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BARNABY RUDGE 
 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 Vol. I. 
 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 NEW YORK^r 
 
 THOMAS Y CROWELL Sc CO., 
 
 46 East Fourteenth St. 
 

 <LO 
 
 BERWICK & SMITH, PRINTERS, BOSTON. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Q As it is Mr. Waterton's opinion that ravens are gradually 
 O becoming extinct in England, I offer a few words here about 
 mine. 
 
 The raven in this story is a compound of two great origi- 
 nals, of whom I have been, at different times, the proud 
 possessor. The first was in the bloom of his youth, when he 
 was discovered in a modest retirement in London, by a friend 
 of mine, and given to me. He had from the first, as Sir 
 Hug;h Evans says of Anne Page, "good gifts," which he 
 improved by study and attention in a most exemplary manner. 
 He slept in a stable — generally on horseback — and so terri- 
 fied a Newfoundland dog by his preternatural sagacity, that 
 he has been known, by the mere superiority of his genius, to 
 walk off unmolested with the dog's dinner, from before his 
 face. He was rapidly rising in acquirements and virtues, 
 when, in an evil hour, his stable was newly painted. He 
 observed the workmen closely, saw that they were careful of 
 the paint, and immediately burned to possess it. On their 
 going to dinner, he ate up all they had left behind, consisting 
 of a pound or two of Avhite lead ; and this youthful indiscre-, 
 tion terminated in death. 
 
 While I was yet inconsolable for his loss, another friend of 
 mine in Yorkshire discovered an older and more gifted raven 
 at a village public-house, wliich he prevailed upon the land- 
 lord to part with for a consideration, and sent up to me. The 
 first act of this Sage, was, to administer to the effects of his 
 predecessor, by disinterring all tlio cheese and halfpence lie 
 
iv PEE FACE. 
 
 had buried in the garden — a work of immense labor and 
 research, to which he devoted all the energies of his mind. 
 When he had achieved this task, he applied himself to the 
 acquisition of stable language, in which he soon became such 
 an adept, that he would perch outside my window and drive 
 imaginary horses with great skill, all day. Perhaps even I 
 never saw him at his best, for his former master sent his duty 
 with him, '• and if I wished the bird to come out very strong, 
 would I be so good as show him a drunken man'' — which I 
 never did, having (unfortunately) none but sober people at 
 hand. But I could hardly have respected him more, whatever 
 the stimulating influences of this sight might have been. He 
 had not the least respect, I am sorry to say, for me in return, 
 or for anybody but the cook ; to whom he was attached — but 
 only, I fear, as a Policeman might have been. Once, I met 
 him unexpectedl}', about half a mile off, walking down the 
 middle of the public street, attended by a pretty large crowd, 
 and spontaneously exhibiting the whole of his accomplish- 
 ments. His gravity under those trying circumstances, I 
 never can forget, nor the extraordinary gallantr}' with which, 
 refusing to be brought home, he defended himself behind a 
 pump, until overpowered by numbers. It may have been that 
 he was too bright a genius to live long, or it may have been 
 that he took some pernicious substance into his bill, and 
 thence into his maw — which is not improbable, seeing that 
 he new-pointed the greater part of the garden-wall by digging 
 ^out the mortar, broke countless squares of glass by scraping 
 away the putty all round the frames, and tore up and swal- 
 lowed, in splinters, the greater part of a wooden staircase of 
 six steps and a landing — but after some three years he too 
 was taken ill, and died before the kitchen fire. He kept his 
 eye to the last upon the meat as it roasted, and suddenly 
 turned over on his back with a sepulchral cry of " Cuckoo ! " 
 After this mournful deprivation, I was, for a long time, 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 ravenless. The kindness of another friend at length provided 
 me with another raven; but he is not a genius. He leads 
 the life of a hermit, in my little orchard, on the summit of 
 Shakespeare's Gad's Hill ; he has no relish for society ; he 
 gives no evidence of ever cultivating his mind ; and he has 
 picked up nothing but meat since I have known him — except 
 the faculty of barking like a dog. 
 
 Of the story of Barxaby Rudge itself, I do not think I 
 can say anything here more to the purpose than the following 
 passages from the original Preface. 
 
 " No account of the Gordon Eiots having been to my knowl- 
 edge introduced into any Work of Fiction, and the subject 
 presenting very extraordinary and remarkable features, I was 
 led to project this Tale. 
 
 "It is unnecessary to say, that those shameful tumults, 
 while- they reflect indelible disgrace upon the time in which 
 they occurred, and all who had act or part in them, teach a 
 good lesson. That what we falsely call a religious cry is 
 easily raised by men who have no religion, and who in their 
 daily practice set at naught the commonest principles of right 
 and wrong ; that it is begotten of intolerance and persecution ; 
 that it is senseless, besotted, inveterate, and unmerciful; all 
 History teaches us. But perhaps we do not know it in our 
 hearts too well, to profit by even so humble an example as the 
 ' No Popery ' riots of Seventeen Hundred and Eighty. 
 
 " However imperfectly those disturbances are set forth in 
 the following pages, they are impartially painted by one who 
 has no sympathy with the Romish Church, although he 
 acknowledges, as most men do, some esteemed friends among 
 the followers of its creed. 
 
 "It may be observed that, in the description of the prin- 
 cipal outrages, reference has been had to the best authorities 
 of that time, such as they are ; and that the account given in 
 
vi PEE FACE. 
 
 this Tale, of all the main features of the Eiots, is substantially 
 correct. 
 
 " It may be further remarked, that Mr. Dennis's allusions 
 to the flourishing condition of his trade in those days, have 
 their foundation in Truth, and not in the Author's fancy. 
 Any file of old Newspapers, or odd volume of the Annual 
 Kegister, will prove this, with terrible ease. 
 
 " Even the case of Mary Jones, dwelt upon with so much 
 pleasure by the same character, is no effort of invention. The 
 facts were stated, exactly as they are stated here, in the House 
 of Commons. Whether they afforded as much entertainment 
 to the merry gentlemen assembled there, as some other most 
 affecting circumstances of a similar nature mentioned by Sir 
 Samuel Romilly, is not recorded." 
 
 That the case of Mary Jones may speak the more emphati- 
 cally for itself, I now subjoin it, as related by Sir William 
 Meredith, in a speech in Parliament, on " Frequent Execu- 
 tions," made in 1777. 
 
 "Under this act," the Shop-lifting Act, "one Mary Jones 
 was executed, whose case I shall just mention ; it was at the 
 time when press-warrants were issued, on the alarm about 
 Falkland Islands. The woman's husband was pressed, their 
 goods seized for some debts of his, and she, with two small 
 children, turned into the streets a-begging. It is a circum- 
 stance not to be forgotten, that she was very young (under 
 nineteen), and most remarkably handsome. She went to a 
 linen-draper's shop, took some coarse linen off the counter, 
 and slipped it under her cloak ; the shopman saw her, and she 
 laid it down : for this she was hanged. Her defence was (I 
 have the trial in my pocket), 'that she had lived in credit, 
 and wanted for nothing, till a press-gang came and stole her 
 husband from her ; but, since then, she had no bed to lie on ; 
 nothing to give her children to eat; and they were almost 
 
PREFACE. vii 
 
 naked ; and perhaps she might have done something wrong, 
 for she hardly knew what she did.' The parish officers testi- 
 fied the truth of this story ; but it seems, there had been a 
 good deal of shop-lifting about Ludgate ; an example was 
 thought necessary ; and this woman was hanged for the 
 comfort and satisfaction of shopkeepers in Ludgate Street. 
 When brought to receive sentence, she behaved in such a 
 frantic manner, as proved her mind to be in a distracted and 
 desponding state ; and the child was sucking at her breast 
 when she set out for Tyburn." 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 By G. Cattermole axd H. K. Browne. 
 
 Str 
 
 The Maypole 
 
 Barnaby a:sd Grip 
 
 John Willet and his Guests 
 The Stranger striking Joe Willet . 
 Barnaby, Gabriel Varden, and the Wounded 
 Simon Tappertit and Dolly Varden . 
 Slmon Tappertit dangerous .... 
 
 Barnaby's Dream 
 
 Edward Chester, Varden, and Barnaby 
 Initiation of a 'prentice Knight 
 
 MiGGS on the Watch 
 
 Hugh 
 
 On the Maypole Hearth .... 
 
 The State Bed 
 
 The Warren 
 
 Mr. Haredale rebukes Young Chester . 
 Sir John Chester at Homk .... 
 
 Street in Old London 
 
 Barnaby AND HIS Mother .... 
 
 The Obsequious Stagg 
 
 Dolly and Miss Haredale .... 
 Dolly waylaid by Hugh .... 
 Hugh at Sir John Chester's 
 Sir John preparing to pay a Visit 
 The Widow's Farewell to Mr. Haredale 
 John Willet Asleep in the Bar . 
 Sir John Chester flatters Mrs. Varden 
 Miss Haredale crossing the BitiDGio . 
 Old Willet insults Joe before Sir John Chester 
 
 ix 
 
 Fronti 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ipiece 
 
 X 
 
 18 
 
 32 
 
 42 
 
 44 
 
 54 
 
 55 
 
 72 
 
 81 
 
 86 
 
 88 
 
 109 
 
 115 
 
 126 
 
 129 
 
 139 
 
 149 
 
 159 
 
 175 
 
 180 
 
 201 
 
 205 
 
 219 
 
 222 
 
 230 
 
 253 
 
 262 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Joe says Good-by to Dolly 
 
 Edwakd Chestlk's last Interview with his Father 
 
 SoLOMOx Daisy's Fright 
 
 John Willet and Hugh at the Warren 
 
 Lord George Gordon .... 
 
 Gashford, Hugh, and Dennis 
 
 The Boot Tavern 
 
 A Xo-POPERY Dance .... 
 
 Simon Tappertit at a Glorious Elevation 
 
 Mr. Tappertit addressing his Friends 
 
 Dolly adjusting her Father's Scarf 
 
 On the Watch . 
 
 The Greeting . 
 
 Gashford struck down 
 
 At the Cottage Door 
 
 Stagg and the Widow 
 
 Grip in the Provinces 
 
 Lord George Gordon an 
 
 Outside the Gallery 
 
 The FvIOters returning from sacking a Popish Chapel 
 Gashford watching for Signs of the Burning of the 
 
 Warren 
 
 Liberties are taken with John Willet' s Bar 
 
 John Willet and the Mysterious Stranger .... 
 
 In the Fire and Smoke 
 
 Barnaby captured by the Soldiers 
 
 Barnaby and Grip in Prison 
 
 D Gashford enlisting Barnaby 
 
 PAGE 
 
 273 
 280 
 288 
 298 
 305 
 330 
 334 
 335 
 339 
 341 
 362 
 369 
 373 
 380 
 389 
 396 
 406 
 417 
 427 
 456 
 
 466 
 471 
 476 
 491 
 500 
 510 
 

 iv<:^v^ 
 
BARNABY RUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In the year 1775, there stood upon the borders of Epping 
 Forest, at a distance of about twelve miles from London 
 — measuring from the Standard in Cornhill or rather from 
 the spot on or near to which the Standard used to be in daj'S 
 of yore — a house of public entertainment called the Maypole ; 
 which fact was demonstrated to all such travellers as could 
 neither read nor write (and sixty-six years ago a vast number 
 both of travellers and stay-at-homes were in this condition) 
 by the emblem reared on the roadside over against the house, 
 which, if not of those goodly proportions that Maypoles were 
 wont to present in olden times, was a fair young ash, thirty 
 feet in height, and straight as any arrow that ever English 
 yeoman drew. 
 
 The Maypole — by which term from henceforth is meant the 
 house, and not its sign — the Maypole was an old building, 
 with more gable ends than a lazy man would care to count on 
 a sunny day ; huge zig-zag chimneys, out of which it seemed 
 as though even smoke could not choose but come in more 
 than naturally fantastic shapes, imparted to it in its tortuous 
 progress ; and vast stables, gloomy, ruinous and empty. The 
 place was said to have been built in the days of King Henry 
 the Eighth ; and there was a legend, not only that Queen 
 Elizabeth had slept there one night while upon a hunting 
 excursion, to wit in a certain oak-panelled room with a deep 
 bay-window, but that next morning, while standing on a 
 mounting-block before the door with one foot in the stirrup, 
 the virgin monarch had then and there boxed and cuffed an 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
2 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 unlucky page for some neglect of duty. The matter-of-fact 
 and doubtful folks, of whom there were a few among the 
 Maypole customers, as unluckily there always are in every 
 little community, were inclined to look upon this tradition as 
 rather apocryphal ; but, whenever the landlord of that ancient 
 hostelry appealed to the mounting-block itself as evidence, 
 and triumphantly pointed out that there it stood in the same 
 place to that very day, the doubters never failed to be put 
 down by a large majority, and all true believers exulted as in 
 a victory. 
 
 AYhether these and many other stories of the like nature, 
 were true or untrue, the Maypole was really an old house, a 
 very old house, perhaps as old as it claimed to be, and per- 
 haps older, which will sometimes happen with houses of an 
 uncertain, as with ladies of a certain, age. Its windows were 
 old diamond-pane lattices, its floors were sunken and uneven, 
 its ceilings blackened by the hand of time and heavy with 
 massive beams. Over the doorway was an ancient porch, 
 quaintly and grotesquely carved ; and here on summer even- 
 ings the more favored customers smoked and drank — ay, 
 and sang many a good song too, sometimes — reposing on two 
 grim-looking high-backed settles, which, like the twin dragons 
 of some fairy tale, guarded the entrance to the mansion. 
 
 In the chimneys of the disused rooms, swallows had built 
 their nests for many a long year, and from earliest spring to 
 latest autumn whole colonies of sparrows chirped and twittered 
 in the eaves. There were more pigeons about the dreary 
 stable yard and out-buildings than anybody but the landlord 
 could reckon up. The wheeling and circling flights of runts, 
 fantails, tumblers, and pouters, were perhaps not quite con- 
 sistent with the grave and sober character of the building, 
 but the monotonous cooing, which never ceased to be raised 
 by some among them all day long, suited it exactly, and 
 seemed to lull it to rest. With its overhanging stories, 
 drowsy little panes of glass, and front bulging out and pro- 
 jecting over the pathway, the old house looked as if it were 
 nodding in its sleep. Indeed, it needed no very great stretch 
 of fancy to detect in it other resemblances to humanity. The 
 bricks of which it was built had originally been a deep dark 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 3 
 
 red, but had grown yellow and discolored like an old man's 
 skin ; the sturdy timbers had decayed like teeth ; and here 
 and there the ivy, like a warm garment to comfort it in its 
 age, wrapt its green leaves closely round the time-worn. walls. 
 
 It was a hale and hearty age though, still : and in the 
 summer or autumn evenings, when the glow of the setting 
 sun fell upon the oak and chestnut trees of the adjacent for- 
 est, the old house, partaking of its lustre, seemed their fit 
 companion, and to have many good j^ears of life in him yet. 
 
 The evening with which we have to do, was neither a 
 summer nor an autumn one, but the twilight of a day in 
 March, when the wind howled dismally among the bare 
 branches of the trees, and rumbling in the wide chimneys and 
 driving the rain against the windows of the Maypole Inn, 
 gave such of its frequenters as chanced to be there at the 
 moment an undeniable reason for prolonging their stay, and 
 caused the landlord to prophesy that the night would certainly 
 clear at eleven o'clock precisely, — which by a remarkable 
 coincidence was the hour at which he always closed his house. 
 
 The name of him upon whom the spirit of prophecy thus 
 descended was John Willet, a burly, large-headed man with a 
 fat face which betokened profound obstinacy and slowness of 
 apprehension, combined with a very strong reliance upon his 
 own merits. It was John Willet's ordinary boast in his more 
 placid moods that if he were slow he was sure ; which 
 assertion could, in one sense at least, be by no means gain- 
 said, seeing that he was in everything unquestionably the 
 reverse of fast, and withal one of the most dogged and positive 
 fellows in existence — always sure that what he thought or 
 said or did was right, and holding it as a thing quite settled 
 and ordained by the laws of nature and Providence, that any- 
 body who said or did or thought otherwise must be inevitably 
 and of necessity wrong. 
 
 Mr. Willet walked slowly up to the window, flattened his 
 fat nose against the cold glass, and shading his eyes that lii.s 
 sight might not ])e affected by the ruddy glow of the Are, 
 looked abroad. Then he walked slowly back to liis old seat 
 in the chimney-corner, ami, roin})osing himself in it with a 
 slight shiver, such as a man luiglit give way to and so acquire 
 
4 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 an additional relish for the warm blaze, said, looking round 
 upon his guests, — 
 
 "It'll clear at eleven o'clock. Ko sooner and no later. 
 Not before and not arterwards." 
 
 "How do you make out that?" said a little man in the 
 opposite corner. " The moon is past the full, and she rises at 
 nine." 
 
 John looked sedately and solemnly at his questioner until 
 he had brought his mind to bear upon the whole of his 
 observation, and then made answer, in a tone which seemed 
 to imply that the moon was peculiarly his business and 
 nobody else's, — 
 
 "Never you mind about the moon. Don't you trouble 
 yourself about her. You let the moon alone, and I'll let you 
 alone." 
 
 "' No offence I hope ? " said the little man. 
 
 Again John w^aited leisurely until the observation had 
 thoroughly penetrated to his brain, and then replying " No 
 offence as yet,'^ applied a light to his pipe and smoked in 
 placid silence ; now and then casting a sidelong look at a man 
 wrapped in a loose riding-coat with huge cuffs ornamented 
 with tarnished silver lace and large metal buttons, who sat 
 apart from the regular frequenters of the house, and wearing 
 a hat flapped over his face, which was still further shaded by 
 the hand on which his forehead rested, looked unsociable 
 enough. 
 
 There was another guest, who sat, booted and spurred, at 
 some distance from the fire also, and whose thoughts — to judge 
 from his folded arms and knitted brows, and from the untasted 
 liquor before him — were occupied with other matters than the 
 topics under discussion or the persons who discussed them. 
 This was a young man of about eight and twenty, rather 
 above the middle height, and though of a somewhat slight 
 figure, gracefully and strongly made. He wore his own dark 
 hair, and was accoutred in a riding-dress, which, together 
 with his large boots (resembling in shape and fashion those 
 worn by our Life Guardsmen at the present day), showed 
 indisputable traces of the bad condition of the roads. But 
 travel-stained though he was, he was well and even richly 
 
'I 
 
 m 
 
BAnNABY BUDGE. 5 
 
 attired, and without being over-dressed looked a gallant 
 gentleman. 
 
 Lying upon the table beside him, as he had carelessly 
 thrown them down, were a heavy riding- whip and a slouched 
 hat, the latter worn no doubt as being best suited to the in- 
 clemency of the weather. There, too, were a pair of pistols 
 in a holster-case, and a short riding-cloak. Little of his face 
 was visible, except the long dark lashes which concealed his 
 downcast eyes, but an air of careless ease and natural grace- 
 fulness of demeanor pervaded the figure, and seemed to 
 comprehend even these slight accessories, which were all 
 handsome and in good keeping. 
 
 Towards this young gentleman the eyes of Mr. Willet 
 wandered but once, and then as if in mute inquiry whether he 
 had observed his silent neighbor. It was plain that John 
 and the young gentleman had often met before. Finding that 
 his look was not returned, or indeed observed by the person 
 to whom it was addressed, John gradually concentrated the 
 whole power of his eyes into one focus, and brought it to 
 bear upon the man in the flapped hat, at whom he came to 
 stare in course of time with an intensity -so remarkable, that 
 it affected his fireside cronies, who all, as with one accord, took 
 their pipes from their lips, and stared with open mouths at 
 the stranger likewise. 
 
 The sturdy landlord had a large pair of dull fish-like eyes, 
 and the little man who had hazarded the remark about the 
 moon (and who was the parish-clerk and bell-ringer of 
 Chigwell; a village hard by), had little round black shiny 
 eyes like beads ; moreover this little man wore at the knees of 
 his rusty black breeches, and on his rusty. black coat, and all 
 down his long flapped waistcoat, little queer buttons like 
 nothing except his eyes; but so like them, that as they 
 twinkled and glistened in the light of the fire, which shone 
 too in his bright shoe-buckles, he seemed all eyes from head 
 to foot, and to be gazing with every one of them o.t the 
 unknown customer. No wonder that a man should grow 
 restless under such an inspection as this, to say nothing of the 
 eyes belonging to short Tom Cobb the general chandler and 
 post-office keeper, and long Phil Parkes the ranger, both of 
 
6 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 whom, infected by the example of their companions, regarded 
 him of the flapped hat no less attentively. 
 
 The stranger became restless ; perhaps from being exposed 
 to this raking fire of eyes, perhaps from the nature of his 
 previous meditations — most probably from the latter cause, 
 for as he changed his position and looked hastily round, he 
 started to find himself the object of such keen regard, and 
 darted an angry and suspicious glance at the fireside group. 
 It had the effect of immediately diverting all eyes to the 
 chimney, except those of John Willet, who finding himself, as 
 it were, caught in the fact, and not being (as has been already 
 observed) of a very ready nature, remained staring at his 
 guest in a particularly awkward and disconcerted manner. 
 
 " Well ? " said the stranger. 
 
 AVell. There was not much in well. It was not a long 
 speech. " I thought you gave an order," said the landlord, 
 after a pause of two or three minutes for consideration. 
 
 The stranger took off his hat, and disclosed the hard features 
 of a man of sixty or thereabouts, much weather-beaten and 
 worn by time, and the naturally harsh expression of which 
 was not improved by a dark handkerchief which was bound 
 tightly round his head, and, while it served the purpose of a 
 wig, shaded his forehead, and almost hid his e^^ebrows. If it 
 were intended to conceal or divert attention from a deep gash, 
 now healed into an ugly seam, which when it was first 
 inflicted must have laid bare his cheek-bone, the object was 
 but indifferently attained, for it could scarcely fail to be noted 
 at a glance. His complexion was of a cadaverous hue, and he 
 had a grizzly jagged beard of some three weeks' date. Such 
 was the figure (very meanly and poorly clad) that now rose 
 from the seat, and stalking across the room sat down in a 
 corner of the chimney, which the politeness or fears of the 
 little clerk very readily assigned to him. 
 
 '- A highwayman ! " whispered Tom Cobb to Parkes the 
 ranger. 
 
 "Do you suppose highwaymen don't dress handsomer than 
 that ? " replied Parkes. " It's a better business than you 
 think for, Tom, and highwaymen don't need or use to be 
 shabby, take my word for it," 
 
BABNABT BUDGE. 7 
 
 Meahwhilej the subject of their speculations had done due 
 honor to the house by calling for some drink, which was 
 promptly supplied by the landlord's son Joe, a broad-shouldered 
 strapping young fellow of twenty, whom it pleased his father 
 still to consider a little boy, and to treat accordingly. 
 Stretching out his hands to warm them by the blazing fire, 
 the man turned his head towards the company, and after 
 running his eye sharply over them, said in a voice well suited 
 to his appearance, — 
 
 "What house is that which stands a mile or so from 
 here ? " 
 
 "Public-house?" said the landlord, with his usual delib- 
 eration. 
 
 "Public-house, father!" exclaimed Joe, "where's the 
 public-house within a mile or so of the Maypole ? He means 
 the great house — the Warren — naturally and of course. The 
 old red-brick house, sir, that stands in its own grounds — ? " 
 
 " Ay," said the stranger. 
 
 " And that fifteen or twenty years ago stood in a park five 
 times as broad, which with other and richer property has bit 
 by bit changed hands and dwindled away — more's the pity ! " 
 pursued the young man. 
 
 "Maybe," was the reply. "But my question related to 
 the owner. What it has been I don't care to know, and what 
 it is I can see for myself." 
 
 The heir-apparent to the Maypole pressed his finger on his 
 lips, and glancing at the young gentleman already noticed, 
 who had changed his attitude when the house was first men- 
 tioned, replied in a lower tone, — 
 
 "The owner's name is Haredale, Mr. Geoffrey Haredale, 
 and — " again he glanced in the same direction as before — 
 " and a worthy gentleman too — hem ! " 
 
 Paying as little regard to this admonitory cough, as to the 
 significant gesture that had preceded it, the stranger pursued 
 his questioning. 
 
 " I turned out of my way coming here, and took the foot- 
 path that crosses the grounds. Who was the young lady that 
 I saw entering a carriage ? His daughter ? " 
 
 "Why, how should I know, honest man?" replied Joe, 
 
8 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 contriving in the course of some arrangements about the 
 hearth, to advance close to his questioner and pluck him by 
 the sleeve, "/didn't see the young lady, you know. Whew ! 
 There's the wind again — and rain — well it is a night ! " 
 
 " Rough weather indeed ! " observed the strange man. 
 
 " You're used to it ? " said Joe, catching at anything which 
 seemed to promise a diversion of the subject. 
 
 "Pretty well," returned the other. "About the young 
 lady — has Mr. Haredale a daughter ? " 
 
 " No, no," said the young fellow fretfully, " he's a single 
 gentleman — he's — be quiet, can't you, man ? Don't you 
 see this talk is not relished yonder ? " 
 
 Regardless of this whispered remonstrance, and affecting 
 not to hear it, his tormentor provokingly- continued, — 
 
 " Single men have had daughters before now. Perhaps she 
 may be his daughter, though he is not married." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Joe, adding in an undertone 
 as he approached him again, " You'll come in for it presently, 
 1 know you will ! " 
 
 "I mean no harm" — returned the traveller boldly, "and 
 have said none that I know of. I ask a few questions — as 
 any stranger may, and not unnaturally — about the inmates 
 of a remarkable house in a neighborhood which is new to me, 
 and you are as aghast and disturbed as if I were talking 
 treason against King George. Perhaps you can tell me why, 
 sir, for (as I say) I am a stranger, and this is Greek to me ? " 
 
 The latter observation was addressed to the obvious cause 
 of Joe Willet's discomposure, who had risen and was adjusting 
 his riding-cloak preparatory to sallying abroad. Briefly reply- 
 ing that he could give him no information, the young man 
 beckoned to Joe, and handing him a piece of money in pay- 
 ment of his reckoning, hurried out attended by young Willet 
 himself, who taking up a candle, followed to light him to the 
 house door. 
 
 While Joe was absent on this errand, the elder Willet and 
 his three companions continued to smoke with profound 
 gravity, and in a deep silence, each having his eyes fixed on 
 a huge copper boiler that was suspended over the fire. After 
 some time John Willet slowly shook his head, and thereupon 
 
BAttNABY BUDGE. - 9 
 
 his friends slowly shook theirs; but no man withdrew his 
 eyes from the boiler, or altered the solemn expression of his 
 countenance in the slightest degree. 
 
 At length Joe returned — very talkative and conciliatory, 
 as though with a strong presentiment that he was going to be 
 found fault with. 
 
 " Such a thing as love is ! " he said, drawing a chair near 
 the fire, and looking round for sympathy. " He has set off to 
 walk to London, — all the way to London. His nag gone 
 lame in riding out here this blessed afternoon, and comfort- 
 ably littered down in our stable at this minute ; and he giving 
 up a good hot supper and our best bed, because INIiss Hare- 
 dale has gone to a masquerade up in town, and he has set his 
 heart upon seeing her ! I don't think I could persuade 
 myself to do that, beautiful as she is, — but then I'm not 
 in love (at least I don't think I am), and that's the whole 
 difference." 
 
 /' He is in love then ? " said the stranger. 
 
 " Kather," replied Joe. " He'll never be more in love, and 
 may very easily be less." 
 
 " Silence, sir ! " cried his father. 
 
 " What a chap you are, Joe ! " said Long Parkes. 
 
 " Such an inconsiderate lad ! " murmured Tom Cobb. 
 
 "Putting himself forward and wringing the very nose off 
 his own father's face ! " exclaimed the parish clerk, meta- 
 phorically. 
 
 " What have I done ? " reasoned poor Joe. 
 
 " Silence, sir ! " returned his father, " what do you mean by 
 talking, when you see people that are more than two or three 
 times your age, sitting still and silent and not dreaming of 
 saying a word ? " 
 
 " Why that's the proper time for me to talk, isn't it ? " 
 said Joe rebelliously. 
 
 " The proper time, sir ! " retorted his father, '• the proper 
 time's no time." 
 
 "Ah to be sure !" muttered Parkes, nodding gravely to the 
 other two who nodded likewise, observing under their breaths 
 that that was the point. 
 
 "The proper time's no time, sir," repeated flolm Willet ; 
 
10 - BAIiNABY BUBGE. 
 
 " when I was jowv age I never talked, I never wanted to talk. 
 I listened and improved myself, that's what / did." 
 
 ••'And you'd find your father rather a tough customer in 
 argeyment, Joe, if anybody was to try and tackle him/' said 
 Parkes. 
 
 "For the matter o' that, Phil !" observed Mr. Willet, blow- 
 ing a long, thin, spiral cloud of smoke out of the corner of 
 his mouth, and staring at it abstractedly as it floated away ; 
 " For the matter o' that, Phil, argeyraent is a gift of Natur. 
 If Xatur has gifted a man with powers of argeyment, a man 
 has a right to make the best of 'em, and has not a right to 
 stand on false delicacy, and deny that he is so gifted ; for that 
 is a-turning of his back on Xatur, a-flouting of her, a-slighting 
 of her precious caskets, and a-proving of one's self to be a 
 swine that isn't worth her scattering pearls before." 
 
 The landlord pausing here for a very long time, Mr. Parkes 
 naturally concluded that he had brought his discourse to an 
 end ; and therefore, turning to the young man with some 
 austerity, exclaimed, — 
 
 "You hear what your father says, Joe? You wouldn't 
 much like to tackle him in argeyment, I'm thinking, sir." 
 
 " — If," said John AYillet, turning his eyes from the ceiling 
 to the face of his interrupter, and uttering the monosyllable 
 in capitals, to apprise him that he had put in his oar, as the 
 vulgar say, with unbecoming and irreverent haste ; " If, sir, 
 Xatur has fixed upon me the gift of argeyment, why should I 
 not own to it, and rather glory in the same ? Yes, sir, I am 
 a tough customer that way. You are right, sir. My tough- 
 ness has been proved, sir, in this room many and many a time, 
 as I think you know : and if you don't know," added John, 
 putting his pipe in his mouth again, " so much the better, for 
 I ain't proud and am not going to tell you." 
 
 A general murmur from his three cronies, and a general 
 shaking of heads at the copper boiler, assured John Willet 
 that they had had good experiences of his powers and needed 
 no further evidence to assure them of his superiority. John 
 smoked with a little more dignity and surveyed them in 
 silence. 
 
 "It's all very fine talking," muttered Joe, who had been 
 
BABNABY BULGE. 11 
 
 fidgeting in his chair with divers uneasy gestures. " But if 
 you mean to tell me that I'm never to open my lips " — 
 
 "Silence, sir!" roared his father. "Xo, you never are. 
 When your opinion's wanted, you give it. When you're 
 spoke to, you speak. When your opinion's not wanted, and 
 you're not spoke to, don't you give an opinion, and don't you 
 speak. The world's undergone a nice alteration since my 
 time, certainly. j\Iy belief is that there ain't any boys left 
 — that there isn't such a thing as a boy — that there's nothing 
 now between a male baby and a man — and that all the boys 
 went out with his blessed ^lajesty King George the Second." 
 
 " That's a very true observation, always excepting the young 
 princes," said the parish-clerk, who, as the representative of 
 church and state in that company, held himself bound to the 
 nicest loyalty. "If it's godly and righteous for boys, being of 
 the ages of boys, to behave themselves like boys, then the 
 young princes must be boys and cannot be otherwise." 
 
 "Did you ever hear tell of mermaids, sir? " said Mr. Willet. 
 
 " Certainly I have," replied the clerk. 
 
 "Very good," said jMr. Willet. "According to the consti- 
 tution of mermaids, so much of a mermaid as is not a woman 
 must be a fish. According to the constitution of young princes, 
 so much of a young prince (if anything) as is not actually an 
 angel, must be godly and righteous. Therefore if it's becoming 
 and godly and righteous in the young princes (as it is at their 
 ages) that they should be boys, they are and must be boys, 
 and cannot by possibility be anything else." 
 
 This elucidation of a knotty point being received with such 
 marks of approval as to put John Willet into a good-humor, 
 he contented himself with repeating to his son his command of 
 silence, and addressing the stranger, said, — 
 
 "If you had asked your question of a grown-up i)erson — 
 of me or any of these gentlemen — you'd have had some satis- 
 faction, and wouldn't have wasted breath. Miss Haredale is 
 Mr. Geoffrey Haredale's niece." 
 
 "Is her father alive ?" said the man carelessly. 
 
 "No," rejoined the landlord, "he is not alive, and he is not 
 dead " — 
 
 " Not dead ! '' cried the other. 
 
12 BABNABT RUDGE. 
 
 "Not dead in a common sort of way," said the landlord. 
 
 The cronies nodded to each other, and Mr. Parkes remarked 
 in an undertone, shaking his head meanwhile as who should 
 say, " let no man contradict me, for I won't believe him," that 
 John Willet was in amazing force to-night, and fit to tackle a 
 Chief Justice. 
 
 The stranger suffered a short pause to elapse, and then 
 asked abruptly, '•' What do you mean ? " 
 
 "More than you think for, friend," returned John "Willet. 
 "Perhaps there's more meaning in them Avords than you 
 suspect." 
 
 "Perhaps there is," said the strange man, gruffly; "but 
 what the devil do you speak in such mysteries for ? You tell 
 me, first, that a man is not alive, nor yet dead — then, that 
 he's not dead in a common sort of way — then that you mean 
 a great deal more than I think for. To tell you the truth, you 
 may do that easily ; for so far as I can make out, you mean 
 nothing. What do you mean, I ask again ? " 
 
 " That," returned the landlord, a little brought dovvm from 
 his dignity by the stranger's surliness, " is a Maypole story, 
 and has been any time these four and twenty years. That 
 story is Solomon Daisy's story. It belongs to the house ; and 
 nobody but Solomon Daisy has ever told it under this roof, or 
 ever shall — that's more." 
 
 The man glanced at the parish clerk, whose air of conscious- 
 ness and importance plainly betokened him to be the person 
 referred to, and, observing that he had taken his pipe from 
 his lips, after a very long whiif to keep it alight, and was evi- 
 dently about to tell his story without further solicitation, gath- 
 ered his large coat about him, and shrinking farther back was 
 almost lost in the gloom of the spacious chimney-corner, except 
 when the flame, struggling from under a great fagot, whose 
 weight almost crushed it for the time, shot upward with a 
 strong and sudden glare, and illumining his figure for a mo- 
 ment, seemed afterwards to cast it into deeper obscurity than 
 before. 
 
 By this flickering light, which made the old room, with its 
 heavy timbers and panelled walls, look as if it were built of 
 polished ebony — the wind roaring and howling without, now 
 
BAUNABY RUDGH. 13 
 
 rattling the latch and creaking the hinges of the stout oaken 
 door, and now driving at the casement as though it would beat 
 it in — by this light, and under circumstances so auspicious, 
 Solomon Daisy began his tale : — 
 
 " It was Mr. Eeuben Haredale, Mr. Geoffrey's elder 
 brother " — 
 
 Here he came to a dead stop, and made so long a pause that 
 even John Willet grew impatient and asked why he did not 
 proceed. 
 
 " Cobb," said Solomon Daisy, dropping his voice and appeal- 
 ing to the post-office keeper; " what day of the month is this ?" 
 
 " The nineteenth." 
 
 "Of March," said the clerk, bending forward, "the nine- 
 teenth of March ; that's very strange." 
 
 In a low voice they all acquiesced, and Solomon went on : — 
 
 "It was Mr. Reuben Haredale, Mr. Geoffrey's elder brother, 
 that twenty-two years ago was the OAvner of the Warren, which, 
 as Joe has said — not that you remember it, Joe, for a boy like 
 you can't do that, but because you have often heard me say so 
 — was then a much larger and better place, and a much more 
 valuable property than it is now. His lady was lately dead, 
 and he was left with one child — the Miss Haredale you have 
 been inquiring about — who was then scarcely a year old." 
 
 Although the speaker addressed himself to the man who had 
 shown so much curiosity about this same family, and made a 
 pause here as if expecting some exclamation of surprise or 
 encouragement, the latter made no remark, nor gave any 
 indication that he heard or was interested in what was said. 
 Solomon therefore turned to his old companions, whose noses 
 were brightly illuminated by the deep red glow from the 
 bowls of their pipes ; assured, by long experience, of their 
 attention, and resolved to show his sense of such indecent 
 behavior. 
 
 "Mr. Haredale," said Solomon, turning his back upon the 
 strange man, "left this place when his lady died, feeling it 
 lonely like, and went up to London, where he stopped some 
 months ; but finding that place as lonely as this — as I suppose 
 and have always heard say — he suddenly came back again 
 with his little girl to the Warren, bringing with him besides, 
 
14 bahnabt budge. 
 
 that clay, only two women servants, and his steward, and a 
 gardener." 
 
 Mr. Daisy stopped to take a whiff at his pipe, which was 
 going out, and then proceeded — at first in a snuffling tone, 
 occasioned by keen enjoyment of the tobacco and strong pull- 
 ing at the pipe, and afterwards with increasing distinctness, — 
 
 " — Bringing with him two women servants, and his steward 
 and a gardener. The rest stopped behind up in London, and 
 were to folloAv next day. It happened that that niglit, an old 
 gentleman w^ho lived at Chigwell-row, and had long been 
 poorly, deceased, and an order came to me at half after twelve 
 o'clock at niglit to go and' toll the passing-bell." 
 
 There was a movement in the little group of listeners, 
 sufficiently indicative of the strong repugnance any one of 
 them would have felt, to have turned out at such a time upon 
 such an errand. The clerk felt and understood it, and pursued 
 his theme accordingly : — 
 
 " It ivas a dreary thing, especially as the grave-digger was 
 laid up in his bed, from long working in a damp soil and 
 sitting down to take his dinner on cold tombstones, and I was 
 consequently under obligations to go alone, for it was too late 
 to hope to get any other companion. However, I wasn't 
 unprepared for it ; as the old gentleman had often made it .a 
 request that -the bell should be tolled as soon as possible after 
 the breath was out of his body, and he had been expected to 
 go for some days. I put as good a face upon it as I could, 
 and muffling myself up (for it was mortal cold), started out 
 with a lighted lantern in one hand and the key of the church 
 in the other." 
 
 At this point of the narrative, the dress of the strange man 
 rustled as if he had turned himself to hear more distinctly. 
 Slightly pointing over his shoulder, Solomon elevated his eye- 
 brows and nodded a silent inquiry to Joe whether this was 
 the case. Joe shaded his eyes with his hand and peered into 
 the corner, but could make out nothing, and so shook his head. 
 
 "It was just such a night as this; blowing a hurricane, 
 raining heavily, and very dark — I often think now, darker 
 than I ever saw it before or since ; that may be my fancy, but 
 the houses were all close shut and the folks in doors, and 
 
BABNABT BUDGE. 15 
 
 perhaps there is only one othef man who knows how dark it 
 really was. I got into the church, chained the door back so 
 that it should keep ajar — for, to tell the truth, I didn't like 
 to be shut in there alone — and putting my lantern on the 
 stone oeat in the little corner where the bell-rope is, sat down 
 beside it to trim the candle. 
 
 " I sat down to trim the candle, and when I had done so, I 
 could not persuade myself to get up again and go about my 
 work. I don't know how it was, but I thought of all the 
 ghost stories I had ever heard, even those that I had heard 
 when I was a boy at school, and had forgotten long ago ; and 
 they didn't come into my mind one after another, but all 
 crowding at once, like. I recollected one stor}- there was in 
 the village, how that on a certain night in the year (it might 
 be that very night for anything I knew), all the dead people 
 came out of the ground and sat at the heads of their own 
 graves till morning. This made me think how many people 
 I had known, were buried between the church door and the 
 churchyard gate, and what a dreadful thing it would be to 
 have to pass among them and know them again, so earthy and 
 unlike themselves. I had known all the niches and arches in 
 the church from a child ; still, I couldn't persuade myself that 
 those were their natural shadows which I saw on the pavement, 
 but felt sure there were some ugly figures hiding among 'em 
 and peeping out. Thinking on in this way, I began to think 
 of the old gentleman who was just dead, and I could have 
 sworn, as I looked up the dark chancel, that I saw him in his 
 usual place, wrapping his shroud about him and shivering as 
 if he felt it cold. All this time I sat listening and listening, 
 and hardly dared to breathe. At length I started up and 
 took the bell-rope in my hands. At that minute there 
 rang — not that bell, for I had hardly touched the rope — but 
 another ! 
 
 " I heard the ringing of another bell, and a deep bell too, 
 plainly. It was only for an instant, and even then the wind 
 carried the sound away, but I heard it. I listened for a long 
 time, but it rang no more. I had heard of corpse candles, and 
 at last I persuaded myself that this must be a corpse bell toll- 
 ing of itself at midnight for the dead. I tolled my bell — 
 
16 SARNAiST RUDGE. 
 
 how, or how long, I don't know — and ran home to bed as fast 
 as I could touch the ground. 
 
 '' I was up early next morning, after a restless night, and 
 told the story to my neighbors. Some were serious and some 
 made light of it : I don't think anybody believed it real. But, 
 that morning, Mr. Reuben Haredale was found murdered in 
 his bed-chamber; and in his hand was a piece of the cord 
 attached to an alarm-bell outside the roof, which hung in his 
 room and had been cut asunder, no doubt by the murderer, 
 when he seized it. 
 
 " That was the bell I heard. 
 
 "A bureau was found opened, and a cash-box, which Mr. 
 Haredale had brought down that day, and was supposed to 
 contain a large sum of money, was gone. The steward and 
 gardener were both missing and both suspected for a long 
 time, but they were never found, though hunted far and wide. 
 And far enough they might have looked for poor Mr. Rudge 
 the steward, whose body — scarcely to be recognized by his 
 clothes and the watch and ring he wore — was found, months 
 afterwards, at the bottom of a piece of water in the grounds, 
 with a deep gash in the breast where he had been stabbed with 
 a knife. He was only partly dressed ; and people all agreed 
 that he had been sitting up reading in his own room, where 
 there were many traces of blood, and was suddenly fallen upon 
 and killed before his master. 
 
 "Everybody now knew that the gardener must be the 
 murderer, and though he has never been heard of from that 
 time to this, he will be, mark my words. The crime was com- 
 mitted this day two and twent}^ years — on the nineteenth of 
 March, one thousand seven hundred and fifty-three. On the 
 nineteenth of March in some year — no matter when — I know 
 it, I am sure of it, for we have alwa3"S, in some strange way 
 or other, been brought back to the subject on that day ever 
 since — on the nineteenth of March in some year, sooner or 
 later, that man will be discovered." 
 
BAIiNABY liUDGE. 17 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 " A STRANGE story ! " said the man who had been the cause 
 of the narration. — '• Stranger still if it comes about as you 
 predict. Is that all ? " 
 
 A question so unexpected, nettled Solomon Daisy not a 
 little. By dint of relating the story very often, and orna- 
 menting it (according to village report) with a few flourishes 
 suggested by the various hearers from time to time, he had 
 come by degrees to tell it with great effect; and "is that all?" 
 after the climax, was not what he was accustomed to. 
 
 " Is that all ? " he repeated, " yes, that's all, sir. And 
 enough too, I think." 
 
 " I think so too. My horse, young man. He is but a hack 
 hired from a roadside posting-house, but he must carry me to 
 London to-night." 
 
 '• To-night ! " said Joe. 
 
 " To-night," returned the other. " What do you stare at ? 
 This tavern would seem to be a house of call for all the gaping 
 idlers of the neighborhood ! " 
 
 At this remark, whicJi evidently had reference to the scrutiny 
 he had undergone, as mentioned in the foregoing chapter, the 
 eyes of John Willet and his friends were diverted with mar- 
 vellous rapidity to the copper boiler again. Xot so with Joe, 
 who, being a mettlesome fellow, returned the stranger's angry 
 glance with a steady look, and rejoined, — 
 
 "It is not a very bold thing to wonder at your going on 
 to-night. Surely you have been asked such a harmless 
 question in an inn before, and in better weatlier than this. I 
 thought you mightn't know the way, as you seem strange to 
 this part." 
 
 "The way" — repeated the other, irritably. 
 
 " Yes. Do you know it ? " 
 
 "I'll — humph ! — I'll find it," replied the man, waving his 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
18 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 hand and turning on his heel. " Landlord, take the reckoning 
 here." 
 
 John Willet did as he was desired ; for on that point he 
 was seldom slow, except in the particulars of giving change, 
 and testing the goodness of any piece of coin that was prof- 
 fered to him, by the application of his teeth or his tongue, 
 or some other test, or, in doubtful cases, by a long series of 
 tests terminating in its rejection. The guest then wrapped 
 his garments about him so as to shelter himself as effectually 
 as he could from the rough weather, and without any word or 
 sign of farewell betook himself to the stable-j- ard. Here Joe 
 (who had left the room on the conclusion of their short 
 dialogue) was protecting himself and the horse from the rain 
 under the shelter of an old pent-house roof. 
 
 " He's pretty much of my opinion,'' said Joe, patting the 
 horse upon the neck. "I'll wager that your stopping here 
 to-night would please him better than it would please me." 
 
 " He and I are of different opinions, as we have been more 
 than once on our way here," was the short reply. 
 
 '• So I was thinking before you came out, for he has felt 
 your spurs, poor beast." 
 
 The stranger adjusted his coat-collar about his face, and 
 made no answer. 
 
 " You'll know me again, I see," he said, marking the young 
 fellow's earnest gaze, when he had sprung into the saddle. 
 
 " The man's worth knowing, master, who travels a road he 
 don't know, mounted on a jaded horse, and leaves good quar- 
 ters to do it on such a night as this." 
 
 " You have sharp eyes and a sharp tongue I find." 
 
 " Both I hope by nature, but the last grows rusty sometimes 
 for want of using." 
 
 " Use the first less too, and keep their sharpness for your 
 sweethearts, boy," said the man. 
 
 So saying he shook his hand from the bridle, struck him 
 roughly on the head with the but end of his whip, and gal- 
 loped away ; dashing through the mud and darkness with a 
 headlong speed, which few badly mounted horsemen would 
 have cared to venture, even had they been thoroughly 
 acquainted with the country ; and which, to one who knew 
 

 J^^\ 
 
BARNABY RUDGE. 19 
 
 nothing of the way he rode, was attended at every step with 
 great hazard and danger. 
 
 The roads, even within twelve miles of London, were at 
 that time ill-paved, seldom repaired, and very badly made. 
 The way this rider traversed had been ploughed up by the 
 wheels of heavy wagons, and rendered rotten by the frosts 
 and thaws of the preceding winter, or possibly of many 
 winters. Great holes and gaps had been worn into the soil, 
 which, being now filled with water from the late rains, were 
 not easily distinguishable even by day ; and a plunge into any 
 one of them might have brought down a surer-footed horse 
 than the poor beast now urged forward to the utmost extent 
 of his powers. Sharp flints and stones rolled from under his 
 hoofs continually ; the rider could scarcely see beyond the 
 animal's head, or farther on either side than his own arm 
 would have extended. At that time, too, all the roads in the 
 neighborhood of the metropolis were infested by footpads or 
 highwaymen, and it was a night, of all others, in which any 
 evil-disposed person of this class might have pursued his 
 unlawful calling with little fear of detection. 
 
 Still, the traveller dashed forward at the same reckless 
 pace, regardless alike of the dirt and wet which flew about 
 his head, the profound darkness of the night, and the proba- 
 bility of encountering some desperate characters abroad. At 
 every turn and angle, even where a deviation from the direct 
 course might have been least expected, and could not possibly 
 be seen until he was close upon it, he guided the bridle with 
 an unerring hand, and kept the middle of the road. Thus he 
 sped onward, raising himself in the stirrups, leaning his body 
 forward, until it almost touched the liorse's neck, and flour- 
 ishing his heavy whip above his head with the fervor of a 
 madman. 
 
 There are times when, the elements being in unusual com- 
 motion, those who are bent on daring enterprises, or agitated 
 by great thoughts, whether of good or evil, feel a mysterious 
 sympathy with the tumult of nature, and are roused into 
 corresponding violence. In the midst of thunder, lightning, 
 and storm, many tremendous deeds have been committed ; 
 men, self-possessed before, have given a sudden loose to pas- 
 
20 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 sions they could no longer control. The demons of wrath 
 and despair have striven to emulate those who ride the 
 whirlwind and direct the storm; and man, lashed into mad- 
 ness with the roaring winds and boiling waters, has become 
 for the time as wild and merciless as the elements themselves. 
 
 Whether the traveller was possessed by thoughts which 
 the fury of the night had heated and stimulated into a quicker 
 current, or was merely impelled by some strong motive to 
 reach his journey's end, on he swept more like a hunted 
 phantom than a man, nor checked his pace until, arriving at 
 some cross-roads, one of which led by a longer route to the 
 place whence he had lately started, he bore down so suddenly 
 upon a vehicle which was coming towards him, that in the 
 effort to avoid it he well-nigh pulled his horse upon his 
 haunches, and narrowly escaped being thrown. 
 
 " Yoho ! " cried the voice of a man. " What's that ? who 
 goes there ? " 
 
 " A friend ! " replied the traveller. 
 
 "A friend!'' repeated the voice. "Who calls himself a 
 friend and rides like that, abusing Heaven's gifts in the 
 shape of horseflesh, and endangering, not only his own neck 
 "(which might be no great matter), but the necks of other 
 people ? " 
 
 " You have a lantern there, I see," said the traveller, dis- 
 mounting, "lend it me for a moment. You have wounded 
 my horse, I think, with your shaft or wheel." 
 
 '•Wounded him!" cried the other, "if I haven't killed 
 him, it's no fault of yours. What do you mean by galloping 
 along the king's highway like that, eh ? " 
 
 " Give me the light," returned the traveller, snatching it 
 from his hand, " and don^t ask idle questions of a man who is 
 in no mood for talking." 
 
 "If you had said you were in no mood for talking before, 
 I should perhaps have been in no mood for lighting," said the 
 voice. " Hows'ever as it's the poor horse that's damaged and 
 not you, one of you is welcome to the light at all events — 
 but it's not the crusty one." 
 
 The traveller returned no answer to this speech, but hold- 
 ing the light near to his panting and reeking beast, examined 
 
BARXABY BUDGE. 21 
 
 him in limb and carcass. Meanwhile the other man sat very 
 composedly in his vehicle, -which was a kind of chaise with a 
 depository for a large bag of tools, and watched his proceed- 
 ings with a careful eye. 
 
 The looker-on was a round red-faced, sturdy yeoman, with 
 a double chin, and a voice husky with good living, good sleep- 
 ing, good humor, and good health. He was past the prime 
 of life, but Father Time is not always a hard parent, and, 
 though he tarries for none of his children, often lays his hand 
 lightly upon those who have used him well ; making them 
 old men and women inexorably enough, but leaving their 
 hearts and spirits young and in full vigor. With such people 
 the gray head is but the impression of the old fellow's hand 
 in giving them his blessing, and every wrinkle but a notch in 
 the quiet calendar of a well-spent life. 
 
 The person whom the traveller had so abruptly encountered 
 was of this kind : bluff, hale, hearty, and in a green old age ; 
 at peace with himself, and evidently disposed to be so with 
 all the world. Although muffled up in divers coats and hand- 
 kerchiefs — one of which, passed over his crown, and tied in a 
 convenient crease of his double chin, secured his three-cornered 
 hat and bob-wig from blowing off his head — there was no 
 disguising his plump and comfortable figure ; neither did cer- 
 tain dirty finger-marks upon his face give it any other than 
 an odd and comical expression, through which its natural 
 good humor shone with undiminished lustre. 
 
 ''He is not hurt," said the traveller at length, raising his 
 head and the lantern together. 
 
 "You have found that out at last, have you ? " rejoined the 
 old man. ''My eyes have seen more light than yours, but I 
 wouldn't change with you." 
 
 " Wliat do you mean ? " 
 
 " Mean ! I could have told you he wasn't hurt, five minutes 
 ago. Give me the light, friend ; ride forward at a gentler 
 pace ; and good-night." 
 
 In handing up the Lantern, the man necessarily cast its 
 rays full on the speaker's face. Their eyes met at tlie 
 instant. He suddenly dropped it and crushed it with his 
 foot. 
 
22 BAENABY BUDGE. 
 
 " Did you never see a locksmith before, that you start as if 
 you had come upon a ghost ? " cried the old man in the 
 chaise, " or is this," he added hastily, thrusting his hand into 
 the tool basket and drawing out a hammer, " a scheme for 
 robbing me ? I know tliese roads, friend. When I travel 
 them, I carry nothing but a few shillings, and not a crown's 
 worth of them. I tell you plainly, to save us both trouble, 
 that there's nothing to be got from me but a pretty stout arm 
 considering my years, and this tool, which, mayhap, from 
 long acquaintance with, I can use pretty briskly. You shall 
 not have it all your own way, I promise you, if you play 
 at that game." With these words he stood upon the defen- 
 sive. 
 
 " I am not what you take me for, Gabriel Varden," replied 
 the other. 
 
 " Then what and who are you ? " returned the locksmith. 
 "You know my name it seems. Let me know yours." 
 
 " I have not gained the information from any confidence of 
 yours, but from the inscription on your cart, which tells it to 
 all the town," replied the traveller. 
 
 "You have better eyes for that than you had for your horse 
 then," said Varden, descending nimbly from his chaise ; "Who 
 are you ? Let me see your face." 
 
 While the locksmith alighted, the traveller had regained 
 his saddle, from which he now confronted the old man, who, 
 moving as the horse moved in chafing under the tightened 
 rein, kept close beside him. 
 
 "Let me see your face, I say." 
 
 " Stand off ! "^ 
 
 "'No masquerading tricks," said the locksmith, "and tales 
 at the club to-morrow, how Gabriel Varden was frightened by 
 a surly voice and a dark night. Stand — let me see your 
 face." 
 
 Finding that further resistance would only involve him in 
 a personal struggle with an antagonist by no means to be 
 despised, the traveller threw back his coat, and stooping down 
 looked steadily at the locksmith. 
 
 Perhaps two men more powerfully contrasted, never opposed 
 each other face to face. The ruddy features of the locksmith 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 23 
 
 SO set off and heightened the excessive paleness of the man 
 on horseback, that he looked like a bloodless ghost, while the 
 moisture, which hard riding had brought out upon his skin, 
 hifQg there in dark and heavy drops, like dews of agony and 
 death. The countenance of the old locksmith was lighted up 
 with the smile of one expecting to detect in this unpromising 
 stranger some latent roguery of eye or lip, which should reveal 
 a familiar person in that arch disguise, and spoil his jest. 
 The face of the other, sullen and tierce, but shrinking too, 
 was that of a man who stood at bay ; while his firmly closed 
 jaws, his puckered mouth, and more than all a certain stealthy 
 motion of the hand within his breast, seemed to announce a 
 desperate purpose very foreign to acting, or child's play. 
 
 Thus they regarded each other for some time, in silence. 
 
 " Humph ! " he said when he had scanned his features ; '• I 
 don't know you." 
 
 "Don't desire to?" — returned the other, muffling himself 
 as before. 
 
 "I don't," said Gabriel; "to be plain with you, friend, you 
 don't carry in your countenance a letter of recommendation." 
 
 " It's not my wish," said the traveller. " My humor is to 
 be avoided." 
 
 "Well," said the locksmith bluntly, "I think you'll liave 
 your humor." 
 
 " I will, at any cost," rejoined the traveller. " In proof of 
 it, lay this to heart — that you were never in such peril of 
 your life as you have been within these few moments ; when 
 you are within five minutes of breathing your last, you will 
 not be nearer death than you have been to-night ! " 
 
 " Ay ! " said the sturdy locksmith. 
 
 " Ay ! and a violent death." 
 
 " From whose hand ? " 
 
 "From mine," replied the traveller. 
 
 With that he put spurs to his horse, and rode away ; at first 
 plashing heavily through the mire at a smart trot, but gradu- 
 ally increasing in speed until the last sound of his liorse's 
 hoofs died away upon the wind ; when he was again hurrying 
 on at the same furious gallop, wliich had been his pace when 
 the locksmith iirst encountered liim. 
 
 i¥ 
 
24 BARXABT BULGE. 
 
 Gabriel Varden remained standing in the road with, the 
 broken lantern in his hand, listening in stupefied silence until 
 no sound reached his ear but the moaning of the wind, and 
 the fast-falling rain ; when he struck himself one or two smart 
 blows in the breast by way of rousing himself, and broke into 
 an exclamation of surprise. 
 
 " What in the name of wonder can this fellow be ! a mad- 
 man ? a highwayman ? a cut-throat ? If he had not scoured 
 off so fast, we'd have seen who was in most danger, he or I. 
 I never nearer death than I have been to-night ! I hope I may 
 be no nearer to it for a score of years to come — if so, I'll be 
 content to be no farther from it. j\[y stars ! — a pretty brag 
 this to a stout man — pooh, pooh ! " 
 
 Gabriel resumed his seat, and looked wistfully up the road 
 by which the traveller had come ; murmuring in a half 
 whisper, — 
 
 '■The Maypole — two miles to the Maj-pole. I came the 
 other road from the Warren after a long day's work at locks 
 and bells, on purpose that I should not come by the ]Maypole 
 and break ray promise to Martha by looking in — there's 
 resolution ! It would be dangerous to go on to London with- 
 out a light; and it's four miles, and a good half-mile besides, 
 to the Halfway House ; and between this and that is the very 
 place where one needs a light most. Two miles to the May- 
 pole ! I told Martha I wouldn't ; I said I wouldn't, and I 
 didn't — there's resolution !" 
 
 Eepeating these two last words very often, as if to compen- 
 sate for the little resolution he was going to show by piquing 
 himself on the great resolution he had shown, Gabriel Varden 
 quietly turned back, determining to get a light at the May- 
 pole, and to take nothing but a light. 
 
 When he got to the Maypole, however, and Joe, responding 
 to his well-known hail, came running out to the horse's head, 
 leaving the door open behind him, and disclosing a delicious 
 perspective of warmth and brightness — when the ruddy 
 gleam of the fire, streaming through the old red curtains of 
 the common room, seemed to bring with it, as part of itself, a 
 pleasant hum of voices, and a fragrant odor of steaming grog 
 and rare tobacco, all steeped as it were in the cheerful glow — 
 
BAEXABY BUDGE. 25 
 
 when the shadows, flitting across the curtain, showed tliat 
 those inside had risen from their snug seats, and were making 
 room in the snuggest corner (how well he knew that corner !) 
 for the honest locksmith, and a broad glare, suddenly stream- 
 ing up, bespoke the goodness of the crackling log from which 
 a brilliant train of sparks was doubtless at that moment 
 whirling up the chimney in honor of his coming — wlien, 
 superadded to these enticements, there stole upon him from 
 the distant kitchen a gentle sound of frying, with a musical 
 clatter of plates and dishes, and a savory smell that made 
 even the boisterous wind a perfume — Gabriel felt his firmness 
 oozing rapidly away. He tried to look stoically at the tavern, 
 but liis features would relax into a look of fondness. He 
 turned his head the other way, and tlie cold black country 
 seemed to frown him off, and drive him for a refuge into its 
 hospitable arms. 
 
 " The merciful man, Joe," said the locksmith, " is merciful 
 to his beast. I'll get out for a little while." 
 
 And how natural it was to get out. And how unnatural it 
 seemed for a sober man to be plodding wearily along through 
 miry roads, encountering the rude buffets of the wind and 
 pelting of the rain, when there was a clean floor covered with 
 crisp white sand, a well-swept hearth, a blazing fire, a table 
 decorated with white cloth, bright pewter flagons, and otlier 
 tempting preparations for a well-cooked meal — when there 
 were these things, and company disposed to make the inost 
 of them, all ready to his hand and entre.iting him to 
 enjoyment ! 
 
26 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Such were the locksmith's thoughts when first seated in 
 the snug corner, and slowly recovering from a pleasant defect 
 of vision — pleasant, because occasioned by the wind blowing 
 in his eyes — which made it a matter of sound policy and duty 
 to himself, that he should take refuge from the weather, and 
 tempted him, for the same reason, to aggravate a slight 
 cough, and declare he felt but poorly. Such were still his 
 thoughts more than a full hour afterwards, when, supper 
 over, he still sat with shining jovial face in the same warm 
 nook, listening to the cricket-like chirrup of little Solomon 
 Daisy, and bearing no unimportant or slightly respected part 
 in the social gossip round the Maypole fire. 
 
 "I wish he may be an honest man, that's all," said 
 Solomon, winding up a variety of speculations relative to 
 the stranger, concerning whom Gabriel had compared notes 
 with the company, and so raised a grave discussion ; "/ wish 
 he may be an honest man." 
 
 " So we all do, I suppose, don't we ? " observed the lock- 
 smith. 
 
 " I don't," said Joe. 
 
 " jSTo ! " cried Gabriel. 
 
 " No. He struck me with his whip, the coward, when he 
 was mounted and I afoot, and I should be better pleased that 
 he turned out what I think him." 
 
 "And what may that be, Joe ? " 
 
 " No good, Mr. Varden. You may shake your head, father, 
 but I say no good, and will say no good, and I would say no 
 good a hundred times over, if that would bring him back to 
 have the drubbing he deserves." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, sir," said John Willet. 
 
 " I won't, father. It's all along of you that he ventured to 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 27 
 
 do what he did. Seeing me treated like a child, and put down 
 like a fool, he plucks up a heart and has a fling at a fellow 
 that he thinks — and may well think too — hasn't a grain of 
 spirit. But he's mistaken, as I'll show him, and as I'll show 
 all of you before long." 
 
 " Does the boy know what he's a-saying of ! " cried the 
 astonished John Willet. 
 
 "Father," returned Joe, '^I know what I say and mean, 
 well — better than you do when you hear me. I can bear 
 with you, but I cannot bear the contempt that your treating 
 me in the way you do, brings upon me from others every day. 
 Look at other young men of my age. Have they no liberty, 
 no will, no right to speak ? Are they obliged to sit mum- 
 chance, and to be ordered about till they are the laughing- 
 stock of young and old ? I am a by -word all over Chigwell, 
 and I say — and it's fairer my saying so now, than waiting 
 till you are dead, and I have got your money — I say, that 
 before long I shall be driven to break such bounds, and tliat 
 when I do, it won't be me that you'll have to blame, but your 
 own self, and no other." 
 
 John Willet was so amazed by the exasperation and bold- 
 ness of his hopeful son, that he sat as one bewildered, staring 
 in a ludicrous manner at the boiler, and endeavoring, but 
 quite ineffectually, to collect his tardy thoughts, and invent 
 an answer. The guests, scarcely less disturbed, were equally 
 at a loss ; and at length, with a variety of muttered, half- 
 expressed condolences, and pieces of advice, rose to depart; 
 being at the same time slightly muddled with liquor. 
 
 The honest locksmith alone addressed a few words of 
 coherent and sensible advice to both parties, urging John 
 Willet to remember that Joe was nearly arrived at man's 
 estate, and should not be ruled with too tight a hand, and 
 exhorting Joe himself to bear with his father's caprices, and 
 rather endeavor to turn them aside by temperate remon- 
 strance than by ill-timed rebellion. This advice was received 
 as such advice usually is. On John Willet it made almost as 
 much impression as on the sign outside the door, while Joe, 
 "who took it in the best part, avowed himself more obliged 
 than he could well express, but politely intimated his inten- 
 
2^ BAENABY BUDGE. 
 
 tion nevertheless of taking his own course uninfluenced by 
 anybody. 
 
 "You have always been a very good friend to me, Mr. 
 Varden," he said, as they stood without, in the porch, and the 
 locksmith was equipping himself for his journey home ; " I 
 take it very kind of you to say all this, but the time's nearly 
 come when the Maypole and I must part company." 
 
 " Roving^stones gather no moss, Joe," said Gabriel. 
 
 "Nor mile-stones much," replied Joe. "I'm little better 
 than one here, and see as much of the world." 
 
 " Then, what would you do, Joe ? " pursued the locksmith, 
 stroking his chin reflectively. " What could you be ? where 
 could you go, you see ? " 
 
 " I must trust to chance, ^tr. Yarden." 
 
 " A bad thing to trust to, Joe. I don't like it. I always 
 tell my girl when we talk about a husband for her, never to 
 trust to chance, but to make sure beforehand that she has a 
 good man and true, and then chance will neither make her 
 nor break her. What are you fidgeting about there, Joe ? 
 Nothing gone in the harness, I hope ? " 
 
 "No, no," said Joe — finding, however, something very 
 engrossing to do in the way of strapping and buckling — 
 " Miss Dolly quite well ? " 
 
 "Hearty, thank ye. She looks pretty enough to be well, 
 and good too." 
 
 " She's always both, sir " — 
 
 " So she is, thank God ! " 
 
 " I hope," said Joe after some hesitation, " that you won't 
 tell this story against me — this of my having been beat like 
 the boy they'd make of me — at all events, till I have met 
 this man again and settled the account. It'll be a better 
 story then." 
 
 " Why who should I tell it to ? " returned Gabriel. " They 
 know it here, and I'm not likely to come across anybody else 
 who would care about it." 
 
 " That's true enough," said the young fellow with a sigh. 
 " I quite forgot that. Yes, that's true ! " 
 
 So saying, he raised his face, which was very red, — no 
 doubt from the exertion of strapping and buckling as afore- 
 
BAENABY BUDGE. 29 
 
 said, — and giving the reins to the old man, who had by this 
 time taken his seat, sighed again and bade him good-night. 
 
 " Good-night ! " cried Gabriel. " Now think better of what 
 we have just been speaking of, and don't be rash, there's a 
 good fellow ! I have an interest in yon, and wouldn't have 
 you cast yourself away. Good-night ! '' 
 
 Returning his cheery farewell with cordial good will, Joe 
 Willet lingered until the sound of wheels ceased to vibrate in 
 his ears, and then, shaking his head mournfully, re-entered 
 the house. 
 
 Gabriel Yarden went his way towards London, thinking of 
 a great many things, and most of all of flaming terms in 
 which to relate his adventure, and so account satisfactorily to 
 Mrs. Varden for visiting the Maypole, despite certain solemn 
 covenants between himself and that lady. Thinking begets, 
 not only tliought, but drowsiness occasionally, and the more 
 the locksmith thought, the more sleepy he became. 
 
 A' man may be very sober — or at least firmly set upon his 
 legs on that neutral ground which lies between the confines 
 of perfect sobriety and slight tipsiness — and yet feel a strong 
 tendency to mingle up present circumstances with others which 
 have no manner of connection with them ; to confound all con- 
 sideration of persons, things, times, and places ; and to jumble 
 his disjointed thoughts together in a kind of mental kaleido- 
 scope, producing combinations as unexpected as they are 
 transitory. This was Gabriel Varden's state, as, nodding in 
 his dog sleep, and leaving his horse to pursue a road with 
 which he was well acquainted, he got over the ground uncon- 
 sciously, and drew nearer and nearer home. He had roused 
 himself once, when the horse stopped until the turnpike gate 
 was opened, and had cried a lusty " good-night ! " to the toll- 
 keeper ; but then he awoke out of a dream about picking a 
 lock in the stomach of the Great Mogul, and even when he 
 did wake, mixed up the turni)ike man witli his motlier-in-law 
 who had been dead twenty years. It is not surprising, there- 
 fore, that he soon relapsed, and jogged lieavily along, quite 
 insensible to his progress. 
 
 And, now, he approached the great city, whicli lay out- 
 stretched before him like a dark shadow on the ground, 
 
30 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 reddening the sluggish air with a deep dull light, that told 
 of labyrinths of public ways and shops, and swarms of busy 
 people. Approaching nearer and nearer yet, this halo began 
 to fade, and the causes which produced it slowly to develop 
 themselves. Long lines of poorly lighted streets might be 
 faintly traced, with here and there a lighter spot, where lamps 
 were clustered about a square or market, or round some great 
 building ; after a time these grew more distinct, and the 
 lamps themselves were visible ; slight yellow specks, that 
 seemed to be rapidly snuffed out, one by one, as intervening 
 obstacles hid them from the sight. Then, sounds arose — the 
 striking of church clocks, the distant bark of dogs, the hum of 
 traffic in the streets; then outlines might be traced — tall 
 steeples looming in the air and piles of unequal roofs 
 oppressed by chimneys ; then, the noise swelled into a louder 
 sound, and forms grew more distinct and numerous still, and 
 London — visible in the darkness by its own faint light, and 
 not by that of Heaven — was at hand. 
 
 The locksmith, however, all unconscious of its near vicinity, 
 still jogged on, half sleeping and half waking, when a loud 
 cry at no great distance ahead, roused him with a start. 
 
 For a moment or two he looked about him like a man who 
 had been transported to some strange country in his sleep, 
 but soon recognizing familiar objects, rubbed his eyes lazily, 
 and might have relapsed again, but that the cry was repeated 
 — not once or twice or thrice, but many times, and each time, 
 if possible, with increased vehemence. Thoroughly aroused, 
 Gabriel, who was a bold man and not easily daunted, made 
 straight to the spot, urging on his stout little horse as if for 
 life or death. 
 
 The matter indeed looked sufficiently serious, for, coming 
 to the place whence the cries had proceeded, he descried the 
 figure of a man extended in an apparently lifeless state upon 
 the pathway, and, hovering round him, another person with a 
 torch in his hand, which he waved in the air with a wild 
 impatience, redoubling meanwhile those cries for help which 
 had brought the locksmith to the spot. 
 
 " What's here to do ? " said the old man, alighting. ^' How's 
 this — what — Barnaby ? " 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. 31 
 
 The bearer of the torch shook his long loose hair back 
 from his eyes, and tlirusting his face eagerly into that of the 
 locksmith, fixed upon him a look which told his history at 
 once. 
 
 " You know me, Barnaby ? " said Varden. 
 
 He nodded — not once or twice, but a score of times, and 
 that with a fantastic exaggeration which would have kept his 
 head in motion for an hour, but that the locksmith held up 
 his finger, and fixing his eye sternly upon him caused him to 
 desist ; then pointed to the body with an inquiring look. 
 
 " There's blood upon him," said Barnaby with a shudder. 
 " It makes me sick." 
 
 "How came it there ? " demanded Varden. 
 
 " Steel, steel, steel ! " he replied fiercely, imitating with his 
 hand the thrust of a sword. 
 
 " Is he robbed ? " said the locksmith. 
 
 Barnaby caught him by the arm, and nodded " Yes ; " then 
 pointed towards the city. 
 
 " Oh ! " said the old man, bending over the body and 
 looking round as he spoke into Barnaby's pale face, strangely 
 lighted up by something which was not intellect. "The 
 robber made off that way, did he ? Well, well, never mind 
 that just now. Hold your torch this way — a little farther 
 off — so. Now stand quiet, while I try to see what harm is 
 done." 
 
 With these words, he applied himself to a closer examina- 
 tion of the prostrate form, while Barnaby, holding the torch 
 as he had been directed, looked on in silence, fascinated by 
 interest or curiosity, but repelled nevertheless by some strong 
 and secret horror which convulsed him in every nerve. 
 
 As he stood, at that moment, half shrinking back and half 
 bending forward, both his face and figure were full in the 
 strong glare of the link, and as distinctly revealed as though 
 it had been broad day. He was about three and twenty years 
 old, and though rather spare, of a fair height and strong 
 make. His hair, of which he had a great profusion, was red, 
 and hanging in disorder about liis face ant\, shoulders, gave to 
 his restless looks an expression quite unearthly — enhanced 
 by the paleness of his complexion, and the glassy lustre of 
 
32 BABNABT BUDGE. 
 
 his large protruding eyes. Startling as his aspect was, the 
 features were good, and there was something even plaintive 
 in his wan and haggard aspect. But, the absence of the 
 soul is far more terrible in a living man than in a dead 
 one ; and in this unfortunate being its noblest powers were 
 wanting. 
 
 His dress was of green, clumsily trimmed here and there — 
 apparently by his own hands — with gaudy lace; brightest 
 where the cloth was most worn and soiled, and poorest where 
 it was at the best. A pair of tawdry ruffles dangled at his 
 wrists, while his throat was nearly bare. He had ornamented 
 his hat with a cluster of peacock's feathers, but they were 
 limp and broken, and now trailed negligently down his back. 
 Girt to his side was the steel hilt of an old sword without 
 blade or scabbard; and some party-colored ends of ribbons 
 and poor glass toys completed the ornamental portion of his 
 attire. The fluttered and confused disposition of all the 
 motley scraps that formed his dress, bespoke, in a scarcely 
 less degree than his eager and unsettled manner, the disorder 
 of his mind, and by a grotesque contrast set oft" and heightened 
 the more impressive wildness of his face. 
 
 "Barnaby," said the locksmith, after a hasty but careful 
 inspection, "this man is not dead, but he has a wound in his 
 side, and is in a fainting fit." 
 
 " I know him, I know him ! " cried Barnaby, clapping his 
 hands. 
 
 " Know him ? " repeated the locksmith. 
 
 " Hush ! " said Barnaby, laying his fingers on his lips. 
 " He went out to-day a-wooing. I wouldn't for a light guinea 
 that he should never go a-wooing again, for, if he did, some 
 eyes would grow dim that are now as bright as — see, when I 
 talk of eyes, the stars come out ! Whose eyes are they ? If 
 the}^ are angels' eyes, why do they look down here and see 
 good men hurt, and only wink and sparkle all the night ? " 
 
 " Xow Heaven help this silly fellow," murmured the per- 
 plexed locksmith, " can he know this gentleman ? His 
 mother's house is not far off ; I had better see if she can tell 
 me who he is. Barnaby, my man, help me to put him in the 
 chaise, and we'll ride home together." 
 
BAEXABT RUDGE. 33 
 
 "I can't touch him!" cried the idiot falling back, and 
 shuddering as with a strong spasm; "he's bloody!" 
 
 "It's in his nature I know," muttered the locksmith, "it's 
 cruel to ask him, but I must have help. Barnaby — good 
 Barnaby — dear Barnaby — if you know this gentleman, for 
 the sake of his life and everybody's life that loves him, lielp 
 me to raise him and lay him down." 
 
 " Cover him then, wrap him close — don't let me see it — 
 smell it — hear the word. Don't speak the word — don't !" 
 
 "' No, no, I'll not. There, you see he's covered now. Gently. 
 Well done, well done ! " 
 
 They placed him in the carriage with great ease, for 
 Barnaby was strong and active, but all the time they were 
 so occupied he shivered from head to foot, and evidently 
 experienced an ecstasy of terror. 
 
 This accomplished, and the wounded man being covered 
 with Varden's own great-coat, which he took off for the pur- 
 pose, they proceeded onward at a brisk pace : Barnaby gayly 
 counting the stars upon his fingers, and Gabriel inwardly con- 
 gratulating himself upon having an adventure now, which 
 would silence Mrs. Varden on the subject of the Maypole, for- 
 tliat night, or there w\as no faith in woman. 
 
34 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 In the venerable suburb — it was a suburb once — of Clerk- 
 enwell, towards that part of its confines which is nearest to 
 the Charter House, and in one of those cool, shady streets, 
 of which a few, widely scattered and dispersed, yet remain 
 in such old parts of the metropolis, — each tenement quietly 
 vegetating like an ancient citizen who long ago retired from 
 business, and dozing on in its infirmity until in course of 
 time it tumbles down, and is replaced by some extravagant 
 young heir, flaunting in stucco and ornamental work, and 
 all the vanities of modern days, — in this quarter, and in a 
 street of this description, the business of the present chapter 
 lies. 
 
 At the time of which it treats, though only six and sixty 
 years ago, a very large part of what is London now had no 
 existence. Even in the brains of the wildest speculators, there 
 had sprung up no long rows of streets connecting Highgate 
 with Whiteehapel, no assemblages of palaces in the swampy 
 levels, nor little cities in the open fields. Although this part 
 of town was then, as now, parcelled out in streets, and plenti- 
 fully peopled, it wore a different aspect. There were gardens 
 to many of the houses, and trees by the pavement side ; with 
 an air of freshness breathing up and down, which in these days 
 would be sought in vain. Fields were nigh at hand, through 
 which the new river took its winding course, and where there 
 was merry hay-making in the summer time. Nature was not 
 so far removed, or hard to get at, as in these days ; and 
 although there were busy trades in Clerkenwell, and working 
 jewellers by scores, it was a' purer place, with farmhouses 
 nearer to it than many modern Londoners would readily 
 believe, and lovers' walks at no great distance, which turned 
 into squalid courts long before the lovers of this age were 
 born, or, as the phrase goes, thought of. 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 35 
 
 In one of these streets, the cleanest of them all, and on the 
 shady side of the way — for good housewives know that sun- 
 light damages their cherished furniture, and so choose the 
 shade rather than its intrusive glare — there stood the house 
 with which we have to deal. It was a modest building, not 
 very straight, not large, not tall; not bold-faced, with great 
 staring windows, but a shy blinking house, with a conical roof 
 going up into a peak over its garret window of four small 
 panes of glass, like a cocked hat on the head of an elderly 
 gentleman with one eye. It was not built of brick or lofty 
 stone, but of wood and plaster ; it was not planned with a dull 
 and wearisome regard to regularity, for no one window matched 
 the other, or seemed to have the slightest reference to any- 
 thing besides itself. 
 
 The shop — for it had a shop — was, with reference to the 
 first floor, where shops usually are ; and there all resemblance 
 between it and any other shop stopped short and ceased. 
 People who went in and out didn't go up a flight of steps to 
 it, or walk easily in upon a level with the street, but dived 
 down three steep stairs, as into a cellar. Its floor was paved 
 with stone and brick, as that of any other cellar might be ; 
 and in lieu of window framed and glazed it had a great black 
 wooden flap or shutter, nearly breast-high from the ground, 
 which turned back in the daytime, admitting as much cold 
 air as light, and very often more. Behind this shop was a 
 wainscotted parlor, looking first into a paved yard, and 
 beyond that again into a little terrace garden raised some feet 
 above it. Any stranger would have supposed that this 
 wainscotted parlor, saving for the door of communication by 
 which he had entered, was cut off and detached from all the 
 world ; and indeed most strangers on their first entrance were 
 observed to grow extremely thoughtful, as weighing and 
 pondering in their minds whetlier tlie upper rooms were only 
 approachable by ladders from without ; never suspecting that 
 two of the most unassuming and unlikely doors in existence, 
 which the most ingenious mechanism on earth must of neces- 
 sity have supposed to be tlie doors of closets, opened out of 
 this room — each witliout the smallest preparation, or so much 
 as a quarter of an inch of passag(^ — upon two dark winiling 
 
36 BARXABY BUDGE. 
 
 flights of stairs, the one upward, the other downward, which 
 were the sole means of communication between that chamber 
 and the other portions of the house. 
 
 With all these oddities, there Avas not a neater, more 
 scrupulously tidy, or more punctiliously ordered house, in 
 Clerkenwell, in London, in all England. There were not 
 cleaner windows, or whiter floors, or brighter stoves, or more 
 highly shining articles of furniture in old mahogany ; there 
 was not more rubbing, scrubbing, burnishing, and polishing, in 
 the whole street put together. Nor was this excellence 
 attained without some cost and trouble and great expenditure 
 of voice, as the neighbors were frequently reminded when 
 the good lady of the house overlooked and assisted in its 
 being put to rights on cleaning days — which were usually 
 from Monday morning till Saturday night, both days in- 
 clusive. 
 
 Leaning against the door-post of this, his dwelling, the 
 locksmith stood early on the morning after he had met with 
 the wounded man, gazing disconsolately at a great w^ooden 
 emblem of a key, painted in vivid yellow to resemble gold, 
 w^hich dangled from the house-front, and swung to and fro 
 with a mournful creaking noise, as if complaining that it had 
 nothing to unlock. Sometimes, he looked over his shoulder 
 into the shop, which was so dark and dingy with numerous 
 tokens of his trade, and so blackened by the smoke of a little 
 forge, near which his 'prentice was at work, that it would 
 have been difficult for one unused to such espials to have 
 distinguished anything but various tools of uncouth make and 
 shape, great bunches of rusty keys, fragments of iron, half 
 finished locks, and such like things, which garnished the Avails 
 and hung in clusters from the ceiling. 
 
 After a long and patient contemplation of the golden key, 
 and many such backward glances, Gabriel stepped into the 
 road, and stole a look at the upper windows. One of them 
 chanced to be thrown open at the moment, and a roguish face 
 met his ; a face lighted up by the loveliest pair of sparkling 
 eyes that ever locksmith looked upon ; the face of a pretty, 
 laughing girl ; dimpled and fresh, and healthful — the very 
 impersonation of good-humor and blooming beauty. 
 
BAENABY BUDGE. 37 
 
 " Hush ! " she whispered, bending forward and pointing 
 archly to the window underneath. " Mother is still asleep." 
 
