LI E, R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 W58m 
 V. 1
 
 THE 
 
 MARRIED UNMARRIED 
 
 AUTHOR OF "ALMaCK'S REVISITED. 
 
 I'art good, more ])ad, some neither one nor t'other. 
 
 MARTIAL EPIGRAM. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET. 
 
 1837.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY IBOTSON AND PALMER, 
 
 SAVOY STREET.
 
 ?;?3 
 
 v./ 
 
 r 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 TO THP: countess of BLESS! xgton. 
 
 AccEFF, I beg, the dedication of the follow- 
 ing volumes, as an imperfect tribute of respect, 
 both to the talent displayed in your own fas- 
 cinating productions, and to the kindness you 
 invariably extend to those, who devote them- 
 selves to literature and the arts. 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 Digitized by tine Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/marriedunmarried01whit
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 In which little is told of my birth or parentage, but 
 more of my education— Steel-traps and spring-guns 
 set in these grounds — I'm presented to the Squire — 
 I take a liberty with his head, he retorts upon my 
 body — How a man's sentiments may be influenced 
 by a turnip • . . Page 1 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 A merry Christmas, and a happy New year — There are 
 many slips between the cup and the lip— In the 
 midst of life we are in death — I am left without a 
 friend except the house dog— The Vicar objects to 
 bury a dissenter, so the dissenters bury the clerk. 
 
 .S2
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The widow thinks that charity should begin at home 
 — I tumble out of the frying-pan into the fire— I 
 appear before the overseer, who is determined to 
 cure my monkey tricks— He administers justice to 
 the parish paupers according to contract — A very 
 Solomon — I am disposed of according to law . 65 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Monkey's allowance — Murder most foul and dread — 
 Misfortune brings one acquainted with strange bed- 
 fellows — One good turn deserves another— I saved a 
 cat, the cat saves me — A change comes o'er the 
 spirit of my dream . . . 102 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 My first appearance upon any stage — Those Avho do 
 not love politics, or ethics, had better skip this long 
 chapter, or they will chance to follow my example, 
 and fall asleep . • . 139 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 I discover tliat I am a young gentleman, and am 
 wonderfully elated thereat — If you are a courtier, 
 this chapter will excite your bile — I am recom- 
 mended to follow the example of the Spartan youth, 
 and to lie like a moss-trooper sooner than tell tales 
 out of scliool— I arrive at Thistle-house Academv—
 
 CONTE^JTS. VU 
 
 My pedagogue considers quality as an ample set-off 
 against false quantity, and informs me that the best 
 mode of instilling the classics into the head, is by 
 illustrating them with wood-cuts at the other ex- 
 tremity . . . .174 
 
 CHArTER VII. 
 
 The Thracians esteemed horse-flesh as an infallible 
 recipe for inuring their youth to war — Mr. Birchell 
 opines that mutton is the best diet for incipient 
 chancellors— I am condemned to durance for losing 
 my appetite, and caned for finding a friend — I fall 
 out with one boy, and fall in with the French 
 master, who gives me friendly advice — I am beaten 
 for recovering my appetite, and sent supperless to 
 bed to avert night-mare — I invent a very successful 
 hydraulic instrument, and am rewarded for my inge- 
 nuity—Home, sweet home . , 210 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Black Monday — Where be your gibes now ? your 
 gambols ? quite chap-fallen ? — I am encouraged to 
 be punctual by the present of a watch — This does 
 not prevent Nibshort from marking time no less 
 punctually upon my fingers — Bathos and pathos 
 illustrated by divers experiments upon my anti- 
 podes — I had met with many crosses, but never 
 with one of silver — M. de Florennes' observations 
 thereon — Can a duck swim ? . . 250
 
 VIU CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 My I'ospects brighten, but the mornhig soon lours 
 and the dawn is overcast— How to love thy neigh- 
 bour as thyself— What now ?— A rat behind the 
 arras— Nibshort sets a trap, and catches me in his 
 toils — I take French leave of all but my French 
 friend. . . . 279
 
 THE 
 
 MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In which little is told of my birth or parentage, but 
 more of my education— Steel-traps and spring-guns 
 set in these grounds — I'm presented to the Squire — 
 I take a liberty with his head, he retorts upon my 
 body— How a man's sentiments may be influenced 
 by a turnip. 
 
 If the reader have the patience to follow me to 
 the end of these volumes, it may perhaps be in 
 my power to unravel some portion of the veil of 
 mystery which enveloped my youth. For the 
 present, I must be permitted to speak of myself 
 as I have been, and leave time to disclose what 
 
 VOL. 1. B
 
 '1 THE MARRIED UXMARRIED. 
 
 I am. Indeed, if it were any way important 
 that I should narrate the incidents of my dawn- 
 ing life, this would be impossible. The feeble 
 light of my memory either totally fails me, or, as 
 it here and there penetrates through the glim- 
 merings of childhood, it leaves the associations 
 of my mind as vague and uncertain as distant 
 objects seen through the dim haze of declining 
 twilight. 
 
 Alas ! how often in my hours of sorrow and 
 loneliness have I prayed that I could realise 
 some of the fair visions that have flashed before 
 my sight, like luminous coruscations upon the 
 dark vault of heaven ! How often have I re- 
 gretted the imperfection of our nature, which 
 either obliterates the early past, as though 
 it never had been, or limits our recollections of 
 persons and events to more advanced age, and 
 thus expunges from our minds the endearing 
 recollections of those happy days when all around 
 breathes of hope, tenderness, and innocent affec- 
 tion — those days, when, without cares, mistrust, 
 alarms, or jealousies, we cling w^ith infantine 
 ardour to the fond hands that guide and protect
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 3 
 
 our steps, or fly to the shelter of those beloved 
 bosoms that are too soon and too often doomed 
 to be torn from us by death, misfortune, or 
 perhaps by treachery — worse than death. Days, 
 when we love those that Providence has con- 
 nected with us, for no other motive, but that 
 they are our kindred — when the word brother 
 brings home to the heart all the purest delights 
 of mutual friendship and regard — when the still 
 tenderer epithet of sister bears no other mean- 
 ing than confidence and love, and when the 
 names of our parents are associated with all 
 those delicious dreams of home and happiness, 
 than which life has nothing more joyous, the 
 world nothing more attractive. 
 
 But I talk of these sensations as if they had 
 been famiUar to me. Alas ! such has not been 
 my lot. 'Tis true that in searching deeply into 
 the past — in attempting to collect the scattered 
 fragments of my memory, I have seen, or fancied 
 that I saw, the dim outline of a graceful and 
 noble countenance, beaming upon me with all 
 the pride and fondness with which man regards 
 his first-born. I have remembered, or imagined 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE MAHRIED UNMAUKIED. 
 
 that I remembered, a woman, fair and gentle as 
 the evening Ught, bending over my infant slum- 
 bers, and that I have still felt the warm throb- 
 bing of her maternal heart, as she pressed me 
 to her bosom, whilst, reclining upon her lap, I 
 toyed with the glittering ornaments that adorned 
 her neck, or played vvith the glossy tresses that 
 fell in ringlets h'om her brow. The distant 
 echo of those endearments that fond parents 
 lavish upon beloved children has resounded in 
 my ears, and my lips have mechanically re- 
 peated those first efforts at connected sounds, 
 which, methought, I had lisped in earliest in- 
 fancy. There have risen, too, before me, in 
 confused succession, the brilliancy of splendid 
 lustres, the waving of costly hangings, the spark- 
 ling of jewels, the rattling of equipages, and the 
 prancing of steeds — but these were momen- 
 tary visions; dreams without sense or con- 
 nexion, which flitted instantly away and left 
 my mind in darkness and uncertainty. 
 
 In the cottage in which I was brought up, 
 there was a man whom I called father, but he 
 was not my parent : there w^as a woman also
 
 THE MARRIED UX.M AllRIEJ). O 
 
 whom I addressed as mother, but I was not her 
 child. I had brothers too, (for they had sons,) 
 but they were not of my blood ; nor could I love 
 the first as children ought to love their parents, 
 nor cleave to the others as brothers should 
 cleave one to the other. Strange instinct of our 
 nature, for I knew no other ties ! Whose I was 
 L could not tell, but theirs I knew I was not ; 
 nor did they endeavour to conceal this from 
 me. 
 
 Before I had attained my eighth year, I ascer- 
 tained that I had neither father nor mother, that 
 I was an orphan, the offspring perhaps of guilt 
 or misfortune, abandoned probably to the fate 
 that awaits so many poor victims of frailty and 
 delusion. 
 
 In the situation destiny had placed me I had, 
 however, no pretext for complaint. My foster- 
 father, whose habitation was seated within a 
 stone's throw of the ocean, in a secluded port 
 upon the western coast of England, was, by 
 profession, a pilot and fisherman of the more 
 prosperous and better class; an industrious, 
 devout man, though dissenting from the esta-
 
 b THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 blished church. There I partook of the same 
 fare, wore the same sort of clothes, shared the 
 same couch, and participated in the same rough 
 labours, as the rest of the family. Besides, I 
 had never known a softer life than that which 
 fell to the lot of the hardy race around me, nor 
 ever imagined that my condition could be ame- 
 liorated. The conduct of the good man was 
 also as kind as his rugged nature permit- 
 ted, and, although he might have been less 
 affectionate, he was not more severe to me than 
 to his own offspring, and often interfered in my 
 behalf with his wife, with whom I was no favou- 
 rite. Indeed, in one or two instances, a certain 
 preference seemed to be shown in his conduct 
 towards me, for, whilst the other children were 
 left to revel in idleness, or, as they advanced in 
 boyhood, were solely engaged in labour, I was 
 sent to the village day-school, and had already 
 considerably advanced in the rudiments before 
 my little companions of riper years had yet been 
 initiated into their first mysteries. 
 
 I was, moreover, directed to attend divine 
 service regularly at the parish church, and,
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. / 
 
 having a natural taste for music, was enrolled 
 amongst the band of juvenile choristers, whose 
 nasal flats and squeaking trebles were put into 
 requisition to give breathing time to the clergy- 
 man, much to the discomfiture not only of 
 Sternhold and Hopkins, but to that of the 
 under-sheriff's daughters ; who having been to 
 an assize concert at Exeter, thought themselves 
 entitled to show off their knowledge of the 
 fashionable world by sitting down during the 
 psalms and hymns, and giggling after a very 
 irreverent fashion, or standing up merely to 
 show that their white teeth were set on edge by 
 our inharmonious efforts. 
 
 WTiat the cause of these exceptions might be, 
 I neither knew nor cared. As to the church, 
 spiritless and dull as the sermons were, I liked 
 them better than the incomprehensible out- 
 pourings of the preacher at the meeting-house, 
 whose doctrine of faith and not works formed a 
 very pretty antithesis to the measures, and not 
 men, of later times. Besides, two old maiden 
 ladies, sisters of Mr. Steers, a rival attorney, 
 took great interest in my choral exertions, and
 
 8 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 always rewarded me with a penny bun and a 
 glass of cider upon Sundays — a spice of gene- 
 rosity that arose partly from their jealousy of 
 the budding beauties of the under-sheriff's 
 daughters, and partly from revenge at the father 
 of the latter having cut their brother out of that 
 office, and perhaps also, from our noise bearing 
 a much stronger affinity to the mewing of their 
 own favourite cats, than to anything that cor- 
 responded with the clerk's invitation " to sing 
 unto the Lord." 
 
 As to school — with the ordinary disinclination 
 of youth to restraint, I at first thought it a great 
 hardship. As I took up my satchel to hurry to 
 my lessons, I envied the other village lads, most 
 of whom, when released from toil, joyously 
 assembled to divert themselves amongst the 
 boats hauled up on the beach ; or in boisterous 
 weather resorted to the shelter of the church- 
 yard, where, amid the tombstones that marked 
 the last humble resting-places of their relatives, 
 they amused themselves either by tormenting 
 the tinker's donkey, w^hich was permitted to lux- 
 uriate upon the thistles and rank herbage, or by
 
 THE MAllxilED UNMARRIED. i) 
 
 fighting and revelling over the graves, as heed- 
 less of the mortal dust beneath, as though it had 
 been the ocean s sand. Before long, however, 
 the natural bent of my mind, and perhaps an 
 instinctive insight into futurity, led me to con- 
 sider this coercion in a different Ught, and I was 
 not a little proud or tenacious of my privilege. 
 Heaven knows, how often since then, I have 
 blessed the care that impelled me to embrace 
 instruction, as a mighty benefit, and to regard it 
 as the only lever by which the genius of man 
 can be raised above the instinct of the brute, 
 and which, if rightly applied, is the greatest 
 source of consolation and independence that can 
 be bestowed upon our imperfect nature. 
 
 The preference shown to me in regard to these 
 matters did not, however, pass unheeded either 
 by our neighbours or our own family. Some o' 
 the pilot's friends, honest fellows, who deemed 
 all knowledge beyond that of the compass or 
 the trimming of a vessel as utterly superfluous, 
 blamed him for throwing away his money in 
 spoiling a promising hand, and jeered him for 
 letting them load me with a lot of lumber that 
 
 B 5
 
 10 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 could be of no use in the way of my business. 
 Others, envious of his prosperity, accused him 
 of an ambitious and unnatural desire to bring 
 me up as a gentleman, to the disparagement 
 of his own children — a clamour in which 
 they were joined by the latter, who, although 
 they evinced themselves, but little disposition for 
 learning, were jealous of seeing my progress, 
 and still more envious of the old ladies' buns 
 and cider. Squire Oxover, the lord of the 
 manor, aided by his wife, also remonstrated. 
 
 Glorying in those high church and tory prin- 
 ciples, that marked the goodly times of rotten 
 boroughs and municipal corruption, this worthy, 
 who was knight of the shire, and whose estates 
 embraced a large portion of the neighbouring 
 land as well as the village, limited his notions 
 of what was essential for the moral and political 
 exigencies of the lower classes, and for the edu- 
 cation of the people, to a strict observance of the 
 following unities. 
 
 In the first place, in regard to all election 
 matters, for insignificant as the village was it 
 returned two members to parUament, he exacted
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 1 I 
 
 implicit obedience to his mandates from au 
 persons within range of his influence, and 
 pitilessly ejected or persecuted all those who 
 ventured to oppose his will, no matter what 
 their conscience or their creed. As to conscience 
 in political matters, he laid down as an incontro- 
 vertible axiom, that the people were not entitled 
 to the free exercise of theirs, but that all land- 
 lords had as undoubted a right to command the 
 votes of their tenantry as the feudal barons had 
 to exact the bodily service of their retainers; 
 and, if he could not obtain his object either by 
 menace or bribery, that he was fully justified in 
 wreaking his vengeance upon them by every 
 possible artifice that his own ingenuity or the 
 malice of his attorney could suggest. As to 
 creed, he considered that there could only be 
 one faith, and one dogma in the world, namely, 
 that of the Church of England. Not such as 
 the first reformists would have handed it down, 
 a beautiful Christian fabric, purified from the 
 abuses and exactions as well as the superstitions 
 and tyranny of the mother faith, but such as it 
 has grown up — fat, pampered, and extortionate :
 
 12 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 too often falling into a dangerous quietism, and 
 no less often evincing a cold indifference to all 
 but the maintenance of those temporal privileges 
 and the extension of those pluralities and 
 exclusions, which, in lieu of strengthening 
 its influence, have diminished the number of its 
 votaries, and created enemies amidst those, who, 
 under a more liberal and disinterested ecclesi- 
 astical administration, would perhaps have 
 continued amongst its warmest adherents. 
 
 The second point, upon which the squire was 
 equally tenacious, was the rigid execution of the 
 Game Laws. The slightest infringement of 
 this code was, in his opinion, a more heinous 
 rebelhon against Church and State, than the 
 gravest infraction of the ten commandments. It 
 signified little, whether a man blasphemed, gam- 
 bled, dishonoured his parents, sold his own wife 
 or purloined that of another ; whether he broke 
 the sabbath or robbed the public, providing he 
 did not rob his preserves. He was not alto- 
 gether satisfied that the severity of the criminal 
 law might not be modified as regarded sheep- 
 steahng, and he had his doubts about forgery;
 
 THE MAKRIP:D UNMARIIIED. 13 
 
 but to snare a hare, or destroy a pheasant, was 
 an offence that could only be expiated by send- 
 ing the culprit to improve his skill in venerie by 
 catching kangaroos at Botany Bay. For the 
 guilty villain who, after plundering the confiding 
 merchant, the distressed widow, or unbefriended 
 orphan, ended a life of fraud and profligacy by 
 a death of ignominy, or who eluded the ven- 
 geance of the laws by absconding to America, 
 he could find compassion — but the poacher was a 
 wretch, who neither deserved benefit of council 
 or clergy. Therefore, whenever a delinquent of 
 this description fell into his hands, he not only 
 exercised his power as a magistrate by commit- 
 ting him to prison, but spared no pains to con- 
 vert his preliminary punishment into ultimate 
 transportation ; reckless whether the destitute 
 wife and children were cast upon the parish, or 
 were driven to the commission of worse crimes. 
 
 It was not his fault, however^ if the migh- 
 bouring peasantry remained ignorant of the 
 danger of infringing the sanctity of these statutes. 
 For not only were his copses and planta- 
 tions beset with dog spikes, and other defences
 
 14 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 against biped and quadruped marauders, but 
 the boundaries of his estates were studded 
 with groves of neatly painted posts, inscribed 
 with such benevolent warnings as, " Steel-traps 
 and spring-guns are set here." — " No thorough- 
 fare."—" All dogs will be shot."— and " All tres- 
 passers prosecuted according to law." And why 
 was all this vigilance exerted ? Was it to enable 
 him to afford frequent recreation to his friends, 
 by regaling them with the lusty pleasures of 
 the chase, such as it ought to be, and such as 
 it was in earlier times, or was it to offer a com- 
 pensation to the farmers for the devastation 
 committed on their crops by these privileged 
 favourites ? No, it was that he might reserve 
 the whole for one or two days' effeminate 
 massacre, when the poor tame birds that had 
 almost eaten out of his hands were slaughtered 
 by hundreds as they rose lazily on the wing, 
 astounded by the unwonted din of fire-arms, 
 beaters, and dogs, but still confident in the 
 protection of their native woods. 
 
 The third question, upon which the squire 
 had imbibed immutable notions, was not only
 
 THE MARRIED CNMARRIED. 15 
 
 that a little knowledge was a dangerous thing, but 
 that any knowledge whatever in the lower classes 
 was an encroachment upon the privileges of the 
 aristocracy, essentially tending to make them 
 bad subjects and worse tenants, and only calcu- 
 lated to convert plough-boys into attorneys, and 
 dairy-maids into something much worse. He 
 thought that Providence, in its bounty, had 
 created these classes for no other purpose than 
 to work with their hands, and not with their 
 heads, and that ignorance was bliss to them, 
 and a blessing to the community. He argued 
 that they had no more right to the enjoyment of 
 their reasoning faculties than his sleek teams of 
 Devon oxen, and that instruction, instead of 
 instilling sentiments of virtuous emulation and 
 industry into their minds, was but a medium 
 for inspiring them with dissatisfaction, vice, and 
 sedition. " It teaches the people," said he, " to 
 abandon the mechanical routine of that exist- 
 ence for which they were evidently brought 
 into the world, and to aspire to things never 
 intended to fall within their sphere. It leads 
 them to talk of rights to which they had
 
 16 THE MAIlllIED UNMARRIED 
 
 no natural title — to thirst after visionary amend- 
 ments, which are but a subversion of all social 
 order — and, what is infinitely more perilous, it 
 induces them to imagine that if they had but a 
 fair chance, they might become as good in God's 
 eyes as their betters ; and to believe that the 
 beautiful institutions of their country open to its 
 sons, if diligent, talented, and well-conducted, 
 paths to honour and advancement, which may 
 lead the lowest to a level with the most exalted." 
 Notwithstanding the squire's repugnance to 
 the diffusion of knowledge, he, or rather his wife, 
 for of the two, the grey mare was the faster, if 
 not the better horse, had fallen into the fashion- 
 able mania, of dressing up a show school at one 
 of the cottages bordering upon their park. This 
 had cost him more than one pang. Nor would 
 he have given his sanction, had he not been 
 moved partly by jealousy of a neighbouring 
 gentleman, who not only patronised the village 
 seminary, but wisely and humanely devoted a 
 portion of his income to the instruction and im- 
 provement of the surrounding peasantry, and 
 partly from the vanity of seeing his troop of
 
 THE MARRIED U^'MARRTED. 17 
 
 juvenile dependents paraded in blue and orange 
 vestments in the aisle of the church upon Sun- 
 days, where they were directed to bob, curtsey, 
 and scream Hallelujah ! as his honour, preceded 
 by the beadle, progressed towards the family 
 pew. 
 
 Fortunately for me, the squire's obser- 
 vations had as little effect upon my foster- 
 father, as the gibes of his humbler acquaintance, 
 or the scolding of his wife. He turned his quid 
 quietly in his mouth, and told the one, that I 
 was a good lad that would wrong no man, though, 
 may be, I was a bit of a scholar ; and he less 
 patiently bid the others attend to their own 
 affairs, and leave him to do as he pleased with 
 his own family, where, as long as he lived, he 
 would be master. I was consequently permitted 
 to attend to my lessons, and did my best to 
 profit by them. This, however, did not exempt 
 me from labour. 
 
 Whilst too young to go aboard with the pilot's 
 elder sons, who attended him in his arduous 
 vocation, I assisted the younger in caulking 
 and refittinfr the luijc^er when she came into
 
 18 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 harbour, in clearing and repairing the nets when 
 he was absent, or in aiding our mother to culti- 
 vate a small garden attached to the house. 
 When I had attained my tenth year, however, 
 I not only made several fishing trips, but now 
 and then accompanied my foster-father in his 
 cruises down channel. 1 was thus early inured 
 to hardships, dangers, and fatigues. I had seen 
 the ocean and the heavens, in all the sublime 
 majesty of their wildest fury, as the awful thun- 
 der burst upon our very bosoms, or as our lugger 
 scudded along under bare poles before the tem- 
 pest, and learned, if not to overcome their ter- 
 rors, at least to despise them. The sea soon be- 
 came as it were my element, and its waters almost 
 as familiar as the dry land ; so that I did not hesi- 
 tate to throw myself into its waves even in stormy 
 weather, and to revel in its foaming billows 
 as though they were my bed. And yet mth all 
 this, I felt no vocation for a seafaring life. 
 I did what was required of me with alacrity, 
 because it was useless to repine ; but, although 
 I was too young to form any plan for my future 
 life, my heart recoiled within me when the
 
 THE MARUIED UNMARIIIED. 19 
 
 pilot first talked of binding me 'prentice to 
 one of his own profession at Torbay, or observ- 
 ed, that, as I was a smartish scholar, and could 
 sing psalms and play the fiddle, he would put 
 me aboard Lord Gambler's flag-ship, where his 
 brother was purser's steward, and where my 
 learning would no doubt soon procure me ad- 
 vancement in the same line. 
 
 In the meantime, although not naturally 
 of a robust frame, I grew up strong and active. 
 Few boys were more expert at the games of 
 our age, and I had, moreover, made myself re- 
 spected by giving a sound drubbing to three or 
 four lads, bigger than myself, who taunted me 
 about my equivocal birth — taunts, by-the-bye, 
 which I knew not then to answer by telhng them 
 that in England, the boasted land of morality, 
 an immense portion of the population was in 
 the same unhappy condition as myself; but 
 which I often retorted by mimicking their voices 
 and their gait, and taking off" any little singu- 
 larities that nature or accident had inflicted 
 upon them. For, independent of playing upon 
 the fiddle in a manner little common at my age,
 
 20 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 I had a particular turn for this kind of carica- 
 ture, and, although I was straight-limbed, and 
 certainly more than ordinarily good-looking, I 
 could throw my body into the strangest contor- 
 tions, pull faces with the ugliest grinner at the 
 village revels, and imitate the actions of a frog 
 or monkey with almost as much agility as a pro- 
 fessional mimic. 
 
 This talent seduced me, however, into more 
 than one scrape, and indeed brought upon me 
 the wrath of Squire Oxover, to whom I had 
 taken a mortal antipathy, not on account 
 of his meddling with my schooling, but because 
 he ordered me to be locked up for twenty-four 
 hours in the cage, and was only prevented from 
 committing me to the county jail by the inter- 
 cession of his brother magistrates, who pleaded 
 for my youth, and could scarcely refrain from 
 laughter at the evidence of my transgression. 
 
 The head of my delinquency was my having 
 taken the following hberty with that of his wor- 
 ship. Having strolled one fine autumn evening 
 near the plantations that fringed the village, 
 and not having the fear of dog-spikes or keepers
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 21 
 
 before me, I was tempted to creep through the 
 fence, and to climb to the top of one of the 
 "No trespass " boards, on which I fixed a 
 turnip that I had purloined from near its foot, 
 and fashioned into an excellent likeness of the 
 squire's face, ornamenting it with an oakum 
 wig, two blackberry eyes, and staining the sides 
 with the same fruit to give them a stronger re- 
 semblance to his worship's rubicund cheeks. 
 Proud of my prank, I was about to descend 
 from my perch, when I was pounced upon by 
 one of the keepers, and dragged, together with 
 the corpus, or rather, caput delicti before the 
 squire, who, after diving for a while into his sole 
 book of knowledge, " Burn's Justice," forthwith 
 consigned me to durance as a trespasser. 
 
 Although I had often had full leisure at church 
 to examine the squire's face, as he indulged in 
 his usual pious habit of sleeping during the 
 sermon, I had never before thought of exercising 
 my powers of mimicry upon so exalted a per- 
 sonage, but the cage put me upon my mettle, 
 and emboldened me to a trial. Returning from 
 school a day or two after, 1 saw a number of
 
 22 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 fisher-boys and idlers assembled in the church- 
 yard, where they were amusing themselves by 
 pelting the old sexton with some of the mortal 
 relics which he was carelessly ejecting from a 
 fresh-made grave. They no sooner espied me 
 than a dozen voices exclaimed, " Jack Penguin," 
 —for that, reader, was the name I went by, — 
 " Jack, ahoy ! — avast, and show us the cut of 
 the squire's jib when he boused you up in 
 limbo." 
 
 " I don't care if I do show you how he trims 
 his cross jack-yard," replied I, " and warps into 
 church, if you'll lend me a hand." 
 
 Upon this, I ranged them on either side the 
 porch, in imitation of the blue and orange 
 school ; and then, protruding my stomach, bow- 
 ing out my knees, cocking my hat, inflating my 
 cheeks, and twisting my eyes into a terrible 
 squint, I waddled up the aisle, and seated myself 
 in the feudal pew. I then went through all the 
 motions of its owner; bowed as he bowed at 
 certain portions of the Scriptures, turned up my 
 eye to the cieling at others, as though I had 
 been coquetting with some of the plaster che-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 23 
 
 rubim which ornamented the muUions and 
 rafters, and imitated the loud, indecorous twang 
 with which he was wont to drown the voice of 
 clerg}'man and clerk during the responses. 
 Then changing my voice to that of the former — 
 shame be upon me for it — I gave oat as a text, 
 " Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven 
 image," and then resuming the squire's face, 
 pretended to fall asleep, and to snore as if the 
 whole be-devilled herd of swine had risen from 
 the deep, and entered into my body. 
 
 1 was quickly aroused, however, from my mock 
 slumber, and this after no agreeable fashion ; 
 for the lash of a riding-whip, that woLild have 
 done honour to the knout of a Russian execu- 
 tioner, nearly cut off the hand on which I was 
 rechning, and, upon looking up, who should I 
 see, but the squire and clergyman, who had 
 witnessed my irreverent pranks from the vestry - 
 room, where they had been settling with the 
 churchwardens the amount of a new rate to be 
 levied upon the parish. 
 
 Before I had time to make my escape through 
 the arch formed by the squire's bow legs, I was
 
 24 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 regaled by the vicar with a score of stripes, 
 brothers ©f the first-born, accompanied by 
 a volley of oaths from his honour, that was 
 enough to have startled the aforesaid cherubim 
 from their perches. 
 
 However, although I had been making game 
 of them, as my offence did not come within the 
 game-laws, and as it was decided that no charge 
 for trespass, sacrilege, or theft, could be made 
 out against me, since the church doors were 
 open, no service going on, and I had appropri- 
 ated nothing but his worship's squint, I was 
 allowed to slink off with the consolatory assur- 
 ance, that if I did not mend my manners I 
 should be turned out of the parish, or delivered 
 over to a press-gang. 
 
 These pranks, of course, placed me under the 
 ban of the great folks at the ball, as well as that 
 of the Rev. Mr. Scentwell, the vicar, who was 
 not only a near relation and great favourite 
 — two things by no means synonymous— but a 
 hard rider, a still harder drinker, a good hand at 
 whist, and a mortal enemy to all learning, save 
 that inculcated by the Sporting Magazine, Da-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 2o 
 
 niel's Field Sports, and Hoyle. A too earnest 
 devotion to these excellent productions had 
 twice brought him to a check, a very polite 
 liceat migrare having cut off his chances of ob- 
 taining a first degree at Oxford, and a less cour- 
 teous rustication having prevented his becoming 
 senior wrangler at Cambridge. How ever, this 
 no ways militated against his ordination by his 
 uncle, the bishop of the diocese, nor offered any 
 impediment to his prospect of converting his 
 loose boxes into a prebendal stall. 
 
 I was, however, consoled in some measure 
 for my stripes and disgrace by finding that I had 
 not fallen in the opinion of the only friend I had 
 on earth, my foster-father, who, though he rated 
 me soundly, and said I merited the horsewhip- 
 ping for selecting such a spot for the theatre of 
 my waggery, nevertheless laughed heartily at my 
 account of the transaction, and often encouraged 
 me to re-enact the scene of the squire and the 
 vicar, between whom and himself there had long 
 existed the utmost ill-will. The cause of this feud 
 arose, firstly, from the pilot and his sons having 
 zealously exerted themselves to oppose the 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 '26 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 squire's nomination at the last election, wearing 
 their adversary's colours, canvassing for him, 
 and rigging up a small boat as a triumphal car 
 for his chairing. Secondly, because he had told 
 the vicar that he might send and take his tithe 
 of fish or flesh an' he pleased, but that as he 
 was a dissenter, and never benefited by the 
 reverend gentleman's services or church, he 
 would neither pay tithe nor rate of his own free 
 will. 
 
 Consequently, the squire not only instructed 
 his attorney to keep a sharp look-out, and, if 
 possible, to implicate him in a charge of smug- 
 gling with his brothers-in-law, who were noted 
 as loose characters, but exerted the whole weight 
 of his interest with his friends at the Admiralty 
 to contrive some means of injuring the offender, 
 whom he represented as a dangerous, fanatical 
 non-conformist, not less ill-disposed to the king 
 than he was to the church. By way of a bribe 
 to their lordships, he invited them to a grand 
 battue at the hall, which they accepted under 
 plea of an official visit to the coast. 
 
 These benevolent intentions only failed, as
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 27 
 
 the French lawyers say, from one or two circum- 
 stances entirely independent of his will. For, 
 on the one hand, although their lordships had 
 offered to promote his son o\'er the heads of 
 more deserving and meritorious officers, in 
 return for the vigorous manner in which the 
 father and the members he returned had sup- 
 ported a recent job in their department, they 
 showed little disposition to persecute an old sea- 
 man, because he chose to worship the Almighty 
 after his own conscience, and to vote for an op- 
 position member ; whom, to tell the truth, the 
 government was anxious to win over ; — a motive 
 more powerful with them, perhaps, than any 
 scruples of abstract justice. They consequently 
 slaughtered the squire's pheasants, devoured his 
 venison, did copious honour to his claret, and 
 re-embarked in the Admiralty yacht, saying 
 they would give instructions to have the pilot 
 sharply looked after by the cruisers upon the 
 station. 
 
 On the other hand, my foster-father was too 
 honest to commit a fraud on any one, either 
 public or private, however much he was resolved 
 
 c2
 
 •28 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 to resist what he thought was an arbitrary exac- 
 tion upon the part of the incumbent. 
 
 This reverend gentleman, who usually devoted 
 his winters to hunting in Leicestershire, where 
 he held another living, his summers to diluting 
 his wine with Bath waters, and his autumns to 
 shooting on the squire's manors, abandoning his 
 flocks, in the meantime, to the care of their hea- 
 venly pastor, or to that of some ill-paid neigh- 
 bouring curate, was more successful in his mode 
 of annoyance; for the refusal to pay the rates 
 was met by a process in the ecclesiastical court, 
 which, under the direction of the squire's attor- 
 ney, soon ran up the costs and expenses from a 
 few shillings to four times as many pounds ; and 
 would have ended by the seizure of the pilot's 
 ^'Gssel and goods, had not a retired naval officer 
 advanced him the money necessary to meet the 
 benevolent method adopted by the church to 
 reclaim its stray sheep, or rather its truant 
 shillings. 
 
 The result of all this, however, was, that in a 
 village where every householder was dependent 
 or stood in awe of our enemy, my foster-father
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 29 
 
 gradually lost much of his custom, and was 
 branded by the squire, parson, attorney, apothe- 
 cary, churchwardens, and innkeeper, for whom 
 he had refused to smuggle a keg of schiedam, 
 as a rebel against God and the king. For, out 
 of deference to his honour, they affirmed that the 
 attributes of the Divinity and Crown were as 
 closely linked as the " Dieu et man droit " of 
 the royal motto ; and, consequently, that any 
 man who supported an opponent to government 
 opposed the king's majesty ; and he who refused 
 to go to the parish church, and to pay its rates? 
 revolted against both God and king. 
 
 Although I was particularly attentive to divine 
 service, and assiduous at my book, and was the 
 only boy that had any pretension to a musical 
 voice, the vicar directed me to be turned out of 
 the list of singers, saying, that I always sang 
 false, and spoiled what he called " the cry of the 
 pack,"" — a condemnation in which he was backed 
 by the under-sheriff^s daughters, whose father 
 declared that I was a wicked, ill-disposed imp, 
 whose irreverent conduct was calculated to ele- 
 vate me to a more dangerous post than that on 
 which I had affixed the turnip.
 
 30 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 How singular are the associations of our 
 minds ! how trifling the incidents that pro- 
 duce the greatest revolutions, not only in 
 science and politics, but in our social and indivi- 
 dual economy ! To the plucking of one apple 
 we trace back the immense catalogue of mise- 
 ries, sins, and afflictions which are the sorrowful 
 heritage of our abased condition : to the mere 
 falling of another, is ascribed one of the 
 the greatest discoveries that has enlightened 
 natural philosophy. 
 
 The upheaving of a boiling kettle is said to 
 have first unveiled the mighty powers and 
 benefits of steam, anJ the accidental friction of 
 a little charcoal, on which a poor fisherman had 
 let fall a few grains of coarse salt, produced that 
 terrible agency through which crowns have 
 been wrested from the heads of the mightiest 
 kings, and empires obtained for low-born men, 
 whose origin never seemed intended to raise 
 them above the common level. A lady's garter 
 gave the first impulse to those chivalrous insti- 
 tutions, the indiscriminate abuse of which, by 
 modern sovereigns, has thrown so much dis-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 31 
 
 credit upon distinctions, which were formerly 
 the undivided recompense of honour, valour, and 
 talent. A lad/s glove had almost put an 
 end to the negotiations by which a bloody war 
 was eventually terminated at Utrecht, and the 
 colour of a rose was the symbol of those fright- 
 ful civil discords that so long racked the heart 
 of our own country. One might enumerate a 
 thousand instances equally striking. Be this as 
 it may — never since that time have I been able to 
 pass a greengrocer's stall or to look upon one of 
 the innocent vegetables which first brought me 
 acquainted with loss of liberty, without feeling a 
 rising in my throat and connecting it with my 
 earliest impressions of injustice and oppression. 
 I verily believe that if we had still lived in the 
 days of chivalry, I should have emblazoned 
 a turnip upon my shield, with the motto, " No 
 trespass," and ridden forth to the rescue under its 
 stimulating influence. At a later period I was 
 in one way enabled to indulge my propensity by 
 having this engraved upon a seal ; an indulgence 
 that had nigh thrown me into trouble, as will be 
 shown hereafter.
 
 32 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A merry Christmas, and a happy New year— There are 
 many slips between the cup and the lip — In the 
 midst of life we are in death — I am left without a 
 friend except the house dog — The Vicar objects to 
 bury a dissenter, so the dissenters bury the clerk. 
 
 For some time nothing occurred to vary our 
 mode of life. With the exception of one or two 
 pranks, such as letting down a thread with a 
 fish-hook at the end of it, from the gallery dur- 
 ing evening service, which hitched in the church- 
 warden's wig, so that it came off and dangled in 
 the air when he knelt down for the Lord's 
 Prayer, and set the whole congregation a-titter- 
 ing,— and affixing, upon another occasion, a 
 piece of paper with " no trespass," written upon
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 33 
 
 it, under the under-sherifPs coat collar, I was 
 not guilty of any particular mischief. Whilst 
 on the other hand I acquired great praise from 
 another feat which had nearly cost me my life. 
 As I was sitting playing the fiddle in our cottage, 
 1 heard the mewing of a cat, and the loud laughter 
 of some of the lads on the jetty, and thought they 
 were mocking me, but on looking up I saw they 
 were tormenting Miss Steers' favourite tortoise- 
 shell. So up I jumped, ran out and remon- 
 strated. But the result of my intercession only 
 increased the sufferings of the animal, until at 
 last one of the lads seized the poor brute by the 
 tail and cast it into the water. Although it was 
 blowing fresh, with a heavy swell, I did not 
 hesitate a moment, but threw myself oif the 
 jetty and succeeded in seizing her by the back, 
 and putting her on my shoulder, where she held 
 on with such instinctive tenacity as made my neck 
 suffer not a little. Unfortunately, the tide was 
 ebbing, and although I could swim like a fish I 
 could not make head, and was carried away nearly 
 to the mouth of the harbour, where I should have 
 been drowned, had not one of the fishing lug- 
 
 c5
 
 34 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 gers, then coming in, picked me up. As soon 
 as I had recovered and got ashore, I started off 
 with the cat to Miss Steers, who evinced the 
 utmost thankfulness and rewarded me with half- 
 a-crown. This act of mine was not forgotten by 
 them, as will be seen the sequel. 
 
 The month of December, which had been 
 more than usually gloomy, was drawing to a close, 
 and brought with it a succession of heavy south- 
 westerly gales, not only rendering it impossi- 
 ble for a single boat to leave the harbour, but 
 driving the channel cruisers from their stations 
 and strewing the coast with wreck and devasta- 
 tion. Never had so rich a harvest been reaped 
 by the inhuman wretches, whose odious indus- 
 try disgraces our western shores — never had 
 the adjacent church bells so often tolled the ill- 
 fated mariner's departing dirge. 
 
 It was Christmas Eve — the season of rejoic- 
 ing and benevolence to the rich, of consolation 
 to the poor, and of thanksgiving to the chris- 
 tian. Already the clerk and sexton had be- 
 decked the pews and windows of the church 
 with a profusion of those blooming evergreens
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 35 
 
 that are the symbol of eternity. Already the 
 village maiden cast a bashful but not unwilling 
 eye upon the privileged misseltoe, suspended 
 from the cottage rafters. Not only had each 
 good housewife prepared a store of that honest 
 English cheer, which is so identified with our 
 usages, as to form part of our nationality, if not 
 of our religion ; but the poorest cottagers were 
 made participators in the contentment of the 
 more prosperous, by receiving donations of fuel 
 and other comforts, so essential at this dreary 
 season. Sounds of merriment already resounded 
 from many a hearth, and groups of children, 
 relatives, and friends, pressed around each other, 
 eagerly awaiting the blessing and the welcome 
 of the morrow's feast. As none of our craft 
 were at sea, and as no ship was seen off the 
 coast, no wife bewailed the absence of her hus- 
 band, nor trembled for the safety of her son ; and, 
 although the tempest howled fearfully, and the 
 sea broke mountains high upon the shingly 
 strand, there was nothing to mar the general 
 happiness. 
 
