perhaps that if she 
 did, such effort would be unsuccessful in- 
 asmuch as the saddle was dangling between 
 her legs, while her rider sat firmly upon the 
 girth. Of all this Llewellen was utterly 
 unconscious until Valentine pointed it out to 
 him on his return. His firm impression was 
 that he had left the saddle behind him! He 
 could not understand at all the motive of 
 the mare, and wondered that all around him 
 should be roaring with laughter. He very 
 soon however dismounted after that, and 
 acknowledged that Valentine had won. 
 
 This calmed him a little for at least ten 
 minutes, during which time he walked very 
 quietly along, but he broke loose again very 
 
280 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 soon after that, and ran about as much 
 elated as before. 
 
 *' My little tear, phot shall I treat you to, 
 look you?" he inquired of a smart servant 
 girl, who was rather a shrewed little crea 
 ture in her way. " Phot will you have for 
 a fail-ink?" 
 
 "That thimble and pincushion, please," 
 replied the girl, as she pointed to the arti- 
 cles stuck upon a stick. 
 
 " Which of course you shall have, my 
 little tear," said Llewellen. 
 
 "Year, yer liar, sir! Three throws a 
 penny, and six for tuppence!" cried a fel- 
 low who approached at this moment with 
 an armful of sticks. 
 
 " Hur want these two little things, look 
 you: phot's the price?" 
 
 " Can't sell 'em hoif the sticks, sir; it's 
 three throws a penny." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense! Hur'll kiff you phot- 
 ever price you ask. Hur shall preak them, 
 if hur throw, look you!" 
 
 " Oh, no yer von't, sir! D'yer vornt 
 them petickler?" 
 
 " Why, of course! ant must have them 
 for this laty." 
 
 " Werry well, sir! year's three throws a 
 penny: yer safe to bring 'em down!" 
 
 " Oh, hur'll pring them town! there's 
 no tout apout that!" cried Llewellen, and he 
 at once took three sticks and repaired to the 
 place appointed. 
 
 The first he pitched gently, lest he should 
 injure the little articles, but missed them: 
 the next he delivered with a sweep, and 
 down they came in an instant. 
 
 " Hin the ole, upon me soul!" cried the 
 fellow, who danced to the spot to stick 
 them up again. 
 
 Llewellen did not understand this pro- 
 ceeding, and expressed himself exactly to 
 that effect, when the proprietor explained to 
 his own satisfaction that, in order to obtain 
 them, it was absolutely necessary for them 
 to fall out of the hole. 
 
 *' Very well!" said Llewellen, who threw 
 the third stick which, however, went wide 
 of the mark. 
 
 " Ow werry near, sure-/y/" exclaimed 
 the active proprietor, who seemed to pride 
 himself especially upon the performance of 
 the most extraordinary antics. "Try again, 
 sir! safe to get 'em! no mistake, sir! 
 Year's three more!" 
 
 Llewellen now took a most deliberate 
 aim, holding the stick horizontally in the 
 middle to make sure; and again the little 
 articles fell, but again they dropped into 
 the hole. Conceiving that this was not 
 exactly the way to win them, he seized t In- 
 next firmly at one end, and with a slashing 
 iweep sent it whizzing at them! he struck 
 
 the stick upon which the little articles were 
 prrched, but those articles dropped as be- 
 fore into the hole. What could be the 
 meaning of it? Did he not throw with 
 sufficient force? He threw the next more 
 forcibly; but, alas! with the same result. 
 
 "Try again, sir! yer carn't be off gittin 
 'em! Ave another shy!" 
 
 Llewellen had another "shy," and ano- 
 ther, and another! The little articles would 
 fall into the hole. 
 
 He therefore changed his tactics in toto; 
 for he had begun very calmly to reason upon 
 the matter. " If," thought he, "I roll the 
 stick just over the hole, the little articles 
 will fall upon the stick, and, of course, will 
 not allow them to go in!" which, in the ab- 
 stract, was a very ingenious idea, and he 
 proceeded to act upon it, but found that the 
 practical part of the business was not quite 
 so easy as he had anticipated. The diffi- 
 culty was in persuading the sticks to roll 
 'just over the hole." They wouldn't do 
 it. He tried again and again: for he felt, 
 of course, that the theory of the thing was 
 very excellent; but no: it was not to be done 
 at least it was not to be done by him; 
 and hence he had recourse to the slashing 
 mode again. 
 
 "That's your sort! yer carn't do better, 
 sir; that'll beat the world!" exclaimed the 
 proprietor, who informed his victim every 
 time he gave him fresh sticks, that " a faint 
 heart never yet won a fair lady." 
 
 Llewellen now threw with desperation 
 he swept all before him, and at length the 
 little thimble on falling into the hole for 
 about the fiftieth time absolutely leaped out 
 again! Well! that was something. He 
 seized the prize and presented it to the 
 lady, and then wished to purchase the pin- 
 cushion. Oh! the proprietor would not take 
 any money for it! it was invaluable to 
 him! Llewellen went, therefore, again to 
 the sticks, which he threw as if he wished 
 to knock a house down. 
 
 "Throw them perpendicularly," said a 
 worthy mechanic, who was pained to see so 
 much money wasted upon a tiling which 
 was not worth three farthings. " You will 
 never get it fairly down by striking at the 
 stick." 
 
 The proprietor looked at this mechanic 
 with an aspect indicative of anything but 
 friendship. He wished him dead and 
 buried; for Llewellen, by acting upon this 
 highly correct suggestion, went alarmingly 
 near the pincushion at every throw, and did 
 eventually knock it off! when the proprietor 
 gave another sweet look at the mrrhanic; 
 and, conceiving that he had robbrd him of 
 a little fortune, felt bound to inform him 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 281 
 
 that, for " two pins," he'd show him the 
 difference between them. 
 
 Llewellen of course was delighted. He 
 picked up the cushion in an instant, and 
 the very next instant discovered that the 
 cause of its remarkable tendency towards 
 the hole, was involved in the fact of its be- 
 ing laden with dirt. Considering, however, 
 the various conflicting circumstances of the 
 case, he did not explain to the man his 
 private sentiments upon the point; but pre- 
 sented the prize with great delicacy to the 
 lady, whom he moreover loaded with gin- 
 gerbread-nuts, of which she appeared to be 
 remarkably fond, and then left her. 
 
 " Hur tit pekin to think," said he to Va- 
 lentine, as they walked from the spot, " that 
 hur never shoult be apel to kit it at all, look 
 you! There's a pair of peautiful plack 
 eyes!" he added, directing attention to a 
 dirty young woman, whose features were 
 certainly of the most handsome caste. 
 " Phot is she?" 
 
 "A gipsy," replied Valentine, as she 
 approached them, 
 
 " Shall I tell you your fortune, good gen- 
 tleman 1 ?" she inquired, addressing Llewel- 
 len, whom, at a glance, she perceived to be 
 the greener of the two. 
 
 " My fortune, pless you! my fortune is 
 mate!" 
 
 " But I can tell you something much to 
 your advantage. 1 can tell you the lady 
 you love, and who loves you the color of 
 of her hair the first letter of her name, and 
 something besides you'll be much pleased 
 to know." 
 
 ** Inteet, then: phot is it, look you?" 
 
 " Let me see your hand." 
 
 Llewellen at once held it forth, and the 
 gipsy proceeded to examine the palm with 
 great intensity of feeling to trace the ca- 
 balistic lines in all their varied ramifica- 
 tions, and to look altogether mysterious. 
 
 " There is great fortune here, good gen- 
 tleman," she observed, after this minute 
 preliminary examination "great fortune. 
 Just cross your hand with silver." 
 
 "That of course is indispensable," said 
 Valentine. 
 
 "The charm is in the silver," rejoined 
 the gipsy. 
 
 And it is a mysterious fact that therein 
 lies the charm. In all matters of this kind 
 there is infinite virtue in silver. 
 
 Of course Llewellen acted quite up to 
 her instructions, when she examined the 
 palm again very minutely, and looked oc- 
 casionally into his eyes with the view of 
 giving some additional effect to the thing. 
 
 " You will be married," she observed, 
 in a low tone of voice, " before the present 
 year is out, to the lady you love." 
 25 
 
 " Inteet! that's coot. Put who is she?" 
 
 " Her name begins with an L: she is 
 handsome, rather tall, very rich, has dark 
 brown hair, and a delicate complexion." 
 
 " Peautiful! Well! ant how many chil- 
 tren look you!" 
 
 "I can only count eleven; but you may 
 have more. I can't take upon myself to 
 say to one." 
 
 " Oh, that's quite near enough! Eleven 
 will too. Well?" 
 
 " I see nothing more but that you will 
 always be prosperous and happy." 
 
 "Her name begins with an L!" thought 
 Valentine. " Handsome, rather tall, rich, 
 dark hair, and delicate complexion! Why, 
 that is Louise!" 
 
 "Shall I tell your fortune, good gentle- 
 man," said the gipsy, who had a splendid 
 eye to business. 
 
 "No," said Valentine, abruptly. 
 
 " Oh, too!" cried Llewellen. " Too, too 
 have it tolt." 
 
 "Not I! Come!" said Valentine, taking 
 Llewellen's arm. 
 
 " I can tell you something which, if it 
 does not please you, good gentleman, will 
 put you on your guard!" 
 
 And this was very ingenuous on the part 
 of the gipsy, and reflected great credit upou 
 her powers of perception; for she saw in a 
 moment that what she had said to Llewellen 
 had not imparted much pleasure to Valen- 
 tine, and felt that, under the circumstances, 
 a warning was the only means available by 
 which he could be caught. "Beware!" 
 she exclaimed, as she followed him. " Be- 
 ware of false friends!" And this had its 
 effect; but not the effect she desired, for he 
 still kept on. 
 
 " It is strange," thought he, as they 
 passed through the gate from the Heath 
 into the Park, " very strange: and yet how 
 is it possible that she can tell? Pooh! 
 Absurd! and even if she could, it would 
 not follow of necessity that it should be 
 Louise. L is the first letter of Laura, 
 Lucy, Lucrelia, Lydia, Leonora, and many 
 other names which do not occur to me at 
 the moment; and why should not one of 
 these be handsome, rather tall, and rich, 
 with dark hair, and a delicate complexion? 
 But the idea of her being able to tell is 
 ridiculous!" 
 
 And so it was: truly ridiculous; but it 
 was notwithstanding an idea which he could 
 not repudiate. It continued to haunt him, 
 and to make him feel very uncomfortable. 
 In vain he brought reason to bear upon the 
 point: although he tried very hard to per- 
 suade himself that he ought to feel ashamed 
 of allowing such an absurdity to vex him, 
 he could not avoid feeling vexed at it still. 
 
2S2 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " Phot is the matter, look you? Phy are 
 you so lull?" inquired Llewellen, whom 
 Valentine, in spite of himself, again regard- 
 ed with a feeling of jeaUusy. 
 
 " Dull! Am I dull? Well, we shall see 
 more to enliven us presently." 
 
 "Oh! too let us mount the other hill!" 
 exclaimed Llewellen, on reaching the Ob- 
 servatory. " Look you! What thousants 
 of people there are!" 
 
 " Now then!" cried Valentine, determin- 
 ed to shake off all thought of the gipsy and 
 her prophecy if possible. " Let's have a 
 run." 
 
 "Apove all things! come on!" cried 
 Llewellen, who started off at once very 
 swiftly; Valentine stopped to watch him. 
 He had had some experience uponThetford 
 hill, and therefore felt that Llewellen would 
 not loiter long. Nor did he. No man ever 
 made so much haste. His stride gradually 
 increased in length as he descended, until 
 they became amazed. He seemed to fly 
 down. No swallow could have beaten him. 
 He lost his hat, but would not stop to pick 
 even that up, he was in such a hurry, and 
 when he happily arrived at the bottom, he 
 flew over about five hundred yards of level 
 ground before he deemed it expedient to 
 stop. 
 
 He then sat down upon the grass and 
 panted freely, while Valentine descended 
 But he did not do it half so fast: his was 
 no run at all! it was, in fact, nothing more 
 than a most disgraceful shuffle. He did, 
 however, get down eventually, and having 
 secured Llewellen's hat, reached the spot 
 from which its owner had no immediate 
 disposition to move. 
 
 " Hur tit peat you there," he cried, " look 
 you! Put in truth, hur tit not mean to come 
 town so fast." 
 
 " Have you hurt yourself at all!" 
 
 ** Oh no, not a pit: put hur might just as 
 well have run against a tree, as not, for hur 
 tit not see phere hur was coink. Hur lost 
 sight of everything, look you; put hur 
 thought hur could not too much petter than 
 stretch out rny leeks." 
 
 " Well, come. Shall we mount the other 
 hill, as you proposed?" 
 
 " Oh yes! hur'm quite retty," said Lle- 
 wellen, who rose from the ground on the 
 instant, and it may be believed that, profit 
 ing by experience, he actually did not run 
 up that hill so fast as he ran down the other. 
 
 On reaching the top, they at once per- 
 ceived that as far as life and gaiety were 
 concerned, it was incomparably the more 
 attractive hill of the two. It was less aris- 
 tocratic than the other. The people were 
 more free and merry. They laughed more 
 loudly, and chatted more cheerfully, giving 
 
 a more extensive scope to the development 
 of their feelings, and all was in consequence 
 ollity and joy. 
 
 The grand point of attraction, however, 
 was the slope of the hill on the other side, 
 where thousands of comfortable creatures 
 were seated enjoying the juvenile revels 
 below. Some had gin in little botiles, to 
 which they applied their lips occasionally; 
 others had somewhat larger bottles of beer; 
 others were eating cakes, gingerbread, and 
 oranges, while others were glancing, and 
 it must be written kissing! 
 
 It was pleasing to distinguish the lovers 
 from the rest of those who formed this ex- 
 tensive amphitheatre of happiness. They 
 suffered not" concealment like a worm i' the 
 bud, to prey on their damask cheeks!" they 
 knew better! They loved; and were not 
 ashamed to let the world know it! while 
 the warmth with which they loved did 
 develop itself in this, that, whereas the 
 ladies sported the hats of the gentlemen, 
 the gentlemen embellished themselves pro 
 tern, with the upper habiliments of the 
 ladies. And, oh! how dearly a lady loves 
 to put on the hat of her lover! how well 
 it becomes her! how charmingly she looks! 
 although, it must be admitted, sometimes 
 a little rakish. Still, she loves it; and there 
 was not a single lady that sported a hat on 
 this memorable occasion, who tried to con- 
 ceal this fact from either her lover or her- 
 self. They all, on the contrary, made the 
 very most of it; they felt that they looked 
 most bewitching; and so they did; which 
 is more than can be said of their lovers, 
 seeing that gentlemen in bonnets, caps, 
 scarfs, shawls, and tippets, do net look be- 
 witching at all. 
 
 The great game going forward below, 
 however, commanded the special attention 
 both of Valentine and Llewellen. They 
 saw from four to five hundred lively little 
 youths with their mouths widely extended, 
 giving the very sharpest possible look out 
 for the oranges that were thrown from the 
 brow of the hill. For each orange thrown 
 there were at least a hundred candidates, 
 and the beautiful spirit of emulation it in- 
 spired, imparted a high degree of pleasure 
 to all around. If well directed, one orange 
 caused fifty youths to fall, which of course 
 was about one of the purest delights in na- 
 ture. Scarcel^ anything, in fact, can be 
 conceived more delightful to a <;enerous and 
 intellectual mind, than the process <! a 
 mob of little eager individuals rolling <>vrr 
 each other down a hill after an oranjje \\ hieh 
 is of course crushed by him who has the. 
 joy to fall upon it. It is useless to throw 
 them at the heads of the little mob, for they 
 are caught by the dexterous, and cause no 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 283 
 
 fun: they must be rolled down rapidly to 
 produce the effect desired, and whenever 
 that effect is produced, what a thrilling sen- 
 sation of delight doth it impart! 
 
 Of course Llewellen was at it in a mo- 
 ment, and Valentine very soon joined him. 
 They threw an immense number, and with 
 so much dexterity and tact, that they gave 
 great pleasure to all around, save one, and 
 that one was the lady who had supplied 
 them with ammunition. They had used all 
 her oranges, for which she had had her own 
 price; but as she happened to have a lot 
 more at home, she left the spot with her 
 empty basket, growling gruffly at herself 
 for having been such a fool as not to bring 
 them out with her. 
 
 "Well," said Valentine, as soon as he 
 found that no more ammunition could be 
 obtained, "have you anything like an ap- 
 petite!" 
 
 "An appetite! pless you, hur never was 
 so huncry! I coot eat, look you, anything in 
 the worlt!" 
 
 "Then we had better return to the town 
 at once, and see after dinner: we shall be 
 able no doubt to get something." 
 
 They accordingly descended the hill, and 
 left the park; and after having been stopped 
 by a variety of ladies in long white aprons, 
 who informed them that they could have at 
 their establishments respectively excellent 
 accommodation for tea, with all the fas- 
 cinating smiles at their command, they 
 sought and found a decent inn in the middle 
 of the town, where they ordered whatever 
 sort of dinner could be immediately placed 
 before them. 
 
 In less than ten minutes the table was 
 covered. As they had ordered nothing hot, 
 they had every thing cold; but they never- 
 theless enjoyed it, and ate like giants. 
 
 The window of the room into which they 
 had been shown commanded a fine view, 
 not only of the opposite houses, but of the 
 street in which those houses were situated, 
 together with the people with whom it was 
 thronged. To this window they, therefore, 
 repaired to enjoy their wine, and Valentine 
 felt quite resolved to return to town as soon 
 as it became dark, as he had promised. 
 Llewellen was of course quite opposed to 
 such a proceeding; but as Valentine was 
 firm, his opposition was not urged beyond a 
 certain extent. There, then, they sat, sip- 
 ping their port and smoking cigars, highly 
 pleased with the scene before them, until 
 twilight arrived. 
 
 It may, by some few, have been remark- 
 ed, that a man's feelings vary. It is strange 
 and mysterious no doubt that they should; 
 but that they do, is a sound philosophical 
 truth which no sophistry can shake. They 
 
 will vary; and as if with the view of prov- 
 ing to demonstration that they will, Valen- 
 tine, who had before felt so firmly resolved 
 not to look at the fair, now proposed a walk 
 through it. 
 
 Of course Llewellen was delighted with 
 this proposition, and " plest the peautiful 
 wine" that had induced it. "Let's ring the 
 pell for the pill," said he, "ant we'll co off 
 at once my poy, look you." 
 
 The bill was, therefore, ordered, and on 
 its being discharged, they started direct for 
 the fair. 
 
 The space between the booths was dense- 
 ly crowded. They could scarcely get along, 
 but, being in, they went forward with the 
 struggling stream. The pleasure of being 
 in such a place is doubtless great, although 
 involved to some considerable extent in 
 mystery; but Valentine and Llewellen hav- 
 ing resolved to go through it, disdained to 
 retreat, they kept on, and were driven past 
 many great attractions, at which they had 
 not time even to look until they arrived at 
 the top, where a rush was made, and in an 
 instant the crowd was wedged in! 
 
 " Now, then, take care of your pockets," 
 said Valentine, who still stuck close to 
 Llewellen, and who understood the move- 
 ment exactly. 
 
 "They must be clever inteet to kit any- 
 thing out of me," said Llewellen, with a 
 chuckle, which denoted security; and by 
 drawing the tails of his coat forward, he 
 covered all his pockets at once with his 
 hands. 
 
 The mass now moved to and fro for some 
 moments very gently; but presently the 
 women began to scream, and, singularly 
 enough, the very instant they left off scream- 
 ing, the pressure relaxed, and all were able 
 to move. 
 
 " Too let us co into that show," said Lle- 
 wellen, when the mass had given way, "I 
 shoot so like to co into one." 
 
 "Very well," said Valentine, "I am 
 quite willing. We may as well go up at 
 once." 
 
 Up accordingly they went, and on reach- 
 ing the place at which the money was 
 taken, Llewellen could not find his purse. 
 
 " I told you," said Valentine, on being 
 informed of this interesting fact, " to take 
 care of your pockets." 
 
 " And so her teet !" cried Llewellen, 
 " until the cirls pecan to scream! There 
 were two little tears just pehind me, nearly 
 smuttert: of course hur teet all hur coot for 
 them!" 
 
 " And while you were doing all you 
 could for them, the little dears robbed you 
 of your purse." 
 
 " Phot, the cirls!" 
 
284 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " Of course! They are the most success- 
 ful and dexterous pickpockets we have. 
 Whenever you hear them scream in a crowd 
 like that, look to your pockets. They do 
 do not scream because they are hurt: the 
 fellows whom they are with protect them." 
 
 "The little tevils. Oh! hur wish hur 
 hat known it! Put never mind, you are all 
 right, that's a plessing." 
 
 The entertainments of the evening were 
 varied and attraciive. In the bills at 
 which they glanced, while a brigand was 
 bawling, " All in ! all in !" it was an- 
 nounced that the performances would com- 
 mence with a serio-historical tragedy, called 
 The. Speechless Spectre; or, the Sanguinary 
 Stab.- after which, there would be an~infinite 
 variety of comic singing: the whole to con- 
 clude with the celebrated pantomimic pan- 
 tomime of How are you off for Chips?" 
 
 This promised a highly intellectual treat; 
 and on reaching the interior of the theatre 
 which they did, by diving through a large 
 hole in a blanket, which appeared to have 
 been established expressly for the purpose 
 they found " the house crowded to the 
 ceiling." 
 
 The aristocracy, of course, were duly 
 separated from the democracy. There were 
 both pit and boxes; and, as in theatres of 
 larger dimensions, they convert the worst 
 part of the pit into stalls; so here, as the 
 crowd poured in, they stuck up an addi- 
 tional plank, and called it boxes; which 
 boxes were immediately filled with the 
 elite, to the imminent danger of their necks. 
 
 When all had been satisfactorily arran- 
 ged, the curtain rose and the tragedy com- 
 menced. An individual who appeared to 
 have, for several months, repudiated the 
 practice of shaving, stole in, and after 
 bouncing about the stage like a maniacal 
 individual, and making a variety of despe- 
 rate attempts, stabbed a lady who was 
 sleeping upon a plank, placed so as to con- 
 vey the idea of a couch, and who gave a 
 loud scream, and all was over. This finish- 
 ed the first act; and then came the second. 
 The murderer entered with a number of his 
 associates, dressed in a variety of styles, 
 from that of the duke to that of the dust- 
 man for he evidently kept all sort* of 
 society and when he had said something 
 which appeared to be highly satisfactory to 
 them all, two sweet ladies entered; but no 
 sooner had he taken the hand of one of 
 them, than the elements let loose their fury! 
 the thunder roared! and the lightnings 
 flashed! and the rain came down in torrents! 
 Oh! dreadful were the feelings of the mur- 
 derer then! A gong vras heard! all nature 
 shook! from a hole in the earth, white 
 smoke arose, and the Speechless 
 
 stood before him! The murderer trembled! 
 of course he trembled! he must have 
 been in a horrible way. He tried to speak! 
 in vain he tried! but while he was trying, 
 an infinite host of merry devils ran up to 
 him with links, and dragged him down into 
 the bowels of the earth, as the blue fire 
 blazed and the elements crashed! 
 
 Thus ended the historical tragedy: the 
 moral of which was, that in Nature there is 
 such a thing as retributive justice. The 
 comic singing came next, and then the pan- 
 tomime; and as the performances concluded 
 in less than ten minutes from the period at 
 which they commenced, it will be highly 
 correct to state, that the attention of the 
 audience was kept all alive from first to last. 
 
 As they came out on one side, hundreds 
 who had assembled on the stage in front, 
 were waiting to go in at the other: which 
 was pleasant to all concerned in the specu- 
 lation, and tended to show the highly intel- 
 lectual character of the age. 
 
 " Now let us co into that lonk pooth, look 
 you," said Llewellen, " in which they were 
 tancink." 
 
 " It is getting rather late," said Valen- 
 tine; " I think we had better return." 
 
 " Well, well! put only just to look!" 
 
 Valentine consented; and after struggling 
 back through the crowd for some distance, 
 they reached the entrance of a brilliantly 
 illuminated booth, which at that particular 
 period was called the Crown and Anrhor. 
 On the right as they entered, rows of 
 benches, and planks in the similitude of 
 tables were established for the accommoda- 
 tion of those who loved to pick periwinkles 
 and shrimps, while discussing gin-and- 
 water in mugs; while on the left about five 
 hundred couples were engaged in the per- 
 formance of an extremely picturesque coun- 
 try dance. 
 
 To the left, therefore, Valentine and 
 Llewellen went at once, and found the 
 dancers looking all hot and happy. The 
 freedom with which they perspired was 
 perfect, while they seemed to breathe no- 
 thing but dust. 
 
 As in his innocence Valentine conceived 
 that the place must be ventilated somewhere, 
 they went to the upper end, but there they 
 found it hotter still, and more dusty. They 
 very soon, howover, became accustomed to 
 the thing; and while Llewellen was seeking 
 a partner, Valentine sat upon one of the 
 tables to look on. 
 
 It may here be remarked that this booth, 
 at that period, was a celebrated pi." 
 assignation; and that the ruin of thousands 
 of poor weak girls might be dated from their 
 first introduction therein. It was not a place 
 for the amusement of the lower classes of 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 285 
 
 society at least not as far as the men were 
 concerned. The clubs of the West End, 
 and the counting-houses of the city poured 
 forth their hundreds on these occasions in 
 search ef virtue to corrupt; and as they in- 
 variably introduced those whom they meant 
 to destroy, there, it at length became diffi- 
 cult indeed to find a female who wished to 
 preserve her virtue, if even she happened to 
 have any to preserve. 
 
 Valentine was not aware of this when he 
 entered, but it soon became manifest that 
 that was not the place for really innocent 
 enjoyment. Llewellen, however, had dia- 
 metrically opposite ideas on this subject, 
 at that moment. He had managed to get a 
 partner, and she was a flamer: her face was 
 as red as the sun as it declines, and her 
 dress was as red as her face. She was 
 tall and stout, very hot, but very active, 
 and when she laughed she did it fairly from 
 ear to ear. With such a partner, at such a 
 time, of course, Llewellen could not but feel 
 merry, and as he was not a small man, it 
 really was an awful thing for those against 
 whom they came in contact. 
 
 While they were thus happily engaged, 
 a large party of gentlemen each of whom 
 had a nice penny trumpet, which he played 
 in the most engaging manner possible 
 marched round the booth. Oh, it was such 
 sport, and they looked so interesting, and 
 felt so happy! Some of them had masks 
 on, while others were attired as fresh-water 
 sailors, but the style in which they dressed 
 was of little importance, the thing was so 
 truly delightful: for they not only looked 
 most valiant, but made " most healthful 
 music." 
 
 " Now, my tear," said Llewellen, when 
 the dance had concluded. " Phot will you 
 have to trink? Put first allow me, look 
 you, to introduce you to my frient." 
 
 The introduction took place with due 
 formality, and Valentine felt himself, of 
 course, highly honored: and as the lady im- 
 mediately after the introduction, declared 
 that she preferred brandy-and-water to any 
 other thing, of course, brandy-and-water 
 was immediately ordered. 
 
 " It is rather warm work I should ima- 
 gine," observed Valentine, addressing the 
 flame of Llewellen. 
 
 "It is indeed warm," said the lady, "but 
 then I don't mind it." 
 
 " Have you been dancing much this 
 evening?" 
 
 " Ever since they commenced." 
 
 "You have friends with you of course 1 ?" 
 
 "No; I expected to meet some here, but 
 they have not yet arrived." 
 
 The waiter now brought the brandy and 
 
 water, and the lady having taken a very 
 fair sip, politely passed it to Llewellen. 
 
 " Too you call this pranty and water!" 
 cried Llewellen, after having put his lips 
 to it. 
 
 " Yes, sir, brandy and water, sir, you 
 ordered I believe, sir." 
 
 " Put this is pranty and water without 
 pranty, look you." 
 
 " They never give you anything better 
 here," said the lady. "If you want a glass 
 of good brandy and water you must go to 
 one of the houses out of the fair." 
 
 " Well, come then, let's co; hur can't 
 trink this!" 
 
 "Oh, with all my heart!" said Valen- 
 tine, who was really very anxious to get 
 out of the place. 
 
 " Now, my tear, are you retty?" 
 
 " Don't take her with you," said Valen- 
 tine, having drawn Llewellen aside. 
 
 " Phy not? She's a coot cirl! hur know 
 she's a coot cirl." 
 
 "I am quite at your service," said the 
 lady, who at this moment took Llewellen's 
 arm. 
 
 " I am afraid that we are taking you from 
 that which you much enjoy," observed Va- 
 lentine, with great consideration. 
 
 " Not at all!" cried the lady, " I can re- 
 turn if I wish it. I should like a breath of 
 air above all things." 
 
 Of course there was no help for it then; 
 and as such was the case, why they left 
 the booth together. 
 
 The space between the gingerbread stalls 
 was not quite so much crowded as before, 
 and the consequence was that Llewellen 
 was pulled into almost every one of them 
 expressly for the purpose of pressing to 
 buy nuts. 
 
 The seductive arts of the ladies who at- 
 tend these stalls surpass nature. They are 
 so zealous, their importunities are so fasci- 
 nating, that it is almost impossible to resist 
 them. Llewellen on two occasions felt 
 compelled to make a purchase." They laid 
 violent hands upon him; they would not let 
 him pass, and as it was perfectly imma- 
 terial to the lady whom he was with, how 
 many nuts he bought for her, for of course 
 she had them all, she with admirable for- 
 bearance abstained from pressing him for- 
 ward when she conceived he was most in 
 danger of being seduced. 
 
 They did, however, eventually get out of 
 the fair, and when that important feat had 
 been accomplished, Llewellen's lady led 
 them to an inn, in which the people were 
 singing very loudly. Valentine was not at 
 all anxious to enter, but as Llewellen ex- 
 plained that he could not with any degree 
 of propriety refuse to give the lady some 
 
 25* , 
 
286 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 brandy-and-water, after having induced her I 
 to leave the booth, expressly in order to 
 point out the place, they went in. 
 
 " Oh, do come into one of the rooms to 
 hear them sing!" said the lady. 
 
 "Of course!" said Llewellen; and they 
 entered a room in which between two and 
 three hundred persons were sitting. In the 
 mouth of every man there was a pipe, and 
 in the mouth of every woman, a gingerbread j 
 nut. And they were all getting tipsy; and i 
 they looked upon themselves as being just 
 as good as the best, and cared for no man! 
 Why should they 1 ? This question they '' 
 wished very much to have answered. 
 
 " Silence for the next harmony!" was 
 now loudly commanded, and a gentleman j 
 volunteered to sing a song for a lady who' 
 had been called upon in vain. He com- 
 menced. It was a plaintive ditty, and he 
 had an extremely, small voice; but at the I 
 end of the verse, to his utter amazement, ! 
 he had a chorus which broke forth like 
 thunder. In vain the little volunteer ex-' 
 postulated with them: in vain he explained ! 
 that the song had no chorus; a chorus they i 
 would have! and they had it throughout, | 
 and as it harmonised sweetly, Valentine 
 and Llewellen at once left the room. 
 
 " Well," said Valentine, as they walked 
 towards the place from which the coaches 
 started, " what do you think of Greenwich 
 Fair?" 
 
 " Phy, I think it very coot, look you, 
 very coot inteet." 
 
 "Then, of course, you do not think that 
 it ought to be suppressed!" 
 
 " Suppressed! No; do you think it ought 
 to be suppressed?" 
 
 "As far as the fair is concerned, I most 
 certainly do." 
 
 " Put surely you are not one of those who 
 would take away the innocent pleasures of 
 the poor!" 
 
 " On the contrary, I would extend them: 
 but the suppression of this fair would not 
 at all interfere with the innocent pleasures 
 of the poor. Let them assemble on these 
 occasions as usual: let the beautiful park 
 be thrown open to them as now: let them 
 enjoy themselves there; and there the poor 
 do enjoy themselves who seek only plea- 
 sures which are innocent." 
 
 " Put the shows," said Llewellen, " the 
 shows!" 
 
 " If they are fond of dramatic entertain- 
 ments let them go to the theatres. They 
 can see there far more intellectual and at- 
 tractive performances than any that can be 
 seen at the fair, and that too at the same 
 price. The fair itself is a mere nursery of 
 immorality and crime, and as its suppres- 
 sion could not in the slightest degree dimin- 
 ish the innocent pleasures of the poor, my 
 firm conviction is that it ought to be sup* 
 pressed as a glaringly dangerous nuisance." 
 
 They now entered a coach, and, as it 
 started immediately, Llewellen immediately 
 dropped off to sleep, and did not wake until 
 they arrived at Charing-cross. 
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 IN WHICH A CERTAIN INTERESTING QUESTION IS PROPOSED. 
 
 WHEN Valentine called the next morn- j 
 ing upon Louise, he found her in the very j 
 act of lecturing Llewellen with severity; 
 she had him on the sofa, and nothing could 
 exceed the intensity of feeling with which 
 she insisted upon his making a full confes- 
 sion of all the circumstances connected with 
 their visit to the fair, but more especially 
 those which had direct reference to what 
 they did, whom they saw, and what induced 
 them to keep out so late. 
 
 At first Llewellen made an extremely 
 clear and straightforward statement; but as 
 ladies in general conduct matters of this 
 kind in the spirit of the celebrated Sp-.mish 
 Inquisition, so Louise in this particular 
 instance, although professing the discovery 
 of truth to be her object, would not hi lieve 
 truth when it appeared, because its ;ipp< -,ir- 
 ance did not meet her views. Llewellen 
 
 was therefore subjected to a very searching 
 cross-examination, during which she man- 
 aged so to confuse his faculties, that at 
 length he knew neither what to say, what 
 he meant to say, nor what he had said; and 
 as, under these peculiarly pleasing circum- 
 stances, she, with infinite presence of mind, 
 recapitulated the evidence and proved it 
 thereby to be one chaotic mass of contra- 
 dictions, he started up the very instant Va- 
 lentine entered, exclaiming, " My tear poy! 
 hur'm so clad you're come; she's pin patch- 
 ering me apout this pisiness until hur ton't 
 know inteet t' coolness phether hurnf in 
 standing upon my het or my heels." 
 
 '* What business!" inquired Valentine as 
 lie approached Louise. 
 
 11 Don't come near me, sir, until you have 
 explained your conduct." 
 
 Valentine looked at Llewellen as if he 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 287 
 
 really did not understand it exactly; but 
 Llewellen on the instant threw a light on 
 the subject by exclaiming, " It's apout the 
 fair, pless you! hur never was so patgert in 
 all my porn lays." 
 
 "Oh, the fair!" cried Valentine, "just 
 so. Well, let us sit down and explain all 
 about it." 
 
 " Hur'll have no more to too with the 
 pisiness," cried Llewellen, approaching 
 the window. " Hur've hat quite enough. 
 Hur'll leave you to it: Cot pless you! hur 
 wish you joy!" 
 
 " Now then, Louise, what am I to ex- 
 plain?" 
 
 "Your conduct sir, at that wicked fair. 
 I know that it's a wicked place: I'm sure 
 of it!" 
 
 "You are quite right: it is a wicked 
 place, and I may say that perhaps Fred 
 and I were two of the most wicked persons 
 that were present." 
 
 At this point Llewellen turned and looked 
 quite bewildered. 
 
 " His conduct," continued Valentine, 
 " was probably more dreadful than mine; but 
 I confess toyou that mine was bad enough." 
 
 " Coot!" cried Llewellen, whose counte- 
 nance relaxed. 
 
 *' I know," said Louise, " that you are a 
 clever creature, but I am not to be induced 
 to believe that you are better, because you 
 choose to represent yourself ironically as 
 being worse, than you really are." 
 
 " Oh," cried Llewellen, " we were poth 
 pat poys." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, sir. I was not ad- 
 dressing you." 
 
 " If you wish to know seriously," said 
 Valentine, " how we passed our time there, 
 I can assure you that we did so most inno- 
 cently and pleasantly. We saw thousands 
 of happy people in the park, and thousands 
 more upon the river, upon the heath, and in 
 the town, and as it was on the whole a most 
 enlivening scene, I shall never regret having 
 visited Greenwich." 
 
 " Upon my word, said Louise, " your 
 explanation is very lucid and very minute. 
 I ought, I arn sure, to feel obliged to you 
 for being so explicit, for I find that I can 
 make nothing of either of you!" 
 
 Louise, however, did not despair. She 
 privately made up her mind to subject 
 Llewellen to another severe cross-examina- 
 tion the very first opportunity, feeling cer- 
 tain of being by such means enabled even- 
 tually to elicit the truth. 
 
 The subject was then dropped, and 
 Llewellen who did not much like the idea 
 of Valentine being let off so easily, after 
 what he himself had endured began to 
 whistle, which act being invariably indica- 
 
 tive of a desire on his part to go out, Louise 
 well understood, and therefore cried, " Fred, 
 Fred! If you want to go out again, go; for 
 goodness sake, don't annoy us with that 
 dreadful whistling; really, one may just as 
 well be in Smithfield." 
 
 " Come, my tear poy!" cried Llewellen. 
 " We've cot leave to co." 
 
 " You have sir; but Valentine wishes to 
 remain." 
 
 Which was an absolute fact: he did wish 
 to remain; for although he was not inclined 
 to put the smallest faith in the gipsy's pro- 
 phecy, he found that it had made a deep 
 impression on his mind, and was therefore 
 most anxious to have a little strictly private 
 conversation with Louise, on a subject which 
 bore directly upon the point. Of this, 
 however, Louise was entirely unconscious. 
 When she suggested that Valentine wished 
 to remain, she did so on speculation merely; 
 but albeit, that speculation answered her 
 views as far as the wish of itself was con- 
 cerned, it signally failed to realise the hope 
 she entertained of getting rid of Llewellen. 
 He was as anxious to go out, as any man 
 could be; but then without Valentine no- 
 thing could induce him to stir from the 
 house. Where he went, his "tear poy" 
 also must go, which, on that occasion, Va- 
 lentine as well as Louise thought particu- 
 larly disagreeable. 
 
 " Fred, I wish you would fetch me 
 Poodle's Poems from the library," said 
 Louise, who had conceived a vague notion 
 that Valentine was anxious to communi- 
 cate something in private. 
 
 " Pootle's Poems. Phery coot," said 
 Llewellen, who proceeded to the library in 
 search of them, at once. 
 
 " Do you feel at all disposed for a walk!" 
 inquired Valentine. 
 
 " Quite: 1 should enjoy it: but then we 
 shall have that pest with us." 
 
 " Oh, we shall be able to get rid of him. 
 You can send him somewhere when we get 
 out; let me see oh! send him for some rib- 
 bon or anything of that sort." 
 
 " The only question is, will he go?" 
 
 " No doubt of it. If he'll go for Poodle's 
 Poems, he'll go for anything. Let him 
 walk with us, for instance, as far as the 
 Horse Guards, and then we can tell him 
 where to find us in the park." 
 
 " Well, what will be the best thing to 
 send him for? Let me consider," said 
 Louise, and while she was engaged with 
 this high consideration, Llewellen re-enter- 
 ed the room. " Inteet hur can't fint Pootle's 
 Poems," said he. " There's Cowper's ant 
 Pyron's, putt tevil of any of Pootle's." 
 
 " You are a very stupid creature," said 
 
288 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Louise, who could scarcely keep her coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " Phell ! putt there are no Footle's poems, 
 look you! Is it a pig pook?" 
 
 41 No matter. It's of no importance now." 
 
 " We are going for a walk," said Valen- 
 tine, " will you join us?" 
 
 "Of course: putt just come with me, my 
 poy, while Louey is putting on her ponnet, 
 and see if you can fint this Pootle pook. 
 Inteet hur can't see it, look you!" 
 
 44 Oh, never mind: the book is not wanted 
 now. You will not be long, Louise 1 ?" 
 
 44 Scarcely a moment." 
 
 44 1 say, Fred," said Valentine, when 
 Louise had left the room, 4 ' what was the 
 matter this morning 1 ?" 
 
 44 Oh, Louey was poring and pothering 
 me apout the fair, ant although hur toll her 
 everything putt apout the cockshy pisiness 
 and the pooth, she questioned me just like 
 a parrister, look you, until hur titn't know 
 inteet phot hur was apout. Putt hur say, 
 my poy, phere shall we go? Hur wish 
 that little tevil, look you, woultn't co with 
 us." 
 
 44 Oh, we must take her out you know 
 sometimes, poor girl !'* 
 
 44 Yes, yes: putt she is such a pore. Hur 
 say! phill this blue coat too to walk with a 
 latey, look you?" 
 
 44 Oh, that will do; but run away and put 
 on another if you like." 
 
 44 Phery coot. Hur'll not pe half a se- 
 cont." 
 
 44 You need not hurry yourself. You 
 know how like an hour a lady's moment is, 
 doubtless." 
 
 Immediately after Llewellen left the 
 room Louise entered, and Valentine thought 
 that he never saw her look so really beauti- 
 ful. He took her hands and pressed them, 
 and gazed upon her fervently and exclaim- 
 ed, 44 My own Louise!" and kissed her! 
 
 Louise blushed deeply, but was silent. 
 
 4 ' Phot too you think of my new pottle- 
 creen?" cried Llewellen, as he bounced 
 into the room, and buttoned his coat, and 
 looked over his left shoulder, and turned 
 round and round with the view of display- 
 ing his figure to the best advantage possible. 
 * 4 Ton 1 t you think it looks pherry peautiful 
 and smart?" 
 
 44 Oh, very," said Valentine, but Louise 
 said nothing, although she wished him at 
 Wales then, more heartily than ever. 
 
 Llewellen waa amazed that she failed to 
 pronounce upon his bottle-green coat, seeing 
 that generally she took particular interest 
 in those matters, and made him wear just 
 what she pleased, and very few articles of 
 dress indeed had he, with which the ex- 
 pression of her pleasure had been unquali- 
 
 fied. At any other time she might have 
 given her opinion upon the subject with 
 some freedom, but her thoughts were then 
 engaged on a matter of greater moment, 
 and Llewellen therefore naturally attributed 
 her silence to what he conceived to be a 
 fact, that his new bottle-green was a thing 
 with which no fault whatever could be 
 found. 
 
 They now started, and as they walked 
 towards the point they had proposed, Louise 
 and Valentine were both extremely thought- 
 ful not dull but in the silent enjoyment 
 of those happy feelings which spring from 
 reciprocal love. Occasionally their eyes 
 met, and then they would smile, but with 
 such an expression! the soul of each seem- 
 ed to commune with the other. 
 
 44 Oh, Fred !" exclaimed Louise, sudden- 
 ly starting, as they reached the Horse 
 Guards, as if something of importance had 
 just occurred to her, 44 will you do rne a 
 favor?" 
 
 44 Anything in the worlt!" 
 
 u Run, then, there's a good creature, and 
 desire Bull the butcher to send home that 
 beef." 
 
 " Phot! is it for tinner?" 
 
 " Desire him to send it immediately." 
 
 44 Phery coot; phere toes he live?" 
 
 44 At the top of this street you'll see a 
 church, and then inquire of any one. Come 
 back to us. We shall be in the Park: but 
 keep on that, the south side of the water." 
 
 Llewellen promised to be back as soon 
 as possible, and started off in search of the 
 undiscoverable butcher. 
 
 "Poor Fred! 1 ' said Louise, as they en- 
 tered the Park: " Upon my word it is almost 
 too bad." 
 
 And so it was in reality: and, therefore, 
 as he had been directed to keep on the south 
 side of the water, they immediately pro- 
 ceeded to the north. 
 
 If any doubt had remained in Valentine's 
 mind having reference to the feelings of 
 Louise with respect to Llewellen, this pro- 
 ceeding would at once have dispelled it: 
 but he spurned the gipsy's prophecy, and 
 utterly repudiated the idea of Llewellen 
 being in any shape his rival; still he felt 
 that he might as well make " assurance 
 doubly sure" by virtue of coming at once to 
 the point. 
 
 Louise knew that a crisis was at hand 
 and tho quickness with which ladi<- 
 rally discover these things is really very 
 surprising she knew as well -.is Valentino 
 liimsrlf knew that something relating to 
 something which had nt hrl'.>re hern men- 
 tioned was about to lie eommnnieated, and, 
 therefore, she clung to him more closely 
 tii .11 ever, and waited with breathless im- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 289 
 
 patience for him to speak, for, as the sub- 
 ject was one of deep interest, she conceived 
 it to be entitled to the most profound atten- 
 tion. 
 
 For some considerable time not a syllable 
 was breathed: they walked upon the grass 
 very slowly, and felt very oddly; but al- 
 though the impatience of Louise did prompt 
 her to peep in order to ascertain what was 
 going on next door, not a single word on 
 either side was uttered. Valentine knew 
 that he had to put a question; but how was 
 that question to be put? He felt puzzled. 
 He had conceived it to be a mere matter-of- 
 fact kind of thing which caused simple 
 people only to feel embarrassed; but he now 
 found that if indeed such were the case, 
 he was one of the most simple creatures 
 breathing. 
 
 It is not perhaps to be with truth asserted 
 that men who are anxious to marry for 
 wealth or convenience merely, experience 
 these feelings of embarrassment at such a 
 time in any great degree. They in general 
 find no difficulty at all about the matter: 
 they manage the preliminaries like men of 
 business; they put the grand question as a 
 purely commercial matter of course, and 
 come to the point without any unnecessary 
 nonsense. It is however questionable whe- 
 ther any man who sincerely and tenderly 
 loved ever did or ever could do the thing 
 quite so coolly. It is perfectly certain that 
 Valentine could not, for he felt very droll, 
 and thought himself very stupid. 
 
 " Louise!" said he at length. " Shall we 
 sit down, Louise!" 
 
 Louise looked at him archly, and smiled, 
 and then said, " Why I have no objec- 
 tion!" 
 
 Very well! This was quite satisfactory 
 as far as it went; and they did sit down, 
 but were silent again; which Louise thought 
 particularly tiresome. She wished he would 
 say what he had to say, really, and yet she 
 felt half afraid to hear it: she knew not 
 why she should have this feeling, but this 
 feeling she certainly had, despite her natural 
 anxiety to give him every encouragement to 
 begin. Still in silence they continued to 
 sit she playing with the fringe of her 
 Lilliputian parasol, and he wringing the 
 necks of the buttons of his waistcoat with 
 his watch-guard until he began to think 
 this never would do, when he summoned 
 all his courage and spoke! 
 
 " Louise," said he, softly. " Upon my 
 word I am very stupid." 
 
 " What a number of new and interesting 
 
 rt ^ c '""""*,ions you have made this morning!" 
 
 ed Louise, playfully, conceiving 
 
 t she might perhaps encourage him in 
 
 f. " You have really become more 
 
 entertaining than ever. One would imagine 
 that you had something on your mind which 
 pressed very, very heavily!" 
 
 " 1 certainly have something on my mincj, 
 Louise, which makes me feel very, very 
 awkward. Can you not guess what it is!" 
 
 " Now how is that possible? Can you 
 guess I know you are very clever but 
 can you guess what is passing at this mo- 
 ment in my mind?" 
 
 " I think that I am sufficiently clever for 
 that! You are thinking of precisely the 
 same thing as that which occupies my 
 thoughts!" 
 
 "Dear me! what an extraordinary coin- 
 cidence! But what were you thinking of?" 
 
 "The day," replied Valentine, taking 
 her hand. 
 
 * Oh! the day! Well, it really is a fine 
 day. The sun, it is true, is rather warm, 
 hut then the breeze is extremely refresh- 
 ing." 
 
 " You are a rogue, Louise. You know 
 that I do not mean this day, but that on 
 which we are both to be made happy." 
 
 " That on which we are both to be made 
 happy? Are you not happy now?" 
 
 ** Not nearly so happy as I hope to be 
 then. I expect, Louise, that that will be 
 indeed a happy day." 
 
 " Well, I'm sure I hope it may be: but 
 what particular day do you mean?" 
 
 " The day," said Valentine, earnestly, 
 " on which we are to be united." 
 
 " Oh!" said Louise, between a whisper 
 and a sigh, and she began to pick the fringe 
 of her parasol again; for although she had 
 deemed it incumbent upon her to accelerate 
 Valentine's arrival at that interesting point, 
 conceiving that nothing at all could be done 
 if both were embarrassed at one and the 
 same time, she now found that it was her 
 turn to feel rather droll, and it really was a 
 moment of very deep interest. 
 
 " Louise," said Valentine, who now be- 
 gan to feel a little better; " Louise: when 
 is that happy day to be?" 
 
 Louise was silent, but she tugged at the 
 fringe with more violence than ever. 
 
 " I need not, my dearest," continued 
 Valentine, "explain how sincerely, how 
 fondly I love you: I feel that you already 
 know it all. Tell rne, therefore come! 
 when when is it to be?" 
 
 " Indeed," said Louise, " I know nothing 
 at all about it." 
 
 " Do you prefer May to June?" 
 
 " Really I it is such a curious ques- 
 tion!" 
 
 " Perhaps it is, but I think it one which 
 might be very easily answered." 
 
 " But I don't know how to answer it. 
 Upon my word, I I have had no expert- 
 
290 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ence in such matters I never had to answer 
 such a question before." 
 
 " Indeed I never for a moment supposed 
 that you had; but what can be in reality 
 more simple] Assuming I will if you 
 please put it so! assuming that you were 
 about to become a dear little wife, in which 
 month, May or June, would you prefer be- 
 ing married?" 
 
 " Why, I don't know I cannot tell, 
 really; but I think that if I were ever to be 
 placed in that dreadful position, I should 
 perhaps like June rather better than May." 
 
 " Louise! let us come to the point: we 
 have known each other long enough to know 
 each other well. I know you to be a tire- 
 some little creature, upon whom the happi- 
 ness of my whole life depends, and you 
 know me to be the most handsome I think 
 the most handsome and perhaps the most 
 affectionate fellow that ever breathed who 
 will study to do all in his power to make 
 you wretched. Under these frightful cir- 
 cumstances now, what say you shall we, 
 my sweet girl, be married in June]" 
 
 " Marry] I marry] in June] how ever 
 could such a fancy have entered your head] 
 
 " I cannot pretend to be able to explain 
 the exact process; but most certainly you 
 introduced it among other strange fancies 
 which I occasionally entertain when in- 
 clined to give a party of that description. 
 But Louise, are you conscious of the fact 
 that you have not yet given me an answer]" 
 
 " I really I don't at all know I how 
 can I possibly it is such a question you 
 have taken me so much by surprise I don't 
 know how to give an answer, really." 
 
 " Let me teach you say 'yes.' It will 
 save a world of trouble. Say 'yes' and 
 have done with it. Take my advice, and 
 say ' yes.' 
 
 " But do you think now, really, that this 
 is a strictly proper question to put to me]" 
 
 " Why I think that I thought so, or I 
 don't think I should have proposed it." 
 
 " Have you forgotten that I have a 
 father]" 
 
 " By no means." 
 
 "Have you ever named the subject to 
 him]" 
 
 '* Never directly. But of course he is 
 prepared to receive the dreadful blow. He 
 has, I have no doubt, been waiting some 
 considerable period for us to inflict it." 
 
 " Uut do you not conceive that he is the 
 first person to whom such a subject as this 
 should be named]" 
 
 * Why, Louise, I like you have had but 
 little experience in these matters; but 1 
 really thought that he was the soroml: I did 
 indeed. If however you im.i<_mir that in 
 the present afflicting state of things, he 
 
 ought to be the first, 1 will first obtain 
 his answer, provided you promise me faith- 
 fully now, that if he should say yes and I 
 shall strongly advise him to do so your 
 answer will be the same." 
 
 " Why I am bound of course to act in 
 obedience to my father's wishes: you would 
 not, I feel sure, in the event of such an 
 answer being returned, have me act in op- 
 position to him!" 
 
 "Believe me, not for the world! It is 
 then understood; if he should say ' yes, let 
 it take place in June,' you will also say 
 'yes, let it take place in June;' that is to 
 say in other words, that you are perfectly 
 willing that it should take place then, if he 
 has no particular objection. That is it I 
 apprehend]" 
 
 " You are a very teasing creature; I'll 
 have nothing more to say to you on the 
 subject." 
 
 " Until I have obtained the consent of 
 your father]" 
 
 "Indeed I'm not going to answer any 
 more questions. You inveigled me here, I 
 perceive, expressly in order to tease me, 
 and now if you please we'll return." 
 
 It was natural perhaps, highly natural 
 that during this brief, but, to the parties 
 concerned, deeply interesting conversation, 
 Llewellen should have been altogether for- 
 gotten, or nothing could have been urged to 
 excuse their oblivion in this particular; for 
 they actually thought of him no more than 
 if he had not been at all in existence, until 
 they rose to return, when they happened to 
 see him on the opposite side deeply en- 
 gaged in the delightful occupation of feed- 
 ing the ducks. 
 
 There is in all probability no species of 
 pleasure at once so exciting, so generous, 
 and so pure, as that which springs from the 
 strictly philosophical process of feeding 
 these acute and deeply interesting birds. 
 They are so highly intelligent, so sensible; 
 they know as well when they have got a 
 bit of biscuit in their bills as possible! 
 They will swallow it, and enjoy it, and 
 dart after more, and fight and plunder each 
 other like Christians. It is delightful to 
 observe the dignity with which they assert 
 their claim to whatever they can get. It 
 really affords a great social lesson; for 
 although in the Park the majority are 
 foreigners, they insist upon having equal 
 rights with the natives; and as the natives 
 are not sufficiently strong to put them 
 down, they accommodate themselves to 
 those republican principles which have of 
 late ye.ars in spite of them obtained. 
 
 I ml* r all these circumstances, then, it 
 will nut In-deemed marvellous that Lli-wel- 
 
 len's attention could not be drawn to the 
 
F290. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 291 
 
 opposite side of the water; and as such was 
 the case, Louise and Valentine were com- 
 pelled to go round, where they surprised 
 him in the very act of playing with a mob 
 of little Muscovites, that by dint of zealous 
 dillying he had seduced upon land. 
 
 " Where on earth have you been 1 ?" cried 
 Louise, as they approached him. 
 
 " Phere have you pin?" retorted Llewel- 
 len; " hur've pin pack here a long time! 
 Phell!" he continued, with a mournful ex- 
 pression, " there'll pe no peef for dinner to- 
 tay! Inteet hur can't fint the putcher, look 
 you!" 
 
 " What!" exclaimed Louise. 
 
 " Nopotty knows Pull the putcher at 
 all!" 
 
 " Did you ever!" 
 
 " Phell, hur ton't care; hur tit all her 
 coot to fint him out; "hur phent into all the 
 shops; but no, ephery potty laught phen 
 hur inquirt, put nopotty knew anything 
 apout any putcher named Pull." 
 
 "This is always the case," said Louise; 
 " I don't think, Fred, that I shall ever ask 
 you to do me another favor while I live." 
 
 " Hur can't help it. Hur knew you't co 
 on; put hur tit all hur coot, ant phith the 
 tirection phich you cave me, the tevil him- 
 self cootn't fint Pull the putcher." 
 
 " Well, come Louise," said Valentine, 
 " say no more about it. It is not I presume 
 of any very great importance. You had 
 better, perhaps, show Fred at once where 
 Bull lives, and then he will know where to 
 find him." 
 
 "Yes too, Louey, come; hur shoot like 
 apove all things in the worl't to know phere 
 he's to be fount, for hur huntit him in ephery 
 tirection. It phill not take you much out of 
 the phay, look you come!" 
 
 " Indeed, sir, I shall not do anything of 
 the sort," said Louise, pinching Valentine's 
 arm very severely; " if people are so ex- 
 tremely stupid as to be actually unable to 
 find out the shop of a butcher, I really don't 
 feel myself bound to take any trouble with 
 them at all. As to you, sir," she added, 
 addressing Valentine, "you ought to be 
 ashamed of having made such a suggestion: 
 I beg that the subject may not be re- 
 newed." 
 
 Llewellen now conceived that she was 
 indeed very angry, and therefore said no- 
 thing more about it; and as Valentine had 
 no desire to induce him to suspect that he 
 had been played with, the propriety of 
 adopting the suggestion he had offered was 
 not urged. They at once proceeded home; 
 and, although the lovers were not quite so 
 silent as before, they were stil 1 very thought- 
 ful, and would, to common observers, have 
 appeared very dull. 
 
 Of course Valentine felt himself bound 
 under the circumstances to dine there that 
 day. It is true he thought at one time that 
 it might perhaps be better to excuse him- 
 self, in order that both he and Louise might 
 reflect upon what had happened, before he 
 took the next step; but having considered 
 the matter for a moment, he felt that this 
 would be quite unnecessary, seeing that 
 while he had firmly made up his mind, he 
 had not the smallest doubt that she had as 
 firmly made up hers; and that therefore the 
 subject might as well be named to Raven 
 without any further delay. 
 
 He accordingly consented to remain, and 
 continued to amuse himself in the garden 
 with Llewellen until they were summoned 
 to dinner, when he found that in honor of 
 the occasion Louise had taken pains to look 
 more than usually attractive. Her manner 
 was however much altered; she was far 
 more reserved, spoke but little, and felt in 
 some slight degree embarrassed. 
 
 " You are not yourself to-day, my girl," 
 said Raven, on noticing this change, " who 
 has been putting you out!" 
 
 " Oh, pless you, she's only pin plowink 
 me up," said Llewellen, " pecause hur 
 cootn't fint, look you, Mr. Pull the putcher!" 
 
 " Indeed, sir, you are mistaken," cried 
 Louise, " and I beg that you will be silent." 
 
 " What, have you been changing your 
 butcher, my girl 1 ?" inquired Raven. 
 
 "No, it is only his stupidity he gets 
 worse and worse." 
 
 " Well, but I thought Scraggs supplied 
 us 1 ?" 
 
 " Of course," replied Louise. 
 
 " Putt you said Pull! Titn't she say 
 Pull, my poy? Oh! hur'll take my oath 
 she sail Pull." 
 
 " Did you ever know any one so stupid?" 
 
 " Perhaps," observed Raven, " he was 
 thinking of the bull beef!" 
 
 "Oh! as likely as not," cried Louise. 
 
 " Putt too you mean to say that you litn't 
 say Pull?" 
 
 " Good gracious hold your tongue Fred, 
 and don't be so silly!" 
 
 "Putt hur say, Louey, look you too 
 you mean Louey too you mean to say that 
 you titn't tell me Pull?" 
 
 " I mean, sir, to say nothing more on the 
 subject. I am ashamed of you." 
 
 " Doubtless," observed Raven, " the 
 mistake originated in the remarkable simi- 
 larity of the names." 
 
 " Phot, petween Pull and Scraggs!" 
 cried Llewellen, " phell, coolness knows! 
 putt is it propaple; is it, look you, at all? 
 oh! pesites hur know Scraggs, look you; 
 putt she sait Pull!" 
 
 " You had better say no more about the 
 
292 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 matter," said Louise, " I'm sorry you ex- 
 pose yourself in this way." 
 
 "Never mind, Fred," said Raven, "mis- 
 takes will occur; let me send you a little 
 more fish." 
 
 Llewellen had no objection to a little more 
 fish, but he had an objection a very seri- 
 ous objection to its being supposed that 
 he had mistaken the name of Scraggs for 
 that of Bull. He would not however suffer 
 that circumstance to interfere at all with his 
 dinner: he ate heartily fiercely; but he 
 made up his mind to have the thing satis- 
 factorily cleared up anon. 
 
 The dinner therefore passed off without 
 any further allusions being made to the 
 affair; and when Llewellen began to exhibit 
 strong symptoms of a very deep anxiety to 
 renew it, Valentine happily started a sub- 
 ject which precluded the possibility of its 
 being hedged in. 
 
 In due time Louise made her exit, and as 
 she had previously intimated to Llewellen 
 that she had something of importance to 
 communicate to him in the drawing-room, 
 he almost immediately followed, leaving 
 Raven and Valentine alone. 
 
 Of course Valentine perfectly understood 
 this arrangement, although he had had no- 
 thing whatever to do with it. He knew for 
 what purpose Llewellen had been with- 
 drawn, and he also knew that his absence 
 would in all probability be prolonged, inas- 
 much as Louise, if she could but get him 
 near the piano after dinner, had the mar- 
 vellous faculty of playing him to sleep. 
 He therefore made up his mind to speak to 
 Raven on the subject at once. He felt cer- 
 tainly rather awkward at the moment, and 
 scarcely knew how to begin; but being en- 
 couraged by the conviction that the consent 
 which he was about to solicit would not be 
 withheld, he conquered his scruples and 
 commenced. 
 
 " Mr. Raven," said he, replenishing his 
 glass as if about to propose a toast, which 
 invariably fixed Raven's attention, it being 
 a practice of which he was particularly 
 fond " Mr. Raven: the uniform kindness 
 with which you have received me, and for 
 which I shall ever feel deeply indebted, in- 
 duces me to hope that you will entertain 
 that which I am now most anxious to pro- 
 pose." 
 
 ' Certainly; by all means," said Raven, 
 who filled his glass, and listened attentively 
 again. 
 
 "The affection which exists between 
 Louise and myself," continued Valentine, 
 "I believe to be mutual and firm." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," said Raven, 
 41 no doubt of it in the world." 
 
 " And as you have never appeared to dis- 
 
 countenance the growth of that affection, I 
 am encouraged to believe that you have no 
 desire to check it now." 
 
 " None at all, my bo-y: not the least in 
 life." 
 
 " Such being the case, then, my pre- 
 sent object is to obtain your consent to our 
 union." 
 
 " My dear boy," said Raven, " you have 
 it! I give it freely, and at once. 1 will 
 not disguise from you how highly I admire 
 your character, and as I feel that as a hus- 
 band you will be faithful and affectionate, 
 take her, and may every earthly blessing 
 throughout life be yours. God bless you 
 both!" he added, raising the glass to his 
 lips, as the tears stood and sparkled in his 
 eyes. " But I am sure you will be happy: 
 I am quite sure of that. She is a good girl: 
 I know that she is a good girl, and as a 
 wife will be all that a man can desire." 
 
 He then drank off his wine, and having 
 instantly replenished, proposed the health 
 of Louise in a bumper. 
 
 "Louise and I," said Valentine, when 
 with heartfelt pleasure he had done honor 
 to the toast, " had some little conversation 
 on the subject this morning, but, as with 
 very great propriety, she suggested that you 
 were the first person to whom I oujrht to 
 speak, she left it in your hands entirely." 
 
 "Just like her!" exclaimed Raven, high- 
 ly pleased with the fact. " She is the best 
 and most amiable girl in the world." 
 
 " Now I was thinking," said Valentine, 
 " that June is a very pleasant month." 
 
 " So it is: but I must leave all that to be 
 settled between yourselves. Only tell me 
 when it is settled. Let me see June oh! 
 yes. I wish you would give my compli- 
 ments to your uncle, and tell him I shall be 
 happy to see him when convenient. Per- 
 haps he will dine with us to-morrow? Just 
 ask him." 
 
 Valentine promised to do so; and, after 
 drinking a few more appropriate toasts, they 
 left the table to join Louise. 
 
 " My girl !" said Raven, as he entered 
 the drawing-room, " come here." 
 
 Louise approached, and he placed her 
 hand in Valentine's, and blessed them, and 
 then went to pommel Llewellen. That 
 gentleman was soundly asleep on tho sofa: 
 but, although it was usually very difficult 
 to rouse him under those peculiar circum- 
 stances, Raven, being then in high spirits, 
 soon succeeded in waking him up. 
 
 "Now don't you think, Fred, that you 
 are a very pretty fellow!" cried K'avrn, 
 when his efforts had been crowned with 
 success. 
 
 "Inteet, coolness knows hur'vc pin 
 asleep!" said Llewellen, which with him 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 293 
 
 was an occurrence of so extraordinary a cha- 
 racter, that he felt quite confused. " Putt," 
 he added, "it phos Louey's fault. She 
 setucet me up here, and phootn't let me co 
 town acain, look you." 
 
 Louis, doubtless, at any other time would 
 have given free expression to her opinion 
 on the propriety of this observation; but 
 she was then too much engaged, having 
 coffee to dispense and certain feelings to 
 conceal, to attend to anything so really un- 
 important. Her reserve was remarkable. 
 She scarcely said a word. She looked, and 
 blushed, and occasionally smiled, but she 
 did not by any means feel self-possessed. 
 Valentine, on the contrary, was buoyant 
 and merry; he chatted with Raven, and ral- 
 lied Llewellen with unusual spirit, until 
 
 the evening became far advanced, when he 
 took leave of them, and left the room with 
 Louise, who appeared to be somewhat anx- 
 ious, on that particular occasion, to see him 
 safely out. 
 
 " My dearest love," said he, stopping 
 near the drawing-room door, " I need not 
 perhaps state that your father has freely 
 consented to our union. With me he thinks 
 that June would be a very pleasant month; 
 but as he leaves that entirely to you, pray 
 think of it: I shall see you in the morning. 
 Oh, Louise! I have felt, and still do feel, so 
 happy! My dear girl, good night." 
 
 Louise was silent, but she returned his 
 embrace with affectionate warmth, when he 
 once again bade her adieu, and departed. 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 VALENTINE VISITS THE ROYAL ACADEMY, AND RAVEN ASTONISHES THE FACULTIES OF 
 
 UNCLE JOHN. 
 
 ON reaching home, Valentine briefly ex- 
 plained the substance of all that had occur- 
 red to Uncle John, who was in consequence 
 highly delighted. He had passed a mourn- 
 ful evening; for Whitely, who now despair- 
 ed of obtaining the slightest clue to the dis- 
 covery of his children, had been his only 
 companion ; but when Valentine arrived 
 with his " glorious news," he at once made 
 up his mind to have an additional glass, 
 and resolved, moreover, that Whitely and 
 Valentine should join him. He found it, 
 however, extremely difficult to prevail upon 
 W^hitely to do this, for that gentleman 
 cherished his sad thoughts as if he loved 
 them, and appeared to have a horror of every 
 thing likely to cause them to be even for a 
 moment dispelled: but eventually Uncle 
 John succeeded in inducing him, in honour 
 of the occasion, to yield, when despair by 
 degrees was supplanted by hope, and after 
 an hour's enlivening conversation, he re- 
 tired comparatively happy. 
 
 In the morning after having held a deep 
 consultation with Uncle John, who felt that 
 he had that day to perform a great duty 
 Valentine proceeded to call upon Louise, 
 whom he found still embarrassed, but affec- 
 tionate and gentle. She appeared to have 
 been completely disarmed; and, although 
 she flew to receive him as he entered, she 
 was silent, and subsequently, whenever her 
 eyes met his, which did not unfrequently 
 happen, she blushed, and seemed greatly 
 confused. 
 26 
 
 " Hur say, my poy," whispered Llewel- 
 len, embracing the first opportunity of draw- 
 ing him aside: " Phot is the matter phith 
 Loueyl She hasn't plown me up all the 
 morning!" 
 
 " You have not offended her, probably." 
 
 " Oh, coolness knows it, that's no rule 
 to co py: there's something pesites in the 
 wint." 
 
 " Don't despair," said Valentine, encou- 
 ragingly. " You will have it no doubt by 
 and by. Louise!" he added. 
 
 " No, no, no!" interrupted Llewellen. 
 "Inteet, hur ton't want it! No, no! hur 
 ton't want it! pe still !" 
 
 " I was about to ask Louise if she felt 
 inclined to go to the Royal Academy this 
 morning." 
 
 " Oh, that's another pisiness! Hur shoot 
 like that apove all things in the worlt." 
 
 "Well, shall we go, my love]" 
 
 " I should enjoy it much," replied Louise, 
 softly. 
 
 "Run away, then, and prepare. And 
 Louise! tell your father that my uncle will 
 do himself the pleasure of dinning here to- 
 day." 
 
 Louise left the room; and the moment 
 she was gone, Llewellen said, " My poy, 
 you mate me tremple. Hur was afrait that 
 you were coing to tell Louey phot hur sait, 
 pecause then she woot have pecan, look 
 you, at once. Put her say! phot's the 
 matter? Pelieve me she titn't say a wort 
 
294 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 all the time we were at preakfast. Is there 
 anything wrong!" 
 
 " Nothing," replied Valentine. " Every 
 thing is perfectly right. You will soon 
 know the cause of this change in Louise." 
 
 " Phot! Are you coing to pe marriet!" 
 
 "Married: how came you to think of 
 that!" 
 
 " Phel, hur titn't know, look you. How- 
 ever, hur ton't care a pit, if there's nothing 
 coing wrong." 
 
 As Louise returned shortly after this, 
 they proceeded at once to the exhibition. 
 Llewellen was a great connoisseur: he 
 could tell in a moment if a picture pleased 
 him, and wouldn't pretend to admire what 
 he didn't. To such a connoisseur the ex- 
 hibition of the Royal Academy did at that 
 particular period present many charms 
 which few others could see, and hence it 
 will not be held to be very extraordinary 
 that Llewellen was highly delighted. He 
 looked at the portraits. Very good! As far 
 as the likenesses were concerned, why of 
 course he knew nothing, and didn't mean 
 to care; they all appeared to be very plea- 
 sant people, and that was sufficient for him. 
 The dogs however attracted his particular 
 attention: he was at once almost lost in ad- 
 miration of them. 
 
 ' How phery font people are kitting of 
 togs," he observed. 
 
 "It would appear so, certainly," said 
 Valentine. " One would imagine that we 
 were a nation of dog fanciers." 
 