 '' Still, my dear," returned the locksmith in the same tone. 
 "You talk as if she had been asleep all night, instead of 
 little more than half an hour. But I'm very thankful. 
 Sleep's a blessing — no doubt about it." The last few words 
 he muttered to himself. 
 
 " How cruel of you to keep us up so late this morning, 
 and never tell us where you were, or send us word ! " said 
 the girl. 
 
 '• Ah Dolly, Dolly ! " returned the locksmith, shaking his 
 head, and smiling, '' how cruel of you to run up-stairs to bed ! 
 Come down ♦to breakfast, madcap, and come down lightly, or 
 you'll wake your mother. She must be tired, I am sure — 
 /am." 
 
 Keeping these latter words to himself, and returning his 
 daughter's nod, he was passing into the workshop, with the 
 smile she had awakened still beaming on his face, when he ' 
 just caught sight of his 'prentice^s brown paper cap ducking 
 down to avoid observation, and shrinking from the window 
 back to its former place, which the wearer no sooner reached 
 than he began to hammer lustily. 
 
 " Listening again, Simon !" said Gabriel to himself. " That's 
 bad. What in the name of wonder does he expect the girl to 
 say, that I always catch him listening when she speaks, and 
 never at any other time ! A bad habit, Sim, a sneaking, un- 
 derhanded way. Ah ! you may hammer, but you won't beat 
 that out of me, if you work at it till your time's up ! " 
 
 So saying, and shaking his head gravely, he re-entered the 
 workshop, and confronted the subject of these remarks. 
 
 " There's enough of that just now," said the locksmith. 
 "You needn't make any more of that confounded clatter. 
 Breakfast's ready." 
 
 " Sir," said Sim, looking up with amazing politeness, and 
 a peculiar little bow cut short off at the neck. " I shall 
 attend you immediately." 
 
 " I suppose," muttered Gabriel, " that's out of the 'Pren- 
 tice's Garland, or the 'Prentice's Delight, or tlie 'Prentice's 
 Warbler, or the 'l*rentice's (Juide to the Gallows, or some 
 
38 BAEXABY BUDGE. 
 
 such improving text-book. Now he's going to beautify him- 
 self — here's a precious locksmith ! " 
 
 Quite unconscious that his master was looking on from the 
 dark corner by the parlor door, Sim threw off the paper cap, 
 sprang from his seat, and in two extraordinary steps, some- 
 thing between skating and minuet dancing, bounded to a 
 washing-place at the other end of the shop, and there removed 
 from his face and hands all traces of his previous work — 
 practising the same step all the time with the utmost gravity. 
 This done, he drew from some concealed place a little scrap of 
 looking-glass, and with its assistance arranged his hair, and 
 ascertained the exact state of a little carbuncle on his nose. 
 Having now completed his toilet, he placed the fragment of 
 mirror on a low bench, and looked over his shoulder at so 
 much of his legs as could be reflected in that small compass 
 with the greatest possible complacency and satisfaction. 
 
 Sim, as he was called in the locksmith's family, or Mr. 
 Simon Tappertit, as he called himself, and required all men to 
 style him out of doors, on holidays, and Sundays out, — was 
 an old-fashioned, thin-faced, sleek-haired, sharp-nosed, small- 
 eyed little fellow, very little more than five feet high, and 
 thoroughly convinced in his own mind that he was above the 
 middle size ; rather tall, in fact, than otherwise. Of his 
 figure, which was well enough formed, though somewhat of 
 the leanest, he entertained the highest admiration ; and with 
 his legs, which, in knee-breeches, were perfect curiosities of 
 littleness, he was enraptured to a degree amounting to enthu- 
 siasm. He also had some majestic, shadowy ideas, which had 
 never been quite fathomed by his intimate friends, concerning 
 the power of his eye. Indeed he had been known to go so far 
 as to boast that he could utterly quell and subdue the 
 haughtiest beauty by a simple process, which he termed 
 " eying her over ; " but it must be added, that neither of 
 this faculty, nor of the power he claimed to have, through the 
 same gift, of vanquishing and heaving down dumb animals, 
 even in a rabid state, had he ever furnished evidence which 
 could be deemed quite satisfactory and conclusive. 
 
 It may be inferred from these premises, that in the small 
 body of ]\Ir. Tappertit there was locked up an ambitious and 
 
BARYABY RUDGE. 39 
 
 aspiring soul. As certain liquors, confined in casks too 
 cramped in their dimensions, will ferment, and fret, and chafe 
 in their imprisonment, so the spiritual essence or soul of 
 Mr. Tappertit would sometimes fame within that precious 
 cask, his body, until, with great foam and froth and splutter, it 
 would force a vent, and carry all before it. It was his custom 
 to remark, in reference to any one of these occasions, that his 
 soul had got into his head ; and in this novel kind of intoxi- 
 cation, many scrapes and mishaps befell him, which he had 
 frequently concealed with no small difficulty from his worthy 
 master. 
 
 Sim Tappertit, among the other fancies upon which his 
 before-mentioned soul was forever feasting and regaling itself 
 (and which fancies, like the liver of Prometheus, grew as they 
 were fed upon), had a mighty notion of his order; and had 
 been heard by the servant-maid openly expressing his regret 
 that the 'prentices no longer carried clubs wherewith to mace 
 the. citizens : that was his strong expression. He was like- 
 wise reported to have said that in former times a stigma had 
 been cast upon the body by tlie execution of George Barnwell, 
 to which they should not have basely submitted, but should 
 have demanded him of the legislature — temperately at first ; 
 then by an appeal to arms, if necessary — to be dealt with, as 
 they in their wisdom might think fit. These thoughts always 
 led him to consider what a glorious engine the 'prentices 
 might yet become if they had but a master spirit at their 
 head; and then he would darkly, and to the terror of his 
 hearers, hint at certain reckless fellows that he knew of, and 
 at a certain Lion Heart ready to become their captain, who, 
 once afoot, would make the Lord Mayor tremble on his 
 throne. 
 
 In respect of dress and personal decoration, Sam Tappertit 
 was no less of an adventurous and enterprising character. 
 He had been seen beyond dispute to pull off ruffles of the 
 finest quality at the corner of the street on Sunday nights, 
 and to put them carefully in his pocket before returning home : 
 and it was quite notorious that on all great holiday occasions 
 it was his habit to exchange his plain steel knee-buckles for a 
 pair of glittering paste, under cover of a friendly post. 
 
40 BARNABF BUDGE. 
 
 planted most conveniently in that same spot. Add to this, 
 that he was in years just twenty, in his looks much older, and 
 in conceit at least two hundred ; that he had no objection to 
 be jested with, touching his admiration of his master's 
 daughter ; and had even, when called upon at a certain 
 obscure tavern to pledge the lady whom he honored with 
 his love, toasted with many winks and leers, a fair creature 
 whose Christian name, he said, began with a D — } — and as 
 much is known of Sim Tappertit, who has by this time 
 followed the locksmith in to breakfast, as is necessary to be 
 known in making his acquaintance. 
 
 It was a substantial meal ; for, over and above the ordinary 
 tea equipage, the board creaked beneath the weight of a jolly 
 round of beef, a ham of the first magnitude, and sundry towers 
 of buttered Yorkshire cake, piled slice upon slice in most 
 alluring order. There was also a goodly jug of well-browned 
 clay, fashioned into the form of an old gentleman, not by any 
 means unlike the locksmith, atop of whose bald head was a 
 fine white froth answering to his wig, indicative, beyond 
 dispute, of sparkling home-brewed ale. But, better far than 
 fair home-brewed, or Yorkshire cake, or ham, or beef, or any- 
 thing to eat or drink that earth or air or water can suj^ply, 
 there sat, presiding over all, the locksmith's rosy daughter, 
 before whose dark eyes even beef grew insignificant, and malt 
 became as nothing. 
 
 Fathers should never kiss their daughters when young men 
 are by. It's too much. There are bounds to human endur- 
 ance. So thought Sim Tappertit when Gabriel drew those 
 rosy lips to his — those lips within Sim's reach from day to 
 day, and yet so far off. He had a respect for his master, but 
 he wished the Yorkshire cake might choke him. 
 
 " Father," said the locksmith's daughter, when this salute 
 was over, and they took their seats at table, " what is this I 
 hear about last night ?" 
 
 " All true, my dear ; true as the Gospel, Doll." 
 
 "Young Mr. Chester robbed, and lying wounded in the 
 road, when you came up ? " 
 
 "Ay — Mr. Edward. And beside him, Barnaby calling 
 for help with all his might. It was well it happened as it 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 41 
 
 did : for the road's a lonely one, the hour was late, and the 
 night being cold, and poor Barnaby even less sensible than 
 usual from surprise and fright, the young gentleman might 
 have met his death in a very short time." 
 
 " I dread to think of it ! " cried his daughter with a 
 shudder. " How did you know him ? " 
 
 " Know him ! " returned the locksmith. " I didn't know 
 him — how could I ? I had never seen him, often as I had 
 heard and spoken of him. I took him to Mrs. Eudge's ; and 
 she no sooner saw him than the truth came out." 
 
 " ^liss Emma, father — If this news should reach her, 
 enlarged upon as it is sure to be, she will go distracted." 
 
 " Why, lookye there again, how a man suffers for being 
 good-natured," said the locksmith. " Miss Emma was with 
 her uncle at the masquerade at Carlisle House, where she had 
 gone, as the people at the Warren told me, sorely against her 
 will. What does your blockhead father when he and Mrs. 
 Rudge have laid their heads together, but goes there when he 
 ought to be abed, makes interest with his friend the door- 
 keeper, slips him on a mask and domino, and mixes with the 
 maskuers." 
 
 "And like himself to do so ! " cried the girl, putting her 
 fair arm round his neck, and giving him a most enthusiastic 
 kiss. 
 
 " Like himself ! " repeated Gabriel, affecting to grumble, 
 but evidently delighted with the part he had taken, and with 
 her praise. "Very like himself — so 3' our mother said. 
 However, he mingled with the crowd, and prettily worried 
 and badgered he was, I warrant you, with people squeaking, 
 'Don't you know me?' and 'I've found you out,' and all 
 that kind of nonsense in his ears. He might have wandered 
 on till now, but in a little room there was a young lady who 
 had taken off her mask, on account of the place being very 
 warm, and was sitting there alone." 
 
 " And that was she ? " said his daughter hastily. 
 
 "And that was she," replied the locksmith; '-'and I no 
 sooner whispered to her wliat the matter \\*as — as softly, 
 Doll, and with nearly as much art as you could have used 
 yourself — than she gives a kind of scream and faints away." 
 
42 BAUNABY BUDGE. 
 
 " What did you do — what happened next ? " asked his 
 daughter. 
 
 '' Why, the masks came flocking round, with a general 
 noise and hubbub, and I thought myself in luck to get clear 
 off, that's all," rejoined the locksmith. " What happened 
 when I reached home you may guess, if you didn't hear it. 
 Ah ! Well, it's a poor heart that never rejoices — Put Toby 
 this way, my dear." 
 
 This Toby was the brown jug of which previous mention 
 has been made. Applying his lips to the worthy old gentle- 
 man's benevolent forehead, the locksmith, who had all this 
 time been ravaging among the eatables, kept them there so 
 long, at the same time raising the vessel slowly in the air, 
 that at length Toby stood on his head upon his nose, when he 
 smacked his lips and set him on the table again with fond 
 r^uctance. 
 
 Although Sim Tappertit had taken no share in this conver- 
 sation, no part of it being addressed to him, he had not been 
 wanting in such silent manifestations of astonishment, as he 
 deemed most compatible with the favorable display of his 
 eyes. Eegarding the pause which now ensued, as a particu- 
 larly advantageous opportunity for doing great execution with 
 them upon the locksmith's daughter (who he had no doubt 
 was looking at him in mute admiration), he began to screw 
 and twist his face, and especially those features, into such 
 extraordinary, hideous, and unparalleled contortions, that 
 Gabriel, who happened to look towards him, was stricken 
 with amazement. 
 
 " Why, w^hat the devil's the matter with the lad ? " cried 
 the locksmith. " Is he choking ? " 
 
 " Who ? " demanded Sim, with some disdain. 
 
 " Who ? why, you," returned his master. " What do you 
 mean by making those horrible faces over your breakfast ? " 
 
 " Faces are matters of taste, sir," said Mr. Tappertit, 
 rather discomfited ; not the less so because he saw the lock- 
 smith's daughter smiling. 
 
 " Sim," rejoined Gabriel, laughing heartily. ^' Don't be a 
 fool, for I'd rather see you in your senses. These young 
 fellows," he added, turning to his daughter, " are always 
 
<■ _- •) ! ■ f^-r- "! 
 
 
 ,1 ■ ' 1 
 
 r ^ 
 
BAENABY BUDGE. 43 
 
 committing some folly or another. There was a quarrel 
 between Joe Willet and old John last night — though I can't 
 say Joe was much in fault either. He'll be missing one of 
 these mornings, and will have gone away upon some wild- 
 goose errand, seeking his fortune. — Why, what's the matter, 
 Doll ? You are making faces now. The girls are as bad as 
 tlie boys every bit ! " 
 
 '' It's the tea," said Dolly turning alternately very red and 
 very white, which is no doubt the effect of a slight scald — 
 "so very hot." 
 
 Mr. Tappertit looked immensely big at a quartern loaf on 
 the table, and breathed hard. 
 
 " Is that all ? " returned the locksmith. ^' Put some more 
 milk in it. — Yes, I am sorry for Joe, because he is a likely 
 young fellow, and gains upon one every time one sees him. 
 But he'll start off, you'll find. Indeed he told me as much 
 himself ! " 
 
 " Indeed ! " cried Dolly in a faint voice. '^ In — deed ! " 
 
 " Is the tea tickling 3'our throat still, my dear ? " said the 
 locksmith. 
 
 But, before his daughter could make him any answer, she 
 was taken with a troublesome cough, and it was such a 
 very unpleasant cough that, when she left off, the tears were 
 starting in her bright eyes. The good-natured locksmith was 
 still patting her on the back and applying such gentle 
 restoratives, when a message arrived from Mrs. Varden, 
 making known to all whom it might concern, that she felt too 
 much indisposed to rise after her great agitation and anxiety 
 of the previous night ; and therefore desired to be immediately 
 accommodated with a little black teapot of strong mixed tea, 
 a couple of rounds of buttered toast, a middling-sized dish of 
 beef and ham cut thin, and the Protestant IVIanual in two 
 volumes, post octavo. Like some other ladies who in remote 
 ages flourished upon this globe, ^Irs. Varden was most devout 
 when most ill-tempered. Whenever she and her husband 
 were at unusual variance, then the Protestant Manual was in 
 liigh feather. 
 
 Knowing from experience what these requests portended, 
 tlie triumvirate broke up; Dolly, to see the orders executed 
 
44 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 with all despatch ; Gabriel, to some out-of-door work in his 
 little chaise ; and Sim, to his daily duty in the workshop, to 
 which retreat he carried the big look, although the loaf re- 
 mained behind. 
 
 Indeed the big look increased immensely, and when he had 
 tied his apron on, became quite gigantic. It was not until he 
 had several times walked up and down with folded arms, and 
 the longest strides he could take, and had kicked a great 
 many small articles out of his way, that his lip began to 
 curl. At length a gloomy derision came upon his features, 
 and he smiled ; uttering meanwhile with supreme contempt 
 the monosyllable " Joe ! " 
 
 "I eyed her over, while he talked about the fellow," he 
 said, " and that was of course the reason of her being confused. 
 Joe ! " 
 
 He walked up and down again much quicker than before, 
 and if possible with longer strides ; sometimes stopping to 
 take a glance at his legs, and sometimes to jerk out and cast 
 from him another " Joe ! " In the course of a quarter of an 
 hour or so he again assumed the paper cap and tried to work. 
 No. It could not be done. 
 
 "I'll do nothing to-day," said Mr. Tappertit, dashing it 
 down again, " but grind. I'll grind up all the tools. Grind- 
 ing will suit my present humor well. Joe ! " 
 
 AVhirr-r-r-r. The grindstone was soon in motion ; the sparks 
 were flying off in showers. This was the occupation for his 
 heated spirit. 
 
 Whirr-r-r-r-r-r-r. 
 
 " Something will come of this ! " said Mr. Tappertit, paus- 
 ing as if in triumph, and wiping his heated face upon his sleeve. 
 " Something will come of this. I hope it mayn't be human 
 gore ! " 
 
 Whirr-r-r-r-r-r-r-r. 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 45 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 As soon as the business of the day was over, the locksmith 
 sallied forth, alone, to visit the wounded gentleman and 
 ascertain the progress of his recovery. The house where he 
 had left him was in a by-street in Southwark, not far from 
 London Bridge; and thither he hied with ^ all speed, bent 
 upon returning with as little delay as might be, and getting to 
 bed betimes. 
 
 The evening was boisterous — scarcely better than the 
 previous night had been. It was not easy for a stout man 
 like Gabriel to keep his legs at the street corners, or to make 
 head against the high wind, which often fairly got the better 
 of him and drove him back some paces, or, in defiance of all 
 his energy, forced him to take shelter in an arch or doorway 
 until the fury of the gust was spent. Occasionally a hat or 
 wig, or both, came spinning and trundling past him, like a 
 mad thing ; while the more serious spectacle of falling tiles 
 and slates, or of masses of brick and mortar or fragments of 
 stone-coping rattling upon the pavement near at hand, and 
 splitting into fragments, did not increase the pleasure of the 
 journey, or make the way less dreary. 
 
 " A trying night for a man like me to walk in ! " said the 
 locksmith, as he knocked softly at the widow's door. " I'd 
 rather be in old John's chimney corner, faith ! " 
 
 "Who's there?" demanded a woman's voice from within. 
 Being answered, it added a hasty word of welcome, and the 
 door was quickly opened. 
 
 She was about forty — perhaps two or three years older — 
 with a cheerful as})ect, and a face that had once been pretty. 
 It bore traces of affliction and care, but they were of an old 
 date^ and Time had smoothed them. Any one who had 
 bestowed but a casual glance on Barnaby might have known 
 that this was his mother, from the strong resemblance 
 
46 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 between them ; but where in his face there was wildness and 
 vacancy, in hers there was the patient composure of long 
 effort and quiet resignation. 
 
 One thing about this face was very strange and startling. 
 You could not look upon it in its most cheerful mood without 
 feeling that it had some extraordinary capacity of expressing 
 terror. It was not on the surface. It was in no one feature 
 that it lingered. You could not take the eyes, or mouth, or 
 lines upon the cheek, and say if this or that were otherwise, 
 it would not be so. Yet there it always lurked — something 
 forever dimly seen, but ever there, and never absent for a 
 moment. It was the faintest, palest shadow of some look, to 
 Avhich an instant of intense and most unutterable horror only 
 could have given birth ; but indistinct and feeble as it was, 
 it did suggest what that look must have been, and fixed it in 
 the mind as if it had had existence in a dream. 
 
 More faintly imaged, and wanting force and purpose, as it 
 were, because of his darkened intellect, there was this same 
 stamp upon the son. Seen in a picture it must have had 
 some legend with it, and would have haunted those who 
 looked upon the canvas. They who knew the ^Maypole story, 
 and could remember what the widow was, before her hus- 
 band's and his master's murder, understood it well. They 
 recollected how the change had come, and could call to mind 
 that when her son was born, upon the very day the deed was 
 known, he bore upon his wrist what seemed a smear of blood 
 but half washed out. 
 
 " God save you, neighbor ! " said the locksmith, as he fol- 
 lowed her with the air of an old friend, into a little parlor 
 where a cheerful fire was burning. 
 
 "And you," she answered, smiling. "Your kind heart 
 has brought you here again. Nothing will keep you at home, 
 I know of old, if there are friends to serve or comfort, out of 
 doors." 
 
 " Tut, tut," returned the locksmith, rubbing his hands and 
 warming them. "You women are such talkers. What of 
 the patient, neighbor ? " 
 
 " He is sleeping now. He was very restless towards daj^- 
 light, and for some hours tossed and tumbled sadly. But the 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. 47 
 
 fever has left him, and the doctor says he will soon mend. 
 He must not be removed until to-morrow." 
 
 "He has had visitors to-day — humph ? " said Gabriel, 
 
 slyly- 
 
 "Yes. Old Mr. Chester has been here ever since we sent 
 for him, and had not been gone many minutes when you 
 knocked." 
 
 "No ladies?" said Gabriel, elevating his eyebrows and 
 looking disappointed. 
 
 " A letter," replied the widow. 
 
 "Come. That's better than nothing!" cried the lock- 
 smith. " Who was the bearer ? " 
 
 "Barnaby, of course." 
 
 "Barnaby's a jewel!" said Varden ; "and comes and goes 
 with ease where we who think ourselves much wiser would 
 make but a poor hand of it. He is not out wandering, again, 
 
 I hope ? " 
 
 ^' Thank Heaven he is in his bed; having been up all 
 night, as you know, and on his feet all day. He was quite 
 tired out. Ah, neighbor, if I could but see him oftener so 
 if I could but tame down that terrible restlessness " — 
 
 " In good time," said the locksmith, kindly, " in good time 
 
 — don't be down-hearted. To my mind he grows wiser every 
 
 day." 
 
 The widow shook her head. And yet, though she knew 
 the locksmith sought to cheer her, and spoke from no convic- 
 tion of his own, she was glad to hear even this praise of her 
 poor benighted son. 
 
 "He will be a 'cute man yet," resumed the locksmith. 
 "Take care when we are growing old and foolish, Barnaby 
 doesn't put us to the blush, that's all. But our other friend," 
 he added, looking under the table and about the floor — 
 "sharpest and cunningest of all the sharp and cunning ones 
 
 — Where's he ? " 
 
 "In Barnaby's room," rejoined the widow, with a faint 
 
 smile. 
 
 "Ah! He's a knowing blade!" said Varden, shaking his 
 head. "I should be sorry to talk secrets before him. Oh! 
 He's a deep customer, I've no doubt he can read, and write, 
 
48 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 and cast accounts if he chooses. What was that — him tap- 
 ping at the door ? " 
 
 " No," returned the widow. " It was in the street, I think. 
 Hark ! Yes. There again ! 'Tis some one knocking softly 
 at the shutter. Who can it be ! " 
 
 They had been speaking in a low tone, for the invalid lay 
 overhead, and the walls and ceilings being thin and poorly 
 built, the sound of their voices might otherwise have dis- 
 turbed his slumber. The party without, whoever it was, 
 could have stood close to the shutter without hearing any- 
 thing spoken ; and, seeing the light through the chinks and 
 finding all so quiet, might have been persuaded that only one 
 person was there. 
 
 "Some thief or ruffian, maybe," said the locksmith. 
 " Give me the light." 
 
 "No, no," she returned hastily. "Such visitors have 
 never come to this poor dwelling. Do you stay here. 
 You're within call, at the worst. I would rather go myself — 
 alone." 
 
 " Why ? " said the locksmith, unwillingly relinquishing the 
 candle he had caught up from the table. 
 
 "Because — I don't know why — because the wish is strong 
 upon me," she rejoined. "There again — do not detain me, I 
 beg of you ! " 
 
 Gabriel looked at her in great surprise to see one who was 
 usually so mild and quiet thus agitated, and with so little 
 cause. She left the room and closed the door behind her. 
 She stood for a moment as if hesitating, with her hand 
 upon the lock. In this short interval the knocking came 
 again, and a voice close to the window — a voice the locksmith 
 seemed to recollect, and to have some disagreeable association 
 with — whispered "Make haste." 
 
 The words were uttered in that low distinct voice which 
 finds its way so readily to sleepers' ears, and wakes them in a 
 fright. For a moment it startled even the locksmith ; who 
 involuntarily drew back from the window, and listened. 
 
 The wind rumbling in the chimney made it difficult to hear 
 what passed, but he could tell that the door was opened, that 
 there was the tread of a man upon the creaking boards, and 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 49 
 
 then a moment's silence — broken by a suppressed something 
 which was not a shriek, or groan, or cry for help, and yet 
 might have been either or all three ; and the words " My 
 God ! " uttered in a voice it chilled him to hear. 
 
 He rushed out upon the instant. There, at last, was that 
 dreadful look — the very one he seemed to know so well and 
 yet had never seen before — upon her face. There she stoo.d, 
 frozen to the ground, gazing with starting eyes, and livid 
 cheeks, and every feature fixed and ghastly, upon the man he 
 had encountered in the dark last night. His eyes met those 
 of the locksmith. It was but a flash, an instant, a breath 
 upon a polished glass, and he was gone. 
 
 The locksmith was upon him — had the skirts of his stream- 
 ing garment almost in his grasp — when his arms were tightly 
 clutched, and the widow flung herself upon the ground before 
 him. 
 
 " The other way — the other way," she cried. " He went 
 the other way. Turn — turn ! " 
 
 " The other way ! I see him now," rejoined the locksmith, 
 pointing — "yonder — there — there is liis shadow passing by 
 that light. What — who is this ? Let me go." 
 
 " Come back, come back ! " exclaimed the woman, clasping 
 him ; " Do not touch him on 3^our life. I charge you, come 
 back. He carries other lives besides his own. Come back ! " 
 
 " What does this mean ? " cried the locksmith. 
 
 "No matter what it means, don't ask, don't speak, don't 
 think about it. He is not to be followed, checked, or stopped. 
 Come back ! " 
 
 The old man looked at her in wonder, as she writhed and 
 clung about him ; and, borne down by her passion, suffered 
 her to drag him into the house. It was not until she had 
 chained and double-locked the door, fastened every bolt and 
 bar with the heat and fury of a maniac, and drawn him 
 back into the room, that she turned upon him, once again, 
 that stony look of horror, and sinking down into a cljair, 
 covered her face, and shuddered as though the hand of death 
 were on her. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
50 BARNABY BUDGE, 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 Beyond all measure astonished by the strange occurrences 
 which had passed with so much violence and rapidity, the 
 locksmith gazed upon the shuddering figure in the chair like 
 one half stupefied, and would have gazed much longer, had 
 not his tongue been loosened by compassion and humanity. 
 
 "You are ill," said Gabriel. "Let me call some neigh- 
 bor in." 
 
 "Not for the world," she rejoined, motioning to him with 
 her trembling hand, and still holding her face averted. " It 
 is enough that you have been by, to see this." 
 
 " Nay, more than enough — or less," said Gabriel. 
 
 "Be it so," she returned. "As you like. Ask me no 
 questions, I entreat you." 
 
 " Neighbor," said the locksmith, after a pause. " Is this 
 fair, or reasonable, or just to yourself ? Is it like you, who 
 have known me so long and sought my advice in all matters 
 — like you, who from a girl have had a strong mind and a 
 stanch heart ? " 
 
 " I have had need of them," she replied. " I am growing 
 old, both in years and care. Perhaps that, and too much 
 trial, have made them weaker than they used to be. Do not 
 speak to me." 
 
 " How can I see what I have seen, and hold my peace ! " 
 returned the locksmith. "Who was that man, and why has 
 his coming made this change in you ? " 
 
 She was silent, but held to the chair as though to save her- 
 self from falling on the ground. 
 
 " I take the license of an old acquaintance, Mary," said the 
 locksmith, " who has ever had a warm regard for you, and 
 maybe has tried to prove it when he could. Who is this ill- 
 favored man, and what has he to do with you ? Who is this 
 ghost, that is only seen in the black nights and bad weather ? 
 
BAENABY BUDGE. 51 
 
 How does he know, and why does he haunt this house, whis- 
 pering through chinks and crevices, as if there was that 
 between him and you, which neither durst so much as speak 
 aloud of ? Who is he ? " 
 
 " You do well to say he haunts this house," returned the 
 widow, faintly. "His shadow has been upon it and me, in 
 light and darkness, at noonday and midnight. And now, at 
 last, he has come in the body ! " 
 
 "But he wouldn't have gone in the body," returned the 
 locksmith with some irritation, " if you had left my arms and 
 legs at liberty. What riddle is it ? " 
 
 " It is one," she answered, rising as she spoke, " that must 
 remain forever as it is. I dare not say more than that." 
 
 " Dare not ! " repeated the wondering locksmith. 
 
 " Do not press me," she replied. " I am sick and faint, 
 and every faculty of life seems dead within me. — Xo ! — Do 
 not touch me, either." 
 
 Gabriel, who had stepped forward to render her assistance, 
 fell back as she made this hasty exclamation, and regarded 
 her in silent wonder. 
 
 "Let me go my way alone," she said in a low voice, "and 
 let the hands of no honest man touch mine to-night." When 
 she had tottered to the door, she turned, and added with a 
 stronger effort, " This is a secret, which, of necessity, I trust 
 to you. You are a true man. As you have ever been good 
 and kind to me, — keep it. If any noise was heard above, 
 make some excuse — say anything but what you really saw, 
 and never let a word or look between us, recall this circum- 
 stance. I trust to you. Mind, I trust to you. How much I 
 trust, you never can conceive." 
 
 Casting her eyes upon him for an instant, she withdrew, 
 and left him there alone. 
 
 Gabriel, not knowing what to think, stood staring at the 
 door with a countenance full of surprise and dismay. The 
 more he pondered on what had passed, the less able he was 
 to give it any favorable interpretation. To find this widow 
 woman, whose life for so many years had been supposed to be 
 one of solitude and retirement, and who, in her quiet suffering 
 character, had gained the good opinion and respect of all who 
 
52 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 knew her — to find her linked mysteriously with an ill-omened 
 man, alarmed at his appearance, and yet favoring his escape, 
 was a discovery that pained as much as it startled him. 
 Her reliance on his secrecy, and his tacit acquiescence, in- 
 creased his distress of mind. If he had spoken boldly, per- 
 sisted in questioning her, detained her when she rose to 
 leave the room, made any kind of protest, instead of silently 
 compromising himself, as he felt he had done, he would have 
 been more at ease. 
 
 " Whj^ did I let her say it was a secret, and she trusted it 
 to me ! " said Gabriel, putting his wig on one side to scratch 
 his head with greater ease, and looking ruefully at the fire. 
 " I have no more readiness than old John himself. Why 
 didn't I say firmly, ' You have no right to such secrets, and I 
 demand of you to tell me what this means,' instead of standing 
 gaping at her, like an old mooncalf as I am ! But there's my 
 weakness. I can be obstinate enough with men if need be, but 
 women may twist me round their fingers at their pleasure." 
 
 He took his wig off outright as he made this reflection, and 
 warming his handkerchief at the fire began to rub and polish 
 his bald head with it, until it glistened again. 
 
 '' And yet," said the locksmith, softening under this sooth- 
 ing process, and stopping to smile, " it may be nothing. Any 
 drunken brawler trying to make his way into the house, 
 would have alarmed a quiet soul like her. But then" — and 
 here was the vexation — " how came it to be that man ; how 
 comes he to have this influence over her ; how came she to 
 favor his getting away from me ; and, more than all, how 
 came she not to say it was a sudden fright, and nothing 
 more ? It's a sad thing to have, in one minute, reason to 
 mistrust a person I have known so long, and an old sweet, 
 heart into the bargain : but what else can I do, with all thia 
 upon my mind ! — Is that Barnaby outside there ? " 
 
 "Ay!" he cried, looking in and nodding. "Sure enough 
 it's Barnaby — how did 3'ou guess ? " 
 
 " By your shadow," said the locksmith. 
 
 " Oho ! " cried Barnaby, glancing over his shoulder, " He's 
 a merry fellow, that shadow, and keeps close to me, though I 
 am silly. We have such pranks, such walks, such runs, such 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 53 
 
 gambols on the grass ! Sometimes he'll be half as tall as a 
 church steeple, and sometimes no bigger than a dwarf. Now, 
 he goes on before, and now behind, and anon he'll be stealing 
 slyly on, on this side, or on that, stopping whenever I stop, 
 and thinking I can't see him, though I have my eye on him 
 sharp enough. Oh ! he's a merry fellow. Tell me — is he 
 silly too ! I think he is." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Gabriel. 
 
 " Because he never tires of mocking me, but does it all day 
 long. — Why don't you come ? " 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 '^ Up-stairs. He wants you. Stay — where's his shadow ? 
 Come. Yoii're a wise man ; tell me that." 
 
 " Beside him, Barnaby ; beside him, I suppose," returned 
 the locksmith. 
 
 "No !" he replied, shaking his head. "Guess again." 
 
 " Gone out a-walking, maybe ? " 
 
 "He has changed shadows with a woman," the idiot 
 whispered in his ear, and then fell back with a look of 
 triumph. "Her shadow's always with him, and his with 
 her. That's sport, I think, eh ? " 
 
 "Barnaby," said the locksmith, with a grave look; "come 
 hither, lad." 
 
 "' I know what you want to say. I know ! " he replied, 
 keeping away from him. "But I'm cunning, I'm silent. I 
 only say so much to you — are you ready ? " As he spoke, he 
 caught up the light, and waved it with a wild laugh above 
 his head. 
 
 "Softly — gently," said the locksmith, exerting all his 
 influence to keep him calm and quiet. " I thought you had 
 been asleep." 
 
 " So I have been asleep," he rejoined, with widely opened 
 eyes. "There have been great faces coming and going — 
 close to my face, and then a mile away — low places to creej) 
 through, whether I would or no — high churches to fall down 
 from — strange creatures crowded up together neck and heels, 
 to sit upon the bed — that's sleep, eh ? " 
 
 "Dreams, Barnaby, dreams," said the locksmith. 
 
 "Dreams!" he echoed softly, drawing closer to liim. 
 "Those are not dreams." 
 
54 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 " What are," replied the locksmith, " if they are not ? " 
 
 "I dreamed," said Barnaby, passing his arm through 
 Varden's, and peering close into his face as he answered in a 
 whisper, "I dreamed just now that something — it was in the 
 shape of a man — followed me — came softly after me — 
 wouldn't let me be — but was always hiding and crouching, 
 like a cat in dark corners, waiting till I should pass ; when it 
 crept out and came softly after me. — Did you ever see me 
 run ? " 
 
 " Many a time, you know." 
 
 "You never saw me run as I did in this dream. Still it 
 came creeping on to worry me. Nearer, nearer, nearer — I 
 ran faster — leaped — sprung out of bed, and to the window — 
 and there, in the street below — but he is waiting for us. Are 
 you coming ? " 
 
 " What in the street below, Barnaby ? " said Varden, 
 imagining that he traced some connection between this vision 
 and what had actually occurred. 
 
 Barnaby looked into his face, muttered incoherently, waved 
 the light above his head again, laughed, and drawing the 
 locksmith's arm more tightly through his own, led him up 
 the stairs in silence. 
 
 They entered a homely bedchamber, garnished in a scanty 
 way with chairs whose spindle-shanks bespoke their age, and 
 other furniture of ver}- little worth; but clean and neatly 
 kept. Eeclining in an easy-chair before the fire, pale and 
 weak from waste of blood, was Edward Chester, the young 
 gentleman w^ho had been the first to quit the Maypole on the 
 previous night, and who, extending his hand to the locksmith, 
 welcomed him as his preserver and friend. 
 
 " Say no more, sir, say no more," said Gabriel. " I hope 
 I would have done at least as much for any man in such a 
 strait, and most of all for you, sir. A certain young lady," 
 he added, with some hesitation, " has done us many a kind 
 turn, and we naturally feel — I hope I give you no offence in 
 saying this, sir ? " 
 
 The young man smiled and shook his head; at the same 
 time moving in his chair as if in pain. 
 
 " It's no great matter," he said, in answer to the lock- 
 

 
BAENABT BUDGE, 65 
 
 smithes sympathizing look, " a mere uneasiness arising at 
 least as much from being cooped up here, as from the slight 
 wound I have, or from the loss of blood. Be seated, Mr. 
 Varden." 
 
 " If I may make so bold, Mr. Edward, as to lean upon 
 your chair," returned the locksmith, accommodating his action 
 to his speech, and bending over him, " I'll stand here, for the 
 convenience of speaking low. Barnaby is not in his quietest 
 humor to-night, and at such times talking never does him 
 good." 
 
 They both glanced at the subject of this remark, who had 
 taken a seat on the other side of the fire, and, smiling vacantly, 
 was making puzzles on his fingers with a skein of string. 
 
 "Pray, tell me, sir," said Varden, dropping his voice still 
 lower, " exactly what happened last night. I have my reason 
 for inquiring. You left the Maypole, alone ? " 
 
 " And walked homeward alone, until I had nearly reached 
 the place where you found me, when I heard the gallop of a 
 horse." 
 
 " — Behind you ? " said the locksmith. 
 
 "Indeed, yes — behind me. It was a single rider, who 
 soon overtook me, and checking his horse, inquired the way 
 to London." 
 
 " You were on the alert, sir, knowing how many highway- 
 men there are, scouring the roads in all directions ? " said 
 Varden. 
 
 " I was, but I had only a stick, having imprudently left my 
 pistols in their holster-case with the landlord's son. I directed 
 him as he desired. Before the words had passed my lips, he 
 rode upon me furiously, as if bent on trampling me down 
 beneath his horse's hoofs. In starting aside, I slipped and 
 fell. You found me with this stab and an ugly bruise or two, 
 and without my purse — in which he found little enough for 
 his pains. And now, Mr. Varden," he added, shaking the 
 locksmith by the hand, " saving the extent of my gratitude to 
 you, you know as much as I." 
 
 "Except," said Gabriel, bending down yet more, and looking 
 cautiously towards their silent neighbor, "except in respect 
 of the robber liimself. What like was he, sir ? Speak low, 
 
56 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 if you please. Barnaby means no harm, but I have watched 
 him oftener than you, and I know, little as you would think 
 it, that he's listening now." 
 
 It required a strong confidence in the locksmith's veracity 
 to lead any one to this belief, for every sense and faculty that 
 Barnaby possessed, seemed to be fixed upon his game, to the 
 exclusion of all other things. Something in the young man's 
 face expressed this opinion, for Gabriel repeated what he had 
 just said, more earnestly than before, and with another glance 
 towards Barnaby, again asked what like the man was. 
 
 "The night was so dark," said Edward, "the attack so 
 sudden, and he so wrapped and muffled up, that I can hardly 
 say. It seems that" — 
 
 "Don't mention his name, sir," returned the locksmith, 
 following his look towards Barnaby; "I know he saw him. 
 I want to know what you saw." 
 
 "All I remember is," said Edward, "that as he checked his 
 horse his hat was blown off. He caught it and replaced it on 
 his head, which I observed was bound with a dark handker- 
 chief. A stranger entered the Maypole while I was there, 
 whom I had not seen — for I sat apart for reasons of my own 
 — and when I rose to leave the room and glanced round, he 
 was in the shadow of the chimney and hidden from my sight. 
 But, if he and the robber were two different persons, their 
 voices were strangely and most remarkably alike ; for directly 
 the man addressed me in the road, I recognized his speech 
 again." 
 
 "It is as I feared. The very man was here to-night," 
 thought the locksmith, changing color. " What dark history 
 is this ! " 
 
 " Halloa ! " cried a hoarse voice in his ear. " Halloa, halloa, 
 halloa! Bow wow wow. What's the matter here ! Halloa!" 
 
 The speaker — who made the locksmith start, as if he had 
 seen some supernatural agent — was a large raven, who had 
 perched upon the top of the easy-chair, unseen by him and 
 Edward, and listened with a polite attention and a most 
 extraordinary appearance of comprehending every word, to all 
 they had said up to this point ; turning his head from one to 
 the other, as if his office were to judge between them, and it 
 

 i: t> 
 
BARNABY RUBGE. 57 
 
 were of the very last importance that he should not lose a 
 word. 
 
 " Look at him ! " said Varden, divided between admiration 
 of the bird and a kind of fear of him. " Was there ever such 
 a knowing imp as that ! Oh he's a dreadful fellow ! " 
 
 The raven, with his head very much on one side, and his 
 bright eye shining like a diamond, preserved a thoughtful 
 silence for a few seconds, and then replied in a voice so hoarse 
 and distant, that it seemed to come through his thick feathers 
 rather than out of his mouth. 
 
 " Halloa, halloa, halloa ! What's the matter here ! Keep 
 up your spirits. ISTever say die. Bow wow wow. I'm a devil, 
 I'm a devil, I'm a devil. Hurrah ! " — And then, as if exult- 
 ing in his infernal character, he began to whistle. 
 
 " I more than half believe he speaks the truth. Upon my 
 word I do," said Varden. " Do you see how he looks at me, 
 as if he knew what I was saying ? " 
 
 To which the bird, balancing himself on tiptoe, as it were, 
 and moving his body up and down in a sort of grave dance, 
 rejoined, '' I'm a devil, I'm a devil, I'm a devil," and flapped 
 his wings against his sides as if he were bursting witli laughter. 
 Barnaby clapped his hands, and fairly rolled upon the ground 
 in an ecstasy of delight. 
 
 " Strange companions, sir," said the locksmith, shaking his 
 head and looking from one to the other. " The bird has all 
 the wit." 
 
 " Strange indeed ! " said Edward, holding out his forefinger 
 to the raven, who, in acknowledgment of the attention, made 
 a dive at it iftimediately with his iron bill. "Is he old ? " 
 
 " A mere boy, sir," replied the locksmith. " A hundred and 
 twenty, or thereabouts. Call him down, Barnaby, my man." 
 
 " Call him ! " echoed Barnaby, sitting upright upon the 
 floor, and staring vacantly at Gabriel, as he thrust his hair 
 back from his face. " But who can make him come ! He 
 calls me, and makes me go where he will. He goes on 
 before, and I follow. He's the master, and I'm the man. Is 
 that the truth. Grip ? " 
 
 The raven gave a short, comfortable, confidential kind of 
 croak : a most expressive croak, which seemed to say, " You 
 
6S BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 needn't let these fellows into our secrets. We understand 
 each other. It's all right." 
 
 "/make hitn come ?" cried Barnaby, pointing to the bird. 
 " Him, who never goes to sleep, or so much as winks ! — 
 Why, any time of night, you may see his eyes in my dark 
 room, shining like two sparks. And every night, and all 
 night too, he's broad awake, talking to himself, thinking 
 what he shall do to-morrow, where we shall go, and what 
 he shall steal, and hide, and bury. / make him come ! Ha, 
 ha, ha ! " 
 
 On second thoughts, the bird appeared disposed to come of 
 himself. After a short survey of the ground, and a few side- 
 long looks at the ceiling and at everybody present in turn, he 
 fluttered to the floor, and went to Barnaby — not in a hop, or 
 w^alk, or run, but in a pace like that of a very particular 
 gentleman with exceedingly tight boots on, trying to walk 
 fast over loose pebbles. Then, stepping into his extended 
 hand, and condescending to be held out at arm's-length, he 
 gave vent to a succession of sounds, not unlike the drawing of 
 some eight or ten dozen of long corks, and again asserted his 
 brimstone birth and parentage with great distinctness. 
 
 The locksmith shook his head — perhaps in some doubt of 
 the creature's being really nothing but a bird — perhaps in 
 pity for Barnaby, who by this time had him in his arms, and 
 was rolling about, with him, on the ground. As he raised 
 his eyes from the poor fellow he encountered those of his 
 mother, who had entered the room, and was looking on in 
 silence. 
 
 She was quite white in the face, even to her lips, but had 
 wholly subdued her emotion, and wore her usual quiet look. 
 Varden fancied as he glanced at her that she shrunk from his 
 eye ! and that she busied herself about the w^ounded gentleman 
 to avoid him the better. 
 
 It was time he went to bed, she said. He was to be 
 removed to his own home on the morrow, and he had already 
 exceeded his time for sitting up, by a full hour. Acting on 
 this hint, the locksmith prepared to take his leave. 
 
 '' By-the-by," said Edward, as he shook him by the hand, 
 and looked from hin; to Mrs. Eudge and back again, " what 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 69 
 
 noise was that below ? I heard your voice in the midst of it, 
 and should have inquired before, but our other conversation 
 drove it from my memory. What was it ? '^ 
 
 The locksmith looked towards her, and bit his lip. She 
 leaned against the chair, and bent her eyes upon the ground. 
 Barnaby too — he was listening. 
 
 — "Some mad or drunken fellow, sir," Varden at length 
 made answer, looking steadily at the widow as he spoke. 
 "He mistook the house, and tried to force an entrance." 
 
 She breathed more freely, but stood quite motionless. As 
 the locksmith said " Good-night," and Barnaby caught up the 
 candle to light him down the stairs, she took it from him, and 
 charged him — with more haste and earnestness than so slight 
 an occasion appeared to warrant — not to stir. The raven 
 followed them to satisfy himself that all was right below, and 
 when they reached the street-door, stood on the bottom stair 
 drawing corks out of number. 
 
 With a trembling hand she unfastened the chain and bolts 
 and turned the key. As she had her hand upon the latch, the 
 locksmith said in a low voice, — ■_ 
 
 "I have told a lie to-night, for your sake, Mary, and for 
 the sake of bygone times, and old acquaintance, when I would 
 scorn to do so for my own. I hope I may have done no harm, 
 or led to none. I can't help the suspicions you have forced 
 upon me, and I am loath, I tell you plainly, to leave Mr 
 Edward here. Take care he comes to no hurt. I doubt the 
 safety of this roof, and am glad he leaves it so soon. Now, 
 let me go." 
 
 "For a moment she hid her face in her hands and wept ; but 
 resisting the strong impulse wliich evidently moved her to 
 reply, opened the door — no wider than was sufficient for the 
 passage of his body — and motioned him away. As the lock- 
 smith stood upon the step, it was chained and locked behind 
 him, and the raven, in furtherance of these precautions, barked 
 like a lusty house-dog. 
 
 " In league with that ill-looking figure that might have 
 fallen from a gibbet — he listening and hiding here — Barnaby 
 first upon the spot last night — can she who has always l)orne 
 so fair a name be guilty of such crimes in secret ! " said the 
 
60 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 locksmith, musing. ^^ Heaven forgive me if I am wrong, and 
 send me just thoughts ; but she is poor, the temptation may 
 be great, and we daily hear of things as strange. — Ay, bark 
 away, my friend. If there's any wickedness going on, that 
 raven's in it, I'll be sworn." 
 
BARNABY BULGE. 61 
 
 CHAPTER VIT. 
 
 Mrs. Varden was a lady of what is commonly called an 
 uncertain temper — a phrase which being interpreted signifies 
 a temper tolerably certain to make everybody more or less 
 uncomfortable. Thus it generally happened, that when other 
 people were merry, Mrs. Varden was dull ; and that when 
 other people were dull, Mrs. Varden was disposed to be amaz- 
 ingly cheerful. Indeed the worthy housewife was of such a 
 capricious nature, that she not only attained a higher pitch of 
 genius than Macbeth, in respect of her ability to be wise, 
 amazed, temperate and furious, loyal and neutral in an instant, 
 but would sometimes ring the changes backwards and forwards 
 on all possible moods and flights in one short quarter of an 
 hour ; performing, as it were, a kind of triple bob major on 
 the peal of instruments in the female belfry, with a skilful- 
 ness and rapidity of execution that astonished all who heard 
 her. 
 
 It had been observed in this good lady (who did not want 
 for personal attractions, being plump and buxom to look at, 
 though like her fair daughter, somewhat short in stature) that 
 this uncertainty of disposition strengthened and increased with 
 her temporal prosperity ; and divers wise men and matrons on 
 friendly terms with the locksmith and his family, even went 
 so far as to assert, that a tumble-down some half-dozen rounds 
 in the world's ladder — such as the breaking of the bank in 
 which her husband kept his money, or some little fall of that 
 kind — would be the making of her, and couhl hardly fail to 
 render her one of the most agreeable companions in existence. 
 Whether they were right or wrong in this conjecture, certain 
 it is that minds, like bodies, will often fall into a pimpled ill- 
 conditioned state from mere excess of comfort, and like them, 
 are often successfully cured by renu'dies in themselves very 
 nauseous and unpalatable. 
 
62 BABNABT BULGE. 
 
 Mrs. Varden's chief aider and abetter, and at the same time 
 her principal victim and object of wrath, was her single domes- 
 tic servant, one Miss ^liggs ; or as she was called, in conformity 
 with those prejudices of society which lop and top from poor 
 handmaidens all such genteel excrescences — Miggs. This 
 Miggs was a tall young lady, very much addicted to pattens 
 'in private life ; slender and shrewish, of a rather uncomfort- 
 able figure, and though not absolutely ill-looking, of a sharp 
 and acid visage. As a general principle and abstract proposi- 
 tion, Miggs held the male sex to be utterly contemptible and 
 unworthy of notice ; to be fickle, false, base, sottish, inclined to 
 perjury, and wholly undeserving. When particularly exasper- 
 ated against them (which, scandal said, was when Sim Tapper- 
 tit slighted her most) she was accustomed to wish with great 
 emphasis that the whole race of women could but die off, in 
 order that the men might be brought to know the real value 
 of the blessings by which they set so little store ; nay, her 
 feeling for her order ran so high, that she sometimes declared, 
 if she could only have good security for a fair, round number 
 — say ten thousand — of young virgins following her example, 
 she would, to spite mankind, hang, drown, stab, or poison her- 
 self, with a joy past all expression. 
 
 It was the voice of Miggs that greeted the locksmith, when 
 he knocked at his own house, with a shrill cry of "Who's 
 there ? " 
 
 "Me, girl, me," returned Gabriel. 
 
 " What, already, sir ! " said Miggs, opening the door with a 
 look of surprise. "W^e was just getting on our nightcaps to 
 sit up, — me and mistress. Oh, she has been so bad ! " 
 
 Miggs said this with an air of uncommon candor and con- 
 cern ; but the parlor door was standing open, and as Gabriel 
 very well knew for whose ears it was designed, he regarded 
 her with anything but an approving look as he passed in. 
 
 "Master's come home, mim," cried Miggs, running before 
 him into the parlor. " You was wrong, mim, and I was right. 
 I thought he wouldn't keep us up so late two nights running, 
 mim. Master's always considerate so far. I'm so glad, mim, 
 on your account. I'm a little" — here Miggs simpered — "a 
 little sleepy myself ; I'll own it now, mim, though I said I 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. 63 
 
 wasn't when you asked me. It ain't of no consequence, mini, 
 of course." 
 
 *'You had better," said the locksmith, who most devoutly 
 wished that Barnaby's raven was at Miggs's ankles, "you liad 
 better get to bed at once then." 
 
 "Thanking you kindly, sir," returned Miggs, "I couldn't 
 take my rest in peace, nor fix my thoughts upon my prayers, 
 otherways than that I knew mistress was comfortable in her 
 bed this night ; by rights she should have been there, hours 
 ago." 
 
 "You're talkative, mistress," said Varden, pulling off his 
 great-coat, and looking at her askew. 
 
 "Taking the hint, sir," cried Miggs, with a flushed face, 
 "and thanking you for it most kindly, I will make bold to 
 say, that if I give offence by having consideration for my mis- 
 tress, I do not ask your pardon, but am content to get myself 
 into trouble and to be in suffering." 
 
 Here Mrs. Yarden, who, with her countenance shrouded in a 
 large nightcap, had been all this time intent upon the Protes- 
 tant Manual, looked round, and acknowledged Miggs's cham- 
 pionship by commanding her to hold her tongue. 
 
 Every little bone in ^liggs's throat and neck developed itself 
 with a spitefulness quite alarming, as she replied, " Yes, mini, 
 I will." 
 
 " How do you find yourself now, my dear ? " said the lock- 
 smith, taking a chair near his wife (who had resumed her 
 book), and rubbing his knees hard as he made the inquiry. 
 
 " You're very anxious to know, ain't you ? " returned Mrs. 
 Yarden, with her eyes upon the print. " You, that have not 
 been near me all day, and wouldn't have been if I was 
 dying ! " 
 
 " My dear Martlia " — said Gabriel. 
 
 Mrs. Yarden turned over to the next page ; then went back 
 again to the bottom line over leaf to be quite sure of tlie last 
 words, and then went on reading with an appearance of the 
 deepest interest and study. 
 
 "My dear Martha," §aid the locksmith, "how can you say 
 such things, when you know you don't mean them? If you 
 were dying ! Why, if there was anything serious the matter 
 
64 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 with 3'ou, Martha, shouldn't I be in constant attendance upon 
 you ? " 
 
 "Yes!" cried Mrs. Varden, bursting into tears, "yes, you 
 would. I don't doubt it, Varden. Certainly you would. 
 That's as much as to tell me that you would be hovering 
 round me like a vulture, waiting till the breath was out of my 
 body, that you might go and marry somebody else." 
 
 Miggs groaned in sympathy — a little short groan, checked 
 in its birth, and changed into a cough. It seemed to say, " I 
 can't help it. It's wrung from me by the dreadful brutality 
 of that monster master." 
 
 " But you'll break my heart one of these days," added Mrs. 
 Varden, with more resignation, " and then we shall both be 
 happy. My only desire is to see Dolly comfortably settled, 
 and when she is, you may settle me as soon as you like." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Miggs — and coughed again. 
 
 Poor Gabriel twisted his wig about in silence for a long 
 time, and then said mildly, " Has Dolly gone to bed ? " 
 
 "Your master speaks to you," said Mrs. Varden, looking 
 sternly over her shoulder at Miss Miggs in waiting. 
 
 " No, my dear, I spoke to you," suggested the locksmith. 
 
 " Did you hear me, Miggs ? " cried the obdurate lady, 
 stamping her foot upon the ground. " You are beginning to 
 despise me now, are you ? But this is example ! " 
 
 At this cruel rebuke, Miggs, whose tears were always 
 ready, for large or small parties, on the shortest notice and 
 the most reasonable terms, fell a-crying violently ; holding 
 both her hands tight upon her heart meanwhile, as if nothing 
 less would prevent its splitting into small fragments. Mrs. 
 Varden, who likewise possessed that faculty in high perfec- 
 tion, wept too, against Miggs ; and with such effect that 
 Miggs gave in after a time, and, except for an occasional sob, 
 which seemed to threaten some remote intention of breaking 
 out again, left her mistress in possession of the field. Her 
 superiority being thoroughly asserted, that lady soon desisted 
 likewise, and fell into a quiet melancholy. 
 
 The relief was so great, and the fatiguing occurrences of 
 last night so completely overpowered the locksmith, that he 
 nodded in his chair, and would doubtless have slept there all 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 65 
 
 night, but for the voice of Mrs. Varden, which, after a pause 
 of some five minutes, awoke him with a start. 
 
 "If I am ever," said Mrs. V. — not scolding, but in a sort 
 of monotonous remonstrance — " in spirits, if I am ever cheer- 
 ful, if I am ever more than usually disposed to be talkative 
 and comfortable, this is the way I am treated." 
 
 " Such spirits as you was in too, mini, but half an hour 
 ago !" cried Miggs. "I never see such company ! " 
 
 "Because," said Mrs. Varden, "because I never interfere 
 or interrupt, because I never question where anybody comes 
 or goes ; because my whole mind and soul is bent on saving 
 where I can save, and laboring in this house ; — therefore, they 
 try me as they do." 
 
 " Martha," urged the locksmith, endeavoring to look as 
 wakeful as possible, " what is it you complain of ? I really 
 came home with every wish and desire to be happy. I did, 
 indeed." 
 
 "What do I complain of ! " retorted his wife. " Is it a 
 chilling thing to have one's husband sulking and falling 
 asleep directly he comes home — to have him freezing all 
 one's warm-heartedness, and throwing cold water over the 
 fireside ? Is it natural, when I know he went out upon a 
 matter in which I am as much interested as anybody can be, 
 that I should wish to know all that has happened, or that he 
 should tell me without my begging and praying him to do it ? 
 Is that natural, or is it not ? " 
 
 "I am very sorry, Martha," said the good-natured lock- 
 smith. " I was really afraid you were not disposed to talk 
 pleasantly ; I'll tell you everything ; I shall only be too glad, 
 my dear." 
 
 " No, Varden," returned his wife, rising with dignity. " I 
 dare say — thank you ! I'm not a child to be corrected one 
 minute and petted the next — I'm a little too old for that, 
 Varden. Miggs, carry the light. You can be cheerful, 
 Miggs, at least." 
 
 Miggs, who, to this moment, had been in the ver}^ depths of 
 compassionate despondency, passed instantly into the liveliest 
 state conceivable, and tossing her head as she glanced towards 
 the locksmith, bore off her mistress and the light together. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
66 BABNABT BUDGE. 
 
 "Now, who would think," thought Varden, shrugging his 
 shoulders and drawing his chair nearer to the fire, " that that 
 woman could ever be pleasant and agreeable ? And yet she 
 can be. Well, well, all of us have our faults. I'll not be 
 hard upon hers. We have been man and wife too long for 
 that." 
 
 He dozed again — not the less pleasantly, perhaps, for his 
 hearty temper. While his eyes were closed, the door leading 
 to the upper stairs was partially opened ; and a head a|> 
 peared, which, at sight of him, hastily drew back again. 
 
 "I wish," murmured Gabriel, waking at the noise, and 
 looking round the room, "I wish somebody would marry 
 Miggs. But that's impossible ! I wonder whether there's 
 any madman alive, who would marry Miggs ! " 
 
 This was such a vast speculation that he fell into a doze 
 again, and slept until the fire was quite burnt out. At last 
 he roused himself ; and having double-locked the street-door 
 according to custom, and put the key in his pocket, went off 
 to bed. 
 
 He had not left the room in darkness many minutes, when 
 the head again appeared, and Sim Tappertit entered, bearing 
 in his hand a little lamp. 
 
 " What the devil business has he to stop up so late ! " 
 muttered Sim, passing into the workshop, and setting it 
 down upon the forge. "Here's half the night gone already. 
 There's only one good that has ever come to me, out of this 
 cursed old rusty mechanical trade, and that's this piece of 
 ironmongery, upon my soul ! " 
 
 As he spoke, he drew from the right hand, or rather right 
 leg pocket of his smalls, a clumsj^^ large-sized key, which he 
 inserted cautiously in the lock his master had secured, and 
 softly opened the door. That done, he replaced his piece of 
 secret workmanship in his pocket ; and leaving the lamp 
 burning, and closing the door carefully and without noise, 
 stole out into the street — as little suspected by the locksmith 
 in his sound deep sleep, as by Barnaby himself in his phantom- 
 haunted dreams. 
 
BARNABT KUDGE. 67 
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 Clear of the locksmith's house, Sim Tappertit laid aside 
 his cautious manner, and assuming in its stead that of a ruf- 
 flino-, swaggering, roving blade, who would rather kill a man 
 thaS otherwise, and eat him too if needful, made the best of 
 his way along the darkened streets. 
 
 Half pausing for an instant now and then to smite his 
 pocket and assure himself of the safety of his master key, he 
 hurried on to Barbican, and turning into one of the narrowest 
 of the narrow streets which diverged from that centre, slack- 
 ened his pace and wiped his heated brow, as if the termination 
 of his walk were near at hand. 
 
 It was not a very choice spot for midnight expeditions, 
 beincT in truth one of more than questionable character, and 
 of an appearance by no means inviting. From the main 
 street he had entered, itself little better than an alley, a low- 
 browed doorway led into a blind court, or yard, profoundly 
 dark, unpaved, and reeking with stagnant odors. Into this 
 ill-favored pit, the locksmith's vagrant 'prentice groped his 
 way ; and stopping at a house from whose defaced and rotten 
 front the rude effigy of a bottle swung to and fro like some 
 gibbeted malefactor, struck thrice upon an iron grating with 
 his foot. After listening in vain for some response to his 
 signal, Mr. Tappertit became impatient, and struck the 
 grating thrice again. 
 
 A further delay ensued, but it was not of long duration 
 The ground seemed to open at his feet, and a ragged head 
 
 appeared. -, ^i i i 
 
 " Is that the captain ? " said a voice as ragged as tlie head. 
 "Yes," replied :\[r. Tappertit haughtily, descending as he 
 
 spoke, " who should it be ? " 
 
 " It's so late, we gave you up," returned the voice, as its 
 
eS BARNABY BULGE. 
 
 owner stopped to shut and fasten the grating. " You're late, 
 sir." 
 
 "Lead on," said ]\rr. Tappertit, with a gloomy majesty, ^-and 
 make remarks when I require you. Forward ! " 
 
 This latter word of command was perhaps somewhat theat- 
 rical and unnecessary, inasmuch as the descent was by a very 
 narrow, steep, and slippery flight of steps, and any rashness 
 or departure from the beaten track must have ended in a 
 yawning water-but. But Mr. Tappertit being, like some other 
 great commanders, favorable to strong effects, and personal 
 display, cried "Forward ! " again, in the hoarsest voice he could 
 assume ; and led the way, with folded arms and knitted brows, 
 to the cellar down below, where the^re was a small copper fixed 
 in one corner, a chair or two, a form and table, a glimmering 
 fire, and a truckle-bed, covered with a ragged patchwork rug. 
 
 " Welcome, noble captain ! " cried a lanky figure, rising as 
 from a nap. 
 
 The captain nodded. Then, throwing off his outer coat, he 
 stood composed in all his dignity, and eyed his follower over. 
 
 " What news to-night ? " he asked, when he had looked into 
 his very soul. 
 
 "Nothing particular," replied the other, stretching himself 
 — and he was so long already that it was quite alarming to 
 see him do it — "how come you to be so late ? " 
 
 " lN"o matter," was all the captain deigned to say in answer. 
 " Is the room prepared ? " 
 
 "It is," replied his follower. 
 
 " The comrade — is he here ? " 
 
 " Yes. And a sprinkling of the others — j'ou hear 'em ? " 
 
 " Playing skittles ! " said the captain, moodily. " Light- 
 hearted revellers ! " 
 
 There was no doubt respecting the particular amusement in 
 which these heedless spirits were indulging, for even in the 
 close and stifling atmosphere of the vault, the noise sounded 
 like distant thunder. It certainly appeared, at first sight, a 
 singular spot to choose, for that or any other purpose of 
 relaxation, if the other cellars answered to the one in which 
 this brief colloquy took place ; for the floors were of sodden 
 earth, the walls and roof of damp bare brick tapestried with 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. 69 
 
 the tracks of snails and slugs ; the air was sickening, tainted, 
 and offensive. It seemed from one strong flavor which was 
 uppermost among the various odors of the place, that it had, 
 at no very distant period, been used as a storehouse for 
 cheeses ; a circumstance which, while it accounted for the 
 greasy moisture that hung about it, was agreeably suggestive 
 of rats. It was naturally damp besides, and little trees of 
 fungus sprung from every mouldering corner. 
 
 The proprietor of this charming retreat, and owner of the 
 ragged head before mentioned — for he wore an old tie-wig as 
 bare and frowzy as a stunted hearth-broom — had by this time 
 joined them ; and stood a little apart, rubbing his hands, wag- 
 ging his hoary bristled chin, and smiling in silence. His eyes 
 were closed ; but had they been wide open, it would have been 
 easy to tell, from the attentive expression of the face he turned 
 towards them — pale and unwholesome as might be expected 
 in one of his underground existence — and from a certain 
 anxious raising and quivering of the lids, that he Avas blind. 
 
 "Even Stagg hath been asleep," said the long comrade, 
 nodding towards this person. 
 
 " Sound, captain, sound ! " cried the blind man ; " what does 
 my noble captain drink — is it brandy, rum, usquebaugh ? Is 
 it soaked gunpowder, or blazing oil ? Give it a name, heart 
 of oak, and we'd get it for you, if it was wine from a bishop's 
 cellar, or melted gold from King George's mint." 
 
 " See," said Mr. Tappertit haughtily, " that it's something 
 strong, and comes quick ; and so long as you take care of that, 
 you may bring it from the devil's cellar, if you like." 
 
 "Boldly said, noble captain!" rejoined the blind man. 
 " Spoken like the 'Prentices' Glory. Ha, ha ! From the 
 devil's cellar ! A brave joke ! The captain joketh. Ha, ha, 
 ha!" 
 
 " I'll tell you what, my fine feller," said ]\[r. Tappertit, eying 
 the host over as he walked to a closet, and took out a bottle 
 and glass as carelessly as if he had been in full possession of 
 his sight, "if you make that row, you'll hnd tliat the captain's 
 very far from joking, and so I tell you." 
 
 "He's got his eyes on me ! " cried Stagg, stopping short on 
 his way back, and affecting to screen his face with the bottle. 
 
70 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 '' I feel 'ein though I can't see 'em. Take 'em off, noble 
 captain. Remove 'em, for they pierce like gimlets." 
 
 Mr. Tappertit smiled grimly at his comrade ; and twisting 
 out one more look — a kind of ocular screw — under the influ- 
 ence of which the blind man feigned to undergo great anguish 
 and torture, bade him, in a softened tone, approach, and hold 
 his peace. 
 
 ^^I obey you, captain," cried Stagg, drawing close to him 
 and filling out a bumper without spilling a drop, by reason 
 that he held his little finger at the brim of the glass, and 
 stopped at the instant the liquor touched it, "drink, noble 
 governor. Death to all masters, life to all 'prentices, and love 
 to all fair damsels. Drink, brave general, and warm your 
 gallant heairt ! " 
 
 Mr. Tappertit condescended to take the glass from his out- 
 stretched hand. Stagg then dropped on one knee and gently 
 smoothed the calves of his legs, with an air of humble 
 admiration. 
 
 " That I had but eyes ! " he cried, " to behold my captain's 
 symmetrical proportions ! That I had but eye's, to look upon 
 these twin invaders of domestic peace ! " 
 
 " Get out ! " said Mr. Tappertit, glancing downward at his 
 favorite limbs. " Go along, will you Stagg ! " 
 
 " When I touch my own afterwards," cried the host, smiting 
 them reproachfully, "I hate 'em. Comparatively speaking, 
 they've no more shape than wooden legs, beside these models 
 of my noble captain's." 
 
 " Yours ! " exclaimed Mr. Tappertit. " No, I should think 
 not. Don't talk about those precious old toothpicks in the 
 same breath wdth mine ; that's rather too much. Here. Take 
 the glass. Benjamin, lead on. To business ! " 
 
 With these words, he folded his arms again ; and frowning 
 with a sullen majesty, passed with his companion through a 
 little door at the upper end of the cellar, and disappeared; 
 leaving Stagg to his private meditations. 
 
 The vault they entered, strewn with sawdust and dimly 
 lighted, was between the outer one from which they had just 
 come, and that in which the skittle players were diverting 
 themselves; as was manifested by the increased noise and 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 71 
 
 clamor of tongues, which was suddenly stopped, however, and 
 replaced by a dead silence, at a signal from the long comrade. 
 Then, this young gentleman, going to a little cupboard, returned 
 with a thigh-bone, which in former times must have been part 
 and parcel of some individual at least as long as himself, and 
 placed the same in the hands of Mr. Tappertit ; who, receiving 
 it as a sceptre and staif of authority cocked his three-cornered 
 hat fiercely on the top of his head, and mounted a large table, 
 whereon a chair of state, cheerfully ornamented with a couple 
 of skulls, was placed ready for his reception. 
 
 He had no sooner assumed this position, than another j^oung 
 gentleman appeared, bearing in his arms a huge clasped book, 
 who made him a profound obeisance, and delivering it to the 
 long comrade, advanced to the table, and turning his back upon 
 it, stood there Atlas-wise. Then, the long comrade got upon 
 the table too ; and seating himself in a lower chair than Mr. 
 Tappertit's, with much state and ceremony, placed the large 
 book on the shoulders of their mute companion as deliberately 
 as if he had been a wooden desk, and prepared to make entries 
 therein with a pen of corresponding size. 
 
 When the long comrade had made these preparations, he 
 looked towards ^h\ Tappertit ; and Mr. Tappertit, flourishing 
 the bone, knocked nine times therewith upon one of the skulls. 
 At the ninth stroke, a third young gentleman emerged from 
 the door leading to the skittle-ground, and bowing low, awaited 
 his commands. 
 
 "'Prentice ! " said the mighty captain, "who waits without ? " 
 
 The 'prentice made answer that a stranger was in attendance, 
 who claimed admission into that secret society of 'Prentice 
 Knights, and a free participation in their rights, privileges, 
 and immunities. Thereupon Mr. Tappertit flourished the bone 
 again, and giving the other skull a prodigious rap on the nose, 
 exclaimed " Admit him ! " At these dread words the 'prentice 
 bowed once more, and so withdrew as he liad come. 
 
 There soon appeared at the same door, two other 'prentices, 
 having between them a third, whose eyes were bandaged, and 
 who was attired in a bag-wig, and a broad-skirted coat, trimmed 
 with tarnished lace ; and who was girded with a sword, in 
 compliance with the laws of the Institution regulating the 
 
72 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 introduction of candidates, which required them to assume 
 this courtly dress, and kept it constantly in lavender, for their 
 convenience. One of the conductors of this novice held a 
 rusty blunderbuss pointed towards his ear, and the other a very 
 ancient sabre, with Avhich he carved imaginary offenders as he 
 came along iu a sanguinary and anatomical manner. 
 
 As this silent group advanced, Mr. Tappertit fixed his hat 
 upon his head. The novice then laid his hand upon his breast 
 and bent before him. When he had humbled himself suffi- 
 ciently, the captain ordered the bandage to be removed, and 
 proceeded to eye him over. 
 
 "Ha! "said the captain, thoughtfully, when he had con- 
 cluded this ordeal. " Proceed." 
 
 The long comrade read aloud as follows : — " Mark Gilbert. 
 Age, nineteen. Bound to Thomas Curzon, hosier. Golden 
 Fleece, Aldgate. Loves Curzon's daughter. Cannot say 
 that Curzon's daughter loves him. Should think it probable. 
 Curzon pulled his ears last Tuesday week." 
 
 " How ? " cried the captain, starting. 
 
 ^^For looking at his daughter, please you," said the novice. 
 
 " Write Curzon down. Denounced," said the captain. " Put 
 a black cross against the name of Curzon." 
 
 " So please you," said the novice, " that's not the worst — 
 he calls his 'prentice idle dog, and stops his beer unless he 
 works to his liking. He gives Dutch cheese, too, eating 
 Cheshire, sir, himself; and Sundays 5tit, are only once a 
 month." 
 
 " This," said Mr. Tappertit gravely, " is a flagrant case. 
 Put two black crosses to the name of Curzon." 
 
 " If the society," said the novice, who was an ill-looking, 
 one-sided, shambling lad, with sunken eyes set close together 
 in his head — " if the society would burn his house down — for 
 he's not insured — or beat him as he comes home from his 
 club at night, or help me to carry off his daughter, and marry 
 her at the Fleet, whether she gave consent or no " — 
 
 Mr, Tappertit waved his grizzly truncheon as an admonition 
 to him not to interrupt, and ordered three black crosses to the 
 name of Curzon. 
 
 " Which means," he said in gracious explanation, " ven- 
 
BARN A BY BUDGE. 73 
 
 geance, complete and terrible. 'Prentice, do you love the 
 Constitution ? " 
 
 To which the novice (being to that end instructed by his 
 attendant sponsors) replied, "I do ! " 
 
 " The Church, the State, and everything established — but 
 the masters ? " quoth the captain. 
 
 Again the novice said, " I do." 
 
 Having said it, he listened meekly to the captain, who, in 
 an address prepared for such occasions, told him how that 
 under that same Constitution (which was kept in a strong 
 box somewhere, but where exactly he could not find out, or 
 he would have endeavored to procure a copy of it), the 
 'prentices had, in times gone by, had frequent holidays of 
 right, broken people's heads by scores, defied their masters, 
 nay, even achieved some glorious murders in the streets, 
 which privileges had gradually been wrested from them, and 
 in all which noble aspirations they were now restrained ; how 
 the degrading checks imposed upon them were unquestionably 
 attributable to the innovating spirit of the times, and how 
 they united therefore to resist all change, except such change 
 as would restore those good old English customs, by which 
 they would stand or fall. After illustrating the wisdom of 
 going backward, by reference to that sagacious fish, the crab, 
 and the not unfrequent practice of the mule and donke}^, he 
 described their general objects; which were briefly vengeance 
 on their Tyrant Masters (of whose grievous and insupportable 
 oppression no 'prentice could entertain a moment's doubt) and 
 the restoration, as aforesaid, of their ancient rights and 
 holidays ; for neither of which objects were they now quite 
 ripe, being barely twenty strong, but which they pledged 
 themselves to pursue with fire and sword when needful. 
 Then he described the oath which every member of that small 
 remnant of a noble body took, and which was of a dreadful 
 and impressive kind ; binding»him at the bidding of his chief, 
 to resist and obstruct the Lo^d jVIayor, sword-bearer, and 
 chaplain ; to despise the authority of the sheriffs ; and to hold 
 the court of aldermen as naught ; but not on any account, in 
 case the fulness of time should bring a general rising of 
 'prentices, to damage or in any way disfigure Temple l^ar, 
 
74 BABNABY BULGE. 
 
 which was strictlj^ constitutional and always to be approached 
 with reverence. Having gone over these several heads with 
 great eloquence and force, and having further informed the 
 novice that this society had had its origin in his own teeming 
 brain, stimulated by a swelling sense of wrong and outrage, 
 Mr. Tappertit demanded whether he had strength of heart to 
 take the mighty pledge required, or whether he would with- 
 draw while retreat was yet within his power. 
 
 To this, the novice made rejoinder that he would take the 
 vow, though it should choke him ; and it was accordingly ad- 
 ministered with many impressive circumstances, among which 
 the lighting up of the two skulls with a candle-end inside of 
 each, and a great many flourishes with the bone, were chiefly 
 conspicuous ; not to mention a variety of grave exercises with 
 the blunderbuss and sabre, and some dismal groaning by un- 
 seen 'prentices without. All these dark and direful cere- 
 monies being at length completed, the table was put aside, 
 the chair of state removed, the sceptre locked up in its usual 
 cupboard, the doors of communication between the three 
 cellars thrown freely open, and the 'Prentice Knights resigned 
 themselves to merriment. 
 
 But ]\[r. Tappertit, who had a soul above the vulgar herd, 
 and who, on account of his greatness, could only afford to be 
 merry now and then, threw himself on a bench with the air 
 of a man who was faint with dignity. He looked with an in- 
 different eye, alike on skittles, cards, and dice, thinking only 
 of the locksmith's daughter, and the base degenerate days on 
 Avhich he had fallen. 
 
 "M}^ noble captain neither games, nor sings, nor dances," 
 said his host, taking a seat beside him. " Drink, gallant 
 general ! " 
 
 Mr. Tappertit drained the proffered goblet to the dregs ; 
 then thrust his hands into his pockets, and with a lowering 
 visage walked among the skittles, while his followers (such is 
 the influence of superior genius) restrained the ardent, ball, 
 and held his little shins in dumb respect. 
 
 " If I had been born a corsair or a pirate, a brigand, gen- 
 teel highwayman or patriot — and they're the same thing," 
 thought Mr. Tappertit, musing among the nine-pins, "I 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 75 
 
 should have been all right. But to drag out a ignoble exist- 
 ence unbeknown to mankind in general — patience ! I will be 
 famous yet. A voice within me keeps on whispering Great- 
 ness. I shall burst out one of these days, and when I do, 
 what power can keep me down ? I feel my soul getting into 
 my head at the idea. Move drink there ! '' 
 
 " The novice," pursued Mr. Tappertit, not exactly in a 
 voice of thunder, for his tones, to say the truth, were rather 
 cracked and shrill, — but very impressively, notwithstanding 
 — " where is he ? " 
 
 " Here, noble captain ! " cried Stagg. " One stands beside 
 me who I feel is a stranger." 
 
 "Have you," said ^Ir. Tappertit, letting his gaze fall on 
 the party indicated, who was indeed the new knight, by this 
 time restored to his own apparel ; " Have you the impression 
 of your street-door key in wax ? " 
 
 The long comrade anticipated the reply, by producing it 
 from the shelf on which it had been deposited. 
 
 "Good," said Mr. Tappertit, scrutinizing it attentively, 
 while a breathless silence reigned around ; for he had con- 
 structed secret door-keys for the whole societ}', and perliaps 
 owed something of his influence to that mean and trivial cir- 
 cumstance — on such slight accidents do even men of mind 
 depend ! — " This is easily made. Come hither, friend." 
 
 With that, he beckoned the new knight apart, and putting 
 the pattern in his pocket, motioned to him to walk by his 
 side. 
 
 "And so," he said, when they had taken a few turns up 
 and down, "you — you love your master's daughter ? " 
 
 " I do," said the 'prentice. "Honor bright. Xo chatf, you 
 know." 
 
 "Have you," rejoined Mr. Tappertit, catching him by the 
 wrist, and giving him a look which would liave been I'Xjtres- 
 sive of the most deadly malevolence, but for an accidental hic- 
 cough that rather interfered with it ; " have you a — a rival ? " 
 
 " Not as I know on," replied the 'prentice. 
 
 "K you had now" — said Mr. Ta}»i)ertit — "what would 
 you — eh ? " — 
 
 The 'prentice looked licrcc and d inched his lists. 
 
76 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 "It is enough," cried Mr. Tappertit hastily, "we under- 
 stand each other. We are observed. I thank you." 
 
 So saying, he cast him off again; and calling the long 
 comrade aside after taking a few hasty turns by himself, bade 
 him immediately write and post against the wall, a notice, 
 proscribing one Joseph Willet (commonly known as Joe) of 
 Chigwell ; forbidding all 'Prentice Knights to succor, com- 
 fort, or hold communion with him ; and requiring them, on 
 pain of excommunication, to molest, hurt, wrong, annoy, and 
 pick quarrels with the said Joseph, whensoever and where- 
 soever they, or any of them, should happen to encounter him. 
 
 Having relieved his mind by this energetic proceeding, he 
 condescended to approach the festive board, and warming by 
 degrees, at length deigned to preside, and even to enchant the 
 company with a song. After this he rose to such a pitch as 
 to consent to regale the society with a hornpipe, which he 
 actually performed to the music of a fiddle (played by an 
 ingenious member), with such surpassing agility and brilliancy 
 of execution, that the spectators could not be sufficiently 
 enthusiastic in their admiration ; and their host protested, 
 with tears in his eyes, that he had never truly felt his blind- 
 ness until that moment. 
 
 But the host withdrawing — probably to weep in secret — 
 soon returned with the information that it wanted little more 
 than an hour of day, and that all the cocks in Barbican had 
 already begun to crow, as if their lives depended on it. At 
 this intelligence, the 'Prentice Knights arose in haste, and 
 marshalling -into a line, filed off one by one and dispersed 
 with all speed to their several homes, leaving their leader to 
 pass the grating last. 
 
 " Good-night, noble captain," whispered the blind man as 
 he held it open for his passage out; "Farewell brave 
 general. Bye, bye, illustrious commander. Gook luck go 
 with you for a — conceited, bragging, empty-headed, duck- 
 legged idiot." 
 
 With which parting words, coolly added as he listened to 
 his receding footsteps and locked the grate upon himself, he 
 descended the steps, and lighting the fire below the little 
 copper, prepared, without any assistance, for his daily occupa- 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 77 
 
 tion ; which was to retail at the area-head above pennyworths 
 of broth and soup, and savory puddings, compounded of such 
 scraps as were to be bought in the heap for the least money 
 at Fleet Market in the evening time ; and for the sale of 
 which he had need to have depended chiefly on his private 
 connection, for the court had no thoroughfare, and was not 
 that kind of place in which many people were likely to take 
 the air, or to frequent as an agreeable promenade. 
 
78 BABNABT BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 Chroniclers are privileged to enter where they list, to 
 come and go through keyholes, to ride upon the wind, to over- 
 come, in their soarings up and down, all obstacles of distance, 
 time, and place. Thrice blessed be this last consideration, 
 since it enables us to follow the disdainful Miggs even into 
 the sanctity of her chamber, and to hold her in sweet com- 
 panionship through the dreary watches of the night ! 
 
 Miss Miggs, having undone her mistress, as she phrased it 
 (which means, assisted to undress her), and having seen her 
 comfortably to bed in the back room on the first floor, with- 
 drew to her own a^^artment, in the attic story. Notwith- 
 standing her declaration in the locksmith's presence, she was 
 in no mood for sleep ; so, putting her light upon the table 
 and withdrawing the little window curtain, she gazed out 
 pensively at the wild night sky. 
 
 Perhaps she wondered what star was destined for her 
 habitation when she had run her little course below ; perhaps 
 speculated which of those glimmering spheres might be the 
 natal orb of Mr. Tappertit ; perhaps marvelled how they could 
 gaze down on that perfidious creature, man, and not sicken 
 and turn green as chemists' lamps ; perhaps thought of nothing 
 in particular. Whatever she thought about, there she sat, 
 until her attention, alive to an^'thing connected with the 
 insinuating 'prentice, was attracted by a noise in the next 
 room to her own — his room ; the room in which he slept, and 
 dreamed — it might be, sometimes dreamed of her. 
 