 The debt my foster-father had contracted
 
 36 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 from the monstrous expenses incurred by his 
 Utigation with the vicar, had been a sore vexa- 
 tion, that not only weighed heavily upon his 
 mind, but curtailed us of many of our essential 
 comforts. Nevertheless we were not unpre- 
 pared to do honour to the coming day, and as I 
 and the other lads nestled in the low settles 
 that we had drawn around the kitchen fire, we 
 winked with longing eyes and watering mouths 
 at the huge plum-pudding and noble piece of 
 beef that stood upon the dresser, in readiness 
 for the oven, backed by bright rows of well- 
 pohshed pewter and snow-white crockery, inter- 
 spersed with sprigs of holly. Although none of 
 us youngsters felt with becoming solemnity the 
 moral cause of this addition to our usual humble 
 fare, its savoury odour came home to our phy- 
 sical senses with irresistible force. After gig- 
 gling and nudging each other with our elbows, 
 and often rising to take a nearer view, we burst 
 into exclamations of " Well, I wish it were past 
 church-time to-morrow, and dang me if squire 
 himself wouldn't give a sack of rabbits for a 
 slice."
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 37 
 
 There was something, however, in the pilot's 
 manner that evening that was not usual with 
 him, accustomed as he was to hear the raging 
 elements vainly expend their fury upon his 
 snug habitation, and to face them with reckless 
 indifference upon the waters. He walked to 
 and fro, lending an anxious ear to each succeed- 
 ing blast, frequently shaking his head and ex- 
 claiming, " A sad night, a sad night, for them 
 at sea. Many's the brave hand whose glass is 
 nearly run ; — but God's will be done. A man 
 can die but once, and when it's the turn of this 
 old hulk to be paid off, by his blessing, I shall 
 not fall to leeward." 
 
 " His name be praised,''' responded his wife, 
 " that neither thou nor any of the lads be out 
 this night. Woe to her that has a soul she 
 loves afloat in such a gale as this." 
 
 " Hark !" said her husband, raising his hand 
 to silence her, " hark ! I hear a signal gun." 
 
 We all listened with breathless eagerness for 
 a few minutes, and I crept softly to the outer 
 door to watch for a renewal of the flash. But 
 he had been deceived. It was but the hollow
 
 38 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 thunder of the ocean against the planking of 
 the jetty. 
 
 " Well, well," said he tapping the barometer 
 that hung upon the wall between a portrait of 
 Duncan and Howe, " unless my mind misgives 
 me, there will be merry work for the shell-fish 
 afore daylight." 
 
 " I doubt but what there will, father," added 
 his eldest son, who entered whilst he was 
 speaking, pale and apparently much agitated. 
 
 *' What Bill," exclaimed his mother, observ- 
 ing his emotion, " has't had thy Christmas-box 
 already? I warrant me thou'st been taking 
 misseltoe leave already with Bessy Bar-Maid's 
 rosy cheeks ; that's not fair, you know, afore 
 twelve o'clock, and a clout from Bessy's hand's 
 enough to unship a steadier rudder than thy 
 head.'' 
 
 " Why thou stand'st a-staring like squire's 
 turnip noddle upon trespass post," exclaimed 
 one of the other lads ; " hast seen a dobie ?" 
 
 " I have seen enough," retorted the elder 
 boy, " to make thy teeth chatter as tho'f they 
 were a frost-bitten.*"*
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 39 
 
 Upon this we all fell to laughing and ex- 
 claimed " A yarn ! come, Bill, veer away and tell 
 us what hast seen V 
 
 " Yarn or no yarn," rejoined he, " it's no 
 laughing matter mayhap for some of us ; for as 
 I hove round by the churchyard wall, there was 
 the sexton's warning a dancing and flashing 
 about the old yew-tree as bright as the fire in 
 that grate." 
 
 " What, close to where poor Jem was laid T 
 demanded the pilot with earnestness. 
 
 " Yes, father, three of them; 1 seed three 
 lights as plain as I see that candle." 
 
 " I never set eyes on 'em myself," observed 
 the pilot, " but there's many a one that has, 
 and folks do say they bodes no good to those 
 that cross 'em." 
 
 " Folks says, father, they never flare nor 
 flicker near a grave but it's a call to kith or 
 kin of them that's moored below." 
 
 " How can'st talk such nonsense, lad ?" said 
 their mother, a woman of strong mind, and su- 
 perior to the common superstitions of her class ; 
 " the only lights thou hast seen are those down
 
 40 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 at Lion-tap : it's the cider's a dancing in thy 
 head — nothing else." 
 
 " Thou may'st make light o' such warn- 
 ings if thee please, mother," rejoined the son 
 mildly, " but there's ould Giles, that's been 
 sexton, man and boy, for more than fifty years . 
 told me that them lights was never seen by 
 mortal eye, but what he was found grubbing 
 away with pick and spade on a new grave, upon 
 next day's sun-down. It's all one like as a 
 warning to him." 
 
 " Thou would'st do better. Will, to take 
 warning by the old tippler's drunken ways 
 and bottled nose, and not spend so much o' thy 
 time o' nights with thy own over the tankard. 
 Why, since thou'st been a courting Bessy, 
 thee doesn't know the lugger's mast from the 
 church steeple." 
 
 " May-be, mother," retorted the other, " but 
 every flame must have its wick, as ould Giles 
 says, and mayhap three of ours will be burned 
 out afore yon yule pie's browned at baker's." 
 
 " Come, Bill," replied liis mother somewhat 
 sharply, " such flights as these is not fitting for
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 41 
 
 Christmas Eve ; if thee be'st flustered and can't 
 talk reason, thee'dst better go to bed." 
 
 " Mother," rejoined the son mournfully, " I 
 ben't no more flustered than father there : what 
 I says is true as gospel. As sure as you be 
 sitting there, I see'd the warning a flickering 
 and flourishing round the tree, and then bob 
 down and settle close to brother Jemmie's head- 
 stone." 
 
 The pilot, who had been listening with more 
 attention than he was wont to pay to the recital 
 of similar superstitions, now put an end to the 
 conversation by saying, "As God giveth so can 
 he take away. His ways and warnings shall no 
 man question. But come. Jack, boy, let us 
 have a spell at the Bible, and then to bed ; for 
 if the gale holds on o' this fashion, we may be 
 wanted afore morning." Then turning over the 
 sacred volume, he bade me read the 27th chap- 
 ter of Acts, wherein the apostle Paul describes 
 the delivery of himself and fellow passengers 
 after his ship struck, " some by swimming, and 
 the rest, some on boards and some on broken 
 pieces of the ship, so it came to pass that they 
 escaped all safe to land."
 
 42 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 Having terminated this the last verse, I 
 closed the book, and for a short time there was 
 a dead silence, when the pilot rose, and extend- 
 ing his hands over us all, as we sat close to- 
 gether near the table, exclaimed in a fervent 
 manner, " Thou, Jenny, hast been a loving wife 
 and mother to me and mine, and thee, boys, one 
 and all, hast been a joy and comfort to my grey 
 hairs. Bless thee ! and if the warnings Bill 
 has seen prove true, may He who protects the 
 widow and friendless look down upon thee ! — O, 
 merciful Lord !" added he with still greater 
 solemnity, '• deliver us out of the deep waters. 
 Let not the water-floods drown us, neither let 
 the deep swallow us up." 
 
 A simultaneous Amen ! was uttered by us 
 all, as the good man, dashing a tear from his 
 eye, retired to rest. 
 
 It was in truth an awful night, such as had 
 never been exceeded in the memory of the 
 oldest seaman. It was such a night, too, as I 
 had never passed before, and. which left a pro- 
 found impression upon my mind. Dreams and 
 night-mares of a horrid nature tormented me.
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. -i'S 
 
 At one moment, I fancied myself at sea, as- 
 sailed by a fearful storm — our lugger, over- 
 whelmed by a huge wave, foundered, and I was 
 borne down, bruised and suffocated, amidst the 
 boiling scum of waters. In another minute, I 
 stood alone in the churchyard, near the old 
 yew-tree, and the sexton's warning danced and 
 flared around my head, and scorched my very 
 face, and then all was pitchy darkness. Then 
 again, the blue, pale light burst forth from poor 
 Jemmy's grave, and it opened, and he rose and 
 came to me, and threw his cold arms around 
 me. I struggled and tried to fly, but was 
 nailed to the very ground. And presently, I 
 broke away into the church, and fell upon my 
 knees, and prayed by the communion-table, and 
 I looked up and saw three half-mouldered 
 bodies hanging over me, and the horrid worms 
 crept out from their eyes, mouth, and nostrils ; 
 and the noisome creatures, bred of man's cor- 
 ruption, revelled and twisted there ; some dro})- 
 ped upon me, and coiled and sported upon my 
 breast — huge, monstrous, revolting brutes, cold 
 as eternal ice, and long and heavy as five fa-
 
 44 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 thorns of our biggest cable. And then again 
 I stood alone, hungry, friendless, and shivering 
 with cold, and begging for a crust of bread at 
 the squire's door, and the keepers let loose 
 their bull-dogs at me, and I fled, bounding, 
 bounding over the ground as though I had 
 wings, until at last I tumbled over a precipice 
 into a new-made grave, and the loose earth fell 
 upon me. Then, thank God, I awoke, but 
 trembling and terrified, and hid my head be- 
 neath the clothes. 
 
 Day at length dawned, but, in lieu of bring- 
 ing an abatement of the storm, the wind in- 
 creased to a perfect hurricane ; and, as the par- 
 tial light fell upon the distant waters, a large 
 square-rigged vessel, supposed to be an India- 
 man, was seen embayed between the two head- 
 lands, that beetled high above the ocean to the 
 east and west, forming, as it were, the portals 
 of our rock-bound bay. 
 
 She was no sooner discovered, than the fisher- 
 men, as usual upon such occasions, either clus- 
 tered in knots beneath the shelter of the adja- 
 cent sheds and boats, discussing her rig, ton-
 
 THE M.ARRIED UNMARRIKD. 45 
 
 nage, and the danger that menaced her, or, 
 leaning against the breast- work of the jetty, 
 watched with their glasses the efforts she was 
 making to escape from her perilous position. 
 Here and there too, along the coast, groups of 
 wreckers might be seen, peeping like cormo- 
 rants from between the craggy cliffs, or stand- 
 ing upon the beach coveting with greedy eyes 
 the costly prize. 
 
 It was evident by her trim, and the hitherto- 
 apparent snugness of all on board, that she was 
 manned by an experienced and gallant crew. 
 But what could skill or courage do against the 
 combined power of such a tempest and the force 
 of the flood-tide, which was fast drifting her to 
 leeward, now raising her upon the summit of 
 the billows, and now plunging her into the 
 yawning chasm beneath, until she seemed en- 
 gulfed for awhile amidst the valley of waters? 
 Every moment augmented the fury of the gale, 
 and diminished her prospect of escape. Unless 
 she weathered the northern point at the next 
 tack, her only chance of safety was to bear up 
 for the harbour, and trust to her anchors. It 
 
 \
 
 46 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 is true, the wind might veer round two or three 
 points, and enable her to gain the offing — a 
 hopeless prospect. But apparently hopeless as 
 it was, this chance was unexpectedly offered. 
 After a momentary lull, during which the wind 
 veered from point to point, as if uncertain in 
 which quarter it would next exercise its fury, 
 it shifted to the north, and blew with equal 
 violence from the land. 
 
 The vessel, which had hitherto been strug- 
 gling under close-reefed topsails and courses, no 
 sooner felt the change than, putting up her 
 helm and setting all the canvass she dared 
 carry, stood out to sea. But this was a mere 
 mockery — a delusion of the capricious elements ; 
 for scarcely had five minutes elapsed, ere the 
 wind again shifted to its old quarter, and, tak- 
 ing her suddenly aback, with a heavy swell, car- 
 ried away her foremast and main- topmast, be- 
 fore she could again pay-off and fill her sails. 
 
 An involuntary groan burst from the nume- 
 rous spectators who crowded the jetty. She 
 was now unable to weather the points on either 
 tack, and destruction was inevitable. The very
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIEi). 47 
 
 shoal where she was destined to terminate her 
 career was pointed out. Unless she struck 
 upon the southern reef, she would probably 
 come ashore at no great distance from the vil- 
 lage. If so, there would be a chance of saving 
 the crew. The prognostication was shortly 
 reahsed. In a few minutes she was seen drift- 
 ing with fearful swiftness towards the spot in- 
 dicated by the fishermen ; and, in less than half 
 an hour, she was carried broadside-on upon a 
 ledge of rocks, a short half mile from land. In 
 a few minutes afterwards she was a perfect 
 wreck — her masts, boats, and bulwarks gone, 
 and the sea making a complete breach over 
 her. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the people of our village 
 had not been idle. The squire, in his quality of 
 magistrate, galloped to the beach, accompanied 
 by a party of gentlemen from the hall. The 
 nearest troop of yeomanry was called out to pro- 
 tect such property or cargo as might be washed 
 ashore. The apparatus for restoring suspended 
 animation, with beds and refreshments, were 
 prepared at the inn, and every other precaution
 
 48 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 adopted to assist the sufferers that humanity or 
 prudence could suggest. But the most active 
 and important duty devolved upon my foster- 
 father and his two elder sons, who, with three 
 other gallant fellows, enjoyed the noble but pe- 
 rilous privilege of manning the life-boat. With- 
 out waiting for the usual thrilling summons, " A 
 wreck ! a wreck !" the pilot had no sooner cast 
 his eye upon the Indiaman, than he felt that his 
 forebodings of misfortune would be realised. 
 He therefore assembled the boat's crew of 
 which he was the steersman, and having made 
 all right, tacked on the horses to the frame and 
 conveyed her to the point most convenient for 
 her destined service. 
 
 Scarcely, therefore, had the ill-fated vessel 
 grounded, ere each man sprang to his place : 
 the frame was backed to the water's edge, tilted, 
 the signal given, and she was launched into the 
 breakers amidst the exciting cheers of the by- 
 standers. 
 
 How my young heart beat as I gazed upon 
 those brave men speeding with cool but devoted 
 eagerness upon their benevolent errand ! How
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 49 
 
 my very soul sickened as I looked seaward to 
 the stranded vessel, and saw a hundred living 
 beings clinging with desperate energy to her 
 remaining spars — the terrible seas curling fear- 
 fully, irresistibly over them, dashing some poor 
 wretches to and fro like broken reeds, or sweep- 
 ing others off, never to rise again ! How my 
 whole body trembled as I watched the progress 
 of our little craft, dexterously, steadily cresting 
 the mountainous waves, or disappearing, for a 
 while, amidst the trough of foam — the grey hairs 
 of the noble pilot floating in the wind as he 
 stood bare-headed at the helm, his sinewy right 
 hand firmly clenching the rudder-oar, his left 
 waving encouragement to his own and the ship's 
 crew, whilst his eagle eye watched the danger- 
 ous head seas, over which he appeared to stride 
 upright and confident as the apostle. 
 
 At length, an upraised oar showed that the 
 boat had neared the ship, many of whose crew in 
 maddening haste quitted their hold, and sprang, 
 towards her. Some sank, some rose to sink 
 again, and some, more cool and strong, were 
 saved : all she could hold, she took Then 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 THE MAKllIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 shooting towards the land, in a few minutes she 
 was borne high and dry upon the beach. Three 
 times the generous trip was made, and three 
 times she returned full laden to the shore. The 
 captain and a few officers, who had stuck, to the 
 last, by the wreck, alone remained. Again the 
 ofallant craft was launched amidst the redoubled 
 acclamations of the people, and the loud and 
 hearty hurrahs of the squire and his friends. 
 Again she safely reached the ship. All to the 
 last man were now on board, and she was about 
 to wend to shore, when suddenly a huge sea 
 struck the vessel, and carrying with it the wreck 
 of the mizen mast, which hung over its quarter, 
 hurled it, end on, upon the devoted boat, with 
 the force and speed of lightning. A thrill of 
 horror ran through my heart as she went down, 
 stove through and through by the huge frag- 
 ment of wreck. Shortly, however, she again 
 floated, and there was yet a hope— several poor 
 fellows being observed clinging to her sides. 
 But the sad forebodings of the last night had 
 been too fatally realised — neither the pilot nor 
 his sons were of the number. Their lifeless
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 51 
 
 bodies were shortly washed ashore, and brought 
 to our desolate home. Too true, their lamp of 
 life had burned away before the Christmas fare 
 had passed our lips; and ere the morrow's sun 
 had sunk beneath the western waters, old Giles's 
 pick traced out a broad, new grave, close by the 
 spot where James was laid. Henceforth no 
 man dared doubt the sexton's warning, and few 
 were bold enough to pass the church-wall after 
 dark. 
 
 Never shall I forget the scene of misery 
 which reigned that night in our once neat and 
 cheerful home. There, upon the cold floor, 
 amidst the scattered nets and furniture, were 
 cast a heap of dripping clothes, encumbered with 
 sand and masses of tangled sea-weed. There, 
 upon the dresser, stood the huge yule pie un- 
 touched, unbaked. There, upon one bed, were 
 laid the father and two sons— cold, stark, and 
 bruised : their hardy hands and stiffened jaws 
 clenched in eternal sleep. '1 here, by the expir- 
 ing embers of the fire we had not heart to feed, 
 sat the poor widow, gazing with wild and va- 
 cant stare into the little chamber, where, by 
 
 D 2 
 
 uNivtRSin OP. 
 
 o « inp&R'R
 
 32 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 the dim light of one small candle, two old vil- 
 lage crones performed the last sad offices to the 
 drowned men. Poor woman ! she wept not, 
 spoke not, and when the gossips bid her " not 
 take on so," and tried to comfort her, she did 
 but raise her eyes to heaven and clasp her 
 hands, and groan as though her heart would 
 burst. There, at their mother's side, sat the 
 two younger lads, wet, cold, and hungry — sob- 
 bing as children sob, with noisy grief, not know- 
 ing half their loss ; and there sat I, shuddering 
 and terrified at the grim reality of death, and 
 weeping as bitterly, God knows, as if the stiff- 
 ening clay had been my father's corpse. Wretch- 
 ed orphan ! my desolate, my abandoned fate 
 now burst upon me in all its nakedness, and 
 when I turned and saw the pilot's wife cast 
 her arms around her boys, and hug them to her 
 bosom, and heard her say, " His will be done : 
 I have nothing left on earth but thee !" the 
 words struck deep into my heart — I envied 
 them their mother's tenderness, and felt that I 
 was now alone, without a hope or friend. 
 
 The two next days passed by in dismal si-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 53 
 
 lence, interrupted only by our sobs, or the half- 
 whispers of those who watched the dead, with 
 here and there some kind and well-meaning gos- 
 sip's consolation, which stirred our griefs but 
 did not soothe them. Then came the joiner's 
 men with three coffins, and the bodies were 
 shrouded and placed in them. When this was 
 done, and we were again alone, the widow crept 
 softly to their side, as if she feared to wake 
 them from their endless rest, and she hung over 
 them in mute agony, and kissed the livid lips, 
 which a few short hours before had beamed with 
 life and smiles. Then she knelt down with her 
 head reclining on her husband's coffin and 
 beckoned to us, as we stood watching near the 
 door, and we all knelt and prayed. How beau- 
 tifully calm yet stern they looked, " each on 
 his narrow pillow !" I was not frightened then, 
 for I kissed, fervently kissed their clammy 
 brows, and felt relieved that I had done so ; 
 and as I looked upon my foster-father's face, 
 I thought he smiled ; tliis lent me courage, and 
 I grasped his stiffi^ned hand, and rebuked the 
 younger lads, for they shrunk back with terror.
 
 54 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 Since then I have met death m various shapes. 
 I have seen the young, the good, the innocent 
 depart, cropped in the bloom of Ufe, without a 
 moan or sigh, as if to sleep. I have also wit- 
 nessed horrid deaths, some on the scaifold, 
 many on the field — deaths of remorse, devotion, 
 recklessness, and crime. Some there were, and 
 these were women, whose features gained by 
 death : they looked so bland, so mild, so beau- 
 tifully serene ; but none surpassed in icy calm- 
 ness the features of these three. It seemed as 
 if they had gone down to death rejoicing in the 
 sacrifice. 
 
 At length the time arrived for the last earthly 
 parting : the joiner's people came again and 
 screwed the coffins down, and covered them 
 with plain black palls, and they gave us crape 
 to tie about our hats, and dressed us in our 
 Sunday clothes. The mourners, bearers, and 
 those bidden to the funeral having assembled, 
 wine and cakes were distributed ; and the 
 widow, attired in decent mourning, stood near 
 the coffins, holding in each hand an orphan son. 
 For in these humble walks of life, no wife, no
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. OO 
 
 child, no parent, shrinks from the performance 
 of those last sad duties, whence, from a heart- 
 less submission to the cold usages of society, 
 the great withhold their presence. I followed, 
 followed alone, for no one seemed to think of 
 me, and yet I was not quite deserted. The 
 pilot's dog, a noble beast of the Newfoundland 
 breed, who, until then, had crouched beneath 
 his master's bed, refusing food or comfort, crept 
 towards me, and looking in my face, placed his 
 paw upon me, and buried his nose in my bosom, 
 and whined as if he felt for my loneliness. And 
 I put my arm round his neck and pressed him 
 to my side, and he whined again and wagged his 
 tail : from that time he never quitted me. 
 
 The sad procession now moved forward, in 
 all that grave simplicity which renders the poor 
 man's funeral a thousand times more solemn 
 and impressive than the gorgeous, heartless 
 pageantry of the rich. First went the under- 
 taker's men with staves and bands — then the 
 three coffins borne by fishermen — then walked 
 the \vidow and her children attended by a group 
 of mourners, and last appeared the people from
 
 56 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 the wreck, to save whose hves the dead had 
 bartered theirs. All around was still and silent, 
 save here and there a sob, or sigh, which struck 
 upon the ear as we wound slowly onwards. At 
 length we passed the little inn, kept by the 
 father of poor William's sweetheart. 
 
 There the poor girl sat, or rather knelt, 
 against the casement, weeping in all the agony 
 of youthful grief — the blighting of that love to 
 w^hich all others are but as mere emotions — pas- 
 sions, which like air, rush to the vacuum of our 
 hearts, to veil but not efface the past. So it was 
 with her, most probably, for I have since traced 
 her fate. It's an oft-told tale — she was the village 
 queen, good, pure, and beautiful. The shock she 
 had received brought on that fearful malady which 
 too early and too often blights the fairest and 
 the best. But, as she sank in strength and 
 health, so she improved in grace and beauty. 
 Many were her suitors, but she refused them 
 all. At length her father died of apoplexy and 
 left her friendless : so she yielded to the impor- 
 tunities of the young farmer who had long wooed 
 her, and consented to their union. For a while
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 57 
 
 she revived with double lustre, but it was the 
 last deceitful flicker of the expiring lamp : one 
 afternoon she was found rechning upon the seat 
 beneath the yew-tree which shaded William's 
 grave : the passers-by thought that she slept — 
 true, it was the sleep of death. 
 
 Upon reaching the end of the lane thar 
 opened upon the church, an event occurred 
 which troubled the solemnity of the occasion, and 
 showed that our misfortunes had not softened 
 the rancour of the vicar's feelings towards us ; 
 for it could not be supposed that one who dealt 
 so hghtly with the duties of his sacred calling, 
 should have been actuated by motives of con- 
 science, or rather of bigotry. And yet how 
 often does it occur that the worst despotism is 
 cloked beneath the mask of exaggerated libe- 
 ralism, and that the blindest intolerance is to be 
 met with in those who are most notorious for the 
 laxity of their moral conduct ! The foremost 
 coffin was now within the wicket of the church- 
 yard, when the bearers paused, that the minis- 
 ter might advance as usual, and receive the 
 bodies. 
 
 D 5
 
 .';8 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 A solemn stillness reigned around. Each 
 person bent his ear, and bared his head, expect- 
 ing the commencement of that impressive sen- 
 tence commanded by the ritual. But neither 
 minister, nor clerk was there. This, however, 
 might be accidental, for the former was not 
 over-punctual m such matters. So on they 
 moved towards the grave and laid the coffins 
 down by it. Then collecting in a circle round, 
 some turned their eyes towards the vicarage, and 
 others, peering into the grave, gazed with reve- 
 rential awe upon the rusty coffin handles and 
 relics of decayed mortality which protruded 
 from its crumbling sides. 
 
 Some minutes passed, and there we stood 
 vainly waiting. At length the crowd became 
 impatient, for the rain fell heavily, and a messen- 
 ger was sent to fetch the clergyman ; but still 
 he came not. At last the clerk appeared and 
 said, " Gentlemen, I'm very sorry, but the bodies 
 can't be buried here." 
 
 " Why not ?" exclaimed one of the mourners. 
 
 "Why, because the vicar bid me say he won't 
 perform the burial service."
 
 thp: married ltn.maiiried. 59 
 
 " And why not ?" again demanded several 
 voices, " It's a shame — if s against law !" 
 
 " Because they be dissenters and haven't paid 
 the fees," was the reply. Many of the by- 
 standers being of this persuasion, one of them, 
 the village shoemaker, who was a preacher 
 amongst the methodists, stood forward, and said, 
 " What works are these ? what is your law ? are 
 we to be cast out like devils ? shall the dead 
 bury their dead?" 
 
 " I don't think the vicar means that exactly," 
 rejoined the clerk, simply, " but some one else 
 must, for he says he won't — besides, you know, 
 they never paid the rates, nor fees, nor came to 
 vicar's church, and so they arn't no right to lay 
 in our ground." 
 
 Murmurs and cries of " Shame, shame !" burst 
 forth from all around, whilst some of the more 
 headstrong cried out " Pitch him into the grave ! 
 pitch him in ! — though he don't deserve to lay 
 in christian ground no more nor his master.'' 
 
 Some of the fishermen seemed inclined to 
 execute this threat, but the clerk saved them the 
 trouble, for, as he was about to draw back, his
 
 60 THK MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 foot slipped and he rolled into the grave, at the 
 bottom of which he lay, a piteous figure, covered 
 with mud and earth. Despite of the gravity of 
 the moment, many of the bystanders could not 
 restrain their smiles, and some even cried out, 
 "There's dust to dust for you." 
 
 The same person who spoke before, now stood 
 forward, and raising up his hand to heaven 
 whilst he looked sternly upon the haK-buried 
 clerk, apostrophised him thus — 
 
 " Fie upon thee, fie upon thee, and upon him 
 that sent thee, thou son of Baal — are these the 
 words of grace and charity thou cuUest from the 
 Gospel ? — are we amongst the Pharisees ? 
 think'st thou there is no other road to salvation 
 but through the tithe-man's gate? Have the 
 outcast money-changers set up themselves in 
 the church porch ? Were they excommunicated ? 
 did they lay hands upon themselves, that ye 
 deny them holy ground ? Did they not throw 
 down their precious lives for other men's re- 
 demption ? Would'st thou, or he thou servest go 
 and do hkewise ? Look, look, thou man of stone." 
 
 *' I will, I will, if you will just give me a
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 61 
 
 hand to get out," replied the unfortunate clerk ; 
 " I cannot see a yard before me, down here." 
 
 " Look !" continued the other without heeding 
 him, " look at these shipwrecked men, who now 
 stand here to testify to the sacrifice. Where 
 had these fifty been, had not our three departed 
 brethren, through the mercy of the Lord, gone 
 down to save them from the floods ?" 
 
 " It wasn't my fault as they were drowned, nor 
 the vicar's neither," interrupted the clerk. " In 
 the name of mercy help me out — I be in such a 
 muck !'' 
 
 But the spirit had commenced to work too 
 earnestly upon the shoemaker, so he continued, 
 " You call him vicar — is he a fitting shepherd 
 who forgetteth that we are all sheep of the same 
 fold ? Doth he not know that he who mocketh 
 the poor reproacheth his Maker, and he that 
 is glad at calamities shall not rest unpu- 
 nished." 
 
 "Then, if you be charitable men," exclaimed 
 the clerk, " lift me out of the mire, and I will 
 go to the vicar, and see what I can do for 
 you."
 
 62 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 " Let him refuse his ministry, or not," pro- 
 ceeded the other, " it matters not. These men 
 have entered the kingdom of heaven justified 
 rather than he. Yes," said he, raising up his 
 eyes towards the lowering clouds, a movement 
 mechanically followed by us all — "yes, I see 
 them standing on the right hand of our blessed 
 Redeemer, in the light of grace and heavenly 
 fellowship, with Abraham and the angels. For^ 
 as the blood of them that shed man's blood 
 shall by man's hand be shed, and they shall sink 
 down into everlasting fire — so they that give 
 their lives to ransom other life, shall be redeemed 
 from death, and shall ascend, purified and 
 blessed, and drink for ever the cup of life 
 eternal." 
 
 There is no knowing how long the shoemaker 
 would have continued, for his energy seemed to 
 augment in proportion as he spoke, had not one 
 of the other mourners interrupted him, saying, 
 " Brother — speak not in the ears of a fool, for he 
 will eschew the words of wisdom. Let us help 
 him out of the mire, that he sink not, and let 
 him go with us to him that sent him here : this
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. C3 
 
 abomination must have an end — it's against all 
 law, divine or human. If it is the fees he wants, 
 let us bind ourselves to the child of mammon 
 for the amount." 
 
 " I don't think that an action will he in the 
 ecclesiastical court," observed Mr. Steers, the ex- 
 under-sherifF, who was amongst the spectators, 
 " but, at all events, sue for a monition from the 
 bishop; but I will take good care to send an 
 account of the matter to an acquaintance of 
 mine in London, who furnishes accidents for the 
 morning papers, in the meanwhile I will accom- 
 pany you to the vicar's, and demand an expla- 
 nation." 
 
 This advice was followed, the clerk was raised 
 from his unpleasant situation, and they pro- 
 ceeded on their errand attended by the crowd, 
 who groaned and hissed, as they approached the 
 vicarage. WTiat further passed I know not, for 
 I remained with the widow and her two children 
 near the grave. But it seemed the vicar had 
 consented to perform the duty, for he presently 
 made his appearance in his surplice. As the 
 rain poured down heavily, he placed himself
 
 64 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 beneath the distant porch, and read the service 
 in as hurried and careless a manner, as if he 
 were reading for a wager. 
 
 When he had finished, he walked away, 
 glowering with anger at us all. But no one 
 heeded him — all eyes were turned with pity on 
 the widow, who, when she heard the hollow echo 
 of the stones and earth fall rattling on the 
 coffins, gave one deep groan and fainted — and 
 they bore her home and laid her on the bed, 
 still imprinted with the forms of those she had 
 lost. At length, abundant tears relieved her, 
 and night closed on her bereavement.
 
 THE MARRIED UNMAKllIEI). 65 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The widow thinks that charity should begin at home 
 — I tumble out of the frying-pan into the fire— I 
 appear before the overseer, who is determined to 
 cure my monkey tricks— He administers justice to 
 the parish paupers according to contract— A very 
 Solomon — I am disposed of according to law. 
 
 So soon as the first burst of grief had subsided, 
 the widow found it necessary to settle her af- 
 fairs. Before the business of the rates, we had 
 lived in comfort and comparative luxury; but 
 nevertheless, our existence had always been 
 from hand to mouth, for our means of subsist- 
 ence were solely dependent upon the pilot's 
 earnings, and the exertions of himself and sons, 
 who, with one or two hired hands, were sufficient
 
 66 THE MARRIED UMMARRIED. 
 
 to work the fishing lugger. On examining my 
 foster-father's papers no will was found, nor 
 any ready money, save a few pounds, which 
 were insufficient to cover the funeral expenses 
 and other small debts ; and, as misfortunes never 
 come alone, a notice was received on the day 
 after the funeral that the sum borrowed to pay 
 the costs of the burial must be repaid forthwith. 
 Only two alternatives remained. The one, 
 for the widow to continue the fishing business 
 with a hired crew until the remaining boys 
 were old enough to undertake it themselves, 
 and to endeavour to gain time for refunding the 
 debt ; the other, to sell the vessel and super- 
 fluous household furniture, to apprentice the 
 lads to some trade, and to do as well as she 
 could with the remnant of her property. The 
 widow's two brothers, who had been called in 
 to manage her affairs, agreed that the second 
 alternative was the more prudent. The sale of 
 the furniture and lugger was therefore deter- 
 mined upon, and I was bid to affix the ominous 
 broom at the mast-head, a task I was nothing 
 loath to perform. If I had before entertained
 
 THE MARRIED UN.\fARRlED. 67 
 
 great repugnance to a seafaring-life, I now ab- 
 horred the very sight of a ship. 
 
 These matters took two or three days to de- 
 cide* upon, during which the widow, whose 
 temper seemed completely soured by her mis- 
 fortunes, treated me with much more unkind- 
 ness than before her husband's death. She 
 either took no notice of me, or peevishly re- 
 pulsed my little services ; and when she ob- 
 served the tears chasing each other down my 
 cheeks, and my heart choking with anguish, 
 she bade me not stand blubbering there, but 
 mind my work, and then, when I asked her if 
 I might go to school after I had done, she 
 merely answered, " Who's to pay for it T^ 
 
 On the fourth or fifth day, the brothers, who 
 bore a bad reputation along the coast, and had 
 been more than once in gaol for smuggling and 
 other offences, came again. " We've been 
 thinking this here matter over, sister," said 
 one of them, " and we are going to make you 
 an offer, which we thinks will be more to your 
 advantage than to sell the craft for half her 
 value, mayhap."
 
 68 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 " You've been kind brothers, though you 
 have been a httle wild," rephed the widow, 
 " and no doubt you'll do the best for me and 
 mine/' 
 
 " Yes," observed the other, " though we be 
 likely to run great risks and lose by it, we don't 
 mind that for the sake of you and the chil- 
 dren." 
 
 " No, that we don't," continued the other 
 brother : " so, if you've a mind to make the 
 vessel over to Dick and I, and will 'prentice the 
 lads to us, why, we'll bring 'em up to the trade, 
 and take care on 'em, as thof they were our 
 own; and as for the lawyer's debt and other 
 matters, we'll settle that, so you shaVt have no 
 trouble." 
 
 " And how am I to live ?" demanded the 
 sister, instinctively. 
 
 " Oh, why, you shall have your share of the 
 profits, and be a partner like," rejoined Ri- 
 chard, '* and shall never want, if so be as we 
 have any luck." 
 
 Although it was pretty evident that the two 
 hypocrites wanted to get the lugger, a fast-sail-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 69 
 
 ing craft, into their own hands, and ahhough 
 their characters were so notorious for cruelty and 
 dissoluteness that even the overseers, who were 
 not very tender-hearted, refused to bind any of 
 the parish children to them, the widow, after a 
 little consideration, took the oifer as a great 
 act of kindness, and the bargain was struck. 
 
 This being settled, one of them at length 
 condescended to notice me, saying, " Well, and 
 what are you going to do mth that chap ?" 
 
 " Why, that's what I was a-thinking of," re- 
 plied Mrs. Penguin. 
 
 " I suppose you a'n't such a fool," observed 
 the elder brother, " as to go on feeding and 
 fondling another woman's son, when you haven't 
 bread to give your own ?" 
 
 " No," said the younger, " that's against all 
 nature ; for, though he be your husband's child, 
 as I believes he to be, you a'n't his mother, and 
 he a'n't no more call on you than that ere cur ; 
 why, rd as soon kick one out as the other;" 
 and by way of suiting the action to the word, he 
 applied his foot to my friend Benbow's ribs, in 
 a way perhaps that would have led to serious
 
 70 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 retaliation, if I had not seized the dog by the 
 tail, and soothed his anger. 
 
 " Yes, yes," added the other, '•' I'd turn him 
 over to the workhouse, that's the place for him ; 
 and if the parish won't provide for him, I'll 
 speak to squire's attorney, and he'll make 'em." 
 
 " Well," rejoined the widow, " I always had 
 my misgivings, and often told my husband so ; 
 but it was of no use, so I let the matter rest ; 
 but, as you say, let who will be his mother, I'm 
 not, and it a'n't for me to keep them that be- 
 longs to others." 
 
 " Well, then, I'll go down and speak to the 
 overseer," replied Richard, " he sha'n't be a 
 burden to you long." 
 
 My heart quailed within me at a verdict that 
 condemned me to that miserable receptacle of 
 profligacy, idleness, and sensuality, miscalled 
 the workhouse ; but I had little time for reflec- 
 tion ; for the elder brother, who had taken pos- 
 session of the barometer, a handsome box com- 
 pass, a rich boatswain's whistle, a hanger, and 
 one or two other articles of value, which were 
 deposited in a little cupboard, called me to
 
 THE 31AKR1ED UNMARRIED. 71 
 
 him, saying, " Here, you Jack, heave a-head, 
 you lubber, and take these here things, what 
 poor Penguin gave me as a Christmas-box the 
 night afore the wreck, and hand them over to 
 my missis, — do you hear?" 
 
 I did hear, and heard a most confounded 
 falsehood to boot. For it so happened that on 
 Christmas Eve the pilot told his sons, in my 
 presence, that these very articles w^ere the gift 
 of a captain with whom he had long sailed as 
 boatswain, and that he would not part with 
 them for love or money as long as he lived, and 
 that when he died they should be divided 
 amongst his children, except his silver whistle, 
 and that was to be my property. Besides I 
 knew that he could not abide his brothers-in- 
 law — not because they might have run a few 
 tubs of Hollands, but on account of their profli- 
 gate conduct, which brought disgrace upon his 
 family, and because they had often acted as 
 crimps to the pressgangs, and had got many a 
 poor fellow carried off to serve on board a man- 
 of-war, leaving their wives and children desti- 
 tute upon the parish. So 1 stood still, regard
 
 i'l THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 ing him with all the contempt and hatred I 
 could muster. 
 
 " Come," exclaimed he, scowling as if he, 
 would have withered me with a look — " Come, 
 I say, don't stand yawing there like the figure- 
 head on a dutch schuyt — bear a hand, you son 
 of a dirty drab.' 
 
 The last words were no sooner out of his 
 mouth, than forgetting his strength and size, I 
 let drive at his stomach with all the force of 
 which my puny arm was capable, and then darting 
 at the hand he raised to strike me, I seized it 
 between my teeth, and gave him a bite that 
 made the water come into his eyes. However, 
 he ■ vigorously returned the compliment, and 
 sent me reeling under the grate. Then taking 
 a rope's end that lay on the floor, he belaboured 
 me until I was as black and blue as the mottled 
 cover of a copybook. But instead of crying or 
 begging for m^ercy, I drew out the hot poker 
 which protruded from the fire, just above my 
 head, and swung it across his shins — an opera- 
 tion that sent him hopping and growhng round 
 the room like a bear learning to dance. Upon
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 73 
 
 this, up comes the other brother, and the brute, 
 in his fury, kicked me in the ribs and on the 
 temple, and stunned me : not, however, before I 
 saw Benbow spring hke an arrow over the table 
 and fly at his throat. 
 
 When I recovered my senses I found myself 
 lying upon a bundle of nets in the corner, my 
 clothes covered with blood, my head bandaged 
 up, poor Benbow quivering in the agonies of 
 death, and the broken poker lying by his side 
 It appeared, the generous beast, who had stood 
 for awhile with bristles erect, eyes glowing, and 
 mouth curled, showing his long fangs, no 
 sooner saw his former aggressor fall upon me, 
 than he bounded to the rescue, and would have 
 avenged his own and my cause, had not the 
 other brother seized the poker, and with too 
 true an aim laid the poor brute at his feet. 
 When I raised myself, all the consolation I got 
 from the widow was, that I had met with my 
 deserts, and that it was a pity her husband had 
 not given me monkey's allowance, instead of 
 encouraging me to mock and strike my betters 
 — who, by-the-bye, if she meant her brothers, 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 were both gone, and the barometer and other 
 articles with them. I have said that I never 
 could love this woman as my mother — hence- 
 forth I hated her worse than I did the squire 
 or the vicar, and made up my mind to run away 
 and enlist as a drummer, sooner than stay with 
 her. Even the workhouse seemed preferable to 
 the fellowship of such hard hearts. 
 
 As soon as I was able to crawl out, I took 
 poor Benbow in my arms and buried him in the 
 garden, and was returning sorrowfully to bed for 
 the last time, as I intended, under that roof, 
 when we were surprised by a visit from the old 
 lawyer and his two sisters, to whose kindness 
 I had been indebted for buns and cider on 
 Sundays. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Penguin," said the former, 
 " I'm sorry to find that you are going to give 
 up your worthy husband's business : could not 
 this have been managed otherwise ?" 
 
 " Not conveniently, sir," answered the widow : 
 " all poor James had died with him, and he has 
 left nothing but these two poor boys and the 
 lugger, which I've made over to my brothers.
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 75 
 
 and I'm to be partner with them like ; they to 
 pay all debts, and I share profits." 
 
 " Your brothers, eh ! hem !" said Mr. Steers 
 significantly. 
 
 " Yes, sir, though people do speak ill of 
 them, theyVe always been good and true to 
 me." 
 