 " How do you account," inquired Louise, 
 "for so many being painted?" 
 
 " Young artists are advised to direct at- 
 tention to that particular branch," replied 
 Valentine, "it being assumed that all who 
 are anxious to have portraits of their dogs 
 can afford to pay handsomely for them." 
 
 "Then if things co on so, phe shall have 
 nothing putt tog painters py ant py, look 
 you!" 
 
 "See how highly they are admired," 
 said Valentine, directing the attention of 
 Louise to two ladies and a highly rouged 
 gentleman, who were extolling the sub- 
 limity of a portrait of a bloodhound. 
 
 " Dear me!" exclaimed one of the ladies, 
 14 what a love! is he not!" 
 
 "Foine animal! foine dog! foine creach- 
 or!" cried the highly rouged gentleman; 
 but he had no sooner got to the " creachor," 
 than Valentine made an angry growl pro- 
 ceed apparently from the bloodhound, which 
 caused the admirers of the "creachor" to 
 start back amazed. 
 
 M \vi, y what!-why! why !-aloive!" 
 exclaimed the highly rouged gentleman, 
 with an aspect of horror. 
 
 M Don't be alarmed, my love," said Va- 
 
 lentine, whispering to Louise, "it was I 
 that made the noise." 
 
 " You! why it appeared to be the dog!" 
 
 " Exactly; I'll explain to you presently. 
 Take no notice now." 
 
 In a state of the most intense astonish- 
 ment did the highly rouged gentleman look 
 at the ladies whom he had accompanied, 
 and then at the bloodhound. He couldn't 
 make it out! He had heard it, surely! Oh! 
 the ladies themselves had borne testimony 
 to that, for while one of them said " Did 
 you ever," the other exclaimed "Well, I 
 never!" which of course was conclusive. 
 But then the "creachor" was not alive! 
 and if the "creachor" was not alive, why 
 what then! He couldn't tell; he only 
 knew that he had heard the " creachor" 
 growl. He looked again, and approached 
 him gradually, until he was able to make a 
 very minute inspection indeed. It certainly 
 was not alive! He touched the " creachor" 
 not near the mouth it is true, but he ab- 
 solutely touched him. 
 
 " Keep your hands off the pictchors," 
 said Valentine, throwing his voice behind 
 the offender, "how dare you touch the 
 pictchors!" 
 
 The highly rouged gentleman turned, 
 and really felt quite frightened; but as he 
 saw no one behind him that looked like a 
 man who had the courage to speak to him 
 in that style, he naturally felt himself 
 bound to give the ladies a little idea of his 
 valour. Perceiving a very quiet looking 
 elderly gentleman on one of the seats, he 
 therefore marched up to him boldly, and 
 said in a tone which conveyed a great deal 
 of indignation, " Did you speak to me, 
 sor!" 
 
 The old gentleman looked at him over 
 his spectacles very inquisitively, and after 
 having carefully examined the animal, re- 
 plied, "I don't know you, I don't under- 
 stand you." 
 
 " 1 ask if you spoke to me just now in 
 that abrupt and particularly ungentleman- 
 like manner!" ^' 
 
 "Decidedly not." 
 
 " Oh," said the highly rouged gentleman, 
 "oh!" and the ladies becoming alarmed, 
 drew him at once from the spot, but he 
 turned to look again at the "creachor." 
 
 " Is it possible," said Louise, " that it 
 was you in reality!" 
 
 "Quite. But, Louise, you must keep 
 what I am now about to impart to you a 
 most profound secret." 
 
 Louise promised to do so, and to her 
 utter amazement, he proceeded to explain 
 to her his power as a ventriloquist, while 
 Llewellen was particularly engaged with n 
 painting in the subject of which he appeared 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 295 
 
 to take the deepest possible interest. This 
 painting told a plain tale of heartlessness 
 on the one hand, and weakness on the 
 other a tale of seduction and its wretched 
 results; and while he sympathised deeply 
 with the victim who was there represented 
 sitting in abject misery upon the steps of a 
 mansion, with her infant at her breast, 
 while the tears trickled fast down her 
 cheeks, he shook his fist at her seducer 
 with an energetic action which seemed to 
 intimate that he could, with a great deal of 
 pleasure, knock his head out of the canvass. 
 
 " Oh, do," said Louise, when Valentine 
 had explained, " do try the effect upon 
 Fred." 
 
 " Well, but you must be cautious; 1 shall 
 have an opportunity presently. But see 
 how excjted he appears." 
 
 "What on earth is the matter 1 ?" inquired 
 Louise, as they approached him. 
 
 " Inteet, now," said Llewellen, address- 
 ing Valentine, and pointing to the seducer, 
 "that's a creat scountrel, look you 1 ?" 
 
 " A what!" cried Valentine, whose voice 
 seemed to proceed from the figure alluded 
 to, " a what!" 
 
 " A creat scountrel /" repeated Llewellen, 
 nothing daunted, for he was very indignant, 
 and looked at the figure very fiercely. He 
 however recollected himself the next mo- 
 ment, and turned to look alternately at Va- 
 lentine and Louise. 
 
 "Why, what in the name of goodness 
 are you about 1 ?" exclaimed Louise. 
 
 Llewellen, without immediately replying, 
 examined the painting very closely; but 
 having satisfied himself that it was really a 
 painting, and that no one could possibly be 
 behind it, he thought it better under the cir- 
 cumstances, not to subject himself to the 
 rallying sarcasm of Louise, and therefore, 
 having said " hur only thought somepotty 
 spoke," moved away. 
 
 " Dear me," cried Louise, " how exces- 
 sively natural it seems. For goodness sake 
 don't tell any one about it. We shall have 
 such sport, Til assist you. But do you not 
 move your lips at all!" 
 
 " Can you see them move 1 ?" said Valen- 
 tine, sending his voice behind her. 
 
 Louise turned in an instant. " Good gra- 
 cious!" she exclaimed, " that person over- 
 heard us!" 
 
 " Of course," said Valentine, throwing 
 his voice as before. 
 
 "Let us go," said Louise, "he'll insult 
 us." 
 
 "Insult you!" 
 
 " Oh, do let us go into the next room!" 
 
 " Why, that person has not spoken," said 
 Valentine, in his natural voice, smiling. 
 44 He has not said a word." 
 
 " But you don't mean to say that it was 
 you?" 
 
 " Why, of course!" 
 
 " Well I never! But you know you 
 must not frighten me /" 
 
 " Oh! any one else 1 ?" 
 
 " Nay, it will not be fair to frighten me! 
 you would not wish to do it, would you"? 
 No, let that be clearly understood." 
 
 " Very well. Of course, what you say 
 now amounts to law!" 
 
 " No, no, not so. At least," she added 
 playfully, " not yet:" 
 
 " Is Mr. Llewellen in the room?" cried 
 Valentine, throwing his voice to the oppo- 
 site corner. 
 
 " Cootness," said Llewellen, turning to 
 Valentine, " toes he mean me 1 ?" 
 
 " Mr. Llewellen of Caermarthen!" cried 
 Valentine as before, and looking at the same 
 time steadily at the victim. 
 
 " Yesm!" cried Llewellen, " some frient 
 of mine, no tout. Who t'cootness can it 
 pe?" 
 
 As Llewellen walked anxiously towards 
 the spot from which the voice appeared to 
 proceed, every eye was upon him. The 
 thing was so unusual! The idea of calling 
 out a gentleman's name in such a manner, 
 and in such a place! It was evidently held 
 by all to be extremely incorrect, and even 
 Louise exclaimed,^" what a vulgar person 
 to be sure!" 
 
 " Do you really conceive him to be a vul- 
 gar person?" inquired Valentine, with a 
 smile, which clearly intimated something. 
 
 " Why gracious Valentine! surely that 
 was not you then?" 
 
 " Why, is it at all likely to have been any 
 one else?" 
 
 " Oh! how glorious. Well, I thought it 
 very singular! Now, let us hear what he'll 
 say. But you should tell me! You should 
 let me know beforehand! I should enjoy 
 it so much more if you were to do that. 
 Here he comes." 
 
 " Hur can't fint any potty," said Lle- 
 wellenj as he approached with a counte- 
 nance remarkably vacant. " Inteet t'coot- 
 ness, now hur shoot like to know pho it 
 coot pe! Photare you laughing at, Louey?" 
 he added, as Louise covered her face tocon- 
 eal her convulsions. 
 
 " Have you really no idea who it was?" 
 inquired Valentine. 
 
 " Pless you! not the least. It was some 
 frient, no tout. Hur shoot like now to fint 
 him apove all things in the worlt." And 
 again he looked round and round the room in 
 the lively hope of seeing some friend from 
 Caermarthen. 
 
 " Louise," whispered Valentine, " this 
 
296 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 will never do! you'll spoil all if you do not 
 keep your countenance." 
 
 "Yes I know, but I really could not 
 help it. He did look so silly poor Fred!" 
 
 " How do you like that style of paint- 
 ing?" said Valentine, alluding more with 
 the view of restoring the tranquillity of her 
 countenance than anything else to a flam- 
 ing red and hlue lightning subject, which 
 appeared to have been done by some emi- 
 nent artist, while looking through a pair of 
 kaleidoscopic spectacles " Do you admire 
 It?" 
 
 " Why, upon my word I cannot under- 
 stand it!" replied Louise. 
 
 " Nor can I, nor can any one else, I should 
 say, with the exception of the artist him- 
 self. But do you admire the style?" 
 
 "It is so indistinct and glaring." 
 
 " There is an infinite deal of something 
 about it: it may by possibility be very sub- 
 lime, but 1 should say its chief merit con- 
 sists in its being altogether incomprehensi- 
 ble." 
 
 " Well, well," said Louise with impati- 
 ence, "never mind; I've no doubt that it 
 was meant to be very poetic, but do, there's 
 a dear, tease Fred." 
 
 The fact is, after Valentine had entrusted 
 her with the secret of his power, Louise 
 took but little interest in the paintings: it 
 had at once so delighted and amazed her, 
 that she looked at them only as a medium 
 through which that power might with effect 
 be developed: and as it was but natural that 
 Valentine should, under existing circum- 
 stances, be anxious to please her by all the 
 means at his command, he went up to Lle> 
 wellen, who had been running about in all 
 directions in search of his undiscoverable 
 friend, and, looking steadily at him, said, 
 in the most cordial manner possible, " Ah! 
 Llewellen!" 
 
 The voice apparently proceeded from be- 
 hind him, and he turned on the instant and 
 scrutinised the features of every man whom 
 he saw. But no! No friend was visible! 
 He could not see a soul of whom he had the 
 slightest knowledge! which in the abstract 
 was very remarkable. 
 
 " There's somepotty having a came with 
 me," he observed, when he had satisfied his 
 conscience that every creature behind him 
 was unknown to him; " Inteet, t' coolness 
 hur shoot like to fint him out!" And it was 
 not by any means extraordinary that he did 
 wish to do so, more especially as he felt in 
 some slight degree displeased ! 
 
 '* Now, now," said Louise, " make that 
 picture appear to speak to him: do!" 
 
 " No, no; it's too bad," said Valentine. 
 "Besides, he will begin to suspect." 
 
 "Never mind," said Louise, "he will 
 
 not suspect us. Do, there's a dear; once 
 more: come, only once!" 
 
 " Well, well; you must draw his attention 
 to it." 
 
 " Oh, I'll do that. Fred, I want you to 
 give me your opinion upon this portrait. 
 Now what do you really think of it? Be 
 I candid." 
 
 " Phell, look you, hur ton't know: hur 
 i ton't pretent to pe a jutch; putt her should 
 | say it's phery peautiful." 
 
 " Do you really," said Valentine, assum- 
 ing the voice of a female, and making it 
 appear to proceed from the canvass, " Do 
 you really think me beautiful ?" 
 
 Llewellen started, and then looked at the 
 portrait in a very steady, straightforward, 
 unflinching manner, and then looked at 
 Louise and then at Valentine, and then at 
 the portrait again. At length, being unable 
 to make any thing at all of it, in the fulness 
 of his heart he exclaimed " Inteet t' coot- 
 ness, hur think now the tevil's in the pic- 
 tures!" 
 
 " For shame !" cried Louise. " How 
 dare you make use of that wicked expres- 
 sion?" 
 
 " Phell hur ton't care, Louey; he's in the 
 room somephere, look you, that's my pelief. 
 Titn't you hear?" 
 
 " I heard you say that the portrait was 
 very beautiful." 
 
 "So hur tit! so hur tit! ant then it 
 asked if hur tit think it peautiful !" 
 
 " It! what, the portrait? Why, you do 
 not mean to be so ridiculous as to imagine 
 that the portrait spoke, surely?" 
 
 " Hur ton't care a pit about the pisiness, 
 look you, Louey, putt coolness knows hur 
 heart somepotty speak! Titn't you, my 
 poy?_/t7n' you?" 
 
 " I heard some one speak, thal's quile 
 certain: bul it couldn'l, by any possibility, 
 be the painting!" 
 
 " Absurd !" cried Louise. " Now really, 
 Fred give me your candid opinion do you 
 nol yourself ihink lhat you are getting very 
 stupid?" 
 
 " Hur ton't care phot you say: you may 
 call me stupil if you please, pull if hur 
 titn'l hear lhat phery picture ask me plain 
 plank phcther hur tit think it peautiful, 
 plessme!" - 
 
 " But how is it possible? How could 
 it?" 
 
 " I lur ton't pretenl to know how it coot; 
 put it tit! Coolness knows, am hur not to 
 pelieve my own ears?" 
 
 it does seem hard that a man cannot al- 
 ways with safety have the firmest and the 
 most implicit faith in the evidence of those 
 useful and ornamenlal organs; bul il is not- 
 withstanding a fact, that, in all such cases 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 297 
 
 as those in which ventriloquism is concern- 
 ed, such evidence is perfectly certain to be 
 false. However direct it may be, however 
 specious, however strong, it is sure to mis- 
 lead the inquiring mind, so invariable is its 
 perversion of truth so stubborn its adhe- 
 rence to error. 
 
 Of all this Llewellen was utterly igno- 
 rant, and hence he stuck firmly to his faith. 
 He of course thought it strange, unaccounta- 
 bly strange; but no reason which he could 
 bring to bear upon the point was sufficiently 
 powerful to shake his conviction; no species 
 of ridicule nay, not even the manifest im- 
 possibility of the thing itself could induce 
 him to repudiate or even to doubt the evi- 
 dence of those false witnesses, his ears. 
 
 This was a source of great enjoyment to 
 Louise. She rallied him cruelly, not only 
 at the exhibition, but as they returned. He 
 was a martyr; and with the characteristic 
 firmness of a martyr he endured it, 
 
 On reaching home, however, Louise 
 became thoughtful again. Knowing that 
 Uncle John was to dine there that day, her 
 thoughts reverted to the cause of his being 
 specially invited, and, although she was as 
 happy as any aFectionate little creature 
 under the circumstances could be, she could 
 not but feel in some slight degree embar- 
 rassed. 
 
 From Valentine this was concealed as 
 much as possible. She naturally did not 
 wish him to know all; she, therefore, left 
 him immediately on their return with the 
 full determination and it really was a very 
 important determination not to make her 
 appearance again until Uncle John arrived. 
 
 The interim would, doubtless, have been 
 somewhat tedious to Valentine if matters 
 had taken their usual course; but the mo- 
 ment she had left him, Raven entered the 
 room, and, actuated by his characteristic 
 love of display, begged Valentine as a favor 
 to take the carriage for his Uncle. Of 
 course, anything calculated to please the 
 bitter enemy of the aristocracy Valentine 
 had then no inclination to oppose. The 
 carriage was, therefore, immediately order- 
 ed, for Raven suggested that, although it 
 was early, his old friend might like to have 
 an airinor before he dined: which was very 
 affectionate. 
 
 Matters being thus arranged, Raven left 
 the room with dignity, when Llewellen 
 claimed the privilege of going with Valen- 
 tine, on the ground of his being a great 
 favorite of Uncle John. ' Hur too like 
 him," said he, just to strengthen his claim, 
 " pecause hur pelieve him to pe a coot tern- 
 pert, kint, ant penevolent olt soul, ant hur 
 know he likes me, pecause phenever hur 
 speak to him, look you, he smiles." 
 
 This was held to be conclusive, and, as 
 in a very few minutes the carriage was an- 
 nounced, they proceeded to put Uncle John 
 in a fidget. This, strange as it may appear, 
 was the effect which the sight of that car- 
 riage invariably had upon him. He was 
 sufficiently feverish when it came to the 
 door on any ordinary occasion, but when- 
 ever it was sent expressly for him it threw 
 him at once into a dreadful state of mind, 
 for he held it to be beyond all doubt or dis- 
 pute entirely out of the regular course. 
 
 Fortunately, however, in this particular 
 instance he was sitting with Whitely in 
 poor Goodman's room, when it dashed up 
 to the door, and was, therefore, unconscious 
 of the fact until Valentine announced it. 
 
 " But, dear me," said Uncle John, pull- 
 ing out his watch with great promptitude 
 and tact, " why, it wants a full hour and a 
 half of the time!" 
 
 Whitely enjoined silence, for Uncle 
 John's lungs were very powerful, and Good- 
 man was asleep. They, therefore, repaired 
 to the drawing-room in which Valentine 
 had left Llewellen, a fact of which both 
 Uncle John and Whitely were unconscious. 
 
 " Ah! Mr. Llewellen!" exclaimed Uncle 
 John, " I hope you're well, sir; I hope 
 you're very well ! Allow me to introduce 
 to you my friend Mr. Whitely." 
 
 " Hur'm prout to know you," said Lle- 
 wellen, extending his hand. "Hur've heart 
 of you t' cootness knows how often." 
 
 Whitely during the salutation looked at 
 him intensely! He seemed to be struck 
 with Llewellen's appearance, and yet there 
 was nothing in it very extraordinary. Still 
 he inspired on the instant some feeling 
 which caused him to turn pale as death! 
 
 Neither Uncle John nor Valentine noticed 
 the agitation into which he had been thrown, 
 but Llewellen did, and, therefore, said, 
 " You are not well, my frienf? Come for a 
 rite. Inteet, t' cootness it will too you all 
 the coot in the worlt!" 
 
 Whitely tremulously begged to be ex- 
 used, and almost immediately after retired 
 'rom the room. 
 
 " Now, then, my tear old frient; come, 
 et us have a clorious rite pefore tinner, ant 
 then you'll pe aple to keep me in counte- 
 nance, for, look you, nopotty can eat at all 
 ,ere! hur ton't know t' cootness how it is 
 people manache to live phithout eating." 
 
 "But bless my life!" exclaimed Uncle 
 John, " I'm not dressed ! You have taken 
 me quite by surprise!" 
 
 ' Oh, never mint that, look you! never 
 mint that. We can wait phile you tress! 
 ootness knows it, our time is not so pre- 
 cious!" 
 
 Eventually Uncle John consented: for, 
 
 26* 
 
298 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 although he thought it hard that he could 
 not be suffered to go quietly, he was pressed 
 so warmly, not only hy Llewellen, but by 
 Valentine, who explained how highly Ra- 
 ven would be pleased, that he felt himself 
 bound, as a disagreeable matter of courtesy 
 on this one particular occasion to yield. 
 
 He, therefore, left the room to make him- 
 self tidy, and Valentine ordered up the tray, 
 it being questionable whether he could by 
 any other means hold Llewellen in a per- 
 fect state of happiness. He had not the 
 smallest doubt of being able to effect this 
 great object in that way, and the correctness 
 of his judgment in this particular was abun- 
 dantly proved by the result. The very 
 moment Llewellen saw a ham and three 
 ribs of beef, that moment did his eyes begin 
 to sparkle with pleasure, and he set to work 
 like a new man. 
 
 "I think you will find that a decent glass 
 of sherry," said Valentine, placing the bot- 
 tle before him. 
 
 " My poy," cried Llewellen, " too let's 
 have some peer!" 
 
 The beer was ordered on the instant, and 
 when that was produced his views were met 
 to a hair. Nothing could have been better. 
 He slashed away, and ate with so much 
 energy and gusto, that really any stranger 
 would have imagined that he had been ex- 
 perimentalised upon by the poor-law com- 
 missioners, from whom he had just escaped. 
 The only thing which at all interfered with 
 his enjoyment was a lively apprehension of 
 Uncle John's return. Every sound made 
 him start; every footstep alarmed him; he 
 trembled whenever he heard a door bang. 
 
 His apprehensions, however, were per- 
 fectly vain. Uncle John it is true was in a 
 very great hurry, but it is also true that he 
 could not make haste. He had a ten 
 minutes' hunt for a particular stocking, 
 which, as a matter of convenience, he had 
 thrown over his shoulder, and a period of 
 ten minutes more was occupied in looking 
 lor a waistcoat he had on. 
 
 Under these afflicting circumstances, Lie 
 wellen was in no actual danger of being in- 
 terrupted. But then he did not know that: 
 which was a pity. Had he possessed the 
 slightest cognisance of the real state of 
 things at that period in Uncle John's dress- 
 ing-room, doubtless he would have been, 
 although equally energetic, more cool; but 
 working away as he was in the dark as to 
 the actual state of the case there, it was but 
 natural that he should have the unpleasant 
 idea that courtesy would compel him pre- 
 maturely to give in. 
 
 It was not, however, until some time 
 after he had said to himself privately, 
 
 4 Now hur ton't care if he toes come," that 
 Uncle John actually made his appearance. 
 
 44 1 have to apologise," said that gentle- 
 man, who was in a very great heat, 44 1 
 lave to apologise for keeping you so long." 
 
 44 Hur peg you'll make no apology at all," 
 cried Llewellen, which was really very 
 ;ood of him considering, 44 hur've not pin 
 [tie, look you! Hur'd recommend you to 
 have a pit! the peef is peautiful !" 
 
 Uncle John very gracefully declined, and 
 having miraculously found a pair of gloves, 
 he searched the whole of his pockets at 
 once, with the view of ascertaining if any 
 important little matter had been forgotten, 
 and then declared himself to be quite at 
 Llewellen's service. 
 
 44 Put hur must pit your olt frient coot 
 py," cried Llewellen. 
 
 44 He is now in a sound sleep," said Un- 
 cle John. 
 
 44 Tear t' cootness how ott! Toes he al- 
 phays co to sleep in the mittle of the lay 1 ?" 
 /' Do you mean poor friend Goodman?" 
 
 44 No, look you, Mr. Phitely!" 
 
 4 ' Oh," said Valentine, 44 he is not asleep; 
 I'll go and tell him." 
 
 He did so, and found him in tears, which 
 he hastened, but in vain, to conceal. 
 
 44 My good friend! come, keep up your 
 spirits!" said Valentine, 44 Llewellen wants 
 to bid you good day." 
 
 44 1 look at that young man with pleasure," 
 returned Whitely, 44 but that pleasure is 
 accompanied with a bitter, bitter pang." 
 
 **Then do not see him. I'll tell him I 
 have said good day for him." 
 
 44 Yes, do, please yet oh no, I'll bid 
 him good day." And he dashed away a 
 tear which stood trembling in his eye, and 
 went at once to shake hands with Lle- 
 wellen. 
 
 44 God -bless you!" said he, 44 1 shall see 
 you again?" 
 
 44 Oh! yes; hur shall alphays pe coming. 
 Putt hur wish you't co pnith us for a rite! 
 Inteet it phoot too you a creat teal of coot." 
 
 Again Whitely begged to be excused, 
 and after having again shaken Llewellen 
 warmly by the hand, he saw him into the 
 carriage, and they started. 
 
 44 Home!" cried the servant, as he mount- 
 ed behind. 
 
 44 Phot a set of stupit togs to be sure!" 
 cried Llewellen, pulling the check string 
 with violence. 
 
 Tim carriage stooped in an instant. 
 44 \\hat a pity it is," said Uncle John, 
 44 that fine horses like (hose should be pulled 
 upon their haunches liko that." 
 
 44 Titn't hur tell you the park!" rrir.l 
 Llewellen, as the servant reappeared at the 
 door, 44 co rount the park ant then home." 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 299 
 
 Correct orders were then conveyed, and 
 they dashed towards the park; and as they 
 proceeded, Uncle John, although he had 
 been put out of his way very seriously, 
 could not help thinking that a carriage was 
 rather a comfortable sort of thing than not! 
 He was cool and collected then, and had 
 the whole of'his faculties about him, which 
 was pleasant, and he enjoyed himself ex- 
 ceedingly, and thought, as he rode round 
 the ring, that the Park was in reality very 
 delightful. 
 
 " Phoot you like to co roimt once morel 
 We have plenty of time," said Llewellen. 
 
 " If we have plenty of time I really 
 should," said Uncle John, " for although 
 I have walked in the Park frequently, I had 
 no idea of its being so pleasant a drive." 
 
 Llewellen therefore at once gave the ne- 
 cessary orders, and they went round again, 
 and then " home." 
 
 It is a singular thing perhaps to place 
 upon record, and yet it is an absolute fact 
 nevertheless, that every time Valentine saw 
 Louise now, he fancied she looked more 
 lovely than before. Especially so was it 
 in this particular instance, for on reaching 
 the drawing-room, he really did believe that 
 he had never beheld any creature so beau- 
 tiful. She was calm, very calm; except 
 indeBd when Uncle John held her hand for a 
 moment, and passed a high compliment, to 
 the justice of which her heart cheerfully 
 subscribed; and when Valentine led her to 
 the window to converse with her alone, she 
 really felt that she never was so happy. 
 
 Raven's reception of Uncle John was of 
 the most cordial character, and Uncle John 
 did not fail to appreciate it highly; nor did 
 he omit to explain how much he had enjoy- 
 ed his ride, which pleased Raven perhaps 
 more than anything else. 
 
 Llewellen was of course quite shut out; 
 but he was not inactive: he had got the 
 little delicate Neapolitan greyhound which 
 used to be the very first favorite with Louise 
 upon the sofa, and while instead of allow- 
 ing him to bound with delight, he rolled 
 him over and over, as if Jie had been but a 
 surfeited pug, the little wretch looked at his 
 tormentor, with all the intelligence of which 
 those stupid things are possessed, for he 
 really didn't like it. 
 
 Dinner was now announced, and Uncle 
 John took Louise with all the grace he had 
 in him, when, as Raven took Valentine, 
 Llewellen, who couldn't take the dog and 
 the dog didn't want him! went down with 
 his appetite alone. 
 
 During dinner Raven proved that he was 
 in the highest possible spirits, which Uncle 
 John of course was delighted to perceive; 
 but as nearly the whole of his observations 
 
 had indirect reference to the corning event, 
 Louise was sadly embarrassed, although 
 Valentine and Uncle John too did all in 
 their power to neutralize the edect of 
 inuendos which opened even the eyes of 
 Llewellen. Still Raven kept on: it was 
 seldom indeed that he was in a happy vein; 
 but when this did occur, no trifle could stop 
 him. It will hence be inferred that Louise 
 was not sorry when dinner was over, hav- 
 ing the power to leave when she pleased; 
 but it strangely enough happened that Ra- 
 ven then dropped the subject, much to the 
 mortification of Llewellen, who, having had 
 but little time to attend to it while anything 
 remained on the table to eat, now prepared 
 himself to listen to any observation which 
 might have a tendency to show him a light. 
 It was therefore particularly annoying to 
 him, privately, that no such observation 
 was made; for up to the time Louise rose 
 to retire, they continued to converse exclu- 
 sively upon matters in which he took really 
 no interest at all. 
 
 "Now then," said Raven, when he saw 
 Louise move; " now run away, all you 
 young people: we don't want you here!" 
 
 Valentine, of course, started up in an in- 
 stant; but Llewellen, who really did not 
 understand it, looked round very naturally 
 for a little explanation. The very moment, 
 however, Valentine beckoned him, he rose, 
 and permitted himself to -be led from the 
 room in a state of mental darkness. 
 
 " Well, my old friend!" exclaimed Ra- 
 ven, when he and Uncle John were alone. 
 "In the first place, we'll drink the health 
 of Val and Louise!~God bless them both: 
 may they be happy!" 
 
 Uncle John most heartily responded to 
 this toast, and made an addition directly 
 touching the little consequences of their 
 union. He then gave the health of Lle- 
 wellen, whom he lauded as one of the best- 
 hearted fellows that ever lived; and when 
 Raven had made a very slight, but a highly 
 eulogistic, addition to that, he said, " Now 
 let us drink our noble selves, and then to 
 business." 
 
 "Valentine," he continued, when this 
 toast had been appropriately honored, " has 
 doubtless told you that he has had a little 
 quiet conversation with me on the subject 
 of his marriage with Louise." 
 
 Uncle John nodded an affirmative. 
 
 " He has also told you that the result 
 was my free and unconditional consent to 
 their union 1 ? Very well. Now I admire the 
 character of that boy. Were he my own 
 flesh and blood, I could not love him more. 
 He is a fine fellow, a noble, firm, affec- 
 tionate, fellow, and Louise is about the 
 best girl that ever breathed. They love 
 
300 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 each other fondly and firmly: t know it! 
 and they are worthy of each other. And as 
 they are about to he united to each other, 
 now! what can we do for them?" 
 
 "What / have," said Uncle John, 
 promptly, " I have made up my mind to 
 divide with them. I have been thinking of 
 . this matter all the morning, and as I calcu- 
 late that I cannot be worth, on the whole, 
 more than sixteen thousand pounds, and as 
 I shall have no one then but his mother to 
 provide for, I'll give them eight thousand 
 at once to begin with." 
 
 44 My friend," said Raven, grasping the 
 hand of Uncle John. "If you have made 
 up your mind to do that, I have made up 
 my mind that you shall not. You shall 
 not, my friend, do anything of the sort! 
 and if we are to have a quarrel about the 
 matter, we had better at once fight it out. 
 I don't wish to say anything in disparage- 
 ment of your circumstances, but I will say 
 this, that I can afford to provide for them 
 better than you can. I'll at once give them 
 twenty thousand pounds. I'll not give 
 them a single penny more, because I don't 
 wish to spoil them by tempting them to 
 launch into a sea of aristocratic extrava- 
 gancies. No: I'll give them that which 
 is as much as they ought to have, and as 
 much as I will consent to let them have to 
 begin with and if you will not allow me 
 to do this alone, why the only alternative 
 is, you must fight me!" 
 
 "If I were" 
 
 " Stop," said Raven, " stop. Before you 
 speak let us have a glass of wine." 
 
 This interruption was indeed a great 
 relief to Uncle John, who had been so 
 startled by Raven's generous proposition, 
 that he scarcely at the moment knew how 
 to reply. 
 
 " Now," continued Raven. " What have 
 you to say against it 1 ?" 
 
 "Why, I hardly know what I have to 
 say, with the exception that I cannot con- 
 sent to do nothing. I think with you, that 
 they ought not to have more than twenty 
 thousand, but why can you not give twelve 
 and let me give the rest?" 
 
 " I'll not have it!" 
 
 " Well then come, I'll meet your views 
 if I can! you shall put down fifteen and j 
 I'll give the odd money." 
 
 "I tell you, my friend, I'll do nothing of 
 the sorl. I have made up my mind to give 
 the whole, and the whole I will <:ive! 1, of 
 course, do not wish to deprive you of the. 
 pleasure of doing something! Make them 
 a present! I'll let you do that!" 
 
 " Well then, I'll give them a house to 
 live in." 
 
 Nonsense !" cried Raven, " young 
 
 people don't like to be tied. If you give 
 them a house to live in, they'll want to re- 
 move the second quarter! Now, I'll tell 
 you what I'll do I'll conciliate you if pos- 
 sible! I'll consent to your furnishing a 
 house for them, but, to nothing more will I 
 consent, I'm determined." 
 
 "Mr. Raven!" said Uncle John, "really 
 your generosity has surprised me." 
 
 " I arn not a man," said Raven, with 
 dignity and pride "I am not a man to 
 boast of my wealth and resources; but I 
 may be permitted to state in justification of 
 the tone I have assumed, that as this sum 
 of money is to me a mere flea-bite, I feel 
 that 1 have a right to insist upon giving it 
 alone. But come, the thing is now settled. 
 I am to have my way and you are to have 
 yours." 
 
 "No, no: not exactly!" 
 
 "To the stipulated extent! therefore 
 without sayinor another single word upon 
 the subject, I'll give you what? Health 
 and prosperity to the forthcoming branches, 
 and may they be numerous and strong." 
 
 " With all rny heart!" cried Uncle John, 
 " with all my soul! and may we live to see 
 the lovely little cherubs playing around us 
 and strewing with flowers our path to the 
 grave." 
 
 A pause ensued; but it was not of long 
 duration. The glasses were replenished, 
 and Raven said, "Now sir, I'll give you 
 oh! of course their grandmamma!" 
 
 "Again, with all my heart!" cried Uncle 
 John, " she is one of the best women in 
 creation a natural woman! if " 
 
 "Those are the women for me!" ex- 
 claimed Raven. "None of your rouged 
 stuck-up beggarly aristocracy! a natural 
 woman will beat them all into fits." 
 
 "If ever there existed a really good wo- 
 man in the world she is one!" 
 
 " We must have her up!" cried Raven. 
 "We must have her up in time. This 
 affair you know must not take place in her 
 absence. Apropos we've not drunk our 
 absent friends!" 
 
 "Our absent friends!" echoed Uncle 
 John, promptly, " And may," for he /' 
 make an addition to every toast "may 
 they always be as firm as firm may tln-v 
 always he as firm as the rock of Gibraltar!" 
 
 "Bravo!" crinl Haven, * Very good, 
 very <_rood! And now I rise to pmp,.- 
 liealih of one whom I highly esteem, whom 
 I IOVP, and will eherith -of one to whom I 
 
 <>\v' my pivsent stale of existence of cue 
 of of a brave of a brave who of 
 one who who I'll tell yon what it is, rtiv 
 old friend if I go much farther I 
 stick in the mud! I am no public speaker; 
 not a bit of it; but I do with sincerity pro- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 301 
 
 pose, and I know I feel sure at least, I 
 know you will with equal sincerity, drink 
 the health of Valentine!" 
 
 " Let me see, I think we drank that be- 
 fore?" 
 
 44 Did we"? Well, I believe we did, now 
 you have mentioned it; you are right. But 
 never mind! let us drink it again. And 
 yet, if my memory serves me you know 
 if my memory se'rves me, we only drank 
 them together! so let's have them separately 
 Valentine! he's a fine, noble fellow! I 
 drink his health with all my heart! and suc- 
 cess to him!" 
 
 Of course, after this Uncle John pro- 
 posed Louise, and then Llewellen, and then 
 every other toast which had been previously 
 drank, until really he did begin to think 
 that the things around him were getting 
 particularly restless! Happily, however, 
 the real state of the case did not fail to 
 strike him, and he addressed himself to 
 Raven as nearly as possible to that effect, 
 
 and suggested that albeit they were per- 
 fectly right then, the probability was, that 
 if they drank much more they should riot be 
 quite so right, and as this correct suggestion 
 accorded precisely with the views as well 
 as the feelings of Raven himself, that gen- 
 tleman promptly made another suggestion 
 which had immediate reference to coffee. 
 In vain Uncle John made one more sugges- 
 tion, which touched upon the abstract pro- 
 priety of having it below: Raven would 
 have him up! and up they went. 
 
 At first, Valentine feared from the some- 
 what studied stateliness of his walk, that 
 Uncle John was not exactly so correct as 
 he had seen him; but he found that he was 
 merry, not tipsy elated, nothing more. Im- 
 mediately after coffee, notwithstanding, he 
 conceived it to be proper to send for a 
 coach, and Uncle John, as he gracefully 
 took his leave, declared, openly and warmly, 
 that he never spent so happy an evening in 
 his life. 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 THE DAY IS NAMED. ECHO INSISTS UPON FORMING AN ALLIANCE WITH LLEWELLEN. 
 
 " HE is a prince, my boy! nothing less 
 than a prince!" exclaimed Uncle John, 
 while in the coach, and this was all in the 
 shape of explanation that could be obtained 
 from him until they reached home, when 
 he entered at length into the matter. 
 
 That Valentine was delighted when he 
 heard, not only of Raven's generosity, but 
 of the high estimation in which he was 
 held, is a fact which it were useless to at- 
 tempt to conceal. Everything now shone 
 brightly before him: he knew of no joy 
 which he could not possess; with love on 
 the one hand and competence on the other, 
 he felt that he and Louise had but to live 
 and be happy. 
 
 " Now, the very first thing," said Uncle 
 John, when he had explained all clearly 
 44 the very first thing, my boy, that you 
 have to do is to get the day fixed, that we 
 may know what we are about. There are 
 many important matters to attend to which 
 cannot be done in a day. There's the house 
 to look after: there's that to prepare: there's 
 your mother to run down for, and a hundred 
 other things which require time and study. 
 Therefore, let the day be fixed, that we may 
 know how much time we have to do it all 
 in." 
 
 Valentine promised to prevail upon Louise 
 to name the day if possible in the morning, 
 
 and, accordingly, when he and Uncle John 
 called together, he remained with that ob- 
 ject in view. 
 
 Louise was still very gentle, and, although 
 rather timid, very happy; and as Valentine 
 had, the previous evening, imparted the 
 secret to Llewellen, that gentleman cor- 
 rectly felt that his presence was not on all 
 occasions absolutely wanted. He, there- 
 fore, left them together on the morning in 
 question the very moment they began to 
 converse, and as this was what Valentine 
 deemed strictly proper and very agreeable, 
 he reverted to the subject at once. 
 
 "My dearest Louise," said he, "all is 
 now happily settled with the exception of 
 one point, which rests with you entirely. 
 The day, my Louise! when is it to be? 
 Indeed, it pains me to tease you, appre- 
 ciating as I do that delicacy of feeling by 
 which you are actuated; but you know, my 
 dear girl, that I must be importunate until I 
 can prevail upon you to give me an answer. 
 Come, settle it at once! Why, you silly 
 girl ! why do you tremble"? Smile, my 
 Louise, and be joyous as I am! I know 
 that we shall be happy! Do you not believe 
 that we shall!" 
 
 "1 do I do indeed," replied Louise. 
 
 44 Come, then, why are you so pensive? 
 Look up, my girl, and settle the point at 
 
302 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 once. Do you think that I would be so 
 teased when I could put an end at once to 
 it, and that with a single word? Well, 
 well, let me manage it for you. Now at- 
 tend to my instructions. It is to be in June: 
 I will, therefore, commence with the first 
 of the month, and go on until I reach the 
 day on which you would like it to take 
 place, when you must kiss me and say 
 "yes," or to simplify the thing say "yes," 
 and then 1 will kiss you. Now, then, 
 would you like it to be on the first of 
 June?" 
 
 " Yes," said Louise, but in a whisper so 
 soft that, had it not been for the hissing of 
 the s, it might have been mistaken for si- 
 lence. 
 
 The moment Valentine heard it he press- 
 ed her to his heart, and paid his debt in the 
 coin above alluded to with the most usurious 
 interest. 
 
 ** Now, my love," said he, " you must be 
 cheerful and gay! I have to tease you no 
 more: all is settled now; come! banish that 
 melancholy look, Louise, and smile! Where 
 is Fred 1 ? I must get him to put you in 
 spirits. I will not allow you to be dull. 
 Shall we find him in the garden? Yes, 
 there he is, come." 
 
 Into the garden they immediately went, 
 and Valentine, making his voice appear to 
 proceed from various quarters, shouted, 
 " Llewellen ! Llewellen ! Llewellen ! 
 Llewellen!" 
 
 Llewellen promptly turned towards every 
 point, and then exclaimed, "Tear t' coot- 
 ness now phot an extraortinary echo!" 
 
 " Did you ever notice it before?" inquired 
 Valentine. 
 
 " Coolness knows it, never." 
 
 " You try it: sing." 
 
 " Tol, lol, lol, lol!" sang Llewellen, very 
 correctly jumping up an octave. 
 
 "Tol, 'lol, lol, lol!" echoed Valentine, 
 faintly, thereby making it appear to proceed 
 from an immense distance. 
 
 " Phunterful! Phell I never tit! pecause 
 there are no mountains, no hills, look you, 
 here!" 
 
 " What is that to me?" said Valentine, 
 assuming a female voice, which appeared 
 to come from the adjoining garden. 
 
 " Pho is that?" inquired Llewellen. 
 "Some potty pelonginir to nnxt toor! 
 hur'll see pho it is!" And he instantly ran 
 for a ladder, which he placed against the 
 wall, and then cautiously mounted with the 
 view of peeping over. 
 
 " I s(;e you," said Valentine in the same 
 assumed voice. 
 
 " Hnr ton't paro!" cried Llewellen, as he 
 showed himself boldly. 
 
 t down: don't expose yourself there. 
 
 If you wish to say anything to me, I'll 
 come over to you. Now," continued Va- 
 lentine, having drawn his voice cleverly 
 within the garden, "now what have you to 
 say?" 
 
 Llewellen stared with an expression of 
 the most intense amazement. There was 
 no one in the garden adjoining! he could 
 not see a soul, and yet he heard the voice 
 as plainly as he ever heard anything in 
 his life! Of course Valentine and Louise 
 stood as if they were astonished, which 
 was perhaps under the circumstances venial. 
 
 ^Come down!" cried the voice, "don't 
 stand there!" 
 
 Llewellen was not a man whom a trifle 
 could alarm, but it must be recorded that 
 the blood left his cheeks. He however 
 descended, and feeling secure in the in- 
 tegrity of his intentions, stood firmly again 
 upon the face of the earth. 
 
 " Now what have you to say?" inquired 
 the voice. 
 
 " Who^are you?" demanded Llewellen. 
 
 " Dear me, don't be alarmed! I'm only 
 Echo!" 
 
 " Echo! putt t'cootness, phere are you? 
 Hur can't see you any phere apout." 
 
 "See me! How can you expect to see 
 me when you know that there is nothing of 
 me left but my voice?" 
 
 Llewellen held this as far as it went to 
 be conclusive. He clearly could not see a 
 voice, and as there was nothing else of 
 Echo, it followed of course that there was 
 nothing to see. But although this suffi- 
 ciently accounted for the invisibility of the 
 nymph, Llewellen could not understand the 
 exact meaning of her immediate presence; 
 nor had he ever either heard or read of her 
 having the power to converse. " Speak to 
 her," said he to Valentine. "Inteet it's 
 phery ott!" 
 
 " I'll have nothing to say to him," ob- 
 served Echo, " I have ihis moment taken a 
 regular fancy to you, and to you only will 
 I speak." 
 
 " Converse with the lady," said Louise, 
 u she will not harm you." 
 
 " Putt, look you, hur ton't unterstant!" 
 
 " Freddy," said Echo, " I love you! 
 Spoak to me, my dearest! converse with 
 me; lo, there's a duck!" 
 
 '"Oh, speak to her Fred!" said Valen- 
 tin. . "speak to her!" 
 
 " Putt pho am hur to speak to?" 
 
 "Oh, hear what tin; lady has to sny, and 
 niakr suitable rrplirs. .Shall we retire?" 
 
 "Not for the work!" 
 
 " Well, come then, say something as a 
 inattrr of courtesy!" 
 
 " Put her ton't know phot to say! Inteet 
 hur ton't know phot she wants!" 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 303 
 
 "I remain here," said Echo, ** expressly 
 for the purpose of telling you how dearly 1 
 love you." 
 
 "Phell! you have tolt me so pefore! Is 
 there anything pesites 1 ?" 
 
 " Cannot your heart suggest the rest!" 
 "No; inteet it cannot." 
 " Oh! Fred; you cruel creature!" 
 "Oh, hur won't stant pothering here 
 with a thing hur can't see!" cried Llewel- 
 len, who was about to bounce into the 
 house, when Louise taking his arm, said, 
 do obtain permission for me to speak to 
 her." 
 
 "Phill you allow this laty to speak to 
 you 1 ?" said Llewellen, who appeared to be 
 rather pleased with the notion than not. 
 "By all means," replied Echo. 
 "Do you really love my cousin 1 ?" in- 
 quired Louise. 
 
 "Oh, most fondly, and he knows it. 
 He'll break my voice, the cruel creature! 
 and when that is gone, I shall be no more; 
 I then shall have nothing left to lose." 
 
 " Her ton't care. Let her lose her voice: 
 inteet the sooner it's cone the petter." 
 
 " But would you marry him?" inquired 
 Louise. 
 
 "Would 1 ? I will! I'll unite myself to him 
 at once. He shall carry me about. I'll 
 mock his every word. I'll ride in his 
 pocket. I'm in!" 
 
 As the last words were thrown behind 
 Llewellen, he thrust his hands into the 
 pockets of his coat very fiercely, and turned 
 round and round as a cockchafer might 
 under circumstances of a corresponding 
 character, for he couldn't tell at all what to 
 make of it. " Hur'm in a mess!" he cried, 
 " cootness knows it, hur'm in a mess!" 
 
 "How marvellous!" exclaimed Louise, 
 with appropriate solemnity, "how exces 
 sively strange!" 
 
 "Well," said Valentine, "you have a 
 wife that will stick to you at all events." 
 " Stick to me! Putt I won't have it." 
 " Well, but how do you mean to get rid 
 of her!" 
 
 " How am hur to kit rit of her 1 ?" 
 " By smothering her voice! I cannot con- 
 ceive a better plan. It is sure to be effec- 
 tual. Sew up your pocket, and smother her 
 voice!" 
 
 "Coot!" cried Llewellen, and on the in- 
 stant he grasped the tails of his coat with 
 surpassing tightness, in the perfect convic- 
 tion that Echo must be in one of them, he 
 didn't care which. 
 
 " Now then," said Valentine, " pull th< 
 coat off. But be sure you don't relinquisl 
 your hold! If you let go for an instant 
 she'll be out." 
 
 Llewellen was about to act upon this ex 
 
 :ellent suggestion, but he had no sooner 
 made the attempt than he was struck with 
 in idea, which prompted him to ask how it 
 /vas possible for him to take off his coat 
 ;vhile he kept fast hold of the tails'? which 
 was indeed a highly correct question to put. 
 'Kif me a lift, my poy, look you," he 
 idded, "because hur can't kit it off at all 
 now myself." 
 
 Valentine wishing to meet his views to 
 some extent, pulled the collar of the coat off 
 lis shoulders. 
 
 ' There, now you catch holt of the tails," 
 said Llewellen, "ant then hur can pull out 
 my arms." 
 
 " No; although I suggested the murder, 
 i'll have nothing to do with its execution." 
 " Phill Louey tear?" 
 "Not for the world!" cried Louise. 
 " Cootness knows it now, that is too 
 pat!" 
 
 ' Let me out!" exclaimed Echo, " let me 
 out!" 
 
 "Not a pit of it matam," cried Llewel- 
 en, who, grasping his tails yet more firmly, 
 lastened out of the garden with the view 
 of obtaining the assistance of one of the 
 servants, and as he walked with the collar 
 of his coat below his elbows, both Valen- 
 tine and Louise were convulsed with laugh- 
 ter, he really did look in their view so un- 
 graceful. 
 
 " How ridiculous these things appear," 
 observed Valentine. " Without having 
 actually witnessed them, should we not 
 regard it as almost impossible for men 
 possessing any sense at all, to be placed in 
 positions so absurd 1 ?" 
 
 " It appears to be so natural," said 
 Louise. " Upon my word I am not at all 
 astonished at its effect being to make peo- 
 ple look so very silly." 
 
 "They are taken by surprise, you see! 
 Were they to reflect for a moment they 
 would doubtless repudiate the notions 
 which alarm them; but they are called 
 upon to act on the instant: they are as- 
 tounded at once; they have no time for 
 thought. I have seen men courageous, 
 strong-minded men men whom nothing 
 on earth visible could appal, so shaken at 
 the moment by sounds for which they 
 could not account, as to appear to be the 
 veriest cowards in existence." 
 
 "Oh, I've not the slightest doubt of it!" 
 returned Louise. " Now, this echo: why, 
 I really should have been alarmed myself! 
 although conscious of its having but a 
 merely mythological existence, and of its 
 being in reality nothing more than a re- 
 percussion of sound, upon my word, at the 
 moment I shouldn't know what to make of 
 it: I am sure I should be frightened; I am 
 
304 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 certain that I should! But poor Fred! Oh ] is true that occasionally the thought of her 
 do let him carry his wife in his pocket, position would intrude to cast^over her 
 
 beautiful features a slight shade of medita- 
 
 Don't let her voice be smothered just yet. 
 It will he so glorious!" 
 
 live gloom; but Valentine, whenever he 
 
 This put Louise in high spirits, and her ! perceived this, dispelled it, and then all 
 liveliness continued throughout the day. It j was sunshine and happiness again. 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 THE PREPARATIONS FOR THE MARRIAGE. A SURPRISE. 
 
 BUSINESS! business was now the order of 
 the day: and it is a highly popular fact that 
 business must be attended to. Uncle John 
 pronounced himself to be up to his eyes in 
 it! Valentine, Raven, Louise, and all con- 
 cerned were now plunged into the depths 
 of business. As the day that day to 
 which lovers in general look forward with 
 joy had been fixed; all felt that no time 
 was to be lost. The preparations espe- 
 cially those which had fallen to the lot of 
 Uncle John were considered immense, for 
 he had made up his mind fully, firmly, and 
 without any supererogatory deliberation, not 
 only to do his duty, but to astonish the 
 nerves of Raven if possible. He felt strong- 
 ly that he had but a fortnight to do it all 
 in, and it took him a week to look after a 
 house. He never had such a job! At the 
 full expiration of that time, however, he got 
 one, and then he did think he saw his way 
 pretty clearly. 
 
 Louise at this period felt dreadfully em- 
 barrassed. She had no female friends. The 
 social position of Raven, since he retired 
 from business, had been so peculiar, that 
 they had lived, although in midst of wealth 
 and splendour, almost secluded from the 
 world. He scorned to associate with any 
 below the aristocracy, and the aristocracy 
 looked upon him with contempt. Hence 
 his bitter hatred of them in the aggregate, 
 and hence the embarrassed position of 
 Louise. She had no one to advise with, i 
 no one to confide in, but her maid. There 
 were but two ladies in the world with 
 whom she had ever been on anything like 
 terms of intimacy, and they were both 
 absent from town. She was therefore left 
 entirely to her own resources, which she 
 naturally at that period felt to be very dis- 
 tressing. 
 
 Valentine although every effort was 
 made to conceal it from him was not long 
 understanding the state of the case precise- 
 ly, and the moment he did understand it ho 
 felt himself bound to do all in his power to 
 relieve her. 
 
 " Louise," said he, embracing the very 
 first opportunity that presented itself, 
 " Louise, I feel very much hurt." 
 
 " Dear Valentine! at what?" 
 
 " Nay, I do not know indeed that I shall 
 ever forgive you." 
 
 " My dear boy! why what on earth is 
 it?-" 
 
 "My mother," said Valentine. "You 
 have not invited her. You do not know, 
 my love, how happy she would be, if you 
 were to send for her at once to spend a 
 week with you, to advise with you, to re- 
 lieve you of any little difficulty you may be 
 under, to do, in short, anything for you." 
 
 " Dear Valentine!" cried Louise, as the 
 tears sprang into her eyes, for she in an in- 
 stant perceived his object. " You do not 
 know how much I love you for this. Oh! 
 that would indeed make me happy. I knew 
 not how to mention this, my love; but be- 
 lieve me, my dearest boy, that situated as I 
 am, nothing could delight me so much." 
 
 "You are a good girl, Louise: she shall 
 come up at once. I will send her a letter 
 by this night's post, and run down myself 
 for her in the morning." 
 
 "There's a dear! But you will not be 
 long, my love, before you return?" 
 
 " I'll be back, ray Louise, as soon as 
 possible. She does not at present expect 
 to come up before the thirtieth: but I'll 
 manage that; and as Fred is now only in 
 the way here, I may as well take him down 
 with me." 
 
 Most gladly did poor Louise consent to 
 this arrangement; and Valentine, who would 
 not detain her, went at once to communicate 
 with Llewellen. 
 
 That gentleman at the time was in the 
 library, reading "Fox's Book of Martyrs," 
 with an aspect of terror, and when Valen- 
 tine without any ceremony entered, he gave 
 a sudden start, and felt strikingly queer. 
 
 " Tear t'cootness!" he exclaimed. " You 
 mate me tremple! Hur've pin renting apout 
 these colt-plootet intivituals, until inteet 
 hur pecan to pe/rigto/, look you!" 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 305 
 
 "Dear me!" said Valentine, gravely. 
 " But I hope it's all over 1 ?" 
 
 "Oh, it's all over now: putt, upon my 
 wort, phen hur reat apout these tevils purn- 
 ing poor peoples' pellies, ant the like of 
 that, hur plush for their prutality." 
 
 44 Well, never mind them now: I have 
 something to say to you, Fred. To-mor- 
 row, I arn going into the country." 
 
 " To-morrow! Oh! phot for?" 
 
 44 To bring my mother up. I start early 
 in the morning." 
 
 44 Then inteet hur'll lie in pet all tay. 
 Hur wont kit up! It's no use at all, look 
 you! Hur've nopotty to speak to: Louey 
 is pusy, ant ephery potty's pusy: and if hur 
 co out, hur ton't know phere to co to." 
 
 44 Would you like to go with me?" 
 
 44 Phoot hur like! My tear poy! Apove 
 all things pesites in the worlt!" 
 
 4 ' Well then, be it so: we'll go down 
 together; but it is upwards of seventy 
 miles!" 
 
 44 Hur ton't care a pit apout the miles, if 
 it's seventy millions. You say hur may 
 coT" 
 
 44 1 shall be glad of your company!" 
 
 44 That's enough. Hur'll pe retty; if hur 
 sit up all night." 
 
 44 Oh! we shall not have to start before 
 nine; so that if you call on me about eight, 
 we'll have breakfast together, and be off." 
 
 44 Hur'll pe there, my poy: oh! hur'll pe 
 there. Hur'll kit lots of cicars, ant we 
 shall have such a peautiful rite. Too you 
 phont any coats'? pecause inteet hur've cot 
 three of the pest in the worlt." 
 
 44 Well, you had better bring two: you 
 may find them both useful. But I must be 
 off to tell my uncle; for he has no idea of it 
 yet." 
 
 44 Hur mustn't co phith you!" 
 
 44 Oh, yes: come along." 
 
 To the delight of Lewellen, they accord- 
 ingly started, first to book their places, and 
 then to search "for Uncle John, whom they 
 eventually found at the house, in the midst 
 of the workmen, as dusty as any private 
 gentleman need be. 
 
 "Ah! Mr. Llewellen," he exclaimed, 
 "here we are you see, up to our eyes in 
 business. It will be a different place 
 though to look at this day week," he added 
 privately. " I intend to have all this done 
 up, and all this. Before I have done with 
 it, Mr. Llewellen, it shall be fit for any 
 prince! mark my words." 
 
 Valentine, drawing him aside, now ex- 
 plained to him what he proposed to do in 
 the morning. 
 
 " 1 am right glad to hear it, my boy," 
 cried Uncle John. " I was thinking of the 
 same thing myself this very day, for there 
 27 
 
 are many little matters that I find I can't 
 manage: by all means, Val, bring her 
 up!" 
 
 44 But T want her to be with Louise." 
 
 44 Well, well; so she can be, rny boy; so 
 she can; but she will also be able to give 
 me a little advice if I should want it! You 
 had better run and get my cheque book. 
 The bank will be closed, you know, before 
 I get home." 
 
 4k I have quite enough money," said Va- 
 lentine. 
 
 44 W 7 ell, but your mother may want 
 some." 
 
 44 1 have plenty for both." 
 
 44 If you are quite sure, why be it so. 
 Have you anything more to say]" 
 
 44 Nothing." 
 
 44 Very well; then run away with you. 
 Mr. Llewellen, I'm going to turn you out. 
 I shall be home at six. You will dine with 
 us, Mr. Llewellen?" 
 
 44 Inteet hur shall pe most happy." 
 
 44 You will not," said Uncle John, taking 
 his hand "you will not be more happy to 
 be there, Mr. Llewellen, than I shall be to 
 see you. But be off with you come, you 
 have no business here!" 
 
 Being thus fairly turned out of the house, 
 Valentine took Llewellen home with him, 
 and gave him some cold beef and beer to 
 amuse himself with, while he wrote to his 
 mother, when they went for a stroll until 
 six. 
 
 At this hour Uncle John returned, and 
 declared himself knocked up as nearly as 
 possible; but as he felt an immense deal 
 better during dinner, everything passed off 
 with unusual spirit. Whitely and Llewel- 
 len became great friends; they paid the 
 most marked attention to each other: they 
 seemed to be happy in each other's society, 
 and conversed together with as little re- 
 straint as if they had been intimately ac- 
 quainted for years. The entertainments 
 during the evening were various. Valen- 
 tine related how Echo had determined on 
 marrying Llewellen, and Llewellen related 
 how the portraits at the exhibition had 
 mysteriously spoken, and how loudly he 
 had been called by some particular friend 
 of his, whom he was utterly unable to find, 
 and as all this was perfectly well under- 
 stood both by Whitely and Uncle John, 
 they were kept in one continued roar of 
 laughter. 
 
 Poor Whitely had not spent so happy an 
 evening for many, many years; he forgot 
 all his cares until Llewellen had left, when 
 the thought of his boy buried gaiety in 
 gloom. 
 
 W r ilh all the justly celebrated punctuality 
 of the sun, Llewellen reappeared in the 
 
306 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 morning at eight, and he and Valentine sat 
 down to breakfast; but strange as it may 
 appear and perhaps it was one of the most 
 extraordinary things that ever occurred to 
 him Llewellen couldn't eat! He had no 
 appetite! A most substantial breakfast had 
 been provided, a breakfast which was after 
 his own heart, and to which he would at 
 any other time have done the most ample 
 justice; but while he tried hard, and mar- 
 velled greatly what on earth could be the 
 matter inside, all he could do was to get 
 down five small cups of coffee, three eggs, 
 and a few extremely delicate slices of ham, 
 which could not altogether have weighed 
 more than a pound. With this, however, 
 he felt himself bound to be content, and as 
 Valentine finished about the same time as 
 he did, they took leave of Uncle John and 
 Whitely, and started. 
 
 As the coachman was about to mount his 
 box when they arrived at the inn, they at 
 once took their seals and were off, and no 
 sooner had they got quite clear of the smoke 
 than Llewellen sang every song he could 
 think of. He was in the highest possible 
 spirits, and enjoyed himself exceedingly; 
 he got down every time they changed 
 horses to have a glass of "peautiful peer," 
 and offered his cigar case ever and anon to 
 every creature upon the coach. 
 
 In due time to his unspeakable satis- 
 faction they reached the house at which the 
 coach stops about seven minutes to enable 
 the passengers to have what is technically 
 termed down there "dinner," vrhich cus- 
 tomarily consists of a roast leg of mutton, 
 bread, potatoes, and cabbage. Llewellen 
 was not, however, at that particular period 
 dainty, and therefore at once set to work 
 upon the mutton. He ought to have paid 
 for six. Being resolved to make up for 
 what he deemed his lost breakfast, he made 
 the look of the joint vanish as if by magic. 
 The passengers were amazed, but said 
 nothing, which was in all probability much 
 less than the host said when he looked at 
 the remains of the departed. 
 
 They now resumed their journey, and 
 mirth and geod humour began to flow, and 
 continued to flow on until they arrived at 
 their place of destination, when the nas- 
 M-n<n rs who usually then bless their stars, 
 seemed to think it a pity to part. 
 
 It was of course not long after this before 
 Valentino felt that he was in the -arms of his 
 mother. In the arms of no oilier creature 
 breathing could ho have had those feelinns 
 which he experienced then. The poor 
 lady, it is true, could scarcely speak, hut 
 she expressed so much rapture, and smiled 
 through her tears with so mueh visible j<>y, 
 that Llewellen, as she welcomed him elo- 
 
 quently and warmly, really felt he possess- 
 ed a somewhat sensitive heart. 
 
 " Well, now, my dear, tea is quite 
 ready," she observed, as soon as this burst 
 of affection was over, " I'm sure you must 
 feel very faint. I hope," she added, ad- 
 drassing Llewellen, " that you will make 
 yourself perfectly at home." 
 
 " Inteet t' coolness you have mate me at 
 home alretty," replied Llewellen. 
 
 " I'm delighted to hear it; come, draw to 
 the table. Well, and how did you leave 
 Miss Raven, my love? I do so long to see 
 her, you can't think!" 
 
 "She is quite well; all are quite well," 
 replied Valentine; "of course you will be 
 able to go up with us to-morrow?" 
 
 "To-morrow! impossible! my dearest 
 boy, consider! I have not the least thing 
 ready! I've been preparing ever since I 
 received your letter this morning; but as 
 for going to-morrow! indeed, my dear, the 
 thing is altogether out of the question. Be- 
 sides it is not proper that you should return 
 to-morrow. I would not have you do it for 
 the world. To come down one day and go 
 up again the next! It would really he suf- 
 ficient to throw you on a bed of sickness. 
 I arn certain, my love, you couldn't bear 
 the fatigue. No; what I was thinking of 
 is this; thai if I can arrange ibings to-mor- 
 row, we can go up the next day! that will 
 be pleasant if we can manage it so." 
 
 "You are not then quite sure even of 
 that?" 
 
 "Why I think it can be done. At all 
 events I'll try. You have given me no time 
 to prepare! The thing was so unexpected! 
 But 1 think nolwithstanding lhat 1 may 
 venture to say that I am sure we shall be 
 able to go then." 
 
 During this short colloquy the chickens 
 were fast disappearing. Llewellen was at 
 them, and doing full justice to each particu- 
 larjoinl. 
 
 " I am glad to see you eat," said the 
 widow, very innocently; "Valentine, my 
 love, pray help Mr. Llewellen to some 
 more ham." 
 
 " Mr. Llewellen," returned Valentine, 
 "likes to help himself, mother," which 
 was a fact. 
 
 "Coolness knows it, these chickens are 
 peautiful," observed Llewellen. 
 
 " I am very olad you like them. 
 
 "Inteet liur enjoy them much, look you; 
 ant as for the peer! they don't prew such 
 peer in Caermarthen." 
 
 " \Vf are famous for beer here," ob- 
 served Valentine. " How old is this, 
 mother?" 
 
 "Two years, my love." 
 
 " Two years oil! Tear t' coolness, now, 
 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 307 
 
 is it two years ok? Phy town phere hur 
 come from, they prew it on the Saturtay, 
 and trink it on the Montay! Two years! 
 phell, inteet, now, it is very excellent." 
 
 And it was very excellent, and he drank 
 a great quantity of it, and he enjoyed him- 
 self over it during the whole of the evening, 
 which was spent very happily by all. 
 
 The next day was occupied chiefly by 
 Valentine in showing Llewellen the an- 
 cient architectural beauties of the town, 
 and by the widow, in making preparations 
 for her journey, which she looked upon as 
 being tremendous, and the following morn- 
 ing they started. 
 
 As a pure matter of courtesy to the lady 
 by whom he felt that he had been most 
 kindly treated, and whom he really admired 
 very much Llewellen had insisted upon 
 riding inside. This Valentine knew was 
 an ordeal which, as he went through it, he 
 would feel very severely, and for the first 
 forty miles he most certainly did, for he 
 could neither smoke the beautiful cigars he 
 had with him, nor get out every time they 
 changed horses for beer; but when they had 
 dined, he felt nothing more of it, for he in- 
 stantly fell fast asleep, and slept soundly 
 until they reached town. 
 
 As Valentine had duly advised Uncle 
 John of their intention to come up that day 
 he considerately met them at the coach and 
 conducted them home. Here everything 
 essential to their immediate comfort was 
 prepared, and they had tea together, and 
 were really very happy. The widow 
 thought that Uncle John looked, if any- 
 thing, somewhat more pale than he was 
 wont; but as he assured her that he never 
 was better in his life, she was perfectly 
 content. 
 
 " But do I look pale?" he inquired. "Do 
 you really now think I look pale 1 ?" 
 
 " Why, I do not mean to say that it is 
 an unhealthy paleness; but you do not look 
 so ruddy as you did." 
 
 Uncle John went to the glass and exam- 
 ined the colour of his countenance most 
 minutely; but he really could not himself 
 perceive any striking alteration. But then, 
 seeing himself as he did every day, he ad- 
 mitted mentally that he was not perhaps 
 quite so well able to judge as one who had 
 not seen him for months. Still he did 
 think that the change was not very alarm- 
 ing, more especially as he remembered that 
 while shaving that morning, it had struck 
 him that he looked extremely well. And 
 yet when he came to recollect himself he 
 had felt for several days rather queer, which 
 might, it was true, be indicative of the 
 gradual decay of nature; but he really, 
 when he reflected upon the matter calmly 
 
 again, was not by any means willing to 
 believe that it was so. "The fact is, my 
 girl," said he, "I have been of late so 
 flurried, that it wouldn't be surprising if 
 I looked even paler than I do. For the 
 last week, indeed, I have scarcely had a 
 wink; and I'll defy any man, if he'.s as 
 strong as an elephant, to look so well as 
 he ought to look, if he hasn't his natural 
 rest." 
 
 "Oh, you look very well. My remark 
 applied simply to your colour; but mere 
 colour does not always, you know, indicate 
 the existence of health." 
 
 Uncle John was, however, not satisfied; 
 if any other friend had then dropped but a 
 hint having reference to his paleness, he 
 would doubtless have fancied himself ra- 
 ther ill. 
 
 Immediately after tea, Llewellen and 
 Valentine left them, the one to herald the 
 virtues of the widow to Louise, and the 
 other to assure her of his safe return. Va- 
 lentine found that he had been anxiously 
 expected, and when she had affectionately 
 welcomed him back, Llewellen commenced 
 a long tale having reference to the admira- 
 ble characteristics of the widow. 
 
 "She is a plain, good, kind, motherly 
 creature," said Valentine, anxious to put an 
 end to Llewellen's warm eulogia. "But 
 Fred is going rather too far." 
 
 "Not a pit," cried Llewellen; "she's a 
 tear of a woman, hur atmire her! ant 
 Louey! she cave me such peer! two 
 years olt, Louey! peer two years olt!" 
 
 "Oh, I'm sure I shall love her!" said 
 Louise. "I know I shall, dearly. I must 
 be introduced to her, you know, the first 
 thing in the morning. What time shall I 
 call]" 
 
 "Oh! do not call, my love," said Valen- 
 tine. "There will be no necessity for 
 that, she can come with me here." 
 
 " But papa, my dear, insists upon my 
 calling. He says that I ought to call first, 
 in order to prevail upon her to return with 
 me; and I am sure that I am anxious, most 
 anxious to show her every possible re- 
 spect." 
 
 Valentine, in a moment saw how the 
 matter stood, and therefore said no more 
 about it, he simply, at the suggestion of 
 Louise, named the time and there left it. 
 
 "And now," said Louise playfully, look- 
 ing at her watch, "I'll allow you to remain 
 with me ten minutes longer, and then you 
 must go home and have a long night's rest." 
 
 " 1 am not at all fatigued, my dear girl." 
 
 " Oh, I am sure that you must be! Poor 
 Fred, you see, is already asleep." 
 
 " Well, it certainly is extraordinary that 
 he should be asleep." 
 
308 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "I am aware, of course, that that is no 
 criterion; but ten minutes longer! I'll al- 
 low you no more." 
 
 \aleutine consented to remain but ten 
 minutes; and they then conversed earnestly 
 upon the subject which almost exclusively 
 occupied their thoughts, until something 
 induced Louise to lonk again at the watch, 
 when she found that two hours had flown 
 away somehow. 
 
 " Good gracious!" she exclaimed; "there, 
 do not remain another moment. Here, have 
 1 been keeping you all this time when you 
 ought to have been at rest, poor boy! There, 
 good night, lie sure you give my dearest 
 love at home!" 
 
 They embraced each other, and havinjj 
 mutually exclaimed, " God bless you!" 
 with heartfelt sincerity they parted. 
 
 In the morning, at the appointed time, 
 Louise arrived in the carriage. Valentine 
 had quite prepared his mother for this, and 
 had endeavoured to convince her that i was 
 44 nothing," which the good old lady, even 
 when she saw it, could scarcely believe. 
 Bui oh! when Louise entered the room and 
 flew towards her, and kissed her, and hung 
 on her neck, and expressed herself happy, 
 all consi lerations having reference to style, 
 vanished; she felt that she loved her at 
 once. 
 
 Louise, on this occasion, was dressed as 
 plainly as possible, and this tended not 
 only to heighten the effect of her natural 
 charms, but to enhance the good opinion of 
 her friend, who saw in her, not what she 
 would have termed a "fine lady," but a 
 gentle affectionate amiable girl, one whom 
 she could love without any restraint. On 
 the other hand Louise was delighted with 
 her; she felt that she had then indeed a 
 friend in whom she could confide: nay, she 
 felt that she then had a mother. 
 
 Under these delightful circumstances 
 and they were most delightful to both 
 they sat down side by side upon the sofa, 
 and chatted together, and opened their 
 hearts to each other as unreservedly as if 
 they had really been parent and child. 
 Louise was impatient to take her home. 
 ** I will indeed," she exclaimed, "endea- 
 vour to make you so happy! and papa will 
 be so highly pleased to see you; and every- 
 thing will be so delightful!" 
 
 "Indeed, my dear child, I feel already 
 that I cannot but be happy with you!" 
 
 "You are a dear good soul," returned 
 Louise, "and I equally feel that I cannot 
 but love you." 
 