 That he was not dreaming now, unless he was taking a 
 walk in his sleep, was clear, for every now and then there 
 came a shuffling noise, as though he were engaged in polish- 
 ing the w^hitewashed wall; then a gentle creaking of his 
 door ; then the faintest indication of his stealthy footsteps on 
 the landing-place outside. Noting this latter circumstance, 
 
BAENABY BUDGE. 79 
 
 Miss Miggs turned pale and shuddered, as mistrusting his 
 intentions ; and more than once exclaimed, below her breath, 
 " Oh ! what a Providence it is, as I am bolted in ! " — which, 
 owing doubtless to her alarm, was a confusion of ideas on her 
 part between a bolt and its use ; for though there was one on 
 the door, it was not fastened. 
 
 Miss Miggs's sense of hearing, however, having as sharp an 
 edge as her temper, and being of the same snappish and 
 suspicious kind, very soon informed her that the footsteps 
 passed her door, and appeared to have some object quite 
 separate and disconnected from herself. At this discovery 
 she became more alarmed than ever, and was about to give 
 utterance to those cries of " Thieves ! " and '•' Murder ! " which 
 she had hitherto restrained, when it occurred to her to look 
 softly out, and see that her fears had some good palpable 
 foundation. 
 
 Looking out accordingly, and stretching her neck over tlia^ 
 handrail, she descried, to her great amazement, Mr. Tappertit 
 completely dressed, stealing down^stairs, one step at a time, 
 with his shoes in one hand and a lamp in the other. Follow- 
 ing him with her eyes, and going down a little way herself to 
 get the better of an intervening angle, she beheld him thrust 
 his head in at the parlor door, draw it back again with great 
 swiftness, and immediately begin a retreat up-stairs with all 
 possible expedition. 
 
 " Here's mysteries ! " said the damsel, when she was safe 
 in her own room again, quite out of breath. '• Oh gracious, 
 here's mysteries ! '' 
 
 The prospect of finding anybody out in anything, would 
 have kept ]\Iiss IMiggs awake under the influence of henbane. 
 Presently, she heard the step again, as she would have done 
 if it had been that of a feather endowed with motion and 
 walking down on tiptoe. Then gliding out as before, she 
 again belield the retreating figure of the 'prentice; again lie 
 looked cautiously in at the parlor door, but this time, instead 
 of retreating, he passed in and disappeared. 
 
 Miggs was back in her room, and had her head out of the 
 window, before an elderly gentleman could have winked and 
 recovered from it. Out he came at the street door, shut it 
 
80 BARNABT RUDGE. 
 
 carefully behind him, tried it with his knee, and swaggered 
 off, putting something in his pocket as he went along. At 
 this spectacle Miggs cried " Gracious ! '' again, and then 
 " Goodness gracious ! " and then, " Goodness gracious me ! " 
 and then, candle in hand, went down-stairs as he had done. 
 Coming to the workshop, she saw the lamp burning on the 
 forge, and everything as Sim had left it. 
 
 "Why I wish I may only have a walking funeral, and 
 never be buried decent with a mourning-coach and feathers, if 
 the boy hasn"t been and made a key for his own self ! " cried 
 Miggs. " Oh the little villain ! " 
 
 This conclusion was not arrived at without consideration, 
 and much peeping and peering about ; nor was it unassisted 
 by the recollection that she had on several occasions come 
 upon the 'prentice suddenly, and found him busy at some 
 mysterious occupation. Lest the fact of Miss Miggs calling 
 him, on whom she stooped to cast a favorable eye, a boy, 
 should create surprise in any breast, it may be observed that 
 she invariably affected to regard all male bipeds under thirty 
 as mere chits and infants ; which phenomenon is not unusual 
 in ladies of Miss Miggs's temper, and is indeed generally 
 found to be the associate of such indomitable and savage 
 virtue. 
 
 Miss Miggs deliberated within herself for some little time, 
 looking hard at the shop door while she did so, as though her 
 eyes and thoughts were both upon it; and then, taking a 
 sheet of paper from a drawer, twisted it into a long thin spiral 
 tube. Having filled this instrument with a quantity of small 
 coal dust from the forge, she approached the door, and 
 dropping on one knee before it, dexterousty blew into the 
 keyhole as much of these fine ashes as the lock would hold. 
 When she had filled it to the brim in a very workmanlike and 
 skilful manner, she crept up-stairs again, and chuckled as she 
 went. 
 
 "There!" cried Miggs rubbing her hands, "now let's see 
 whether you won't be glad to take some notice of me, mister. 
 He, he, he ! You'll have eyes for somebody besides Miss 
 Dolly now, I think. A fat-faced puss she is, as ever / come 
 across ! " 
 
ftii#iiK 
 
 MIGGS ON THE WATCH. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 81 
 
 As she uttered tliis criticism, she glanced approvingly at 
 her small mirror, as who should say, I thank my stars that 
 can't be said of me ; — as it certainly could not ; for Miss 
 Miggs's style of beauty was of that kind which Mr. Tappertit 
 himself had not inaptly termed, in private, " scraggy." 
 
 " I don't go to bed this night ! " said Miggs, wrapping 
 herself in a shawl, and drawing a couple of chairs near the 
 window, flouncing down upon one, and putting her feet upon 
 the other, " till you come home, my lad. I wouldn't," said 
 Miggs viciously, " no, not for five and forty pound ! " 
 
 With that, and with an expression of face in which a great 
 number of opposite ingredients, such as mischief, cunning, 
 malice, triumph, and patient expectation, were all mixed up 
 together in a kind of physiognomical punch, Miss Miggs 
 composed herself to Avait and listen, like some fair ogress who 
 had set a trap and was watching for a nibble from a plump 
 young traveller. 
 
 She sat there, with perfect composure, all night. At length, 
 just upon break of day, there was a footstep in the street, and 
 presently she could hear Mr. Tappertit stop at the door. 
 Then she could make out that he tried his key — that he was 
 blowing into it — that he knocked it on the nearest post to 
 beat the dust out — that he took it under a lamp to look at it 
 — that he poked bits of stick into the lock to clear it — that he 
 peeped into the keyhole, first with one eye, and then with the 
 other — that he tried the key again — that he couldn't turn it, 
 and what was worse couldn't get it out — that he bent it — that 
 then it was much less disposed to come out than before — that 
 he gave it a mighty twist and a great pull, and then it came 
 out so suddenly that he staggered backwards — that he kicked 
 the door — that he shook it — finally, that he smote his fore- 
 head, and sat down on the step in despair. 
 
 When this crisis had arrived. Miss Miggs, affecting to be 
 exhausted with terror, and to cling to the window-sill for 
 support, put out her nightcap, and demanded in a faint voice 
 who was there. 
 
 Mr. Tappertit cried, "Hush!" and, backing into the road, 
 exhorted her in frenzied pantomime to secrecy and silence. 
 
 " Tell me one thing," said Miggs. " Is it thieves ? " 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
82 • BABNABT BUDGE. 
 
 ii's^o — no — no I " cried Mr. Tappertit. 
 
 ''Then/' said ^liggs, more faintly than before, "it's fire. 
 Where is it, sir ? It's near this room, I know. I've a good 
 conscience, sir, and would much rather die than go down a 
 ladder. All I wish is, respecting my love to my married 
 sister, Golden Lion Court, number twenty-sivin, second bell- 
 handle on the right-hand door-post." 
 
 ''Miggs!" cried Mr. Tappertit, "don't you know me? 
 Sim, you know — Sim " — 
 
 " Oh ! what about him ! " cried Miggs, clasping her hands. 
 "Is he in any danger? Is he in the midst of flames and 
 blazes ! Oh, gracious, gracious ! " 
 
 " Why, I'm here, ain't I ? " rejoined Mr. Tappertit, knock- 
 ing himself on the breast. " Don't you see me ? What a 
 fool you are, Miggs ! " 
 
 " There ! " cried Miggs, unmindful of this compliment. 
 " Why — so it — Goodness, what is the meaning of — If you 
 please mim here's " — 
 
 " No, no ! " cried Mr. Tappertit, standing on tiptoe, as if 
 by that means he, in the street, were any nearer being able 
 to stop the mouth of Miggs in the garret. " Don't ! — I've 
 been out without leave, and something or another's the matter 
 with the lock. Come down, and undo the shop window, that 
 I may get in that way." 
 
 "I dursn't do it, Simmun," cried Miggs — for that was her 
 pronunciation of his Christian name. "I dursn't do it, in- 
 deed. You know as well as anybody, how particular I am. 
 And to come down in the dead of night, when the house is 
 wrapped in slumbers and weiled in obscurity." And there 
 she stopped and shivered, for her modesty caught cold at the 
 very thought. 
 
 " But Miggs," cried Mr. Tappertit, getting under the lamp, 
 that she might see his eyes. " My darling Miggs " — 
 
 Miggs screamed slightly. 
 
 " — That I love so much, and never can help thinking of," 
 and it is impossible to describe the use he made of his eyes 
 when he said this — " do — for my sake, do." 
 
 "Oh, Simmun," cried Miggs, "this is worse than all, I 
 know if I come down, you'll go, and " — • 
 
BAUNABY BULGE. . %Z 
 
 " And what, my precious ! " said Mr. Tappertit. 
 
 " And try/' said Miggs, hysterically, " to kiss me, or some 
 such dreadfulness ; I know you will ! " 
 
 "I swear I won't," said Mr. Tappertit, with remarkable 
 earnestness. "Upon my soul, I won't. It's getting broad 
 day, and the watchman's waking up. Angelic iVIiggs! If 
 you'll only come and let me in, I promise you faithfully and 
 truly I won't." 
 
 Miss Miggs, whose gentle heart was touched, did not wait 
 for the oath (knowing how strong the temptation was, and 
 fearing he might forswear himself), but tripped lightly down 
 the stairs, and with her own fair hands drew back the rough 
 fastenings of the workshop window. Having helped the 
 wayward 'prentice in, she faintly articulated the words 
 " Simmun is safe ! " and yielding to her woman's nature, 
 immediately became insensible. 
 
 "I knew I should quench her," said Sim, rather em- 
 barrassed by this circumstance. " Of course I was certain it 
 would come to this, but there was nothing else to be done — 
 if I hadn't eyed her over, she wouldn't have come down. 
 Here. Keep up a minute, jNIiggs. What a slippery figure 
 she is ! There's no holding her, comfortably. Do keep up a 
 minute, Miggs, will you ? " 
 
 As INIiggs, however, was deaf to all entreaties, Mr. Tapper- 
 tit leant her against the wall as one might dispose of a walk- 
 ing-stick or umbrella, until he had secured the window, when 
 he took her in his arms again, and, in short stages and with 
 great difficulty — arising mainly from her being tall and his 
 being short, and perhaps in some degree from that peculiar 
 physical conformation on which he had already remarked — 
 carried her up-stairs, and j)lanting her in the same umbrella 
 or walking-stick fashion, just inside her own door, left her to 
 her repose. 
 
 "He may be as cool as he likes," said i\riss IMiggs, re- 
 covering as soon as she was left alone; "but I'm in his con- 
 fidence and he can't lielp himself, nor couldn't if he was 
 twenty Simmunses ! " 
 
84 BABNABT BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 It was on one of those mornings, common in early spring, 
 when the year, fickle and changeable in its youth, like all 
 other created things, is undecided whether to step backward 
 into winter or forward into summer, and in its uncertainty 
 inclines now to the one and now to the other, and now to 
 both at once — wooing summer in the sunshine, and lingering 
 still with winter in the shade — it was, in short, on one of 
 those mornings, when it is hot and cold, wet and dry, bright 
 and lowering, sad and cheerful, withering and genial, in the 
 compass of one short hour, that old John Willet, who was 
 dropping asleep over the copper boiler, Avas roused by the 
 sound of a horse's feet, and glancing out at window, beheld 
 a traveller of goodly promise checking his bridle at the May- 
 pole door. 
 
 He was none of your flippant youDg fellows, who would 
 call for a tankard of mulled ale, and make themselves as 
 much at home as if they had ordered a hogshead of wine ; 
 none of your audacious young swaggerers, who would even 
 penetrate into the bar — that solemn sanctuary — and, smiting 
 old John upon the back, inquire if there was never a pretty 
 girl in the house, and where he hid his little chambermaids, 
 with a hundred other impertinencies of that nature ; none of 
 your free-and-easy companions, who would scrape their boots 
 upon the fire-dogs in the common room, and be not at all 
 particular on the subject of spittoons ; none of your un- 
 conscionable blades, requiring impossible chops, and taking 
 unheard-of pickles for granted. He was a staid, grave, 
 placid gentleman, something past the prime of life, yet up- 
 right in his carriage, for all that, and slim as a greyhound, 
 He was well mounted upon a sturdy chestnut cob, and had 
 the graceful seat of an experienced horseman ; while his 
 riding-gear, though free from such fopperies as were then 
 
BARNABT RUDGE. 85 
 
 in vogue, was handsome and well chosen. He wore a riding- 
 coat of a somewhat brighter green than might have been 
 expected to suit the taste of a gentleman of his years, with a 
 short black velvet cape, and laced pocket-holes and cuffs, all 
 of a jaunty fashion ; his linen, too, was of the finest kind, 
 worked in a rich pattern at the wrists and throat, and scrupu- 
 lously white. Although he seemed, judging from the mud he 
 had picked up on the way, to have come from London, his 
 horse was as smooth and cool as his own iron-gray periwig 
 and pig-tail. Neither man nor beast had turned a single hair ; 
 and, saving for his soiled skirts and spatterdashes, this gen- 
 tleman with his blooming face, Avhite teeth, exactly ordered 
 dress, and perfect calmness, might have come from making 
 an elaborate and leisurely toilet, to sit for an equestrian 
 portrait at old John Willet's gate. 
 
 It must not be supposed that John observed these several 
 characteristics by other than very slow degrees, or that he 
 took in more than half a one at a time, or that he even made 
 up his mind upon that, without a great deal of very serious 
 consideration. Indeed, if he had been distracted in the first 
 instance by questionings and orders, it would have taken him 
 at the least a fortnight to have noted what is here set down ; 
 but it happened that the gentleman, being struck with the old 
 house, or with the plump pigeons which were skimming and 
 courtesying about it, or with the tall maypole, on the top of 
 which a weathercock, which had been out of order for fifteen 
 years, performed a perpetual walk to the music of its own 
 creaking, sat for some little time looking round in silence. 
 Hence John, standing with his hand upon the horse's bridle, 
 and his great eyes on the rider, and with nothing passing to 
 divert his thoughts, had really got some of these little circum- 
 stances into his brain, by the time he was called upon to 
 speak. 
 
 "A quaint place this," said the gentleman — and his voice 
 was as rich as liis dress. " Are you the landlord ? " 
 
 " At your service, sir," replied Jolin Willet. 
 
 " You can give my horse good stabling, can you, and me 
 an early dinner (I am not particular what, so that it be 
 cleanly served), and a decent room — of which there seems to 
 
86 BATtNABY RUDGR 
 
 be no lack in this great mansion," said the stranger, again 
 running his eyes over the exterior. 
 
 " You can have, sir," returned John, with a readiness quite 
 surprising, " anything you please." 
 
 " It's well I am easily satisfied," returned the other with a 
 smile, '^or that might prove a hardy pledge, my friend." 
 And saying so, he dismounted, with the aid of the block before 
 the door, in a twinkling. 
 
 " Halloa there ! Hugh ! " roared John. " I ask your 
 pardon, sir, for keeping you standing in the porch ; but my 
 son has gone to town on business, and the boy being, as I 
 may say, of a kind of use to me, I'm rather put out when 
 he's away. Hugh ! — a dreadful idle vagrant fellow, sir — half 
 a gypsy, as I think — always sleeping in the sun in summer, 
 and in the straw in winter-time, sir — Hugh ! Dear Lord, to 
 keep a gentleman a-waiting here, through him ! — Hugh ! I 
 wish that chap was dead, I do indeed." 
 
 " Possibly he is," returned the other. " I should think if 
 he were living, he would have heard you by this time." 
 
 " In his fits of laziness, he sleeps so desperate hard," said 
 the distracted host, " that if you were to fire off cannon-balls 
 into his ears, it wouldn't wake him, sir." 
 
 The guest made no remark upon this novel cure for drowsi- 
 ness, and recipe for making people lively, but with his hands 
 clasped behind him, stood in the porch, apparently very much 
 amused to see old John, with the bridle in his hand, waver- 
 ing between a strong impulse to abandon the animal to his 
 fate, and a half disposition to lead him into the house, and 
 shut him up in the parlor, while he waited on his master. 
 
 " Pillory the fellow, here he is at last ! " cried John in the 
 very height and zenith of his distress. "Did you hear me 
 a-calling, villain ? " 
 
 The figure he addressed made no answer, but putting his 
 hand upon the saddle, sprung into it at a bound, turned the 
 horse's head towards the stable, and was gone in an instant. 
 
 "Brisk enough when he is awake," said the guest. 
 
 " Brisk enough, sir ! " replied John, looking at the place 
 where the horse had been, as if not yet understanding quite, 
 what had become of him. " He melts, I think. He goes like a 
 
prmA^T^ 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
BARXABT BUDGE. 87 
 
 drop of froth. You look at him and tliere he is. You look 
 at him again, and — there he isn't." 
 
 Having, in the absence of any more words, put this sudden 
 climax to what he had faintly intended should be a long 
 explanation of the whole life and character of his man, the 
 oracular John Willet led the gentleman up his wide dismantled 
 staircase into the Maypole's best apartment. 
 
 It was spacious enough in all conscience, occupying the 
 whole depth of the house, and having at either end a great 
 bay window, as large as many modern rooms ; in which some 
 few panes of stained glass, emblazoned with fragments of 
 armorial bearings, though cracked, and patched, and shattered, 
 yet remained ; attesting, by their preseuQ^, that the former 
 owner had made the very light subservient to his- state, and 
 pressed the sun itself into his list of flatterers ; bidding it, 
 when it shone into his chamber, reflect the badges of his ancient 
 family, and take new hues and colors from their pride. 
 
 But those were old days, and now every little ray came and 
 went as it would ; telling the jD^ain, bare, searching truth. 
 Although the best room of the inn, it had the melancholy 
 aspect of grandeur in decay, and was much too vast for com- 
 fort. Rich rustling hangings, waving on the walls; and, 
 better far, the rustling of youth and beauty's dress ; the light 
 of women's eyes, outshining the tapers and their own rich 
 jewels ; the sound of gentle tongues, and music, and the tread 
 of maiden feet, had once been there, and tilled it with delight. 
 But they were gone, and with them all its gladness. It was 
 no longer a home ; children were never born and bred there ; 
 the fireside had become mercenary — a something to be bought 
 and sold — a very courtesan: let who would die, or sit beside, 
 or leave it, it was still the same — it missed nobody, cared 
 for nobody, had equal warmth and smiles for all. God lielp 
 the man whose heart ever changes with tlie world, as an old 
 mansion when it becomes an inn ! 
 
 No effort had been made to furnish this chilly waste, but 
 before the broad chimney a colony of chairs and tables had 
 been planted on a square of carpet, flanked by a ghostly 
 screen, enriched with Hgnres. grinning and grotesque. After 
 lighting with his own hands the fagots which were heaped 
 
88 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 upon the hearth, old John withdrew to hold grave council 
 with his cook, touching the stranger's entertainment ; while 
 the guest himself, seeing small comfort in the yet unkindled 
 wood, opened a lattice in the distant window, and basked in a 
 sickly gleam of cold March sun. 
 
 Leaving the window now and then, to rake the crackling 
 logs together, or pace the echoing room from end to end, he 
 closed it when the fire was quite burnt up, and having wheeled 
 the easiest chair into the warmest corner, summoned John 
 Willet. 
 
 " Sir," said John. 
 
 He wanted pen, ink, and paper. There was an old standish 
 on the high mantel-shelf containing a dusty apology for all 
 three. Having set this before him, the landlord was retiring, 
 when he motioned him to stay. 
 
 "There's a house not far from here," said the guest when 
 he had written a few lines, '•' which you call the Warren, I 
 believe ? " 
 
 As this was said in the tone of one who knew the fact, and 
 asked the question as a thing of course, John contented him- 
 self with nodding his head in the affirmative ; at the same 
 time taking one hand out of his pockets to cough behind, and 
 then putting it in again. 
 
 " I Avant this note " — said the guest, glancing on what he 
 had written, and folding it, " conveyed there without loss of 
 time, and an answer brought back here. Have you a mes- 
 senger at hand ? " 
 
 John was thoughtful for a minute or thereabouts, and then 
 said Yes. 
 
 " Let me see him," said the guest. 
 
 This was disconcerting; for Joe being out, and Hugh 
 engaged in rubbing down the chestnut cob, he designed 
 sending on the errand, Barnaby, who had just then arrived 
 in one of his rambles, and who, so that he thought him- 
 self employed on grave and serious business, would go any- 
 where. 
 
 " Why, the truth is," said John after a long pause, " that 
 the person who'd go quickest, is a sort of natural, as one may 
 say, sir ; and though quick of foot, and as much to be trusted 
 

BARNABY BUDGE. 89 
 
 as the post itself, he's not good at talking, being touched and 
 flighty, sir.'' 
 
 " You don't," said the guest, raising his eyes to John's fat 
 face, *^you don't mean — what's the fellow's name — you 
 don't mean Barnaby ? " 
 
 "Yes I do," returned the landlord, his features turning 
 quite expressive with surprise. 
 
 " How comes he to be here ? " inquired the guest, leaning 
 back in his chair ; speaking in the bland, even tone, from 
 which he never varied ; and with the same soft, courteous, 
 never-changing smile upon his face. " I saw him in London 
 last night." 
 
 " He's, forever, here one hour, and there the next," returned 
 old John, after the usual pause to get the question in his 
 mind. " Sometimes he walks, and sometimes runs. He's 
 known along the road by everybody, and sometimes comes 
 here in a cart or chaise, and sometimes riding double. He 
 comes and goes, through wind, rain, snow, and hail, and on the 
 darkest nights. Nothing hurts Az??i." 
 
 " He goes often to this Warren, does he not ? " said the 
 guest carelessly. "I seem to remember his mother telling 
 me something to that effect yesterday. But I was not attend- 
 ing to the good woman much." 
 
 " You're right, sir," John made answer, " he does. His 
 father, sir, was murdered in that house." 
 
 " So I have heard," returned the guest, taking a gold tooth- 
 pick from his pocket with the same sweet smile. "■ A very 
 disagreeable circumstance for the family." 
 
 " Very," said John, with a puzzled look, as if it occurred to 
 l^im, dimly and afar off, that this might by possibility be a 
 cool way of treating the subject. 
 
 "All the circumstances after a murder," said the guest 
 soliloquizing, "must be dreadfully unpleasant — so much bustle 
 and disturbance — no repose — a constant dwelling upon one 
 subject — and the running in and out, and up and down stairs, 
 intolerable. I wouldn't liave such a thing happen to anybody 
 I was nearly interested in, on any account. 'Twould bo 
 enough to wear one's life out. — You were going to say, 
 friend" — he added, turning to John again. 
 
90 BAENABY BUDGE. 
 
 " Only that Mrs. Riidge lives on a little pension from the 
 family, and that Barnaby's as free of the house as any cat or 
 dog about it," answered John. "Shall he do your errand, 
 sir ? " 
 
 " Oh yes," replied the guest. " Oh certainly. Let him do it 
 by all means. Please to bring him here that I may charge 
 him to be quick. If he objects to come you may tell him it's 
 Mr. Chester. He will remember my name I dare say." 
 
 John was so very much astonished to find who his visitor 
 was, that he could express no astonishment at all, by looks 
 or otherwise, but left the room as if he were in the most 
 placid and imperturbable of all possible conditions. It has 
 been reported that when he got down-stairs, he looked steadily 
 at the boiler for ten minutes by the clock, and all that time 
 never once left off shaking his head; for which statement 
 there would seem to be some ground of truth and feasibility, 
 inasmuch as that interval of time did certainly elapse, before 
 he returned with Barnaby to the guest's apartment. 
 
 " Come hither, lad," said Mr. Chester. " You know Mr. 
 Geoffrey Haredale?" 
 
 Barnaby laughed, and looked at the landlord as though he 
 would say, '' You hear him ? " John, who was greatly 
 shocked at this breach of decorum, clapped his finger to his 
 nose, and shook his head in mute remonstrance. 
 
 "He- knOws him, sir," said John, frowning aside at 
 Barnaby, "as well as you or I do." 
 
 " I haven't the pleasure of much acquaintance with the 
 gentleman," returned his guest. " You may have. Limit 
 the comparison to yourself, my friend." 
 
 Although this was said with the same easy affability, and 
 the same smile, John felt himself put down, and laying the 
 indignity at Barnaby's door, determined to kick his raven, on 
 the very first opportunity. 
 
 " Give that," said the guest, who had by this time sealed 
 the note and who beckoned his messenger towards him as he 
 spoke, " into Mr. Haredale's own hands. Wait for an answer, 
 and bring it back to me — here. If you should find that Mr. 
 Haredale is engarg'ed just now, tell him — can he remember a 
 message, landlord ? " 
 
BARXABY BUDGE. 91 
 
 "When he chooses, sir," replied John. "He won't forget 
 this one." 
 
 " How are you sure of that ? " 
 
 John merely pointed to him as he stood with his head bent 
 forward, and his earnest gaze fixed closely on his questioner's 
 face ; and nodded sagely. 
 
 "Tell him then, Barnaby, should he be engaged," said 
 Mr. Chester, " that I shall be glad to wait his convenience 
 here, and to see him (if he will call) at any time this evening. 
 — At the worst I can have a bed here, Willet, I suppose ? " 
 
 Old John, immensely flattered by the personal notoriety 
 implied in this familiar form of address, answered, with some- 
 thing like a knowing look, " 1 should believe you could, sir," 
 and was turning over in his mind various forms of eulogium, 
 with the view of selecting one appropriate to the qualities of 
 his best bed, when his ideas were put to flight by !Mr. Chester 
 giving Barnaby the letter, and bidding him make all speed 
 away. 
 
 " Speed ! " said Barnaby, folding the little packet in his 
 breast, " Speed ! If you want to see hurry and mystery, come 
 here. Here ! " 
 
 With that, he put his hand, very much to John Willet's 
 horror, on the guest's fine broadcloth sleeve, and led him 
 stealthily to the back window. 
 
 " Look down there," he said softly ; " Do you mark how 
 they whisper in each other's ears ; then dance and leap, to 
 make believe they are in sport ? Do you see how they stop 
 for a moment, when they think there is no one looking, and 
 mutter among themselves again ; and then how they roll and 
 gambol, delighted with the mischief they've been plotting ? 
 Look at 'em now. See how they whirl and plunge. And now 
 they stop again, and whisper cautiously together — little 
 thinking, mind, how often I have lain upon the grass and 
 watched them. I say — what is it that they plot and hatch ? 
 Do you know ? " 
 
 " They are only clothes," returned the guest, " such as we 
 wear ; hanging on those lines to dry, and fluttering in the 
 wind." 
 
 " Clothes ! " echoed Barnaby, looking close into his face. 
 
92 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 and falling quickly back. " Ha ha ! Why, how much better 
 to be silly, than as wise as you ! You don't see shadowy 
 people there, like those that live in sleep — not you. Nor eyes 
 in the knotted panes of glass, nor swift ghosts when it blows 
 hard, nor do you hear voices in the air, nor see men stalking 
 in the sky — not you ! I lead a merrier life than you, with 
 all your cleverness. You're the dull men. We're the bright 
 ones. Ha ! ha ! I'll not change with jou, clever as you are, 
 — not I ! " 
 
 With that, he waved his hat above his head, and darted off. 
 
 " A strange creature, upon my word ! " said the guest, 
 pulling out a handsome box, and taking a pinch of snuff. 
 
 " He wants imagination," said IMr. Willet, very slowly and 
 after a long silence ; " that's what he wants. I've tried to 
 instil it into him, many and many's the time ; but " — John 
 added this, in confidence — " he ain't made for it ; that's the 
 fact." 
 
 To record that Mr. Chester smiled at John's remark would 
 be little to the purpose, for he preserved the same conciliatory 
 and pleasant look at all times. He drew his chair nearer to 
 the fire though, as a kind of hint that he would prefer to be 
 alone, and John, having no reasonable excuse for remaining, 
 left him to himself. 
 
 Very thoughtful old John Willet was, while the dinner was 
 preparing ; and if his brain were ever less clear at one time 
 than another, it is but reasonable to suppose that he addled 
 it in no slight degree by shaking his head so much that day. 
 That Mr. Chester, between whom and Mr. Haredale, it was 
 notorious to all the neighborhood, a deep and bitter animosity 
 existed, should come down there for the sole purpose, as it 
 seemed, of seeing him, and should choose the Maypole for 
 their place of meeting, and should send to him express, were 
 stumbling-blocks John could not overcome. The only resource 
 he had, was to consult the boiler, and wait impatiently for 
 Barnaby's return. 
 
 But Barnaby delayed beyond all precedent. The visitor's 
 dinner was served, removed, his wine was set, the fire 
 replenished, the hearth clean swept ; the light waned without, 
 it grew dusk, became quite dark, and still no Barnaby 
 
BAB NAB Y BUDGE. 93 
 
 appeared. Yet, though John Willet was full of wonder and 
 misgiving, his guest sat cross-legged in the easy-chair, to all 
 appearance as little ruffled in his thoughts as in his dress — 
 the same calm, easy, cool, gentleman, without a care or 
 thought beyond his golden toothpick. 
 
 " Barnaby's late," John ventured to observe, as he placed 
 a pair of tarnished candlesticks, some three feet high, upon 
 the table, and snuffed the lights they held. 
 
 " He is rather so," replied the guest, sipping his wine. " He 
 will not be much longer, I dare say." 
 
 John coughed, and raked the fire together. 
 
 "As your roads bear no very good character, if I may judge 
 from my son's mishap, though," said Mr. Chester, "and as I 
 have no fancy to be knocked on the head — which is not only 
 disconcerting at the moment, but places one, besides, in a 
 ridiculous position with respect to the people who chance to 
 pick one up — I shall stop here to-night. I think you said 
 you had a bed to spare." 
 
 " Such a bed, sir," returned John AYillet ; " ay, such a bed 
 as few, even of the gentry's houses, own. A fixter here, sir. 
 I've heard say that bedstead is nigh two hundred years of age. 
 Your noble son — a fine young gentleman — slept in it last, 
 sir, half a year ago." 
 
 " Upon my life, a recommendation ! " said the guest, 
 shrugging his shoulders and wheeling his chair nearer to the 
 fire. " See that it be well aired, Mr. Willet, and let a blazing 
 fire be lighted there at once. This house is something damp 
 and chilly." 
 
 John raked the fagots up again, more from habit than 
 presence of mind, or any reference to this remark, and was 
 about to withdraw, when a bounding step was heard upon the 
 stair, and Barnaby came panting in. 
 
 " He'll have his foot in the stirrup in an hour's time," he 
 cried, advancing. "He has been riding hard all day — has 
 just come home — but will be in the saddle again as soon as 
 he has eat and drank, to meet his loving friend." 
 
 "Was that his message ?" asked the visitor, looking up. 
 but without the smallest discomposure — or at least without 
 smallest show of any. 
 
94 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 "All but the last words," Barnaby rejoined. "He meant 
 those. I saw that in his face." 
 
 " This for your pains," said the other, putting money in his 
 hand, and glancing at him steadfastly. "This for your 
 pains, sharp Barnaby." 
 
 "For Grip, and me, and Hugh, to share among us," he 
 rejoined, putting it up, and nodding, as he counted it on his 
 fingers. " Grip one, me two, Hugh three ; the dog, the 
 goat, the cats, — well, we shall spend it pretty soon, I warn 
 you. Stay. — Look. Do you wise men see nothing there, 
 
 now 
 
 ?" 
 
 He bent eagerly down on one knee, and gazed intently at 
 the smoke, which was rolling up the chimney in a thick 
 black cloud. John Willet, who appeared to consider himself 
 particularly and chiefly referred to under the term wise 
 men, looked that way likewise, and with great solidity of 
 feature. 
 
 " Now, where do they go to, when they spring so fast up 
 there," asked Barnaby ; " eh ? Why do they tread so closely 
 on each other's heels, and why are they always in a hurry — 
 which is what you blame me for, when I only take pattern by 
 these busy folk about me ? More of 'em ! catching to each 
 other's skirts ; and as fast as they go, others come ! What 
 a merry dance it is ! I would that Grip and I could frisk 
 like that ! " 
 
 " What has he in that basket at his back ? " asked the 
 guest after a few moments, during which Barnaby was still 
 bending down to look higher up the chimney, and earnestly 
 watching the smoke. 
 
 " In this ? " he answered, jumping up, before John Willet 
 could reply — shaking it as he spoke, and stooping his head 
 to listen. " In this ! What is there here ? Tell him ! " 
 
 "' A devil, a devil, a devil ! " cried a hoarse voice. 
 
 " Here's money ! " said Barnaby, chinking it in his hand, 
 " money for a treat, Grip ! " 
 
 " Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! " replied the raven, " keep up 
 your spirits. Never say die. Bow, wow, wow ! " 
 
 Mr. Willet, who appeared to entertain strong doubts 
 whether a customer in a laced coat and fine linen could be 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. 95 
 
 supposed to have any acquaintance even with the existence of 
 such unpolite gentry as the bird claimed to belong to, took 
 Barnaby off at this juncture, with the view of preventing any 
 other improper declarations, and quitted the room with his 
 very best bow. 
 
96 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 There was great news that night for the regular Maypole 
 customers, to each of whom, as he straggled in to occupy 
 his allotted seat in the chimney corner, John with a most 
 impressive slowness of delivery, and in an apoplectic whisper, 
 communicated the fact that Mr. Chester was alone in the large 
 room up-stairs, and was waiting the arrival of Mr. Geoffrey 
 Haredale, to whom he had sent a letter (doubtless of a 
 threatening nature) by the hands of Barnaby, then and there 
 present. 
 
 For a little knot of smokers and solemn gossips, who had 
 seldom any new topics of discussion, this was a perfect God- 
 send. Here was a good, dark-looking mystery progressing 
 under that very roof — brought home to the fireside as it were, 
 and enjoyable without the smallest pains or trouble. It is 
 extraordinary what a zest and relish it gave to the drink, and 
 how it heightened the flavor of the tobacco. Every man 
 smoked his pipe with a face of grave and serious delight, and 
 looked at his neighbor with a sort of quiet congratulation. 
 Nay, it was felt to be such a holiday and special night, that, 
 on the motion of little Solomon Daisy, every man (including 
 John himself) put down his sixpence for a can of flip, which 
 grateful beverage was brewed with all despatch, and set down 
 in the midst of them on the brick floor ; both that it might 
 simmer and stew before the fire, and that its fragrant steam, 
 rising up among them and mixing with the wreaths of vapor 
 from their pipes, might shroud them in a delicious atmosphere 
 of their own and shut out all the world. The very furniture 
 of the room seemed to mellow and -deepen in its tone ; the 
 ceiling and walls looked blacker and more highly polished, 
 the curtains of a ruddier red ; the fire burned clear and high, 
 and the crickets in the hearth-stone chirped with a more than 
 wonted satisfaction. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 97 
 
 There were present two, however, who showed but little 
 interest in the general contentment. Of these, one was 
 Barnaby himself, who slept, or, to avoid being beset with 
 questions, feigned to sleep, in the chimney corner ; the other, 
 Hugh, who, sleeping too, lay stretched upon the bencli on the 
 opposite side, in the full glare of the blazing fire. 
 
 The light that fell upon this slumbering form, showed it in 
 all its muscular and handsome proportions. It was that of a 
 young man, of a hale athletic figure, and a giant's strength, 
 whose sunburned face and swarthy throat, overgrown with jet 
 black hair, might have served a painter for a model. Loosely 
 attired, in the coarsest and roughest garb, with scraps of straw 
 and hay — his usual bed — clinging here and there, and 
 mingling with his uncombed locks, he had fallen asleep in a 
 posture as careless as his dress. The negligence and disorder 
 of the whole man, with something fierce and sullen in his 
 features, gave him a picturesque appearance, that attracted 
 the regards even of the Maypole customers who knew him 
 well, and caused Long Parkes to say that Hugh looked more 
 like a poaching rascal to-night than ever he had seen him yet. 
 
 " He's waiting here, I suppose," said Solomon, " to take 
 Mr. Haredale's horse." 
 
 " That's it, sir," replied John Willet. " He's not often in 
 the house, j^ou know. He's more at his ease among horses 
 than men. I look upon him as a animal himself." 
 
 Following up this opinion with a shrug that seemed meant 
 to say, "we can't expect everybody to be like us," John put 
 his pipe into his mouth again, and smoked like one who felt 
 his superiority over the general run of mankind. 
 
 " That chap, sir," said John, taking it out again after a 
 time, and pointing at him with the stem, " though he's got all 
 his faculties about him — bottled up and corked down if I 
 may say so, somewheres or another " — 
 
 " Very good ! " said Parkes, nodding his head. " A very 
 good expression, Johnny. You'll be a-tackling somebody 
 presently. You're in twig to-night, I see." 
 
 " Take care," said Mr. Willet, not at all grateful for tlie 
 compliment, " that I don't tackle you, sir, wliicli I shall 
 certainly endeavor to do, if you interrupt me wlien I'm 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
98 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 making observations. — That chap, I was a-saying, though he 
 has all his faculties about him, somewheres or another, bottled 
 up and corked down, has no more imagination than Barnaby 
 has. And why hasn't he ? " 
 
 The three friends shook their heads at each other ; saying 
 by that action, without the trouble of opening their lips, " Do 
 you observe what a philosophical mind our friend has ? " 
 
 " Why hasn't he ? " said John, gently striking the table 
 with his open hand. " Because they was never drawed out of 
 him when he was a boy. That's why. What would any of 
 us have been, if our fathers hadn't drawed our faculties out 
 of us ? What would my boy Joe have been, if I hadn't 
 drawed his faculties out of him — Do you mind what I'm 
 a-sayiug of, gentlemen ? " 
 
 " Ah ! we mind you," cried Parkes. " Go on improving of 
 us, Johnny." 
 
 " Consequently, then," said Mr. Willet, " that chap, whose 
 mother was hung when he was a little boy, along with six 
 others, for passing bad notes — and it's a blessed thing to 
 think how many people are hung in batches every six weeks 
 for that, and such like offences, as showing how Avide awake 
 our government is — that chap was then turned loose, and had 
 to mind cows, and frighten birds away, and what not, for a 
 few pence to live on, and so got on by degrees to mind horses, 
 and to sleep in course of time in lofts and litter, instead of 
 under haystacks and hedges, till at last he come to be hostler 
 at the Maypole for his board and lodging and a annual trifle — 
 that chap that can't read nor write, and has never had much 
 to do with anything but animals, and has never lived in any 
 way but like the animals he has lived among, is a animal. 
 And," said Mr. Willet, arriving at his logical conclusion, "is 
 to be treated accordingly." 
 
 "Willet," said Solomon Daisy, who had exhibited some 
 impatience at the intrusion of so unworthy a subject on their 
 more interesting theme, " when Mr. Chester come this morn- 
 ing, did he order the large room ? " 
 
 "He signified, sir," said John, "that he wanted a large 
 apartment. Yes. Certainly." 
 
 "Why then, I'll tell you what," said Solomon, speaking 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. 99 
 
 softly and with an earnest look. " He and Mr. Haredale are 
 going to fight a duel in it." 
 
 Everybody looked at Mr. Willet, after this alarming sugges- 
 tion. Mr. Willet looked at the fire, weighing in his own mind 
 the effect which such an occurrence would be likely to have 
 on the establishment. 
 
 "Well," said John, "I don't know — I am sure — I remem- 
 ber that when I went up last, he had put the lights upon the 
 mantel-shelf." 
 
 "It's as plain," returned Solomon, "as the nose on Parkes's 
 face" — Mr. Parkes, who had a large nose, rubbed it, and 
 looked as if he considered this a personal allusion — "they'll 
 fight in that room. You know by the newspapers what a 
 common thing it is for gentlemen to fight in coffee-houses 
 without seconds. One of 'em will be wounded or perhaps 
 killed in this house." 
 
 " That was a challenge that Barnaby took then, eh ? " said 
 John. 
 
 a — Enclosing a slip of paper with the measure of his sword 
 upon it, I'll bet a guinea," answered the little man. "We 
 know what sort of gentleman INIr. Haredale is. You have 
 told us what Barnaby said about his looks, when he came 
 back. Depend upon it I'm right. Now, mind." 
 
 The flip had had no flavor till now. The tobacco had been 
 of mere English growth, compared with its present taste. A 
 duel in that great old rambling room up-stairs, and the best 
 bed ordered already for the wounded man ! 
 
 " Would it be swords or pistols now ? " said John. 
 
 "Heaven knows. Perhaps both," returned Solomon. "The 
 gentlemen wear swords, and may easily have pistols in their 
 pockets — most likely have, indeed. If they fire at each other 
 without effect, then they'll draw, and go to work in earnest." 
 
 A shade passed over jNIr. Willet's face as he thought of 
 broken windows and disabled furniture, but bethinking him- 
 self that one of the parties would probably be left alive to pay 
 the damage, he brightened up again. 
 
 "And then," said Solomon, looking from face to face, "then 
 we shall have one of those stains upon tlie floor that never 
 come out. If Mr. Haredale wins, depend upon it, it'll be a 
 
100 BAEXABY BUDGE. 
 
 deep one ; or if he loses, it will perhaps be deeper still, for 
 he'll never give in unless he's beaten down. We know him 
 better, eh ? " 
 
 " Better indeed ! " they whispered all together. 
 
 "As to its ever being got out again," said Solomon, "I tell 
 you it never will, or can be. Why, do you know that it has 
 been tried, at a certain house we are acquainted with ? " 
 
 " The Warren ! " cried John. " No, sure ! " 
 
 "Yes, sure — yes. It's only known by very few. It has 
 been whispered "about though, for all that. They planed the 
 board away, but there it was. They went deep, but it went 
 deeper. They put new boards down, but there was one great 
 spot that came through still, and showed itself in the old 
 place. And — harkye — draw nearer — Mr. Geoffrey made 
 that room his study, and sits there, always, with his foot (as I 
 have heard) upon it ; and he believes through thinking of it 
 long and very much, that it will never fade until he finds the 
 man who did the deed." 
 
 As this recital ended, and they all drew closer round the 
 fire, the tramp of a horse was heard without. 
 
 "The very man!" cried John, starting up. "'Hugh! 
 Hugh ! " 
 
 The sleeper staggered to his feet, and hurried after him. 
 John quickly returned, ushering in with great attention and 
 deference (for j\Ir. Haredale was his landlord) the long- 
 expected visitor, who strode into the room clanking his heavy 
 boots upon the floor; and looking keenly round upon the 
 bowing group, raised his hat in acknowledgment of their 
 profound respect. 
 
 "You have a stranger here, AVillet, who sent to me," he 
 said, in a voice which sounded naturally stern and deep. 
 " Where is he ? " 
 
 " In the great room up-stairs, sir," answered John. 
 
 " Show the way. Your staircase is dark, I know. Gentle- 
 men, good-night." 
 
 With that, he signed to the landlord to go on before ; and 
 went clanking out, and up the stairs ; old John, in his agita- 
 tion^-ingeniously lighting everything but the way, and making 
 a stumble at ever}^ second step. 
 
BAIiXABY RUDGE. 101 
 
 ^^ Stop ! ^' he said, Avhen they reached the Landing. " I can 
 announce myself. Don't wait." 
 
 He laid his hand upon the door, entered, and shut it heavily. 
 Mr. Willet was by no means disposed to stand there listening 
 by himself, especially as the walls were very thick ; so 
 descended, with much greater alacrity than he had come up, 
 and joined his friends below. 
 
102 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIT. 
 
 There was a brief pause in the state-room of the Maypole, 
 as Mr. Haredale tried the lock to satisfy himself that he had 
 shut the door securely, and, striding up the dark chamber to 
 where the screen enclosed a little patch of light and warmth, 
 presented himself, abruptly and in silence, before the smiling 
 guest. 
 
 If the two had no greater sympathy in their inward 
 thoughts than in their outward bearing and appearance, the 
 meeting did not seem likely to prove a very calm or pleasant 
 one. With no great disparity between them in point of years, 
 they were, in every other respect, as unlike and far removed 
 from each other as two men could well be. The one was soft- 
 spoken, delicately made, precise, and elegant; the other, a 
 burly square-built man, negligently dressed, rough and abrupt 
 in manner, stern, and, in his present mood, forbidding both in 
 look and speech. The one preserved a calm and placid smile ; 
 the other, a distrustful frown. The new-comer, indeed, appeared 
 bent on showing by his every tone and gesture his determined 
 opposition and hostility to the man he had come to meet. The 
 guest who received him, on the other hand, seemed to feel 
 tliat the contrast between them was all in his favor, and to 
 derive a quiet exultation from it which put him more at his 
 ease than ever. 
 
 "Haredale," said this gentleman, without the least appear- 
 ance of embarrassment or reserve, ^'I am very glad to see 
 you." 
 
 "Let us dispense with compliments. They are misplaced 
 between us," returned the other, waving his hand, "and say 
 plainly what we have to say. You have asked me to meet 
 you. I am here. Why do we stand face to face again ? " 
 
 " Still the same frank and sturdy character, I see ! " 
 
 " Good or bad, sir, I am," returned the other, leaning his 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 103 
 
 arm upon the chimney-piece, and turning a haughty look 
 upon the occupant of the easy-chair, ''the man I used to be. 
 I have lost no old likings or dislikings ; my memory has not 
 failed me by a hair's-breadth. You ask me to give you a 
 meeting. I say, I am here." 
 
 " Our meeting, Haredale," said Mr. Chester, tapping his 
 snuff-box, and following with a smile the impatient gesture 
 he had made — perhaps unconsciously — towards his sword, 
 " is one of conference and peace, I hope ? " 
 
 "I have come here," returned the other, "at your desire, 
 holding myself bound to meet you, when and where you 
 would. I have not come to bandy pleasant speeches, or 
 hollow professions. You are a smooth man of the world, sir, 
 and at such play have me at a disadvantage. The very last 
 man on this earth with whom I would enter the lists to 
 combat with gentle compliments and masked faces, is Mr. 
 Chester, I do assure you. I am not his match at such 
 weapons, and have reason to believe that few men are." 
 
 "You do me a great deal of honor, Haredale," returned 
 the other, most composedly, "and I thank you. I will be 
 frank with you " — 
 
 " I beg your pardon — will be what ? " 
 
 "Frank — open — perfectly candid." 
 
 " Hah ! " cried ^Ir. Haredale, drawing in his breath. " But 
 don't let me interrupt you." 
 
 " So resolved am I to hold this course," returned the other, 
 tasting his wine with great deliberation, " that I have deter- 
 mined not to quarrel with you, and not to be betrayed into a 
 warm expression or a hasty word." 
 
 "There again," said Mr. Haredale, "you will have me at 
 a great advantage. Your self-command " — 
 
 " Is not to be disturbed, when it will serve my purpose, 
 you would say," — rejoined the other, interrupting him with 
 the same complacency. " Granted. I allow it. And I have 
 a purpose to serve now. So have you. I am sure our object 
 is the same. Let us attain it like sensible men, who have 
 ceased to be boys some time. — Do you drink ? " 
 
 " With iny friends," returned the other. 
 
 " At least," said I\Ir. Chester, " vou will be seated ? " 
 
104 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 "I will stand,'' returned ]\[r. Haredale, impatiently, "on 
 this dismantled beggared hearth, and not pollute it, fallen as 
 it is, with mockeries. Go on ! " 
 
 " You are wrong, Haredale," said the other crossing his 
 legs, and smiling as he held his glass up in the bright glow 
 of the lire. "You are really very w^rong. The world is a 
 lively place enough, in which we must accommodate ourselves 
 to circumstances, sail with the stream as glibly as we can, be 
 content to take froth for substance, the surface for the depth, 
 the counterfeit for the real coin. I wonder no philosopher 
 has ever established that our globe itself is hollow. It 
 should be, if Nature is consistent in her works." 
 
 ''You think it is, perhaps ? " 
 
 "I should say," he returned, sipping his wine, "there 
 could be no doubt about it. Well ; we, in our trifling with 
 this jingling toy, have had the ill-luck to jostle and fall out. 
 We are not what the world calls friends ; but we are as good 
 and true and loving friends for all that, as nine out of every 
 ten of those on whom it bestows the title. You have a niece, 
 and I a son — a fine lad, Haredale, but foolish. They fall in 
 love with each other, and form what this same world calls an 
 attachment ; meaning a something fanciful and false like all 
 the rest, which, if it took its own free time, would break like 
 any other bubble. But it may not have its own free time — 
 w411 not, if they are left alone — and the question is, shall we 
 two, because society calls us enemies, stand aloof, and let 
 them rush into each other's arms, w^hen, by approaching each 
 other sensibly, as w^e do now, we can prevent it, and part 
 them ? " 
 
 " I love my niece," said Mr. Haredale, after a short silence. 
 " It may sound strangely in your ears ; but I love her." 
 
 " Strangely, my good fellow ! " cried Mr. Chester, lazily 
 filling his glass again, and pulling out his toothpick. "Not 
 at all. I like Ned too — or, as 3'ou say, love him — that's the 
 word among such near relations. I'm very fond of Ned. 
 He's an amazingly good fellow, and a handsome fellow — 
 foolish and weak as yet ; that's all. But the thing is, 
 Haredale — for I'll be very frank, as I told you I would at 
 first — independently of any dislike that you and I might 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. 105 
 
 have to being related to each other, and independently of the 
 religious differences between us — and damn it, that's im- 
 portant — I couldn't afford a match of this description. Ned 
 and I couldn't do it. It's impossible." 
 
 " Curb your tongue, in God's name, if this conversation is 
 to last," retorted Mr. Haredale fiercely. " I have said I love 
 ray niece. Do you think that, loving her, I would have her 
 fling her heart away on any man who had your blood in his 
 veins ? " 
 
 "You see," said the other, not at all disturbed, "the 
 advantage of being so frank and open. Just what I was 
 about to add, upon my honor ! I am amazingly attached to 
 Ned — quite dote upon him, indeed — and even if we could 
 afford to throw ourselves away, that very objection would be 
 quite insuperable. — I wish you'd take some wine." 
 
 "Mark me," said Mr. Haredale, striding to the table, and 
 laying his hand u^^on it heavily. " If any man believes — 
 presumes to think — that I, in word, or deed, or in the wildest 
 dream, ever entertained remotely the idea of Emma Hare- 
 dale's favoring the suit of one who was akin to you — in any 
 way — I care not what — he lies. He lies, and does me 
 grievous wrong, in the mere thought." 
 
 " Haredale," returned the other, rocking himself to and fro 
 as in assent, and nodding at the tire, " it's extremely manly, 
 and really very generous in you, to meet me in this unreserved 
 and handsome way. Upon my word, those are exactly my 
 sentiments, only expressed with much more force and power 
 than I could use — you know my sluggish nature, and will 
 forgive me, I am sure." 
 
 " Wliile I would restrain her from all correspondence with 
 your son, and sever their intercourse here, though it should 
 cause her death," said Mr. Haredale, who had been pacing to 
 and fro, " I would do it kindly and tenderly if I can. I have 
 a trust to discharge which my nature is not formed to under- 
 stand, and, for this reason, the bare fact of there being any 
 love between them comes upon me to-night, almost for the 
 first time." 
 
 " I am more delighted than I can possibly tell you," 
 rejoined Mr. Chester with tlie utmost bhindness, "to find my 
 
106 BARNABT RUDGE. 
 
 own impression so confirmed. You see the advantage of our 
 having met. We understand each other. We quite agree. 
 We have a most complete and thorough explanation, and we 
 know what course to take. — Why don't you taste your 
 tenant's wine ? It's really very good." 
 
 " Pray who," said Mr. Haredale, '- have aided Emma, or 
 your son ? Who are their go-betweens, and agents — do you 
 know ? " 
 
 " All the good people hereabouts — the neighborhood in 
 general, I think," returned the other, with his most affable 
 smile. " The messenger I sent to you to-day, foremost among 
 them all." 
 
 " The idiot ? Barnaby ? " 
 
 "You are surprised ? I am glad of that, for I was rather 
 so myself. Yes. I wrung that from his mother — a very 
 decent sort of woman — from whom, indeed, I chiefly learned 
 how serious the matter had become, and so determined to ride 
 out here to-day, and hold a parley with you on this neutral 
 ground, — You're stouter than you used to be, Haredale, but 
 you look extremely well." 
 
 " Our business, I presume, is nearly at an end," said Mr. 
 Haredale, with an expression of impatience he was at no 
 pains to conceal. "Trust me, Mr. Chester, my niece shall 
 change from this time. I will appeal," he added in a lower 
 tone, "to her woman's heart, her dignity, her pride, her 
 duty " — 
 
 " I shall do the same by Ned," said Mr. Chester, restoring 
 some errant fagots to their places in the grate with the toe 
 of his boot. " If there is anything real in the world, it is 
 those amazingly fine feelings and those natural obligations 
 which must subsist between father and son. I shall put it to 
 him on every ground of moral and religious feeling. I shall 
 represent to him that we cannot possibly afford it — that I 
 have always looked forward to his marrying well, for a 
 genteel provision for myself in the autumn of life — that there 
 are a great many clamorous dogs to pay, whose claims are 
 perfectly just and right, and who must be paid out of his 
 wife's fortune. In short that the very highest and most 
 honorable feelings of our nature, with every consideration of 
 
BAENABT BUDGE. 107 
 
 filial duty and affection, and all that sort of thing, impera- 
 tively demand that he should run away with an heiress." 
 
 " And break her heart as speedily as possible ? " said Mr. 
 Haredale, drawing on his glove. 
 
 " There Ned will act exactly as he pleases," returned the 
 other, sipping his wine ; " that's entirely his affair. I 
 wouldn't for the world interfere with my son, Haredale, 
 beyond a certain point. The relationship between father and 
 son, you know, is positively quite a holy kind of bond. — 
 WonH you let me persuade you to take one glass of wine ? 
 Well ! as you please, as you please/' he added, helping 
 himself again. 
 
 " Chester," said Mr. Haredale, after a short silence, during 
 which he had eyed his smiling face from time to time intently, 
 " you have the head and heart of an evil spirit in all matters 
 of deception." 
 
 " Your health ! " said the other, with a nod. " But I have 
 interrupted you " — 
 
 " If now," pursued Mr. Haredale, '' we should find it difficult 
 to separate these young people, and break off their intercourse 
 
 — if, for instance, you find it difficult on your side, what course 
 do you intend to take ? " 
 
 " Nothing plainer, my good fellow, nothing easier," returned 
 the other, shrugging his shoulders and stretching himself more 
 comfortably before the fire. "I shall then exert those powers 
 on which you flatter me so highly — though, upon my word, 
 I don't deserve your compliments to their full extent — and 
 resort to a few little trivial subterfuges for rousing jealousy 
 and resentment. You see ? " 
 
 " In short, justifying the means by the end, we are, as a last 
 resource for tearing them asunder, to resort to treachery and 
 
 — and lying," said Mr. Haredale. 
 
 "Oh, dear, no. Fie, fie!" returned the other, relishing a 
 pinch of snuff extremely. "Not lying. Only a little manage- 
 ment, a little diplomacy, a little — intriguing; that's the word." 
 
 " I wish," said jNIr. Haredale, moving to and fro, and stopping, 
 and moving on again, like one who was ill at ease, ''that this 
 could have been foreseen or prevented. But as it has gone so 
 far, and it is necessary for us to act, it is of no use shrinking 
 
BAKNABT RUUGE. 109 
 
 pulled them off, and, by opening his eyes much wider than 
 usual, to appear to express some surprise and disappointment 
 at not finding them full of blood. He took occasion, too, to 
 examine the gentleman as closely as he could, expecting to 
 discover sundry loop-holes in his person, pierced by his adver- 
 sa,ry's sword. Finding none, however, and observing in course 
 of time that his guest was as cool and unruffled, both in his 
 dress and temper, as he had been all day, old John at last 
 heaved a deep sigh, and began to think no duel had been 
 fought that night. 
 
 "And now, Willet," said Mr. Chester, "if the room's well 
 aired, I'll try the merits of that famous bed." 
 
 "The room, sir," returned John, taking up the candle, and 
 nudging Barnaby and Hugh to accompany them, in case the 
 gentleman should unexpectedly drop down faint or dead from 
 some internal wound, " the room's as warm as any toast in a 
 tankard. Barnaby, take you that other candle, and go on 
 before. Hugh ! Follow up, sir, with the easy-chair." 
 
 In this order — and still, in his earnest inspection, holding 
 his candle very close to the guest ; now making him feel 
 extremely warm about the legs, now threatening to set his 
 wig on fire, and constantly begging his pardon with great 
 awkwardness and embarrassment — John led the part}^ to the 
 best bedroom, which was nearly as large as the chamber from 
 which they had come, and held, drawn out near the fire for 
 warmth, a great old spectral bedstead, liung with faded bro- 
 cade, and ornamented, at the top of each carved post, with a 
 plume of feathers that had once been white, but with dust and 
 age had now grown hearse-like and funereal. 
 
 "Good-night, my friends," said Mr. Chester with a SAveet 
 smile, seating himself, when he had surveyed the room from 
 end to end, in the easy-chair which his attendants wheeled 
 before the fire. " Good-night ! Barnaby, my good fellow, you 
 say some prayers before you go to bed, I hope ? " 
 
 Barnaby nodded. " He has some nonsense that he calls his 
 prayers, sir," returned old John, officiously. "I'm afraid there 
 ain't much good in 'em." 
 
 "And Hugh ?" said Mr. Chester, turning to liim. 
 
 "Not I," he answered. " I know Ins" — i)ointing to Barnaby 
 
110 BABNABT RUDGE. 
 
 — "they're well enough. He sings 'em sometimes in the straw. 
 I listen." 
 
 "He's quite a animal, sir," John whispered in his ear with 
 dignity. " You'll excuse him, I'm sure. If he has any soul at 
 all, sir, it must be such a very small one, that it don't signify 
 what he does or doesn't in that way. Good-night, sir ! " 
 
 The guest rejoined " God bless you ! " with a fervor that was 
 quite affecting ; and John, beckoning his guards to go before, 
 bowed himself out of the room, and left him to his rest in the 
 Maypole's ancient bed. 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. Ill 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 If Joseph Willet, the denounced and proscribed of 'pren- 
 tices, had happened to be at home when his father's courtly 
 guest presented himself before the Maypole door — that is, if 
 it had not perversely chanced to be one of the half-dozen days 
 in the whole year on which he was at liberty to absent himself 
 for as many hours without question or reproach — he would 
 have contrived, by hook or crook, to dive to the very bottom 
 of Mr. Chester's mystery, and to come at his purpose with as 
 much certainty as though he had been his confidential adviser. 
 In that fortunate case, the lovers would have had quick warn- 
 ing- of the ills that threatened them, and the aid of various 
 timely and wise suggestions to boot ; for all Joe's readiness of 
 thought and action, and all his sympathies and good wislies, 
 were enlisted in favor of the young people, and were stanch 
 in devotion to their cause. Whether this disposition arose out 
 of his old prepossessions in favor of the young lady, whose 
 history had surrounded her in his mind, almost from liis cradle, 
 with circumstances of unusual interest ; or from his attach- 
 ment towards the young gentleman, into whose confidence he 
 had, through his shrewdness and alacrity, and the rendering 
 of sundry important services as a spy and messenger, almost 
 imperceptibly glided ; whether they had their origin in either 
 of these sources, or in the habit natural to youth, or in the 
 constant badgering and worrying of his venerable parent, or in 
 any hidden little love affair of his own which gave liim some- 
 thing of a fellow-feeling in the matter, it is needless to inquire 
 — especially as Joe was out of the way, and had no opportu- 
 nity on that particular occasion of testifying to his sentiments 
 either on one side or the other, 
 
 It was, in fact, the twenty-fifth of INfarch, which, as most 
 people know to their cost, is, and has been time out of mind, 
 one of those unpleasant epoclis tiMincd (piarter-days. On tliis 
 
112 BARNABY RUBGE. 
 
 twenty-fifth of March, it was John Willet's pride annually to 
 settle, in hard cash, his account with a certain vintner and dis- 
 tiller in the city of London ; to give into whose hands a canvas 
 bag containing its exact amount, and not a penny more or less, 
 was the end and object of a journey for Joe, so surely as the 
 year and day came round. 
 
 This journey was performed upon an old gray mare, con- 
 cerning whom John had an indistinct set of ideas hovering 
 about him, to the effect that she coukl win a plate or cup if 
 she tried. She never had tried, and probably never would 
 now, being some fourteen or fifteen years of age, short in 
 wind, long in body, and rather the worse for wear in respect 
 of her mane and tail. Xotwithstanding these slight defects, 
 John perfectly gloried in the animal; and when she was 
 brought round to the door by Hugh, actually retired into the 
 bar, and there, in a secret grove of lemons, laughed with 
 pride. 
 
 " There's a bit of horseflesh, Hugh ! " said John, when he 
 had recovered enough self-command to appear at the door 
 again. '' There's a comely creatur ! There's high mettle ! 
 There's bone ! " 
 
 There was bone enough beyond all doubt ; and so Hugh 
 seemed to think, as he sat sideways in the saddle, lazily 
 doubled up with his chin nearly touching his knees ; and 
 heedless of the dangling stirrups and loose bridle-rein, saun- 
 tered up and down on the little green before the door. 
 
 "Mind you take good care of her, sir," said John, appeal- 
 ing from this insensible person to his son and heir, who now 
 appeared, fully equipped and ready. "Don't you ride hard." 
 
 "I should be puzzled to do that, I think, father," Joe 
 replied, casting a disconsolate look at the animal. 
 
 "None of your impudence, sir, if you please," retorted old 
 John. " What would you ride, sir ? A wild ass or zebra 
 would be too tame for you, wouldn't he, eh, sir ? You'd like 
 to ride a roaring lion, wouldn't you, sir, eh, sir ? Hold your 
 tongue, sir." When Mr. Willet, in his differences with his 
 son, had exhausted all the questions that occurred to him, 
 and Joe had said nothing at all in answer, he generally wound 
 up by bidding him hold his tongue. 
 
BARXABT RUDGE. 113 
 
 "And what does the boy mean," added 'Mv. Willet, after 
 he had stared at him for a little time, in a species of stupe- 
 faction, " by cocking his hat to such an extent ! Are you 
 a-going to kill the wintner, sir ? " 
 
 " Xo," said Joe, tartly ; " I'm not. Now your mind's at 
 ease, father." 
 
 "With a milintary air, too!" said Mr. Willet, surveying 
 him from top to toe ; " with a sw^aggering, fire-eating, biling- 
 water drinking sort of way with him ! And what do you 
 mean by pulling up the crocuses and snowdrops, eh, sir ?" 
 
 " It's only a little nosegay, said Joe, reddening. " There's 
 no harm in that, I hope ? " 
 
 " You're a boy of business, you are, sir ! " said Mr. Willet, 
 disdainfully, " to go supposing that wintners care for nose- 
 gays." 
 
 "I don't suppose anything of the kind," returned Joe. 
 " Let them keep their red noses for bottles and tankards. 
 These are going to Mv. Varden's house." 
 
 "And do you suppose he minds such things as crocuses?" 
 demanded John. 
 
 "I don't know, and to say the truth, I don't care," said Joe. 
 "Come, father, give me the money, and in the name of patience 
 let me go." 
 
 "There it is, sir," replied John ; "'and take care of it; and 
 mind you don't make too much haste back, but give the mare 
 a long rest. — Do you mind ? " 
 
 " Ay, I mind," returned Joe. " She'll need it. Heaven 
 knows." 
 
 " And don't you score up too much at the Black Lion," said 
 John. " Mind that too." 
 
 "Then why don't you let me have some money of my 
 own?" retorted Joe, sorrowfully; "why don't you, father? 
 What do you send me into London for, giving me only the 
 right to call for my dinner at the Black Lion, which you're 
 to pay for next time you go, as if I was not to be trusted 
 with a few shillings ? Why do you use me like this ? It's 
 not right of you. You can't ex})ect me to be quiet under it." 
 
 "Let him have money ! " cried John in a drowsy reverie. 
 "What does he call money — guineas? Hasn't he got 
 
 VOL. T. 
 
114 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 money ? Over and above the tolls, hasn't he one and six- 
 pence ? " 
 
 "One and sixpence ! " repeated his son contemptuously. 
 
 "Yes, sir," returned John, "one and sixpence. When I 
 was your age, I had never seen so much money, in a heap. 
 A shilling of it is in case of accidents — the mare casting a 
 shoe, or the like of that. The other sixpence is to spend in 
 the diversions of London ; and the diversion I recommend is 
 going to the top of the Monument, and sitting there. There's 
 no temptation there, sir — no drink — no young women — no 
 bad characters of any sort — nothing but imagination. That's 
 the way I enjoyed myself when I was your age, sir." 
 
 To this Joe made no answer, but beckoning Hugh, leaped 
 into the saddle and rode away ; and a very stalwart, manly 
 horseman he looked, deserving a better charger than it was 
 his fortune to bestride. John stood staring after him, or 
 rather after the gray mare (for he had no eyes for her rider), 
 until man and beast had been out of sight some twenty 
 minutes, when he began to think they were gone, and slowly 
 re-entering the house, fell into a gentle doze. 
 
 The unfortunate gray mare, who was the agony of Joe's 
 life, floundered along at her own will and pleasure until the 
 Maypole was no longer visible, and then, contracting her legs 
 into what in a puppet would have been looked upon as a 
 clumsy and awkward imitation of a canter, mended her pace 
 all at once, and did it of her own accord. The acquaintance 
 with her rider's usual mode of proceeding, which suggested 
 this improvement in hers, impelled her likewise to turn up a 
 by-way, leading — not to London, but through lanes running 
 ])arallel with the road they had come, and passing within a 
 few hundred yards of the Maypole, which led finally to an 
 enclosure surrounding a large, old, red-brick mansion — the 
 same of which mention was made as the Warren in the first 
 chapter of this history. Coming to a dead stop, in a little 
 copse thereabout, she suffered her rider to dismount with 
 right good-will, and to tie her to the trunk of a tree. 
 
 " Stay there, old girl," said Joe, " and let us see whether 
 there's any little commission for me to-day." So saying, he 
 left her to browse upon such stunted grass and weeds as hap- 
 

 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 115 
 
 pened to grow within the length of her tether, and passing 
 through a wicket gate, entered the grounds on foot. 
 
 The pathway, after a very few minutes' walking, brought 
 him close to the house, towards which, and especially towards 
 one particular window, he directed many covert glances. It 
 was a dreary, silent building, with echoing courtyards, deso- 
 lated turret-chambers, and whole suites of rooms shut up and 
 mouldering to ruin. 
 
 The terrace-garden, dark with the shade of overhanging 
 trees, had an air of melancholy that was quite oppressive. 
 Great iron gates, disused for many years, and red with rust, 
 drooping on their hinges and overgrown with long rank grass, 
 seemed as though they tried to sink into the ground, and hide 
 their fallen state among the friendly weeds. The fantastic 
 monsters on the walls, green with age and damp, and covered 
 here and there with moss, looked grim and desolate. There 
 was a sombre aspect even on that part of the mansion which 
 was inhabited and kept in good repair, that struck the be- 
 holder with a sense of sadness ; of something forlorn and 
 failing, whence cheerfulness was banished. It would have 
 been difficult to imagine a bright fire blazing in the dull and 
 darkened rooms, or to picture any gayety of heart or revelry 
 that the frowning walls shut in. It seemed a place where 
 such things had been, but could be no more — the very ghost 
 of a house, haunting the old spot in its old outward form, 
 and that was all. 
 
 Much of this decayed and sombre look was attributable, no 
 doubt, to the death of its former master, and the temper of its 
 present occupant ; but remembering the tale connected with 
 the mansion, it seemed the very place for such a deed, and 
 one that might have been its predestined theatre years upon 
 years ago. Viewed with reference to this legend, the sheet of 
 water where the steward's body had been found appeared to 
 wear a black and sullen character, sucli as no other pool might 
 own ; the bell upon the roof that had told the tale of murder 
 to the midnight wind, became a very phantom whose voice 
 would raise the listener's hair on end ; and every leafless 
 bough that nodded to another, had its stealthy wliispering of 
 the crime. 
 
116 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 Joe paced up and down the path, sometimes stopping in 
 affected contemplation of the buikling or the prospect, some- 
 times leaning against a tree with an assumed air of idleness 
 and indifference, but alwaj^s keeping an eye upon the window 
 he had singled out at first. After some quarter of an hour's 
 delay, a small white hand was waved to him for an instant 
 from this casement, and the young man, with a respectful bow, 
 departed ; saying under his breath as he crossed his horse 
 again, " No errand for me to-day ! " 
 
 But the air of smartness, the cock of the hat to which John 
 Willet had objected, and the spring nosegay, all betokened 
 some little errand of his own, having a more interesting 
 object than a vintner or even a locksmith. So, indeed, it 
 turned out ; for when he had settled with the vintner — whose 
 place of business was down in some deep cellars hard by 
 Thames Street, and who was as purple-faced an old gentleman 
 as if he had all his life supported their arched roof on his 
 head — when he had settled the account, and taken the receipt, 
 and declined tasting more than three glasses of old sherry, to 
 the unbounded astonishment of the purple-faced vintner, who, 
 gimlet in hand, had projected an attack upon at least a score 
 of dusty casks, and who stood transfixed, or morally gimleted 
 as it were, to his own wall — when he had done all this, and 
 disposed besides of a frugal dinner at the Black Lion in 
 AVhitechapel ; spurning the Monument and John's advice, he 
 turned his steps towards the locksmith's house, attracted by 
 the eyes of blooming Dolly Varden. 
 
 Joe was by no means a sheepish fellow, but, for all that, 
 when he got to the corner of the street in which the locksmith 
 lived, he could by no means make up his mind to walk 
 straight to the house. First, he resolved to stroll up another 
 street for five minutes, then up another street for five minutes 
 more, and so on until he had lost full half an hour, when he 
 made a bold plunge and found himself with a red face and a 
 beating heart in the smoky ^vorkshop. 
 
 " Joe Willet, or his ghost ? " said Varden, rising from the 
 desk at which he was busy with his books, and looking at 
 him under his spectacles. " Which is it ? Joe in the flesh, 
 eh ? That's hearty. And how are all the Chigwell company, 
 Joe ? " 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 117 
 
 "Much as usual, sir — they and I agree as well as ever." 
 
 "Well, well ! " said the locksmith. " We must be patient, 
 Joe, and bear with old folks' foibles. How's the mare, Joe ? 
 Does she do the four miles an hour as easily as ever ? Ha, 
 ha, ha ! Does she, Joe ? Eh ! — What have we there, Joe — 
 a nosegay ! " 
 
 "A very poor one, sir — I thought Miss Dolly " — 
 
 " No, no," said Gabriel, dropping his voice, and shaking his 
 head, "not Dolly. Give 'em to her mother, Joe. A great 
 deal better give 'em to her mother. Would you mind giving 
 'em to Mrs. Varden, Joe ? " 
 
 " Oh no, sir," Joe replied, and endeavoring, but not with 
 the greatest possible success, to hide his disappointment. " I 
 shall be very glad, I'm sure." 
 
 "That's right," said the locksmith, patting him on the 
 back. " It don't matter who has 'em, Joe ? " 
 
 "Not a bit, sir." — Dear heart, how the words stuck in his 
 throat ! 
 
 " Come in," said Gabriel. " I have just been called to tea. 
 She's in the parlor." 
 
 "She," thought Joe. "Which of 'em, I wonder — Mrs. or 
 Miss ? " The locksmith settled the doubt as neatly as if it 
 had been expressed aloud, by leading him to the door, and 
 saying, " Martha, my dear, here's young Mr. Willet." 
 
 Now, Mrs. Varden, regarding the Maypole as a sort of 
 human man-trap, or decoy for husbands ; viewing its pro- 
 prietor, and all who aided and abetted him, in the light of so 
 many poachers among Christian men ; and believing, more- 
 over, that the publicans coupled with sinners in Holy Writ 
 were veritable licensed victuallers ; was far from being 
 favorably disposed towards her visitor. Wherefore she was 
 taken faint directly ; and being duly presented with the 
 crocuses and snowdrops, divined on further consideration that 
 they were the occasion of the languor which had seized upon 
 her spirits. " I'm afraid I couldn't bear the room another 
 minute," said the good lady, " if they remained here. Would 
 you excuse my putting them out of window ? " 
 
 Joe begged she wouldn't mention it on any account, and 
 smiled feebly as he saw them deposited on the sill outside. If 
 
118 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 anybody could have known the pains he had taken to make up 
 that despised and misused bunch of floAvers ! 
 
 " I feel it quite a relief to get rid of them, I assure you," 
 said Mrs. Yarden. "I'm better already." And indeed she 
 did appear to have plucked up her spirits. 
 
 Joe expressed his gratitude to Providence for this favorable 
 dispensation, and tried to look as if he didn't wonder where 
 Dolly was. 
 
 "You're sad people at Chigwell, Mr. Joseph," said Mrs. Y. 
 
 "' I hope not, ma'am," returned Joe. 
 
 "You're the cruellest and most inconsiderate people in the 
 world," said Mrs. Yarden, bridling. " I wonder old Mr. 
 Willet, having been a married man himself, doesn't know 
 better than to conduct himself as he does. His doing it for 
 profit is no excuse. I would rather pay the money twenty 
 times over, and have Yarden come home like a respectable 
 and sober tradesman. If there is one character," said Mrs. 
 Yarden with great emphasis, " that offends and disgusts me 
 more than another, it is a sot." 
 
 " Come, Martha, my dear," said the locksmith cheerily, " let 
 us have tea, and don't let us talk about sots. There are none 
 here, and Joe don't want to hear about them, I dare say." 
 
 At this crisis, Miggs appeared with toast. 
 
 " I dare say he does not," said Mrs. Yarden ; " and I dare 
 say you do not, Yarden. It's a ver}^ unpleasant subject I have 
 no doubt, though I won't say it's personal " — Miggs coughed 
 — "whatever I may be forced to think," Miggs sneezed expres- 
 sively. " You never will know, Yarden, and nobody at young 
 Mr. Willet's age — you'll excuse me, sir — can be expected to 
 know, Avhat a woman suffers when she is waiting at home under 
 such circumstances. If you don't believe me, as I know you 
 don't, here's Miggs, who is only too often a witness of it — 
 ask her." 
 
 " Oh ! she were very bad the other night, sir, indeed she 
 were," said Miggs. "If you hadn't the sweetness of an 
 angel in you, mim, I don't think you could a-bear it, I raly 
 don't." 
 
 "Miggs," said Mrs. Yarden, "you're profane." 
 
 "Begging your pardon, mim," returned Miggs, with shrill 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. 119 
 
 rapidit}', "such Avas not my intentions, and such I liope is not 
 my character, though I am but a servant." 
 
 "Answering me, Miggs, and providing yourself," retorted 
 her mistress, looking round with dignity, "is one and the 
 same thing. How dare you speak of angels in connection 
 with your sinful fellow-beings — mere" — said Mrs. Varden, 
 glancing at herself in a neighboring mirror, and arranging the 
 ribbon of her cap in a more becoming fashion — " mere worms 
 and grovellers as we are ! " 
 
 " I did not intend, mim, if you please, to give offence," said 
 Miggs, confident in the strength of her compliment, and 
 developing strongly in the throat as usual, "and I did not 
 expect it would be took as such. I hope I know my own 
 unworthiness, and that I hate and despise myself and all my 
 fellow-creatures as every practicable Christian should." 
 
 "You'll have the goodness, if you please," said ]\[rs. Varden 
 loftily, " to step up-stairs and see if Dolly has finished dress- 
 ing, and to tell her that the chair that was ordered for her 
 will be here in a minute, and that if she keeps it waiting, I 
 shall send it away that instant. — I'm sorry to see that you 
 don't take your tea, Varden, and that you don't take yours, 
 Mr. Joseph ; though of course it would be foolish of me to 
 expect that anything that can be had at home, and in the 
 company of females, would please i/ou.^' 
 
 This pronoun was understood in the plural sense, and 
 included both gentlemen, upon both of whom it was rather 
 hard and undeserved, for Gabriel had applied himself to the 
 meal with a very promising appetite, until it was spoiled by 
 Mrs. Varden herself, and Joe had as great a liking for the 
 female society of the locksmith's house — or for a part of it 
 at all events — as man could well entertain. 
 
 But he had no opportunity to say anything in his own 
 defence, for at that moment Dolly herself appeared, and struck 
 him quite dumb with her beauty. Never had Dolly looked so 
 handsome as she did then, in all the glow and grace of youth, 
 with all her charms increased a hundred-fold by a most becom- 
 ing dress, by a thousand little coquettish ways wliich nobody 
 could assume with a better grace, and all tlie sparkling expec- 
 tation of that accursed party. It is impossible to tell how Joe 
 
120 BARNABY BULGE. 
 
 hated that party wherever it was, and all the other people who 
 were going to it, whoever they were. 
 
 And she hardly looked at him — no, hardly looked at him. 
 And when the chair was seen through the open door coming 
 blundering into the work shop, she actually clapped her hands 
 and seemed glad to go. But Joe gave her his arm — there 
 was some comfort in that — and handed her into it. To see 
 her seat herself inside, with her laughing eyes brighter than 
 diamonds, and her hand — surely she had the prettiest hand 
 in the world — on the ledge of the open window, and her little 
 finger provokingly and pertly tilted up, as if it wondered why 
 Joe didn't squeeze or kiss it ! To think how well one or two 
 of the modest snowdrops would have become that delicate 
 bodice, and how they were lying neglected outside the parlor 
 window ! To see how Miggs looked on, with a face expressive 
 of knowing how all this loveliness was got up, and of being 
 in the secret of every string and pin and hook and eye, and 
 of saying it ain't half as real as you think, and I could look 
 quite as well myself if I took the pains ! To hear that pro- 
 voking precious little scream when the chair was hoisted on 
 its poles, and to catch that transient but not-to-be-forgotten 
 vision of the happy face within — what torments and aggra- 
 vations, and yet what delights were these ! The very chair- 
 men seemed favored rivals as they bore her down the 
 street. 
 
 There never was such an alteration in a small room in a 
 small time as in that parlor when they went back to finish tea. 
 So dark, so deserted, so perfectly disenchanted. It seemed 
 such sheer nonsense to be sitting tamely there, when she was 
 at a dance with more lovers than man could calculate flutter- 
 ing about her — with the whole party doting on and adoring 
 her, and wanting to marry her. Miggs was hovering about 
 too ; and the fact of her existence, the mere circumstance of 
 her ever having been born, appeared, after Dolly, such an 
 unaccountable practical joke. It was impossible to talk. It 
 couldn't be done. He had nothing left for it but to stir his 
 tea round, and round, and round, and ruminate on all the fasci- 
 nations of the locksmith's lovely daughter. 
 
 Gabriel was dull too. It was a part of the certain uncer- 
 
BABNABY liUDGE. 121 
 
 tainty of Mrs. Varden's temper, that wlien they were in this 
 condition, she should be gay and sprightly. 
 
 "I need have a cheerful disposition, I am sure," said the 
 smiling housewife, "to preserve any spirits at all; and how I 
 do it I can scarcely tell." 
 
 "Ah, mim," sighed Miggs, "begging your pardon for the 
 interruption, there ain't a many like you." 
 
 "Take away, Miggs," said Mrs. Varden, rising, "take 
 away, pray. I know I'm a restraint here, and as I wish 
 everybody to enjoy themselves as they best can, I feel I 
 had better go." 
 
 "No, no, Martha," cried the locksmith. "Stop here. I'm 
 sure we shall be very sorry to lose you, eh, Joe ? " Joe started 
 and said " Certainly." 
 
 " Thank you, Varden, ray dear," returned his wife ; " but I 
 know your wishes better. Tobacco and beer, or spirits, have 
 much greater attractions than any / can boast of, and there- 
 fore' I shall go and sit up-stairs and look out of window, 
 my love. Good-night, Mr. Joseph. I'm very glad to have 
 seen you, and only wish I could have provided something 
 more suitable to your taste. Remember me very kindly, 
 if you please, to old jNIr. Willet, and tell him that when- 
 ever he comes here I have a crow to pluck with him. Good- 
 night ! " 
 
 Having uttered these words with great sweetness of manner, 
 the good lady dropped a courtesy remarkable for its conde- 
 scension, and serenely withdrew. 
 
 And it was for this Joe had looked forward to the twenty- 
 fifth of March for weeks and weeks, and had gathered the 
 flowers with so much care, and had cocked his hat, and made 
 himself so smart ! This was the end of all his bold determi- 
 nation, resolved upon for the hundredth time, to speak out 
 to Dolly and tell her how he loved lier ! To see her for a 
 minute — for but a minute — to find her going out to a party 
 and glad to go ; to be looked upon as a common pipe-smoker, 
 beer-bibber, spirit-guzzler, and tosspot ! He bade farewell to 
 his friend the locksmith, and hastened to take horse at the 
 Black Lion, thinking as he turned towards home, as many 
 another Joe has thought before and since, that here was an 
 
122 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 end to all his hopes — that the thing was impossible and never 
 could be — that she didn't care for him — that he was wretched 
 for life — and that the only congenial prospect left him, was 
 to go for a soldier or a sailor, and get some obliging enemy to 
 knock his brains out as soon as possible. 
 