 *• Well, well, that's your look out ; but what 
 is to become of your boys ?" 
 
 " Fve 'prenticed them to their uncles, sir, 
 and Jack there must go upon parish. I 
 can't afford to keep other folks' children any 
 longer." 
 
 " Dear me !" exclaimed one of the sisters, 
 who now perceived me sitting in the dark 
 corner, " poor lad ! he is bruised and wounded 
 — what ails you, child?" 
 
 " O ma'am," said I, bursting into tears at 
 these the first words of kindness that I had 
 heard since Christmas evening, " they told lies, 
 and they killed the only friend I had, and I 
 buried him in the garden." 
 
 " Killed !" exclaimed the two ladies ; " what, 
 committed murder?" and they both trembled 
 from head to foot e 2
 
 76 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 " Buried in the garden !" echoed their bro_ 
 ther. " Jane, fetch the constables whilst I stay 
 here to see no one escapes. Who have they 
 killed? who are the murderers?" said he, seiz- 
 ing me by the collar. 
 
 " Dame Penguin's brothers," answered I. 
 
 " Hold your impudent tongue, Jack," ex- 
 claimed the widow, interrupting me ; " it's 
 nothing, miss, only Jack struck my brother with 
 •a poker, and Richard boxed his ears, and killed 
 the dog for flying at him." 
 
 "As to the dog," replied the sister, " it does 
 not so much matter, as he always worried my 
 cat ; but, dear me, I wish I had brought a bot- 
 tle of my green oil, it is an infallible remedy 
 for bruises. Poor child ! why he is covered with 
 blood." 
 
 " O miss, it's nothing only his nose," answered 
 Mrs. Penguin. 
 
 " Do you call that nothing?" demanded the 
 lawyer. " Egad, I shall look to this matter ; I 
 don't know but what the boy might recover 
 heavy damages." 
 
 " O sir, he deserves it— he'll never turn to no
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 77 
 
 good," replied the widow. " It is he that got 
 us into trouble with squire and vicar by playing 
 such audacious pranks, and I wish the day had 
 never been when my husband went and fetched 
 him. 1 told James he'd get no good by father- 
 ing other women's unlawsome brats ;" and then 
 she began to cry bitterly. 
 
 " Come, com€, my good dame," said the 
 lawyer — " I think you are rather hard upon the 
 poor boy. I never heard any ill of him ; and as 
 for a jibe or two at the squire and vicar" s ex- 
 pense, there's no great harm in that ; besides, 
 your husband loved him as his own child." 
 
 " And more's the shame, sir, for folks say 
 that James was his own father like," retorted 
 the other, peevishly ; — " but he's not my son — 
 and you'd think it hard, miss, to be forced to 
 be mother to what arn't your own, and that, 
 miss, when we must sell one's little all to buy 
 bread." 
 
 " Poor lad !" ejaculated Miss Steers, who 
 had a compassionate heart, and had once been 
 in love with a Captain of Militia, who died
 
 78 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 through getting wet feet at a review ; " I never 
 shall forget his noble behaviour in throwing 
 himself into the sea to save my Minna. If," — 
 and here she sighed, thinking, no doubt, of the 
 captain — " If I were a mother, I should be 
 proud to have such a brave boy." 
 
 " That may be, miss, but, as I said before, 
 Jack must go upon parish ; there's no law can 
 force me to keep what arn't my own." 
 
 " O," said I, taking one of the ladies by the 
 hand, " save me, miss, from the workhouse. It 
 is not my fault that I am a poor orphan. I'll 
 slave for you, work for you — I'll do anything 
 sooner than go there." And here my sobs 
 almost choked me. 
 
 " There, there, my good lad !" said the law- 
 yer, soothingly — " do not be alarmed : we'll see 
 what can be done. Pray,'' continued he, ad- 
 dressing Dame Penguin, " has the child no 
 friends ? know you anything about him ?" 
 
 " No, sir, I neither know what he is nor 
 whence he came. My husband did, of course ; 
 but although I often asked and taxed him with
 
 THE MARRIED UNMAllllIED. 79 
 
 being the father, and spoiling him, and putting 
 him over the heads of his own children, he 
 either bid me ask no questions or told me I was 
 a fool for being jealous ; ' and besides,"* said he, 
 ' if the boy be my son, it's my duty to provide 
 for, and not desert him, as many great folk do, 
 with their children.' " 
 
 " But whence did your husband bring him ? 
 have you no clue to that ?" 
 
 " None, sir." 
 
 " How did he come into your hands ?" 
 
 " Why, it was about nine years past, this 
 January," replied the widow, " that my husband 
 got a letter by the post, and when he read it, 
 he walked up and down the room, and wiped a 
 tear from his eye, and muttered to himself, and 
 then exclaimed, « Poor fellow ! that I will, so 
 long as 1 have a crust myself ;' and then he 
 told me he was going a long journey, and should 
 bring me back a present that I did not expect : 
 and he wouldn't say more ; but he got his best 
 clothes ready, as if for a christening, and off he 
 went by the Exeter coach, and in ten days came 
 back and brought that child, who was then
 
 80 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 about three years old. I won't say I was not 
 jealous and cried, but he soothed me, and said 
 it was an orphan left to his care, and that he 
 had sworn to protect it as thof it were his 
 own." 
 
 I listened to this feeble glimmering of my 
 history with breathless eagerness, as she con- 
 tinued, " Well, I saw it was of no use to say a 
 word, though I didn't believe him, and thinks 
 to this day that it a'n't as it should be." 
 
 " Perhaps not, perhaps not," replied the 
 lawyer ; " but did he bring no clothes, no linen, 
 — how was the child dressed?" 
 
 " As other middling folks' children are, sir ; 
 but what he had on w^as new, and clean." 
 
 " And what name did he go by ?" 
 
 " Why, my husband said his name was Pere- 
 grine, but as that was outlandish-like, he called 
 him Jack." 
 
 " Peregrine ! that's by no means a common 
 appellation." 
 
 " Brother," exclaimed old Miss Lucy, " had 
 he no surname ?" 
 
 " None, miss, that I know of, for he always
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. ttl 
 
 went by ours ; and that confirmed me in the 
 thought that he was James'^s own." 
 
 " Is that all you can tell me ?" asked the 
 lawyer. 
 
 " All, sir, except that once a twelvemonth, 
 soon after new year, my husband went to 
 doctor's, and took Jack with him, and I believe 
 got some paper signed, and then he went away 
 for a few days, as he said, to get his pension ; 
 but I could not learn where, except to Exeter, 
 and I did not ask questions, and Td no right 
 to complain, for he always brought me home 
 some little present." 
 
 " 1 hope no more such as he promised you 
 the first time," observed the lawyer, smiling. 
 
 " No, sir, thank God ; one was one too many 
 of that kind." 
 
 " Did he appear to have more money than 
 usual when he returned?" continued the other, 
 contracting his brow and pursing up his mouth, 
 signifying as if he had hit upon a luminous 
 thought. 
 
 " No, sir, only his pension, which was a great 
 help to us poor people." 
 
 E 5
 
 8*2 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 " I see through the whole affair,"' observed 
 the lawyer, " it is as clear as day — that child 
 was not your husband's." 
 
 " May be, may be, sir," rejoined the widow; 
 " but he would not have sent him to school, 
 and done so much for him if he was not; but 
 there are some people who take more to these 
 here love-children, as they call them, than those 
 of their own lawful wives," — and she again fell to 
 crying. 
 
 " O no, no ; it's as plain as judgment by de- 
 fault. I know why he made these annual jour- 
 neys, — yes, yes ; and then, by-the-bye, though 
 Penguin and all your family are dissenters, 
 Peregrine was made to attend the parish church, 
 was he not ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Hem," said he, musing awhile. " Now, my 
 frood dame, it is near the time your husband 
 made his annual journeys for his pension, — let 
 me ad\dse you to wait awhile, and not turn the 
 poor child adrift. Take my word, you'll hear 
 more about this business, and be rewarded for 
 your pains ; and, mind ye, tell your brothers to
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 83 
 
 be careful — a little more, and it would have 
 been both boy and dog : a slice of bread or two 
 cannot much hurt you, and may return upon 
 you tenfold." 
 
 " O sir, a dozen loaves were nothing to us 
 before my misfortune ; but now I can't afford it 
 at home, nor pay for his keep elsewhere. There's 
 my own boys must starve if I do ; and I'm their 
 mother, and not his, and nobody can make me 
 take care of what is another's." 
 
 " Well, well, my good woman, I don't pre- 
 tend to force you : all I ask is a little patience 
 and charity." 
 
 " Patience, sir ! I've had to bear with it long 
 enough already," replied the widow, w ho seemed 
 to have set her heart on getting rid of me; 
 " and as to charity, sir, that begins at home ; 
 if you will speak to my brothers, and if they'll 
 consent to take him in— then, may be, it may 
 be arranged — that is, if you and the ladies will 
 pay for his keep." 
 
 This latter was an argument ad liomhiettL 
 that the worthy lawyer and his sisters were not 
 prepared for, so he said, " Why you know, my
 
 84 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 good dame, I am ready to give away as much 
 as any one in charity ; but as for my supporting 
 the child, that's quite out of the question." 
 
 " If your poor husband could look up from 
 his grave," observed Miss Jane, " what would 
 be his feelings, if you were to reject this orphan, 
 whom he loved so much ?" 
 
 " Why, miss, as he is with God Almighty in 
 heaven, he knows that I must sell my all to 
 feed his own children ; but I can't indeed, sir. 
 My brothers are gone to the governor's, and, 
 unless the parish or some one else chooses to 
 make an allowance, he must go to the work- 
 house/' 
 
 My bruised body and throbbing head remind- 
 ed me of what I was to expect from the widow's 
 brothers, and I shuddered at the idea of being 
 delivered into their hands. Of the two alterna- 
 tives, even the hateful workhouse w^as the less 
 terrible ; so I said, sobbing, " O sir, don't give 
 me over to Bob and Richard, they'll kill me as 
 they did poor Benbow. Take me with you, 
 and put me in the workhouse, but don't let me 
 go to them."
 
 THE MARKIED UNMARRIED. 85 
 
 " Poor child," said Miss Jane ; " it's a hard 
 case, brother ; let us see what can be done : 
 you know he risked his own life to save poor 
 Minna." 
 
 The other sister now addressed the widow, 
 saying, " I'm not going to preach to you, Mrs. 
 Penguin, but I'm sure that He who watches over 
 the fatherless, will reward you if you are kind 
 to this orphan ; you will not repent sheltering 
 the houseless or feeding the hungry ; the scrip- 
 ture tells us that the mite of the widow is more 
 acceptable in God's eyes than the rich man's 
 gold," — and then taking their leave, they told 
 me to " keep up my spirits, be a good boy, and 
 God would not desert me." 
 
 On the following day, the brothers again re- 
 turned, and informed the widow that they had 
 settled the matter with Mr. Stubbles the go- 
 vernor, and that I must go before him to get an 
 order for admission. My fate was sealed. The 
 workhouse was before me with all its degrading 
 miseries ; but that seemed preferable to remain- 
 ing under the tyranny of the two smugglers. 
 Having dressed me in the worst clothes they
 
 86 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 could find, for they said it would be waste for 
 me to wear good things, they marched me off 
 to the house of the pauper potentate, a snug 
 abode, which showed by its air of ease and 
 abundance that, if he executed his duty in giv- 
 ing meat to the poor, he took good care to re- 
 tain the marrow for himself. This individual 
 was in fact the type of too many of those per- 
 sons, who, from the negligence of parishioners 
 or their own cunning, obtain the guardianship 
 of the pauper population, and thus hold almost 
 uncontrolled power over the sums collected for 
 the gluttonous support of these lepers of so- 
 ciety, who (in virtue of that system which has 
 been justly designated as a premium to the in- 
 dependent labourer to become a pauper, and an 
 inducement to the lazy pauper to renounce for 
 ever his independence,) are permitted to fatten 
 upon the industry and economy of the rate- 
 payers. 
 
 It being parish day, we had to wait our turn 
 in Stubbles' passage, who represented, it ap- 
 peared, the whole parochial authorities, uniting 
 in his own person the functions of workhouse
 
 THE .MARRIED UNMARRIED. 87 
 
 governor, overseer, churchwarden, collector of 
 rates, tithe-man, and contractor for the poor, 
 besides being baker, brewer, grocer, haber- 
 dasher, slop seller, and general dealer : in short, 
 he was a kind of parochial pluralist, as multifa- 
 rious in his avocations as Caleb Quotem, that is, 
 in all but the matter of teaching little boys, 
 though I soon found he had no objection to the 
 whipping them. His principles in regard to 
 diffusion of knowledge were worthy of his pa- 
 trons the squire and \icar, for there was not a 
 single child under his control that could read or 
 write, an ignorance of which he expressed him- 
 self extremely proud, as he said it prevented 
 the young vermin from scoring nastiness on the 
 walls, and from wasting the parish candles in 
 smoking their names upon the workhouse ciel- 
 ing. 
 
 As we stood at the entry, I watched with 
 mixed feelings of fear and curiosity the scene 
 that was passing, and the manner in which 
 Stubbles listened to the complaints and meted 
 out justice to the groups of claimants who came 
 for relief. His face and figure, as well as his
 
 88 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 proceedings, made a deep impression upon me. 
 He was a short, bull-necked man, with a fat 
 stomach, coarse bloated features, and a cluster 
 of double chins that gave his head the appear- 
 ance of one of those projecting turrets that hang 
 over the ditches of ancient fortresses. His two 
 grey eyes, twinkling with a rare expression of 
 avarice and its twin sister selfishness, were 
 shaded by a pair of large sandy-coloured brows, 
 and these were again surmounted with a small, 
 brown, scratch wig, the front part of which, or 
 rather the bare skin beneath, he continually 
 raked with one set of fingers, whilst he buried 
 the other in the voluminous pocket of his plush 
 waistcoat, as he issued his mandates to the ap- 
 plicants. He did not appear to trouble himself 
 much with the accounts, for at his side sat an 
 amanuensis, in the shape of his daughter, a fat, 
 flippant, blousy girl, with a snub nose, thick 
 lips, a greasy complexion, and a pair of glim- 
 mering eyes, like those of her parent. What 
 her dress was I could not see, for it was con- 
 cealed by a brown holland pinafore, which hung 
 loosely over her person, augmenting the protu-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 89 
 
 berant luxuriance of forms that nature seemed 
 labouring to magnify from mole-hills into moun- 
 tains. In the corner of the room was a sort of 
 old-fashioned piano, or rather spinette, on which 
 was a greasy music book, two or three still 
 more unctuous novels, (as she had been " he- 
 dicated at an establishment for young ladies,") 
 a tortoiseshell workbox, and some specimens of 
 the skill of the French prisoners, in the shape 
 of a bone guillotine and a box of dominoes. 
 Over this hung a profile of her own face, like a 
 black currant dumpling cut out of paper ; and 
 as a pendent, there was a sampler of marking- 
 letters, and the Lord's prayer done in party- 
 coloured threads. On the ink-stained table be- 
 fore this pride of the harem, was placed a 
 large ledger, in which she kept the parish ac- 
 counts and memoranda, in a scrawl that bore 
 more resemblance to algebraical signs or hiero- 
 glyphics than to Latin text. I was examining 
 these things when Mr. Stubbles exclaimed, 
 " Silence out there ; let them as wants relief 
 step forward one arter another."
 
 90 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 One of the first claimants who advanced, was 
 a still-blooming peasant girl, not more than 
 twenty years of age, with two fine children by 
 her side, who came to ask relief in right of a 
 third illegitimate infant, which she held in her 
 arms ; her air of boldness and indifference 
 strongly contrasting with her handsome features 
 and the noble outline of her person, which was 
 remarkable for its symmetry, even in despite of 
 the tattered and slatternly rags which dangled 
 loosely upon her. 
 
 " What ! you here again, Molly Garlock," 
 said the overseer, " the old story, eh ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied the girl, " it's a misfor- 
 tune." 
 
 " Why, you told me last time that you'd take 
 care and not be unfortunate again ; why, who's 
 thefather of this?" 
 
 " He a'n't got none, sir, more's the bad luck," 
 answered Molly. 
 
 " Not got one ! then you must find one," ex- 
 claimed Stubbles, " that's law." 
 
 " I knows it be, sir," rejoined the applicant, 
 " and I did, and went, and swore against Tim
 
 THE MARRIED UxVMARRIED. 91 
 
 Pilchard afore the magistrate, but the press- 
 gang came afore they made the warrant out, 
 and carried him off, and they would not let me 
 swear to another." 
 
 The wretched baby now began to screech 
 most lustily. 
 
 " Hush, hush !"' said the girl, uncovering her 
 snowy neck, " there, there, I give you the best 
 I can, and no mother can't do more." 
 
 " Why did you not fix upon some one who 
 you could have made sure of ? this is always 
 the way with you girls, and then you comes 
 slap on the parish ; that's law, I know, but — " 
 
 " Why, if I had fixed upon the right one,' 
 said Molly with a cunning nod, " you'd not have 
 been over pleased at it, Master Stubbles." 
 
 " What do you mean, you baggage ?" exclaim- 
 ed the overseer ; " I " 
 
 " No, not you, sure enough," rephed the 
 girl, eyeing the flabby porpoise before her with 
 a sort of disdainful smile, " not you, but," added 
 she in a whisper, "your son and you be all one, 
 and he's the right one. There, miss," she con- 
 tinued, holding up the baby, " if it a'n't as like
 
 92 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 Master Simon as two pins' heads, then my 
 name a'n't Mary Garlock : ask any of them that 
 sees it." 
 
 " Come, wench," said the overseer, not over 
 desirous of a reference, " you need not make 
 such a rumpus — I'm ready to do all I can for 
 you." 
 
 " You must," said the girl doggedly. " I 
 knows the law ; and if I don't get a good allow- 
 ance, I'll let all the world know^ the whole 
 truth." 
 
 " Then they'll indict you for perjury, and 
 send you to gaol — that's law." 
 
 " No they won't," retorted she, " for what 
 use would that do them ? they must keep us 
 there as well as here, and they live better down 
 at jail that we do that has our liberty ; there's 
 many poor folks that wish they were in jail this 
 hard winter-time." 
 
 " Well, put down half-a-crown," said the 
 overseer, " that's liberal." 
 
 " I won't take less than three-and-sixpence," 
 retorted the other. 
 
 " The devil's in the wench," exclaimed Stub-
 
 THE MARRIED UK MARRIED. 93 
 
 bles ; " but parish pays, so you must have it, I 
 suppose, but only take my advice, Molly, and 
 get a husband ; — why, with three children and 
 nine shillings a week allowance, you'd be a for- 
 tune to many an honest man — and that's law/' 
 
 " Mayhap I may, sir, now as I can do it 
 comfortably," rephed she, as she joined a strap- 
 ping-looking peasant lad outside, who had been 
 watching the whole proceedings with great 
 anxiety. And she was true to her word. In 
 less than three weeks, she was made an honest 
 woman, and the proprietor of an income of 
 twenty- three pounds a-year, levied upon the 
 parish as the reward of her immorality and her 
 husband's own base speculation. 
 
 Another group now presented themselves. 
 This consisted of three or four old women, who 
 advanced curtseying, mumbling, and nudging 
 each other forward, doubtful which should act 
 as orator. 
 
 " What the deuce do you want, Martha 
 Rickets ?" said Mr. Stubbles, addressing the 
 foremost crone ; " you're always grumbling." 
 
 '' Only when I has my reasons and a'n't my
 
 94 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 rights," retorted Martha; " I be come to say, 
 that we a'n't properly treated down at work'us." 
 
 " Not properly treated !" ejaculated the over- 
 seer ; " why, don't you get the best of every- 
 thmg?" 
 
 " No, sir, that's what we has to complain on." 
 
 " No ! haven't you four good meals a day ? 
 haven't you good fires, the best wallsend, and 
 good beds, feather-beds, all for nothing and no 
 work?— and a'n't you better oiF than many 
 what labours for their bread ?" 
 
 " Why, God be praised for all his mercies," 
 answered the dame, " we be putty comfortable 
 in our old age, and a'n't much to do for it, 
 only we wishes to have a little sugar with our 
 tea like. It's hard upon such poor, worn-out 
 creturs, what's been in work'us for twenty years, 
 to be obliged to drink our tea without sugar; 
 and the tea a n't as good as it was afore the 
 war— it's all birch-dust like; and then," con- 
 tinued she with increased volubility, " there's 
 the bread a'n't of the very best wheat, you 
 know. Says I to Janet Biggs, the night afore 
 new year, Dame Biggs, says I "
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 95 
 
 " You did," exclaimed old mother Janet, " I'll 
 take my bible oath on it." 
 
 " Says I, Dame Biggs, this here bread's two 
 days old, and it's quite a martyrship for us poor 
 old bodies, which a'n't got no teeth left, to be 
 obligated to eat stale bread." 
 
 " I broke my best double tooth on it, as 
 God's my witness," said a third crone, opening 
 wide her shrivelled jaws and showing the dark 
 havoc that time had inflicted upon her man- 
 dibles. 
 
 " And then," proceeded Martha, " the beer 
 a'n't good and strong, it's quite small, swipes 
 like, and aVt wholesome for us poor old bodies; 
 if s quite gripsome like ;" — here she dipped her 
 finger into the horn box of Mrs. Biggs, and, 
 having taken a stimulating pinch, and smoothed 
 down her apron, continued, — " and if so be as 
 we might be so bold, we should like a crumb 
 of backy like, we poor destitute creturs wants 
 a little comfort for our poor souls: and then, 
 sir, there's them two gurls, what acts as ser- 
 vants according to contract, them's always a 
 courting with the lads, and never puts the
 
 96 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 kettle OD for our tea, and never makes our beds 
 comfortable." 
 
 " Why, Martha Rickets !" exclaimed Stub- 
 bles, out of all patience at this catalogue of 
 grievances, " why, them be all luxuries that's 
 only fit for lords and members of parliament. 
 Why, I brews the beer myself, and there a'n't 
 better malt nor hops in all Devon, and that's 
 contract and law." 
 
 "May be, sir," retorted Martha; "but it 
 don't gripe us never the less for all that." 
 
 " Nor us neither," said a sleek, overfed, pea- 
 sant lad, who now poked himself forward ; " it's 
 like varjice ; and zur, Pve got a complaint, and 
 I be zpokesman for these here poor men," 
 pointing to three or four lazy, chubby yokels 
 who stood close at his heels. 
 
 " Well, and, what be it ?" demanded Stubbles : 
 " you can't complain o' starving ; why, you be 
 so full you can't hardly breathe, and a'n't done 
 a spit of work these six months." 
 
 " That a'n't neither here nor there," replied 
 the peasant. " According to contract, parish 
 be bound to furnish we poor creturs with good
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 97 
 
 roast beef, and good plum-pudding on Christ- 
 mas-day, and all I a got to say is, that the beef 
 warn't good, but bull beef as lean and tough as 
 ould Giles Sexton's body, without never a mos- 
 sil of fat on it ; and there warn't no plums in 
 the pudding, only a few currants like. And 
 the chiz we gets be full o' great walloping mag- 
 gits as you might bait a fish-hook with ; and 
 since Tve been in work'us, we ar'n't had no fish, 
 nor green peas, and poor ould father's wig be 
 worn out, and he must have a new un — that's 
 contract." 
 
 " Why, you'll not be content until parish fur- 
 nishes you with new hands and bodies too, I 
 take it," said Stubbles, interrupting him ; "you'd 
 grumble though squire giv'd you a buck and a 
 barrel of strong beer every day : you've the best 
 articles my shop affords, and there's no better 
 in all Devon." 
 
 " Yes, papar," exclaimed Miss Stubbles, "and 
 you quite lose by your fillantrepics, — I can 
 prove it by ledger. They'll expect soon to lay 
 down on their backs, and have their mouths 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 crammed with saucingers, just as the king and 
 queen of the Skimmaus does."" 
 
 " YouVe right, Sally,"" rejoined the father ; 
 " they're a set of the ungratefullest fellows I 
 ever heard on. There's many an honest man 
 that works hard for his livelihood that would be 
 glad to get the vittels that they turn up their 
 noses at. They may think 'emselves lucky as 
 they've got a hoverseer what has the interest of 
 the poor at heart — and that's law." 
 
 " Well, well,'' returned the peasant ; " all we 
 wants be our rights, and what we be 'titled to ac- 
 cording to contract ; and if we can't get it, we'll 
 appeal to zessions, as Thomas said. We knows 
 how the land lies — and that's flat." 
 
 Stubbles, who had httle inclination to have 
 his proceedings investigated by the bench, now 
 softened down, saying, " I never want to refuse 
 no poor man his just rights — and that's law. 
 I'll see what's to be done to make you comfort- 
 able ; but I will say this, that there ar'n't a pa- 
 rish in all England where the poor lives on the 
 fat of the land as you do— and that's my ver- 
 dict."
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 99 
 
 It was now our turn to be examined, and so 
 I was pushed forward with an encouraging poke 
 in the back from the knee of the widow's elder 
 brother, and placed opposite Mr. Stubbles, who 
 forthwith exclaimed, " What ! that's the chap, is 
 it ? I know the young dog : we'll cure his 
 monkey tricks." 
 
 " Yes, your honour," answered Richard, who 
 acted as interpreter to his sister, " we wants 
 to get rid on him: sister can't afford to keep 
 other folks' children, and so he must go to 
 work'us." 
 
 Stubbles, who never for a moment lost sight of 
 his own interest, observed, " You're right, it's 
 law, and there arn't no gainsaying that. But 
 don't you think, Dick, that if I were to make 
 you an allowance o' money you might keep him, 
 and you could take it out in slops or what not, 
 at my shop ?" 
 
 " Thank ye, thank ye, sir," replied the other 
 who was quite as deep as Mr. Stubbles, " Sister 
 says she won't have anything to do with him ; 
 and we have scarce room in our cottage for the 
 other boys, what she has 'prenticed to me." 
 
 f2
 
 100 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 " The devil she has !" exclaimed the over- 
 seer, who seemed surprised at the widow's 
 placing her sons in such hands. " Well, you 
 must do as you like. The lad's got a settle- 
 ment, and so we can't refuse to take him in. I 
 only spoke for your good." And then he added 
 in a half whisper, " You might keep him as 
 short and thrash him as long as you pleased, 
 and have the value of the allowance in the 
 hest of everything, and neither of us be none 
 the worse." 
 
 The smuggler seemed to be wavering, and 
 turned to his sister, but she had evidently 
 resolved to get rid of me at any rate, for she 
 immediately answered, " Much obliged to you, 
 sir, all the same, but I have made up my mind, 
 and there's an end on it. I won't keep him a 
 day longer. I have had trouble enough al- 
 ready with his doings, and will stick by the 
 law." 
 
 I stood by, mute but resigned ; for I had also 
 made up my mind to escape the first oppor- 
 tunity ; besides, the account I had heard of 
 plum-pudding and other dainties had consider-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 101 
 
 ably diminished my horror of the workhouse: 
 whilst Mr. Stubbles' benevolent proposition to 
 thrash me ad lihitiim had augmented my dread 
 of remaining with the widow. 
 
 " Well, dame,'^ said the overseer, after a pause, 
 " there's no gainsaying law. Sally, make out 
 the order to the assistant : and, Richard, you 
 go down and take him, and tell 'em to set him 
 to work. There be plenty of his feather to 
 keep him company." 
 
 This being settled, the widow took her 
 departure, scarcely looking at me, and her 
 brother, putting on his hat, and whispering 
 to Stubbles about a fair wind, dark night, 
 tobacco and Hollands, pushed me before him as 
 he would a calf to the slaughter-house.
 
 102 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Monkey's allowance — Murder most foul and dread — 
 Misfortune brings one acquainted with strange bed- 
 fellows — One good turn deserves another — I saved a 
 cat, the cat saves me — A change comes o'er the 
 spirit of my dream. 
 
 We were not long before we reached my des- 
 tined home— a great red brick building, distin- 
 guished from every other in the parish by its 
 solitary situation in an obscure lane ; the 
 surrounding fences trodden down; its walls 
 dingy and creviced; its doors paintless and 
 notched ; its broken panes stuffed with rags or 
 replaced with paper; three or four pigs grub- 
 bing in what was intended for a garden ; and its
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 103 
 
 whole exterior presenting an air of desolateness 
 and disorder essentially typical of the slothful 
 life of its degraded tenants. 
 
 After a short dialogue between Richard and 
 the assistant, I was duly made over to the latter, 
 who, taking me by the shoulder and poking me 
 through a dark passage into the back yard, 
 placed a bundle of flax and a bat in my hand, 
 and bade me set to work with several other 
 tattered boys, who were occupied under a shed. 
 Though my lieart was almost bursting with 
 emotion, I managed to gulp down my tears, and 
 obeyed. But no sooner had the Cerberus 
 turned his back and locked the door, than my 
 companions threw down their work, and gather- 
 ing round me, demanded their footing, which 
 they succeeded in obtaining, because I lost mine 
 in the scuffle, and with it my only treasure— a 
 few halfpence. They then set to play at pitch 
 and hustle with the copper they had wrenched 
 from me, swearing and blaspheming after a 
 horrid manner, as they accused each other of 
 cheating, or as they fought to prove their inno- 
 cence, telling me the while, that if I 'peached,
 
 104 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 they would serve it out to me properly. At 
 length, it being nearly dark, a bell rang, the 
 door was unlocked, and we were allowed to 
 enter the common room, where the inmates 
 of all sexes were assembled near the fire, aw ait- 
 ing their evening meal. 
 
 Accustomed as I had been to the neatness 
 and decency of the pilot's abode, I looked with 
 disgust upon the scene before me, and although 
 I was not over nice, the foul odour of tobacco 
 and the unwholesomeness of the air almost 
 stifled me. The walls and ceilings, denuded of 
 colour and plaister, were smeared with smoke 
 and stains. Upon a large deal table, notched 
 and greasy, stood an iron candlestick, in which 
 a flaring rushlight streamed away in yellow 
 gutters. By its flickering light two of the 
 morning's complainants were playing at cards, 
 whilst the assistant overseer sat close by, with 
 his arm round the waist of a buxom wench, who 
 leaned on her two elbows, watching the game. 
 A broken cuckoo clock, which, by a singular 
 coincidence, always pointed to mealtimes, occu- 
 pied one corner, and at the end of the chamber
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 105 
 
 was a large open stove, fenced round by four or 
 five unwashed benches and rickety settles 
 whilst the brick floor was strewed with nut- 
 shells, potatoe-peelings, and fragments of bones, 
 from which a poaching-looking lurcher was ex- 
 tracting a supper. 
 
 Upon one side sat five or six decrepit old 
 paupers, who had lived upon the parish bounty 
 for a quarter of a century. Some blind or 
 blear-eyed, some deaf, all tormented with asth- 
 matic and weezing coughs. There they squat- 
 ted, motionless and melancholy, as if they had 
 been moulded of burned clay ; one or two 
 warming their shrivelled, bony hands, as lost in 
 vacancy they watched the crumbhng embers; 
 others muttering and mumbling, between the 
 intervals of their cough, about hard times anrl 
 worse " wittels," regardless of another old 
 creature, who, with his nose pinched by a pair 
 of dim spectacles and his trembling finger 
 pointing to the words of a book, as if to guide 
 his failing sight, was ejaculating aloud the con- 
 tents of a tract — the only approach, by-the-bye, 
 to religion which I heard in that place. Oppo- 
 
 F 5
 
 106 THE MAKRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 site to these was Dame Rickets and her aged 
 companions, making an effort to darn worsted 
 stockings, and recounting their morning's prowess 
 at the overseer's to some younger females, who 
 were nursing their infants. Intermingled with 
 the latter were several able-bodied labourers, 
 who were regaling them with coarse jokes, or 
 narrating their adventures in the encounters 
 they had had with the squire's keepers or the 
 revenue oflBcers, in their poaching or smugghng 
 expeditions. 
 
 I had not tasted food since daybreak, and 
 however much people may talk of great grief 
 being mute, I found that mine was by no means 
 inclined to silence ; for my stomach not only 
 began to call out lustily for food, but to prick 
 up its ears in despite of the proverb. Nor was 
 I singular in this yearning, for scarcely had the 
 clock struck the hour of meal time, ere the 
 paupers began to grumble in chorus at their 
 supper not being forthcoming, and the bloated, 
 sturdy fellow w ho had enacted spokesman at the 
 overseer's exclaimed, " Dang me if I don't 
 appeal to zessions. They keeps us out of our
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 107 
 
 dues as long as they can, and when they does 
 come they bean't fit for christians." 
 
 " You be right, Jem," echoed another athletic 
 labourer with a detestable expression of counte- 
 nance, who went by the name of Tinker Sam, 
 " you be right, lad. Look'y here. I knows 
 what our dues be as well as ony parliament 
 mon. There was a jemman from Lunnun, 
 what I met up at Taanton 'lection, what zaid he 
 came to zpeak the truth and open the people's 
 eyes for the good of the conztituzion like, and 
 he zaid as how he knew the roights of mon, and 
 as we was every brass nail as good as our 
 masters, only they was rich and we was poor, 
 and all the big folk wanted was, to vamp them- 
 selves up and zodder us down like. But as we 
 was strongest and honestest we ought to act 
 laws for them, and not they for we ; — and that 
 the lords and squires and parzins was tlie 
 enemiz of the poor, and hammered 'em to dust 
 wi' rents and rates ; and that God's creturz was 
 all one afore the law, and hadn't no bizness to 
 slave and work 'emselves to cinders for rich folk 
 to spend the money up in Lunnun wi' doxies
 
 108 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 and what not. He zaid as them as they call 
 the House of Peers, was a parzel of idle fellers, 
 what zits with gold crowns on their yeads, made 
 from the zweat of the people, each on 'em big 
 enough to keep a poor family in wittels for fifty 
 yearn, and never does a ztroke a work for it ; 
 and whilst they lives on the fat of the land and 
 spends the taxes in card-playing and hoss-racing 
 and nazional debt." 
 
 " 1 knows what card-playing and hoss- 
 racing be roight well," observed the other, " but 
 what koind of a game be nazional debt ?'' 
 
 " Why, you clout-headed snob," replied the 
 tinker, " you doan't know no more of pollitricks 
 nor an ould tin zacepan. Why it be the money 
 what parli'ment zays the poor folk owes them, to 
 keep their coaches, and to pay the sodgers and 
 pressgangs. Well !" continued he, " and so the 
 jemman treated us to as much lush as ever we 
 could ztow away, and zaid, ' Now, my lads, I'd 
 unoite and meet together, and if the squires and 
 farmers won't down wi' rents and up wi' wages, 
 why I'd ztrike and go upon parish, and then 
 they'd see how their corn would grow.' D
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 109 
 
 'em," added the tinker, smiting the table with 
 his brawny fist, " the jemman was right ; the 
 lords and squires thinks they've done their duty 
 when they gives us a few zcraps of coarse meat, 
 what arn't enough to keep body and zoul 
 together, and claps us to rot in a hole, what 
 am't fit to kennel their dogs in. But we'll 
 have a flare-up some of these here nights." 
 
 " I don't think so be as you have any cause 
 to grumble o' that score, Sam Scraggs," ex- 
 claimed Dame Rickets ; " nor as you knows 
 much about lords and ladies and such like. Do 
 he, Janet Biggs ?" 
 
 " No, that he don t, Mrs. Rickets, Til 
 take my bible oath on it," answered the old 
 woman. 
 
 " No ! but I does. Now, I'll tell you what. 
 I was nurse, as all the parish knows, to my 
 lord's only son up at castie, what was drowned, 
 dear gentleman, in trying to save a poor sailor's 
 life, — God reward him for it ! and better and 
 kinder folk never breathed, nor more bountiful 
 to we poor bodies : and if my lord hadn't agone 
 and died of a broken heart, and the property
 
 110 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 a gotten into other hands, I think they said a 
 lawyer man got it, when they cut off the 'tail, 
 why I shouldn't never have wanted for nothing. 
 But God's will be done. The workus arn't 
 so bad, ater all, and I've been here, let me 
 see " 
 
 " Five-and-twenty years come next Candle- 
 mas,"" observed Dame Biggs ; " I'll take my 
 bible-oath on it, and that's the time my husband 
 was transported for shooting a hare." 
 
 " Yes, five-and-twenty years, and I arn't 
 cotched cold more nor once, and that were a 
 washing up at Farmer Brown's; but howsomever, 
 I will say this here, it is a burning shame as 
 they won't allow us poor bodies a little candy 
 for our tea ; and what I says more is, that it's a 
 v/orser shame, Sam Tinker, that you great lazy 
 fellows, what ought to am your living, don't go 
 to work. That's what makes the big folk so 
 hard upon we poor bodies." 
 
 '« D your bodies and the work too," 
 
 replied the tinker. " It's you that ought to be 
 in your coffins, and not take up the room o' 
 your betters. If I were judge at 'zizes, I'd 
 harg every ould woman in the parish."'
 
 THE MARRIED UXMARRIED. Ill 
 
 " You'd better not talk a hanging, Sam 
 Scraggs," retorted the dame ; " you'd look awe- 
 some queer if you seed the judge rise afore you 
 with his black cap, and know'd you desarved 
 it." 
 
 " Thee had'st better clap a stopper on thy 
 ould pot- handle," returned the other, " and let 
 me alone/' Then turning to the man whom he 
 addressed before, he continued, " Now I'll tell 
 you something else what I heard when I was 
 doing a job in my line down at Plymouth 
 dock." 
 
 " Yes," croaked out Dcime Rickets, irritated 
 at the contempt with which Scraggs treated her, 
 " and a pretty job you made on it. We knows, 
 Sam, what happened ; you could na keep your 
 lingers out of the landlord's till, and a nice 
 snug lodging they give'd you down in county 
 Bridewell" 
 
 " Haud thy croaking jaw, dame," retorted 
 Scraggs, " or I'll give thee zummut will make 
 thee/' 
 
 " I won't, I won't," continued the old woman, 
 raising her voice , " if you cotched your desarts.
 
 112 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 you'd be in Botamy Bay amongst the niggers, 
 or some' Lit worse." 
 
 " I tell thee, dame, if thou giv'st me any 
 more of thy zaace, Til make no more bones o' 
 cracking thy ould gullet than I would this here," 
 answered the tinker fiercely, as he snapped his 
 short pipe asunder and threw the fragments in 
 her face. 
 
 " Ah ! ah !" replied the old dame, nothing 
 daunted. " You were a talking a dues, warnt 
 you ? You'll never get your dues, lad, until you 
 stand afore the judgment-seat with a hempen 
 'kercher round thy wizzen. YouVe born to die 
 standing.'" 
 
 " Hould thy tongue, I tell thee again,'' bel- 
 lowed forth the other, knitting his brows and 
 frowning terribly at her ; " hould thy tongue, 
 or ril clammer up thy jaws with my fist." 
 
 " May-be, may-be," replied Mrs. Rickets, 
 her aged eyes sparkling with fire and her 
 shrivelled finger pointing to the tinker ; — " and 
 not the first time that ere unlawsome hand has 
 done a deed of darkness. There's blood on it 
 now — eh ! eh !"
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 113 
 
 " Hell and damnation !" exclaimed Sam, 
 stamping on the floor with a force that shivered 
 the very bricks. " Thee bee'st a devil in she- 
 clothing." 
 
 " It's hell you talk on !" retorted the dame. 
 " YouVe right, lad. The fires be a burning in 
 thy noisome heart now. It's the devil you 
 think on, eh ? why you're all his own, body and 
 soul, as sure as there be justice in God's ways. 
 Who was it ?" continued she, raising her voice 
 to a pitch of extreme excitement, " who was it, 
 I says, that helped Suky Barnes' baby into 
 Sedgewick pond wi' two dark spots on its neck ? 
 who turned king's evidence to skreen hisself ? 
 whose blacksome tongue bore false witness 
 against the poor cretur of a mother, and zwore 
 away her life at 'zizes ? and who sold her clothes 
 and got drunk with the money, as the drop fell 
 and the hangman was a pulling at her legs for 
 mercy ? mother and child !— out upon you ! out 
 upon you !"' 
 
 The features of the tinker, during this time, 
 were convulsed with rage, he became livid with 
 fury. His knees smote each other, his nostrils
 
 114 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 expanded, and his eyes gleamed with deadly 
 revenge. At length, as the old woman uttered 
 the last words, he yelled forth a fearful oath, 
 and, with a bound like that of a lion, sprang 
 forward, seized her by the neck, shook her as a 
 mastiff would have done a cat, and dashed her 
 from him against the wall. Then, ere any onp 
 could move to seize him, he jumped over the 
 table, felled to the ground the assistant over- 
 seer, who attempted to interfere, wrenched open 
 the door, and, favoured by the darkness of the 
 night, darted into the fields. 
 