 Valentine at this point re-entered tin 
 room, and an the wi-low thru retired t<> 
 "put on her things," Louise be<jan to laud 
 her to the skies. And she did so with 
 
 most unaffected sincerity; she felt what she 
 expressed: she did love her with the purest 
 affection. 
 
 " Now my dear child; 1 am quite at your 
 service," said the widow, on her return 
 with much gaiety. 
 
 The bell was rung and Valentine pre- 
 pared to go with them, when it was play- 
 fully intimated that the honour of his com- 
 pany was not then desired. 
 
 " Well, but give me a ride!" cried Va- 
 lentine. "Let me see you home! I don't 
 want to interfere with your mystic arrange- 
 ments!" 
 
 Nor did he. All he wanted was to be 
 by the side of his mother, lest on getting 
 into the carriage she should feel at all em- 
 barrassed; but as he found that they both 
 understood each other perfectly, he just saw 
 her introduced to Raven and left them. 
 
 During his absence from town great 
 progress had been made. The carpenters, 
 and the plasterers, and the glaziers, and the 
 paper-hangers, under the active surveillance 
 of Uncle John, had prepared the house for 
 the reception of the furniture which had 
 already been chosen, and which certainly 
 reflected great credit upon his taste. That 
 only had to come in, and when it did come 
 in it was interesting to notice the spirit and. 
 pride with which he superintended the 
 whole of the arrangements. In his view 
 Raven must of necessity be astonished. 
 He felt perfectly certain of that; and as that 
 was one of the greatest immediate objects 
 he had in view he was happy. 
 
 On the other hand Raven had not been 
 inactive. Jewels, which had not lor years 
 seen the light, had been drawn from their 
 obscurity, polished and reset to embellish 
 Louise on the bridal morn. 
 
 These Louise in the natural pride of her 
 heart could not conceal from the eyes of her 
 dear kind friend. To her all were displayed, 
 and the widow was amazed at their dazzling 
 beauty; but when Louise placed before her 
 a watch thickly studded with brilliants, 
 which Raven intended to present actually 
 to her, she scarcely knew how to express, 
 or what to do with herself, her delight was 
 so intense. 
 
 And thus matters proceeded; each taking 
 the greatest pleasure in the task to be per- 
 formed, and all feeling in the highest degrre 
 happy. Louise got on amazingly with the 
 assistance of her friend, whom she consid- 
 ered the most clever creature breathing! 
 Oh, no one could be by possibility compa- 
 rahlr with her! The Misses Stevens who 
 to be the bridemaids were nothing 
 equal to IMT, although at one time she <//</ 
 think tin-in clever in the extreme. 
 
 The day approached. Louise began to 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 309 
 
 count the hours, and Valentine's heart beat 
 high. Nothing could exceed in brightness 
 the prospect before them. Not a cloud was 
 visible: all was clear to the horizon, and 
 below it they had not the smallest doubt 
 that all was equally beautiful and fair. 
 
 Uncle John was nearly ready. They felt 
 certain, from the delight which his features 
 portrayed, that his views had been met; 
 but not one of them was suffered to enter 
 the house! No: when the place was tidy, 
 they might all be admitted: he should in- 
 deed be most happy to see them all then: 
 but not before! Such was the edict. 
 
 The task which Raven had proposed to 
 himself had already been performed, with 
 the exception, of course, of that which was 
 not to be accomplished until the very day. 
 He had therefore more time on his hands 
 than the rest: which time he spent chiefly 
 alone. On the evening, however, before 
 the day on which they were all to dine 
 specially with him which was the day 
 before that on which the ceremony was ap- 
 pointed to take place he took occasion to 
 intimate to Valentine that he wished to 
 have a word with him in private. Valen- 
 tine was then on the point of leaving for 
 the night, but he stopped of course then, 
 and as the rest, hearing the intimation 
 given, at once retired, he and Raven were 
 left alone. 
 
 "My dear boy," said Raven after a 
 pause, " the day is at hand the day on 
 which I hope that you and Louise will 
 commence a long and uninterrupted career 
 of happiness and as I shall not have 
 another opportunity of speaking to you on 
 the subject I wish now to say a few but a 
 very few words, before you take my girl 
 from me. My boy," he continued, with 
 great intensity of feeling "All the confi- 
 dence that man can have in man I have in 
 you. I know you to be affectionate, t know 
 you to be firm: I know that you possess too 
 the spirit of a man, to bear up boldly 
 against difficulties whatever shape they 
 may assume; but I am getting old, and 
 weak, and apprehensive, my boy, and that 
 weakness in spite of my conviction of its 
 being unnecessary prompts me to claim 
 of you now a solemn promise, that what- 
 ever may occur to me God knows what 
 may! but whatever may occur, you will 
 be firm, still firm, to Louise!" 
 
 "Most solemnly," said Valentine, "I do 
 promise this; and every feeling of affection, 
 as well as every principle of honour, binds 
 me to the faithful performance of that 
 promise." 
 
 "You will never desert her, let what 
 may happen to me?" 
 
 "NEVER!" 
 
 "I am content. I never doubted your 
 firmness, I never doubted your sincerity: 
 believe me, my boy, I never did; but I felt 
 it my duty to obtain this promise from you 
 although it was previously implied be- 
 ing sure that by any promise directly given, 
 you would feel bound for ever. In life, my 
 dear boy, a variety of things occur to us of 
 which we have no previous conception, 
 while things of which we are daily nay 
 hourly in dread never occur to us at all. 
 None of us can tell what may happen. But 
 I am happy in the conviction, that what- 
 ever may happen to me, you will still be 
 firm to poor Louise." 
 
 " Heaven forbid that anything should 
 happen to you of sufficient importance to 
 bring my firmness to the test." 
 
 "To that I say Amen." 
 
 "I cannot conceive," continued Valen- 
 tine, "the possibility of anything occurring 
 to you which could do so much as that, for 
 were you even to be lost to us, the effect 
 upon me would be to make me feel that 1 
 was bound to Louise by an additional tie, 
 being the only one as I should be then 
 to whom she had to look for protection. 
 Fear not then: under any circumstances I 
 will be firm: I cannot be a traitor to my 
 heart!" 
 
 "You are a noble boy! I hope nothing 
 may occur; still the brain of an old man 
 teems with strange fears. But away now 
 with all 'apprehensions. May you be for 
 ever happy! Were anything to happen to 
 that poor girl, I should never survive it. 
 She has been to me all that a child should 
 be to a father, and I feel in my heart that 
 to her I have been all that a father should 
 be to a child. God bless her! bless you 
 both! You will not mention what I have 
 said to a soul; for others might imagine that 
 1 should not have said what I have if I did 
 in reality as I do in reality place implicit 
 confidence in your honour!" 
 
 Valentine promised that not a syllable on 
 the subject should be mentioned, and when 
 Raven had again assured him that he held 
 him in the highest admiration he took his 
 leave. Still he could not but think all this 
 strange. He could well understand how a 
 father, on the eve of the marriage of his 
 child, should feel anxious deeply anxious 
 for her welfare; but he could not at all 
 understand why troubles of which no pros- 
 pect appeared should at such a time as that 
 be, without the slightest reason, appre- 
 hended. He would not, however, dwell 
 upon that then. Raven he knew was an 
 eccentric creature, and to that he attributed 
 all. 
 
 In the morning Uncle John, having com- 
 pleted his task, gave notice that at one 
 
 27* 
 
310 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 o'clock precisely he should do himself the ! 
 pleasure of calling at the residence of Mr. ' 
 Raven, to take him, Louise, Valentine, 
 Llewellen, and the widow to see the house; ! 
 and accordingly at the hour appointed he 
 did call, and found them all prepared, and 
 very anxious to see it. 
 
 "I have the honour to announce to you, 
 ladies and gentlemen," he observed, with 
 all possible pomp, as his little eyes j 
 twinkled with pleasure, "I have the hon- | 
 our to announce that the future residence of 
 certain parties one of whom shall be 
 especially nameless, for her name is now 
 scarcely worth twenty hours' purchase is 
 perfectly ready for inspection; and I have 
 also the honour to announce that the hum- 
 ble individual who now stands before you | 
 will, be happy to conduct you thereto with- 
 out delay!" 
 
 This announcement was hailed with de- 
 light, and they were all most happy to j 
 shake hands with the herald, and to place j 
 themselves under his guidance. The car- i 
 riage which had been ordered at one on 
 the strength of his reputation for punctu- 
 ality was then at the door; and therefore; 
 all but Llewellen and Valentine entered it j 
 at once Uncle John having given instruc- j 
 tions to the two outcasts to take a cab and 
 keep behind them; and thus in due time 
 they arrived at the theatre of his glory. 
 
 What pleasure they all expressed when 
 they entered the house; what raptures they 
 were all in as they passed through the 
 rooms; what delight in short every arrange- 
 ment inspired, may be conceived. Under 
 less auspicious circumstances probably 
 they would have felt, as a matter of course, 
 bound to express themselves with some 
 considerable warmth; but here was ample 
 reason for their rapture. Uncle John had 
 not realized his sanguine anticipations 
 alone; he had surpassed them! he had 
 indeed made it "a residence fit for any 
 prince!" 
 
 Such being the case then, Valentine, 
 knowing that the cellars had been also well 
 furnished, proposed with great eloquence, 
 Uncle John's health, a proposition to 
 
 which all responded, and the wine was 
 produced, when his health was drank, and 
 then, "Health 10 the bride!" and then that 
 of the bridegroom, and then Mr. Raven's, 
 and then the widow's, and then Llewellen's 
 the whole of which were honoured with 
 the utmost cordiality, and every heart 
 seemed filled with joy. 
 
 All but Uncle John then returned. He 
 had to go home to dress for dinner, and 
 to give an impetus to the movements of 
 Whitely who, on this particular occasion 
 had been especially invited which he did, 
 and that with so much success, that pre- 
 cisely at half past six, they left home to 
 join the happy people at the house of Mr. 
 Raven. 
 
 On their arrival Louise, Valentine, Ra- 
 ven, Llewellen, and the widow, were as- 
 sembled in the drawing-room, chattino so 
 gaily, and looking so joyous, that they 
 seemed quite resolved that the cares of the 
 world should be shut out at least for the 
 night. 
 
 At this happy moment Uncle John and 
 Whitely entered, and Louise ran to meet 
 Mr. Whitely and to give him a smiling 
 welcome, which he gracefully acknow- 
 ledged; but the instant the eye of Raven 
 met his, he started as if struck with para- 
 lysis. In Raven he beheld the seducer of 
 his wife! and he stood for a momcrrtr strug- 
 gling with those feelings which the sight 
 of him had aroused; but as the vivid recol- 
 lection of his wrongs rushed at once with 
 overwhelming impetuosity upon him, he 
 sprang at Raven's throat with maniacal 
 fury. 
 
 " Villain!" he exclaimed fiercely. "Cruel, 
 heartless, monstrous villain! My children! 
 where, where are my children?" 
 
 " Stand off!" cried Llewellen. 
 
 " Are you mad?" exclaimed Valentine. 
 "Let go your hold!" and he instantly 
 forced him bark and held him. 
 
 Raven uttered not a word, He sank at 
 once upon the breast of Llewellen, by 
 whom he was borne senseless from the 
 
 CHAPTER LVH. 
 
 EXPLAINING VARIOUS MATTERS TOUCHING THE ILL-TIMED RECOGNITION. 
 
 FOR some time after Raven who was in- 
 stantly followed by the fainting Louise, 
 and her doar trembling friend had loft the 
 room, Whitely, Uncle John, and Valentine, 
 
 stood in mute amazement. The expres- 
 sion of Whitely's countenance, however, 
 amounted almost to that of madness; his 
 eyes rolled frightfully, and he ground Ins 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 311 
 
 teeth fiercely, while his hands were ti^ 
 clenched, as if indeed he had had still 
 Raven's throat in his grasp. 
 
 At length a word from Uncle John broke 
 the spell which thus bound him, and he ex- 
 claimed, " Why, why do I stand here, when 
 I have him in my power!" 
 
 44 Hold!" cried Valentine, as Whitely 
 made an attempt to rush from the room. 
 44 Would you murder the man!" 
 
 44 Murder him!" 
 
 44 This is neither the time nor the place 
 for you to seek redress of wrongs." 
 
 44 What are time and place to me!" ex- 
 claimed Whitely. 4i W T hat is courtesy to 
 me, when I have that monstrous villain 
 within my reach!" 
 
 44 By Heaven!" cried Valentine, 44 you 
 shall not leave this room except with the 
 view of quitting the house. If he be the 
 man by whom you have been injured, you 
 know where he is to be found: proceed 
 against him legally as you please; but while 
 7 have strength to prevent it, you shall 
 touch him no more." 
 
 Whitely stood and looked wildly at Va- 
 lentine; but knowing his resolute character, 
 he made no attempt to force his way. 
 
 44 My good friend, said Uncle John, 
 soothingly, "pray be advised; pray, pray 
 do not let passion blind you to reason. I 
 know you have cause for being thus; 1 
 know that your wrongs have been dreadful; 
 but come, let us talk the matter over; let us 
 see what is best to be done. It is certainly 
 a melancholy thing a very melancholy 
 thing: but my dear friend, no good can 
 arise" from any frantic desire for revenge! 
 Come, let us go together: be guided by 
 me: indeed I would not advise you to pursue 
 any course inconsistent with your duty as 
 a man. There, let us return: there, that's 
 right; I knew that you would be reasonable; 
 I knew you'd be advised." 
 
 Whitely was passive as Uncle John took 
 his arm, and permitted himself to be led 
 from the house without uttering another 
 word. 
 
 Valentine now was alone; but although 
 the event had come like a thunderbolt upon 
 him, he soon recovered his self-possession 
 44 This, then, is what Raven so much 
 dreaded!" thought he: 44 this is the dis 
 covery which he imagined would so strong- 
 ly test my firmness. Well, the test has 
 been applied. Has that firmness been 
 shaken! Why should it be! why should 
 I lore Louise less than before! Doubtless 
 her father deserves the epithet applied to 
 him by Whitely; doubtless he has been a 
 seducer, a villain; but ought that to under- 
 mine my affection for Louise, or to induce 
 me to break my plighted faith to her, solely 
 
 because she is his child! Are we never to 
 admit the fact when we behold 'it, that a 
 "air branch may spring from a foul stem! 
 Is every beautiful bud to be blighted, be- 
 cause corruption is to be found in the parent 
 tree! If the child cannot be free from those 
 vices which characterize the parent, honour, 
 innocence, and purity, can have no exist- 
 
 H but in name. However desperately 
 wicked a father may be, it surely does not 
 follow that he must of necessity contami- 
 nate his child. In this case I am sure that 
 it is not so, and hence were he even loaded 
 with iniquities, I could never desert her." 
 
 Having paced the room for some time, 
 deeply engaged in suggesting, with the 
 view of repudiating every objection which 
 could by possibility be urged, he rang the 
 bell, for all in the house appeared to be in 
 a most extraordinary state of excitement. 
 No one answered; he rang again; still no 
 one appeared. A third time he rang with 
 some violence, and eventually the senti- 
 mental porter came up, and with tears in 
 his eyes, inquired if it were true that ha 
 had rung. 
 
 4 'I want Morgan," said Valentine; "tell 
 her to come here." 
 
 44 She's with Missis, sir: poor dear 
 Missis! which is very ill, sir. I'm afeared 
 that she never will get over it." 
 
 44 Get over what, sir! What do you 
 mean! Desire one of the girls to tell my 
 mother I wish to see her." 
 
 The fellow heaved a heavy sigh, and 
 having turned his eyes upwards so dexter- 
 ously that the pupils became completely 
 invisible, quitted the room with an elabo- 
 rately lengthened visage. 
 
 In a short time the widow appeared, and 
 having thrown her arms round the neck of 
 Valentine, buried her face in his bosom and 
 sobbed aloud. 
 
 44 Mother, mother!" said he, as he led her 
 to the sofa. " Come, come, come, you must 
 not go on thus." 
 
 4 ' Oh, my dear, this is sad, very sad; it is 
 indeed very shocking, and at such a time 
 too!" 
 
 44 It is unfortunate, most unfortunate; but 
 how is Louise!" 
 
 44 Poor thing! I don't know how in the 
 world she will ever survive it. She has 
 been twice in the most violent hysterics, 
 and she is now crying fit to break her heart. 
 I much fear that it will prove her death- 
 blow." 
 
 44 Nonsense, nonsense, mother ! The 
 thing is bad enough, it is true; but it is 
 not so dreadful as it at first sight appears." 
 
 44 Oh, but it is a very terrible shock to 
 the feelings of a poor dear girl at so critical 
 a time as this." 
 
312 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "Well, well: can I see Louise?" 
 
 " Bless you, my dear, not on any account. 
 She is in bed, and we have sent for the 
 physician, and I expect him here every 
 instant: I am sure that if she were to see 
 you now, she would go off again and we 
 should never bring her to." 
 
 " I am afraid that you are but a poor 
 comforter, mother; but return to her and 
 cheer her, and give her this kiss, and tell 
 her from me that she must bear up against 
 it; that the effects of the shock will very 
 soon pass away; that it really is nothing 
 particularly terrible, and that notwithstand- 
 ing what has occurred, I shall be ready in 
 the morning at eleven precisely." 
 
 "Oh! that, my love, is altogether out of 
 the question; that must pe postponed." 
 
 " Why should ill" 
 
 "Hark! that is the physician; yes, there 
 is his carriage. I'll come again, my poor 
 boy, as soon as I can; but pray keep up 
 your spirits." 
 
 "Keep up your's, mother; and be sure 
 you keep up those of Louise." 
 
 The widow promised to do so if possible, 
 and darted from the room to receive the 
 physician. 
 
 Valentine could not feel surprised at 
 Louise having been shocked at this ill- 
 timed discovery; he thought it, under the 
 circumstances, but natural; and as he did 
 not apprehend that anything serious would 
 ensue, he resolved not to give way at all 
 to dejection. He therefore rang the bell 
 again, and when the same puritanical per- 
 son, whom Valentine did not suppose to be 
 more virtuous than the rest of his caste, re- 
 appeared, he desired him to inform Mr. 
 Llewellen, that he was anxious to have a 
 word with him there. 
 
 The porter, who appeared to be some- 
 what more dreadfully afflicted than before, 
 vanished gradually to accomplish the ob- 
 ject of his mission, and in a short time 
 Llewellen came into the room. 
 
 "My tear poy," said he, "phot's all this 
 treatful pusiness? Inteet hur can make 
 neither het nor tail of it at all, look you!" 
 
 " How is your uncle?" inquired Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 " Inteet, now, he seems very poorly. 
 Put phot tit Whitely mean by his chiltren?" 
 
 "He was enraged," replied Valentine, 
 who perceived that Llewellen had not been 
 much enlightened on the subject. "It ap- 
 pears to be an unhappy affair altogether." 
 
 " So it is; put hur tont unterstant it! hur 
 fear there's something treatful at the pot- 
 torn of it, look you! Inteet t'cootness hur 
 to." 
 
 "I wish you would do me a favour," 
 said Valentine, who felt that as Llewellen 
 
 knew nothing about the matter, he might 
 just as well be kept still in ignorance as 
 not. " I wish you would tell Mr. Raven 
 that I should be happy to speak with him 
 for one moment." 
 
 " By all means. Hur wish you coot kit 
 to the pottom of it; for although hur've pin 
 sitting with him all this time, hur havn't 
 pin aple to kit him to explain a single 
 wort." 
 
 "Tell him I'll not detain him long." 
 
 " Very coot," said Llewellen, who left 
 the room at once; and after a lapse of three 
 minutes, which were occupied by Valen- 
 tine in rehearsing the part he had to per- 
 form, he returned with a communication, 
 the substance of which was, that Raven 
 was so unwell, that he felt quite unequal to 
 the task of conversing with him upon the 
 subject then; but he hoped, that in a few 
 hours he should be sufficiently recovered to 
 do so. " Hur tont at all know phot's the 
 matter," added Llewellen. "Inteet it's 
 all a mysterious tream to me; hur only 
 know, that hur never saw tears in my 
 uncle's eyes pefore. Put hur say, my poy; 
 how apout tinner? Is that to pe totally 
 knocked on the het?" 
 
 " Unhappily, the dinner which we were 
 to have had, has been completely set aside 
 by this unfortunate affair." 
 
 " Put we must have some sort of a tin- 
 ner. We can't pe starved to teth! Hur 
 wish t' cootness that Whitely had pin at 
 the pottom of the Tet Sea, insteat of coming 
 here to kick up a preeze before tinner. Put 
 let's see apout it; let's co town at once. 
 Hur know there are some peautiful things, 
 pecause poor Louey tolt me; therefore let's 
 co town and see about the pusiness. We 
 shall all pecome skeletons upon the face of 
 the earth!" 
 
 Valentine consented to accompany him, 
 not, indeed, because he had the slightest 
 inclination to eat then; but because, having 
 nothing else to do, it was, at least as far as 
 he was concerned, immaterial whether he 
 sat at the table with him or not. Llewel- 
 len, of course, did not suffer much time to 
 elapse before he ordered dinner up, and 
 when in regular course it was produced, he 
 certainly held it to be a lamentable thing 
 that the rest should have been deprived of 
 the enjoyment thereof. He did not, how- 
 ever, consider himself justified in permitting 
 his grief on that account to interfere with 
 his appetite. It would, perhaps, have been 
 unwise if he had; but whether such would 
 in reality have been the case or not, he 
 thought it perfectly unnecessary, and there- 
 fore assailed each course with all his wont- 
 ed zeal. He was, notwithstanding, much, 
 annoyed at the fact of Valentine being so 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 313 
 
 delicate on that occasion, and contended 
 that the circumstance of a man's appetite 
 having the faculty of being destroyed by 
 other means than those of eating-, was a 
 phenomenon which had never been suffi- 
 ciently explained. This position was not 
 impugned. Valentine had no disposition 
 at that time to supply the desideratum, for 
 although he had firmly resolved on bearing 
 up against any disappointment of which 
 the ill-timed event might be productive, he 
 was not in good spirits, nor did he feel 
 then the slightest inclination to force them. 
 
 It was not until Llewellen had nearly 
 finished his dinner, that the physician left 
 the house, but the moment he had left, the 
 widow came to communicate to Valentine 
 the fact, that poor Louise was in a high 
 state of fever, and that therefore she would 
 have to he kept for several days perfectly 
 quiet. " I explained to the physician, 11 she 
 added, "what was to have taken place in 
 the morning; but although he assured me 
 that the poor dear girl was in no absolute 
 danger, he declared that every idea of that 
 kind must be utterly abandoned. 11 
 
 This point, then, was settled, and Valen- 
 tine received the intelligence with firmness; 
 and having begged of his mother to return 
 to Louise instantly, and to let him know 
 the moment the slightest change took place, 
 he buried himself in his own thoughts, 
 making his ardent anxiety for Louise, to 
 some extent, counteract the bitterness of 
 that feeling of disappointment, which he 
 found it impossible entirely to suppress. 
 
 While he was thus occupied, expecting 
 every moment to be summoned by Raven, 
 Whitely and Uncle John were engaged in 
 a warm conversation, touching the most 
 correct course to be pursued. Whitely, as 
 might have been anticipated, argued the 
 propriety of vengeance. He contended that 
 he was justified in inflicting upon his enemy 
 the utmost terrors of the law: and declared 
 that if he succeeded in doing nothing else, 
 he would have him denounced in a court of 
 justice to the world, and held up to last- 
 ing execration. Uncle John, on the con- 
 trary, suggested a compromise, and offered 
 to effect it on the most brilliant terms, hav- 
 ing resolved, if even Raven would not 
 accede to his proposal, to make up the 
 amount himself. But Whitely spurned the 
 idea at once. " What!" he exclaimed in- 
 dignantly, " compromise in a case of this 
 description with so consummate, so rnon- 
 etrous a villain! Never! I'll pursue him 
 with the utmost rigour: it shall never be 
 said that I compromised my honour, which 
 in reality I should do, by consenting to 
 compromise with him." 
 
 *'J3ut let us look at this matter more 
 
 calmly, ray friend." said Uncle John; "let 
 us look at it solely as men of the world. 
 You have been wronged, deeply wronged: 
 of that 1 cannot entertain the smallest doubt, 
 and you are justified in bringing him who 
 has wronged you to justice, nay, you are in 
 a social sense bound to do so if it be possi- 
 ble; but although I can have no moral 
 doubt whatever of the fact, allow me to 
 As-k, what leqal proof have you that you 
 have been wronged by this man 1 ?" 
 
 "Oh! I can produce a chdin of circum- 
 stances, sufficiently strong to bring it homd 
 to him legally. I'll fix him! Oh, he shall 
 not escape!" 
 
 " Very well, in that case I still say that 
 you are bound to act precisely as you pro- 
 pose; but for yonr owti sake, be sure that 
 ample means are available before you pro- 
 ceed too far." 
 
 It was perfectly clear to Uncle John that 
 Whitely had no such means; and being, 
 therefore, more anxious to effect a compro- 
 mise than ever, he left him to call upon 
 Raven with the view of suggesting to him 
 the expediency of some private arrange- 
 ment. 
 
 On arriving at the house, he was imme- 
 diately shown into the dining room, which 
 was occupied still by Valentine and Llew- 
 ellen; and although he expected that, as a 
 matter of course, the sudden shock would 
 be sufficient to induce a postponement of 
 the marriage, it affected him deeply when 
 he heard of the serious illness of Louise. 
 
 Having expressed his concern very feel- 
 ingly, and endeavoured to console Valen- 
 tine by all the means in his power know- 
 ing well that he felt much more than he 
 appeared to feel he inquired for Raven, 
 and on learning that he was still in his 
 room, he begged Llewellen to inform him 
 that he wished to have five minutes' con- 
 versation with him alone. "Tell him," he 
 added, "that it is on a subject of immedi- 
 ate importance, and that although it may be 
 settled in five minutes, there is now not a 
 moment to be lost " 
 
 Llewellen accordingly went to deliver 
 this message, and shortly returned with an 
 answer to the effect, that although Raven 
 still felt exceedingly ill, he had consented 
 to see him. Uncle John, therefore, imme- 
 diately followed his guide, by whom he 
 was ushered at once into the room. 
 
 As he entered, Raven was sitting at the 
 table in a state of extreme dejection, but he 
 rose on the instant, and said with a falter- 
 ing voice, " My friend for a friend I must 
 still consider you, however much you may 
 loathe the sight of me this, indeed, is a 
 terrible affair." 
 
 Uncle John took his hand, and then sat 
 
314 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 down beside him, and then said, "It is a 
 sad business. But," he added, after a 
 pause, "it is a thing which must be met! 
 It is useless now to mourn the event or to 
 dwell upon that which induced it. What 
 has happened has happened. I wish not to 
 refer to it now, but as a thing which having 
 been done cannot be undone. But here is 
 an immediate difficulty, one which must he 
 faced: the only question, therefore is, how 
 is it to he surmounted?" 
 
 "That, indeed, is the question. How 
 can it be? What can be proposed? How 
 am I to act?" 
 
 "Can it not be in some way arranged? 
 Can it not be done privately without having 
 recourse to law?" 
 
 " As far as I am concerned, most will- 
 ingly would I do anything to settle it. I'll 
 give him ten thousand pounds, or if that 
 will not satisfy him, I'll give him fifteen or 
 even twenty, provided he will undertake to 
 annoy me no more." 
 
 " It was in order to suggest something of 
 that kind that I came here this evening. I 
 have named the subject to him already, and 
 although he was naturally indignant, and 
 spurned the idea of a compromise, declar- 
 ing that he would have law and nothing but 
 law, I think that eventually he might be 
 induced to consent to some arrangement, 
 which I am sure would, be better for all 
 parties concerned." 
 
 " Let him but consent to any arrange- 
 ment, and I am willing to agree to it at 
 once. I'll give him anything to settle it: 
 any sum he thinks proper to demand: and I 
 could suggest something which would ren- 
 der the expediency of such a settlement 
 apparent in his calmer moments, even to 
 him." 
 
 " What is it? Let me know that I may 
 urge it, for I am really most anxious to 
 prevail upon him to adopt, as a matter of 
 expediency, the course now proposed." 
 
 " My friend," said Raven, with delibe- 
 rate intensity, "I am perfectly well aware 
 that you abhor the crime of which I at once 
 acknowledge to you that I am guilty, as 
 much as any man can; but as, before me, 
 you have suppressed what you feel, and 
 have come to me in the character of a man 
 of the world to argue the matter upon 
 worldly grounds alone, I will meet you 
 upon those grounds, with the view of stat- 
 ing what I conceive to be sufficient to con- 
 vince Mr. Whitely or Whitbread, as I 
 always understood his name to be of the 
 expediency at least of consenting to settle 
 the matter, as I am anxious it should be 
 settled, and that without delay. In the 
 first place, then, let us look at the course 
 which he proposes to pursue; I would not 
 
 injure that man more deeply than he has 
 already been injured; I would not have him 
 incur legal expenses, which must, of neces- 
 sity, fall upon him; nor ami willing to take 
 advantage of his position, as I sufficiently 
 prove, by offering him any sum of money 
 he thinks*proper to claim. But he proposes 
 to go to law; and he can do so, doubtless: 
 there is nothing more easy than for a man 
 to go to law; but I am anxious to have him 
 understand, at once, that no law can touch 
 me! He has, of course, told you all. He 
 charges me, in the first place, with the 
 seduction of his wife. How can he, legally, 
 substantiate that charge? How is he to 
 prove it? What witnesses can he produce? 
 He can produce no witnesses; and, if he 
 could, as the thing happened nearly fifteen 
 years ago, he could not bring an action 
 against me now; while, even, if we assume 
 that he could bring his action, the amount 
 of damages he could obtain would be as 
 nothing when compared with the sum I 
 now offer to give him. As far as that is 
 concerned then, it is manifest that he would 
 in any case be a loser by going to law; and 
 when we come to the other charge, which 
 refers to his confinement as a lunatic, it 
 cannot be shown that I had anything to do 
 with that transaction; and, if even it could, 
 he must know it to be perfectly ridiculous 
 to suppose that I am legally responsible 
 for the acts of the two physicians, by whom 
 the certificate was signed, and whose sig- 
 natures alone would indemnify me if I had 
 even been directly instrumental in obtaining 
 them; but I had nothing whatever to do 
 with the certificate; my name does not in 
 any way appear; so that he can have no 
 possible grounds for proceeding against me 
 as the person who caused him to 'be con- 
 fined. If, therefore, he will but reflect 
 upon this; if he can but be brought to un- 
 derstand his position, which is in reality 
 one of utter helplessness, as far as the law 
 is concerned, he cannot fail to perceive the 
 expediency of consenting to some such 
 arrangement as that now proposed. I 
 should not have spoken thus on a subject 
 of this kind, had you not appeared here 
 with the view, not of denouncing the crime 
 of which I have been guilty, but of suggest- 
 ing the best means of meeting the difficulty 
 which that crime has induced. I should 
 have been, under any other circumstances, 
 ashamed to argue the matter as I have done 
 in this cool calculating strain; for, however 
 hateful I may appear, I still hope that I am 
 not dead to every proper feeling; hut as you 
 wished to know what I could urgr, at all 
 calculated to promote a private settlement 
 of this most unhappy affair, I felt myself 
 justified in stating the case as if the point 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 315 
 
 to foe considered were one of a pecuniary 
 character solely." 
 
 To every word of this Uncle John listened 
 with deep attention. He weighed every 
 sentence as Raven deliberately proceeded, 
 and could not but feel, that in a worldly 
 point of view, nothing could be more con- 
 clusive. He had, indeed, formed an ex- 
 ceedingly bad opinion of his character as a 
 man, but he looked upon him then but as an 
 advocate; and being firmly convinced that 
 the course proposed was the only one which 
 Whitely could pursue with any chance of 
 success, he at once expressed his determi- 
 nation to employ all the means in his power, 
 with the view of inducing him to adopt it. 
 
 44 Pray, do so," said Raven; " not for me, 
 but for the sake of my child. For her sake 
 I am anxious that this matter should not be 
 exposed in a court of law; for although I 
 know that no law can reach me, the public 
 disgrace of which the fact of its being- 
 brought into court, might be productive, 
 would render my poor girl wretched for life. 
 He is justified, of course, in doing all he 
 can against me; but by going to law, he 
 will but injure himself, not me; except, in- 
 deed, in so far as the expose may be con- 
 cerned; and I question much, whether he 
 can bring sufficient evidence to induce even 
 the public to believe him, anxious as they 
 invariably are to believe everything which 
 happens to be charged against a man. Urge 
 him pray, urge him! to look at the thing 
 in this light. He cannot, in any way, 
 benefit himself: he will, on the contrary, 
 have to pay ruinously for any attempt to 
 obtain legal revenge. Use your utmost in- 
 fluence: prevail upon him, if possible, to 
 consent to an arrangement. I think, that if 
 he can bring himself to look at the case as 
 it stands, with reference solely to his power 
 to injure me, he will eventually yield." 
 
 " I think so, too," said Uncle John; " I'll 
 return to him at once, and put each point as 
 strongly as possible." 
 
 "But, my friend, independently of this, 
 what is to be done?" 
 
 " We had better enter into no other sub- 
 ject at present. Let this be settled first. 
 That to which we have looked forward with 
 so much pleasure, must now, of course, be 
 postponed." 
 
 44 That," said Raven, " is inevitable. But, 
 Valentine, he has been waiting to see me 
 all the evening, and 1 know that he bears 
 up against it like a man; but I really have 
 not nerve enough to meet him, my friend!" 
 
 44 It is unnecessary that you should do so 
 now. I'll take him home with me. He 
 has been waiting, I apprehend, more with 
 the view of being near poor Louise." 
 
 44 Thank Heaven! she is now much more 
 
 aim. If anything were to happen to her, 
 the little time I have to live would be passed 
 in constant torture." 
 
 44 Let us hope for the best. I have not 
 the smallest doubt that with care she will 
 soon be restored. But, good night. This 
 task must, if possible, be accomplished be- 
 fore I sleep." 
 
 44 1 leave it with confidence entirely in 
 your hands. Whatever you propose I will 
 gladly accede to." 
 
 Uncle John then left him, and looked in 
 upon Valentine, who, having just heard 
 from his mother that Louise was going on 
 extremely well, and that, moreover, she 
 was then calmly sleeping, consented to ac- 
 company him home; and on their way he 
 applauded the anxiety of his uncle to effect 
 a private settlement of the affair; and his 
 uncle, in return applauded his declaration, 
 that, notwithstanding what had occurred, or 
 what might occur hereafter, prejudicial to 
 the character of Raven, he felt, and should 
 continue to feel, bound to keep faith with 
 Louise. 
 
 On reaching home, they were informed 
 by Mrs. Smugman, who appeared at the 
 door much perturbed, that Horace was in 
 the house in a state of intoxication, as she 
 strongly suspected; that he had forced his 
 way into Goodman's chamber; and that, 
 after having acted with much violence there, 
 he went into the drawing-room, from which 
 he declared that he never would stir till they 
 returned. They were both, of course, highly 
 indignant at this, and proceeded at once to 
 the drawing-room, where they found Horace 
 stretched fast asleep upon the sofa. It was 
 not long before they aroused him, although 
 he slept soundly, for they were not at the 
 moment extremely choice of the means by 
 which persons are, under peculiar circum- 
 stances, awakened: they had him up in the 
 shortest possible period of time, and the 
 moment their efforts had been crowned with 
 success, he exclaimed, "Ah! my two trumps! 
 Well, how are you]" 
 
 44 VVhat is your business with us 1 ?" stern- 
 ly demanded Uncle John. 
 
 44 Now, is that the way to address an old 
 friend!" returned Horace with an extra- 
 ordinary look, and in an equally extraordi- 
 nary tone of remonstrance. "Is it regular? 
 does it sound at all pretty?" 
 
 44 Whatever you have to say, young man, 
 say at once. We cannot have our time 
 wasted now." 
 
 4t There you go again young man! Why 
 do you cut away in that nasty manner? 
 Can't you address me with a little more 
 elegance?" 
 
 44 Why are you here?" 
 
 " That's the point! I am here in the 
 
316 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 responsible capacity of plenipo-extraordi- 
 nary from the governor, and when 1 pro- 
 duce my credentials, 1 do expect to be 
 treated with all the courtesy that's regular. 
 1 have got a whole lot of dirty documents 
 here, which I am authorized to give up on 
 a certain condition. But come, Ain't be 
 crusty; sit down and look pleasant, and 
 then I'll let you into the whole business." 
 
 "I wish," said Uncle John, "that you 
 had come at a more seasonable hour." 
 
 " Well, how could I help it] I started 
 off this morning to come early enough, and 
 I should have been here at a more season- 
 able hour, only I happened on my way to 
 meet with a few out-and-outers, who couldn't 
 at all do without me!" 
 
 Conceiving that his object was to restore 
 Goodman's papers, Uncle John then grave- 
 ly took his seat. 
 
 * Now then," said Horace, " here we 
 have, you see, a lot of rummy pieces of 
 parchment, which the governor wished me 
 to deliver into the hands of his brother; 
 but as that old fool, who never was known 
 to listen to reason when it proceeded from 
 my lips, has referred me to you, I have 
 waited here all this time, and would have 
 continued to wait, if you hadn't come home 
 till the week after next." 
 
 ' Well, sir, what do you propose?" 
 
 " Why, assuming that you have full 
 powers to act. I propose to deliver them to 
 you, on condition that, as the governor is 
 not very flush, he is never to be railed upon 
 to pay the little bill of those dirty scamps 
 of lawyers." 
 
 "Are these all the papers which belonged 
 to rny friend!" 
 
 *' Why, of course! Do you think that 1 
 would bring less than all!" 
 
 " Very well, sir; I am willing to receive 
 them." 
 
 "And to give me an acknowledgment of 
 your having received them, and to name the 
 condition of course! Then you know it 
 will be all right and regular." 
 
 " Well, sir, I'll even take it upon myself 
 to do that," said Uncle John, who accord- 
 ingly wrote an acknowledgment to the 
 effect that he had received the documents 
 on the condition named, the terms of which 
 he on the part of Mr. Goodman, had agreed 
 to." 
 
 " Well," said Horace, on taking the re- 
 ceipt. "And now, what are you going to 
 stand! You never bring out the ghost of 
 a glass of wine to give a fellow." 
 
 " We are busy, very busy," said Uncle 
 John; " I beg that you will detain us no 
 longer." 
 
 " Oh! very well! Why don't you say at 
 once, * There's the door; you'd better cut 
 
 it!' You want to offend me, I suppose, 
 but you won't; although it's rnouoh to 
 make a man go slap into hysterics, to see 
 the base ingratitude of this blessed world. 
 But never mind. Ta, ta! You don't sup- 
 pose that I want your eighteen-penny port. 
 It's only the look of the thing that, stuns 
 me! But adieu! It'll be all 'one in the. 
 grave. We never know the value of a 
 friend till we've lost him." 
 
 Having calmly delivered himself to this 
 effect, he stuck his hat on one side of his 
 head so ingeniously, that his right eye and 
 ear were completely concealed, and walked 
 with an air of magnanimity from the house, 
 when Uncle John at once proceeded to 
 Goodman's chamber with the documents, 
 conceiving that the property of his friend 
 was now secure. 
 
 It will, however, be proper to mention 
 here, that these documents were utterly 
 valueless. Walter, yielding to his wife, 
 who was warmly backed by Horace, had 
 disposed of every available species of pro- 
 perty, and had sent these worthless pieces 
 of parchment back, in the full conviction 
 that his brother, being then much too weak 
 to examine them, would give instructions 
 for all legal proceedings to be stayed, if 
 indeed he did not undertake to defray the 
 expenses already incurred. 
 
 All this had been effectually accomplish- 
 ed; Uncle John had undertaken, in his 
 friend's name, to settle with the attorney, 
 and wtien the documents were carried to 
 Goodman, he felt so exhausted, that they 
 were at once set aside without even being 
 looked at. The fact of Horace having 
 burst into the room, had thrown him into a 
 state of excitement which nearly proved 
 fatal. It was evident to Uncle John when 
 when he entered, that another such a shock 
 would be the last he would ever experience. 
 He trembled violently even then, and gasp- 
 ed for breath as he pressed his friend's 
 hand, and begged of him not to leave him 
 until he had become more composed. 
 
 " Valentine, that good boy," said he, 
 after a pause, in a voice so faint that it 
 verged upon a whisper, "is going to be 
 married in the morning. I pray that he 
 may be happy!" 
 
 "The marriage," said Uncle John, "has 
 been postponed. The young lady has been 
 taken very suddenly ill " 
 
 " I >un very sorry for it. Young or old 
 young or old, my dear friend all have 
 their afflictions." 
 
 Goodman, with a sigh, relapsed ng;n'n 
 into silence, which Uncle John did IK i dis- 
 turb, but s;it patiently with him until he 
 conceived that he had fallen into ;i slumber, 
 when he stealthily quitted the room. It 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 317 
 
 was then that he ascertained that while he 
 was with Goodman, Whitely, who had 
 been, contrary to his usual custom, from 
 home, the whole of the evening, had re- 
 turned; and that, having learned that Va- 
 lentine, by whom he had been spoken to 
 somewhat harshly at Raven's, was in the 
 drawing-room, he had retired at once to his 
 
 chamber. Uncle John was, therefore, com- 
 pelled to defer the performance of the task 
 he had proposed, but sat up till midnight 
 conversing with Valentine, who was still 
 sustained by that profound firmness which 
 enables a man to regard difficulties but as 
 evils to be surmounted, no matter what 
 shape they may assume. 
 
 CHAPTER LVIII. 
 
 THE INTERVIEW OF UNCLE JOHN AND WHITELY WITH MR. WRITALL, AN ATTORNEY- AT-LAW. 
 
 IMMEDIATELY after breakfast the following 
 morning, Valentine left with the lively hope 
 of hearing that Louise had made some pro- 
 gress towards restoration; and the moment 
 he had done so, Uncle John very cautiously 
 re-opened the subject of the compromise 
 he so anxiously desired to effect between 
 Whitely and Raven. 
 
 " I saw Raven last evening," said he, 
 " and I do not believe that I ever beheld 
 any one so conscience-stricken in the whole 
 course of my life." 
 
 "The scoundrel!" exclaimed Whitely, 
 " I wonder he is not ashamed to show his 
 face to you or any other honourable man." 
 
 " He is ashamed: he was ashamed to see 
 me last evening. I had the utmost difficulty 
 in obtaining an interview with him, and 
 when I did, 1 found him frightfully dejected. 
 Of course, our conversation touched solely 
 upon this unhappy subject, and he urged me 
 most earnestly lo exert whatever influence 
 I might have, with the view of prevailing 
 upon you to consent to some private arrange- 
 ment, not for his sake indeed, but for the 
 sake of his child, who is now lying serious- 
 ly iH. 
 
 "For her, poor girl, I am sorry very 
 sorry; I feel that I could not be more so 
 were she even my own; for Valentine, also, 
 am I sorry; for, although he spoke unkindly 
 to me, I cannot but believe that he did it 
 solely to check a species of perhaps unjusti- 
 fiable rashness: I am sorry for them both, 
 and would do much to save them from an- 
 noyance; but I cannot bring myself to be- 
 lieve that I should be acting, as a man under 
 the circumstances ought to act, if, even for 
 them, I permitted that villain to escape." 
 
 ** It was for them only for them, that he 
 pleaded. As far as he was concerned he 
 acknowledged that you were bound as a man 
 to pursue him by all the means in your 
 power." 
 
 "And pursue him I will!" 
 28 
 
 " Of course, knowing him as I do, and 
 being in some degree connected with him 
 through Valentine, as I am, it will be but 
 natural for you to imagine that I lean some- 
 what towards him without sufficiently con- 
 sidering you." 
 
 " Indeed, my dear friend, I do not. Your 
 honesty of purpose, your integrity, the pure 
 principles by which I k'now you to be guided, 
 tend to strengthen my conviction that you 
 are incapable of advising me to adopt any 
 course which you deem inconsistent with, 
 my honour." 
 
 " I acknowledge at once, that I lean so 
 far towards him as to be anxious to have 
 this melancholy affair settled, as far as it 
 can be settled, privately: not for him for 
 his conduct admits of no extenuation but 
 for his poor child, whose heart any public 
 exposure would go far towards breaking. 
 But if even I had no knowledge whatever 
 of him or of any one with whom he is con- 
 nected, as your friend, I should advise you 
 for your ov/n sake alone, not to plunge into 
 the uncertain depths of the law, being afraid 
 as I should be in such a case as this 
 that although in reputation you might seri- 
 ously injure him, you would in doing so 
 more seriously injure yourself. You know- 
 more of the law which bears upon this point 
 doubtless, much more than I do: but even, 
 in the event of my having no knowledge 
 whatever of the party on the other side, I 
 should argue with you thus: You are 
 anxious to go to law: very well. You can- 
 not proceed criminally: you must bring a 
 civil action; you may even bring two: you. 
 bring two actions: you succeed in both: and 
 the punishment awarded is of a pecuniary 
 character. Now, what amount of damages, 
 I ask, would you be likely to get? anything 
 like five thousand pounds'?" 
 
 " In all probability, not half that amount." 
 
 " Well, assuming that there was a pros- 
 pect of obtaining that amount, what would 
 you say if, instead of the trouble, the anxie- 
 
318 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 ty, the risk of a trial, you were offered ten 
 thousand pounds down]" 
 
 *' My answer would be this: I cannot feel 
 justified in entering into anything like a 
 compromise with a villain.' 
 
 " Are you justified in utterly ruining your- 
 self to be revenged on a villain 1 ? And would 
 you not be utterly ruined in the event of a 
 failure?" 
 
 " I am poor, very poor: that cannot be 
 disguised." 
 
 "Avoid then, going to law with a rich 
 man." 
 
 " But if that doctrine were to obtain, the 
 poor would be crushed by the rich with im- 
 punity!" 
 
 " Not in a case of this description, in 
 which the rich man proposes to pay, per- 
 haps ten times the amount that could be 
 gained by resorting to law. This is not 
 like a case in which a man offers to give a 
 certain sum to escape corporeal punishment: 
 If it were possible to punish him in any 
 other way than that of attacking his purse, 
 there might perhaps be some grounds for 
 hesitation; but he can only be thus punish- 
 ed, and he offers to punish himself ten times 
 more: he offers to pay at once ten thousand 
 pounds, and thus to relieve you from all 
 anxiety about the issue of a trial, and I 
 must say that the issue in this case, to say 
 the least of it, is of an extremely doubtful 
 character." 
 
 " I do not think so. From all that I can 
 learn, I am induced to believe that I ought 
 not to entertain the smallest doubt about 
 the matter. Last night I was introduced to 
 " an exceedingly clever lawyer with whom 1 
 have an appointment this morning attwelve, 
 who assured me distinctly, when I had ex- 
 plaiived the chief features, that in such a case 
 as mine, which exhibits so monstrous a 
 combination of wrongs, the law would fal 
 upon the wronger with terrible vengeance 
 Now, as I am anxious to remove the im- 
 pression you entertain, that the law is in- 
 operative in a case of this description, ] 
 shall be glad if you will accompany me this 
 morning as my friend, that you may heai 
 how the law stands, and judge for yourself.' 
 "1 shall indeed be most happy to do so 
 feeling perfectly assured of your belief, tha 
 although I am still in communication with 
 Raven, I shall take no advantage of any 
 thing I may hear, which, if known on th 
 other side, might tend to prejudice you 
 case." 
 
 " You may be assured that that is m 
 belief. For were it not so, I certainl 
 should not have been so anxious for you t 
 go with me. You can appear in the sol 
 character of my friend; your knowledge . 
 the other party need not at all transpire." 
 
 It was at once then arranged that they 
 
 hould wait upon this gentleman together, 
 
 nd accordingly, at the hour appointed, they 
 
 roceeded to the office of Mr. Wriiall. 
 
 On ringing the office-bell, their ears were 
 
 ddressed by a slight consumptive tick, 
 
 hen, as that caused the door to fly open, 
 
 icy entered, and beheld an emaciated little 
 
 eing, who was then in the act of enjoying 
 
 pinch of snuff, which appeared to be the 
 
 nly luxury within his reach, and who, in 
 
 nswer to Whitely's question, which had 
 
 eference to the fact of Mr. Writall being 
 
 vithin, said he didn't know exactly, but he'd 
 
 ee, when, in order to enable himself to see 
 
 vith distinctness, he inquired the name of 
 
 Whitely, and disappeared. He was not 
 
 bsent long. He soon became enlightened 
 
 n the subject, and on his return, an- 
 
 ounced that Mr. Writall ivas within, and 
 
 mmediately ushered them into the sanctum. 
 
 As they entered, Mr. Writall, who was a 
 
 man of immense personal importance, and 
 
 whose cheeks were peculiarly bloated, was 
 
 landing with his right thumb in the arm 
 
 lole of his waistcoat, and his left foot on a 
 
 hair, looking as pompous as if he had just 
 
 efore swallowed a pot of porter. 
 
 "I hope you are well, sir," said he, in a 
 ingularly dignified wobble, swelling each 
 word until it became as much as his mouth 
 could hold. 
 
 "A friend, I presume 1 ?" 
 
 Whitely answered by formally intro- 
 ducing Uncle John, and they sat down with 
 >usiness-like views. 
 
 " I have been thinking, sir, of this im- 
 mense case, of which you told me. 1 have 
 aeen turning it deliberately over in my 
 mind, and having deeply consulted the best 
 authorities upon the subject, I have no 
 hesitation in saying that the course is quite 
 clear." 
 
 14 1 have," said Whitely, "an absolute 
 hold upon him, thenl" 
 
 "Undoubtedly; beyond all dispute; an 
 immense hold." 
 
 "That is the grand point," returned 
 Whitely, for the satisfaction of Uncle John; 
 " that is tlir grand point that I am anxious 
 to have explained." 
 
 "Than which explanation, sir, nothing 
 can be more easy. The defendant seduced 
 your wife. He cohabited with her. She 
 was under his protection. Of course an 
 action for craw. con. will lie there." 
 
 " Notwithstanding it occurred nearly 
 fifteen years since 1 ?" 
 
 " Notwithstanding it occurred nearly 
 fifteen years since. All we shall have to 
 do will be to show, that by maliciously 
 causing you to be confined in an asylum for 
 lunatics, he placed it completely out of your 
 
 c 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 319 
 
 power to bring your action within the period 
 prescribed by the statute." 
 
 44 Exactly; I understand; and this of 
 course, can be shown 1 ?" 
 
 Of course." 
 
 44 Will you allow me," said Uncle John, 
 44 to ask how?" 
 
 44 By the production of witnesses." 
 
 44 But unfortunately my friend Mr. White- 
 ly has no witnesses." 
 
 44 No witnesses! Where is the proprietor 
 of the asylum 1 ? where are the keepers'? 
 Subpoena them all; bring them all up!" 
 
 44 Can they prove that the defendant, 
 Raven, compassed, or was in any way con- 
 nected with the incarceration of my friend?" 
 
 44 That remains to be seen." 
 
 44 But, like all prudent men, Mr. Whitely 
 is anxious to see his way clearly before he 
 proceeds." 
 
 44 It is impossible for him not, sir, to see 
 his way clearly." 
 
 44 Upon my word," observed Whitely, 
 44 1 confess that I cannot at present." 
 
 44 Have you, yourself, the slightest doubt 
 that these persons can prove the defendant 
 to have, directly or indirectly, caused you 
 to be confined 1 ?" 
 
 44 1 am afraid they know nothing of him. 
 His name did not in any way appear." 
 
 44 Well, that is a difficulty very soon got 
 over. If they cannot prove it, other wit- 
 nesses can." 
 
 44 What other witnesses," inquired 
 Whitely. 
 
 44 Oh, I'll undertake to produce witness- 
 es," replied Mr. Writall, nodding very 
 mysteriously. 
 
 44 1 really cannot see where we shall find 
 them." 
 
 44 Oh, that is a difficulty soon overcome. 
 I'll stake my reputation on finding sufficient 
 witnesses." 
 
 44 Then of course," said Uncle John, who 
 looked at Whitely as if he did not under- 
 stand it, "we may assume that point to be 
 settled?" 
 
 44 Of course." 
 
 "And that the settlement of that point 
 will be sufficient?" 
 
 "And that the settlement of that point 
 will be sufficient." 
 
 44 But, on what authority was my friend 
 here received and detained by the proprie- 
 tor of the asylum in question? Was not 
 his authority the certificate of the two 
 physicians?" 
 
 44 Undoubtedly; the certificate of the two 
 physicians." 
 
 44 How then can we impugn this, their 
 evidence of my friend's insanity at the 
 time?" 
 
 44 I'll manage it. Leave that to me." 
 
 44 But," urged Whitely, " how is it to be 
 done?" 
 
 44 If it cannot be done in one way, it can 
 in another. We can even indict all con- 
 cerned for a conspiracy." 
 
 44 But what witnesses have we to sustain 
 such an indictment?" 
 
 44 Witnesses are to be found: affidavits 
 are to be had. Leave the whole thing to 
 me, and it shall be done. If the worst 
 comes to the worst, we can harass him so, 
 that he will be but too happy to compro- 
 mise the matter, by coming down hand- 
 somely." 
 
 44 And what, may I ask," said Uncle 
 John, " would you consider a handsome 
 sum in such a case?" 
 
 44 Why, as he is a rich man, I'd make 
 him come down with a couple of thousand 
 pounds. I'd let him off for vey little less." 
 
 44 But were he to offer to put down at 
 once such a sum as say ten thousand 
 pounds " 
 
 44 Oh, such a sum as that is altogether 
 out of the question. It's a large sum, sir, 
 recollect, is that of ten thousand a sum 
 which is not to be picked up every day! 
 But whatever sum he might offer, however 
 large, I'd take care to harass him well be- 
 fore I consented to receive it." 
 
 44 But if, after having discovered that 
 your object was to harass him, he were to 
 defy you, and refuse then to compromise at 
 all, what sort of position would my friend 
 be in then?" 
 
 44 Money," said Whitely, "is not the 
 primary object. I want to punish him, it 
 is true, and he deserves to be punished 
 severely; but my chief aim is to compel 
 him to produce, or at least to give me some 
 sufficient clue to the discovery of my 
 children." 
 
 44 Punish him first," said Mr. Writall, 
 " settle that matter first, and then make him 
 produce the children." 
 
 44 But," suggested Uncle John, "were 
 he to propose now not only to put down at 
 once say ten thousand pounds but to 
 give, with respect to the children, all the 
 information in his power, would it not, 
 under the circumstances, be advisable to 
 accede at once to such a proposition?" 
 
 44 Why, as I said before, ten thousand 
 pounds, you know, is an amount which is 
 out of all reason; but if a good round sum 
 were to be offered, together with the re- 
 quired information, I have no hesitation in 
 saying, that it would be advisable to do so, 
 but not before proceedings had been com- 
 menced, in order that he might know that 
 we are really in earnest." 
 
 44 1, of course, can compel him to produce 
 my children?" 
 
320 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "Of course. And yet there is some 
 slight difficulty there. I should advise 
 nay, now I come to reflect on the matter, if 
 he be obstinate, he might be taken on sus- 
 picion of having 1 murdered those children!" 
 
 "Murdered them!" cried Whitely, with 
 a shudder. 
 
 " But," said Uncle John, " how can we 
 prove that he ever saw them?" 
 
 * Oh, that could be proved; but as far as 
 the murder is concerned why, I confess, 
 that it is somewhat difficult to secure wit- 
 nesses as to murder; but even they are to 
 be had." 
 
 " What may you mean by securing wit- 
 nesses?" 
 
 " It is a practice, sir, well understood in 
 the profession. At all events, assuming 
 that we should fail in this, the threat alone j 
 of charging him with murder would be 
 sufficient to induce him to come down with 
 a little more." 
 
 Again, Whitely and Uncle John looked 
 earnestly at each other, and after a pause of: 
 some seconds they rose. 
 
 "I will reflect, sir," said Whitely,! 
 "upon all you have explained, and let you ; 
 know my decision in the morning. 
 
 "Very well, sir," returned Mr. Writall, 
 who was evidently surprised at the fact of i 
 the consultation being so abruptly put an | 
 end to. " Very well, sir. If the case, sir, j 
 be placed in my hands, it shall be properly j 
 managed. It is my pride, sir, that I never I 
 yet suffered a client of mine to be de- i 
 feated." 
 
 Uncle John and Wliitely then took leave 
 
 of Mr. Writall, with whom they were not 
 highly pleased. He had, indeed, supplied 
 them both with food for reflection; but 
 while one of them looked upon him merely 
 with contempt, the other regarded him with 
 ineffable disgust. 
 
 " I cannot say that I am even yet con- 
 vinced of the incorrectness of my view," 
 said Uncle John, after having walked for 
 | some time in silence. " But where could 
 he get all those witnesses from?" 
 
 " My friend," replied Whitely, " that is 
 a legal scoundrel. Those witnesses are 
 villains who can be got to swear to any- 
 thing in any case, to the ruin of any man." 
 
 "Is it possible?" 
 
 "Quite. They are to be had at all 
 prices, from ten shillings up to ten pounds, 
 either to appear and give evidence, or to 
 make affidavits. Such witnesses he pro- 
 posed to secure in my case, for clearly none 
 others exist." 
 
 Uncle John was amazed. He could 
 scarcely believe it, and thousands, who 
 possess far more knowledge of the profes- 
 sion than he did, would have been quite as 
 incredulous, on being told that the practice 
 of "hard swearing," more especially that 
 branch ycleped " affidavit making," had 
 become quite a trade. 
 
 This, however, did not shake the purpose 
 of Whitely; he still was for law; but, as 
 during the consultation with Writall, cer- 
 tain doubts had arisen, he resolved on hav- 
 ing the opinion of some eminent counsel, 
 upon whose judgment and integrity he 
 might safely depend. 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 IN WHICH VALENTINE PROVES A GOOD MORAL PHYSICIAN. 
 
 THAT, under any conceivable circumstances, 
 Louise would have felt the postponement of 
 her marriage severely, is a fact which must 
 not be concealed, but under such serious cir- 
 cumstances as those by which the postpone- 
 ment had been induced, she naturally held 
 it to be indeed terrible. It was not, how- 
 ever, the mere disappointment which re- 
 tarded her recovery from the shock she had 
 received; when the physical effects of that 
 shock had been subdued, its moral effects 
 continued in painful operation; for she could 
 not but feel that the disgrace of her father 
 would inevitably, to some extent, reflect 
 upon her. 
 
 For three weary days she had not bf-hHd 
 him whom she had taught herself to adore; 
 
 but although she had felt this to be of itself 
 very sad, and had panted for the time when 
 she might again see him, when that time 
 arrived her spirit shrank from the interview, 
 as if she feared that he could not be faithful 
 to her then without dishonour. 
 
 Eventually, however, at the earnest 
 solicitation of her dear kind friend, whom 
 she regarded as her mother, she tremblingly 
 1 consented to see him; and when he entered 
 the room in which she was sitting, pale as 
 death, she rose and flew to him, as if all 
 cause for sorrow had vanished; but after 
 having embraced him, and passed her Ir.uid 
 fondly over his brow, and gazed upon him 
 with an expression of rapture for an instant, 
 the sudden flash of joy was extinguished, 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 321 
 
 tears gushed from her eyes, and she sobbed 
 like a child. 
 
 " My own Louise!" exclaimed Valentine, 
 pressing her fervently to his heart. " Look 
 up, my sweet girl! You see / am firm, 
 Louise! you see / am firm!" But, as he 
 spoke, his voice faltered, while the tears 
 were fast rolling down his cheeks. He 
 could not bear to see her thus afflicted. He 
 could firmly endure anything but that; that 
 alone had the power to unman him. 
 
 A pause ensued, during which he endea- 
 voured to conceal his emotion, and led 
 Louise to a chair, while his mother, whom 
 the interview had deeply affected, was sob- 
 bing as if her heart were about to break. 
 
 At length, however, they all became 
 comparatively calm; and while Valentine 
 was standing with the hand of Louise in 
 his, pouring eloquent balm into her deeply 
 wounded heart, the widow sat down beside 
 her, with the view of imparting that solace 
 which she deemed most effectual, and soon 
 after quitted the room. 
 
 "My dear girl," said Valentine, the mo- 
 ment they were alone, "come, you must 
 not be so sad; you must not, my love, 
 indeed." 
 
 " Valentine," said Louise, with the most 
 impressive earnestness, " I love you dear- 
 ly, fondly you know how I love you; but 
 this unhappy interview must be our last!" 
 
 "Why, you silly girl: what do you 
 mean?" 
 
 "That I never will consent to bring dis- 
 honour upon you." 
 
 44 1 believe it; I am sure of it: I know you 
 never will." 
 
 " But this I should be doing, if, after this 
 hour, I consented to receive you as before." 
 
 "Louise, knowing the purity of your 
 mind, and the beautiful delicacy of your 
 feelings, I cannot but be conscious that this 
 lamentable affair appears to you in the 
 darkest colours in which it can appear to 
 innocence: thus let it appear still, my good 
 girl: thus may it ever appear! I would not 
 have those colours brighter in the eyes of 
 one so pure. But, my love, even assuming 
 all we have heard to be true, and looking at 
 it without the most remote reference to any 
 extenuating circumstances, how can my 
 alliance with you bring dishonour upon me? 
 I will not affect, for one moment, to be in- 
 capable of perceiving your views; and that 
 they spring from an amiable source is quite 
 manifest. But how can this act affect me? 
 It is not an act of yours: nor is it one over 
 which it is possible for you to have had 
 even the slightest control. It is one of 
 which you possessed no knowledge until 
 now! How then can you or I be disgraced 
 or dishonoured 1 ?" 
 
 " Disgrace will attach to the name," said 
 Louise. 
 
 "That name will no longer be yours!" 
 
 " But will it not be said, and with truth, 
 by the malicious, that you married into a 
 family whose character was tainted!" 
 
 "This, indeed, by the malicious might 
 be said; but not with truth. If the character 
 of a family could be said to be tainted, 
 because the acts of any one of its members 
 are impure, few families indeed would be 
 in a position to boast of their characters 
 being without a stain. But let the mali- 
 cious say what they will: they must be 
 ingenious indeed, if they show that any 
 disgrace that may attach to the name you 
 now bear can reflect in the slightest degree 
 upon me. But, my sweetest girl, no such 
 disgrace will attach even to the name. The 
 thing will not be known. I have the most 
 perfect confidence in the success of those 
 efforts which my uncle is now making, 
 with the view of prevailing upon Whitely 
 to consent to some private arrangement. If 
 it be thus arranged, and I have not the 
 smallest doubt that eventually it will be, 
 unless we ourselves publish the matter to 
 the malicious, their ingenuity cannot be 
 brought to the test." 
 
 "Still I fear," urged Louise, "that you 
 may be annoyed; and that such an annoy- 
 ance as that would interfere with your hap- 
 piness, and cause you to regret " 
 
 "Louise! if you did not at this moment 
 look so delicately beautiful, I really do 
 think that I should scold you. Why, you 
 little trembling creature! who is to annoy 
 me if the thing be not known?" 
 
 " But we are by no means sure that it 
 will not be known!" 
 
 " Well, even if it be: I am sorry to say 
 that the world does not attach so much im- 
 portance to an affair of this description as 
 you do. But if this be the case, the thing 
 must not be known! I'll go and tell 
 Whitely all about it. I will give your 
 compliments to him, and tell him that if he 
 will consent to an arrangement you will 
 have me: but that if he will not, it's all 
 over." 
 
 Louise slightly, but very slightly, smiled. 
 
 "You will think," continued Valentine, 
 "that I view this matter with levity, al- 
 though indeed, I do not; but it really is 
 useless to grieve and mourn and be miser- 
 able about it. Were we to run about the 
 streets, and fill the air with our lamenta- 
 tions, we might astonish the people cer- 
 tainly, and perhaps we might amuse them; 
 but we could not alter the case as it stands. 
 The thing has been done, and we are bound 
 to make the best of it; but I question if 
 even Llewellen himself can instance a case 
 
 28* 
 
322 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 in which any disagreeable position was 
 rendered more pleasant by an indulgence in 
 excessive grief. 1 ' 
 
 " You are a dear good soul," said Louise, 
 arranging his hair as he sat on a stool besf3e 
 her. 
 
 " I'm glad yon think so," said Valentine; 
 " [ ought to terminate my engagement with 
 eclat. I ought to make a decent impression 
 on this my last appearance, as it must be 
 the last!" ' 
 
 "I would not lose you for the world!" 
 cried Louise, as she kissed his fine brow 
 and appeared to forget all her troubles; 
 "yet," she added, with intensity of feeling 
 and expression, " I would rather lose you, 
 the world and all, tlian render you unhappy! 
 But," my love, this sad affair: you say that 
 there is a prospect of its being settled 
 privately?" 
 
 " A very fair prospect. In fact 1 have no 
 doubt whatever of its being thus arranged. 
 Whitely holds out at present it is true; but 
 I'm convinced that we shall eventually in- 
 duce him to consent." 
 
 *' Poor man! I had no thought of my dear 
 father having acted as he has. 1 could not 
 have believed it if he had not himself told 
 me that it was true. Poor Mr. Whitely! 
 how dreadful his feelings must have been! 
 But she must have been a very wicked 
 creature! I am sure that she must have 
 given my father great encouragement, or he 
 never would have forgotten himself so far. 
 Of course that was the cause of Mr. 
 Whitely's insanity]" 
 
 By this question Valentine perceived 
 that she did not know all, and, therefore, 
 being most anxious not to throw any addi- 
 tional light upon a subject which would 
 tend to sink Raven in her estimation, he 
 replied that Whitely had never been in- 
 sane, and that he had been confined in a 
 lunatic asylum by some person, who wished 
 to get him out of the way: which was the 
 fact. 
 
 "Then it is not so dreadful," observed 
 Louise, "as it would have been had he 
 been driven to madness by that." 
 
 "Of course not," said Valentine; "that 
 would have been a different thing alto- 
 gether." 
 
 " But oh! you gentlemen, you gentlemen! 
 you are terrible people! But did Mr. 
 Whitely treat her kindly]" 
 
 " Upon my word, I don't know." 
 
 ** Perhaps not: he might have been very 
 unkind to her; perhaps very harsh; and yet 
 nothing could justify her conduct. She 
 must have been bad. I am convinced that 
 if she had not been, she never could have 
 
 induced my father to bring upon us this 
 dreadful calamity. But what became of 
 her? It is a delicate question perhaps for 
 me to put, but did you ever happen to hear 
 what became of her?" 
 
 "Indeed I never did." 
 
 "Perhaps she went over to America, 
 taking the poor children with her." 
 
 "Perhaps she did: but let us dismiss 
 this painful subject. I have been thinking, 
 Louise, of a certain matter to which it 
 strikes me I never alluded before, but in 
 deciding upon which you can render me 
 very material assistance." 
 
 " Indeed! Then, I am sure that I shall be 
 most happy to do so." 
 
 "Your politeness is proverbial. Well, 
 then; when do you think I will put it in 
 that form as being the least unintelligible 
 when do you think that that ought to be 
 done which was to have been done on the 
 first of the month?" 
 
 "The first of the month? Oh, indeed 
 my dear Valentine, we must riot think of 
 that." 
 
 "But that happens to be the very thing 
 of which I cannot help thinking!" 
 
 "But I I don't really I don't we 
 must wait till this sad affair is settled." 
 
 "Why should we, my dearest? Why 
 should we wait for that? We have nothing 
 to do with the settlement of it?" 
 
 " My dearest love, pray do me the favour 
 to 1 say no more about it at present. It is 
 useless, I find, to oppose you on any sub- 
 ject. You cheat me of every purpose. I 
 really don't know how it is; but no one else 
 could ever do so!" 
 
 The widow at this moment entered the 
 room, and was agreeably surprised to see 
 Valentine smiling. 
 
 " 1 beg pardon, my dears," she observed, 
 "I only came for my bag. Well, come!" 
 she added, gazing with pleasure at Louise. 
 "Dear me, how much better you look! 
 Well, really now, what an extraordinary 
 change!" 
 
 And it is a fact well worthy of being 
 placed on record, that the change thus 
 noticed was particularly striking. Louise 
 looked herself again; sadness disappeared; 
 her eyes sparkled with all their wonted 
 brilliancy, and she felt that a heavy load of 
 sorrow had been removed from her heart. 
 And thus for hours she continued to feel 
 cheered by the affectionate eloquence of 
 Valentine, who sat with her until the 
 widow turned him out of the room, deem- 
 ing it quite inconsistent with her duty as a 
 nurse to allow him to remain with her 
 patient any longer. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 323 
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 
 VALENTINE VISITS ASCOT RACES. 
 
 VALENTINE was now unremitting in his at- 
 tention to Louise, whose spirits, by virtue 
 of his enlivening influence, were, in a great 
 degree, restored; but nothing could shake 
 the resolution she had formed, not to fix 
 another day for the celebration of their 
 marriage until her father's unhappy affair 
 had been privately arranged, although, 
 when a fortnight from the day of the dis- 
 covery had elapsed, Whitely's consent to 
 such an arrangement had not been obtained. 
 Uncle John, day by day, had endeavoured 
 to induce him to adopt the mode proposed, 
 but in vain: he could not be, by any means, 
 prevailed upon to yield: he had made up 
 his mind to take the opinion of a certain 
 distinguished member of the bar, who hap- 
 pened to be* then out of town, but had 
 promised, that the moment he had obtained 
 that opinion he would one way or the other 
 decide. 
 