BARN Any liUDGE. 123 
 
 CHAPTEK XIV. 
 
 Joe Willet rode leisurely along in his desponding mood, 
 picturing the locksmith's daughter going down long country- 
 dances, and poussetting dreadfully with l)old strangers — which 
 was almost too much to bear — when he heard the tramp of a 
 horse's feet behind him, and looking back, saw a well-mounted 
 gentleman advancing at a smart canter. As this rider passed, 
 he checked his steed, and called him of the ISIaypole by his 
 name. Joe set spurs to the gray mare, and was at his side 
 directly. 
 
 "I thought it was you, sir," he said, touching his hat. "A 
 fair evening, sir. Glad to see you out of doors again." 
 
 The gentleman smiled and nodded. "What gay doings 
 have been going on to-day, Joe ? Is she as pretty as ever ? 
 Nay, don't blush, man." 
 
 "If I colored at all, Mr. Edward," said Joe, "which I 
 didn't know I did, it was to think I should have been such a 
 fool as ever to have any hope of her. She's as far out of my 
 reach as — as Heaven is." 
 
 " Well, Joe, I hope that's not altogether beyond it," said 
 Edward, good-humoredly. " Eh ? " 
 
 "Ah!" sighed Joe. "It's all very fine talking, sir. 
 Proverbs are easily made in cold blood. But it can't be 
 helped. Are you bound for our house, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes. As I am not quite strong yet, I shall stay there 
 to-night, and ride home coolly in the morning." 
 
 "If you're in no particular hurry," said Joe, after a short 
 silence, "and will bear with the pace of tliis poor jade, I shall 
 be glad to ride on with you to the Warren, sir, and hold your 
 horse when you dismount. It'll save you having to walk 
 from the Maypole, there and back again. I can sirdve the 
 time well, sir, for I am too soon." 
 
124 BAENABY BUDGE. 
 
 "And so am I," returned Edward, "though I was uncon- 
 sciously riding fast just now, in compliment I suppose to 
 the pace of my thoughts, which were travelling post. We 
 will keep together, Joe, willingly, and be as good company as 
 may be. And cheer up, cheer up, think of the locksmith's 
 daughter with a stout heart, and you shall win her yet." 
 
 Joe shook his head ; but there was something so cheery in 
 the buoyant hopeful manner of this speech, that his spirits 
 rose under its influence, and communicated as it would seem 
 some new impulse even to the gray mare, who, breaking from 
 her sober amble into a gentle trot, emulated the pace of 
 Edw^ard Chester's horse, and appeared to flatter herself that 
 he was doing his very best. 
 
 It was a fine dry night, and the light of a young moon, 
 which was then just rising, shed around that peacft and tran- 
 quillity which gives to evening time its most delicious charm. 
 The lengthened shadows of the trees, softened as if reflected in 
 still water, threw their carpet on the path the travellers pur- 
 sued, and the light wind stirred yet more softly than before, 
 as though it were soothing Xature in her sleep. By little 
 and little they ceased talking, and rode on side by side in a 
 pleasant silence. 
 
 "The Maypole lights are brilliant to-night," said Edward, 
 as they rode along the lane from which, while the intervening 
 trees were bare of leaves, that hostelry was visible. 
 
 " Brilliant indeed, sir," returned Joe, rising in his stirrups 
 to get a better view. " Lights in the large room, and a fire 
 glimmering in the best bedchamber ? Why, what company 
 can this be for, I wonder ! " 
 
 " Some benighted horseman wending towards London, and 
 deterred from going on to-night by the marvellous tales of 
 my friend the highwayman, I suppose," said Edward. 
 
 " He must be a horseman of good quality to have such 
 accommodations. Your bed too, sir! " — 
 
 "No matter, Joe. An}^ other room will do for me. But 
 come — there's nine striking. We may push on." 
 
 They cantered forward at as brisk a pace as Joe's charger 
 could attain, and presently stopped in the little copse where 
 he had left her in the morning. Edward dismounted, gave his 
 
liAnXAIiV liUDGE. 125 
 
 bridle to his companion, and walked witli a light stop towards 
 the honse. 
 
 A female servant was waiting at a side gate in the garden- 
 wall, and admitted him witliout delay. He hurried along the 
 terrace-walk, and darted up a flight of broad steps leading 
 into an old and gloomy liall, whose walls were ornamented 
 with rusty suits of armor, antlers, weapons of tlie cliase, and 
 such like garniture. Here he paused, but not long ; for as he 
 looked round, as if expecting the attendant to have followed, 
 and wondering she had not done so, a lovely girl appeared, 
 whose dark hair next moment rested on his breast. Almost 
 at the same instant a heavy hand was laid upon her arm, 
 Edward felt himself thrust away, and Mr. Haredale stood 
 between them. 
 
 He regarded the young man sternly without removing his 
 hat ; with one hand clasped his niece, and with the other, in 
 which he held his riding-whij), motioned him towards the 
 door. The young man drew hiuiself up, and returned his 
 gaze. 
 
 " This is well done of you, sir, to corrupt my servants, and 
 enter my house unbidden and in secret, like a thief ! " said 
 Mr. Haredale. " Leave it, sir, and return no more." 
 
 "Miss Haredale's presence," returned the young man, "and 
 your relationship to her, give you a license, which, if you are 
 a brave man, you will not abuse. You have comj^elled me to 
 this course, and the fault is yours — not mine." 
 
 "It is neither generous, nor honorable, nor the act of a 
 true man, sir," retorted the other, " to tamper witli tlie affec- 
 tions of a weak, trusting girl, while you slirink, in your 
 unworthiness, from her guardian and protector, and dare not 
 meet the light of day. More than tliis I will not say to you, 
 save that I forbid you this house, and rt'cpiire you to be 
 gone." 
 
 "It is neither generous, nor honorable, nor tlie act of a 
 true man to play the spy," said Edward. " Your words imply 
 dishonor, and T reject them with the scorn they merit." 
 
 " You will find," said INIr. Haredale, calmly, "your trusty 
 go-between in waiting at the gate l>y which you entered. I 
 have played no spy's i)art, sir. I chanced to see you pass the 
 
126 B A UNA BY BUDGE. 
 
 gate and followed. You might have heard me knocking for 
 admission, had you been less swift of foot, or lingered in the 
 garden. Please to withdraw. Your presence here is offensive 
 to me and distressful to my niece." As he said these words, 
 he passed his arm about the waist of the terrified and weeping 
 girl, and drew her closer to him ; and though the habitual 
 severity of his manner was scarcely changed, there was yet 
 apparent in the action an air of kindness and sympathy for 
 her distress. 
 
 "Mr. Haredale," said Edward, "your arm encircles her on 
 whom I have set my every hope and thought, and to purchase 
 one minute's happiness for whom I would gladly lay down my 
 life; this house is the casket that holds the precious jewel of 
 my existence. Your niece has plighted her faith to me, and 
 I have plighted mine to her. What have I done that you 
 should hold me in this light esteem, and give me these dis- 
 courteous words ? " 
 
 "You have done that, sir," answered Mr. Haredale, "which 
 must be undone. You have tied a lover's-knot here which 
 must be cut asunder. Take good heed of what I say. IVtust. 
 I cancel the bond between ye. I reject you, and all of your 
 kith and kin — all the false, hollow, heartless stock." 
 
 " High words, sir," said Edward, scornfully. 
 
 "^Vords of purpose and meaning, as you will find," 
 replied the other. "' Lay them to heart." 
 
 "Lay you then, these," said Edward. "Your cold and 
 sullen temper, which chills every breast about you, which 
 turns affection into fear, and changes duty into dread, has 
 forced us on this secret course, repugnant to our nature and 
 our wish, and far more foreign, sir, to us than you. I am not 
 a false, a hollow, or a heartless man ; the character is 
 yours, who poorly venture on these injurious terms, against 
 the truth, and under the shelter whereof I reminded you just 
 now. You shall not cancel the bond between us. I will not 
 abandon this pursuit. I rely upon your niece's truth and 
 honor, and set your influence at naught. I leave her with a 
 confidence in her pure faith, which you will never weaken, 
 and with no concern but that I do not leave her in some 
 gentler care." 
 
^-fed 
 
 
BARXABY BUDGE. 127 
 
 With that, he pressed her cold hand to his lips, and once 
 more encountering and returning Mr. Haredale's steady look, 
 withdrew. 
 
 A few words to Joe as he mounted his horse sufficiently 
 explained what had passed, and renewed all that young 
 gentleman's despondency with tenfold aggravation. They 
 rode back to the Maypole without exchanging a syllable, and 
 arrived at the door with heavy hearts. 
 
 Old John, who had peeped from behind the red curtain as 
 they rode up shouting for Hugh, was out directly, and said 
 with great importance as he held the young man's stirrup, — 
 
 "He's comfortable in bed — the best bed. A thorough 
 gentleman ; the smilingest, affablest gentleman I ever had to 
 do with." 
 
 " Who, Willet ? " said Edward carelessly, as he dismounted. 
 
 "Your worthy father, sir," replied John. "Your honor- 
 able, venerable, father." 
 
 •" What does he mean ? " said Edward, looking with a mix- 
 ture of alarm and doubt at Joe. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Joe. " Don't you see Mr. 
 Edward doesn't understand, father ? " 
 
 " Why, didn't you know of it, sir ? " said John, opening 
 his eyes wide. " How very singular ! Bless you, he's been 
 here ever since noon to-day, and Mr. Haredale has been 
 having a long talk with him, and hasn't been gone an 
 hour." 
 
 "My father, Willet!" 
 
 "Yes, sir, he told me so — a handsome, slim, upright 
 gentleman, in green and gold. In your old room up yonder, 
 sir. No doubt you can go in, sir," said John, walking 
 backwards into the road and looking up at the window. 
 " He hasn't put out his candles yet, I see." 
 
 Edward glanced at the window also, and hastily murmuring 
 that he had changed his mind — forgotten something — and 
 must return to London, mounted his horse again and rode 
 away ; leaving the Willets, father and son, looking at each 
 other in mute astonishment. 
 
128 BAIi^\^BY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 At noon next day, John Willet's guest sat lingering over 
 his breakfast in his own home, surrounded by a variety of 
 comforts, which left the Maypole's highest flight and utmost 
 stretch of accommodation at an infinite distance behind, and 
 suggested comparisons very much to the disadvantage and 
 disfavor of that venerable tavern. 
 
 In the broad old-fashioned window-seat — as capacious as 
 many modern sofas, and cushioned to serve the purpose of a 
 luxurious settee — in the broad old-fashioned window-seat of 
 a roomy chamber, Mr. Chester lounged, very much at his ease, 
 over a well-furnished breakfast-table. He had exchanged his 
 riding-coat for a handsome morning-gown, his boots for 
 slippers ; had been at great pains to atone for the having been 
 obliged to make his toilet when he rose without the aid of a 
 dressing-case and tiring equipage ; and, having gradually for- 
 gotten through these means the discomforts of an indifferent 
 night and an early ride, was in a state of perfect complacency, 
 indolence, and satisfaction. 
 
 The situation in which he found himself, indeed, was 
 particularly favorable to the growth of these feelings; for 
 not to mention the lazy influence of a late and lonely break- 
 fast, with the additional sedative of a newspaper, there was 
 an air of repose about his place of residence peculiar to it- 
 self, and which hangs about it, even in these times, when it is 
 more bustling and busy than it was in days of yore. 
 
 There are, still, worse places than the Temple, on a sultry 
 day, for basking in the sun, or resting idly in the shade. 
 There is yet a drowsiness in its courts, and a dreamy dulness 
 in its trees and gardens ; those who pace its lanes and squares 
 may yet hear the echoes of their footsteps on the sounding 
 stones, and read upon its gates, in passing from the tumult of 
 the Strand or Fleet Street, " Who enters here leaves noise 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 129 
 
 behind." There is still the plash of falling water in fair 
 Fountain Court, and there are yet nooks and corners where 
 dun-haunted students may look down from their dusty garrets, 
 on a vagrant. ray of sunlight patching the shade of the tall 
 houses, and seldom troubled to reflect a passing stranger's 
 form. There is yet, in the Temple, something of a clerkly 
 monkish atmosphere, which public offices of law have not 
 disturbed, and even legal firms have failed to scare away. In 
 summer-time, its pumps suggest to thirsty idlers, springs 
 cooler and more sparkling, and deeper than other wells ; 
 and as they trace the s])illings of full pitchers on the heated 
 ground, they snuff the freshness, and, sighing, cast sad looks 
 towards the Thames, and think of baths and boats, and 
 saunter on despondent. 
 
 It was in a room in Paper Buildings — a row of goodly 
 tenements, shaded in front by ancient trees, and looking, at 
 the back, upon the Temple gardens — that this, our idler, 
 louliged ; now taking up again the paper he had laid down a 
 hundred times ; now trifling with the fragments of his meal ; 
 now pulling forth his golden toothpick, and glancing leisurely 
 about the room, or out at window into the trim garden walks, 
 where a few early loiterers were already pacing to and fro. 
 Here a pair of lovers met to quarrel and make up ; there a 
 dark-eyed nursery-maid had better eyes for Templars than her 
 charge ; on this hand an ancient spinster, with her lapdog in 
 a string, regarded both enormities with scornful sidelong 
 looks ; on that a weazen old gentleman, ogling the nursery- 
 maid, looked with like scorn upon the spinster, and wondered 
 she didn't know she was no longer young. Apart from all 
 these, on the river's margin two or three couple of business- 
 talkers walked slowly up and down in earnest conversation : 
 and one young man sat thoughtfully on a bench, alone. 
 
 '' Xed is amazingly patient ! " said j\Ir. Chester, glancing at 
 this last-named person as he sat down his teacup and plied 
 the golden toothpick, " immensely patient ! He was sitting 
 yonder when I began to dress, and has scarcely changed his 
 posture since. A most eccentric dog ! " 
 
 As he spoke the figure rose, and came towards him with a 
 rapid pace. 
 
130 BARXABT BUDGE. 
 
 " Really, as if he had heard me," said the father, resuming 
 his newspaper with a yawn. " Dear Ned ! " 
 
 Presently the room-door opened, and the young man en- 
 tered ; to whom his father gently waved his hand, and smiled. 
 
 " Are you at leisure for a little conversation, sir ? " said 
 Edward. 
 
 " Surely, Ned. I am always at leisure. You know my con- 
 stitution. — Have you breakfasted ? " 
 
 "Three hours ago." 
 
 " What a very early dog ! " cried his father, contemplating 
 him from behind the toothpick, with a languid smile. 
 
 " The truth is," said Edward, bringing a chair forward, 
 and seating himself near the table, " that I slept but ill last 
 night, and was glad to rise. The cause of my uneasiness 
 cannot but be known to 3'ou, sir ; and it is upon that, I wish 
 to speak.'- 
 
 " My dear boy," returned his father, " confide in me, I beg. 
 But you know my constitution — don't be prosy, Ned." 
 
 " I will be plain and brief," said Edward. 
 
 " Don't say you will, my good fellow," returned his father, 
 crossing his legs, " or you certainly will not. You are going 
 to tell me" — 
 
 "Plainly this then," said the son with an air of great 
 concern, " that I know where you were last night — from 
 being on the spot, indeed — and whom you saw, and what 
 your purpose was." 
 
 " You don't say so ! " cried his father. " I am delighted to 
 hear it^ It saves us the worry, and terrible wear and tear of 
 a long explanation, and is a great relief for both. At the 
 very house ! Why didn't you come up ? I should have been 
 charmed to see you." 
 
 " I knew that what I had to say would be better said after 
 a night's reflection, when both of us were cool," returned the 
 son. 
 
 " 'Fore Gad, Ned," rejoined the father, " I was cool enough 
 last night. That detestable Maypole ! By some infernal 
 contrivance of the builder, it holds the wind and keeps it 
 fresh. You remember the sharp east wind that blew so hard 
 five weeks ago ? I give you my honor it was rampant in that 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 131 
 
 old house last night, though out of doors there was a dead 
 calm. But you were saying " — 
 
 " I was about to say, Heaven knows how seriously and 
 earnestly, that you have made me wretched, sir. Will you 
 hear me gravely for a moment ? " 
 
 " My dear Ned," said his father, " I will hear you with the 
 patience of an anchorite. Oblige me with the milk." 
 
 " I saw Miss Haredale last night," Edward resumed, when 
 he had complied with this request ; " her uncle, in her pres- 
 ence, immediately after your interview, and, as of course I 
 know, in consequence of it, forbade me the house, and, with 
 circumstances of indignity which are of your creation I am 
 sure, commanded me to leave it on the instant." 
 
 " For his manner of doing so, I give you my honor, Ned, 
 I am not accountable," said his father. " That you must 
 excuse. He is a mere boor, a log, a brute, Avith no address 
 in life. — Positively a fly in the jug. The first I have seen 
 this- year." 
 
 Edward rose, and paced tlie room. His imperturbable 
 parent' sipped his tea. 
 
 "Father," said the young man, stopping at length before 
 him, " we must not trifle in this matter. We must not 
 deceive each other, or ourselves. Let me pursue the manly 
 open part, I wish to take, and do not repel me by this unkind 
 indifference." 
 
 " Whether I am indifferent or no," returned the other, " I 
 leave you, my dear boy, to judge. A ride of twenty-five or 
 thirty miles, through miry roads — a Ma^qoole dinner — a 
 tete-a-tete with Haredale, which, vanity apart, was quite a 
 Valentine and Orson business — a IMaypole bed — a INIaypole 
 landlord, and a Maypole retinue of idiots and centaurs; — 
 whether the voluntary endurance of these things looks like 
 indifference, dear Ned, or like the excessive anxiety, and devo- 
 tion, and all that sort of thing, of a parent, you shall deter- 
 mine for yourself." 
 
 "I wish you to consider, sir," said Edward, "in what 
 a cruel situation I am placed. Loving ]\Iiss Haredale as 
 I do " — 
 
 "j\ry dear feHow," interrupted his fatlier witli a conipas- 
 
132 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 sionate smile, "you do nothing of the kind. You don't 
 know anything about it. There's no such thing, I assure 
 you. Now, do take my word for it. You have good sense, 
 Ned, — great good sense. I wonder you should be guilty of 
 such amazing absurdities. You really surprise me." 
 
 '' I repeat," said his son firmly, " that I love her. You have 
 interposed to part us, and have, to the extent I have just now 
 told you of, succeeded. INFay I induce you, sir, in time, to think 
 more favorably of our attachment, or is it your intention and 
 your fixed design to hold us asunder if you can ? " 
 
 " ^[y dear Ned," returned his father, taking a pinch of 
 snuff and pushing his box towards him, " that is my purpose 
 most undoubtedly." 
 
 " The time that has elapsed," rejoined his son, " since I 
 began to know her worth, has flown in such a dream that 
 until now I have hardly once paused to reflect upon my true 
 position. What is it ? From my childhood I have been 
 accustomed to luxury and idleness, and have been bred as 
 though my fortune were large, and my expectations almost 
 without a limit. The idea of wealth has been familiarized to 
 me from my cradle. I have been taught to look upon those 
 means, by which men raise themselves to riches and distinc- 
 tion, as being beyond my heeding, and beneath my care. I 
 have been, as the phrase is, liberally educated, and am fit for 
 nothing. I find myself at last wholly dependent upon you, 
 with no resource but in your favor. In this momentous ques- 
 tion of my life we do not, and it would seem, we never can, 
 agree. I have shrunk instinctively alike from those to whom 
 you have urged me to pay court, and from the motives of 
 interest and gain which have rendered them in your eyes 
 visible objects for my suit. If there never has been thus 
 much plain-speaking between us before, sir, the fault has not 
 been mine, indeed. If I seem to speak too plainly now, it is, 
 believe me, father, in the hope that there may be a franker 
 spirit, a worthier reliance, and a kinder confidence between us 
 in time to come." 
 
 "My good fellow," said his smiling father, "you quite 
 affect me. Go on, my dear Edward, I beg. But remember 
 your promise. There is great earnestness, vast candor, a 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 133 
 
 manifest sincerity in all you say, but I fear I observe the 
 faintest indications of a tendency to prose." 
 " I am very sorry, sir." 
 
 " I am very sorry too, Ned, but you know that I cannot fix 
 my mind for any long period upon one subject. If you'll 
 come to the point at once, I'll imagine all that ought to go 
 before, and conclude it said. Oblige me with the milk again. 
 Listening invariably makes me feverish." 
 
 "What I would say then, tends to this," said Edward. "I 
 cannot bear this absolute dependence, sir, even upon you. 
 Time has been lost and opportunity thrown away, but I am 
 yet a young man, and may retrieve it. Will you give me the 
 means of devoting such abilities and energies as I possess, 
 to some worthy pursuit ? Will you let me try to make for 
 myself an honorable path in life ? For any term you please 
 to name — say for five years if you will — I will pledge myself 
 to move no further in the matter of our difference without 
 your full concurrence. ' During that period, I will endeavor 
 earnestly and patiently, if ever man did, to open some pros- 
 pect for myself, and free you from the burden you fear I 
 should become if I married one whose worth and beauty are 
 her chief endowments.) Will you do this, sir? At the ex- 
 piration of the term we agree upon, let us discuss this subject 
 again. Till then, unless it is revived by you, let it never be 
 renewed between us." 
 
 "My dear Ned," returned his father, laying down the 
 newspaper at which he had been glancing carelessly, and 
 throwing himself back in the window-seat, "I believe you 
 know how very much I dislike what are called family affairs, 
 which are only fit for plebeian Christmas days, and have no 
 manner of business with people of our condition. But as you 
 are proceeding upon a mistake, Ned — altogether upon a mis- 
 take—I will conquer my repugnance to entering on such 
 matters, and give you a perfectly plain and candid answer, if 
 you will do me the favor to shut the door." 
 
 Edward having obeyed him, he took an elegant little knife 
 from his pocket, and paring his nails, continued, — 
 
 "You have to thank me, Ned, for being of good family; 
 for your mother, charming person as she was, and almost 
 
134 BARXABT RUDGE. 
 
 broken-hearted, and so forth, as she left me, when she was 
 prematurely compelled to become immortal — had nothing to 
 boast of in tliat respect." 
 
 " Her father was at least an eminent lawyer, sir," said 
 Edward. 
 
 " Quite right, Ned ; perfectly so. He stood high at the 
 bar, had a great name and great wealth, but having risen 
 from nothing — I have always closed my eyes to the circum- 
 stance and steadily resisted its contemplation, but I fear his 
 father dealt in pork, and that his business did once involve 
 cowheel and sausages — he wished to marry his daughter into 
 a good family. He had his heart's desire, Ned. I was a 
 younger son's younger son, and I married her. We each liad 
 our object, and gained it. She stepped at once into the 
 politest and best circles, and I stepped into a fortune which I 
 assure you was very necessary to my comfort — quite indis- 
 pensable. Now, my good fellow, that fortune is among the 
 things that have been. It is gone, Ned, and has been gone — 
 how old are you ? I always forget." 
 
 "Seven and twenty, sir." 
 
 "Are you indeed ? " cried his father, raising his eyelids in 
 a languishing surprise. " So much ! Then I should say, 
 Ned, that as nearly as I remember, its skirts vanished from 
 human knowledge, about eighteen or nineteen years ago. It 
 was about that time when I came to live in these chambers 
 (once your grandfather's, and bequeathed by that extremely 
 respectable person to me), and commenced to live upon an 
 inconsiderable annuit}^ and my past reputation." 
 
 "You are jesting with me, sir," said Edward. 
 
 " Not in the slightest degree, I assure you," returned his 
 father with great composure. "These family topics are so 
 extremely dry, that I am sorry to say they don't admit of any 
 such relief. It is for that reason, and because they have an 
 appearance of business, that I dislike them so very much. 
 Well ! You know the rest. A son, Ned, unless he is old 
 enough to be a companion — that is to say, unless he is some 
 two or three and twenty — is not the kind of thing to have 
 about one. He is a restraint upon his father, his father is a 
 restraint upon him, and they make each other mutually un- 
 
BARXABY BUDGE. 135 
 
 comfortable. Therefore, until within the last four years or 
 so — I have a poor memory for dates, and if I mistake, you 
 will correct me in your own mind — you pursued your studies 
 at a distance, and picked up a great variety of accomplish- 
 ments. Occasionally we passed a week or two together here, 
 and disconcerted each other as only such near relations can. 
 At last you came home. I candidly tell you, my dear boy, 
 that if you had been awkward and overgrown, I should have 
 exported you to some distant part of the world." 
 
 " I wish with all my soul you had, sir," said Edward. 
 
 "No, you don't, Xed," rejoined his father coolly; "you 
 are mistaken, I assure you. I found you a handsome, pre- 
 possessing, elegant fellow, and I threw you into the society I 
 can still command. Having done that, my dear fellow, I 
 consider that I have provided for you in life, and rely on your 
 doing something to provide for me in return." 
 
 " I do not understand your meaning, sir." 
 
 " My meaning, Ned, is obvious — I observe another fly in 
 the cream-jug, but have the goodness not to take it out as 
 you did the first, for their walk when their legs are milky, is 
 extremely ungraceful and disagreeable — ni}' meaning is, that 
 you must do as I did ; that you must marry well and make 
 the most of yourself." 
 
 " A mere fortune-hunter ! " cried the son, indignantly. 
 
 " What in the devil's name, Ned, would you be ! " returned 
 the father. " All men are fortune-hunters, are they not ? 
 The law, the church, the court, the camp — see how they are 
 all crowded with fortune-hunters, jostling each other in the 
 pursuit. The Stock-excluuige, the pul})it, the counting-house, 
 the royal drawing-room, the Senate, — what but fortune- 
 hunters are they filled with ? A fortune-hunter ! Yes. You 
 are one; and you would be nothing else, my dear Ned, if you 
 were the greatest courtier, lawyer, legislator, prelate, or mer- 
 chant, in existence. If you are squeamisli and moral, Ned, 
 console yourself with the reflection that at the worst your 
 fortune-hunting can make but one |)ersoii miserable or 
 unliapj)y. How many people do you suppose these other 
 kinds of huntsmen crush in following their sport — hundreds 
 at a step ? Or thousands ? " 
 
136 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 The young man leant his head upon his hand, and made no 
 answer. 
 
 ^^ I am quite charmed," said the father rising, and walking 
 slowly to and fro — stopping now and then to glance at him- 
 self in a mirror, or survey a picture through his glass, with 
 the air of a connoisseur, " that we have had this conversation, 
 Ned, unpromising as it was. It establishes a confidence 
 between us which is quite delightful, and was certainly 
 necessary, though how you can ever have mistaken our posi- 
 tion and designs, I confess I cannot understand. I conceived, 
 until I found your fancy for this girl, that all these points 
 were tacitly agreed upon between us." 
 
 "I knew you were embarrassed, sir," returned the son, rais- 
 ing his head for a moment, and then falling into his former 
 attitude, " but I had no idea we were the beggared wretches 
 you describe. How could I suppose it, bred as I have been ; 
 witnessing the life you have always led ; and the appearance 
 you have always made ? " 
 
 " My dear child," said the father — " for you really talk so 
 like a child that I must call you one — you were bred upon a 
 careful principle ; the very manner of your education, I assure 
 you, maintained my credit surprisingly. As to the life I lead, 
 I must lead it, Ned. I must have these little refinements 
 about me. I have always been used to them, and I cannot 
 exist without them. They must surround me, you observe, 
 and therefore they are here. With regard to our circum- 
 stances, Ned, you may set your mind at rest upon that score. 
 They are desperate. Your own appearance is by no means 
 despicable, and our joint pocket-money alone devours our 
 income. That's the truth." 
 
 " Why have I never known this before ? W^hy have you 
 encouraged me, sir, to an expenditure and mode of life to 
 which we have no right or title ? " 
 
 " My good fellow," returned his father more compassion- 
 ately than ever, " if you made no appearance how could you 
 possibly succeed in the pursuit for which I destined you ? As 
 to oiir mode of life, every man has a right to live in the best 
 way he can ; and to make himself as comfortable as he can, 
 or he is an unnatural scoundrel. Our debts, I grant, are very 
 
BARXABY BUDGE. 137 
 
 great, and therefore it the more behooves you, as a young man 
 of principle and honor, to pay them off as speedily as possible." 
 
 "The villain's part," muttered Edward, "that I have uncon- 
 sciously played ! I to win the heart of Emma Haredale ! I 
 would, for her sake, I had died lirst ! " 
 
 " I am glad you see, Ned," returned his father, " how per- 
 fectly self-evident it is, that nothing can be done in that 
 quarter. But apart from this, and the necessity of your 
 speedily bestowing yourself in another (as you know you 
 could to-morrow, if you chose), I wish you'd look upon it 
 pleasantly. In a religious point of view alone, how could you 
 ever think of uniting yourself to a Catholic, unless she was 
 amazingly rich ? You who ought to be so very Protestant, 
 coming of such a Protestant family as you do. Let us be 
 moral, Ned, or we are nothing. Even if one could set tliat 
 objection aside, which is impossible, we come to another which 
 is quite conclusive. The very idea of marrying a girl whose 
 father was killed, like meat ! Good God, Ned, how disagree- 
 able ! Consider the impossibility of having any respect for 
 your father-in-law under such unpleasant circumstances — 
 think of his having been 'viewed' by jurors, and 'sat upon' 
 by coroners, and of his very doubtful position in the family 
 ever afterwards. It seems to me such an indelicate sort of 
 thing that I really think the girl ought to have been put to 
 death by the state to prevent its happening. But I tease you 
 perhaps. You would rather be alone ? ]\[y dear Ned, most 
 willingly. God bless you. I shall be going out presently, 
 but we shall meet to-night, or if not to-night, certainly to- 
 morrow. Take care of yourself in the mean time for both our 
 sakes. You are a person of great consequence to me, Ned — 
 of vast consequence indeed ! God bless you ! " 
 
 With these words, the father, who had been arranging his 
 cravat in the glass, while he uttered them in a disconnected 
 careless manner, withdrew, humming a tune as he went. The 
 son, who had appeared so lost in thought as not to hear or 
 understand them, remained quite still and silent. After the 
 lapse of half an hour or so, the elder Cliester, gayly dressed, 
 went out. The younger still sat with his head resting on his 
 hands, in what appeared to be a kind of stupor. 
 
138 BAHNABY BULGE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVI. 
 
 A SERIES of pictures representing the streets of London in 
 the night, even at the comparatively recent date of this tale, 
 would present to the eye something so ver}^ different in char- 
 acter from the reality which is witnessed in these times, that 
 it would be difficult for the beholder to recognize his most 
 familiar walks in the altered asj^ect of little more than half a 
 century ago. 
 
 They were, one and all, from the broadest and best to the 
 narrowest and least frequented, very dark. The oil and cot- 
 ton lamps, though regularly trimmed twice or thrice in the 
 long winter nights, burnt feebly at the best ; and at a late 
 hour, when they were unassisted by the lamps and candles in 
 the shops, cast but a narrow track of doubtful light upon the 
 footway, leaving the projecting doors and house-fronts in the 
 deepest gloom. Many of the courts and lanes were left in 
 total darkness ; those of the meaner sort, where one glimmer- 
 ing light twinkled for a score of houses, being favored in no 
 slight degree. Even in these places, the inhabitants had 
 often good reason for extinguishing their lamp as soon as 
 it was lighted; and the watch being utterly inefficient and 
 powerless to prevent them, they did so at their pleasure. 
 Thus, in the lightest thoroughfares, there was at every turn 
 some obscure and dangerous spot whither a thief might fly 
 for shelter, and few would care to follow ; and the city being 
 belted round by fields, green lanes, waste grounds, and lonely 
 roads, dividing it at that time from the suburbs that have 
 joined it since, escape, even where the pursuit was hot, was 
 rendered easy. 
 
 It is no wonder that with these favoring circumstances in 
 full and constant operation, street robberies, often accompanied 
 by cruel wounds, and not unfrequently by loss of life, should 
 have been of nightly occurrence in the very heart of London, 
 

 
 STREET IN OLD LONDON. 
 
BAR NAB Y RUDGE. 139 
 
 or that quiet folks should have ?iad great dread of traversing 
 its streets after the shops were closed. It was not unusual 
 for those who wended home alone at midnight, to keep the 
 middle of the road, the better to guard against surprise from 
 lurking footpads ; few would venture to repair at a late hour 
 to Kentish Town or Hampstead, or even to Kensington or 
 Chelsea, unarmed and unattended ; while he who had been 
 loudest and most valiant at the supper-table or the tavern, 
 and had but a mile or so to go, was glad to fee a link-boy to 
 escort him home. 
 
 There were many other characteristics — not quite so dis- 
 agreeable — about the thoroughfares of London then, with 
 which they had been long familiar. Some of the shops, 
 especially those to the eastward of Temple Bar, still adhered 
 to the old practice of hanging out a sign ; and the creaking 
 and swinging of these boards in their iron frames on windy 
 nights, formed a strange and mournful concert for the ears of 
 those who lay awake in bed or hurried through the streets. 
 Long stands of hackney-chairs and groups of chairmen, com- 
 pared with whom the coachmen of our day are gentle and 
 polite, obstructed the way and filled the air with clamor; 
 night-cellars, indicated by a little stream of light crossing the 
 pavement, and stretching out half-way into the road, and by 
 the stifled roar of voices from below, yawned for the reception 
 and entertainment of the most abandoned of both sexes ; under 
 every shed and bulk small groups of link-boys gamed away 
 the earnings of the day ; or one more weary than the rest, 
 gave way to sleep, and let the fragment of his torch fall 
 hissing on the puddled ground. 
 
 Then there was the watch with staff and lantern crying the 
 hour, and the kind of weather ; and those who woke up at his 
 voice and turned them round in bed, were glad to hear it 
 rained, or snowed, or blew, or froze, for very comfort's sake. 
 The solitary passenger was startled by the chairmen's cry of 
 "By your leave there!" as two came trotting past him with 
 their empty vehicle — carried backwards to show its being 
 disengaged — and hurried to the nearest stand. ^Fany a pri- 
 vate chair too, enclosing some hue lady, monstrously hooped 
 and furbelowed, and preceded by running footmen beaiing 
 
140 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 flambeaux — for which extinguishers are yet suspended before 
 the doors of a few houses of the better sort — made the way 
 gay and light as it danced along, and darker and more dismal 
 when it had passed. It was not unusual for these running 
 gentry, who carried it with a very high hand, to quarrel in 
 the servants' hall while waiting for their masters and mis- 
 tresses ; and, falling to blows either there or in the street 
 without, to strew the place of skirmish with hair-powder, 
 fragments of bag-wigs, and scattered nosegays. Gaming, the 
 vice which ran so high among all classes (the fashion being of 
 course set by the upper), was generally the cause of these 
 disputes ; for cards and dice were as openly used, and worked 
 as much mischief, and yielded as much excitement below 
 stairs, as above. While incidents like these, arising out of 
 drums and masquerades and parties at quadrille, were passing 
 at the west end of the town, heavy stage-coaches and scarce 
 heavier wagons were lumbering slowly towards the city, the 
 coachmen, guard, and passengers armed to the teeth, and the 
 coach — a day or so, perhaps, behind its time, but that was 
 nothing — despoiled by highwaymen ; who made no scruple to 
 attack, alone and single-handed, a whole caravan of goods and 
 men, and sometimes shot a passenger or two, and were some- 
 times shot themselves, just as the case might be. On the 
 morrow, rumors of this new act of daring on the road yielded 
 matter for a few hours' conversation through the town, and a 
 Public Progress of some fine gentleman (half drunk) to 
 Tyburn, dressed in the newest fashion and damning the ordi- 
 nary with unspeakable gallantry and grace, furnished to the 
 populace, at once a pleasant excitement and a wholesome and 
 profound example. 
 
 Among all the dangerous characters who, in such a state of 
 society, prowled and skulked in the metropolis at night, there 
 was one man, from whom many as uncouth and fierce as he, 
 shrunk with an involuntary dread. Who he was, or whence 
 he came, was a question often asked, but which none could 
 answer. His name was unknown, he had never been seen 
 until within eight days or thereabouts, and was equally a 
 stranger to the old ruffians, upon whose haunts he ventured 
 fearlessly, as to the young. He could be no spy, for he never 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 141 
 
 removed his slouched hat to look about him, entered into con- 
 versation with no man, heeded nothing that passed, listened 
 to no discourse, regarded nobody that came or went. But so 
 surely as the dead of night set in, so surely this man was in 
 the midst of the loose concourse in the night-cellar where 
 outcasts of every grade resorted; and there he sat till 
 morning. 
 
 He was not only a spectre at their licentious feasts ; a 
 something in the midst of their revelry and riot that chilled 
 and haunted them ; but out of doors he was the same. Directly 
 it was dark, he was abroad — never in company with any one, 
 but always alone ; never lingering or loitering, but always 
 walking swiftly ; and looking (so they said who had seen him) 
 over his shoulder from time to time, and as he did so quicken- 
 ing his pace. In the fields, the lanes, the roads, in all quarters 
 of the town — east, west, north, and south — that man was 
 seen gliding on, like a shadow. He was always hurrying 
 away. Those who encountered him, saw liim steal past, 
 caught sight of the backward glance, and so lost him in the 
 darkness. 
 
 This constant restlessness and flitting to and fro, gave rise 
 to strange stories. He was seen in such distant and remote 
 places, at times so nearly tallying. with each other, that some 
 doubted whether there were not two of them, or more — some, 
 whether he had not unearthly means of travelling from spot 
 to spot. The footpad hiding in a ditch had marked him 
 passing like a ghost along its brink ; the vagrant had met 
 him on the dark high-road ; the beggar had seen him pause 
 upon the bridge to look down at the water, and then sweep 
 on again ; they who dealt in bodies with the surgeons could 
 swear he slept in churchyards, and that they had beheld him 
 glide away among the tombs, on their approach. And as 
 they told these stories to each other, one who had looked 
 about him would pull his neighbor by the sleeve, and there he 
 would be among them. 
 
 At last, one man — he was of those whose commerce lay 
 among the graves — resolved to question this strange com- 
 panion. Next night, when he had eat his poor nu^al vora- 
 ciously (he was accustomed to do that, they had observed, as 
 
142 ^ A UNA BY FUDGE. 
 
 though he had no other in the day), this fellow sat down at 
 his elbow. 
 
 " A black night, master ! " 
 
 " It is a black night." 
 
 " Blacker than last, though that was pitchy too. Didn't I 
 pass you near the turnpike in the Oxford road ? " 
 
 " It's like you may. I don't know." 
 
 '•Come, come, master," cried the fellow, urged on by the 
 looks of his comrades, and slapping him on the shoulder; 
 "be more companionable and communicative. Be more the 
 gentleman in this good company. There are tales among us 
 that you have sold yourself to the devil, and I know not 
 what." 
 
 " We all have, have we not ? " returned the stranger, looking 
 up. "If we were fewer in number, perhaps he would give 
 better wages." 
 
 " It goes rather hard with you, indeed," said the fellow, as 
 the stranger disclosed his haggard unwashed face, and torn 
 clothes. "' What of that ? Be merry, master. A stave of a 
 roaring song now " — 
 
 "' Sing you, if you desire to hear one," replied the other, 
 shaking him roughly off; "and don't touch me if you're a 
 prudent man ; I carry arms which go off easily — they have 
 done so, before now — and make it dangerous for strangers 
 who don't know the trick of them, to lay hands upon me." 
 
 "'Do you threaten ? " said the fellow. 
 
 " Yes," returned the other, rising and turning upon him, 
 and looking fiercely round as if in apprehension of a general 
 attack. 
 
 His voice, and look, and bearing — all expressive of the 
 wildest recklessness and desperation — daunted while they 
 repelled the bystanders. Although in a very different sphere 
 of action now, they were not without much of the effect they 
 had wrought at the Maypole Inn. 
 
 " I am what you all are, and live as you all do," said the 
 man sternly, after a short silence. "' I am in hiding here like - 
 the rest, and if we were surprised, would perhaps do my part 
 with the best of ye. If it's my humor to be left to myself, 
 let me have it. Otherwise," — and here he swore a tremen- 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 143 
 
 dous oath — " there'll be mischief done in this place, though 
 there are odds of a score against me." 
 
 A low murmur, having its origin perhaps in a dread of the 
 man and the mystery that surrounded him, or perhaps in a 
 sincere opinion on the part of some of those present, that it 
 would be an inconvenient precedent to meddle too curiously 
 with a gentleman's private affairs if he saw reason to conceal 
 them, warned the fellow who had occasioned this discussion 
 that he had best pursue it no further. After a short time the 
 strange man lay down upon a bench to sleep, and wlien they 
 thought of him again, they found that he was gone. 
 
 Next night, as soon as it was dark, he was abroad again 
 and traversing the streets ; he was before the locksmith's 
 house more than once, but the family were out, and it was 
 close shut. This night he crossed London Bridge and passed 
 into Southwark. As he glided down a by-street, a woman 
 with a little basket on her arm, turned into it at the other end. 
 Directly he observed her, he sought the shelter of an archway, 
 and stood aside until she had passed. Then he emerged 
 cautiously from his hiding-place, and followed. 
 
 She went into several shops to purchase various kinds of 
 household necessaries, and round every place at which she 
 stopped he hovered like her evil spirit ; following her when 
 she reappeared. It was nigh eleven o'clock, and the pas- 
 sengers in the streets were thinning fast, when she turned, 
 doubtless to go home. The phantom still followed her. 
 
 She turned into the same by-street in which he had seen 
 her first, which, being free from shops, and narrow, was 
 extremely dark. She quickened her pace here, as thougli 
 distrustful of being stopped, and robbed of sucli trifling prop- 
 erty as she carried with her. He crept along on the other side 
 of the road. Had she been gifted with tlie speed of wind, it 
 seemed as if his terrible shadow would have tracked her down. 
 
 At length the widow — for she it was — reached her own 
 door, and, panting for breath, paused to take the key from 
 her basket. In a flush and glow, with the liaste she had 
 made, and the pleasure of being safe at home, she stooped to 
 draw it out, when, raising her head, she saw him standing 
 silently beside her; the api)arition of a dream. 
 
144 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 His hand was on her mouth, but that was needless, for her 
 tongue clove to its roof, and her power of utterance was gone. 
 "I have been looking for you many nights. Is the house 
 empty ? Answer me. Is any one inside ? " 
 
 She could only answer by a rattle in her throat. 
 
 " Make me a sign." 
 
 She seemed to indicate that there was no one there. He 
 took the key, unlocked the door, carried her in, and secured 
 it carefully behind them. 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. l45 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 It was a chilly night, and the lire in the widow's parlor 
 had burnt low. Her strange companion placed her in a 
 chair, and stooping down before the half-extinguished ashes, 
 raked them together and fanned them with his hat. From 
 time to time he glanced at her over his shoulder, as though 
 to assure himself of her remaining quiet and making no effort 
 to depart ; and that done, busied himself about the fire again. 
 
 It was not without reason that he took these pains, for his 
 dress was dank and drenched with wet, his jaws rattled with 
 cold, and he shivered from head to foot. It had rained hard 
 during the previous night and for some hours in the morning, 
 but since noon it had been fine. Wheresoever he had passed 
 the hours of darkness, his condition sufficiently betokened 
 that many of them had been spent beneath the open sky. 
 Besmeared with mire ; his saturated clothes clinging with a 
 damp embrace about his limbs ; his beard unshaven, his face 
 unwashed, his meagre cheeks worn into deep hollows, — a 
 more miserable wretch could hardly be, than this man who 
 now cowered down upon the widow's hearth, and watched the 
 struggling flame with bloodshot eyes. 
 
 She had covered her face with her hands, fearing, as it 
 seemed, to look towards him. So they remained for some 
 short time in silence. Glancing round again, he asked at 
 length, — 
 
 " Is this your house ? " 
 
 " It is. Why, in the name of Heaven, do you darken it ? " 
 
 " Give me meat and drink,'' he answered sullenly, '^ or I 
 dare do more than that. The very marrow in my bones is 
 cold, with wet and hunger. I must have warmth and food, 
 and I will have them here." 
 
 "You were the robber on the Chigwell road," 
 
 " I was." 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
146 BABNABT RUDGF!. 
 
 " And nearly a murderer then." 
 
 "The will was not wanting. There was one came upon 
 me and raised the hue-and-cry, that it would have gone hard 
 with, but for his nimbleness. I made a thrust at him." 
 
 '' You thrust your sword at him ! " cried the widow, looking 
 upwards. " You hear this man ! You hear and saw ! " 
 
 He looked at her, as, with her head thrown back, and her 
 hands tight clinched together, she uttered these words in an 
 agony of appeal. Then, starting to his feet as she had done, 
 he advanced towards her. 
 
 " Beware ! " she cried in a suppressed voice, whose firmness 
 stopped him midway. " Do not so much as touch me with 
 a finger, or you are lost ; body and soul, you are lost." 
 
 " Hear me," he replied, menacing her with his hand. 
 " I, that in the form of a man live the life of a hunted beast ; 
 that in the body am a spirit, a ghost upon the earth, a thing 
 from which all creatures shrink, save those curst beings of 
 another world, who will not leave me ; — I am, in my despera- 
 tion of this night, past all fear but that of the hell in which 
 I exist from day to day. Give the alarm, cry out, refuse to 
 shelter me. I will not hurt you. But I will not be taken 
 alive; and so surely as you threaten me above your breath, 
 I fall a dead man on this floor. The blood with which I 
 sprinkle it, be on you and yours, in the name of the Evil 
 Spirit that tempts men to their ruin ! " 
 
 As he spoke, he took a pistol from his breast, and firmly 
 clutched it in his hand. 
 
 " Remove this man from me, good Heaven ! " cried the 
 widow. " In thy grace and mercy, give him one minute's 
 penitence, and strike him dead ! " 
 
 '' It has no such purpose," he said, confronting her. " It 
 is deaf. Give me to eat and drink, lest I do that, it cannot 
 help my doing, and will not do for you." 
 
 " Will you leave me if I do thus much ? Will you leave 
 me and return no more ? " 
 
 " I will promise nothing," he rejoined, seating himself at 
 the table, "nothing but this — I will execute my threat if you 
 betray me." 
 
 She rose at length, and going to a closet or pantry in the 
 
BABNABT HUDGK U7 
 
 room, brought out some fragments of cold meat and bread 
 and put them on the table. He asked for brandy and for 
 water. These she produced likewise ; and he ate and drank 
 with the voracity of a famished hound. All the time he was 
 so engaged, she kept at the uttermost distance of the chamber, 
 and sat there shuddering, but with her face towards him. 
 She never turned her back upon him once ; and although 
 when she passed him (as she was obliged to do in going to 
 and from the cupboard) she gathered the skirts of her gar- 
 ment about her, as if even its touching his by chance were 
 horrible to think of, still, in the midst of all this dread and 
 terror, she kept her face directed to his own, and watched his 
 every movement. 
 
 His repast ended — if that can be called one which was a 
 mere ravenous satisfying of the calls of hunger — he moved 
 his chair towards the fire again, and warming himself before 
 the blaze which had now sprung brightly up, accosted her 
 once more. 
 
 " I am an outcast, to whom a roof above his head is often 
 an uncommon luxury, and the food a beggar would reject 
 is delicate fare. You live here at your ease. Do you live 
 alone ? " 
 
 " I do not," she made answer with an effort. 
 
 " Who dwells here besides ? " 
 
 " One — it is no matter who. You had best begone, or he 
 may find you here. Why do you linger ? " 
 
 " For warmth," he replied, spreading out his hands before 
 the fire. " For warmth. You are rich, perhaps ? " 
 
 " Very," she said, faintly. " Very rich. No doubt I am 
 very rich." 
 
 " At least you are not penniless. You have some money. 
 You were making purchases to-night." 
 
 " I have a little left. It is but a few shillings." 
 
 " Give me 3'our purse. You had it in your hand at the 
 door. Give it to me." 
 
 She stepped to the table and laid it down. He reached 
 across, took it up, and told the contents into liis hand. As 
 he was counting them, she listened for a moment and sprung 
 towards him. 
 
148 BARI^ABT BVDGE. 
 
 " Take what there is, take all, take more if more were 
 there, but go before it is too late. I have heard a way- 
 ward step without, I know full well. It will return directly. 
 Begone." 
 
 '' What do you mean ? '^ 
 
 ''Do not stop to ask. I will not answer. Much as I 
 dread to touch you, I would drag you to the door if I possessed 
 the strength, rather than you should lose an instant. Miser- 
 able wretch ! fly from this place." 
 
 "If there are spies without, I am safer here," replied the 
 man, standing aghast. "I will remain here, and will not fly 
 till the danger is past." 
 
 " It is too late ! " cried the widow, who had listened for the 
 step, and not to him. " Hark to that foot upon the ground. 
 Do you tremble to hear it ! It is my son, my idiot son ! " 
 
 As she said this wildly there came a heavy knocking at the 
 door. He looked at her, and she at him. 
 
 " Let him come in," said the man, hoarsely. " I fear him 
 less than the dark, houseless night. He knocks again. Let 
 him come in ! " 
 
 "The dread of this hour," returned the widow, "has been 
 upon me all my life, and I will not. Evil will fall upon him, 
 if you stand eye to eye. My blighted boy ! Oh ! all good 
 angels who know the truth — hear a poor mother's prayer, 
 and spare my boy from knowledge of this man ! " 
 
 "' He rattles at the shutters ! " cried the man. "' He calls 
 you. That voice and cry ! It was he who grappled with me 
 in the road. Was it he ? " 
 
 She had sunk upon her knees, and so knelt down, moving 
 her lips, but uttering no sound. As he gazed upon her, uncer- 
 tain what to do or where to turn, the shutters flew open. He 
 had barely time to catch a knife from the table, sheathe it in 
 the loose sleeve of his coat, hide in the closet, and do all with 
 the lightning's speed, when Barnaby tapped at the bare glass, 
 and raised the sash exultingly. 
 
 " Why, who can keep out Grip and me ! " he cried, thrust- 
 ing in his head, and staring round the room. "Are you 
 there, mother ? How long you keep us from the fire and 
 lii^-ht." 
 
"If, 
 
BABNABT BUDGE. 149 
 
 She stammered some excuse and tendered him her hand. 
 But Barnaby sprung iightly in without assistance, and putting 
 his arms about her neck, kissed her a hundred times. 
 
 ''We have been afield, mother — leaping ditches, scrambling 
 through hedges, running down steep banks, up and away, and 
 hurrying on. The wind has been blowing, and the rushes and 
 young plants bowing and bending to it, lest it should do them 
 harm, the cowards — and Grip — ha, ha, ha ! — brave Grip, who 
 cares for nothing, and when the wind rolls him over in the 
 dust, turns manfully to bite it — Grip, bold Grip, has quar- 
 relled with every little bowing twig — thinking, he told me, 
 that it mocked him — and has worried it like a bull-dog. Ha, 
 ha, ha ! " 
 
 The raven, in his little basket at his master's back, hearing 
 this frequent mention of his name in a tone of exultation, 
 expressed his S3anpathy by crowing like a cock, and after- 
 wards running over his various phrases of speech with such 
 rapidity, and in so many varieties of hoarseness, that they 
 sounded like the murmurs of a crowd of people. 
 
 " He takes such care of me besides ! " said Barnaby. " Such 
 care, mother ! He watches all the time I sleep, and when I 
 shut my eyes and make-believe to slumber, he practises new 
 learning softly ; but he keeps his eye on me the while, and if 
 he sees me laugh, though never so little, stops directly. He 
 won't surprise me till he's perfect." 
 
 The raven crowed again in a rapturous manner which 
 plainly said, " Those are certainly some of my characteristics, 
 and I glory in them." In the mean time, Barnaby closed the 
 window and secured it, and coming to the fireplace, prepared 
 to sit down with his face to the closet. ])ut his mother pre- 
 vented this, by hastily taking that side herself, and motioning 
 him towards the other. 
 
 "How pale you are to-night !" said Barnaby, leaning on his 
 stick. "We have been cruel, Grip, and made her anxious !" 
 
 Anxious in good truth, and sick at heart ! The listener held 
 the door of his hiding-place open with his hand, and closely 
 watched her son. Grip — alive to everything his master was 
 unconscious of — had his head out of tlie basket, and in return 
 was watching him intently with his glistening eye. 
 
150 BABNABT BUDGE. 
 
 "He flaps his wings," said Barnaby, turning almost quickly 
 enough to catch the retreating form and closing door, " as if 
 there were strangers here ; but Grip is wiser than to fancy 
 that. Jump then ! " 
 
 Accepting this invitation with a dignity peculiar to himself, 
 the bird hopped up on his master's shoulder, from that to his 
 extended hand, and so to the ground. Barnaby unstrapping 
 the basket and putting it down in a corner with the lid open. 
 Grip's first care was to shut it down with all possible despatch, 
 and then to stand upon it. Believing, no doubt, that he had 
 now rendered it utterly impossible, and beyond the power of 
 mortal man, to shut him up in it an}' more, he drew a great 
 many corks in triumph, and uttered a corresponding number 
 of hurrahs. 
 
 " Mother ! " said Barnaby, laying aside his hat and stick, 
 and returning to the chair from which he had risen, " I'll tell 
 you where we have been to-day, and what we have been doing, 
 — shall I?" 
 
 She took his hand in hers, and holding it, nodded the word 
 she could not speak. 
 
 "You mustn't tell," said Barnaby, holding up his finger, 
 "for it's a secret, mind, and only known to me, and Grip, and 
 Hugh. We had the dog with us, but he's not like Grip, clever 
 as he is, and doesn't guess it yet, I'll wager. — Why do you 
 look behind me so ? " 
 
 " Did I ? " she answered faintly. " I didn't know I did. 
 Come nearer me." 
 
 " You are frightened ! " said Barnaby, changing color. 
 " Mother — you don't see " — 
 
 " See what ? " 
 
 " There's — there's none of this about, is there ? " he 
 answered in a whisper, drawing closer to her and clasping 
 the mark upon his wrist. " I am afraid there is, somewhere. 
 You make my hair stand on end, and my flesh creep. Why 
 do you look like that ? Is it in the room as I have seen it in 
 my dreams, dashing the ceiling and the walls with red ? Tell 
 me. Is it ? " 
 
 He fell into a shivering fit as he put the question, and 
 shutting out the light with his hands, sat shaking in every 
 
BABNABT BUDGE. 151 
 
 limb until it had passed away. After a time he raised his 
 head and looked about him. 
 
 "Is it gone?-' 
 
 " There has been nothing here," rejoined his mother, sooth- 
 ing him. '• Nothing indeed, dear Barnaby. Look! You see 
 there are but you and me." 
 
 He gazed at her vacantly, and, becoming reassured by 
 degrees, burst into a wild laugh. 
 
 " But let us see," he said, thoughtfully. " Were we talking ? 
 Was it you and me ? Where have we been ? " 
 
 " Nowhere but here." 
 
 "Ay, but Hugh, and I," said Barnaby, — "That's it. May- 
 pole Hugh, and I, you know, and Grip — we have been lying 
 in the forest, and among the trees by the roadside, with a dark 
 lantern after night came on, and the dog in a noose ready to 
 slip him when the man came by." 
 
 " What man ? " 
 
 '•' The robber ; him that the stars winked at. We have 
 waited for him after dark these many nights, and we shall 
 have him. I'd know him in a thousand. Mother, see here ! 
 This is the man. Look ! " 
 
 He twisted his handkerchief round his head, pulled his hat 
 upon his brow, wrapped his coat about him, and stood up 
 before her : so like the original he counterfeited, that the 
 dark figure peering out behind him might have passed for his 
 own shadow. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! We shall have him," he cried, ridding him- 
 self of the semblance as hastily as he had assumed it. "' You 
 shall see him, mother, bound hand and foot, and brought to 
 London at a saddle-girth ; and you shall hear of him at Tyburn 
 Tree if we have luck. So Hugh says. You're pale again, and 
 trembling. And why do you look behind me so ? " 
 
 " It is nothing," she answered. " I am not quite well. Go 
 you to bed, dear, and leave me here." 
 
 " To bed ! " he answered. " I don't like bed. I like to lie 
 before the fire, watching the prospects in the burning coals — 
 the rivers, hills, and dells, in tlie deep, red sunset, and the wild 
 faces. I am hungry too, and Grip lias eaten nothing since 
 broad noon. Let us to supper. Grip ! To supper, lad ! " 
 
152 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 The raven flapped his wings, and, croaking his satisfaction, 
 hopped to the feet of his master, and there held his bill open, 
 ready for snapping up such lumps of meat as he should throw 
 him. Of these he received about a score in rapid succession, 
 without the smallest discomposure. 
 
 " That's all," said Barnaby. 
 
 " More ! " cried Grip. " More ! " 
 
 But it appearing for a certainty that no more was to be had, 
 he retreated with his store ; and disgorging the morsels one 
 by one from his pouch, hid them in various corners — taking 
 particular care, however, to avoid the closet, as being doubtful 
 of the hidden man's propensities and power of resisting temp- 
 tation. When he had concluded these arrangements, he took a 
 turn or two across the room with an elaborate assumption of 
 having nothing on his mind (but with one eye hard upon his 
 treasure all the time), and then, and not till then, began to 
 drag it out, piece by piece, and eat it with the utmost relish. 
 
 Barnaby, for his part, having pressed his mother to eat, in 
 vain, made a hearty supper too. Once, during the progress 
 of lys meal, he wanted more bread from the closet and rose to 
 get it. She hurriedly interposed to prevent him, and sum- 
 moning her utmost fortitude, passed into the recess, and 
 brought it out herself. 
 
 " Mother," said Barnaby, looking at her steadfastly as she 
 sat down beside him, after doing so ; " is to-day my birth- 
 day ? " 
 
 " To-day ! " she answered. " Don't you recollect it was 
 but a week or so ago, and that summer, autumn, and winter 
 have to pass before it comes again? " 
 
 " I remember that it has been so till now," said Barnaby. 
 " But I think to-day must be my birthday too, for all that." 
 
 She asked him why? "I'll tell you why," he said. "I 
 have always seen you — I didn't let you know it. but I have — 
 on the evening of that day grow very sad. I have seen you 
 cry when Grip and I were most glad; and look frightened 
 with no reason ; and I have touched your hand, and felt that 
 it was cold — as it is now. Once, mother (on a birthday that 
 was, also), Grip and I thought of this after we went up-stairs 
 to bed, and when it was midnight, striking one o'clock, we 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 153 
 
 came down to your door to see if you were well. You were 
 on your knees. I forget what it was you said. Grip, what 
 was it we heard her say that night ? " 
 
 " I'm a devil ! " rejoined the raven promptly. 
 
 "Xo, no," said Barnaby. "But you said something in a 
 prayer ; and when you rose and walked about, you looked (as 
 you have done ever since, mother, towards night on my birth- 
 day) just as you do now. I have found that out, you see, 
 though I am silly. So I say you're wrong ; and this must be 
 my birthday — my birthday. Grip ! " 
 
 The bird received this information with a crow of such 
 duration, as a cock, gifted with intelligence beyond all others 
 of his kind, might usher in the longest day with. Then, as 
 if he had well considered the sentiment, and regarded it as 
 apposite to birthdays, he cried, " Xever say die ! " a great 
 many times, and flapped his wings for emphasis. 
 
 The widow tried to make light of Barnaby's remark, and 
 endeavored to divert his attention to some new subject ; too 
 easy a task at all times, as she knew. His supper done, 
 Barnaby, regardless of her entreaties, stretched himself on the 
 mat before the lire ; Grip perched upon his leg, and divided 
 his time between dozing in the grateful warmth, and endeav- 
 oring (as it presenth' appeared) to recall a new accomplish- 
 ment he had been studying all day. 
 
 A long and profound silence ensued, broken only by some 
 change of position on the part of Barnaby, whose eyes were 
 still wide open and intently fixed upon the fire ; or by an 
 effort of recollection on the part of Grip, who would cry in a 
 low voice from time to time, "Polly put the ket " — and there 
 stop short, forgetting the remainder, and go off in a doze 
 again. 
 
 After a long interval, Barnaby's breathing grew more deep 
 and regular, and his eyes were closed. But even then the 
 unquiet spirit of the raven interposed. "Polly put the 
 ket " — cried Grip, and his master was broad awake again. 
 
 At length Barnaby slept soundly ; and the bird with liis 
 bill sunk upon his breast, his breast itself puffed out into a 
 comfortable alderman-like form, and his bright eye growing 
 smaller and smaller, really seemed to be subsiding into a state 
 
154 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 of repose. Now and then he muttered in a sepulchral voice, 
 " Polly put the ket " — but very drowsily, and more like a 
 drunken man than a reflecting raven. 
 
 The widow, scarcely venturing to breathe, rose from her 
 seat. The man glided from the closet, and extinguished the 
 candle. 
 
 " — tie on," cried Grip, suddenly struck with an idea and 
 very much excited. " — tie on. Hurrah ! Polly put the 
 ket-tle on, we'll all have tea ; Polly put the ket-tle on, we'll 
 all have tea. Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah ! I'm a devil, I'm a 
 devil, I'm a ket-tle on, Keep up your spirits, Never say die, 
 Bow wow wow, I'm a devil, I'm a ket-tle, I'm a — Polly put 
 the ket-tle on, we'll all have tea." 
 
 They stood rooted to the ground, as though it had been a 
 voice from the grave. 
 
 But even this failed to awaken the sleeper. He turned 
 over towards the fire, his arm fell to the ground, and his head 
 drooped heavily upon it. The widow and her unwelcome 
 visitor gazed at him and at each other for a moment, and then 
 she motioned him towards the door. 
 
 " Stay," he whispered. " You teach your son well." 
 
 '•I have taught him nothing that 3'ou heard to-night. 
 Depart instantly, or I will rouse him." 
 
 "You are free to do so. Shall / rouse him ? " 
 
 " You dare not do that." 
 
 " I dare do anything, I have told you. He knows me well, 
 it seems. At least I will know him." 
 
 " Would you kill him in his sleep ? " cried the widow, 
 throwing herself between them. 
 
 " Woman," he returned between his teeth, as he motioned 
 her aside, " I would see him nearer, and I will. If you want 
 one of us to kill the other, wake him." 
 
 With that he advanced, and bending down over the pros- 
 trate form, softly turned back the head and looked into the 
 face. The light of the fire was upon it, and its every linea- 
 ment was revealed distinctly. He contemplated it for a brief 
 space, and hastily uprose. 
 
 " Observe," he whispered in the widow's ear : " In him, 
 of whose existence I was ignorant until to-night, I have you" 
 
BARXABY BUDGE. 155 
 
 in my power. Be careful how you. use me. Be carefiil how 
 you use me. I am destitute and starving, and a wanderer 
 upon the earth. I may take a sure and slow revenge." 
 
 " There is some dreadful meaning in your words. I do not 
 fathom it." 
 
 " There is a meaning in them, and I see you fathom it to 
 its very depth. You have anticipated it for years ; you have 
 told me as much. I leave you to digest it. Do not forget 
 my warning." 
 
 He pointed, as he left her, to the slumbering form, and 
 stealthily withdrawing, made his way into the street. She 
 fell on her knees beside the sleeper, and remained like one 
 stricken into stone, until the tears which fear had frozen so 
 long, came tenderly to her relief. 
 
 " Oh Thou," she cried, " who hast taught me such deep 
 love for this one remnant of the promise of a happy life, out 
 of whose affliction, even, perhaps the comfort springs that he 
 is. ever a relying, loving child to me — never growing old or 
 cold at heart, but needing my care and duty in his manly 
 strength as in his cradle-time — help him, in his darkened 
 walk through this sad world, or he is doomed, and my poor 
 heart is broken !" 
 
156 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Gliding along the silent streets, and holding his course 
 where they were darkest and most gloomy, the man who had 
 left the widow's house crossed London Bridge, and arriving 
 in the City, plunged into the back ways, lanes, and courts, 
 between Cornhill and Smithfield ; with no more fixedness of 
 purpose than to lose himself among their windings, and baffle 
 pursuit, if any one were dogging his steps. 
 
 It was the dead time of the night, and all was quiet. Now 
 and then a drowsy watchman's footsteps sounded on the pave- 
 ment, or the lamplighter on his rounds went flashing past, 
 leaving behind a little track of smoke mingled with glow- 
 ing morsels of his hot red link. He hid himself even from 
 these partakers of his lonely walk, and, shrinking in some 
 arch or doorway while they passed, issued forth again when 
 they were gone and so pursued his solitary way. 
 
 To be shelterless and alone in the open country, hearing 
 the wind moan and watching for day through the whole long 
 weary night ; to listen to the falling rain, and crouch for 
 warmth beneath the lee of some old barn or rick, or in the 
 lioUow of a tree ; are dismal things — but not so dismal as the 
 wandering upland down where shelter is, and b^ds and sleepers 
 are by thousands ; a houseless rejected creature. To pace the 
 echoing stones from hour to hour, counting the dull chimes of 
 the clocks ; to watch the lights twinkling in chamber windows, 
 to think what happy forgetfulness each house shuts in ; that 
 here are children coiled together in their beds, here youth, 
 here age, here poverty, here wealth, all equal in their sleep, 
 and all at rest ; to have nothing in common with the slumber- 
 ing world around, not even sleep, Heaven's gift to all its 
 creatures, and be akin to nothing but despair; to feel, by 
 the wretched contrast with everything on every hand, more 
 utterly alone and cast away than in a trackless desert ; this is 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 157 
 
 a kind of suffering on which the rivers of great cities close 
 full many a time, and which the solitude in crowds alone 
 awakens. 
 
 The miserable man paced up and down the streets — so long, 
 so wearisome, so like each other — and often cast a wistful 
 look towards the east, hoping to see the first faint streaks of 
 day. But obdurate night had yet possession of the sky, and 
 his disturbed and restless walk found no relief. 
 
 One house in a back street was bright with the cheerful 
 glare of lights ; there was the sound of music in it too, and 
 the tread of dancers, and there were cheerful voices, and many 
 a burst of laughter. To this place — to be near something 
 that was awake and glad — he returned again and again ; and 
 more than one of those who left it when the merriment was at 
 its height, felt it a check upon their mirthful mood to see him 
 flitting to and fro like an uneasy ghost. At last the guests 
 departed, one and all ; and then the house was close shut up, 
 arid became as dull and silent as the rest. 
 
 His wanderings brought him at one time to the city jail. 
 Instead of hastening from it as a place of ill omen, and one 
 he had cause to shun, he sat down on some steps hard by, and 
 resting his chin upon his hand, gazed upon its rough and 
 frowning walls as though even they became a refuge in his 
 jaded eyes. He paced it round and round, came back to the 
 same spot, and sat down again. He did this often, and once, 
 with a hasty movement, crossed to where some men were 
 watching in the prison lodge, and had his foot upon the steps 
 as though determined to accost them. But looking round he 
 saw that the day began to break, and failing in his purpose, 
 turned and fled. 
 
 He was soon in the quarter he had lately traversed, and 
 pacing to an fro again as he had done before. He was 
 passing down a mean street, when from an alley close at hand 
 some shouts of revelry arose, and there came straggling forth 
 a dozen madcaps, whooping and calling to each other, who, 
 parting noisily, took different ways and dispersed in smaller 
 groups. 
 
 Hoi)ing that some low place of entertainment which would 
 afford him a safe refuge might be near at hand, he turned into 
 
158 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 this court when they were all gone, and looked about for a 
 half-opened door, or lighted window, or other indication of 
 the place whence they had come. It was so profoundly dark, 
 however, and so ill-favored, that he concluded they had but 
 turned up there, missing their way, and were pouring out 
 again when he observed them. With this impression, and 
 finding there was no outlet but that by which he had 
 entered, he was about to turn, when from a grating near his 
 feet a sudden stream of light appeared, and the sound of 
 talking came. He retreated into a doorway, to see who these 
 talkers were, and to listen to them. 
 
 The light came to the level of the pavement as he did this, 
 and a man ascended bearing in liis hand a torch. This figure 
 unlocked and held open the grating as for the passage of 
 another, who presently appeared, in the form of a young man 
 of small stature and uncommon self-importance, dressed in an 
 obsolete and very gaudy fashion. 
 
 "Good-night, noble captain,'^ said he with the torch. 
 "Farewell, commander. Gook luck, illustrious general!" 
 
 In return to these compliments the otlier bade him hold his 
 tongue, and keep his noise to himself ; and laid upon him 
 many similar injunctions, with great fluency of speech and 
 sternness of manner. 
 
 "Commend me, captain, to the stricken Miggs," returned 
 the torch-bearer in a lower voice. " My captain flies at 
 higher game than !Miggses. Ha, ha, ha ! My captain is an 
 eagle, both as respects his eye and soaring wings. My 
 captain breaketh hearts as other bachelors break eggs at 
 breakfast." 
 
 " What a fool you are, Stagg ! " said Mr. Tappertit, step- 
 ping on the pavement of the court, and brushing from his 
 legs the dust he had contracted in his passage upward. 
 
 "His precious limbs!" cried Stagg, clasping one of his 
 ankles. " Shall a Miggs aspire to these proportions ! No, no, 
 my captain. We will inveigle ladies fair, and wed them in 
 our secret cavern. We will unite ourselves "svith blooming 
 beauties, captain." 
 
 " I'll tell you what, my buck," said Mr. Tappertit, releasing 
 his leg; "I'll trouble you not to take liberties, and not to 
 
iiPc ^'-^ 
 
 -'7>'J> 
 
 -^i" \\\ 
 
 
 ! S 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 159 
 
 broach certain questions unless certain questions are broached 
 to you. Speak when you're spoke to on particular sub- 
 jects, and not otherways. Hold the torch up till I've got 
 to the end of the court, and then kennel yourself, do you 
 hear?" 
 
 " I hear you, noble captain." 
 
 " Obey then," said ^Slr. Tappertit haughtily. " Gentlemen, 
 lead on I " With which word of command (addressed to an 
 imaginary staff or retinue) he folded his arms, and walked 
 with surpassing dignity down the court. 
 
 His obsequious follower stood holding the torch above his 
 head, and then the observer saw for the lirst time, from his 
 place of concealment, that he was blind. Some involuntary 
 motion on his part caught the quick ear of the blind man, 
 before he was conscious of having moved an inch towards 
 him, for he turned suddenly and cried, '• Who's there ? " 
 
 " A man," said the other, advancing. " A friend ! " 
 
 "A stranger ! " rejoined the blind man. " Strangers are 
 not my friends. What do you do there ? " 
 
 " I saw your company come out, and waited here till they 
 were gone. I want a lodging." 
 
 "A lodging at this time ! " returned Stagg, pointing towards 
 the dawn as though he saw it. "Do you know the day is 
 breaking ? " 
 
 "I know it," rejoined the other, "to m}' cost. I have been 
 traversing this iron-hearted town all night." 
 
 "You had better traverse it again," said the blind man, 
 preparing to descend, " till you find some lodgings suitable to 
 your taste. I don't let any." 
 
 "Stay ! " cried the other, holding him by the arm. 
 
 " I'll beat this light about tliat hangdog face of yours (for 
 hangdog it is, if it answers to your voice), and rouse the 
 neighborhood besides, if you detain me," said the blind man. 
 " Let me go. Do you hear ? " 
 
 "Do ijoii hear ! " returned the other, chinking a few shillings 
 together, and hurriedly pressing them into his hand. "I beg 
 nothing of you. I will pay for the shelter you give me. 
 Death ! Is it much to ask of such as you I I have come 
 from the country, and desire to rest where there are none to 
 
160 BABNABT BUDGE. 
 
 question me. I am faint, exhausted, worn out, almost dead. 
 Let me lie down, like a dog, before your fire. I ask no more 
 £han that. If you would be rid of me, I will depart to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " If a gentleman has been unfortunate on the road," 
 muttered Stagg, yielding to the other, who, pressing on him, 
 had already gained a footing on the steps — " and can pay for 
 his accommodation " — 
 
 "I will pay you with all I have. I am just now past the 
 want of food, God knows, and wish but to purchase shelter. 
 What companion have you below ? " 
 
 " None." 
 
 "Then fasten your grate there, and show me the way. 
 Quick ! " 
 
 The blind man complied after a moment's hesitation, and 
 they descended together. The dialogue had passed as hur- 
 riedly as the words could be spoken, and they stood in his 
 wretched room before he had had time to recover from his 
 first surprise. 
 
 " May I see where that door leads to, and what is beyond ? " 
 said the man, glancing keenly round. "You will not mind 
 that?" 
 
 "I will show you myself. Follow me, or go before. Take 
 your choice." 
 
 He bade him lead the way, and by the light of the torch 
 w^hich his conductor held up for the purpose, inspected all 
 three cellars narrowly. Assured that the blind man had 
 spoken truth, and that he lived there alone, the visitor 
 returned with him to the first, in which a fire was burn- 
 ing, and flung himself with a deep groan upon the ground 
 before it. 
 
 His host pursued his usual occupation without seeming to 
 heed him any further. But directly he fell asleep — and he 
 noted his falling into a slumber, as readily as the keenest- 
 sighted man could have done — he knelt down beside him, and 
 passed his hand lightly but carefully over his face and 
 person. 
 
 His sleep was checkered with starts and moans, and some- 
 times with a muttered word or two. His hands were 
 
BAENABY BUDGE. 161 
 
 clinched, his brow bent, and his mouth firmly set. All this, 
 the blind man accurately marked ; and as if his curiosity were 
 strongly awakened, and he had already some inkling of his 
 mystery, he sat watching him, if the expression may be used, 
 and listening, until it was broad day. 
 
162 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Dolly Yarden's pretty little head was yet bewildered by 
 various recollections of the party, and her bright eyes were 
 yet dazzled by a crowd of images, dancing before them like 
 motes in the sunbeams, among which the effigy of one partner 
 in particular did especially figure, the same being a young 
 coachmaker (a master in his own right) who had given her to 
 understand, when he handed her into the chair at parting, 
 that it was his fixed resolve to neglect his business from that 
 time, and die slowly for the love of her — Dolly's head, and 
 eyes, and thoughts, and seven senses, were all in a state of 
 flutter and confusion for which the party was accountable, 
 although it was now three days old, when, as she was sitting 
 listlessly at breakfast, reading all manner of fortunes (that is 
 to say, of married and flourishing fortunes) in the grounds of 
 her teacup, a step was heard in the workshop, and Mr. Ed- 
 ward Chester was descried through the glass door, standing 
 among the rusty locks and keys, like love among the roses — 
 for which apt comparison the historian may by no means take 
 any credit to himself, the same being the invention, in a 
 sentimental mood, of the chaste and modest Miggs, who, 
 beholding him from the doorsteps she was then cleaning, did, 
 in her maiden meditation, give utterance to the simile. 
 
 The locksmith, who happened at the moment to have his 
 eyes thrown upward and his head backward, in an intense 
 communing with Toby, did not see his visitor, until Mrs. 
 Varden, more watchful than the rest, had desired Sim Tappertit 
 to»open the glass door and give him admission — from which 
 untoward circumstance the good lady argued (for she could 
 deduce a precious moral from the most trifling event) that to 
 take a draught of small ale in the morning was to observe a 
 pernicious, irreligious, and Pagan custom, the relish whereof 
 should be left to swine, and Satan, or at least to Popish 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 163 
 
 persons, and should be shunned by the righteous as a work of 
 sin and evil. She would no doubt have pursued her admo- 
 nition much further, and would have founded on it a long list 
 of precious precepts of inestimable value, but that the young 
 gentleman standing by in a somewhat uncomfortable and 
 discomfited manner while she read her spouse this lecture, 
 occasioned her to bring it to a premature conclusion. 
 
 " I'm sure you'll excuse me, sir," said Mrs. Yarden, rising 
 and courtesying. "Varden is so very thoughtless, and needs 
 so much reminding — Sim, bring a chair here." 
 
 Mr. Tappertit obeyed, with a flourish implying that he did 
 so under protest. 
 
 " And you can go, Sim," said the locksmith. 
 
 Mr. Tappertit obeyed again, still under protest ; and 
 betaking himself to the workshop, began seriously to fear 
 that he might find it necessary to poison his master, before 
 his time was out. 
 
 In the mean time, Edward returned suitable replies to Mrs. 
 Varden's courtesies, and that lady brightened up very much ; 
 so that when he accepted a dish of tea from the fair hands of 
 Dolly, she was perfectly agreeable. 
 
 " I am sure if there is anything we can do, — Varden, or I, 
 or Dolly either, — to serve you, sir, at any time, you have only 
 to say it, and it shall be done," said Mrs. V. 
 
 " I am much obliged to you, I am sure," returned Edward. 
 "You encourage me to say that I have come here now, to beg 
 your good offices." 
 
 Mrs. Yarden was delighted beyond measure. 
 
 " It occurred to me that probably your fair daughter might 
 be going to the AYarren, either to-day or to-morrow," said 
 Edward, glancing at Dolly ; " and if so, and you will allow 
 her to take charge of this letter. Ma'am, you will oblige me 
 more than I can tell you. The truth is, that wliile I am very 
 anxious it should reach its destination, I have particular rea- 
 sons for not trusting it to any other conveyance ; so that 
 without your help, I am wliolly at a loss." 
 
 " She was not going that way, sir, either to-day, or to- 
 morrow, nor indeed all next week," the lady graciously 
 rejoined, "but we shall be very glad to put ourselves out of 
 
104 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 the way on your account, and if you wish it, you may depend 
 upon its going to-day. You might suppose," said Mrs. 
 Varden, frowning at her husband, '* from Varden's sitting 
 there so gkim and silent, that he objected to this arrange- 
 ment ; but you must not mind that, sir, if you please. It's 
 his way at home. Out of doors he can be cheerful and talka- 
 tive enough." 
 
 Now the fact was, that the unfortunate locksmith, blessing 
 his stars to find his helpmate in such good-humor, had been 
 sitting with a beaming face, hearing this discourse with a joy 
 past all expression. Wherefore this sudden attack quite took 
 him by surprise. 
 
 " My dear Martha " — he said. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I dare say," interrupted Mrs. Varden, with a 
 smile of mingled scorn and pleasantry. " Very dear ! We 
 all know that." 
 
 "No, but my good soul," said Gabriel, "you are quite 
 mistaken. You are indeed. I was delighted to find you so 
 kind and ready. I waited, my dear, anxiously, I assure you, 
 to hear what you would say." 
 
 " You waited anxiously," repeated Mrs. V. " Yes ! Thank 
 you, Varden. You waited, as you always do, that I might 
 bear the. blame, if any came of it. But I am used to it," 
 said the lady with a kind of solemn titter, " and that's my 
 comfort ! " 
 
 " I give you my word, Martha " — said Gabriel. 
 
 " Let me give you my word, my dear," interposed his wife 
 with a Christian smile, " that such discussions as these 
 between married people, are much better left alone. There- 
 fore, if you please, Varden, we'll drop the subject. I have no 
 wish to pursue it. I could. I might say a great deal. But I 
 would rather not. Pray don't say any more." 
 
 " I don't want to say any more," rejoined the goaded lock- 
 smith. 
 
 " Well then, don't," said Mrs. Varden. 
 
 " Nor did I begin it, Martha," added the locksmith, good- 
 humoredly, " I must say that." 
 
 "You did not begin it, Varden ! " exclaimed his wife, 
 opening her eyes very wide and looking round upon the 
 
BARNABY RUDGE. 1G5 
 
 company, as though she would say, You h«ar this man ! 
 " You did not begin it, Yarden ! But you shall not say I was 
 out of temper, Xo, you did not begin it, oh, dear, no, not 
 you, my dear ! " 
 
 " Well, well," said the locksmith. " That's settled then." 
 
 "Oh, yes," rejoined his wife, "quite. If you like to say 
 Dolly began it, my dear, I shall not contradict you. I know 
 my duty. I need know it, I am sure. I am often obliged to 
 bear it in mind, when my inclination perhaps would be for 
 the moment to forget it. Thank you, Yarden." And so, 
 with a mighty show of humility and forgiveness, she folded 
 her hands, and looked round again, with a smile which plainly 
 said, " If 3^ou desire to see the first and foremost among 
 female martyrs, here she is, on view ! " 
 
 This little incident, illustrative though it was of ^Mrs. 
 Yarden^s extraordinary sweetness and amiability, had so 
 strong a tendency to check the conversation and to disconcert 
 all parties but that excellent lady, that only a few mono- 
 syllables were uttered until Edward withdrew : which he 
 presently did, thanking the lady of the house a great many 
 times for her condescension, and whispering in Dolly's ear 
 that he would call on the morrow, in case there should happen 
 to be an answer to the note — which, indeed, she knew with- 
 out his telling, as Barnaby and his friend Grip had dropped 
 in on the previous night to prepare her for the visit which 
 was then terminating. 
 