 Whilst some of the most active paupers 
 raised a vain hue and cry after the fugitive, 
 of whose strength and brutality they all stood in 
 awe, the remainder gathered about the poor old 
 dame. But she was past help. Her neck was 
 dislocated and her skull fractured. Her body 
 was conveyed into the washhouse, the usual 
 receptacle for the pauper dead, and placed in 
 in one of the shells kept in readiness by con- 
 tract. On the following day a coroner's inquest 
 brought in a verdict of wilful murder against 
 Scraggs, who had succeeded in eluding his 
 pursuers.
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 115 
 
 Although Martha Ricket's prophecy was not 
 rigidly fulfilled, and although the triple 
 murderer, for such it seems he was, escaped the 
 vengeance of human justice, that of Heaven fell 
 upon him in a manner suited to his enormities. 
 A fortnight after this, the squire and vicar 
 were beating for woodcocks, in a sequestered 
 part of the covers, when they were attracted by 
 the furious barking of their spaniels, to the side 
 of a deep pit overspread with brambles. As 
 the animals continued to yelp and howl around 
 the spot in a manner unusual when springing 
 game, the keepers pushed aside the bushes, and 
 discovered the dead body of a man, which 
 was instantly recognised to be that of the tinker. 
 Upon dragging forth the corpse it presented 
 a ghastly spectacle. One leg was dreadfully 
 shattered, and the other torn and lacerated 
 with slugs. The jaws were wide open and dis- 
 torted with agony. The eyes, and flesh of the 
 face and neck, had been devoured by the ravens 
 and other carrion birds, many of which were 
 seen cawing and chattering upon the adjacent 
 trees, or swooping over head, indignant at being
 
 116 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 disturbed from a repast which they disputed with 
 the foxes and wild vermin. And they had feast- 
 ed apparently ere Hfe was yet extinct, for one of 
 these creatures was found crushed in the convul- 
 sive grasp of the dead man's hand, as it lay 
 clenched upon his throat. 
 
 On examining the ground around, it appeared 
 that the wretch had dragged himself a conside- 
 rable distance to the pit, where it seems he had 
 fallen. Clots of blood, and shreds of clothes, 
 were traced for nearly two hundred yards 
 towards a more open space, where it seems he 
 had trodden upon the wire of a spring gun, 
 the contents of which had struck his extremities, 
 and, from the direction he had taken, it was 
 evident he had sought to reach the skirts of the 
 wood, to deliver himself up perhaps, rather than 
 die a lingering death of agony and starvation. 
 This was probably a solitary instance of the 
 weapons by which the tinker met his fate 
 having been instrumental to the ends of justice. 
 Hitherto some wandering child or negligent 
 keeper had been their only victims. It was 
 also a proof of the fickleness of public opinion
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 117 
 
 upon these matters, for if heretofore the squire 
 had been abused for employing such devices in 
 his plantations, he was now looked upon as 
 an instrument in the hands of Providence, and 
 lauded for his caution. 
 
 Although the horrible scene that had taken 
 place retarded the paupers' supper, it by no 
 means diminished their appetites; and when 
 the smoking messes of hot porridge, and fine 
 wheaten bread, cheese, butter, and beer, (as good, 
 or better, than anything I had tasted in our 
 cottage,) was set before them, they ate in a 
 manner that plainly showed the injustice of 
 their morning's complaint. To be sure, there 
 was here and there a maggot or two in their 
 cheese ; but, if they had known that the lords 
 and squires against whom they railed, were not 
 content with a Stilton, until it was in a state of 
 locomotion, they would perhaps have been 
 satisfied. Having glutted themselves with this 
 their fourth repast, grumbled that they could 
 not devour more, and yawned until one could 
 see into their throats, they crawled one by one
 
 118 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 to bed, some smoking, and others swearing, by 
 way of grace. The order of the workhouse was 
 that the females should occupy one wing, the 
 males the other, but this regulation was little 
 attended to, nor was the slightest care taken of 
 the children; and, as my bed was occupied, I 
 should have been compelled to sleep on the 
 floor, had not a bed-ridden old woman offered 
 me a share of her pallet. But tired as I was, I 
 could not close my eyes, for whenever I was 
 sinking into a doze, the convulsive kicks caused 
 by my aged bed-fellow's asthmatic cough instantly 
 roused me, or else she tweaked my nose and 
 made me rise to fetch her a drop of comfort in 
 the shape of peppermint-water. But even if this 
 had not been the case, sleep was impossible, 
 from the snoring of some, the rheumatic groans 
 of others, and the giggling and hubbub that 
 was kept up by the rest, who seemed mingled 
 together in a way that would have gladdened 
 the heart of Father Enfantin and his St. 
 Simonian proselytes. Glad was I when day 
 dawned and I was enabled to descend into the
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 119 
 
 fresh air, more disgusted than ever, and more 
 determined to escape as soon as possible, from 
 this den of misery, vice, and gluttony. 
 
 But where to go or what to do without a 
 penny? This puzzled me completely. For 
 although I heard there was a recruiting party 
 down at Plymouth, I feared being taken up as a 
 vagrant before I reached that place, or faUing 
 into the clutches of the pressgangs when I did. 
 Besides, I was told by an old pauper soldier, 
 that, although the crimps were not particular 
 about the men they inveigled into the service, 
 providing they were sound-limbed, the officers 
 would not enlist a boy like me, notwithstanding 
 I could play on the fiddle nearly as well as the 
 band-master of his old regiment. I therefore 
 lingered on from day to day, with the intent but 
 not the courage to fly — a constant witness of 
 scenes less fatal, but not less degrading or 
 immoral, than that of my first night's initiation. 
 At length the very day that I had made up my 
 mind to elope at dusk, and had laid by some 
 scraps of bread and meat, to serve me by the
 
 1*20 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 way, m}' projects terminated in a manner for 
 which I was totally unprepared. 
 
 A short time after breakfast, when I and the 
 other boys were turned into the back yard, to beat 
 hemp, the assistant overseer poked in his head, 
 and addressing me, exclaimed, " I say, you Jack 
 Penguin, go down to Lawyer Steers', you be 
 wanted : and see you don't stay long. I won't 
 have no idling. The work the whole pack on 
 you does ain't worth the skip of a lame ." 
 
 Wondering what Mr. Steers could want with 
 me, I lost no time in obeying his summons, 
 though I was heartily ashamed to traverse the 
 village in the filthy plight in which I was. At 
 length I reached the worthy lawyer's house, 
 which, as usual with gentlemen of his profession 
 in the country, might be distinguished from 
 almost any other in the place by its air of neat- 
 ness and cheerful opulence. 
 
 For a while I stood at the low garden wicket, 
 now gazing upon the clusters of snow-drops, and 
 other winter flowers that already shot forth their 
 buds in the neat trimmed borders, and now admir-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 121 
 
 ing, first the red blossoms of the pyrus, trained 
 against the wall, and then the rows of brilliant 
 bulbs within the windows. At length, with a 
 beating heart, I crept up to the door and lifted 
 the knocker, frowning in the form of a lion's 
 head over the bright brass plate, on which was 
 inscribed, " Steers, Solicitor and Land Agent." 
 
 A tidy, healthy maid, ruddy and fragrant as 
 an Ashmead pippin, soon admitted me, and I 
 was ushered into the parlour, where I found the 
 good old ladies preparing a bottle of their cele- 
 brated green oil for a poor patient, whilst their 
 brother was basking before the fire, in that 
 classical British attitude, which proves that, 
 however warm and generous English hearts may 
 be, there must be a singular indisposition on the 
 reverse side to engender caloric. " Well, Jack, 
 alias Peregrine !" exclaimed Mr. Steers, as I 
 stood with my body half in and half out of the 
 door. '• By-the-bye, it's winter — shut the door." 
 
 "And wipe your feet first on the mat, my dear,'"* 
 ejaculated Miss Jane. " Ah, those workhouses 
 are sad places of corruption !" 
 
 When I had done as I was bid, Mr. Steer's 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 continued, " Well, Peregrine, — thought I'd for- 
 gotten you, eh ? not so bad as that — no, no !'' 
 said he, advancing, and withdrawing his hands 
 from beneath the shelter of his coat-skirts, and 
 patting me on the head — " I smelt a rat — told 
 Dame Penguin she'd sink the ship for a penny- 
 worth of tar — haven't been in business forcy years 
 for nothing — may say, that no client ever re- 
 pented taking my advice, though many have 
 who neglected it. Eh, sisters ?" 
 
 "Your reputation, brother," replied the younger 
 lady, " stands as high, I believe, as that of any 
 solicitor on the rolls — but, dear me," added she, 
 putting on her spectacles to watch her cat, who 
 came purring and rubbing itself against my legs — 
 " dear me, if the instinct of the poor creature is 
 not wonderful, she has recognised her deliverer ; 
 and yet they say cats have no personal attach- 
 ments." 
 
 „Omy !" echoed the other sister; " see, she has 
 j limped upon the table to be still nearer to him, 
 and has put her face upon his heart : it's really 
 marvellous." Minna's caresses were, however, 
 not quite so disinterested as the good ladies
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 123 
 
 supposed ; for, after mewing and twisting about 
 her tail, and fidgeting for a few seconds with her 
 claws upon my torn jacket, she poked her paw 
 into my pocket, and whipping out a piece of the 
 meat I had stowed away to serve on my journey, 
 she sprang oiF like an arrow with her prize. 
 
 " Cupboard love, cupboard love, after all," 
 exclaimed Mr. Steers, laughing ; " but it's the 
 w^ay of the world : men and monkeys, women 
 and cats — all put their paws into our pockets if 
 they can. Ah ! we're all poor weak creatures — 
 all impelled by the same selfish sentiments. 
 But how is this. Peregrine ? — how came you to 
 turn cats'-meat man ? you seem to have for- 
 gotten the saying, of eat as much as you please, 
 but do not pocket." 
 
 " Oh, I see," said the kind, single-hearted 
 sister, " the poor boy thought of his friend 
 Minna, and robbed himself of his supper to 
 bring her a morsel : I always said that he was 
 a good, generous child." 
 
 " No, ma'am," replied I, blushing, " I will not 
 tell stories. The truth is, I could not bear the 
 horrid workhouse, and had determined to run 
 
 g2
 
 124 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 away this very day ; and look, ma'am," said I, 
 pulling out of my pocket the remaining store, in- 
 termingled with bits of oakum and crumbs, " I 
 stowed this away to help me on my road to Ply- 
 mouth, where I intended to enlist as a drummer/' 
 
 " Well, my boy," rejoined the lawyer, " I 
 admire your spirit ; you could not do better than 
 serve your country ; but I fear I must put an 
 end to your martial projects. Hark ye. After 
 the conversation I had with Dame Penguin, 
 I and sisters thought there must be more in 
 this business than met the eye, and that you 
 must belong to some one. We therefore deter- 
 mined, if possible, to sift the matter to the 
 bottom. So I wrote an account of the case to 
 my nephew and correspondent, Eliab, who, by- 
 the-bye, owes his success in life to the lessens 
 he received in my office, and begged him to 
 insert an advertisement in the papers." 
 
 Mr. Steers then put on his spectacles, and 
 read the following lines : — 
 
 " LOSS OF LIFE-BOAT, A^D DESERTED CHILD. 
 
 " James Penguin, of , in the county of
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 125 
 
 Devon, pilot, having perished with his two sons 
 on Christmas-day last by the swamping of the 
 lifeboat, aftf^r rescuing fifty-three persons fi^om 
 the wreck of the Calcutta, East Indiaman, the 
 child entrusted to his care is left destitute on 
 the parish. Should this meet the eye of any 
 person or persons interested in the poor boys 
 fate, they rnay ascertain further particulars on 
 application to Mr.. Eliab Steers, No. 15, Gray's 
 Inn, or to Mr. Francis Steers, solicitor and 
 land agent, , Devon." 
 
 " Well," continued he, " as I before observed, 
 I don't think I ever mistook the right side of a 
 cause in my life ; and although I say it that 
 should not, Fve put more money in one term into 
 Squire Oxover's pocket, than he will get in twenty 
 years by his new friend the under-sheriff'." 
 
 " You may indeed say that,"" observed his 
 sister ; " where would have been his borough 
 and the Oxover estates, had you not disputed 
 the bill of ejectment?"''' 
 
 " Ay, ay," replied Mr. Steers, " how did I 
 I'et him out of that ? A verdict in three months
 
 126 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 from the chancellor after fifteen years' delibe- 
 ration. Coke and Littleton, backed by the 
 twelve judges, could not have done more. My 
 plan is to help people out of chancery, and not 
 to leave them to plead and replead, until the 
 court swallows up all the meat, and leaves 
 them nothing but the bones." 
 
 " And that's the reason you do not keep your 
 coach, brother, as many others do," observed 
 Miss Steers, with a sigh. " Why, I declare, Mr. 
 Cramping has set up a two -horse chaise already, 
 and his daughter went to the assizes in it." 
 
 " Honesty is the best policy after all, I be- 
 lieve, sisters, and you need not envy them. 
 However, so long as I can keep you and your 
 cat, you have no reason to complain. But Pere- 
 grine is getting impatient, — where was I, eh ?" 
 
 " Why, sir," replied I, " at Mr. Francis 
 
 Steers, solicitor and land agent, , Devon;" 
 
 and in truth I thought he never would get any 
 farther. 
 
 " Well, then, my boy,*' replied he, " I this 
 morning received a letter from Eliab, containing 
 the followino' communication:—
 
 THE MAURILD UNMAIlllIED. 127 
 
 " ^London, 12th Jan. 180— 
 " ' Sir, — The advertisement relating to the 
 deserted child, inserted in the daily papers, has 
 met the eyes of the parties concerned. You 
 are therefore to take immediate steps to rescue 
 from his present unhappy situation the boy, 
 whom it is presumed is Peregrine, alias Jack 
 Penguin, and afford him such assistance as he 
 may stand in need of. You v.'ill, further, be 
 pleased to see, firstly, that the boy be decently 
 and properly attired, as becomes the son of re- 
 spectable persons in middling life; secondly, 
 that he be furnished with linen and other sun- 
 dries, as per inventory enclosed : and thirdly, 
 when he shall be so equipped, that he shall be 
 delivered, vvithout loss of time, to the care of 
 the guard of the Regulator, Plymouth and 
 London coach, with directions for him to be 
 left, till called for, at the Green Dragon at Salis- 
 bury, where he will be further disposed of. 
 Herewith you will find enclosed a bank post- 
 bill of one hundred and fifty pounds, to cover 
 any expenses that may be incurred, the residue 
 to be retained by yourself, as a remuneration
 
 128 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 for your kindness and trouble : a further sum of 
 twenty pounds is also enclosed for the widow 
 Penguin, though it does not appear that she is 
 worthy of such bounty. You will be pleased to 
 acknowledge the receipt of this, addressed to 
 XX., No. 19, Lincoln's Inn Old Square.' 
 
 " There," said the worthy lawyer, " that is 
 the result of my efforts, and that is all I know 
 upon the subject. Time and patience will, 
 doubtless, clear up the mystery. My convic- 
 tion was, that poor Penguin acted under orders, 
 and that you had parents or protectors some- 
 where.'" 
 
 Then, as I began to shed tears, why, I really 
 knew not, for my heart rejoiced at being saved 
 from the workhouse, one of the ladies observed, 
 " You ought not to weep, but be thankful that 
 my brother has been instrumental in rescuing 
 you from the miseries that would have been 
 your lot had you remained where you w^re, or 
 had you effected your purpose in running away. 
 Be a good boy, and submit patiently to the de- 
 crees of Providence, and, in the meantime "
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 129 
 
 " As your cat has carried off his larder, 
 Jane," exclaimed Mr. Steers, " suppose you 
 give him a mouthful of cold chine and a glass 
 of the old cider, then let him be introduced to a 
 tub of hot water, and the sooner these rags are 
 burned the better. Pho ! my old parchments 
 are more fragrant : bodies and souls appear 
 equally filthy in these workhouses." 
 
 Although 1 was too young to comprehend all 
 the uncertainties, and the moral ambiguity of 
 my position, or to form any other conclusions 
 than those which emanated from the moment, 
 I was deeply affected at the thoughts of quitting 
 the village where I had been brought up, and 
 where I had now found such kind protectors. 
 I determined, therefore, to make an effort to 
 avert what I considered a great misfortune, so, 
 after twisting about my tattered cap, and fid- 
 geting for some time, I took courage, and said, 
 " O, sir, I thank you and the ladies for your 
 goodness, but can't you let me stay with you ? 
 I will work for my bread, and no doubt the 
 person who wrote the letter won't mind where 
 I am, if so he it is not in the workhouse. I can 
 
 G 5
 
 130 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 \mte a smartish hand, and might help you, sir, 
 in time, as Mr. Eliab did, and I'd take as much 
 care of the cat," added I, turning imploringly 
 to its mistress, " as if it were my own sister. 
 O do, sir ! you are my only friend, and if you 
 send me away, may be they'll serve me as Dame 
 Penguin did." 
 
 Hereupon I fell to crying with such sincerity, 
 that it drew tears from the ladies, who both ex- 
 claimed, " Brother, what think you ? Don't 
 you suppose it possible to make the offer to this 
 Mr. XX. through the medium of the paper? 
 As the boy says, and this with discretion be- 
 yond his years, it is probable that the parties 
 concerned will not mind where he is, provided 
 he is brought up respectably. Surely they can- 
 not feel any deep interest in one whom they 
 have so long neglected." 
 
 " We do not know that," replied ]Mr. Steers, 
 " and have no right to question their motives, 
 or to attempt to unravel the mystery in which 
 the affair is enveloped. It is evident the par- 
 ties concerned are well to do in the world, and 
 will not desert him. We must, therefore, obey
 
 THE MAIIRIED UNMAllRIED. 131 
 
 instructions; and, as you said just now, Jane, 
 the day will probably come when we shall hear 
 of your young protege being rewarded for his 
 past sufferings. There, there, my honest boy," 
 added he, "• dry up your tears, go with Jane, 
 and, when you are a little purified, we will set 
 to work, and rig you out." 
 
 By dint of an abundance of soap and water, 
 and the activity of the good old ladies, who 
 seemed to have as much pleasure in fitting me 
 out as children have in dressing their dolls, 
 I was soon equipped from head to foot in ready- 
 made clothes from the market-town, and was 
 able to make my appearance in a manner that 
 seemed to give great satisfaction to my friends ; 
 and, in less than a week, I was to proceed to 
 my destination. In the meantime, although 
 my heart revolted at the thoughts of encounter- 
 ing people who had treated me with such bru- 
 tality, and though I was unwilling to exhibit 
 myself in my new attire, for fear of being laugh- 
 ed at by my old playfellows, I went to take 
 leave of Dame Penguin, who was established 
 at her brothers'. On approaching the cottage
 
 1-32 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 I met one of the sons crying, from the eiFects of 
 a merciless flogging, inflicted upon him by his 
 uncle. The poor lad, who scarcely recognised 
 me in my new clothes, no sooner saw who it 
 was, than, forgetting his pain, he ran forward, 
 and shook me alFectionately by the hand, a ten- 
 derness that redoubled when I presented him 
 with two handkerchiefs and a packet of buns, 
 v/hich Miss Steers had given me for the two 
 brothers. " Mother ! mother !" said he, as 
 soon as he had devoured half his portion, " mo- 
 ther, come down ! there's Jack from work 'us in 
 l)ran new rigging. Dang me. Jack," continued 
 he, poking in another bun, " if this be work'us 
 fare, I wish we were there instead of with 
 uncle. O, Jack, we have a cruel time of it ! — 
 you don't know what it is to be 'prentice to a 
 smuggler. If poor father were alive, they 
 v.ouldn't dare to treat us as this 'un ; and you 
 wouldn't believe it. Jack, when they runs the 
 goods, they hides them up in squire's woods, 
 and the keepers winks at it, and so does squire, 
 for that helps to pay rents, and that's all he 
 thinks on. Look here," added he, showing his
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 13'3 
 
 braised arms, and bidding me feel the bumps 
 on his head, " I got this for teUing the truth, 
 when the custom\is officers asked what I knew 
 of the trade. Brother's abed sick, and if they 
 go on at this rate, we shall lay altogether afore 
 long in the churchyard, - oh ! I wish I were in 
 work'us. " 
 
 " You'd soon repent of that, Ned," answered 
 I ; '• it's a foul, wicked place, where they do no- 
 thing but eat and swear, and none are forced to 
 work, only the children. God be thanked, 
 owing to Mr. Steers, and the ladies' goodness, 
 I am no longer there. They gave me these 
 line clothes by order of some people up in Lon- 
 don ; and, Ned, I'm come to wish you all good- 
 bye : I'm going to-morrow to some place a long 
 way oiF, by Plymouth coach." 
 
 " Coach !" exclaimed he ; " what, ride in a 
 coach ! — well, I never could a behoved this ! 
 and are you a real gemman ^ 
 
 " I don't know what I am, rightly, Ned, only 
 Mr. Steers got a letter from London to pay for 
 these things, and twenty pounds for mother." 
 " Twenty pounds for mother ! but here she
 
 134 THK MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 comes ; and I hear uncle's voice, and if he 
 catches me, he'll beat me. Mind,'* added he, 
 " you don't tell him of the money, or he'll rob 
 mother of it, as he has of everything else." 
 Then, shaking me by the hand, he crept round 
 the corner, and I never saw him more. 
 
 The astonishment of the widow at the meta- 
 morphosis in my appearance was not less than 
 that of her son ; and this increased when I told 
 her to go to Mr. Steers to receive the twenty 
 pounds, and repeated what little I knew of the 
 change in my destiny. Whether it were re- 
 morse for her heartless behaviour to me, or 
 veyation at having lost the superintendence of 
 so valuable a charge, I cannot tell, but she 
 seemed much aifected ; and when she had given 
 vent to her emotion, said, " Indeed, Master 
 Peregrine, I wish } ou vreU. I won't say that I 
 ever loved you as my own child, that would be 
 against nature ; but if I had known that you 
 were not poor James's son, and I hadn't been 
 afraid of my brothers, you should have shared 
 what I could give ; but that is not much, for 
 brothers treat me sadlv, and when I've nothing
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 135 
 
 left, they'll turn me upon the parish, perhaps. 
 But I've made my own bed, and must abide by 
 it : but here comes Richard — mind you do not 
 tell him of the money." 
 
 I now heard the rough voices of the smuggler 
 and his brother, but having no inclination to 
 face the two brutes, I seized the widow by the 
 hand, bade her hastily good-bye, saying I had 
 no time to spare, and returned as fast as I could 
 through the churchyard to Mr. Steers, not, 
 however, without being pursued by some of the 
 village lads, who were playing at marbles under 
 the porch, and who gathered round me to gaze 
 upon my clothes, and hooted me as Gentleman 
 Jack. 
 
 The rest of the day was passed in completing 
 the preparations for my departure, and in lis- 
 tening to the homilies of the worthy lawyer and 
 his sisters, who, although they were as ignorant 
 of my destinies as I was myself, not only pro- 
 phesied that fortunate prospects were in store 
 for me, but exhorted me to a life of diligence, 
 truth, and honesty, in such simple and compre- 
 hensive language as was well calculated to af- 
 fect my youthful mind.
 
 136 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 The}^ were indeed good people, with all that 
 purity, single-heartedness, and powerful good 
 sense which so eminently distinguish a vast 
 portion of the middling classes in England. 
 They knew nothing of the world from practice, 
 and here, perhaps, their ignorance was real 
 bliss; but they had penetrated its fallacies and 
 deceptions, by the mere force of strong intuitive 
 comprehension ; and, beyond a little jealousy at 
 the two-horse chaise of the rival attorney, nei- 
 ther sighed for its vanities, nor envied its enjoy- 
 ments. The chicaneries, sophistry, and selfish 
 workings of the legal profession had no ways 
 corrupted Mr. Steers, nor had the narrow sphere 
 of a secluded country life, or the still more em- 
 bittering effects of early disappointments, cramp- 
 ed the minds of his sisters. He loved the law, 
 not so much as an instrument of wealth to 
 himself, as of justice to others ; and they re- 
 joiced in his prosperity, because it enlarged the 
 circle of their bounties, and increased their 
 means of doing good. 
 
 The life of this worthy family was, in fact, 
 one series of external benevolence and internal
 
 THE M.^llRIF.D UNMARRIED. 137 
 
 gratification. Their brother was to them a 
 model of perfection, and they to him a source 
 of continued satisfaction. Whilst yet a young 
 man, the same blow had deprived him of his 
 wife and only child. His sisters had replaced 
 these dear objects in his heart and at his fire- 
 side, and had rendered that fire-side a focus of 
 constant happiness. His sole thought was how 
 he might best contribute to their innocent en- 
 joyments — their only ambition how they might 
 most readily minister to his comforts. Theirs 
 was fraternal love, that purest of all earthly af- 
 fections, in its most unalloyed form. It is true, 
 the Misses Steers evinced more than one of 
 those symptoms that are said to be indicative 
 of decided old maidenism. They loved their 
 cat beyond all God's creatures, (next to their 
 brother ;) they had a wondrous faith in calomel, 
 fleecy hosiery, protestant ascendency, gossip, 
 and treacle-posset ; whilst they entertained a no 
 less determined aversion to wet feet, flirting by 
 moonlight, Methodist tracts, short petticoats, 
 and the list of marriages in the County Chro- 
 nicle. But with all this, they were indulgent
 
 138 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 to the failings of their neighbours. They pitied 
 those who differed from them in creed, but con- 
 sidered all denominations of Christians as sheep 
 of the same fold. They had made baby-linen 
 for more than one poor deluded victim of frailty, 
 and never boasted of their charity; they laughed 
 heartily at a novel, and their small collection 
 of books contained some of the best English 
 authors on morality, history, and philosophy, 
 which they were accustomed to read to their 
 brother upon the long winter's evenings. How 
 blessed should I have thought myself had I 
 been permitted to remain under their care ! 
 But it was determined otherwise ; so, after re- 
 ceiving half-a-crown pocket-money in a new 
 purse, the key of a hair-trunk, which held my 
 wardrobe, a large cake, a ball of packthread, 
 and a world of good advice, much of which I 
 lost by falling asleep, I bade adieu with a burst- 
 ing heart to my kind protectors, and proceeded 
 on the following morning to the adjacent public- 
 house, where the clang of the guard's horn an- 
 nounced the approach of the London coach.
 
 139 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 My first appearance upon any stage — Those who do 
 not love politics, or ethics, had better skip this long 
 chapter, or they will chance to follow my example, 
 and fall asleep. 
 
 Directions ha\'ing been given to Mr. Steers 
 to keep me a front place outside, I perched my- 
 self upon the roof behind the coachman, whose 
 colleague on the hinder boot, received strict in- 
 junctions to take care of me until I reached my 
 destination. 
 
 " All's right !" a stamp, and a whistle, and 
 away sprang wheelers and leaders with me and 
 my fortunes, or rather, to judge by the manner 
 in which I sobbed, with my misfortunes. 
 
 It was a bright and sparkhng day in Feb- 
 ruary. A soft and balmy air, forerunner of the
 
 140 THE MARRIKD UyMAKUIED. 
 
 spring, called forth the early notes of the wild 
 birds, and invigorated the groups of cattle, 
 whose sleek coats glistened with a golden tint 
 as they browsed in the surrounding paddocks. 
 The light hoarfrost, which still clung to the 
 leafless branches, or spread in snowy wreaths 
 under the shaded hedge-rows, was fast melting 
 into crystal drops beneath the beams of the 
 mid-day sun, whose rays spangled the streams 
 and ponds, or lit up the fair expanse of wood 
 and dale, which stretched on either side of the 
 road, unveiling, as the haze cleared up, all the 
 picturesque loveliness of the fertile and luxu- 
 riant county through which we sped. As the 
 vehicle ascended the first hill, I wiped away the 
 tears that dimmed my eyes, and turned to gaze, 
 perhaps for the last time, upon the village 
 where I had passed so many days of childish 
 happiness. 
 
 There it lay, embedded in a frame of ever- 
 green plantations, which here and there ran 
 down to the verge of the sea, sweeping its very 
 spray with their feathering branches. In the 
 midst of the clustering habitations, half masked
 
 THE MAKRIED UNMARRIED. 141 
 
 by a clump of cedars, rose the church- steeple, 
 its well-known vane glistening in the sun-beams, 
 and its kng-pointed altar window sparkling like 
 a mass of diamonds. Beneath was the burial- 
 place, its grey tombstones peering above the 
 dark herbage ; and there was the lonely yew- 
 tree, which marked the last resting-place of the 
 good pilot, and my foster-brethren. I shudder- 
 ed as I thought of the sexton's warning, and 
 cast my eye upon the sandbank, where the 
 shattered hull of the wrecked Indiaman still 
 gloomed above the treacherous wave, which 
 now calmly pattered around her. Seaward, 
 stretched our beautiful but perilous bay, studded 
 with fishing craft, their tiny sails out-topped by 
 the lofty gaff of the revenue cutter, which, by 
 its press of canvas, seemicd bent upon some ex- 
 pedition beyond the forelands, whose abrupt 
 and shattered sides rose frowning above the dis- 
 tant waters. Oxover-hill, its park, and exten- 
 sive covers, formed the back-ground to the land- 
 scape, and in the midst of these was the old 
 hall itself, its Italian architecture being well 
 suited to the rich vegetation and genial climate
 
 14*2 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 of western England. A turn of the road sud- 
 denly concealed the whole from me : once more 
 I caught a glimpse of the church, and all was 
 hidden. Were I to live a hundred years, I 
 could not feel so lonely, so desolate, as I did at 
 that moment, and my anguish was rendered 
 more intense, since I was ashamed to give vent 
 to my tears. But these emotions were of short 
 duration : the natural buoyancy of youth, the 
 rapid motion, the ever -varying scenery, the no- 
 velty of my situation, — for I had never before 
 ridden upon anything but the shaft of a cart, 
 or behind a post-chaise — together with the con- 
 versation of those around me, soon came to my 
 relief, and I was enabled to examine my travel- 
 ling companions, or rather, they began to exa- 
 mine me. 
 
 On my right was a gentleman, whom the 
 coachman, a privileged, quaint character, called 
 colonel. On my left, sat a bluff but kind- 
 looking man, who, from his appearance and 
 language, evidently belonged to the navy. The 
 box was occupied by an individual who, I sup- 
 posed, was another coachman, but who, it ap-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 143 
 
 pears, was a young Cornish squire returning to 
 Oxford. My error in mistaking him for a bro- 
 ther of the whip was very natural ; for a shal- 
 low-brimmed hat was cocked on one side of his 
 head, his neck was enveloped by the numerous 
 folds of a shawl-handkerchief, his rough, white 
 top-coat was decorated wih rows of horn but- 
 tons ; another box-coat w ith many capes was 
 twisted round his knees, between which sat a 
 savage-looking bull-terrier ; his hands were 
 thrust into his pockets, and when he turned 
 round, I saw that a hole was bored in one of 
 his fine white teeth, to enable him to squirt 
 out his saliva in a more orthodox fashion, whilst 
 he turned a quid, or something like it, in his 
 mouth, as he descanted wdth the coachman upon 
 the merits of his cattle, in a kind of slang 
 which, to me, was nearly incomprehensible. 
 
 " What, going to school, my boy ?" said the 
 colonel to me, after we had proceeded a short 
 distance — "going to school, eh?" I made no 
 other answer, than a sigh, or sob ; indeed, how 
 could I ? for I knew not where I was going. 
 " Well," continued he, " I like to see a lad sbow
 
 144 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 some feeling upon these occasions: it proves 
 that he loves his home, and that those whom he 
 has left behind have made that home happy." 
 
 " Ay, ay, sir," observed the person on my 
 left — " you are right. Those are the true sound- 
 ings, if the old boys would but understand it ; 
 make friends of the youngsters, say I; trust in 
 them that you may obtain their confidence; 
 without which there can be no peace aboard. 
 Teach them to look upon their homes as har- 
 bours, where they may bear up, and lay snug 
 after a cruise ; and if they hoist signals of dis- 
 tress, man a boat, and shove off to their assist- 
 ance. Many a fine craft has been cast away for 
 want of a little timely help: there is little pros- 
 pect of their ever being sea-worthy afterwards." 
 
 "I fear," rejoined the soldier, that over indul- 
 gence is often more pernicious than the other 
 extreme." 
 
 " Medio tutissimus" exclaimed the Oxonian, 
 " as my governor always says, when I ask for a 
 rouleau, and he only forks out a pony." 
 
 " Pony ! I know s one of the cleverest 
 between Land's-end and Exeter," interposed
 
 THE MARKIED UNMARRIED. 145 
 
 the coachman — "a regular out-and-outer, what 
 can canter under a five-bar, and then jump over 
 it Kke a greyhound ; j ust the thing, squire, for 
 you to tittup to cover.*' 
 
 " I see no necessity for either extreme," 
 resumed the seaman. " All I argue for is firm- 
 ness without severity, indulgence without weak- 
 ness- Meet them with smiles, and not with 
 frowns ; do not blow great guns for mere trifles. 
 Fire a shot athwart their bows, but do not 
 hull them, merely because they do not reef top- 
 sails as smartly as old hands. If they behave 
 well, serve them out an extra glass of gi'og." 
 
 " Not grog, asking your pardon, sir ; a cup of 
 tea, with half a thimbleful of brandy in it, now 
 and then : that's my receipt," said the coach- 
 man. " Bless you, sir, I've w^orked on this road, 
 summer and winter, night and day, for twenty 
 years, and never knew what it was to lay by, 
 only for a day or two, when I was tackled to mv 
 old woman ; and here I am as fresh as a four- 
 year-old. Now I 'tributes all to 'voiding spirits. 
 A drop of cider, a sprinkling of ale, or rnay be a 
 top-up of sherry after supper, that's no offence : 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 THE MARRIED UN'MAHRIED. 
 
 there's more of my piirfession, and of yours too, 
 mayhap, that's floored by trying to keep out cold 
 winds with hot liquors, than ever breaks down 
 from work or weather.""' 
 
 '' That's proper slow coaching, old Muff," an- 
 swered the young squire. " Tea ! why, you might 
 as well lap ditch-water. I flatter my unsophis- 
 ticated wig, that I know every crack dragsman 
 and shooter, in and out of Oxford, and I never 
 saw one that gibbed at a twinkling of blue ruin, 
 or a spice of jump-at-Betty. Egad ! there's that 
 jolly cove my tutor, who, by-the-bye, has turned 
 out some as clever tory colts as ever came to the 
 post at St. Stephens, he makes the best milk- 
 punch of any man in college. He has taught 
 me to take a first degree in that, at any rate. 
 His motto, is — ^ Aiit bihat aut aheat et recte^ — 
 anglice, ' fill your glass or toddle ;' that's the 
 time of day, as old Tully says.'' 
 
 " I don't care a linch-pin for old Tooly, or 
 
 any other of them, whether they be guards or 
 
 coachmen,"" rejoined the advocate for temperance. 
 
 " All I know is, they can't drink and work long." 
 
 " You are right, Mr. Ferret," observed the
 
 THE MAKKIED UNMAKKIED. 147 
 
 colonel ; " it was Lord Burleigh, I think, who 
 
 said, that the only ambition of a drunkard was 
 
 to he praised for his being able to carry more 
 
 liquor than other men ; — a commendation better 
 
 fitted for a brewer's-horse or a drayman, than a 
 
 gentleman." 
 
 "A brewer's horse !" exclaimed the Oxonian, 
 
 "do you know the old song — 
 
 ' O that I were a brewer's horse, one quarter of a year! 
 I'd turn my head where stood my tail, and drink up 
 all the beer.' " 
 
 Then turning to the coachman, he added, 
 
 " Did you ever hear of a certain Sir William 
 
 Temple, master Ferret?" 
 
 " Can't say as I recollects him, sir," answer- 
 ed the other. " Bless you, squire, we've such a 
 lot of gentlemen rides with us, we can't remem- 
 ber one in a hundred." 
 
 " No wonder, master Ferret,*' replied the 
 squire, smiling, "for he was booked by the Never- 
 come -back, long before the time when a man 
 thought himself especially protected by divine 
 Providence if he crawled from Exeter to London 
 in five days, in one of those break-joint machines 
 which our unwashed ancestors called flying 
 
 H -1
 
 148 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 coaches ! Jolly times and fast those, when three 
 miles an hour was sharp travelhng, and when the 
 passengers dined at ten in the morning, upon 
 hot surloins and mulled ale, and halted a day 
 at Salisbury to re-set their dislocated joints, 
 report progress, and drink a gallon of Canary to 
 their further good fortune. But I'll give you 
 old Billy Temple's sentiment; 'The first bot- 
 tle for myself — the second for my friends — the 
 third for good fellowship, and the fourth for mine 
 enemies/ Four bottles, by Bacchus !" 
 
 " Bottles, sir !" exclaimed the colonel — " why, 
 unless I am much mistaken. Sir William, who 
 was a moderate man and an advocate for sobriety, 
 said glasses." 
 
 " Recte Domhie,'" answered the student ; " but 
 in those days, your pocith were not the little thim- 
 ble-rig concerns that we degenrrate creatures sip 
 out of; they held nearly a quart, and so I'm 
 within the mark in reading it bottles.'' 
 
 " If all your reading is magnified in the same 
 proportion as your potations," rephed the colonel, 
 " you will do credit to your tutor." 
 
 " Apropos of that worthy," rejoined the Oxo-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 149 
 
 niaii, " if ever you pay me a visit, I'll present you 
 to him. He rejoiceth in the nick-name of the 
 Boftlean, a pretty play on the Library, and well 
 merited, for he is as full of claret as t'other is of 
 classics. Now his way of managing his pupils 
 is this — Intonsi: says he to us— wisdom, and 
 wisdom's truth, is not in the wig, but in the 
 bottle — ergo^i instead of examining you on an 
 empty stomach and parched tracheae, wine with 
 me or I with you, and if you know anything, 
 I'll soon decant it — I'll have the truth as naked 
 as Moses in the bulrushes. And he has good 
 authority for his proceeding. Do you remember 
 what the Brundusian says? I'll give it you in 
 English toggery, for the benefit of old mizzler 
 here : 
 
 * Wise are the kings who never choose a friend, 
 Till with full cups they have unmasked his soul, 
 And seen the bottom of his deepest thoughts.' " 
 
 " Horace borrowed the image from Seneca, 
 sir, who says that drinking does not produce 
 but betrays faults," answered the colonel ; '• and 
 certainly, if that be your tutor's object, he could 
 not devise a more efficient method of discoverinir
 
 150 THE MARRIED UXMARRIED. 
 
 those of his pupils. But, after all, Horace was 
 a greater poet than moralist : you had better 
 avoid some of his precepts, and attend to those 
 of Shakspeare, who says — 'One draught above 
 heat makes a man a fool : the second mads him, 
 and the third drowns him.'" Then turning to 
 the sailor, he added in a half-whisper, " There 
 you have an instance of the effects of over-in- 
 dulgence. You will not, perhaps, believe that 
 the youth before you, whose ambition it is, to be 
 thought a hard-drinker, and to out-groom his 
 groom in dress and language, should be heir to 
 one of the first families in the West, and destined, 
 ere long, to hold a place in the senate." 
 
 "Yes, I can," rejoined the other, especially in 
 an age which suggested to Sheridan the bitter 
 line, ' Peers mount the box, and horses mount 
 the stage.' " 
 
 " But, to return to the question, which we 
 had nearly lost sight of: you may rely upon 
 it, that the best way with youngsters, is to en- 
 courage and reward them liberally when they do 
 well, and to admonish or punish them with tem- 
 per and moderation, when they disobey signals.
 
 THE iMARRIED UNMARRIED. 151 
 
 — morally punish them, I mean : no swearing — 
 no violence. Do not make a brute of yourself 
 in order to make men of them. A father should 
 never raise his hand towards his child unless to 
 support him. To be bred and educated as a 
 gentleman, and scourged like a common vagrant, 
 is enough to ruin any generous mind. It is bad 
 enough in a pedagogue, but detestable in a 
 parent." 
 
 "In that we cordially concur," replied the 
 colonel, " I abhor flogging." 
 