 Now it may not perhaps be improper to 
 mention, that Llewellen, during the whole 
 of this time, was a singularly miserable 
 man. He felt wretched. His appetite was 
 falling off frightfully; and although he was 
 utterly unable to explain what was physio- 
 logically the matter, his feelings convinced 
 him, that internally there was something 
 uncommonly wrong. He applied to the 
 physician who attended Louise, but the 
 physician, instead of prescribing, looked at 
 him and smiled. He applied again: he 
 drew him aside the very next time he called, 
 and put out his tongue and held out his 
 wrist, and described the diagnosis of his 
 complaint very pointedly, and then indeed 
 he had a prescription; to take a run round 
 his hat fifty times without stopping, and to 
 repeat the dose five times a-day, keeping 
 his fore-finger all the time strictly upon the 
 crown. And an excellent prescription it 
 was. It was, however, one which he 
 thought might be dispensed with, although 
 it did induce him to believe that a little 
 exercise of some sort might not prove per- 
 nicious. But then what was he to do? He 
 had no one to go out with! Valentine was 
 constantly engaged with Louise. He could 
 not go out alone! he would not go out alone; 
 and the consequence was, that his case was 
 getting daily worse and worse. 
 
 At length Louise, conceiving that a day's 
 relaxation would be of service to Valentine, 
 suggested the propriety of his having a 
 rural stroll; and as it happened, % strange 
 and inscrutable coincidence, to be the Ascot 
 
 race week, he hinted to Llewellen that he 
 did think it possible, that he might go and 
 see the Cup run for, in which case he hoped 
 to have the honour of his company. 
 
 For some few seconds Llewellen could 
 not believe that Valentine really meant 
 this; but when, as with a vivid flash of 
 lightning, he was struck with the convic- 
 tion that the thing in reality was as it was, 
 he was in ecstasies, and ran about the room, 
 and performed a variety of extraordinary 
 evolutions; some of which were of a charac- 
 ter strikingly original. 
 
 " Is Luey coing tool" he inquired. 
 
 "No, I cannot persuade her to do so." 
 
 " Very well," said Llewellen, who was 
 not at all sorry on his account, ' phen to we 
 co, my poy, phen are we to start?" 
 
 " In the morning; but as we have no 
 conveyance of our own, we must be off 
 rather early." 
 
 " As early as you please! Well now t' 
 coolness knows it, look you, this will pe 
 peautiful! Put howapout preakfast? Shall 
 hur corne as hur tit pefore?" 
 
 "That will be the better way." 
 
 "Very well. And^phot coat shall hur 
 put on? Must hur co in sporting style? 
 Hur've cot top poots and preeches." 
 
 " No, no; go as you are." 
 
 " Very coot," said Llewellen, to whom 
 Valentine's every word was law. " Very 
 coot, hur ? ll pe retty. Inteet t'cootness now 
 this is a plessing." And he absolutely felt 
 it to be one, and that feeling prompted him 
 to run about so much, that he ate that day 
 a respectable dinner. 
 
 In the morning he awoke about four, and 
 fearing that he might over-sleep himself 
 somewhat, as he had to be with Valentine 
 at half past eight, if he suffered his head to 
 remain upon the pillow, he rose, and em- 
 bellished himself deliberately, and whistled 
 like a lark, and sung several new songs, 
 and then wended his way into the pantry, 
 to see if any little article therein had the 
 power to tempt him; and having discovered 
 a variety of things rather delicious, he had 
 a substantial foundation fora breakfast, and 
 took his departure for the day. 
 
 It was then nearly six; and as he walked 
 from street to street, he really couldn't tell 
 exactly what to make of the silence that 
 prevailed. It struck him as being rather 
 awful. He looked acutely up and down: 
 not a soul could be seen: there he was 
 walking about with his hands in his coat 
 
324 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 pockets, a solitary individual in a wilder- 
 ness of houses. He didn't like it. His 
 intellects were, in some degree, confused. 
 Was it a dream? Had all the people emi- 
 grated during the night? Was he in some 
 deserted city? It all at once struck him 
 that the people were not up yet; and when 
 he looked round, he really didn't wonder at 
 it. Presently he heard a few human heings 
 singing, and the chorus he discovered to be 
 strictly to this effect. 
 
 u For we're all jolly good fellows, 
 iollv s 
 
 Yor we're all jolly good fellows, 
 jolly good fellows! 
 so say all of us." 
 
 For we're all jolly good fellows! 
 And so si 
 
 But although he could hear them with a 
 distinctness, which to him, at that time, 
 was peculiarly refreshing, he was unable to 
 see them until he arrived at the corner of 
 the next street, when he beheld four gentle- 
 men coming towards him, arm in arm, with 
 a striking irregularity of step, appearing to 
 be very happy, but looking indeed very pale. 
 
 " Ah! old fellow!" exclaimed one of 
 these gentlemen. " How are you!" 
 
 " How to you too," said Llewellen in 
 return. 
 
 " Come tip us your fin, old fellow! you're 
 one of the right sort!" Hereupon the 
 whole party shook him cordially by the 
 hand, which was very affectionate. " I say, 
 is there any house open about here?" 
 
 " Well, inteet now, I think all the people 
 are in pet, look you!" 
 
 A loud burst of laughter immediately 
 followed the announcement of this thought, 
 which was very remarkable; but, as Llewel- 
 len inferred, from sundry vague observations, 
 which had reference to leeks and toasted 
 cheese, and other purely unintelligible mat- 
 ters, that the gentlemen were, to some 
 extent, tipsy, he passed on, and the last he 
 heard of them was an exceedingly loud 
 declaration in song, that they wouldn't go 
 home till morning. 
 
 The fact of his having met with this in- 
 teresting party, notwithstanding, relieved 
 his mind a little; and as he walked on, a 
 few sober persons appeared, some with 
 baskets of tools, some with hods, rules, and 
 spades; but the whole of them carried cotton 
 handkerchiefs, containing something des- 
 tined for the stomach; still time seemed to 
 move as if engaged in some political con- 
 versation, while walking arm in arm with 
 a tortoise. 
 
 At length Llewellen, which is really 
 very singular, found himself standing be- 
 fore the house in which Valentine dwelt; 
 but the blinds were all down, no sign of life 
 appeared: the house could not have been in 
 less of a bustle, had all the occupants been 
 
 dead. He would not, however, then leave 
 the street; he walked up and down whist- 
 ling, until he saw the girl open the parlour 
 shutters, when he knocked at the door, got 
 into the house, went at once up to Valentine's 
 room, was admitted, and was happy. 
 
 Valentine was not long dressing; nor 
 was it long when he had dressed, before 
 they had breakfast; and when that had been 
 disposed of satisfactorily, they started for 
 the Railway terminus at Paddington, with / 
 the view of going by one of the early trains. L 
 On reaching this place, a train was just 
 about to start, and immediately after they 
 had entered one of the carriages, they were 
 off at the rate of some considerable number 
 of miles an hour. 
 
 "Time," observed Llewellen, "must put 
 his best foot forward, to keep up with us 
 now." 
 
 " He'll not allow himself to be beaten," 
 returned Valentine. " Let us go at what- 
 ever rate we may, he'll be there as soon as 
 we are." 
 
 " T'cootness knows now that's very ex- 
 traortinary inteet, phen you come to reflect 
 upon it, look you." 
 
 " It is extraordinary, that while he goes 
 at all paces, he should preserve, with per- 
 fect steadiness, his own pace still." 
 
 "Ant will wait for nopotty." 
 
 "Nor will he be hurried!" 
 
 Llrwellen was done. He tried very hard 
 to come again, but failed, although he did 
 not entirely give the thing up until they 
 had arrived at Slough. Here they alighted; 
 but they had no sooner done so, than down 
 came a pelting shower of rain. 
 
 " Hascot, sir! course, yer honour! take 
 yer there in no time! slap wehicle! 
 hex'lent 'oss! ride, sir ride!" exclaim- 
 ed a number of extremely anxious persons, 
 placing themselves before each other alter- 
 nately, as if among them no question of 
 precedence had been settled. 
 
 " What's the fare?" inquired Valentine, 
 of one of the most forward. 
 
 "A guinea an edd, sir; ad no bistake at 
 all about the haddibal." 
 
 Valentine looked to windward; and as he 
 saw at a glance the black cloud corning up, 
 leaving all fair behind, he decided upon 
 standing under shelter for a time, during 
 which the individual, whom he had ad- 
 dressed, came up and stated, confidentially, 
 that he would take them both for a pound. 
 This offer was not accepted. The cloud 
 passed over and the sun again shone bright- 
 ly, when the fellow again approached and 
 offered to take them for half a-crown a head! 
 conceiving, however, that the walk would 
 do them much more good, they declined 
 even this, and passed on. 
 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 325 
 
 In due time they reached Windsor, where 
 they stopped to have some slight refresh- 
 ment, and then started again; and having 
 enjoyed their walk exceedingly, up that 
 delightful avenue, called Queen Anne's 
 Drive, the course opened before them, and 
 a brilliant scene it was. Llewellen's rapture 
 was unbounded when he beheld it; while 
 Valentine had never seen anything to equal 
 it in splendour. 
 
 Having sufficiently dwelt upon the spec- 
 tacle at a distance, they drew near the 
 course and viewed each attractive feature 
 with admiration. For some time Llewellen 
 was dumb with enthusiasm, but when they 
 approached the Grand Stand, he let his 
 tongue loose at once, and it rattled away in 
 Welsh with amazing rapidity. It did, how- 
 ever, after the first eloquent burst, happen 
 to strike him, that although the Welsh 
 language was beautifully flowing, and, 
 moreover, comprehensively expressive, it 
 was rather unintelligible to those who 
 knew nothing at all about it; and this idea 
 had the effect of inducing him to descend 
 into that which he was unable to speak 
 with equal force and purity. 
 
 For some considerable time they pro- 
 menaded the course, studying; and it was, 
 indeed, amusing, as well as instructive, to 
 study the distinguishing points which 
 mark those who move in each social 
 sphere, from the highest to the lowest 
 from that of royalty to that of beggary. 
 
 " Well, inteet," observed Llewellen, 
 "phot a horse-racing nation this is, look 
 you 1 ?" 
 
 "It is the first in the world, certainly; 
 but we must not suppose that the whole of 
 these persons are here with the view of 
 seeing the races solely." 
 
 " No, inteet] Phot pesites too they come 
 fort" 
 
 " The great majority to see and to be seen 
 by each other. They themselves form the 
 principal attraction." 
 
 "Then, look you, it must pe py their 
 own attraction they are attracted!" 
 
 " Very good, I don't know that we shall 
 make any thing better of it." 
 
 "All the worlt comes pecause all the 
 worlt comes," added Llewellen, who then 
 really did think that he had done very well. 
 
 The horses entered for the first race now 
 appeared, and Valentine and Llewellen at 
 once made their way towards them, for the 
 purpose of seeing them saddled. They 
 experienced, however, some slight difficulty 
 here, for hundreds were rushing at the same 
 moment with the view of seeing the same 
 ceremony performed. They did, 'however, 
 eventually, by dint of perseverance, manage 
 to get to the point proposed; and the sight 
 
 of the highly-trained beautiful creatures, 
 that seemed to be anxious to exhibit their 
 symmetry and action to the best possible 
 advantage, well repaid them for the tempo- 
 rary inconvenience of a rush. 
 
 At various points groups of sharp-fea- 
 tured, hard-mouthed, sporting individuals, 
 were engaged in giving and taking the 
 odds, with as much profound earnestness 
 as if, indeed, betting not only formed the 
 principal business of their lives, but the 
 only great object for which they had been 
 born. It was pleasant to behold the sensa- 
 tion created by the appearance of a rich 
 and inexperienced young fellow, as he ap- 
 proached these acute old characters. They 
 eyed him, and wriggled round and round 
 him, apparently bent upon searching his 
 very soul to ascertain in what way it was 
 possible to take him fairly in. It was 
 evident that they viewed it as a general 
 commercial matter, and as they all seemed 
 most anxious to do business, Valentine, 
 making his voice appear to proceed from 
 the lips of a likely looking personage, cried 
 "fifty to one against the saint!" 
 
 "Done, my lord, in thousands!" cried 
 one of the sharpest, producing his book 
 on the instant. 
 
 " ril take you, my lord," said another. 
 
 " I'll take you over again," cried a third; 
 and his lordship, on being thus suddenly 
 beset, looked at them as mysteriously as 
 possible. 
 
 "Is it to be in thousands, my lord?" 
 inquired the person who had first addressed 
 him, and who had already half entered the 
 bet. 
 
 " Is what to be in thousands?" demanded 
 his lordship. 
 
 " Why the fifty to one your lordship 
 offered." 
 
 " I never offered fifty to one." 
 
 "Beg pardon, my lord, but really I 
 fancied indeed I some gentleman offered 
 that bet!" when, as they certainly were, 
 under the circumstances, wonderful odds, 
 he looked round with extraordinary sharp- 
 ness for him who had offered to give them. 
 
 By this time one horse only remained to 
 be saddled for the Castle stakes, and he was 
 indeed a noble animal, and seemed actually 
 to know it. His owner was standing by 
 his side, apparently lost in admiration of 
 his beauty, while the little old jockey, who 
 had adjusted the saddle upon his own back, 
 as if he intended to mount himself, was 
 twisting about, and looking knowingly at 
 every point, as if powerfully struck with an 
 idea that he should win. 
 
 " I'll bet a hundred to one against that 
 horse," cried Valentine. " He's sure to be 
 last." 
 
326 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " What, my oss! I'll take you!" cried 
 the little old jockey, turning round with 
 astonishing promptitude and spirit, while 
 the owner of the animal looked at him 
 from whom the voice seemed to proceed 
 with an expression of ineffable contempt. 
 
 This person was a farmer, and one who 
 would not have offered any such odds; and 
 he said so distinctly, and with consummate 
 point, as the jockey observed, that if he 
 meant anything, he had better then put his 
 money down. This threw the innocent 
 farmer into a state of perspiration, which 
 poured upon a gentleman who sat under the 
 rail, bobbing at a cherry, with unspeakable 
 delight. 
 
 The horse was now saddled; and when 
 the jockey had mounted, they all repaired 
 to the starting post at once. Although it 
 was not the grand race, great anxiety pre- 
 vailed: it was manifest that thousands upon 
 thousands of pounds had been staked upon 
 the issue even of that. 
 
 " Hur say, my poy, every potty's pet- 
 ting," said Llewellen; "can't we have a 
 pet?" 
 
 " Why, I think we might manage even 
 that," replied Valentine. 
 
 " Well, phot shall it pe?" 
 
 " Oh, anything you please; 1 am not at 
 all particular." 
 
 " Very coot. Hur'll pet you the pest 
 tinner to pe hat, that the horse that was 
 last sattled wins." 
 
 "Very well," returned Valentine, "let 
 it be so. He ought to win; that seems 
 quite clear: but a race is not invariably won 
 by the best horse." 
 
 "Phot, tont you think the jockeys will 
 win, if they can"?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly they will, if they can get 
 more by winning than by losing." 
 
 " Tear now, t'cootness, are they not to pe 
 trusted]" 
 
 "There are but few of them whom / 
 should feel at all inclined to trust. Human 
 nature, as we find it developed in jockeyism, 
 certainly is not quite perfect. 
 
 " Put, look you, if one of those fellows 
 were to keep a horse pack, wouldn't he 
 therepy lose his character?" 
 
 "Oh, not at all; he may struggle with 
 desperation; he may apparently do his ut- 
 most to urge the horse on, and get applauded 
 for doing his utmost, without allowing him 
 to win." 
 
 " Phy then it all depends upon the 
 jockey!" 
 
 "Entirely, if he be on the best horse; he 
 has the power in his own hands; and prizes 
 are sometimes afloat, too brilliant to be 
 resisted by even the honour of a jockey." 
 
 "Then look you, when we pet upon a 
 
 race, we in reality pet upon the honour cf 
 the fellow who happens to rite the pest 
 horse!" 
 
 " Precisely. It amounts but to that." 
 
 All was now ready; the course was clear; 
 the signal was given, and the horses were 
 off. " Here they come; here they come!" 
 shouted the mass. " Hats off there, hats 
 $7 Hurrah! Go along! Cut away! 
 Now! now! now! Blue for a million! 
 Stripe! Fly! There's a pace! Now then! 
 Beautiful! In to him! Out and out! 
 BRAVO!" 
 
 The race was decided, and the next mo- 
 ment all on the course knew which had won. 
 The excitement was no sooner raised than 
 subdued. The thing was over in a minute. 
 No species of pleasure can be of itself more 
 fleeting, than that of a race. The horses 
 are off; they pass, they are in! the eye can 
 scarcely rest upon them before the issue is 
 known. 
 
 "Well, my poy," said Llewellen, "Hur've 
 cot to stand the tinner. To you think that 
 little wretch tit his pest?" 
 
 " He appeared to do all in his power." 
 
 " Well, perhaps he tit, look you; put 
 t'cootness knows it now hur tit think that 
 he titn't. But come along; shall we have 
 tinner now, or phen? 
 
 " Oh, not yet! Let us wait until after 
 the Cup race, and then we can take our own 
 time." 
 
 " Very coot: yes, that will pe petter. 
 But hur say, my poy, let's co into one of 
 those pooths, and win some money." 
 
 " Let us go in and lose some, you mean, 
 of course." 
 
 " Phot, don't they play fair?" 
 
 "Upon my word, I'd not undertake to 
 prove that they do; but if you do play, you 
 had better, at once, make up your mind to 
 lose." 
 
 " Well, it won't matter much if hur too 
 lose a little." 
 
 " But why do you want to play at all? 
 You have plenty of money; quite as much 
 as you want: you have no use for more. 
 But you are certain to lose." 
 
 " Well, never mind: Hur'll only lose a 
 sovereign; a sovereign is nothing!" 
 
 "Fred," said Valentine, pointing to a 
 poor withered heartbroken creature, who 
 seemed to have travelled far to beg, but 
 know scarcely how to do it, for she had 
 evidently seen more prosperous days, 
 " would a sovereign be considered nothing 
 there?" 
 
 Llewellen drew his purse, and having 
 taken out a sovereign, placed it in the hand 
 of the poor old creature, who looked at it, 
 and then looked at him, and then burst into 
 tears. From her soul she seemed to bless 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 327 
 
 him, but she had not the power of utterance 
 then. 
 
 " Will not that do more good than if you 
 had given it to those swindlers'?" said Va- 
 lentine. 
 
 "Hur feel it will," replied Llewellen, 
 " hur feel it will. Put hur say, my poy, 
 let's co in only to look." 
 
 "Oh, by all means! All I object to is the 
 encouragement given to such pernicious 
 scoundrels!" 
 
 " Phot, are they all scountrels, look 
 you?" 
 
 "There's not a commonly honest man 
 amongst them. They have no honour to 
 keep them honest: in fact, they know no- 
 thing of the feeling of honour!" 
 
 " Then they must pe pat fellows, pecause 
 they want put to pe poor, to pe retty for 
 plunter." 
 
 " They profess to be as honest as they 
 can afford to be, Fred, which has a most 
 comprehensive meaning. Well, it matters 
 not, I suppose, which we go into: let us go 
 into this." 
 
 They accordingly entered, and found 
 everything arranged in brilliant style: the 
 place was elegantly festooned; the ground 
 was carpeted; there was a table on either 
 side, and one at the top, while a temporary 
 sideboard stood near the entrance, on which 
 there were sherry, champagne, soda-water, 
 and brandy, for those players who might 
 descend to call for a glass of either gratis. 
 On each table an immense amount of money 
 appeared: piles of notes, heaps of gold, and 
 imperial pecks of silver: but as the upper 
 appeared to be the principal table, they 
 made their way to it at once. 
 
 The person who presided at this table 
 was one of those excessively amiable 
 creatures who appear to have no real enemy 
 but the law. His countenance was screwed 
 into an inflexible grin; every muscle ap- 
 peared to be at its utmost stretch. Men 
 laughed when they looked at him laughed 
 when they lost: he defied them to help it 
 he would make them laugh. Had he picked 
 their pockets in the most literal manner, 
 they could scarcely have felt offended with 
 the man; while, if even they had given him 
 in charge, he would have made the police 
 laugh too heartily to hold him. 
 
 Valentine watched him for a time with 
 some interest, for he found him to possess 
 although he did grin perpetually the 
 keenest eye to business he ever beheld; 
 and as he could not help wishing to ascer- 
 tain if it were possible to make him look 
 serious, he made up his mind, having no 
 great respect for the profession, to try. 
 
 44 Nora, my leetle roley-poley," cried the 
 presiding genius his custom always when 
 
 he sent round the ball "off again, my 
 little hinnocent! there's a leetle beauty! 
 make yer game, genelmen's sons! make 
 yer game!" 
 
 " Hush!" cried Valentine, with a des- 
 perate hiss, which he dexterously sent 
 beneath the table. 
 
 " Hul-lo!" in a sweet tone, exclaimed 
 the laughing creature. " Bless yer leetle 
 heart! Are you ony there] nothink more? 
 Veil, come now, that's werry reasonable at 
 the price. I say, Bill, my affectionate! 
 here's ony a hindiwidual which is anxious 
 for you to take him by the scruff off the 
 neck, and to shy him bang out off the 
 booth." 
 
 "Vare?" cried the affectionate Bill, 
 whose general aspect was not quite so 
 amiable as that of his friend. " Vare his e?" 
 
 "Oh, ony under the table here! and no- 
 think less." 
 
 "Hunder the table!" cried the affec- 
 tionate, darting round with something like 
 ferocity. 
 
 " Don't go for to wring the blessed neck 
 of the genelman: don't mercycree him, not 
 by no manner off means." 
 
 "Hullo, I say!" cried the affectionate, 
 peering beneath the table with remarkable 
 acuteness: " now hout o' that will yer? 
 vot d'yer vornt there!" 
 
 " Hush!" whispered Valentine, " Hush!" 
 
 " Ony a kipple!" exclaimed the laughing 
 genius, " and no more!" 
 
 " Vort d'yer mean!" cried the affectionate 
 Bill, who now got completely under the 
 table, and looked about him with praise- 
 worthy zeal. " Vy, there's no coves here!" 
 he added, addressing his friend. 
 
 " Jlint there! I des say there aint. No, 
 praps I didn't hear 'em! No, it aint a bit 
 likely I did! How unfortunate I'm deaf!" 
 
 "1 tell yer, it's pickles!" cried the affec- 
 tionate Bill. "There aint nobody here. 
 Can't yer believe me? Look yerself." 
 
 " Not if I know it. What, don't you see 
 the dodge? Don't you see, if I was for to 
 take my leetle eyes off the tin, their pals 
 wouldn't p'raps borrow a trifle? OA, no! 
 I don't s'pose they would." 
 
 " Carnt yer kiver it up?" cried the affec- 
 tionate. 
 
 " Keep close! keep close!" whispered 
 Valentine. 
 
 "There aint no one there, you think, 
 don't you?" cried the genius, and in an in- 
 stant his affectionate friend resumed his 
 search, while he himself kept rather a keen 
 eye upon the specie, expecting every mo- 
 ment an attack upon the bank. But the 
 affectionate certainly could see no one there! 
 not a soul! which was indeed somewhat 
 striking, and he said so pointedly, and 
 
328 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 without the slightest fear of contradiction, 
 and he felt himself in consequence justified 
 in declaring that there was no one there, 
 which, however, failed to shake the convic- 
 tion of his friend, who intimated boldly that 
 he wouldn't believe him if even he were to 
 swear till he sweat. 
 
 " Do you think," he added, with an ironi- 
 cal grin, " that you'll go for to gammon me 
 into that air! I'm hinnocent, I know, but I 
 wasn't born yesterday exactly." 
 
 Valentine now introduced a remarkably 
 slight chuckle, which, slight as it was, 
 caused the laughing genius to come at once 
 to a decision. " Ftt see after you now, my 
 leetle darlings!" said he, as he gathered up 
 the cloth with which the table was covered, 
 to render the bank more secure. "I'll see 
 what you're made on, and no mistake in 
 any indiwidual pint. Now," he added, 
 after having made all safe, "let's see the 
 colour off your compaction." 
 
 He stooped, and looked round the interior, 
 with one fist duly prepared for the delivery 
 of an extraordinary blow, and one foot just 
 as ready for the prompt administration of an 
 equally extraordinary kick. But where were 
 they for whom these favours were designed 1 ? 
 He really couldn't see them! he could'nt 
 see one of them, not even one! He wished 
 he could; and if he had, the immediate 
 consequences to that one let him have been 
 whomsoever he might would in all proba- 
 bility have been unpleasant. 
 
 " Where are you, my darlings!" he en- 
 quired, in the most insinuating manner. 
 " Ony say! I shall, indeed, be werry happy 
 to see you! I'm sorry you should cut your 
 little interesting sticks." 
 
 " Vale, can you see 'em]" spitefully de- 
 manded the affectionate. 
 
 "Not exact. Praps I wouldn't give a 
 small trifle if I could. How they managed 
 their luckies though, cert'ny gets over me a 
 leetle above a bit." 
 
 "They couldn't do it!" cried the affec- 
 tionate. " How could they go for to get 
 out if they was in?" 
 
 "That's the particular dodge as walks 
 over me, rayther. Howsoever the hinno- 
 cents aint here now! that's about as clear 
 as mud! still the go's oncommon. But 
 never mind: I've ony lost the pleasure off 
 letting 'em know that I would'nt have given 
 'em nothink by no means. But* to busi- 
 ness," he added, readjusting the cloth. 
 "Now, genelmen's sons, make yer game! 
 make yer game! Here's fortun at yer feet, 
 and you've ony got/or to pick it up make 
 yer game!" 
 
 During the whole of this time, the shining 
 countenance of the genius presented one 
 immutable grin. A frown never came over 
 
 it for an instant: not a cloud even approached 
 it a fact which went far to induce Valen- 
 tine to suppose that his face was incapable 
 of any other expression than that of unadul- 
 terated glee. He was not, however, quite 
 convinced of this, and therefore, in order 
 that he might not, on a point of much im- 
 portance, entertain a false impression, he 
 resolved to bring the matter once more to 
 the test. 
 
 The genius was still actively engaged 
 with the ball, lavishing upon it the most 
 endearing eulogia, and making it abundantly 
 clear to all around that he appreciated highly 
 its innocence and beauty. Nor was this 
 unnatural. He was winning very fast, and 
 the stakes were rather heavy, and as it, 
 strangely enough, happened that the more 
 he won, the more rapturous he became, he 
 had just attained the highest pitch of ecsta- 
 sy, when Valentine sent beneath the table 
 an extraordinary laugh. 
 
 " Hullo! 11 cried the genius, who kicked 
 out furiously', and by virtue of doing so 
 injured his shin. " Bill, come here! Here 
 they are again! Ony let me jist ketch 'em, 
 the warmint!" 
 
 His countenance fell! This was not to 
 be borne. He was reaping a harvest of 
 plunder, and his time might be valued at 
 ten pounds per minute. It was cutting. 
 He couldn't bear it; and as the laughter 
 still continued, his rage rose to a high pitch 
 of frenzy. No endearing terms were ap- 
 plied to the invisibles then: they were no 
 longer darlings no longer little innocents: 
 he no longer blessed their little hearts; but 
 on the contrary, his epithets proved to all 
 around that, like the rest of his patronized 
 caste, he was a most depraved ruffian; 
 when as Valentine was more especially 
 satisfied of this, he and Llewellen left the 
 booth, duly impressed with the conviction 
 of its being monstrous that the practices of 
 these degraded wretches should be so ex- 
 tensively encouraged. 
 
 During the time they were in this den of 
 " honourable" thieves, the second race had 
 been run; they therefore established them- 
 selves in a commanding position to see the 
 grand race of the day. In this all the 
 interest appeared to be centered. Thou- 
 sands were waiting the issue with an anxiety 
 the most intense; and although thousands 
 more cared but little about which might be 
 the winner, it was the grand race, and that 
 was sufficient to rivet the attention of all. 
 
 " Well, my poy!" said Llewellen, " let 
 us have another pet: come, hur'll pet you a 
 pottle of wine." 
 
 "About what?" 
 
 "Oh, anything you please. Hur tont 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 329 
 
 know one of the horses. Come, how is it 
 to pe?" 
 
 " Why one of us had better take the two 
 first horses against the field." 
 
 "Very well! Which shall have the 
 first?" 
 
 " Oh, it matters not! You take them." 
 
 "Very coot! Now look out: the two first 
 are mine." 
 
 The horses started. It was an excellent 
 start. They were all off together, and 
 seemed to fly. It was a long and most 
 beautiful race, and being on all hands 
 admirably contested, the excitement was 
 well kept up till the last. The favourite 
 won by half a length, and when the result 
 became known, it was interesting to dis- 
 criminate between the winners and the 
 losers. Sunshine on the one hand, and 
 clouds on the other, marked those of each 
 class with unerring distinctness. It seemed 
 to be impossible to make a mistake. No 
 man could suppose that they who sported 
 heavy overhanging brows and compressed 
 lips, were the winners; or that they were 
 the losers who looked round and smiled. 
 Some it is true can bear to lose better than 
 others; for there are men who cannot lose 
 to the extent even of a pound without feel- 
 ing remarkably wretched; but although 
 there are many who make a point of kin- 
 dling up their countenances, in order to make 
 it appear when they lose that they feel just 
 as joyful as if they had won; the amiable 
 hypocrisy is perceptible at a glance, so sure 
 are they to overdo the thing with a smile 
 which is truly expressive of nothing but 
 pain. 
 
 Valentine lost of course, but his loss was 
 so inconsiderable that he scarcely gave it a 
 thought; yet even he did not appear to be 
 so highly pleased quite as Llewellen: for 
 although it is possible for a man to avoid 
 the expression of pain when he loses, he 
 cannot avoid expressing pleasure when he 
 wins. 
 
 As soon as the excitement produced by 
 the race had subsided, Llewellen became 
 impatient for dinner, and as his importuni- 
 ties increased in earnestness every moment, 
 they entered a booth in which various kinds 
 of provisions were displayed in the most 
 tempting manner possible. 
 
 " Now, my poy," said Llewellen, " pe- 
 fore we pekin, too let's have a pottle of 
 peer, for inteet cootness knows it, hur feel 
 fit to trop." 
 
 A bottle of stout was therefore obtained, 
 and while Llewellen was whetting his 
 appetite with that, Valentine ordered the 
 dinner of an extremely fat fussy attendant, 
 who obviously prided himself much upon 
 his agility. It appeared that he had never 
 29 
 
 learned to walk; run he could with any man 
 in England of his size; but he was clearly 
 afraid to trust himself out of a trot. His 
 pace was about eight miles an hour, and 
 out of that pace, when in motion, it was 
 manifestly impossible for him to get. 
 When called, he seemed startled: his legs 
 were shocked: they could no more have 
 kept still when a man shouted " Waiter!" 
 than they could if they had been at that 
 moment powerfully galvanized. He was, 
 in short, one of the most perfect pieces of 
 mechanism ever produced in the shape of a 
 man; while the state of excitement in 
 which he revelled was, in the abstract, 
 distressing. 
 
 While dining, Valentine watched the ex- 
 traordinary movements of this automaton 
 with a high degree of pleasure. It was the 
 first of the species he had ever seen, for a 
 regular waiter is a different thing altogether. 
 There is little about him to excite admira- 
 tion. He is all starch and method. When 
 sober he seems to know exactly what he is 
 about. Nothing can get him into a run: he 
 wouldn't do it to save the soul of any man 
 upon earth. But here was one of the "oc- 
 casional*' hands, whose assiduity is at all 
 times striking. They can no more be got 
 to walk than the " regulars" can be got to 
 run, wherein lies the difference between 
 the two classes. 
 
 No sooner had Valentine brought his 
 mind to bear upon this highly impressive 
 distinction, than an over-dressed personage 
 marched into the booth with a rather re- 
 markable degree of pomposity, and having 
 looked very severely upon all around, took 
 his seat with an immense air, removed his 
 hat, of which the shape was rather recherche, 
 adjusted his curls, raised his stock, and 
 called " Waiter!" 
 
 The occasional on the instant flew to 
 him, as if a flash of forked lightning had 
 been pricking him behind, and rather 
 trembled to behold the immense one who, 
 as he frowned, said with much regal dig- 
 nity, "Waiter! or er, bring me some 
 lunch." 
 
 " Weal an am sir chicken sir beef roast 
 an biledl" 
 
 " Well-or-m! bring me a dish of ham an 
 beef. And-or " he added with great de- 
 liberation, waving his hand with theatrical 
 elegance "You raay-or " He was about 
 to say more, but the occasional was out of 
 sight, and had they both kept on, by the 
 time the one had finished, the other might 
 with ease have got a mile or two below the 
 horizon. As the occasional however had 
 not so far to go, he soon shot back with the 
 dish of ham and beef that had been ordered, 
 and when the great man had given another 
 
330 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 order for some stout, he set to work with 
 Considerable spirit. 
 
 It was then five o'clock a fact which 
 Would not, perhaps, have been placed upon 
 record, but for the circumstance of the in- 
 dividual in question having called for a 
 " lunch*' and as Valentine thought that 
 he did not look much like a man who had 
 been in the habit of dining at eight, he felt 
 curious to know whether that dish of ham 
 and beef was or was not to be in reality his 
 dinner. 
 
 But then the question was, how could 
 this knowledge be got at: how could the 
 interesting fact be ascertained 1 ? Valentine 
 considered for a moment, and having con- 
 ceived a scheme which he imagined would 
 be effectual, he resolved to embrace the first 
 opportunity for carrying it into execution. 
 
 By this time the immense one had about 
 half emptied the dish, and as the occasional 
 was assiduously hovering near him, Valen- 
 tine imitating the voice of the pompous 
 personage, who at the moment was raising 
 a glass of stout to his lips, cried, " Waitor! 
 take away w.aitor! cheese!" 
 
 In an instant the occasional seized the 
 dish and plate, and before the immense 
 one, who was drinking, could speak, he 
 had reached the other end of the booth, and 
 shot the contents of both into a bucket of 
 kitchen-stuff. 
 
 " Waitor! waitor!" shouted the immense 
 one, half choked, for the last gulp of stout 
 had been excessively violent. " Waiter!"" 
 " Comln, sir! comin, sir!" cried the oc- 
 casional, who shot back at once with a 
 small slice of cheese. 
 
 " What do you mean, waitor, by taking 
 away rny dinner before Pm half done?" 
 
 "I beg pardon, sir, reely sir, I thought 
 sir, you told me." 
 
 "Told you! Not a bit of it! Bring it 
 back instantly! What do you mean"?" 
 
 Bring it back! The utterance of these 
 awful words made the occasional look un- 
 speakably blue. Bring it back! It was all 
 very well; but how was he to get it? He 
 wasn't going to pay out of his own pocket 
 for half a dish of fresh! A thought struck 
 him! He glided like a sound substantial 
 sylph towards the bucket, and fished the 
 pieces out, and having scraped them into 
 cleanliness, he placed them picturesquely 
 upon the dish, and then did " bring it back" 
 with great presence of mind. 
 
 "Another time, waiter,"" said the im- 
 mense one, " remove not a gentleman's 
 plate till he is done;" and having delivered 
 himself with some striking dramatic action 
 to this effect, he recommenced operations 
 and appeared to enjoy it much. 
 
 Valentine was now of course satisfied on 
 
 he particular point proposed; but the actor , 
 for an actor he evidently was continued 
 o behave in so ridiculous a fashion, that 
 lad Valentine met with him in any other 
 )lace, he would doubtless have worked 
 lim into a high state of frothy excitement. 
 " Garshong!" cried the great one, when 
 the ham and beef had wholly disappeared. 
 'Garshong!" he repeated, being anxious to 
 make a hit, as there were several persons 
 near him u Garshong!" 
 
 The occasional heard him, but conceiving 
 very naturally that some other gentleman 
 >ad been called, he of course did not feel it 
 o be his duty to interfere. 
 
 " WAITOR!" at length shouted the im- 
 mense one, disgusted with the fellow's pro- 
 bund ignorance of the French language 
 ' Some frummidge here! cheese!" 
 
 " Yes, sir, beg pardon, sir; cheese, sir, 
 nd what else 1 ?" 
 
 " Nothing, you unintellectual individual," 
 replied the great man, who looked round for 
 some applause, but to his horror he " hadn't 
 a hand." When therefore the cheese had 
 >een produced, he set to work upon it at 
 once in a somewhat savage manner, which 
 Valentine no sooner perceived than assuming 
 lis voice, and making it appear to proceed 
 from his lips, he cried " Waitor! a bottle of 
 the best champagne!" 
 
 The occasional started off at a rate which 
 rather exceeded his usual eight miles an 
 hour to execute this order, and on his re- 
 turn very naturally placed it before the 
 reat one, who seemed somewhat struck. 
 
 " Waiter, what's this 1 ?" he demanded. 
 
 " Champagne, sir." 
 
 " I want it not; why bring it here?" 
 
 " You ordered it, sir." 
 
 "Fellow! what do yoa mean] I ordered 
 it not." 
 
 " I'd be sorry to say, sir, you did- if you 
 didn't." 
 
 "Am I to inform your master of your in- 
 solence? Away with it. Do you hear?" 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir, but I've paid for it. 
 I'm obleeged to pay for everything as I has 
 'em." 
 
 "And what's that to me? Let me have 
 no more of it, I desire." 
 
 " Very well, sir; only you ordered it, sir, 
 that's all. I shouldn't have brought it if 
 you hadn't." 
 
 " Waiter!" cried Valentine in his natural 
 voice. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the occasional, who ap- 
 proached rather gloomily. 
 
 "What have you there ? gooseberry 
 wine?" 
 
 " Champagne, sir; the best in the world." 
 
 "It is good?" 
 
 " Excellent, sir; the finest ever made." 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 331 
 
 ' Then open it.'* 
 
 With all the alacrity in life, the occa- 
 sional drew the cork, and as he evidently 
 felt much better, he was off for another 
 glass like a shot. 
 
 The immense one now prepared to make 
 his exit. He did not appear to feel happy. 
 The production of the champagne had un- 
 settled him somewhat, but having made up 
 his noble mind to leave with eclat^ he cried, 
 *' Waitor! now then, what's the damage!" 
 
 "Am an beef sir cheese sir bread, bottle 
 stout seven an six." 
 
 " What!" exclaimed the great one, in- 
 spired with amazement. 
 
 " Seven an six, sir," repeated the occa- 
 sional, coolly. 
 
 "Seven and sixpence! Seven and six! 
 What, for a lunch?" 
 
 " That's the charge for what you've had." 
 
 "Why, they never charged me seven 
 and sixpence for a lunch at the Clarendon!" 
 
 " Werry like, sir, some stablishments 
 cuts werry low; but, sir, we gives the best 
 of everythink here." 
 
 "Extortionate! seven shillings and six- 
 pence for a lunch! Why I never in my life 
 heard of so gross an imposition." 
 
 " It aint a imposition, sir. It's nothink 
 but the reg'lar charge." 
 
 "Silence, sir! don't talk to me! I say it 
 is an imposition a vile imposition! The 
 idea of seven and sixpence for a lunch! 
 There's the money. I'll post you all over 
 the course." 
 
 The waiter took up the silver which had 
 been thrown down with great indignation, 
 and having counted it slowly three times, 
 looked with singular significance at the 
 victim. 
 ," Well, why look at me? Is it right?" 
 
 " Seven an six, sir. Waitei, sir, please." 
 
 " Not the ghost of a copper, if 1 know 
 it." 
 
 "We has nothink sir ony what we gets," 
 urged the occasional; but the immense one 
 contemning this powerful Argument in fa- 
 vour of a gratuity, frowned darkly, and 
 marched from the booth. 
 
 "He is some creat man, I suppose," said 
 Llewellen, who had been watching his 
 movements for some time with interest. 
 
 " No doubt," returned Valentine, "in his 
 own estimation he is the greatest man of 
 the ajre." 
 
 " Putt he is no potty inteet? Tont you 
 think he's a gentleman, look you?" 
 
 " Did you ever see a gentleman act like 
 him? But come, let us be off, or we shall 
 lose the last race." 
 
 " Very coot, hur'm quite ready." 
 
 The waiter was called, and when they 
 had settled with him to his entire satisfac- 
 
 tion, they returned to the course full of 
 spirit. All but the last race had been de- 
 cided, and Valentine began to amuse him- 
 self again by offering the most extraordi- 
 nary odds upon record. The betting men 
 were perfectly amazed. They perspired 
 with anxiety to take the odds offered, but 
 their utter inability to discover him whom 
 they so eagerly panted to victimize, was a 
 thing which they could not at all under- 
 stand, and which therefore created a singu- 
 lar sensation. 
 
 To Llewellen all this was uninteresting 
 of course. Had he been in possession of 
 Valentine's secret, his rapture would doubt- 
 less have been rather alarming; but being 
 in a state of utter ignorance on the subject, 
 he naturally held it to be extremely dull 
 work, and therefore endeavoured to prevail 
 upon him to mingle with those who seemed 
 somewhat more lively. Valentine consent- 
 ed, and as there were yet no symptoms of 
 an immediate start, he proceeded to initiate 
 him into the various systems of swindling 
 which characterize race-courses in the ag- 
 gregate. Llewellen was absolutely astound- 
 ed when practices, of which he had never 
 had the most remote conception, were ex- 
 plained, and when Valentine had pointed 
 out to him divers illustrations of the truth 
 of what he had stated, he began to look 
 upon all those who thus permitted them- 
 selves to be victimized as fools, although 
 on many occasions he found it difficult to 
 abstain from becoming a victim himself. 
 This was made more particularly manifest 
 while they were standing at a " prick in 
 the garter" table, at which a gentleman had 
 a long piece of list, which he wound round 
 and offered any money that no man could 
 prick in the middle. This seemed to be 
 simple, very simple, very simple, indeed, 
 and the gentleman who presided laboured 
 zealously all around that although he would 
 bet all he had that none could do it, his 
 private impression was that nothing on 
 earth could more easily be done. Several 
 gentlemen who were perfectly unknown 
 to him of course! tried and won divers 
 sovereigns off hand, which had the effect 
 of inducing Llewellen to believe that the 
 conductor was most intensely stupid, and 
 ought not to have been trusted out alone, 
 and so firmly did he entertain this belief, 
 that he pitied the man, and was about to 
 stake a sovereign himself solely in order to 
 convince him, that as he had not the most 
 remote chance of winning, he had better 
 shut up shop and go quietly home to his 
 wife and family; but Valentine, the mo- 
 ment he perceived Llewellen's object, did 
 without the slightest ceremony drag him 
 away. 
 
332 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 The next respectable group they met 
 with, had been attracted by a thimble-rig- 
 ging gentleman, who seemed to have set 
 his soul upon losing every sovereign he had 
 and he displayed about forty so bun- 
 gling and awkward he appeared. In Lewel- 
 Jen's view he didn't half understand his 
 business. It was perfectly ridiculous to 
 suppose a man incapable of discovering the 
 pea; an infant might have told where it was; 
 the only thing which seemed to him to be 
 extraordinary was that a man with eyes in 
 his head should be sufficiently blind to 
 make any mistake at all about it. The 
 thing was so palpable, so singularly clear; 
 the impossibility of being deceived was 
 manifest even to the meanest capacity. 
 
 " Why, my poy !" said Llewellen, " can't 
 you tell phere it is every time"?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Valentine, "/can tell, 
 but you can't." 
 
 "Pless your soul ant potty! Hur'll pe 
 pount to tell ninety-nine times out of a 
 huntret." 
 
 " Where do you suppose it to be now?" 
 
 "Why, under the mittle thimple, of 
 course." 
 
 " It is not under either of the thimbles; 
 depend upon it, Fred, the fellow has it in 
 his hand." 
 
 "Putt, my dear poy, hur saw him place 
 the thimple right over it." 
 
 " He appeared to do so; but as he placed 
 the thimble down he took the pea up: he 
 has it now between his fingers, and were 
 he to raise the one nearest to us, he could 
 make it appear to have been under that." 
 
 Llewellen held this to be impossible, and 
 began to argue the matter aside with great 
 spirit. He contended for the absurdity of 
 the idea of a fellow like that being able to 
 deceive him, and expressed himself anxious 
 to have one trial for the sole purpose of 
 convincing Valentine of his error. 
 
 " How strange it is," said Valentine, 
 " that men will not be guided by the ex- 
 perience of others." 
 
 " Putt, my coot fellow, in such a case as 
 this, it is only my own experience that can 
 satisfy me that what you conceive to be 
 correct really is so. Shall hur try? Just 
 to convince you?" 
 
 Valentine smiled, and Llewellen took a 
 sovereign out of his purse and went close 
 to the table. It was in an instant perceived 
 that he had been caught, and the thimbles 
 were adjusted, when with the most perfect 
 confidence he threw down his sovereign, 
 but on raising the thimble beneath whirh 
 he felt quite sure the pea was, he dis- 
 covered, as a mere matter of course, that 
 beneath that thimble the pea really was 
 not. 
 
 On this highly important discovery being 
 made, the respectable individuals who were 
 standing round the table began to laugh 
 very loudly, as if indeed they looked upon 
 it as an extremely good joke, but Llewellen, 
 after having made a series of mysterious 
 faces, while he yet held the thimble be- 
 tween his finger and thumb, made no sort 
 of remark upon this general manifestation 
 of merriment, but left the spot with Valen- 
 tine, wiser than before. 
 
 "You are right, my poy, quite right," 
 said he, " t' coolness knows it! Putt phy 
 tit they laugh so particularly phen hur lost? 
 Phen the others lost they titn't laugh at 
 all!" 
 
 " No, the others were confederates; each 
 has a share of the profits of the speculation; 
 they have nothing to laugh at when they 
 win or lose among themselves; they laugh 
 only when they happen to catch a gudgeon 
 like you, Fred, and that they should laugh 
 at such a time is not amazing." 
 
 " Well, inteet, now hur never was pefore 
 so much teceived. Hur was as sure that 
 that little fool of a thing was there, as hur 
 ever was of anything in my life. Put, how- 
 ever, they will have to kit up very early in 
 the morning inteet to kit anything like 
 another sovereign out of me." 
 
 "You have made up your mind then not 
 to patronize them regularly?" 
 
 "Never more, my poy never more," 
 said Llewellen, who after having shaken 
 his head with sufficient solemnity to convey 
 an idea of the firmness of his resolution, 
 became as merry on the subject as if he had 
 merely seen the process performed upon 
 some other victim. 
 
 The horses were now about to start for 
 the last race, and the friends took their sta- 
 tion. They had another bet of pourse; 
 Llewellen would have a bet, for as they 
 had made up their minds to walk back to 
 the railway, he suggested the propriety of 
 stopping to have one more bottle of cham- 
 pagne at Windsor, and coffee at Slough, 
 which suggestion was unopposed, and the 
 race commenced, and it singularly enough 
 happened to be as much like all other races 
 as possible. The horses started; they ran 
 the distance, and on reaching the winning 
 post one was a-head. It is inscrutable per- 
 haps, that this should be invariably so; but 
 that it is so invariably, is a fact which no 
 man may dispute. 
 
 Immediately after the termination of this 
 race all around became one scene of bustle 
 and confusion. Thousands of horses were 
 put to simultaneously, and every crr.it'.iro 
 seemed anxious to quit the scene as soon as 
 possible. Had a hostile army app-;rrd in 
 the distance they could not have been in 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 333 
 
 more eager haste to retreat, while each 
 charioteer seemed to have made up his 
 mind to break the necks of all under his 
 immediate protection. 
 
 Valentine and Llewellen walked coolly 
 from the course, noticing everything worthy 
 
 of notice, and, accompanied by thousands, 
 reached Windsor, where they stopped as 
 they had previously proposed. They then 
 went on to Slough, and after having had 
 coffee, returned to town by one of the trains 
 highly delighted with their day's recreation. 
 
 CHAPTER LXI. 
 
 DESCRIBES SEVERAL INTERVIEWS, BUT MORE PARTICULARLY ONE BETWEEN WRITALL AND 
 
 RAVEN. 
 
 ANOTHER week elapsed, and nothing had 
 been decided. Whitely, who had resolved 
 not to act in any way until he had taken the 
 opinion of Serjeant Talbot, was waiting for 
 the Serjeant's arrival in town, although Uncle 
 John urged him again and again to delay the 
 thing no longer, but to take the best advice 
 he could immediately procure. In the mean 
 time Raven confined himself almost exclu- 
 sively to his room. His spirits continued 
 to be dreadfully depressed, and he had be- 
 come so excessively peevish, that the ser- 
 vants absolutely trembled to go near him. 
 He had never been a very affectionate mas- 
 ter, and they knew it, but the way in which 
 he treated them then was in their view 
 insufferable beyond all precedent! and it 
 was very harsh. 
 
 There was, however, one of them to 
 whom he was particularly mild, and that 
 was Joseph, the sentimental porter, whose 
 comprehensive faculties, Valentine, who 
 viewed him as a most superb hypocrite in 
 his way, had ever gloried in distressing. 
 Raven's conspicuous kindness to this fel- 
 low had always appeared to be inexplica- 
 ble. No one in the house could at all 
 understand why he should be petted for 
 petted he had ever been, albeit he was a 
 most decided wretch in appearance, and 
 remarkably insolent if he happened to be 
 put at all out of his way. His fellow- 
 servants hated him heartily, forasmuch as 
 theyMid very strongly suspect him of having 
 on sundry occasions told divers abominable 
 tales about them, with the view of deprecia- 
 ting their value as confidential individuals 
 in their master's estimation; but they never 
 did hate him so intensely as then, for 
 while Raven's special behaviour to him 
 was rendered by contrast more striking, he 
 had become a great man, and boasted not 
 only of the money he possessed, but of the 
 fact of his having a certain person under 
 his thumb! which they held to be very 
 mysterious, particularly as he often conde- 
 scended to explain to them, that he might 
 
 if he chose, have the best place in the 
 house, and would, but that the one he then 
 occupied afforded him more leisure for re- 
 flection. All this was intended exclusively 
 for the kitchen, but it soon reached the ears 
 of Louise through her maid, who con- 
 ceived it to be her duty on all occasions to 
 be as communicative as possible, and the 
 moment she heard of it, it became known 
 to Valentine of course, for he and Louise 
 were now as one: they lived in each other's 
 hearts: they seemed to have but one soul, 
 and while in him she found a perfect realiza- 
 tion of her dearest hopes, he loved her so 
 fondly that 
 
 " If heaven had made him such another world 
 Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, 
 He'd not have sold her for it." 
 
 "It is very extraordinary," she observed, 
 after explaining the whole matter, " is it not? 
 What on earth can he mean by his boast of 
 having a certain person under his thumb!" 
 
 "Oh, servants will talk," said Valen- 
 tine, who was anxious for Louise to think 
 nothing more of it. " We ought not to 
 examine such matters too closely; it were 
 indeed a most unprofitable task to analyze 
 everything they say." 
 
 "But whom can he mean by a certain 
 person? Surely he cannot mean papa? And 
 yet the way in which papa behaves usually 
 to him, has frequently struck me as being 
 most strange. 1 cannot endure the creature 
 myself; I never by any chance speak to him; 
 but papa is continually making the man pre- 
 sents. Upon my life I think there is some- 
 thing very mysterious about it." 
 
 " Do not distress yourself, my love," said 
 Valentine. "The probability is that the 
 man knew the secret which has just been 
 disclosed, and presumed upon it as such 
 fellows will; but now that the thing is no 
 longer a secret, his power is of course at an 
 end." 
 
 "That was it! -no doubt of it. Well, 
 
 29* 
 
334 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 now it never struck me. I have always 
 thought it singular that he should have 
 been treated with so much consideration; 
 but this accounts for it at once." 
 
 "If I were your father I'd kick him out 
 of the house. I'd not have such a fellow 
 about the premises." 
 
 " Nor would I; for he is a very idle per- 
 son, and moves like a sloth, except indeed 
 it be to promote any species of mischief. 
 I'll speak to papa about him. I should 
 like to have the matter cleared up." 
 
 " You had better not mention the subject 
 to him at present. It will but annoy him. 
 Let us wait till things are settled." 
 
 "Well, perhaps under the circumstances 
 it will be as well to do that. But I do 
 think it very bad conduct, and I am sure it 
 ought not to be concealed from papa." 
 
 Valentine now changed the subject, for 
 although he affected to treat the thing 
 lightly before Louise, he felt that the mys- 
 tery had not yet been solved, and that 
 therefore it was a matter upon which &he 
 ought not to be permitted to dwell. 
 
 A few days after this, Serjeant Talbot 
 returned to town, and Whitely lost no time 
 in going to consult him. He explained to 
 him how the case stood precisely; every 
 circumstance was mentioned; he kept no- 
 thing back, and the result was, that the 
 Serjeant, after due consideration, declared 
 .that there was no law in existence by which 
 Raven could be reached. 
 
 "He is in fact," said he, "shielded by 
 the law. It is his panoply; it affords him 
 - the most complete protection. It is of course 
 disgraceful that it should be so; but the law 
 as it at present stands allows a man to in- 
 carcerate another, however sane, under the 
 plea of insanity. It protects him in the act; 
 no malice can be shown, and if even it 
 could, the signatures of the medical men 
 exonerate him; their certificate is his in- 
 demnity, and they are indemnified in turn 
 by the law, which assumes that at the time 
 such certificate was signed, the victim was, 
 in their judgment, insane. For this then 
 you have no redress, and as far as regards 
 the collateral villanies the seduction of 
 your wife, the disposition of your property, 
 and so on you are not in a position to 
 adduce a single particle of proof; you have 
 not the slightest evidence to bring forward; 
 not a witness; not a document of any kind 
 to show. My advice to you, therefore, 
 under the circumstances, is to come to an 
 arrangement with this person, and make the 
 best terms you can." 
 
 " I3ut is it not," said Whitely, " a duty 1 
 owe to society to expose such a villain!" 
 
 "It may be; but have you the power to 
 Jo UT And if you have, can you afford to 
 
 do it! These are two highly important 
 questions to be considered. An attempt to 
 xpose him effectually would in all proba- 
 bility cost five hundred pounds, and if you, 
 failed in that attempt, and fail you most 
 assuredly would, you would subject your- 
 self to an action for slander, which would 
 cost you at least five hundred pounds 
 more." 
 
 " But can I not compel him to restore, or 
 at least to give me some information re- 
 specting my children!" 
 
 " No. What if he were to say that he 
 knows nothing of them: how can you prove 
 that he does! Nay, how can you prove 
 that he ever saw those children! You have 
 no such proof: in law, his word of course, 
 would be held to be equal in value with 
 your own." 
 
 " But do you not think that if I were to 
 threaten a public exposure in the event of 
 his withholding this information from, me, 
 it would have some effect!" 
 
 " As a man of the world he would despise 
 such a threat. No; as he appears not to be 
 quite lost to every sense of justice for 
 clearly if he were he would not have offered 
 the compromise as a sort of reparation 
 you can stipulate for such information be- 
 ing given: that is to say, you can promise, 
 provided it be given, to consent to a private 
 arrangement. But let me, sir, strongly re- 
 commend you to avoid mistaking perhaps 
 a natural desire for revenge, for any sense 
 of public duty. They are perfectly distinct, 
 but often confounded, so specious an excuse 
 does the idea of such public duty afford for 
 indulging our most vindictive passions. 
 Men frequently inflict upon themselves 
 irreparable injury by falling into this very 
 error; in your unhappy case this mistake 
 would amount to utter ruin." 
 
 Whitely was convinced. He now plainly 
 perceived that Raven was beyond the reach 
 of law, and therefore immediately after 
 his consultation with Serjeant Talbot, he 
 decided upon giving his answer to Uncle 
 John, who had been anxiously waiting his 
 return. 
 
 " Well, my friend," said Uncle John, as 
 Whitely entered the room; " have you seen 
 him!" 
 
 " Yes," replied W T hitely, who appeared 
 to be unusually depressed. 
 
 "And what is his opinion!" 
 
 " He has proved to me, my friend, that 
 you were right that I cannot with any 
 degree of safety proceed. I have therefore 
 no alternative: I must consent to an arr.inm- 
 ment, provided I receive from him such in- 
 formation as may lead to the recovery of 
 my children." 
 
 " All the information he can give respect- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 335 
 
 ing them you may make up your mind, my 
 friend, to have. I'm quite sure he'll do it. 
 He can now have no motive for withhold- 
 ing it from you. What then shall I pro- 
 pose"? Shall I say that in the event of his 
 giving you this information, you will accept 
 the sum he offered 1 ? " 
 
 " No," replied Whitely; " I will receive 
 nothing 1 from him but that which is my 
 own. I cannot of course tell what my 
 property realized; but as he can for I have 
 not the smallest doubt that he sold it and 
 took the proceeds let him return to me 
 that which it produced: I require nothing 
 more." 
 
 * If he did sell it, as you imagine, he 
 must be a very bad man indeed, and one 
 with whom I should not like to have any 
 dealings. However, as I have gone so far 
 I'll not retreat. I'll go to him at once, and 
 depend upon it all that I can do to promote 
 your views and interests shall be done." 
 
 "Of that I feel convinced, my dear 
 friend," replied Whitely; "I leave the 
 whole matter with the most perfect confi- 
 dence in your hands." 
 
 Uncle John then started; and at about the 
 same time a person called at Raven's house, 
 and having ascertained that he was within, 
 sent up his card with an intimation that he 
 wished to speak privately with him on 
 business of immediate importance. 
 
 " Mr. Writall!" said Raven, on looking 
 at the card; * I don't know him. Writall? 
 Well let him walk up." 
 
 When the servant had departed to fetch 
 Mr. Writall, Raven endeavoured not only 
 to remember the name, but to conceive what 
 this business of importance could be. In 
 both points, however, he failed, and Mr. 
 Writall was formally ushered into the 
 room. 
 
 "Mr. Raven, I presume," said Mr. 
 Writall, with all his characteristic pom- 
 posity, " I hope, sir, you are well." 
 
 "Be seated, sir," said Raven, without 
 replying to this affectionate interrogatory, 
 and Mr. Writall accordingly took a seat, 
 and coughed three times in order that his 
 throat might be clear, and drew out his 
 handkerchief gracefully and wiped his no- 
 ble brow, and then said, 
 
 " Mr. Raven, my object in calling upon 
 you, requires perhaps some little prelimi- 
 nary explanation in order to its being dis- 
 tinctly understood. I am a solicitor, sir, 
 and among my clients I have the honour to 
 number Mr. Whitely, of whom I believe 
 you have some slight knowledge." 
 
 Mr. Writall here paused to watch the 
 effect of Whitely's name being mentioned; 
 but Raven, who was reposing in an easy 
 
 chair, said, " Well, sir?" without display- 
 ing the slightest emotion. 
 
 "My client, sir," continued Mr. Writ- 
 all, " having of course entered into that 
 unfortunate affair, to which I need not per- 
 haps more particularly allude, has placed 
 the matter entirely in my hands; but as I 
 find him resolutely bent upon vengeance, 
 and as I make it a point never to promote 
 the purely vindictive views of any of my 
 clients, I have called upon you, conceiving 
 you to be a man of the world, to ascertain 
 whether the thing cannot be arranged, you 
 know, privately between us." 
 
 " Has Mr. Whitely authorized you to 
 call?" inquired Raven. 
 
 " Decidedly not. No, he has not the most 
 remote idea of my calling." 
 
 "Then in plain terms," said Raven, 
 "your object is to sell him 1 ?" 
 
 " Why er not exactly," replied Mr. 
 Writall, who at the moment felt somewhat 
 confused by the prompt way in which this 
 matter-of-fact question was put. " Most 
 decidedly, not exactly." 
 
 "Am I to understand," said Raven, point- 
 edly, " that you regard me as a mere man 
 of the world?" 
 
 " Most decidedly," replied Mr. Writall. 
 
 " Very well, then; the plainer you speak 
 to me the better. Let there be no disguise; 
 no beating about the bush; let everything 
 be perfectly plain and straightforward. 
 What is it you propose?" \ 
 
 " Mr. Raven, you have saved me a world 
 of trouble. I'd rather do business with one 
 man like you, than with fifty who have no 
 idea of the nature of things, and who are 
 laden with scruples, and doubts, and appre- 
 hensions. It is pleasurable in the extreme 
 to transact " 
 
 " Well, sir," said Raven, impatiently, 
 " let us come to the point. You have, you 
 say, the management of this affair for 
 Whitely]" 
 
 "I have; and he certainly has been " 
 
 " No matter what he has been; that has 
 nothing whatever to do with it. The ques- 
 tion is, what proposition have you now to 
 make to me?" 
 
 " In a word, then, to be plain, for I find 
 that we perfectly understand each other, I 
 am prepared to undertake of course for a 
 consideration either to put him upon the 
 wrong scent, by bringing actions which 
 cannot be maintained, or to induce him to 
 agree to whatever proposition for a private 
 arrangement you may feel disposed to 
 make." 
 
 " Is it your impression that any action 
 which may be brought against me can be 
 maintained?" 
 
 "Why," said Writall, with an air of 
 
336 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 mystery, "that is a question which you 
 cannot at present expect me to answer. It 
 would hardly be honest to" 
 
 "In this business," interrupted Raven, 
 "we had better not speak about honesty." 
 
 " Well, I agree with you; perhaps it 
 would be better to put that altogether out 
 of view; but you see, as far as I am alone 
 concerned, it would not be quite prudent to 
 explain just at present my own private feel- 
 ings upon that point." 
 
 "I understand you. Nor is it essential 
 that you should. Your disinclination to 
 answer the question is a sufficient proof to 
 me that you do not think that any action 
 can succeed." 
 
 " Why, I don't know that." 
 
 " As a lawyer, you must know that no 
 law can touch me!" 
 
 " Well, even assuming it to be so, of 
 course you are aware that you are in a posi- 
 tion to be seriously annoyed." 
 
 "Now you speak ! I am quite aware of 
 that, and am anxious to avoid it. I wish to 
 take no advantage of your client; on the 
 contrary, I am willing to give him the sum 
 I proposed, provided he will give me an 
 undertaking that he will let the unhappy 
 affair drop for ever. If you can induce him 
 to do this, you and I may come to terms; 
 if not, why he must take his own course, 
 and the matter as between you and me will 
 be at an end." 
 
 " I will undertake at once to induce him 
 to do this." 
 
 " You of course have the power?" 
 
 " Beyond all dispute." 
 
 " Very well. As his legal adviser you 
 ought to possess the power to do it; and in 
 the event of its being done, what would 
 you consider a fair remuneration 1 ?" 
 
 " Why you see 1 can scarcely tell. I'd 
 much rather leave it to your liberality." 
 
 "Leave nothing to rny liberality. Let 
 us come to terms at once." 
 
 ' Well, should you as it's rather an ir- 
 regular thing should you consider now, a 
 hundred pounds too much 1 ?" 
 
 "No; I'll give you a hundred pounds, 
 and the sooner you earn it the better." 
 
 "Depend upon it, sir, it shall be done." 
 
 "Very well; then set to work immedi- 
 ately, and let me either see you or hear 
 from you as soon s his consent has been 
 obtained." 
 
 "That I'll do," said Mr. Writall, and a 
 pause ensued, during which he looked mys- 
 teriously at Raven, who at length inquired 
 if anything more need be said? 
 
 "Why," replied Mr. Writall, with great 
 deliberation, " of course you are aware that 
 in cases of this kind 1 can speak to you 
 because you are quite a man of business, 
 
 a man of the world, and perfectly under- 
 stand the nature of things I therefore say, 
 that of course, you are aware that in all 
 such cases it is usual, you understand, to 
 pay in advance." 
 
 "Oh! it is usual? Well, I'll not dispute 
 the matter with you. I take it for granted 
 that it is so, for I should say that few men 
 know better than you whether in all such 
 cases it be usual or not ! But if you imagine 
 that 1 shall pay you in advance for this ser- 
 vice, I may as well tell you at once that 
 you are mistaken. You give me credit for 
 being a man of business, a man of the 
 world, and yet you would deal with me as 
 with a natural fool. Were I to pay you in 
 advance, what security should I have that 
 this service will be performed?" 
 
 "Oh! I'll undertake to do it! I pledge 
 you my honour it shall be done!" 
 
 "Your honour, Mr. Writall, is a thing 
 to which I should never dream of trusting. 
 You are a great rogue, Writall; you know 
 it, and you evidently hold me to be almost 
 as great a rogue as yourself." Mr. Writall 
 smiled at this, and would have laughed 
 heartily, had not Raven continued: " Let 
 us, therefore, in this business, deal with 
 each other as rogue deals with rogue. 
 When the thing has been done, I'll pay, 
 but not before." 
 
 " Well, sir, I like every man to be candid; 
 I admire him who tells me at once what he 
 means; but when you speak of security, 
 what security have /, that when I have 
 effected the object the money will be paid?" 
 
 "I am always to be found!" 
 
 "And so am I! I am always to be found, 
 and you object to trust me! Besides, what 
 if you are always to be found? You well 
 know that I could not attempt to recover, 
 were you inclined to be dishonourable, 
 without compromising my reputation as a 
 professional man. No; I'll tell you what, 
 as one of us must trust the other, we had 
 better split the difference thus: you pay me 
 now half the money down, and I'll trust to 
 your honour to pay me the rest when the 
 work has been accomplished. You under- 
 stand?" 
 
 "Oh, perfectly! I understand! But it 
 will not do, Writall. I should be sorry to 
 mislead you on any point, and therefore I 
 tell you at once, that it will not do. You 
 are as honest, 1 have no doubt, as you ap- 
 pear to be: I am quite disposed to go so far 
 as that, although I am bound to admit that 
 that is no great distance. It is, however, 
 as well that you should know this, in order 
 that you may be well assured 1 shall not 
 pay you until you have accomplished the 
 object proposed." 
 
 " Well, sir; that is certainly as it should 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 337 
 
 be plain, and much to the purpose. But as 
 you see, I am entirely in your hands, or as 
 it were, at your mercy, what say you to 
 advancing five-and-twenty pounds or so, 
 just to go on with, or rather as an earnest of 
 what you intend to do when I have per- 
 formed rny part of the contract 1 ? Surely 
 you cannot with any show of reason object 
 to that?" 
 
 " Bring me in writing your client's con- 
 sent to my proposal, and I'll instantly give 
 you a cheque for the amount; but before 
 that is brought to me I'll not advance a 
 shilling." 
 
 " But," urged Writall, who seemed de- 
 termined not to give the thing up, " do you 
 conceive that to be under the circumstances 
 quite fair! You will not trust me to the 
 extent of one quarter of the amount; yet I 
 must trust you to the extent of the whole?" 
 
 " Why, surely I am safe for a paltry 
 hundred pounds!" 
 
 "Safe, my dear sir! You are safe, I 
 have no doubt, for a hundred thousand! 
 But that has nothing whatever to do with 
 it! I would trust you in the regular way to 
 any amount, because I perfectly well know 
 that I should in that case be able to recover. 
 But you see, this is an altogether different 
 thing! It is not like a regular transaction. 
 It cannot even appear in my books. It 
 depends entirely upon your honour, and if 
 you should mark, I only say */ you should 
 when I have done what is necessary, be 
 indisposed to pay me, I should be utterly 
 unable to compel you to do so, without ex- 
 posing myself, and thus destroying my repu- 
 tation, which of course I would not do fora 
 hundred times the amount. So that you 
 see I have no security at all!" 
 
 At this moment Uncle John knocked 
 loudly at the door, when Raven, who knew 
 his knock, exclaimed, "That's fortunate!" 
 and rang the bell to desire the servant to 
 show him up. "Here is a friend," he 
 continued, "to whom the whole affair is 
 known. He will be my surety." 
 
 " Is he a man upon whom you can de- 
 pend?" inquired Writall. " You must re- 
 member, ray character is at stake in this 
 business, and that the most profound secre- 
 cy must be observed." 
 
 " Fear nothing from him," replied Raven; 
 " I would trust him with my life. Your 
 character is as secure in his hands as it is 
 in mine." 
 
 Mr. W r ritall did not much approve of the 
 idea of introducing a friend; he felt fidgety 
 for the moment, but on being reassured that 
 his secret would be safe, he had just suc- 
 ceeded in calming his apprehensions as Un- 
 cle John entered. The very moment, how- 
 ever, he saw him, the expression of his face 
 
 was at all points peculiar. He recognised 
 in him Whitely's friend at a glance; but as 
 there was no possibility of escape, he bri- 
 dled himself up, and facing the enemy like 
 a rat in a corner, made up his mind to the 
 worst. 
 
 Uncle John bowed distantly as Raven 
 introduced him, and wondered very natural- 
 ly what had brought him there. He had 
 scarcely however, taken his seat when Ra- 
 ven proceeded to enlighten him on the sub- 
 ject with all possible gravity and effect. 
 
 " This gentleman," said he, " who is 
 Mr. Whitely's legal adviser, has called to 
 make a proposition to which I am inclined 
 to accede: not because I am desirous of 
 taking the slightest advantage of Mr. White- 
 ly, but because I consider that man to be 
 his friend who will induce him to consent 
 to a private arrangement instead of foolishly 
 having recourse to law. Mr. Writall has 
 offered to do this, and I am disposed to 
 accept his offer, conceiving it to be the best 
 possible course he can recommend his client 
 to pursue." 
 