 Gabriel, who had attended Edward to the door, came back 
 with his hands in his pockets ; and, after fidgeting about the 
 room in a very uneasy manner, and casting a great many 
 sidelong looks at Mrs. Yarden (who with the calmest counte- 
 nance in the world was five fathoms deep in the Prot<^stant 
 ]\[anual), inquired of Dolly how she meant to go. Dolly 
 supposed by the stage-coach, and looked at her lady mother, 
 who finding herself silently appealed to, dived down at least 
 another fathom into the Manual, and became unconscious of 
 all earthly things. 
 
 " Martha " — said the locksmith. 
 
 " I hear you, Yarden," said his wife, without rising to the 
 surface. 
 
166 BAEXABY BUDGE. 
 
 *' I am sorry, my dear, you have such an objection to the 
 Maypole and old John, for otherways as it's a very fine 
 morning, and Saturday's not a busy day with us, "sve might 
 have all three gone to Chigwell in the chaise, and had quite a 
 happy day of it." 
 
 Mrs. Varden immediately closed the Manual, and bursting 
 into tears, requested to be led up-stairs. 
 
 " What is the matter now, Martha ? " inquired the lock- 
 smith. 
 
 To which Martha rejoined, "Oh! don't speak to me," and 
 protested in agony that if anybody had told her so, she 
 wouldn't have believed it. 
 
 "But, Martha," said Gabriel, putting himself in the way as 
 she was moving off with the aid of Dolly's shoulder, " wouldn't 
 have believed what ? Tell me what's wrong now. Do tell 
 me. Upon my soul I don't know. Do yoio know, child? 
 Damme ! " cried the locksmith, plucking at his wig in a 
 kind of frenzy, "nobody does know, I verily believe, but 
 INIiggs ! " 
 
 " Miggs," said Mrs. Varden faintly, and with symptoms of 
 approaching incoherence, "is attached to me, and that is suffi- 
 cient to draw down hatred upon her in this house. She is a 
 comfort to me whatever she may be to others." 
 
 "She's no comfort to me," cried Gabriel, made bold by 
 despair. " She's the misery of my life. She's all the plagues 
 of Egypt in one." 
 
 " She's considered so, I have no doubt," said Mrs. Varden. 
 " I was prepared for that ; it's natural ; it's of apiece with the 
 rest. When you taunt me as you do to my face, how can I 
 wonder that you taunt her behind her back ! " And here the 
 incoherence coming on very strong, Mrs. Varden wept, and 
 laughed, and sobbed, and shivered, and hiccoughed, and choked ; 
 and said she knew it was very foolish but she couldn't help it; 
 and that when she was dead and gone, perhaps they would be 
 sorry for it — which really under the circumstances did not 
 appear quite so probable as she seemed to think — with a 
 great deal more to the same effect. In a word, she passed 
 with great decency through all the ceremonies incidental to 
 such occasions ; and being supported up-stairs, was deposited 
 
BABNABT BUDGE. 167 
 
 in a highly spasmodic state on her own bed, where ^Miss Miggs 
 shortly afterwards flung herself upon the body. 
 
 The philosophy of all this was, that Mrs. Varden wanted to 
 go to Chigwell ; that she did not want to make any concession 
 or explanation ; that she would only go on being implored and 
 entreated so to do; and that she would accept no other terms. 
 Accordingly, after a vast amount of moaning and crying up- 
 stairs, and much damping of foreheads, and vinegaring of 
 temples, and hartshorning of noses, and so forth ; and after 
 most pathetic adjurations from Miggs, assisted by warm brandy 
 and water not over-weak, and divers other cordials, also of a 
 stimulating quality, administered at first in teaspoonsful and 
 afterwards in increasing doses, and of which ]\Iiss ^liggs her- 
 self partook as a preventive measure (for fainting is infec- 
 tious) ; after all these remedies, and many more too numerous 
 to mention, but not to take, had been applied; and many 
 verbal consolations, moral, religious, and miscellaneous, had 
 been superadded thereto; the locksmith humbled himself, and 
 the end was gained. 
 
 " If it's only for the sake of peace and quietness, father," 
 said Dolly, urging him to go up-stairs. 
 
 "Oh, Doll, Doll," said her good-natured father. "If you 
 ever have a husband of your own " — 
 
 Dolly glanced at the glass. 
 
 " Well, when you have," said the locksmith, " never faint, 
 my darling. More domestic unhappiness has come of easy 
 fainting, Doll, than from all the greater passions put together. 
 Remember that, my dear, if you would be really happy, which 
 you never can be, if your husband isn't. And a word in your 
 ear, my precious. Never have a Miggs about you ! " 
 
 With this advice he kissed his blooming daughter on the 
 cheek, and slowly repaired to ^Irs, Varden's room ; where that 
 lady, lying all pale and languid on her couch, was refreshing 
 herself with a sight of her last new bonnet, wliich Miggs, as a 
 means of calming her scattered spirits, displayed to the best 
 advantage at her bedside. 
 
 " Here's master, mim," said Miggs. "Oh, wliat a happiness 
 it is when man and wife come round again I Oli gracious, to 
 think that him and her should ever have a word togrtlior ! " 
 
168 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 In the energy of these sentiments, which were uttered as an 
 apostrophe to the Heavens in general, Miss Miggs perched the 
 bonnet on the top of her own head, and folding her hands, 
 turned on her tears. 
 
 " I can't help it," cried Miggs. " I couldn't, if I was to be 
 drownded in 'em. She has such a forgiving spirit ! She'll 
 forget all that has passed, and go along with you, sir — Oh, if 
 it was to the world's end, she'd go along with you.'' 
 
 Mrs. Varden with a faint smile gently reproved her attend- 
 ant for this enthusiasm, and reminded her at the same time 
 that she was far too unwell to venture out that day. 
 
 "Oh no, you're not, mim, indeed you're not," said Miggs; 
 " I repeal to master ; master knows you're not, mim. The 
 hair, and motion of the shay, will do you good, mim, and you 
 must not give way, you must not raly. She must keep up 
 mustn't she, sir, for all our sakes ? I was a-telling her that, 
 just now. She must remember us, even if she forgets herself. 
 Master will persuade you, mim, I'm sure. There's Miss 
 Dolly's a-going you know, and master, and you, and all so 
 happy and so comfortable. Oh ! " cried Miggs, turning on the 
 tears again, previous to quitting the room in great emotion, 
 " I never see such a blessed one as she is for the forgiveness 
 of her spirit, I never, never, nev^er did. Nor more did master 
 neither ; no, nor no one — never ! " 
 
 For five minutes or thereabouts, Mrs. Varden remained 
 mildly opposed to all her husband's prayers that she would 
 oblige him by taking a day's pleasure, but relenting at length, 
 she suffered herself to be persuaded, and granting him her 
 free forgiveness (the merit thereof, she meekly said, rested 
 with the Manual and not with her), desired that Miggs might 
 come and help her dress. The handmaid attended promptly, 
 and it is but justice to their joint exertions to record that, 
 when the good lady came down-stairs in course of time, com- 
 pletely decked out for the journey, she really looked as if 
 nothing had happened, and appeared in the very best health 
 imaginable. 
 
 As to Dolly, there she was again, the very pink and pattern 
 of good looks, in a smart little cherry-colored mantle, with a 
 hood of the same drawn over her head, and upon the top of 
 
BARNABT RUBGE. 169 
 
 that hood, a little straw hat trimmed with cherry-colored 
 ribbons, and worn the merest trifle on one side — just enough 
 in short to make it the wickedest and most provoking head- 
 dress that ever malicious milliner devised. And not to speak 
 of the manner in which these cherry-colored decorations 
 brightened her eyes, or vied with her lips, or shed a new 
 bloom on her face, she wore such a cruel little muff, and such 
 a heart-rending pair of shoes, and was so surrounded and 
 hemmed in, as it were, by aggravations of all kinds, that when 
 Mr. Tappertit, holding the horse's head, saw her come out of 
 the house alone, such impulses came over him to decoy her 
 into the chaise and drive off like mad, that he would unques- 
 tionably have done it, but for certain uneasy doubts besetting 
 him as to the shortest way to Gretna Green ; whether it was 
 up the street or down, or up the right-hand turning or the 
 left ; and whether, supposing all the turnpikes to be carried 
 by storm, the blacksmitli in the end would marry them on 
 credit ; which by reason of his clerical office appeared, even to 
 his excited imagination, so unlikely, that he hesitated. And 
 while he stood hesitating, and looking post-chaises and six at 
 Dolly, out came his master and his mistress, and the constant 
 Miggs, and the opportunity was gone forever. For now the 
 chaise creaked upon its springs, and Mrs. Varden was inside ; 
 and now it creaked again, and more than ever, and the lock- 
 smith was inside ; and now it bounded once, as if its heart 
 beat lightly, and Dolly was inside ; and now it was gone and 
 its place was empty, and he and that dreary ^liggs were stand- 
 ing in the street together. 
 
 The hearty locksmith was in as good a humor as if nothing 
 had occurred for the last twelve months to put him out of his 
 way, Dolly was all smiles and graces, and Mrs. Varden was 
 agreeable beyond all precedent. As they jogged through the 
 streets talking of this tiling and of that, who should be descried 
 upon the pavement but that very coachmaker, looking so gen- 
 teel that nobody would have believed he had ever had any- 
 thing to do with a coach but riding in it, and bowing like any 
 nobleman. To be sure Dolly was confused when she bowed 
 again, and to be sure the cherry -colored ribbons trembled a 
 little when she met his mournful eye, which seemed to say, 
 
170 BAliNABY liUDGE. 
 
 " I have kept my word, I have begun, the business is going 
 to the devil, and you're the cause of it." There he stood, 
 rooted to the ground : as Dolly said like a statue ; and as 
 Mrs. Varden said, like a pump; till they turned the corner: 
 and when her father thought it was like his impudence, and 
 her mother wondered what he meant by it, Dolly blushed 
 again till her very hood was pale. 
 
 But on they went, not the less merrily for this, and there 
 was the locksmith in the incautious fulness of his heart 
 "pulling-up" at all manner of places, and evincing a most 
 intimate acquaintance with all the taverns on the road, and 
 all the landlords and all the landladies, with whom, indeed, 
 the little horse was on equally friendly terms, for he kept on 
 stopping of his own accord. Never were people so glad to 
 see other people as these landlords and landladies were to 
 behold Mr. Varden and Mrs. Varden and Miss Varden ; and 
 wouldn't they get out, said one ; and they really must walk 
 up-stairs, said another ; and she would take it ill and be quite 
 certain they were proud if they wouldn't have a little taste of 
 something, said a third ; and so on, that it really was quite a 
 Progress rather than a ride, and one continued scene of hospi- 
 tality from beginning to end. It was pleasant enough to be 
 held in such esteem, not to mention the refreshments ; so Mrs. 
 Varden said nothing at the time, and was all affability and 
 delight — but such a body of evidence as she collected against 
 the unfortunate locksmith that day, to be used thereafter as 
 occasion might require, never was got together for matrimonial 
 purposes. 
 
 In course of time — and in course of a pretty long time too, 
 for these agreeable interruptions delayed them not a little, — 
 they arrived upon the skirts of the Forest, and riding 
 pleasantly on among the trees, came at last to the Maypole, 
 where the locksmith's Cheerful " Yoho ! " speedily brought to 
 the porch old John, and after him young Joe, both of whom 
 were so transfixed at sight of the ladies, that for a moment 
 they were perfectly unable to give them any welcome, and 
 could do nothing but stare. 
 
 It was only for a moment, however, that Joe forgot himself, 
 for speedily reviving he thrust his drowsy father aside — to 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 171 
 
 Mr. Willet's mighty and inexpressible indignation — and dart- 
 ing out, stood ready to help them to alight. It was necessary 
 for Dolly to get out first. Joe had her in his arms; — yes, 
 though for a space of time no longer than you could count 
 one in, Joe had her in his arms. Here was a glimpse of 
 happiness ! 
 
 It would be difficult to describe what a flat and common- 
 place affair the helping Mrs. Varden out afterwards was, but 
 Joe did it, and did it too with the best grace in the world. 
 Then old John, who, entertaining a dull and foggy sort of 
 idea that Mrs. Varden wasn't fond of him, had been in some 
 doubt whether she might not have come for purposes of 
 assault and battery, took courage, hoped she was w^ell, and 
 offered to conduct her fnto the house. This tender being 
 amicably received, they marched in together ; Joe and Dolly 
 followed, arm in arm (happiness again !) and Varden brought 
 up the rear. 
 
 Old John would have it that they must sit in the bar, and 
 nobody objecting, into the bar they went. All bars are snug 
 places, but the Maypole's was the very snuggest, cosiest, and 
 completest bar, that ever the wit of man devised. Such amaz- 
 ing bottles in old oaken pigeon-holes, such gleaming tankards 
 dangling from pegs at about the same inclination as thirsty 
 men would hold them to their lips ; such sturdy little Dutch 
 kegs ranged in rows on shelves ; so many lemons hanging in 
 separate nets, and forming the fragrant grove already men- 
 tioned in this chronicle, suggestive, with goodly loaves of 
 snowy sugar stowed away hard by, of punch idealized beyond 
 all mortal knowledge ; such closets, such presses, such drawers 
 full of pipes, such places for putting things away in hollow 
 window-seats, all crammed to the throat with eatables, drink- 
 ables, or savory condiments ; lastly, and to crown all, as 
 typical of the immense resources of the establishment, and its 
 defiances to all visitors to cut and come again, such a 
 stupendous cheese ! 
 
 It is a poor heart that never rejoices — it must have been 
 the poorest, weakest, and most watery heart that ever beat, 
 which would not have warmed towards the Maypole l)ar. 
 Mrs. Varden's did directly. She could no more have re- 
 
172 BAUXABT BUDGE. 
 
 proached John Willet among those househohl gods, the kegs 
 and bottles, lemons, pipes, and cheese, than she could have 
 stabbed him with his own bright carving-knife. The order 
 for dinner too — it might have soothed a savage. "A bit of 
 fish," said John to the cook, " and some lamb chops (breaded, 
 with plent}' of ketchup), and a good salad, and a roast spring 
 chicken, with a dish of sausages and mashed potatoes, or 
 somethin.o: of that sort." Something of that sort ! The 
 resources of these inns! To talk carelessly about dishes, 
 which in themselves were a first-rate holiday kind of dinner, 
 suitable to one's wedding day, as something of that sort: 
 meaning, if you can't get a spring chicken, any other trifle in 
 the way of poultry will do — such as a peacock, perhaps ! 
 The kitchen too, with its great broad cavernous chimney ; the 
 kitchen, where nothing in the way of cookery seemed impos- 
 siV)le ; where you could believe in anything to eat, they chose 
 to tell you of. ]Mrs. Varden returned from the contemplation 
 of these wonders to the bar again, with a head quite dizzy 
 and bewildered. Her housekeeping capacity was not large 
 enough to comprehend them. She was obliged to go to sleep. 
 Waking was pain in the midst of such immensity. 
 
 Dolly in the mean while, whose gay heart and head ran 
 upon other matters, passed out at the garden door, and 
 glancing back now and then (but of course not wondering 
 whether Joe saw her), tripped away by a path across the fields 
 with w^hich she was well acquainted, to discharge her mission 
 at the Warren; and this deponent hath been informed and 
 verily believes, that you might have seen many less pleasant 
 objects than the cherry-colored mantle and ribbons as they 
 went fluttering along the green meadows in the bright light 
 of the day, like giddy things as they were. 
 
BABNABT BUDGE, 173 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 The proud consciousness of lier trust, and the great im- 
 portance she derived from it, might have advertised it to 
 all the house if she had had to run the gantlet of its in- 
 habitants ; but as Dolly had played in every dull room and 
 passage mau}^ and many a time, when a child, and had ever 
 since been the humble friend of Miss Haredale, whose foster 
 sister she was, she was as free of the building as the young 
 lady herself. So, using no greater precaution than holding 
 her breath and walking on tiptoe as she passed the library 
 door, she went straight to Emma's room as a privileged 
 visitor. 
 
 It was the liveliest room in the building. The chamber 
 was sombre like the rest for the matter of that, but the 
 presence of youth and beauty would make a prison cheerful 
 (saving alas ! that confinement withers them), and lend some 
 charms of their own to the gloomiest scene. Birds, flowers, 
 books, drawing, music, and a hundred such graceful tokens of 
 feminine loves and cares, filled it with more of life and human 
 sympathy than the whole house besides seemed made to hold. 
 There was heart in the room ; and who that has a heart, ever 
 fails to recognize the silent presence of another ! 
 
 Dolly had one undoubtedly, and it was not a tough one 
 either, though there was a little mist of coquettishness about 
 it, such as sometimes surrounds that sun of life in its morning, 
 and slightly dims its lustre. Thus, when Emma rose to greet 
 her, and kissing her affectionately on the cheek, told her, in 
 her quiet way, that she had been very unhappy, the tears 
 stood in Dolly's eyes, and she felt more sorry than she could 
 tell; but next moment she happened to raise them to the 
 glass, and really there was something there so exceedingly 
 agreeable, that as she sighed, she smiled, and felt surprisingly 
 consoled. 
 
174 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 " I have heard about it, Miss," said Dolly, " and it's very- 
 sad indeed, but when things are at the worst they are sure to 
 mend." 
 
 " But are you sure they are at the worst ? " asked Emma 
 with a smile. 
 
 " Wh}', I don't see how they can very well be more unprom- 
 ising than they are ; I really don't," said Dolly. " And I 
 bring something to begin with." 
 
 "Xot from Edward?" 
 
 Dolly nodded and smiled, and feeling in her pockets (there 
 were pockets in those days) with an affectation of not being 
 able to find what she wanted, which greatly enhanced her 
 importance, at length produced the letter. As Emma hastily 
 broke the seal and became absorbed in its contents, Dolly's 
 eyes, by one of those strange accidents for which there is no 
 accounting, wandered to the glass again. She could not help 
 wondering whether the coachmaker suffered very much, and 
 quite pitied the poor man. 
 
 It was a long letter — a very long letter, written close on all 
 four sides of the sheet of paper, and crossed afterw^ards ; but 
 it was not a consolatory letter, for as Emma read it she 
 stopped from time to time to put her handkerchief to her eyes. 
 To be sure Dolly marvelled greatly to see her in so much dis- 
 tress, for to her thinking a love affair ought to be one of the 
 best jokes, and the slyest, merriest kind of thing in life. 
 But she set it down in her own mind that all this came from 
 Miss Haredale's being so constant, and that if she would only 
 take on with some other young gentleman — just in the most 
 innocent way possible, to keep her first lover up to the mark 
 — she would find herself inexpressibly comforted. 
 
 " I am sure that's what I should do if it was me," thought 
 Dolly. " To make one's sweethearts miserable is well enough 
 and quite right, but to be made miserable one's self is a little 
 too much ! " 
 
 However it wouldn't do to say so, and therefore she sat 
 looking on in silence. She needed a pretty considerable 
 stretch of patience, for when the long letter had been read 
 once all through it was read again, and when it had been read 
 twice all though it was read again. During this 'tedious 
 
BABNABT BUDGE. 175 
 
 process, Dolly beguiled the time in the most improving 
 manner that occurred to her, by curling her hair on her fingers, 
 with the aid of the looking-glass before mentioned, and giv- 
 ing it some killing twists. 
 
 Everything has an end. Even young ladies in love cannot 
 read their letters forever. In course of time the packet was 
 folded up, and it only remained to write the answer. 
 
 But as this promised to be a work of time likewise, Emma 
 said she would put it off until after dinner, and that Dolly 
 must dine with her. As Dolly had made up her mind to do 
 so beforehand, she required very little pressing ; and when 
 they had settled this point, they went to walk in the 
 garden. 
 
 They strolled up and down the terrace walks, talking inces- 
 santly — at least, Dolly never left off once — and making that 
 quarter of the sad and mournful house quite gay. Not that 
 they talked loudly or laughed much, but they were both so 
 very handsome, and it was such a breezy day, and their light 
 dresses and dark curls appeared so free and joyous in their 
 abandonment, and Emma was so fair, and Dolly so rosy, and 
 Emma so delicately shaped, and Dolly so plump, and — iu 
 short, there are no flowers for any garden like such flowers, 
 let horticulturists say what they may, and both house and 
 garden seemed to know it, and to brighten up sensibly. 
 
 After this, came the dinner and the letter-writing, and 
 some more talking, in the course of which jMiss Haredale took 
 occasion to charge upon Dolly certain flirtish and inconstant 
 propensities, which accusations Dolly seemed to think very 
 complimentary indeed, and to be mightily amused with. 
 Finding her quite incorrigible in this respect, Emma suffered 
 her to depart ; but not before she had confided to her that 
 important and never-sufliciently-to-be-taken-care-of answer, 
 and endowed her moreover with a pretty little bracelet as a 
 keepsake. Having clasped it on her arm, and again advised 
 her half in jest and half in earnest to amend her roguish 
 ways, for she knew she was fond of Joe at heart (which Dolly 
 stoutly denied, with a great many haughty j^rotestations tliat 
 she hoped she could do better than that indeed ! and so fortli), 
 she bade her farewell ; and after calling her back to give her 
 
176 BABNABT BUDGE. 
 
 more supplementary messages for Edward, than anybody with 
 tenfold the gravity of Dolly Varden could be reasonably ex- 
 pected to remember, at length dismissed her. 
 
 Dolly bade her good-by, and tripping lightly down the 
 stairs arrived at the dreaded library door, and was about 
 to pass it again on tiptoe, when it opened, and behold ! there 
 stood Mr. Haredale. Now, Dolly had from her childhood 
 associated with this gentleman the idea of something grim 
 and ghostly, and being at the moment conscience-stricken 
 besides, the sight of him threw her into such a flurry that she 
 could neither acknowledge his presence nor run away, so she 
 gave a great start, and then with downcast eyes stood still 
 and trembled. 
 
 "Come here, girl," said Mr. Haredale, taking her by the 
 hand. " I want to speak to you." 
 
 " If you please, sir, I'm in a hurry," faltered Dolly, " and 
 — and you have frightened me by coming so suddenly upon 
 me, sir, — I would rather go, sir, if you'll be so good as to 
 let me." 
 
 " Immediately," said INIr. Haredale, who had by this time 
 led her into the room and closed the door. "You shall go 
 directly. You have just left Emma ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, just this minute. — Father's waiting for me, sir, 
 if you'll please to have the goodness " — 
 
 "I know. I know," said Mr. Haredale. "Answer me a 
 question. What did j^ou bring here to-day ? " 
 
 " Bring here, sir ? " faltered Dolly. 
 
 " You Avill tell me the truth, I am sure. Yes." 
 
 Dolly hesitated for a little while, and somewhat emboldened 
 by his manner, said at last, "Well then, sir. It was a 
 letter." 
 
 " From Mr. Edward Chester, of course. And you are the 
 bearer of the answer ? " 
 
 Dolly hesitated again, and not being able to decide upon 
 any other course of action, burst into tears. 
 
 "You alarm yourself without cause," said Mr. Haredale. 
 " Why are you so foolish ? Surely you can answer me. You 
 know that I have but to put the question to Emma and learn 
 the truth directly. Have you the answer with you ? " 
 
BARN A BY BUDGE. 177 
 
 Dolly had what is popularly called a spirit of her own, and 
 being now fairly at bay, made the best of it. 
 
 " Yes, sir," she rejoined, trembling and frightened as she 
 was. " Yes, sir, I have. You may kill me if you please, 
 sir, but I won't give it up. I'm very sorry, — but I won't. 
 There, sir." 
 
 "I commend your hrmness and your plain speaking," said 
 Mr. Haredale. " Kest assured that I have as little desire to 
 take your letter as your life. You are a very discreet mes- 
 senger and a good girl." 
 
 Not feeling quite certain, as she afterwards said, whether 
 he might not be " coming over her" with these compliments, 
 Dolly kept as far from him as she could, cried again, and 
 resolved to defend her pocket (for the letter was there) to the 
 last extremity. 
 
 "I have some design," said Mr. Haredale after a short 
 silence, during which a smile, as he regarded her, had 
 struggled through the gloom and melancholy that was natural 
 to his face, " of providing a companion for my niece ; for her 
 life is a very lonely one. AVould you like the office ? You 
 are the oldest friend she has, and the best entitled to it." 
 
 " I don't know, sir," answered Dolly, not sure but he was 
 bantering her ; " I can't say. I don't know what they might 
 wish at home. I couldn't give an opinion, sir." 
 
 " If your friends had no objection, would 3'ou have any ? " 
 said Mr. Haredale. " Come. There's a plain question ; and 
 easy to answer." 
 
 " None at all that I know of, sir," replied Dolly. " I should 
 be very glad to be near Miss Emma of course, and always 
 am." 
 
 "That's well," said Mr. Haredale. "That is all I had to 
 say. You are anxious to go. Don't let me detain you." 
 
 Dolly didn't let him, nor did she wait for him to try, for 
 the words had no sooner passed his lips than she was out of 
 the room, out of the house, and in the fields again. 
 
 The first thing to be done, of course, when she came to 
 herself, and considered what a flurry she had been in, was to 
 cry afresh ; and the next thing, when she reflected how well 
 she had got over it, was to laugh lieartily. Tlie tears once 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
178 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 banished gav^e place to the smiles, and at last Dolly laughed 
 so much that she was fain to lean against a tree, and give 
 vent to her exultation. When she could laugh no longer 
 and was quite tired, she put her head-dress to rights, dried 
 her eyes, looked back very merrily and triumphantly at the 
 AVarren chimneys, which were just visible, and resumed her 
 walk. 
 
 The twilight had come on, and it was quickly growing 
 dusk, but the path was so familiar to her from frequent trav- 
 ersing that she hardly thought of this, and certainly felt no 
 uneasiness at being alone. Moreover, there was the bracelet 
 to admire ; and when she had given it a good rub, and held 
 it out at arm's length, it sparkled and glittered so beautifully 
 on her wrist, that to look at it in every point of view and 
 with every possible turn of the arm, was quite an absorbing 
 business. There was the letter too, and it looked so mys- 
 terious and knowing, when she took it out of her pocket, and 
 it held, as she knew, so much inside, that to turn it over and 
 over, and think about it, and wonder how it began, and how 
 it ended, and what it said all through, was another matter of 
 constant occupation. Between the bracelet and the letter 
 there was quite enough to do without thinking of anything 
 else ; and admiring each by turns, Dolly went on gayly. 
 
 As she passed through a wicket gate to where the path was 
 narrow, and lay between two hedges garnished here and there 
 with trees, she heard a rustling close at hand, which brought 
 her to a sudden stop. She listened. All was very quiet, and 
 she went on again — not absolutely frightened, but a little 
 quicker than before perhaps, and possibly not quite so much 
 at her ease, for a check of that kind is startling. 
 
 She had no sooner moved on again, than she was conscious 
 of the same sound, which w^as like that of a person tramping 
 stealthily among bushes and brushwood. Looking towards 
 the spot whence it appeared to come, she almost fancied she 
 could make out a crouching figure. She stopped again. All 
 was quiet as before. On she went once more — decidedly 
 faster now — and tried to sing softly to herself. It must be 
 the wind. 
 
 But how came the wind to blow only when she walked, and 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. 179 
 
 cease when she stood still ? IShe stopped involuntarily as she 
 made the reflection, and the rustling noise stopped likewise. 
 She was really frightened now, and was yet hesitating what 
 to do, when the bushes crackled and snapped, and a man 
 came plunging through them, close before her. 
 
180 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 It was for the moment an inexpressible relief to Dolly, to 
 recognize in the person who forced himself into the path so 
 abruptly, and now stood directly in her way, Hugh of the 
 Maypole, whose name she uttered in a tone of delighted 
 surprise that came from her heart. 
 
 " Was it you ? " she said, " how glad I am to see you ! and 
 how could you terrify me so ! " 
 
 In answer to which, he said nothing at all, but stood quite 
 still, looking at her. 
 
 " Did you come to meet me ? " asked Dolly. 
 
 Hugh nodded, and muttered something to the effect that 
 he had been waiting for her, and had expected her sooner. 
 
 "I thought it likely they would send," said Dolly, greatly 
 reassured by this. 
 
 " Nobody sent me," was his sullen answer. '•' I came of my 
 own accord." 
 
 The rough bearing of this fellow, and his wild, uncouth 
 appearance, had often filled the girl with a vague apprehen- 
 sion even when other people were by, and had occasioned her 
 to shrink from him involuntarily. The having him for an 
 unbidden companion in so solitary a place, with the darkness 
 fast gathering about them, renewed and even increased the 
 alarm she had felt at hrst. 
 
 If his mariner had been merely dogged and passively fierce, 
 as usual, she would have had no greater dislike to his com- 
 pany than she always felt — perhaps, indeed, would have 
 been rather glad to have had him at hand. But there was 
 something of coarse bold admiration in his look, which terri- 
 fied her very much. She glanced timidly towards him, uncer- 
 tain whether to go forward or retreat, and he stood gazing at 
 her like a handsome satyr; and so they remained for some 
 
DOLLY WAYLAID BY HUGH. 
 
I^r^-^Y 
 
BARNABY RUhGE. 181 
 
 short time without stirring or breaking silence. At length 
 Dolly took courage, shot past him, and hurried on. 
 
 " Why do you spend so much breath in 'ivoiding me ? " 
 said Hugh, accommodating his pace to hers, and keeping 
 close at her side. 
 
 »" I wish to get back as quickly as I can, and you walk too 
 near me," answered Dolly. 
 
 "Too near!" said Hugh, stooping over her so that she 
 could feel his breath upon her forehead. " Why too near ? 
 You're always proud to me, mistress." 
 
 " I am proud to no one. You mistake me," answered Dolly. 
 " Fall back, if you please, or go on." 
 
 "Xay, mistress," he rejoined, endeavoring to draw her arm 
 through his. " I'll walk with you." 
 
 She released herself, and clinching her little hand, struck 
 him with right good will. At this, ]\Iaypole Hugh burst into 
 a roar of laughter, and passing his arm about her waist, held 
 her in his strong grasp as easily as if she had been a bird. 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha! W^ell done, mistress! Strike again. You 
 shall beat my face, and tear my hair, and pluck my beard up 
 by the roots, and welcome, for the sake of your bright eyes. 
 Strike again, mistress. Do. Ha, ha, ha ! I like it." 
 
 " Let me go," she cried, endeavoring with both her hands 
 to push him off. "Let me go this moment." 
 
 " You had as good be kinder to me, Sweetlips," said Hugh. 
 "You had, indeed. Come. Tell me now. Why are you 
 always so proud ? I don't quarrel with you for it. I love 
 you when you're proud. Ha, ha, ha ! You can't hide your 
 beauty from a poor fellow ; that's a comfort ! " 
 
 She gave him no answer, but as he had not yet checked her 
 progress, continued to press forward as rapidly as she could. 
 At length, between the hurry she had made, her terror, and 
 the tightness of his embrace, her strength failed her, and slie 
 could go no further. 
 
 "Hugh," cried the panting girl, "good Hugh; if you will 
 leave me I will give you anything — everything I have — and 
 never tell one word of this to any living creature." 
 
 "You had best not," he answered. " Harkye, little dove, 
 you had best not. All about here know me, and what I dare 
 
182 BARNABT EUDGE. 
 
 do if I have a mind. If ever you are going to tell, stop when 
 the words are on your lips, and think of the mischief you'll 
 bring, if you do, upon some innocent heads that you wouldn't 
 wish to hurt a hair of. Bring trouble on me, and I'll bring 
 trouble and something more on them in return. I care no 
 more for them than for so many dogs ; not so much — why 
 should I ? I'd sooner kill a man than a dog any day. I've 
 never been sorry for a man's death in all my life, and I have 
 for a dog's." 
 
 There was something so thoroughl}' savage in the manner 
 of these expressions, and the looks and gestures by which 
 they were accompanied, that her great fear of him gave 
 her new strength, and enabled her. by a sudden effort to 
 extricate herself and run fleetly from him. But Hugh was 
 as nimble, strong, and swift of foot, as any man in broad 
 England, and it was but a fruitless expenditure of energy, for 
 he had her in his encircling arms again before she had gone a 
 hundred j'ards. 
 
 " Softly, darling — gently — would you fly from rough Hugh, 
 that loves you as well as any drawing-room gallant ? " 
 
 '•I would," she answered, struggling to free herself again. 
 "I win. Help!" 
 
 " A fine for crying out," said Hugh. " Ha, ha, ha ! A fine, 
 pretty one, from your lips. I pay myself ! Ha, ha, ha! " 
 
 " Help ! Help ! Help ! " As she shrieked with the utmost 
 violence she could exert, a shout was heard in answer, and 
 another, and another. 
 
 " Thank Heaven ! " cried the girl in an ecstasy. " Joe, 
 dear Joe, this way. Help ! " 
 
 Her assailant paused, and stood irresolute for a moment, 
 but the shouts drawing nearer and coming quick upon them, 
 forced him to a speedy decision. He released her, whispered 
 with a menacing look, "Tell hiin : and see what follows!" 
 and leaping the hedge, was gone in an instant. Dolly darted 
 off, and fairly ran into Joe Willet's open arms. 
 
 '' What is the matter ! are you hurt ! what was it ! who 
 was it ? where is he ? what was he like ? " with a great 
 many encouraging expressions and assurances of safety, were 
 the first words Joe poured forth. But poor little Dolly was 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 183 
 
 SO breathless and terrified that for some time she was quite 
 unable to answer him, and liung upon his shoulder, sobbing 
 and crying as if her heart would break. 
 
 Joe had not the smallest objection to have her hanging on 
 his shoulder ; no, not the least, though it crushed the cherry- 
 colored ribbons sadly, and put the smart little hat out of all 
 shape. But he couldn't bear to see her cry ; it went to his 
 very heart. He tried to console her, bent over her, whispered 
 to her — some say kissed her, but that's a fable. At any rate 
 he said all the kind and tender things he could think of, and 
 Dolly let him go on and didn't interrupt him once, and it was 
 a good ten minutes before she was able to raise her head and 
 thank him. 
 
 " What was it that frightened you ? " said Joe. 
 
 A man whose person was unknown to her had followed 
 her, she answered ; he began by begging, and went on to 
 threats of robbery which he was on the point of carrying 
 into execution, and would have executed, but for Joe's timely 
 aid. The hesitation and confusion with which she said this, 
 Joe attributed to the fright she had sustained, and no suspicion 
 of the truth occurred to him for a moment. 
 
 "Stop when the words are on your lips." A hundred 
 times that night, and very often afterwards, when the dis- 
 closure was rising to her tongue, Dolly thought of that, and 
 repressed it. A deeply rooted dread of the man ; the con- 
 viction that his ferocious nature, once roused, would stop at 
 nothing ; and the strong assurance that if she impeached him, 
 the full measure of his wrath and vengeance would be wreaked 
 on Joe, who had preserved her; these were considerations she 
 had not the courage to overcome, and inducements to secrecy 
 too powerful for her to surmount. 
 
 Joe, for his part, was a great deal too happy to inquire 
 very curiously into the matter; and Dolly being yet too 
 tremulous to walk without assistance, they went forward very 
 slowly, and in his mind very pleasantly, until the Maypole 
 lights were near at hand, twinkling their cheerful welcome, 
 when Dolly stopped suddenly, and with a half scream ex- 
 claimed, — 
 
 " The letter ! " 
 
184 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 '^ What letter ? " cried Joe. 
 
 "That I was carrying — I had it in my hand. My bracelet, 
 too," she said, clasping her wrist. '- 1 have lost them both ! " 
 
 "Do you mean just now ? " said Joe. 
 
 "Either I dropped them then, or they were taken from 
 me," answered Dolly, vainly searching her pocket and rustling 
 her dress. " They are gone, both gone. What an unhappy 
 girl I am ! " With these words poor Dolly, who to do her 
 justice was quite as sorry for the loss of the letter as for her 
 bracelet, fell a-crying again, and bemoaned her fate most 
 movingly. 
 
 Joe tried to comfort her with the assurance that directly he 
 had housed her safely in the Maypole, he would return to the 
 spot with a lantern (for it was now quite dark) and make 
 strict search for the missing articles, Avhich there was great 
 probability of his finding, as it was not likely that anybody 
 had passed that way since, and she was not conscious of their 
 having been forcibly taken from her. Dolly thanked him 
 very heartily for this offer, though with no great hope of his 
 quest being successful ; and so, with many lamentations on 
 her side, and many hopeful words on his, and much wea^kness 
 on the part of Dolly and much tender supporting on the part 
 of Joe, they reached the Maypole bar at last, where the lock- 
 smith and his wife and old John were yet keeping high 
 festival. 
 
 My. Willet received the intelligence of Dolly's trouble with 
 that surprising presence of mind and readiness of speech for 
 which he was so eminently distinguished above all other men. 
 Mrs. Varden expressed her sympathy for her daughter's 
 distress by scolding her roundly for being so late ; and the 
 honest locksmith divided himself between condoling with and 
 kissing Dolly, and shaking hands heartily with Joe, whom he 
 could not sufficient!}^ praise or thank. 
 
 In reference to this latter point, old John was far from 
 agreeing with his friend ; for besides that he by no means 
 approved of an adventurous spirit in the abstract, it occurred 
 to him that if his son and heir had been seriously damaged in 
 a scuffle, the consequences would assuredly have been expen- 
 sive and inconvenient, and might perhaps have proved detri- 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 185 
 
 mental to the Maypole business. Wherefore, and because he 
 looked with no favorable eye upon young girls, but rather con- 
 sidered that they and the whole female sex were a kind of 
 nonsensical mistake on the part of Nature, he took occasion 
 to retire and shake his head in private at the boiler ; inspired 
 by which silent oracle, he was moved to give Joe various 
 stealthy nudges with his elbow, as a parental reproof and 
 gentle admonition to mind his own business and not make a 
 fool of himself. 
 
 Joe, however, took down the lantern and lighted it; and 
 arming himself Avith a stout stick, asked whether Hugh was 
 in the stable. 
 
 "He's lying asleep before the kitchen fire, sir," said Mr. 
 Willet. " What do you want him for ? " 
 
 " I want him to come with me to look after this bracelet 
 and letter," answered Joe. '• Halloa, there ! Hugh ! " 
 
 Dolly turned pale as death, and felt as if she must faint 
 forthwith. After a few moments, Hugh came staggering in, 
 stretching himself and yawning according to custom, and 
 presenting every appearance of having been roused from a 
 sound nap. 
 
 "Here, sleepy-head," said Joe, giving him the lantern. 
 " Carry this, and bring the dog, and that small cudgel of 
 yours. And woe betide the fellow if we come upon him." 
 
 "What fellow?" growled Hugh, rubbing his eyes and 
 shaking himself. 
 
 " What fellow ? " returned Joe, who was in a state of great 
 valor and bustle ; " a fellow you ought to know of, and be 
 more alive about. It's well for the like of you, lazy giant 
 that you are, to be snoring your time away in chimney- 
 corners, when honest men's daughters can't cross even our 
 quiet meadows at nightfall witliout being set upon by foot- 
 pads, and frightened out of their precious lives." 
 
 " They never rob me," cried Hugh with a laugh. " I have 
 got nothing to lose. But I'd as lief knock them at head as 
 any other men. How many are there ? " 
 
 "Only one," said Dolly faintly, for everybody looked at 
 her. 
 
 "And what was he like, mistress ? " said Hugh with a 
 
186 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 glance at young Willet, so slight and momentary that the 
 scowl it conveyed was lost on all but her. "About my 
 height ? " 
 
 " ]N"ot — not so tall/' Dolly -^lied, scarce knowing what 
 she said. 
 
 " His dress," said Hugh, looking at her keenly, like — 
 like any of ours now ? I know all the people hereabouts, and 
 maybe could give a guess at the man, if I had anything to 
 guide me." 
 
 Dolly faltered and turned paler yet ; then answered that he 
 was wrapped in a loose coat and had his face hidden by a 
 handkerchief, and that she could give no other description of 
 him. 
 
 "You wouldn't know him if you saw him then, belike ? " 
 said Hugh with a malicious grin. 
 
 " I should not," answered Dolly, bursting into tears again. 
 " I don't wish to see him. I can't bear to think of him. I 
 can't talk about him any more. Don't go to look for these 
 things, Mr. Joe, i^ray don't. I entreat you not to go with 
 that man." 
 
 "Not to go with me!" cried Hugh. "I'm too rough for 
 them all. They're all afraid of me. Why, bless you, 
 mistress, I've, the tenderest. heart alive. I love all the ladies, 
 ma'am," said Hugh, turning to the locksmith's wife. 
 
 Mrs. Varden opined that if he did, he ought to be ashamed 
 of himself, such sentiments being more consistent (so she 
 argued) with a benighted Mussulman or wild Islander than 
 with a stanch Protestant. Arguing from this imperfect state 
 of his morals, Mrs. Varden further opined that he had never 
 studied the Manual. Hugh admitting that he never had, and 
 moreover that he couldn't read, Mrs. Varden declared with 
 much severity, that he ought to be even more ashamed of 
 himself than before, and strongly recommended him to save 
 up his pocket-money for the purchase of one, and further to 
 teach himself the contents with all convenient diligence. She 
 was still pursuing this train of discourse, when Hugh, some- 
 what unceremoniously and irreverently, followed his young 
 master out, and left her to edify the rest of the company. 
 This she proceeded to do, and finding that Mr. Willet's eyes 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 187 
 
 were fixed upon her with an appearance of deep attention, 
 gradually addressed the whole of her discourse to him, whom 
 she entertained with a moral and theological lecture of con- 
 siderable length, in the conviction that great workings were 
 taking place in his spirit. The simple truth was, however, 
 that Mr. Willet, although his eyes were wide open and he saw 
 a woman before him whose head by long and steady looking 
 at seemed to grow bigger and bigger until it filled the whole 
 bar, was to all other intents and purposes fast asleep ; and so 
 sat leaning back in his chair with his hands in his pockets 
 until his son's return caused him to wake up with a deep 
 sigh, and a faint impression that he had been dreaming 
 about pickled pork and greens — a vision of his slumbers 
 which was no doubt referable to the circumstance of Mrs. 
 Varden's having frequently pronounced the word " Grace " 
 with much emphasis ; which word, entering the portals of 
 Mr. Willet's brain as they stood ajar, and coupling itself with 
 the words " before meat," which were there ranging about, 
 did in time suggest a particular kind of meat together with 
 that description of vegetable which is usually its companion. 
 
 The search was wholly unsuccessful. Joe had groped along 
 the path a dozen times, and among the grass, and in the dry 
 ditch, and in the hedge, but all in vain. Dolly, who was 
 quite inconsolable for her loss, wrote a note to Miss Haredale 
 giving her the same account of it that she had given at the 
 Maypole, which Joe undertook to deliver as soon as the family 
 were stirring next day. That done, they sat down to tea in 
 the bar, where there was an uncommon display of buttered 
 toast, and — in order that they might not grow faint for 
 want of sustenance, and might have a decent halting-place or 
 half-way house between dinner and supper — a few savory 
 trifles in the shape of great rashers of broiled ham, which 
 being well cured, done to a turn, and smoking hot, sent forth 
 a tempting and delicious fragrance. 
 
 Mrs. Varden was seldom very Protestant at meals, unless it 
 happened that they were under-done, or over-done, or indeed 
 that anything occurred to put her out of humor. Her spirits 
 rose considerably on beholding these goodly preparations, 
 and from the nothingness of good works, she passed to the 
 
188 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 somethingness of ham and toast with great cheerfulness. 
 Nay, under the influence of these wholesome stimulants, she 
 sharply reproved her daughter for being low and despondent 
 (which she considered an unacceptable frame of mind), and 
 remarked, as she held her own plate for a fresh supply, that 
 it would be well for Dolly who pined over the loss of a toy 
 and a sheet of paper, if she would reflect upon the voluntary 
 sacrifices of the missionaries in foreign parts who lived chiefly 
 on salads. 
 
 The proceedings of such a day occasioned various fluctuations 
 in the human thermometer, and especially in instruments so 
 sensitively and delicately constructed as Mrs. Varden. Thus, 
 at dinner Mrs. V. stood at summer heat ; genial, smiling, and 
 delightful. After dinner, in the sunshine of the wine, she 
 went up at least half a dozen degrees, and was perfectly 
 enchanting. As its effect subsided, she fell rapidly, went to 
 sleep for an hour or so at temperate, and woke at something 
 below freezing. Now she was at summer heat again, in the 
 shade; and when tea was over, and old John, producing a 
 bottle of cordial from one of the oaken cases, insisted on her 
 sipping two glasses thereof in slow succession, she stood 
 steadily at ninety for one hour and a quarter. Profiting by 
 experience, the locksmith took advantage of this genial weather 
 to smoke his pipe in the porch, and in consequence of this 
 prudent management, he was fully prepared, when the glass 
 went down again, to start homewards directly. 
 
 The horse was accordingly put in, and the chaise brought 
 round to the door. Joe, who would on no account be dis- 
 suaded from escorting them until they had passed the most 
 dreary and solitary part of the road, led out the gray mare at 
 the same time ; and having helped Dolly into her seat (more 
 happiness !) sprung gayly into the saddle. Then, after many 
 good-nights, and admonitions to wrap up, and glancing of 
 lights, and handing-in of cloaks and shawls, the chaise rolled 
 away, and Joe trotted beside it — on Dolly's side no doubt, 
 and pretty close to the wheel too. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 189 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 It was a fine bright night, and for all her lowness of spirits 
 Dolly kept looking up at the stars in a manner so bewitching 
 (and she knew it !) that Joe was clean out of his senses, and 
 plainly showed that if ever a man were — not to say over head 
 and ears, but over the Monument and the top of Saint Paul's 
 in love, that man was himself. The road was a very good 
 one ; not at all a jolting road, or an uneven one ; and yet 
 Dolly held the side of the chaise with one little hand, all the 
 way. If there had been an executioner behind him with an 
 uplifted axe ready to chop off his head if he touched that 
 hand, Joe couldn't have helped doing it. From putting his 
 own hand upon it as if by chance, and taking it away again 
 after a minute or so, he got to riding along without taking it 
 off at all ; as if he, the escort, were bound to do that as an 
 important part of his duty, and had come out for the purpose. 
 The most curious circumstance about this little incident was, 
 that Dolly didn't seem to know of it. She looked so innocent 
 and unconscious when she turned her eyes on Joe, that it was 
 quite provoking. 
 
 She talked though ; talked about her friglit, and about 
 Joe's coming up to rescue her, and about her gratitude, and 
 about her fear that she might not have thanked him enough, 
 and about their always being friends from that time forth — 
 and' about all that sort of thing. And when Joe said, not 
 friends he hoped, Dolly was quite surprised, and said not 
 enemies she hoped ; and when Joe said, couldn't they be 
 something much better than either, Dolly all of a sudden 
 found out a star which was brighter than all the other stars, 
 and begged to call his attention to the same, and was ten 
 thousand times more innocent and unconscious than ever. 
 
 In this manner they travelled along, talking very little 
 above a whisper, and wishing the road could be stretched out 
 
190 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 to some dozen times its natural length — at least that was 
 Joe's desire — when, as they were getting clear of the forest 
 and emerging on the more frequented road, they heard behind 
 them the sound of a horse's feet at a round trot, which grow- 
 ing rapidly louder as it drew nearer, elicited a scream from 
 Mrs. Varden, and the cry " a friend ! " from the rider, who 
 now came panting up, and checked his horse beside them. 
 
 " This man again ! " cried Dolly, shuddering. 
 
 '^ Hugh ! " said Joe. " What errand are you upon ? " 
 
 "I come to ride back with you," he answered, glancing 
 covertly at the locksmith's daughter. " He sent me." 
 
 " My father ! " said poor Joe ; adding under his breath, 
 with a very unfilial apostrophe, " Will he never think me man 
 enough to take care of myself ! " 
 
 a Ay ! " returned Hugh to the first part of the inquiry. 
 "The roads are not safe just now," he says, "and you'd 
 better have a companion." 
 
 " Ride on then," said Joe. " I'm not going to turn yet." 
 
 Hugh complied, and they went on again. It was his whim 
 or humor to ride immediately before the chaise, and from 
 this position he constantly turned his head, and looked back. 
 Dolly felt that he looked at her, but she averted her eyes and 
 feared to raise them once, so great was the dread with which 
 he had inspired her. 
 
 This interruption, and the consequent wakefulness of Mrs. 
 Varden, who had been nodding in her sleep up to this point, 
 except for a minute or two at a time, when she roused herself 
 to scold the locksmith for audaciously taking hold of her to 
 prevent her nodding herself out of the chaise, put a restraint 
 upon the whispered conversation, and made it difficult of 
 resumption. Indeed, before they had gone another mile, 
 Gabriel stopped at his wife's desire, and that good lady pro- 
 tested she would not hear of Joe's going a step further on 
 any account whatever. It was in vain for Joe to protest on 
 the other hand that he was by no means tired, and would turn 
 back presently, and would see them safely past such and such 
 a point, and so forth. Mrs. Varden was obdurate, and being 
 so was not to be overcome by mortal agency. 
 
 " Good-night — if I must say it," said Joe, sorrowfully. 
 
BAR NAB Y BUDGE. 191 
 
 "Good-night," said Dolly. She would have added, "Take 
 care of that man, and pray don't trust him," but he had 
 turned his horse's head, and was standing close to them. She 
 had therefore nothing for it but to suffer Joe to give her hand 
 a gentle squeeze, and when the chaise had gone on for some 
 distance, to look back and wave it, as he still lingered on the 
 spot where they had parted, with the tall dark figure of Hugh 
 beside him. 
 
 What she thought about, going home ; and whether the 
 coachmaker held as favorable a place in her meditations as he 
 had occupied in the morning, is unknown. They reached 
 home at last — at last, for it was a long way, made none the 
 shorter by Mrs. Varden's grumbling. Miggs hearing the sound 
 of wheels was at the door immediately. 
 
 " Here they are, Simmun ! Here they are ! " cried Miggs, 
 clapping her hands, and issuing forth to help her mistress to 
 alight. "Bring a chair, Simmun. Xow, ain't j^ou the better 
 for.it, mini ? Don't you feel more yourself than you would 
 have done if you'd have stopped at home ? Oh, gracious ! how 
 cold you are ! Goodness me, sir, she's a perfect heap of ice." 
 
 " I can't help it, my good girl. You had better take her 
 in to the fire," said the locksmith. 
 
 " Master sounds unfeeling, mini," said IVIiggs, in a tone of 
 commiseration, "but such is not his intentions, I'm sure. 
 After what he has seen of you this day, I never will believe 
 but that he has a deal more affection in his heart than to 
 speak unkind. Come in and sit yourself down by the fire ; 
 there's a good dear — do." 
 
 Mrs. Varden complied. The locksmith followed with his 
 hands in his pockets, and Mr. Tappertit trundled off with the 
 chaise to a neighboring stable. 
 
 " Martha, my dear," said the locksmith, when they reached 
 the parlor, " if you'll look to Dolly yourself, or let somebody 
 else do it, perhaps it will be only kind and reasonable. She 
 has been frightened you know, and is not at all well to-night." 
 
 In fact, Dolly had thrown herself upon the sofa, quite 
 regardless of all the little finery of which she had been so 
 proud in the morning, and witli her face buried in her luinds 
 was crying very much. 
 
192 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 At first sight of this phenomenon (for Dolly was by no 
 means accustomed to displays of this sort, rather learning 
 from her mother's example to avoid them as much as possible) 
 Mrs. Varden expressed her belief that never was any woman 
 so beset as she : that her life was a continued scene of trial ; 
 that whenever she was disposed to be well and cheerful, so 
 sure were the people around her to throw, by some means or 
 other, a damp upon her spirits ; and that, as she had enjoyed 
 herself that day, and Heaven knew it was very seldom she did 
 enjoy herself, so she was now to pay the penalty. To all such 
 propositions Miggs assented freely. Poor Dolly, however, 
 grew none the better for these restoratives, but rather worse, 
 indeed ; and seeing that she was really ill, both Mrs. Yarden and 
 Miggs were moved to compassion, and tended her in earnest. 
 
 But even then, their very kindness shaped itself into their 
 usual course of policy, and though Dolly was in a swoon, it 
 was rendered clear to the meanest capacity, that Mrs. Yarden 
 was the sufferer. Thus when Dolly began to get a little 
 better, and passed into that stage in which matrons hold that 
 remonstrance and argument may be successfully applied, her 
 mother represented to her, with tears in her eyes, that if she 
 had been flurried and worried that da}^, she must remember it 
 was the common lot of humanity, and in especial of woman- 
 kind, who through the whole of their existence must expect 
 no less, and were bound to make up their minds to meek 
 endurance and patient resignation. Mrs. Yarden entreated 
 her to remember that one of these days she would, in all 
 probability, have to do violence to her feelings so far as to be 
 married ; and that marriage, as she might see every day of 
 her life (and truly she did) was a state requiring great forti- 
 tude and forbearance. She represented to her in lively 
 colors, that if she (Mrs. Y.) had not, in steering her course 
 through this vale of tears, been supported by a strong 
 principle of duty which alone upheld and prevented her from 
 drooping, she must have been in her grave many years ago ; 
 in which case she desired to know what would have become of 
 that errant spirit (meaning the locksmith), of whose eyes she 
 was the very apple, and in whose path she was, as it were, a 
 shining light and guiding star ? 
 
BARXABY BUDGE. 193 
 
 Miss Miggs also put in her word to the same effect. She 
 said that indeed and indeed Miss Dolly might take pattern by 
 her blessed mother, who, she always had said, and always 
 would say, though she w^ere to be hanged, drawn, and 
 quartered for it next minute, was the mildest, aimiablest, 
 forgivingest-spirited, longest-sufferingest female as ever she 
 could have believed ; the mere narration of whose excellencies 
 had worked such a wholesome change in the mind of her own 
 sister-in-law, that, whereas, before, she and her husband lived 
 like cat and dog, and were in the habit of exchanging brass 
 candlesticks, pot-lids, flat-irons, and other such strong resent- 
 ments, they were now the happiest and affectionatest couple 
 upon earth ; as could be proved any day on application at 
 Golden Lion Court, number twenty-siven, second bell-handle 
 on the right-hand door-post. After glancing at herself as a 
 comparatively worthless vessel, but still as one of some desert, 
 she besought her to bear in mind that her aforesaid dear and 
 only mother was of a weakly constitution and excitable 
 temperament, who had constantly to sustain afflictions in 
 domestic life, compared with which, thieves and robbers were 
 as nothing, and yet never sunk down or gave way to despair 
 or wrath, but, in prize-fighting phraseology, always came up 
 to time with a cheerful countenance, and went in to win as if 
 nothing had happened. When Miggs had finished her solo, 
 her mistress struck in again, and the two together performed 
 a duet to the same purpose ; the burden being, that Mrs. 
 Varden was persecuted perfection, and Mr. Varden, as the 
 representative of mankind in that apartment, a creature of 
 vicious and brutal habits, utterly insensible to the blessings 
 he enjoyed. Of so refined a character, indeed, was their 
 talent of assault under the mask of sympathy, that when 
 Dolly, recovering, embraced her father tenderly, as in vindica- 
 tion of his goodness, Mrs. Varden expressed her solemn hope 
 that this would be a lesson to him for the remainder of his 
 life, and that he would do some little justice to a woman's 
 nature ever afterwards — in which aspiration ]\Iiss iVIiggs, by 
 divers sniffs and coughs, more significant than the longest 
 oration, expressed her entire concurrence. 
 
 But the great joy of Miggs's heart was, that she not only 
 vol.. I. 
 
194 BARNABY BULGE. 
 
 picked up a full account of what had happened, but had the 
 exquisite delight of conveying it to ^Ir. Tappertit for his 
 jealousy and torture. For that gentleman, on account of 
 Dolly's indisposition, had been requested to take his supper in 
 the workshop, and it was conveyed thither by Miss Miggs's 
 own fair hands. 
 
 •' Oh, Simmun ! " said the young lady, " such goings on 
 to-day ! Oh, gracious me, Simmun ! " 
 
 Mr. Tappertit, who was not in the best of humors, and 
 who disliked Miss Miggs more when she laid her hand on her 
 heart and panted for breath than at any other time, as her 
 deficiency of outline was most apparent under such circum- 
 stances, eyed her over in his loftiest style, and deigned to 
 express no curiosity whatever. 
 
 " I never heard the like, nor nobody else," pursued Miggs. 
 " The idea of interfering with her. What people can see in 
 her, to make it Avorth their while to do so, that's the joke — 
 he, he, he ! " 
 
 Finding there was a lady in the case, Mr. Tappertit 
 haughtily requested his fair friend to be more explicit, and 
 demanded to know what she meant by " her." 
 
 "Why. that Dolly," said ^liggs, with an extremely sharp 
 emphasis on the name. "But, oh upon ni}^ word and honor, 
 young Joseph Willet is a brave one ; and he do deserve her, 
 that he do." 
 
 " Woman ! " said Mr. Tappertit, jumping off the counter 
 on which he was seated ; " beware I " 
 
 "My stars, Simmun !" cried Miggs, in affected astonish- 
 ment. " You frighten me to death ! What's the matter ? " 
 
 "There are strings," said Mr. Tappertit, flourishing his 
 bread-and-cheese knife in the air, " in the human heart that 
 had better not be wibrated. That's what's the matter." 
 
 " Oh, very well — if you're in a huff," cried Miggs, turning 
 away. 
 
 "Huff or no huff," said Mr. Tappertit, detaining her by 
 the wrist. " What do you mean, Jezebel ? What were you 
 going to say ? Answer me ! " 
 
 Notwithstanding this uncivil exhortation, Miggs gladly did 
 as she was required; and told him how that their young 
 
BARlStABT RUDGE. l95 
 
 mistress, being alone in the meadows after dark, had been 
 attacked by three or four tall men, who would liave certainly 
 borne her away and perhaps murdered her, but for the timely 
 arrival of Joseph Willet, who with his own single hand put 
 them all to flight, and rescued her ; to the lasting admiration 
 of his fellow-creatures generally, and to the eternal love and 
 gratitude of Dolly Varden. 
 
 " Very good,'' said Mr. Tappertit, fetching a long breath 
 when the tale was told, and rubbing his hair up till it stood 
 stiff and straight on end all over his head. '' His days are 
 numbered." 
 
 " Oh, Simmun ! " 
 
 "I tell you," said the 'prentice, "his days are numbered. 
 Leave me. Get along with you." 
 
 Miggs departed at his bidding, but less because of his 
 bidding than because she desired to chuckle in secret. When 
 she had given vent to her satisfaction, she returned to the 
 parlor; where the locksmith, stimulated by quietness and 
 Toby, had become talkative, and was disposed to take a 
 cheerful review of the occurrences of the day. But Mrs. 
 Varden, whose practical religion (as is not uncommon) was 
 usually of the retrospective order, cut him short by declaim- 
 ing on the sinfulness of such junketings, and holding that it 
 was high time to go to bed. To bed therefore she withdrew, 
 with an aspect as grim and gloomy as that of the Maypole's 
 own state couch; and to bed the rest of the establishment 
 soon afterwards repaired. 
 
196 BARXABY RUBGK 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 Twilight had given place to night some hours, and it was 
 high noon in those quarters of the town in which "the 
 world'' condescended to dwell — the world being then, as 
 now, of very limited dimensions and easily lodged — when 
 Mr. Chester reclined upon a sofa in his dressing-room in the 
 Temple, entertaining himself with a book. 
 
 He was dressing, as it seemed, by easy stages, and having 
 performed half the journey was taking a long rest. Com- 
 pletely attired as to his legs and feet in the trimmest fashion 
 of the day, he had yet the remainder of his toilet to perform. 
 The coat was stretched, like a refined scarecrow, on its 
 separate horse ; the waistcoat was displayed to the best 
 advantage ; the various ornamental articles of dress were 
 severally set out in most alluring order; and yet he lay 
 dangling his legs between the sofa and the ground, as intent 
 upon his book as if there were nothing but bed before him. 
 
 " Upon my honor," he said, at length raising his eyes to the 
 ceiling with the air of a man who was reflecting seriously on 
 what he had read; "upon my honor, the most masterly com- 
 position, the most delicate thoughts, the finest code of 
 morality, and the most gentlemanly sentiments in the universe ! 
 Ah Ned, Ned, if j'ou would but form your mind by such 
 precepts, we should have but one common feeling on every 
 subject that could possibly arise between us !" 
 
 This apostrophe was addressed, like the rest of his remarks, 
 to empty air : for Edward was not present, and the father 
 was quite alone. 
 
 " My Lord Chesterfield," he said, pressing his hand tenderly 
 upon the book as he laid it down, " if I could but have 
 profited by your genius soon enough to have formed my sbn 
 on the model you have left to all wise fathers, both he and I 
 would have been rich men. Shakspeare was undoubtedly 
 
BAIiNABY BUDGE. 197 
 
 very fine in liis way ; Milton good, tlioiigli prosy, Lord Bacon 
 deep, and decidedly knowing- ; but the writer who should be 
 his country's pride, is my Lord Chestertield.'' 
 
 He became thoughtful again, and the toothpick was in 
 requisition. 
 
 " I thought I was tolerably accomplislied as a man of the 
 world," he continued, '•' I flattered myself that I was pretty 
 well versed in all those little arts and graces which distin- 
 guish men of the world from boors and peasants, and separate 
 their character from those intensely vulgar sentiments which 
 are called the national character. Apart from any natural pre- 
 possession in my own favor, I believed I was. Still, in every 
 page of this enlightened writer, I find some captivating 
 hypocrisy which has never occurred to me before, or som'e 
 superlative piece of selfishness to which I was utterly a 
 stranger. I should quite blush for myself before this stupen- 
 dous creature, if, remembering his precepts, one might blush 
 at anything. An amazing man ! a nobleman indeed ! any 
 King or Queen may make a Lord, but only the Devil himself 
 — and the Graces — can make a Chesterfield." 
 
 Men who are thoroughly false and hollow, seldom try to 
 hide those vices from themselves ; and yet in the very act of 
 avowing them, they lay claim to the virtues they feign most 
 to despise. " For," say they, " this is honesty, this is truth. 
 All mankind are like us, but they have not the candor to 
 avow it." The more they affect to deny the existence of any 
 sincerity in the world, the more they would be thought to 
 possess it in its boldest shape ; and this is an unconscious 
 compliment to Truth on the part of these philosophers, which 
 will turn the laugh against them to the Day of Judgment. 
 
 Mr. Chester, having extolled his favorite author as above 
 recited, took up the book again in the excess of his admiration 
 and was composing himself for a further perusal of its sublime 
 morality, when he was disturbed by a noise at the outer door; 
 occasioned as it seemed by the endeavors of his servant to 
 obstruct the entrance of some unwelcome visitor. 
 
 "A late hour for an importunate creditor," he ^aid, raising 
 his eyebrows with as indolent an expression of wonder as if 
 the noise were in the street, and one with wliich lie had not 
 
198 BAUNABY BUDGE. 
 
 the smallest personal concern. " Much after their accustomed 
 time. The usual pretence I suppose. No doubt a heavy pay- 
 ment to make up to-morrow. Poor fellow, he loses time, and 
 time is money, as the good proverb says — I never found it 
 out though. AVell. What now ? You know I am not at 
 home." 
 
 "A man, sir," replied the servant, who was to the full as 
 cool and iregligent in his way as his master, "has brought 
 home the riding-whip you lost the other day. I told him you 
 were out, but he said he was to wait while I brought it in, and 
 wouldn't go till I did." 
 
 " He w^as quite right," returned his master, " and you're a 
 blockhead, possessing no judgment or discretion whatever. 
 Tell him to come in, and see that he rubs his shoes for exactly 
 five minutes first." 
 
 The man laid the whip on a chair, and withdrew. The 
 master, who had only heard his foot upon the ground and had 
 not taken the trouble to turn round and look at him, shut 
 his book, and pursued the train of ideas his entrance had 
 disturbed. 
 
 "If time were money," he said, handling his snuff-box, "I 
 would compound my creditors, and give them — let me see — 
 how much a day ? There's my nap after dinner — an hour — 
 they're extremely welcome to that, and to make the most of 
 it. In the morning, between my breakfast and the paper, I 
 could spare them another hour ; in the evening, before dinner, 
 say another. Three hours a day. They might pay themselves 
 in calls, with interest, in twelve months. I think I shall 
 propose it to them. Ah, my centaur, are you there ? " 
 
 " Here I am," replied Hugh, striding in, followed by a dog 
 as rough and sullen as himself; "and trouble enough I've 
 had to get here. What do you ask me to come for, and keep 
 me out when I do come ? " 
 
 "My good fellow," returned the other, raising his head a 
 little from the cushion and carelessly surveying him from top 
 to toe, "I am delighted to see you, and to have, in your being 
 here, the very best proof that 3'ou are not kept out. How 
 are you ? " 
 
 " I'm well enough," said Hugh impatiently. 
 
BAENABY BUDGE. 199 
 
 "You look a perfect marvel of health. Sit down." 
 
 " I'd rather stand," said Hugli. 
 
 "Please yourself, my good fellow," returned ^Ir. Chester ris- 
 ing, slowly pulling off the loose robe he wore, and sitting down 
 before the dressing-glass. " Please yourself by all means." 
 
 Having said this in the politest and blandest tone possible, 
 he went on dressing, and took no further notice of his guest, 
 who stood in the same spot as uncertain what to do next, 
 eying him sulkily from time to time. 
 
 "Are you going to speak to me, master ? " he said, after a 
 long silence. 
 
 "My worthy creat'ure," returned Mr. Chester, "you are a 
 little ruffled and out of humor. I'll wait till you're quite 
 3'ourself again. I am in no hurry." 
 
 This behavior had its intended effect. It humbled and 
 abashed the man, and made hiih still more irresolute and 
 uncertain. Hard words he could have returned, violence he 
 would have repaid with interest ; but this cool, complacent, 
 contemptuous, self-possessed reception, caused him to feel his 
 inferiority more completely than the most elaborate arguments. 
 Everything contributed to this effect. His own rough speech, 
 contrasted with tlie soft persuasive accents of the other ; his 
 rude bearing, and Mr. Chester's polished manner; the dis- 
 order and negligence of his ragged dress, and the elegant 
 attire he saw before him : with all the unaccustomed luxuries 
 and comforts of the room, and the silence tliat gave him 
 leisure to observe these things, and feel how ill at ease they 
 made him ; all these influences, which have too often some 
 effect on tutored minds and become of almost resistless power 
 when brought to bear on such a mind as his, quelled Hugh 
 completely. He moved by little and little nearer to Mr. 
 Chester's chair, and glancing over his shoulder at the reflec- 
 tion of his face in the glass, as if seeking for some encourage- 
 ment in its expression, said at length, with a rough attempt 
 at conciliation. 
 
 ".4re you going to speak to me, master, or am I to go 
 away ? " 
 
 " Speak you," said ISFr. Chester, " speak you, good fellow. 
 I have spoken, have I not ? I am waiting for you." 
 
200 B All NAB Y BUDGE. 
 
 "Why, look'ee, sir," returned Hugh with increased em- 
 barrassment, "am I the man that you privately left your 
 whip with before you rode away from the IVlaypole, and told 
 to bring it back whenever he might want to see you on a 
 certain subject ? " 
 
 "No doubt the same, or you have a twin brother," said 
 Mr. Chester, glancing at the reflection of his anxious face ; 
 " which is not probable, I should say." 
 
 "Then I have come, sir," said Hugh, "and I have brought 
 it back, and something else along with it. A letter, sir, it is, 
 that I took from the person who had charge of it." As he 
 spoke, he laid upon the dressing-table Dolly's last epistle. 
 The very letter that had cost her so much trouble. 
 
 " Did 3' ou obtain this by force, my good fellow ? " said Mr. 
 Chester, casting his eye upon it without the least perceptible 
 surprise or pleasure. 
 
 " Not quite," said Hugh. " Partly." 
 
 " Who was the messenger from whom you took it ? " 
 
 " A woman. One Yarden's daughter." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " said Mr. Chester, gayly. " What else did 
 you take from her ? " 
 
 " What else ? " 
 
 "Yes," said the other, in a drawling manner, for he was 
 fixing a very small patch of sticking-plaster on a very small 
 pimple near the corner of his mouth. " What else ? " 
 
 " Well — a kiss," replied Hugh, after some hesitation. 
 
 " And what else ? " 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "I think," said Mr. Chester, in the same easy tone, and 
 smiling twice or thrice to try if the patch adhered — "I think 
 there was something else. I have heard a trifle of jewellery 
 spoken of — a mere trifle — a thing of such little value, indeed, 
 that you may have forgotten it. Do you remember anything 
 of the kind — such as a bracelet now, for instance ? " 
 
 Hugh with a muttered oath thrust his hand into his breast, 
 and drawing the bracelet forth, wrapped in a scrap of hay, 
 was about to lay it on the table likewise, when his patron 
 stopped his hand and bade him put it up again. 
 
 " You took that for yourself, my excellent friend/' he said. 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 201 
 
 "and may keep it. I am neither a thief, nor a receiver. 
 Don't show it to me. You had better hide it again, and lose 
 no time. Don't let me see where you put it either," he added, 
 turning away his head. 
 
 " You're not a receiver ! " said Hugh bluntly, despite the 
 increasing awe in which he held him. " What do you call 
 that, master ? " striking the letter with his heavy hand. 
 
 " I call that quite another thing," said Mr. Chester coolly. 
 " I shall prove it presently, as you will see. You are thirsty, 
 I suppose ? " 
 
 Hugh drew his sleeve across his lips, and gruffly answered 
 yes. 
 
 " Step to that closet, and bring me a bottle you will see 
 there, and a glass." 
 
 He obeyed. His patron followed him with his eyes, and 
 when his back was turned, smiled as he had never done when 
 he stood beside the mirror. On his return, he filled the glass 
 and bade him drink. That dram despatched, he poured him 
 out another, and another. 
 
 " How many can you bear ? " he said, filling the glass 
 again. 
 
 " As man}^ as you like to give me. Pour on. Fill high. 
 A bumper with a bead in the middle ! Give me enough of 
 this," he added, as he tossed it down his hairy throat, " and 
 I'll do murder if you ask me ! " 
 
 " As I don't mean to ask you, and you might possibly do it 
 without being invited if you went on much further," said Mr. 
 Chester with great composure, " we will stop, if agreeable to 
 you my good friend, at the next glass. — You were drinking 
 before you came here." 
 
 " I always am when I can get it," cried Hugh boisterously, 
 waving the empty glass above his head, and throwing himself 
 into a rude dancing attitude. " I alwaj's am. Why not ? 
 Ha ha ha ! What's so good to me as tliis ? Wliat ever has 
 been ? What else has kept away the cold on bitter nights, 
 and driven hunger off in starving times ? What else has 
 given me the strength and courage of a man, when men 
 would have left me to die, a puny chihl ? I should never 
 have had a man's heart but for this. I should have died in 
 
202 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 a ditch. "Where's he who when I Avas a weak and sickly 
 wretch, with trembling legs and fading sight, bade me cheer 
 up, as this did ? I never knew him ; not I. I drink to the 
 drink, master. Ha ha ha ! " 
 
 " You are an exceedingly cheerful young man," said ]\Ir. 
 Chester, putting on his cravat with great deliberation, and 
 slightly moving his head from side to side to settle his chin 
 in its proper place. " Quite a boon companion." 
 
 "Do you see this hand, master," said Hugh, ^'and this 
 arm ? " baring the brawny limb to the elbow. ^' It was once 
 mere skin and bone, and would have been dust in some poor 
 churchyard by this time, but for the drink." 
 
 "You may cover it," said Mr. Chester, "it's sufficiently 
 real in your sleeve." 
 
 " I should never have been spirited up to take a kiss from 
 the proud little beauty, master, but for the drink," cried 
 Hugh. " Ha ha ha ! It was a good one. As sweet as 
 honeysuckle I warrant you. I thank the drink for it. I'll 
 drink to the drink again, master. Fill me one more. Come. 
 One more ! " 
 
 " You are such a promising fellow," said his patron, putting 
 on his waistcoat with great nicety, and taking no heed of 
 this request, " that I must caution you against having too 
 many impulses from the drink, and getting hung before your 
 time. What's your age ? " 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "At any rate," said Mr. Chester, "you are j^oung enough 
 to escape what I may call a natural death for some years to 
 come. How can you trust yourself in my hands on so short 
 an acquaintance, with a halter round your neck. What a con- 
 fiding nature yours must be ! " 
 
 Hugh fell back a pace or two and surveyed him with a look 
 of mingled terror, indignation, and surprise. Regarding him- 
 self in the glass with the same complacency as before, and 
 speaking as smoothly as if he were discussing some pleasant 
 chit-chat of the town, his patron went on, — 
 
 "Kobbery on the king's highway, my young friend, is a 
 very dangerous and ticklish occupation. It is pleasant, I have 
 no doubt, while it lasts ; but like many other pleasures in 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 203 
 
 this transitory world, it seldom lasts long. And really if, in 
 the ingenuousness of youth, you open your heart so readily on 
 the subject, I am afraid your career will be an extremely 
 short one. 'I 
 
 "How's this?" said Hugh. "What do you talk of, 
 master ? AYho was it set me on ? " 
 
 "Who?"' said Mr. Chester, wheeling sharply round, and 
 looking full at him for the first time. " I didn't hear you. 
 Who was it ? " 
 
 Hugh faltered, and muttered something which was not 
 audible. 
 
 "Who was it? I am curious to know," said Mr. Chester, 
 with surpassing affability. " Some rustic beauty, perhaps ? 
 But be cautious, my good friend. They are not always to be 
 trusted. Do take my advice now, and be careful of yourself." 
 With these words he turned to the glass again, and went on 
 with his toilet. 
 
 Hugh would have answered him that he, the questioner 
 himself, had set him on, but the words stuck in his throat. 
 The consummate art with which his patron had led him to 
 this point, and managed the whole conversation, perfectly 
 baffled him. He did not doubt that if he had made the retort 
 which was on his lips when Mr. Chester turned round and 
 questioned him so keenly, he would straightway have given 
 him into custody and had him dragged before a justice with 
 the stolen property upon him : in which case it was as certain 
 he would have been hung as it was that he had been born. 
 The ascendency which it was the purpose of the man of the 
 world to establish over this savage instrument, was gained 
 from that time. Hugh's submission was complete. He 
 dreaded him beyond description ; and felt that accident and 
 artifice had spun a web about him, which at a touch from 
 such a master hand as his, would bind him to the gallows. 
 
 With these thoughts passing through his mind, and yet 
 wondering at the very same time how he wlio came there 
 rioting in the confidence of this man (as lie thouglit), sliould 
 be so soon and so thoroughly subdued, Hugh stood cowering 
 before him, regarding him uneasily from time to time, while 
 he finished dressing. When he had done so, he took up the 
 
204 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 letter, broke the seal, and throwing himself back in his chair, 
 read it leisurely through. 
 
 " Very neatly worded upon my life ! Quite a woman's 
 letter, full of what people call tenderness, and disinterested- 
 ness, and heart, and all that sort of thing ! " 
 
 As he spoke, he twisted it up, and glancing lazily round at 
 Hugh as though he would say " You see this ? " held it in 
 the flame of the candle. When it was in a full blaze, he 
 tossed it into the grate, and there it smouldered away. 
 
 "It was directed to my son," he said, turning to Hugh, 
 " and you did quite right to bring it here. I opened it on my 
 own responsibility, and you see what I have done w4th it. 
 Take this, for your trouble." 
 
 Hugh stepped forward to receive the piece of money he held 
 out to him. As he put it in his hand, he added, — 
 
 "If you should happen to find anything else of this sort, or 
 to pick up any kind of information you may think I would 
 like to have, bring it here, will you, my good fellow ? " 
 
 This was said w4th a smile which implied — or Hugh thought 
 it did — " fail to do so at your peril ! " He answered that he 
 would. 
 
 "And don't," said his patron, with an air of the very 
 kindest patronage, "don't be at all downcast or uneasy 
 respecting that little rashness we have been speaking of. 
 Your neck is as safe in my hands, my good fellow, as though 
 a baby's fingers clasped it, I assure you. — Take another glass. 
 You are quieter now." 
 
 Hugh accepted it from his hand, and looking stealthily 
 at his smiling face, drank the contents in silence. 
 
 "' Don't you — ha, ha ! — don't you drink to the drink any 
 more ? " said Mr. Chester in his most winning manner. 
 
 " To you, sir," was the sullen answer, with something ap- 
 proaching to a bow. " I drink to you." 
 
 " Thank you. God bless you. By-the-by, what is jonv 
 name, my good soul ? You are called Hugh, I know, of 
 course — your other name ? " 
 
 " I have no other name." 
 
 " A very strange fellow ! Do you mean that you never 
 knew one, or that you don't choose to tell it ? Which ? " 
 

BARNABY BUDGE. 205 
 
 ''Td tell it if I could," said Hugh quickly. "I cairt. 
 I have been always called Hugh ; nothing more. I never 
 knew, nor saw, nor thought about a father ; and I was a boy 
 of six — that's not very old — when they hung my mother up 
 at Tyburn for a couple of thousand men to stare at. They 
 might have let her live. She was poor enough." 
 
 " How very sad ! " exclaimed his patron, with a conde- 
 scending smile. "I have no doubt she was an exceedingly 
 fine woman." 
 
 " You see that dog of mine ? " said Hugh, abruptly. 
 
 " Faithful, I dare say ? " rejoined his patron, looking at 
 him through his glass ; '' and immensely clever ? Virtuous 
 and gifted animals, whether man or beast, always are so very 
 hideous." 
 
 " Such a dog as that, and one of the same breed, was the 
 only living thing except me that howled that day," said 
 Hugh. " Out of the two thousand odd — there was a larger 
 crowd for its being a woman — the dog and I alone had any 
 pity. If he'd have been a man, he'd have been glad to be 
 quit of her, for she had been forced to keep him lean and 
 half-starved ; but being a dog, and not having a man's sense, 
 he was sorry." 
 
 " It was dull of the brute, certainly," said Mr. Chester, 
 " and very like a brute." 
 
 Hugh made no rejoinder, but whistling to his dog, who 
 sprung up at the sound and came jumping and sporting about 
 him, bade his sympathizing friend good-night. 
 
 "Good-night," he returned. "Remember; you're safe 
 with me — quite safe. So long as you deserve it, my good 
 fellow, as I hope you always will, you have a friend in me, on 
 whose silence you may rely. I^ow do be careful of yourself, 
 pray do, and consider what jeopardy you might have stood in. 
 Good-night ! bless you." 
 
 Hugh truckled before the hidden meaning of these words 
 as much as such a being could, and crept out of the door so 
 submissively and subserviently — with an air, in short, so 
 different from that with which he had entered — that his 
 patron on being left alone, smiled more than ever. 
 
 "And yet," he said, as he took a pinch of snuff, " I do not 
 
206 SARNABY nuDGE. 
 
 like their having hanged his mother. The fellow has a fine 
 eye, and I am sure she was handsome. But very probably 
 she was coarse — red-nosed perhaps, and had clumsy feet. 
 Ay, it was all for the best, no doubt." 
 
 With this comforting reflection, he put on his coat, took a 
 farewell glance at the glass, and summoned his man, who 
 promptly attended, followed by a chair and its two bearers. 
 
 '- Foh ! " said Mr. Chester. '^ The very atmosphere that 
 centaur has breathed, seems tainted with the cart and ladder. 
 Here, Peak. Bring some scent and sprinkle the floor ; and 
 take away the chair he sat upon, and air it ; and dash a little 
 of that mixture u])on me. I am stifled ! " 
 
 The man obeyed ; and the room and its master being both 
 purified, nothing remained for Mr. Chester, but to demand his 
 hat, to fold it jauntily under his arm, to take his seat in the 
 chair and be carried off ; humming a fashionable tune. 
 
BAttNABY BUDGE. ^0' 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 How the accomplislied gentleman spent the evening in the 
 midst of a dazzling and brilliant circle ; how he enchanted all 
 those with whom he mingled by the grace of his deportment, 
 the politeness of his manner, the vivacity of his conversation, 
 and the sweetness of his voice ; how it was observed in every 
 corner, that Chester was a man of that happy disposition 
 that nothing ruffled him, that he was one on whom the 
 world's cares and errors sat lightly as his dress, and in whose 
 smiling face a calm and tranquil mind was constantly re- 
 flected ; how honest men, who by instinct knew him better, 
 bowed down before him, nevertheless, deferred to his every 
 word, and courted his favorable notice ; how people, who 
 really had good in them, went with the stream, and fawned 
 and flattered, and approved, and despised themselves while 
 they did so, and yet had not the courage to resist; how, in 
 short, he was one of those who are received and cherished 
 in society (as the phrase is) by scores who individually would 
 shrink from and be repelled by the object of their lavisli 
 regard ; are things of course, which will suggest tliemselves. 
 Matter so commonplace needs but a passing glance, and there 
 an end. 
 