 " Why, colonel," exclaimed the coachman, who 
 caught the last words, as he was severely punish- 
 ing the wheelers with a short extra whip — that's 
 all very well for a fancy drag, but it won't do for 
 us, with bolters and blind 'uns. There be some 
 teams, to be sure, that will jump off, and go the 
 pace to the end, without wanting any persuasion, 
 but " 
 
 " You're right, master Ferret, for once : hah" 
 the fun in handling the ribbons with one hand, 
 is to be able to touch up the tits with the other ; 
 isn't it, old slow coach ?" exclaimed the Oxonian, 
 nudging his neighbour sharply on the side, by 
 way of enforcing bis observation.
 
 lo'2 THE MAIIIIIED UNMAIUIIED. 
 
 This familiarity seemed little relished by the 
 other, for he only replied with a grunt.—" I asks 
 your pardon, squire, but if you keeps a shoving 
 of your elbow into my near side ribs, how the 
 'ell be I to drive ?" Then laying his lash artistly 
 across the leaders, he continued — " Not flog, 
 sir ! why I should just like to see any man 
 on the road keep these four rum uns together 
 without a crumb of whipcord, now and then. 
 Why there's the bishop " 
 
 " What !" exclaimed the soldier, interrupting 
 him, " my friend the bishop of the diocese ? They 
 tell me he is one of the best whips in England." 
 
 "No, no, I don't mean my lord," answered 
 the coachman laughing ; " though, to be sure, he 
 often rides with me incog, like, and I always lets 
 him have a spell at the ribbons — no, I means 
 that ere black off-leader." 
 
 " Why, in heaven's name, do you call the horse 
 by such a dignified name ?" demanded the other. 
 
 " Why — 'cause he's down slap on his knees 
 every five minutes," answered Mr. Ferret, "as 
 all bishops should be, leastway I expect so. — 
 Bless you,"' continued he, "we've 'propriate names 
 for 'em all. There's that hot chesnut-roarer at
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. l^S 
 
 the near wheel, we christened him Soldier, 'cause 
 he's been fired all round ; and this here punchy 
 hoss what's all of a lather, he's such a devil to 
 feed, he'd eat a binn-fuU of corn, sieve and all — 
 so we calls him the Alderman; and that ere 
 raw-boned vicious near leader, we calls him Law- 
 yer, 'cause he won't put his neck to the collar 
 without being well paid aforehand." 
 
 These appellations seemed to amuse the young 
 squire greatly, but Mr. Ferret's wit was not ex- 
 hausted ; for we had not proceeded far, before 
 we met one of the heavy double-bodied coaches 
 in vogue at that period. The brothers of the 
 whip raised their elbows as they passed, ex- 
 changing the usual courtesies of the road, but 
 perceiving his friend's vehicle completely empty, 
 he turned to the Oxonian and said, "Now, squire, 
 I'll give you a bone to pick." 
 
 " Give it old Crab here," returned the squire, 
 pointing to his dog. 
 
 " I means a riddle, squire, and here it is— \Miy 
 is that ere empty machine unlike any two chris- 
 tians ?" 
 
 " Hang me," replied the other laughing, " if I 
 
 H 5
 
 154 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 can see, in the first place, why it should be like 
 — I'm stuck up." 
 
 " Are you though ? Why then Y\\ tell you, 
 and you may book it," rejoined ^Ir. Ferret ; 
 " it's cause it's got two bodies and never a soul." 
 
 When the laugh which this sally created had 
 subsided, the colonel again addressed me, say- 
 ing, " Well my boy, you did not say to w hat 
 school you are going ?" 
 
 "Indeed, sir, I do not know where I am 
 going," answered I, " unless it be to Salisbury, 
 where I am to be left till called for." 
 
 " What ! booked like a parcel, young snob ?'' 
 exclaimed the squire. " Well, that's one way of 
 forwarding live luggage- Why, they ought to 
 have chalked ' glass' on your back — ' this side 
 upwards, to be kept dry.' " 
 
 " The guard has care of me, sir, and Mr. 
 Steers gave me this new top coat. Besides, sir, 
 I have been out many a long winter's night in the 
 chops of the channel, waiting for the homeward 
 bound, without a stitch of dry clothes on, and 
 I don't care for wet or dry," retorted I, some- 
 what nettled at the squire's observation.
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 155 
 
 " At sea !" exclaimed the captain ; " in the 
 navy, eh ? What ship ?" 
 
 " I never served aboard any ship, sir, only I 
 was brought up in the fishing line, until pooi 
 James Penguin was lost in the life-boat," 
 
 " James Penguin !'' ejaculated the officer — 
 " James Penguin ! I remember a fine fellow of 
 that name, who was boatswain a board a man-of- 
 war brig, of which I was lieutenant. I wonder 
 if it was the same." 
 
 " I cannot tell, sir," replied I, " but may be it 
 was, for the night before the wreck, he showed 
 me a boatswain's whistle, which was given to 
 him by the captain of his ship — the Tearer." 
 
 " The Tara, you mean — yes, that is it," re- 
 joined the officer. *' Poor fellow ! — drowned 
 eh ? I recollect him well — a great favourite 
 with the captain, whose life he saved on board- 
 ing a French corvette. And he could not have 
 saved a finer seaman or better man. But, as 
 matters turned out, it would have been better if 
 my old commander had fallen in action, than 
 end as he did." 
 
 " Drowned also, sir, or ingloriously carried
 
 156 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 off by yellow fever, I suppose ?'' said the 
 colonel. 
 
 " No, he was a Catholic ; and as, with our 
 confounded laws he could not rise in the 
 service, he retired in disgust to his native 
 country, or rather to what, out of derision 1 
 suppose, we call the Sister Island. There he 
 fell in love with the daughter of a leading mal- 
 content, and thence got connected with the 
 disaffected. Thinking to mend matters by 
 trying to capsize the government, he joined 
 heart and hand in the rebellion, was one of the 
 principal leaders under poor Ned Fitzgerald, 
 and narrowly escaped sharing his fate. A 
 reward was offered for his capture ; but he got 
 sheer off; and, as they could not chop off his 
 head, they cut off his tail, — that is, they at- 
 tainted his small property. For some time all 
 traces of him were lost. At length it was dis- 
 covered that he had reached America, where he 
 died of a broken heart, and, as I heard say, his 
 voung widow did not long survive him." 
 
 " You allude to Captain Belmont, do you 
 not ?" demanded the colonel.
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 157 
 
 " I do," replied the sailor. 
 
 " I knew him well in former times," rejoined 
 the other : " we served together in the expedi- 
 tion to the Helder ; he was a gallant and dis- 
 tinguished sailor. He would have been as 
 irreproachable aa he was dauntless, had he not 
 linked himself with the rebels. My regiment, 
 which formed part of the corps under Corn- 
 waUis, w^as engaged in the affair of Enniscarthy, 
 where I saw him in the rebel army fighting with 
 the desperation of a lion. I believe we might 
 have knocked him off, but somehow or another, 
 one had not the heart to kill so fine a fellow. 
 Report spoke lightly of his wife, as an ambitious 
 and heartless woman. She it was that lured 
 him to his ruin. A sad misfortune I" 
 
 " It was a still greater misfortune, sir, his 
 being an Irishman and a Catholic. Egad ! it 
 is very well for us, who have no impediment to 
 our advancement, save patronage and parlia- 
 mentary interest, and these, at least in our 
 service, are no trifling obstacles, though in 
 yours they may be overcome by a long purse ; 
 but when a conscientious man must either re-
 
 158 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 n ounce his faith or his profession —when he 
 must either become an apostate, or be laid up 
 in ordinary like a sheer hulk, and this in the 
 prime of life, it is enough to make him splice on 
 to the very devil." 
 
 " Surely, sir, you do not mean to become the 
 apologist of rebellion and treason ?" exclaimed 
 the colonel. 
 
 " No," answered the sailor, " I abhor trea- 
 son and sedition. I execrate disaffection and 
 anarchy as much as the most loyal and devoted 
 of all his Majesty's subjects. But I no less 
 cordially deprecate the impolicy and injustice, 
 which generate treason, and convert a third of 
 our countrymen into political parias. 
 
 " I will not yield, in tolerance, to you or any 
 other person," rephed the colonel ; "but I neither 
 see in the existing laws a palliation for sedition, 
 nor in their modification a prospect of amend- 
 ment for the state of Ireland." 
 
 " I agree with you in the last part of your 
 argument, and that only," exclaimed the Oxo- 
 nian, " for we may reverse the old saying in 
 regard to the Irish. With them it is cegrotat
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 159 
 
 animo magis quam corpore. What the con- 
 founded bog-trotters want, is bread to eat with 
 their filthy buttermilk. It is all Betty Martin 
 legislating for the mind, if you do not provide 
 for the body." 
 
 " But if you cut the grass under their feet, 
 how are they to make hay, sir ? That is to say 
 if you bar them from all employment, how 
 are they to obtain bread?" demanded the 
 sailor. 
 
 " That may be applicable to a few, very few," 
 returned the colonel, " but not to the commu- 
 nity at large." 
 
 " That's the point, sir," said the Oxonian, 
 " there you've hit the right nail on the head. 
 If you were to open the doors of concession, 
 and let in the whole pack of papists to suss- 
 worry at their leisure — nay, if you were to 
 transplant the conclave of cardinals, and place 
 them on the bench of bishops, or bring the old 
 whipper with his red petticoats from Rome, and 
 pop him on the woolsack, I should like to know 
 whether ' the gem of the sea" would be a crumb 
 the better for it — quoad its essential wants.
 
 160 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 Besides, the Catholics do not seek for equaUty, 
 but supremacy. Their battle-cry is justice — 
 their object tyranny. The very essence of their 
 creed admits of no equality, no rivalry, no neu- 
 trality. It is essentially egotistical, and anti- 
 protestant to the very marrow. Give them a pair 
 of horses, and they will want four. Vappetit 
 vient en mangeant^ as my sister's French gover- 
 ness says, when she gets her second wind at the 
 end of the first course. For my part, I have 
 made up my mind ; I see no salvation for 
 England, but in upholding the established 
 Church in all its rights, immunities, and privi- 
 leges. Weaken one of them, and you'll floor 
 both king and constitution. If ever I have a 
 seat in the house, the whilk, God be praised, 
 is cock sure, seeing that my governor has the 
 fifteen votes of his borough snug in his pocket, 
 you shall see what I will do." 
 
 '' And what may that be, sir T demanded the 
 sailor. 
 
 " Why, my uncle, who is my man of straw 
 until I am of age, will waddle the Chilterns. 
 I shall take my seat, and go through the old
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 161 
 
 process of seconding an anti-Catholic address, 
 and then vote against Emancipation and 
 Reform per fas et nefas. If I am queered; rely 
 upon it I will die game." 
 
 " Then, begging your pardon, sir," answered 
 the captain, " the longer your minority lasts. — 
 or the sooner the borough of which you speak 
 is taken out of your father's pocket, the better 
 for the country. Such representative corrup- 
 tion, and such uncompromising intolerance, are 
 enough to cause the dismemberment of the 
 empire, and bring the \\ hole by the board ; and 
 the worst of it is, your sentiments are, I fear, 
 but the echo of the majority of those, who are 
 launched into life from the same dock -yard " 
 
 " I take it, sir, I've hit the raw though,' 
 retorted the young tory squire ; " perhaps you 
 are yourself a Catholic, a wolf in sheep's cloth- 
 ing. If so, recollect I mean no personal 
 offence : I only put on the gloves to have a 
 set-to at principles.'' 
 
 " Do not make yourself uneasy, sir," an- 
 swered the sailor- " I am as staunch a Pro- 
 testant as the king himself, who is the titular
 
 162 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 defender of the faith. I am ready to lay down 
 my hfe for one or the other, if they were in 
 peril. I should rejoice if all men were of the 
 same persuasion as myself, for I think it the 
 purest, as it ought to be the most liberal. My 
 ancestors were Huguenots — they abandoned 
 the Romish religion because of its intolerance ; 
 its vexations and tyranny were insupportable. 
 They fought to burst their own chains asunder 
 — not to impose them upon others. Having 
 gained that object, all that I, their descendant, 
 ask for, is an extension of the same privileges 
 to the whole of my fellow-countrymen. How, 
 sir, can you expect tranquillity or fidelity 
 from Ireland, if you treat her people like 
 dogs?" 
 
 " You perhaps think that I'm better versed 
 in dog's-meat, than dogma," said the Oxonian, 
 shaking the ears of Crab. " Tfaith, I have a 
 sprinkling of the national tenacity of the poor 
 brute in me : but what right have the Catholics 
 to expect tolerance for themselves, when they 
 deny it to all others ? Where are we heretics 
 booked for, according to their way-bill ? Why, to
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 163 
 
 t'other place, as the black preacher said. I'm 
 not much given to solace my leisure hours with 
 the chaste joys of theology, or to disport in the 
 crack-brainings of controversy, but look at 
 history, and vvhere will you find tolerance on the 
 part of the Romish church, when it had the 
 whip in its hands ? Is it in the Pope's bulls ? 
 In the Council of Trent ? In the Edict of 
 Nantes ? In the Inquisition ? In the bloody acts 
 of Mary— or the still more monstrous cruelties 
 of Philip ? Turn to Spain, to Germany, and the 
 Netherlands, and they'll give you a fine account 
 of Cathohc tolerance. By-che-bye, I remember 
 reading somewhere, the answer that \\ as given 
 by the synod of Louvain to the Emperor of 
 Austria, who only wished to extend to his 
 Protestant Netherland subjects a portion of 
 those liberties the whole of which the Catholics 
 demand from us," 
 
 " And what was the reply ?' asked the sailor ; 
 "it could not be more peremptory than our 
 constant rejection of the Catholic claims ?'" 
 
 " Wasn't it, though ?" retorted the collegian ; 
 " you shall hear ; ' None of your throwing the
 
 164 THE MARllIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 snaffle upon their d d heretical necks, old 
 
 Joe,' said the patres conscripti, in answer to the 
 emperor's message. ' Bear them up as tight 
 as wax, or they'll kick over the bars and floor 
 the coach. Tolerance would play old goose- 
 berry. It would cause perpetual wranghng, 
 milling, and set us all at loggerheads.^ ' And 
 why?' demanded the kaiser. « Because,' re- 
 sponded they, ' our blessed religion regards all 
 heretics, without exception, as victims devoted 
 to eternal perdition. This,' added the old coves, 
 ' is the invariable maxim which the Catholic 
 creed inculcates, and insists upon as an essen- 
 tial dogma and immutable article of its faith.' 
 Now, commodore, I think I have got you at 
 the point of fox." 
 
 " Fox !" exclaimed the sailor, who either 
 intended to play upon the word, or had perhaps 
 forgotten Shakspeare — " Fox ! pray do not 
 couple the name of that great statesman with 
 anything so illiberal. No, sir, the instance you 
 adduce merely proves the bigoted intolerance 
 of the Catholic hierarchy, and not the wisdom 
 or justice of their doctrines. It also proves
 
 THK MARRIED UNMARRIED. 165 
 
 that the Elmperor Joseph and his advisers were 
 more enUghtened than the people they go- 
 verned ; whereas, sir, in my humble opinion, it 
 is just the reverse with us. What was it that 
 produced the first schism in the church, and led 
 to that endless series of disasters, wars, and 
 revolutions, that so long deluged every part of 
 Europe with blood ? Why, the same unwise 
 system that you would perpetuate."*' 
 
 " The ablest and best statesmen England 
 has produced, have vainly essayed to find a 
 remedy for the evils complained of," answered 
 my right-hand neighbour. " Every succeeding 
 monarch and government have been actuated by 
 the best intentions." 
 
 " Our dominion has been that of the sword, 
 and not of the olive-branch," replied the gentle- 
 man on my left. " Why was the nation 
 deprived of the services of poor Belmont, and 
 hundreds of others ?" 
 
 " Because they were rebels, and deserved to 
 swing — sus per col would be my verdict for the 
 whole of them, if the law were in my hands," 
 interposed the Oxonian.
 
 166 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 This liberal remark produced a most pro- 
 tracted discussion, the pith of which may 
 be found dilated through the parhamentary 
 debates on the subject of CathoUc emancipation. 
 
 I had listened as long as I could to this dry 
 conversation, of which the only part that in- 
 terested me related to the poor pilot and his 
 former captain. At length I was so overcome 
 with drowsiness, that I fell into a sound sleep, 
 from which I was awakened by the naval officer, 
 who said to me, 
 
 " So, youngster, you were brought up to the 
 sea ; are you a son or relation of the old boat- 
 swain ?" 
 
 " No, sir," replied I, " I am an orphan, and 
 was left to his care :" and then I narrated what 
 little I knew of my history, to which he paid 
 great attention. 
 
 " It is a mysterious affair," said he, *' and 
 unless you are the son of some old shipmate, I 
 cannot understand why you should have been 
 consigned to his hands. However, it is as clear 
 as the Eddystone light that
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 167 
 
 ' There's a sweet little cherub who sits up aloft 
 To v.atch o'er the life of poor Jack.' 
 
 as the song says — so cheer up, my hearty, and 
 for my old shipmate Penguin's sake, I've only 
 to say, as you seem a well-disposed lad, if you 
 feel any turn for a sea-faring life, and can get 
 leave from the frog-in-a-hole gentleman in Lon- 
 don, I will get you entered as a volunteer, and 
 give you a berth on board my frigate. I am 
 going up to town to make my bow to the lords 
 — and then up anchor, and away to have a slap 
 at the Mounseers.'' 
 
 " Thank you, kindly, sir," answered 1, 
 trembling, for I had never before spoken to or sat 
 by the captain of a king's ship, " but if I might 
 be so bold, I always disliked the sea, and now 
 the very sight of it makes me downhearted. I 
 shall be long before I forget all I have suffered 
 from it." 
 
 " Not you, my boy," rejoined the kind- 
 hearted captain. " No ! when you have lived 
 as long as I have done, and met with as many 
 squalls and baffling winds, you will acknowledge 
 the wise and benevolent organization of Provi-
 
 168 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 dence, which gradually tends to obliterate from 
 our minds the remembrance of past sufferings, 
 and thus bountifully tempers our sorrows and 
 our pains, whilst it endows us with the more 
 grateful faculty of reviving those recollections 
 which console, and, as it were, regenerate our 
 hearts." 
 
 " Egad, I believe you are right, sir," said the 
 Oxonian, "as far as physical pain goes. ' Si 
 levis, facile fertiir, si vehemens, cerfe hrevis 
 futurus est,* as Cicero says ; though, saving 
 your presence, I cannot boast of its not having 
 had posterior effects upon me. I believe I had 
 ' to stay,' anglice, to be flogged, at Eton as often 
 as any one ; but mind you, never for not being 
 able ' to do." The thickest numskull never 
 admits being stuck up in lessons ; and yet,"" 
 added he, removing his hand fi'om his pocket to 
 a more significant position, " may I be most 
 pre-eminently diddled if I have any recollection 
 of the operation ad-hoc ; except that the doctor, 
 who ought to have taken castigat ridendo for 
 his motto, was wont to grin over my nether 
 m?n, and handle his implement with as much
 
 THE MARRIED UXMARHIED, 169 
 
 ^^usto as if he had been cutting a haunch, or 
 fingering a punch-ladle."" 
 
 " Your mind must be very happily con- 
 stituted, " said the colonel to the sailor, " if you 
 can so readily forget your sorrows and pains/' 
 
 " I know not whether my soul be differently 
 moulded from those of others," replied the 
 sailor. " One thing, however, I do know, that 
 I possess too little stoicism, and too much sen- 
 sitiveness : for I am as peppery as a bad cook's 
 dinner, but my passion soon blows over. I feel 
 pleasure, until my very marrow seems elec- 
 trified, and I suffer from moral pain, until my 
 very arteries burn as if filled with molten lead. 
 But, at the same time, although actual enjoy- 
 ment has its delights, anticipation and retro- 
 spection are the sources of infinitely greater 
 enjoyment." 
 
 " Then," said the Oxonian. '' you think that 
 the anticipation of dissipation is preferable to 
 the dissipation of anticipation ?" 
 
 " If you mean that anticipation generally 
 exceeds reality, most certainly," rejoined the cap- 
 tain. " Yes, I love to gild the future with 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED, 
 
 hopes and idealities far beyond the compass, 
 perhaps, of possibiUty, and to array the past in 
 robes of splendour, which console me for the 
 darkness of the present. Whether musing in 
 the seclusion of my cabin, or gazing upon the 
 wide expanse of waters that surrounds me a 
 thousand leagues from land, from home, from all 
 that is dear to me, my greatest enjoyment is in 
 looking forward to a re-union with those I love, 
 and in recalling the scenes and images of by- 
 gone days, and departed friends. Forgetting 
 that they are gone, 1 can repaint the one and 
 revive the other with minute fidelity." 
 
 " You seem to be endowed with a most envi- 
 able faculty," said the soldier. " To be able to 
 cast away care, banish sorrow, and revive enjoy- 
 ments, is the very acme of epicurean philosophy, 
 the more remarkable in aman of your profession." 
 
 " O sir ! we sailors have more time upon 
 our hands for meditation, and stand more in 
 need of what you call philosophy, than any 
 other class of men," returned the captain. 
 
 The shades of night had already closed upon 
 the surrounding scenery, and the mellow beams
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 171 
 
 of a full moon were reflected in silvery streaks 
 upon the winding surface of the lovely Ex. In 
 a few minutes more, we ascended the high- 
 street of Exeter and arrived at the Inn, w hence, 
 after commencing a hearty supper, the prospect 
 of which I enjoyed more than the tedious dis- 
 cussion upon politics and morality, that had 
 kept me yawning during the greater part of the 
 day, we w^ere again called to our places by the 
 guard, who declared we were already five 
 minutes behind time. This produced con- 
 siderable grumbling on the part of the passen- 
 gers, for at the moment our protector entered, 
 two fine roast rabbits and some custards made 
 their appearance merely to tantalise us, there 
 being no alternative between our leaving them, 
 or the coach leaving us. 
 
 The squire, however, seemed little disposed 
 to submit to these tricks upon stage-coach tra- 
 vellers ; for, calling to his dog, as he tossed off a 
 goblet of hot negus, and threw dow^n his money, 
 he exclaimed, " Play or pay, old Boniface ; I'm 
 not to be diddled, salus ventris suprema lex, — 
 here, Crab, at him, — cat! cat! cat!" — upon 
 
 I 2
 
 172 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 which the animal immediately sprang upon one 
 rabbit, whilst his master, seizing the other by 
 the leg, marched off with it into the street, 
 where he gave it, with half-a-crown, to a poor, 
 shivering beggar-woman, adding, as he re- 
 mounted the box, " If all passengers would 
 make it a point to pocket what they have paid 
 for, and are not allowed time to eat, it would 
 soon put an end to this confounded league be- 
 tween dragsmen and innkeepers ; though I beg 
 your pardon, gentlemen, for having thus sum- 
 marily disposed of your share." However equi- 
 table this mode of administering prevotal jus- 
 tice might have been, had it occurred to some 
 poor, unknown traveller, it is probable that host, 
 waiters, boots, and bar-maids, aided by con- 
 stables, would have made him pay dearly for 
 his foray. But what innkeeper would have ven- 
 tured to resent the waggery of a rich, young, 
 Tory squire, w^hose powerful family used their 
 run of posting, especially in a town so indepen- 
 dent and liberal as the capital of Devon ? So 
 Crab quietly bolted his portion beteen his mas- 
 ter's legs, and the poor woman carried off hers
 
 THE MARUIKD UNMARRIED. 173 
 
 to her starving children, or, what is more pro- 
 bable, to the gin-shop, and this amongst the 
 smiles and giggles of horse-keepers and house- 
 maids, one of which latter had to contribute 
 a kiss in addition to the rest of the Oxonian's 
 plunder. 
 
 I was going to resume my seat in front, but 
 the guard told me I had better mount behind, 
 and he would make a snug roost for me in the 
 boot. I did as I was bid, and, nestling myself 
 amongst the straw, slept like a top until soon 
 after daylight, when I was aroused from my lair, 
 and informed that we had reached the Green 
 Dragon at Salisbury. My trunk and body were 
 now handed down, and delivered to the care of 
 the innkeeper. The captain having wished me 
 good-bye, not without slipping a seven-shilling 
 piece into my hand, and, telling me I was a 
 goose for not accepting his offer, the coach 
 drove off, and I was ushered into the little 
 sanded parlour of the inn, my eyes moistened 
 with tears, and ray heart throbbing with anxiety 
 and impatience to see when and by whom I 
 should be called for.
 
 174 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 i discover that I am a young gentleman, and am 
 wonderfully elated thereat — If you are a courtier, 
 this chapter will excite your bile — I am recom- 
 mended to follow the example of the Spartan youth, 
 and to lie like a moss-trooper sooner than tell tales 
 out of school— I arrive at Thistle-house Academy — 
 My pedagogue considers quality as an ample set-off 
 against false quantity, and informs me that the best 
 mode of instilling the classics into the head, is by 
 illustrating them with wood-cuts at the other ex- 
 tremity. 
 
 So prone is our nature to cling to the smallest 
 object which has any connexion with our home, 
 no matter how humble or miserable that home 
 may be, that I now looked with sentiments of 
 attachment even upon the coach which had 
 conveyed me from Devonshire, and considered
 
 THE MAURIiJD UNMAllKIKD. 175 
 
 the guard, and above all, the noble-minded cap- 
 tain, as old friends, from whom I was thus se- 
 parated for ever. I therefore ran to the 
 parlour- window, and watched the departing 
 vehicle, until the winding street concealed the 
 enormous blue bell, embellished with golden 
 circles, and the hairy gentleman, with no other 
 vestments than a girdle of oak leaves, w^hich 
 were painted upon the hind boot — much fitter 
 emblems of some of those bell-mouthed, blue 
 ladies, sparkling in superficial tinsel, whom I 
 have subsequently met with, than of the beau- 
 tiful savage whom they were meant to represent. 
 Had I known anything of this class of learned 
 ephemera in those days, or not been as ig- 
 norant of the poet Persius as I was of the Per- 
 sians, the back of the coach would have re- 
 minded me of Dryden's applicable translation, 
 
 " Ye, like the hindmost chariot-wheels, are curst, 
 Still to be near, but ne'er to be the first ;" 
 
 as it was, I only thought how blue I looked, 
 or rather, how gloomy was my own situation. 
 When the last rumbling of the coach-wheels
 
 J76 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED- 
 
 had died away, a chill came over my young 
 heart that it would be impossible to describe. 
 I sobbed, or rather moaned, so bitterly, that the 
 good-natured landlady came up to me, and 
 soothingly said, " Lauk, my dear, what ails 
 you?" I gave no answer, but made a pitiful 
 face, and, by some accident, put my hands upon 
 my chest, which made her fancy that the seat 
 of my anguish was in my stomach, and not in 
 my heart, for she said, " Ah ! it's those nasty 
 Devonshire apples, they're enough to gripe a 
 helephent ; they're only fit to be squashed into 
 cider; but Fll get you a glass of peppermint, 
 or a drop of warm ale/' 
 
 " Oh ! it is not that, ma'am," replied I, " I 
 am quite well here." 
 
 " Lauk ! then, my dear boy," rejoined she, 
 " don't be down-hearted ; the holidays will soon 
 come, and then you'll see your par and your 
 mar again. I dare be shot if they're not quite as 
 sorry to lose you, as you be to leave them." 
 This allusion to my parents did but set me cry- 
 ing the faster. This time, however, I raised 
 my hands to my eyes instead of my stomach.
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 177 
 
 SO she continued, " Dear me ! you put me in 
 mind of our Billy. Lauk ! I thought his poor 
 little heart would have bussted, when my lord 
 the bishop persuaded us to send him up to the 
 grammar school ; for my husband, you know, 
 was butler to his lordship, aud a better man 
 and master God never made ; and sure enough, 
 how 1 did cry, and John took on so himself 
 that he couldn't serve his customers. And 
 misfortunes never come singly, for it was club- 
 day of the Royal Bucks, and John was quite 
 beflustered, and there was a pretty to-do ; for 
 he drewed small for strong, double XX for 
 Barclay's stout, gave hot with, instead of cold 
 without to the president; mislaid the key of 
 the cupboard, with the club rules and pigtail, 
 and chucked the spitting-box full of sand, in- 
 stead of a quartern of corn, to Squire Bennett's 
 gig horse. But it's all for the best ; for, as I 
 heard the bishop's lady say, when the old hen 
 turkey was chopped by the subscription hounds, 
 and left the polts a running under the bushes, 
 ' God Almighty,' said my lady, ' makes feathers 
 to cover little birds' wings, and teaches them in
 
 178 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 due season to hop from twig to twig, and pick 
 up their own victuals, so I have no doubt they'll 
 do very well."* And so it was with Billy ; for 
 he came home for Christmas hohdays as fat as 
 our mayor, only his clothes, to be sure, was in a 
 terrible mess. But since you a'n't got the 
 stomach-ache, you must be hungry. There's 
 nice tea and fresh eggs, and I'll butter the toast 
 for you myself. If s down at kitchen-hob, and 
 before you've done, Mr. BirchelFs servant will 
 be in town. He told me last market-day, he'd 
 orders to call for a young gentleman, as may be 
 this morning." And so saying, off went the 
 voluble landlady to fetch the breakfast. 
 
 Although my tears had relieved me, I cannot 
 say that I had found very great " luxury in 
 grief;" for I was naturally of a merry disposi- 
 tion, and had never known care nor sorrow 
 until Christmas-day. But to be separated from 
 every friend and acquaintance, to be abandoned 
 to strangers, and to find myself at twelve years 
 of age mysteriously cast upon the world, and in 
 utter ignorance of my future fate, did, I confess, 
 stir up such a conflict and confusion in my
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 179 
 
 mind, that my head swam round, a sensation 
 augmented by the whirring dizziness which is 
 the usual result of night-travelling. 
 
 But, O vanity ! thou paradise of fools, young 
 and old, high or low, peasant or peer, chamber- 
 maid or countess — all bow to thy empire. For 
 what think you, reader, contributed more even 
 than the prospect of a good breakfast to assuage 
 my grief ? — why, being treated as a young gen- 
 tleman. This was a new light which burst 
 upon my mind like the sudden introduction of 
 a torch into a dark chamber ; it touched a latent 
 fibre, with the existence of which I was hitherto 
 unacquainted : it struck the chord of ambition 
 — the most natural and, if well-directed, the most 
 noble passion that Providence has implanted in 
 man's breast *, — that passion which often leads 
 to emulation, exertion, wealth, and immortal 
 fame ; but, alas ! still oftener to disappointment, 
 misery, misanthropy, and disgraceful death. 
 
 Not that I had been devoid, young as I was, 
 of a desire to distinguish myself, and to be ad- 
 mired by the small circle of my village acquaint- 
 ance ; but tlie extent of this desire was to be
 
 180 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 considered the ugliest grinner, the fastest run- 
 ner, the boldest swimmer, the most expert hand 
 at cHmbing a tree after a bird's-nest, and the 
 best fiddler of my age, and, I ought to add, 
 perhaps, the more honourable though not the 
 most difficult, wish to be considered the first 
 scholar at the day-school. But these two little 
 words, " young gentleman," awakened novel 
 sensations, that inspired me with more elevated 
 sentiments, and gave a sudden developement to 
 my intellectual faculties. To these sensations 
 I have been indebted for support in hours of 
 deep affliction and severe trial. I determined, 
 since I was a gentleman, that I would shape 
 my conduct accordingly, and under no vicissi- 
 tude have I ever lost sight of this beacon. 
 
 If the landlady had told me that I was a 
 peer, and that a coach and six filled with sacks 
 of gold was coming for me, I should have been 
 bewildered by the one, and should not have 
 known how^ to dispose of the other. Of the 
 value of money I was ignorant ; and as for the 
 lords, they, in my imagination, were far above 
 the rest of all mankind : their condition was as
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. J 81 
 
 inconceivable to me as that of divinity itself. I 
 thought they were created by super-human 
 agency, not begotten, for the most part, of gold 
 and political intrigue. I did not know that 
 kings or ministers — insignificant mortals — made 
 peers, sometimes to reward merit, oftener to 
 compensate subserviency, and to-satisfy court or 
 party purposes. Heaven forgive my ignorance ! 
 I was not aware that lords were frail creatures 
 like other men ; that some gloried in driving 
 stage-coaches, and in associating with common 
 bruisers and blacklegs ; that others wantonly 
 seduced their friends' wives, and accepted money 
 in exchange for the profligacy of their own ; 
 that before kings and princes, they were often 
 the first to bend the knee, and before their in- 
 feriors, the last to bow the head. 
 
 To be told that I was a young gentleman, 
 was another matter. Of this I could judge in a 
 certain degree by comparison. I had heard the 
 villagers talk of good gentlemen, worthy gentle- 
 men, and charitable gentlemen ; I had also heard 
 of others being no gentlemen, which, even in 
 their humble sphere, was the ne jAiis ultra of re-
 
 182 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 proach. The bathos of all human misery in 
 my sight was the workhouse ; the acme of all 
 earthly grandeur was a gentleman — a squire. 
 And, although I hated Squire Oxover person- 
 ally, and thought the vicar no gentleman, I con- 
 sidered the former as the first man in the world 
 next to the king, of whom I had no other con- 
 ception than what I had formed from devour- 
 ing his gilt-gingerbread effigy at the village 
 revels. The idea, therefore, of being raised 
 from a parish pauper to a young gentleman was 
 electrifying, and almost overwhelmed me. I 
 ought, however, to observe that I was naturally 
 gentlemanly. I believe I possessed that inhe- 
 rent, precious gift which cannot always be ac- 
 quired by art or intercourse with courts ; for I 
 have since met individuals who never breathed 
 the atmosphere of a palace, and yet had all the 
 bearing, the enviable, indescribable type of high- 
 bred gentlemen. Again, I have seen courtiers, 
 who have basked their whole lives in the sunny 
 smiles of princes, who nevertheless iiave had the 
 air of carmen, without any of ihe polish of their 
 horses' coats, and still less of their generous
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 183 
 
 qualities ; modern FalstafFs, with all the gluttony 
 and buffoonery of old Jack, shorn of his wit. 
 And in this they were perhaps fortunate; for 
 wit is an exotic that withers amidst the unge- 
 nial air of courts. Princes require butts to 
 shoot at, not arrows, which, like Congreve 
 rockets, may recoil upon themselves. Wit be- 
 tokens freedom of soul, equality and superiority 
 of intellect, and these are for other regions than 
 courts. A buffoon, a common jester, may there 
 hold his ground, provided he be a good hs- 
 tener; but woe betide the man of genuine wit, 
 if he dare let fly his bolt : after a few explosions 
 his barrel will burst in his hand. Even though 
 his master be his match — a rare occurrence — he 
 will be overmatched by those who are often 
 matchless for their dulness ; they will crush him 
 by the mere vis inerticB of plodding density, or 
 by the more active venom of envy and intrigue. 
 Not having been in other company than that 
 of fishermen, except during my short residence 
 under Mr. Steers' roof, I was strangely puz- 
 zled how to btliave myself I felt that there 
 was a wide difference between my language and
 
 184 THE MAURI ED UNMARRIED. 
 
 manners, and that of the few gentlemen's sons 
 I had seen at our village cricket-matches, or 
 whom I had accompanied sailing and wild fowl 
 shooting in our bay. But how to imitate them ? 
 — there was the rub. I was meditating upon 
 this latter dilemma, when the landlady again 
 made her appearance with breakfast; so I took 
 courage to endeavour to ascertain whether I 
 was really the young gentleman she alluded to, 
 saying, as I crammed a huge piece of toast into 
 my mouth, " I ask your pardon, ma'am, but 
 you said that a servant was to call for a young 
 gentleman — are you sure it's for me ?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear," replied she, taking a slip of 
 paper from her pocket, " here's the name he 
 left, and it's the same that's on your trunk and 
 the way-bill, — « Master Penguin, per Plymouth 
 Regulator, to be left till called for.' " 
 
 " Then, ma'am," answered I, " perhaps you 
 can tell me what sort of a place I am going to, 
 for Mr. Steers knew nothing about it." 
 
 " Lauk, didn't he ! — to be sure, it isn't no 
 wonder," rejoined the Wiltshire dame, tossing 
 up her head ; " for how should them stomach-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 185 
 
 achy, cider-drinking people, down at Landsend 
 in Devonshire, know anything of what's up in 
 these civilised parts ? Why, my dear, you are 
 going to Mr. Birchell's, at Thistle' us Academy 
 or young gentlemen, leastways I expect so; 
 and it's quite a genteel school. Mr. Birchell, 
 God bless his eye-sight, as the young gentlemen 
 say, is as proud as our cock-turkey, because 
 he married a relation of some lord, where he 
 was tutor like, and he only takes in quality 
 folks' sons. There isn't a more selecter school 
 in the four counties: they learns everything. 
 There's an old hemigrey French mounseer, what 
 they say was a great lord over the water, with 
 a piece of red ribbon pinned to his coat, and 
 a long pig-tail and two powdered things turned 
 up over his ears, like a brace of coUyflowers — 
 he teaches them French. And then there^s 
 another hemigrey, which plays on the fiddle, 
 and teaches them dancing. People do say that 
 he's courting the Miss Bobbins the haber- 
 dashers ; but that's their business. Well, as I 
 was a saying, we ahvays send our best chays to 
 carry the young gentlemen home for the holi-
 
 186 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 days, and worse luck sometimes ; for last Easter 
 they took and cut my lord's eye out with their 
 pea-shooters." 
 
 " What a pity, ma'am," said I ; " and did 
 they dare knock out a lord's eye ?" 
 
 " O no ! not a real lord's," answered mine 
 hostess of the Dragon, " only crook'd-backed 
 Bob's, our postillion ; and, what was worse. Bob 
 threw down the near wheeler, and my husband 
 brought a haction against the young gentlemen's 
 parents." 
 
 " For poor Bob's eye, ma'am ?" demanded I. 
 
 " No, to be sure," retorted she, " that was 
 Bob's look out ; — no, for the mare's knees ; for 
 she warn't worth a ten-pound note after, and 
 we'd refused six -and- thirty the day before. But 
 lauk bless you my dear ! them young gentlemen 
 are as bad as old Nick when they get out of 
 Mr. Birchell's sight, and don't care no more 
 for words than the lawyers does at 'sizes." And 
 again she returned to the bar, where, if her ale 
 flowed as fast as her words, she was on the high- 
 road to fortune. 
 
 So then, thought I, it is really true I am a
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 187 
 
 young gentleman, going to an academy for 
 young gentlemen, where none but quality folks' 
 sons are admitted, and where young gentlemen 
 may knock out a post-boy's eye gratis, and only 
 pay for broken-kneed horses. First, it struck 
 me as an odd thing, that a hump-backed pos- 
 tillion should be called a lord ; and then I 
 thought of poor Penguin, and the Steers, and 
 how rejoiced the latter would be to hear that 
 I was so great a personage. And as they had 
 bidden me write and tell them of my safe arrival, 
 in the fulness of my heart I took the dirty ink- 
 stand from the mantle-piece, and commenced a 
 letter upon half a sheet of paper that lay by it. 
 I had got as far as " Honoured sir,— mayhap 
 you will be glad to hear that the lady, who 
 keeps the Green Dragon at Salisbury, tells me 
 that I am a young gentleman,"— when my eye 
 happened to fall upon my hand, and the sight of 
 that rather damped my pride ; not that it was 
 large or misshapen ; for I have since been com- 
 plimented by our immortal bard, who told me, 
 whatever my body might be, my fingers at least 
 were "thorough-bred,"' and bore, as he has termed
 
 188 THE MARRIED UN:\rARRIED. 
 
 it, that " distinctive mark of birth, the almost 
 only sign of blood which aristocracy can gene- 
 rate;" but mine looked anything but aristo- 
 cratic; — they were rough, chopped, freckled, 
 and scaly: the palms were tinged with tar- 
 stains, and the nails were in deep mourning, 
 and bitten to the quick. It was an odd thing 
 to strike me; but whether it was inspiration, 
 or comparison with the young gentlemen's hands 
 I had seen rowing, I thought my fingers were 
 not like theirs ; so I dropped the pen, crumpled 
 up the letter, and ran to the pump in the yard, 
 where, by dint of sand and yellow soap, I 
 scrubbed them into a somewhat less dusky hue : 
 it was my first essay at dandyism. 
 