 Uncle John was surprised. He scarcely 
 knew what to make of it. He looked at 
 Writall and Raven alternately for some few 
 moments, and then exclaimed, " Why, what 
 a shameless man he must be who, while 
 acting as the solicitor for one party, betrays 
 him by offering to meet the views of the 
 other!" 
 
 "We are aware," said Mr. Writall, 
 " that this is not a regular transaction." 
 
 " A regular transaction! W T hy you ought 
 to be struck off the rolls!" 
 
 " Strike me off! W 7 ho's to do it? What 
 can you prove?" 
 
 " Are you not rather hasty, my friend?" 
 observed Raven, addressing Uncle John. 
 " This proceeding is dishonourable; Writall 
 knows it to be dishonourable, and were it 
 calculated to injure Mr. Whitely, it should 
 not have my countenance; but as it must 
 tend to his good, don't you think that it 
 would be better to sanction it rather than 
 induce him to resort to law, in which he 
 must of necessity fail?" 
 
 "You don't know that man," said Uncle 
 John, "you don't know what he is. Of 
 course you are to pay him for this service?" 
 
 " He has offered to do it for a hundred 
 pounds, which sum I have consented to 
 give him." 
 
 " You have not yet done so, I hope?" 
 
 "No, I have told him that I decidedly 
 object to pay in advance." 
 
 "Then he did want the hundred pounds 
 down? Of course! just what I expected." 
 
 "Did you indeed!" said Writall, with a 
 sneer. "Dear me, how very wonderful! 
 
338 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 So it was what you expected eh 1 ? was 
 it?" 
 
 "Why what a disreputable man you 
 must be!" said Uncle John. "How dis- 
 graceful is your conduct! You have had the 
 audacity to come here for the purpose of 
 robbing this gentleman, when " 
 
 "Rob, sir! rob! What do you mean 1 ?" 
 cried Writall, who finding that it was now 
 all over with him there, felt that the best 
 thing he could do was to brazen it out; 
 " Do you mean to say that / wish to rob 
 any man?" 
 
 "I do, distinctly," returned Uncle John; 
 "you came here for the express purpose of 
 getting a hundred pounds of Mr. Raven 
 under the pretence of being Whitely's 
 solicitor, when you perfectly well know 
 that you are not." 
 
 " You are " (this was a very bad 
 
 expression). 
 
 " You infamous man!" cried Uncle John, 
 very indignantly, "how dare you apply 
 such an epithet to me, when I never, to my 
 knowledge, told a falsehood in rny life! I 
 say again that you are not his solicitor. 
 He never called upon you but once, and 
 that was when he was accompanied by me, 
 and when you disgusted him by offering to 
 procure false witnesses to prop up the 
 case!" 
 
 Again the gross epithet was applied by 
 Mr. Writall, which made Uncle John look 
 remarkably red. 
 
 " Did you go with Mr. Whitely to the 
 house of this man?" inquired Raven. 
 
 " I did; at his request, he being anxious 
 to prove to me that his intentions were per- 
 fectly honourable and straightforward." 
 
 " Leave the house!" said Raven, point- 
 ing to the door. 
 
 " Leave the house!" echoed Writall. 
 " That is rather a cool way of addressing a 
 man." 
 
 " Do you wish me to have you thrown 
 into the street?" 
 
 " That is still more cool! Thrown into 
 the street! Very rich! I should like to see 
 the fellow that could do it!" 
 
 "You bad man," said Uncle John, ris- 
 ing. " Do you mean, sir, to leave the house 
 quietly?" 
 
 "What if I don't?" 
 
 " Why in that case, you impudent per- 
 son, I must make you." 
 
 " Make me! You make me! Why that's 
 about the most spicy thing I've heard 
 yet!" 
 
 " You would soon be glad to retreat, sir, 
 if my Valentine were here." 
 
 " Your Valentine! Who's she? Did she 
 send you anything very inflaming on the 
 fourteenth of February, eh?" 
 
 " My friend, ring the bell. Now, sir, do 
 you mean to leave the room?" 
 
 Writall placed himself firmly upon the 
 edge of the table and cried " No! not until 
 I think proper. What do you mean by 
 telling lies about me, you abominable old 
 slanderer?" 
 
 Uncle John was now excessively ruffled, 
 and approached him more nearly. 
 
 "Touch me!" cried Writall, " only touch 
 me! lay so much as a finger upon me, and 
 I'll give you a little law. Do it! now 
 here I am! do it! you can't well miss 
 me! I'm big enough and near enough! 
 why don't you do it? 1 only wish you 
 would." 
 
 " Now, sir, am I to summon the whole 
 of my servants!" said Raven, as one of 
 them entered. 
 
 " Don't distress yourself," said Writall, 
 "I beg. I should be sorry to give a gentle- 
 man of your refined feelings the slightest 
 unnecessary trouble; but if you think to in- 
 timidate me, sir, you are mistaken. I go, 
 because and solely because I have no wish 
 to remain, but I am not, sir, a man to be in- 
 timidated! of that you may take your oath. 
 Good morning to you, gentlemen! Privacy 
 is your object! Oh, everything shall be 
 kept strictly private! The time will come, 
 sir, when you will curse the day on which 
 you insulted we.'" 
 
 Mr. Writall then screwed his thick lips 
 into the best expression of superb contempt 
 of which they were capable, and having 
 frowned at them both with inimitable dark- 
 ness, stuck his thumbs into the armholes of 
 his waistcoat, and marched with a series of 
 swings from the room. 
 
 Uncle John now proceeded to describe 
 the interview which he and Whitely had 
 had with this "limb" of the law, and con- 
 cluded by stating that he did not feel justi- 
 fied in entering before into this explanation, 
 nor should he have felt justified then, had 
 not Whitely at length consented to a private 
 arrangement. 
 
 "Is that a fact?" exclaimed Raven, on 
 hearing this. " Is it a fact?" 
 
 "It is. I have just left him. He came 
 to a decision this morning." 
 
 " I am very glad to hear it! My friend, I 
 owe you much. Well how is it to be? 
 What does he propose? What will he con- 
 sent to?" 
 
 " He has authorized me to say that he 
 will consent to receive the sum his property 
 realized, provided you will give him all 
 such information as may lead to the recove- 
 ry of his children." 
 
 Raven paused, but as it immediately 
 struck him that he might betray the feeling 
 by which that pause had been induced, he 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 339 
 
 said, "Well, my friend, and what did his 
 property realize?" 
 
 " He cannot tell! He says that of course 
 you know, as the sales were effected by 
 you." 
 
 " Effected by me! Why who could have 
 told him this monstrous falsehood?" 
 
 " He received his information from a man 
 who was formerly his servant." 
 
 ** And where is that scoundrel? Where 
 is he to be found?" 
 
 "That Whitely is unable to tell. He 
 saw him but once and desired him to call, 
 but he has not yet done so. He told him 
 distinctly that you that is to say, he with 
 whom his wife eloped sold the property 
 and took the proceeds." 
 
 " I should like to see that villain. Be- 
 lieve me, my friend, it is a most groundless 
 falsehood. I had nothing whatever to do 
 with it: I knew nothing of it, as I hope for 
 mercy! No, no; I'm bad enough, it is true, 
 but not quite so bad as that." 
 
 " Well, I thought that it wasrather " 
 
 " Rather, sir! But where were the title 
 deeds at the time?" 
 
 " In the hands of his solicitor." 
 
 " And where is that solicitor?" 
 
 "He is dead." 
 
 " He was some such solicitor, I appre- 
 hend, as the one who has just left us. Be- 
 sides, look at the absurdity of the thing! 
 Is it likely that he or any other solicitor 
 would have given those title deeds to 
 me?" 
 
 " Why, when I come to look at it, I cer- 
 tainly must say that it does not appear to be 
 frobable. It never struck me before, and 
 am sure that it never struck Whitely. I'll 
 name the point to him: I have no doubt 
 he'll see it at once." 
 
 " I hope that he will, for I declare most 
 solemnly that what I have stated is true. 
 But, to the point. What does he consider 
 this property to have been worth?" 
 
 " About six thousand pounds." 
 
 " Very well. The sum I proposed then 
 will cover the whole. I will give him that 
 sum." 
 
 "He will not consent to receive more 
 than the value of his property, I know." 
 
 "Then let it be thus settled. He shall 
 have what he considers its value to have 
 been." 
 
 " Well, then, the thing is arranged so 
 far! Now about the children." 
 
 " On that subject," said Raven, " he 
 
 must not expect that I can give him the 
 slightest information." 
 
 " Ah! That's the grand point. That is 
 the very thing about which he is most anx- 
 ious. Can you give him no clue? The man 
 whom he saw hinted that he could obtain 
 information which might lead to their reco- 
 very! If he can do so, what a pity it is he 
 has not called, is it not? Although I must 
 say that after what you have told me, I am 
 inclined to believe that he knows nothing 
 of them." 
 
 " What sort of man was this? Have you 
 any idea?" 
 
 " Not the slightest. Whitely never de- 
 scribed him; but I'll get him to do so." 
 
 " I wish you would. I should like to 
 know much." 
 
 "Then," said Uncle John, "the thing 
 amounts to this: that you will send him a 
 cheque for this sum on his giving you an 
 undertaking that he will trouble you on the 
 subject no more, and that unhappily with 
 respect to the children, you cannot give him. 
 the slightest information." 
 
 " You see, my friend," said Raven, " it 
 may be supposed that I ought to know all 
 about them; but you are aware that the wo- 
 man who proves unfaithful to her husband, 
 seldom prides herself much upon her fide- 
 lity to another." 
 
 " Very true," said Uncle John. " Very 
 true." 
 
 "The subject, of course, is painful for 
 me to enter into; but I have stated enough 
 for you to understand all." 
 
 " I see, I see! Well! You cannot do im- 
 possibilities, and therefore this must be no 
 bar to an arrangement. I should have been 
 far more pleased if you could have given 
 this information, but as you cannot, why 
 you cannot, and nothing more can be said. 
 I'll go back to him at once and explain all 
 you have stated, for the sooner the thing is 
 settled now the better, and as he is not an 
 unreasonable man, I hope to be able to 
 bring you his written undertaking in the 
 course of the day." 
 
 " Do so, my friend, and he shall at once 
 have the cheque. I cannot sufficiently ex- 
 press to you how much I feel obliged " 
 
 " Not a word, not a word," said Uncle 
 John, who then left in the full conviction 
 that Raven's answers had been ingenuous, 
 although a man more prone to suspicion 
 would have perceived that, as far as the 
 children were concerned, those answers 
 evinced studied prevarication. 
 
340 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 CH AFTER LXII. 
 
 EXPLAINS A VARIETY OF MATTERS OF IMPORTANCE TO THE PARTIES CONCERNED. 
 
 LLEWELLEN, a few days after he accompa- 
 nied Valentine to Ascot, relapsed into 
 wretchedness; and as his appetite again 
 most signally failed, he began to suspect 
 that he was somewhat consumptive a sus- 
 picion which was to a lamentable extent 
 confirmed, on reading a highly popular 
 work upon consumption, which induced 
 him to feel the very symptoms described. 
 
 Under these unhappy circumstances he 
 took to writing poetry, and in the short 
 space of two days did really succeed in 
 composing the burden of a soncr, which he 
 sang aloud from morning till night for in- 
 spiration, thus 
 
 Peautiful peer, 
 Peautiful peer, 
 There's no trink in Nature like peautiful peer! 
 
 But having miraculously accomplished 
 the burden, he was utterly unable to do any 
 more. The rhymes puzzled him frightfully. 
 They wouldn't come. Let him drink what 
 he might, or pull his shirt collar down ever 
 so low, he couldn't get them; and hence, 
 having gone through a whole quire of pa- 
 per without any, even the most remote 
 prospect of success, he gave the thing up 
 in a fit of despair, and took to beauing out 
 Valentine's mother. 
 
 Nor was this at all amazing. He had no 
 one else to go out with! and certain it is 
 that no one else could have appreciated his 
 politeness more highly; for he had always 
 been a most especial favourite of the wi- 
 dow: she had always esteemed him a well- 
 behaved good-hearted creature, and there- 
 fore did not at all disapprove of his practice 
 of taking her about: in point of fact she 
 rather liked it than not! And so did Valen- 
 tine; and so did Louise; for although Louise 
 loved the widow dearly, while Valentine 
 possessed a strong feeling of friendship for 
 Llewellen, in the view of the lovers their 
 presence was not at all times agreeable, 
 and more particularly now that Valentine, 
 in order to raise the spirits of Louise, walk- 
 ed out with her daily. 
 
 Now it happened that on the morning on 
 which Writall had an interview with Raven 
 Llewellen and the widow went to see the 
 industrious fleas, and they had no sooner 
 started than Louise and Valentine left the 
 house with the view of having their cus- 
 tomary walk in the Park. On their way, 
 however, the attention of Louise was at- 
 tracted to the window of a linen draper's 
 
 shop, in which was displayed a peculiar 
 style of shawl which she admired very 
 much. 
 
 "Dear me," she exclaimed, "how ex- 
 ceedingly elegant? I should so like to 
 look at it! Would you mind going in with 
 me 1 ?" 
 
 * Oh! not at all," replied Valentine, and 
 they accordingly entered, and were instant- 
 ly addressed in the most obsequious style 
 by an extraordinary individual, the business 
 of whose valuable life seemed to consist in 
 walking up and down the shop, with great 
 presence of mind, placing chairs for those 
 who entered, with infinite grace, and call- 
 ing "Forward!" in a highly authoritative 
 tone, and with an expression which obvi- 
 ously signified something. 
 
 " What can we have the pleasure 1 ?" said 
 this remarkable being, addressing Louise 
 with a most winning smile. 
 
 Louise briefly explained, and when the 
 elegant creature had placed her a chair with 
 all the tranquil fascination at his command, 
 he cried "Forward!" as if he had been ad- 
 dressing some dog that had had the unhap- 
 piness to introduce himself clandestinely 
 among the silks. 
 
 In an instant an exquisitely dressed 
 young man who had clearly been used to 
 this style of address, for he did not throw 
 anything at the head of the individual, nor 
 did he appear to think a very great deal 
 about it approached Louise with charac- 
 teristic politeness, and having ascertained 
 what it was she wished to see, he produced 
 it with all imaginable alacrity, and displayed 
 it to the best advantage possible. 
 
 While Louise was listening to the voice 
 of the charmer, who spake eloquently, 
 blandly, and with much poetic feeling of 
 the innumerable beauties which peculiarly 
 characterized this unparalleled article, Va- 
 lentine was watching the conduct of the 
 individual who walked the shop, with some 
 interest, for he had never before seen the 
 tyrant and the slave by any one man so 
 conspicuously developed. To those who 
 entered he was the cringing, smirking eel- 
 backed creature; but to all over whom he 
 presided, he was the tyrannous, scowling 
 despotic bully: he would crawl and lick 
 the dust from the feet of the former, and 
 the next moment frown down and trample 
 upon the latter. 
 
 "Allow me," said he, addressing a cus- 
 tomer who was leaving, "allow me to 
 
. 
 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 341 
 
 have the happiness of sending that small 
 parcel 1 ? I beg that you will. I will do so 
 with infinite pleasure!" 
 
 The customer declined, and was bowed 
 out with the utmost humility by the crea- 
 ture, who immediately walked up to him 
 by whom she had been attended, and de- 
 manded to know why he had not sold her a 
 dress. 
 
 "The lady didn't want one," replied the 
 young man, and Valentine thought this a 
 very good reason, substantial, conclusive, 
 and perfectly sound, but diametrically op- 
 posed to this view was the creature. " Not 
 want one!" he cried, as if no reason could 
 have been more dead and rotten. " Do I 
 keep you to sell merely what people want! 
 Any fool, any idiot, can do that! I expect 
 you to serve them with what they don't 
 want, sir! that, sir, is what I keep you 
 for!" and he scowled with great ferocity at 
 the delinquent, who never raised his,.eyes, 
 but having rolled up some material that 
 was before him, walked silently away. 
 
 "Why," what kind of men can these 
 be," thought Valentine, "who thus endure 
 the degrading tyranny of so pitiful a slave? 
 Have they neither soul nor sense? What 
 can they be made of? They seem to have 
 been decently educated; they talk very 
 well, although they dress very absurdly, 
 and have some of the most remarkable 
 heads of hair tonsorial art ever designed; 
 but they cannot possess a particle of manly 
 spirit, they cannot have the independent 
 feelings of honest men, or they never could 
 bear to be thus tyrannized over and treated 
 like convicts!" 
 
 " W 7 hy don't you show the six quarters, 
 sir, do you hear?" cried the creature, ad- 
 dressing one of his slaves, for he clearly 
 conceived it to be much to his own interest 
 to degrade his young men in the eyes of 
 those whom they were serving. 
 
 " It strikes me that I must have a word 
 with you," thought Valentine, who was 
 really disgusted with the fellow's beha- 
 viour; and he had no sooner satisfied him- 
 self that the pursuit of such a course would 
 not be at all incorrect, than throwing his 
 voice behind him some distance, he said, 
 "Who is that ridiculous person in the 
 middle of the shop?" 
 
 The person alluded to turned with great 
 promptitude and frowned. Ridiculous per- 
 son above all things in the world! He 
 didn't like it. In the spot from which the 
 voice appeared to proceed there happened 
 not to be a soul, which puzzled him a lit- 
 tle, but he notwithstanding walked up the 
 shop with great dignity, and glanced at 
 each customer as he passed with suspicion. 
 
 " Is that the proprietor?" inquired Va- 
 30 
 
 lentine of the young man who was waiting 
 upon Louise. 
 
 " Yes, sir, one of them: that is Mr. 
 Todd." 
 
 Valentine waited the return of Mr. Todd, 
 whose nerves seemed seriously unsettled, 
 and when he did return, he occupied hi3 
 mind with the adjustment of his neckerchief 
 and hair, during the progress of his fingera 
 through which latter ornament Valentine 
 shouted " Here, Todd!" 
 
 "Mr. Todd looked contemptuously round. 
 The idea of being addressed as "Todd" 
 struck him as being extremely vulgar. 
 "Mr. Todd" would have commanded his 
 immediate attention, but it appeared to be a 
 settled principle with him that plain "Todd" 
 should riot. 
 
 "I say, Toddy, my boy! how are you?" 
 cried Valentine; and Mr. Todd looked round 
 again with an aspect of intense magnani- 
 mity. Whom could it possibly be! There 
 were but two gentlemen in the shop! 
 Valentine, whom of course he could not 
 suspect, seeing that he was close to his side, 
 and another, who was perched upon a stool 
 at the end. He therefore concluded that it 
 must have been the gentleman on the stool, 
 and conceiving that he might be some per- 
 son of importance, he approached him. But 
 no: that gentleman took not the slightest 
 notice of his approach: nor did he appear to 
 be a person at all likely to address any man 
 with any undue familarity. Besides, his 
 voice was so strikingly different! it could 
 not have been him; and as such was the 
 case, Mr. Todd at once conceived the horrid 
 notion that it must have been one of the 
 young men. 
 
 " Who was that?" he demanded, with a 
 withering glance, and the young man ad- 
 dressed declared promptly, upon his honour, 
 he didn't know. 
 
 " Don't tell me you don't know," said Mr. 
 Todd, "you must know it was one of you!" 
 
 Again the young man, with considerable 
 earnestness, protested his ignorance of the 
 matter, but Mr. Todd would not believe 
 him, he was sure that he did know, and 
 having announced that be the delinquent 
 whomsoever he might, he should "start" 
 on conviction, he returned to his station 
 near the door. 
 
 Valentine, assuming the voice of a female, 
 now made a dead set at one of the slaves. 
 "How dare you!" he exclaimed, "you 
 insolent fellow! I'll tell Mr. Todd, sir, I'll 
 tell Mr. Todd!" and the voice was so loud 
 and so shrill, that every eye was directed 
 at once towards the spot from, which it 
 appeared to proceed. 
 
 Mr. Todd was there in an instant, and 
 looked right and left with indefatigable 
 
342 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 zeal, and perspired at the idea of being able 
 to make nothing of it. He could perceive 
 no lady in a rage! They all appeared to be 
 perfectly tranquil. What could be the 
 meaning of it! It was quite clear to him 
 that one of them kad been insulted. Could 
 she have been pacified on his approach? 
 In his view nothing could be more probable, 
 and he therefore went round and inquired 
 of them if anything unpleasant had occurred, 
 but as they all declared that nothing of the 
 kind had, he could not but deem it remarka- 
 bly strange. 
 
 44 Did you not hear some lady complain 
 of insolence!" he inquired of one of the 
 slaves, who having nothing else to do, was 
 endeavouring to ascertain how long it was 
 possible for a man to be smoothing a piece 
 of coloured muslin. 
 
 " Why," replied the individual who was 
 engaged in this experiment, " it struck me 
 that I did." 
 
 " Just give a look out then: there's some- 
 thing wrong somewhere." 
 
 " Mr, Todd," said Valentine, in an as- 
 sumed voice, of course. 
 
 " Well, sir!" cried Todd, with great 
 sharpness. 
 
 " Mr. Todd," repeated Valentine. 
 
 " Well! what do you want 1 ?" 
 
 " Have the goodness to step here for one 
 moment." 
 
 Mr. Todd marched to the point to which 
 the voice had been thrown, and said, " Now, 
 sir! what is it?" to the first whom he ap- 
 proached, but as this person intimated boldly 
 that he had not called, Mr. Todd very na- 
 turally wished to know who had. 
 
 Mr. Todd! Mr. Todd! Mr. Todd!" 
 cried Valentine, in three distinct voices, 
 and making them apparently proceed from 
 three different points. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this?" cried 
 Todd, on looking round, for he began to 
 feel very indignant. " Who called me?" 
 
 " Mr. Todd," repeated Valentine, in a 
 very calm tone. 
 
 44 Come here, sir, if you want me! come 
 here, I desire!" 
 
 Valentine now introduced a very highly 
 effective laugh; indeed, so effective was it, 
 that he was joined by almost every person 
 present, to the utter annihilation of Mr. 
 Todd's tranquillity of spirit. 
 
 " What are you laughing at, sir?" he de- 
 manded of the slave who stood near him. 
 
 " Nothing, sir, nothing," was the prompt 
 reply. 
 
 *' Do you always laugh at nothing? I 
 desire to know instantly why you were 
 laughing?" 
 
 44 I don't know, sir. I laughed because 
 the rest laughed for no other cause." 
 
 44 If you cannot conduct yourself properly, 
 sir, you had better make out your account." 
 
 Here Valentine burst forth again, and 
 was again joined with spirit. The custom- 
 ers gave full swing to their mirth, having 
 nothing whatever to fear, but the people 
 behind the counter laughed only at inter- 
 vals: when the awful eye of Todd was 
 upon them, each seemed to have his mouth 
 quite full of a laugh, which was struggling 
 to burst his lips asunder. 
 
 In the midst of this general joy, Todd 
 stood with a dignified frown. Why they 
 
 were laughing he could not pretend to tell, 
 but as every eye seemed to be upon him, he 
 was suddenly struck with an idea that they 
 were actually laughing at him, and as in 
 his judgment this could be possible only in 
 the event of something being very wrong 
 in his dress, he put it plainly to Mr. Jub- 
 bins, his partner, whether such were the fact, 
 and although Mr. Jubbins declared solemnly 
 that he could see nothing, so firmly had the 
 idea taken possession of Todd's soul that 
 there must be of necessity something incor- 
 rect, that he quitted the shop with the air 
 of a man quite resolved on having prompt 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Mr. Jubbins now performed Todd's duty 
 of looking as fascinating as possible in 
 the middle of the shop. He was a better 
 looking fellow altogether than Todd, and if 
 possible more highly dressed, but his man- 
 ners were precisely the same. 
 
 44 You seem to be merry here," said Va- 
 lentine, as Jubbins approached him. 
 
 44 Yes, very, very, very!" replied Mr. 
 Jubbins. 44 It's a mystery to me: it passes 
 my comprehension altogether. I cannot 
 make it out. It's excessively odd. By the 
 by, sir, we have just received fifty thou- 
 sand pounds worth of superb cambric hand- 
 kerchiefs, the immense superiority of which 
 over the French is universally acknow- 
 ledged, and which we are now selling at a 
 sacrifice truly alarming. Allow me to have 
 the pleasure of introducing them to your 
 notice. Mr. Higginbottom, where are those 
 handkerchiefs?" 
 
 44 Which, sir?" 
 
 44 Which? Have you lived all these years 
 and ask me which? Why the P'ses Q's of 
 course, sir! Which should I mean?" 
 
 This seemed to be conclusive, for Mr. 
 Higginbottom immediately produced the 
 P'ses Q's, which Jubbins submitted to Va- 
 lentine's inspection. 
 
 44 This, sir," said he, 44 is the most ele- 
 gant lot imaginable, and dirt cheap, sir! 
 two and eleven pence three farthings." 
 
 "They appear to be cheap," said Valen- 
 tine, u but I am ignorant of the value of 
 these things." 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 343 
 
 "The value, sir, is seven and nine. Had 
 they been purchased in the regular way, 
 sir, I couldn't have sold one for less, but 
 having picked the whole from a bankrupt's 
 stock, we are enabled to put them in fright- 
 fully low. The size, sir, is alarming for 
 the price, while the texture is magnificently 
 delicate! Allow me to say a dozen?" 
 
 "I have plenty at present," said Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 " Were you to purchase them to put by, 
 sir, they would pay you good interest for 
 your money." 
 
 "I have not a doubt of its being a 
 splendid investment," said Valentine, " but 
 unhappily at present my capital is tied up." 
 
 Mr. Jubbins smiled sweetly, and said, 
 44 But, upon honour, I hold this to be an 
 opportunity which seldom presents itself: 
 in point of fact I don't know that we are 
 not running counter to our interest in push- 
 ing them; but let me say a dozen? Half a 
 dozen? I assure you they are an article 
 seldom to be met with. It is a sacrifice of 
 upwards of seventy per cent., which is very 
 distressing." 
 
 44 So it is: so it is:" said Valentine. 
 44 Did the person of whom you bought them 
 fail for much?" 
 
 " About forty thousand pounds." 
 
 " That is rather a large sum for a man to 
 fail for, especially as he had about fifty 
 thousand pounds worth of cambric hand- 
 kerchiefs in stock. What do you suppose 
 the value of the entire stock to have been 
 when he failed?" 
 
 44 Why," replied Mr. Jubbins, who did 
 feel a little confused, for he happened to re- 
 member that he had purchased the fifty 
 thousand pounds worth, 44 I scarcely can 
 tell. It is difficult to form a judgment, 
 very difficult, very." 
 
 44 Of course he will be able to pay a very 
 decent dividend?" 
 
 44 Yes, a very fair dividend, I should say, 
 I've no doubt of it, very. Then you'll not 
 allow me to tempt you with a dozen?" 
 
 44 No, I think not to-day." 
 
 44 Anything in Irish linens or gloves of 
 any kind?" 
 
 44 No, they never allow me to purchase 
 those things: they imagine I am not to be 
 trusted." 
 
 Again Jubbins smiled; but as he under- 
 stood the state of the case precisely, he 
 said nothing more about the matter. 
 
 44 Well, now 1 have indeed tried your 
 patience," said Louise. "Dear me, what 
 a quantity of things I have purchased! 
 There new," she added, addressing the 
 clever creature by whom she had been 
 tempted to spend twenty pounds, although 
 she had no idea of purchasing anything but 
 
 the shawl, 44 you must show me nothing 
 more: you really must not, indeed." 
 
 44 Has the lady seen those satins, sir?" 
 inquired Mr. Jubbins, with a scowl. 
 
 44 1 connot look at anything else," said 
 Louise; 44 no! let me have my bill as soon 
 as possible, or you can send it with the 
 parcel, any time after four." 
 
 Louise then presented her card; and after 
 observing to Valentine, that she was sure 
 that he had lost all patience, they were 
 bowed out of the shop most gracefully by 
 Mr. Jubbins, who, notwithstanding all the 
 young man had done, was exceedingly 
 angry with him, because he had not intro- 
 duced 44 those satins." 
 
 44 What singular creatures they are!" 
 observed Valentine, on leaving the shop. 
 
 44 They are, indeed," returned Louise; 
 44 and their politeness is so excessive, that 
 you positively feel yourself in a measure 
 bound to purchase the things they introduce 
 to you, whether you really want them or 
 not." 
 
 44 But while admiring their politeness, 
 did you notice the brutal conduct of those 
 tyrannous, slave-driving dogs> their im- 
 ployers?" 
 
 44 Oh yes! that is generally conspicuous. 
 But what I object to most is, their interfer- 
 ence with him who is serving me. That is 
 very annoying, and whenever it occurs, I 
 have done: no matter how many articles I 
 may want, I take those which I have pur- 
 chased, but will have nothing more." 
 
 They now proceeded to the park, and had 
 a most delightful walk; and while sitting 
 beneath their favourite tree, Llewellen and 
 the widow unexpectedly approached them. 
 
 44 Hur knew we shoot fint them," cried 
 Llewellen; 44 titn't hur tell you they were 
 sure to pe here? Oh, Louey! such peautiful 
 fleas! Trest, ant armt, ant mountet on 
 horse-pack like Christians. Oh! too co ant 
 see 'em apove all things in the worlt!" 
 
 44 W T hat sort of horses are they?" inquired 
 Valentine. 4i Fine cattle, Fred?" 
 
 44 Horses? Fleas! every horse is a flea, 
 look you, pritled ant sattled ant all!" 
 
 44 We must go and see these warriors on 
 flea-back!" said Valentine to Louise. 
 
 44 Do, by all means, my love," said the 
 widow; "they are wonderful creatures! 
 such active, intelligent little dears. I'm 
 quite in love with them really! Do go there 
 this evening: I should so like to see them 
 again." 
 
 44 This evening!" said Llewellen, looking 
 archly at the widow; 44 have you forgotten 
 your engagement this evening?" 
 
 44 The promenade concerts!" cried the 
 widow; 44 dear me, how very stupid! Oh! 
 is not that kind of Mr. Llewellen? He is 
 
344 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 going to take me to the promenade con- 
 certs!" 
 
 * Upon my life! Master Fred," observed 
 Valentine, " if you continue to go on in 
 this way winning the heart of my mother, 
 1 shall feel myself hound to demand an ex- 
 planation of your intentions!" 
 
 The widow blushed, and patted Valen- 
 tine playfully on the cheek, and Llewellen 
 informed him that all had been settled, and 
 that he was therefore quite ready to explain, 
 which was very agreeable and highly en- 
 joyed. 
 
 "At all events," said Valentine, address- 
 \ ing Louise, "it will be our duty to accom- 
 pany them to the concert this evening." 
 
 "Too co, pyall means!" said Llewellen, 
 and as this invitation was backed by the 
 xvidow strongly, it was decided that they 
 should all go together. 
 
 While they were thus happily engaged, 
 Uncle John was endeavouring to prevail 
 upon Whitely to allow the assumed impos- 
 sibility of Raven giving the required in- 
 formation about the children, to form no 
 barrier to an immediate settlement. He had 
 already succeeded in convincing him that 
 Raven had had nothing to do with his pro- 
 perty; but he found it extremely difficult to 
 induce him to believe that he knew nothing 
 whatever of his children. 
 
 " The only thing, 1 ' urged Whitely, 
 " which tends to justify such a belief is the 
 assumed fact, that she became so abandoned 
 as to leave even him for another: but even 
 in that case it seems scarcely probable that 
 being lost, as she must have been, to every 
 sense of decency, as well as to every pro- 
 per feeling, that she would have taken the 
 children with her." 
 
 " Why, I don't know that," said Uncle 
 John. " It is very clear to me that her af- 
 fection for those children was very strong: 
 my firm impression is, that had it not been, 
 she -would not have clung to them so tena- 
 ciously when she left you; and as it is but 
 natural to suppose that, as they grew older 
 and more engaging, the strength of that af- 
 fection increased, I am inclined to believe 
 it to be extremely probable that she did 
 take them with her; for clearly if her affec- 
 tion for them did thus increase, she would 
 have been less disposed to part with them 
 then than before." 
 
 " Very true; very true: but this is merely 
 assumption." 
 
 " I grant it: but it is a very natural as- 
 sumption. Besides, what motive could he 
 possibly have in withholding this informa- 
 tion, if he really possessed the power to 
 give it? Upon my life! I cannot conceive 
 what motive he could have. He can scarce- 
 ly be supposed to have eared much about 
 
 them, and if he had provided for them, he 
 would surely be proud to let you know it, 
 in order that you might not deem him quite 
 so depraved as you do. But even assuming 
 that he could give you such information as 
 might lead to their recovery, his refusal to 
 do so, ought not to prevent an immediate 
 arrangement, at least in so far as pecuniary 
 matters are concerned; but feeling as I do, 
 quite convinced that he is utterly unable to 
 do so, I cannot see why you should hesi- 
 tate for a moment." 
 
 " Well, my friend, if I give him an un- 
 dertaking to annoy him, as he terms it, no 
 more, it must be with this proviso, that If 
 I should at any time discover that he abso- 
 lutely does know where they are to be 
 found, I am not to be precluded from de- 
 manding of him such information as may 
 be essential to their being restored." 
 
 " Most decidedly. You will still have 
 the right to do so. I look at the spirit of 
 this arrangement. You agree to it on the 
 assumption that he does not know where 
 the children are: should you at any time 
 discover that he does, your right, with refer- 
 ence to them will, of course, stand the 
 same as if no such arrangement had been 
 made." 
 
 "Very well. Let this be, on all hands, 
 distinctly understood, and I am ready to 
 sign the undertaking." 
 
 Uncle John now opened his desk, and 
 they began to draw out an agreement, but 
 how to introduce the proviso, without lead- 
 ing Raven to suppose that they believed 
 him to have told a direct falsehood, was a 
 task which puzzled them exceedingly. In 
 the first place they drew up a "sketch" 
 which of itself would have done very well 
 and then their labour commenced; but 
 they stuck to it zealously, amending and 
 erasing, until their interlineations stood per- 
 fectly unincumbered by a single word of 
 the original, when, on being summoned to 
 dinner, they left it thus, to be tackled again 
 when they had done. 
 
 Whitely was by no means scrupulous 
 about the matter: he was an advocate for 
 its being done as plainly as possible; but 
 Uncle John, judging from the sensitive 
 character of his own feelings, contended 
 for the correctness of its being done with 
 so much delicacy, that while it had the 
 force of a law, not a word should be intro- 
 duced at all calculated to inflict the slight- 
 est wound upon the feelings of him whom 
 it bound. 
 
 On this, as on all other occasions, White- 
 ly wished to meet the views of Uncle John, 
 and immediately after dinner they again set 
 to work, and did eventually succeed in ac- 
 complishing their task in every point to 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 345 
 
 their entire satisfaction. Two fair copies 
 were then drawn up, and when hoth had 
 been signed by Whitely, Uncle John left 
 in order to obtain the signature of Raven. 
 
 The party which had been formed in the 
 morning for the concert, prepared to start 
 soon after dinner, and Uncle John happen- 
 ed to arrive in great spirits at the moment 
 they were about to leave the house. 
 
 " Any news?" inquired Valentine. 
 
 " Yes, my boy; good news; come here,*' 
 said Uncle John, taking his arm and lead- 
 ing him into the parlour. 
 
 " Please let me come, too?" said Louise. 
 
 " May she come, Val? Well! yes you 
 may. But I mean to set a price upon the 
 information I have to impart. I intend to 
 have a kiss for it." 
 
 "Oh! that you shall. I will pay you 
 with pleasure! What is it?" 
 
 " All's settled!" exclaimed Uncle John; 
 "All's settled." 
 
 "Bless you!" cried Louise. "You de- 
 serve two for that. But are you sure? 
 quite?" 
 
 "I have the agreement now in my 
 pocket, with Whitely's signature attached." 
 
 " Well this is indeed great news. Oh! 
 I feel so delighted!" 
 
 "Of course," said Valentine, "Mr. Ra- 
 van knows nothing of it yet." 
 
 " He expects it, and I have come as soon 
 S possible to put an end to his suspense. 
 But where are you all going?" 
 
 "To the promenade concert." 
 
 " Very well, let your minds be at ease. 
 Now, be happy both of you: there, run 
 away. I must be detained no longer." 
 
 Valentine and Louise shook him warmly 
 by the hand, and having kissed each other 
 fervently, they rejoined the widow and 
 Llewellen, and proceeded to the theatre in 
 which the concerts were held. 
 
 As they entered one of the boxes the first 
 piece was being performed, and the action 
 of the conductor was so extremely striking, 
 that he riveted their attention at once. He 
 was a small man and singularly thin: his 
 cheeks were hollow, but his eyes were full, 
 and while at certain forte passages they 
 appeared to be anxious to start from their 
 sockets, he closed them at each piano 
 phrase, with the view of conveying to the 
 performers an idea of how mild were the 
 moon beams contrasted with thunder. The 
 performers, however, seemed not to take the 
 slightest notice of his eloquent gestures, for 
 they worked away like blacksmiths, with 
 their eyes fixed firmly upon the music, with 
 the single exception of the individual who 
 did the drums; and even he, having thirty 
 or forty bars' rest, seemed to be counting 
 his one two three four, two two three four, 
 
 three two three four, up, with extreme depth 
 of thought. 
 
 Having sufficiently admired the poetic 
 action of the conductor who, had the 
 whole of the instruments been mute, could 
 have rendered the thing, by virtue of his 
 pantomime, effective,, so distinctly and so 
 delicately was each phrase expressed the 
 happy party left their box for the prome- 
 nade. 
 
 The place was crowded, but to the ma- 
 jority the music was but a secondary con- 
 sideration, which indeed is invariably the 
 case in England, and speculators generally 
 would do well to understand that patronage 
 here is extended, not in proportion to the 
 excellence of an entertainment, but pre- 
 cisely in proportion to the facilities which 
 it affords for the display of wealth, fashion, 
 and beauty. 
 
 On this occasion the display of these 
 three attractive articles was in a measure 
 magnificent, but if any one could be said to 
 surpass the others, it was fashion. The 
 dresses both of the ladies and of the gentle- 
 men had been made in conformity with the 
 most extraordinary conceptions, while the 
 hair was so arranged if an arrangement, 
 as far as the gentlemen were concerned, it 
 could be called that it covered the ears as 
 completely as if, at that particular period 
 of British history, it had been no uncom- 
 mon thing for those useful and ornamental 
 organs to be nailed, for political offences, to 
 posts. 
 
 As the space behind the orchestra was 
 the only spot which could be promenaded 
 with comfort, thither Valentine and Louise 
 repaired, and walked for some time in 
 silence, but with feelings of pleasure, lis- 
 tening attentively to the various pieces 
 which were admirably performed, and 
 which seemed to inspire general delight. 
 
 "Valentine," said Louise, at length, 
 "why are you so silent?" 
 
 "I apprehend it is because I am so 
 happy!" 
 
 "Are you happy? Well so am I: very, 
 very happy: I could cry I am so happy. 
 And I shall cry, I am sure of it, unless you 
 make me laugh. Now do, there's a dear, 
 put some poor unfortunate person in a fever. 
 You will, to please me; will you not?" 
 
 " Oh! I had better astonish the whole 
 house at once!" 
 
 " But you must not startle me! You 
 know that is a thing which is perfectly 
 understood." 
 
 " Of course! I am sure you will be an 
 excellent wife, Louise: you are so fond of 
 looking at home! But listen." 
 
 At this moment the band was playing a 
 set of quadrilles, in which an echo was in- 
 30* 
 
346 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 troduced by dint of establishing an indi- 
 vidual in the one shilling gallery to do the 
 refrain out of sight. This had a good effect, 
 and on its being repeated, Valentine sent 
 an echo into the slips, and then one into 
 the upper boxes, and then one into the 
 dress circle near the proscenium, and then 
 another, most dexterously, into the chande- 
 lier! This of course produced several rounds 
 of applause, and the demand for an encore 
 was universal; but the conductor stood 
 struck with amazement: he could not even 
 guess what it could mean, and his first im- 
 pulse was to send round to the various parts 
 of the house from which the sounds had 
 apparently proceeded, with the view of 
 setting his face against every echo save the 
 one which he himself had established. On 
 turning the matter again over in his mind, 
 however, he could not as the thing was 
 effective and had brought down thunders of 
 applause see why it should not be re- 
 peated. He therefore gave the usual signal, 
 and the band recommenced, and when he 
 came to the echo, he listened with a pecu- 
 liar expression for the invisible auxiliaries; 
 but what was his dismay when Valentine, 
 instead of following the established ortho- 
 dox echo, introduced, in various parts of 
 the house, snatches of popular tunes, and 
 thus produced fits of laughter! " Ha!" 
 said he gutturally, grinning like a griffin in 
 great anguish, and holding his ears as if a 
 couple of wasps had introduced themselves 
 clandestinely therein " Perdu!' 11 where- 
 upon the whole house was In a roar. 
 
 " Bravo! bravo!" shouted the audience. 
 44 Encore! encore! encore!" 
 
 *' Not if I knew it," the conductor seem- 
 ed to say confidentially to himself, for he 
 looked very droll, and almost buried his 
 'head between his shoulders; but although 
 his indisposition to repeat the thing was 
 manifest; although it-was evident generally 
 that he wished to 'intimate that he had had 
 no hand in 'the matter, the enlightened 
 audience still .continued to demand an en- 
 ore a which, to his own private feelings, 
 was very afflicting. He sent an emissary 
 up to the slips, and another into the upper 
 tier of boxes; and while he planted sundry 
 confidential fiddlers as spies upon the dress 
 circle, he himself strained his eyes with 
 the bright and lovely hope of discovering 
 one of the individuals among the multitude 
 of promenaders. In this he was, however, 
 unsuccessful; and as the audience still re- 
 morselessly demanded an encore, he did, in 
 his extremity, shake his head with much 
 significance, and having given the signal, 
 the band made a dash at the next piece. 
 
 This silenced the majority at once, and 
 they would with due patience have waited 
 
 for a repetition of the novel echo, had not 
 the minority, who, having somewhat more 
 refined and experienced ears, on perceiving 
 that this was not the same piece, shouted 
 " No, no! Encore! encore No, no, no, 
 no!" which had the effect of inducing the 
 whole house to join them. 
 
 The band notwithstanding kept on. The 
 conductor was firm. He would have no 
 more ad libitum echoes: he had already 
 had quite enough of them, and hence re- 
 solved within his own mind that, come 
 what might, he would go through the piece 
 then in hand as completely as if nothing 
 whatever had happened. 
 
 The audience, fortunately for him, were 
 in an excellent humour: they had enjoyed 
 the echoes much, and that they did wish to 
 have them again is a fact which ought not 
 to be disputed, but when they saw the dis- 
 tress of the conductor, who was an accom- 
 plished, and withal a very amiable man, 
 they pitied him as an individual, and soon 
 became calm. 
 
 ** Dearmt;!" said Louise, when the storm 
 had subsided, *' how very, very cleverly 
 that was done, to be sure! Poor man! 
 what odd faces he made!" 
 
 "They were rather droll," said Valen- 
 tine. " I wonder what he thinks of it. I 
 should like to know his strictly secret feel- 
 ings upon the point." 
 
 The band ceased: the first part was con- 
 cluded, and shortly after, a small thin man, 
 in an old hat, came close to the spot with 
 several persons whom he knew. He seemed 
 powerfully excited, and looked very fierce, 
 and said in answer to a question which 
 touched upon the echo, " Sare, I sail give 
 you five pounce with great pleasir for to 
 t/zscovare sem tarn peple." 
 
 " They ought," said one of his friends, 
 " to have their instruments taken from them 
 and broken about their heads." 
 
 " Instrurnence! say vas ton wisout in- 
 strumence! Say teed him wis sare mouse, 
 and pe tarn!" 
 
 This caused Louise to laugh so im- 
 moderately, that Valentine was compelled 
 to remove her from the spot, and when the 
 conductor had given sufficient vent to those 
 feelings of indignation which were plainly 
 effervescing within him, he gave one des- 
 perate shrug, which seemed perfectly con- 
 clusive, and then left the inquiring group 
 to cool himself with an ice. 
 
 " My^poy," said Llewellen, on coming up 
 with the widow, after a very long absence, 
 " Teet you hear that wonterful echo?" 
 
 "The whole house heard it, I apprehend," 
 replied Valentine. "There is a numerous 
 family of the Echoes it appears. They are 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 847 
 
 11 relatives, you will remember, of your in- 
 visible wife." 
 
 " His invisible wife!" cried the widow; 
 " has Mr. Llewellen an invisible wife?" 
 
 " Yes, the mother of the whole family. 
 She became enamoured of him in the gar- 
 den, and would have him." 
 
 The widow, who now saw it all, ex- 
 claimed, " Gracious, my dear, and was that 
 really you?" 
 
 Louise instantly placed her finger upon 
 her lips to enjoin silence; but Llewellen, 
 who was struck with the singularity of the 
 question, had a very strong desire to know 
 what it meant. 
 
 44 There is some creat secret apout this, 
 some extraortinary secret. Too tell me phot 
 it is] Pless your soul, tool Inteet hur 
 shoot like to pe tolt, coolness knows it!" 
 
 44 What secret do you allude to 1 ?" inquired 
 the widow. 
 
 44 Hur ton't know inteet then; putt " 
 
 44 This is not a place for telling secrets," 
 said Valentine. 44 Come, come, let us go 
 in and have some refreshment." 
 
 " Apove all things in the worlt!" cried 
 Llewellen. 44 Oh! that is the pusiness. 
 Phot have they cot?" 
 
 44 We shall see by the carte," said Valen- 
 tine. 
 
 44 Well, my poy, you order all: hur'm 
 font, you know, of anything in the worlt." 
 
 44 Order ices," whispered Louise, "and 
 let us see how Fred will like them. We 
 have had none at home since he came up, 
 and I dont't think they ever gave him any 
 in Wales." 
 
 Ices were accordingly ordered: and when 
 Llewellen took his, he looked at it for some 
 time studiously. 
 
 44 It's a mighty little trifle," said he, at 
 length. " Coolness knows it." And having 
 taken the whole of it up with the spoon, he 
 put it bodily into his mouth. It was, how- 
 ever, no sooner in than out. He shuddered, 
 and dropped it without a second thought. 
 
 44 Is it too hot for you!" said Valentine, 
 gravely, allhough Louise and the widow 
 were convulsed. 
 
 "Hot!" cried Llewellen. 44 It makes me 
 shiver to think of it! Cruel cold! My 
 whole potty's freezing, look you! Jlnt my 
 teeth! Oh!" 
 
 44 Did you never have an ice before 1 ?" 
 44 No, never, coolness knows: ant hur 
 never wish to have one again." 
 44 Well, what will you have!" 
 "Any thing in the whole worlt putl 
 that." 
 
 44 Well, as I have been so unfortunate, I 
 must leave you now to order for yourself. 
 There is the garfon." 
 
 44 PhoCs his name?" inquired Llewellen. 
 
 word I don't know. You had 
 better call 4 Waiter.'" 
 
 Llewellen did so; and a foreign indivi- 
 dual, whose mind seemed to be intenlly 
 ixed upon something, approached him. 
 
 Wailer," said Llewellen, in a confiden- 
 lial lone, "have you col any peer?" 
 
 The foreign individual dropped his head 
 pon his right shoulder, and shrugged up 
 lis left, but said nothing. 
 
 44 Not coot?" said Llewellen, who mis- 
 understood altogether what the action of 
 the Frenchman was designed to convey. 
 44 Is it not coot in pottles?" 
 
 The Frenchman employed the same ges- 
 lure as before, with this addition: he ex- 
 tended his chin, which was naturally a long 
 one, and looked most intensely mysteri- 
 ous. 
 
 44 This is a very honest fellow," thought 
 Llewellen. " It isn't often one meets with 
 a man who will refuse to sell an article 
 which is not quite the thing to a stranger. 
 Well," said he, " never mint. You're 
 a coot fellow to tell me, for hur hate pat 
 peer apove all Ihings in Ihe worlt; putl let 
 me have some pranty-and-water, look you; 
 warm." 
 
 The Frenchman again gave a national 
 shrug. 
 
 44 Phot!" said Llewellen, " is that pat 
 too? Coolness knows it!" 
 
 '" Ve sal vas, monsieur," said the wailer, 
 who prided himself especially upon the 
 purity of his English. " Ve sal nevere is 
 eau de vie non monsieur." 
 
 44 Phot to you say?" inquired Llewellen, 
 as Valentine, Louise and Ihe widow were 
 laughing convulsively. " Come, lei's have 
 it al once." 
 
 44 Mais I sal vos non comprendre a tall 
 vous." 
 
 44 Yes," said Llewellen, " hur'll pe pount 
 it's all right, olt poy, so you'd petter run 
 away, now, anl fetch it." And as he waved 
 his hand precisely as if he wished him to 
 be off, the puzzled Frenchman took the hint 
 at once, and started. 
 
 44 Well," said Llewellen, addressing Va- 
 lentine, " I shall pe all right at last." 
 
 44 What have you ordered?" 
 
 44 Some peautiful pranty-anl-waler, look 
 you! anl coolness knows il!" 
 
 44 He'll bring you no brandy-and-water." 
 
 44 Inteet then hur'll wring his plesset 
 neck, if he ton't." 
 
 44 If he brings you anything, he'll bring 
 you an ice." 
 
 44 An ice! Oh! it freezes my plut!" 
 
 44 If he don't bring you that, he'll bring 
 nothing." 
 
 44 Phy, hur ortert it, look you!" 
 
 44 And he told you, as plainly as he could, 
 
348 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 that they hadn't got it; and you sent him 
 away." 
 
 " Oh, hur'll see apout that," said Llewel- 
 len. " Here, waiter!" 
 
 ** Gargon!" cried Valentine, throwing his 
 voice a short distance from him." 
 
 44 Oui, monsieur." 
 
 "Gargon! Gar^on! Gargon!" cried Va- 
 lentine, at appropriate intervals, and in three 
 distinct tones. 
 
 44 Oui, monsieur, oui!" cried the French- 
 man, who seemed in some measure per- 
 plexed. 
 
 44 If hur ton't make an effort, my poy," 
 said Llewellen, 44 hur shall not, hur see, pe 
 aple to get anything, look you! Phot am 
 hur to orter!" ' 
 
 44 Why, as you want something warm, 
 ask him why he has not brought the glace. 
 Tell him you want a glace, distinctly, and 
 then he'll understand you." 
 
 44 There's a coot fellow," said Llewellen. 
 44 Now! waiter!" 
 
 44 Oui, monsieur 1 ?" 
 
 44 Come, come, you have not brought my 
 glass! There, never mind making those 
 faces: hur prefer pranty-ant-water; put 
 pring me a glass of anything, no matter 
 what, if it's putt a coot glass." 
 
 The Frenchman bowed, and looked as if 
 he saw his way now pretty clearly, which 
 rather delighted Llewellen, who, when he 
 had left, said: 44 Well, hur have mate him 
 understant me at last." 
 
 44 I'm glad of it," said Valentine. 44 But 
 if he should make a mistake, you had bet- 
 ter tell him what you mean in Welsh." 
 
 The Frenchman now returned with a 
 strawberry ice, which he presented with 
 characteristic grace to Llewellen. Llewel- 
 len looked at it! he knew what it was in 
 a moment! and then he looked at the 
 Frenchman. His blood was a little up: he 
 felt indeed very angry, and proceeded to 
 explain, with due severity of aspect, the 
 precise state of his feelings in Welsh to 
 the Frenchman, who was perfectly amazed, 
 and on perceiving that Llewellen was very 
 indignant, he let loose in French, and thus 
 made a duet of it, which was interesting, 
 because highly calculated to bring about a 
 good understanding between them. 
 
 Valentine, however, when he fancied 
 that the thing had gone quite far enough 
 for Llewellen was turning very red, while 
 the Frenchman was grinning and gnashing 
 his teeth fiercely shouted 44 Gar$ on! 
 gargon! gar^on!" when the Frenchman, 
 hearing himself thus imperatively called, 
 screwed up his lips, and with a ferocious 
 look of scorn, left the spot much excited. 
 
 44 Tit you ever in all your porn tays," 
 
 said Llewellen, " hear anypotty chatter 
 like that little wretch?" 
 
 44 1 was afraid you would come to blows," 
 said Valentine. 
 
 44 Plows! hur coot eat him, coolness 
 knows it." 
 
 44 You are always getting into some 
 scrape," said Louise. 
 
 44 Well, Louey, it wasn't my fault. Phen 
 a fellow prings an ice for warm pranty-and- 
 water, it's enough to make a man's plut 
 poil." 
 
 44 It's too bad," said the widow, who 
 sympathized with Llewellen; 44 it is in- 
 deed," and she looked at the carte, and 
 then consulted a female attendant, and in a 
 short time some ponch a la Romaine was 
 produced, which she presented to Llewel- 
 len, who, having tasted it, was in ecstasies, 
 and called her an angel. 
 
 44 Now," said Valentine, when Llewel- 
 len had finished his punch, which he in- 
 deed highly relished, "a little more music, 
 and then we'll return." 
 
 Llewellen, who was blessed with a most 
 happy disposition, had now forgotten all his 
 troubles, and on their return to the body of 
 the theatre, he chatted and laughed in the 
 merriest mood, and enjoyed the scene per- 
 haps much more than any other person pre- 
 sent. The pleasure which Louise felt was 
 probably of itself not less pure, but its 
 brightness was occasionally dimmed by 
 thought, which was perfectly absent from 
 the mind of Llewellen. Could she hope 
 to be always as happy! Should she always 
 experience in Valentine's society the same 
 degree of pleasure! Would he always be 
 the same kind, good, dear creature always 
 as anxious to inspire her with delight? 
 These were questions which would suggest 
 themselves constantly; for although she 
 had no reason to suppose that he would 
 ever change; although she tried on all oc- 
 casions to repudiate the notion; she was 
 still apprehensive, because, and solely be- 
 cause, she neither knew nor could conceive 
 more perfect pleasure than that which she 
 invariably experienced when with him. 
 Her fears on this subject, however, were 
 vain. Valentine was always himself. He 
 never thought of assuming another charac- 
 ter: he never desired to make himself ap- 
 pear to be that which he really was not. 
 This, of course, it was impossible for her 
 to know; and as she thought on the subject 
 most, when she felt most happy, she, on 
 this occasion, while clinging fondly to him, 
 gazed occasionally upon him with an as- 
 pect of sadness. 
 
 44 My poor girl," said he, " are you 
 fatigued 1 ?'' 
 
 44 Oh, no; not at all." 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 349 
 
 / "You look so sad!" 
 
 / "I am so happy," said Louise, and as 
 
 | she spoke, a tear glistened in her eye. 
 
 They now went in search of Llewellen 
 and the widow, who were perfectly certain 
 to go astray the very moment the attention 
 of Valentine happened to be directed to 
 some other quarter, and having eventually 
 discovered them engaged in a close exami- 
 nation of certain plants which were placed 
 round a fountain, Valentine gave them the 
 word of command, and they followed him 
 and Louise out with all due obedience. 
 
 They then entered a coach, arid at once 
 proceeded home, and it may be said, that 
 no party was ever more happy. They were 
 on the highest possible, terms with them- 
 selves and each other, and it is not quite 
 certain that both Louise and the widow did 
 not, on their way home, shed tears of joy. 
 
 The very moment they arrived at the 
 house, Louise, as usual, inquired for her 
 father, and on being informed that he was 
 still where she had left him, and that it 
 was supposed that he was asleep, as they 
 had heard nothing of him for more than two 
 hours, she ran up at once to his room, and 
 as on reaching the door she heard Joseph, 
 the porter say, in a loud and threatning 
 voice, "I'll not go for a shilling less: and 
 if you don't give me that, I'll blow up the 
 whole affair!" she, without the slightest 
 ceremony, Altered the room, and was struck 
 with amazement on finding him seated at 
 the table with her father. 
 
 " Hush!" whispered Raven, the moment 
 she appeared. 
 
 " How dare you, sir, thus address your 
 master!" cried Louise. 
 
 " Mind your own business, Miss!" said 
 the fellow; " Master '11 mind hisn, and I'll 
 mind mine." 
 
 "You insolent man! how dare you speak 
 to me? Leave the room, sir, I desire!" 
 
 The fellow did leave the room; but with 
 a sneer, which, to Raven, was one of great 
 significance. 
 
 " Why, papa, why do you allow yourself 
 to be thus insulted by one of your own 
 servants?" cried Louise. 
 
 "My dear child!" said Raven, "do not 
 distress yourself. I shall soon, very, very 
 soon get rid of him now!" 
 
 " But how dare he presume even to sit 
 
 in your presence! Father! have you any- 
 thing to fear from that man?" 
 
 "Anything to fear from him, my child?" 
 
 "If not, why keep him in the house 1 ? If 
 he knew of that, which is now no longer a 
 secret and kept it faithfully, reward him; 
 but do not allow him to remain." 
 
 "My child, have I not said that I am 
 about to get rid of him! But why do you 
 imagine that he knew of that secret?" 
 
 " Because he was continually boasting 
 of the power he had over you: nay, he 
 boasts that you are in his power now!" 
 
 "Indeed! to whom does he make that 
 boast 1 ?" 
 
 "To the servants. He is constantly 
 telling them that he could command the 
 best place in the house; that he could force 
 you to do anything for him he pleased, and 
 that, to use his own expression, he has you, 
 under his thumb." 
 
 Raven pressed his lips and breathed very 
 hard, and having drawn Louise closely to 
 him, kissed her with much warmth. 
 
 "Dear papa," she continued, "tell me, 
 pray tell me, what m) r stery is this 1 ?" 
 
 " Mystery? What mystery, my child?" 
 
 "I fear that there is more than has yet 
 transpired, and if so, do disclose it; but if 
 there be not, I do beg of you, father, to dis- 
 charge that man, for there is in him some- 
 thing which, while I look at him, I feel 
 that I have reason to fear." 
 
 " Fear nothing, my child. You are cor- 
 rect in supposing that he knew my secret; 
 he did know it; he knew it from the first; 
 had it not been so, I never should have 
 kept about the house so pernicious a scoun- 
 drel. But you have nothing to fear from 
 him now." 
 
 " Have you, papa? You will not object 
 to answer me the question. Is there no 
 other secret? Has all been explained? Has 
 that man the power to make known any 
 circumstance you are anxious to keep un- 
 known?" 
 
 " My good child," said Raven, " you 
 shall know all anon. He shall quit the 
 house to-morrow. Go, my girl: go, there 
 leave me. But, Louise, not a word of this 
 to Valentine! You will promise me that?" 
 
 Louise did so and kissed him; but she 
 left with a heavy heart, and a mind teeming 
 with fresh apprehensions, 
 
350 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 
 CHAPTER LXIII. 
 
 GOODMAN QUITS THE SCENE FOREVER. 
 
 UNCONSCIOUS of all that had occurred be- 
 tween Louise and her father during their 
 interview, Valentine in due time left for 
 the night. He did indeed perceive, on her 
 return to him, that she was agitated; nay, 
 he perceived that she had been in tears; 
 but as she frequently wept for joy, and as, 
 since her father's secret had been proclaim- 
 ed, her smile had always been seen through 
 a soft veil of sadness, her appearance failed 
 to make a deep impression; and, therefore, 
 after having playfully delivered a lecture 
 on the physical operation of tears upon 
 beauty, he gave his sweet pupil the pre- 
 liminary kiss, when as usual, at lingering 
 intervals, they twenty times reiterated as 
 if they had really become enamoured of the 
 words" Good night!" 
 
 As in the early part of the evening 
 Uncle John had explained to him that 
 Whitely had consented to a private ar- 
 rangement, Valentine hastened home, being 
 anxious to ascertain if that which formed 
 the only bar to his immediate union with 
 Louise had been entirely removed. 
 
 A mournful scene, however, awaited his 
 arrival: poor Goodman was dying. 
 
 He had been tempted by that fallacious 
 strength which declining nature, struggling 
 to the last, seldom indeed fails to summon 
 on the near approach of death, to make an 
 effort to walk across the chamber; but no 
 sooner had that effort been made, than he 
 sank upon the floor in a state of absolute 
 exhaustion. This occurred about an hour 
 before Valentine arrived; and as, immedi- 
 ately on his arrival, he was informed of 
 the fact, he proceeded at once to his good 
 old friend's room, in which, besides the 
 attendants, were Uncle John and the phy- 
 sician. 
 
 As he entered Goodman smiled; his ap- 
 pearance seemed to cheer him. He took 
 his hand, and pressed it feebly, but with 
 earnestness, and kissed it. 
 
 There is before the eyes of men on the 
 brink of dissolution, a glassy film which 
 death imparts, that they may have a brief 
 prospect of eternity, when some behold the 
 angels of light, while others have the de- 
 mons of darkness before them. This film 
 then glazed the eyes of Goodman; but his 
 spirit was calm, and his look serene; re- 
 signation was seated on his brow; death 
 had no terrors for him. 
 
 Having gazed for a few moments at Va- 
 lentine with an expression of pleasure, a 
 
 slight cloud seemed suddenly to pass over 
 his countenance, and he looked round the 
 chamber, and then gently drew Valentine 
 nearer, when whispering in his ear, he 
 said, " My brother: 1 should like to see my 
 brother: do you not think that he would 
 come to me now?" 
 
 " He would be but too happy," said Va- 
 lentine. "I will go to him instantly." 
 
 "Do, my dear boy; Heaven bless you! 
 Tell him I am anxious to say farewell; but 
 haste, for I feel that in y hour is come." 
 
 Valentine again pressed his hand, and 
 left the room, and then proceeded without 
 delay to Walter's residence, in the full con- 
 viction that fraternal affection would over- 
 come shame, and that the summons would 
 be instantly obeyed. He reached the house: 
 light was to be seen. It was late, certainly, 
 but earlier than Walter was wont to retire. 
 He knocked; no answer was returned: he 
 knocked again and again; still no one appear- 
 ed. At length, however, after knocking and 
 ringing with sufficient violence to have 
 aroused the seven sleepers, he heard one of 
 the upper windows open, and on looking 
 up, saw the head of a female, who half 
 screamed, "Who's there?" 
 
 " I must see Mr. Goodman immediately," 
 cried Valentine. " Open the door." 
 
 " Go away, tipsy man!" cried the female; 
 " there's no one of that name lives here." 
 
 " My good woman," said Valentine, hav- 
 ing satisfied himself that he had not mis- 
 taken the house, "He did live here; can 
 you tell me where he is to be found?" 
 1 "I know nothing about him. I'm only 
 in the house to take care of it. The family 
 that left last week are gone a long way in 
 the country; I don't know where but 
 they're gone." 
 
 The female then disappeared and closed 
 the window, when Valentine went to the 
 public-house opposite to which he knew 
 that Horace had been in the habit of going 
 and there learned that Walter and his 
 family, after having sold everything off, 
 had indeed left town; but how they went, 
 or where they were gone, he could not as- 
 certain. 
 
 He therefore immediately retraced his 
 steps, and being anxious of course to keep 
 everything from Goodman at all calculated 
 to give him the slightest uneasiness, he 
 made up his mind on the way to conceal 
 from him all but the naked fact of Walter 
 being absent. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 351 
 
 As he cautiously returned to the cham- 
 ber, the eyes of Goodman were closed as if 
 in death; but they were re-opened the very 
 moment he entered, and turned inquiringly 
 towards him as Ke drew near the bed. 
 
 " He will cornel" said Goodman, feebly, 
 for he was sinking very fast " He will 
 come?" 
 
 " He would," returned Valentine, " I am 
 sure that he would with pleasure; but un- 
 happily he is at present out of town." 
 
 " Well, well. The meeting might have 
 been painful to him yes, it might have 
 given him pain. You will not fail to let 
 him know that all all has been forgiven 1 ? 
 I should have been pleased much pleased 
 but for his peace for his peace it is 
 perhaps as well." 
 
 Valentine now sat beside him with one 
 hand in his; and while the physician, who 
 expected his death every moment, was 
 watching his countenance with the utmost 
 anxiety, Uncle John was in an easy chair 
 blinded with tears, though his sorrow was 
 silent. Goodman was his oldest friend: he 
 had been his companion in infancy; and 
 while his name was associated with his 
 earliest recollections, their friendship in 
 manhood had been cemented by the know- 
 ledge of each other's integrity and good- 
 ness of heart. He was therefore much 
 affected, and wept bitterly, albeit still in 
 silence. 
 
 Philosophy at such a time as this has no 
 effect; nor can religion and philosophy con- 
 joined check, when over the bed of death, 
 
 the tears which gush from the reservoir of 
 Nature. We must weep. But why 1 ? The 
 dying do not weep! they may be calm, 
 serene, free from pain, happy most happy 
 in the enjoyment of the prospect of celestial 
 bliss still we weep! Is it to lose them? 
 They lose us! But in their view then they 
 lose us but for a time, while in ours we lose 
 them for ever. We therefore weep: we 
 weep to be left in the world without them, 
 while the fountain of their tears is dried up 
 with the sweet hope of meeting us *' where 
 the wicked cease from troubling, and the 
 weary are at rest," in the realms of peace, 
 to part no more. 
 
 " Hush! hush!" exclaimed the dying 
 man, in a thrilling, startling whisper, after 
 having gazed on vacancy for some time in 
 silence " Hark! do you not hear?" 
 
 The physician raised his hand to enjoin 
 silence. 
 
 " Hark! hark!" he continued, with an 
 expression of rapture, raising his feeble 
 hands and straining his eyes upwards. 
 
 A sigh escaped a heavy lingering sigh: 
 it was his last he breathed no more! His 
 eyes were still fixed, but his spirit had fled! 
 * # * # # * 
 
 Thus died the benevolent, amiable Good- 
 man, the victim of a monstrous, a barbarous 
 system, which has long been a foul and 
 pernicious blot upon civilization, and of 
 which the existence in full force still, re- 
 flects the deepest disgrace upon us as Chris- 
 tians and as men. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIV. 
 
 HORACE ANNOUNCES THE FACT TO WALTER. 
 
 NEARLY a fortnight elapsed after the mourn- 
 ful occurrence detailed in the preceding 
 chapter, before Valentine was relieved in 
 any sensible degree of the sadness that 
 scene had induced. His knowledge of poor 
 Goodman had been in reality but slight 
 the seizure having been effected so soon 
 after his arrival but his death still had 
 made a deep impression upon his mind, for 
 he had seen sufficient of him to feel well 
 convinced that no man ever did or could 
 possess a more purely benevolent heart. 
 
 Louise, too albeit, under the then ex- 
 isting circumstances, it was but natural for 
 her to partake of any feeling which gave 
 him pain was affected more deeply than 
 might have been anticipated, considering 
 
 that Goodman was a man whom she had 
 never even seen. She, however, knew his 
 history: she knew of his cruel incarceration, 
 and of the brutal means by which his death 
 had been induced, and that knowledge was 
 accompanied by the ever constant thought 
 that the self-same means had been employed 
 by her father. She therefore felt it very 
 acutely, as indeed they did all; for while 
 Uncle John mourned the loss of his friend 
 as if, indeed, he had been a brother, White- 
 ly became still more inveterate against Ra- 
 ven, and Raven himself appeared to have 
 lost his own esteem. 
 
 There was, however, one who felt it more 
 deeply still: and that was Walter! 
 
 Horace had been left by him in town to 
 
352 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 watch the progress of events, and to report 
 from time to time; and as he was in con- 
 stant communication with the servant by 
 whom Goodman was attended, and whom 
 he had promised to marry " when the old 
 man was dead," he of course was informed 
 of that event as soon as possible, and no 
 sooner did he hear of his death than he 
 called to inquire particularly after his health. 
 
 Of course, on receiving the only answer 
 he could receive on that occasion, he was 
 perfectly struck with amazement! He had 
 made up his mind to be suddenly struck: 
 it was part of the plan he had deliberately 
 laid down, and after having, in his own 
 peculiar style, expressed his concern to the 
 widow Smugman, whose grief was exces- 
 sive, he thanked her for feeling so much 
 for his uncle, and begged of her to prevail 
 upon Valentine to see him, that he might 
 know if there was anything in the world 
 that he could do. 
 
 The affected widow who began to look 
 upon Horace as an individual who had been 
 scandalously libelled of course consented, 
 and proceeded to the drawing-room, in 
 which Valentine was sitting with Uncle 
 John, with the view of inducing him by 
 her eloquence to see him whom she termed 
 " the poor afflicted young gentleman." 
 
 Valentine, however, needed no such in- 
 ducement: the very moment he heard that 
 Horace was below he came down, and was 
 by no means displeased to perceive that he 
 was not dead to every proper feeling, for he 
 had made up his face for the occasion, 
 while the tones in which he spoke resembled 
 those which are subdued by real grief. 
 
 The interview was but short. Valentine 
 explained to him all that had occurred, but 
 dwelt emphatically upon Goodman's earnest 
 wish to see his brother before he died; and 
 when Horace had ingeniously got at the 
 fact that the will had not been altered 
 which, indeed, was the only thing he cared 
 to know he promised to communicate im- 
 mediately with his father, and with that 
 view at once took his leave. 
 
 The country is beyond doubt the most 
 unpleasant place to which a man with a 
 stinging conscience can retire. Such a man 
 must keep in town if he expects even par- 
 tially to drown his thoughts: the country 
 cannot calm his troubled breast: its tran- 
 quillity affords no peace for him. 
 