 The despisers of mankind — apart from the mere fools and 
 mimics, of that creed — are of two sorts. They who believe 
 their merit neglected and unappreciated, make up one class ; 
 they who receive adulation and flattery, knowing their own 
 worthlessness, compose the other. Be sure that the coldest- 
 hearted misanthropes are ever of this last order. 
 
 Mr. Chester sat up in bed next morning, sipping his coffee, 
 and remembering with a kind of contemptuous satisfaction 
 how he had shone last night, and how he had been caressed 
 and courted, when his servant brought in a very small scrap 
 of dirty paper, tightly sealed in two places, on the inside 
 
208 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 whereof was inscribed in pretty large text these words : " A 
 friend. Desiring of a conference. Immediate. Private. 
 Burn it when you've read it." 
 
 " Where in the name of the Gunpowder Plot did you pick 
 up this ? " said his master. 
 
 It was given him by a person then waiting at the door, the 
 man replied. 
 
 " With a cloak and dagger ? " said Mr. Chester. 
 
 With nothing more threatening about him, it appeared, 
 than a leather apron and a dirty face. "Let him come in." 
 In he came — Mr. Tappertit ; with his hair still on end, and a 
 great lock in his hand, which he put down on the floor in the 
 middle of tlie chamber as if he were about to go through some 
 performances in which it was a necessary agent. 
 
 "Sir," said Mr. Tappertit with a low bow, "I thank you 
 for this condescension, and am glad to see you. Pardon the 
 menial office in which I am engaged, sir, and extend your 
 sympathies to one, who, humble as his appearance is, has 
 inn'ard workings far above his station.'' 
 
 IVIr. Chester held the bed-curtain farther back, and looked 
 at him with a vague impression that he was some maniac, 
 who had not only broken open the door of his place of 
 confinement, but had brought away the lock. Mr. Tap- 
 pertit bowed again, and displayed his legs to the best ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 " You have heard, sir," said Mr. Tappertit, laying his hand 
 upon his breast, " of G. Varden Locksmith and bell-hanger 
 and repairs neatly executed in town and country, Clerkenwell, 
 London ? " 
 
 " What, then ? " asked Mr. Chester. 
 
 " I am his 'prentice, sir." 
 
 "What then?'' 
 
 " Ahem ! " said Mr. Tappertit. " Would you permit me 
 to shut the door, sir, and will you further, sir, give me your 
 honor bright, that what passes between us is in the strictest 
 confidence ? " 
 
 Mr. Chester laid himself calmly down in bed again, and 
 turning a perfectly undisturbed face towards the strange 
 apparition, which had by this time closed the door, begged 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 209 
 
 him to speak out, and to be as rational as he could, without 
 putting himself to any very great personal inconvenience. 
 
 " In the first place, sir," said Mr. Tappertit, producing a 
 small pocket-handkerchief, and shaking it out of the folds, 
 "as I have not a card about me (for the envy of masters 
 debases us below that level) allow me to offer the best sub- 
 stitute that circumstances will admit of. If you will take 
 that in, your own hand, sir, and cast your eye on the right- 
 hand corner," said Mr. Tappertit, offering it with a graceful 
 air, "you will meet with my credentials." 
 
 "Thank you," answered Mr. Chester, politely accepting, 
 and turning to some blood-red characters at one end. " ' Four. 
 Simon Tappertit. One.' Is that the " — 
 
 " Without the numbers, sir, that is my name," replied the 
 'prentice. "They are merely intended as directions to the 
 washerwoman, and have no connection with myself or family. 
 Your name, sir," said Mr. Tappertit, looking very hard at his 
 nightcap, " is Chester, I suppose ? You needn't pull it off, 
 sir, thank you. I observe E. C. from here. We will take the 
 rest for granted." 
 
 "Pray, Mr. Tappertit," said ]\Ir. Chester, "has that com- 
 plicated piece of ironmongery which you have done me the 
 favor to bring with 3'ou, any immediate connection with the 
 business we are to discuss ? " 
 
 "It has not, sir," rejoined the 'prentice. "It's going to 
 be fitted on a ware'us door in Thames Street." 
 
 "Perhaps, as that is the case," said Mr. Chester, "and as 
 it has a stronger flavor of oil than I usually refresh my bed- 
 room with, you will oblige me so far as to put it outside the 
 door?" 
 
 " By all means, sir," said Mr. Tappertit, suiting the action 
 to the word. 
 
 " You'll excuse my mentioning it, I hope ? " 
 
 "Don't apologize, sir, I beg. And now, if you please, to 
 business." 
 
 During the whole of this dialogue, Mr. Chester had suffered 
 nothing but his smile of unvarying serenity and politeness to 
 appear upon liis face. Sim Tappertit, wlio liad far too good 
 an o[)inion of himself to suspect that anybody could be play- 
 
210 BAHNABY BUDGE. 
 
 ing upon him, thouglit within himself that this was some- 
 thing like the respect to which he was entitled, and drew a 
 comparison from this courteous demeanor of a stranger, by no 
 means favorable to the worthy locksmith. 
 
 " From what passes in our house," said Mr. Tappertit, " I 
 am aware, sir, that your son keeps company with a young 
 lady against your inclinations. Sir, your son has not used 
 me well." 
 
 "Mr. Tappertit," said the other, "you grieve me beyond 
 description." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," replied the 'prentice. " I'm glad to 
 hear you say so. He's very proud, sir, is your son ; very 
 haughty." 
 
 " I am afraid he is haughty," said Mr. Chester. " Do you 
 know I was really afraid of that before ; and you confirm- 
 me ? " 
 
 "To recount the menial offices I've had to do for your 
 son, sir," said Mr. Tappertit ; '' the chairs I've had to hand 
 him, the coaches I've had to call for him, the numerous de- 
 grading duties, wholly unconnected with my indenters, that 
 I've had to do for him, would fill a family Bible. Besides 
 which, sir, he is but a young man himself, and I do not 
 consider 'thank'ee, Sim,' a proper form of address on those 
 occasions." 
 
 " Mr. Tappertit, your wisdom is beyond your years. Pray 
 go on." 
 
 "I thank you for your good opinion, sir," said Sim, much 
 gratified, "and will endeavor so to do. Now, sir, on this 
 account (and perhaps for another reason or two which I 
 needn't go into) I am on your side. And what I tell you is 
 this — that as long as our people go backwards and forwards, 
 to and fro, up and down, to that there jolly old Maypole, 
 lettering, and messaging, and fetching and carrying, you 
 couldn't help your son keeping company with that young lady 
 by deputy, — not if he was minded night and day by all the 
 Horse Guards, and every man of 'em, in the very fullest 
 uniform." 
 
 Mr. Tappertit stopped to take breath after this, and then 
 started fresh again. 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 211 
 
 " N'ow, sir, I am a-coming to the point. You will inquire of 
 me, ' how is this to be prevented ? ' I'll tell you how. If 
 an honest, civil, smiling gentleman like you '' — 
 
 " Mr. Tappertit — really " — 
 
 " No, no, I'm serious," rejoined the 'prentice, " I am, upon 
 my soul. If an honest, civil, smiling gentlefnan like you, 
 was to talk but ten minutes to our old woman — that's Mrs. 
 Varden — and flatter her up a bit, you'd gain her over for- 
 ever. Then there's this point got — that her daughter Dolly," 
 — here a flush came over Mr. Tappertit's face — " wouldn't be 
 allowed to be a go-between from that time forward ; and till 
 that point's got, there's nothing ever will prevent her. Mind 
 that." 
 
 " Mr. Tappertit, your knowledge of human nature " — 
 
 "Wait a minute," said Sim, folding his arms with a 
 dreadful calmness. " Kow, I come to the point. Sir, there 
 is a villain at that Maypole, a monster in human shape, a 
 vagabond of the deepest dye, that unless you get rid of, 
 and have kidnapped and carried off at the very least — 
 nothing less will do — will marry your son to that young 
 woman, as certainly and surely as if he was the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury himself. He will, sir, for the hatred and 
 malice that he bears to you ; let alone the pleasure of doing 
 a bad action, which to him is its own reward. If you knew 
 how this chap, this Joseph Willet — that's his name — comes 
 backwards and forwards to our house, libelling, and de- 
 nouncing, and threatening you, and how I shudder when I 
 hear him, you'd hate him worse than I do, — worse than I do, 
 sir," said Mr. Tappertit wildly, putting his hair up straighter, 
 and making a crunching noise with his teeth; "if sich a 
 thing is possible." 
 
 " A little private vengeance in this, Mr. Tappertit ? " 
 
 "Private vengeance, sir, or public sentiment, or both com- 
 bined — destroy him," said Mr. Tappertit. "Miggs says 
 so too. Miggs and me both say so. We can't bear tlie 
 plotting and undermining that takes place. Our souls recoil 
 from it. Barnaby Rudge and Mrs. Rudge are in it like- 
 wise ; but the villain, Joseph Willet, is the ringleader. 
 Their plottings and schemes are known to me and Mi 
 
 'oo 
 
212 BABXABY BUDGE. 
 
 If you want information of 'em, apply to us. Put Joseph 
 Willet down, sir. Destroy him. Crush him. And be 
 happy." 
 
 With these words, Mr. Tappertit, who seemed to expect no 
 reph^ and to hold it as a necessary consequence of his elo- 
 quence that his hearer should be utterly stunned, dumb- 
 foundered, and overwhelmed, folded his arms so that the 
 palm of each hand rested on the opposite shoulder, and dis- 
 appeared after the manner of those mysterious warners of 
 whom he had read in cheap story-books. 
 
 " That fellow," said Mr. Chester, relaxing his face when he 
 was fairly gone, " is good practice. I have some command of 
 my features, beyond all doubt. He fully confirms what I 
 suspected, though ; and blunt tools are sometimes found of 
 use, where sharper instruments would fail. I fear I may be 
 obliged to make great havoc among these worthy people. A 
 troublesome necessity ! I quite feel for them." 
 
 With that he fell into a quiet slumber : — subsided into 
 such a gentle, pleasant sleep, that it was quite infantine. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 213 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Leaving the favored, and well-received, and flattered of 
 the world; him of the world most worldly, who never com- 
 promised himself by an ungentlemanly action, and never was 
 guilty of a manly one ; to lie smilingly asleep — for even sleep, 
 working but little change in his dissembling face, became 
 with him a piece of cold, conventional hypocrisy — we follow 
 in the steps of two slow travellers on foot, making towards 
 Chigwell. 
 
 Barnaby and his mother. Grip in their company of course. 
 
 The widow, to whom each painful mile seemed longer than 
 the last, toiled wearily along ; while Barnaby, yielding to 
 every inconstant impulse, fluttered here and there, now leav- 
 ing her far behind, now lingering far behind himself, now 
 darting into some by-lane or path and leaving her to pursue 
 her way alone, until he stealthily emerged again and came 
 upon her with a wild shout of merriment, as his wayward and 
 capricious nature prompted. Now he would call to her from 
 the topmost branch of some high tree by the roadside ; now, 
 using his tall staff as a leaping-pole, come flying over ditch or 
 hedge or flve-barred gate ; now run with surprising swiftness 
 for a mile or more on the straight road, and halting, sport 
 upon a patch of grass with Grip till she came up. These 
 were his delights ; and when his patient mother heard his 
 merry voice, or looked into his flushed and healthy face, she 
 would not have abated them by one sad word or murmur, 
 though each had been to her a source of suffering in the same 
 degree as it was to him of pleasure. 
 
 It is something to look upon enjoyment, so that it be free 
 and wild and in the face of nature, though it is but the enjoy- 
 ment of an idiot. It is something to know that Heaven has 
 left the ca])acity of gladness in such a creature's breast; it is 
 something to be assured that, however lightly men may crush 
 
214 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 that faculty in their fellows the Great Creator of mankind 
 imparts it even to his despised and slighted work. Who 
 would not rather see a poor idiot happy in the sunlight, than 
 a wise man pining in a darkened jail ! 
 
 Ye men of gloom and austerity, who paint the face of 
 Infinite Benevolence with an eternal frown ; read in the 
 Everlasting Book, wide open to j^our view, the lesson it would 
 teach. Its pictures are not in black and sombre hues, but 
 bright and glowing tints ; its music — save when ye drown it 
 
 — is not in sighs and groans, but songs and cheerful sounds. 
 Listen to the million voices in the summer air, and find one 
 dismal as your own. Remember, if ye can, the sense of hope 
 and pleasure which every glad return of day awakens in the 
 breast of all your kind who have not changed their nature ; 
 and learn some wisdom even from the witless, when their 
 hearts are lifted up they know not why, by all the mirth and 
 happiness it brings. 
 
 The widow's breast was full of care, was laden heavilj^ with 
 secret dread and sorrow ; but her boy's gayety of heart glad- 
 dened her, and beguiled the long journey. Sometimes he 
 would bid her lean upon his arm, and would keep beside her 
 steadily for a short distance ; but it was more his nature to 
 be rambling to and fro, and she better liked to see him free 
 and happy, even than to have him near her, because she loved 
 him better than herself. 
 
 She had quitted the place to which they were travelling, 
 directly after the event which had changed her whole exist- 
 ence ; and for two and twenty years had never had courage 
 to revisit it. It was her native village. How many recollec- 
 tions crowded on her mind when it appeared in sight ! 
 
 Two and twenty years. Her boy's whole life and history. 
 The last time she looked back upon those roofs among the 
 trees, she carried him in her arms, an infant. How often 
 since that time had she sat beside him night and day, watch- 
 ing for the dawn of mind that never came ; how had she 
 feared, and doubted, and yet hoped, long after conviction 
 forced itself upon her I The little stratagems she had devised 
 to try him, the little tokens he had given in his childish way 
 
 — not of dulness but of something infinitely worse, so ghastly 
 
BABXABY BUDGE. 215 
 
 and uncliild-like in its cunning — came back as vividly as if 
 but yesterday had intervened. The room in which they used 
 to be ; the spot in whicli his cradle stood ; he old and elfin- 
 like in face, but ever dear to her, gazing at her with a wild 
 and vacant eye, and crooning some uncouth song as she sat 
 by and rocked him; every circumstance of his infancy came 
 thronging back, and the most trivial, perhaps, the most dis- 
 tinctly. 
 
 His older childhood, too ; the strange imaginings he had ; 
 his terror of certain senseless things — familiar objects he 
 endowed with life ; the slow and gradual breaking-out of that 
 one horror, in which, before his birth, his darkened intellect 
 began ; how, in the midst of all, she had found some hope 
 and comfort in his being unlike another child, and had gone 
 on almost believing in the slow development of his mind until 
 he grew a man, and then his childhood was complete and 
 lasting; one after another, all these old thoughts sprung up 
 within her, strong after their long slumber and bitterer than 
 ever. 
 
 She took his arm and they hurried through the village 
 street. It was the same as it was wont to be in old times, 
 yet different too, and wore another air. The change was in 
 herself, not it ; but she never thought of tha't, and wondered 
 at its alteration, and where it lay, and what it was. 
 
 The people all knew Barnaby, and the children of the place 
 came flocking round him — as she remembered to have done 
 with their fathers and mothers, round some silly beggar-man, 
 when a child herself. None of them knew her ; they passed 
 each well-remembered house, and yard, and homestead ; and 
 striking into the fields, were soon alone again. 
 
 The Warren was the end of their journey. Mr. Haredale 
 was walking in the garden, and seeing them as they passed 
 the iron gate, unlocked it, and bade them enter that way. 
 
 " At length you have mustered heart to visit the old place," 
 he said to tlie widow. " I am glad you have.'' 
 
 "For the first time, and the last, sir," she replied. 
 
 " The first for many years, but not the last ? " 
 
 "The very last." 
 
 "You mean," said ]\Ir. Haredale, regarding her with some 
 
216 BARXABY BUDGE. 
 
 surprise, " that having made this effort, you are resolved not 
 to persevere and are determined to relapse ? This is un- 
 worthy of you. I have often told you, you should return 
 here. You would be happier here than elsewhere, I know. 
 As to Brrnaby, it's quite his home." 
 
 "And Grip's," said Barnaby, holding the basket open. 
 The raven hopped gravely out, and perching on his shoulder, 
 and addressing himself to Mr. Haredale, cried — as a hint, per- 
 haps, that some temperate refreshment would be acceptable — 
 " Polly put the ket-tle on, we'll all have tea ! " 
 
 "Hear me, Mary," said Mr. Haredale kindly, as he 
 motioned her to walk with him towards the house. " Your 
 life has been an example of patience and fortitude, except in 
 this one particular which has often given me great pain. It 
 is enough to know that you were cruelly involved in the 
 calamity which deprived me of an only brother, and Emma of 
 her father, without being obliged to suppose (as I sometimes 
 am) that you associate us with the author of our joint 
 misfortunes." 
 
 "Associate yoii with him, sir !" she cried. 
 
 "Iftdeed," said Mr. Haredale, "I think you do. I almost 
 believe that because your husband was bound by so many 
 ties to our relation, and died in his service and defence, you 
 have come in some sort to connect us with his murder." 
 
 " Alas ! " she answered. " You little know my heart, sir. 
 You little know the truth ! " 
 
 " It is natural you should do so ; it is very probable you 
 may, without being conscious of it," said Mr. Haredale, 
 speaking more to himself than her. " We are a fallen house. 
 Money, dispensed with the most lavish hand, would be a poor 
 recompense for sufferings like yours ; and thinly scattered by 
 hands so pinched and tied as ours, it becomes a miserable 
 mockery. I feel it so, God knows," he added hastily. " Why 
 should I wonder if she does ! " 
 
 "You do me wrong, dear sir, indeed," she rejoined with 
 great earnestness ; " and yet when you come to hear what I 
 desire your leave to say " — 
 
 " I shall find my doubts confirmed ? " he said, observing 
 that she faltered and became confused. " Well I " 
 
BABNABT BUDGE. 217 
 
 He quickened his pace for a few steps, but fell back again 
 to her side, and said, — 
 
 " And have you come all this way at last, solely to speak 
 to me ? " 
 
 She answered, " Yes." 
 
 "A curse," he muttered, ^'upon the wretched state of us 
 proud beggars, from whom the poor and rich are equally at a 
 distance ; the one being forced to treat us with a show of cold 
 respect ; the other condescending to us in their every deed 
 and word, and keeping more aloof the nearer they approach 
 us. — Why, if it were pain to you (as it must have been) to 
 break for this slight purpose the chain of habit forged through 
 two and twenty years, could you not let me know your wish, 
 and beg me to come to you ? " 
 
 "There was not time, sir," she rejoined. "I took my 
 resolution but last night, and taking it, felt that I must not 
 lose a day — a day ! an hour — in having speech with you." 
 
 •They had by this time reached the house. Mr. Haredale 
 paused for a moment and looked at her as if surprised by the 
 energy of her manner. Observing, however, that she took no 
 heed of him, but glanced up, shuddering, at the old walls 
 with which such horrors were connected in her mind, he led 
 her by a private stair into his library, where Emma was 
 seated in a window, reading. 
 
 The young lady, seeing who approached, hastily rose and 
 laid aside her book, and with many kind words, and not 
 without tears, gave her a warm and earnest welcome. But 
 the widow shrunk from her embrace as though she feared her, 
 and sunk down trembling on a chair. 
 
 " It is the return to this place after so long an absence," 
 said Emma gently. "Pray ring, dear uncle — or stay — 
 Barnaby will run himself and ask for wine " — 
 
 " Not for the world," she cried. " It would have another 
 taste — I could not touch it. I want but a minute's rest. 
 Nothing but that." 
 
 Miss Haredale stood beside her chair, regarding her with 
 silent pity. She remained for a little time quite still ; then 
 rose and turned to Mr. Haredale, who liad sat down in his 
 easy-chair, and was contemplating her with fixed attention. 
 
218 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 The tale connected with the mansion borne in mind, it 
 seemed, as has been already said, the chosen theatre for such 
 a deed as it had known. The room in which this group were 
 now assembled — hard'by the very chamber where the act was 
 done — dull, dark, and sombre ; heavy with worm-eaten books ; 
 deadened and shut in by faded hangings, muffling every 
 sound ; shadowed mournfully by trees whose rustling boughs 
 gave ever and anon a spectral knocking at the glass ; wore, 
 beyond all others in the house, a ghostly, gloomy air. Nor 
 were the group assembled there, untitting tenants of the 
 spot. The widow, with her marked and startling face and 
 downcast eyes ; ^fr. Haredale stern and despondent ever; his 
 niece' beside him, like, yet most unlike, the picture of her 
 father, which gazed reproachfully down upon them from the 
 blackened wall ; Barnaby, with his vacant look and restless 
 eye ; were all in keeping with the place, and actors in the 
 legend. Nay, the very raven, who had hopped upon the table 
 and with the air of some old necromancer appeared to be 
 profoundly studying a great folio volume that lay open on a 
 desk, was strictly in unison with the rest, and looked like the 
 embodied spirit of evil biding his time of mischief. 
 
 " I scarcely know," said the widow, breaking silence, " how 
 to begin. You will think my mind disordered." 
 
 ''The whole tenor of your quiet and reproachless life since 
 you were last here," returned Mr. Haredale, mildly, "shall 
 bear witness for you. Why do you fear to awaken such a 
 suspicion ? You do not speak to strangers. You have not 
 to claim our interest or consideration for the first time. Be 
 more yourself. Take heart. Any advice or assistance that 
 I can give you, you know is yours of right, and freely 
 yours." 
 
 " What if I came, sir," she rejoined, " I who have but 
 one other friend on earth, to reject your aid from this moment, 
 and to say that henceforth I launch myself upon the world, 
 alone and unassisted, to sink or swim as Heaven may 
 decree ! " 
 
 " You would have, if you came to me for such a purpose," 
 said Mr. Haredale calmly, " some reason to assign for conduct 
 so extraordinary, which — if one may entertain the possibility 
 
BABNABT BUDGE. 219 
 
 of anything so wild and strange — would have its weight, of 
 course." 
 
 "That, sir," she answered, "is the misery of my distress. 
 I can give no reason whatever. IVIy own bare word is all 
 that I can offer. It is my duty, my imperative and bounden 
 duty. If I did not discharge it, I should be a base and guilty 
 wretch. Having said that, my lips are sealed, and I can say 
 no more." 
 
 As though she felt relieved at having said so much, and 
 had nerved herself to the remainder of her task, she spoke 
 from this time with a firmer voice and heightened courage. 
 
 " Heaven is my witness, as my own heart is — and yours, 
 dear young lady, will speak for me I know — that I have 
 lived, since that time we all have bitter reason to remember, 
 in unchanging devotion, and gratitude to this family. 
 Heaven is my witness that go where I may, I shall preserve 
 those feelings unimpaired. And it is my witness, too, that 
 they alone impel me to the course I must take, and from which 
 nothing now shall turn me, as I hope for mercy." 
 
 " These are strange riddles," said Mr. Haredale. 
 
 " In this world, sir," she replied, " they may perhaps, never 
 be explained. In another, the Truth will be discovered in 
 its own good time. And may that time," she added in a low 
 voice, " be far distant ! " 
 
 "Let me be sure," said Mr. Haredale, "that I understand 
 you, for I am doubtful of my own senses. Do you mean 
 that you are resolved voluntarily to deprive yourself of those 
 means of support you have received from us so long — that 
 you are determined to resign the annuity we settled on you 
 twenty years ago — to leave house, and home, and goods, and 
 begin life anew — and this, for some secret reason or monstrous 
 fancy which is incapable of explanation, which only now ex- 
 ists, and has been dormant all this time ? In the name of 
 God, under wdiat delusion are you laboring ? " 
 
 " As I am deeply thankful," she made answer, " for the 
 kindness of those, alive and dead, who have owned this house ; 
 and as I would not have its roof fall down and crush me or 
 its very w^alls drip blood, my name being spoken in tlieir 
 hearing ; I never will again subsist upon their bounty, or let 
 
220 BABNABY BULGE. 
 
 it help me to subsistence. You do not know," she added 
 suddenly, " to what uses it may be applied ; into what hands 
 it may pass. I do, and I renounce it." 
 
 " Surely," said Mr. Haredale, " its uses rest with you." 
 
 <' They did. They rest with me no longer. It may be — 
 it is — devoted to purposes that mock the dead in their graves. 
 It never can prosper with me. It will bring some other heavy 
 judgment on the head of my dear son, whose innocence will 
 suffer for his mother's guilt." 
 
 '* What words are these ! " cried Mr. Haredale, regarding 
 her with wonder. " Among what associates have you fallen ? 
 Into what guilt have you ever been betrayed ? " 
 
 " I am guilty, and yet innocent ; wrong, yet right ; good 
 in intention, though constrained to shield and aid the bad. 
 Ask me no more questions, sir ; but believe that I am rather 
 to be pitied than condemned. I must leave my house to- 
 morrow, for while I stay there it is haunted. My future 
 dwelling, if I am to live in peace, must be a secret. If my 
 poor boy should ever stray this way, do not tempt him to 
 disclose it or have him watched when he returns ; for if we 
 are hunted, we must fly again. And now this load is off my 
 mind, I beseech you — and you, dear Miss Haredale, too — to 
 trust me if you can, and think of me kindly as you have been 
 used to do. If I die and cannot tell my secret even then (for 
 that may come to pass), it will sit lighter on my breast 
 in that hour for this day's work ; and on that day and every 
 day until it comes, I will pray for and thank you both, and 
 trouble you no more." 
 
 With that, she would have left them, but they detained 
 her, and Avith many soothing words and kind entreaties be- 
 sought her to consider what she did, and above all to repose 
 more freely upon them, and say what weighed so sorely on 
 her mind. Finding her deaf to their persuasions, Mr. 
 Haredale suggested, as a last resource, that she should 
 confide in Emma, of whom, as a young person and one of her 
 own sex, she might stand in less dread than of himself. From 
 this proposal, however, she recoiled with the same indescrib- 
 able repugnance she had manifested when they met. The 
 utmost that could be wrung from her was, a promise that she 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 221 
 
 would receive Mr. Haredale at her ovv'ii house next evening, 
 and in the mean time reconsider her determination and their 
 dissuasions — though any change on her part, as she told 
 them, was quite hopeless. This condition made at last, they 
 reluctantly suffered her to depart, since she would neither eat 
 nor drink within the house ; and she, and Barnaby, and Grip, 
 accordingly went out as they had come, by the private stair 
 and garden gate ; seeing and being seen of no one by the 
 way. 
 
 It was remarkable in the raven that during the whole 
 interview he had kept his eye on his book with exactly the 
 air of a very sly human rascal, who, under the mask of pre- 
 tending to read hard, was listening to everything. He still 
 appeared to have the conversation very strongly in his mind, 
 for although when they were alone again, he issued orders 
 for the instant preparation of innumerable kettles for purposes 
 of tea, he was thoughtful, and rather seemed to do so from 
 an abstract sense of duty, than with any regard to making 
 himself agreeable, or being what is commonly called good 
 company. 
 
 They were to return by the coach. As there was an 
 interval of full two hours before it started, and they needed 
 rest and some refreshment, Barnaby begged hard for a visit 
 to the INIaypole. But his mother, who had no wish to be 
 recognized by any of those who had known her long ago, and 
 who feared besides that Mr. Haredale might, on second 
 thoughts, despatch some messenger to that place of entertain- 
 ment in quest of her, proposed to wait in the church^^ard 
 instead. As it was easy for Barnaby to buy and carry 
 thither such humble viands as they required, he cheerfully 
 assented, and in the churchyard they sat down to take their 
 frugal dinner. 
 
 Here again, the raven was in a highly reflective state ; 
 walking up and down when he had dined, with an air of 
 elderly complacency which was strongly suggestive of his 
 having his hands under his coat-tails ; and appearing to read 
 the tombstones with a very critical taste. Sometimes, after a 
 long inspection of an epitaph, he would strop his beak upon 
 the grave to which it referred, and cry in his hoarse tones, 
 
222 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 " I'm a devil, I'm a devil, I'm a devil ! " but whether he 
 addressed his observations to any supposed person below, or 
 merely threw them off as a general remark, is matter of 
 uncertainty. 
 
 It was a quiet pretty spot, but a sad one for Barnaby's 
 mother; for Mr. Keuben Haredale lay there, and near the 
 vault in which his ashes rested, was a stone to the memory of 
 her own husband, with a brief inscription recording how and 
 when he had lost his life. She sat here, thoughtful and 
 apart, until their time was out, and the distant horn told that 
 the coach was coming. 
 
 Barnaby, who had been sleeping on the grass, sprung up 
 quickly at the sound ; and Grip, who appeared to understand 
 it equally well, walked into his basket straightway, entreating 
 society in general (as though he intended a kind of satire 
 upon them in connection with churchyards) never to say die 
 on any terms. They were soon on the coach-top and rolling 
 along the road. 
 
 It went round by the Maypole, and stopped at the door. 
 Joe was from home, and Hugh came sluggishly out to hand 
 up the parcel that it called for. There was no fear of old 
 John coming out. They could see him from the coach-roof 
 fast asleep in his cosey bar. It was a part of John's character. 
 He made a point of going to sleep at the coach's time. He 
 despised gadding about ; he looked upon coaches as things 
 that ought to be indicted ; as disturbers of the peace of man- 
 kind ; as restless, bustling, busy, horn-blowing contrivances, 
 quite beneath the dignity of men, and only suited to giddy 
 girls that did nothing but chatter and go a-shopping. "We 
 know nothing about coaches here, sir," John would say, if any 
 unlucky stranger made inquiry touching the offensive vehicles ; 
 "we don't book for 'em; we'd rather not; they're more 
 trouble than they're worth, with their noise and rattle. If 
 you like to wait for 'em you can ; but we don't know anything 
 about 'em; they may call and they may not — there's a 
 carrier — he was looked upon as quite good enough for us, 
 when / was a boy." 
 
 She dropped her veil as Hugh climbed up, and while he 
 hung behind and talked to Barnaby in whispers. But neither 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 '^^.^ 
 
 he nor any other person spoke to her, or noticed her, or had 
 
 any curiosity about her ; and so, an alien, she visited and left 
 
 the village where she had been born, and had lived a merry 
 
 child, a comely girl, a happy wife — where she had known 
 
 all her enjoyment of life, and had entered on its hardest 
 
 sorrows. 
 
BAENABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 " And you're not surprised to hear this, Varden ? " said 
 I\Ir. Haredale. " Well ! You and she have ahvays been the 
 best friends, and you should understand her if anybody does." 
 
 "I ask your pardon, sir," rejoined the locksmith. "I 
 didn't say I understood her. I wouldn't have the presumption 
 to say that of any woman. It's not so easily done. But I 
 am not so much surprised, sir, as you expected me to be, 
 certainly." 
 
 " May I ask why not, my good friend ? " 
 
 "I have seen, sir," returned the locksmith with evident 
 reluctance, "I have seen in connection with her, something 
 that has filled me with distrust and uneasiness. She has 
 made bad friends, how, or when, I don't know ; but that her 
 house is a refuge for one robber and cut-throat at least, I am 
 certain. There, sir ! Now it's out." 
 
 " Varden ! " 
 
 " My own eyes, sir, are my witnesses, and for her sake I 
 would be willingly half-blind, if I could but have the pleasure 
 of mistrusting 'em. I have kept the secret till now, and it 
 will go no further than yourself, I know ; but I tell you that 
 with my own eyes — broad awake — I saw, in the passage of 
 her house one evening after dark, the highwayman who 
 robbed and wounded Mr. Edward Chester, and on the same 
 night threatened me." 
 
 "And you made no effort to detain him?" said Mr. 
 Haredale quickly. 
 
 " Sir," returned the locksmith, " she herself prevented me 
 — held me, with all her strength, and hung about me until he 
 had got clear off." And having gone so far, he related circum- 
 stantially all that had passed upon the night in question. 
 
 This dialogue was held in a low tone in the locksmith's 
 little parlor into which honest Gabriel had shown his visitor 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 225 
 
 on his arrival. Mr. Haredale had called upon him to entreat 
 his company to the widow's, that he might have the assistance 
 of his persuasion and influence ; and out of this circumstance 
 the conversation had arisen. 
 
 "I forebore,'' said Gabriel, "from repeating one word of 
 this to anybody, as it could do her no good and might do her 
 great harm. I thought and hoped, to say the truth, that she 
 would come to me, and talk to me about it, and tell me how 
 it was ; but though I have purposely put myself in her way 
 more than once or twice, she has never touched upon the 
 subject — except by a look. And indeed," said the good- 
 natured locksmith, " there was a good deal in the look, more 
 than could have been put into a great many w^ords. It said 
 among other matters ^ Don't ask me anything ' so imploringly, 
 that I didn't ask her anything. You'll think me an old fool 
 I know, sir. If it's any relief to call me one, pray do." 
 
 " I am greatly disturbed by what you tell me," said Mr. 
 Haredale, after a silence. "What meaning do you attach 
 to it ? " 
 
 The locksmith shook his head, and looked doubtfully out of 
 window at the failing light. 
 
 " She cannot have married again," said Mr. Haredale. 
 
 " Not without our knowledge surely, sir." 
 
 "She may have done so, in the fear that it would lead, 
 if known, to some objection or estrangement. Suppose she 
 married incautiously — it is not improbable, for her existence 
 has been a lonely and monotonous one for many years — and 
 the man turned out a ruffian, she would be anxious to screen 
 him, and yet would revolt from his crimes. This might be. 
 It bears strongly on the whole drift of her discourse yester- 
 day, and would quite explain her conduct. Do you suppose 
 Barnaby is privy to these circumstances ? " 
 
 " Quite impossible to say, sir," returned the locksmith, 
 shaking his head again : " and next to impossible to find out 
 from him. If what you suppose is really the case, I tremble 
 for the lad — a notable person, sir, to put to bad uses " — 
 
 " It is not possible, Varden," said Mr. Haredale, in a still 
 lower tone of voice than he had spoken yet, " that we have 
 been blinded and deceived by this woman from the beginning ? 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
226 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 It is not possible that this connection was formed in her hus- 
 band's lifetime, and led to his and my brother's " — 
 
 " Good God, sir," cried Gabriel, interrupting him, " don't 
 entertain such dark thoughts for a moment. Five and twenty- 
 years ago, where was there a girl like her ? a gay, hand- 
 some, laughing, bright-eyed damsel ! Think what she was, 
 sir. It makes my heart ache now, even now, though I'm an 
 old man, with a woman for a daughter, to think what she was 
 and what she is. We all change, but that's with Time; 
 Time does his work honestly, and I don't mind him. A fig 
 for Time, sir. Use him well, and he's a hearty fellow, and 
 scorns to have you at a disadvantage. But care and suffering 
 (and those have changed her) are devils, sir — secret, stealthy 
 undermining devils — who tread down the brightest flowers 
 in Eden, and do more havoc in a month than Time does in a 
 year. Picture to yourself for one minute what Mary was. 
 before they went to work Avith her fresh heart and face — do 
 her that justice — and say whether such a thing is possible." 
 
 " You're a good fellow, Varden," said Mr. Haredale, " and 
 are quite right. I have brooded on that subject sa long, that 
 every breath of suspicion carries me back to it. You are 
 quite right." 
 
 "It isn't sir," cried the locksmith with brightened eyes, 
 and sturdy, honest voice ; " it isn't because I courted her 
 before Rudge, and failed, that I say she was too good for him. 
 She would have been as much too good for me. But she ivas 
 too good for him ; he wasn't free and frank enough for her. 
 I don't reproach his memory with it, poor fellow ; I only want 
 to put her before you as she really was. For myself, I'll keep 
 her old picture in my mind ; and thinking of that, and what 
 has altered her, I'll stand her friend, and try to win her back 
 to peace. And damme, sir," cried Gabriel, " with your par- 
 don for the word, I'd do the same if she had married fifty 
 highwaymen in a twelvemonth ; and think it in the Protestant 
 Manual too, though Martha said it wasn't, tooth and nail, till 
 doomsday ! " 
 
 If the dark little parlor had been filled with a dense fog, 
 which, clearing away in an instant, left it all radiance and 
 brightness, it could not have been more suddenly cheered than 
 
BAENABT BUDGE. 227 
 
 by this outbreak on the part of the hearty locksmith. In a 
 voice nearly as full and round as his own, Mr. Haredale 
 cried " Well said ! " and bade him come away without more 
 parley. The locksmith complied right willingly ; and both 
 getting into a hackney-coach which was waiting at the door, 
 drove off straightway. 
 
 They alighted at the street-corner, and dismissing their 
 conveyance, walked to the house. To their first knock at the 
 door there was no response. A second met with the like 
 result. But in answer to the third, which was of a more 
 vigorous kind, the parlor window-sash was gently raised, and 
 a musical voice cried, — 
 
 "Haredale, my dear fellow, I am extremely glad to see 
 you. How very much you have improved in your appearance 
 since our last meeting ! I never saw you looking better. 
 How do you do ? " 
 
 Mr. Haredale turned his eyes towards the casement whence 
 the voice proceeded, though there was no need to do so, to 
 recognize the speaker, and Mr. Chester waved his hand, and 
 smiled a courteous welcome. 
 
 " The door will be opened immediately," he said. " There 
 is nobody but a very dilapidated female to perform such 
 offices. You will excuse her infirmities ? If she were in a 
 more elevated station of society, she would be gouty. Being 
 but a hewer of wood and drawer of water, she is rheumatic. 
 My dear Haredale, these are natural class distinctions, depend 
 upon it." 
 
 Mr. Haredale, whose face resumed its lowering and dis- 
 trustful look the moment he heard the voice, inclined his 
 head stiffly, and turned his back upon the speaker. 
 
 " Xot opened yet ! " said Mr. Chester. " Dear me ! I hope 
 the aged soul has not caught her foot in some unlucky cobweb 
 by the way. She is there at last ! Come in, I beg ! " 
 
 Mr. Haredale entered, followed by the locksmith. Turning 
 with a look of great astonishment to the old woman who had 
 opened the door, he inquired for Mrs. Budge — for Barnaby. 
 They were both gone, she replied, wagging her ancient liead, 
 for good. There was a gentleman in the ])arlor, who perhaps 
 could tell them more. That was all she knew. 
 
 Nir 
 
228 BARXABY BUDGE. 
 
 "Pray, sir," said Mr. Haredale, presenting himself before 
 this new tenant, " where is the person whom I came here 
 to see ? " 
 
 " My dear friend," he returned, " I have not the least 
 idea." 
 
 " Your trifling is ill-timed," retorted the other in a sup- 
 pressed tone and voice, " and its subject ill-chosen. Reserve 
 it for those who are your friends, and do not expend it on me. 
 I lay no claim to the distinction, and have the self-denial to 
 reject it." 
 
 "My dear, good sir," said Mr. Chester, "you are heated 
 w4th walking. Sit down, I beg. Our friend is " — 
 
 " Is but a plain honest man," returned Mr. Haredale, " and 
 quite unworthy of your notice." 
 
 " Gabriel Yarden by name, sir," said the locksmith bluntly. 
 
 "A worthy English yeoman ! " said Mr. Chester. "A 
 most worthy yeoman, of whom I have frequently heard my 
 son Ned — darling fellow — speak, and have often wished to 
 see. Yarden, my good friend, I am glad to know you. You 
 wonder now," he said, turning languidly to Mr. Haredale, "to 
 see me here. iSTow, I am sure you do." 
 
 Mr. Haredale glanced at him — not fondly or admiringly — 
 smiled, and held his peace. 
 
 "The mystery is solved in a moment," said Mr. Chester; 
 " in a moment. AYill you step aside with me one instant. 
 You remember our little compact in reference to I^ed, and 
 your dear niece, Haredale ? You remember the list of 
 assistants in their innocent intrigue ? You remember these 
 two people being among them ? My dear fellow, congratulate 
 yourself and me. I have bought them off." 
 
 " You have done what ? " said ^Ir. Haredale. 
 
 " Bought them off," returned his smiling friend. " I have 
 found it necessary to take some active steps towards setting 
 this boy and girl attachment quite at rest, and have begun by 
 removing these two agents. You are surprised ? AYho can 
 withstand the influence of a little money ! They wanted it, 
 and have been bought off. We have nothing more to fear 
 from them. They are gone." 
 
 " Gone ! " echoed Mr. Haredale. " Where ? " 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 229 
 
 " My dear fellow — and you must permit me to say again, 
 that you never looked so young ; so positively boyish as you 
 do to-night — the Lord knows where ; I believe Columbus 
 himself wouldn't find them. Between you and me they have 
 their hidden reasons, but upon that point I have pledged 
 myself to secrecy. She appointed to see you here to-night I 
 know, but found it inconvenient, and couldn't wait. Here is 
 the key of the door. I am afraid you'll find it inconveniently 
 large ; but as the tenement is yours, your good-nature will 
 excuse that, Haredale, I am certain ! " 
 
230 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Mr. Haredale stood in the widow's parlor with the door- 
 key in his hand, gazing by turns at Mr. Chester and at 
 Gabriel Varden, and occasionall}^ glancing downward at the 
 key as in the hope that of its own accord it would unlock the 
 mystery ; until Mr. Chester, putting on his hat and gloves, 
 and sweetly inquiring whether they were walking in the 
 same direction, recalled him to himself. 
 
 " No," he said. " Our roads diverge — widely, as you 
 know. For the present, I shall remain here." 
 
 "You will be hipped, Haredale; you will be miserable, 
 melancholy, utterly wretched," returned the other. "It's a 
 place of the very last description for a man of your temper. 
 I know it will make you very miserable." 
 
 " Let it," said Mr. Haredale, sitting down ; " and thrive 
 upon the thought. Good-night ! " 
 
 Feigning to be wholly unconscious of the abrupt wave of 
 the hand which rendered this farewell tantamount to a dis- 
 missal, Mr. Chester retorted with a bland and heartfelt 
 benediction, and inquired of Gabriel in what direction he was 
 going." 
 
 " Yours, sir, would be too much honor for the like of me," 
 replied the locksmith, hesitating. 
 
 " I wish you to remain here a little while, Varden," said 
 Mr. Haredale, without looking towards them. "I have a 
 word or two to say to you." 
 
 " I will not intrude upon your conference another moment," 
 said Mr. Chester with inconceivable politeness. " jVIay it be 
 satisfactory to you both ! God bless you ! " So saying, and 
 bestowing upon the locksmith a most refulgent smile, he left 
 them. 
 
 "A deplorably constituted creature, that rugged person," 
 he said, as he walked along the street ; " he is an atrocity that 
 
BARXABY BUDGE. 231 
 
 carries its own punishment along with it — a bear tliat gnaws 
 himself. And here is one of the inestimable advantages of 
 having a perfect command over one's inclinations. I have 
 been tempted in these two short interviews, to draw upon 
 that fellow fifty times. Five men in six would have yielded 
 to the impulse. By suppressing mine, I wound him deeper 
 and more keenly than if I were the best swordsman in all 
 Europe, and he the worst. You are the wise man's very last 
 resource," he said, tapping the hilt of his weapon ; " we can 
 but appeal to you when all else is said and done. To come to 
 you before, and thereby spare our adversaries so much, is a 
 barbarian mode of warfare, quite unworthy any man with the 
 remotest pretensions to delicacy of feeling, or refinement." 
 
 He smiled so very pleasantly as he communed with him- 
 self after this manner, that a beggar was emboldened to 
 follow him for alms, and to dog his footsteps for some 
 distance. He was gratified by the circumstance, feeling it 
 complimentary to his power of feature, and as a reward 
 suffered the man to follow him until he called a chair, when 
 he graciously dismissed him with a fervent blessing. 
 
 "Which is as easy as cursing," he wisely added, as he took 
 his seat, " and more becoming to the face. — To Clerkenwell, 
 my good creatures, if you please ! " The chairmen were 
 rendered quite vivacious by having such a courteous burden, 
 and to Clerkenwell they went at a fair round trot. 
 
 Alighting at a certain point he had indicated to them upon 
 the road, and paying them something less than they had 
 expected from a fare of such gentle speech, he turned into 
 the street in which the locksmith dwelt, and presently stood 
 beneath the shadow of the Golden Key. Mr. Tappertit, who 
 was hard at work by lamp-light, in a corner of the workshop, 
 remained unconscious of his presence until a hand upon his 
 shoulder made him start and turn his head. 
 
 " Industry," said Mr. Chester, " is the soul of business, and 
 the key-stone of prosperity. Mr. Tappertit, I shall expect you 
 to invite me to dinner when you are Lord ]\[ayor of London." 
 
 "Sir," returned the 'prentice, laying down his hammer, 
 and rubbing his nose on the back of a very sooty hand, " I 
 scorn the Lord Mayor and everything that belongs to liim. 
 
232 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 We must have another state of society, sir, before you catch 
 me being Lord Mayor. How de do, sir ? " 
 
 " The better, Mr. Tappertit, for looking into your ingenuous 
 face once more. I hope you are well." 
 
 " I am as well, sir," said Sim, standing up to get nearer to 
 his ear, and whispering hoarsely, "as any man can be under 
 the aggrawations to which I am exposed. My life's a burden 
 to me. If it wasn't for wengeance, I'd play at pitch and toss 
 with it on the losing hazard." 
 
 " Is ]\Irs. Varden at home ? " said Mr. Chester. 
 
 "Sir," returned Sim, eying him over with a look of 
 concentrated expression, — " she is. Did you wish to see 
 her ? " 
 
 Mr. Chester nodded. 
 
 " Then come this way, sir," said Sim, wiping his face upon 
 his apron. " Follow me, sir. — Would you permit me to 
 whisper in your ear, one-half a second ? " 
 
 " By all means." 
 
 Mr. Tappertit raised himself on tiptoe, applied his lips to 
 !Mr. Chester's ear, drew back his head without saying any- 
 thing, looked hard at him, applied them to his ear again, 
 again drew back, and finally whispered — " The name is 
 Joseph Willet. Hush ! I say no more." 
 
 Having said that much, he beckoned the visitor with a 
 mysterious aspect to follow him to the parlor door, where he 
 announced him in the voice of a gentleman-usher. "Mr. 
 Chester." 
 
 " And not Mr. Ed'dard, mind," said Sim, looking into the 
 door again, and adding this by way of postscript in his own 
 person ; " it's his father." 
 
 " But do not let his father," said Mr. Chester, advancing 
 hat in hand, as he observed the effect of this last explanatory 
 announcement, '• do not let his father be any check or restraint 
 on your domestic occupations, Miss Varden." 
 
 " Oh ! Now ! There ! Ain't I always a-saying it ! " 
 exclaimed Miggs, clapping her hands. "If he ain't been and 
 took Missis for her own daughter. Well, she do look like it, 
 that she do. Only think of that, mim ! " 
 
 "Is it possible," said ]Mr. Chester in his softest tones, 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 233 
 
 " that this is Mrs. Varden ! I am amazed. That is not your 
 daughter, ^Mrs. Varden ? Xo, no. Your sister." 
 
 "My daughter, indeed, sir," returned Mrs. V. blushing 
 with great juvenility. 
 
 " Ah, Mrs. Varden ! " cried the visitor. " Ah, ma'am — 
 humanity is indeed a happy lot, when we can repeat ourselves 
 in others, and still be young as they. You must allow me to 
 salute you — the custom of the country, my dear madam — 
 your daughter too." 
 
 Dolly showed some reluctance to perform tliis ceremony, 
 but was sharply reproved by Mrs. Varden, who insisted on 
 her undergoing it that minute. For pride, she said with 
 great severity, was one of the seven deadly sins, and humility 
 and lowliness of heart were virtues. Wherefore she desired 
 that Dolly would be kissed immediately, on pain of her just 
 displeasure ; at the same time giving her to understand that 
 whatever she saw her mother do, she might safely do herself, 
 without being at the trouble of any reasoning or reflection on 
 the subject — which, indeed, was offensive and undutiful, and 
 in direct contravention of the church catechism. 
 
 Thus admonished, Dolly complied, though by no means 
 willingly ; for there was a broad, bold look of admiration in 
 ^Ir. Chester's face, refined and polished though it sought to 
 be, which distressed her very much. As she stood with down- 
 cast eyes, not liking to look up and meet his, he gazed upon 
 her with an approving air, and then turned to her mother. 
 
 "My friend Gabriel (whose acquaintance I only made this 
 very evening) should be a happy man, Mrs. Varden." 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed Mrs. V., shaking her head. 
 
 '' Ah ! " echoed ^riggs. 
 
 " Is that the case ? " said Mr. Chester, compassionately. 
 « Dear me ! " 
 
 "Master has no intentions, sir," murmured Miggs as she 
 sidled up to him, " but to be as grateful as his natur will let 
 him, for everythink he owns which it is in his powers to appre- 
 ciate. But we never, sir" — said Miggs, looking sidewa3's at 
 Mrs. Varden, and interlarding her discourse with a sigh — 
 " we never know the full value of so?ne wines and fig-trees 
 till we lose 'em. So much the worse, sir, for them as has the 
 
234 BAB NAB Y BUDGE. 
 
 slighting of 'em on their consciences when they're gone to be 
 in full blow elsewhere." And Miss Miggs cast up her eyes 
 to signify where that might be. 
 
 As Mrs. Varden distinctly heard, and was intended to hear, 
 all that Miggs said, and as these words appeared to convey in 
 metaphorical terms a presage or foreboding that she would at 
 some early period droop beneath her trials and take an easy 
 flight towards the stars, she immediately began to languish, 
 and taking a volume of the Manual from a neigboring 
 table, leant her arm upon it as though she were Hope and 
 that her Anchor. Mr. Chester perceiving this, and seeing 
 how the volume was lettered on the back, took it gently from 
 her hand, and turned the fluttering leaves. 
 
 "My favorite book, dear madam. How often, how very 
 often in his early life — before he can remember " — (this 
 clause was strictly true) "have I deduced little easy moral 
 lessons from its pages, for my dear son Ned ! You know 
 Ned ? " 
 
 Mrs. Varden had that honor, and a fine affable young gentle- 
 man he was. 
 
 " You're a mother, Mrs. Varden," said Mr. Chester, taking 
 a pinch of snuff, "and you know what I, as a father, feel, 
 when he is praised. He gives me some uneasiness — much 
 uneasiness — he's of a roving nature, ma'am — from flower to 
 flower — from sweet to sweet — but his is the butterfly time 
 of life, and we must not be hard upon such trifling." 
 
 He glanced at Dolly. She was attending evidently to what 
 he said. Just what he desired ! 
 
 " The only thing I object to in this little trait of Ned's is," 
 said Mr. Chester, — "and the mention of his name reminds 
 me, by the way, that I am about to beg the favor of a 
 minute's talk with you alone — the only thing I object to in 
 it, is, that it does partake of insincerity. Now, however I 
 may attempt to disguise the fact from myself in my affection 
 for Ned, still I always revert to this — that if we are not 
 sincere, we are nothing. Nothing upon earth. Let us be 
 sincere, my dear madam " — 
 
 " — and Protestant," murmured Mrs. Varden. 
 
 " — and Protestant above all thinejs. Let us be sincere and 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 235 
 
 Protestant, strictly moral, strictly just (though always with 
 a leaning towards mercy), strictly honest, and strictly true, 
 and we gain — it is a slight point, certainly, but still it is 
 something tangible ; we throw up a groundwork and founda- 
 tion, so to speak, of goodness, on which we may afterwards 
 erect some worthy superstructure." 
 
 Now, to be sure, Mrs. Varden thought, here is a perfect 
 character. Here is a meek, righteous, thorough-going Chris- 
 tian, who, having mastered all these qualities, so difficult of 
 attainment ; who, having dropped a pinch of salt on the tails 
 of all the cardinal virtues, and caught them every one ; makes 
 light of their possession, and pants for more morality. For 
 the good woman never doubted (as many good men and 
 women never do), that this slighting kind of profession, this 
 setting so little store by great matters, this seeming to say " I 
 am not proud, I am what you hear, but I consider myself no 
 better than other people ; let us change the subject, pray " — 
 was perfectly genuine and true. He so contrived it, and said 
 it in that way that it appeared to have been forced from him, 
 and its effect was marvellous. 
 
 Aware of the impression he had made — few men were 
 quicker than he at such discoveries — Mr. Chester followed 
 up the blow by propounding certain virtuous maxims, some- 
 what vague and general in their nature, doubtless, and occa- 
 sionally partaking of the character of truisms, worn a little 
 out at elbow, but delivered in so charming a voice and 
 with such uncommon serenity and peace of mind, that they 
 answered as well as the best. Nor is this to be wondered at ; 
 for as hollow vessels produce a far more musical sound in 
 falling than those which are substantial, so it will oftentimes 
 be found that sentiments which have nothing in them make 
 the loudest ringing in the world, and are the most relished. 
 
 Mr. Chester, with the volume gently extended in one hand, 
 and with the other planted lightly on his breast, talked to 
 them in the most delicious manner possible ; and quite en- 
 chanted all his hearers, notwithstanding their conflicting 
 interests and thoughts. Even Dolly, who, between his keen 
 regards and her eying over by Mr. Tappertit, was put quite 
 out of countenance, could not help owning within herself that 
 
236 BARNABT RVBGE. 
 
 he was the sweetest-spoken gentleman she had ever seen. 
 Even Miss Miggs, who was divided between admiration 
 of Mr. Chester and a mortal jealousy of her young mistress, 
 had sufficient leisure to be propitiated. Even Mr. Tappertit, 
 though occupied as we have seen in gazing at his heart's 
 delight, could not wholly divert his thoughts from the voice 
 of the other charmer. Mrs. Varden, to her own private think- 
 ing, had never been so improved in all her life : and when 
 Mr. Chester, rising and craving permission to speak with her 
 apart, took her by the hand and led her at arm's length 
 up-stairs to the best sitting-room, she almost deemed him 
 something more than human. 
 
 "Dear madam," he said, pressing her hand delicately to 
 his lips ; " be seated." 
 
 Mrs. Varden called up quite a courtly air, and became 
 seated. 
 
 ''You guess my object?" said Mr. Chester, drawing a 
 chair towards her. " You divine my purpose ? I am an 
 affectionate parent, my dear Mrs. Varden." 
 
 " That I am sure you are, sir," said Mrs. V. 
 
 " Thank you," returned Mr. Chester, tapping his snuff-box 
 lid. "Heavy moral responsibilities rest with parents, Mrs. 
 Varden." 
 
 Mrs. Varden slightl}^ raised her hands, shook her head, and 
 looked at the ground as though she saw straight through the 
 globe, out at the other end, and into the immensity of space 
 beyond. 
 
 "I may confide in 3^ou," said Mr. Chester, "without re- 
 serve. I love my son, ma'am, dearly ; and loving him as I do, 
 I would save him from working certain misery. You know 
 of his attachment to Miss Haredale. You have abetted him 
 in it, and very kind of you it was to do so. I am deeply 
 obliged to you — most deeply obliged to you — for your inter- 
 est in his behalf ; but, my dear ma'am, it is a mistaken one, I 
 do assure you." 
 
 Mrs. Varden stammered that she was sorry — 
 
 " Sorry, my dear ma'am," he interposed. "' Xever be sorry 
 for what is so very amiable, so very good in intention, so 
 perfectly like yourself. But there are grave and weighty 
 

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BARNABY BUDGE. 237 
 
 reasons, pressing family considerations, and apart even from 
 these, points of religious difference, which interpose them- 
 selves, and render their union impossible ; utterly im-possible. 
 I should have mentioned these circumstances to your hus- 
 band ; but he has — you will excuse my saying this so freely 
 
 — he has 7iot your quickness of apprehension or depth of 
 moral sense. What an extremely airy house this is, and how 
 beautifully kept ! For one like myself — a widower so long 
 
 — these tokens of female care and superintendence have 
 inexpressible charms.'' 
 
 Mrs. Varden began to think (she scarcely knew why) that 
 the young Mr. Chester must be in the wrong, and the old Mr. 
 Chester must be in the right. 
 
 ''My son Ned," resumed her tempter with his most winning 
 air, "has had, I am told, your lovely daughter's aid, and your 
 open-hearted husband's." 
 
 " — Much more than mine, sir," said Mrs. Yarden ; ''a 
 great deal more. I have often had my doubts. It's a " — 
 
 "A bad example," suggested Mr. Chester. "It is. Xo 
 doubt it is. Your daughter is at that age when to set before 
 her an encouragement for young persons to rebel against 
 their parents on this most important point, is particularly 
 injudicious. You are quite right. I ought to have thought 
 of that myself, but it escaped me, I confess — so far superior 
 are your sex to ours, dear madam, in point of penetration and 
 sagacity." 
 
 Mrs. Varden looked as wise as if she had really said some- 
 thing to deserve this compliment — iirmly believed she had, 
 in short — and her faith in her own shrewdness increased 
 considerably. 
 
 " My dear ma'am," said Mr. Chester, " you embolden me 
 to be plain with you. My son and I are at variance on this 
 point. The young lady and her natural guardian differ upon 
 it, also. And the closing point is, that my son is bound, by 
 his duty to me, by his honor, by every solemn tie and obliga- 
 tion, to marry some one else." 
 
 "Engaged to marry another lady!" quoth ^Irs. Yarden, 
 holding up her hands. 
 
 "My dear madam, brought up, educated, and trained, 
 
238 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 expressly for that j^urpose. Expressly for that purpose. — 
 Miss Haredale, I am told, is a very charming creature." 
 
 " I am her foster-mother, and should know — the best young 
 lady in the world," said Mrs. Vardeu. 
 
 " I have not the smallest doubt of it. I am sure she is. 
 And you, who have stood in that tender relation towards her, 
 are bound to consult her happiness. Now, can I — as I have 
 said to Haredale, who quite agrees — can I possibly stand by, 
 and suffer her to throw herself away (although she is of a 
 Catholic family), upon a young fellow who, as yet, has no 
 heart at all ? It is no imputation upon him to say he has 
 not, because young men who have plunged deeply into the 
 frivolities and conventionalities of society, very seldom have. 
 Their hearts never grow, my dear ma'am, till after thirty. I 
 don't believe, no, I do 7iot believe, that I had any heart 
 m}' self when I was Ned's age." 
 
 "Oh, sir," said Mrs. Yarden, "I think you must have had. 
 It's impossible that you, who have so much now, can ever 
 have been without any." 
 
 "I hope," he answered, shrugging his shoulders meekly, 
 '-1 have a little ; I hope, a very little — Heaven knows ! But 
 to return to Ned : I have no doubt you thought, and therefore 
 interfered benevolently in his behalf, that I objected to Miss 
 Haredale. How very natural ! My dear madam, I object to 
 him — to him — emj^hatically to Ned himself." 
 
 Mrs. Varden was perfectly aghast at the disclosure. 
 
 " He has, if he honorably fulfils this solemn obligation of 
 which I have told you — and he must be honorable, dear 
 Mrs. Varden, or he is no son of mine — a fortune within his 
 reach. He is of most expensive, ruinously expensive habits ; 
 and if, in a moment of caprice and wilfulness, he were to 
 marry this young lady, and so deprive himself of the means 
 of gratifying the tastes to which he has been so long accus- 
 tomed, he would — my dear madam, he would break the gentle 
 creature's heart. Mrs. Varden, my good lady, my dear soul, 
 I put it to you — is such a sacrifice to be endured ? Is the 
 female heart a thing to be trifled with in this way ? Ask 
 your own, my dear madam. Ask your own, I beseech you." 
 
 "Truly," thought Mrs. Varden, "this gentleman is a saint. 
 
BARXAIIY RUDGE. 239 
 
 But," she added aloud, and not unnaturally, " if you take 
 Miss Emma's lover away, sir, what becomes of the poor 
 thing's heart, then ? " 
 
 "The very point," said Mr. Chester, not at all abashed, 
 "to which I wished to lead you. A marriage with my son, 
 whom I should be compelled to disown, would be followed by 
 years of misery ; they would be separated, my dear madam, 
 in a twelvemonth. To break off this attachment, which is 
 more fancied than real, as you and I know very well, will cost 
 the dear girl but a few tears, and she is happy again. Take 
 the case of your own daughter, the young lady down-stairs, 
 who is your breathing image " — Mrs. Varden coughed and 
 simpered — " there is a young man (I am sorry to say, a 
 dissolute fellow, of very indifferent character) of whom I 
 have heard Ned speak — Bullet was it — Pullet — Mullet " — 
 
 " There is a young man of the name of Joseph Willet, sir," 
 said Mrs. Varden, folding her hands loftily. 
 . "That's he," cried Mr. Chester. "Suppose this Joseph 
 Willet now, were to aspire to the affections of your charming 
 daughter, and were to engage them." 
 
 "It would be like his impudence," interposed Mrs. Varden, 
 bridling, "to dare to think of such a thing ! " 
 
 " My dear madam, that's the whole case. I know it would 
 be like his impudence. It is like Ned's impudence to do as 
 he has done ; but you would not on that account, or because 
 of a few tears from your beautiful daughter, refrain from 
 checking their inclinations in their birth. I meant to have 
 reasoned thus with your husband when I saw him at Mrs. 
 Rudge's this evening" — 
 
 " ^Fy husband,'' said ]\rrs. Varden, interposing with emotion, 
 " would be a great deal better at liome than going to Mrs. 
 Rudge's so often. I don't know what \w, does there. I don't 
 see what occasion he has to busy himself in her affairs at all, 
 sir." 
 
 " If I don't appear to express my concurrence in those last 
 sentiments of yours," returned Mr. Chester, " (piite so strongly 
 as you might desire, it is because his being there, my dear 
 madam, and not proving conversational, led me hither, and 
 procured me the happiness of this interview with one, in 
 
240 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 whom the whole management, conduct, and prosperity of her 
 family are centred, I perceive." 
 
 With that he took Mrs. Varden's hand again, and having 
 pressed it to his lips Avith the high-flown gallantr}^ of the day 
 — a little burlesqued to render it the more striking in the 
 good lady's unaccustomed eyes — proceeded in the same strain 
 of mingled sophistry, cajolery, and flattery, to entreat that 
 her utmost influence might be exerted to restrain her husband 
 and daughter from any further promotion of Edward's suit to 
 Miss Haredale, and from aiding or abetting either party in 
 any way. Mrs. Varden was but a woman, and had her share 
 of vanity, obstinacy, and love of power. She entered into a 
 secret treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, with her 
 insinuating visitor ; and really did believe, as many others 
 would have done who saw and heard him, that in so doing 
 she furthered the ends of truth, justice, and morality, in a 
 very uncommon degree. 
 
 Overjoyed by the success of his negotiation, and mightily 
 amused within himself. Mr. Chester conducted her down-stairs 
 in the same state as before ; and having repeated the previous 
 ceremony of salutation, which also as before comprehended 
 Dolly, took his leave ; first completing the conquest of Miss 
 Miggs's heart, by inquiring if '- this young lady " would light 
 him to the door. 
 
 " Oh, mini," said ]\Iiggs, returning with the candle. " Oh 
 gracious me, mim, there's a gentleman ! Was there ever 
 such an angel to talk as he is — and such a sweet-looking 
 man. So upright and noble, that he seems to despise the 
 very ground he walks on ; and yet so mild and condescending, 
 that he seems to say 'but I will take notice on it too.' And 
 to think of his taking you for Miss Dolly, and Miss Dolly for 
 your sister — Oh, my goodness me, if I was master wouldn't I 
 be jealous of him ! " 
 
 Mrs. Varden reproved her handmaid for this vain-speaking ; 
 but very gently and mildly — quite smilingly indeed — re- 
 marking that she was a foolish, giddy, light-headed girl, whose 
 spirits carried her beyond all bounds, and who didn't mean 
 half she said, or she would be quite angry with her. 
 
 " For my part," said Dolly, in a thoughtful manner, "I half 
 
BABNABT RUDGE. 241 
 
 believe Mr. Chester is something like ^liggs in that respect. 
 For all his politeness and pleasant speaking, I am pretty sure 
 he was making game of us, more than once." 
 
 " If you venture to say such a thing again, and to speak ill 
 of people behind their backs in my presence, ^liss," said Mrs. 
 Varden, " I shall insist upon your taking a candle and going 
 to bed directly. How dare you, Dolly ? I'm astonished at 
 you. The rudeness of your whole behavior this evening has 
 been disgraceful. Did anybody ever hear," cried the enraged 
 matron, bursting into tears, " of a daughter telling her own 
 mother she has been made game of ! " 
 
 What a very uncertain temper Mrs. Varden's was ! 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
242 BAENABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Repairing to a noted coffee-house in Covent Garden when 
 he left the locksmith's, ,Mr. Chester sat long over a late 
 dinner, entertaining himself exceedingly with the whimsical 
 recollection of his recent proceedings, and congratulating him- 
 self very much on his great cleverness. Influenced by these 
 thoughts, his face wore an expression so benign and tranquil, 
 that the waiter in immediate attendance upon him felt he 
 could almost have died in his defence, and settled in his own 
 mind (until the receipt of the bill, and a very small fee for 
 very great trouble, disabused it of the idea) that such an 
 apostolic customer was worth half a dozen of the ordinary run 
 of visitors, at least. 
 
 A visit to the gaming-table — not as a heated, anxious 
 venturer, but one whom it was quite a treat to see staking his 
 two or three pieces in deference to the follies of society, and 
 smiling with equal benevolence on winners and losers — made 
 it late before he reached home. It was his custom to bid his 
 servant go to bed at his own time unless he had orders to the 
 contrary, and to leave a candle on the common stair. There 
 was a lamp on the landing by which he could always light it 
 when he came home late, and having a key of the door about 
 him he could enter and go to bed at his pleasure. 
 
 He opened the glass of the dull lamp, whose wick, burned 
 up and swollen like a drunkard's nose, came flying off in 
 little carbuncles at the candle's touch, and scattering hot 
 sparks about rendered it matter of some difficulty to kindle 
 the lazy taper; when a noise, as of a man snoring deeply 
 some steps higher up, caused him to pause and listen. It 
 was the heavy breathing of a sleeper, close at hand. Some 
 fellow had lain down on the open staircase, and was slumber- 
 ing soundly. Having lighted the candle at length and opened 
 his own door, he softly ascended, holding the taper high above 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. 243 
 
 his head, and peering cautiously about ; curious to see what 
 kind of man had chosen so comfortless a shelter for his 
 lodging. 
 
 With his head upon the landing and his great limbs flung 
 over half a dozen stairs, as carelessly as though he were a 
 dead man whom drunken bearers had thrown down by chance, 
 there lay Hugh, face uppermost, his long hair drooping like 
 some wild weed upon his wooden pillow, and his huge chest 
 heaving with the sounds which so unwontedly disturbed the 
 place and hour. He who came upon him so unexpectedly 
 was about to break his rest by thrusting him with his foot, 
 when, glancing at his upturned face, he arrested himself in 
 the very action, and stooping down and shading the candle 
 with his hand, examined his features closely. Close as his 
 first inspection was, it did not suffice, for he passed the light, 
 still carefully shaded as before, across and across his face, and 
 yet observed him with a searching eye. 
 
 •While he was thus engaged, the sleeper, without any start- 
 ing or turning round, awoke. There was a kind of fascination 
 in meeting his steady gaze so suddenly, which took from the 
 other the presence of mind to withdraw his eyes, and forced 
 him, as it were, to meet his look. So they remained staring 
 at each other, until Mr. Chester at last broke silence, and 
 asked him in a low voice, why he lay sleeping there. 
 
 " I thought," said Hugh, struggling into a sitting posture 
 and gazing at him intently, still, " that you were a part of 
 my dream. It was a curious one. I hope it may never come 
 true, master." 
 
 " What makes 3'ou shiver ? " 
 
 " The — the cold, 1 suppose," he growled, as he shook him- 
 self, and rose. " I hardly know where I am yet." 
 
 " Do you know me ? " said Mr. Chester. 
 
 "Ay. I know you," he answered. '• I was dreaming of 
 you — we're not where I thouglit we were. That's a comfort." 
 
 He looked round him as he spoke, and in particular looked 
 above his head, as though he half expected to be standing 
 under some object which had had existence in his dream. 
 Then he rubbed his eyes and shook liimself again, and 
 followed liis conductor into his own rooms. 
 
244 BAR NAB Y BUDGE. 
 
 Mr. Chester lighted the candles which stood upon his dress- 
 ing-table, and wheeling an easy-chair towards the fire, which 
 was yet burning, stirred up a cheerful blaze, sat down before 
 it, and bade his uncouth visitor " Come here," and draw his 
 boots off. 
 
 " You have been drinking again, my fine fellow," he said, 
 as Hugh went down on one knee, and did as he was told. 
 
 "As I'm alive, master, I've walked the twelve long miles, 
 and waited here I don't know how long, and had no drink 
 between my lips since dinner-time at noon." 
 
 " And can you do nothing better, my pleasant friend, than 
 fall asleep, and shake the very building with your snores ? " 
 said Mr. Chester. " Can't you dream in your straw at home, 
 dull dog as you are, that you need come here to do it ? — 
 Reach me those slippers, and tread softly." 
 
 Hugh obeyed in silence. 
 
 " And harkee, my dear young gentleman," said Mr. 
 Chester, as he put them on, " the next time you dream, don't 
 let it be of me, but of some dog or horse with whom you are 
 better acquainted. Fill the glass once — you'll find it and 
 the bottle in the same place — and empty it to keep yourself 
 awake." 
 
 Hugh obeyed again — even more zealously — and having 
 done so, presented himself before his patron. 
 
 "Now," said Mr. Chester, '"what do you want with me ? " 
 
 "There was news to-day," returned Hugh. "Your son 
 was at our house — came down on horseback. He tried to see 
 the young woman, but couldn't get sight of her. He left 
 some letter or some message which our Joe had charge of, 
 but he and the old one quarrelled about it when your son had 
 gone, and the old one wouldn't let it be delivered. He says 
 (that's the old one does) that none of his people shall interfere 
 and get him into trouble. He's a landlord, he says, and lives 
 on everybody's custom." 
 
 " He is a jewel," smiled Mr. Chester, " and the better for 
 being a dull one. — Well ? " 
 
 " Varden's daughter — that's the girl I kissed " — 
 
 " — and stole the bracelet from upon the king's highway," 
 said Mr. Chester, composedly. " Yes ; what of her ? " 
 
BAliNABY RUDGE. 245 
 
 " She wrote a note at our liouse to tlie young woman, say- 
 ing she lost the letter I brought to you, and you burnt. Our 
 Joe was to carry it, but the old one kept him at home all next 
 day, on purpose that he shouldn't. Next morning he gave it 
 to me to take ; and here it is." 
 
 " You didn't deliver it then, my good friend ? " said ^Ir. 
 Chester, twirling Dolly's note between his linger and thumb, 
 and feigning to be surprised. 
 
 "I supposed you'd want to have it," retorted Hugh. -'Burn 
 one, burn all, I thought." 
 
 " ]\[y devil-may-care acquaintance," said ^Mr. Chester — 
 " really if you do not draw some nicer distinctions, your 
 career will be cut short with most surprising suddenness. 
 Don't you know that the letter you brought to me, was 
 directed to my son who resides in this very place ? And can 
 you descry no difference between his letters and those addressed 
 to other people ? " 
 
 " If you don't want it," said Hugh, disconcerted by this 
 reproof, for he had expected high praise, " give it me back, 
 and I'll deliver it. I don't know how to please you, master." 
 
 "1 shall deliver it," returned his patron, putting it away 
 after a moment's consideration, " myself. Does the young 
 lady walk out, on fine mornings ? " 
 
 " Mostly — about noon is her usual time." 
 
 " Alone ? " 
 
 " Yes, alone." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " In the grounds before the house. — Tliem that the foot- 
 path crosses." 
 
 "If the weather should be fine, I may throw myself in her 
 way to-morrow, perhaps," said Mr. Chester, as coolly as if she 
 were one of his ordinary acquaintance. " Mr. Hugh, if I 
 should ride up to the Maypole door, you will do me tlie favor 
 only to have seen me once. You must suppress your grati- 
 tude, and endeavor to forget my forbearance in tlie matter of 
 the bracelet. It is natural it should break out, and it does 
 you honor; but when other folks are b}^, you must, 'for your 
 own sake and safety,- be as like your usual self as thougli you 
 owed me no obligation whatever, and lind never stood within 
 these walls. You comj)relien(l iiic '.' "' 
 
246 BARNABT RUDGE. 
 
 Hugh understood him perfectly. After a pause he muttered 
 that he hoped his patrou would involve him in no trouble 
 about this last letter ; for he had kept it back solely with the 
 view of pleasing him. He was continuing in this strain, 
 when Mr. Chester with a most beneficent and patronizing air 
 cut him short by saying, — 
 
 " My good fellow, you have my promise, my word, my 
 sealed bond (for a verbal pledge with me is quite as good) 
 that I will always protect you so long as you deserve it. 
 Now, do set your mind at rest. Keep it at ease, I beg of you. 
 When a man puts himself in my power so thoroughly as you 
 have done, I really feel as though he had a kind of claim 
 upon me. I am more disposed to mercy and forbearance 
 under such circumstances than I can tell you, Hugh. Do 
 look upon me as your protector, and rest assured, I entreat 
 you, that on the subject of that indiscretion, you may preserve, 
 as long as you and I are friends, the lightest heart that ever 
 beat within a human breast. Fill that glass once more to 
 cheer you on your road homewards — I am really quite 
 ashamed to think how far you have to go — and then God 
 bless you for the night." 
 
 " They think," said Hugh, when he had tossed the liquor 
 down, " that I am sleeping soundly in the stable. Ha ha ha ! 
 The stable door is shut, but the steed's gone, master." 
 
 " You are a most convivial fellow," returned his friend, 
 " and I love your humor of all things. Good-night ! Take 
 the greatest possible care of yourself, for my sake ! " 
 
 It was remarkable that during the whole interview, each 
 had endeavored to catch stolen glances of the other's face, 
 and had never looked full at it. They interchanged one brief 
 and hasty glance as Hugh went out, averted their eyes 
 directly, and so separated. Hugh closed the double doors 
 behind him, carefully and without noise ; and Mr. Chester 
 remained in his easy -chair, with his gaze intently fixed upon 
 the fire. 
 
 '• Well ! " he said, after meditating for a long time — and 
 said with a deep sigh and an uneasy shifting of his attitude, 
 as though he dismissed some other subject from his thoughts, 
 and returned to that which had held possession of them all 
 
BABNABT BUDGE. 247 
 
 the day — "the plot thickens ; I have thrown the shell ; it will 
 explode, I think, in eight and forty hours, and should scatter 
 these good folks amazingly. We shall see ! " 
 
 He went to bed and fell asleep, but had not slept long when 
 he started up and thought that Hugh was at the outer door 
 calling in a strange voice, very different from his own, to be 
 admitted. The delusion was so strong upon him, and was so 
 full of that vague terror of the night in which such visions 
 have their being, that he rose, and taking his sheathed sword 
 in his hand, opened the door, and looked out upon the stair- 
 case, and towards the spot where Hugh had lain asleep ; and 
 even spoke to him by name. But all was dark and quiet, 
 and creeping back to bed again, he fell, after an hour's 
 uneasy watching, into a second sleep, and woke no more till 
 mornino:. 
 
248 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 The thoughts of worldly men are forever regulated by a 
 moral law of gravitation, which, like the physical one, holds 
 them down to earth. The brigltt glory of day, and the silent 
 wonders of a starlit night, appeal to their minds in vain. 
 There are no signs in the sun, or in the moon, or in the stars, 
 for their reading. They are like some wise men, who, learning 
 to know each planet by its Latin name, have quite forgotten 
 such small heavenly constellations as Charity, Forbearance, 
 Universal Love, and Mercy, although they shine by night and 
 day so brightly that the blind may see them ; and who, look- 
 ing upward at the spangled sky, see nothing there but the 
 reflection of their own great wisdom and book-learning. 
 
 It is curious to imagine these people of the world, busy in 
 thought, turning their eyes toward the countless spheres that 
 shine above us, and making them reflect the only images their 
 minds contain. The man who lives but in the breath of 
 princes, has nothing in his sight but stars for courtiers' 
 breasts. The envious man beholds his neighbors' honors 
 even in the sky ; to the money-hoarder, and the mass of worldly 
 folk, the whole great universe above glitters with sterling 
 coin — fresh from the mint — stamped with the sovereign's 
 head coming always between them and heaven, turn where they 
 may. So do the shadows of our own desires stand between us 
 and our better angels, and thus their brightness is' eclipsed. 
 
 Everything was fresh and gay, as though the world were 
 but that morning made, when Mr. Chester rode at a tranquil 
 pace along the Forest road. Though early in the season, it 
 was warm and genial weather ; the trees were budding into 
 leaf, the hedges and the grass were green, the air was musical 
 with songs of birds, and high above them all the lark poured 
 out her richest melody. In shady spots, the morning dew 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 249 
 
 sparkled on each 3'oung leaf and blade of grass ; and where 
 the sun was shining, some diamond drops yet glistened 
 brightly, as in unwillingness to leave so fair a world, and have 
 such brief existence. Even the light wind, whose rustling 
 was as gentle to the ear as softly falling water, had its hope 
 and promise ; and, leaving a pleasant fragrance in its track as 
 it went fluttering by, whispered of its intercourse with 
 Summer, and of his happy coming. 
 
 The solitary rider went glancing on among the trees, from 
 sunlight into shade and back again, at the same even pace — 
 looking about him, certainly, from time to time, but with no 
 greater thought of the day or the scene through which he 
 moved, than that he was fortunate (being choicely dressed) to 
 have such favorable weather. He smiled very complacently 
 at such times, but rather as if he were satisfied with himself 
 than with anything else : and so went riding on, upon his 
 chestnut cob, as pleasant to look upon as his own horse, and 
 probably far less sensitive to the many cheerful influences by 
 which he was surrounded. 
 
 In course of time, the Maypole's massive chimneys rose 
 upon his view : but he quickened not his pace one jot, and 
 with the same cool gravity rode up to the tavern porch. 
 John Willet, who was toasting his red face before a great 
 fire in the bar, and who, with surpassing foresight and quick- 
 ness of apprehension, had been thinking, as he looked at the 
 blue sky, that if that state of things lasted much longer, it 
 might ultimately become necessary to leave off fires and throw 
 the windows open, issued forth to hold his stirrup ; calling 
 lustily for Hugh. 
 
 " Oh, you're here, are you, sir ? " said John rather surprised 
 by the quickness with which he appeared. '' Take this here 
 valuable animal into the stable, and have more tlian particular 
 care of him if you want to keep your place. A mortal lazy 
 fellow, sir; he needs a deal of looking after." 
 
 "But you have a son," returned Mr. Chester, givii^g his 
 bridle to Hugh as he dismounted, and acknowledging liis 
 salute by a careless motion of his hand towards his hat. 
 " Why don't you make him useful ? " 
 
 '' Why, the truth is, sir," replied John with great impor- 
 
250 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 taiice, "that my son — what, you're a listening are yon, 
 villain ? " " 
 
 " Who's listening ? " returned Hugh angrily. " A treat, 
 indeed, to hear i/ou speak ! Would you have me take liiin in 
 till he's cool ? " 
 
 " Walk him up and down further off then, sir ? " cried old 
 John, "and when you see me and a noble gentleman enter- 
 taining ourselves with talk, keep your distance. If you don't 
 know your distance, sir," added Mr. Willet, after an 
 enormously long pause, during which he fixed his great dull 
 eyes on Hugh, and waited with exemplary patience for any 
 little property in the way of ideas that might be coming to 
 him, " we'll find a way to teach you, pretty soon." 
 
 Hugh shrugged 'his shoulders scornfully, and in his reckless 
 swaggering way, crossed to the other side of the little green, 
 and there, with the bridle slung loosely over his shoulder, 
 led the horse to and fro, glancing at his master every now 
 and then from under his bushy eyebrows, with as sinister an 
 aspect as one would desire to see. 
 
 Mr. Chester, who, without appearing to do so, had eyed 
 him attentively during this brief dispute, stepped into the 
 porch, and turning abruptly to Mr. Willet, said, — 
 
 " You keep strange servants, John." 
 
 "Strange enough to look at, sir, certainly," answered the 
 host ; " but out of doors ; for horses, dogs, and the like of 
 that ; there ain't a better man in England than is that MJiypole 
 Hugh yonder. He ain't fit for indoors," added Mr. Willet, 
 with the confidential air of a man who felt his own superior 
 nature, "/do that; but if that chap had only a little imagi- 
 nation, sir," — 
 
 " He's an active fellow now, I dare swear," said Mr. 
 Chester, in a musing tone, which seemed to suggest that he 
 would have said the same had there been nobody to hear 
 him. 
 