 I was diligently occupied in drying my fingers 
 on the stable-roller, and had determined to pur- 
 chase a pair of gloves at the opposite hatter's, 
 when an old gig entered the yard, in which was 
 seated a servant in a dingy half-livery— a kind 
 of personage between a tea-boy and a groom, — 
 a sort of Jacknasty, usually to be found at 
 schools. To my great satisfaction, his first ex- 
 clamation to the ostler was, " Well, Bill, was
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 189 
 
 the young gentleman we expect from Devon- 
 shire dropped by Regulator ?" Here was a 
 further corroboration of my gentility ; so I saved 
 Bill the trouble of answering, by saying, " Yes, 
 sir, here I am." After measuring me from 
 head to foot, and smiling — why, I know not, 
 unless it was because I called him " sir," the 
 title by which I always addressed the servants 
 from Oxover-hall — he told me he had a com- 
 mission to buy marbles, lolly-pops, and tartlets 
 for some of the young gentlemen, and that he 
 would be back directly. I then returned into 
 the house, and asked for my reckoning, upon 
 which the landlady said, " O my dear, it's only 
 eighteen pence, and sixpence for fire; but 
 you've plenty to do with your pocket-money, 
 and so I'll put down half-a- crown to Mr. Bir- 
 chell's account, God bless his eye-sight ; and no 
 doubt he'll charge three shilhngs to your par 
 and mar : but that's all in the way of business." 
 I thought this a very dishonest way of doing 
 business : but as 1 concluded it was always the 
 custom with young gentlemen, I made no reply, 
 but followed my trunk into the gig; for Mr.
 
 190 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 Steers told me he had travelled a good deal, and 
 always made it a rule to stick by his luggage. 
 
 The servant having completed his purchases, 
 and drunk his quart of ale, we started on the 
 road to Thistle Hall, which was about eight 
 miles off. My heart beat with anxiety and 
 strange throbbings as w^e perceived the church- 
 spire, which the servant told me was close to 
 the academy. At length, a turn of the lane 
 brought us in sight of the building itself, a 
 large, old mansion, the property of a Catholic 
 nobleman, whose family had carried him abroad 
 at the peace of Amiens, and where he had con- 
 tinued to reside, having entered the Austrian 
 service. My conductor had asked me several 
 questions in a flippant manner during our drive ; 
 but he discovered from my replies, as I after- 
 wards heard him tell my school-fellows, that I 
 was " a rum kind of young gentleman," and 
 subsided into silence, amusing himseK by whis- 
 thng, and lashing the haw-berries from the 
 hedge-rows. However, when we began to as- 
 cend the hill which led round to the house, he 
 checked his horse, and said, " I hope, sir, you'll
 
 .THE MATIRIED UNMARRIED. IQl 
 
 pay your footing; it's the custom with all the 
 young gentlemen, and it's all the parquisites we 
 gets." 
 
 The word " footing" reminded me of my 
 first initiation into the workhouse, and I thought 
 it a strange thing that young gentlemen should 
 be submitted to the same exaction. But as I 
 was afraid to compromise my gentility, I very 
 reluctantly pulled out the half-crown Mr. Steers 
 had given me. This he pocketed before I could 
 ask him for change, for I only intended to pre- 
 sent him with a shilling, and then, giving a 
 queer turn with his eye, and thrusting his 
 tongue into his cheek, as much as to say he had 
 overreached me, he continued "Now,, sir, as you've 
 behaved very much like a gentleman, which I 
 will tell all my feller-servants, and as you've 
 never been at no school, and are the most 
 greenhornedest young gentleman as ever came 
 to our 'cademy, I'll put you up to a wrinkle or 
 two. Himprimeous, as master says, and God 
 bless his eye-sight, never you tell any tales out 
 of school, because none of the young gentlemen 
 never tells nothing : we never blows them, and
 
 192 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 they never blows we. If so be they gets into a 
 mess, such as robbmg the garden, sucking eggs, 
 getting out of bounds, or steahng small-beer, 
 which is'nt easy, as missis keeps the key, 
 though we sees it, we swears a halliby, and they 
 swears black and blue nobody did it : we takes 
 our Bible oaths, and they gives their words and 
 honours, and such like. And then if master's 
 ramgumscious, and says somebody must liave 
 done it, and nobody won't peach, then he flogs 
 the whole school, and them as really did it 
 gives us something for our trouble; only, now 
 and then, when we can't abide a young gentle- 
 man, we says he did it, and though he's as in- 
 nocent as the baby unborn, he catches it : that's 
 exchange, which a'n't no robbery. Now, for 
 instance, if you want apples, and as you be from 
 Devonshire I suppose you are as fond of 'em as 
 the Irish is of potatoes, — for we've four or five 
 Irish rebel young gentlemen, and I believe 
 they'd eat a field of potatoes, and drink a cow 
 full of butter- milk, if master would let 'em, — 
 so if you want apples, oranges, allicompane, 
 penny tarts, or what not, I or my fellow-sarvant
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 193 
 
 goes into Salisbury twice a-week, and will 
 bring you what you please, only mum's the 
 word. Master, God bless his eye -sight, con- 
 tracts with the pieman for buns, gooseberry 
 tarts, and such like, and pays so much a-week, 
 and charges the gentlefolk double, no doubt. 
 Now, as he makes his profit, I don't see why 
 we poor sarvants should not pick up a crumb 
 likewise : what's sauce for the goose is sauce 
 for the gander. Do you twig?" 
 
 " I have been always taught,"' replied I, " to 
 speak the truth, and rather do anything than 
 lie. If s a hard thing to be flogged for other 
 boys' mischief : but as you say all the young 
 gentlemen tell stories, I promise never to say 
 a word about anything I hear or see." 
 
 " Now,'" continued the fellow, " Til give you 
 a crumb more advice. Mind you look sharp 
 about missis ; she's a bigger dragon than v, hat's 
 painted on the sign -post at Salisbury. You'd 
 better have an apple-pie bed every night than 
 ruffle her coat : she won t leave you a moment's 
 peace ; she's as stingy as a rushhght, and is 
 always a boasthig of her quality, though, after 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 all, she's only twentieth cousm to some lord; 
 and though she won't stand our talking to the 
 maids, she don't mind a bit of courting herself. 
 Bless you, I caught her in master's study one 
 evening a clacking her lips, for all the world 
 like the pigman's whip, with Nibshort, the 
 usher, who's the skinflintedest, mischievousest, 
 devil-heartedest iellow in all Wiltshire. You 
 must expect to be bullied a few at first ; all new 
 comers is; but mind you hold your own, and 
 though you'll be flogged for fighting, dowse 
 them as bullies you in the chops, only mind it 
 a'n't my lord." 
 
 *' Is he hump-backed, like Bob T said I ; 
 " if so, it would be a shame to strike him.'* 
 
 " No, no ! I means Lord Felix," answered he ; 
 " he's only crook-minded ; but he's a favourite 
 with missis, as is all the other quality." 
 
 By this time v/e had reached the back-door 
 of the house, and I was ushered into the study, 
 where I found Mr. and Mrs. Birchell hearing 
 some beys their private lessons, a privilege 
 purchased by an addition to the usual school 
 charges, end a sort of premium for ignorance :
 
 THE MARRIED UN.MARRFED. 195 
 
 for I afterwards discovered, that these private 
 pupils were what the footboy would have called 
 the numskulledest of the whole school. 
 
 The reverend pedagogue and his wife were 
 too much occupied at first to perceive me, so I 
 had time to examine them both, — him, while 
 he was measuring his pupils' verses, and she 
 her store of tea and grocery, which, for greater 
 security, she kept in a closet, painted on the 
 outside in imitation of book-shelves, the big 
 ones at bottom, and, secundum artem, the 
 smaller ones at top. He was a little square- 
 built man, with a vulgar, mean countenance, 
 thick legs, and most pugnacious knees. Nature 
 had been most bountiful in furnishing him with 
 a mouth, the corners of which nearly reached 
 a pair of ears as large almost as the dungeon 
 of the Syracusian tyrant; but she had been 
 singularly avaricious in regard to his nose. 
 This organ could not have been detected upon 
 his face, had it not been for two orifices, which 
 opened a prospect into his head, and were only 
 prevented making a complete junction, by a small 
 neutral-tinted tubercle, having mere the air of 
 
 K 2
 
 196 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 a dyspeptic mushroom than the ordinary feature 
 of the human visage. I now understood why 
 the landlady and footboy blessed his eye-sight 
 after the fashion of Joe Miller, for had he re- 
 quired the assistance of glasses, such an apology 
 for a nose could not have prevented them from 
 falling into his cavernous mouth. 
 
 As for Mrs. Birchell, I took an indescribable 
 antipathy to her at first sight. I was of course 
 utterly ignorant of the science of physiognomy, 
 but there "^vas a something about her gaunt 
 figure, her protruding cheek-bones, her narrow 
 pursy lips, pale lustreless eyes, and long pinchy 
 nose, which bore the same proportion to that of 
 her husband as the alpine Jimg-frau to an 
 apple-dumpling, that made me look upon her with 
 incipient dread. Sympathies and presentim.ents 
 are strange, inexplicable ingredients in the 
 human system : sometimes deceptive, and some- 
 times leading one to fatal and unjust errors, 
 but, for the most part, ratified by results. They 
 may be considered as the almanacs of the soul, 
 the mute shadows of approaching dispensations. 
 
 Mr. Birchell, who had been alternately scratchr-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 197 
 
 ing his head and the piece of paper before him 
 with his pen, now turned to a clumsy-looking 
 boy of about fourteen, and said, 
 
 " Very fair, Lord Felix, very fair ! only 
 thirteen false quantities, and about as many 
 faults of grammar and construction in six hnes. 
 An essential improvement ! The countess, your 
 worthy mother, was justified in describing you as 
 a boy of promise. All things have their season. 
 Odi puerculos prcecoci ingenio, they rarely turn 
 out worth a straw. Festhia lentt is my maxim. 
 Your next exercise will be better. Mala gram- 
 mat'ica non vitiat chartam. If you please, my 
 lord, put that lolly-pop aside until I've corrected 
 your verses. There," continued he, delivering 
 over to his lordship the blotted lines, of which 
 scarce a vestige of the original remained, " Post 
 prcelia, prcBmia : I love to encourage industry. 
 As a stimulus to further exertion I excuse you 
 evening school, 
 
 Exigite ut mores teneros seu pollice ducat 
 Ut si quis cera vultum facit, 
 
 as Juvenal says. Your's are the faults of an
 
 198 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 elevated mind. I don't c?.re a fig — will you 
 reserve that dried one for two minutes ?" 
 
 " O do, my dear young lord," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Birchell in a shrill voice, " they are dreadful for 
 the teeth." 
 
 But the fig was bolted, so the pedagogue con- 
 tinued : " I care not a fig for a few false quan- 
 tities. I judge by quahty, by the inspiration, 
 the sacred fire which betrays the youth of genius. 
 Nee satis est pulchra esse poemata, as Ovid 
 finely expresses it, dulcia su7ito,'''' 
 
 " You are quite right, Mr. B., quality is 
 always preferable to quantity," observed the 
 economico-aristocratic Mrs. Birchell, who was 
 busied in the ingenuous occupation of weighing 
 out a scanty portion of ultra brown sugar as a 
 palliative to the heavy rice-dumplings which, 
 alternately with dough-balls, formed the intro- 
 duction to our dinners; Mrs. Birchell very 
 generously telling us that the more pudding we 
 ate the more meat we should have afterwards. 
 " You are right, Mr. B.," continued the lady, 
 picking up some of the sugar that had fallen ' 
 " you cannot expect people of birth to descend
 
 THE JIARRIED UXMARRIED. 199 
 
 to common minutiae. Besides, although we do 
 prepare boys for Eton and other public schools, 
 between ourselves, I cannot comprehend the use 
 of forcing them to become poets, nolens volens, 
 as carpenters make shelves one under another, 
 by rule and compass." 
 
 " My dear, if I might venture to observe," 
 replied the husband, " such subjects are not 
 within your province. I hold Latin versification 
 to be essential to the knowledge of our own 
 language, and to the education of every public 
 man." 
 
 " What !" retorted the lady, " are public 
 despatches written in sapphics or iambics ? Does 
 not the House of Peers speak prose ?" 
 
 " Too often, my dear," rejoined the peda- 
 gogue. 
 
 " Does the House of Commons legislate 
 in poetry ? It is very well for Italian improvi- 
 satori to string rhymes together like the eyes 
 in a peacock's tail, but really it seems very 
 superfluous for future peers and senators to 
 w^ear out the ends of their fingers during eight 
 or ten years in scanning dactyls and spondees.
 
 200 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 Lord Felix's mother told me she begged we 
 would not thmk of cramping his lordship's 
 genius with such trifles. ' The noble racer/ 
 said she, ' cannot be expected to see pebbles.'" 
 " Aqiiila non capit miiscas, eh ?" exclaimed 
 the husband. 
 
 «' Very probably, ]Mr. B.," answered the 
 lady : " only I wish you would not interrupt 
 me, it is so tiresome." Lord Felix was of the 
 same opinion, for he gave a terrible yawn, and 
 then slily slipped the tabooed lolly-pop into his 
 mouth. " Here," continued Mrs. Birchell, " I 
 will read you a few lines, dated Newmarket, 
 which I received this morning from Lady 
 Raceinfield, with a cake for Lord Felix. ' I 
 should wish to remind you,' says her ladyship, 
 in her expressive style, ' that my dear Felix's 
 lot is cast in a higher sphere. Remember, that 
 although the thorough-bred horse may trip, he 
 is not the less valuable — that we leave to cock- 
 tails. He will enter for the king's plate, and at 
 his first spring meeting will doubtless be the 
 favourite, if he continues to grow up with as 
 fine a forehand as at present. I hope great
 
 THE MAKRIKD UNMARRIED. 201 
 
 attention is paid to his dancing, that is indeed 
 important I thought he did not step out so 
 well last holidays. As for verses, I care no 
 more for them than for a hunter's stakes. If 
 he has a fair start he will not make a worse 
 race because he shuts up at an hexameter. 
 The Earl, his father, despises such nonsense as 
 much as any man, and yet few get over the 
 ground faster than he does. Indeed, the 
 greatest minds have always disdained ordinary 
 curbs, and have distanced all competitors by the 
 mere force of condition/' 
 
 " True, true, so far," exclaimed Mr. Birchell ; 
 " we find the image in Horace — 
 
 Fingit eqiiuin tenera docilem cervice magister 
 Ire viam quam monstrat eques." 
 
 Lord Felix now appeared much more anxious 
 to eat his mamma's cake than to devour her 
 precepts ; so after fidgeting most painfully some 
 time, he put his hand to his stomach and said, 
 '• Please, sir, I want to go out." 
 
 " Go, my lord, go !" replied the master; and 
 away waddled his lordship, not, however, wit!i- 
 
 K 5
 
 202 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 out slily kicking my shin, as he passed, by way 
 of introduction. 
 
 I had hitherto remained concealed by the 
 group of boys who stood near the door, most of 
 whom amused themselves by treading upon my 
 feet, pinching my arms, sticking pieces of paper 
 under my collar, and exhibiting other tokens of 
 future good-fellowship. 
 
 As soon as they were dismissed, the footman 
 exclaimed — " Here's the new young gentleman 
 from Devonshire, sir;" upon which Mr. and 
 Mrs. Birchell turned and bade me stand forward* 
 And methought the latter eyed me with a look 
 of pccuhar disdain in return for the bow, or 
 rather bob, with which I accompanied my move- 
 ment. 
 
 " Well, Penguinedes, or qiiod altro nomine 
 gaudes^^ said the schoolmaster, " so you are the 
 mysterious youth whom I am to convert fi'om a 
 sow's ear into a silken purse, ex scabies apes, 
 eh ! Pray, may I ask U7ide derivatur ?" 
 
 Seeing that I did not understand him, he 
 added, " Where did you drop from ?" 
 
 " From outside Plymouth Regulator, sir," 
 rejoined I.
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED* 203 
 
 " From what part of Devonshire, I mean," 
 resumed he. "I am pretty well versed in all 
 the western patronymics, and although there 
 are as many Pen-this and Pen-t'others in those 
 parts as there are in a goose's wings, I never 
 heard of any Penguins." 
 
 " I have searched^ Peerage, Baronetage, 
 Court Guide, House of Commons' list, Road 
 Book, and Travellers' Directory," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Birchell, " but can find nothing like it. 
 Pray who are the Penguins ?" 
 
 " Why, ma'am," said I " poor James was a 
 pilot and fisherman, well known in the chops of 
 the channel, and for miles up and down the 
 coast. When he w^as drowned, his widow was 
 left badly off, and I should have remained upon 
 parish if it had not been for lawyer Steers' 
 goodness." 
 
 " There, Mr. B.," ejaculated the lady, 
 " there, I told you how it would be. This 
 comes of taking boys without references. I 
 really cannot permit our establishment to be 
 contaminated with such low persons. What 
 would Lord and Lady Raeeinficld, Lord Tory-
 
 204 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 ville, and the other noblemen and gentlemen, 
 say, if they discovered that their sons were the 
 schoolfellows of parish paupers ? So, you have 
 sprung from the workhouse, and are the son of 
 a common fisherman." 
 
 " No ma'am," answered I, " James Penguin 
 was not my father." 
 
 " Then who, or what are your parents ?" 
 retorted Mrs. Birchell. 
 
 " That, ma'am, I cannot say; I was told 
 that I was an orphan ; but as the landlady at 
 Salisbury talked of my father and mother being 
 charged a shilling more for my breakfast than 
 it cost, I hoped to hear something of them from 
 you." Thereupon, at Mr. BirchelPs bidding, 
 I recounted all I knew of my history. 
 
 " Hem !" ejaculated the schoolmaster, " igiio- 
 tum per ignotius, I am as much in the dark as 
 ever." 
 
 " I can plainly see," said his wife, " that he 
 is the natural son of some person who is ashamed 
 to acknowledge him." 
 
 This was a sad blow to my expectations, but 
 Mr. Birchell, notwithstanding his pedantry.
 
 THE M All III ED UNMARRIED. 205 
 
 seemed to possess more good-nature than his 
 wife ; so he said, " Well, well, that is a sin for 
 which he is not responsible, it is hard to visit 
 the errors of parents upon children, though 
 in conformity with the commandment. But 
 I am bound to tell the boy all I know, and 
 then we shall be quits." He then added, '• I 
 received, about a fortnight past, an anonymous 
 letter inquiring if I would consent to take 
 charge by the year of a boy of respectable 
 family, named Peregrine Penguin, who had 
 hitherto been much neglected, and offering to 
 pay all charges in advance. My answer to be 
 addressed to XX., No. 19, Lincoln's Inn, Old 
 Square. Notwithstanding the mysterious and 
 anomalous nature of the transaction, I consented, 
 and received a second letter, enclosing the 
 amount of my demand in bank notes, and 
 announcing your arrival from Devonshire on this 
 day. Ecce iterum Cnspinus, here you are — 
 and now, sir, pray what can you do ?" 
 
 " Turn my hand to almost anything, sir," 
 said I. 
 
 " To judge by its colour,'" exclaimed Mrs.
 
 206 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 Birchell, " you seem to have turned it to almost 
 anything but soap and water.'* 
 
 " Nimium ne crede colori, Mrs. B.," observed 
 her husband. " That great Hellenist, Dr. 
 Parr, is as proverbial for his indifference to the 
 cares of the toilet as for his aversion to cheese ; 
 and the illustrious Porson esteems inward liba- 
 tions as a sufficient set-off against outward 
 ablutions. But what books are you in, boy • 
 Do you know anything of verses?" 
 
 " O yes, sir," repUed I, " I have learned 
 most of the psalms by heart, and I can sing a 
 good merry song to the fiddle. But Pve not 
 had much time to read books." 
 
 " ^\Tiat have you read, eh?" returned he. 
 " Delectus ? Phsedrus ? Ovid ? Horace ? Caesar ? 
 Virgil? CorneUus Nepos? Homer, or Greek 
 Testament ?" 
 
 He might as well have asked if I understood the 
 Mysteries of Zoroaster, sol replied in the negative. 
 Thereupon he shrugged up his shoulders, and 
 desired me to deliver my trunk to the housekeeper 
 and my body to the usher. Then, by way of en- 
 couraging my zeal for learning, he said he had
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 207 
 
 no doubt he should be able to whip the whole 
 Gradus ad Parnassum and Greek Lexicon into 
 me in the course of a few months. " And 
 mind," added he, " none of your monkey tricks 
 here. Xo turnip pranks, unless you root up a 
 whole field and feed your sheep's head upon 
 them ; then they will be titheable. I allow a first 
 fault. After that cave ! ne tituhes mandataque 
 frafigas, or you will find Birchem-grove quickly 
 arrive at Dunce-nane. I have a very pretty 
 method of illustrating classical obscurities with 
 woodcuts. Hem ! you may go." 
 
 Mrs. Birchell now bade me follow her to the 
 housekeeper's room, where she deposited her 
 stores, and I my box. She then summoned the 
 usher. The first glances exchanged between 
 the latter and myself seemed to determine our 
 mutual sentiments for the future. Mine of 
 dread and antipathy — his of injustice and 
 barbarity. 
 
 « Here, Mr. Nibshort," said Mrs. Birchell, 
 " here is this Devonshire boy. You will scarcely 
 credit the scrape we have got into owing to 
 Mr. B.'s imprudence. He comes direct from
 
 208 THE MARRIED UNMAR.'IIED. 
 
 the workhouse — his guardian a fisherman, his 
 patron some low attorney. I am resolved, 
 however, that our establishment shall not long 
 be contaminated with such a black sheep. 
 You will therefore keep a constant eye upon 
 him." 
 
 " Providing you are not present," rephed the 
 hypocrite bowing, and screwing his sullen, mean 
 features into a vile smirk — a compliment to 
 which she responded with a languishing simper. 
 " Under your good auspices," continued he, " I 
 hope to succeed in purifying the Augean stable^ 
 or to assist your views in sending him back 
 whence he came. I fully participate in your 
 indignation at being condemned to harbour a 
 parish pauper. But leave him to me. Til look 
 to him." 
 
 " My confidence in you is unbounded," 
 replied the lady significantly, "and therefore, 
 although it is Mr. B's rule not to allow any one 
 to beat or flog the boys but himself, you have 
 my permission to exercise your discretion upon 
 this one." 
 
 Mr. Nibshort placed his hand on his heart,
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. "209 
 
 and lifted up his eyes as if in tender thanksgiv- 
 ing — I cast my eyes down in sorrowful fore- 
 boding. 
 
 A bell now rang. I was told it was for din- 
 ner, and the usher bade me follow and place 
 myself by his side at table.
 
 210 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The Thracians esteemed horse-flesh as an infallible 
 recipe for inuring their youth to war — Mr. Birchell 
 opines that mutton is the best diet for incipient 
 chancellors— I am condemned to durance for losing 
 mj' appetite, and caned for finding a friend — I fall 
 out with one boy, and fall in with the French 
 master, who gives me friendly advice — I am beaten 
 for recovering my appetite, and sent supperless to 
 bed to avert night-mare — I invent a very successful 
 hydraulic instrument, and am rewarded for my inge- 
 nuity—Home^ sweet home ! 
 
 Although my stomach was empty, my heart 
 was too full to eat. Indeed, though nothing of 
 an epicure, my throat absolutely rose at the mess 
 of jaundiced and soddened rice which was placed 
 before me, as a prelude to the tough, fat slices of 
 half- boiled mutton, which were to be its succes-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 211 
 
 sors. Mr. Birchell, who had been educated on 
 the Eton foundation, not only adhered to the 
 Eton system of instruction with all its imperfec- 
 tions and prejudicial omissions, but even adopted 
 the uniform diet which has acquired for the 
 king's scholars the generic appellation of "tug- 
 muttons." Consequently no other meat than 
 mutton was allowed at his table. A lanigerous 
 aliment, as he facetiously observed, admirably 
 adapted to qualify them for the woolsack. 
 
 My want of appetite did not escape Nib- 
 short's observation, who first rapped my finger 
 with his fork and said, " Come, sir, none of your 
 airs here. Do your Devonshire paupers turn 
 up their noses at such excellent viands as these ? 
 Eat, sir, eat, I say — eat, or go to the penitentiary, 
 you will be at home there," — and he pointed to a 
 couple of steps in the corner, which I soon ascer- 
 tained was the flogging-block, but which also 
 served as a sort of pillory, where minor delin- 
 quents expiated their offences by exposure 
 during dinner or school-time. It was in vain 
 that I endeavoured to obey : the clammy mess 
 literally stuck in my throat. So, to prevent un-
 
 212 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 pleasant results, I abandoned the effort, saying, 
 " Sir, if you please, T cannot — I am not hungry." 
 
 " Eat," replied he, " or I'll report you." 
 
 " If I do I shall turn sick," retorted I, making 
 another effort. The only answer I received was 
 a box on the ear, with an order to march, and 
 mount the penitentiary. 
 
 Mr. Birchell was too much occupied in de- 
 vouring his own dinner to observe what was 
 passing at the bottom of the table ; but he no 
 sooner discovered my disgrace, and learned the 
 cause, than he exclaimed, " What, dainty for- 
 sooth ? Lepus tute es, et piilpamentum quceris ? 
 And insolent to boot ! A fine commencement, 
 Mr. Penguinedes — but come, sir, descend from 
 your high estate ; it is your first fault. Hence- 
 forth cave, or your knees will occupy the place 
 where your heels are." 
 
 I had scarcely time to slink back and cast a 
 timid glance at the two rows of giggling boys who 
 lined the table, where they were placed according 
 to titular rank and precedence, not according to 
 age or merit, when Mr. Birchell, rose, uttered a 
 short grace, and the juvenile band rushed to the
 
 THE MARRIED UXMARRIED. 213 
 
 play-ground, some to cast away the lumps of rice 
 and fat which they had secreted about their 
 clothes, but the greater part to surround me. 
 
 This they did like a swarm of wasps. Ques- 
 tions of "WTiat's your name?"— "what school 
 have you been at?" — " how much money, and 
 what cakes, have you brought ?'' were re-echoed 
 by twenty voices. The ingenuous nature of my 
 answers, together with the report made of my 
 " greenhornedness," by the foot-boy, seemed to 
 have marked me as a fit object for more than 
 the ordinary- torments to which novices are gene- 
 rally doomed. So they forthwith commenced 
 every kind of trick which juvenile ingenuity could 
 invent. Amongst the foremost of my persecutors 
 was Lord Felix, with five or six other boys much 
 bigger than myself : one of these tripped up my 
 heels ; another squirted muddy water in my face ; 
 a third stuck a lolly-pop paper inm.y ear; and a 
 fourth running away with my hat, jerked it into the 
 duck-pond ! whilst a bevy of small fry pinioned 
 my arms, and, before I co\dd extricate myself. 
 Lord FeUx forced some detestable filth into my 
 mouth, which he called Thistle-house dessert.
 
 214 THE MAllRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 Three or four boys stood aloof and seemed to 
 commiserate me, and one of them so far mter- 
 ceded in my behalf as to exclaim, "It is a 
 shame, it is too bad ! Springwood, you would 
 not dare to touch him if he was bigger." Un- 
 fortunately my advocate was not a match for 
 any of the others. He was a fair, blue-eyed, 
 delicate boy, of gentle and amiable appearance, 
 and about my own age. From his being placed 
 upon the left hand of Mrs. Birchell, and 
 being favoured with a glass of wine after dinner, 
 he was evidently of some rank, but I did not 
 know until afterwards, that he was the Hon. 
 Wilham Pitt Toryville, only son of one of the 
 noblemen whom Mr. Birchell had spoken of as 
 likely to be offended at his son's herding with 
 me. 
 
 " It is an abominable shame, you bullies !" 
 again exclaimed the fair boy, as the others con- 
 tinued their persecution," "and if it were not 
 mean I would tell Birchell, and have you pu- 
 nished. None but cowards would behave as 
 you do." 
 
 " Cowards ! do you mean to call me a coward ?"
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. '21.") 
 
 exclaimed Lord Felix, quitting me and march 
 ing up to my defender. Take that, sir !" — and he 
 gave him a violent blow which brought blood 
 from his nose. 
 
 I had hitherto supported my own torments 
 without murmuring, but the sight of the blood 
 of the kind boy, who had sought to defend me, 
 roused my mettle. Shaking off the youngsters 
 who clung to my arms, I sprang forward, and 
 then throwing off my jacket, exclaimed, " If you 
 are not a coward, stand up like a man, and you 
 shall get Devonshire dessert." Thereupon I set 
 to work, and gave him such a drubbing as soon 
 made him roar out for mercy. Having had 
 enough, he sneaked off with some of his friends, 
 and as no one interposed in his favour, I was 
 allowed to put on my jacket in peace. The boy 
 whom I had avenged now came up, thanked me, 
 and offering me his hand said, "You and I 
 will henceforth be cronies. I am but a poor 
 weak thing, or Springwood would not have 
 required chastisement at your hands. He's the 
 greatest lout, tyrant, and story-teller in the 
 school. I am glad you have given him a lesson.
 
 216 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 especially as it will inspire the rest of his set 
 with respect ; but I fear your victory will cost 
 you dear, for he is sure to tell Mrs. Birchell, 
 and you will be severely punished, especially as 
 she told us that you had neither father nor 
 friends — see," added he, "here she comes with 
 Nibshort." 
 
 In another minute the usher was at my side, 
 and without further preface commenced beating 
 me with his cane, being encouraged the while 
 by Mrs. Birchell. After amusing himself in 
 this way until he was tired, by way of prelude, 
 he delivered me over to Mr. Birchell in order 
 that he might execute the finale. Although the 
 latter took as much delight in flagellation 
 as sportsmen do in beating covers, he seemed 
 inclined at first to think me not so much to 
 blame as Lord Felix. But even had his lord- 
 ship's black eye and swollen cheek not risen in 
 judgment against me, ]Mrs. Bircheirs mandate 
 would have sufficed to turn the scale ; for she 
 declared that, " cost what it might, she would 
 write to Lord and Lady Raceinfield and recom- 
 mend them to remove their son, if the dear,
 
 THE MARillED UNxMARRlED. *217 
 
 injured boy was allowed to be mutilated and 
 disfigured by a low-born cur from a Devonshire 
 workhouse." This was an irresistible argu- 
 ment, especially when backed by symptoms of 
 an hysteric. Therefore, as soon as the school- 
 bell rang, Mr. Birchell tucked up his sleeves, 
 opened the cupboard containing the rods, which, 
 as he boasted, were made exactly to a twig after 
 the Eton model, the block was pulled forth, and 
 I was directed to commence what the French 
 term, "the condemned toilet." 
 
 I had been beaten with rope's end, whips and 
 sticks — often beaten for various pranks — yet this 
 was the first time I had ever been subjected to, 
 or even witnessed, the ignominious and disgust- 
 ing chastisement adopted at the most renowned 
 English schools, as the most appropriate system 
 of correction "for young gentlemen;'' thus 
 apparently establishing it as the exclusive privi- 
 lege of the higher classes. Remonstrance or 
 opposition were, of course, vain. But young as I 
 was, and ilUterate and neglected as I had been, 
 my heart swelled with indignation at being 
 obliged to submit to so degrading a process. I 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 THE MARRIED UNLMARRIED. 
 
 could not conceive how any member of the 
 church, how any decent-minded man could ad- 
 vocate, still less consent to be the instrument of, 
 such an infamous mode of castigation, or how 
 any parent could send his son to a place of 
 education where it was not only applied indis- 
 criminately, but adhered to by the masters as 
 essential to the maintenance of subordination 
 and the progress of letters. However, down 
 I knelt, and bore the sting with more fortitude 
 than the unseemly witticisms of Mr. Birchell, 
 who, mistaking the gloom of my countenance 
 for the forerunner of a flood of tears, exclaimed, 
 " No crying before you are out of the wood ;"* 
 then accompanying his blows with the sort of 
 noise made by Irish paviours, he wound up 
 with, " There, Intus et in cute Jiovi, or as 
 Dryden turned it, without ever dreaming of the 
 application, 
 
 '' I know thee to thy bottom, — from within 
 Thy shallow centre, to thy utmost skin." 
 
 I would sooner have bitten off my tongue, than 
 
 have betrayed any other emotion than that of 
 
 indignation, both at the punishment and cause ;
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 219 
 
 but my firmness seemed to operate very diiFe- 
 rently upon the master and pupils : the former 
 gave me four or five cuts more, because he con- 
 sidered my behaviour not only as a proof of a 
 hardened heart, but of a very tough epidermis ; 
 whilst, the latter, when school was over, crowded 
 round me, saying they had all been tickled up 
 twenty times, and did not care a straw for it, 
 for they would sooner have two floggings than 
 one extra lesson; but, although I was a spunky 
 fellow for not piping, I was wrong, nevertheless, 
 for not crying like a stuck pig. " You will see," 
 observed one of them, '• none of us ever receive 
 a single cut without bellowing like bulls of 
 Bashan. Not that it hurts much — but old 
 Birchy always calculates the amount of our 
 penitence by the loudness of our lamentations. 
 So the moment he opens what he calls his 
 printing press, we commence singing out as 
 if we already suffered the martyrdom of St. 
 Bartholomew\" 
 
 I thanked my new acquaintance for his infor- 
 mation, but said, that however much the pain 
 might annoy me, I would not give Mr. Birchell 
 
 l2
 
 2'20 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 the triumph of knowing it, especially when 
 I was unjustly punished, which had been the case 
 tw ice within the lapse of as many hours. Indeed, 
 the reader will not marvel if I now strongly 
 doubted the correctness of Mr. Steers' parting 
 observation — " that school was the happiest 
 period of man's life ;" for no sooner did I arrive, 
 than 1 was kicked, pinched, and spat upon, by 
 way of introduction : I was then told that my 
 society would disgrace the establishment ; I was 
 next beaten, and publicly exposed for not gorg- 
 ing myself with boik d rice ; in a few minutes 
 after, I was tormented for no other reason than 
 that I was a new-comer, and had no friends; 
 and then, because I bore my own indignities 
 without complaining, and merely stood forward 
 to defend a weak boy, I was most unmercifully 
 caned, and then submitted to the disgraceful 
 punishment, which, in the innocency of my 
 plebeian heart, I thought was reserved for cart- 
 tail vagrants, and petty thieves— a punishment 
 from which I should have arisen with as much 
 shame as disgust, had I not found that it was 
 laughed at by the other young noblemen and
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. '2*21 
 
 gentlemen, who neither quailed at the pain, nor 
 blushed at the exposure. 
 
 My young friend, Toryville, having been 
 obliged to lie down, in consequence of the blow 
 he had received from my antagonist, and the 
 other boys having little inchnation to renew 
 their attacks upon me after the specimen I had 
 given of my prowess, I was left alone, and was 
 glad to escape into the little wood, a part of 
 which was included within our bounds. There 
 I walked, 
 
 " And wept, I knew not why, until there rose, 
 From the near school-room, voices, that, alas ! 
 Were but one echo from a world of woes — 
 The harsh and grating strife of tyrants and of foes."* 
 
 * Dedication to Shelley's " Revolt of Islam." The 
 above lines evidently allude to Shelley's sufferings when 
 at Eton, where, to use the cant phrase, he was 
 " properly bullied" from morning to night. The 
 eccentricities of his character were looked upon by his 
 school-fellows, and indeed by the masters, as symp- 
 toms of madness. " Mad Shelley," was his general 
 nickname, at the very moment when his exercises and 
 verses gave ample token of that eminent poetical 
 genius which afterwards illustrated his name. It was 
 a common practice with the boys to way-lay, chase
 
 222 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 Thinking these noises might be some new 
 vexation in store for me, I plunged further into 
 the wood, and opened the Eton Latin grammar, 
 which Nibshort had put into my hands, though 
 I looked upon its contents with as much won- 
 der as I should have done upon the lion in the 
 frontispiece, had he jumped over his parterre of 
 fleurs de lys, and saluted me with a growl. I 
 was hard at work upon the liquids, diphthongs, 
 declensions, and other initiatory mysteries, 
 when I heard footsteps, and perceived the old 
 emigre, whose ungrateful duty it was to teach 
 the boys French. 
 
 Never having seen a native of that country, 
 I was naturally curious to examine his person; 
 and although his costume might have been some- 
 what eccentric, I thought there was nothing in 
 his appearance to justify the vulgar prejudice of 
 one Englishman being a match for three French- 
 men. He was a spare but sinewy man, above 
 
 and pelt him, after school, with mud or oranges. 
 Aware of this, he would start home to his dame's with 
 the speed of a deer, followed by many as swift as him- 
 self. This was called a "Shelley hunt."
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 223 
 
 the ordinai^^ height, and apparently about fifty 
 years of age. His features were prominent, his 
 forehead lofty, his eye bright and intelligent, 
 and he had an expression of gaiety and good- 
 humour in his countenance, which neither the 
 furrows of time nor the more destructive inroads 
 of misfortune had been able to extinguish. He 
 walked erect, and with the dignity and noble 
 carriage of one accustomed to command. His 
 dress consisted of a loose wrapper or greatcoat 
 of reddish grey cloth, the skirts of which hung 
 down to his ancles; beneath were a pair of 
 black satin breeches, blue-striped silk stockings, 
 and shoes ornamented with large buckles ; a 
 ribbon was ostentatiously pinned through his 
 button-hole: as he carried his three-cornered 
 hat under his arm, it left unsullied the carefully- 
 curled " pigeons'-wing *" wig and long cue, the 
 powder from which gave his back the appear- 
 ance of that of a miller's : he was, in short, the 
 fac-simile of some of those shadows of the olden 
 time, who may still be seen basking in the 
 sunny walks of the Tuileries, or threading 
 their way through the lustreless streets of the
 
 224 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 Fauxbourg St. Germain : decaying mementos of 
 that awful convulsion, which produced such fear- 
 ful results to their country and to all Europe, 
 as remain unparalleled by the past, and, it is 
 to be hoped, will continue unrivalled by the 
 future annals of nations. 
 
 As the old gentleman approached, I took off 
 my hat : he bowed, and gave a flourish with his 
 gold-headed cane, which, from the treatment I 
 had hitherto met with, I thought he intended 
 to let fall upon my head ; so I screwed up my 
 shoulders, and patiently awaited the blow : 
 upon this he smiled, and holding out his hand, 
 he said, " N'ayez pas peur, mon enfant ! Not 
 steek. Dat should be an introduction a I'lrland- 
 aise ; he meet wid his friend, and for loaf knock 
 'im doon, as your chanson say. No, no ! a 
 true Frenchman never maltraite innocent little 
 shild;'"* and then, poor gentleman, he sighed 
 heavily. I was proceeding farther, but he 
 stopped me, exclaiming, " Ah, ah ! vat you go ! 
 Look, — eef you will more flog, you turn dat 
 vay — eef you no flog, you turn dis way. You 
 out of bons. Mort Dieu ! you English bo-ys
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. *252 
 
 not like French bo-ys ; you have (liable au 
 corps, I tink. You mock at bons ; you mock 
 at flog ; you like les Anguilles ; you loaf to be 
 skeen, as dee cook say. Ah, ah ! par bleu, talk 
 of cook, no vonder you seek at mouton wid 
 blood sauce ; mouton pardi, — all day, mouton. 
 Ah ! I seek myself, I tink I become a sheep. 
 Peste ! I say with Barbe-Marbois, 
 
 Sacre g'lgot, sujet de nos debats steriles, 
 Jusqu'ou ravalez-vous nos estomachs debiles !* 
 
 As Madame de Sevigny says, let us return to our 
 moutons. If she live at Tissel-hose, she be 
 glad to ron avay from her moutons; bat que 
 diable ! I see you mock at rods dis after din- 
 ner as if you have skeen of rhinoceros and heart 
 of lion. I stody Lavater, as also ^Ir. Beershall, 
 chacun apres sa manicre. He stody physiog- 
 nimy in bo-ys tails ; I stody on more grateful 
 side : I see you cry littel and fight much ; odor 
 
 * See Journal of M. Barbe-Marbois, wlio, with 
 Pichegrue and others, were transported to Guinea by 
 order of the Directory in 17f)7. The leg of mutton, 
 which gave rise to the above two lines, is eloquently 
 spoken of by the unfortunate proscript. 
 
 L ;3
 
 226 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 bo-y cry much, fight littel, — I tink you brave 
 and genereux; that diablesse, Madame Beer- 
 shall, tink you bad : she know not more of 
 human nature dan gastronomy. I tell her read 
 almanack des gourmands, and she learn make 
 cotelettes and sauces ; but she green at me, and 
 say, ' English fight for king and country for 
 five hundred years vvidout sauce ;' ah ! as if 
 Magna Charta was made of boil mouton, and 
 dee constitution of ross-bif." Then he added, 
 mournfully, " Helas ! when I see you flog, I 
 tink of my own poor littel grandson ; dey cut off 
 his head, because he not trahir his old grand- 
 papa ; and he, like you, no cry, — ' Ed egli non 
 piangeva,' as Count Ugolino say ; — no ; he bear 
 blows, hunger, prisons, and only weep for his 
 m.ama. Helas ! they cut her off too. Ah, 
 mon Dieu ! ma pauvre fille ! mes pauvres en- 
 fan ts ! But I should not complain, when I 
 see dee poor king die, dee innocent que^n die, 
 and the barbares keel the littel Dauphin." 
 