 This Walter felt strongly. The peace 
 which he there saw around him so striking- 
 ly contrasted with the perpetual agitation 
 within him, that it drove him almost mad. 
 Drink was the only means of excitement 
 which he found available there. Whether 
 he walked abroad or remained at home, to 
 him it was still the same: everything ap- 
 
 peared to be tranquil but his conscience, and 
 by that he was tortured so perpetually that 
 the very day on which Goodman died he 
 made up his mind to return to town; not 
 only with the view of escaping the torture 
 which the peaceful character of a rural life 
 induced, but in order to see his brother, and 
 to solicit his forgiveness. Upon this he had 
 fully and firmly resolved, and was on the 
 point of explaining that resolution to his 
 wife, and to urge her to prepare immediate- 
 ly for their departure, when Horace arrived 
 to announce his brother's death. 
 
 " What has happened?" inquired Wal- 
 ter, as he entered. 
 
 " There, now, sit down," said Horace, 
 " and don't be in a fever. Take a drop of 
 brandy, and give me ditto, and then as soon 
 as I've got off my benjamin, I'll tell you 
 all the news. I can't before." 
 
 \Valter trembled. He had no conception 
 of his brother's death, but he felt that 
 something might have occurred that would 
 plunge them at once into ruin. 
 
 "Well," said Horace, having adjusted 
 himself to his entire satisfaction, " we 
 seem to have made a bit of a mull of this 
 business, after all." 
 
 44 What business 1 ?" cried Walter, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Why, the old buffer's gone, and" 
 
 " Gone? dead?" 
 
 44 Why, of course!" replied Horace. 
 " Come, come," he continued, on perceiv- 
 ing the strong effect the announcement had 
 upon Walter; " there, that's quite enough; 
 you do it on the whole pretty fairly; but 
 now, come, cut it. It's all very natural 
 to be struck all of a heap when you've got 
 your game to play, but here there's no ne- 
 cessity for it. Well, may I be swindled! 
 I say, governor! do you mean it 1 ?" 
 
 44 Silence!" shouted Walter, with an ex- 
 pression of rage. 
 
 " Well, that's very pleasant and very 
 pretty, and would sound very correct if set 
 to music; but the tone doesn't harmonize 
 exactly with my feelings, I must say. 
 Haven't 1 done all I could do? didn't I 
 swindle the buffers into the belief that the 
 papers I returned were the papers, and no- 
 thing but? didn't I get a written acknow- 
 ledgment for the lot? and didn't I get hold 
 of the slavey, and make her believe that I 
 was single and was going to marry her, in 
 order to get at the bottom of every move? 
 and yet it's * Silence!'' This is the reward 
 of virtue!" 
 
 " Horace! Horace!" exclaimed the mo- 
 ther, " don't for goodness sake go on so!" 
 
 " Go on, how? This you know is what I 
 call gratitude, this is!" 
 
 " We know that you have done a great 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 353 
 
 deal; wo know that; and we appreciate 
 it." 
 
 44 Yes, so it seems! it bears a striking 
 resemblance to that!" 
 
 *' But do, for Heaven's sake, talk more 
 like a Christian." 
 
 44 Talk more like a Christian! Well, that's 
 rather rich rich enough to disagree with 
 any stomach, that is. How am I to talk?" 
 
 44 With less vulgarity, Horace! It is re- 
 ally quite shocking." 
 
 "Well, I shouldn't be surprised. But 
 what's the governor dreaming about now 1 ? 
 He hasn't heard a quarter of what I have 
 to tell him." 
 
 44 Tell me all," said Walter, 44 and at 
 once." 
 
 44 Now don't speak in such an uncom- 
 fortable tone. It would be much more mild 
 if it wasn't so strong. I should before 
 have pulled it all out at once if you hadn't 
 stopped me. But to whom do you think 
 he has left all his property now 1 ? guess." 
 
 44 Perhaps to that Valentine," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Walter, 44 1 shouldn't be surprised." 
 - " I care not if he has," said Walter, de- 
 spondingly, "lam reckless of everything 
 now." 
 
 44 What!" exclaimed Horace, " what 
 would you say now if he had left the lot to 
 you 1 ? made you his sole executor, notwith- 
 standing what has occurred? forgiven and 
 forgotten all, like a good Christian." 
 
 44 Is that the fact?" inquired Walter, with 
 the most intense earnestness. " Has he 
 really done that?" 
 
 44 He has. He has left no one else the 
 value of twopence." 
 
 44 Thank Heaven!" exclaimed Mrs. Wal- 
 ter; but Walter himself became motionless 
 and silent. Had his brother displayed the 
 slightest feeling of enmity or revenge; had 
 he, as a punishment for his unnatural con- 
 duct, left him destitute, it would have af- 
 fected him but slightly; he would have re- 
 garded it but as a punishment, and all his 
 energies would at once have been directed 
 to the means of avoiding it by retaining 
 illegally that which he had; but as, not- 
 withstanding the injuries he had received 
 at his hands, notwithstanding he had been 
 treated by him with the most unnatural 
 cruelty, he had act<d precisely the same as 
 if he had experienced nothing but kindness 
 and brotherly affection; it cut him to the 
 quick: for hearts are wounded far more 
 deeply by kindness undeserved, than by 
 the barbed shafts of malice or revenge. 
 
 44 Why," said Horace, who expected 
 folly that his father would, of course, be 
 elated, " you don't appear to be particularly 
 up in the stirrups even now." 
 
 Walter rose and left the room, and as he 
 31 
 
 left, his eyes seemed to be starting from 
 their sockets, while he groaned and ground 
 his teeth, and with his clenched fists struck 
 his head with violence. 
 
 44 Well," said Horace, " did you ever see 
 anything to come up to that? I tell him the 
 very best news that could possibly be told, 
 and instead of being in regular ecstasies, 
 he cuts away, and knocks his old head 
 about, just like a man without hope." 
 
 44 The news of his brother's death," said 
 Mrs. Walter, 44 has affected him, and very 
 naturally." 
 
 44 Well, that may be regular, as far as it 
 goes; but it won't go very far, you know, 
 when he has been expecting his death daily 
 for months!" 
 
 44 Very true; still, however long it may 
 have been expected, when it does come we 
 cannot but feel it." 
 
 44 Well, 1 shouldn't be surprised. But 
 it wasn't the death that affected him most; 
 it was the property that put him in that 
 state of mind. But I say though, what 
 donkeys we have been in this business! 
 That's what I look at. Here have we been 
 muddling away the money like mad indi- 
 viduals, in the first instance sacrificing one- 
 half in order to keep the other, and then 
 cutting away with that as if we hadn't 
 above six months to live, when if we had 
 but kept quiet we should have had the 
 whole in the regular course of nature, and 
 that too in a lump, which of course would 
 have enabled us to live like fighting-cocks, 
 in a state of the most pleasant independ- 
 ence for the rest of our days." 
 
 44 Very true; very true; we have indeed 
 been extravagant." 
 
 44 Extravagant, yes; but that which hurts 
 my feelings most is the fact of our having- 
 seen nothing at all for it! The money has 
 been regularly slobbered away. It is true 
 we havn't had much luck: that must be ad- 
 mitted by universal nature. That fool of a 
 fire was the first go that cost a little above 
 a trifle. Then there was the buying of that 
 Spanish, only just as it was on the point of 
 dropping down to nothing. Had we waited 
 but half an hour longer, we shouldn't have 
 been in time for that. Then the loss of the 
 governor's mysterious pocket-book contain- 
 ing those notes that was another nice 
 blessing. I never saw such a sweet run of 
 luck; it beats all my acquaintance. And 
 then again you see, buying that house full 
 of furniture at the very highest price, and 
 then selling it at about the very lowest to 
 come down here, and now we shall have to 
 buy another house-full, at the very highest. 
 You see all these things tell!" 
 
 44 They do indeed. We have had neither 
 a moment's peace of mind nor anything but 
 
354 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 misfortune since your uncle was taken to 
 that place." 
 
 "It was a badly managed business; nay, 
 the whole thing has been most miserably 
 muffed, and I don't care who knows it. 
 However, we must make the best we can 
 of it now." 
 
 " I am very sorry we disposed of that 
 furniture. Had we delayed the sale but a 
 few days, you see there would have been 
 no necessity for selling it at all." 
 
 "That's the beauty of it! That's the very 
 thing I look at! We are always just in time!" 
 
 "But then who could have supposed it 1 ? 
 Who could have supposed that your uncle 
 after all would have been so considerate, so 
 good"? I am sure, for my own part, /never 
 expected it. I never supposed it to be at 
 all probable. I fully made up my mind 
 when you mentioned the property that the 
 whole had been left to that young man, to 
 whose arrival in town I attribute all our 
 misfortunes, and that we should have been 
 in consequence compelled either to quit the 
 country or to remain here concealed, to 
 avoid being ruined by actions at law. But 
 say what you will, Horace, your uncle 
 must have been a good man." 
 
 " Oh! he was a decent old fellow enough, 
 I dare say. I should have liked him per- 
 haps better had he liked me better, for 
 there is always a great deal in that; but as 
 he didn't much care about me, why I didn't 
 care much about him. But where's the 
 governor] It will never do, you know, to 
 allow him to get into a state of confirmed 
 uncomfortables. I must say I don't like 
 the look of him sometimes." 
 
 "I fear that he never will be himself 
 again." 
 
 " Well, you'd better see after him, you 
 know. He may give us a little more of his 
 hanky-panky business, and set us all in a 
 blaze as he did before. There's no account- 
 ing for buffers that see apparitions." 
 
 Mrs. Walter took the hint and left the 
 room, when on entering the little back par- 
 lour, she found Walter seated at the table, 
 with his eyes fixed on vacancy, and groan- 
 ing with intense mental anguish. She 
 spoke to him he started, but returned no 
 answer. She tried to rouse him from his 
 reverie, but in vain. 
 
 From that hour his misery became ap- 
 palling. 
 
 CHAPTER LXV. 
 
 IN WHICH THE DAY IS FIXED AGAIN. 
 
 WHEN a month from the period of poor 
 Goodman's death had passed without a 
 single syllable on the subject of the mar- 
 liage having been mentioned, Valentine 
 very naturally felt, that as every thing 
 which mjght have been considered a bar to 
 its immediate celebration had been effectu- 
 ally removed, it would be absurd to defer 
 the renewal of that subject any longer, par- 
 ticularly as he began to be very impatient. 
 He saw Louise daily; he dined and con- 
 versed with her daily; and he could not but 
 feel that they might as well be married as 
 not; nay, he thought it would be better, in- 
 asmuch as their minds would be more at 
 ease, and they would feel far more settled, 
 and so on. 
 
 Accordingly, having satisfied 'himself 
 that nothing could be more correct, he re- 
 aolved to revert to the subject at once, and 
 as at the time this unimpeachable resolu- 
 tion was formed, he and Louise were in the 
 drawing-room alone, he closed the book he 
 had in his hand, and drew up to the table 
 at which she had been working for some 
 time in silence. 
 
 It is a curious fact in natural philosophy, 
 that ladies in almost every case of interest, 
 clearly understand the designs of their 
 lovers. The process by which they arrive 
 at this clear understanding is inscrutable of 
 course, but that they do possess the faculty 
 of perceiving it at once when an interesting 
 proposition is about to be made to them, is 
 a fact which experience has placed beyond 
 dispute. It is hence that at such a time as 
 this they are never off their guard, for let a 
 man go round ^and round, and beat about as 
 his apprehensions or his natural diffidence 
 may prompt, they well know that his 
 design is to come to the point, and that 
 sooner or later to the point he will come; 
 and hence it was that in this particular in- 
 stance Louise no sooner perceived Valen- 
 tine draw mysteriously up to the table, 
 than she began to work away at an extra- 
 ordinary rale, and to feel her cheeks glow- 
 ing with " ineffectual fire." 
 
 " Louise," said he, "I mean to be merry 
 again. I have been solemn already too 
 long; for although the mournful scene 
 which caused me to be sad, made an im- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 355 
 
 pression which I sincerely hope may never 
 be obliterated, still I hold it to be the very 
 reverse of wisdom to cherish gloomy 
 thoughts until they obtain so great an in- 
 fluence over the mind as to tinge every 
 feeling of pleasure with sadness." 
 
 At this point he paused; but Louise kept 
 on working with great intensity and zeal 
 without offering the slightest remark, or 
 even raising her eyes for an instant. 
 
 "Louise," he continued, "you are very 
 industrious to-day!" 
 
 "That is rather an equivocal compli- 
 ment," said Louise. "Arn I not always 
 industrious'?" 
 
 " Your mind is always active, I admit; 
 but I never saw you work quite so fast, I 
 think, before! Shall you be long about that 
 business?" 
 
 " What business, dear 1 ?" 
 
 " Why that muslin affair. What is it? 
 Oh! by no means! I have no wish to 
 know! But you'll not be long about it, I 
 presume?" 
 
 " Oh! no. But why do you ask?" 
 
 " Because, when you have completed it 
 whatever it may be I should like to 
 have a little conversation with you on a 
 subject of some interest." 
 
 " Can we not converse while I am work- 
 ing quite as well?" 
 
 "No, my Louise, not quite, for your 
 eyes are then fixed upon the work when I 
 am anxious to have them fixed upon me." 
 
 Louisa bowed, and having set the work 
 aside, was all attention. 
 
 "You heard me say just now," he con- 
 tinued, " that I mean to be merry again. 
 Louise, we must both be merry." 
 
 " I fear," said Louise, " that I shall never 
 again be habitually cheerful." 
 
 "That, my dear girl, is the effect of the 
 very influence to which I alluded, and 
 against which we must take care to guard. 
 I am glad, however, to find that you fear 
 you never shall, because as that implies a 
 wish that you may, I have no doubt you 
 will. Cherish that fear until you prove it 
 to be groundless. Entertain it till then, 
 and you are safe. But 1 have no fear of 
 the kind; I have not even a doubt that you 
 will be, and that soon, the same light- 
 hearted, animated, merry little tyrant you 
 were three months ago." 
 
 Louise shook her head, and sighed. 
 
 "Fou do not think so, of course," he 
 continued; "I don't see how you can! 
 But, my good girl, we must not hug sorrow 
 to our hearts as if we loved it. We shall 
 have enough of it, without courting its 
 society. It will come often enough, with 
 out any invitation, and stop long enough, 
 without being either welcomed or fostered. 
 
 We must give it no encouragement; if we 
 do, it will stick to us, and make itself so 
 jerfectly at home, that after a time we shall 
 not be able to get rid of it at all. They 
 are the wisest people who turn sorrow out 
 at once, for it really has no engaging quali- 
 ties; it is always looking wretched, and 
 groaning about something. How ever ra- 
 tional beings can love such a companion I 
 cannot conceive." 
 
 "Its visits," said Louise, "are, unfor- 
 tunately, not confined to those by whom it 
 s beloved." 
 
 " Of course not. It will force itself any- 
 where; it is externally trying to extend the 
 circle of its acquaintance; but having gain- 
 ed an introduction, the length of its visit 
 depends entirely upon the treatment it re- 
 ceives. If you meet it with spirit, it will 
 be too much shocked to remain long; but if 
 once you fall into its views, it will love 
 you too dearly to leave you. Now I per- 
 ceive, my dear girl, that it is getting rather 
 fond of you; its affection for you, indeed, is 
 becoming very conspicuous, and as such is 
 the case, would it not be wise to make it 
 understand that on your part there is no 
 reciprocity of feeling? What is your opin- 
 ion upon the point?" 
 
 " Upon my word," said Louise, " I can- 
 not say." 
 
 "Are you enamoured of sorrow?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " You have no desire to be wedded to it 
 for life?" 
 
 "Certainly not." 
 
 "If you knew how to remove the heavy 
 burden from" your heart, you would do so 
 willingly?" 
 
 "I would." 
 
 "Then the thing shall be done. I will 
 undertake to show you how to do it. But 
 let us have a clear and distinct understand- 
 ing. You engage to be guided by me? 
 You promise to act upon my instructions 
 to the very letter?" 
 
 Louise paused, but at length said, " I 
 do."' 
 
 "Very well. In the first place then 
 (now I expect the most implicit obedience) 
 in the first place, let me see, this is the 
 sixth: yes; well then, decide upon what 
 day, between this and the twentieth, we 
 shall take full possession of our house." 
 
 " Oh! that's an entirely different thing!" 
 exclaimed Louise. " We were speaking 
 on the subject of sorrow!" 
 
 " We were; and as I have made up my 
 mind to entertain no sorrow at that house, 
 the sooner we take possession of it the 
 better. Remember, you have promised obe- 
 dience!^ between this and the twentieth." 
 
 "Nay, but this is a snare! You can 
 
356 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 hardly expect me to feel myself bound by 
 a promise into which I have been entrap- 
 
 ed! But seriously, my love, pray let us 
 efer it a little longer." 
 
 ** Well, rny dear girl, I will consent to 
 defer it provided you can prove to me that 
 it ought to be deferred." 
 
 " Would not the mere expression of my 
 wish on the subject be sufficient?" 
 
 "Why that depends entirely upon what 
 form of government we are under. If it be 
 an absolute despotism, of course the wish 
 would have but to be expressed to be 
 obeyed; but if it be but a limited monarchy 
 the consent of others must be obtained be- 
 fore it can have the force of law. But I 
 thought you were my pupil my subject 
 for the time being. I thought you promised 
 to obey me. Was it not so 1 ?" 
 
 " I certainly did promise; but " 
 
 "That is sufficient! Your will then of 
 course is quite out of the question: my will 
 is the law to which you have promised obe- 
 dience; nevertheless, if you can show me 
 any just cause or impediment why we 
 should not take possession of that house 
 before the twentieth, I am perfectly willing 
 to yield; at the same time I think that I 
 am quite safe in making that promise, be- 
 lieving that no sufficient reason can be ad- 
 duced. But what have you to urge?" 
 
 ** I know of nothing which you would 
 consider a sufficient reason; but I don't, 
 iny love, feel exactly prepared." 
 
 " Well, sure you will have plenty of time 
 for preparation before the twentieth! Con- 
 sider, an immense deal can be done in four- 
 teen days. Besides, look at that furniture! 
 Now, I should be very sorry indeed to see 
 that fall into decay; and is it likely that it 
 .will not all be spoiled if we drive this affair 
 off much longer?" 
 
 " Oh! but I hope it is well taken care of." 
 
 " It may be; I say it may be; but you 
 know what servants are when they have no 
 one to see after them. But independently 
 of that, I don't like to see the house as it is 
 now. We should feel more at home there, 
 much more at home. I admire the hoiyse. 
 And shall we not be happy in it, my love? 
 Yes, I feel that we shall, and you feel that 
 we shall, too. Let ws then be happy at 
 once. I am not at all particular as to the 
 day; any day between this and the twen- 
 tieth. The earlier, the better, of course. 
 Come, my Louise, we must have no more 
 gloom, no more melancholy thoughts or 
 afflicting apprehensions. To-morrow I 
 will not press you too closely now but to- 
 morrow let me know the day on which our 
 happiness is really to commence, and then 
 we'll make sorrow Jly before the pros- 
 ,pect!" 
 
 Louise was silent. Valentine had drawn 
 his chair quite close to hers; and had both 
 her hands in his; and although she endea- 
 voured to fix her eyes firmly upon her dress, 
 they would almost every moment meet his, 
 which of course she couldn't help. 
 
 " Louise," said he, after a pause, during 
 which he gazed with the highest and purest 
 feelings of admiration upon her, " what say 
 you; shall we go this morning and look at 
 our house, and see how the furniture stands, 
 and so on?" 
 
 "Oh, yes! I should like it indeed." 
 
 "Then we'll go, my dear girl, run away 
 and prepare." 
 
 Louise now raised her eyes, and before 
 she left the room fixed them firmly upon 
 him, and said that he was a dear good 
 creature, and that she loved him more and 
 more; for which, of course, Valentine ap- 
 propriately rewarded her, and a heavy bur- 
 den seemed to have been removed from the 
 hearts of both. 
 
 " Oh, Louey!" exclaimed Llewellen, who 
 happened to enter unperceived at the very 
 moment their lips accidentally met, " OA.'" 
 
 Louise blushed, and darted from the room 
 with all possible speed. 
 
 " Well, Fred!" said Valentine, precisely 
 as if nothing at all had happened, " What's 
 the news?" 
 
 " Well, coolness knows it, now, that's 
 the first time I ever frightened Louey! 
 Hur'm so clat! Won't hur tease her now, 
 look you!" 
 
 "Tease her?" said Valentine, "What 
 about?" 
 
 Llewellen made a very droll face, and 
 gave five or six very deliberate nods as if 
 he quite understood it. 
 
 " Why, you don't suppose, Fred, that it 
 is very extraordinary for a lady to receive a 
 kiss from him to whom she is just on the 
 point of being married?" 
 
 "No," said Llewellen, "no! It isn't 
 extraordinary, that; but look you; there's a 
 tifference between kissing phen nopotty's 
 apout, ant kissing phen somepotty's hanty; 
 and coolness knows Louey woultn't have 
 hat me seen her for the worlt; so hur'll 
 roast her to teath apout it, look you! Putt 
 hur say, my poy, woultn't you like to have 
 a walk? Hur've pin reating those plesset 
 books pelow till hur'm plind." 
 
 " Louise and I are going to look at the 
 house." 
 
 "Oh! apove all things in the worlt! Hur 
 may co, hur suppose?" 
 
 " Of course! that is to say, if Louise has 
 no objection; but I know she will put her 
 veto upon it at once if you say another word 
 about the kiss." 
 
 44 Oh, very well; hur ton't care so long as 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 357 
 
 hur can co, only hur shoot like to tease her 
 a pit apout that." 
 
 " But her spirits, poor girl, have of late 
 been depressed, and you ought not, you 
 know, to take any advantage " 
 
 "Not for the worlt!" cried Llewellen, 
 with much feeling, " Not for the worlt! 
 For hur love Louey, look you; were she my 
 sister, hur coultn't love her more." 
 
 Valentine grasped his hand, and shook it 
 warm'y; and, having said that he was a 
 good fellow, strongly recommended him to 
 go and brush his hair, not because it was at 
 all disarranged, but in order that Louise, 
 when she returned, might not feel at all em- 
 barrassed. 
 
 " Hur ton't think hur can make it look 
 much petter, look you," said Llewellen, 
 after having surveyed it in the glass. 
 " Phot's the matter with it, my poy? Ton't 
 you like the co of it]" 
 
 " Oh, go and give it a brush; it will look 
 all the smoother, especially behind." 
 
 Very coot: hur'll make it co petter if hur 
 can." 
 
 ** That's right; but be quick; don't keep 
 us waiting long. Run away, Louise is 
 coming." 
 
 Llewellen was off like a shot to arrange 
 his hair, and Louise the next moment re- 
 turned. 
 
 " Oh! where is Fred!" she inquired, 
 having looked stealthily round. " Gra- 
 cious! what did he say 1 ?" 
 
 " What did he say! Why, he said that 
 he should like to go with us." 
 
 44 Yes, yes; but about you know what I 
 mean. Did he make any remark?" 
 
 "I believe that he said 'Oh!' or some- 
 thing of that kind playfully, before you left 
 the room." 
 
 " Dear me, what a fidget T was in." 
 
 Llewellen now entered, with his hair in 
 the best trim. He had altered the " go," 
 and it looked rather tidy. 
 
 44 W T iIl it tool" he inquired, addressing 
 Valentine. 
 
 44 Aye! now it looks more like the thing." 
 
 44 Hur wish, Louey tear, you woult puy 
 me some pears' grease, will you, Louey? 
 there's a coot cirl!" 
 
 Louise promised to do so, and they left 
 the house, and at the suggestion of Valen- 
 tine called for Uncle John, whom they 
 found alone, and in rather low spirits. He 
 was, however, pleased to see them, for their 
 appearance was cheering; more especially 
 that of Louise. 
 
 44 We are come," said Louise, after a 
 most cordial greeting, "to steal from you 
 those gloomy thoughts which Valentine 
 thinks we have all entertained long 
 enough." 
 
 44 And I believe that he is right, my 
 dear," returned uncle John, "I believe that 
 he is right." 
 
 44 1 am glad that you think so too," said 
 Louise. "You will accompany us? We 
 are going to look at the house." 
 
 44 Too come," urged Llewellen; 4< it's a 
 plesset deal petter than peing here, and 
 cootness knows it." 
 
 44 Oh! I'll go with yon with pleasure." 
 
 44 But I thought," said Louise, " that my 
 dear friend was here?" 
 
 44 She has been here; but we shall find 
 her there: I have just sent her to see that 
 everything is going on right." 
 
 " Well, that is fortunate. I hope she 
 will not have left." 
 
 44 Shall hur co pefore," said Llewellen, 
 " an v d tell her you are coming?" 
 
 4 > Yes, do," replied Louise, " there's a 
 dear fejlow, do," 
 
 Llewellen started off, and they followed 
 him leisurely, and on the way Valentine 
 hinted to Uncle John that between that day 
 and the twentieth they should be in posses- 
 sion, which pleased Uncle John, although 
 it slightly, but very slightly, embarrassed 
 Louise. 
 
 " I do not see," said the old gentleman, 
 "the slightest necessity now for delaying 
 the thing any longer; on the contrary, I 
 think that as every obstacle has been re- 
 moved, any further delay would be folly; 
 for of course we shall all feel unsettled until 
 it takes place." 
 
 Valentine was delighted to hear his 
 uncle speak out on the subject, and Louise 
 was by no means unhappy about it, albeit 
 she was silent. 
 
 On arriving at the house, they were re- 
 ceived by the widow, who with Louise at 
 once proceeded to make a most minute in- 
 spection, while Valentine, his uncle, and 
 Llewellen, were having a glass of wine. 
 This inspection, however, did not occupy 
 the whole of the time the ladies were ab- 
 sent, for Louise, embracing the earliest op- 
 portunity, opened her heart to her affec- 
 tionate friend, and having explained the 
 substance of all that passed between her 
 and Valentine that morning, it was decided 
 then that the fifteenth should be fixed, and 
 the widow was deputed to announce the 
 fact to Valentine, in order that he might 
 immediately communicate with Raven. 
 
 Accordingly, on entering the drawing- 
 room in which the gentlemen were enjoying 
 themselves, the widow drew Valentine 
 aside, and to his great satisfaction, impart- 
 ed to him the result of their private confer- 
 ence; but Louise at the time felt so exces- 
 sively awkward, and trembled with so 
 much violence, that she dared not attempt 
 
 31* 
 
358 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 to raise the glass of wine presented by 
 tJncle John to her lips; nor was it until 
 Valentine, on rejoining them with a smile, 
 began to converse on general topics with 
 the highest, consideration for her feelings, 
 which he on all occasions studied, that she 
 was able to reassume her self-possession. 
 On recovering herself, however, she began 
 to explain how much delighted she was 
 with the whole of the arrangements, and 
 soon made it manifest that she really did 
 feel that the sooner matters were settled the 
 better. 
 
 The object proposed having been thus 
 accomplished, Valentine, Louise, and Lle- 
 wellen, left the house in the occupation of 
 TJncle John and the widow, who remained 
 to give additional instructions; and as Va- 
 lentine was resolved that Louise should be 
 gay, that she might feel as little embarrass- 
 ed under the circumstances as possible, he 
 suggested that they should go to a certain 
 scientific exhibition, which he had seen ad- 
 vertised in the papers that morning. Louise 
 always peculiarly happy to visit exhibi- 
 tions with her Valentine, who had the 
 power to render them all sources of infinite 
 amusement applauded the suggestion, and 
 they proceeded to act upon it at once. 
 
 On passing Langham Church, however, 
 Valentine's attention was attracted by two 
 persons who were in earnest conversation 
 at the corner. He saw at a glance that one 
 of these persons was VVhitely; but being 
 anxious that the thoughts of Louise should 
 not revert to the affair with which his name 
 was associated, he of course took no no- 
 tice, and they were about to pass on, when 
 at the moment Llewellen exclaimed, " Look 
 you! Is not that Mr. Phitely?" 
 
 Louise in an instant turned her eyes, and 
 saw not only Whitely, but Joseph, her 
 father's late porter. 
 
 "Too you know the other, Louey?" add- 
 ed Llewellen. " Apove all other people in 
 the worlt it^s that lazy scountrel Joe, ant 
 cootness knows it!" 
 
 44 Don't appear to notice them," said Va- 
 lentine. "The fellow is, perhaps, merely 
 trying to get another situation. 1 ' 
 
 " Phitely ton't live with you now, I pe- 
 lieve?" 
 
 " No, he left about a fortnight ago." 
 
 They passed on, and Llewellen again 
 expressed his wonder that Whitely should 
 converse with a fellow like that; but Louise 
 neither said a single word upon the subject, 
 nor felt at all surprised; indeed, as she 
 knew that Raven's secret had been known 
 to the man, she viewed it as a thing to be 
 expected that whenever he and Whitely 
 happened to meet, they would speak on the 
 subject as a matter of course. 
 
 To Valentine this was unknown, and 
 hence he thought far more of the matter; 
 but he appeared to be as gay as before, and 
 conversed in as lively a strain, and kept 
 Louise constantly smiling until they reach- 
 ed the exhibition, being anxious for her to 
 think as little as possible about that which 
 they had seen, and which on his mind had 
 made a deep impression. 
 
 On entering the exhibition, the first thing 
 which attracted their notice was the process 
 of spinning glass by steam, which Llewel- 
 len pronounced to be " wonterful beyont 
 all things in the worlt," and when inform- 
 ed that the glass thus spun could with silk 
 or thread be manufactured into various arti- 
 cles of dress, he declared in a confidential 
 whisper to Valentine, that he would have a 
 pair of " peautiful preeches" made of it, 
 but that, if he " tit happen to tumple town, 
 then they would certainly preak into pits." 
 
 They then proceeded to the principal 
 room, which was crowded with models, 
 and scientific apparatus, which Llewellen 
 minutely examined, and upon which he 
 made divers extraordinary remarks. 
 
 "Valentine," whispered Louise, "I 
 don't think that Fred has ever been gal- 
 vanized. I wonder how he would like it!" 
 
 " We'll see," said Valentine, "there's a 
 wire in that basin: drop something in, and 
 ask him, as a favour, to get it out." 
 
 " Oh that will be glorious; but what 
 shall it be? my purse!" 
 
 "Anything: a ring will be better; he'll 
 be some time getting at that." 
 
 Louise drew off a ring, and let it fall into 
 the basin, and when Llewellen, who had 
 been looking at the model of a steamboat, 
 approached, she cried, " Oh, Fred, I've just 
 dropped my ring into the water; can you 
 see it]" 
 
 "Yes," replied Llewellen, " there it is 
 at the pottom. Wait a minute; Pll get it!" 
 
 He drew off his glove, and put his hand 
 into the water, but it was out again, of 
 course, in an instant! the shock, being per- 
 fectly unexpected, astonished every nerve 
 he possessed. 
 
 " Why, Fred, what's the matter?" in- 
 quired Valentine. 
 
 Llewellen couldn't tell. He stood and 
 looked at the water with great intensity of 
 feeling, and with a very remarkable aspect; 
 but what it was that had thus travelled 
 through his system with the velocity of 
 light, he was not in a position to say. 
 
 " My poy," said he, at length, "do you 
 see anything there in that pasin?" 
 
 " 1 see a ring at the bottom." 
 
 " Putt nothing alive, look you? nothing 
 alive?" 
 
 44 No," replied Valentine, gravely. 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 359 
 
 "Nor can I ant yet there was some- 
 thing which made my pint curtle, and 
 shook every pone in my potty." 
 
 " Come, Fred," said Louise, who had 
 been convulsed from the first, "you said 
 you would get me my ring." 
 
 " So hur tit, Louey yes, ant so hur will 
 putt cootness knows it!" 
 
 Hereupon he put his hand into the water 
 again, and as it was out in an instant, as 
 before, he demanded to know what it 
 was. 
 
 " Phot t' it?" he cried" Phot in the 
 name of Saint Tavit can it pe? Hur never 
 saw water alive pefore! Just try it, my poy: 
 just try it." 
 
 " Is it hot?" 
 
 " Oh no, cootness knows it's not hot, putt 
 so queer! too try it." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Louise, affecting to be 
 serious. "I suppose that I must get it out 
 myself." 
 
 " Not for the worlt!" exclaimed Llewel- 
 len "not for the worlt! it will shake you 
 to pits! No, hur'll get it out presently, putt 
 inteet her ton't know phot to make of it at 
 all." 
 
 He now tried very cautiously with one of 
 his fingers, and the result caused him to 
 feel a deep interest in the thing, and he be- 
 came less alarmed, still he could make 
 nothing of it. 
 
 "Now," said Louise, "did you ever see 
 so silly a creature! There has he been for 
 the last ten minutes dipping for my ring, 
 and hasn't got it up yet!" 
 
 " Hur ton't care phot you say, Louey: 
 there's a mystery in this pusiness, cootness 
 knows, ant hur'll get to the pottom of it, 
 look you!" 
 
 " Well, I wish you would, for at the bot- 
 tom lies the ring." 
 
 "Hur ton't mean that: but hur say, my 
 poy, try it: too try it!" 
 
 "Oh! I've no objection," said Valentine, 
 who quietly removed the wire, and drew 
 out the ring, without the smallest incon- 
 venience. 
 
 "Well," said Llewellen, "how very 
 extraordinary! Put titn't you feel something 
 that mate you tremple?" 
 
 "No," replied Valentine, as he slipped 
 the wire in again. 
 
 " Well, hur can't pear to pe peat! hur'll 
 try it again, look you!" 
 
 He did so, and on finding that, as a mat- 
 ter of course, the effect upon him was the 
 same, he became quite distressed. " How 
 very remarkable," he cried; " how very 
 troll!" 
 
 " Oh! Fred, Fred!" cried Louise. 
 " Hur ton't care, Louey, the water's pe> 
 witched. You try it; only try one finger 
 
 [f Valentine can stant it hur can't, and 
 [nir'm sure it will shake you to pieces." 
 
 " I've no particular desire to wet my 
 fingers," said Louise, as Valentine again 
 removed the wire, unperceived, " but in or- 
 der to show what a very silly creature you 
 are, Fred, I will." 
 
 She then at once introduced her little 
 hand into the water, and held it there, of 
 course, with perfect steadiness, which so 
 amazed Llewellen, that he scarcely knew 
 how to express what he felt. 
 
 " Now," said Louise, " I do hope you 
 are satisfied." But Llewellen was not by 
 any means; and he was about to explain, 
 with great force, that he was not, when 
 Louise playfully told him to say no more 
 about it, and with gentle force led him 
 away. 
 
 At that moment a man in a diving dress 
 was about to enter a basin at the upper end 
 of the room, about twelve feet in diameter 
 and eight feet deep. They therefore drew 
 as near as possible at once, in order to have 
 a good view of the operations, and when he 
 had got beneath the surface, he appeared to 
 walk about with very great deliberation and 
 safety, his movements being marked by the 
 water which continually boiled above his 
 head. Having been down for some time, 
 he ascended, and when a box had been 
 handed to him with the view of giving a 
 practical illustration of the power of voltaic 
 electricity, he went down again, but he had 
 no sooner done so, than Valentine, having 
 whispered to Louise, threw his voice to- 
 wards the diver, and cried " Pull me out!" 
 
 In an instant the men who were in attend- 
 ance, threw ropes to the diver and held a 
 life-preserver above his head, and would 
 doubtless have proceeded to great extremi- 
 ties in order to save him, had he not, on 
 perceiving through the glass in his helmet, 
 a very unusual bustle above, reascendeS 
 the rope ladder to see what it was all 
 about, in the perfect conviction that some- 
 thing was decidedly wrong. He had 
 scarcely, however, got above the surface, 
 when he was seized by the attendants, who 
 exhibited the most laudable anxiety to ren- 
 der him every assistance in their power, 
 which astonished the diver more and more, 
 and he shook his head at them and seemed 
 by his gestures to be demanding an explana- 
 tion; but it had no effect; they led him with 
 great humanity to the edge of the basin and 
 made him sit down, and having carefully 
 removed his helmet, they anxiously asked 
 him how he felt himself then. 
 
 Of course, the diver didn't know what to 
 make of this display of affectionate zeal, 
 and very naturally begged to know what it 
 meant, for being totally unaccustomed to 
 
360 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 such considerate attention, it rather confused 
 him than not. 
 
 "What's the matter 1 ?" said he, "any 
 thing broke?" 
 
 " What was the matter with you?" in 
 quired one of the men. 
 
 " The matter with me! nothing." 
 
 " What did you call out for then]" 
 
 " /call out! How came you to think o 
 that 1 ? /didn't call out!" 
 
 Here the spirit of incredulity seized them 
 all, and they asked him distinctly if he 
 really meant to say that he had not uttered 
 the words " Pull me out." 
 
 " Of course I do," he replied. " Why 
 should I want to be pulled out? If I'd felt 
 queer, couldn't 1 have come out of my own 
 accord in about the space of an instant?" 
 
 The men said no more; but they looked 
 at each other as if they felt something very 
 acutely. 
 
 The helmet was now readjusted, and 
 when the submarine explosion had taken 
 place, the diver again went down for a short 
 time, and having completed his task, reas- 
 cended. 
 
 "Any lady or gentlemen for the diving- 
 bell?" shouted one of the attendants. "The 
 diving-bell!" 
 
 " Have you courage enough to go down 
 Louise?" said Valentine, hardly expecting 
 that she had. 
 
 "I have courage enough to go anywhere 
 with you," replied Louise. " I fear nothing 
 when you are with me." 
 
 Valentine smiled, and pressed her hand. 
 " Would you like," said he, " to go down 
 with us, Fred?" 
 
 " Apove all things in the worlt!" replied 
 Llewellen. " Hur should like it, if only to 
 say that hur hat pin town, look you!" 
 
 The necessary tickets were therefore pro- 
 cured, and they entered the bell, which 
 would have held five persons, but they were 
 alone, and the moment they were sealed 
 they were launched into the middle of the 
 basin, and began to descend. The pumping 
 then commenced, and they began to expe- 
 rience a singular sensation, which gradually 
 increased as they descended, until it became 
 one of absolute pain. Their ears seemed to 
 be completely stopped up one moment, and 
 the next to have a passage directly through 
 them, while their heads felt as if they were 
 quite prepared to split. 
 
 " Oh! 1 shall tie!" cried Llewellen, "ant 
 coolness knows it." 
 
 " Nonsense!" said Valentine. 
 
 " Oh! put hur can't preathe!" 
 
 Valentine knocked for more air, and they 
 immediately felt more oppressed; he then 
 knocked for less, and although they felt in 
 
 some degree relieved, the sensation was 
 still very painful. 
 
 " Oh my poor het! it will pust!" cried 
 Llewellen. 
 
 " We are ascending now, my love," said 
 Valentine, who regretted exceedingly that 
 he had brouo-ht Louise down; for although 
 she exhibited no signs of fear, he well knew 
 that she must be in pain. 
 
 " Oh! my potty's as empty as a putt!" 
 cried Llewellen; " ant my het! Oh! mv 
 het!" 
 
 " We are very near the surface now," 
 said Valentine. 
 
 " Only let me once more get apove it!" 
 cried Llewellen "hur'll never get pelow it 
 in a living pell acain." And he shook his 
 head, and gave some extraordinary winks; 
 and appeared to be altogether very uncom- 
 fortable. 
 
 The next moment they got above the 
 surface, and began to breathe freely again; 
 and the instant the bell had been landed, 
 Llewellen rushed out, holding his ears, and 
 looking very mysterious. The persons who 
 stood round smiled, of course, but the 
 knowledge of that fact did not hurl his pri- 
 vale feelings: he ihought of his head he 
 then cared about nothing in nature but that. 
 
 "You are in pain, my poor girl," said 
 Valentine, having handed Louise from the 
 bell. 
 
 " No, I don't feel much now," replied 
 Louise; " 1 have a tingling sensalion in 
 my ears; but it isn't very painful." 
 
 "I am indeed very sorry thai I induced 
 you to go down; but I had no idea of its 
 having this effect." 
 
 " Oh it will very soon go off"! Do you 
 feel much of it?" 
 
 " Very little. But look at poor Fred!" 
 
 Llewellen was at that time slanding with 
 his hands to his ears, and his elbows on the 
 frame, looking very severely at the water. 
 His expression was that of a deaf individual, 
 and the whole of his inlellectual faculties 
 appeared to be in a most distressing state of 
 confusion. 
 
 ' How do you feel now, Fred?" said 
 Valentine, " Better?" 
 
 " Fetter!" cried Llewellen, " my net's 
 n a roar! Ils langerous, look you! very 
 tangerous indeed!" 
 
 Valentine admitled that it was danger- 
 ous; and that ladies especially ought never 
 to go down; for although in the bell there 
 were instructions to knock once for more air, 
 twice for less, and so on, nine persons out 
 of ten, when they experience a difficulty in 
 breathing, suppose that they have too little 
 iir when they have too much, and knock 
 or more: independently of which, his de- 
 cided impression was, that its tendency in 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 361 
 
 many cases of weakness was to produce 
 instant death. 
 
 An announcement was now made, to the 
 effect that something was going forward in 
 the Theatre of the Institution; and as Valen- 
 tine and Louise had nearly recovered from 
 the effects of their diving experiment, they 
 playfully rallied Llewellen, and having in- 
 sisted npon his keeping his fingers out of 
 his ears, proceeded with him in the direc- 
 tion pointed out. 
 
 As they entered the theatre, it was per- 
 fectly dark, which rather alarmed Fred, 
 who displayed an inclination to retire. "Is 
 this another scientific experimental pusi- 
 ness?" he inquired; "pecause if it be, hur 
 can't stant it, my poy, hur can't inteet." 
 
 "It is only the microscope," said Valen- 
 tine, and the next moment the disc appeared 
 before them, exhibiting a mass of unhappy 
 little wretches, that appeared to be in a 
 frightful state of excitement. They darted 
 about, and drove against each other, and 
 lashed their tails, and kicked as if con- 
 scious that they had not another minute to 
 live, and were therefore resolved to make 
 the most of the time allowed them. 
 
 Llewellen was delighted. He at once 
 forgot his head, and took the deepest pos- 
 sible interest in the evolutions of the little 
 animals, whiofev-were somewhere about a 
 million times less than they appeared. 
 
 " Phot are they 1 ?" he inquired; "phot are 
 they all about? They appear to have pins 
 in their tails, look you!" 
 
 " Listen," said Valentine, and at the 
 moment an individual began to explain 
 that what they saw was merely a drop of 
 Thames water, and that the animals therein 
 were so minute, that the idea of being able 
 to s.ee them with the naked eye was about 
 the most ridiculous that could be conceived. 
 
 * Oh!" exclaimed Valentine, sending his 
 voice some distance from him. " How then 
 can they see each other? Are their eyes 
 stronger than curs'?" 
 
 This was done of course merely to create 
 a sensation, and that object was in an in- 
 stant achieved; and the lecturer paused, but 
 disdained to reply to so strikingly irregular 
 a question. 
 
 "Well!" said Valentine. "But I sup- 
 pose you cannot tell." 
 
 The lecturer scientifically struggled for 
 some time with his feelings; but at length 
 said with very great solemnity, " What is 
 it the gentleman wishes to know?" 
 
 "Whether," replied Valentine, "their 
 eyes are more powerful than ours?" 
 
 " Beyond doubt," said the lecturer, in a 
 very severe tone "infinitely more power- 
 ful in their sphere. Eyes are not powerful 
 in proportion to their size. If they were, 
 
 the eagle would be able to see a far less 
 distance than the elephant, and assuming 
 that the elephant has the power to distin- 
 guish objects at a distance of twenty 
 miles, the ant would be able to see nothing 
 beyond half a millionth part of a quarter of 
 an inch." 
 
 Here the lecturer was applauded, and by 
 the light of the lamp beside him, it was 
 perceptible that he felt a little better. 
 
 " What a very silly person he must be," 
 observed Louise, to ask so ridiculous a 
 question!" 
 
 " Very, returned Valentine; when, as- 
 suming the same voice as before, he added, 
 " Who is it that says I am a very silly per- 
 son?" 
 
 " Good gracious!" cried Louise, " I had 
 no idea of his having overheard me." 
 
 "Who is it?" again demanded Valen- 
 tine, when many began to laugh, and many 
 more cried "I! I! I! We all say that 
 you are a very silly person." 
 
 " How dare you laugh at me!" cried Va- 
 lentine, and the laughter recommenced. "I 
 know," he continued, "I well know the 
 laugh of one excited individual; it is that 
 of Fred Llewellen, who has just been down 
 in the diving-bell." 
 
 " Oh!" cried Louise, " it is you!" 
 
 " Hush!" said Valentine. 
 
 " Tit you hear?" cried Llewellen; " tit 
 you hear? Co phere hur will, hur am sure 
 to pe known." 
 
 "I know you," cried Valentine. 
 
 " Silence! silence! Order! order," 
 
 shouted several persons, who began to feel 
 indignant. 
 
 "Am I to be insulted by a Welshman?" 
 cried Valentine, in a very scornful tone, 
 "Is it likely?" 
 
 " Phot to you mean, sir?" pointedly de- 
 manded Llewellen, for his blood began 
 to boil. "Phot to you mean? Who are 
 you?" 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the lecturer, sooth- 
 ingly, "it will be perfectly impossible for 
 us to proceed unless you are silent." 
 
 "Do not be brow-beaten, Fred," said 
 Louise, in a very wicked whisper. 
 
 "Too you think to prow-peat me?" 
 shouted Llewellen, whom Louise had thus 
 inspired with unlimited courage. " If you 
 too, you are mistaken. " You're no gen- 
 tleman, sir!" 
 
 " What!" shouted Valentine, at the same 
 time patting him encouragingly on the 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Hur say you're no gentleman!" repeat- 
 ed Llewellen, under the influence of the 
 liveliest indignation. 
 
 " Gentlemen!" said the lecturer" Gen- 
 tlemen! I would put it to your own good 
 
362 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 sense whether this ought to be. Is it decent? 
 Is it correct] Is it a thing which ought 
 to be tolerated for one moment? You 
 really must be silent, or we cannot pro- 
 ceed." 
 
 " He may be silent," cried Valentine, 
 "but I will not: " I'll have satisfaction!" 
 
 " It is to you, sir, I more particularly 
 address myself," said the lecturer. "You 
 are the aggressor." 
 
 " Do you tell me that to my teeth," said 
 Valentine. "I'll have satisfaction of you." 
 
 Loud cries of "Turn him out! turn him 
 out! Turn him out!" now proceeded from 
 every quarter, and when the noise and ex- 
 citement had reached the highest pitch, the 
 shutter of the skylight was suddenly re- 
 moved, and about three hundred persons 
 were discovered in a state of great anxiety. 
 
 This unexpected and instantaneous intro- 
 duction of light had a striking effect. The 
 noise ceased on the instant, but all appear- 
 ed to be panting to catch a glimpse of him 
 who had created the unseemly disturb- 
 ance. 
 
 " Which is the gentleman," inquired the 
 lecturer, " who is so anxious to have satis- 
 faction?" 
 
 No one answered. The question was 
 repeated more emphatically; still no one 
 answered. 
 
 44 As he thought proper to insult me per- 
 sonally," said Llewellen, "hur shall be 
 clat if he'll make his appearance, that hur 
 may invite him to walk quietly out." 
 
 " He durst not show himself," cried 
 several voices. 
 
 " Who says that?" demanded Valentine, 
 promptly, making his voice appear to pro- 
 ceed from the other side of the theatre. 
 
 " I!" cried Llewellen, looking towards 
 the quarter from which the sojund apparent- 
 ly proceeded. " I say that you tare not 
 show yourself." 
 
 Another pause ensued, and every eye 
 was directed towards the spot; but although 
 a low muttering was heard distinctly, no 
 one appeared, with the view of asserting 
 his dignity as a man. 
 
 " My impression is, that he's a plaek- 
 cart!" cried Llewellen, "a tirty plackcart!" 
 
 "That's enough!" said Valentine, throw- 
 ing his voice as before, " that's enough! I'll 
 be with you!" 
 
 The effect which this had upon those 
 who were in the quarter from which the 
 voice seemed to come was extraordinary. 
 They looked at each other in a state of 
 amazement, and marvelled not only that 
 they were unable to see him there, but that 
 they could not discover him while he was 
 speaking. 
 
 "Now then!" shouted Valentine, throw- 
 
 ing his voice towards the door, "are you 
 coming?" 
 
 This puzzled the audience still more. 
 They had seen no one making his way out, 
 and they felt sure that if any one had, they 
 must have seen him. It was a mystery to 
 them; they couldn't understand it. Llewel- 
 len, however, without waiting to see what 
 effect this had upon the audience generally, 
 started out the very moment he heard the 
 summons with all the alacrity at his com- 
 mand. Valentine and Louise followed, 
 and the majority of the audience, who 
 seemed to take particular interest in the 
 matter, followed them, and found Llewel- 
 len very naturally looking about the en- 
 trance for the person by whom he had been 
 challenged. 
 
 " Well, have you seen him?" inquired 
 Valentine. 
 
 " No, cootness knows it; hur'm afrait he 
 knows petter than to let me." 
 
 "Now then! Here I am!" cried Valen- 
 tine, throwing his voice among the crowd. 
 
 Llewellen again looked about with great 
 acuteness, and the crowd, who sympathized 
 with him, assisted him in his efforts to dis- 
 cover the individual, but in vain; he was 
 there, there could be no doubt of that, but 
 he evidently hadn't the courage to stand 
 forth. 
 
 "Now, phot can you too with such a 
 fellow?" said Llewellen, appealing to Va- 
 lentine. " Phot can you too with him? If 
 hur coult see him, hur shoult know petter 
 apout it; put as he won't pe seen, phy coot- 
 ness knows, hur ton't know phot's to pe 
 tone!" 
 
 " Treat him with contempt," said Valen- 
 tine, in his natural voice, " He is quite be- 
 neath your notice. I thought from the first, 
 you'd be unable to discover him. Now, let 
 us be off." 
 
 " Put we had petter not co just tirectly, 
 my poy! He will say that hur was afrait, 
 and run away!" 
 
 " Not he," returned Valentine; " but we 
 shall walk out leisurely, and if his courage 
 should come up, he can follow us to the 
 door." 
 
 They then proceeded towards the en- 
 trance, and on the way Llewellen the 
 thought of whose head had gone out of that 
 head altogether turned to see if the invisi- 
 ble individual had plucked up sufficient 
 courage to follow; but no one did so no 
 one approached to announce himself boldly 
 like a man, which Llewellen could not but 
 think strange; but still more strange did he 
 consider the fact of his invisible enemy 
 having addressed him by name. 
 
 Of course Louise was delighted with 
 this little adventure. She thought it, in- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 363 
 
 deed, too bad that poor Fred should have 
 been teased to so great an extent; but he 
 was soon made perfectly happy by her and 
 
 Valentine, who felt themselves bound to 
 applaud the invincible courage he had dis- 
 played. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVI. 
 
 IN WHICH ANOTHER IMPORTANT SECRET IS REVEALED. 
 
 ON the following morning, when Valentine 
 called at the usual hour, he just presented 
 himself to Louise, and then proceeded to 
 the library, having ascertained that Raven 
 was there alone, with the view of commu- 
 nicating with him on the subject, which 
 then almost exclusively occupied his mind. 
 
 It was the first time that he had sought a 
 private interview with him since the un- 
 happy recognition took place. He had 
 seen him he had dined with him indeed 
 almost daily since then, but as he had on 
 all occasions appeared to be anxious to 
 avoid being with him alone, Valentine had, 
 of course, never thrust himself upon him. 
 
 The time, however, had now arrived 
 when it was absolutely necessary for him 
 to do so; and as he entered the library, 
 Raven appeared to know his object, for he 
 threw aside the paper he was reading, and 
 having shaken his hand warmly, pointed to 
 a seat. 
 
 "Well, Valentine," said he, "so you 
 have come to have a little private talk with 
 me at last. Of course I know upon what 
 subject; at least I presume that it is on that 
 of your marriage 1 ?" 
 
 " Exactly," returned Valentine. " It is 
 thought that, if it meet your views, the 
 fifteenth will be a very correct day." 
 
 " The fifteenth, my dear boy, then let it 
 be, by all means; and the sooner the fif- 
 teenth comes, why the sooner I shall be 
 happy. I hope that this time nothing may 
 occur to cause the slightest disappoint- 
 ment." 
 
 " I hope so too. I have no fear of that." 
 
 " Nor had you before, and yet you see " 
 
 " Nay, nay," said Valentine, gently in- 
 terrupting him, " don't let us revert to that 
 subject; let us shun it; let us forget it. 
 The thing is over now settled let it 
 rest." 
 
 "There is one consideration, and only 
 one," rejoined Raven, " which enables me 
 to recur to it with pleasure, and that con- 
 sideration has reference directly and solely 
 to you. When I intimated to you ambigu- 
 ously, that that which did occur might hap- 
 pen, you promised that come what might, 
 
 you would be faithful and firm to Louise. 
 You have kept that promise nobly: you 
 have been firm: I am convinced that you 
 never wavered for an instant, but felt as a 
 man ought to feel, that whatever might be 
 my errors, she was pure, poor girl! and 1 
 admire you for it." 
 
 " I apprehend," said Valentine, " that 
 in that instance far less credit is due to me 
 than you are inclined to award; for I much 
 question whether, if even my head had 
 made an effort to shake my firmness, my 
 heart would have allowed it to succeed. 
 But let me suggest that we bury this mat- 
 ter for ever that we never, in any shape, 
 or on any occasion, allude to it again. 
 Come, let us change the scene. We have 
 been looking already too long at the dark 
 side of things; let us turn to the bright one, 
 for a bright one there is! The day of our 
 marriage must nut be one of gloom." 
 
 "You are a fine fellow, Valentine a 
 noble fellow: there is none of that sickly, 
 sentimental aristocracy about you. You 
 see things at a glance, as they are. I have 
 the highest opinion of your judgment." 
 
 "The fifteenth, then," said Valentine, 
 " is to be the day!" 
 
 "The fifteenth. Exactly. And as your 
 wish is to avoid all allusion to that affair, I 
 had better not enter into any explanation." 
 
 "That will be by far the better way. I 
 should like things to go on now, precisely 
 as if nothing of the kind had occurred." 
 
 " Well it's useless to make ourselves 
 miserable eternally about that, jwhich, be- 
 ing done, can't be helped. It was a sad 
 affair, certainly. However, it's passed, and 
 we'll say no more about it. Will your 
 uncle be here to-day?" 
 
 " It's very likely he'll call." 
 
 "If he should, let me see him. We have 
 not to go over the same ground again, ex- 
 actly; but don't let him go away without 
 looking in upon me." 
 
 Valentine promised that he would not; 
 and as the object for which he had sought 
 the interview had been accomplished, he 
 was about to leave the room, when Raven, 
 as if a thought had just occurred to him, 
 
364 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 said, " Valentine! Mr. Whitely has left 
 you, has he not!" 
 
 ' Yes," returned Valentine. 
 
 ' Have you seen him lately 1 ?" 
 
 'Not to speak to him." 
 
 ' I am not very anxious to know, of 
 course; but you have seen him 1 ?" 
 
 * Why, I just saw him, yesterday." 
 
 * Yesterday! Oh! indeed, so recently as 
 that? Then he intends to remain in town, I 
 suppose!" 
 
 " Upon rny word, I am unable to say." 
 
 44 Oh! it's a matter of no importance. I 
 merely thought that he intended to go into 
 the country: that's all." 
 
 Valentine looked at him intently. He 
 was half inclined to mention the fact of his 
 having seen Whitely with Joseph; but as 
 it struck him that its tendency could only 
 be to reproduce unpleasant feelings, he ab- 
 stained, and left the room. 
 
 Louise and the widow now began to be 
 excessively busy again; for although it is 
 true that everything from the most impor- 
 tant even to the most minute had been pre- 
 viously prepared to their entire satisfaction, 
 it is equally true that when they came to 
 look again calmly over everything, every- 
 thing required to be slightly altered. They 
 therefore became as full of business as be- 
 fore; nay, their minds were more constant- 
 ly occupied, seeing that whereas in the 
 making of matters a great deal had been 
 left to the judgment of other persons, the 
 alterations were effected under their imme- 
 diate superintendence, it being absolutely 
 necessary for those alterations to be in ac- 
 cordance with their mutually improved 
 taste. 
 
 In this business, of course, Valentine 
 was shut entirely out of all confidence. 
 Generally he stood in the position of family 
 counsel, for his opinion was solicited in 
 cases of emergency, and acted upon with- 
 out another thought; but in this particular 
 case he was not applied to at all! a fact 
 which did not however disturb him. 
 
 Uncle John, having been deeply engaged 
 about the house the appearance of which 
 in every point may be said to have been the 
 subject of his " thoughts by day, and his 
 dreams by night" did not, as was expect- 
 ed, call the day on which Valentine had his 
 interview with Raven. On the following 
 morning, however, having been informed 
 that Raven had expressed a wish to see 
 him, he did call, and found him in unusual- 
 ly high spirits. He had just received a 
 letter, it appeared, dated from a vessel 
 which had that morning sailed. He did 
 not, however, enter into the subject of this 
 letter; but he seemed to feel that the whole 
 of his troubles were at an end, and shook 
 
 the hand of Uncle John with extraordinary 
 warmth. 
 
 " My friend," he exclaimed, we shall 
 not sink beneath this blow now." 
 
 " I hope not," said Uncle John "I hope 
 not." 
 
 " It must all be forgotten, my friend, it 
 must all be forgotten. We have had these 
 aristocratic miserables too long. We must 
 now turn and dwell upon the prospect be- 
 fore us." 
 
 " I am glad to perceive," said Uncle 
 John, "that you have come to that wise 
 determination." 
 
 " A weight," cried Raven, striking his 
 breast with violence; "a deadweight has 
 been removed, and I feel myself again. Oh, 
 my friend, you don't knew what I have suf- 
 fered; you can't know: but as Valentine 
 says the marriage-day must not be one of 
 gloom, it shall not be; it shall be a joyous 
 day. I have not felt so happy for years!" 
 
 " I am right glad to hear it!" said Uncle 
 John, ** I hope sincerely that that happiness 
 will be lasting." 
 
 "It's sure to be now," said Raven; 
 "quite sure to be now! But to business," 
 he added, and he proceeded to open a 
 secret drawer in his desk, and to deposit 
 the letter therein. 
 
 It was perfectly evident to Uncle John 
 that something had happened more than 
 Raven cared to explain. He felt sure that 
 the fact of the marriage-day having been 
 fixed again, had not alone elated him thus. 
 Since the day of the recognition, he had 
 been a wretched being; he had kept him- 
 self almost entirely secluded, and had worn 
 the aspect of a miserable man: yet now he 
 was in raptures; his eyes sparkled with 
 pleasure, and he spoke of happiness, as if 
 he had then felt it for the first time. In the 
 judgment of Uncle John there was far more 
 in this than appeared, seeing that Raven 
 had not dined, and therefore could not be 
 supposed to have been under the influence 
 of wine. However, he felt that he had no 
 right to pry into the matter, and that as no 
 explanation was offered, it was a thing 
 which Raven had no desire to explain. 
 
 " Valentine," said Raven, having settled 
 himself down, "has informed you, of 
 course, that his marriage has been fixed for 
 the fifteenth?" 
 
 "Yes; that is to say, this day week." 
 
 " Precisely. Well then, my friend, this 
 day week must be a day of perfect happi- 
 ness; and as happiness must be the promi- 
 nent feature, what can be done to secure 
 it!" 
 
 "I have done nothing. I want to do 
 much more towards the accomplishment of 
 that object, than we have done already!" 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 365 
 
 " Why," replied Uncle John, deliberate- 
 ly, "I don't exactly see that we can do 
 much more." 
 
 " I must do something. What can I do 1 ?" 
 
 "I really don't know what you can do! 
 I know of nothing that requires to be done. 
 There is everything prepared for them 
 everything! As far as their own personal 
 happiness is concerned, it of course depends 
 now upon themselves; we have at least the 
 satisfaction of knowing that we have done 
 all we could to promote it." 
 
 "You have that satisfaction; but I have 
 not. I have as yet done absolutely nothing. 
 I wish you would suggest something. 
 What can I do?" 
 
 " Well now, do you know," said Uncle 
 John, "you couldn't possibly have asked 
 me a more puzzling question!" 
 
 "Of course the transfer of the sum we 
 before fixed upon has been arranged, and 
 the little marriage presents have been pre- 
 pared, and so on. It strikes me, however, 
 still, that I ought to do something more!" 
 
 " Well, I am sorry I am unable to assist 
 you in deciding upon what that something 
 is; for upon my honour, I can't conceive 
 what it can be! No, my friend, be assured, 
 that nothing more can be done. We start 
 them fairly, and I should say that few, in- 
 deed, ever had a brighter prospect of happi- 
 ness before them." 
 
 "That I feel," rejoined Raven; "nor 
 have I the smallest doubt of that prospect 
 being realized. Still I should like, you 
 see, to bring the affair off, as the beggarly 
 aristocracy say, with <?claf! Now let us put 
 our heads together. How is this to be 
 done?" 
 
 " For my own part," said Uncle John, 
 "I am inclined to believe the less display 
 we make the better." 
 
 " Well, what would you suggest? Some 
 arrangement must be made. How do you 
 think we ought to proceed? on the day I 
 mean the day of the marriage." 
 
 "Why," said Uncle John, "I don't 
 know what your views on the subject may 
 be, nor what arrangements you have in 
 contemplation, but I would suggest, that 
 on returning from church, we should have 
 some slight refreshment, and that the young 
 people then should start off to spend the 
 honeymoon, leaving us happy in viewing 
 the prospect of their happiness, and in the 
 conviction of having done our duty." 
 
 " What, then, are we two old fogies to 
 be left dreaming at home?" 
 
 "I dare say that they would rather be 
 without us than with us!" 
 
 " Well now, do you know, I don't think 
 so! I think that they would enjoy them- 
 selves more if we were all to be actively 
 32 
 
 happy together. The consciousness of hav- 
 ing performed one's duty is all very well, 
 and very pleasing; but that is not exactly 
 the thing: it doesn't meet my views of 
 what a wedding-day ought to be at all. My 
 impression is, and always has been, that on 
 such a day as that, we ought not to be be- 
 calmed! It ought to be a joyous day; a 
 merry day a day upon which we can all 
 dine, drink, and be jolly together!" 
 
 " Well, what do you propose?" 
 
 " Why, to act upon your suggestion in 
 all but one point. Let them leave by all 
 means to pass the honeymoon at Brighton, 
 or wherever else they may please: they 
 shall have my carriage and four, or six if 
 they like: immediately after the ceremony 
 let them be off! But let us go with them. 
 Let us start immediately after them: let us 
 race them down; let us have a joyous, 
 glorious day of it; and a glorious night 
 too!" 
 
 " Well, of course," said Uncle John, " I 
 can have no objection. I should like to be 
 with them." 
 
 " Of course you would! I know you 
 would! Why should they go moping down 
 there alone?" 
 
 "They would not be exactly alone; they 
 would have the bridesmaids and the old 
 lady, and " 
 
 " What are they? What can they do? 
 How can they of themselves form a really 
 happy party? They have all the elements 
 of happiness in them, but they want a 
 couple of young fellows like us to inspire 
 them with spirit. Just imagine the party 
 down there. There they are, after a fifty 
 miles' ride, say, at dinner. There's only 
 one man amongst the lot, and that man's 
 the bridegroom. Why, what can he do 
 with them? How can he keep them from 
 sighing themselves down into a state of 
 sentimental misery? He can't do it! I'll 
 defy him to do it. But even if he could, 
 look at him, mark his position. Give him 
 the best of it; say that the dinner passed off 
 well, and that they were all full of gaiety 
 and joy, which of course they wouldn't be, 
 but say that they were. Well, an hour after 
 dinner the women retire of course they 
 retire, and when they do, look at him! 
 There's a lively position for a bridegroom 
 to be placed in! there's jollity! there's 
 joy! He sits there, silently sipping his 
 wine; not a creature to speak to; perfectly 
 alone. Why such a position is monstrous 
 for a man to be placed in at such a time as 
 that. Come, let us go with them." 
 
 " Oh! with all my heart!" said Uncle 
 John, "I should enjoy it; but I didn't know- 
 how far such a course might be correct." 
 
 "Why, you see, our arrangements 
 
366 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 wouldn't interfere with theirs. Besides, 
 why should we follow the beggarly aristo- 
 cratic fashion of dividing families atthe very 
 time they ought especially to be together? 
 Let us accompany them. I am sure that 
 they will be much more happy with us than 
 without us. They are sure to be merry 
 then; but if we let them go alone, my friend, 
 v mark my words, neither for them nor for us, 
 will it be a joyous day." 
 
 ""Well, then, let it be so; let us all go 
 together. There can be no doubt about our 
 being more merry in that case." 
 
 " None, -whatever. You see I'm not one 
 of your beggarly aristocracy; I haven't fifty 
 thousand dowagers, and toadies, and hang- 
 ers-on to give a sumptuous dinner to on 
 such an occasion; with the exception of 
 yourself, there's scarcely a man whom I'd 
 care to break bread with in any place, 
 much less at my own table; and although I 
 have no doubt that you and I should enjoy 
 ourselves, and be in a measure jolly, it 
 wouldn't, it couldn't come up within a mile 
 of my notions of what ought to be the glori- 
 ous characteristics of a wedding-day. As, 
 therefore, you are willing to fall into my 
 views, I would suggest that it be proposed 
 to the young people who will agree, I 
 know, to anything of the kind that imme- 
 diately after the ceremony which ought 
 to be over early, say ten they take my 
 carriage and four horses, and start, say for 
 Brighton, in the lively expectation of feeing 
 passed by us on the road; that we drive 
 there all together, and then stop a week or 
 a month, or in fact, just as long as we think 
 proper." 
 
 " Very good," said Uncle John. " And 
 if the bride and bridegroom wish to leave 
 us after ,a few days, why they can start off 
 and go where they please." 
 
 " Exactly! They may start the next day 
 if they like. All I am anxious for is, that 
 we may have the wedding dinner together." 
 
 Very well. It was decided that this plan 
 should be proposed forthwith both to Va- 
 lentine and Louise, and Uncle John was 
 deputed to make the proposition, before he 
 left the house, which he did, and they were 
 both much delighted. 
 
 Valentine, however, was not exactly at 
 ease; he had nothing to do; all were busy 
 but him, and they would not allow him to 
 assist them. He could scarcely be said to 
 be uncomfortable, or annoyed, but he felt 
 fidgety and impatient, and looked at his 
 watch very often, and walked about with- 
 out an object in a word, he was unsettled. 
 Such being the case, having plenty ol 
 time for thought, he conceived the idea of 
 getting up a dinner at the house, that Louise 
 might officiate as mistress before her time 
 
 He thought that under the circumstances it 
 would tell extremely well, more particular- 
 y as they should not be able to give a din- 
 ner there for some considerable time, and 
 therefore as all kind of restraint had worn 
 away for the party to be invited felt as if 
 they were already one family he named 
 he subject to Uncle John immediately after 
 e had communicated the result of his in- 
 terview with Raven, and that gentleman 
 not only had no objection to the course pro- 
 posed, but applauded the notion highly, as 
 one calculated to be a source of great amuse- 
 ment and delight. The next step was to 
 obtain the consent of Louise, and with that 
 view Valentine returned to her at once. 
 
 " My love!" said he, " I want you to be 
 my wife before we are married!" 
 
 " Oh! of course," said Louise, with a 
 playful expression, "by all means. What 
 have you got for me to do? I have not much 
 time you know to spare; but I'll do it if I 
 can. What is it?" 
 
 " Why, I am anxious that we should give 
 a party at our house to-morrow, in which 
 case you, of course, must be there to receive 
 our guests. 1 ' 
 
 " We? Of course you mean that you and 
 your uncle will give a party?" 
 
 " No; I mean that you and I should give 
 the party, Louise." 
 
 " What, already?" 
 
 " Aye! a sort of preliminary party, just 
 to let them know what we can do." 
 
 " But will it be correct?" 
 
 " I should say that there will be nothing 
 at all incorrect about it." 
 
 "Oh, well, if you think that, I should 
 enjoy it amazingly. Oh! it will be glorious! 
 the idea is so new. I am sure that it is 
 yours. I need not ask you that. Did you 
 ever hear of such a thing before?" 
 
 *' I confess that I never did; but I don't 
 see why that should prevent us from doing 
 it!" 
 
 " By no means. On the contrary, it will 
 be all the better. I shall enjoy it the more. 
 The novelty of the thing will be delightful! 
 But understand, sir, I must not be teased 
 too much. Oh! my Valentine, do not sup- 
 pose that I am inclined to treat the great 
 subject of our marriage with levity. In- 
 deed, indeed, I am not; but I am so happy! 
 oh, so happy! I feel that the time is past 
 for it to be necessary to conceal my feelings 
 from you." 
 
 " My own Louise!" exclaimed Valentine, 
 with fervour, "I know that the native 
 piirity of your heart is to be equalled only 
 by the correctness of your mind. Fear not, 
 my love, that I can entertain a thought 
 which can tend to diminish my estimation 
 of either. My object in proposing this is 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 367 
 
 to render you, if possible, more happy 
 
 44 1 know it; I feel it, oh, believe me I am 
 quite sure of that. Well well!" she added, 
 playfully, "and whom shall we invite?" 
 