 " Active, sir ! " retorted John, with quite an expression 
 in his face ; " that chap ! Halloa there ! You, sir ! Bring 
 that horse here, and go and hang my wig on the weather- 
 cock, to show this gentleman whether you're one of the lively 
 sort or not." 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 251 
 
 Hugh made no answer, but throwing the bridle to his 
 master, and snatching his wig from his head, in a manner so 
 unceremonious and hasty that the action discomposed Mr. 
 Willet not a little, though performed at his own special desire, 
 climbed nimbly to the very summit of the maypole before the 
 house, and hanging the wig upon the weathercock, sent it 
 twirling round like a roasting jack. Having achieved this 
 performance, he cast it on the ground, and sliding down the 
 pole with inconceivable rapidity, alighted on his feet almost 
 as soon as it had touched the earth. 
 
 "There, sir,'' said John, relapsing into his usual stolid 
 state, "3'ou won't see that at many houses, besides the 
 Maypole, where there's good accommodation for man and 
 beast — nor that neither, though that with him is nothing." 
 
 This last remark bore reference to his vaulting on horse- 
 back, as upon ^Ir. Chester's first visit, and quickly disappear- 
 ing by the stable gate. 
 
 ^'That with him is nothing," repeated Mr. Willet, brushing 
 his wig with his wrist, and in^vardly resolving to distribute a 
 small charge for dust and damage to that article of dress, 
 through the various items of his guest's bill ; " he'll get out 
 of a'most any winder in the house. There never was such a 
 chap for flinging himself about and never hurting his bones. 
 It's my opinion, sir, that it's pretty nearly all owing to his 
 not having any imagination ; and that if imagination couhl 
 be (which it can't) knocked into him, he'd never be able to 
 do it any more. But we was a-talking, sir, about my son." 
 
 "True, Willet, true," said his visitor, turning again 
 towards the landlord with his accustomed serenity of face. 
 "My good friend, what about him ? " 
 
 It has been reported that Mr. Willet, previously to making 
 answer, winked. But as he never was known to be guilty of 
 such lightness of conduct either before or afterwards, this 
 may be looked upon as a malicious invention of his enemies 
 — founded, perhaps, upon the undisputed circumstance of liis 
 taking his guest by the third breast button of his coat, count- 
 ing downwards from the chin, and pouring his reply into 
 his ear, — 
 
 "Sir," whispered John, with dignity, "I know my duty. 
 
252 BAR NAB Y BULGE. 
 
 We want no love-making here, sir, unbeknown to parents. 
 I respect a certain young gentleman, taking him in the light 
 of a young gentleman ; I respect a certain young lady, taking 
 her in the light of a young lady ; but of the two as a couple, 
 I have no knowledge, sir, none whatever. My son, sir, is 
 upon his patrol." 
 
 " I thought I saw him looking through the corner window 
 but this moment," said Mr. Chester, who naturally thought 
 that being on patrol, implied walking about somewhere. 
 
 " Ko doubt you did, sir," returned John. " He is upon his 
 patrol of honor, sir, not to leave the premises. Me and 
 some friends of mine that use the Maypole of an evening, 
 sir, considered what was best to be done with him, to prevent 
 his doing anything unpleasant in opposing your desires ; and 
 we've put him on his patrol. And what's more, sir, he 
 won't be off his patrol for a pretty long time to come, I can 
 tell you that." 
 
 When he had communicated this briglit idea, which had 
 had its origin in the perusal by the village cronies of a news- 
 paper, containing among other matters, an account of how 
 some officer pending the sentence of some court-martial had 
 been enlarged on parole, Mr. Willet drew back from his 
 guest's ear, and without any visible alteration of feature, 
 chuckled thrice audibly. This nearest approach to a laugh 
 in which he ever indulged (and that but seldom and only on 
 extreme occasions), never even curled his lip or effected the 
 smallest change in — no, not so much as a slight wagging of 
 — his great, fat, double chin, which at these times, as at all 
 others, remained a perfect desert in the broad map of his face ; 
 one changeless, dull, tremendous blank. 
 
 Lest it should be matter of surprise to any, that Mr. Willet 
 adopted this bold course in opposition to one whom he had 
 often entertained, and who had always paid his way at the 
 Maypole gallantly, it may be remarked that it was his very 
 penetration and sagacity in this respect, which occasioned him 
 to indulge in those unusual demonstrations of jocularity, just 
 now recorded. For Mr. Willet, after carefully balancing 
 father and son in his mental scales, had arrived at the distinct 
 conclusion that the old gentleman was a better sort of cus- 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 253 
 
 tomer than the j^oung one. Throwing his landlord into the 
 same scale, which was already turned by this consideration, 
 and heaping upon him, again, his strong desires to run counter 
 to the unfortunate Joe, and his opposition as a general principle 
 to all matters of love and matrimony, it went down to the 
 very ground straightway, and sent the light cause of the 
 younger gentleman flying upwards to the ceiling. Mr. Chester 
 was not the kind of man to be by any means dim-sighted to 
 Mr. Willet's motives, but he thanked him as graciously as if 
 he had been one of the most disinterested martyrs that ever 
 shone on earth; and leaving him with many complimentary 
 reliances on his great taste and judgment, to prepare whatever 
 dinner he might deem most fitting the occasion, bent his steps 
 towards the Warren. 
 
 Dressed with more than his usual elegance ; assuming a 
 gracefulness of manner, which, though it was the result of 
 long study, sat easily upon him and became him well ; com- 
 posing his features into their most serene and prepossessing 
 expression ; and setting in short that guard upon himself, at 
 every point, which denoted that he attached no slight im- 
 portance to the impression he was about to make ; he entered 
 the bounds of Miss Haredale's usual walk. He had not gone 
 far, or looked about him long, when he descried coming 
 towards him, a female figure. A glimpse of the form and 
 dress as she crossed a little wooden bridge which lay between 
 them, satisfied him that he had found her whom he desired to 
 see. He threw himself in her way, and a very few paces 
 brought them close together. 
 
 He raised his hat from his head, and yielding the path, 
 suffered her to pass him. Then, as if the idea had but that 
 moment occurred to him, he turned hastily back and said in 
 an agitated voice, — 
 
 " I beg pardon — do I address Miss Haredale ? " 
 
 She stopped in some confusion at being so unexpectedly 
 accosted by a stranger ; and answered, " Yes." 
 
 " Something told me," he said, looking a comidiment to her 
 beauty, " that it could be no other. Miss Haredale, I bear a 
 name which is not unknown to you — which it is a pride, and 
 yet a pain to me to know, sounds pleasantly in your ears. I 
 
254 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 am a man advanced in life as you see. I am the father of him 
 whom you honor and distinguish above all other men. 
 May I for weighty reasons which fill me with distress, beg 
 but a minute's conv^ersation with you here ? " 
 
 Who that was inexperienced in deceit, and had a frank and 
 youthful heart, could doubt the speaker's truth — could doubt 
 it too, when the voice that spoke, was like the faint echo of 
 one she knew so well, and so much loved to hear ? She in- 
 clined her head, and stopping, cast her eyes upon the ground. 
 
 " A little more apart — among these trees. It is an old 
 man's hand. Miss Haredale ; an honest one, believe me." 
 
 She put hers in it as he said these words, and suffered him 
 to lead her to a neighboring seat. 
 
 " You alarm me, sir," she said in a low voice. " You are 
 not the bearer of any ill news, I hope ? " 
 
 '' Of none that you anticipate," he answered, sitting down 
 beside her. " Edward is well — quite well. It is of him I 
 wish to speak, certainly ; but I have no misfortune to com- 
 municate.'* 
 
 She bowed her head again, and made as though she would 
 have begged him to proceed ; but said nothing. 
 
 " I am sensible that I speak to you at a disadvantage, dear 
 Miss Haredale. Believe me that I am not so forgetful of the 
 feelings of my younger days as not to know that you are little 
 disposed to view me with favor. You have heard me 
 described as cold-hearted, calculating, selfish " — 
 
 " I have never, sir," — she interposed with an altered manner 
 and a firmer voice ; " I have never heard you spoken of in 
 harsh or disrespectful terms. You do a great wrong to 
 Edward's nature if you believe him capable of any mean or 
 base proceeding." 
 
 " Pardon me, my sweet young lady, but your uncle " — 
 
 "Nor is it my uncle's nature either," she replied, with a 
 heightened color in her cheek. "It is not his nature to 
 stab in the dark, nor is it mine to love such deeds." 
 
 She rose as she spoke, and would have left him ; but he 
 detained her with a gentle hand, and besought her in such 
 persuasive accents to hear him but another minute, that she 
 was easily prevailed upon to comply, and so sat down again. 
 
BARNABY RUDGE. 255 
 
 " And it is/' said Mr. Chester, looking upward, and 
 apostrophizing the air ; '• it is this frank, ingenuous, noble 
 nature, Xed, that you can wound so lightly. Shame — shame 
 upon you, boy ! " 
 
 She turned towards him quickly, and with a scornful look 
 and flashing eyes. There were tears in Mr. Chester's, but he 
 dashed them hurriedly away, as though unwilling that his 
 weakness should be known, and regarded her with mingled 
 admiration and compassion. 
 
 "I never until now," he said, "believed, that the frivolous 
 actions of a young man could move me like these of my own 
 son. I never knew till now, the worth of a woman's heart, 
 which boys so lightly win, and lightly fling away. Trust me, 
 dear young lady, that I never until now did know 3^our 
 worth ; and though an abhorrence of deceit and falsehood has 
 impelled me to seek you out, and would have done so had you 
 been the poorest and least gifted of your sex, I should have 
 lacked the fortitude to sustain this interview could I have 
 pictured you to my imagination as you really are." 
 
 Oh ! If ^Irs. Varden could have seen the virtuous gentle- 
 man as he said these words, with indignation sparkling from 
 his eyes — if she could have heard his broken, quavering voice 
 — if she could have beheld him as he stood bareheaded in 
 the sunlight, and with unwonted energy poured forth his 
 eloquence ! 
 
 With a haughty face, but pale and trembling too, Emma 
 regarded him in silence. She neither spoke nor moved, but 
 gazed upon him as though she would look into his heart. 
 
 " I throw ottV' said ^Ir. Chester, " the restraint which 
 natural affection would impose on some men, and reject all 
 bonds but those of truth and duty. Miss Haredale, you are 
 deceived ; you are deceived by your unworthy lover, and my 
 unworthy son." 
 
 Still she looked at him steadily, and still said not one 
 word. 
 
 " I have ever opposed his professions of love for you ; you 
 will do me the justice, dear Miss Haredale, to remember that. 
 Your uncle and myself were enemies in early life, and if T 
 had sought retaliation, I might have found it here. But as 
 
256 BABXABY BUDGE. 
 
 we grow older, we grow wiser — better, I would fain hope — 
 and from the first, I have opposed him in this attempt. I 
 foresaw the end, and would have spared you, if I could.-' 
 
 '' Speak plainl}', sir," she faltered. " You deceive me, or 
 are deceived yourself. I do not believe you — I cannot — I 
 should not."' 
 
 '^ First," said ^Ir. Chester, soothingly, ''for there may be in 
 your mind some latent angry feeling to w^hich I would not 
 appeal, pray take this letter. It reached my hands by chance, 
 and by mistake, and should have accounted to you (as I am 
 told) for my son's not answering some other note of yours. 
 God forbid. Miss Haredale," said the good gentleman, w4th 
 great emotion, ''that there should be in your gentle breast 
 one causeless ground of quarrel Avith him. You should know, 
 and you will see, that he was in no fault here." 
 
 There appeared something so very candid, so scrupulously 
 honorable, so very truthful and just in this course — some- 
 thing which rendered the upright person who resorted to it, 
 so worthy of belief — that Emma's heart, for the first time, 
 sunk within her. She turned away, and burst into tears. 
 
 '• I would," said Mr. Chester, leaning over her, and speaking 
 in mild and quite \nenerable accents ; " I would, dear girl, it 
 W'Cre my task to banish, not increase, those tokens of your 
 grief. My son, my erring son, — I will not call him deliber- 
 ately criminal in this, for men so 3'oung, who have been in- 
 constant twice or thrice before, act without reflection, almost 
 without a knowledge of the wrong they do, — will break his 
 plighted faith to you ; has broken it even now. Shall I stop 
 here, and having given you this w\arning, leave it to be 
 fulfilled ; or shall I go on ? " 
 
 '• You will go on, sir," she answered, "and speak more 
 plainly yet, in justice both to him and me." 
 
 '- My dear girl," said Mr. Chester, bending over her more 
 affectionately still ; " whom I would call my daughter, but 
 the Fates forbid, Edward seeks to break with you upon a 
 false and most unwarrantable pretence. I have it on his own 
 showing ; in his own hand. Forgive me, if I have had a 
 watch upon his conduct ; I am his father ; I had a regard for 
 your peace and his honor, and no better resource was left 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 257 
 
 me. There lies on his desk at this moment, ready for trans- 
 mission to you, a letter, in which he tells you that our poverty 
 
 — our poverty ; his and mine. Miss Haredale — forbids him 
 to pursue his claim upon your hand ; in which he offers, vol- 
 untarily proposes, to free you from your pledge ; and talks 
 magnanimously (men do so, very commonly, in such cases) 
 of being in time more worthy your regard — and so forth. 
 A letter to be plain, in which he not only jilts you — pardon 
 the word ; I would summon to your aid your pride and dignity 
 
 — not only jilts you, I fear, in favor of the object whose 
 slighting treatment first inspired his brief passion for your- 
 self and gave it birth in wounded vanit}', but affects to make 
 a merit and a virtue of the act." 
 
 She glanced proudly at him once more, as by an involuntary 
 impulse, and with a swelling breast rejoined, '- If what you 
 say be true, he takes much needless trouble, sir, to compass 
 his design. He is very tender of my peace of mind. I quite 
 thank him." 
 
 "The truth of what I tell you, dear j^oung lady," he 
 replied, "you will test by the receipt or non-receipt of the 
 letter of which I speak. — Haredale, my dear fellow, I am de- 
 lighted to see you, although we meet under singular circum- 
 stances, and upon a melancholy occasion. I hope you are 
 very well." 
 
 At these words the young lady raised her eyes, which were 
 filled with tears ; and seeing that her uncle indeed stood 
 before them, and being quite unequal to the trial of hearing 
 or of speaking one word more, hurriedly withdrew, and left 
 them. They stood looking at each other, and at her retreating 
 figure, and for a long time neither of them spoke. 
 
 "What does this mean? Explain it," said Mr. Haredale 
 at length. " Why are 3'ou here, and why with lier ? " 
 
 "]\Iy dear friend," rejoined the other, resuming his accus- 
 tomed manner with infinite readiness, and throwing himself 
 upon the bench with a weary air, "you told me not very long 
 ago, at that delightful old tavern of which you are the 
 esteemed proprietor (and a most charming establisliment it is 
 for persons of rural pursuits and in robust health, who are 
 not liable to take cold), that I had the liead and heart of an 
 
258 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 evil spirit in all matters of deception. I thought at the time ; 
 I really did think ; you flattered me. But now I begin to 
 wonder at your discernment, and vanity apart, do honestly 
 believe you spoke the truth. Did you ever counterfeit 
 extreme ingenuousness and honest indignation ? My dear 
 fellow, you have no conception, if you never did, how faint 
 the effort makes one." 
 
 Mr. Haredale surveyed him with a look of cold contempt. 
 " You may evade an explanation, I know," he said, folding 
 his arms. " But I must have it. I can wait." 
 
 " Not at all. Not at all, my good fellow. You shall not 
 wait a moment," returned his friend, as he lazily crossed his 
 legs. " The simplest thing in the world. It lies in a nut- 
 shell. Ned has written her a letter — a boyish, honest, senti- 
 mental composition, which remains as yet in his desk, because 
 he hasn't had the heart to send it. I have taken a liberty, 
 for which my parental affection and anxiety are a sufficient 
 excuse, and possessed myself of the contents. I have described 
 them to your niece (a most enchanting person, Haredale ; quite 
 an angelic creature), with a little coloring and description 
 adapted to our purpose. It's done. You may be quite easy. 
 It's all over. Deprived of their adherents and mediators ; 
 her pride and jealousy roused to the utmost ; with nobody 
 to undeceive her, and you to confirm me ; you will find 
 that their intercourse will close with her answer. If she 
 receives Ned's letter by to-morrow noon, you may date their 
 parting from to-morrow night. No thanks, I beg ; you owe 
 me none. I have acted for myself ; and if I have forwarded 
 our compact with all the ardor even you could have desired 
 I have done so selfishly, indeed." 
 
 " I curse the compact, as you call it, with my whole heart 
 and soul," returned the other. " It was made in an evil hour. 
 I have bound myself to a lie ; I have leagued myself with you ; 
 and though I did so with a righteous motive, and though it 
 cost me such an effort as haply few men know, I hate and 
 despise myself for the deed." 
 
 " You are very warm," said Mr. Chester with a languid 
 smile. 
 
 " I am warm. I am maddened by your coldness. Death, 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. 259 
 
 Chester, if your blood ran warmer in your veins, and there 
 were no restraints upon me, such as those that hold and drag 
 me back — well ; it is done ; you tell me so, and on such a 
 point I may believe you. When I am most remorseful for 
 this treachery, I will think of you and your marriage, and try 
 to justify myself in such remembrances, for having torn 
 asunder Emma and your sou, at any cost. Our bond is 
 cancelled now, and we may part." 
 
 Mr. Chester kissed his hand gracefully ; and with the 
 same tranquil face he had preserved throughout — even when 
 he had seen his companion so tortured and transported by 
 his passion that his whole frame was shaken — lay in his 
 lounging posture on the seat and watched him as he walked 
 away. 
 
 "My scape-goat and my drudge at school," he said, raising 
 his head to look after him ; " my friend of later days, who 
 could not keep his mistress when he had won her, and threw 
 me in her way to carry off the prize ; I triumph in the present 
 and the past. Bark on, ill-favored, ill-conditioned cur; for- 
 tune has ever been with me — I like to hear you." 
 
 The spot where they had met was in an avenue of trees. 
 Mr. Haredale not passing out on either hand, had walked 
 straight on. He chanced to turn his head when at some 
 considerable distance, and seeing that his late companion had 
 by that time risen and was looking after him, stood still as 
 though he half expected him to follow and waited for his 
 coming up. 
 
 "It maij come to that one day, but not yet," said Mr. 
 Chester, waving his hand, as though they were the best of 
 friends, and turning away. " Not yet, Haredale. Life is 
 pleasant enough to me ; dull and full of heaviness to you. 
 No. To cross swords with such a man — to indulge his 
 humor unless upon extremity — would be weak indeed." 
 
 For all that, he drew his sword as he walked along, and in 
 an absent humor ran his eye from hilt to i)oint full twenty 
 times. But thoughtfulness begets wrinkles ; remembering 
 this, he soon put it up, smoothed his contracted brow, 
 hummed a gay tune with greater gayety of manner, and was 
 his unruffled self again. 
 
260 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 A HOMELY proverb recognizes the existence of a trouble- 
 some class of persons who, having an inch conceded them, 
 will take an ell. Not to quote the illustrious examples of 
 those heroic scourges of mankind, whose amiable path in life 
 has been from birth to death through blood, and fire, and 
 ruin, and who would seem to have existed for no better 
 purpose than to teach mankind that as the absence of pain is 
 pleasure, so the earth purged of their presence, may be 
 deemed a blessed place — not to quote such mighty instances 
 it will be sufficient to refer to old John Willet. 
 
 Old John having long encroached a good standard inch, full 
 measure, on the liberty of Joe, and having snipped off a 
 Flemish ell in the matter of the parole, grew so despotic and 
 so great, that his thirst for conquest knew no bounds. The 
 more 3'oung Joe submitted, the more absolute old John 
 became. The ell soon faded into nothing. Yards, furlongs, 
 miles arose ; and on went old John in the pleasantest manner 
 possible, trimming off an exuberance in this place, shearing 
 away some liberty of speech or action in that, and conducting 
 himself in his small way with as much high mightiness and 
 majesty, as the most glorious tyrant that ever had his statue 
 reared in the public ways, of ancient or of modern times. 
 
 As great men are urged on to the abuse of power (when 
 they need urging, which is not often) by their flatterers and 
 dependents, so old John was impelled to these exercises of 
 authority by the applause and admiration of his Maypole 
 cronies, who, in the intervals of their nightly pipes and pots, 
 would shake their heads and say that Mr. Willet was a father 
 of the good old English sort ; that there were no new-fangled 
 notions or modern ways in him ; that he put them in mind of 
 what their fathers were when they were boys ; that there was 
 no mistake about him; that it would be well for the country 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 2G1 
 
 if there were more like him, and more was the pity that there 
 were not ; with many other original remarks of that nature. 
 Then they would condescendingly give Joe to understand that 
 it was all for his good, and he would be thankful for it one 
 day ; and in particular, Mr. Cobb would acquaint him, that 
 when he was his age, his father thought no more of giving 
 him a parental kick, or a box on the ears, or a cuff on the 
 head, or some little admonition of that sort, than he did of 
 any other ordinary duty of life ; and he would further remark, 
 with looks of great significance, that but for this judicious 
 bringing up, he might have never been the man he was at 
 that present speaking ; which was probable enough, as he 
 was, beyond all question, the dullest dog of the party. In 
 short, between old John, and old John's friends, there never 
 was an unfortunate young fellow so bullied, badgered, wor- 
 ried, fretted, and browbeaten ; so constantly beset, or made 
 so tired of his life, as poor Joe Willet. 
 
 This had come to be the recognized and established state of 
 things ; but as John was very anxious to flourish his suprem- 
 acy before the eyes of IVIr. Chester, he did that day exceed 
 himself, and did so goad and chafe his son and heir, that but 
 for Joe's having made a solemn vow to keep his hands in his 
 pockets when they were not otherwise engaged, it is impossible 
 to say what he might have done with them. But the longest 
 day has an end, and at length Mr. Chester came down-stairs 
 to mount his horse which was ready at the door. 
 
 As old John was not in the way at the moment, Joe, who 
 was sitting in the bar ruminating on his dismal fate and the 
 manifold perfections of Dolly Varden, ran out to hold the 
 guest's stirrup, and assist him to mount. ^Mr. Chester was 
 scarcely in the saddle, and Joe was in the very act of making 
 him a graceful bow, when old John came diving out of the 
 porch, and collared him. 
 
 " None of that, sir," said Jolin, '^ none of tliat. sir. No 
 breaking of patroles. How dare you come out of the door, 
 sir, without leave ? You're trying to get away, sir, are you, 
 and to make a traitor of yourself again ? What do you mean, 
 sir?" 
 
 "Let me go, father," said .Inr, iinploriiigly, as lie markt'd 
 
262 BARXABY BUDGE. 
 
 the smile upon their visitor's face, and observed the pleasure 
 his disgrace afforded him. " This is too bad. Who wants to 
 get away ? " 
 
 " Who wants to get away ! " cried John, shaking him. 
 '' Why you do, sir, you do. " You're the boy, sir," added 
 John, collaring with one hand, and aiding the effect of a fare- 
 well bow to the visitor with the other, " that wants to sneak 
 into houses, and stir up differences between noble gentlemen 
 and their sons, are you, eh ? Hold your tongue, sir." 
 
 Joe made no effort to reply. It ^vas the crowning circum- 
 stance of his degradation. He extricated himself from his 
 father's grasp, darted an angry look at the departing guest, 
 and returned into the house. 
 
 '^ But for her," thought Joe, as he threw his arms upon a 
 table in the common room, and laid his head upon them, 
 "but for Dolly, who I couldn't bear should think me the 
 rascal they would make me out to be if I ran away, this house 
 and I should part to-night." 
 
 It being evening by this time, Solomon Daisy, Tom Cobb, 
 and Long Parkes, were all in the common room too, and had 
 from the window been witnesses of what had just occurred. 
 Mr. Willet joining them soon afterwards, received the compli- 
 ments of the company with great composure, and lighting his 
 pipe, sat down among them. 
 
 " We'll see, gentlemen," said John, after a long pause, 
 "' who's the master of this house, and who isn't. We'll see 
 whether boys are to govern men, or men are to govern 
 boys." 
 
 "And quite right, too," assented Solomon Daisy with some 
 approving nods ; " quite right, Johnny. Very good, Johnny. 
 Well said, Mr. Willet. Brayvo, sir." 
 
 John slowly brought his eyes to bear upon him, looked at 
 him for a long time, and finally made answer to the unspeak- 
 able consternation of his hearers, " When I want encourage- 
 ment from you, sir, I'll ask you for it. You let me alone, sir. 
 I can get on without you, I hope. Don't you tackle me, sir, if 
 you please." 
 
 " Don't take it ill, Johnny ; I didn't mean any harm," 
 pleaded the little man. 
 

 ajr^li^^^ ) 1^ 
 
 rn 
 
 
 *■" yy.vX * 
 
 4 'J^'^— - M? y^ 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 2G3 
 
 "Very good, sir," said John, more than usually obstinate 
 after his late success. " Never mind, sir. I can stand pretty 
 firm of myself, sir, I believe, without being shored up by you." 
 And having given utterance to this retort, Mr. Willet fixed his 
 eyes upon the boiler, and fell into a kind of tobacco-trance. 
 
 The spirits of the company being somewhat damped by 
 this embarrassing line of conduct on the part of their host, 
 nothing more was said for a long time ; but at length ]\Ir. Cobb 
 took upon himself to remark, as he rose to knock the ashes 
 out of his pipe, that he hoped Joe would thenceforth learn to 
 obey his father in all things ; that he had found, that day, he 
 was not one of the sort of men who were to be trifled with ; 
 and that he would recommend him, poetically speaking, to 
 mind his eye for the future. 
 
 " I'd recommend you, in return," said Joe, looking up with 
 a flushed face, " not to talk to me." 
 
 "Hold your tongue, sir," cried ^Ir. Willett, suddenly rous- 
 ing, himself, and turning round. 
 
 "I won't, father," cried Joe, smiting the table with his fist, 
 so that the jugs and glasses rung again ; '■' these things are 
 hard enough to bear from you ; from anybody else I never 
 will endure them any more. Therefore I say, ]\rr. Cobb, 
 don't talk to me." 
 
 "Why, who are you," said Mr. Cobb, sneeringly, "that 
 you're not to be talked to, eh, Joe ? " 
 
 To which Joe returned no answer, but with a very ominous 
 shake of the head, resumed his old position, which he would 
 have peacefully preserved until the house shut up at night, 
 but that 'Mv. Cobb, stimulated by tlie wonder of the company 
 at the young man's presumption, retorted with sundry taunts, 
 which proved too much for flesh and blood to bear. Crowding 
 into one moment the vexation and the wrath of years, Joe 
 started up, overturned the table, fell upon his long enemy, 
 pummelled him with all his miglit and main, and finished by 
 driving him with surprising swiftness against a heap of spit- 
 toons in one corner; plunging into which, head foremost, 
 with a tremendous crash, he lay at full length among the 
 ruins, stunned and motionless. Then, without waiting to 
 receive the compliments of the bystanders on the victory he 
 
264 BARN A BY BUDGE. 
 
 had won, he retreated to his own bed-chamber, and consider- 
 ing himself in a state of siege, piled all the portable furniture 
 against the door by way of barricade. 
 
 " I have done it now," said Joe, as he sat down upon his 
 bedstead and wiped his heated face. " I knew it would come 
 at last. The Maypole and I must part company. I'm a 
 roving vagabond — she hates me for evermore — it's all 
 
 over I 
 
 f " 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. 265 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 PoxDERiNG on his iiiiliappy lot, Joe sat and listened for a 
 long time, expecting every moment to hear their creaking 
 footsteps on the stairs, or to be greeted by his worthy father 
 with a summons to capitulate unconditionally, and deliver 
 himself up straightway. But neither voice nor footstep came ; 
 and though some distant echoes, as of closing doors and peo- 
 ple hurrying in and out of rooms, resounding from time to 
 time through the great passages, and penetrating to his 
 remote seclusion, gave note of unusual commotion down- 
 stairs, no nearer sound disturbed his place of retreat, which 
 seemed the quieter for these far-off noises, and was as dull 
 and full of gloom as any hermit's cell. 
 
 It came on darker and darker. The old-fashioned furniture 
 of the chamber, which was a kind of hospital for all the 
 invalided movables in the house, grew indistinct and shadowy 
 in its many shapes ; chairs and tables, which by day were as 
 honest cripples as need be, assumed a doubtful and mysterious 
 character ; and one old leprous screen of faded India leather 
 and gold binding, which had kept out many a cold breath of 
 air in days of yore and shut in many a jolly face, frowned on 
 him with a spectral aspect, and stood at full height in its 
 allotted corner, like some gaunt ghost who waited to be 
 questioned. A portrait opposite, the window — a queer, old 
 gray-eyed general, in an oval frame — seemed to wink and 
 doze as the light decayed, and at length, when the last faint 
 glimmering speck of day went out, to shut its eyes in good 
 earnest, and fell sound asleep. There was such a hush and 
 mystery about everything, that Joe could not help following 
 its example; and so went off into a slumber likewise, and 
 dreamed of Dolly, till the clock of Chigwell church struck two. 
 
 Still nobody came. The distant noises in the house liad 
 ceased, and out of doors all was (juiet too ; save for tlie occa- 
 
266 BABNABT BUDGE. 
 
 sional barking of some deep-mouthed dog, and the shaking of 
 the branches by the night wind. He gazed mournfully out 
 of window at each well-known object as it lay sleeping in the 
 dim light of the moon ; and creeping back to his former seat, 
 thought about the late uproar, until, with long thinking of, it 
 seemed to have occurred a month ago. Thus, between dozing 
 and thinking, and walking to the window and looking out, 
 the night wore away ; the grim old screen, and the kindred 
 chairs and tables, began slowly to reveal themselves in their 
 accustomed forms ; the gray-eyed general seemed to wink and 
 yawn and rouse himself; and at last he was broad awake 
 again, and very uncomfortable and cold and haggard he 
 looked, in the dull gray light of morning. 
 
 The sun had begun to peep above the forest trees, and 
 alread}^ flung across the curling mist bright bars of gold, 
 when Joe dropped from his window on the ground below, a 
 little bundle and his trusty stick, and prepared to descend 
 himself. 
 
 It was not a ver}^ difficult task ; for there were so many 
 projections and gable ends in the way, that they formed a 
 series of clumsy steps, with no greater obstacle than a jump 
 of some few feet at last. Joe with his stick and bundle on 
 his shoulder, quickly stood on the firm earth, and looked up 
 at the old Maypole, it might be for the last time. 
 
 He didn't apostrophize it, for he was no great scholar. He 
 didn't curse it, for he had little ill-will to give to anything on 
 earth. He felt more affectionate and kind to it than ever he 
 had done in all his life before, so said with all his heart, 
 " God bless you ! " as a parting wish, and turned away. 
 
 He walked along at a brisk pace, big with great thoughts 
 of going for a soldier and dying in some foreign country 
 where it was very hot and sandy, and leaving God knows 
 what unheard-of wealth in prize money to Dolly, who would 
 be very much affected when she came to know of it ; and full 
 of such youthful visions, which were sometimes sanguine and 
 sometimes melancholy, but always had her for their main 
 point and centre, pushed on vigorously until the noise of 
 London sounded in his ears, and the Black Lion hove in 
 sight. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 267 
 
 It was only eight o'clock then, and very much astonished 
 the Black Lion was, to see hiui come walking in with dust 
 upon his feet at that early hour, with no gray mare to bear 
 him company. But as he ordered breakfast to be got ready 
 with all speed, and on its being set before him gave indis- 
 putable tokens of a hearty appetite, the Lion received liim, as 
 usual, with a hospitable welcome ; and treated him with those 
 marks of distinction, which, as a regular customer, and one 
 within the freemasonry of the trade, he had a right to claim. 
 
 This Lion or landlord, — for he was called both man and 
 beast, by reason of his having instructed the artist who 
 painted his sign, to convey into the features of the lordly 
 brute whose effigy it bore, as near a counterpart of his own 
 face as his skill could compass and devise, — was a gentleman 
 almost as quick of apprehension, and of almost as subtle a 
 wit, as the mighty John himself. But the difference between 
 them lay in this ; that whereas Mr. Willett's extreme sagacity 
 and acuteness were the efforts of unassisted nature, the Lion 
 stood indebted, in no small amount, to beer; of which he 
 swigged such copious draughts, that most of his faculties 
 were utterly drowned and washed away, except the one great 
 faculty of sleep, which he retained in surprising perfection. 
 The creaking Lion over the house-door was, therefore, to say 
 the truth, rather a drowsy, tame, and fee])le lion ; and as 
 these social representatives of a savage class are usually of a 
 conventional character (being depicted, for the most part, in 
 impossible attitudes and of unearthly colors) he was fre- 
 quently supposed by the more ignorant and uninformed 
 among the neighbors, to be the veritable portrait of the 
 host as he appeared on the occasion of some great funeral 
 ceremony or public mourning. 
 
 " What noisy fellow is that in the next room ? " said Joe, 
 when he had disposed of his breakfast, and had washed and 
 brushed himself. 
 
 " A recruiting sergeant," replied the Lion. 
 
 Joe started involuntarily. Here was the very thing he had 
 been dreaming of, all the way along. 
 
 "And T wish," said the Lion, ''he was anywhere else but 
 here. The party make noise enough, but they don't call for 
 
26S BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 much. There's great cry there, Mr. Willett, but very little 
 wool. Your father wouldn't like 'em, / know." 
 
 Perhaps not much under any circumstances. Perhaps if 
 he could have known what was passing at that moment in 
 Joe's mind, he would have liked them still less. 
 
 "Is he recruiting for a — for a fine regiment ?" said Joe, 
 glancing at a little round mirror that hung in the bar. 
 
 " I believe he is," replied the host. " It's much the same 
 thing, whatever regiment he's recruiting for. I'm told there 
 ain't a deal of difference between a fine man and another one, 
 when they're shot through and through." 
 
 " They're not all shot," said Joe. 
 
 " No," the Lion answered, " not all. Those that are — 
 supposing it's done easy — are the best off in my opinion." 
 
 " Ah ! " retorted Joe, " but you don't care for glory ? " 
 
 " For what ? " said the Lion. 
 
 " Glory." 
 
 "No," returned the Lion, with supreme indifference. "I 
 don't. You're right in that, Mr. Willet. When Glory comes 
 here and calls for anything to drink and changes a guinea 
 to pay for it, I'll give it him for nothing. It's my belief, 
 sir, that the Glory's arms wouldn't do a very strong 
 business." 
 
 These remarks were not at all comforting. Joe walked out, 
 stopped at the door of the next room, and listened. The 
 sergeant was describing a military life. It was all drinking, 
 he said, except that there were frequent intervals of eating 
 and love-making. A battle was the finest thing in the world 
 — when your side won it — and Englishmen always did that. 
 " Supposing you should be killed, sir ? " said a timid voice in 
 one corner. " Well, sir, supposing you should be," said the 
 sergeant, " what then ? Your country loves you, sir ; his 
 Majesty King George the Third loves you ; your memory is 
 honored, revered, respected ; everybody's fond of you, and 
 grateful to you ; your name's wrote down at full length in a 
 book in the War-ofhce. Damme, gentlemen, we must all die 
 some time, or another, eh ? " 
 
 The voice coughed, and said no more. 
 
 Joe walked into the room. A group of half a dozen fellows 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 260 
 
 had gathered together in the tap-room, and were listening 
 with greedy ears. One of them, a carter in a smock frock, 
 seemed wavering and disposed to enlist. The rest, who were 
 by no means disposed, strongly urged him to do so (according 
 to the custom of mankind), backed the sergeant's arguments, 
 and grinned among themselves. '- 1 say nothing, boys," said 
 the sergeant, who sat a little apart drinking his liquor. " For 
 lads of spirit *' — here he cast an eye on Joe — '-this is the 
 time. I don't want to inveigle you. Tlie king's not come to 
 that, I hope. Brisk young blood is what we want ; not milk 
 and water. We won't take live men out of six. We want 
 top-sawyers, we do. I'm not a-going to tell tales out of 
 school, but, damme, if every gentleman's son that carries arms 
 in our corps, through being under a cloud and having little 
 differences with his relations, was counted up " — here his eye 
 fell on Joe again, and so good-naturedly, that Joe beckoned 
 him out. He came directly. 
 
 . " You're a gentlema.n, by G ! " was his first remark, as 
 
 he slapped him on the back. " You're a gentleman in dis- 
 guise. So am I. Let's swear a friendship." 
 
 Joe didn't exactly do that, but he shook hands with him, 
 and thanked him for his good opinion. 
 
 " You want to serve," said his new friend. '• You shall. 
 You were made for it. You're one of us by nature. What'U 
 you take to drink ? " 
 
 "Nothing just now," replied Joe, smiling faintly. "I 
 haven't quite made up my mind." 
 
 " A mettlesome fellow like you, and not made up his mind ! " 
 cried the sergeant. " Here — let me give the bell a pull, and 
 you'll make up your mind in half a minute, I know." 
 
 '' You're right so far " — answered Joe, '• for if you pull the 
 bell here, where I'm known, there'll be an end of my soldier- 
 ing inclinations in no time. Look in my face. You see me, 
 do you ? " 
 
 " I do," replied the sergeant with an oath, '* and a finer 
 young fellow or one better qualified to serve his king and 
 country, I never set my " — he used an adjective in this place 
 — '' eyes on." 
 
 ''Thank you," said Joe, '• I didn't ask you for want of a 
 
270 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 compliment, but thank you all the same. Do I look like a 
 sneaking fellow or a liar ? " 
 
 The sergeant rejoined with many choice asseverations that 
 he didn't ; and that if his (the sergeant's) own father were to 
 say he did, he would run the old gentleman through the body 
 cheerfully, and consider it a meritorious action. 
 
 Joe expressed his obligations, and continued, " You can 
 trust me then, and credit what I say. 1 believe I shall enlist 
 into your regiment to-night. The reason I. don't do so now is 
 because I don't want until to-night, to do what I can't recall. 
 Where shall I find you this evening ? " 
 
 His friend replied with some unwillingness, and after much 
 ineffectual entreaty having for its object the immediate settle- 
 ment of the business, that his quarters would be at the 
 Crooked Billet in Tower Street ; where he would be found 
 waking until midnight, and sleeping until breakfast time 
 to-morrow. 
 
 " And if I do come — which it's a million to one, I shall — 
 when will you take me out of London ? " demanded Joe. 
 
 "To-morrow morning, at half after eight o'clock," replied 
 the sergeant. '• You'll go abroad — a country where it's all 
 sunshine and plunder — the finest climate in the world." 
 
 " To go abroad," said Joe, shaking hands with him, " is the 
 very thing I want. You may expect me." 
 
 " You're the kind of lad for us," cried the sergeant, holding 
 Joe's hand in his, in the excess of his admiration. " You're 
 the boy to push your fortune. I don't say it because I bear 
 you any envy, or would take away from the credit of the rise 
 you'll make, but if I had been bred and taught like you, I'd 
 have been a colonel by this time." 
 
 " Tush man ! " said Joe, " I'm not so young as that. 
 Needs must when the devil drives ; and the devil that drives 
 me is an empty pocket and an unhappy home. For the 
 present, good-by." 
 
 " For king and country ! " cried the sergeant, flourishing 
 his cap. 
 
 " For bread and meat ! " cried Joe, snapping his fingers. 
 And so they parted. 
 
 He had very little money in his pocket ; so little indeed. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 271 
 
 that after paying for his breakfast (which he was too honest 
 and perhaps too proud to score up to his father's charge) he 
 had but a penny left. He had courage, notwithstanding, to 
 resist all the affectionate importunities of the sergeant, who 
 waylaid him at the door with many protestations of eternal 
 friendship, and did in particular request that he would do him 
 the favor to accept of only one shilling as a temporary accom- 
 modation. Rejecting his offers both of cash and credit, Joe 
 walked away with stick and bundle as before, bent upon get- 
 ting through the day as he best could, and going down to the 
 locksmith's in the dusk of the evening ; for it sliould go hard, 
 he had resolved, but he would have a parting word with 
 charming Dolly Varden. 
 
 He went out by Islington and so on to Highgate, and sat 
 on many sl^^nes and gates, but there were no voices in the 
 bells to bid him turn. Since the time of noble Whittington, 
 fair flower of merchants, bells have come to have less sympa- 
 thy with humankind. They only ring for money and on state 
 occasions. Wanderers have increased in number ; ships leave 
 the Thames for distant regions, carr3ang from stem to stern no 
 other cargo ; the bells are silent ; they ring out no entreaties 
 or regrets ; they are used to it and have grown worldly. 
 
 Joe bought a roll, and reduced his purse to the condition 
 (with a difference) of tliat celebrated purse of Fortunatus, 
 which, whatever were its favored owner's necessities, had 
 one unvarying amount in it. In these real times, when all 
 the Fairies are dead and buried, there are still a great many 
 purses which possess that quality. The sum-total they con- 
 tain is expressed in arithmetic by a circle, and whether it be 
 added to or multiplied by its own amount, the result of the 
 problem is more easily stated than any known in figures. 
 
 Evening drew on at last. With the desolate and solitary 
 feeling of one who had no home or shelter, and was alone 
 utterly in the world for the first time, he bent his steps 
 towards the locksmith's house. He had delayed till now, 
 knowing that Mrs. Varden sometimes went out alone, or witli 
 Miggs for her sole attenrlant, to lectures in the evening ; and 
 devoutly hoping that this might be one of her nights of moral 
 culture. 
 
272 BARN AST BUDGE. 
 
 He had walked up and down before the house, on the 
 opposite side of the way, two or three times, when as he re- 
 turned to it again, he caught a glimpse of a fluttering skirt at 
 the door. It was Dolly's — to whom else could it belong ? no 
 dress but hers had such a flow as that. He plucked up his 
 spirits, and followed it into the workshop of the Golden Key. 
 
 His darkening the door caused her to look round. Oh that 
 face ! " If it hadn't been for that," thought Joe, " I should 
 never have walked into poor Tom Cobb. She's twenty times 
 handsomer than ever. She might marry a Lord ! " 
 
 He didn't say this. He only thought it — perhaps looked it 
 also. Dolly was glad to see him, and was so sorry her father 
 and mother were away from home. Joe begged she wouldn't 
 mention it on any account. 
 
 Dolly hesitated to lead the way into the parlor, for there 
 it was nearly dark ; at the same time she hesitated to stand 
 talking in the workshop, which was yet light and open to the 
 street. They had got by some means, too, before the little 
 forge ; and Joe having her hand in his (which he had no 
 right to have, for Dolly only gave it him to shake), it was so 
 like standing before some homely altar being married, that it 
 was the most embarrassing state of things in the world. 
 
 " I have come," said Joe, " to say good-by — to say good- 
 by for I don't know how many years ; perhaps forever. 
 I am going abroad." 
 
 Now this was exactly what he should not have said. Here 
 he was, talking like a gentleman at large who was free to 
 come and go and roam about the world at his pleasure, when 
 tiiat gallant coachmaker had vowed but the night before that 
 Miss Varden held him bound in adamantine chains ; and had 
 positively stated in so many words that she was killing him 
 by inches, and that in a fortnight more or thereabouts he 
 expected to make a decent end and leave the business to his 
 mother. 
 
 Dolly released her hand and said, " Indeed ! " She re- 
 marked in the same breath that it was a fine night, and in 
 short, betrayed no more emotion than the forge itself. 
 
 "I couldn't go," said Joe, "without coming to see you. I 
 hadn't the heart to." 
 
BARXABT BUDGE. 2T3 
 
 Dolly was more sorry than slie could tell, that he should 
 have taken so much trouble. It was such a long way, and he 
 must have such a deal to do. And how was Mr. Willet — that 
 dear old gentleman " — 
 
 "Is this all you say I " cried Joe. 
 
 All I Good gracious, what did the man expect ! She was 
 obliged to take her apron in her hand and run her eyes along 
 the hem from corner to corner, to keep herself from laughing 
 in his face; — not because his gaze confused her — not at all. 
 
 Joe had small experience in love affairs, and had no notion 
 how different young ladies are at different times ; he had ex- 
 pected to take Dolly up again at the very point where he had 
 left her after that delicious evening ride, and was no more 
 prepared for such an alteration than to see the sun and moon 
 change places. He had buoyed himself up all day with an 
 indistinct idea that she would certainly say, "Don't go," or 
 "' Don't leave us," or " Why do you go ? " or " Why do you 
 leave us ? " or would give him some little encouragement of 
 that sort; he had even entertained the possibility of her burst- 
 ing into tears, of her throwing herself into his arms, of her 
 falling down in a fainting fit without previous word or sign ; 
 but any approach to such a line of conduct as this, had been 
 so far from his thoughts that he could only look at her in 
 silent wonder. 
 
 Dolly in the mean while turned to the corners of her apron, 
 and measured the sides, and smoothed out the wrinkles, and 
 was as silent as he. At last, after a long pause, Joe said 
 good-by. " Good-by," — said Dolly — with as pleasant a 
 smile as if he were going into the next street, and were coming 
 back to supper; "good-by." 
 
 " Come," said Joe, putting out both his hands, " Dolly, 
 dear Dolly, don't let us part like this. I love you dearly with 
 all my heart and soul ; with as much truth and earnest- 
 ness as ever man loved woman in this world, I do believe. I 
 am a poor fellow, as you know — poorer now than ever, for I 
 have fled from home, not being able to bear it any longer, 
 and must fight my own way without help. You are beautiful, 
 admired, are loved by everybody, are well off and happy ; and 
 may you ever be so ! Heaven forbid I should ever make you 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
274 BAENABY BUDGE. 
 
 otherwise ; but give me a word of comfort. Say something 
 kind to me. I have no right to expect it of you, I know, but 
 I ask it because I love you, and shall treasure the slightest 
 word from you all through my life. Dolly, dearest, have you 
 nothing to say to me ? " 
 
 No. Nothing. Dolly was a coquette by nature, and a 
 spoiled child. She had no notion of being carried by storm in 
 this way. The coachmaker would have been dissolved in 
 tears, and would have knelt down, and called himself names, 
 and clasped his hands, and beat his breast, and tugged wildly 
 at his cravat, and done all kinds of poetry. Joe had no 
 business to be going abroad. He had no right to be able to 
 do it. If he was in adamantine chains, he couldn't. 
 
 '^I have said good-by," said Dolly, "twice. Take your 
 arm away directly, Mr. Joseph, or I'll call Miggs." 
 
 " I'll not reproach you," answered Joe, " it's my fault, no 
 doubt. I have thought sometimes that you didn't quite 
 despise me, but I was a fool to think so. Every one must, 
 who has seen the life I have led — you most of all. God bless 
 you ! " 
 
 He was gone, actually gone. Dolly waited a little while, 
 thinking he would return, peeped out at the door, looked up 
 the street and down as well as the increasing darkness would 
 allow, came in again, waited a little longer, went up-stairs 
 humming a tune, bolted herself in, laid her head down on her 
 bed, and cried as if her heart would break. And yet such 
 natures are made up of so many contradictions, that if Joe 
 Willet had come back that night, next day, next week, next 
 month, the odds are a hundred to one she would have treated 
 him in the very same manner, and have wept for it afterwards 
 with the very same distress. 
 
 She had no sooner left the workshop than there cautiously 
 peered out from behind the chimney of the forge, a face which 
 had already emerged from the same concealment twice or 
 thrice, unseen, and which, after satisfying itself that it was 
 now alone, was followed by a leg, a shoulder, and so on by 
 degrees, until the form of Mr. Tappertit stood confessed, with 
 a brown paper cap stuck negligently on one side of its head, 
 and its arms very much akimbo. 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 275 
 
 " Have my ears deceived me," said the 'Prentice, " or do I 
 dream ! am I to thank thee, Fortun', or to cus thee — 
 which ? " 
 
 He gravely descended from his elevation, took down his 
 piece of looking-glass, planted it against the wall upon the 
 usual bench, twisted his head round, and looked closely at 
 his legs. 
 
 '•If they're a dream," said Sim, 'Het sculptures have such 
 wisions, and chisel 'em out when they wake. This is reality. 
 Sleep has no such limbs as them. Tremble, Willet, and 
 despair. She's mine ! She's mine ! " 
 
 With these triumphant expressions, he seized a hammer 
 and dealt a heavy blow at a vise, which in his mind's eye 
 represented the sconce or head of Joseph Willet. That done, 
 he burst into a peal of laughter which startled Miss IMiggs 
 even in her distant kitchen, and dipping his head into a bowl 
 of water, had recourse to a jack-towel inside the closet door, 
 which served the double purpose of smothering his feelings 
 and drying his face. 
 
 Joe, disconsolate and down-hearted, but full of courage too, 
 on leaving the locksmith's house made the best of his way to 
 the Crooked Billet, and there inquired for his friend the 
 sergeant, who, expecting no man less, received him with 
 open arms. In the course of five minutes after his arrival at 
 that liouse of entertainment, he was enrolled among the 
 gallant defenders of his native land; and within half an 
 hour was regaled with a steaming supper of boiled tripe and 
 onions, prepared, as his friend assured him more than once, 
 at the express command of his most sacred ^lajesty the King. 
 To this meal, which tasted very savory after his long fasting, 
 he did ample justice ; and when he had followed it up, or 
 down, with a variety of loyal and patriotic toasts, he was 
 conducted to a straw mattress in a loft over the stable, and 
 locked in there for the night. 
 
 The next morning, he found that the obliging care of liis 
 martial friend had decorated his hat with sundr}' party- 
 colored streamers, which made a very lively appearance ; 
 and in company with that officer, and three other military 
 gentlemen newly enrolled, who were under a cloud so dense 
 
276 BAENABY BUDGE. 
 
 that it only left three shoes, a boot, and a coat and a half 
 visible among them, repaired to the river-side. Here they 
 were joined by a corporal and four more heroes, of whom two 
 were drunk and daring, and two sober and penitent, but each 
 of whom, like Joe, had his dusty stick and bundle. The 
 party embarked in a passage-boat bound for Gravesend, 
 whence they were to proceed on foot to Chatham ; the Avind 
 was in their favor, and they soon left London behind them, 
 a mere dark mist — a giant phantom in the air. 
 
BABNABY BUDGE, 277 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Misfortunes, saith the adage, never come singly. There 
 is little doubt that troubles are exceedingly gregarious in 
 their nature, and flying in flocks, are apt to perch capriciously ; 
 crowding on the heads of some poor wights until there is not 
 an inch of room left on their unlucky crowns, and taking no 
 more notice of others who offer as good resting-places for the 
 soles of their feet, than if they had no existence. It may 
 have happened that a flight of troubles brooding over London, 
 and looking out for Joseph Willet, whom they couldn't And, 
 darted down hap-hazard on the first young man that caught 
 their fancy, and settled on him instead. However this may 
 be, certain it is that on the very day of Joe's departure they 
 swarmed about the ears of Edward Chester, and did so buzz 
 and flap their wings, and persecute him, that he was most 
 profoundly wretched. 
 
 It was evening, and just eight o'clock, when he and his 
 father, having wine and desert set before them, were left to 
 themselves for the first time that day. They had dined 
 together, but a third person had been present during the meal, 
 and until they met at table they had not seen each other since 
 the previous night. 
 
 Edward was reserved and silent, Mr. Chester was more than 
 usually gay ; but not caring, as it seemed, to open a conversa- 
 tion with one whose humor was so different, he vented the 
 lightness of his spirit in smiles and sparkling looks, and made 
 no effort to awaken his attention. So they remained for some 
 time : the father lying on a sofa with his accustomed air of 
 graceful negligence ; the son seated opposite to him with 
 downcast eyes, busied, it was plain, with painful and uneasy 
 thoughts. 
 
 " My dear Edward," said Mr. Chester at length, with a 
 most engaging laugh, "do not extend your drowsy influence 
 
278 BAENAIiY EUDGE. 
 
 to the decanter. Suffer that to circulate, let your spirits be 
 never so stagnant." 
 
 Edward begged his pardon, passed it, and relapsed into his 
 former state. 
 
 " You do wrong not to fill your glass," said Mr. Chester, 
 holding up his own before the light. " Wine in moderation 
 — not in excess, for that makes men ugly — has a thousand 
 pleasant influences. It brightens the eye, improves the voice, 
 imparts a new vivacity to one^s thoughts and conversation : 
 3"0u should try it, Xed." 
 
 " Ah, father ! " cried his son, " if " — 
 
 " My good fellow," interposed the parent hastily, as he set 
 down his glass, and raised his eyebrows with a startled and 
 horrified expression, " for heaven's sake don't call me by that 
 obsolete and ancient name. Have some regard for delicacy. 
 Am I gray, or wrinkled, do I go on crutches, have I lost my 
 teeth, that you adopt such a mode of address ? Good God, 
 how very coarse ! " 
 
 " I was about to speak to you from my heart, sir," returned 
 Edward, " in the confidence which should subsist between us ; 
 and you check me in the outset." 
 
 " Now do, Ned, do not," said Mr. Chester, raising his delicate 
 hand imploringly, " talk in that monstrous manner. About to 
 speak from your heart. Don't you know that the heart is an 
 ingenious part of our formation — the centre of the blood- 
 vessels and all that sort of thing — whi-ch has no more to do 
 with what you say or think, than your knees have ? How can 
 you be so very vulgar and absurd ? These anatomical allu- 
 sions should be left to gentlemen of the medical profession. 
 They are really not agreeable in society. You quite surprise 
 me, Ned." 
 
 " Well ! there are no such things to wound, or heal, or 
 have regard for. I know your creed, sir, and will say no 
 more," returned his son. 
 
 "There again," said Mr. Chester, sipping his wine, "you 
 are wrong. I distinctly say there are such things. We know 
 there are. The hearts of animals — of bullocks, sheep, and so 
 forth — are cooked and devoured, as I am told, by the lower 
 classes with a vast deal of relish. Men are sometimes stabbed 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 279 
 
 to the heart, shot to the heart ; but as to speaking from the 
 heart, or to the heart, or being warm-hearted, or cold-hearted, 
 or broken-hearted, or being all heart, or having no heart — 
 pah ! these things are nonsense, Ned." 
 
 " Xo doubt, sir," returned his son, seeing that he paused for 
 him to speak. "No doubt." 
 
 " There's, Haredale's niece, your late flame," said Mr. 
 Chester, as a careless illustration of his meaning. " No 
 doubt in your mind she was all heart once. Now she has 
 none at all. Yet she is the same person, Ned, exactly." 
 
 " She is a changed person, sir," cried Edward, reddening ; 
 "and changed by vile means, I believe." 
 
 " You have had a cool dismissal, have you ? " said his 
 father. " Poor Ned ! I told you last night what would 
 happen. — May I ask you for the nut-crackers ? " 
 
 "She has been tampered with, and most treacherously 
 deceived," cried Edward, rising from his seat. "I never 
 will believe that the knowledge of my real position, given her 
 by myself, has worked this change. I know she is beset 
 and tortured. But though our contract is at an end, and 
 broken past all redemption ; though I charge upon her want 
 of firmness and want of truth, both to herself and me ; I do 
 not now, and never will believe, that any sordid motive, 
 or her own unbiassed will, has led her to this course — 
 never ! " 
 
 " You make me blush," returned his father gayly, " for the 
 folly of your nature in which — but we never know ourselves 
 — I devoutly hope there is no reflection of my own. With 
 regard to the young lad}'' herself, she has done what is very 
 natural and proper, my dear fellow ; what you yourself pro- 
 posed, as I learn from Haredale ; and what I predicted — with 
 no great exercise of sagacity — she would do. She supposed 
 you to be rich, or at least quite rich enough ; and found you 
 poor, ^tarriage is a civil contract ; people marry to better 
 their worldly condition and improve appearances ; it is an 
 aifair of house and furniture, of liveries, servants, equipage, 
 and so forth. The lady being poor and you poor also, there 
 is an end of the matter. You cannot enter upon these con- 
 siderations, and have no manner of business with the cere- 
 
280 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 mony. I drink her health in this glass, and respect and 
 honor her for her extreme good-sense. It is a lesson to you. 
 rill yours, Ned." 
 
 "It is a lesson," returned his son, ''by which I hope I 
 may never profit, and if years and their experience impress 
 it on " — 
 
 "Don't say on the heart," interposed his father. 
 
 " On men whom the world and its hypocrisy have spoiled," 
 said Edward warmly ; " Heaven keep me from its knowledge." 
 
 "Come, sir," returned his father, raising himself a little 
 on the sofa, and looking straight towards him ; " we have 
 had enough of this. Remember, if you please, your interest, 
 your duty, your moral obligations, your filial affections, and 
 all that sort of thing which it is so very delightful and 
 charming to reflect upon ; or you will repent it." 
 
 "I shall never repent the preservation of my self-respect, 
 sir," said Edward. "Eorgive me if I say that I will not 
 sacrifice it at your bidding, and that I will not pursue the 
 track which you would have me take, and to which the secret 
 share you have had in this late separation tends." 
 
 His father rose a little higher still, and looking at him as 
 though curious to know if he were quite resolved and earnest, 
 dropped gently down again, and said in the calmest voice — 
 eating his nuts meanwhile, — 
 
 " Edward, my father had a son, who being a fool like you, 
 and, like you, entertaining low and disobedient sentiments, he 
 disinherited and cursed one morning after breakfast. The 
 circumstance occurs to me with a singular clearness of recol- 
 lection this evening. I remember eating mufiins at the time, 
 with marmalade. He led a miserable life (the son, I mean) 
 and died early ; it was a happy release on all accounts ; he 
 degraded the family very much. It is a sad circumstance, 
 Edward, when a father finds it necessary to resort to such 
 strong measures." 
 
 " It is," replied Edward, " and it is sad when a son, 
 proffering him his love and duty in their best and truest 
 sense, finds himself repelled at every turn, and forced to dis- 
 obey. Dear father,'' he added, more earnestly though in a 
 gentler tone, " I have reflected many times on what occurred 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 281 
 
 between us when we first discussed this subject. Let there 
 be a confidence between us ; not in terms, but truth. Hear 
 what I have to say." 
 
 " As I anticipate what it is, and cannot fail to do so, 
 Edward," returned his father coldly, '•' I decline. I couldn't 
 possibly. I am sure it would put me out of temper, which is 
 a state of mind I can't endure. If you intend to mar my 
 plans for your establishment in life, and the preservation of 
 that gentility and becoming pride which our family have so 
 long sustained — if, in short, you are resolved to take your 
 own course, 3^ou must take it, and my curse with it. I am 
 very sorry, but there's really no alternative." 
 
 "The curse may pass your lips," said Edward, "but it will 
 be but empty breath. I do not believe that any man on 
 earth has greater power to call one down upon his fellow — 
 least of all, upon his own child — than he has to make one 
 drop of rain or flake of snow fall from the clouds above us at 
 his impious bidding. Beware, sir, what you do." 
 
 "You are so very irreligious, so exceedingly undutiful, so 
 horribly profane," rejoined his father, turning his face lazily 
 towards him, and cracking another nut, "that I positively 
 must interrupt you here. It is quite impossible we can con- 
 tinue to go on, upon such terms as these. If j^ou will do 
 me the favor to ring the bell, the servant will show you to 
 the door. Return to this roof no more, I beg you. Go, sir, 
 since you have no moral sense remaining ; and go to the 
 Devil, at my express desire. Good-day." 
 
 Edward left the room without another word or look, and 
 turned his back upon the house forever. 
 
 The father's face was slightly flushed and heated, but his 
 manner was quite unchanged, as he rang the bell again, and 
 addressed his servant on his entrance. 
 
 " Peak — if that gentleman who has just gone out " — 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir, ]\Ir. Edward ? " 
 
 " Were there more than one, dolt, that you ask the ques- 
 tion ? — If that gentleman should send here for his wardrobe, 
 let him have it, do you hear? If he should call himself at 
 any time, I'm not at home. You'll tell him so, and shut 
 the door." 
 
282 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 So, it soon got whispered about, that ]\Ir. Chester was very 
 unfortunate in his son, who had occasioned him great grief 
 and sorrow. And the good people who heard this and told it 
 again, marvelled the more at his equanimity and even temper, 
 and said what an amiable nature that man must have, who, 
 having undergone so much, could be so placid and so calm. 
 And when Edward's name was spoken, Society shook its head 
 and laid its finger on its lip, and sighed, and looked very 
 grave ; and those who had sons about his age, waxed wrathful 
 and indignant, and hoped, for Virtue's sake, that he was dead. 
 And the world went on turning round, as usual, for five years, 
 concerninsr which this Narrative is silent. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 283 
 
 TER XXXITI. 
 
 jb o 
 
 XE wintry evening, early in the year of our Lord one 
 thousand seven hundred and eighty, a keen north wind arose 
 as it grew dark, and night came on with black and dismal 
 looks. A bitter storm of sleet, sharp, dense, and icy-cold, 
 swept the wet streets, and rattled on the trembling windows. 
 Sign-boards, shaken past endurance in their creaking frames, 
 fell crashing on the pavement ; old tottering chimneys reeled 
 and staggered in the blast : and many a steeple rocked again 
 that night, as though the earth were troubled. 
 
 It was not a time for those who could by any means get 
 light and warmth, to brave the fury of the weather. In coffee- 
 houses of the better sort, guests crowded round the fire, forgot 
 to be political, and told each other with a secret gladness that 
 the blast grew fiercer every minute. Each humble tavern by 
 the water-side had its group of uncouth figures round the 
 hearth ; who talked of vessels foundering at sea, and all 
 hands lost, related many a dismal tale, of shipwreck and 
 drowned men, and hoped that some they knew were safe, and 
 shook their heads in doubt. In private dwellings, children 
 clustered near the blaze ; listening with timid pleasure to 
 tales of ghosts and goblins and tall figures clad in white 
 standing by bedsides, and people who had gone to sleep in 
 old churches and being overlooked had found themselves 
 alone, there at the dead hour of the night ; until they 
 shuddered at the thought of the dark rooms up-stairs, yet 
 loved to hear the wind moan too, and hoped it would continue 
 bravely. From time to time these hai)py in-door people 
 stopped to listen, or one held up his finger and cried "Hark I" 
 and then, above the rumbling in the chimney, and the fast 
 pattering on the glass, was heard a wailing, rushing sound, 
 which shook the walls as tliougli a giant's hand were on 
 them; then a hoarse roar as if the sea had risen; then such 
 
284 BAUNABY BUDGE. 
 
 a whirl and tumult that the air seemed mad ; and then, with 
 a lengthened howl, the waves of wind swept on, and left a 
 moment's interval of rest. 
 
 Cheerily, though there were none abroad to see it, shone 
 the Maypole light that evening. Blessings on the red — deep 
 ruby, glowing red — old curtain of the window ; blending into 
 one rich stream of brightness, fire and candle, meat, drink, 
 and company, and gleaming like a jovial eye upon the bleak 
 waste out of doors ! Within, what carpet like its crunching 
 sand, what music merry as its crackling logs, what perfume 
 like its kitchen's dainty breath, what weather genial as its 
 hearty warmth ! Blessings on the old house, how sturdily it 
 stood ! How did the vexed wind chafe and roar about its 
 stalwart roof ; how did it pant and strive with its wide 
 chimneys, which still poured forth from their hospitable 
 throats, great clouds of smoke, and puffed defiance in its face, 
 how, above all, did it drive and rattle at the casement, emulous 
 to extinguish that cheerful glow, which would not be put down 
 and seemed the brighter for the confl.ict. 
 
 The profusion too, the rich and lavish bounty, of that 
 goodly tavern ! It was not enough that one fire roared and 
 sparkled on its spacious hearth ; in the tiles which paved and 
 compassed it, five hundred flickering fires burnt brightly also. 
 It was not enough that one red curtain shut the wild night 
 out, and shed its cheerful influence on the room. In every 
 saucepan lid, and candlestick, and vessel of copper, brass, or 
 tin that hung upon the walls, were countless ruddy hangings, 
 flashing and gleaming with every motion of the blaze, and 
 offering, let the eye wander where it might, interminable 
 vistas of the same rich color. The old oak wainscoting, the 
 beams, the chairs, the seats, reflected it in a deep dull 
 glimmer. There were fires and red curtains in the very eyes 
 of the drinkers, in their buttons, in their liquor, in the pipes 
 they smoked. 
 
 Mr. Willet sat in what had been his accustomed place five 
 years before, with his eyes on the eternal boiler ; and had sat 
 there since the clock struck eight, giving no other signs of life 
 than breathing with a loud and constant snore (though he was 
 wide awake), and from time to time putting his glass to his 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 285 
 
 lips, or knocking the ashes out of his pipe, and filling it anew. 
 It was now half-past ten. Mr. Cobb and long Phil Parkes 
 were his companions, as of old, and for two mortal hours and 
 a half, none of the company had pronounced one word. 
 
 Whether people, by dint of sitting together in the same 
 place and the same relative positions, and doing exactly the 
 same things for a great many years, acquire a sixth sense, or 
 some unknown power of influencing each other which serves 
 them in its stead, is a question for philosophy to settle. But 
 certain it is that old John AVillet, Mr. Parkes, and Mr. Cobb, 
 were one and all firmly of opinion that they were very jolly 
 companions — rather choice spirits than otherwise ; that they 
 looked at each other every now and then as if there were a 
 perpetual interchange of ideas going on among them ; that no 
 man considered himself or his neighbor by any means silent ; 
 and that each of them nodded occasionally when he caught 
 the eye of another, as if he would say, " You have expressed 
 yourself extremely well, sir, in relation to that sentiment, and 
 I quite agree with you." 
 
 The room was so very warm, the tobacco so very good, and 
 the fire so very soothing, that Mr. Willet by degrees began to 
 doze ; but as he had perfectly acquired, by dint of long habit, 
 the art of smoking in his sleep, and as his breathing was 
 pretty much the same, awake or asleep, saving that in the 
 latter case he sometimes experienced a slight difficulty in 
 respiration (such as a carpenter meets with when he is planing 
 and comes to a knot), neither of his companions was aware of 
 the circumstance, until he met with one of these impediments 
 and was obliged to try again. 
 
 " Johnny's dropped off," said Mr. Parkes in a whisper. 
 
 " Fast as a top," said Mr. Cobb. 
 
 Neither of them said any more until ^fr. Willet came to 
 another knot — one of surpassing obduracy — which bade fair 
 to throw him into convulsions, but wliich he got over at last 
 without waking, by an effort quite superhuman. 
 
 "He sleeps uncommon hard," said Mr. Cobb. 
 
 Mr. Parkes, who was possibly a hard sleeper himself, 
 replied Avith some disdain ''Not a bit on it;" and directed 
 his eyes towards a handbill pasted over the chimney-piece, 
 
286 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 which was decorated at the top with a woodcut representing 
 a youth of tender years running away very fast, with a bundle 
 over his shoukler at the end of a stick, and — to carry out the 
 idea — a finger-post and a mile-stone beside him. Mr. Cobb 
 likewise turned his eyes in the same direction and surveyed 
 the placard as if that were the first time he had ever beheld 
 it. Now, tliis was a document which Mr. Willet had himself 
 indited on the disappearance of his son Joseph, acquainting 
 the nobility and gentry and the public in general with the 
 circumstances of his having left his home ; describing his 
 dress and appearance ; and offering a reward of five pounds 
 to any person or persons who would pack him up and return 
 him safely to the Maypole at Chigwell, or lodge him in any of 
 his Majesty's jails until such time as his father should come 
 and claim him. In this advertisement Mr. Willet had 
 obstinately persisted, despite the advice and entreaties of his 
 friends, in describing his son as a "young boy ; " and further- 
 more as being from eighteen inches to a couple of feet shorter 
 than he really was ; two circumstances which perhaps ac- 
 counted, in some degree, for its never having been productive 
 of any other effect than the transmission to Chigwell at 
 various times and at a vast expense, of some five and forty 
 runaways varying from six years old to twelve. 
 
 Mr. Cobb and Mr. Parkes looked mysteriously at this com- 
 position, at each other, and at old John. From the time 
 he had pasted it up with his own hands, Mr. Willet had never 
 by word or sign alluded to the subject, or encouraged any one 
 else to do so. Nobody had the least notion what his thoughts 
 or opinions were, connected with it ; whether he remembered 
 it or forgot it ; whether he had any idea that such an event 
 had ever taken place. Therefore, even while he slept, no one 
 ventured to refer to it in his presence ; and for such sufficient 
 reasons, these his chosen friends were silent now. 
 
 Mr. Willet had got by this time into such a complication of 
 knots, that it was perfectly clear he must wake or die. He 
 chose the former alternative, and opened his eyes. 
 
 " If he don't come in five minutes," said John, " 1 shall 
 have supper without him." 
 
 The antecedent of this pronoun had been mentioned for the 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 287 
 
 last time at eight o'clock. Messrs. Parkes and Cobb being 
 used to this style of conversation, replied without diiftculty 
 that to be sure Solomon was very late, and they wondered 
 what had happened to detain him. 
 
 "He ain't blown away, I suppose," said Parkes. "It's 
 enough to carry a man of his figure off his legs, and easy too. 
 Do you hear it ? It blows great guns, indeed. There'll be 
 many a crash in the Forest to-night, I reckon, and many a 
 broken branch upon the ground to-morrow." 
 
 " It won't break anything in the Mapole, I take it, sir," 
 returned old John. "Let it try. I give it leave — what's 
 that ? " 
 
 " The wind," cried Parkes. "It's howling like a Christian, 
 and has been all night long." 
 
 " Did you ever, sir," asked John, after a minute's contem- 
 plation, " hear the wind say ' Maypole ? ' " 
 
 " Why, what man ever did ? " said Parkes. 
 
 "Nor ' ahoy,' perhaps ? " added John. 
 
 " Ko. Nor that neither." 
 
 "Very good, sir," said ^Ir. Willet, perfectly unmoved; 
 " then if that was the wind just now, and you'll wait a little 
 time without speaking, you'll hear it say both words very 
 plain." 
 
 Mr. Willet was right After listening for a few moments, 
 they could clearly hear, above the roar and tumult out of 
 doors, this shout repeated; and that with a shrillness and 
 energy, which denoted that it came from some person in 
 great distress or terror. They looked at each other, turned 
 pale, and held their breath. No man stirred. 
 
 It was in this emergency that Mr. Willet displayed some- 
 thing of that strength of mind and plenitude of mental 
 resource, which rendered him the admiration of all his friends 
 and neighbors. After looking at ^Messrs. Parkes and Cobb 
 for some time in silence, he cla})ped his two hands to his 
 cheeks, and sent forth a roar which made the glasses dance 
 and rafters ring — a long-sustained, discordant bellow, that 
 rolled onward with the wind, and startling every echo, made 
 the night a hundred times more boisterous — a deep, loud, 
 dismal bray, that sounded like a human gong. Then, with 
 
288 BARXABY BUDGE. 
 
 ever}' vein in his head and face swollen with the great exer- 
 tion, and his countenance suffused with a^ lively purple, he 
 drew a little nearer to the fire, and turning his back upon it, 
 said with dignity, — 
 
 " If that's any comfort to anybody, they're welcome to it. 
 If it ain't, I'm sorry for 'em. If either of you two gentlemen 
 likes to go out and see what's the matter, you can. I'm not 
 curious, myself." 
 
 While he spoke the cry drew nearer and nearer, footsteps 
 passed the window, the latch of the door was raised, it opened, 
 was violently shut again, and Solomon Daisy, with a lighted 
 lantern in his hand, and the rain streaming from his dis- 
 ordered dress, dashed into the room. 
 
 A more complete picture of terror than the little man pre- 
 sented, it would be difficult to imagine. The persj^iration 
 stood in beads upon his face, his knees knocked together, his 
 every limb trembled, the power of articulation was quite 
 gone ; and there he stood, panting for breath, gazing on them 
 with such livid ashy looks, that they were infected with his 
 fear, though ignorant of its occasion, and, reflecting his dis- 
 mayed and horror-stricken visage, stared back again without 
 venturing to question him ; until old John Willet, in a fit of 
 temporar}" insanity, made a dive at his cravat, and, seizing 
 him by that portion of his dress, shook him to and fro until 
 his very teeth appeared to rattle in his head. 
 
 "Tell us what's the matter, sir," said John, "or I'll kill 
 you. Tell us what's the matter, sir, or in another second, 
 I'll have your head under the biler. How dare you look 
 like that ? Is anybody a-following of you ? What do you 
 mean ? Say something, or I'll be the death" of you, I will." 
 
 Mr. Willet, in his frenz}^, was so near keeping his word to 
 the very letter (Solomon Daisy's eyes already beginning to 
 roll in an alarming manner, and certain guttural sounds, as 
 of a choking man, to issue from his throat), that the two by- 
 standers, recovering in some degree, plucked him off his 
 victim by main force, and placed the little clerk of Chigwell 
 in a chair. Directing a fearful gaze all round the room, he 
 implored them in a faint voice to give him some drink ; and 
 above all to lock the house door and close and bar the shutters 
 
•y^Ji^L^ jf^-^^^ 
 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 289 
 
 of the room, without a moment's loss of time. The latter 
 request did not tend to reassure his hearers, or to fill them 
 with the most comfortable sensations ; they complied with 
 it, however, with the greatest expedition ; and having handed 
 him a bumper of brandy and water, nearly boiling hot, waited 
 to hear what he might have to tell them. 
 
 " Oh, Johnny," said Solomon, shaking him by the hand. 
 '' Oh, Parkes. Oh, Tommy Cobb. Why did I leave this 
 house to-night ! On the nineteenth of March — of all nights 
 in the year, on the nineteenth of March ! " 
 
 They all drew closer to the fire. Parkes, who was nearest 
 to the door, started and looked over his shoulder. Mr. 
 Willet, with great indignation, inquired what the devil he 
 meant by that — and then said, '• God forgive me,"' and 
 glanced over his own shoulder, and came a little nearer. 
 
 " When I left here to-night," said Solomon Daisy, " I little 
 thought what day of the month it was. I have never gone 
 alone into the church after dark on this day, for seven and 
 twenty years. I have heard it said that as we keep our 
 birthdays when we are alive, so the ghosts of dead people, 
 who are not easy in their graves, keep the day they died 
 upon. — How the wind roars ! " 
 
 Nobody spoke. All eyes were fastened on Solomon. 
 
 " I might have known," he said, " what night it was, by 
 the foul weather. There's no such night in the whole year 
 round as this is, always. I never sleep quietly in my bed on 
 the nineteenth of March." 
 
 " Go on," said Tom Cobb, in a low voice. " Nor I neither.'' 
 
 Solomon Daisy raised his glass to his lips ; put it down 
 upon the floor with such a trembling hand that the spoon 
 tinkled in it like a little bell ; and continued thus, — 
 
 " Have I ever said that we are always brouglit back to 
 tliis subject in some strange way, when the nineteenth of this 
 montli comes round ? Do you suppose it was by accident, I 
 forgot to wind up the church-clock ? I never forgot it at any 
 other time, though it's such a clumsy thing that it lias to be 
 wound u}) every day. Why should it escape my memory on 
 this day of all others ? 
 
 " I made as much haste down tliere as I couhl wlien I went 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
290 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 from here, but I had to go home first for the keys ; and the 
 wind and rain being dead against me all the way, it was 
 pretty well as much as I could do at times to keep my legs. 
 I got there at last, opened the church door, and went in. I 
 had not met a soul all the way, and you may judge whether 
 it was dull or not. Neither of you would bear me company. 
 If you could have known what was to come, you'd have been 
 in the right. 
 
 "The wind was so strong, that it was as much as I could 
 do to shut the church door by putting my whole weight 
 against it ; and even as it was, it burst wide open twice, with 
 such strength that any of you would have sworn, if you had 
 been leaning against it, as I was, that somebody was pushing 
 on the other side. However, I got the key turned, went 
 into the belfry, and wound up the clock — which was very 
 near run down, and would have stood stock-still in half an 
 hour. 
 
 " As I took up my lantern again to leave the church, it 
 came upon me all at once that this was the nineteenth of 
 March. It came upon me with a kind of shock, as if a hand 
 had struck the thought upon my forehead ; at the very same 
 moment, I heard a voice outside the tower — rising from 
 among the graves." 
 
 Here old John precipitately interrupted the speaker, and- 
 begged that if Mr. Parkes (who was seated opposite to him 
 and was staring directly over his head) saw anything, he 
 would have the goodness to mention it. Mr. Parkes apologized 
 and remarked that he was only listening ; to which Mr. Willet 
 angrily retorted, that his listening with that kind of expression 
 in his face was not agreeable, and that if he couldn't look like 
 other people, he had better put his pocket-handkerchief over 
 his head. Mr. Parkes with great submission pledged himself 
 to do so, if again required, and John Willet turning to 
 Solomon desired him to proceed. After waiting until a 
 violent gust of wind and rain, which seemed to shake even 
 that sturdy house to its foundation, had passed away, the 
 little man complied. 
 
 "Never tell me that it was my fancy, or that it was any 
 other sound which I mistook for that I tell you of. I heard 
 
BARNABY RUDGE. 291 
 
 the wind whistle through the arches of the church. I heard 
 the steeple strain and creak. I heard the rain as it came 
 driving against the walls. I felt the bells shake. I saw the 
 ropes sway to and fro. And I heard that voice." 
 
 " What did it say ? " asked Tom Cobb. 
 
 " I don't know what ; I don't know that it spoke. It gave 
 a kind of cry, as any one of us might do, if something 
 dreadful followed us in a dream, and came upon us unawares ; 
 and then it died off: seeming to pass quite round the 
 church." 
 
 "I don't see much in that," said John, drawing a long 
 breath, and looking round him like a man who felt relieved. 
 
 " Perhaps not," returned his friend, " but that's not all." 
 
 " What more do you mean to say, sir, is to come ? " asked 
 John, pausing in the act of wiping his face upon his apron. 
 "What are you a-going to tell us of next ? " 
 
 " What I saw." 
 
 " Saw ! " echoed all three, bending forward. 
 
 "When I opened the church door to come out," said the 
 little man, with an expression of face which bore ample 
 testimony to the sincerity of his conviction, " when I opened 
 the church door to come out, which I did suddenly for I 
 wanted to get it shut again before another gust of wind came 
 up, there crossed me — so close, that by stretching out my 
 finger I could have touched it — something in the likeness of 
 a man. It was bareheaded to the storm. It turned its face 
 without stopping, and fixed its eyes on mine. It was a gliost 
 — a spirit." 
 
 "Whose ?" they all three cried together. 
 
 In the excess of his emotion (for he fell back trembling in 
 his chair, and waved his hand as if entreating them to ques- 
 tion him no further), his answer was lost on all but old Joliu 
 Willet, who happened to be seated close beside him. 
 
 " Who ! " cried Parkes and Tom Cobb, looking eagerly by 
 turns at Solomon Daisy and at Mr. Willet. " Who was it ? " 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Mr. Willet after a long pause, "you 
 needn't ask. The likeness of a murdered man. This is the 
 nineteenth of March." 
 
 A profound silence ensued. 
 
292 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 "If you'll take my advice," said John, "we had better, 
 one and all, keep this a secret. Such tales would not be 
 liked at the Warren. Let us keep it to ourselves for the 
 present time at all events, or we may get into trouble, and 
 Solomon may lose his place. Whether it was really as he 
 says, or whether it wasn't, is no matter. Eight or wrong, 
 nobody would believe him. As to the probabilities, I don't 
 myself think," said Mr. Willet, eying the corners of the 
 room in a manner which showed that like some other philoso- 
 phers he was not quite easy in his theory, "that a ghost 
 as had been a man of sense in his lifetime, would be out 
 a-walking in such weather — I only know that /wouldn't, if I 
 was one." 
 
 But this heretical doctrine was strongly opposed by the 
 other three, who quoted a great many precedents to show 
 that bad weather was the very time for such appearances ; 
 and ]Mr. Parkes (who had had a ghost in his family, by the 
 mother's side) argued the matter with so much ingenuity and 
 force of illustration, that John was only saved from having to 
 retract his opinion by the opportune appearance of supper, to 
 which they applied themselves with a dreadful relish. Even 
 Solomon Daisy himself, by dint of the elevating influences of 
 fire, lights, brandy, and good company, so far recovered as to 
 handle his knife and fork in a highly creditable manner, and 
 to display a capacity both of eating and drinking, such as 
 banished all fear of his having sustained any lasting injury 
 from his fright. 
 
 Supper done, they crowded round the fire again, and as is 
 common on such occasions, propounded all manner of leading 
 questions calculated to surround the story with new horrors 
 and surprises. But Solomon Daisy, notwithstanding these 
 temptations, adhered so steadily to his original account, and 
 repeated it so often, with such slight variations, and with 
 such solemn asseverations of its truth and reality, that his 
 hearers were (with good reason) more astonished than at first. 
 As he took John Willet's view of the matter in regard to the 
 propriety of not bruiting the tale abroad, unless the spirit 
 should appear to him again, in which case it would be neces- 
 sary to take immediate counsel with the clergyman, it was 
 
BARyABY BUDGE. 293 
 
 solemnly resolved that it should be hushed up and kept quiet. 
 And as most men like to have a secret to tell which may 
 exalt their own importance, they arrived at this conclusion 
 with perfect unanimity. 
 