 I will not, however, continue to cast ridicule 
 upon the good old gentleman's sentim.ents by 
 caricaturinsT his broken Endish : nor will 1 avail
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 227 
 
 myself of the favourable opportunity of showing 
 off my scanty knowledge of French by inter- 
 larding my memoirs with scraps of that lan- 
 guage. The reader must, therefore, forgive me 
 if I avoid the example of fashionable novelists, 
 and do my best to give the Count de Florennes' 
 words in homely English. 
 
 " Come," said he to me, after we had pro- 
 ceeded a few^ yards, " come, I am a poor ex- 
 iled old man ; the afflictions I have endured are 
 enough to steel my heart against aii mankind, 
 but I can still feel for those who are the victims 
 of oppression." Then, as if he were addressing 
 a person of mature age, he continued, " Alas ! 
 how little we emigres are known — how errone- 
 ously judged ! Because we have remained faith- 
 ful to our God, our laws, and our king, we are 
 branded as traitors and tyrants. ]My w hole life 
 has been devoted to the honour and glory of 
 my dear country; and I abhor tyranny, no 
 matter under what shape it appear, more sin- 
 cerely, perhaps, than many who wear the blood- 
 stained cap of liberty. When in prosperity and 
 power, I raised my voice against the oppression
 
 2*28 THE MARRIED UXMARRIED. 
 
 of the government ; but my warnings were re- 
 jected, and I was repaid with frowns : it is a 
 dangerous thing to counsel princes. Wlien 
 power changed hands, and that of the crown 
 was as a grain of sand to the bloody tyranny of 
 the people, I left my retreat, and again opposed 
 it ; but, alas ! it is more dangerous to oppose the 
 will of the people than that of kings : for here 
 I am, a proscribed outcast, my children mur- 
 dered, the very materials of my chateau sold by 
 the black band, my name, illustrious through 
 twenty generations, about to be extinguished in 
 my own frail person, and from having been the 
 dispenser of happiness and prosperity to hun- 
 dreds, I am reduced to gain a pitiful existence 
 as teacher to the wild youths, who now deride 
 and despise the poor, broken-down emigre." • 
 
 " O sir," said I, taking courage, and re- 
 spectfully pressing the old nobleman's hand, " if 
 you will be kind enough to give me lessons, I 
 will be attentive, and do my best to repay you 
 for your trouble. I am not above doing any- 
 thing, sir, and will wait upon you as if you 
 were my father : though I am but a poor friend-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 229 
 
 less orphan, I will do all I can to console 
 you." 
 
 Monsieur de Florennes cordially returned the 
 pressure of my hand, and whilst his eye glis- 
 tened with a tear, he exclaimed, " Brave child ! 
 I thank you. The outpourings of your inno- 
 cent heart are a balm to my sorrows ; but, alas ! 
 nothing can console me in this world but the 
 hopes of another and a better : for that I am 
 prepared, fully prepared ; yes, miserable and 
 unfortunate as I am, my end will not be like 
 that of your celebrated Wqlsey ; I shall meet it 
 without regret or remorse : for I have injured 
 no man ; and though I have faithfully served my 
 king, I have never for a moment neglected my 
 God — he will not desert me in my last ex- 
 tremity.'* Here he crossed himself devoutly, 
 and then continued, " You and I must, how- 
 ever, be better friends; your conduct this day 
 has won my heart: besides, you bear a re- 
 markable resemblance to a worthy Irishman, 
 who, though a prescript like myself, befriended 
 me when 1 was pursued by my enemies in France, 
 and, at the peril of his own existence,.saved mine.
 
 •230 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 In the meantime, we can mutually assist each 
 other; you in aiding me to wile away the 
 many hours of tedious solitude, I in advancing 
 your knowledge of that language, which is too 
 much neglected in all your schools; for, al- 
 though a perfect acquaintance with French is 
 not only essential for the education of a gentle- 
 man, and although men of all other countries 
 are considered illiterate if they are not able to 
 express themselves correctly, it is of rare oc- 
 currence to meet an Englishman who can utter 
 even a few sentences without committing faults 
 which render the finest arguments ridiculous, 
 and which give other nations an immense ad- 
 vantage over you, at all events, in all oral com- 
 munications. Solely intent upon learning Greek 
 and Latin, you waste the precious years of 
 youth in poring over the dead languages, which 
 you acquire imperfectly, and for the most part 
 forget as soon as acquired, whilst you neglect 
 other essentials that are requisite for your ad- 
 vancement in life, whether as diplomatists, sol- 
 diers, statesmen, and especially as accomplished 
 men of the world : but more of this hereafter.
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 231 
 
 I have interrupted your studies. Go, and if 
 the advice of an old man be worth accepting, 
 come to me when you are in need, and I will 
 assist you: in the meantime be diligent and 
 obedient. I have some experience and insight 
 into character, and fear that your independent 
 spirit will lead you into many scrapes, and 
 cause you to make many enemies. Curb this 
 sentiment, which, however laudable at a more 
 advanced age, does not become youth, and is 
 too often destructive in manhood.'' 
 
 It was fortunate, perhaps, that we were now 
 within bounds, for a turn of the walk brought 
 us before Nibshort, who exclaimed, " What are 
 you doing, idling there, sir?— go into the 
 school, and take care you know your lesson : 
 as for you, Mr. Florennes, I must beg you will 
 not interfere with the boys of my class, except 
 at the proper hour. Remember, you are no 
 longer in France, sir." 
 
 " Alas ! no one makes me feel it more than 
 you, sir," replied the other, as, shaking me by 
 the hand, he turned round, and continued his 
 walk.
 
 2.32 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 I now followed the usher into the house, but 
 with a lighter heart, for I had at all events 
 found one person, who felt disposed to treat me 
 like a rational being. 
 
 Having an unusually retentive memory, I was 
 enabled to get through my first essay in the 
 Latin grammar without bringing myself into 
 trouble, unless, indeed, Nibshort had beaten 
 me for learning too fast. The hour for supper 
 at length arrived, and I was delighted to think 
 that, in a few minutes, my day's persecutions 
 would terminate. What with traveUing all 
 night, and being worried all day, I was so worn 
 out, that I fell asleep in a corner, and snored 
 away lustily, in despite of being tickled in 
 the nose with feathers. But I had yet another 
 ordeal to go through : nothing that I did could 
 escape the lynx-eye of Nibshort; for he no 
 sooner saw that I heartily devoured the thinly- 
 buttered slices of bread, which, with little milk 
 and much water, formed our evening meal, than 
 he exclaimed, " So, you jackanapes, you can 
 eat now^, can you? I thought we should cure 
 your daintiness; but this won't do, sir, beggars
 
 THE MARRIED UXMARRIKD. '233 
 
 must not be choosers. Here, John, take away 
 Penguin's plate, let him wait until to-morrow, 
 he will sleep the sounder." I was about to 
 remonstrate, and seize upon the half-finished 
 shoe, when I caught the bright eye of M. de 
 Florennes, who was standing opposite. His 
 brows were knit, as if to invite to obedience. 
 So, although I was no less angry than hungry, 
 I submitted in silence. But even this could 
 not secure me from Nibshort's spite; for he 
 gave me such a tap on the head with his 
 knuckle, as had nigh brought the milk as well 
 as water into my eyes, saying, '* You will make 
 faces, will you ? I have a great mind to send 
 »'ou again to the penitentiary." At length, 
 thank God, Mr. Birchell read prayers, and we 
 were dismissed to our respective dormitories. 
 
 Overwhelmed with fatigue and bruises, I 
 threw myself into bed, and regardless of clipped 
 horse-hair, peppered pillow, apple-pie, and 
 other tricks, slept until I was aroused by a 
 sharp twitch at my toe, which in an instant I 
 found to proceed from a string pulled by some 
 other boy. I bore one or two tugs quietly, but
 
 234 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 being resolved to revenge myself, I slipped my 
 hand down, and, unloosening the noose, fastened 
 it to the bed-post. In a few minutes, I crept 
 stealthily out, and, taking the ball of pack- 
 thread from my pocket which had been given 
 me by Miss Steers, I spliced two long ends to 
 the middle of the string, one of which I con- 
 nected with the bell-rope, and the other to a 
 large tin pitcher of water that stood upon a 
 shelf near the head of Lord Felix's bed, whom 
 I justly suspected of being my tormenter. It 
 being pitch dark, I slunk back unperceived, 
 unloosened the string fi'om the bed-post, and 
 pretended to snore, in hopes that the attempt 
 upon my foot would be renewed. In a few 
 minutes, my scheme of vengeance fully succeed- 
 ed. I had the satisfaction not only to hear a 
 loud ring at the bell, which hung in the pas- 
 sage, and was connected with all the rooms, as 
 a sort of alarum, but a piercing scream from 
 the terrified Lord Felix announced the fall of 
 the tin pitcher, which, after giving him a 
 shower bath, rolled upon the floor. 
 
 Attracted by the outcries of the young lord
 
 THE MAllRIED UNMARRIED. 235 
 
 and the noise of the bell, the whole house was 
 soon in motion, and in a few seconds Mr. and 
 Mrs. Birchell, Nibshort, and tlie fat house- 
 keeper, followed by M. de Florennes, entered 
 the room with Hghts, where of course they 
 found every one pretending to be fast asleep, 
 excepting the involuntary cause of his own 
 misfortune, who sat shivering, crying, and 
 drenched to the skin. I opened one eye 
 cautiously, and it had been better to have kept 
 it shut, for the sight of Lord Felix's pitiful 
 figure, with that of Mrs. Birchell and the house- 
 keeper in their night dresses, and M. de 
 Florennes in a cap like the patient in the 
 " Malade Imaginaire," got the better of my 
 prudence, and, in despite of all my efforts, I fell 
 to laughing so loudly that it attracted the atten- 
 tion of the whole group. 
 
 " You impudent, unfeeling wretch !" ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Birchell, lifting up her candle ! 
 " it is evident you did it," and without further 
 preface she flew at me, seized my shoes, and, 
 saving your presence, reader, threw off the 
 coverlid and commenced playing upon my bare
 
 236 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 back, as if she had been kettle-drummer to the 
 Royal Horse Guard's Blue. When she had 
 exhausted her strength, she at length bethought 
 herself of asking me if I was the real culprit ; 
 for M. de Florennes, who had been examining 
 the corpus delicti^ now exclaimed, " Ah ! ah ! 
 die faux is caught in his own trap— he tread on 
 his own noses his ownselfs — look ;" and he then 
 showed the end of the string tied under Lord 
 Felix's pillow. This circumstantial evidence 
 was strongly in my favour, although his lordship 
 roared out, "It was not me, upon my honour — 
 O you old French brute !" 
 
 Upon this Mr. Birchell said, " Very well, I 
 will soon find out, and if the offender will not 
 confess I will flog the whole room, except Lord 
 Felix, who is sufficiently punished. I now 
 recollected what the footboy had told me, and 
 determined to pay off the rest of the boys for 
 their tricks. So when the pedagogue came 
 round to all our beds successively, and asked us 
 to declare, " upon our words and honours," 
 whether we were guilty, and the boys denied all 
 participation. Heaven forgive me for it, I fol-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 237 
 
 lowed their example. " O ! so nobody did it ?' 
 exclaimed Mr. Birch ell. " Well, then, to-mor- 
 row morning Til flog the whole of you, and there 
 can be no mistake.'' And so saying he retired, 
 followed by the rest. 
 
 When they w^ere gone I sat up in bed and 
 said, " I think it a very hard thing for all of us 
 to be punished because that lubberly lord was 
 stupid enough to give himself a ducking : 
 besides, as he is to be pardoned, he might as 
 well tell the truth, and say at once he did it ;'' 
 an opinion in which I was supported by all my 
 companions. But this made his lordship the 
 more obstinate, and he merely replied, '• No, 
 that's the very reason I would not say I did it, 
 even if I had, for I shall have the pleasure of 
 seeing you all tickled up ; but do you think I 
 am such a fool as to pull down the water on 
 my o^^ n head T 
 
 " I think you are fool enough for anything,"" 
 rejoined I, " and if you don t like that I will 
 give you a second dose of the same sauce you 
 had yesterday. Mr. Birchell may forgive your 
 false quantities in favour of your quality, but I
 
 238 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 will not suffer for your falsehoods, though you 
 were \Squire Oxover" 
 
 Silence at length reigned in our chamber, 
 and I slept until daylight, when I was awakened 
 by a buzz of voices, and lifting up my eyes, saw 
 several of the boys seated undressed upon the 
 marble hearth, making horrid faces from the 
 cold. I thought this a strange way of com- 
 mencing the day, and asked one of them what 
 they were doing. 
 
 " O," said he, *' as v.e are to be flogged in 
 an hour's time, we are merely petrifying for old 
 Birchy, who, no doubt, will be as good as his 
 word." 
 
 And so he was. At eight o'clock he made 
 his appearance in the school-room, and as the 
 whole of us persisted in proclaiming our inno- 
 cence, he opened the ominous press, and duly 
 printed on our individuals a stereotype memo- 
 randum of the night's adventure, with the 
 especial favour of an appendix to my copy. 
 
 But I will not longer fatigue the reader with 
 the vexations and minutiae of an existence to 
 which I at lenofth became somewhat more recon-
 
 THE MARllIED UNMARRIEJ). 239 
 
 ciled. The vigour I had shown upon my 
 first introduction, my agility and powers of 
 mimicry, though the latter made me more 
 enemies than friends, secured me from the 
 attacks of all but four or five stronger boys, 
 who were very ingenious in their mode of tor- 
 menting me, when it suited their fancy, but 
 reserved this diversion as their own exclusive 
 privilege. 
 
 The zeal and application with which I 
 attended to my studies, though it could not 
 guarantee me from Nibshort's cane, wrought a 
 considerable change in my favour with his 
 superior, who now and then went so far as to 
 excuse me, when I was condemned to the rod 
 by his usher. He, moreover, permitted me to 
 pass as much of my spare time as I pleased 
 with the old Count ; with whom I com^menced 
 making a rapid progress in French, besides 
 availing myself of his instructions in music : 
 for, seeing that I had a decided taste for it, he 
 urged me to apply myself earnestly to the 
 violin, on which he played with consummate 
 skill and execution, so that in a short time I
 
 402 THE MARRir.D UNMARRIED. 
 
 obtained considerable knowledge of a science, 
 which, however frivolous and dangerous when 
 carried to excess, has afforded me greater con- 
 solation and resource under misfortunes than 
 any other acquirement. It was the cause of my 
 being called Mol -coddle and spooney by most 
 of my school -fellows, but I cared not for that, 
 particularly as William Tory ville, between whom 
 and myself there sprang up the warmest friend- 
 ship, was equally fond of the art. 
 
 Thus time rolled on, bringing with it little 
 variety or change, until the approach of the 
 summer holidays. 
 
 A month before the appointed time, the boys 
 commenced calculating the number of days that 
 separated them from their beloved homes. 
 Some procured sticks upon which, like Robinson 
 Crusoe, they notched the days of their cap- 
 tivity; but in lieu of adding to the number, 
 each night saw one effaced, amidst divers 
 joyful exclamations. Others, when they retired 
 to bed, sat up and chatted of the happiness in 
 store for them. Some boasted they should 
 have no lessons ; some said they were going to
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIET. 241 
 
 the sea-side or lakes ; some spoke of the dear okJ 
 iLansions of their ancestors, and talked in 
 affectionate raptures of their relations, of the 
 fat pony taken up from grass, of the old and 
 faithful servants who had nursed and loved them 
 as their own children, and of the no less faithful 
 dogs that would greet their arrival with a 
 thousand gambols. Then giggling vvith the 
 thought, they sank to sleep and happy dreams. 
 
 My young friend, Toryville, was not the last 
 who gladly anticipated the vacations. He 
 spoke of his noble father, whom he described as 
 a man of formal manners and decided opinions 
 in politics, but benevolent and kind withal to 
 him and his sister, whom he loved with more 
 than common fraternal affection, and portrayed 
 as a beautiful and interesting creature. 
 
 " I adore her," said William, " she is so good, 
 so clever, and though I fear my father, I love 
 him tenderly : but between you and me, it is 
 otherwise with my mother. 1 fear, but do not 
 love her. Besides, she is not my mother. 
 Delphine and I lost ours when we were infants. 
 Lady Toryville is my father's second wife. She 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 has no children of her own, and disUkes those 
 of others, and as she has great influence 
 with my father, Delphine and I are in some 
 degree the suff*erers." 
 
 He then asked me where I was to go for the 
 vacation — a question to which I could only 
 reply by saying, that I awaited to hear from 
 Mr. Steers, to whom I had written an account 
 of all that had passed, but had received no 
 reply. 
 
 " I dare say your letters never reached him," 
 replied he, " for Mrs. Birchell reads all those 
 written by, or addressed to, the boys. It is not 
 likely, therefore, she would allow yours to be 
 sent if you spoke the truth." 
 
 I thought this very cruel, but nevertheless I 
 wrote again, and gave my epistle to Mr. Bir- 
 chell, who put an end to my doubts and expec- 
 tations by saying, '* Jut ifisanit puer 1 aut 
 versus f licit. Why, I thought, Mr. Penguinedes, 
 I had explained to you, literatim et vei-hatim, 
 that you were to remain the whole year at 
 school, and that an extra payment had been 
 made on that account by your friend XX. You
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 243 
 
 must, therefore, not expect salus a cruce this 
 holidays, but make up your mind to remain 
 here with M. de Florennes and Nibshort, 
 whilst I and Mrs. Birchell pay a visit to Rams- 
 gate, where, over an excellent breakfast of 
 prawns and other testacei, we rejoice to look 
 out upon the troubled waters. We were fortu- 
 nate last year," added he, rubbing his hands, 
 " to see three or four very fine shipwrecks. 
 To a classical mind, to a lover of the sublime, 
 there is nothing equal to the beauty of the 
 ocean during a tempest, 
 
 Suave, mari magno turbantibus aequora ventis 
 E terra magnum alteris spectare laborem. 
 
 Hem ! you may go." 
 
 At length the day, pregnant with joy to all 
 but me, arrived. The last notch from the 
 holyday sticks w^as cut away, rendering them 
 as smooth as Birchell's face. Indeed, there 
 was a sort of traditional joke amongst the 
 boys, that the pedagogue had used his own nose 
 for a similar purpose when at Eton, which thus 
 accounted for the sort of bluish grey stump that 
 
 M 2
 
 244 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED, 
 
 stuck up there like a grave-stone, to mark the 
 burial place of the rest. Already the whole 
 house was in a bustle. Songs of dulce dornum 
 and lo Pcean re-echoed from without. Noises 
 of packing, tearing up old exercises and books, 
 and breaking old playthings, were heard within. 
 Dressed before daylight, some of the boys ran 
 screaming and jumping in expectation of the 
 vehicles that were to convey them home : whilst 
 others, in feverish anxiety, watched the road, 
 and fancied that time stood still because the 
 clock did not keep pace with their impatience. 
 
 Lord Toryville having announced his inten- 
 tion to call for his son, as he returned from a 
 political visit to a nobleman of his party near 
 Salisbury, William and I went as far as the boun- 
 dary-gate to await his arrival. As we sat upon 
 the stile waving our hands to the merry boys 
 who departed in succession, my friend spoke 
 much to me of his family. 
 
 '« I have often mentioned your name to my 
 father," said he, " and as you are not going 
 home for the hoiydays, I have asked his per- 
 mission for you to pass them with us, but as
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 245 
 
 Lady Toryville dislikes children, I am not too 
 sanguine." 
 
 I could only press his hand and express my 
 thanks for his kindness to me, so far beneath 
 him in station ; for, although I resolved to 
 conduct myself as much as possible Uke a young 
 gentleman, my idea of being one in reality had 
 nearly vanished. 
 
 " O do not talk in that way. Peregrine," 
 answered he, " I think you more gentlemanly 
 than almost any other boy in the school. 
 Besides, if you are not so by birth, what does 
 that signify ? I have often heard my father 
 boast that his great ancestor, who was Lord 
 Chancellor in the time of the Stuarts, was the 
 son of a brazier, and gained his fortune and 
 honours by his talents and integrity. Although 
 my father is a great courtier and a determined 
 Tory, he says the path of honour is open to all 
 men ; and he has told me, that if I merely 
 rehed upon my tuture title, and estates, to bear 
 me through the world, that I should become a 
 useless member of society, and perhaps bring 
 discredit upon my name and family. I am sure.
 
 246 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 if you come to the castle, my father will like 
 you for my sake and for your own worth. You 
 will have plenty of fiddles to play upon ; he is 
 a good judge of music, and Delphine is looked 
 upon as a great proficient on the piano." 
 
 I again thanked my young protector, and my 
 heart began to beat violently when he clapped 
 his hands, and exclaimed, " There he is, there 
 he is ! I see the sun glittering upon the chariot 
 windows and the white liveries." And so say- 
 ing he ran back to the house to await his 
 parent. 
 
 I followed, but stood at a distance, for Mrs. 
 Birchell drove me away, desiring me not to 
 stand gaping at the door like a beggar waiting 
 for half-pence. In a few minutes the Viscount's 
 chariot and four arrived, the door was opened, 
 and William sprang into his father's arms. 
 What would I not have given to have been in 
 William's place as I saw Lord Toryville put 
 his hand round his boy's waist, kiss him, look at 
 him with tender, noble satisfaction, and walk 
 with him into the house, followed by Mr. and 
 Mrs. Birchell, who bowed and curtsied like the
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 247 
 
 plaster Mandarins upon the parlour chimney. 
 I turned away to give vent to my emotion, but 
 ere many minutes, was summoned to the study, 
 when I entered with a beating heart, and had 
 scarcely courage to meet the peer's eye. I was 
 emboldened, however, by my friend, who took 
 my hand and said, " Here he is, father ; I am 
 sure you will be kind to him for his kindness 
 to me. O ! it w^ould have done your heart 
 good to see the thrashing he gave to Spring- 
 wood." Mrs. Birchell pursed up her thin lips 
 and clenched her bony fingers ; but she affected 
 to smile, and exclaimed, " Boys will be boys, 
 you know, my lord : dear Lord Felix has very 
 high spirits, and is a little hasty. He was very 
 wrong — exceeding wrong for striking your dear 
 child: and if he had not been so shockingly 
 beaten by that boy, Mr. Birchell would have 
 punished him severely." 
 
 " Undoubtedly," responded her husband. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," replied William, 
 " I do not think he would have been punished, 
 for I should not have complained as he did. 
 But," added he, " all he has gained by
 
 *248 THE MARRIKD UNMARRIED. 
 
 his crying is the nick-name of Lord Feel- 
 licks." 
 
 " Which I must beg may not be perpetuated," 
 observed the Viscount. " Your bruises are 
 l)ng effaced, but a name of that kind may stick 
 to a man through life — I confess the joke to be 
 rather tempting." Then turning to me, he 
 said, " I have heard much of you from William, 
 and have received a corroboration of his opinion 
 from my old friend the Count : but I fear these 
 holydays it will not be in my power to receive 
 you at the castle, as Lady Toryville intends to 
 pass the summer in Scotland. At some future 
 time I hope to be more fortunate." 
 
 He then took me aside, and asked me many 
 questions about my previous life. Having 
 satisfied himself on these points, he slipped a 
 guinea into my hand, took leave of all, and in a 
 few minutes departed with his son. 
 
 Li a day or two Mr. and Mrs. Birchell 
 proceeded to the sea-side, entrusting me to the 
 care of Nibshort, from whom I escaped the 
 greater part of the day to pass my time m 
 studying and playing the violin with M.
 
 THE MARRIED UNMAllRIED. 249 
 
 de Florennes. The kindness of the latter, 
 and my love for him, increased daily, so that, 
 if I had not been constantly tormented by 
 the usher, I should have begun to con- 
 sider school as a tolerably happy portion of 
 mv life. 
 
 M 5
 
 250 
 
 CHAPTER VITI. 
 
 Black Monday — Where be your gibes now ? your 
 gambols ? quite chap-fallen ? — I am encouraged to 
 be punctual by the present of a watch — This does 
 not prevent Nibshort from marking time no less 
 punctually upon my fingers— Bathos and pathos 
 illustrated by diver experiments upon my anti- 
 podes — I had met with many crosses, but never 
 with one of silver— M. de Florennes' observations 
 thereon — Can a duck swim ? 
 
 The grievous day of tears and tender partings 
 too soon returned — the blissful weeks of home 
 and idleness were sped — the " printing press" 
 was replenished with a fresh set of birchen 
 types, and Nibshort had furnished himself with 
 what he termed a new sugar- stick, whose saccha-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 251 
 
 rine matter was principally reserved for my 
 shoulders. Saturated with prawns and boiled 
 whiting, and thinking themselves as fortunate in 
 having seen a shipwreck, as their young 
 daughters were in picking up a store of sea- 
 weed and cuttle-fish, the ichthyological family of 
 Birchell returned to Thistle-house, and anxiously 
 awaited the arrival of the boys ; not without 
 some misgivings, however, as to the remon- 
 strances that might be made by parents at the 
 enormous extra charges which, under Mrs. 
 Birchell's fruition, swelled the half-yearly ac- 
 counts to double the original pjospectus. 
 
 But how different was the return of my 
 youthful comrades from their departure ! Mute, 
 crest-fallen, and with flagging steps, they de- 
 scended from the different vehicles. With tears 
 in their eyes and buUs'-eyes in their mouths, 
 they exchanged a mournful, half-sulky greeting 
 with me as I stood merrily whistling upon the 
 steps. Then, after presenting themselves and 
 their letters to Mrs. Birchell, they sauntered 
 away, some to display their new clothes and 
 marbles, others to exhibit their pocket-money,
 
 •25*2 THE MAllRIED UKMAKllIED. 
 
 and the rest to solace themselves with sucking 
 oranges and devouring the pastry with which 
 they had been furnished by their provident 
 mammas, who thought the best way of lighten- 
 ing their hearts was by loading their stomachs 
 — a practice highly applauded by the Salisbury 
 apothecary, who disposed of more black doses 
 and calomel in ten days after the vacation than 
 durmg the whole remaining school-time. And 
 this, in despite of Mrs. Birchell's ingenious 
 alimentary device of cramming the boys with 
 half-boiled rice by way of powder, and then 
 ramming down the charge with a wadding of 
 ill-cooked mutton. 
 
 " But to everything there is a season — a time 
 to weep and a time to laugh." Ere forty-eight 
 hours the monotonous routine of theories, 
 derivations, construing, hexameters and penta- 
 meters, moved on as if it had never been 
 interrupted. The school-room again re-echoed 
 with crocodile lamentations, and the play-fields 
 with genuine bursts of merriment. Home and 
 all its joys were for a time forgotten. 
 
 Many of the boys, whose parents deemed it
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 253 
 
 a grievous hardship to compel their darUngs to 
 open a book during the holydays, had contrived 
 to forget the greater part of what Mr. Birchell 
 had whipped into them during the previous 
 quarter ; the vacation thus producing upon 
 their minds the same effect as the night upon 
 the chaste Penelope's tapestry. This was not 
 the case with me. I had been allowed no 
 respite, nor did I seek it. But the progress I 
 made, especially in history, geography, arith- 
 metic and mathematics, which the classical 
 pedagogue considered of minor importance, 
 seemed to surprise him and his wife much less 
 than the increasing friendship of William Tory- 
 ville and the kindness of his father — a surprise 
 that augmented still more, when they heard 
 that the latter had sent me a new silver hunt- 
 ing watch, to which was appended a seal and 
 ribbon, as a gift from Delphine to her brother's 
 friend. 
 
 I question if ever I was so happy as at the 
 sight of this present. I gazed at it with as 
 much admiration as if it had been the Pitt 
 diamond. I turned it over and over, and
 
 254 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 looked with indescribable pleasure at the initials 
 P. P. engraved upon the case. I touched the 
 spring fifty times in as many seconds with my 
 thumb. I uplifted the inner cover, and cau- 
 tiously peeped at the works, fearing lest my 
 breath should tarnish their brilliancy^ Then 
 returning it to its leather cover, to be re- 
 extracted in another minute, I anxiously longed 
 for bed-time that I might wind it up. I had 
 passed more than one sleepless night from 
 sorrow, it was the first during which I remained 
 awake from pleasure. Whether it was mere 
 spite on Nibshort's part, who hated me the 
 more for this proof of the Viscount's liberality, 
 or whether I paid less attention to the feet of 
 my verses than to the hands of my watch, I 
 know not ; but, alas ! the implacable usher 
 struck time most regularly with his cane upon 
 my fingers, whenever they approached my 
 fob, and sent me twice to the block for replying 
 to a question in the declensions, " A silver case, 
 sir," instead of Vocative caret! 
 
 Tliis proof of my young friend's regard was 
 not wanting to inspire me with feelings of
 
 THE MARRIED UXMARJUED. l^OO 
 
 fraternal affection, so that ere long we became 
 as united as if moving by one impulse — a 
 union, by-the-bye, which procured for us the 
 nickname of those inseparables. Mustard and 
 Cress. Although many of the boys were much 
 older than William, he was as many years their 
 superior in manners, conversation, and general 
 information, as they were inferior to him in 
 mildness and amiable disposition. He was 
 a frail creature in body ; but in propor- 
 tion as his form was feeble so was his mind 
 distinguished for its energy and early power. 
 He accounted for this by saying, " It is a 
 gift of nature, and an unfortunate one too, 
 perhaps, for we often find examples of youth- 
 ful precocity — Pascal, for instance, — Evelyn's 
 daughter, and many others — but then, alas ! 
 they did not live long. Like forced flowers, 
 they blossomed out of season, and fell from 
 their stems ere the sap which nourished more 
 tardy plants had hardly commenced to rise. 
 It must be attributed also, in a great mea- 
 sure, to my father's treatment, which I believe 
 differs from that of most others."
 
 256 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 '• Alas ! I have no parents," said I, " and 
 cannot make any comparisons." 
 
 " I only judge from my school-fellows," re- 
 plied he, " whose fathers behave to them as 
 mere children ; but mine lives with me upon 
 the footing of a friend and brother. Though 
 usually cold and formal in his manner, he is 
 slow to discourage, but quick to promote emula- 
 tion. He always seems desirous that I should 
 be near him. Whenever unoccupied by parlia- 
 mentary and domestic business, he reads and 
 converses with me upon subjects of history, arts, 
 and literature ; and, although I sometimes fall 
 asleep in the midst of his discussions upon po- 
 litical economy, I cannot fail to glean knowledge 
 and improvement from his observations, and 
 those of his friends," 
 
 " I can well understand that," rejoined I ; 
 " for I already feel myself another being, since 
 I have profited by M. de Florennes' instruc- 
 tion and good example. My mind is enlarged, 
 and my manners are improved. I hope in time 
 you will not have to blush for your friend." 
 He smiled, and, pressing my hand, continued.
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARUIED. 257 
 
 '• Besides, although my father exacts the ut- 
 most civihty and kindness from me towards the 
 servants, he will not allow me to lounge away 
 my time in the steward's room, or the stables, 
 as Springwood and other boys do ; nor indeed 
 is that any way my taste. Whether or not 
 Delphine and I are old man and woman before 
 our time, as my step-mother says, matters not, 
 but our greatest pleasure is to ride, drive, and 
 stroll about the grounds with my father, to lis- 
 ten to his conversation, and to hear him explain 
 subjects which tend to improve us. By-the- 
 bye, talking of Lady Toryville," added he, " it 
 is but fair to tell you, that she strongly ob- 
 jected to your coming to the castle. So the 
 subject was abandoned." 
 
 This was painful intelligence, and made me 
 imbibe no small dislike against her ladyship ; 
 but I kept this to myself, not wishing to in- 
 crease William's want of cordiality towards his 
 step-mother. Day after day now rolled on with 
 monotonous regularity, but with undiminished 
 vexations upon the part of the Birchells and 
 Nibshort; in truth, they had a fair pretext
 
 258 THE MARRIED UXMARRIED. 
 
 latterly for augmenting their ill-usage. The 
 elder boys, who had frequently compelled me 
 to exercise my powers of mimicry on my 
 school-fellows, and had beaten me because I 
 would not imitate M. de Florennes' broken 
 English, induced me, nothing loth, to try my 
 hand one day at taking off the redoubted usher, 
 who had many ridiculous and some almost dis- 
 gusting peculiarities. 
 
 One morning, when I thought myself secure, 
 I put on Nibshort's spectacles, which he had 
 left upon his desk, buttoned up my jacket, 
 plastered down my curly hair, and, imitating 
 his gait and voice, read aloud some doggrel 
 verses, which I had composed in bed, ridiculing 
 both Mrs. Bircheli and himself. 
 
 " Bravo ! read them again ! give me a copy !'* 
 now resounded from all my juvenile auditors, 
 amidst thunders of applause and clapping of 
 hands. I was about to commence another verse, 
 when the further flashes of my poetical fire 
 were suddenly arrested by a terrific box on the 
 ear from the incensed object of my raillery, 
 who, according to a verv laudable custom, had
 
 THE MAllRIED UNMARRIED. !^59 
 
 been listening at the door. Pouncing upon my 
 effusion and my ears, and almost blind with 
 fury, for he had broken his best silver spec- 
 tacles, Nibshort dragged me forthwith before 
 Mr. and Mrs. Birchell. 
 
 To describe the rage of the latter, would be 
 as impossible as to give a j ust idea of the vigour 
 with which the former revenged upon one ex- 
 tremity of my person the sin committed by the 
 other. He had hitherto most honourably ful- 
 filled his promise of trying to whip prosody into 
 me, he now seemed equally determined to 
 scourge poetry out of me. " I'll cure you for 
 ever of your versification," said he, as he called 
 for a second rod ; " yea, verily, although you 
 had swallowed Parnassus, and washed it down 
 with Helicon." This he performed with such 
 energy, that the unfortunate nether man was 
 literally porcupined with birch-buds. It felt, 
 and, I dare say, if I could have effected the 
 injunction of respice Jinem, would have ap- 
 peared, studded with ceppi or wooden points, 
 like the glacis of Caesar's camps. But with all 
 this, I never cried or flinched, and when I
 
 260 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 rose, and was ordered to beg pardon, I boldly 
 declared that they might cut me into pieces, 
 but that I would not say peccavi until Nibshort 
 ceased his persecutions. 
 
 Heavens, how they did hate me ! and how 
 cordially I abhorred them ! But it was bad 
 policy on my part to betray my feelings, for the 
 power was in their hands, and they lost no 
 opportunity of making me feel its pressure. 
 Amongst other inventions, Mrs. Birchell adopt- 
 ed an ingenious mode of tormenting me, from 
 which there was no escape. According to the 
 very cleanly customs at schools, the boys were 
 publicly washed upon Saturdays : fifty-two an- 
 nual purifications being considered quite suffi- 
 cient for a classical education. Mrs Birchell, 
 who feared lest the servants should purloin her 
 yellow soap, always presided at these hebdo- 
 madal ablutions ; and when they were com- 
 pleted, and our hair was half dried, we were re- 
 quired to kneel down before her, and submit to 
 have our heads harrowed, with what she called a 
 small-tooth comb, but which in reality bore much 
 greater resemblance to the yellow fangs that
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 261 
 
 protruded from her own mouth. I know not 
 whether she was a convert to the doctrines of 
 Dr. Gall; but she seemed to enjoy greater plea- 
 sure in raking my bosses, than ever did the 
 most enthusiastic disciple of Spurzheim in fin- 
 gering De Ville's finest models. Indeed, I won- 
 der that I afterwards preserved my religious 
 sentiments so completely in tact, for she used to 
 scrape at the top of my pericranium, as if her 
 object had been to eradicate the bump of vene- 
 ration, a process that filled my poor scull with 
 artificial prominences, which might have ruined 
 my reputation in the eyes of a phrenologist. 
 
 The winter holidays now drew near. Again 
 the school broke up, and I, as before, remained 
 at Thistle Hall. The anniversary of the day 
 that had wrought so remarkable a change in 
 my destinies approached. The chiminqs of the 
 church bells, and the carols of the village 
 wakers, announced the eve of the sacred fes- 
 tival. It was a night as beautifully serene and 
 calm as the preceding Christmas had been bois- 
 terous. The siiiht of the preparations, both
 
 262 THE MARRIED UN.MARRIED. 
 
 in the mansion and at the church, brought to 
 my recollection all the miseries I had endured. 
 When I retired to the large dormitory alone, 
 and in the dark — for Mr. Birchell would not 
 allow me a candle — I trembled ; and, as the 
 moon's rays penetrated through the shutters, 
 and the hollow breeze moaned through the long 
 galleries, I almost fancied that I saw the sex- 
 ton's warning, and heard the wailings of the 
 drowning men : these sensations haunted me 
 during half the night, but at length they wore 
 away, and I arose with eagerness to fulfil the 
 pious duties of the day. 
 
 To do Mr. Birchell justice, great attention 
 was paid by him to the religious instruction of 
 his pupils; every effort being made, not only 
 to inspire us with principles of devotion and 
 morality, but to impress us with the conviction 
 that our faith was the only one acceptable in 
 God's sight, and that all other Christians were 
 but deluded idolators. He, like my early friend, 
 the sporting vicar, was an uncompromising 
 churchman, and had a similar interest in up-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMAllRIED. 263 
 
 holding its privileges. Being a senior fellow 
 of King's College, he held one of its best 
 livings in a distant county, the duties of which 
 were administered by a forty-pound curate, 
 whilst he officiated now and then at Thistleburn 
 church, the advowson of which was in the gift 
 of his patron, Lord Raceinfield. Upon this sub- 
 ject, he was wont to be wondrously magnificent, 
 arguing, by a curious kind of sophistry, that 
 pluralities were essentially beneficial to the com- 
 munity, as being the means of forming a fine 
 school for young curates, and thus giving to the 
 incumbents not only worldly independence, and 
 ample time to devote the fruits of their learning 
 to magisterial duties, but, what he termed the 
 labours of the midnight oil, to the compilation 
 of noble volumes, destined to fight the battles 
 of the true church, and to diffuse the doctrines 
 of regenerated Christianity. 
 
 I, however, required no such stimulants, 
 either upon this or any other occasion, to attend 
 to my religious duties ; and, indeed, was often 
 scoffed at by the other boys, because I inva-
 
 264 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 riably fell upon my knees, night and morn- 
 ing, to offer up thanksgivings for the mercies 
 vouchsafed to me : I could not terminate as 
 they could, by beseeching God's blessing upon 
 " my father and mother, my uncles and my 
 aunts ;" but I lifted up my voice in that simple 
 and unaffected language, which I had learned 
 from the worthy pilot, and devoutly implored 
 to be made " an honest lad." I observed that 
 most of the boys either neglected their prayers, 
 or, to save their consciences, mumbled a few 
 w^ords when in bed. But whether it was the 
 force of inward workings, or the example that 
 had been show n me by poor Penguin, I should 
 have thought I merited the rod, so unsparingly 
 dealt to me on other occasions, if ever I omitted 
 this homage to my Maker. My religious feel- 
 ings were at this period extremely excited, not 
 only by the ordinary sentiments that animate 
 all Christians upon the anniversary of the great 
 dawn of their salvation, but by the remem- 
 brance of the awful calamity, which upon that 
 day had deprived me of my earliest protector.
 