 44 Why, it must, of course, under the cir- 
 cumstances, be confined to ourselves." 
 
 44 Why, of course! What a silly thing I 
 am! Well, then, let me see, there'll be 
 papa, and oh! six altogether. Well, have 
 you any invitation cards? If not, I have 
 some beauties! they have been printed- 
 perhaps more than a thousand years I 
 can't say: at all events we have had them 
 ever since we came here, and not one of 
 them has ever been, by any chance, used. 
 I'll go and hunt them up immediately. Get 
 the envelopes ready, and we'll despatch 
 them at once." 
 
 Louise then ran for the cards, and on her 
 return they were prepared and enclosed; 
 and when Valentine went to the house with 
 the view of giving the necessary instruc- 
 tions for the dinner, he despatched them 
 with all due formality, by one of his own 
 servants. 
 
 This, as Valentine expected, delighted 
 them all; but not one of them was so much 
 delighted as Raven. He was in ecstasies! 
 He declared to Uncle John confidently for 
 he spoke to no one else on the subject that 
 it was, beyond every species of doubt, the 
 best thing he ever heard of. 
 
 44 W 7 e must go full dressed," said he. 
 * 4 What can we wear to astonish them? 
 Let me see. That, perhaps, doesn't much 
 matter; but we must go full dressed. We 
 must keep the thing up. We must do it in 
 style. I'll call for you in the carnage at a 
 quarter to six." 
 
 The thing being thus arranged, he did call 
 with the Widow and Llewellen, and when 
 Uncle John had joined them, they proceeded 
 full of life and spirits to the house, where 
 Valentine and Louise, with due dignity, re- 
 ceived them. 
 
 Valentine had ordered the best dinner 
 that could be, on so short a notice pre- 
 pared; leaving the thing, of course, entirely 
 to the cook. But although it was really 
 excellent, the dinner itself was quite a 
 secondary consideration with them: it was 
 the fact of their having been thus invited 
 which rendered their enjoyment so rich, for 
 they really were in raptures the whole of the 
 evening, and left inspired with the highest 
 and purest delight. 
 
 On the following morning, however, as 
 Valentine and Louise were in the drawing- 
 room, conversing in a most happy strain, 
 each pointing out to the other the various 
 bright little features of the prospect in view, 
 which had before been overlooked or indis- 
 
 tinctly perceived, a coach drove up to the 
 door, and W T hitely, with an expression of 
 mingled pleasure and indignation, alighted. 
 
 44 Good gracious!" exclaimed Louise, as 
 her heart sank within her. 44 What can be 
 about to happen now!" 
 
 44 Be calm, my sweetest girl; be com- 
 " " said Valentine. 
 
 Look!" she exclaimed, starting, and 
 bursting into tears, as Joseph also alighted. 
 44 Valentine! Valentine! my dearest love! 
 Some dreadful mystery is about to be re- 
 vealed!" 
 
 44 My Louise! Come, come, my sweet- 
 est! Courage! Why inspire these fears on 
 speculation, my love?" 
 
 44 What can they want here?" 
 
 44 Oh! Whitely may be dissatisfied; he 
 may wish to have the terms of his engage- 
 ment slightly altered a thousand things 
 may have occurred to induce him to call." 
 
 44 But why bring that man with him? Oh, 
 my Valentine! I cannot but anticipate the 
 disclosure of some dreadful secret." 
 
 44 Well, my Louise, let it be disclosed; 
 and let us meet it boldly, whatever it may 
 be; not tremblingly sink beneath it, as if a 
 consciousness of guilt made us imbecile. 
 Be firm, my Louise; I know that you can 
 be firm; let it come! Let it be even the 
 worst that can befall us, my love, it shall 
 not subdue us without a struggle. But, my 
 girl, it may be nothing of importance after 
 all! Come, let us wait the result of this 
 interview with patience." 
 
 By this time Whitely and his companion 
 had been shown into the parlour. The 
 latter was unknown to his successor, who 
 therefore made no distinction between them, 
 but bowed to both as he left to take White- 
 ly's card to Raven, who was at the time in 
 a pleasing reverie, almost buried in an easy 
 chair. 
 
 The very moment, however, Raven saw 
 the card, he started, and turned pale as 
 death, and then fixed his eyes wildly upon 
 the carpet, until after a time he seemed to 
 become again conscious of the presence of 
 the servant, when he made a strong effort 
 to rally. 
 
 44 This person," said he, waving his hand, 
 and affecting an air of supreme indifference, 
 44 may walk up. Be a man!'''' he continued, 
 muttering to himself, when the servant had 
 left him. " Display the spirit of a man! 
 What have I now to fear? What danger is 
 there now?" 
 
 He rose, and struck his breast, and 
 breathed deeply, and tried to subdue every 
 feeling of fear, and succeeded at least in 
 recovering his apparent firmness by the time 
 Whitely was ushered into the room. 
 
 44 Well, sir!" said Raven, with marked 
 
368 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 deliberation, "and what is your business 
 with me?" 
 
 Whitely stood and looked at him fiercely 
 for a moment, and then said with a sarcas- 
 tic smile, "Are you at all astonished to see 
 me?" 
 
 "I am," replied Raven. "I am aston- 
 ished. I thought that you were to annoy 
 ine no more?" 
 
 "I did undertake to annoy you no more; 
 but with this proviso, that if at any time I 
 discovered that you had not dealt fairly and 
 openly with me, the undertaking should be 
 cancelled. I have discovered this; I have 
 
 discovered " 
 
 < " Well, sir! whathave you discovered?" 
 
 " That you are a more consummate vil- 
 lain than I even supposed you to be be- 
 fore." 
 
 " &>.'" shouted Raven, as he rose from 
 his seat fiercely, " I can endure much: I 
 have endured much; but if you suppose 
 that I am to be trampled upon, you are de- 
 ceived. Have you come here expressly to 
 insult me? Is that your only object in com- 
 ing?" 
 
 "No!" replied Whitely; "my object in 
 coming here is to claim rny children! my 
 children! villain!" 
 
 At this moment Valentine, Llewellen, 
 and Louise, rushed into the room. 
 
 " What in the name of Heaven is all 
 this?" demanded Valentine, as Louise flew 
 to Raven, and tried to calm him. " What 
 does it mean ?" 
 
 " He is a madman!" cried Raven, " A 
 roadman!" 
 
 " What is this?" said Valentine, address- 
 ing Whitely. " Why, why are you here? 
 Is it fair is it just when the thing was 
 understood to have been forever at an end?" 
 
 "Valentine," said Whitely, looking at 
 him with a most intense expression, "I 
 respect you: I always have respected you 
 highly! do not destroy that respect by in- 
 terfering hotly in this matter while in igno- 
 rance of its merits. I have come to claim 
 my children! They are here! These are 
 my children!" 
 
 The effect produced by this announce- 
 ment was electric. A thrill ran through 
 the veins of them all; but Louise clung 
 still more closely to Raven, who again and 
 again declared that Whitely was mad. 
 
 "No!" cried Whitely, "I am not mad. 
 They are my children. They know rue not; 
 of course they do not know me, although 
 there was a time but that is passed." 
 
 "Mr. Whitely," said Valentine, "are 
 you acting advisedly in this matter What 
 proof have you?'' 
 
 " Aye!" cried Raven, " what proof has 
 he? Let him produce his proof!" 
 
 " I have preof ample proof; and will pro- 
 duce it!" cried Wliitely, who instantly rush- 
 ed from the room. 
 
 During his absence not a syllable was 
 spoken. They were dumb with amaze- 
 ment, and remained in a state of breathless 
 suspense until he returned with his witness. 
 
 The very instant Raven saw this man, he 
 started, and looked at him as if he had been 
 a spectre. 
 
 " Don't you know me?" said the fellow, 
 with a sneer. 
 
 "Devil!" cried Raven, " is it you?" 
 
 " It's nobody else! What, you're caught 
 then at last! You thought I was off to Ame- 
 rica, didn't you? I hope you received my 
 affectionate epistle, because " 
 
 " Silence, fellow!" cried Valentine. 
 
 " Fellow!" 
 
 " Aye, fellow! State what you know of 
 this matter, and no more." 
 
 " I shall have my revenge on every one 
 of you, before I've done with you, it strikes 
 me. I owe you all a grudge, the whole 
 set of you!" 
 
 "Now," said Whitely, "suppress what- 
 ever feeling of enmity or anger you may 
 have, and answer me distinctly, and with 
 truth. There stands Miss Raven,' there 
 * Mr. Llewellen;' whose children are they?" 
 
 "Yours!" 
 
 Here Raven rose suddenly, as if about 
 to seize the witness, who placing his foot 
 against the door, cried, " Come, keep off! 
 keep off! 1 know what you're up to; I won't 
 be turned out!" 
 
 " No one wishes to turn you out," said 
 Valentine. 
 
 " Don't they! I don't want nothing from 
 you. I speak nothing but the truth, and he 
 knows it! and that's what cuts him to the 
 quick." 
 
 "Now, sir," said Whitely, "attend to 
 me: you say that these are my children?" 
 
 " Of course they are, and he knows it." 
 
 " State how you know them to be mine." 
 
 " Why, wasn't I with 'em when they 
 were infants, and haven't I been with 'em 
 all along? Whose should they be? He never 
 had no children. He never had no wife, 
 but your wife which died of a broken heart; 
 and didn't she take 'em with her when she 
 left home? I can't be mistaken in 'em, it 
 strikes me!" 
 
 " Have you no other proof than this man's 
 word?" inquired Valentine. " Are you your- 
 self sure that he has not invented this tale 
 for the gratification of some malicious feel- 
 ing?" 
 
 "Certain," replied Whitely. 
 
 "Of course, he is certain!" cried the 
 man. " And if he wasn't, I could make 
 him. It don't depend upon me; if it did, 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 369 
 
 he'd stand me out in it. I can produce both 
 documents and witnesses; but look at him! 
 That '11 tell you whether what I say is 
 truth or not. Only look at him! That's 
 quite enough! He hasn't got so much as 
 the face to say they're his. He knows that 
 what I say is right. He don't deny it; he 
 hasn't denied it yet. Let him deny it, that's 
 all! Let him deny it!" 
 
 44 Father!" exclaimed Louise, in agony. 
 
 " Father! I feel that yon are my father 
 still; you have always been like a father to 
 me; is it no? I'll not believe it." 
 44 Let him deny it! Let him deny it!" 
 44 Say hut one word," cried Louise; 44 but 
 one word to silence for ever this slanderous 
 man. Is it true!" 
 
 Raven sank into his chair, exclaiming, 
 44 My dear child, it is'." 
 
 CHAPTER LXVH. 
 
 IN WHICH A VARIETY OF MATTERS ARE EXPLAINED. 
 
 As this confession at once sealed the lips of 
 incredulity albeit Louise clung to Raven 
 etill as if she felt it even then to be impossi- 
 bleValentine, whom nothing could de- 
 prive of self-possession, on the instant 
 begged of Whitely to retire with him, in 
 order that the effects of the sudden disclo- 
 sure might in some degree subside before 
 any other decisive steps were taken. To this 
 Whitely consented, and they quitted the 
 room, leaving Louise with her face buried in 
 her hands by the side of Raven, who ap- 
 peared to have reached the very depths of 
 despair, while Llewelleri stood at his back, 
 as motionless as if he had been absolutely 
 petrified. 
 
 On reaching the drawing-room, Valentine 
 and Whitely, with the view of considering 
 what course would be the best to pursue 
 under the circumstances, drew to the table, 
 while the sentimental Joseph, in order to 
 listen without being suspected, went to one 
 of the windows, where, having drawn a 
 hymn-book from his pocket, he seemed to 
 be lost in religious contemplation. 
 
 44 Well," said Valentine, 44 of course there 
 can be no doubt now about the correctness 
 of that which this man has disclosed, Raven 
 himself having admitted it to be true: the 
 only question therefore is, what is best to 
 be done?" 
 
 * 4 That is the only question," said White- 
 ly; ** I wish to do nothing with rashness 
 nothing without due consideration." 
 
 44 1 am sure of it: I am also sure that, 
 however great may be your contempt for 
 the feelings of Raven, you will avoid doing 
 anything which may inflict an additional 
 wound upon those of poor Louise." 
 
 14 1 am of course anxious, most anxious, 
 to act with strict regard to the feelings of 
 my own dear child," said Whitely. 
 
 44 Being quite certain of that," rejoined 
 Valentine, 44 it is with confidence I suggest 
 that the immediate departure of Louise from 
 this house ought not to be insisted upon." 
 
 44 What!" exclaimed Whitely, 44 leave 
 her here, and that with the wretch who 
 would have kept her for ever from me?" 
 
 44 For the present! until she becomes 
 more cairn! until matters can be arranged! 
 You would not surely insist upon her 
 leaving at once, without having time al- 
 lowed to make the slightest preparation? 
 But I wish you would speak with my 
 uncle on the subject. Will you remain 
 here till he comes? I will send for him 
 instantly." 
 
 44 I'll wait for him with pleasure. Be- 
 fore I act in this matter I'd rather, much 
 rather see him." 
 
 Valentine therefore rang the bell, and 
 having written a hasty note to his uncle, 
 requesting him to come without a moment's 
 delay, he desired the servant to take it with 
 all possible speed, it being a matter of the 
 highest importance. 
 
 While the servant was waiting for this 
 note he caught sight of the sentimental 
 Joseph notwithstanding that pious indi- 
 vidual was so deep in the beautiful spirit of 
 his hymns that he kept the book strictly 
 up to his eyes, that those organs might not 
 vainly wander and having become assured 
 of its being the Joseph and no one but the 
 Joseph, he took the note, and promised to 
 make all possible haste; but before he left 
 the house, he communicated what he had 
 seen to the rest of the servants, who under- 
 took to keep a remarkably sharp look-out 
 till he returned. 
 
 Valentine, as soon as the note had been 
 despatched, begged Whitely to excuse him, 
 and returned to Louise, whom he found in 
 tears on the sofa with Llewellen, while 
 
 32* 
 
370 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Raven, with his hand over his eyes, still sat 
 in his easy chair motionless. 
 
 44 This," said Louise, extending- her hand 
 to Valentine as he entered, " Oh! this is a 
 heavy blow indeed!" 
 
 44 It is," returned Valentine, as he ap- 
 proached and sat beside her; " it is a heavy 
 blow, my dearest girl; but we must not 
 sink beneath even this." 
 
 Louise moved her head mournfully, and 
 sighed. 
 
 44 Courage, my own Louise, courage!" 
 continued Valentine. 4 ' Retire for the pre- 
 sent; come, let us seek my mother: with 
 her you will be more calm: come! come!" 
 
 He raised her from the sofa, and led her 
 gently to the door, but they had no sooner 
 reached it than Raven cried, " Louise!" 
 when on the instant she turned and flew 
 into the arms extended to receive her, ex- 
 claiming, " My father! Oh, be my father 
 still!" 
 
 For some time she remained clasped in 
 Raven's arms, but neither uttered, nor at- 
 tempted to utter, another word: she sobbed 
 aloud, while the tears gushed down his 
 furrowed cheeks, and they both seemed to 
 endure the most intense mental anguish. 
 
 At length Valentine approached with the 
 view of prevailing upon them to separate un- 
 til they had become more tranquil, and even- 
 tually succeeded in inducing them to do so, 
 having declared again and again that he 
 would not allow Louise to be taken abruptly 
 from the house. 
 
 44 1 rely with the utmost confidence upon 
 you," said Raven. " 1 feel that whatever I 
 may be, or may appear for I appear in this 
 case, to be worse than I am you will not 
 suffer her to be torn from rne yet." 
 
 Valentine repeated his assurance, and 
 left the room with Louise. 
 
 The widow had heard nothing of this 
 revelation. She had indeed been informed 
 by one of the servants that there had been 
 something of a stir; but of the cause she 
 continued to be in the most perfect igno- 
 rance until Valentine explained it on bring- 
 ing up Louise. How great her surprise 
 was then may be imagined. She confessed 
 that she in reality knew neither what to 
 think nor what to say, and when Valentine 
 had intimated to her that, until the whole 
 matter had been explained, the less she 
 thought and said about it the better, he left 
 her and Louise, to rejoin Whitely and his 
 pseudo-sentimental companion. 
 
 On the stairs, however, he encountered 
 Llewellen, who was in a truly wretched 
 state. The whole of his intellectual facul- 
 ties appeared to he deranged: he looked 
 like a morally disorganized man. 
 
 " My tear poy," said he, 44 here's a pies- 
 
 set pusiness! here's tooings and cootness 
 knows it! Putt phot's to pe tun, my poy, 
 phot's to be tun! Too step here, ant just tell 
 me phot hur'm to too." 
 
 Here he took the arm of Valentine, and 
 having led him into an apartment with an 
 expression of vacant wonder, resumed: 
 
 44 Now phot's to pe tun? How am hur to 
 act] Phot can hur too, look you! I never 
 tit! oh! my tear poy, too tell me how hur'm 
 to proceet." 
 
 ' 4 Have patience for a short time, Fred, 
 and I shall know how to advise you. At 
 present there is but one thing I feel myself 
 justified in recommending you to do, and 
 that is to keep silent." 
 
 14 Putt it is such a pusiness! Am hur 
 pount to pelieve that Mr. Phitely is really 
 my father!" 
 
 44 Why, I think there can be but little 
 doubt about it now." 
 
 44 Well, putt inteet, now, look you, coot- 
 ness knows, it will pe so very ott to call 
 him father, inteet!" 
 
 44 1 have no doubt it will seem rather 
 strange at first; but you will soon get ac- 
 customed to that." 
 
 44 Very coot, my poy; putt hur'll not pe- 
 lieve it! Have'nt hur another father town 
 at Caermarthen?" 
 
 44 1 should say that the chances are, if 
 Mr. Whitely be your father, that you have 
 not." 
 
 44 Putt hur ton't pelieve that he is my 
 father. Hur'll write town to Caermarthen 
 by this plesset lay's post, and ask my own 
 father that is, my father Llewellen 
 phether he is my father or not. If he says 
 that he is, hur shall know phot to too; hur'll 
 not pelieve Phitely, nor ten thousant Phite- 
 lys pesites! Hur'll write town this plesset 
 lay, look you!" 
 
 44 Wait, my dear fellow; have patience," 
 said Valentine; 44 at least for a day or two 
 wait." 
 
 44 Well, well! if you think it will pe pet- 
 ter to wait, phy hur'll too so." 
 
 44 Before the day is at an end, we shall 
 doubtless know more, much more than we 
 do now." 
 
 44 Very well; then hur'll tefer writing, 
 look you; putt hur ton't inteet like to pe 
 pount to pelieve that any potty's my father 
 that chooses to say so without any particle 
 of proof, ant cootness knows it. Put hur 
 say, my poy," he added, with a singular 
 expression, "phot a very troll co it will pe 
 if Louey shoot pe illy sister! hur say,|if 
 she shoot! If that phere all, look you, hur 
 shootn't care a pit apout that, for hur always 
 tit love Louey tearly; putt hur won't pelieve 
 Phitely's my father pecause hur shootn't 
 mint if Louey phere my sister." 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 371 
 
 "No, that would be scarcely worth 
 while. I confess to you that at present I 
 have very little douht about it myself; but 
 we shall see. In a few hours the thing will 
 be placed beyond dispute." 
 
 A coach at this moment drew up to the 
 door, with the servant who had been sent 
 for Uncle John upon the box. "Now," 
 cried Valentine, "we shall soon know all. 
 Here is my uncle. I must go and explain 
 to him before he sees Whitely; but immedi- 
 ately after our interview I'll let you know, 
 Fred, precisely how the matter stands." 
 
 He then ran down, and met Uncle John 
 in the hall, and having led him into the 
 parlour, related what had occurred with all 
 possible brevity. Uncle John was astounded 
 at the intelligence. 
 
 "Is it possible!" he exclaimed, "is it 
 possible! Is it can it be possible! White- 
 ly's children not his! He has not kept 
 faith with me; I've been deceived! He led 
 me to believe What could be his motive! 
 Not his, but Whitely's children, after all! 
 Are they together?" 
 
 "No. Whitely is in the drawing-room 
 with the man whom he brought as a wit- 
 ness. He is waiting to see you. I begged 
 of him to do so, being anxious for you to 
 prevail upon him not to insist upon the im- 
 mediate removal of Louise, because, as that 
 must not be, his refusal to consent may 
 create a disturbance which it would be of 
 course better to avoid." 
 
 "Of course, my boy; of course: yes, I'll 
 go to him at once. Come with me. Bad 
 conduct; bad, very bad conduct." 
 
 They now reached the drawing-room, and 
 Whitely rose to meet Uncle John as he 
 entered, and they shook hands with all 
 their wonted warmth. 
 
 "Why, my friend," said Uncle John, 
 wiping his brow with great energy, the 
 perspiration the intelligence had caused be- 
 ing very profuse, " I have been amazed! 
 absolutely amazed!" 
 
 " And well you may be," cried Whitely, 
 " well you may be amazed; but not at the 
 falsehood of a villain! no, that is not 
 amazing!" 
 
 "I couldn't have believed it!" rejoined 
 Uncle John; "I really couldn't have be- 
 lieved it!" 
 
 "I don't see that we had any right to 
 expect that what he stated was the truth. 
 It is now, however, useless to dwell upon 
 that. The question is, having (thank 
 Heaven!) discovered my children, how am 
 I to proceed! As I explained to Valentine, 
 I wish to do nothing rashly. Before I act, 
 I am, therefore, anxious to have your 
 advice." 
 
 " Upon my word," said Uncle John, "I 
 
 scarcely feel competent to give any advice 
 at all; I seem bewildered; the thing appears 
 like a dream. Did Raven himself enter 
 into any explanation 1 ?" 
 
 "Not the slightest; nor was any explana- 
 tion demanded. It was sufficient for me 
 that he confessed that the children were 
 mine." 
 
 "But I cannot conceive what induced 
 him to wish to keep them from you! What 
 object could he have! what motive! Until 
 I have some explanation from him, I shall 
 not feel myself justified in advising you 
 how to act. You are not I hope in haste; 
 let me go to him at once and hear what he 
 has to say upon the subject. I shall then 
 be better able to judge. Shall I do so?" 
 
 "By all means if you wish it," replied 
 Whitely, " I am in no sort of haste, I can 
 wait." 
 
 "I'll detain you but a very short time," 
 said Uncle John; " I'll be back as soon as 
 possible. Valentine, remain with Mr. 
 Whitely till I return." 
 
 He then left them, and after having sent 
 to Raven to request an immediate interview, 
 which was granted, he proceeded to the room 
 in which the secret had been revealed, and 
 in which he found Raven apparently half 
 dead. 
 
 Their meeting was awkward. Raven 
 himself seemed ashamed to advance, while 
 Uncle John felt that if he offered his hand 
 as a friend he should be a hypocrite. They 
 therefore regarded each other with coldness; 
 but Uncle John, the very moment he had 
 taken a chair, said, "My good friend, how 
 came you to mislead, to deceive me? While 
 conducting the arrangement which it gave 
 me great pleasure to conduct, I did expect, 
 I had a right to expect, that acting as I was 
 in the capacity of friend to both parties, 
 both parties would treat me with fairness 
 and candour. I am however sorry to find 
 that you were not candid with me that 
 you induced me to believe that which has 
 been proved to be false." 
 
 " It is true," said Raven, " that although 
 I was guilty of no direct falsehood, I led 
 you to believe, when I said that I would 
 not, that I meant that I could not give any 
 information on the subject of the children: 
 that I admit, and I was prompted to this 
 species of prevarication by a most powerful 
 motive; but as I have ever regarded you as 
 one who would scorn to press heavily upon 
 a fallen man, harshness from you is what I 
 did not expect: it is, sir, a thing which I 
 will not endure." 
 
 "I have no desire to be harsh," said 
 Uncle John; " I have no right to be harsh; 
 but I have a right, when a man misleads 
 
372 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 me, to let him know that I feel myself ag- 
 grieved." 
 
 44 Even assuming that you have this 
 right," rejoined Raven, " is it correct, is it 
 generous to exercise it just as you see a 
 man's spirit broken down 1 ?" 
 
 44 Heaven forbid that I should augment 
 any man's affliction, but " 
 
 44 Had I been lost," resumed Raven, "to 
 every sense of generosity and of justice, or 
 dead to every virtuous feeling, viewing the 
 world as it is, and like a man of the world 
 holding its opinion in contempt; all this 
 would have been avoided. I should not 
 have been placed in so humiliating a posi- 
 tion; but as by virtue of endeavouring to 
 conciliate those who never could be con- 
 ciliated, instead of putting at once a bold 
 face upon the matter, and setting them at 
 defiance I am in this position, unkindness 
 at the hands of those from whom I expect- 
 ed friendly advice and assistance, has a ten- 
 dency to make me callous and to incline me 
 to treat tho world as the world treats me, 
 with disdain." 
 
 44 Mr. Raven," said Uncle John gravely, 
 "I do not think that you will feel yourself 
 justified in saying that I ever behaved in an 
 unfriendly manner towards you." 
 
 44 It is unfriendly to speak with harsh- 
 ness to me at such a time as this. At any 
 other time I could have borne it. It is only 
 when a man is in an extremity that he needs 
 a friend, and that is precisely the time when 
 he finds himself deserted. All that I have 
 done since the first false step was taken the 
 whole world may know; with that single 
 exception there is no act of mine of which 
 I need be ashamed, having been prompted 
 by generosity on the one hand, and on the 
 other by the purest affection. However I 
 have no wish to explain; 1 find that all are 
 against me." 
 
 44 1 am not against you; none who were 
 previously for you are against you. I spoke 
 to you on the subject rather sternly, I ad- 
 mit; but why] not because I wished to be 
 against you, but solely because I conceived 
 it to be a pity that you were not more in- 
 genuous, more candid." 
 
 44 I was as candid as under the circum- 
 stances I could be, or at least could feel 
 myself justified in being. The fact of those 
 children being Whitely's I wished from my 
 heart to conceal. I promised her who was 
 their mother I promised her on her death- 
 bed that I would keep from them all know- 
 ledge of her shame, and for ever would it 
 have been kept from them, had it not been 
 for that atrocious hypocritical villain whom 
 I have pampered for years, and who of 
 course sold the secret after having sworn 
 solemnly to preserve it in consideration of 
 
 my having given him a sum sufficient to 
 keep him independent for life." 
 
 44 Then," said Uncle John, 44 their mo- 
 ther is dead!" 
 
 44 Yes, she died soon, very soon after she 
 left her husband; for although she had 
 every possible comfort, and was treated by 
 me with the utmost tenderness and affec- 
 tion, the step she had taken weighed so 
 heavily upon her heart, that it was not long 
 before that heart was broken. Her children 
 I loved as dearly as if they had been my 
 own, and had they been my own they could 
 not have displayed a greater affection for 
 me. That dear girl, Louise, was especially 
 fond of me: I need not add that I doted 
 upon her, I dote upon her still; I love her 
 with all the fond intensity of an affectionate 
 father, and must continue thus to love her 
 till I sink into the grave. She has been 
 more than a child to me; she has been an 
 angel! May the angels hover round and 
 protect her for ever! Oh, my friend, it may 
 have been thought that my commerce with 
 the world would have destroyed the best 
 feelino-s of my nature; but if you knew how 
 purely, how devotedly I love that affec- 
 tionate girl, you would not be surprised at 
 my having descended to prevarication in 
 order that she might still be, in her view, 
 as well as in the view of the world in ge- 
 neral, my own dear child. As my own I 
 have cherished her fondly, tenderly: she 
 was my comfort, the fountain of my joy: it 
 was my delight, and the highest delight I 
 ever experienced to promote her happi- 
 ness; and yet on the very eve of my plea- 
 surable task being perfected just as that 
 happiness was about to be permanently 
 secured, she is proclaimed to be not my 
 own child, and torn from me for ever! It is 
 this which afflicts me beyond the power of 
 expression. Nothing could have afflicted 
 me more; no calamity which could have 
 befallen me could have struck so deeply 
 into my heart, for I now feel completely 
 alone in the world, deprived for ever of her 
 who was my solace my child!" 
 
 Here Raven was much affected, and so 
 indeed was Uncle John, who, scarcely 
 knowing what to say, remained silent. At 
 length Raven, with considerable emotion, 
 resumed: 
 
 * It may have been wrong," said he, 
 44 nay, I cannot but feel it to have been 
 wrong, very wrong, even to wish to con- 
 ceal those children from their father. I 
 cannot justify myself, nor can I on any 
 grounds be justified; still, in extenuation, 
 it may be said that I did not conceal thorn 
 wantonly, or with any cruel aim, my object 
 for such concealment besides that of fos- 
 tering that fond devoted girl as my own 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 373 
 
 being the performance of my promise to her 
 broken-hearted mother, that her children 
 should if possible be kept for ever in utter 
 ignorance of her disgrace. This was the 
 great object I had in view, and that object 
 would assuredly have been attained, had it 
 not been for the treachery of that pernicious 
 miscreant. But the die is cast I am 
 alone!" 
 
 Raven again paused, but Uncle John still 
 knew not what to say. He could not tell 
 what Raven really was. He could not be- 
 lieve him to be an absolutely heartless 
 villain; for, notwithstanding his conduct 
 towards Whitely himself had been villanous 
 in the extreme, he, in the view of Uncle 
 John, had certain redeeming points, to which 
 he was not indisposed to attach due weight. 
 He therefore did not feel justified in saying 
 anything which could be construed into an 
 opinion upon the subject; but, at length, 
 finding that Raven was not about to pro- 
 ceed, he, conceiving that he ought to say 
 something on the occasion, inquired why 
 Fred had in infancy been separated from 
 Louise. 
 
 " I parted them," said Raven, " I brought 
 them up, not as brother and sister, but as 
 cousins, in order that the secret might be 
 the more effectually preserved. I regarded 
 it as being highly probable that when Fred 
 became a man his curiosity would prompt 
 him to go back, with the view of ascertain- 
 ing certain matters having reference to their 
 origin, which Louise would not think of 
 herself, or if she did, she would not have 
 those facilities which would be at his com- 
 mand. I therefore sent him into Wales, 
 and placed him under the care of a kind, 
 quiet creature, who brought him up as his 
 own son, and a good fellow he has made of 
 him; a better hearted boy never breathed: 
 still the loss of him, my friend, I could 
 endure: I have not, of course, those feelings 
 for him that I have for Louise; she has 
 ever been with me, she has ever been my 
 joy, my sweet companion, my pride; I 
 cannot bear to part with her: I feel that I 
 shall not long survive it; but at all events 
 she must not be torn from me yet." 
 
 " We shall be able to arrange that, I 
 have no doubt," said Uncle John. '*' Valen- 
 tine has already spoken to Whitely on the 
 subject. I'll return to him, and urge it still 
 further. I think that I may say you may 
 be sure that that at least will be arranged." 
 
 44 Now that I am in your hands again," 
 observed Raven, 4 ' my mind is more at ease. 
 You will do the best you can for me, I 
 know." 
 
 44 All that can be done shall be done, be 
 assured of that. I will go at once, and 
 make the best arrangement 1 can." 
 
 Uncle John then returned to the drawing- 
 room, where Valentine and Whitely were 
 still engaged in earnest conversation, while 
 the sly sentimentalist, with the utmost at- 
 tention, was listening at the window with 
 the hymn-book in his hand. 
 
 It was abundantly evident to Uncle John, 
 as he entered, that Valentine had been ap- 
 plying the balm of reason to Whitely's 
 inflamed passions with success, for he was 
 perfectly calm, and spoke with the utmost 
 composure. 
 
 44 Well, my friend," said he, when Uncle 
 John had taken a seat beside him, 44 are you 
 now in a position to give me advice 1 ?" 
 
 44 1 now feel that I am," replied Uncle 
 John. 44 But in the first place, in order 
 that you may judge for yourself, I'll not 
 only relate the substance of what passed 
 between us, but will repeat it word for 
 word, as nearly at least as I can remember." 
 
 He did so: he went through it faithfully: 
 he made no effort to colour any fact: the 
 points which related to Raven's great affec- 
 tion for Louise were extremely effective; 
 but that effect was produced without design. 
 
 Whitely was throughout most attentive. 
 He weighed every word. Sitting in a 
 studious attitude, his head resting upon his 
 hand, not a single muscle moved, nor did 
 he utter a syllable until Uncle John had 
 concluded, when he exclaimed aloud, 44 Had 
 he not been the seducer of my wife, I could 
 have honoured him! had he taken the 
 children of a fallen woman, not being him- 
 self the cause of her fall, and thus cherished 
 them until the feelings of a father had been 
 engendered, I would have worshipped 
 aye, worshipped that man! but being the 
 seducer, the murderer of my wife, his love 
 for them prompts me to hate him the more! 
 But 1 -will be calm I will still be calm! 
 he has robbed me of their affection the 
 dear love of my own children still I will 
 be calm." 
 
 During this burst of passion, brief as it 
 was, the sentimentalist at the window 
 placed the hymn-book upon his knees, and 
 rubbed his hands in a state of ecstasy. He 
 was in raptures, and would have gloried in 
 it had Whitely, in a paroxysm of rage, 
 rushed into Raven's room, and either stran- 
 gled him or stabbed him to the heart. 
 Whitely, however, as if to cut the senti- 
 mentalist to the soul, resumed his former 
 attitude, and after a pause, said, tranquilly, 
 44 Well, my friend, what do you advise!" 
 
 44 Why," replied Uncle John, "I should 
 say that for the sake of poor Louise, and for 
 her sake alone, things ought to remain for 
 the present as they are. You of course 
 would not think of compelling her to quit 
 the house at an hour's notice. Under the 
 
374 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 circumstances, that would be on your par 
 impolitic, seeing that it might tend to shock 
 her feelings, and thus to create an unfa- 
 vourable first impression. No, let what is 
 to be done be done gently. For a day o 
 two, say, let no slir be made in the matter 
 in the interim, you know, something may 
 strike us: at all events, nothing can be 
 gained either by harshness or precipitation.' 
 " In that I quite agree with you," saic 
 Whitely. " Well, my friend, well! I wil 
 be advised by you: for the sake of my child. 
 I'll allow her to remain for a day or so, in 
 order" 
 
 "You're a fool, sir, if you do, sir!" ex- 
 claimed the sentimentalist. 
 
 "Come here, sir," said Valentine. 
 "D'yer think I'm afeared, then, to cornel' 
 cried the fellow, closing his hymn-book 
 and bouncing up to the table with grea 
 ferocity of aspect. 
 
 "Now, sir," said Valentine, "why will 
 Mr. Whitely be a 'fool' for allowing his 
 daughter to remain here for the present!" 
 
 " Why will he!" cried the sentimentalist 
 "why will he! What! d'yer think Pd 
 let her stop with him? No, not another hour! 
 I'd drag her away at once! I'd break his 
 heart! That would do it! I know it! I'm 
 sure of it! Oh! I'd let her remain with 
 that son of Satan! not " 
 
 "Joseph," said Whitely, with much 
 coolness, "I don't think that I shall want 
 you again to-day; you can go now, but let 
 me see you early in the morning." 
 
 "Very well, sir! Oh! very well; but you 
 take my advice, sir; don't you let her stop; 
 if you do, you only study the comfortabili- 
 ties of a man which has a soul as never 
 can and never ought to be saved." 
 
 "At ten in the morning," said Whitely, 
 "I shall expect you." 
 
 This quiet way of repudiating the advice 
 of -the sentimentalist did not exactly meet 
 his approbation; he, notwithstanding, on 
 the instant prepared to depart, and having 
 delivered himself finely of "Oh! very 
 well!" he raised his extensive cravat, and 
 left the room with the air of an individual 
 slightly offended. 
 
 " Is that the man who was formerly in 
 your service?" inquired Uncle John. 
 
 "Yes," replied Whitely, and I believe 
 him to be one of the vilest and most con- 
 temptible scoundrels that ever had exist- 
 ence, although in this case I have been of 
 course compelled to employ him. How- 
 ever, to revert to the great subject for to 
 me it is great, indeed all in all I am will- 
 ing to follow your advice, that is to say, 
 I'll consent to allow my children to remain 
 here a day or two longer, or until they shall 
 have recovered from the sudden effects of 
 
 the disclosure, provided, my friend, you 
 feel sure, quite sure, that there will be no- 
 thing like concealment." 
 
 "Ido feel sure," said Uncle John, "so 
 sure, that I would willingly stake my life 
 that nothing of the sort will be attempted." 
 
 "And so would I," cried Valentine; "in- 
 deed, I might perhaps be justified in de- 
 claring, in the name of Louise, that if 
 under the circumstances such a proposition 
 were made, it would be spurned." 
 
 " I am satisfied," said Whitely. " Thus, 
 then, let it be. I shall probably see you in 
 the course of to-morrow?" 
 
 "At any time," replied Uncle John; " but 
 if you are not engaged, let us dine together 
 to-day. Walk home with me, and then we 
 can talk matters quietly over. It will be 
 much better; come, what say you?" 
 
 Whitely consented, and they almost im- 
 mediately afterwards left the house, much 
 to the gratification of Valentine, with whom 
 Whitely shook hands with unusual warmth 
 on being accompanied by him to the door. 
 
 While descending the stairs with them, 
 Valentine heard a most singular uproar be- 
 low; but the moment they were gone, his 
 ears were assailed with half-stifled cries of 
 "Murder! murder! Fire! fire! Help! 
 help! Fire!" mingled with certain shouts 
 of indignation and of derision. 
 
 As all this was extremely irregular, Va- 
 lentine, without the slightest ceremony, 
 hastened below, and on arriving at the door 
 of the kitchen beheld a strikingly effective 
 and deeply interesting scene. 
 
 Joseph, the sanctimonious and sentimen- 
 tal Joseph who, on being dismissed by 
 Whitely, had been silently seized by the 
 servants, who were anxious to settle cer- 
 tain matters with him privately was at 
 that particular period before the fire, be- 
 tween the reflector and the dripping utensil, 
 in the central pool of which his devoted 
 smalls had been immersed; and while the 
 coachman held him tightly by the collar, 
 and looked at him very fiercely indeed, the 
 cook shook him with great ability with one 
 hand, while with the other she held to his 
 noble breast a sacrificial spit, which ren- 
 dered it impossible for him, without being 
 Merced, to move forward, and as for step- 
 ring back! why, the fire was very large, 
 and very clear at the bottom, while at the 
 op the flames ascended with a roar. It was 
 an affecting sight. In the Martyrology of 
 .he middle ages, there is nothing at all like 
 t described. The idea of an individual, a 
 idy individual an individual, moreover, of 
 sentiment and feeling, being pinned in this 
 wsition the tails of his respectable coat 
 )eing scorched, even after his smalls had 
 een saturated with hot mutton fat, is an- 
 
r.374- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 375 
 
 palling; and if the idea, the bare idea, is 
 appalling, what must the reality have been! 
 
 And yet there stood Valentine coolly at 
 the door, while the victim was being thus 
 roasted behind and assaulted in front by 
 two creatures, neither of whom had the 
 slightest respect for his feelings, and who 
 were stimulated by the applause of the but- 
 ler, the footman, and two housemaids, who 
 were absolutely base enough to glory in 
 the scene! Why, it was monstrous! 
 almost as monstrous as the outrage itself! 
 And why was that outrage committed] 
 Why simply because this individual had, 
 in the plenitude of his politeness, under- 
 taken to pay into a certain Savings' Bank 
 certain sums of money, belonging to those 
 two creatures, which money, while lost in 
 the contemplation of the world's unrighte- 
 ousness, he had altogether forgotten to pay 
 in, albeit every sum, without a single ex- 
 ception, had been entered in their books 
 with the utmost regularity! It was for 
 this, forsooth this omission, this oversight 
 that Ae, a respectable person, was pum- 
 melled that he was made to sit with white 
 kerseymere smalls, first in a dripping-pan's 
 well-supplied pool, and then in an adjacent 
 scuttle of coals that he was throttled, half 
 strangled, and shaken, by the coachman, 
 and scarified, nay, almost sacrificed by the 
 cook, while the perspiration starting in a 
 state of alarm from every pore, he was 
 being roasted behind into actual crackling! 
 Again, it may be said to have been an 
 affecting sight. It was touching in the 
 extreme to hear him implore them to desist. 
 He spoke to them with all the ardour of a 
 righteous man upon the subject. He be- 
 sought them for their own dear sakes to 
 give in; he assured them, with a beautiful 
 expression, that if they did not, they could 
 never be saved; but he couldn't reach their 
 hearts he could make no impression; they 
 still kept on, until he caught a glimpse of 
 Valentine, to whom he on the instant cried 
 aloud for aid. 
 
 "Oh! save me, sir! save me!" he ex- 
 claimed, in the most touching tones, and 
 with a heart-rending aspect, "save me, or 
 I drop!" 
 
 "What is all this?" cried Valentine, 
 coming forward. " Why are you here 1 ?" 
 
 "They dragged me down here, sir; I 
 didn't come down o' my own accord." 
 
 " Well! why do you make so much 
 noise?" 
 
 "Oh! they've been a-murdering of me, 
 sir: they've been a-using me shameful! 
 They have indeed!" 
 
 Hereupon the ill-used individual burst 
 very correctly into tears. 
 
 " What is the meaning of all this?" in- 
 
 quired Valentine of the coachman. "What 
 is it all about?" 
 
 The coachman and the cook on the in- 
 stant set to work, and explained it all with 
 amazing clearness, considering they made 
 a duet of it throughout. 
 
 "You are a scoundrel!" said Valentine, 
 addressing the sentimentalist, which was 
 highly reprehensible; but he said, " You 
 are a scoundrel!" and then added, " Do you 
 mean to return this money?" 
 
 " You haven't heered the merits of the 
 case," cried the grossly ill-used man, while 
 with a knife he was endeavouring to scrape 
 the grease off his clothes, and thereby to 
 restore the respectability of his appearance. 
 
 " You received this money to pay in, did 
 you not?" 
 
 "I certingly did." 
 
 " And you did not pay it in." 
 
 "Why, that's where it is that's the 
 point!" 
 
 " Exactly!" said Valentine, " that is the 
 point. Instead of putting it into the bank 
 you put it into your pocket. There's no 
 mistaking the point! Now, villain, I mean 
 to take this matter entirely into my own 
 hands. The sum you have thus stolen is 
 twenty-five pounds." 
 
 "I didn't steal it! nor it aint twenty-five 
 pounds! But I'll give 'em the twenty-five 
 pounds! Lor bless us! I aint destitute of 
 twenty-five pounds!" 
 
 " I know that you are not," said Valen- 
 tine; " but we shall want a hundred pounds 
 of you to settle this affair." 
 
 "A hundred pounds! You won't get a 
 hundred pounds out of me I can tell you." 
 
 " Oh, yes, we shall!" said Valentine. 
 "Coachman! I want you to run to Mr. 
 Whitely " 
 
 " Mr. Whitely has nothing to do with 
 my private affairs." 
 
 " Oh! but in this case he will have a little 
 to do with them. You have a cheque of his 
 now in your possession. That cheque shall 
 be stopped." 
 
 " But it shall not be stopped! And if it 
 is, I can recover: I can recover, sir, by 
 law." 
 
 "Law! That is well thought of! an 
 excellent suggestion. It will be the shorter 
 way. Oh! never mind the money. Coach- 
 man! fetch me an officer." 
 
 "An officer! What for?" 
 
 " Merely to take you into custody." 
 
 "But I've committed no crime! It's only 
 a debt it aint a robbery!" 
 
 " We shall see what it is, when we get 
 before the magistrate; and since I have 
 taken the matter in hand, be assured that if 
 it be a transportable offence, you shall be 
 transported. Fetch me an officer." 
 
376 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "Oh! for the love of grace, sir, don't 
 send for no officers! I don't like officers; I 
 don't, sir, indeed, sir! I'll give cook and 
 coachman the money back with pleasure." 
 
 44 You shall give, sir, fifty pounds to each 
 of them. By doing so only can you induce 
 me not to proceed according to law." 
 
 44 But fifty pounds a-piece, that is to say, 
 a hundred pounds, sir consider, sir, what 
 an enormity!" 
 
 " Well! it is not of much importance. It 
 will be better that you should pay in per- 
 son, perhaps, after all.** 
 
 " But I'd rather not, sir! much rather 
 not." 
 
 " What is the amount of that cheque!" 
 
 44 It's only a hundred and fifty, sir: only 
 a hundred and fifty." 
 
 44 Very well. Mr. Raven had provided 
 amply for you when you betrayed him: you 
 will therefore take your choice: either give 
 one hundred pounds out of that cheque, to 
 those two persons whom you have robbed, 
 or take the consequence of being pursued, 
 as I will pursue you with the utmost rigour 
 of the law." 
 
 44 But fifty, sir! fifty between 'em! sure- 
 ly that will content 'em! they wouldn't like 
 to press upon me too hard!" 
 
 "Nothing less than the sum I named 
 shall they receive. Decide at once: if you 
 hesitate" 
 
 44 No, no, no; I don't hesitate, only it is 
 very hard; I'll send them the money to- 
 morrow." 
 
 44 You are not to be trusted. No, that 
 will not do." 
 
 44 Well, as soon as I get the cheque 
 cashed, sir, I'll come back, upon my word 
 and honour." 
 
 44 1 have no faith in either your word or 
 your honour. Besides, I am inclined to 
 take the responsibility entirely off your 
 hands. Give coachman the cheque. It 
 will save you a deal of trouble. Let him 
 get it cashed, and then the thing will be 
 settled." 
 
 44 I'll not give the cheque! I'd rather die 
 than be thus plundered of my money. I 
 won't do it." 
 
 " Very well. We now see the value of 
 your word and honour. You have taken 
 your choice. We'll have no further parley. 
 An officer shall be sent for at once, and I'd 
 have you understand, that if once you get 
 into an officer's hands, the thing must go 
 on; a compromise then, will be out of the 
 question." 
 
 The cruelly ill-used individual did not 
 like this by any means. He wept bitterly 
 and sobbed like a child, but having a natu- 
 ral horror of being brought to justice, and 
 being ignorant of the amount of punish- 
 
 ment that would be inflicted upon him, in 
 the event of his being unable to convince 
 the court that, in keeping the money he had 
 no dishonest motive, he eventually drew 
 forth the cheque, and gave it to the coach- 
 man to get cashed, and while doing so it 
 was really heart-rending to see him. The 
 coachman was, of course, in the highest 
 possible spirits, and so was the cook, but 
 the rest of the servants were not, perhaps, 
 in such ecstasies as they would have been, 
 had it happened that they had been plun- 
 dered as well. They were not, however, 
 displeased; on the contrary, they enjoyed 
 the thing much; and endeavoured in their 
 way to solace the victim, who was at that 
 time a most intensely miserable man. 
 
 As the coachman had been ordered to 
 take a cab to the banker's and back, he soon 
 returned with three fifty pound notes, which 
 he placed in the hands of Valentine, who, 
 in the name of the victim, gave one to cook, 
 another to coachman, and the third to the 
 victim himself, at the same time intimating 
 to him that he was then at perfect liberty 
 to go. 
 
 Of course, the state of the sentimental- 
 ist's mind at that period was extremely 
 afflicting: his heart was wounded to an un- 
 fathomable depth, while the feelings which 
 reigned in the ascendant were those of 
 agony. He, notwithstanding, without de- 
 lay, took the hint that he might leave, for, 
 having deposited his note in a bag, he look- 
 ed at his enemies with unspeakable fero- 
 city, and stepped into the area, from which 
 he declared with great solemnity that they 
 should suffer for what they had done, and 
 that he would have his revenge upon them 
 all, and having delivered himself freely to 
 this effect, he rushed up the steps in a state 
 bordering upon madness. 
 
 Valentine who felt that although the 
 settlement of this matter had taken up some 
 time, that time had not been altogether 
 wasted now returned to Louise, whom he 
 found with the widow still in tears. 
 
 44 Come, my dear girl," said he, taking 
 her hand, "this, indeed, must not be; I 
 must not have you trembling as if you were 
 on the very brink of despair!" 
 
 44 Oh! my dear Valentine!" exclaimed 
 Louise, again bursting into tears, "you are 
 the only one on earth now to whom I can 
 with confidence look for protection!" 
 
 44 1 know it," said Valentine, assuming a 
 gaiety, with the view of relieving her, to 
 some extent, of her sadness. " I know it, 
 my Louise, and I shall presume upon it ac- 
 cordingly. I have you now in my power, 
 and shall therefore, of course, make you 
 act precisely as I may command." 
 
 44 1 am not afraid of you, my dearest," 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 377 
 
 said Louise, with much emotion. "The 
 -more I might feel myself in your power, 
 the less 1 should fear your tyranny, my 
 love." 
 
 " Have you so much confidence in me! 
 Well, I believe it. You are a dear good 
 girl, but you want more courage." 
 
 " But consider, my dearest boy!" said 
 the widow, " consider what an awful thing 
 it is! It is not like one of those common 
 occurrences which may be borne without a 
 pang, because their character is ephemeral. 
 It is a permanent thing, my love, you must 
 remember, and a dreadful thing it is to be 
 permanent, when you come to think of it!" 
 
 "That is a very correct observation of 
 yonrs, mother. You are perfectly right. 
 But I can't see very distinctly why we 
 should either cover ourselves with sack- 
 cloth and ashes, or lie down and die, be- 
 cause a circumstance occurs over which we 
 had and could hare no control! Resigna- 
 tion, mother, your own fovourite resigna- 
 tion, is a great Christian virtue, I admit; 
 but I hold that it does not become us as 
 Christians to sink under every trouble which 
 may assail us, seeing that we are morally 
 and physically formed to oppose them with 
 success. It is our duty to grapple with 
 troubles as they rise: if we do so boldly 
 and at once, they are perfectly sure to be 
 overcome." 
 
 " Yes, my dear boy, that is all very 
 well; but we cannot help feeling: when 
 troubles like these come so suddenly upon 
 us, we cannot but be shocked: it is na- 
 tural." 
 
 "I admit it; but it is not natural for a 
 shock to continue. It soon ceases to be a 
 shock. We have no control over it: we 
 cannot grapple with it. But we have con- 
 trol over, and therefore ought to grapple 
 with the effects of that shock. A shock no 
 sooner comes than it goes, leaving its effects 
 for us to manage, which effects can be 
 managed and ought to be managed: he who 
 allows them in any case to obtain the mas- 
 tery over him, must never presume to boast 
 his moral strength." 
 
 " Yes, my dear, this mode of bidding 
 defiance to Fate, by standing erect and with 
 a bold front exclaiming, ' No circumstance 
 shall ever bow me down to the earth; no 
 series of troubles shall ever break my spirit; 
 nothing shall ever prevent me from grap- 
 pling with an enemy who will be sure to 
 conquer me if I fail to conquer him!' this, 
 I say, is all very correct, and very laudable 
 in you men, and nothing more than we have 
 a right to expect; but with us it is totally 
 different, my dear; we haven't the strength, 
 we haven't the nerve to bear up against 
 these things: we are more sensitive: our 
 33 
 
 feelings are more acute; our hearts are more 
 easily wounded, more delicate, more tender, 
 more susceptible of sad impressions; this 
 boldness is not to be expected from us." 
 
 "I have often," said Valentine, as the 
 widow took the hand of Louise, and pressed 
 it and held it in her lap, "I have often 
 thought it a pity that it should be the 
 fashion to cultivate female weakness." 
 
 "The fashion to cultivate female weak- 
 ness! The fashion, my love! the idea!" 
 
 " Doubtless in your view it seems very 
 absurd; but if you examine the morally 
 enervating tendency of the present system 
 of female education, you will find that 
 weakness in every point is cultivated stu- 
 diously, and that therefore the application 
 of the term ' fashion' is correct. But we 
 will not dwell upon this. Whatever your 
 physical weakness may be, your moral 
 strength although enervated by education 
 is naturally equal with ours. You have the 
 power to meet troubles for troubles form 
 our text with equal firmness. If you re- 
 pudiate the exercise of that power, of course 
 weakness will prevail." 
 
 "But this of ours," said Louise, "can 
 scarcely be called one of the ordinary 
 troubles of life a mere casualty!" 
 
 " Granted. If it were, its importance 
 would be diminished. If such things were 
 to happen every day, we should think but 
 little of them; but troubles, my love, are 
 the emblems of cowardice: you no sooner 
 oppose them than they take to their heels; 
 but if you fear them, or try to run from 
 them, or sink before them, or exhibit the 
 slightest irresolution, they will tyrannize 
 over, trample upon, and torture you. Meet 
 them boldly, my Louise, and behold how 
 they'fly!" 
 
 " But how is this to be met 1 ? How am I 
 to meet this?" 
 
 "I can tell you, and will, if you promise 
 to act upon my advice." 
 
 " Well, I never saw any one take things 
 so coolly in my life!" exclaimed the widow. 
 " Whatever may occur, however serious, 
 however momentous, you look at it as 
 calmly as if you had expected it: nothing- 
 seems to disturb you nothing seems to put 
 you out." 
 
 " Many things disturb me, mother; but I 
 look at whatever difficulty may occur as a 
 thing which ought promptly to be met, and 
 I accordingly make up my mind at once to 
 meet it." 
 
 "What, then, in this instance, would 
 you propose!" inquired Louise. 
 
 " You promise to be guided by me?" 
 
 "I have so much confidence in you, my 
 love, that I do, without a moment's hesita- 
 tion. I place myself entirely in your hands. 
 
378 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 I will go by your directions; whatever you 
 direct me to do shall be done." 
 
 "You are a dear, good, confiding little 
 creature, my Louise; but I believe you 
 know that I knew that before. Now attend: 
 Mr. Whitely is your father there can, of 
 course, be no doubt of that now and as a 
 father, you are called upon to regard and to 
 love him. Very well. Now although we 
 have frequently heard of such things, and 
 have frequently seen them represented on 
 the stage, I hold it to be impossible for 
 you at once to inspire those feelings of 
 affection for him which a child ought to 
 feel for a father, and which, although, they 
 may be indeed engendered in infancy, time 
 and constant communication alone can es- 
 tablish. But your position is one of even 
 greater difficulty than that: your affections 
 as a child having been engrossed, cherished, 
 and ripened by the love and fostering care 
 of another, you are called upon suddenly to 
 transfer those affections from him whom 
 you have ever believed to be your father to 
 one of whom you had previously no abso- 
 lute knowledge." 
 
 " Precisely so," interposed Louise. "It 
 is that which 1 feel most acutely. It is, 
 indeed, the very difficulty which I fear is 
 insurmountable." 
 
 " A moment's patience," said Valentine. 
 " That is the point to which we are coming. 
 It is abundantly clear, that, if under these 
 circumstances you were to leave this house 
 in other words, that if you were to leave 
 Mr. Raven, to live with Mr. Whitely, you 
 would feel, to say the least of it, excessive- 
 ly awkward." 
 
 "Oh! I should be wretched! perfectly 
 miserable!" 
 
 " Exactly. However highly you might 
 esteem Mr. Whitely; however sincerely 
 you might respect him, or however anxious 
 you might be to love him; you would be 
 conscious that you possessed not those 
 feelings towards him, which a child ought 
 to have towards a parent for those feelings 
 must be established by degrees and that 
 very consciousness would render you un- 
 happy." 
 
 "It would indeed; I might perhaps, in 
 time, teach my heart how to love him; but 
 to love him at once, as I feel that as his 
 child I ought to love him, would be impos- 
 sible, and the impossibility of doing so, to 
 rne, would be dreadful." 
 
 "This, then, is the difficulty which we 
 have now to meet. It is manifest thai you 
 will not lie permitted to remain here much 
 longer. It is scarcely to be expected, that 
 Mr. Wliitely will consent to that: I confess 
 to you, that if I were ho, I would not my- 
 fcelf. The question, then, resolves itself to 
 
 this. I'll put it plainly, because I conceive 
 that, in all such cases, plainness is much to 
 be preferred. Will it be better, under the 
 circumstances, for you to live with Mr. 
 Whitely, or with me]" 
 
 Louise blushed, and dropped her head. 
 
 "Nay," continued Valentine, "I do not 
 expect you to answer this question. I have 
 undertaken to answer it for you; 1 have to 
 decide, and really, to give expression to 
 that which I most sincerely feel, I do think 
 that, all things considered, it will be in- 
 finitely better for us to marry at once, 
 when, without the slightest annoyance, 
 you will be able to imbibe and to cherish 
 by degrees, those feelings for Mr. W T hitely, 
 which, of course, you will be anxious to 
 entertain." 
 
 Valentine paused; but Louise was still 
 silent. 
 
 " What think you, mother 1 ?" he at length 
 continued. " Do you not think that that 
 will be the better course to pursue]" 
 
 " W'hy, my dear," returned the widow, 
 "that you know, is an extremely delicate 
 question for me to answer. It would cer- 
 tainly, at once, do away with that which 
 we conceived to be the greatest difficulty to 
 be encountered." 
 
 "Of course," rejoined Valentine. "What 
 I propose then, is this: that the fifteenth be 
 still the happy day that we, Louise, be as 
 we had previously settled, on the fifteenth, 
 united. This is what I propose, and as I 
 can see no objection at all to it, I hereby 
 direct you seeing, that you have promised 
 to go by my directions to prepare for our 
 union on the fifteenth instant, not only that 
 you may escape that position of embarrass- 
 ment which we have just been considering, 
 but that we may no longer be subjected to 
 those disappointments and delays which we 
 have found so particularly disagreeable." 
 
 Still, with downcast eyes, Louise was 
 silent; her heart beat an approval, which 
 her tongue, however, refused to express. 
 
 " Having thus," resumed Valentine, with 
 a smile " Having thus, then, given my di- 
 rections, my task is for the present at an 
 end; unless, indeed for I have no desire to 
 be despotic you can give me a single 
 reason why those directions should not 
 be implicitly obeyed. Am I," he added, 
 after a pause, " to understand by your 
 silence, that you know of no such reason?" 
 
 "My dearest Valentine!" exclaimed 
 Louise, fervently, " I arn at your disposal. 
 I said that I would be guided by you, Va- 
 lentino; 1 will! But do not, pray do not 
 wish me to take this step before the consent 
 of Mr. W likely I mean, of my father 
 has been obtained." 
 
 " Of course, my love, he must be con- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 379 
 
 suited: I would not, on any account, proceed 
 without first consulting him." 
 
 "There's a dear!" 
 
 "Although I, on one occasion, did speak 
 harshly to him in order to protect Mr. 
 Raven, I believe that he has ceased to think 
 of that; and I feel quite convinced, that 
 when I point out to him the peculiar posi- 
 tion in which you will otherwise be placed, 
 his consent to our immediate union will not 
 be withheld. He dines to-day with my 
 uncle. It may, perhaps, appear too pre- 
 cipitate if I name it to him to-day; but 
 when I join them in the evening they will, 
 no doubt, have been conversing on the sub- 
 ject I will invite him to dine with me to- 
 morrow, at our house, when I will lay the 
 whole matter before him, and I have not the 
 smallest doubt that, for the sake of your 
 feelings, which, I am sure, he is anxious to 
 study, he will readily give his consent. Do 
 not, therefore, for a moment, anticipate an 
 unfavourable answer from him; feel certain, 
 as I do, that we shall have to encounter no 
 opposition, and act precisely as if he had 
 consented already." 
 
 "I will do so," said Louise, "you have 
 made me comparatively happy: you have, 
 indeed, proved to me that difficulties, when 
 promptly met, vanish, and have thereby 
 taught me a lesson which, if acted upon, 
 must smooth the path of life." 
 
 11 It is the grand secret, my love," re- 
 turned Valentine. " But I wish it were a 
 secret no longer: if it were but universally 
 known, the happiness of mankind ih the 
 aggregate would be very materially en- 
 hanced, for it would then be apparent to all, 
 that although men are 'born to troubles,' 
 they are also born to surmount them." 
 
 "Well, now, really!" exclaimed the 
 widow, " upon my word, this appears to be 
 comparatively nothing, my love, now!" 
 
 "The difficulty," said Louise, "does 
 seem to be, in a measure, overcome. I 
 shall not, at all events, be placed in that 
 distressing position, if, indeed, we are not 
 opposed." 
 
 " Expect no opposition from Mr. White- 
 ly," said Valentine, " I am convinced that 
 he will gladly agree to anything calculated 
 to promote your happiness." 
 
 "Do you think so?" 
 
 "I am sure of it! he has proved it al- 
 ready." 
 
 "He is a good creature: I feel that I 
 almost love him now." 
 
 " Proceed with your preparations," said 
 Valentine, rising from his seat; "you have 
 nothing to fear, nor have you any time to 
 lose. You will remember this is the tenth! 
 The fifteenth will soon be here Louise, and 
 then, my love! and then!" he added, em- 
 
 bracing her, and gazing upon her with the 
 fondest affection " But you know the rest! 
 I'll now detain you no longer: for the pre- 
 sent, adieu!" And again he embraced her, 
 and having given the widow, who was 
 more than ever proud of him, a filial kiss, 
 he left them in tears, but they were not 
 tears of sadness. 
 
 During the whole of this, interview, Fred 
 was in the library, waiting with the utmost 
 impatience for Valentine to communicate 
 to him the result of his conference with 
 Whitely and Uncle John. He was very, 
 very wretched; for although his case differed 
 from that of Louise, inasmuch as he had 
 never regarded Raven as his father, he had 
 the feelings of a son for Mr. Llewellen of 
 Caermarthen, whom he believed of course 
 to be his bond fide father still. 
 
 When, therefore, Valentine, on leaving 
 Louise, related to him all that had passed, 
 as well between him and Whitely as be- 
 tween Raven and Uncle John, he felt and 
 looked more bewildered than before. 
 
 " Phot!" he cried, " tit my uncle that 
 is, Mr. Raven tit he confess it himself 
 inteet? Tit he say my father I mean Mr. 
 Llewellen, coolness knows it, hur ton't 
 know phot hur'm apout; hur ton't know 
 phether hur'm stanting upon my het or my 
 heels; it's like a trearn! putt tit he say 
 that my father was not my father, ant that 
 my name was Whitely, ant not Llewellen, 
 look you 1 ? Now tit he say that 1 ?" 
 
 " He did," replied Valentine; " and it is 
 of course perfectly certain that he would 
 not have said it had it not been true." 
 
 "Oh! there's not a pit of tout at all 
 about it if he said so: it's evitent he woot 
 have teniet it if he coot: putt t'cootness, 
 now, phot am hur to too? It is such an ex- 
 traortinary pusiness!" 
 
 " It is an extraordinary affair; but we 
 must manage to get over it, Fred, in some 
 way!" 
 
 " Well, how am hur to act, look you? 
 Only tell me phot hur'm to too, ant hur'll 
 too it!" 
 
 " Well, we shall see. Shall we go and 
 have a dinner together somewhere?" 
 
 " Apove all other things in the worlt! 
 You are not then coing to tine here to-tay?" 
 
 " Why, I think it will be as well for me 
 not to see Raven under the circumstances: 
 you understand?" 
 
 " Oh, perfectly! ant hur tecitetly acree 
 with you. Phere shall we co?" 
 
 " Why, as we have just time to run down 
 to Greenwich, I'll give you some white 
 bait. It will be a change of scene. We'll 
 have a quiet dinner, and then immediately 
 return. I wish to go home early to join 
 my uncle." 
 
380 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 Fred was highly pleased with this pro- 
 position, and as they started at once, he 
 seemed at once to forget all his troubles. 
 It is true that on the way the fact of 
 Whitely being his father did occasionally 
 occur to him; but the thought seldom occu- 
 pied his mind more than a moment: foras- 
 much as he was not a deep thinker, the 
 appearance of almost every new object was 
 sufficient for the time being to engross his 
 attention, while Valentine, being himself 
 in high spirits, made him as gay as if no- 
 thing of an extraordinary character had 
 occurred. 
 
 On arriving at Greenwich they proceeded 
 without loss of time to that which is decid- 
 edly the best house in the town, and ordered 
 dinner, and until it was produced, Fred 
 amused himself at the window by throwing 
 sixpences into the depths of the mud it 
 being happily low water that sundry par- 
 ticularly interesting and ragged young gen- 
 tlemen might dexterously dive after them, 
 and then turn ingenious somersets, to show 
 that they did themselves a pleasure thereby. 
 And it was extremely glorious to behold the 
 development of pure joy which accompanied 
 their agreeable evolutions evolutions by 
 which less gifted individuals would have 
 been smothered, but which seemed to be 
 the principal business of their uninsured 
 lives. They were in raptures as they 
 picked up the sixpences, and translated 
 them freely from the mud to their mouths, 
 as well to cleanse as to secure them, while 
 actuated by one of the purest and most 
 beautiful feelings of our nature they 
 plunged with surpassing grace for more. 
 Fred enjoyed it. exceedingly. It was the 
 very thing for him; indeed, he entered so 
 fully into the spirit of the scene, and was 
 so much delighted with its chief character- 
 istics, that when dinner was produced, he 
 rather regretted it than not, a thing which 
 never did happen to him by any mistake 
 before. 
 
 Once at the table, however, he quite for- 
 got the mud larks, having transferred the 
 whole of his attention from them to the 
 scene before him. He ate, and, ate, and 
 praised everything he ate; but when he 
 came to the "phite pait," oh! and good- 
 ness knew it he never did in all the world 
 taste anything so delicious. Were they 
 " tittlebats]" He made this inquiry, but 
 to him it was a matter of the slightest im- 
 portance, as he shovelled them into his 
 mouth with the fork with at least as much 
 spirit as grace. 
 
 When he had quite given in, when he 
 felt and expressed himself perfectly sure 
 that he was done, Valentine recalled his 
 attention to the subject of the position in 
 
 which he then stood, and after having 
 briefly touched upon various points con 
 nected therewith, he explained to him that 
 Whitely was then dining with Uncle John, 
 and that it would, in his judgment, have an 
 excellent effect if they were both unexpect- 
 edly to join them. To this proposition 
 Fred was at first most unwilling to accede: 
 " Hur shall pe so very awkwart," said he; 
 " hur shan't know how to act, nor phot to 
 too, nor phot to say." 
 
 " Why," said Valentine, " you have but 
 to act as you would under any other cir- 
 cumstances. There will be no necessity 
 for you to allude to the matter: I question, 
 indeed, whether the subject will be men- 
 tioned this evening at all." 
 
 "Putt it's unpleasant, look you. Hur'd 
 rather not, inteet." 
 
 " W'ell, I'll not press it; but I am quite 
 sure that nothing would delight him more; 
 and as you are his son, while I am his son- 
 in-law, nearly, I think that we ought to 
 begin now to do all in our power to please 
 him," 
 
 " Phy, my poy!" exclaimed Fred, sud- 
 denly throwing himself back in the chair, 
 with his eyes, mouth, and arms, very wide- 
 ly extended, " Phy!" Here the idea 
 stopped his breath again. "Phy!" he re- 
 sumed, at length, " phy, phen you marry 
 Louey, you and I shall pe pro/Aers-in-law, 
 look you! Well, I never heard of anything 
 to come up to that!" 
 
 " Did it never strike you before 1 ?" 
 
 " Ne-ver\ coolness knows it, now, that 
 will pe peautiful, inteet! Well, apove all 
 other things in the work! Oh! hur ton't 
 care now a pit apout it!" 
 
 "Then shall we go this evening?" 
 
 " Oh, yes! hur'll co, my poy, hur'll co; 
 hur shall feel very awkwart, putt hur'll co." 
 
 " I think it will be better. Besides, it 
 will break the ice. In a few days you will 
 have to live with him, you know." 
 
 " Hur unterstant. Very coot. Yes, hur 
 think it will pe petter. Putt, my poy! the 
 idea of our peing prothers-in-law!" 
 
 He dwelt upon this idea for some con- 
 siderable time, and carried it out to a great 
 extent, and viewed it in every shape with 
 pleasure; in fact the subject in all its varied 
 ramifications at intervals lasted him until 
 they returned to town, indeed, it may be 
 said, until they entered the room in which 
 Whitely and Uncle John were sitting. 
 
 To Whitely their appearance was hap- 
 piness. He rose the moment they entered, 
 and grasped them both by the hand, and 
 stood and looked at them alternately, as the 
 tears pushed from his eyes, scarcely know- 
 ing which gave him the greater pleasure, 
 the presence of Fred, or the fact of Valen- 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 331 
 
 tine having brought him. Uncle John, too, 
 was delighted to see them come in: indeed, 
 the introduction made them all very happy, 
 and they spent the remainder of the evening 
 together in the most pleasant manner pos- 
 sible. 
 
 On the following day Valentine hav- 
 ing, in the course of the previous evening, 
 invited Whitely and Fred to dine with him 
 and his uncle at the house they all met at 
 the time appointed, and had a very agreeable 
 dinner; shortly after which, Fred as had 
 been previously arranged was sent for 
 poste-haste by Louise; and as soon as he 
 had left with the promise to return as soon 
 as possible, Valentine opened the subject 
 which was nearest his heart. 
 
 ' Well," said he gaily, "you have not 
 told me yet how you like the house!" 
 
 "I like it much," replied Whitely: "it 
 is an elegant house, and the way in which 
 it is furnished reflects great credit upon 
 somebody's judgment and taste." 
 
 Uncle John bowed and smiled: he felt 
 that remark to be particularly agreeable. 
 
 " Mr. Whitely," said Valentine, with 
 some deliberation, " this house, as you are 
 aware, was taken and furnished for one 
 special purpose." 
 
 " I am aware of it," returned Whitely, 
 " and as I guess your object in introducing 
 the subject now, I will say at once that I 
 hope that the purpose will be eventually 
 fulfilled." 
 
 "As I view this," said Valentine, " as a 
 consent on your part as the father of Louise, 
 to our union, I am anxious, in connection 
 with this subject, to appeal at once to your 
 feelings as a father, and to your judgment 
 as a man. Of course, Mr. Whitely, I need 
 not explain to you the position of that good 
 girl, Louise; you understand her feelings 
 as well as I do: of that I am quite certain. 
 But first allow me to ask you what you in- 
 tend to do with her when you take her from 
 Raven's house?" 
 
 " I mean to give her to you: to enjoy 
 for a few months her sweet society alone, 
 that our affections as parent and child may 
 be developed and cherished, and then to 
 give her to you." 
 
 44 Give her to me now," said Valentine, 
 with great fervour of expression; " forego 
 the pleasure which you anticipate from her 
 society before marriage, and give her to me 
 now." 
 
 Whitely was for some time silent; but 
 after weighing the matter deliberately in 
 his mind, he said, " If I should oppose 
 your immediate marriage I do not know 
 that I shall, but if I should you must not 
 attribute that opposition to any objection on 
 my part to you as a son-in-law; for I can- 
 
 didly confess to you that I have none: you 
 must ascribe it solely to my desire to culti- 
 vate previously those feelings of affection 
 which I arn, of course, anxious should exist 
 between me and my child." 
 
 "Precisely," said Uncle John, "I under- 
 stand your motive, and I appreciate it 
 highly. Although not a father myself, I 
 can enter into. your feelings as a father, and 
 I must say that the anxiety you have ex- 
 pressed is very natural, very." 
 
 "You see, my friend," said Whitely, 
 " I have been deprived of the affections of 
 my children from their infancy. They have 
 been unconscious even of my existence. 
 Others have taken that place in their hearts 
 which I ought to have occupied, and hence 
 my desire to resume my natural position 
 with regard to them must by all be under- 
 stood and respected." 
 
 " Of course," said Uncle John, " and I 
 am sure that Valentine sees the matter in 
 precisely the same light." 
 
 "I do," said Valentine, "I do under- 
 stand that desire, and I respect it. Heaven 
 forbid that I should wish it to be in the 
 smallest degree diminished. But why are 
 you anxious to cultivate those feelings of 
 affection previously to our marriage]" 
 
 " Because," replied Whitely, " after mar- 
 riage I apprehend her affections will be 
 devoted to you." 
 
 44 1 hope they will: I am sure that they 
 will: but not exclusively! That kind of 
 affection to which I as her husband may be 
 supposed to be entitled, will not, I submit, 
 interfere with her affection for you. Wo- 
 men, I apprehend, do not love their parents 
 less for loving their husbands more. If 
 that were the case, marriage would be de- 
 structive of the love which exists between 
 parents and children, and he who gave his 
 daughter in marriage to the man whom she 
 loved would be thereby surrendering the 
 affections of his child, a thing of which 
 he never dreams." 
 
 44 1 see that," said Whitely, " I clearly 
 see that." 
 
 44 Take it in another point of view," con- 
 tinued Valentine: " assume that Louise 
 loves me which I believe from my very 
 soul is it to be expected that, in the event 
 of her remaining for some time single, her 
 love for me will be diminished in proportion 
 as her affection for you shall increase, or 
 that, foster her affections for you as you. 
 may, she will love me in consequence less!" 
 
 44 Decidedly not." 
 
 "If, then, her affection for her father 
 would not interfere with her affection for 
 her lover, why should her love for me after 
 marriage interfere with her love for youl 
 But waiving that point for under the cir- 
 
 33* 
 
332 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 eumstances it is not the grand one let us 
 look at her feelings in the matter without 
 reference to our own. She leaves Raven, 
 whom from infancy she had looked upon as 
 her father, to live with you, who have been, 
 up to this time, a stranger. Conceive what 
 her feelings must be in such a position, 
 while striving to transfer her affections from 
 one to the other! Must it not be one of 
 great embarrassment"? Must she not feel 
 awkward in the extreme! If so, why 
 should she be placed in that position at all? 
 I am perfectly sure that whatever feeling 
 you may have of a selfish character if I 
 may in its mildest sense use the term is 
 so natural, that you cannot repudiate its 
 entertainment; but I am also sure that you 
 are inclined to study her feelings in prefer- 
 ence to your own." 
 
 "In that you do me but justice," said 
 Whitely. 
 
 44 Do you not conceive, then," said Va- 
 lentine, " that she would rather escape the 
 position to which I have alluded than em- 
 brace it 1 ? that she would rather to speak 
 plainly be married, and then imbibe and 
 fondly foster those feelings of affection for 
 you gradually, than be compelled to wait un- 
 til you have become satisfied that her affec- 
 tion as a child has been firmly established? 
 Which do you think she would prefer!" 
 
 44 Why, I most confess," replied White- 
 ly, 44 that 1 think she would prefer entering 
 into the marriage state at once. I must say 
 that under the circumstances il would be 
 but natural for her to give that the pre- 
 ference." 
 
 4k But independently of that," continued 
 Valentine, 44 as a matter of expediency, I 
 would urge the adoption of this course, 
 without the fear of beinfr regarded as an ad- 
 vocate pleading for myself. Your great 
 immediate object is of course to gain the 
 affections of Louise. Very well. How 
 would you proceed to accomplish this ob- 
 ject? Is it easier or more effectually to be 
 done by opposing in limine. that step in 
 which she believes that her happiness is 
 involved, than by allowing that step to bii 
 taken, and thereby proving not only that 
 you have her happiness at heart, but that 
 you are willing to sacrifice your own strict- 
 ly personal feelings with a view to promote 
 it? Will you not, by giving your consent, 
 be laying the foundation of her love! in 
 oiher words, will she not rather love you 
 for giving that consent than for withholding 
 it? I do riot mean to say that 1 believe for 
 one moment that your opposition would 
 have the effect of engendering in her mind 
 any species of dislike, but I do think that, 
 as mutters now stand, thn surest and the 
 speediest way to win her affections is by 
 
 giving your consent. It will strike her at 
 once as being an act of kindness: it will 
 prove to her that your great object is to see 
 her happy: it will force the conviction that 
 you fondly love her, and will thereby in- 
 spire her with fond love for you." 
 
 44 1 am inclined to agree with you," said 
 Whitely; 44 I am quite inclined to agree 
 with you. You have put it very forcibly 
 and very correctly. I did not see it in that 
 light before. Having set her mind upon 
 marriage, certainly my consent would be 
 more pleasurable than my opposition, how- 
 ever mildly, or with whatever arguments it 
 might be urged. There is no absolute ne- 
 cessity for any farther delay: that is quite 
 clear; and as by withholding my consent I 
 now perceive that I should be studying my 
 own feelings alone, it shall not be withheld. 
 I give it freely. I have so much confidence 
 in you that I will willingly accede to what- 
 ever you may propose. She has had, poor 
 girl, sufficient trouble already. I feel now 
 that I ought not to disappoint her in this 
 matter again. Let the day be named no 
 matter how early you will meet with no 
 opposition from me." 
 
 4k I felt certain," said Valentine, ''that I 
 should induce you to take this view of the 
 matter, but I am not on that account less 
 happy in having succeeded." 
 
 * 4 Upon my life, though," observed Uncle 
 John, "1 didn't see it in that point of view: 
 much as I desired the settlement of this 
 affair, I thought that another delay of a few 
 months must have taken place, as a matter 
 of course." 
 
 44 That was certainly my impression," 
 rejoined Whitely, 44 but I perceive the force 
 and justice of Valentine's observations, and 
 I therefore need not ask if Louise is I will 
 not say anxious, but willing for the mar- 
 riage to take place immediately." 
 
 44 Oh!" cried Uncle John, playfully, 
 kk they have settled it between them, there 
 is no doubt of that. It was all arranged, 
 my friend, before we knew a word about 
 the matter." ' 
 
 4k As far as the consent of Louise is con- 
 cerned," said Valentine, 4l it certainly was: 
 after much persuasion on my part for I 
 had far more difficulty with her than I have 
 had with you; Louise did consent, but only 
 on the condition that I succeeded in obtain- 
 ing the consent of her father." 
 
 " Did she make that a sine qua non?" in- 
 quired Whitely, with much feeling. 
 
 4k Indeed she did; and urged it with great 
 earnestness." 
 
 kk God bless her! God bless her!" ex- 
 claimed Whitely, with a broken voice, as 
 the tears sparkled in his eyes, 4 God bless 
 her!" 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 383 
 
 " She is a jewel," said Uncle John, "a 
 jewel! you are a happy fellow, Val a 
 happy fellow." 
 
 "1 believe him to be worthy of her," 
 said Whitely; "I am sure of it. Well," 
 he continued, addressing Valentine, "and 
 when is the day to be?" 
 
 " Why, as the fifteenth was fixed before 
 the secret was revealed, I thought it would 
 be as well not to alter the day. I therefore 
 propose that the ceremony take place on 
 the fifteenth." 
 
 *' Well, be it so, I have no objection to 
 urge. The fifteenth will soon be here, but 
 the sooner the better, perhaps. Let it be 
 the fifteenth. I have, however, one stipu- 
 lation to make: she must not marry from 
 the house of that man." 
 
 "Of course not," said Valentine, "I 
 anticipated that, and have arranged it in my 
 own mind thus: that on the morning of the 
 fourteenth, she leaves Raven's house with 
 my mother to take up her abode here; that 
 we dine here together on that day, and that 
 the next morning you accompany her from 
 here to church." 
 
 "That will do!" said Whitely, "that 
 will do. I quite approve of that arrange- 
 ment; it will do very well." 
 
 It was accordingly thus settled, and im- 
 mediately after the settlement had taken 
 place, Fred returned in high glee. Louise 
 had introduced him to Miss Lovelace, a 
 young lady who was to be one of the brides- 
 maids, and of all the most peautiful cirls 
 he had ever seen in the work, with the sin- 
 gle exception of little sister Louey, she was 
 the most peautiful, and coolness knew it! 
 
 This, of course, was quite sufficient for 
 Valentine to go on with. He seized it with 
 avidity, and rallied poor Fred in a style 
 which produced roars of laughter. He as- 
 sailed him at every point, and Fred met him 
 in a manner too droll to be resisted. He 
 again and again declared that he felt him- 
 self in love, and didn't care if the whole 
 world knew it! Thus the remainder of the 
 evening was spent very merrily, and at 
 eleven they all left the house much de- 
 lighted. 
 
 Valentine, however, was determined to 
 communicate to Louise the pleasing result 
 of his consultation with Whitely, without 
 delay. He had therefore no sooner seen 
 Whitely and Uncle John home, than he 
 walked with Fred to Raven's, and found 
 that Louise had been expecting his arrival, 
 her heart having told her that, however late 
 it might be, when the party broke up he 
 would call. When, therefore, he entered 
 the drawing-room, she flew to meet him, 
 and with a look of intense anxiety, read the 
 
 expression of success in his countenance, 
 and was happy. 
 
 " Why do you look so intently at me'?" 
 inquired Valentine. " Is it to see if I have 
 been taking too much wine]" 
 
 " No," replied Louise, with a playful 
 movement of her head. " It is not that. 
 You know why I look at you so earnestly. 
 You know that it is to read that which I 
 feel that 1 do read, the fact of my father 
 having given his consent. It is so, is it not!" 
 
 " My dearest girl, it is," said Valentine, 
 who then sat beside her and explained to 
 her all he deemed it necessary for her to 
 know, and having impressed upon her how 
 worthy Whitely was of her affection, he 
 drew one picture of happiness, and left an- 
 other behind him. 
 
 It was then past twelve; but as the night 
 was calm though dark, he decided on walk- 
 ing home, notwithstanding he knew that 
 Uncle John would not retire till he return- 
 ed. He had scarcely, however, left the 
 house, when an emaciated form with an 
 aspect of madness, hurried p'ast him mut- 
 tering incoherently to himself, and then 
 suddenly stopped, and then hurried on 
 again, and then again stopped, and turned, 
 and then again hurried on, alternately laugh- 
 ing and groaning. 
 
 Valentine, when the form turned, felt a 
 sudden thrill. He had certainly seen that 
 figure before! who could it possibly be! 
 Resolved on being satisfied, he quickened 
 his pace. Again the figure stopped. He 
 passed it, and on reaching the noxt lamp, 
 turned, that the light by falling upon the 
 face of the man, might aid him in discover- 
 ing who he was. The form came on, 
 groaning and gnashing his teeth as -before, 
 and on reaching the lamp stopped again, as 
 if struck. The light fell full upon him; it 
 was Walter! mad; obviously mad! His 
 sunken eyes glared, and he looked like a 
 fiend. 
 
 " Just Heaven !" thought Valentine. 
 "This, indeed, is a dreadful retribution! 
 Do you not know me?" said he, addressing 
 Walter, and taking his arm. 
 
 " You can't prove it!" cried Walter, 
 fixing his eyes upon Valentine, wildly. 
 "You have no proof. I must be acquitted. 
 1 did not murder him! let me go." 
 
 " Do you not remember Valentine?" 
 
 "Yes! he was the cause! the only cause! 
 I know him: I know him." 
 
 " He is here: he stands before you: I am 
 he." 
 
 Walter again glared upon him, and 
 seized his arm, and having passed his hand 
 over his eyes several times, shook his 
 head, and said, "No no no. You are 
 not.' Let me go home! home." 
 
384 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 "I'll go with you," said Valentine. 
 "Tell me where you live." 
 
 " I told you before. Let me go. I must 
 not be detained. You have no proof, I tell 
 you! Ha, ha! No proof ! no proof! Do 
 your worst! No proof! I'll not be de- 
 tained!" 
 
 Having suddenly disengaged his arm 
 from Valentine's grasp, he hurried on, still 
 muttering wildly to himself, and occasion- 
 ally giving a maniacal chuckle. 
 
 Valentine now scarcely knew how to act; 
 should he give him in charge of the police, 
 or follow him? He had spoken of home. 
 He might then be going home. Valentine 
 knew not at all where he lived, but eventu- 
 ally decided on allowing him to proceed 
 without interruption, resolved, however, 
 not to lose sight of him until he should 
 enter some house. He accordingly kept a 
 few paces behind him, but in order to do 
 so, he was compelled to walk as fast as he 
 possibly could, and sometimes, indeed, to 
 run, for Walter's pace could not have been 
 much less than six miles an hour. 
 
 On reaching Bloomsbury Square, Walter 
 suddenly stopped, but as on turning sharp- 
 ly round, he saw Valentine approaching, 
 he kept on, and got into Holborn, where 
 he increased his speed, being evidently 
 anxious to avoid all pursuit. Valentine, 
 however, kept up with him, marvelling at 
 the extraordinary strength he displayed, 
 and expecting every moment, of course, 
 that he would either turn or stop at some 
 house; but he still kept on and on, until he 
 reached the bottom of Holborn-Hill, when 
 he turned up Farringdon Street, muttering 
 and laughing, and clenching his fists, and 
 striking out with increased energy. 
 
 " Well," thought Valentine, who began 
 to feel fatigued, "it is impossible for him 
 to keep on at this rate much longer," when, 
 conceiving that the fact of his keeping be- 
 hind him, might accelerate his pace, and 
 perhaps, deter him from going in even 
 when he reached home, he crossed the 
 street and walked on the opposite side. 
 
 Still Walter kept on. He passed Fleet 
 Street, and when he had done so, he looked 
 sharply round, and as he could perceive no 
 one behind him he slackened his pace, but 
 
 stopped not until he had arrived at Chat- 
 ham Place, where he made a dead stand, 
 fixing his eyes upon the ground, dropping 
 his hands listlessly, and muttering aloud. 
 Having stood in this position for some few 
 moments without raising his eyes, he sud- 
 denly started off again, and proceeded over 
 the bridge at a rapid rate, apparently most 
 anxious to get home. Just, however, as he 
 had reached the centre arch of the bridge, 
 he turned into one of the recesses and 
 leaped upon the seat. In an instant Va- 
 lentine flew towards him, and called to him 
 by name! The wretched maniac heard him, 
 but uttering a dreadful yell of defiance, 
 sprang over the balustrade, and Valentine 
 but reached the spot in time to hear the 
 water opening to receive him with a roar. 
 
 How was it possible to aid him? How 
 could he be saved? " Police! Police! Help! 
 help!" shouted Valentine, darting to the 
 stairs, and a person on the instant ran to- 
 wards him. 
 
 "A gentleman has thrown himself from 
 the bridge," cried Valentine. " How can 
 we save him?" 
 
 " I fear we can render him no assist- 
 ance," said the stranger. " There's no 
 waterman near." 
 
 Valentine rushed down the steps, and 
 the stranger followed. The tide was run- 
 ning down; it was nearly low water: every 
 boat was aground, and nothing could be 
 seen moving upon the river within hail. 
 
 " What what can we do?" exclaimed 
 Valentine. 
 
 " Nothing!" replied the stranger. " No- 
 thing: nothing can be done! He's lost." 
 
 The tide glided smoothly on. Scarcely a 
 ripple could be seen. Once Valentine saw, 
 or imagined he saw, the head of a man rise 
 above the surface, but in an instant it dis- 
 appeared, and was seen no more. 
 
 Still he lingered at the water's edge, his 
 eyes fixed upon the stream, while dwelling 
 upon the frightful catastrophe, almost in a 
 state of unconsciousness, until the stranger 
 aroused him, when, with a heavy heart he 
 proceeded home, and by relating the sad 
 event filled the mind of his uncle with 
 horror. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVIII. 
 
 IN WHICH THE HISTORY DRAWS TO A CONCLUSION. 
 
 NEARLY the whole of the following day, 
 Valentine was endeavouring to ascertain if 
 the body of Walter had been found; but his 
 
 efforts were unsuccessful. He took a boat 
 at the Tower Stairs, and was rowed a con- 
 siderable distance down the river, stopping 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 385 
 
 to make inquiries at every point, but could 
 hear nothing of him; nor could he commu- 
 nicate with his family, not knowing where 
 they resided. He could, therefore, do no- 
 thing; and although he strongly felt that it 
 would have been better had he arrested 
 Walter's progress on perceiving his mad- 
 ness, and placed him at once under restraint, 
 he could not reproach rhimself under the 
 circumstances, seeing that he had done that 
 which at the time appeared to him to be 
 most advisable; still the dreadful event 
 made a deep impression on his mind. 
 
 From Louise, of course, this was con- 
 cealed. Whitely was informed of it, but 
 it went no farther: the preparations for the 
 marriage, therefore, proceeded as if nothing 
 of the kind had occurred, and Valentine, in 
 the presence of Louise, appeared to be as 
 gay as before. 
 
 As Raven had been informed of its hav- 
 ing been decided that Louise should leave 
 his house the day previously to that of her 
 marriage, his spirits now became more than 
 ever depressed. He was indeed a wretched 
 being. He felt that, although in the midst 
 of wealth and splendour, he should be 
 thenceforth alone in the world without a 
 child to love him, without a friend to es- 
 teem him, without a single creature near 
 him with whom he cared to associate; ex- 
 cluded from all society an outcast. 
 
 Sometimes he would shut himself up in 
 his room for hours, and seek relief in tears; 
 sometimes he would bitterly rail at the 
 world; at others he would sit and gaze upon 
 Louise with all the fondness of a father, 
 for that he loved her dearly no doubt could 
 exist. To him this parting was a heavy 
 blow indeed. It blasted every prospect, 
 withered every earthly hope; not a flower 
 could he perceive in his path from thence to 
 the grave. 
 
 As the day of parting approached, his 
 wretchedness increased, and when the thir- 
 teenth arrived, he sent to beg of Uncle John 
 to look in upon him if even it were but for 
 a quarter of an hour. 
 
 Uncle John went accordingly the moment 
 he received the message, and found him 
 dreadfully dejected. His eyes were dim 
 and half closed; his cheeks were hollow, 
 and his lips livid; he was spiritless, nerve- 
 less: Despair seemed to have marked him 
 for her own. 
 
 " My friend," said he, " if I may still 
 call you so, I am a miserable man. I can- 
 not bear to part for ever with her whom 
 from infancy I have reared, loved, and che- 
 rished as my own. I am childless, friend- 
 less, helpless. I have been actively battling 
 for more than half a century with the world, 
 but my spirits never deserted me, my 
 
 strength never failed me, till now. What 
 am I to do, my friend! Give me your ad- 
 vice." 
 
 " Why, upon my life," said Uncle John, 
 "I don't see what advice I can give you, 
 unless, indeed, it be to raise your spirits, 
 and to bear up against the calamity." 
 
 " Which is precisely what I feel that I 
 can't do. I seem to have no moral strength, 
 no courage, no nerve, as if I were the only 
 man in the world by whom a wrong had 
 been inflicted. Other men can commit 
 crimes, and think comparatively nothing of 
 it. The fact does not afflict them; they are 
 not bowed to the earth by the reflection; 
 they can stand erect, and bid the world de- 
 fiance: yet I, who in a moment of passion, 
 folly, phrenzy call it what you will com- 
 mitted an act of which thousands upon 
 thousands around me have been guilty, am 
 thus struck down and tortured." 
 
 " It must not be imagined," observed 
 Uncle John, "that he who, having com- 
 mitted a criminal act, braves the world, is 
 not afflicted. He may feel it the more, for 
 that feeling is usually most acute which a 
 man takes most pains to conceal. I hold it 
 to be impossible for any man capable of re- 
 flection in its popular sense, to inflict any 
 serious injury upon another, or to commit 
 any crime, which in his heart he acknow- 
 ledges to be a crime, without being afflict- 
 ed. Some men may show it more than 
 others, but that is no proof that others feel 
 it less." 
 
 " Well, but my friend now do you 
 Oh! I remember the time when my pride 
 would have swelled, when my heart would 
 have revolted at the idea of asking any 
 man's forgiveness; but my spirit is now so 
 subdued, I am now so humble, that if you 
 think that he whom I have injured would 
 forgive me, I would solicit his forgiveness 
 aye, even on my knees." 
 
 " Why, as far as his forgiveness is con- 
 cerned," said Uncle John, pausing " But 
 what do you mean by forgiveness! As 
 Christians, we are taught to pray for for- 
 giveness of our trespasses 'as we forgive 
 them that trespass agr.inst us;' but the for- 
 giveness which we pray for is so perfect 
 That it comprehends reception and recon- 
 ciliation. Do you mean by forgiveness, in 
 this case, reception and reconciliation!" 
 
 " I would willingly give all I possess in 
 the world to be thus forgiven by that man!" 
 
 ' You mean, of course, for him to be re- 
 conciled to you, to associate with you, to 
 receive you as a friend!" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 Uncle John shook his head with a very, 
 very doubtful expression. 
 
 " You think it impossible!" said Raven. 
 
386 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 " Most certainly I do. I have heard of 
 men, who, actuated by the vilest and most 
 sordid motives, have received and associ- 
 ated with the seducers of their wives, but I 
 never heard of a virtuous man becoming re- 
 conciled to, or receiving him, by whom the 
 wife of his bosom had been corrupted. In- 
 asmuch, therefore, as I feel that Whitely 
 loved his wife, fondly, passionately loved 
 her, and as I know him to be a strictly ho- 
 nourable man, I do think it impossible, ut- 
 terly impossible, to prevail upon him to 
 receive you now as a friend." 
 
 " I am satisfied," said Raven, " quite 
 satisfied now. But without such a recon- 
 ciliation on his part, might I not be allowed 
 occasionally to visit his children?" 
 
 "Why, that may be managed. It may 
 be managed without any formal consent on 
 his part. He will not be always with 
 them." 
 
 *' You see, my friend, I know that you 
 see and understand the position in which I 
 am placed. I have studiously kept aloof 
 from all society: I am a man of no family: 
 I have not, to my knowledge, a single rela- 
 tive in the world. I have formed no con- 
 nections, no friendships: I have not a single 
 creature to care for me with the exception 
 of yourself. Valentine, Fred, and Louise: 
 there is, it is true, one besides whose favour 
 I would conciliate I mean Valentine's 
 mother, but I feel that I must not think of 
 that. If therefore you desert me, if I arn 
 henceforth deprived of your society, and 
 that of those with whom you are connected, 
 the world will be to me a perfect wilder- 
 ness; I shall indeed be alone." 
 
 " You speak like a man without hope," 
 said Uncle John. " You will not be de- 
 serted. 1 will not desert you: Valentine 
 will not desert you: nor is it at all likely 
 thai you will be deserted by Louise, whom 
 you have treated with so much kindness 
 and affection." 
 
 " My friend and you have proved your* 
 self to be a friend indeed we are all falli- 
 ble: not that I wish to shield myself under 
 this general proposition; but we are all of 
 us occasionally led into temptations, which 
 we feel at the time to be too strong to be 
 resisted. This was my case, at the period 
 from which the birth of all my troubles may 
 be dated; I yielded to the temptation into 
 which I had been led; but although 1 can- 
 not expect, that he whom, by thus yielding, 
 I wronged, will so perfectly forgive me as 
 to receive me as a friend, 1 do think tbat 
 having proved that I am not only sorry for 
 having acted as I have done, but anxious 
 to make all possible reparation others may 
 without dishonour." 
 
 " 1 would rather," said Uncle John, " as- 
 
 sociate with a man, who, like you, not only 
 feels, but acknowledges that he is sorry for 
 having committed an offence, than with one 
 who treats that offence with levity, and 
 affects to hold the opinion of the world in 
 contempt." 
 
 "Then will you come often and see me, 
 notwithstanding what has occurred?" 
 
 "I will," replied 'Jncle John. 
 
 "You will come and dine with me?" 
 
 " Frequently. I think of living entirely 
 in town now." 
 
 " I am very glad to hear it. I think I 
 need not say that I shall be at all times 
 most happy to see you. When my poor 
 girl is gone, I shall feel, I well know that 
 I shall feel very wretched." 
 
 " Come, come, you must bear Up against 
 it." 
 
 " I will as well as I possibly can, but 
 this is a dreadful position for an old man 
 like me to be placed in." 
 
 " Well, well: we must make the best we 
 can of it. These things always seem to be 
 greater in anticipation. You will feel it no 
 doubt; but we must endeavour to let you 
 feel it as little as possible." 
 
 " My dear friend; I have no right to ex- 
 pect this kindness from you." 
 
 '* Yes you have: you have a right to ex- 
 pect kindness from every man, who pro- 
 fesses to be your friend. But let us say no 
 more about, it. Although we cannot do all, 
 something may be done, and you may rest 
 assured of this, that all I can do I will." 
 
 Raven, whose spirit was indeed subdued, 
 again and again thanked him, and the gra- 
 titude which he warmly expressed was un- 
 feigned. He did feel grateful to him, very, 
 very grateful, for the loneliness of his posi- 
 tion pressed heavily upon his heart, and 
 none appreciate kindness so highly as those 
 whom society in general spurns. An act of 
 friendship then, shines forth as an act of 
 friendship indeed. The veriest wretch feels 
 it: it strikes to his heart's core: he would 
 fly through fire and water to protect or to 
 serve him who treats him with common 
 kindness, when he feels that he is treated 
 by all but him with scorn, or who extends 
 the hand of friendship when all other friends 
 are gone. 
 
 The conduct of Uncle John may, in this 
 particular instance, be by some rigid moral- 
 ists condemned; but let those who would 
 condemn him point out what save penitence 
 can be offered for injuries which cannot be 
 redressed: and if, on discovering their in- 
 ability to do this, they still condemn him, 
 they must deny that that Heavenly attri- 
 bute, Charity, ought ever to enter the soul 
 of a just man. 
 
 He viewed the crime of which Raven had 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 387 
 
 been guilty and none could have had a 
 greater horror of that crime than he had per 
 se with due reference to the proverbial 
 fallibility of man's nature: nothing could 
 have induced him to palliate that crime; 
 but, although he regarded it not alone as a 
 personal offence, but also as an offence 
 against society in the aggregate when he 
 saw Raven spiritless, bowed to the very 
 earth, and broken-hearted, he would not 
 trample upon him: no! prompted by the 
 voice of nature, he extended his hand to 
 raise him, with those charitable feelings 
 which he felt that he could not repudiate 
 either as a Christian or as a man. 
 
 But notwithstanding he thus benevolently 
 sought to inspire him with sufficient strength 
 to bear the pang of parting with Louise, 
 Raven was still much dejected. He felt 
 indeed, greatly relieved while Uncle John 
 was with him, but when he had left, he 
 sank again beneath the dread of the morrow, 
 and when the morrow came, it found him as 
 wretched as before. 
 
 Having passed a restless, miserable night, 
 he rose early, and tried to raise his spirits, 
 but in vain: on being summoned to break- 
 fast he burst into tears. 
 
 Louise, who as usual presided at the ta- 
 ble, rose to meet him as he entered the 
 room, when he took her hands and pressed 
 them, and gazed upon her mournfully, and 
 kissed her pale brow, and gazed upon her 
 again? but "neither uttered a word: their 
 hearts were too full to speak; they sat down 
 in silence, and scarcely, during the time 
 they were at breakfast, was that silence 
 broken. 
 
 Fred, who like the rest, felt miserable, 
 was the first to leave the table, and soon 
 after him Louise and the widow retired, 
 leaving Raven in sadness alone. 
 
 "With whom shall I breakfast to-mor- 
 row," thought he, " and to-morrow, and to- 
 morrow! Henceforth I shall be desolate. 
 What comfort, what joy can I hope for 
 now? This, twenty years since, or even 
 ten, I might have borne: I had energy then 
 spirit nerve: I could have struggled with 
 it then; but to be left thus now in the vale 
 of years, when I most need the comfort 
 which those whom I have cherished alone 
 can impart, when my faculties, both moral 
 and physical, are withering, when I am 
 sinking, fast sinking into the grave, is 
 just, just; I admit it to be just, but dread- 
 ful " 
 
 Pursuing this sad train of thought, he sat 
 weeping like a child for all his manhood 
 seemed to have left him until the clock 
 struck twelve, when he started up, and 
 paced the room, trembling with violence. 
 
 It was the hour appointed for the de- 
 
 parture of Louise, and soon afterwards she 
 entered the room to take leave, accompanied 
 by Fred and the widow. 
 
 ''I know, my dear child," said he, with 
 a tremulous voice, as she approached him 
 in tears, "I know your object in coming 
 to me now. It is it is yes I am get- 
 ting, my dear child, a feeble old man 
 bowed down bowed down by affliction 
 Well, well the grave the cold grave 
 God forgive me! God forgive me!" 
 
 " Father!" exclaimed Louise, passion- 
 ately, "if you are not my father, I feel that 
 you have been to me all that a father should 
 be for mercy's sake, do not do not 
 father!" she added, falling upon his neck, 
 " my heart will break." 
 
 " My child!" exclaimed Raven, whose 
 utterance was half-choked, while tears of 
 agony gushed from his eyes " my sweet- 
 est, loveliest child, you must not be unhap- 
 py! Wretchedness is mine I alone must 
 be wretched! The only comfort, the only 
 comfort I can hope for now is to see you 
 happy to see you happy! You will not 
 deprive me of that! No, you will not 
 Bless you! Come come," he continued, 
 albeit scarcely able to articulate a word, 
 "come: to-morrow, you know, to-morrow! 
 You only leave this for a happier home! 
 But you will not forget me 1 ? You will 
 think of me sometimes? You will not for- 
 get him who loved you from childhood so 
 fondly, so dearly? You will not despise 
 me? No, you will not despise me?" 
 
 " Never!" exclaimed Louise, fixing her 
 eyes earnestly upon him, although they 
 swam in tears; " my heart tells me that, 
 whatever may have happened, whatever 
 may occur, I can never despise, I can never 
 forget, I can never cease to love him by 
 whom from my infancy I have been treated 
 with so much affection." 
 
 Again Raven blessed her, and pressed 
 her to his heart, and endeavoured to cheer 
 her, although tears were trickling fast 
 down his cheeks, and he continued to sob 
 bitterly. 
 
 "I'll no longer afflict you, my loveliest 
 girl," said he " No! I'll no longer afflict 
 you. This parting is sad, very sad. You 
 would say farewell to me: yes, farewell 
 you would say: it may be the last the last 
 time. I am sinking, I know I am sinking; 
 my strength has deserted me; I am getting 
 very feeble; I shall not survive it long: no, 
 I feel that I can't survive it long But," he 
 added emphatically, raising his eyes with 
 great fervour of expression, " in the midst 
 of my affliction I have one comfort, one 
 consolation, which is, that whatever I may 
 have been, whatever I am now, I have done 
 towards her of whom I am now to be de 
 
388 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 prived all that a parent could conceive to be 
 his duty to a child, and that she leaves me 
 now with a heart as guileless and a mind 
 as pure as when in infancy I fondly adopted 
 her as my own." 
 
 At this moment a coach drew up to the 
 door, and Fred who had been standing at 
 the window, apparently firm as a rock, 
 while engaged in closing his eyelids as 
 his eyes became full, that the tears might 
 fall straight upon the carpet unseen an- 
 nounced Valentine's arrival. Raven took 
 Fred's hand, and pressed it warmly, and 
 then drew Louise aside. 
 
 " My dear girl," said he, producing a 
 small pocket-book, and placing it in her 
 hand, " before you leave me, my love, take 
 this: give it to Valentine. He will take 
 care of it for you; but promise me it may 
 be my last request, Louise yes, my dear, 
 it may be my last promise me that you 
 will not name it to your father. I know 
 that you will not refuse to take it for my 
 sake I know you will not; but it need not 
 be mentioned to him, my dear: it need not. 
 You promise!" 
 
 " I do," replied Louise, " I do." 
 
 "God bless you, my child! God bless 
 you! And now," he added in broken ac- 
 cents, as Valentine entered, " farewell! 
 farewell! Be happy! May Heaven protect 
 you all!" when, placing Louise in the 
 arms of Valentine, he turned and sobbing 
 aloud left the room. 
 
 His utter prostration of spirit touched 
 them nearly. Even Valentine was deeply 
 affected; but as upon him devolved the task 
 of restoring them all, his feelings were 
 studiously concealed. He assumed an air 
 not of gaiety, but of calmness; and as he 
 felt that the sooner they left then the better, 
 he hastened their departure as much as 
 strict delicacy could sanction, and soon 
 succeeded in getting them into the coach. 
 Here he allowed their feelings to have free 
 vent. He did not attempt to check them; 
 but on arriving at the house, he soon sub- 
 dued them by explaining how ill they 
 would accord with the feelings of Whitely, 
 and how calculated to induce him to believe 
 that Raven still held that place in their 
 affections which ought to be occupied by 
 him. 
 
 Louise saw at a glance the justice, as 
 well as the expediency of acting upon 
 this suggestion, which Valentine no sooner 
 perceived than he began to talk in a live- 
 lier strain, and thus by degrees raised her 
 spirits. 
 
 Having partaken of some refreshment, 
 Louise and the widow, who were insepara- 
 ble, left Valentine and Fred, playfully inti- 
 mating that they hoped to have the honour 
 
 of their company at six. Before, however, 
 Louise left the room, she grave Valentine 
 the pocket-book which Raven had presented 
 to her, and having explained to him the 
 promise she had given, told him to see 
 when she was gone what it contained. He 
 did so: it was the cover of a pocket-book 
 merely; but he found therein twenty one- 
 thousand pound-notes, and a packet, appa- 
 rently of parchment, sealed and addressed 
 to him, with instructions that the seal was 
 not to be broken until after Raven's death. 
 
 "I scarcely know," thought Valentine, 
 " that we ought to receive this; and yet, 
 were we to return it, it would perhaps break 
 his heart! Well, well, we shall see." 
 
 " Hur never tit!" cried Fred, as if he had 
 that moment awakened from a dream. " As 
 true as coolness! Well, now, inteet, look 
 you, really, ant, in truth, now: hur never 
 coolness knows it!" 
 
 " Did you speak]" inquired Valentine, 
 as if he had not been quite positive about 
 the matter. 
 
 " Hur was only thinking apout the treat- 
 ful scene petween my uncle that is,' Mr. 
 Raven ant Louey. Hur titn't like to let 
 them see me, although coolness knows it. 
 Putt hur say, my poy, how lull he must pe 
 now, without anypotty apout him! Hur 
 wish he was coing to tine with us to-day, 
 after all; hur too intent." 
 
 " Fred," said Valentine, " to-day you 
 must on no account suffer his name to es- 
 cape your lips." 
 
 " No, hur know, hur know! it's only to 
 you. Putl as true as hur'm alive, hur wish 
 he was coing to tine with us." 
 
 14 You would rather that he should dine 
 with us than Miss Lovelace!" 
 
 " No, coolness, no: hur'd rather have her 
 than five thousand Mr. Ravens. Putt is she 
 coming, my poy 1 ? is she coming!" 
 
 " She will dine with us, of course." 
 
 " Hur titn't know that, now. Inteet, then, 
 hur tiln't. Hur'm very clat you toll me." 
 
 " Are you really in love with that girl, 
 Fred!" " 
 
 "Over het ant ears! Putt isn't she a 
 peautiful creature!" 
 
 "She appears to be a very sweet girl. 
 But I shall know more about her in the 
 morning. I shall have to kiss her to-mor- 
 row, you know: all day long I shall be 
 at it." 
 
 " Phot! kiss Miss Lovelace!" 
 
 " As the bridesmaid, of course." 
 
 " Is that the etiquette of the pusiness! 
 If it is oh! hur wish hur was you! Ant 
 yet hur tout, pecause then hur shoot pe 
 marriet to Louey, and shoot have to love 
 nopotty pesites. Putt hur ton't think hur 
 coot kiss Miss Lovelace! Hur think hur 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 389 
 
 shoot plush too much, ant tremple. How- 
 ever, hur'm very clat you tolt me she was 
 coming, pecause hur must co ant tress a 
 little for tinner." 
 
 " Of course! That is indispensable. But 
 will you first go with me!" 
 
 " Anyphere in the worlt!" replied Fred. 
 
 "Let us start, then," said Valentine; and 
 they left the house at once, and proceeded 
 to a jeweller's, where Valentine purchased 
 ^several rings, but especially one which he 
 was anxious for Louise to present to White- 
 ly. They then called upon Uncle John, 
 and while he was dressing, Valentine sum- 
 moned the widow Smugman, and commis- 
 sioned her to purchase a bride cake the 
 richest she could meet with and an extra- 
 ordinary quantity of white kid gloves, 
 which were to be sent to the house forth- 
 with; and when Uncle John considered 
 himself sufficiently beautified to accompany 
 them, they entered a coach, and drove 
 round for Whitely, who was delighted with 
 the idea of their calling for him under the 
 circumstances, and joined them without de- 
 lay. 
 
 On arriving at the house, they were re- 
 ceive"d with much elegance by Louise, who 
 introduced them to Miss Lovelace, the only 
 stranger present; and then addressed her- 
 self almost exclusively to her father, whom 
 she thereby made perfectly happy. Fred 
 managed he would have been indeed puz- 
 zled to tell how but he did manage, to get 
 to one of the windows with Miss Lovelace, 
 and while Uncle John and the widow were 
 on the sofa conversing about sundry domes- 
 tic arrangements, Valentine was giving va- 
 rious instructions to the servants, but more 
 especially for the cake to be produced in 
 the event of its arriving in time for the des- 
 sert. He was however but a short time 
 absent, and soon after his return to the 
 drawing-room dinner was announced, when 
 "Whitely of course took Louise, and Valen- 
 tine Miss Lovelace, which Fred thought 
 particularly hard. He sat however next to 
 her at table, which was a great consolation; 
 but then he couldn't eat! He managed the 
 soup very fairly; the wine too he managed: 
 he also disposed of a little fish, but after 
 that he had no more appetite than an infant. 
 He could not tell at all what to make of it. 
 He was more than half inclined to become 
 alarmed. He did fancy at one time the 
 breast of a chicken; but as it happened that 
 on its being placed before him he caught 
 the eyes of Miss Lovelace, the breast of 
 the chicken remained untouched. He held 
 this to be somewhere about the oddest thing 
 in life; but that which he considered more 
 particularly odd, was the fact that Miss 
 Lovelace arranged it so that her eye.3 met 
 34 
 
 his every moment. He had no idea that 
 her immediate object was to give him every 
 scope to take wine with her. No: that in- 
 deed was the very thing he was anxious to 
 do, and he tried to do it several times; but 
 the very moment her eyes were turned to- 
 wards him with an encouraging expression, 
 he averted his and looked extremely stupid. 
 To his purely private feelings this was very 
 distressing, while it was not very pleasant 
 to Miss Lovelace, for she certainly did try 
 very hard to give him courage, and thought 
 it very odd that it should be without suc- 
 cess. At length being quite out of patience, 
 she gave the thing up, when he became 
 more composed; still he never in his life 
 made so frightful a dinner! the quantity 
 he consumed was really out of all charac- 
 ter trifling: indeed so trifling, that when his 
 appetite returned with the tranquillity of 
 his mind, he cherished serious thoughts of 
 temporary starvation until the cake was 
 produced with the dessert according to the 
 instructions of Valentine, who conceived 
 that while its production could not be very 
 incorrect, as they were by themselves, it 
 would at least have novelty to recommend 
 it when he fully made up for lost time by 
 setting to work upon it with unexampled 
 zest. 
 
 There was, however, one at the table 
 whose enjoyment was superior to that of 
 any other person present, and that was 
 Whitely. His pleasure was of a peculiar 
 character. He felt intensely happy: his 
 felicity was tranquil, but his heart was 
 filled with the truest, the purest delight. 
 He addressed himself chiefly to Louise, 
 with whom he felt more than ever charmed, 
 and when she had retired, his burden was 
 his child, whose name he appeared to be 
 unable to pronounce without shedding tears 
 
 of joy* 
 
 As they had all to be up early in the 
 morning ten being the hour appointed for 
 the ceremony to take place they sat but a 
 short time over their wine. Nor did they 
 remain long on rejoining the ladies. They 
 all, indeed, seemed most unwilling to leave, 
 for they all felt most happy; but certain. 
 considerations which had reference to the 
 repose more especially of Louise, induced 
 them to take their departure early, when 
 Uncle John suddenly recollecting that 
 although the health oif the bride and the 
 bridegroom had been drunk, it had not been 
 drunk properly would have them all home 
 with him, and with him they remained till 
 past midnight. 
 
 In the morning at nine precisely, as 
 had been previously arranged, Valentine 
 and Uncle John who had risen at half 
 past five with the view of being in time 
 
390 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 called for Whitely and Fred, and then pro- 
 ceeded in the highest possible spirits to the 
 house which contained the fair bride. 
 
 It has been said by some philosopher 
 either ancient or modern,, that a woman 
 never looks so beautiful as on the morning 
 of her marriage with him whom she loves; 
 >ut as it seems perfectly unnecessary to 
 say that which has been said perhaps se- 
 veral times before, it will in all probability, 
 be sufficient to state that on this happy 
 occasion Louise looked more lovely than 
 ever. She was dressed with extreme neat- 
 ness, and that very neatness imparted to 
 her appearance an additional charm, while 
 from her eye softly beamed fond affection, 
 and she smiled with surpassing sweetness 
 upon him by whom she knew that she was 
 tenderly beloved. 
 
 " Well, now inteet," said Fred address- 
 ing Miss Lovelace, as Valentine and Louise 
 were exchanging such terms of endearment 
 as those which lovers in general under the 
 same sweet circumstances are prone to ex- 
 change; "phot am hur to too, look you, 
 phen hur'm in church? Hur've peen look- 
 ing over the pusiness, but cootness knows 
 hur can fint no instructions inteet neither 
 for you nor for me, look you! phot have we 
 poth cot to tool" 
 
 " Why unfortunately," replied Miss 
 Lovelace, as her merry eyes twinkled " we 
 have to do nothing but to stand and look 
 on." 
 
 "Tit you say unfortunately?" inquired 
 Fred with much emphasis. 
 
 " Why I think yes I'm quite inclined 
 to believe that I did. But do you wish to 
 have something to do!" 
 
 " Tecititly! ant something to say." 
 
 "And so do I. What a remarkable 
 coincidence! Suppose we insist upon having 
 something to say! suppose we are married 
 at the same time!" 
 
 " Oh! apove all other putt too you mean 
 cootness knows too you really mean 
 lhatf" 
 
 " Why" said Miss Lovelace, archly 
 hesitating " not exactly." 
 
 " Now that is too pat! pecause if you 
 tocititly tit, inteet the pusiness shoot pe 
 tone!" 
 
 " Your politeness is conspicuous. I ap- 
 preciate it, believe me. But I am strongly 
 disposed to think, do you know, that if we 
 defer our marriage it will perhaps taking 
 all things into consideration be as well!" 
 i " You are a very creat tease to me," said 
 Fred, " ant cootness knows it. You first 
 raise my hopes, ant then tash them to the 
 cronnt." 
 
 Had Fred studied for a month to make a 
 formal declaration, lie could not more effec- 
 
 tually have imparted to Miss Lovelace the 
 knowledge of how matters stood. She 
 however disdained, of course! to make it 
 appear that she knew aught ^bout it, and 
 continued to address him in the most playful 
 style, without apparently giving it a single 
 thought that with her playfulness, she was 
 dealing destruction to his pea>e. 
 
 The time for starting now arrived, and 
 the carriages dashed up to the door, when 
 Whitely took the hand of Louise, and 
 having fondly embraced her, he blessed her 
 with fervour and led her forth with pride. 
 
 On arriving at the church, Valentine saw 
 a figure anxiously hurrying into one of the 
 curtained pews near the altar. He merely 
 caught a glimpse of that figure, bujt he 
 knew it in an instant to be Raven. He was, 
 however, silent on the subject, for as he 
 alone had seen him, he was anxious of 
 course, that to all besides, the fact of his 
 presence should remain unknown. 
 
 Having been courteously received by the 
 officiating minister, they proceeded to the 
 altar, and the ceremony commenced, and 
 during its progress the firmness of Louise 
 never deserted her for an instant. Whitely 
 shed tears, and so did the Widow and 
 Uncle John,- the eyes of Fred sparkled, 
 and so did those of Miss Lovelace: but 
 Louise was as firm as Valentine himself: 
 her hand never trembled, her voice never 
 faltered: the purity of her heart and mind 
 sustained her, and both were as calm as 
 they were pure. 
 
 The ceremony ended, they repaired to the 
 vestry, but while at the altar Valentine 
 frequently heard a deeply drawn sigh and a 
 fervent response proceed from the pew 
 which the broken-hearted Raven had en- 
 tered. He would have gone to him will- 
 ingly, had it been only to shake hands with 
 him in silence, but as this was impossible 
 without being observed, he tried to forget 
 him and the agony which he knew he would 
 that day especially have to endure, and so 
 far he succeeded, that on leaving the church 
 all his thoughts were fixed on his beautiful 
 bride. 
 
 On their return they sat down to a sump- 
 tuous breakfast, and all felt inspired with 
 gaiety and joy. Each dwelt upon how the 
 others looked during the ceremony, but 
 nothing was lauded so generally or so high- 
 ly as the firmness and graceful deportment 
 of Louise. 
 
 As the carriage had been ordered at 
 twelve, to convey the bride and bridegroom, 
 Miss Lovelace and the Widow, to Brighton 
 where, as originally proposed, the honey- 
 moon was to be passed the ladies imme- 
 diately after breakfast retired to prepare for 
 their journey, and thus occupied themselves 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 391 
 
 in a transport of happiness until the hour 
 appointed for their departure had arrived, 
 when, after a most warm and affectionate 
 
 adieu, they started with the understanding 
 that Whitely, Uncle John, and Fred, should 
 join them at Brighton on the morrow. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIX. 
 
 BRINGS THE HISTORY TO A CLOSE. 
 
 THE life and adventures of Valentine as a 
 ventriloquist may be said to have ended 
 with his marriage. He did for the pure 
 gratification of Louise, whom he continued 
 to love with the most affectionate warmth 
 indulge occasionally in the development 
 of his power; but as he found that in pro- 
 portion as the strength of his assumed voice 
 increased, that of his natural voice dimin- 
 ished, he on all other occasions contented 
 himself with a relation of the various scenes 
 which his peculiar faculty had enabled him 
 to produce, and never failed to excite by 
 such relation the most uproarious mirth. 
 
 As a wife Louise was most devoted and 
 most happy. Before marriage, words had 
 passed between her and her Valentine in- 
 dicative of the possession of a fiery disposi- 
 tion; but that fire which is commonly 
 kindled in those who have been petted and 
 spoiled, who have been the kings or the 
 queens of their immediate sphere, and who 
 have neither known society beyond their 
 own circle nor tasted affliction was extin- 
 guished. She seemed to live upon his 
 smiles: her highest aim was to make him 
 happy. No frown ever gathered upon her 
 fair brow; no word of reproof ever passed 
 her lips. He gave her indeed but little 
 cause for reproof; for while in him no 
 vicious habits had been engendered, he had 
 seen far too much of the world to be drawn 
 by its dazzling ephemeral follies from the 
 sphere of honour and permanent peace; but, 
 independently of everything which might 
 have been supposed to be a cause, she felt 
 disinclined at all times to notice any slight 
 accidental irregularity, which morbid minds 
 are too prone to construe into neglect, and 
 this disinclination was based upon the 
 knowledge of that all-important matrimo- 
 nial secret, that wives, to be happy, must 
 study at all times the happiness of their 
 husbands. 
 
 "Dear Valentine," she would say, "I 
 know not whether all married people enjoy 
 the felicity which we enjoy; but if, my 
 love, they do, marriage in general must 
 indeed be a delightful state of existence." 
 
 "'It is in general a delightful state of ex- 
 istence," Valentine would reply; " but the 
 
 felicity which we enjoy is experienced only 
 by those who, like us, strive to promote 
 each other's happiness. It is not every 
 man, my Louise, that has a wife so de- 
 voted, so affectionate, as I have; but with 
 all that affection, with all that devotion, I 
 should not, I could not be happy, did I not 
 believe that you were. Amiability, if even 
 it be without fond affection, is a greater 
 promoter of happiness, my love, than the 
 fondest affection without amiability; but 
 where a man has, as I have, a dear little 
 wife, who developes, as you do, both, he 
 must be if, indeed, he can appreciate both 
 he must be as I am, happy indeed." 
 
 And thus they lived, devotedly attached 
 to each other, cherishing reciprocal confi- 
 dence and love. 
 
 Raven did not long survive the blow in- 
 flicted upon him by the loss of Louise. On 
 the morning of her marriage, he returned 
 home after the ceremony in a state of ex- 
 treme wretchedness, and was in conse- 
 quence, for several days, confined to his 
 bed; but by virtue of great care and skilful 
 treatment on the part of his physician, he 
 rallied, and was no sooner enabled to get 
 about again, than in a letter, in which his 
 whole history was condensed, and in which 
 he again and again expressed his contrition 
 for what had occurred between him and the 
 wife of Whitely he sent a formal proposi- 
 tion of marriage to Valentine's mother; 
 declaring, in terms the most eloquent, that 
 the remainder of his life should be proudly 
 devoted to the pleasurable task of rendering 
 her happiness complete. 
 
 The widow, on the receipt of this pro- 
 posal, scarcely knew how to act. She con- 
 sulted Uncle John; she consulted Valen- 
 tine; she consulted Louise; but as from 
 neither could she extort a single word of 
 advice, she was compelled to fall back 
 upon her own judgment, and the result of 
 the deliberate exercise of that judgment 
 was that she gracefully declined, on the 
 sole specific ground of her having resolved 
 not to marry again. 
 
 This refusal although couched in the 
 most delicate and elegant terms was a 
 death-blow to Raven. He never left the 
 
392 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 house alive after that. He considered his 
 fate to be thereby sealed, and, as he as- 
 cribed it to the assumed fact of his being 
 despised, he gave himself up to despair. 
 "While on his death-bed, he was frequently 
 visited by Uncle John. Valentine, too, 
 often saw him, and when on the point of 
 dissolution, his spirit was cheered by the 
 presence of Louise, whom he caressed with 
 all the rapture he had strength to display. 
 The delight, however, which her visit ex- 
 cited had the effect of accelerating his death. 
 Almost immediately after her departure, he 
 ceased to breathe, while in the act of pray- 
 ing that she might be blessed and protected 
 for ever. 
 
 To Valentine he bequeathed the whole 
 of his wealth, and although he had lived 
 for many years in the most splendid afflu- 
 ence, so strictly had he kept aloof from all 
 society, that had it not been for the mere 
 sake of appearance, Valentine and his uncle 
 were the only two persons by whom he 
 would have been followed to the grave. 
 
 Nor did Whitely long survive him. The 
 cruel treatment he had experienced while 
 confined in the Asylum had so effectually 
 undermined his constitution, that when the 
 excitement which gave him an unnatural 
 strength had subsided, he calmly and 
 gradually sank. In his last moments, how- 
 ever, he had the joy of being attended by 
 his children: he was happy in viewing their 
 prospect of happiness, and thus he" tran- 
 quilly died. 
 
 Soon after his death, Fred married Miss 
 Lovelace, and goodness knew it. It was a 
 long time before she would give her con- 
 sent although the affair had been to all 
 intents and purposes settled at Brighton 
 but at length she really could not any 
 longer withhold it: he was such an ex- 
 tremely good-natured soul! he had so hap- 
 py a disposition! he was so attentive, so 
 kind, so affectionate so excessively affec- 
 tionate! so devoted! And they lived very 
 happily together, and in the due course of 
 time had a very fair family of children; but 
 if the truth must be told and the necessity 
 for telling it may be fairly admitted she 
 most certainly did albeit not much enam- 
 oured of equestrian exercises in general 
 ride the high horse in reality rough-shod 
 over the proud pre-eminence of his position 
 as a man. Sometimes he would attempt to 
 reason with her on this special point; but in 
 the vocal department she could beat him 
 out of the field. He stood no chance at all 
 with her there: competition was quite out 
 of the question. He, notwithstanding, 
 often thought that if site could only under- 
 stand a little Welsh that being the tongue 
 in which he was able to express his senti- 
 
 ments with most eloquencehe should 
 have a better prospect of success, and with 
 this view he tried on various occasions, by 
 divers strong arguments, to prevail upon 
 her to learn that peculiarly euphonious and 
 liquid language, but in vain; she had a 
 horror of the "buzz" of it; she could not 
 endure it: she pointedly declared that it set 
 her teeth on edge, and he was therefore 
 compelled to give it up. Still Fred was 
 not unhappy far, very far from it. He 
 loved his little Caroline, and she loved 
 him: neither would have been separated 
 from the other for the world; but she would 
 go occasionally to rather alarming lengths, 
 with the view of establishing her ascend- 
 ancy upon a sound substantial basis. 
 
 " Toes Louey," he inquired of Valentine, 
 with a singular expression, in the early part 
 of his matrimonial career, " toes Louey 
 ever pounce apout, my poy, ant plow up, 
 look you?" 
 
 " Never!" replied Valentine. 
 
 "Not phen you are with her alone!" 
 
 "Never! She is always the same gentle 
 creature, always amiable, always calm." 
 
 " Well, inteet, then, cootness knows, 
 Gary's not a pit like her. Hur ton't mean 
 to say that she's anything pat, look you! 
 No, she's a coot cirl; at heart a very coot 
 cirl inteet; putt hur must say that if she 
 were a little more like Louey hur shoot 
 like it all the petter." 
 
 " Why Caroline always appears to be 
 very amiable and kind; and I atn sure she 
 is fond of you, Fred." 
 
 " So she is, my poy; yes, so she is! Ant 
 she pehaves herself like a princess phen 
 aproat; it's quite peautiful to pe with her; 
 putt phen she gets home it is nut inteet so 
 peautiful!" 
 
 " What! does she scold, Fred?" 
 
 " Scolt! Hur pelieve you. Hur ton't 
 wish to say a single wort against Gary, 
 nor woot hur say a wort to any other 
 creature preathing; putt if hur coot putt 
 make her unterstant that it woot pe most 
 tecitetly petter if she were always as milt 
 as Louey, hur shoot like it, look you, apove 
 all other things in the worlt!" 
 
 Fred however never did succeed in pre- 
 vailing upon Caroline to understand this. 
 His very inability to pronounce his b's 
 formed an insuperable bar to his perfect 
 success, although this was not so great a 
 thing as might have been expected, for not- 
 withstanding the existence of this bar she 
 was very well considering, when she had 
 her own way; but whenever he wished to 
 have his, or offered the slightest opposition 
 to her will, it became strictly necessary for 
 him to look out. 
 
 They visited Valentine constantly. He 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 393 
 
 was poor Fred's adviser although he never 
 interfered: Caroline needed no adviser; she 
 found that she could manage matters very 
 well without; but although they dined with 
 Valentine, Louise, and Uncle John, twice 
 and frequently three times a week, she 
 never by any accident exhibited there the 
 pre-eminence she had acquired, which made 
 things pleasant to all, and thus year after 
 year their social intercourse continued to be 
 uninterrupted. 
 
 One morning, as Valentine and Louise, 
 having sent the carriage on, were pursuing 
 their way towards Pall Mall, their attention 
 was attracted by an extraordinary looking 
 cabman, who while bowing to them and 
 smiling, and raising his ha, seemed to be 
 in a state of general ecstasy. Valentine 
 shook his head with a view of intimating 
 to him that his services were not required; 
 but the fellow about whom there was a 
 great deal of style, for his cravat was tied 
 in the newest knot, and while he sported an 
 imperial beneath his nether lip, an eye-glass 
 appeared by the side of his badge was not 
 satisfied with this, but continued to smile 
 and to raise his hat with unexampled grace, 
 and at length drove up to them, when Va- 
 lentine recognised him at once it was 
 Horace. 
 
 " What, Horace!" he cried, smiling with 
 an expression of amazement. 
 
 "This is the dodge, sir: this is the 
 dodge," observed Horace, " I hope you are 
 in a state of salubrity. Haven't seen you 
 for several generations." 
 
 " Why, how long have you been at this 
 work!" 
 
 "A blessed six months come the seven- 
 and-twentieth." 
 
 "Well, call upon me," said Valentine, 
 giving his card, ** we'll talk things over 
 and see what can be done." 
 
 " Let me drive you home," said Horace. 
 " Do let rne drive you. I want a bit of 
 felicity just at this time, and that will be 
 about the thing. It's much better than 
 pedestrianising over the stones. Besides 
 it will make me happy." 
 
 " Well!" said Valentine, " be it so;" and 
 when he and Louise had entered the cab, 
 the horse dashed away in the highest style 
 of which he was capable. 
 
 On arriving at the house and they were 
 not long doing the distance Horace leaped 
 from his seat with amazing alacrity, and 
 performed one of the most recherche knocks 
 upon record. 
 
 " Come in," said Valentine, on alight- 
 ing; " the servant shall hold your horse." 
 
 " You are very polite," returned Horace, 
 "but he never stirs without me, except 
 upon the stand. But you may," he added, 
 
 addressing the servant, and waving his 
 hand with an air, " you may give an eye to 
 the animal!" 
 
 " Now, then," said Valentine, when he 
 and Horace had entered the parlour, "let 
 us have a glass of wine. How are they 
 all at horn el" 
 
 " Polly is pretty salubrious," replied Ho- 
 race, "but the old lady's no great things. 
 She has never been able to get over the fact 
 of the governor having walked into the 
 water. You heard of that affair, I sup- 
 pose?" 
 
 " Unhappily, I saw it." 
 
 "You did!" 
 
 "I happened to be on the bridge at the 
 very time." 
 
 " What, did he leap off the bridge? How 
 was it? Do tell me; we never could learn. 
 All we know is, that he was picked up at 
 Limehouse Hole, dead as but how did it 
 happen 1 ?" 
 
 Valentine explained, and with so much 
 feeling, that he even drew tears from the 
 eyes of Horace. 
 
 " After all," said Horace, when Valen- 
 tine paused; " it's of no use for a man to 
 go crooked in this world. Things are sure 
 to come round; it's sure to come home to 
 him; he's sure to be served out in some 
 way. That property of uncle's you know 
 all about it 1 ? What good did it do us? 
 Why it flew like blessed chaff before the 
 hurricane! Twenty shares in this dodge, 
 fifty shares in that, and a hundred shares in 
 the other: safe to turn up something out 
 and out: safe! And so they did: they all 
 turned up swindles, the dirtiest swindles, 
 and thus the money was dodged away. 
 The day on which we missed the old go-, 
 vernor, an execution was in the house, and 
 there were we without the money even to 
 buy a leg of mutton. Of course every stick 
 was walked off with the utmost regularity: 
 we hadn't a bed to lie upon, nor a gridiron 
 to cook a mutton chop. The governor was 
 buried by the parish, because as we didn't 
 happen to hear of it in time, we couldn't 
 own him, so that expense was spared; but 
 starvation looked us right full in the face, 
 and starved we must have been beyond all 
 dispute r had it not been that the old lady 
 luckily had a whole mob of pawnbroker's 
 tickets for everything portable had been 
 pledged which tickets we gradually sold, 
 and for a week or two managed to get a 
 bellyfull of victuals with the proceeds. I 
 endeavoured, of course, to obtain employ- 
 ment, but the fools to whom I applied made 
 a point of setting up a loud laugh, as if 
 they derived the most exalted satisfaction 
 from the idea! I knocked several of them 
 down, and got fined for the assault, but that 
 
394 
 
 LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 
 
 was a luxury I was soon obliged to cut, for 
 the fines walked into the tickets most 
 amazingly! I was willing to do anything in 
 the world, but was able to get nothing in the 
 world to do. I tried it on at the wharfs: it 
 was no go there: stronger men were stand- 
 ing about unemployed. I answered a lot of 
 advertisements for clerks: no character, no 
 recommendation. I tried to get a birth as 
 a groom. ' How long did you live in your 
 )ast place?' That settled it. I told them 
 all as plainly as a man could speak that I'd 
 do my very utmost and try all 1 knew. But 
 no, the fools would not have me! What 
 then was I to do? I would not come any 
 f el onifi cation. I made up my mind to that, 
 come what might; although it certainly was 
 a very rotten position for a fellow to be 
 placed in without twopence halfpenny in 
 his pocket, and without a friend whom he 
 could borrow twopence halfpenny of: for 
 all those trumps whom I used to meet and 
 treat with brandy-and-water cut me dead 
 when I became a little seedy: it was won- 
 derful how suddenly they became short- 
 sighted: they could not see a bit beyond, 
 their noses: it was quite an epidemic 
 amongst them, and I had some thoughts of 
 applying to the opticians for employment, 
 conceiving that the spectacle trade must of 
 necessity be looking up; but then what did 
 I know about the spectacle trade or any 
 other trade? what did I know about any- 
 thing? Nothing. Look at the way in which 
 I was brought up! Train up a child in the 
 way he should toddle you know the rest, 
 but what was I fit for? That's where I felt 
 it! What could I do? I should not have 
 cared if I alone had had to grub my way 
 through it: I shouldn't have cared if I'd 
 had no one to look to but myself. I'd have 
 trotted into the Army if that had been all, 
 or gone on board a man-of-war, or walked 
 over to Australia or New Zealand, or any 
 other uncultivated feature on the face of the 
 earth. I'd have got a crust somewhere for 
 myself; but there were the women! what 
 were they to do? That was the pull! I 
 couldn't leave them! They suffered enough 
 as it was, for I couldn't earn a penny, nor 
 they couldn't earn a penny. They had 
 strong thoughts at one time of taking in 
 mangling, but we hadn't enough money to 
 get a machine. We hadn't sufficient even 
 to buy a board 4 Mangling done here' 
 although that might have been advertised 
 in chalk upon the shutter; but the machine 
 was the thing; let them have tried all they 
 knew, they couldn't have mangled without 
 a machine. Nor would the washing dodge 
 do, for they hadn't a tub, while there was 
 not a creature under the canopy of heaven 
 who would give them credit for a ha'porth 
 
 of soap. I tried to raise money on my own 
 personal security; but that was no go, they 
 wouldn't have it, although I offered them 
 anything per cent. And thus we went 
 muddling on week after week and month 
 after month, I out from morning till night 
 to get sufficient for a meal, and they at 
 home more than half naked, praying for 
 my success. Sometimes I took home a 
 sixpence, but more frequently nothing. 
 They knew the moment I entered whether 
 I had anything for them or not. If I had, 
 their eyes brightened up like brilliants as 
 they kissed me; if not, they kissed me all 
 the same, and I heard no complaint but that 
 involved in a sigh, which they would have 
 suppressed if they could." 
 
 "That was very sad, very sad, indeed," 
 observed Valentine. 
 
 "Sad!" echoed Horace, "there, if you'll 
 believe me, I was sometimes ready to go 
 and crib a mutton-chop! I was, indeed! 
 And I should have done it frequently, when 
 I saw them at home starving; I know I 
 should; but that I had firmly resolved that 
 as an act of dishonesty had brought us to 
 that, I would never, while I lived, be en- 
 gaged in another." 
 
 " And to that resolution you adhered?" 
 
 "I did, and ever will. I cannot have 
 greater temptations than I have had, and I 
 know now that I can resist them." 
 
 " But why did you not apply to me?" 
 
 *' Pride was the first cause, inability the 
 second. I was too proud to do so lill 
 everything was gone, and by that time you 
 had left the house in which you used to 
 live, and I suppose they thought you didn't 
 want to be troubled with me at all, for I 
 couldn't persuade them to give me your 
 address." 
 
 "That was wrong of them; very, very 
 wrong." 
 
 "Fortunately, however, soon after I 
 called, which was not till every other hope 
 was withered to a stalk, I managed to pick 
 up a few sixpences by assisting the grooms 
 to rub their horses down, and so on, which 
 carried me for a long time over the ground, 
 indeed until one of the grooms turned livery- 
 stable keeper, when, fancying that I knew, 
 perhaps, something about a horse, and I 
 flatter myself I do, he did the handsome, 
 and put me on a cab, which suits me very 
 well, and I have been at it ever since, and 
 the women are of course gathering together 
 a little flesh again, although I don't sup- 
 pose that the old lady will ever get over the 
 governor's death. How ever he could dream 
 of cutting out of the world in that way I 
 can't for the life of me imagine." 
 
 " But of course you believe him to have 
 been insane at the time?" 
 
VALENTINE VOX. 
 
 395 
 
 " Why, to tell you the truth, and its use- 
 less now to disguise it, he was never in 
 his right senses after that nnblest kidnap- 
 ping affair. His mind was always diseased, 
 always wandering. His imagination was 
 always on the rack. He was continually 
 conjuring up some spectral nonsense, con- 
 tinually fancying that his brother stood be- 
 fore him. But that which hurt him more 
 than all was the fact of the brother having 
 left him the whole of his property precisely 
 as if nothing had occurred. That was the 
 thing; that was his real death-blow. After 
 that he took to brandy, of which he drank 
 enormous quantities, sufficient, I should say, 
 in a week, to sew up a whole regiment of 
 soldiers. But it never made him drunk! 
 That was the most remarkable point of the 
 compass. It made him mad, doubtless, 
 and desperate in his speculations, for of all 
 the extraordinary there, I do firmly believe 
 that if a company had been started for the 
 restoration of rotten eggs, he would have 
 taken a hundred shares at a premium. 
 However, he is gone, and perhaps the less 
 that is said of errors the better." 
 
 " Well," said Valentine, " touching your 
 present position: you must be doing some- 
 thing better for yourself than driving a cab. 
 Turn the thing over in your mind, and let me 
 in a day or two see you again. If there be 
 any kind of business into which you would 
 like to enter, let me know, and if I see the 
 slightest prospect of your being successful, 
 I'll lend you sufficient money to commence 
 with, and you shall undertake to return it 
 to me when you grow rich. In the mean 
 time," he continued, writing a cheque fora 
 hundred pounds, "give this to your wife, 
 and tell her to hope for better days." 
 
 For some time Horace looked as if unable 
 
 to believe what he heard; but when Valen- 
 tine shook hands with him, and gave him 
 the cheque at the same time, his feelings of 
 gratitude overcame him, and he burst into 
 tears. 
 
 " I don't know what to say!" he cried at 
 length. 
 
 " Say nothing," returned Valentine. 
 " Let me see you again soon." 
 
 Horace wiped his eyes with the bow of 
 his cravat, and prepared to depart; but be- 
 fore he left the room, he grasped Valentine's 
 hand, and with the most intense earnest- 
 ness and feeling, said, " In the names of 
 my poor wife and mother I thank you." 
 
 Valentine frequently saw him after this. 
 He assisted him in every possible way, and 
 Horace lost no opportunity of evincing his 
 gratitude. He purchased for him the lease 
 of some livery-stables, which were a source 
 of considerable emolument, and had the 
 gratification of seeing him prosper by virtue 
 of indefatigable zeal. And to Valentine 
 who gloried in acts of benevolence it was 
 a high gratification indeed. Being exceed- 
 ingly wealthy, he had the power at his com- 
 mand to do an immense amount of good, 
 and he never permitted an opportunity for 
 the exercise of that power to escape him. 
 The more happiness he imparted to others, 
 the more happy he felt. He was esteemed 
 by all who knew him: he was honoured, 
 beloved. With his beautiful, devoted 
 Louise, his sweet children, his good mother, 
 and Uncle John who was always in a 
 state of rapture, and seldom, indeed, whether 
 at home or abroad, without a child upon his 
 knee he continued to live in the purest 
 enjoyment of health, wealth, honour, and 
 peace. 
 
 THE END. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 BERKELEY 
 
 Return to desk from which borrowed. 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
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