 THE MARllIED UNMARRIED. 265 
 
 But, alas ! because I wept in church, not, God 
 knows, at the touching nature of BircheH's dis- 
 course, but at past recollections, Nibshort ac- 
 cused me of hypocrisy, and Mrs. Birchell re- 
 echoed the charge. What was still worse, M. 
 de Florennes had that morning presented me 
 with a silver crucifix of minute dimensions and 
 curious workmanship, which I affixed to my 
 watch-ribbon, — this was held to be a proof of 
 my leaning towards Cathohcism, and my good 
 old friend was admonished for seeking my con- 
 version to Papistry, whilst I narrowly escaped 
 being converted into mincemeat by Mr. Birch- 
 ell, for accepting this " symbol of idolatry. " 
 
 The real truth was, that if I had any bias one 
 way or another, it was to the simpler rather 
 than to the more gaudy forms of Christian wor- 
 ship. But I should as soon have thought of 
 committing parricide as of renouncing the faith 
 in which I had been reared. On the other 
 hand, although M. de Florennes was fully as 
 much attached to the Roman creed, as Mr. 
 Birchell to that of the Anglican church, he 
 never attempted, in my presence, to touch upon 
 
 VOL. 1. JM
 
 266 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED, 
 
 religious questions, nor to discuss the dogmatic 
 subtleties of either. All he said when Mr. 
 Birchell launched forth against the errors and 
 superstitions of Popery was, — " Each faith, sir, 
 is excellent of its kind ; each, I trust, leads to 
 salvation by a different road; each is equally 
 worthy of respect and attachment v.hen main- 
 tained within the bounds of its original desti- 
 nation — benevolence, humility, repentance, and 
 universal fellowship. But both deviate from 
 their primitive object, — both must become re- 
 prehensible in God's sight when employed as 
 vehicles of persecution or exception. The 
 cross, the symbol of our general faith, should 
 be that of our general fraternity. It is in- 
 tended as the land-mark of our happiness to 
 come — of our deliverance from the bhndness of 
 all errors, and of the enrichment of our dark- 
 ness with light. It is intended to bring strangers 
 into God's acquaintance, and to make remote 
 foreigners near neighbours. It should cut off 
 discords, conclude leagues of peace, and be the 
 representative of the bounteous Author of all 
 good. It is in that light, and that light only,
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 267 
 
 that I would have my young friend regard my 
 trifling present. In former times," continued 
 he, " when theological questions formed the 
 subject of discussion in the councils of my so- 
 vereign, I was one of the first, perhaps, of the 
 few who raised their voices against the en- 
 croachments and the unflinching tenacity of the 
 church. I wished to uphold the Catholic faith 
 as the established religion of the state, but not 
 to oppress or constrain others. I advocated its 
 supremacy, but objected to its tyranny and in- 
 dividuality, and held it requisite that man's 
 conduct, and not his creed, should be the 
 standard of his eligibility. I spoke in defence 
 of the utmost latitude of conscience, whilst I 
 argued in favour of an acknowledged national 
 faith, as essential to the support of a monar- 
 chical government ; and he that would advocate 
 any other, must either be a deluded enthusiast 
 or a bad man. The policy of a national creed 
 seems admitted by all European legislators ; 
 and we have a further proof of its importance 
 in the conduct of the fortunate usurper, wlio 
 is now striving to recal my countrymen to rea- 
 
 N '2
 
 *26S ] THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 son, and to re-establish the ancient religion of 
 the state in all its splendour. He is compelled 
 to acknowledge, that neither crown nor govern- 
 ment can stand without the aid of a paramount 
 church ; but he also seems to feel that men's 
 consciences should be left to their own work- 
 ings, and that if it be not a direct violation of 
 our Saviour's principles, it is an act of flagrant 
 impolicy on the part of a government, to perse- 
 cute those who differ with us in religious prin- 
 ciples. Such doctrines may appear strangely 
 philosophical in the mouth of one who has him- 
 self been the victim of excess of latitude, or 
 rather of irreligion ; but, whatever may have 
 been my opinions in earlier times, experience 
 has taught me that constraint, no matter w^he- 
 ther applied to the press, or to any given mode 
 of worship, is but the surest way of exciting 
 sectarian principles, and of lending additional 
 malevolence to the pens and doctrines of those 
 who might otherwise be restrained within mo- 
 derate bounds. 
 
 " A religion that cannot hold its ground with- 
 out such repressive aid, or a press that cannot
 
 THE MARHIKD UNMARRIED. 269 
 
 be curbed without coercive laws, is calculated 
 to produce greater evil to the ecclesiastical 
 hierarchy, and much greater disquietude to go- 
 vernments, than that which is permitted to shape 
 its own course, without other limits than the 
 rational feeling and incitements of man's con- 
 science, and the retributive justice of public 
 opinion. Why did the people tread under foot 
 the church of France ? Because the church 
 had so long placed its foot upon the neck of 
 the people. Why does England abound in sec- 
 tarians, and Ireland in malcontents ? Because 
 the Anglican church, with all its boasted tole- 
 rance, is equally exclusive in fact as that of 
 Rome is in theory, and because it urges on the 
 government to refuse to a large portion of their 
 fellow-subjects those civil rights which are the 
 birth-right of every Englishman." 
 
 Such were the doctrines of the enlightened 
 nobleman, whose opinions were too much ne- 
 glected at a later period, when the march of 
 events again placed him in a situation to advo- 
 cate the cause of civil and religious liberty in his 
 own country, and to offer to his sovereign the
 
 270 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 fruits of that dearly-bought experience, which the 
 latter seemed to despise as much as if the seeds 
 had been cast into the ocean. 
 
 The summer of the third year was now ad- 
 vancing without bringing any alteration in, or 
 throwing any light upon, my destiny. My an- 
 nual expenses had been regularly paid in ad- 
 vance by the anonymous XX. ; but no mention 
 was made of anything else concerning me. I 
 had also heard frequently from the Steers ; 
 but, alas ! the last letter from the good ladies 
 announced that their brother had been carried 
 off by an inflammatory complaint, and that he 
 had bequeathed all his property to them. 
 
 In the meantime, I had acquired no common 
 proficiency in music, and, as regarded my 
 studies, was upon a par with the most advanced 
 boys in the school, except my friend William. 
 Lord Toryville had also frequently repeated his 
 visits, and upon each occasion took much no- 
 tice of me, questioning me himself, and appear- 
 ing equally pleased with my rapid improvement, 
 as he was with that of his own son, who, to my 
 utter grief, was destined to be removed to a
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 271 
 
 private tutor's at the expiration of the summer 
 holidays. 
 
 It was within a fortnight of this period, when 
 an event occurred that threw the whole esta- 
 blishment into confusion. At the distance of 
 half a mile from the mansion, there was a 
 stream, which, by the aid of dams and an accu- 
 mulation of stones, had formed one of the most 
 ornamental portions of the old deer-park. Its 
 waters, after meandering through the meadows, 
 rushed over an artificial fall, and then, flowing 
 through the vale towards the Avon, alimented 
 two or three mills. At a short distance from 
 this mimic cataract, over which the stream 
 poured with dangerous velocity, a space had 
 been railed off and gravelled, forming a spa- 
 cious bath, where the boys were conducted 
 twice or thrice a w^eek under Nibshort's super- 
 intendence. The custom had been continued 
 during some years without accident. It was 
 upon a beautiful afternoon in June, that the 
 usher led his stripling flock, as usual, to the 
 water-side. Grown careless from habit, he 
 sauntered down the stream, and left the joyous,
 
 27*2 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 shouting band to splash and sport at their 
 pleasure. After showing off my dexterity, in 
 the art of which I was a master, by diving, 
 floating, and performing other aquatic feats, I 
 dressed, and wandered into the adjoining copse. 
 Suddenly my attention was aroused by piercing 
 screams : I listened — they were in the direction 
 of the bath. Hastening to the spot, I saw 
 three boys, who had availed themselves of Nib- 
 short's absence to creep outside the palings. 
 They were struggling against the stream, which 
 was fast bearing them towards the fall. At the 
 moment I arrived, one sank, rose again, and 
 again disappeared; another, entangled in the 
 weeds, shouted for help ; a third — it was my 
 friend — vainly endeavoured to gain the shore, 
 and raised his hands as if about to sink. To 
 fly to the bank nearest the latter, to bound into 
 the water, and to strike with maddening energy 
 towards him, was but the act of a moment. 
 But he was gone. It was within ten yards of 
 the fall : if borne down by that, death was ine- 
 vitable. I cared not, and so dived. There he 
 was floating along the mud almost lifeless : five
 
 THE MAKRIED UNMARRIED. '273 
 
 vigorous Strokes brought me to him. I seized 
 him by the hair, and, God be praised, rose to 
 the surface. It was time. We almost touched 
 upon the vortex of the fall. How we escaped 
 Heaven knows ; but I dragged him to the bank, 
 where Xibshort and two or three peasants con- 
 veyed his inanimate body to the nearest mill. 
 
 I was about to follow, half bewildered witii 
 the scene, when I turned, and saw the second 
 boy still grasping feebly at the weeds. •' Save 
 him ! save him ! dear, good Penguin I'" w as the 
 cry of all my schoolfellows. A yell of horror 
 burst forth at the same moment from the terror- 
 stricken children. The boy who had first disap- 
 peared was seen to rise feet foremost near the 
 fall. First he turned over, and then hanging 
 for a moment near the ledge, shot like an arrow 
 into the gulf beneath. Although exhausted and 
 sick with alarm, I determined to try and rescue 
 the second, so I threw off my wet jacket, and 
 wading in, swam with all the force 1 could 
 muster, bidding him hold on to the weeds, and 
 not touch me, lest we should both perish. But, 
 poor boy, he heeded me not. In the agony of 
 
 N 5
 
 274 THE ^lARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 fear and exhaustion he seized me by the neck, 
 and we both sank. I kicked, struck, and 
 plunged with fearful desperation, to rid me of 
 his grasp. It was a struggle for life or death, 
 for one or both : but his hold was that of a 
 vice. My eyes were wide open, his also, but 
 glazing in death : I again made an effort, and 
 he relaxed his hold. It was more than time, for 
 I rose half suffocated. In moments like these, 
 there is no space for thought ; I acted by inspi- 
 ration, and dived again. There he was, caught 
 by the spreading branches of a dead tree, which 
 lay across the stream. I had nothing now to 
 fear : he was motionless, so I seized him by the 
 waist, and pulled him to the surface. The 
 miller and his men threw cords to me. Thank 
 God for it, for I must have perished had they 
 not dragged me out : as it was I fainted, and 
 long remained senseless. 
 
 When I recovered, I found myself between 
 two blankets, attended by the miller's wife and 
 family, and to my inexpressible joy the first 
 person who threw his arms around me was 
 WilUam. Merciful Father, how I wept for joy !
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 275 
 
 I had not only been spared^ but had saved a 
 fellow creature, and he my dearest friend. On 
 looking round, the small chamber presented a 
 sad spectacle. There lay the boy whom I had 
 vainly tried to save, gone beyond recovery : 
 there also lay the other, swollen, bruised and 
 dead. Mr. and Mrs. Birchell had arrived, and 
 with them many others, for the alarm had 
 quickly spread. For the first time since I had 
 known them, they grasped my hands, and weep- 
 ing, thanked me. Even Nibshort, whose care- 
 lessness had caused the evil, seemed affected, 
 and loudly praised my conduct. But I wanted 
 no such commendation, my friend's safety was 
 ample recompence. 
 
 At length, the bodies were placed on hurdles, 
 and carried towards the house. It was a pitiful 
 sight to watch the mournful convoy slowly 
 winding through the green meadows, where the 
 flowers sparkled in the sun-beams, the birds 
 sang merrily in the hedge-rows, and the gaudy 
 butterflies flaunted through the air. All nature 
 seemed teeming with redoubled life and anima-
 
 276 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 tinn, as if to cast a stronger shade upon the 
 peasants' burden. Alas ! poor children ! the 
 dear objects of years of tenderness and care — 
 the pride, the hope, the glory, of their parents — 
 born to high estates and noble destinies,— cut 
 off in the exuberance of joy — blasted in the 
 bright dawn of youthful bloom. But why re- 
 pine ? They had lived long enough to taste the 
 early sweets of life without savouring of the 
 bitterness that lurks beneath. They had died 
 in pain, but not in lingering sadness. They 
 had been beloved and cherished: beyond the 
 trifling sorrows of their age, they had known 
 nothing of the hollow world, its smarts or 
 vanities — that w orld which rarely affords honour 
 to the meritorious, reward to the laborious, or 
 justice to the good. Had they spun out their 
 career but a few years longer, they might, per- 
 haps, have sought that death in ripened sin, 
 which they had encountered in the full swell of 
 innocence. 
 
 One boy was the only child of a wealthy 
 baronet : a hearse was sent to fetch his corpse,
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 277 
 
 that it might rest with those of his ancestors. 
 The other was the younger son of one of lesser 
 station; his grave was dug in Thistleburn 
 churchyard. There he was buried, and griev- 
 ously we all wept when the village maids and 
 swains cast flowers upon his coffin, and the 
 earth closed, as the waters had done before, 
 upon his body. It was Sunday, and one of 
 the deceased's relatives, a prebendary of Salis- 
 bury, preached a sermon upon the occasion. 
 \Vhether it was his own composition or not, 
 matters little. Some parts excited deep emotion 
 amongst the congregation, and my heart thrilled 
 when with expressive gesture, and solemn voice, 
 he terminated thus: "What is therein youth, 
 wealth, noble descent, or glorious hopes ? where 
 is now his laughter ? where his mirth ? what 
 avails now his parents' tenderness, or his pre- 
 ceptors' care? From how much gladness to 
 how much sorrow ! after how much joy, to how 
 much desolation ! from how great expectations, 
 to how much nothingness, is he sunken ! But, 
 what has befallen him, may occur to you. You 
 are of earth, you live of earth, and you shall
 
 278 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 return to earth. Your lives are but as the tran- 
 sient bubble on the passing stream. Death 
 awaits you everywhere— be good, be just, be 
 wise, therefore, and be prepared for death, that 
 he may not surprise you like one sleeping at his 
 post.
 
 279 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 My rospects brightei);, but the morning soon lours 
 and the dawn is overcast— How to love thy neigh- 
 boui- as thyself — What now ? — A rat behind the 
 arras— Nibshort sets a trap^ and catches me in his 
 toils — I take French leave of all but my French 
 friend. 
 
 On the morning after the funeral Wilham received 
 congratulatory letters from his father and sister, 
 with one from each to me. The first was couched 
 in terms of manly gratitude and praise, the 
 other, in all the ingenuous candour of youthful 
 innocence and sisterly affection, placed no 
 bounds to her admiration, and talked of loving me 
 — as a brother, I suppose. What else could she 
 dream of, or I either? she was but fourteen, I a
 
 280 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 year older, and we had never met. Nay, had I 
 been of riper years, or ever thought of Icve, I 
 had not dared imagine, that one so fair, so noble, 
 would cast a tenderer thought than that of grati- 
 tude upon such as I, And yet, strange to say, 
 I felt a beating at my heart, a vague, undefinable 
 emotion, when Delphine's name was mentioned, 
 which I could neither comprehend nor account 
 
 for. 
 
 In four days more Lord Toryville himself 
 
 arrived to carry home my fi'iend. After the 
 first effusions of parental tenderness, he sent for 
 me, and greeted me as the saviour of his son — 
 his only son. " Judge," said he to Mr. Birch- 
 ell, " what are my feelings — how great my 
 debt of obligation. Had it not been for this 
 gallant boy's devotion, 1 had been bereft of my 
 life's pride. The half of my estates would be 
 but a feeble recompence." Then turning to me 
 he added, " Henceforth, my young friend, I shall 
 consider you as my adopted son, and shall hold 
 myself responsible for your advancement. What- 
 ever your guardians, or your position in life may 
 be, I flatter myself you will not have to repent 
 you of this act."
 
 THE MARRIED UXMARRIED. '281 
 
 My heart was too full to permit my answer- 
 ing, but I quivered from head to foot, with ecstasy 
 and hope. The generous nobleman perceived my 
 emotion, and pressing my hand said, " Although I 
 can offer you no adequate return for the life of my 
 child, I have not only taken care that the pub- 
 lic should know to whom William is indebted 
 for that life, but I begged permission to com- 
 municate the details to the king, and here are 
 testimonials that the best and bravest might be 
 proud to receive. This," continued he, exhibit- 
 ing a silver medal, " is from that noble institution 
 the Humane Society ; and this," drawing forth a 
 gold one, " from his most gracious majesty. 
 Merit and humanity, no matter of what age or 
 condition, are sure to meet with encouragement 
 from him, and his majesty could not have con- 
 ferred a greater obligation upon the most 
 humble, though not the least devoted of his 
 servants, than by distinguishing one, but for 
 whose courage that servant would have been 
 bereft of his only son — one, who boldly risked 
 his own life, whilst others stood aghast." And 
 he looked significantly and almost sternly at
 
 282 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 Nibshort. The Viscount now requested the 
 school might be assembled, that he might 
 deliver the medals to me in their presence. He 
 then addressed a few touching sentences to the 
 boys, who clapped their hands, and cheered me. 
 These were moments of delicious joy not to be 
 purchased by gold. I cannot recur to this 
 scene, even now, without feeling a thrilling 
 sensation which elevates me above myself. It 
 was my first successful step on the ladder of 
 ambition. 
 
 Although my parting with my generous pro- 
 tector and his son was bitterly painful, my grief 
 was softened by an assurance that we should 
 soon meet at Hawthorn Castle. But here 
 again I was doomed to disappointment. At the 
 moment I was eagerly expecting a letter to fix 
 the day for my visit, Mr. Birchell received intel- 
 ligence that William was dangerously ill. The 
 fatal accident had produced a low fever and 
 harassing cough, which acting rapidly upon 
 his fragile frame, threatened consumption. Im- 
 mediate change of air was considered essential. 
 Madeira was selected, and ere the holidays
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 283 
 
 were past Lord Toryville and his family sailed 
 for that last deceptive anchorage of enfeebled 
 life. I was at the same time apprized that a 
 cornetcy of dragoons was reserved for me, upon 
 my attaining what was supposed to be my six- 
 teenth year, and Mr. Birchell was requested to 
 communicate the offer to my anonymous guar- 
 dian. Three months elapsed without an 
 answer, and then it was laconically negative, and 
 ended thus : " It is intended that Peregrine Pen- 
 guin shall eventually proceed to India as a 
 writer. This situation being procured for him, 
 he must thenceforth rely upon his own resources. 
 Further instructions will be transmitted in due 
 season." 
 
 Nearly a year had elapsed, and I awaited 
 with anxiety the time destined to witness my 
 departure for a distant land, where I might per- 
 haps amass a splendid fortune, as many others 
 had done before me, by malversation and 
 intrigue, or, if honest, return with a trifling inde- 
 pendence, but in either case w4th a shattered 
 constitution, and then end my days an unknown 
 stranger, as I had commenced them a neglected
 
 284 THE MAIIRTED UNMARRIED. 
 
 outcast. Much as this tended to blight my 
 cherished hopes, I determined, by M. de Flo- 
 renne's advice, to prepare myself as much as 
 possible for my new vocation. I therefore pro- 
 cured a few books necessary for the study of the 
 eastern languages, and laboured hard to over- 
 come the first difficulties. 
 
 It chanced one rainy day that I strolled through 
 the upper galleries of the mansion with my 
 Hindoostanee grammar, and entered a rem.ote 
 chamber forbidden to the boys. Here I was 
 hard at work trying to produce sounds from my 
 throat, some of which represented water gur- 
 gling from the neck of a narrow bottle, others the 
 harsh barytone of the peacock before rain, and 
 others the creaking of rusty hinges or amorous 
 frogs, when I heard approaching footsteps, which 
 I recognised as those of Mrs. Birchell and Nib- 
 short. Fearing that I should be maltreated if 
 discovered in this apartment, I jumped up, and, 
 as my evil genius would have it, secreted myself 
 in a closet, where I hoped to remain secure until 
 the peril was past. In an instant more the 
 worthy couple entered, and the first words I
 
 28.3 
 
 heard were, "Dear me, there are my keys. 
 How could I forget them ? I dare say the hoys 
 or servants have robbed me already." She then 
 approached evidently intending to secure the 
 lock. A pretty dilemma for me — my only 
 alternative being to submit to incarceration with 
 the mice, or to deliver myself into the lion's 
 jaws. My attention was, however, someway 
 directed from my own predicament by hearing 
 Nibshort close the room-door and say, " I thank 
 this forgetfulness, for affording me one more op- 
 portunity of once more opening my heart to 
 you. I have long sought to escape the prying 
 eyes of the boys, and, above all, of the odious 
 bastard. Yes, I hate them all, and him above 
 all others. But if he was odious to m.e before, 
 he has been loathsome ever since he dared to 
 insult you with his ribald verses. But I will 
 have my revenge. Enough of this, however ; 
 and now, madam, to the point — I will not be 
 trifled with.^' 
 
 " Good God !" replied the lady, " if any one 
 should hear \ou? Hark, what noise was that?"
 
 286 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 I held my breath, partly from fear and partly 
 from astonishment at this strange discourse. 
 
 " Be not alarmed," answered Nibshort, " here 
 we are safe. Now— you know the conditions 
 upon which I became an inmate of this house. 
 Have you forgotten your promises before and 
 after marriage ?" 
 
 "No," rejoined Mrs. Bircheir; "but what 
 would you have me do ? Would you force me to 
 abandon my good name — my children ?" 
 
 " Yes," retorted the other. " Do you attach 
 any value to my life ?" 
 
 "Too much ! too much !" was the reply. 
 " Well, then," said he, " fulfil your promise, 
 and w^e will fly to America." 
 
 " Not yet, not yet, I implore you," answered 
 Mrs. Birchell. "Be patient, be calm. You 
 have my secret and my promise. But," added 
 she, sighing, " what have you to offer in return 
 for my loss of reputation, and my money ? — we 
 must starve." 
 
 '' Starve !" exclaimed Nibshort; " you have 
 ten thousand pounds left you by your uncle,
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 287 
 
 and I — but even if I had no resources, is not 
 my constant love, vi^ith freedom and happiness 
 in a land of liberty, sufficient ?" 
 
 " What would my noble relatives say," re- 
 joined the dame, " if I were guilty of an act 
 that would bring disgrace upon their names ?" 
 
 " Say !" retorted the other, with a sneering 
 tone, and, I dare say, a diabolical expression, 
 " why, that you had followed the example of 
 many a noble lady, who had less excuse for it 
 than you. Did not Lady Raceinfield's sister 
 fly from her home, her children, and all that 
 made life glorious to the eye, and throw herself 
 into the arms of the man she loved? Could I 
 not mention twenty others equally noble, who 
 have cast off the cold trammels of worldly ties, 
 and joined their destinies to those who have 
 embellished their existence with a diadem of 
 
 joy?" 
 
 " No, no," retorted Mrs. Birchell, " with a 
 crown of thorns. How have they been re- 
 warded ? With the world's scorn ; with the up- 
 braidings of their own consciences; with ig-
 
 288 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 nominy, poverty, and a broken-hearted death ; 
 — and you would have me encounter this ?" 
 
 As ill-luck would have it, my curiosity got 
 the better of my discretion, and, being desirous 
 to see as well as to hear this dialogue, of which, 
 however, I did not comprehend half the wicked- 
 ness, I stooped towards the key-hole, and in so 
 doing, touched a pile of mops and brooms, the 
 whole of which fell clattering on the floor. 
 " Good God, what is that? — there is some one 
 in the closet," exclaimed Mrs. Birchell ; " I am 
 lost.'' In an instant more, Nibshort sprang to 
 the door, opened it, and discovered me. 
 
 There was I, shaking with terror ; and there 
 was he, his hands clenched, his nostrils ex- 
 panded, and his livid visage swelling with ma- 
 lignity, vice, and avarice ; for it was evident he 
 only wished to lure the infatuated woman to 
 her ruin, in order to obtain possession of her 
 ten thousand pounds. I expected to be felled 
 to the ground ; but, as I stood watching his eye, 
 his features relaxed into a bitter grin, and with 
 consummate effrontery, he turned round to 
 Mrs. Birchell, and said, " There, madam, you
 
 THE MAR III ED UXMARKIKD. 289 
 
 will now believe me when I told you that this 
 eavesdropping scum of a workhouse was in the 
 habit of watching my steps. Now, sir," con- 
 tinued he, " you have probably heard me say 
 I hated you, and would be revenged for your 
 insolence. Look to yourself, then ; and mind, 
 if ever you breathe one syllable of what has 
 passed, you will rue the day. Go, sir, go to 
 the school-room, and think yourself fortunate 
 you are not flogged." He then gave his hand 
 to Mrs. Birchell, who appeared nearly as much 
 astonished as I was, and departed. Utterly 
 bewildered at his boldness, I obeyed in silence, 
 and, from fear of his vengeance, kept the w hole 
 adventure secret, even from M. de Florenncs. 
 
 This preyed upon my spirits, and gave me a 
 downcast, unhappy air, that was remarked b}' 
 some of the boys ; but I attempted to account 
 for it by my sorrow at the idea of going to 
 India without seeing my friend William, who 
 still remained abroad. During the next two 
 months, my melancholy increased on observing 
 that many of my comrades appeared to grow 
 shy of me ; even the servants, with whcm 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 I had hitherto been a favourite, were rude and 
 neglectful, and seemed to watch my steps. I 
 had injured no one, offended no one, and could, 
 therefore, noways account for this change : but 
 the mystery was too soon, too fatally cleared 
 up. 
 
 One morning, about three weeks before the 
 period that was destined to see me exchange 
 this life of native bondage for one of distant 
 banishment, Birchell entered the school-room, 
 and, having assembled all the inmates of the 
 house, bade me stand forth, and thus addressed 
 his auditors :— " It is with deep regret upon the 
 one hand, and equal satisfaction on the other, 
 that I have to announce the discovery of the 
 person through whose criminality the innocent 
 have been so long suspected, and the credit of 
 this establishment injured." 
 
 All eyes were now turned upon me, and, 
 although I little anticipated what was in store 
 for me, I was overwhelmed with bodements 
 of some deadly misfortune, and sickened with 
 very anguish. 
 
 " Being unwilling, in a matter of such gra-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 291 
 
 vity," continued Mr. Birchell, " to move with 
 precipitation, I have refrained from acting upon 
 the aura popular is and the insinuations which 
 have reached me. Ev facto jus oritur ; and I 
 have patiently w^aited until such positive e^ddence 
 should be brought home to the real culprit as 
 would justify my proceedings. There !" said 
 he, raising his i^oice, and pointing his finger, 
 " there he stands : Peregrine Penguin ! I here 
 openly accuse you of robbery — robbery of 
 money !" 
 
 " Robbery ! money, sir !" exclaimed I, start- 
 ing up with surprise and just indignation. 
 
 " Yes, Penguin,'' replied he, " of a crime, 
 which, according to the laws of your country, 
 is punished with death or transportation." 
 
 Although I was nearly dropping with shame 
 and agony, and found my tongue clinging to my 
 mouth, I answered, " Indeed, indeed, I am in- 
 nocent ; I never robbed any one of the smallest 
 trifle, — upon my word — upon my oath I have 
 not." 
 
 " To deny the charge were useless," repUed 
 Birchellj " the proofs are in our possession. 
 
 o '2
 
 292 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 Mr. Nibshort, you will be pleased to state tbe 
 facts, and then we will call other witnesses to 
 substantiate your evidence. As the guardian 
 of the young noblemen and gentlemen confided 
 to my charge, I am bound to watch over their 
 honour ; as a minister of God and a magistrate, 
 I am no less enjoined to look to the protection 
 of the innocent, and the due execution of jus- 
 tice." 
 
 Nibshort now^ stepped forward, and said, 
 " You are aware, sir, that Mrs. Birchell and I, 
 having motives for suspecting Penguin, watched 
 him into the attics, and there found him se- 
 creted in the store-closet."" 
 
 Desperate fi-om my situation, I exclaimed, 
 " Yes, yes ! it is true ; and you know that I 
 heard you say wicked things to Mrs. Birchell, 
 and that is your reason for persecuting me." 
 
 " Silence !" roared out Mr. Birchell, in a 
 voice of thunder ; '• silence, you unblushing re- 
 probate." 
 
 Nibshort cast a look of ineffable contempt 
 upon me, and proceeded, " I forev.arned you, 
 sir, that this abandoned boy would immediately
 
 THE MARRIED UN'MARRIED. '2^S 
 
 attempt to repeat the vile insinuations, which 
 he dared to hint at in his flagitious verses." 
 
 " For which he received too trifling a flagel- 
 lation ; but do not distress yourself, my dear 
 Jane," said Mr. Birchell, turning to his wife, 
 who was now getting up an hysteric, " we shall 
 deal with him as he merits. Siis. per col., instead 
 oi Jla<j. per pos., ought to be his reward. Pro- 
 ceed, Nibshort, and be not deterred from stat- 
 ing the whole truth of the eff'rontery of this 
 daring reprobate." 
 
 " Having strong circumstantial evidence of 
 
 his guilty purpose " 
 
 " I have direct proofs of yours, you wricked 
 man !" rejoined I, half frantic with his iniquity, 
 
 " I swear to God " 
 
 " Blasphemer !'' ejaculated the deluded school- 
 master ; " beware that the vengeance of your 
 Maker do not anticipate that of your master : 
 so much youthful perversity I never witnessed." 
 Viewing me with an eye of triumphant ma- 
 lignity, Nibshort shrugged up his shoulders, 
 and continued, " Having strong grounds for 
 suspecting him to have carried his depredations
 
 294 THE MARRIED UXMARRIED. 
 
 to the most culpable extent, I resolved, in con- 
 cert with Mrs- Birchell, Lord Felix, and one 
 or two other boys, to take measures that might 
 lead to a discovery ; I consequently adopted the 
 common stratagem of marking some pieces of 
 money, which, as usual, were left in my desk 
 and those of the parties to our scheme. In a 
 few days they were gone, and we have traced 
 them to his possession, and thus clearly detect- 
 ed the criminal." 
 
 " Decidit in casses prceda petita tuos,^^ ex- 
 claimed the inveterate pedagogue. 
 
 " Into my possession, sir I" said I : " how can 
 you accuse me of such a horrid crime, when I 
 can account for every shilling I ever received 
 or spent ?" 
 
 " We shall see that,'' replied Birchell : " Mr. 
 Nibshort, please to state what were the monies 
 you marked ?" 
 
 " A guinea of my own, a seven-shilling piece, 
 and one or two smaller coins." 
 
 " Oh," said I, brightening up, " thank God ! 
 I can prove my innocence. All the money I 
 ever had, except my weekly allowance, I
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 295 
 
 changed at the bookseller's at Salisbury. It 
 was a guinea and a seven-shilling piece ; the 
 one was given me by a captain in the navy, 
 and the other by Lord Toryville : I hoarded 
 them both as keepsakes- Send to Salisbury — 
 look into my box and desk — search my person 
 and clothes — ask the boys." 
 
 A dozen voices now roared out, " We never 
 saw him with any gold, until he went with us 
 all to Salisbury a few days past. We have long 
 suspected him of being a thief. John and 
 Springwood saw him change the money." 
 
 And Lord Felix and the servant having cor- 
 roborated this assertion, Mr. Birchell now ex- 
 claimed, " Call in Mr. Typeson, the bookseller." 
 Then, taking a seven-shilling piece and guinea 
 from his pocket, he said to the latter, " Do you 
 know anything of these two coins ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir,*" replied the stationer, " I know 
 these by a small mark upon the edge ; they 
 were changed at my shop by Master Penguin. 
 I, with other tradesmen, being cautioned by 
 Mrs. Birchell to examine any money offered 
 by the young gentlemen, I took particular no-
 
 296 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 tice, and retained them until I placed them in 
 your hands this morning." 
 
 " O Mr. Typeson !" said I ; " for God's sake 
 speak the truth; do not be unmerciful to a 
 friendless lad ; do not say I changed any mark- 
 ed coin. There is some mistake, indeed there 
 is.^' 
 
 " I am very sorry, blaster Penguin," an- 
 swered the tradesman ; " but I have spoken 
 the truth. You changed those identical pieces 
 of gold." 
 
 " Unhappy boy !" exclaimed Mr. Birchell ; 
 " it were better to confess your guilt, than add 
 falsehood to crime, Nibshort, you said some 
 other money had been traced to him also."" 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied the usher, " we have 
 found it in his box, together with some objects 
 of less value belonging to the servants." 
 
 " Wiiat !" said Birchell, " rob the servants — 
 fie upon him, fie upon him !" 
 
 Shouts of thief, thief, hisses, and groans of in- 
 dignation, burst forth from the by-standing 
 boys, whilst groans of bitter anguish re-echoed 
 from my bosom. It was in vain that I pro-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 297 
 
 tested, and swore upon my knees to my inno- 
 cence ; it was in vain that I appealed to one and 
 the other to speak for me, — all failed. Thus I 
 stood a convicted thief. By what agency the 
 marked money had been substituted in my 
 desk for my own, or how the other articles 
 came into my box, I could not imagine ; but 
 there they were, and I was lost. But my cup 
 of misery was not yet filled. Mr. Birchell hav- 
 ing commanded silence, addressed me as fol- 
 lows: — " Penguin, you have heard the evidence 
 against you, and you have sworn to your inno- 
 cence. Facts are, unfortunately, more power- 
 ful than protestations. I pity, but cannot par- 
 don you : remission would be an encouragement 
 to further crime. I will not, however, pursue 
 the affair to the extreme of the law ; but an 
 example is necessary. My school must no 
 longer be contaminated by your presence. I 
 shall this day communicate my resolve and its 
 motive both to your anonymous guardian and 
 to Lord Toryville, of whose protection you are 
 now unworthy. It is not enough to be brave, 
 it is essential to be honest. I have a duty.
 
 298 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. ' 
 
 a painful duty to perform, and shall not shrink 
 from it. I therefore expel you — publicly, igno- 
 miniously expel you. You will remain in a sepa- 
 rate room until you are removed ; and I trust 
 in God this terrible warning will serve for the 
 rest of your life. You are expelled." 
 
 But Nibshort's implacable malice was not 
 yet appeased. As soon as Mr. Birchell had con- 
 cluded, he said, " Sir, I regret to oppose your 
 decision, but I am prosecutor in this matter in 
 my own behalf, and on that of Lord Felix 
 Springwood. I therefore demand of you as a 
 masristrate to look to the execution of the law — 
 of that law which recognises no distinction 
 between high or low, rich or poor. Had this 
 theft been perpetrated by a servant, he would 
 have been relentlessly abandoned to the hands 
 of justice. I expect, then, that the law should 
 take its course, and, if you refuse, I shall appeal 
 elsewhere for a warrant. In short, I demand 
 that the culprit be sent to jail for trial." 
 
 I had hitherto stood with my hands crossed, 
 trembling and bewildered, but when the word 
 jail struck upon my ear, nature could no more,
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 299 
 
 and I fainted. When I recovered, I found 
 myself alone with one of the servants, who 
 said he had orders to convey me and my clothes 
 to a solitary room at the top of the house, and 
 that I was to remain there until his master 
 consulted with a brother magistrate. But as 
 Nibshort had determined to have me brought 
 to trial, there was no doubt the constables 
 would come for me next morning. " Although," 
 said the man, who seemed touched with my 
 situation, " I no more believe you did it than I 
 knows Latin. But I durst not say what I 
 thinks. I have heard of these rigs before, but I 
 can't prove it, only I have my misgivings." He 
 then conducted me to my destined room, and 
 left me to all the horrors of despair. 
 
 The evening was closing in w^hen, at length, 
 M. de Florennes entered, saying he had per- 
 mission to visit and bring me some refresh- 
 ment. But I could not eat, though if he had 
 offered me poison I could have swallowed it. I 
 was weary of life. " O sir," said I, after we had 
 exchanged a few words, " is it possible that you 
 — you who know my heart, and have seen all
 
 300 THE MARRIED UKMARRIED. 
 
 my actions, can you believe me guilty ? This is 
 a wicked plot of Nibshort's ;" and I then 
 narrated what I heard in the closet. When I 
 had finished, he placed his hands upon my 
 head affectionately, and said, " God help thee, 
 poor boy ! I do not think you guilty — that is 
 impossible. But what are the conviction or 
 intercessions of a poor foreigner against the 
 fatal evidence which, I doubt not, has been 
 brought about by the machination of your 
 avowed enemy ? Your assertions cannot gain- 
 say facts, nor my testimony to your exemplary 
 conduct disarm the law. It may mitigate 
 punishment, but not avert trial. Whatever 
 may be the nature of my surmises, I have no 
 proofs, and cannot sustain them. All I can do 
 is to write to Lord Toryville, and your guar- 
 dian, and, in the meantime, I entreat you to 
 support this calamity with fortitude. If Mr. 
 Birchell has the heart of a Christian he also will 
 intercede. Indeed, to do him justice, he has 
 already essayed, but Nibshort remains implaca- 
 ble — and I fear you must be prepared to suffer 
 the full extent of his malice."'
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 301 
 
 " Never, never, sir," said I in a paroxysm of 
 despair, — " never — I will sooner die than submit 
 to such disgrace," and, in a moment of reckless 
 excitement I jumped upon a chair near the win- 
 dow and should have precipitated myself into the 
 court beneath, had not the count sprung forward, 
 and seizing me by the collar, hurled me backwards 
 into the room ; then looking at me with a stern 
 but melancholy air, he apostrophised me thus 
 — " Rash boy ! are these the fruits of my 
 instructions? Are these the workings of an 
 innocent and upright conscience ? Are these the 
 proofs of your duty to the divine Saviour of the 
 world ? If you would have me still think you 
 guiltless, banish this insane purpose, inspired 
 by the accursed enemy of mankind. Live, and 
 learn to bend your head to the strokes of 
 fortune, to the dispensations of Providence. 
 Come," added he, extending his hand, and 
 addressing me in a more kindly tone, " come, 
 ray poor child, fall upon your knees. Pray to 
 the Almighty dispenser of all good — pray to 
 our blessed Saviour — pray for pardon, for 
 strength and courage. Let conscious innocence
 
 302 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 console you. This is one of the many bitter 
 trials that you are doomed to endure in this 
 life of misery and strife. Pray, then, for for- 
 titude to support them. Trust in God, he will 
 deliver you from the toils of the wicked." 
 
 I obeyed, and prayed fervently, whilst he 
 stood by, gazing benignly upon me. Tears 
 came to my relief. 1 felt more calm, and said, 
 " Sir, I promise to renounce this terrible temp- 
 tation, but how can I support the agony of such 
 disgrace ? I am lost — lost for ever." 
 
 M. de Florennes then seated himself by my 
 side, and exerted his utmost endeavours to 
 inspire me with resignation. After promising 
 to visit me early in the morning, he embraced 
 me affectionately, and left me to cast myself 
 upon my wretched pillow. 
 
 It was in vain, however, that I tried to com- 
 pose myself — it was in vain that I endeavoured 
 to summon courage to encounter the ignomi- 
 nious fate that awaited me. To be expelled — 
 publicly expelled as a disgrace to the school, was 
 horrible ; but to be delivered into the hands of 
 jailors, and branded as a common thief, was insup-
 
 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 303 
 
 portable. The loss of life was nothing compared 
 with that of character, to that of the esteem of 
 Lord Toryville and my early friends ; of all, in 
 short, that I prized most dearly. For more 
 than two hours I walked to and fro in my 
 chamber, haunted by the terror of chains and 
 judges, wringing my hands in the frensy of 
 desolation, until at last the temptation to self- 
 murder again assailed me. But when I ap- 
 proached the window, and gazed at the dizzy 
 depth beneath, and cast my eye upon the 
 bright, calm firmament above, twinkling with 
 a thousand stars, the glorious evidences of 
 God's power, the greater dread of his curse and 
 of eternal death came upon me, and I withdrew, 
 shuddering. 
 
 Of a sudden, another project burst upon me ; 
 I thought of escaping. How or where I cared 
 not. But to fly I was determined, and this, 
 without acquainting M. de Florennes, lest he 
 should attempt to deter me. Hateful as the 
 sea was, I hoped to make my way to the coast, 
 to conceal my name and to get a berth on board 
 some ship. Anything was preferable to the
 
 304 THE MARRIED UNMARRIED. 
 
 agony of being convicted as a felon. So soon, 
 therefore, as the boys had retired to rest, and 
 the house was wrapped in sleep, I took oiF my 
 shoes, put the bread and cheese brought to me 
 by M. de Florennes, together with a small 
 bundle of linen, into a handkerchief, and, with 
 a palpitating heart and throbbing pulse opened 
 the door and glided down the stairs. Here my 
 progress had like to have been arrested, for 
 I could not find the door-key, but at length I 
 succeeded in unfastening a window, and darted 
 into the fields in an opposite direction to Salis- 
 bury. After pausing awhile to guide myself 
 by the stars, I continued running several miles 
 in what I concluded was the way towards the 
 sea-coast. At length, being exhausted with 
 fatigue, I crept into a barn that stood by the 
 side of a meadow, and climbing to the top of 
 the straw, for a time forgot my miseries in 
 slee}>. 
 
 EMD OF VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PiilNTED BV IBOTSON AND PAL.MER. SAVOY STREET.
 
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