 As it was by this time growing late, and was long past 
 their usual hour of separating, the cronies parted for the 
 night. Solomon Daisy, with a fresh candle in his lantern, 
 repaired homewards under the escort of long Phil Parkes and 
 Mr. Cobb, who were rather more nervous than himself. Mr. 
 Willet, after seeing them to the door, returned to collect his 
 thoughts with the assistance of the boiler, and to listen to 
 the storm of wind and rain, which had not yet abated one jot 
 of its fury. 
 
294 B All NAB Y BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Before old Jolm had looked at the boiler quite twenty 
 minutes, he got his ideas into a focus, and brought them to 
 bear upon Solomon Daisy's story. The more he thought of 
 it, the more impressed he became with a sense of his own 
 wisdom, and a desire that Mr. Haredale should be impressed 
 with it likewise. At length, to the end that he might sustain 
 a principal and important character in the affair ; and might 
 have the start of Solomon and his two friends, through whose 
 means he knew the adventure, with a variety of exaggerations, 
 would be kftown to at least a score of people, and most likely 
 to Mr. Haredale himself, by breakfast-time to-morrow ; he 
 determined to repair to the Warren before going to bed. 
 
 " He's my landlord," thought John, as he took a candle in 
 his hand, and setting it down in a corner out of the wind's 
 way, opened a casement in the rear of the house, looking 
 towards the stables. "AVe haven't met of late years so often 
 as we used to do — changes are taking place in the family — 
 it's desirable that I should stand as well with them, in point 
 of dignity, as possible — the whispering about of this here 
 tale will anger him — it's good to have confidences with a 
 gentleman of his natur', and set one's self right besides. 
 Halloa, there ! Hugh — Hugh. Hal-loa ! " 
 
 AVhen he had repeated this shout a dozen times, and startled 
 every pigeon from its slumbers, a door in one of the ruinous 
 old buildings opened, and a rough voice demanded what was 
 amiss now, that a man couldn't even have his sleep in quiet. 
 
 " What ! Haven't you sleep enough, growler, that you're 
 not to be knocked up for once ? " said John. 
 
 "]S"o," replied the voice, as the speaker yawned and shook 
 himself. '- Not half enough." 
 
 " I don't know how you can sleep, with the wind a-bellowsing 
 and roaring about you, making the tiles fly like a pack of 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 295 
 
 cards," said John ; " but no matter for that. Wrap yourself 
 up in something or another, and come here, for you must go 
 as far as the Warren with me. And look sharp about it." 
 
 Hugh, with much low growling and muttering, went back 
 into his lair ; and presently reappeared, carrying a lantern and 
 a cudgel, and enveloped from head to foot in an old, frowsy, 
 slouching horse-cloth. ^Ir. Willet received this figure at the 
 back door, and ushered him into the bar, while he wrapped 
 himself in sundry great-coats and capes, and so tied and 
 knotted his face in shawls and handkerchiefs, that how he 
 breathed was a mystery. 
 
 "' You don't take a man out of doors at near midnight in 
 such weather, without putting some heart into him, do you, 
 master ? " said Hugh. 
 
 " Yes I do sir," returned ^Ir. Willet. " I put the heart 
 (as you call it) into him when he has brought me safe home 
 again, and his standing steady on his legs ain't of so much 
 consequence. So hold that light up, if you please, and go on 
 a step or two before to show the way." 
 
 Hugh obeyed with a very indifferent grace, and a longing 
 glance at the bottles. Old John, laying strict injunctions on 
 his cook to keep the doors locked in his absence, and to open 
 to nobody but himself on pain of dismissal, followed him into 
 the blustering darkness out of doors. 
 
 The way was wet and dismal, and the night so black, that 
 if Mr. Willet had been his own pilot, he would have walked 
 into a deep horsepond within a few hundred yards of his own 
 house, and would certainly have terminated his career in that 
 ignoble sphere of action. But Hugh, who had a sight as 
 keen as any hawk's, and, apart from that endowment, could 
 liave found his way blindfold to any place within a dozen 
 miles, dragged old John along, quite deaf to his remon- 
 strances, and took his own course without the slightest refer- 
 ence to, or notice of, his master. So they made head against 
 the wind as they best could ; Hugh crushing the wet grass 
 beneath his heavy tread, and stalking on after his ordinary 
 savage fashion ; John Willet following at arni's length, pick- 
 ing his steps, and looking about iiini, now for bogs and 
 ditches, and now for such stray ghosts as might be wandering 
 
296 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 abroad, with looks of as much dismay and uneasiness as his 
 immovable face was capable of expressing. 
 
 At length they stood upon tlie broad gravel-walk before the 
 Warren-house. The building was profoundly dark, and none 
 were moving near it save themselves. From one solitary 
 turret-chamber, however, there shone a ray of light; and 
 towards this speck of comfort in the cold, cheerless silent 
 scene, Mr. Willet bade his pilot lead him. 
 
 " The old room," said John, looking timidly upward ; " Mr. 
 Reuben's own apartment, God be with us ! I wonder his 
 brother likes to sit there, so late at niglit — on this night 
 too." 
 
 " Why, where else should he sit ? " asked Hugh holding the 
 lantern to his breast, to keep the candle from the wind, while 
 he trimmed it with his fingers. " It's snug enough, ain't it ? " 
 
 " Snug ! " said John indignantly. " You have a comfort- 
 able idea of snugness, you have, sir. Do you know what was 
 done in that room, you ruffian ? " 
 
 " Why, what is it the worse for that ! " cried Hugh, looking 
 into John's fat face. "Does it keep out the rain, and snow, 
 and wind, the less for that ? Is it less warm or dry, because 
 a man was killed there ? Ha, ha, ha ! Never believe it, 
 master. One man's no such matter as that comes to." 
 
 Mr. Willet fixed his dull eyes on his follower, and began — 
 by a species of inspiration — to think it just barely possible 
 that he was something of a dangerous character, and that it 
 might be advisable to get rid of him one of these days. He 
 was too prudent to say anything, with the journey home 
 before him ; and therefore turned to the iron gate before 
 which this brief dialogue had passed, and pulled the handle of 
 the bell that hung beside it. The turret in which the light 
 appeared being at one corner of the building, and only divided 
 from the path by one of the garden-walks, upon which this 
 gate opened, jVIr. Haredale threw up the window directly, and 
 demanded who was there. 
 
 " Begging pardon, sir," said John, " I knew you sat up 
 late, and made bold to come round, having a word to say to 
 you." 
 
 " Willet — is it not ? " 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 297 
 
 " Of the Maypole — at your service, sir." 
 
 Mr. Haredale closed the window, and withdrew. He 
 presently appeared at a door in the bottom of the turret, and 
 coming across the garden-walk unlocked the gate and let 
 them in. 
 
 " You are a late visitor, Willet. What is the matter ? " 
 
 "Notliing to speak of, sir," said John; '-'an idle tale, I 
 thought you ought to know of; nothing more." 
 
 " Let your man go forward with the lantern, and give me 
 your hand. The stairs are crooked and narrow. Gently with 
 your light, friend. You swing it like a censer." 
 
 Hugh, who had already reached the turret, held it more 
 steadily, and ascended first, turning round from time to time 
 to shed its light • downward on the steps. ^Vt. Haredale 
 following next, eyed his lowering face with no great favor ; 
 and Hugh, looking down on him, returned his glances with 
 interest, as they climbed the winding stair. 
 
 It terminated in a little ante-room adjoining that from 
 which they had seen the light. ]Mr. Haredale entered first, 
 and led the way through it into the latter chamber, where he 
 seated himself at a writing-table from which he had risen 
 when they rang the bell. 
 
 " Come in," he said, beckoning to old John, who remained 
 bowing at the door. " Kot you, friend," he added hastily to 
 Hugh, who entered also. "Willet, why do you bring that 
 fellow here ? " 
 
 '•' Why, sir," returned John, elevating his eyebrows, and 
 lowering his voice to the tone in whicli the (juestion had been 
 asked him, " he's a good guard, you see." 
 
 ''Don't be too sure of that," said Mr. Haredale, looking 
 towards him as he spoke. '•' I doubt it. He has an evil eye." 
 
 " There's no imagination in his eye," returned ^Ir. Willet, 
 glancing over his shoulder at the organ in question, "cer- 
 tainly." 
 
 " There is no good there, be assured," said ^Sfr. Haredale. 
 " Wait in that little room, friend, and close the door between 
 us." 
 
 Hugh shrugged his shoulders, and with a disdainful look, 
 which showed, either that he had overheard, or that he 
 
298 BARNABY BUDGE.. 
 
 guessed the purport of their whispering, did as he was told. 
 When he was shut out, Mr. Haredale turned to John, and 
 bade him go on with what he had to say, but not to speak too 
 loud, for there were quick ears yonder. 
 
 Thus cautioned, Mr. Willet, in an oily whisper, recited all 
 that he had heard and said that night ; laying particular 
 stress upon his own sagacity, upon his great regard for the 
 family, and upon his solicitude for their peace of mind and 
 happiness. The story moved his auditor much more than he 
 had expected. Mr. Haredale often changed his attitude, rose 
 and paced the room, returned again, desired him to repeat, as 
 nearly as he could, the very words that Solomon had used, 
 and gave so many other signs of being disturbed, and ill at 
 ease, that even j\Ir. Willet was surprised. 
 
 " You did quite right," he said, at the end of a long con- 
 versatiouj " to bid them keep this story secret. It is a foolish 
 fancy on the part of this weak-brained man, bred in his fears 
 and superstition. But jVtiss Haredale, though she would 
 know it to be so, would be disturbed by it if it reached her 
 ears ; it is too nearly connected with a subject very painful 
 to us all, to be heard with indifference. You were most 
 prudent, and have laid me under a great obligation. I thank 
 you very much." 
 
 This was equal to John's most sanguine expectations; but 
 he would have preferred Mr. Haredale's looking at him when 
 he spoke, as if he really did thank him, to his walking up 
 and down, speaking by fits and starts, often stopping with his 
 eyes fixed on the ground, moving hurriedly on again, like one 
 distracted, and seeming almost unconscious of what he said 
 or did. 
 
 This, however, was his manner ; and it was so embarrass- 
 ing to John that he sat quite passive for a long time, not 
 knowing what to do. At length he rose. Mr. Haredale 
 stared at him for a moment as though he had quite forgotten 
 his being present, then shook hands with him and opened the 
 door. Hugh, who was, or feigned to be, fast asleep on the 
 ante-chamber floor, sprang up on their entrance, and throw- 
 ing his cloak about him, grasped his stick and lantern, and 
 prepared to descend the stairs. 
 
'•i^K^i!®^ 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. 299 
 
 "Stay," said Mr. Haredale. " Will this man drink ? " 
 
 "Drink! He'd drink the Thames up, if it was strong 
 enough, sir," replied John Willet. "He'll have something 
 when he gets home. He's better without it, now, sir." 
 
 "Nay. Half the distance is done," said Hugh. "What 
 a hard master you are ! I shall go home the better for one 
 glassful, half-way. Come ! " 
 
 As John made no reply, Mr. Haredale brought out a glass 
 of liquor, and gave it to Hugh, who, as he took it in his hand, 
 threw part of it upon the floor. 
 
 "What do you mean by splashing your drink about a gen- 
 tleman's house, sir ? " said John. 
 
 " I'm drinking a toast," Hugh rejoined, holding the glass 
 above his head, and fixing his eyes on Mr. Haredale's face ; 
 " a toast to this house and its master." With that he mut- 
 tered something to himself, and drank the rest, and setting 
 down tlie glass, preceded them without a word. 
 
 John was a good deal scandalized by this observance, but 
 seeing that Mr. Haredale took little heed of what Hugh said 
 or did, and that his thoughts were otherwise employed, he 
 offered no apology, and went in silence down the stairs, 
 across the walk, and through the garden-gate. They stopped 
 upon the outer side for Hugh to hold the light while Mr. 
 Haredale locked it on the inner ; and then John saw with 
 wonder (as he often afterwards related), that he was very 
 pale, and that his face had changed so much and grown so 
 haggard since their entrance, that he almost seemed another 
 man. 
 
 They were in the open road again, and John AVillet was 
 walking on behind his escort, as he had come, thinking very 
 steadily of what he had just now seen, when Hugh drew him 
 suddenly aside, and almost at the same instant three horse- 
 men swept past — the nearest brushed his shoulder even then 
 — wlio, checking their steeds as suddenly as they could, stood 
 still, and waited for their coming up. 
 
300 BARNABY RUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 When John Willet saw that the horsemen wheeled smartly 
 round, and drew up three abreast in the narrow road, waiting 
 for him and his man to join them, it occurred to him with 
 unusual precipitation that they must be highwaymen ; and 
 had Hugh been armed with a blunderbuss, in place of his 
 stout cudgel, he would certainly have ordered him to fire it 
 off at a venture, and would, while the word of command was 
 obeyed, have consulted his own personal safety in immediate 
 flight. Under the circumstances of disadvantage, however, 
 in wliich he and his guard were placed, he deemed it prudent 
 to adopt a different style of generalship, and therefore whis- 
 pered his attendant to address them in the most peaceable 
 and courteous terms. By way of acting up to the spirit and 
 letter of this instruction, Hugh stepped forward, and flourish- 
 ing his staff before the very eyes of the rider nearest to him, 
 demanded roughly what he and his fellows meant by so 
 nearly galloping over them, and why they scoured the king's 
 highway at that late hour of night. 
 
 The man whom he addressed was beginning an angry reply 
 in the same strain, when he was checked by the horseman in 
 the centre, who, interposing with an air of authority, inquired 
 in a somewhat loud but not harsh or unpleasant voice, — 
 
 " Pray, is this the London road ? " 
 
 '^ If you follow it right, it is," replied Hugh roughly. 
 
 "Nay, brother," said the same person, "your're but a 
 churlish Englishman, if Englishman you be — which T should 
 much doubt but for your tongue. Your companion, I am sure, 
 will answer me more civilly. How say you, friend ? " 
 
 " I say it is the London road, sir," answered John. " And 
 I wish," he added in a subdued voice, as he turned to Hugh, 
 "that you was in any other road, you vagabond. Are you 
 tired of your life, sir, that you go a-trying to provoke three 
 
BARXABY BUDGE. 301 
 
 great neck-or-nothing chaps, that could keep on runniug over 
 us, back'ards and for'ards, till we was dead, and then take 
 our bodies up behind 'em, and drown us ten miles off ? " 
 
 "How far is it to London?'' inquired the same speaker. 
 
 "Why, from here, sir," answered John, persuasively, '"it's 
 thirteen very easy mile." 
 
 The adjective was thrown in. as an inducement to the trav- 
 ellers to ride away with all speed ; but instead of having the 
 desired effect, it elicited from the same person, the remark, 
 '• Thirteen miles ! That's a long distance ! " which was fol- 
 lowed by a short pause of indecision. 
 
 "Pray," said the gentleman, "are there any inns here 
 abouts ? " 
 
 At the word " inns," John plucked up his spirit in a sur- 
 prising manner ; his fears rolled off like smoke ; all the land- 
 lord stirred within him. 
 
 '•There are no inns,*' rejoined Mr. Willet, with a strong 
 emphasis on the plural number; '-but there's a Inn — one 
 Inn — the Maypole Inn. That's a Inn indeed. You won't 
 see the like of that Inn often." 
 
 " You keep it, perhaps ? " said the horseman, smiling. 
 
 " I do, sir," replied John, greatly wondering how he had 
 found this out. 
 
 "And how far is the Maypole from here ? " 
 
 "About a mile" — John was going to add that it was the 
 easiest mile in all the world, when the third rider, who had 
 hitherto kept a little in the rear, suddenly interposed : 
 
 " And have you one excellent bed, landlord ? Hem ! A 
 bed that you can recommend — a bed that you are sure is 
 well aired — a bed that has been slept in by some perfectly 
 respectable and unexceptionable person ! " 
 
 " We don't take in no tagrag and bobtail at our house, sir." 
 answered John. " And as to the bed itself" — 
 
 " Say, as to three beds," interposed the gentleman wlio had 
 spoken before; " for we shall want three if we stay, thougli 
 my friend only speaks of one." 
 
 "No, no, my lord; you are too good, you are too kind: but 
 your life is of faV too mucli importanc*' to the nation in these 
 portentous times, to be placed upon a level with one so useless 
 
302 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 and so poor as mine. A great cause, my lord, a mighty cause, 
 depends on you. You are its leader and its champion, its 
 advanced guard and its van. It is the cause of our altars and 
 our homes, our country and our faith. Let me sleep on a 
 chair — the carpet — anywhere. No one will repine if / take 
 cold or fever. Let John Grueby pass the night beneath the 
 open sky — no one will repine for hi77i. But forty thousand 
 men of this our island in the wave (exclusive of women and 
 children) rivet their eyes and thoughts on Lord George 
 Gordon ; and every day, from the rising up of the sun to the 
 going down of the same, pray for his health and vigor. My 
 lord," said the speaker, rising in his stirrups, "it is a glorious 
 cause, and must not be forgotten. IMy lord, it is a mighty 
 cause, and must not be endangered. My lord, it is a 
 holy cause, and must not be deserted." 
 
 " It is a holy cause," exclaimed his lordship, lifting up his 
 hat with great solemnity. " Amen ! " 
 
 " John Grueby," said the long-winded gentleman, in a tone 
 of mild reproof, " his lordship said Amen ! " 
 
 " I heard my lord, sir," said the man, sitting like a statue 
 on his horse. 
 
 " And do not ijoii say Amen, likewise ? " 
 
 To which John Grueby made no reply at all, but sat looking 
 straight before him. 
 
 "You surprise me, Grueby," said the gentleman. "At a 
 crisis like the present, when Queen Elizabeth, that maiden 
 monarch, weeps within her tomb, and Bloody Mary with a 
 brow of gloom and shadow, stalks triumphant" — 
 
 " Oh, sir," cried the man, gruffly, " where's the use of talk- 
 ing of Bloody Mary, under such circumstances as the present, 
 when my lord's wet through and tired with hard riding ? 
 Let's either go on to London, sir, or put up at once ; or that 
 unfort'nate Bloody Mary will have more to answer for — and 
 she's done a deal more harm in her grave than she ever did 
 in her lifetime, I believe." 
 
 By this time Mr. Willet, who had never heard so many 
 words spoken together at one time, or delivered with such 
 volubility and emphasis as by the long-winded gentleman, 
 and whose brain, being wholly unable to sustain or compass 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 303 
 
 them, had quite given itself up for lost ; recovered so far as to 
 observe that there was ample accommodation at the Maypole 
 for all the party : good beds ; neat wines ; excellent enter- 
 tainment for man and beast ; private rooms for large or small 
 parties ; dinners dressed upon the shortest notice ; choice 
 stabling, and a lock-up coach-house : and, in short, to run 
 over such recommendatory scraps of language as were painted 
 up on various portions of the building, and which, in the 
 course of some forty years, he had learned to repeat with 
 tolerable correctness. He was considering whether it was at 
 all possible to insert any novel sentences to the same purpose, 
 when the gentleman who had spoken first, turning to him of 
 the long wind, exclaimed, " What say you, Gashford ? Shall 
 we tarry at this house he speaks of, or press forward ? You 
 shall decide," 
 
 "I would submit, my lord, then," returned the person he 
 appealed to, in a silky tone, " that your health and spirits — so 
 important under Providence, to our great cause, our pure 
 and truthful cause" — here his lordship pulled off his hat 
 again, though it was raining liard — " require refreshment and 
 repose." 
 
 " Go on before, landlord, and show the way," said Lord 
 George Gordon ; " we will follow at a footpace." 
 
 "If you'll give me leave, my lord," said John Grueby, in a 
 low voice, " I'll change my proper place, and ride before you. 
 The looks of the landlord's friend are not over honest, and it 
 may be as well to be cautious with him." 
 
 " John Grueby is quite right," interposed Mr. Gashford, 
 falling back hastily. " My lord, a life so precious as yours 
 must not be put in peril. Go forward, John, by all means. 
 If you have any reason to suspect the fellow, blow his brains 
 out." 
 
 John made no answer, but looking straight before him, as 
 his custom seemed to be when the secretary spoke, bade Hugh 
 push on, and followed close behind him. Then came his 
 lordship, with Mr. Willet at his bridle rein ; and, last of all, 
 his lordship's secretary — for that, it seemed, was Gashford's 
 office. 
 
 Hugh strode briskly on, often looking back at the servant, 
 
304 BARXABY BUDGE. 
 
 whose horse was close iipou his heels, and glancing with a leer 
 at his holster case of pistols, by which he seemed to set great 
 store. He was a square-built, strong-made, bull-necked 
 fellow, of the true English breed ; and as Hugh measured him 
 with his eye, he measured Hugh, regarding him meanwhile 
 with a look of bluff disdain. He was much older than the 
 Maypole man, being to all appearance five and forty ; but was 
 one of those self-possessed, hard-headed, imperturbable fel- 
 lows, who, if they ever are beat at fisty -cuffs, or other kind of 
 warfare, never know it, and go on coolly till they win. 
 
 <' If I led you wrong now," said Hugh, tauntingly, " you'd 
 — ha ha ha I — you'd shoot me through the head, I suppose." 
 
 John Grueby took no more notice of this remark than if he 
 had been deaf and Hugh dumb; but kept riding on, quite 
 comfortably, with his eyes fixed on the liorizon. 
 ' " Did you ever try a fall with a man when you were young, 
 master ? " said Hugh. ^' Can you make any play at single- 
 stick ? " 
 
 John Grueby looked at him sideways with the same con- 
 tented air, but deigned not a word in answer. 
 
 " — Like this ? •' said Hugh, giving his cudgel one of those 
 skilful flourishes, in which the rustic of that time delighted. 
 " Whoop ! " 
 
 " — Or that," returned John Grueby, beating down his 
 guard with his whip, and striking him on the head with its 
 but-end. " Yes, I played a little once. You wear your hair 
 too long ; I should have cracked your crown if it had been a 
 little shorter." 
 
 It was a pretty smart, loud-sounding rap as it was, and 
 evidently astonished Hugh ; who for the moment seemed 
 disposed to drag his new acquaintance from his saddle. But 
 his face betokening neither malice, triumph, rage, nor any 
 lingering idea that he had given him offence ; his eyes gazing 
 steadily in the old direction, and his manner being as careless 
 and composed as if he had merely brushed away a fly ; Hugh 
 was so puzzled, and so disposed to look upon him as a cus- 
 tomer of almost supernatural toughness, that he merely 
 laughed, and cried •• Well done ! " then, sheering off a little, 
 led the way in silence. 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 305 
 
 Before the lapse of many minutes the party halted at the 
 Maypole door, Lord George and his secretary quickly dis- 
 mounting, gave their horses to their servant, who, under the 
 guidance of Hugh, repaired to the stables. Right glad to 
 escape from the inclemency of the night, they followed Mr. 
 Willet into the common room, and stood warming themselves 
 and drying their clothes before the cheerful fire, while he 
 busied himself with such orders and preparations as his 
 guest's high quality required. 
 
 As he bustled in and out of the room, intent on these 
 arrangements, he had an opportunity of observing the two 
 travellers, of whom, as yet, he knew nothing but the voice. 
 The lord, the great personage, who did the ]Maypole so much 
 honor, was about the middle height, of a slender make, and 
 sallow complexion, with an aquiline nose, and long hair of a 
 reddish brown, combed perfectly straight and smooth about 
 his ears, and slightly powdered, but without the faintest 
 vestige of a curl. He was attired, under his great-coat, in a 
 full suit of black, quite free from any ornament, and of the 
 most precise and sober cut. The gravity of his dress, together 
 with a certain lankness of cheek and stiffness of deportment, 
 added nearly ten years to his age, but his figure was that of 
 one not yet past thirty. As he stood musing in the red glow 
 of the fire, it was striking to observe his very bright large 
 eye, which betrayed a restlessness of thought and purpose, 
 singularly at variance with the studied composure and sobriety 
 of his mien, and with his quaint and sad apparel. It had 
 nothing harsh or cruel in its expression ; neither had his face, 
 which was thin and mild, and wore an air of melancholy ; but 
 it was suggestive of an indefinable uneasiness, which infected 
 those who looked upon him, and filled them with a kind of 
 pity for the man : though why it did so, they would have had 
 some trouble to explain. 
 
 Gashford, the secretary, was taller, angularly made, liigh- 
 shouldered, bony, and ungraceful. His dress, in imitation of 
 his superior, was demure and staid in tlie extreme ; his 
 manner, formal and constrained. This gentleman had an 
 overhanging brow, great hands and feet and ears, and a pair 
 of eyes tliat seemed to have made an unnatural retreat int(; 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
306 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 his head, and to have dug themselves a cave to hide in. His 
 manner was smooth and humble, but very sly and slinking. 
 He wore the aspect of a man who was always lying in wait 
 for something that ivouldnH come to pass ; but he looked 
 patient — very patient — and fawned like a spaniel dog. Even 
 now, while he warmed and rubbed his hands before the blaze, 
 he had the air of one who onty presumed to enjoy it in his 
 degree as a commoner ; and though he knew his lord was not 
 regarding him, he looked into his face from time to time, 
 and, with a meek and deferential manner, smiled as if for 
 practice. 
 
 Such were the guests whom old John "Willet, with a fixed 
 and leaden eye, surveyed a hundred times, and to whom he 
 now advanced with a state candlestick in each hand, beseeching 
 them to follow him into a worthier chamber. " For my lord," 
 said John — it is odd enough, but certain people seem to have 
 as great a pleasure in pronouncing titles as their owners have 
 in wearing them — *' this room, my lord, isn't at all the sort 
 of place for your lordship, and I have to beg your lordship's 
 pardon for keeping you here, my lord, one minute." 
 
 With this address, John ushered them up-stairs into the 
 state apartment, which, like many other things of state, was 
 cold and comfortless. Their own footsteps, reverberating 
 through the spacious room, struck upon their hearing with 
 a hollow sound ; and its damp and chilly atmosphere was 
 rendered doubly cheerless by contrast with the homely warmth 
 they had deserted. 
 
 It was of no use, however, to propose a return to the place 
 they had quitted, for the preparations went on so briskly that 
 there was no time to stop them. John, with the tall candle- 
 sticks in his hands, bowed them up to the fireplace ; Hugh, 
 striding in with a lighted brand and a pile of fire-wood, cast it 
 down upon the hearth, and set it in a blaze ; John Grueby 
 (who had a great blue cockade in his hat, which he appeared 
 to despise mightily) brought in the portmanteau he had 
 carried on his horse, and placed it on the floor ; and presently 
 all three were busily engaged in drawing out the screen, 
 laying the cloth, inspecting the beds, lighting fires in the bed- 
 room, expediting the supper, and making everything as cosey 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 307 
 
 and as snug as might be, on so short a notice. In less than 
 an hour's time, supper had been served, and ate, and cleared 
 away ; and Lord George and his secretary, with slippered 
 feet and legs stretched out before the fire, sat over some hot 
 mulled wine together. 
 
 " So ends, my lord,-' said Gashford, filling liis glass with 
 great complacency, "the blessed work of a most blessed day." 
 
 " And of a blessed yesterday," said his lordship, raising his 
 head. 
 
 "Ah!" — and here the secretary clasped his hands — "a 
 blessed yesterday indeed ! The Protestants of Suffolk are 
 godly men and true. Though others of our countrymen have 
 lost their way in darkness, even as we, my lord, did lose our 
 road to-night, theirs is the light and glory." 
 
 " Did I move them, Gashford ? " said Lord George. 
 
 " Move them, my lord ! Move them ! They cried to be 
 led on against the Papists, they vowed a dreadful vengeance 
 on their heads, they roared like men possessed " — 
 
 " But not by devils," said his lord. 
 
 " By devils ! my lord ! By angels." 
 
 " Yes — oh, surely — by angels, no doubt," said Lord George, 
 thrusting his hands into his pockets, taking them out again to 
 bite his nails, and looking uncomfortably at the fire. "Of 
 course by angels — eh, Gashford ? " 
 
 " You do not doubt it, my lord ? " said the secretary. 
 
 "No — no," returned his lord. "No. Why should I? 
 I suppose it would be decidedly irreligious to doubt it — 
 wouldn't it, Gashford ? Though there certainly were," he 
 added, without waiting for an answer, "some plaguey ill- 
 looking characters among them." 
 
 "When you warmed," said the secretary, looking sharply 
 at the other's downcast eyes, which briglitened slowly as he 
 spoke ; when you warmed into that noble outbreak : when 
 you told them that you were never of the lukewarm or tlie 
 timid tribe, and bade them take heed tliat they were prepared 
 to follow one who would lead them on, though to tlie very 
 death; when you spoke of a hundred and twenty thousand 
 men across the Scottish border who would take their own 
 redress at any time, if it were not conceded ; when you cried 
 
308 BABNABT BUDGE. 
 
 ' Perish the Pope and all his base adherents ; the penal laws 
 against them shall never be repealed while Englishmen have 
 hearts and hands ' — and waved your own and touched your 
 sword; and when they cried, ' Xo Popery ! ' and you cried, 
 ^No; not even if we wade in blood,' and they threw up their 
 hats and cried, ' Hurrah ! not even if we wade in blood ; No 
 Popery I Lord George ! Down with the Papists — Vengeance 
 on their heads ; ' when this was said and done, and a word 
 from you, my lord, could raise or still the tumult — ah ! then 
 I felt what greatness was indeed, and thought. When was 
 there ever power like this of Lord George Gordon's ! " 
 
 " It's a great power. You're right. It is a great power ! " 
 he cried with sparkling eyes. " But — dear Gashford — did I 
 really say all that ? " 
 
 " And how much more ! " cried the secretary, looking 
 upwards. " Ah ! how much more ! " 
 
 '' And I told them what you say, about the one hundred 
 and forty thousand men in Scotland, did I ! " he asked with 
 evident delight. " That was bold." 
 
 "Our cause is boldness. Truth is always bold." 
 
 " Certainly. So is religion. She's bold, Gashford ? " 
 
 " The true religion is, my lord." 
 
 "And that's ours," he rejoined, moving uneasily in his 
 seat, and biting his nails as though he would pare them to the 
 quick. " There can be no doubt of ours being the true one. 
 You feel as certain of that as I do, Gashford, don't you ? " 
 
 " Does my lord ask ?we," whined Gashford, drawing his 
 chair nearer with an injured air, and laying his broad flat 
 hand upon the table ; " me/' he repeated, bending the dark 
 hollows of his e^^es upon him with an unwholesome smile, 
 " who, stricken by the magic of his eloquence in Scotland 
 but a year ago, abjured the errors of the Eomish church, and 
 clung to him as one whose timely hand had plucked me from 
 a pit ? " 
 
 " True. No — no. I — I didn't mean it," replied the other, 
 shaking him by the hand, rising from his seat, and pacing 
 restlessly about the room. "It's a proud thing to lead the 
 people, Gashford," he added as he made a sudden halt. 
 
 " By force of reason too," returned the pliant secretary. 
 
BARXABV BUDGE. 309 
 
 "Ay, to be sure. They may cough, and jeer, and groan in 
 Parliament, and call me fool and madman, but which of 
 them can raise this human sea and make it swell and roar at 
 pleasure ? Not one." 
 
 " oSTot one," repeated Gashford. 
 
 " Which of them can say for his honesty, what I can say 
 for mine ; which of them has refused a minister's bribe of 
 one thousand pounds a year, to resign his seat in favor of 
 another ? Xot one." 
 
 '•Not one," repeated Gashford again — taking the lion's 
 share of the mulled wine between whiles. 
 
 " And as we are honest, true, and in a sacred cause, Gash- 
 ford," said Lord George with a heightened color and in a 
 louder voice, as he laid his fevered hand upon his shoulder, 
 " and are the only men who regard the mass of people out of 
 doors, or are regarded by them, we will uphold them to the 
 last ; and will raise a cry against these un-English Papists 
 which shall re-echo through the country, and roll with a noise 
 like thunder. I will be worthy of the motto on my coat of 
 arms, 'Called and chosen and faithful.' " 
 
 " Called," said the secretary, " by Heaven." 
 
 "I am." 
 
 " Chosen by the people." 
 
 a Yes." 
 
 " Faithful to both." 
 
 " To the block ! " 
 
 It would be difficult to convey an adequate idea of the 
 excited manner in which he gave these answers to the secre- 
 tary's promptings ; of the rapidity of his utterance, or the 
 violence of his tone and gesture ; in which, struggling through 
 his Puritan's demeanor, was something wild and ungovern- 
 able which broke through all restraint. For some minutes he 
 walked rapidly up and down the room, then stopping suddenly, 
 exclaimed, — 
 
 " Gashford — you moved them yesterday too. Oh, yes I 
 You did." 
 
 "I shone with a reflected light, my lord," replied the 
 humble secretary, laying his hand upon his heart. " I did 
 my best." 
 
310 liABNABY RUDGE. 
 
 "You did well," said liis master, "and are a great and 
 worthy instrument. If you will ring for John Grueby to 
 carry tlie portmanteau into my room, and will wait here while 
 I undress, we will dispose of business as usual, if you're not 
 too tired."' 
 
 " Too tired, my lord ! — But this is his consideration ! 
 Christian from head to foot." With which soliloquy, the 
 secretary tilted the jug, and looked very hard into the mulled 
 wine, to see how much remained. 
 
 John Willet and John Grueby appeared together. The one 
 bearing the great candlesticks, and the other the portmanteau, 
 showed the deluded lord into his chamber ; and left the secre- 
 tary alone, to yawn and shake himself, and finally, to fall 
 asleep before the fire. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Gashford, sir," said John Grueby in his ear, 
 after what appeared to him a moment of unconsciousness ; 
 "my lord's abed." 
 
 " Oh. Very good, John," was his mild reply. " Thank you, 
 John. Nobody need sit up. I know my room." 
 
 " I hope you're not a-going to trouble your head to-night, 
 or my lord's head neither, with anything more about Bloody 
 Mary," said John. " I wish the blessed old creetur had never 
 been born." 
 
 "I said you might go to bed, John," returned the secretary. 
 " You didn't hear me, I think." 
 
 " Between Bloody Marys, and blue cockades, and glorious 
 Queen Besses, and no Poperys, and Protestant associations, 
 and making of speeches," pursued John Grueby, looking, as 
 usual, a long way off, and taking no notice of this hint, " my 
 lord's half off his head. When we go out o' doors, such a 
 set of ragamuffins comes a-shouting after us, ' Gordon for- 
 ever ! ' that I'm ashamed of myself and don't know where to 
 look. When we're in-doors, they come a-roaring and scream- 
 ing about the house like so many devils ; and my lord instead 
 of ordering them to be drove away, goes out into the balcony 
 and demeans himself by making speeches to 'em, and calls 
 'em 'Men of England,' and 'Fellow-countrymen,' as if he was 
 fond of 'em and thanked 'em for coming. I can't make it 
 out, but they're all mixed up somehow or another with that 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 311 
 
 unfort'nate Bloody ^lary, and call her name out till they're 
 hoarse. They're all Protestants too — every man and boy 
 among 'em : and Protestants is very fond of spoons I find, and 
 silver plate in general, whenever area-gates is left open acci- 
 dentally. I wish that was the worst of it, and that no more 
 harm might be to come ; but if you don't stop these ugly 
 customers in time, ^Ir. Gashford (and I know you; you're 
 the man that blows the fire), you'll find 'em grow a little bit 
 too strong for you. One of these evenings, when the weather 
 gets warmer and Protestants are thirsty, they'll be pulling 
 London down, — and I never heerd that Bloody jNEary went as 
 far as that.''' 
 
 Gashford had vanished long ago, and these remarks had 
 been bestowed on empty air. Not at all discomposed by the 
 discovery, John Grueby fixed his hat on, wrong side foremost 
 that he might be unconscious of the shadow of the obnoxious 
 cockade, and withdrew to bed ; shaking his head in a very 
 gloomy and prophetic manner until he reached his chamber. 
 
311^ BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Gashford, with a smiling face, but still with looks of pro- 
 found deference and humility, betook himself towards his 
 master's room, smoothing his hair down as he went, and 
 humming a psalm tune. As he approached Lord George's 
 door, he cleared his throat and hummed more vigorously. 
 
 There was a remarkable contrast between this man's occu- 
 pation at the moment, and the expression of his countenance, 
 which was singularly repulsive and malicious. His beetling 
 brow almost obscured his eyes ; his lip was curled contempt- 
 uously; his very shoulders seemed to sneer in stealthy 
 whisperings with his great flapped ears. 
 
 " Hush ! " he muttered softly, as he peeped in at the 
 chamber-door. "He seems to be asleep. Pray Heaven he 
 is ! Too much watching, too much care, too much thought — 
 ah ! Lord preserve him for a martyr ! He is a saint, if ever 
 saint drew loreath on this bad earth." 
 
 Placing his light upon a table, he walked on tiptoe to the 
 fire, and sitting in a chair before it with his back towards the 
 bed, went on communing with himself like one who thought 
 aloud : — 
 
 '^ The savior of his country and his country's religion, the 
 friend of his poor countrymen, the enemy of the proud and 
 harsh ; beloved of the rejected and oppressed, adored by forty 
 thousand bold and loyal English hearts — what happy slum, 
 bers his should be ! " And here he sighed, and warmed his 
 hands, and shook his head as men do when their hearts are 
 full, and heaved another sigh, and warmed his hands again. 
 
 " Why, Gashford ? " said Lord George, who was lying 
 broad awake, upon his side, and had been staring at him from 
 his entrance. 
 
 " My — my lord," said Gashford, starting and looking round 
 as though in great surprise. " I have disturbed you ! " 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 313 
 
 " I have not been sleeping." 
 
 " Not sleeping ! " he repeated, with assumed confusion. 
 " What can I say for having in your presence given utterance 
 to thoughts — but they were sincere — they were sincere ! " 
 exclaimed the secretar}^, drawing his sleeve in a hasty way 
 across his eyes, " and why should I regret your having heard 
 them ? " 
 
 '^ Gashford," said the poor lord, stretching out his hand 
 with manifest emotion. "Do not regret it. You love me 
 w^ell, I know — too well. I don't deserve such homage." 
 
 Gashford made no reply, but grasped the hand and pressed 
 it to his lips. Then rising, and taking from the trunk a little 
 desk, he placed it on a table near the fire, unlocked it with 
 a key he carried in his pocket, sat down before it, took out a 
 pen, and, before dipping it in the inkstand, sucked it — to 
 compose the fashion of his mouth perhaps, on which a smile 
 was hovering yet. 
 
 " How do our numbers stand since last enrolling-night ? " 
 inquired Lord George. " Are we really forty thousand strong, 
 or do we still speak in round numbers when we take the 
 Association at that amount ? " 
 
 " Our total now exceeds that number by a score and three," 
 Gashford replied, casting his eyes upon his papers. 
 
 "The funds?" 
 
 "Not very improving; but there is some manna in the 
 wilderness, my lord. Hem ! On Friday night the widows' 
 mites dropped in. 'Forty scavengers, three and fourpence. 
 An aged pew-opener of St. Martin's parish, sixpence. A bell- 
 ringer of the established church, sixpence. A Protestant 
 infant, newly born, one halfpenny. The United Link Boys, 
 three shillings — one bad. The anti-popish prisoners in New- 
 gate, five and fourpence. A friend in Bedlam, half a crown. 
 Dennis the hangman, one shilling. 
 
 "That Dennis," said his lordship, "is an earnest man. I 
 marked him in the crowd in Welbeck Street, last Friday." 
 
 "A good man," rejoined the secretary ; "a stanch, sincere, 
 and truly zealous man." 
 
 " He should be encouraged," said Lord George. " Make a 
 note of Dennis. I'll talk with liim." 
 
314 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 Gashford obeyed, and went on reading from his list : — 
 
 "'The Friends of Reason, half a guinea. The Friends of 
 Libert}^, half a guinea. The Friends of Peace, half a guinea. 
 The Friends of Charity, half a guinea. The Friends of Mercy, 
 half a guinea. The Associated Rememberers of Bloody Mary, 
 half a guinea. The United Bull-Dogs, half a guinea.' " 
 
 "The United Bull-Doggs," said Lord George, biting his 
 nails most horribly, "' are a new society, are they not ? " 
 
 " Formerly the 'Prentice Knights, my lord. The indentures 
 of the old members expiring by degrees, they changed their 
 name, it seems, though they still have 'prentices among them, 
 as well as workmen." 
 
 " What is their president's name ? " inquired Lord George. 
 
 '•President," said Gashford, reading, "Mr. Simon Tap- 
 pertit." 
 
 "I remember him. The little man, who sometimes brings 
 an elderly sister to our meetings, and sometimes another 
 female too, who is conscientious, I have no doubt, but not 
 well-favored ? " 
 
 " The very same, my lord." 
 
 " Tappertit is an earnest man," said Lord George thought- 
 fully. " Eh, Gashford ? " 
 
 " One of the foremost among them all, my lord. He snuffs 
 the battle from afar, like the war-horse. He throws his hat 
 up in the street as if he were inspired, and makes most stirring 
 speeches from the shoulders of his friends." 
 
 "Make a note of Tappertit," said Lord George Gordon. 
 " We may advance him to a place of trust." 
 
 " That," rejoined the secretary, doing as he was told, " is 
 all — except Mrs. Varden's box (fourteenth time of opening), 
 seven shillings and sixpence in silver and copper, and half a 
 guinea in gold; and Miggs (being the saving of a quarter's 
 wages), one and threepence." 
 
 " Miggs," said Lord George. " Is that a man ? " 
 
 " The name is entered on the list as a woman," replied the 
 secretary. " I think she is the tall spare female of whom you 
 spoke just now, my lord, as not being well-favored, who 
 sometimes comes to hear the speeches — along with Tappertit 
 and Mrs. Varden." 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 315 
 
 " Mrs. Varden is the elderly lady, then, is she ! '- 
 
 The secretary nodded, and rubbed the bridge of his nose 
 with the feather of his pen. 
 
 " She is a zealous sister," said Lord George. " Her collec- 
 tion goes on prosperously, and is pursued with fervor. Has 
 her husband joined ? " 
 
 " A malignant," returned the secretary, folding up his 
 papers. " Unworthy such a wife. He remains in outer dark- 
 ness, and steadily refuses." 
 
 " The consequences be upon his own head ! — Gashford ! " 
 
 "My lord!" 
 
 " You don't think," he turned restlessly in his bed as he 
 spoke, "these people will desert me, when the hour arrives ? 
 I have spoken boldly for them, ventured much, suppressed 
 nothing. They'll not fall off, will they ? " 
 
 "No fear of that my lord," said Gashford, with a meaning 
 look, which was rather the involuntary expression of his own 
 thoughts than intended as any confirmation of his words, for 
 the other's face was turned away. " Be sure there is no fear 
 of that." 
 
 "Nor," he said with a more restless motion than before, 
 "of their — but they can sustain no harm from leaguing for 
 this purpose. Right is on our side, though Might may be 
 against us. You feel as sure of that as I — honestly, you 
 do ? " 
 
 The secretary was beginning with " You do not doubt," 
 when the other interrupted him, and impatiently rejoined, — 
 
 " Doubt. No. Who says I doubt ? If I doubted, should 
 I cast away relatives, friends, everything, for this unhappy 
 country's sake ; this unhappy country," he cried, springing 
 up in bed, after repeating the phrase "unhappy country's 
 sake " to himself, at .least a dozen times, " forsaken of God 
 and man, delivered over to a dangerous confederacy of Popish 
 powers ; the prey of corruption, idolatry, and despotism ! 
 Who says I doubt ? Am I called, and chosen, and faithful ? 
 Tell me. Am I, or am I not? " 
 
 " To God, the country, and yourself," cried Gashford. 
 
 " I am, I will be. I say again, I will be : to the block. 
 Who sa3's as much ! Do you ? Does any man alive ? " 
 
316 BARNAEY RUDGE. 
 
 The secretary drooped his head with an expression of per- 
 fect acquiescence in anything that had been said or might be; 
 and Lord George gradually sinking down upon his pillow, fell 
 asleep. 
 
 Although there was something very ludicrous in his vehe- 
 ment manner, taken in conjunction with his meagre aspect 
 and ungraceful presence, it would scarcely have provoked a 
 smile in any man of kindly feeling; or even if it had, he 
 would have felt sorry and almost angry with himself next 
 moment, for yielding to the impulse. This lord was sincere 
 in his violence and in his wavering. A nature prone to false 
 enthusiasm, and the vanity of being a leader, were the worst 
 qualities apparent in his composition. All the rest was weak- 
 ness — sheer weakness; and it is the unhappy lot of thor- 
 oughly weak men, that their very sympathies, affections, con- 
 fidences — all the qualities which in better-constituted minds 
 are virtues — dwindle into foibles, or turn into downright 
 vices. 
 
 Gashford, with many a sly look towards the bed, sat chuck- 
 ling at his master's folly, until his deep and heavy breathing 
 warned him that he might retire. Locking his desk, and 
 replacing it within the trunk (but not before he had taken 
 from a secret lining two printed handbills), he cautiously 
 withdrew ; looking back, as he went, at the pale face of the 
 slumbering man, above whose head the dusty plumes that 
 crowned the Maypole couch, waved drearily and sadly as 
 though it were a bier. 
 
 Stopping on the staircase to listen that all was quiet, and 
 to take off his shoes lest his footsteps should alarm any light 
 sleeper who might be near at hand, he descended to the ground 
 floor, and thrust one of his bills beneath the great door of the 
 house. That done, he crept softly back to his own chamber, 
 and from the window let another fall — carefully wrapped 
 round a stone to save it from the wind — into the yard below. 
 
 They were addressed on the back "To every Protestant 
 into whose hands this shall come," and bore within, w^hat 
 follows : — 
 
 " Men and Brethren. Whoever shall find this letter, will 
 take it as a warning to join, without delay, the friends of Lord 
 
BAENABT RUBGE. 317 
 
 George Gordon. There are great events at hand; and the 
 times are dangerous and troubled. Read this carefully, keep 
 it clean, and drop it somewhere else. For King, and Country. 
 Union." 
 
 "More seed, more seed," said Gashford as he closed the 
 window. " When will the harvest come ! " 
 
318 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 To surround anything, however monstrous or ridiculous, 
 with an air of mystery, is to invest it with a secret charm, 
 and power of attraction which to the crowd is irresistible. 
 False priests, false prophets, false doctors, false patriots, false 
 prodigies of every kind, veiling their proceedings in mystery, 
 have always addressed themselves at an immense advantage 
 to the popular credulity, and have been, perhaps, more in- 
 debted to that resource in gaining and keeping for a time the 
 upper hand of Truth and Common Sense, than to any half- 
 dozen items in the whole catalogue of imposture. Curiosity 
 is, and has been from the creation of the w^orld, a master- 
 passion. To awaken it, to gratify it by slight degrees, and 
 yet leave something always in suspense, is to establish the 
 surest hold that can be had, in wrong, on the unthinking 
 portion of mankind. 
 
 If a man had stood on London Bridge, calling till he was 
 hoarse, upon the passers-by, to join with Lord George Gordon, 
 although for an object which no man understood, and which 
 in that very incident had a charm of its own, — the probability 
 is, that he might have influenced a score of people in a month. 
 If all zealous Protestants had been publicly urged to join an 
 association for the avowed purpose of singing a hymn or two 
 occasionally, and hearing some indifferent speeches made, and 
 ultimately of petitioning Parliament not to pass an act for 
 abolishing the penal laws against Roman Catholic priests, the 
 penalty of perpetual imprisonment denounced against those 
 who educated children in that persuasion, and the disqualifi- 
 cation of all members of the Romish church to inherit real 
 property in the United Kingdom by right of purchase or 
 descent, — matters so far removed from the business and 
 bosoms of the mass, might perhaps have called together a 
 hundred people. But when vague rumors got abroad, that 
 
BAENABY BUDGE. 319 
 
 in this Protestant association a secret power was mustering 
 against the government for undefined and mighty purposes ; 
 when the air was filled with whispers of a confederacy among 
 the Popish powers to degrade and enslave England, establish 
 an inquisition in London, and turn the pens of Smithfield 
 market into stakes and caldrons ; when terrors and alarms 
 which no man understood were perpetually broached, both in 
 and out of Parliament, by one enthusiast who did not under- 
 stand himself, and bygone bugbears which had lain quietly 
 in their graves for centuries were raised again to haunt the 
 ignorant and credulous ; when all this was done, as it were, 
 in the dark, and secret invitations to join the Great Protestant 
 Association in defence of religion, life, and liberty, were 
 dropped in the public ways, thrust under the house-doors, 
 tossed in at windows, and pressed into the hands of those who 
 trod the streets by night ; when they glared from every wall, 
 and shone on every post and pillar, so that stocks and stones 
 appeared infected with the common fear, urging all men to 
 join together blindfold in resistance of they knew not what, 
 they knew not why ; — then the mania spread indeed, and the 
 body, still increasing every day, grew forty thousand strong. 
 
 So said, at least, in this month of March, 1780, Lord 
 George Gordon, the Association's president. Whether it was 
 the fact or otherwise, few men knew, or cared to ascertain. 
 It had never made any public demonstration ; had scarcely 
 ever been heard of, save through him ; had never been seen ; 
 and was supposed by many to be the mere creature of his dis- 
 ordered brain. He was accustomed to talk largely about 
 numbers of men — stimulated, as it was inferred, by certain 
 successful disturbances, arising out of the same subject, which 
 had occurred in Scotland in the previous year ; was looked 
 upon as a cracked-brained member of the lower house, who 
 attacked all parties and sided with none, and was very little 
 regarded. It was known that there was discontent abroad — 
 there always is; he had been accustomed to address the people 
 by placard, speech, and pamphlet, upon other questions ; 
 nothing had come, in England, of his past exertions, and 
 nothing was apprehended from liis present. Just as he has 
 come upon the reader, he had come, from time to time, upon 
 
320 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 the public, and been forgotten in a day ; as suddenly as he 
 appears in these pages, after a blank of five long years, did 
 he and his proceedings begin to force themselves, about this 
 period, upon the notice of thousands of people, who had 
 mingled in active life during the whole interval, and who, 
 without being deaf or blind to passing events, had scarcely 
 ever thought of him before. 
 
 "My lord," said Gashford in his ear, as he drew the 
 curtains of his bed betimes ; "' my lord ! " 
 
 " Yes — who's that ? What is it ? " 
 
 "The clock has struck nine," returned the secretary, with 
 meekty folded hands. " You have slept well ? I hope you 
 have slept well ? If my prayers are heard, you are refreshed 
 indeed." 
 
 " To say the truth, I have slept so soundly," said Lord 
 George, rubbing his e3^es and looking round the room, " that 
 I don't remember quite — what place is this ? " 
 
 " My lord ! " cried Gashford, with a smile. 
 
 "Oh!" returned his superior. "Yes. You're not a Jew 
 then ? " 
 
 " A Jew ! " exclaimed the pious secretary, recoiling. 
 
 "I dreamed that we were Jews, Gashford. You and I — 
 both of us — Jews with long beards." 
 
 " Heaven forbid, my lord ! We might as well be Papists." 
 
 "I suppose we might," returned the other, very quickly. 
 " Eh ? You really think so, Gashford ? " 
 
 " Surely I do," the secretary cried, with looks of great 
 surprise. 
 
 " Humph ! " he muttered. " Yes that seems reasonable." 
 
 " I hoj)e my lord " — the secretary began. 
 
 '- Hope ! " he echoed, interrupting him. " Why do you say, 
 you hope ? There's no harm in thinking of such things." 
 
 " Not in dreams," returned the secretary. 
 
 " In dreams ! No, nor waking either." 
 
 — " ' Called, and chosen, and faithful,' " said Gashford, 
 taking up Lord George's watch which lay upon a chair, and 
 seeming to read the inscription on the seal, abstractedly. 
 
 It was the slightest action possible, not obtruded on his 
 notice, and apparently the result of a moment's absence of 
 
BARNABY RVDGE. 321 
 
 mind, not worth remark. But as the words were uttered, 
 Lord George, who had been going on impetuously, stopped 
 short, reddened, and was silent. Apparently quite uncon- 
 scious of this change in his demeanor, the wily secretary 
 stepped a little apart, under pretence of pulling up the 
 window-blind, and returning, when the other had had time to 
 recover, said, — 
 
 " The holy cause goes bravely on, my lord. I was not 
 idle, even last night. I dropped two of the handbills before 
 I went to bed, and both are gone this morning. Xobody in 
 the house has mentioned the circumstance of finding them, 
 though I have been down-stairs full half an hour. One or 
 two recruits will be their first fruit, I predict ; and who shall 
 say how many more, with Heaven's blessing on your inspired 
 exertions ! " 
 
 " It was a famous device in the beginning," replied Lord 
 George ; " an excellent device, and did good service in 
 Scotland. It was quite worthy of you. You remind me not 
 to be a sluggard, Gashford, when the vineyard is menaced 
 with destruction, and may be trodden down by Papist feet. 
 Let the horses be saddled in half an hour. We must be up 
 and doing ! " 
 
 He said this with a heightened color, and in a tone of such 
 enthusiasm, that the secretary deemed all further prompting 
 needless, and withdrew. 
 
 — " Dreamed he was a Jew," he said thoughtfully, as he 
 closed the bedroom door. " He may come to that before he 
 dies. It's like enough. Well ! After a time, and provided I 
 lost nothing by it, I don't see why that religion shouldn't suit 
 me as well as any other. There are rich men among the 
 Jews; shaving is very troublesome; — yes, it would suit me 
 well enough. For the present, though, we must be Christian 
 to the core. Our prophetic motto will suit all creeds in their 
 turn, that's a comfort." Reflecting on this source of conso- 
 lation, he reached the sitting-room, and rang the bell for 
 breakfast. 
 
 Lord George was quickly dressed (for his plain toilet was 
 easily made), and as he was no less frugal in his repasts than 
 in his Puritan attire, his share of the meal was soon 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
322 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 despatched. The secretary, however, more devoted to the 
 good things of this world, or more intent on sustaining his 
 strength and spirits for the sake of the Protestant cause, ate 
 and drank to the hist minute, and required indeed some three 
 or four reminders from John Grueby, before he could resolve 
 to tear himself away from Mr. Willet's plentiful providing. 
 
 At length he came down-stairs, wi})ing his greasy mouth, 
 and having paid John Willet's bill, climbed into his saddle. 
 Lord George, who had been walking up and down before the 
 house talking to himself with earnest gestures, mounted his 
 horse ; and returning old John Willet's stately bow as well as 
 the parting salutation of a dozen idlers whom the rumor of a 
 live lord being about to leave the Maypole had gathered round 
 the porch, they rode away, with stout John Grueby in the rear. 
 
 If Lord George Gordon had appeared in the eyes of Mr. 
 Willet, overnight, a nobleman of somewhat quaint and odd 
 exterior, the impression was confirmed this morning, and 
 increased a hundred-fold. Sitting bolt upright upon his bony 
 steed, with his long, straight hair, dangling about his face and 
 fluttering in the wind : his limbs all angular and rigid, his 
 elbows stuck out on either side ungracefully, and his whole 
 frame jogged and shaken at every motion of his horse's feet ; 
 a more grotesque or more ungainly figure can hardly be con- 
 ceived. In lieu of whip, he carried in his hand a great 
 gold-headed cane, as large as any footman carries in these 
 days ; and his various modes of holding this unwieldy weapon 
 
 — now upright before his face like the sabre of a horse-soldier, 
 now over his shoulder like a musket, now between his finger 
 and thumb, but always in some uncouth and awkward fashion 
 
 — contributed in no small degree to the absurdity of his 
 appearance. Stiff, lank, and solemn, dressed in an unusual 
 manner, and ostentatiously exhibiting — whether by design or 
 accident — all his peculiarities of carriage, gesture, and con- 
 duct ; all the qualities, natural and artificial, in which he 
 differed from other men ; he might have moved the sternest 
 looker-on to laughter, and fully provoked the smiles and 
 whispered jests which greeted his departure from the May- 
 pole inn. 
 
 Quite unconscious, however, of the effect he produced, he 
 
BABNABY BULGE. 323 
 
 trotted on beside his secretary, talking to himself nearly all 
 the way, until they came within a mile or two of London, 
 when now and then some passenger went by who knew him 
 by sight, and pointed him out to some one else, and perhaps 
 stood looking after him, or cried in jest or earnest as it might 
 be, '• Hurrah Geordie ! Xo Popery ! " At which he would 
 gravely pull off his hat, and bow. When they reached the 
 town and rode along the streets, these notices became more 
 frequent ; some laughed, some hissed, some turned their heads 
 and smiled, some wondered who he was, some ran along the 
 pavement by his side and cheered. When this happened in a 
 crush of carts and chairs and coaches, he would make a dead 
 stop, and pulling off his hat, cry, " Gentlemen, No Popery ! " 
 to which the gentlemen would respond with lusty voices, and 
 with three times three ; and then, on he would go again with 
 a score or so of the raggedest, following at his horse's heels, 
 and shouting till their throats were parched. 
 
 The old ladies too — there were a great many old ladies in 
 the streets, and these all knew him. Some of them — not 
 those of the highest rank, but such as sold fruit from baskets 
 and carried burdens — clapped their shrivelled hands, and 
 raised a weazen, piping, shrill "Hurrah, my lord!" Others 
 waved their hands or handkerchiefs, or shook their fans or 
 parasols, or threw up windows and called in haste to those 
 within, to come and see. All these marks of popular esteem, 
 he received with profound gravity and respect ; bowing very 
 low, and so frequently that his hat was more off his head than 
 on ; and looking up at the houses as he passed along, with 
 the air of one who was making a public entry, and yet was 
 not puffed-up or proud. 
 
 So they rode (to the deep and unspeakable disgust of John 
 Grueby), the whole length of Whitechapel, Leadenhall Street, 
 and Cheapside, and into Saint Paul's Churchyard. Arriving 
 close to the cathedral, he halted ; spoke to Gashford ; and 
 looking upward at its lofty dome, shook his head, as though 
 he said " The Church in Danger ! " Then to be sure, the 
 by-standers stretched their throats indeed ; and he went on 
 again with mighty acclamations from the mob, and lower 
 bows than ever. 
 
324 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 So along the Strand, up Swallow Street, into the Oxford 
 Road, and thence to his house in AVelbeck Street, near 
 Cavendish Square, whither he was attended by a few dozen 
 idlers ; of whom he took leave on the steps with this brief 
 parting '-Gentlemen, No Popery. Good-day. God bless you." 
 This being rather a shorter address than they expected, was 
 received with some displeasure, and cries of " A speech ! 
 a speech ! " which might have been complied with, but that 
 John Grueby, making a mad charge upon them with all three 
 horses, on his way to the stables, caused them to disperse into 
 the adjoining fields, where they presently fell to pitch and 
 toss, chuckfarthing, odd or even, dog-fighting, and other 
 Protestant recreations. 
 
 In the afternoon Lord George came forth again, dressed in 
 a black velvet coat, and trousers and waistcoat of the Gordon 
 plaid, all of the same Quaker cut ; and in this costume, which 
 made him look a dozen times more strange and singular than 
 before, went down on foot to Westminster. Gashford, mean 
 while, bestirred himself in business matters ; with which he 
 was still engaged when shortly after dusk, John Grueby 
 entered and announced a visitor. 
 " Let him come in," said Gashford. 
 
 " Here ! come in ! " growled John to somebody without ; 
 " You're a Protestant, ain't you ? " 
 
 "/should think so," replied a deep, gruff voice. 
 "You've the looks of it," said John Gruebj^ "I'd have 
 known you for one anywhere." With which remark he gave 
 the visitor admission, retired, and shut the door. 
 
 The man who now confronted Gashford, was a squat, thick- 
 set personage, with a low retreating forehead, a coarse shock 
 head of hair, and eyes so small and near together, that his 
 broken nose alone seemed to prevent their meeting and fusing 
 into one of the usual size. A dingy handkerchief twisted like 
 a cord about his neck, left its great veins exposed to view, and 
 they were swollen and starting, as though with gulping down 
 strong passions, malice, and ill-will. His dress was of thread- 
 bare velveteen — a faded, rusty, whitened black, like the ashes 
 of a pipe or a coal fire after a day's extinction; discolored 
 with the soils of many a stale debauch, and reeking yet with 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 32o 
 
 pot-house odors. In lieu of buckles at his knees, he wore 
 unequal loops of packthread ; and in his grimy hands he held 
 a knotted stick, the knob of which was carved into a rough 
 likeness of his own vile face. Such was the visitor who doffed 
 his three-cornered hat in Gashford's presence, and waited, 
 leering, for his notice. 
 
 " Ah ! Dennis ! " cried the secretary. " Sit down." 
 
 "I see my lord down yonder " — cried the man, with a jerk 
 of his thumb towards the quarter that he spoke of, "and 
 he says to me, says my lord, 'If you've nothing to do, 
 Dennis, go up to my house and talk with Muster Gashford.' 
 Of course I'd nothing to do, you . know. These ain't my 
 working hours. Ha ha ! I was a-taking the air when I see 
 my lord, that's what I was doing. I takes the air by night, as 
 the howls does, Muster Gashford." 
 
 " And sometimes in the daytime, eh ? " said the secretary — 
 " when you go out in state you know." 
 
 " Ha ha ! " roared the fellow, smiting his leg ; " for a gentle- 
 man as 'ull say a pleasant thing in a pleasant way, give me 
 Muster Gashford agin' all London and "Westminster ! My 
 lord ain't a bad 'un at that, but he's a fool to you. Ah to be 
 sure, — when I go out in state. '^ 
 
 " And have your carriage," said the secretary ; " and your 
 chaplain, eh ? and all the rest of it ? " 
 
 "You'll be the death of me," cried Dennis, with another 
 roar, " you will. But what's in the wind now, Muster Gash- 
 ford," he asked hoarsely, " Eh ? Are we to be under orders 
 to pull down one of them Popish chapels — or what ? " 
 
 " Hush ! " said the secretary, suffering the faintest smile to 
 play upon his face. " Hush ! God bless me, Dennis ! We 
 associate, you know, for strictly peaceable and lawful pur- 
 poses." 
 
 "/ know, bless you," returned the man, thrusting his 
 tongue into his cheek ; " I entered a' purpose didn't I ! " 
 
 "No doubt," said Gashford, smiling as before. And when 
 he said so, Dennis roared again, and smote his leg still 
 harder, and falling into fits of laughter, wiped his eyes with 
 the corner of his neckerchief, and cried "Muster Gasliford 
 agin' all England hollow ! " 
 
326 BAKNABY BUDGE. 
 
 '' Lord George and I were talking of you last night," said 
 Gashford, after a pause. '' He says you are a very earnest 
 fellow." 
 
 " So I am," returned the hangman. 
 
 " And that you truly hate the Papists." 
 
 "So I do," and he confirmed it with a good round oath. 
 " Lookye here, Muster Gashford," said the fellow, laying his 
 hat and stick upon the floor, and slowly beating the palm of 
 one hand with the fingers of the other ; " Ob-serve. I'm a 
 constitutional officer that works for my living, and does my 
 work creditable. Do I, or do I not ? " 
 
 " Unquestionably." 
 
 " Very good. Stop a minute. My work, is sound, Protes- 
 tant, constitutional, English work. Is it, or is it not ? " 
 
 " Ko man alive can doubt it." 
 
 " Nor dead neither. Parliament says this here — says Par- 
 liament ' If any man, woman, or child does anything which 
 goes again a certain number of our acts' — how many hanging 
 laws may there be at this present time. Muster Gashford ? 
 Fifty ? " 
 
 "I don't exactly know how many," replied Gashford, 
 leaning back in his chair and yawning; "a great number 
 though." 
 
 " Well ; say fifty. Parliament says ' If any man, woman, 
 or child does anything again any one of them fifty acts, that 
 man, woman, or child shall be worked off by Dennis.' George 
 the Third steps in when they number very strong at the end 
 of a sessions, and says ' These are too many for Dennis. I'll 
 have half for mi/seli and Dennis shall have half for hijyiseli;' 
 and sometimes he throws me one over that I don't expect, 
 as he did three years ago, when I got Mary Jones, a young 
 woman of nineteen who come up to Tj^burn with a infant 
 at her breast, and was worked off for taking a piece of cloth 
 off the counter of a shop in Ludgate hill, and putting it down 
 again when the shopman see her ; and who had never done 
 any harm before, and only tried to do that, in consequence of 
 her husband having been pressed three weeks previous, and 
 she being left to beg, with two young children — as was 
 proved upon the trial. Ha ha ! — Well ! That being the law 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 327 
 
 and the practice of England, is the glory of England, ain't it, 
 Muster Gashford ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said the secretary. 
 
 ''And in times to come," pursued the hangman, "if our 
 grandsons should think of their grandfathers' times, and find 
 these things altered, they'll say ' Those were days indeed, 
 and we've been going down-hill ever since.' — Won't they, 
 Muster Gashford ? " 
 
 "I have no doubt they will," said the secretary. 
 
 "Well then, look here," said the hangman. "If these 
 Papists gets into power, and begins to boil and roast instead 
 of hang, what becomes of my work ! If they touch my work 
 that's a part of so many laws, what becomes of the laws in 
 general, what becomes of the religion, what becomes of the 
 country ! — Did you ever go to church, Muster Gashford ? '^ 
 
 " Ever ! " repeated the secretary with some indignation, 
 " of course." 
 
 "Well," said the ruffian, " I've been once — twice, counting 
 the time I was christeqed — and when I heard the Parliament 
 prayed for, and thought how many new hanging laws they 
 made every sessions I considered that /was prayed for. Now 
 mind. Muster Gashford," said the fellow, taking up his stick 
 and shaking it with a ferocious air, " I mustn't have my Prot- 
 estant work touched, nor this here Protestant state of things 
 altered in no degree, if I can help it ; I mustn't have no 
 Papists interfering with me, unless they come to me to be 
 worked off in course of law ; I mustn't have no biling, no 
 roasting, no frying — nothing but hanging. My lord may 
 well call me an earnest fellow. In support of the great Prot- 
 estant principle of having plenty of that, I'll," and here he 
 beat his club upon the ground, "burn, fight, kill — do any- 
 thing you bid me, so that it's bold and devilish — though the 
 end of it was, that I got hung myself. — There, Muster Gash- 
 ford ! " 
 
 He appropriately followed up this frequent i)rostitution of 
 a noble word to the vilest purposes, by pouring out in a kind 
 of ecstasy, at least a score of most tremendous oaths ; then 
 wiped his heated face upon his neckerchief, and cried, "No 
 Popery ! I'm a religious man, by G !" 
 
32S BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 Gashford had leaned back in his chair, regarding him with 
 eyes so sunken, and so shadowed by his heavy brows, that for 
 aught the liangman saw of them, he might have been stone 
 blind. He remained smiling in silence for a short time 
 longer, and then said, slowly and distinctly, — 
 
 ^' You are indeed an earnest fellow, Dennis — a most valu- 
 able fellow — the stanchest man I know of in our ranks. 
 But you must calm yourself ; you must be peaceful, lawful, 
 mild as 'any lamb. I am sure you will be though." 
 
 "Ay, ay, we shall see, Muster Gashford, we shall see. 
 You won't have to complain of me," returned the other, 
 shaking his head. 
 
 " I am sure I shall not," said the secretary in the same 
 mild tone, and with the same emphasis. " We shall have, we 
 think, about next month or ^lay, when this Papist relief bill 
 comes before the house, to convene our whole body for the 
 first time. My lord has thoughts of our walking in proces- 
 sion through the streets — just as an innocent display of 
 strength — and accompanying our petition down to the door 
 of the House of Commons." 
 
 "The sooner the better," said Dennis, with another oath. 
 
 " We shall have to draw up in divisions, our numbers being 
 so large ; and, I believe I may venture to say," resumed 
 Gashford, affecting not to hear the interruption, "though I 
 have no direct instructions to that effect — that Lord George 
 has thought of you as an excellent leader for one of these 
 parties. I have no doubt you would be an admirable 
 one." 
 
 " Try me," said the fellow, with an ugly wink. 
 
 " You would be cool, I know," pursued the secretary, still 
 smiling, and still managing his eyes, so that he could watch 
 him closely, and really not be seen in turn, "obedient to 
 orders, and perfectly temperate. You would lead your party 
 into no danger I am certain." 
 
 "I'd lead them. Muster Gashford" — the hangman was 
 beginning in a reckless way, when Gashford started forward, 
 laid his finger on his lips, and feigned to write, just as the 
 door was opened by John Grueby. 
 
 " Oh ! " said John, lookintr in : " here's another Protestant." 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 329 
 
 ''Some other room, John/"' cried Gashford in his blandest 
 voice. "I am engaged just now." 
 
 But John had brought this new visitor to the door, and he 
 walked in unbidden, as the words were uttered ; giving to 
 view the form and features, rough attire, and reckless air, of 
 Hugh. 
 
330 BARNABY BULGE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVIII. 
 
 The secretary put his hand before his eyes to shade them 
 from the glare of the lamp, and for some moments looked at 
 Hugh with a frowning brow, as if he remembered to have 
 seen him lately, but could not call to mind where, or on 
 what occasion. His uncertainty was very brief, for before 
 Hugh had spoken a word, he said, as his countenance cleared 
 up,— 
 
 " Ay, ay, I recollect. It's quite right, John, you needn't 
 wait. Don't go, Dennis." 
 
 " Your servant, master," said Hugh, as Grueby disappeared. 
 
 " Yours friend," returned the secretary in his smoothest 
 manner. " What brings you here ? We left nothing behind 
 us, I hope ? " 
 
 Hugh gave a short laugh, and thrusting his hand into his 
 breast, produced one of the handbills, soiled and dirty from 
 lying out of doors all night, which he laid upon the secretary's 
 desk after flattening it upon his knee, and smoothing out the 
 wrinkles with his heavy palm. 
 
 "Nothing but that, master. It fell into good hands, you 
 see." 
 
 "What is this!" said Gashford, turning it over with an 
 air of perfectly natural surprise. "' Where did you get it 
 from, my good fellow ; what does it mean ? I don't under- 
 stand this at all." 
 
 A little disconcerted hj this reception, Hugh looked from 
 the secretary to Dennis, who had risen and was standing at 
 the table too, observing the stranger by stealth, and seeming 
 to derive the utmost satisfaction from his manners and 
 appearance. Considering himself silently appealed to by this 
 action, Mr. Dennis shook his head thrice, as if to say of 
 Gashford, " No. He don't know anything at all about it. I 
 know he don't. I'll take my oath he don't ; " and hiding his 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 331 
 
 profile from Hugh with one long end of his frowsy neckerchief, 
 nodded and chuckled behind this screen ii* extreme approval 
 of the secretary's proceedings. 
 
 " It tells the man that finds it to come here, don't it ? " 
 asked Hugh. '' I'm no scholar, myself, but I showed it to a 
 friend, and he said it did." 
 
 " It certainly does," said Gashford, opening his eyes to 
 their utmost width ; '' really this is the most remarkable cir- 
 cumstance I have ever known. How did you come by this 
 piece of paper, my good friend ? " 
 
 '• Muster Gashford," wheezed the hangman under his breath, 
 '- agin' all Xewgate ! " 
 
 Whether Hugh heard him, or saw by his manner that 
 he was being played upon, or perceived the secretary's 
 drift of himself, he came in his blunt way to the point at 
 once. 
 
 " Here ! " he said, stretching out his hand and taking it 
 back ; "nevermind the bill, or what it says, or what it don't 
 say. You don't know anything about it, master, — no more 
 do I, — no more does he," glancing at Dennis. " Xone of us 
 know what it means, or where it comes from : there's an end 
 of that. Xow I want to make one against the Catholics, I'm 
 a Xo-Popery man, and ready to be sworn in. That's what 
 I've come here for." 
 
 " Put him down on the roll. Muster Gashford," said Dennis 
 approvingly. " That's tlie way to go to work — right to the 
 end at once, and no palaver." 
 
 " What's the use of shooting wide of the mark, eh, old 
 boy ! " cried Hugh. 
 
 " My sentiments all over ! " rejoined the hangman. " This 
 is the sort of chap for m}- division, Cluster Gashford. Down 
 with him, sir. Put him on the roll. I'd stand godfather to 
 him, if he was to be christened in a bonfire, made of the ruins 
 of the Bank of England." 
 
 With these and other expressions of confidence of the like 
 flattering kind, Mr. Dennis gave him a hearty slap on the 
 back, which Hugh was not slow to return. 
 
 "No Popery, brother !" cried the hangman. 
 
 " No Property, brother ! " responded Hugh. 
 
332 BAENABY BUDGE. 
 
 "Popery, Popery," said the secretary with his usual 
 mildness. 
 
 " It's all the same ! " cried Dennis. " It's all right. 
 Down with him, Muster Gashford. Down with everybody, 
 down with everything ! Hurrah for the Protestant religion ! 
 That's the time of day, IMuster Gashford ! " 
 
 Tlie secretary regarded them both with a very favorable 
 expression of countenance, while they gave loose to these and 
 other demonstrations of their patriotic purpose ; and was 
 about to make some remark aloud, when Dennis, stepping up 
 to him, and shading his mouth with his hand, said, in a hoarse 
 whisper, as he nudged him with his elbow, — 
 
 " Don't split upon a constitutional officer's profession, 
 Muster Gashford. There are popular prejudices, you know, 
 and he miglitn't like it. Wait till he comes to be more intimate 
 with me. He's a fine-built chap, ain't he ? " 
 
 " A powerful fellow indeed ! " 
 
 " Did you ever, jNIuster Gashford," whispered Dennis, with 
 a horrible kind of admiration, such as that with which a 
 cannibal might regard his intimate friend, when hungry, — 
 " did you ever " — and here he drew still closer to his ear, and 
 fenced his mouth with both his open hands — " see such a 
 throat as his ? Do but cast your eye upon it. There's a 
 neck for stretching. Muster Gashford ! " 
 
 The secretary assented to this proposition with the best 
 grace he could assume — it is difficult to feign a true pro- 
 fessional relish: which is eccentric sometimes — and after 
 asking the candidate a few unimportant questions, proceeded 
 to enroll him a member of the Great Protestant Association of 
 England. If anything could have exceeded Mr. Dennis's joy 
 on the happy conclusion of this ceremony, it would have been 
 the rapture with which he received the announcement that the 
 new member could neither read nor write : those two arts being 
 (as Mr. Dennis swore) the greatest possible curse a civilized 
 community could know, and militating more against the pro- 
 fessional emoluments and usefulness of the great constitutional 
 office he had the honor to hold, than any adverse circumstances 
 that could present themselves to his imagination. 
 
 The enrolment being completed, and Hugh having been 
 
BAUNABY BUDGE. 333 
 
 informed by Gashford, in his peculiar manner, of the peaceful 
 and strictly lawful objects contemplated by the body to which 
 he now belonged — during which recital Mr. Dennis nudged 
 him very much with his elbow, and made divers remarkable 
 faces — the secretary gave them both to understand that he 
 desired to be alone. Therefore they took their leaves without 
 delay, and came out of the house together. 
 
 " Are you walking, brother ? " said Dennis. 
 
 " Ay ! ■' returned Hugh. " Where you will." 
 
 " That's social,'' said his new friend. " Which way shall 
 we take ? Shall we go and have a look at doors that we 
 shall make a pretty good clattering at, before long — eh, 
 brother ? " 
 
 Hugh answered in the affirmative, they went slowly down 
 to Westminster, where both houses of Parliament were then 
 sitting. jMingling in the crowd of carriages, horses, servants, 
 chairmen, link-boys, porters, and idlers of all kinds, they 
 lounged about ; while Hugh's new friend pointed out to him 
 significantly the weak parts of the building, how easy it was 
 to get into the lobby, and so to the very door of the House of 
 Commons ; and how plainly, when they marched down there 
 in grand array, their roars and shouts would be heard by the 
 members inside ; with a great deal more to the same purpose, 
 all of which Hugh received with manifest delight. 
 
 He told him, too, who some of the Lords and Commons 
 were, by name, as they came in and out ; whether they were 
 friendly to the Papists or otherwise ; and bade him take 
 notice of their liveries and equipages, that he might be sure 
 of them in case of need. Sometimes he drew him close to 
 the windows of a passing carriage, that he might see its 
 master's face by the light of the lamps ; and, both in respect 
 of people and localities, he showed so much acquaintance 
 with everytliing around, that it was plain he had often studied 
 tliere before ; as indeed, when they grew a little more con- 
 fidential, he confessed he had. 
 
 Perhaps the most striking part of all this was, the number 
 of people — never in groups of more than two or three 
 together — who seemed to be skulking about the crowd for 
 the same purpose. To the greater part of these, a slight 
 
334 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 nod or a look from Hugli's companion was sufficient greeting ; 
 but, now and then, some man would come and stand beside 
 him in the throng, and, without turning his head or appear- 
 ing to communicate with him, would say a word or two in a 
 low voice, which he would answer in the same cautious 
 manner. Then they would part, like strangers. Some of 
 these men often reappeared again unexpectedly in the crowd 
 close to Hugh, and, as they passed by, pressed his hand, or 
 looked him sternly in the face ; but they never spoke to him, 
 nor he to them ; no, not a word. 
 
 It was remarkable, too, that whenever they happened to 
 stand where there was any press of people, and Hugh chanced 
 to be looking downward, he was sure to see an arm stretched 
 out — under his own perhaps, or perhaps across him — which 
 thrust some paper into the hand or pocket of a b3^-stander, and 
 was so suddenly withdrawn that it was impossible to tell 
 from whom it came ; nor could he see in any face, on glan- 
 cing quickly round, the least confusion or surprise. They 
 often trod upon a paper like the one he carried in his breast, 
 but his companion whispered him not to touch it or to take 
 it up, — not even to look towards it, — so there they let them 
 lie, and passed on. 
 
 When they had paraded the street and all the avenues of 
 the building in this manner for near two hours, they turned 
 away, and his friend asked him what he thought of what he 
 had seen, and whether he was prepared for a good hot piece 
 of work if it should come to that. " The hotter the better," 
 said Hugh, "I'm prepared for anything.'- — "So am I," said 
 his friend, " and so are many of us ; " and they shook hands 
 upon it with a great oath, and with many terrible imprecations 
 on the Papists. 
 
 As they were thirsty by this time, Dennis proposed that 
 they should repair together to Tlie Boot, where there was 
 good company and strong liquor. Hugh yielding a ready 
 assent, they bent their steps that way with no loss of 
 time. 
 
 This Boot was a lone house of public entertainment, situated 
 in the fields at the back of the Foundling Hospital — a very 
 solitary spot at that period, and quite deserted after dark. 
 
\ i 
 
 ?^^a-«.gi4.t 
 
BAliNABY BULGE. 335 
 
 The tavern stood at some distance from any high road, and 
 was approachable only by a dark and narrow lane ; so that 
 Hugh was much surprised to find several people drinking 
 there, and great merriment going on. He was still more 
 surprised to find among them almost every face that had 
 caught his attention in the crowd ; but his companion having 
 whispered him outside the door, that it was not considered 
 good manners at The Boot to appear at all curious about the 
 company, he kept his own counsel, and made no show of 
 recognition. 
 
 Before putting his lips to the liquor which was brought for 
 them, Dennis drank in a loud voice the health of Lord George 
 Gordon, President of the Great Protestant Association ; which 
 toast Hugh pledged likewise, with corresponding enthusiasm. 
 A fiddler who was present, and who appeared to act as the 
 appointed minstrel of the company, forthwith struck up a 
 Scotch reel; and that in tones so invigorating, that Hugh 
 and his friend (who had both been drinking before) rose from 
 their seats as by previous concert, and to the great admiration 
 of the assembled guests, performed an extemporaneous No- 
 Popery Dance. 
 
336 BABNABY BUDGE, 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXIX. 
 
 The applause which the performance of Hugh and his 
 new friend elicited from the company at The Boot, had not 
 yet subsided, and the two dancers were still panting from 
 their exertions, which had been of a rather extreme and 
 violent character, when the party was re-enforced by the 
 arrival of some more guests, who, being a- detachment of 
 United Bulldogs, were received with very flattering marks of 
 distinction and respect. 
 
 The leader of this small party — for, including himself, they 
 were but three in number — was our old acquaintance, Mr 
 Tappertit, who seemed, physically speaking, to have grown 
 smaller with years (particularly as to his legs, which were 
 stupendously little), but who, in a moral point of view, in 
 personal dignity and self-esteem, had swelled into a giant. 
 Kor was it by any means difficult for the most unobservant 
 person to detect this state of feeling in the quondam 'Prentice, 
 for it not only proclaimed itself impressively and beyond 
 mistake in his majestic walk and kindling eye, but found a 
 striking means of revelation in his turned-up nose, which 
 scouted all things of earth with deep disdain, and sought 
 communion with its kindred skies. 
 
 Mr. Tappertit, as chief or captain of the Bulldogs, was 
 attended by his two lieutenants ; one, the tall comrade of his 
 younger life ; the other, a 'Prentice Knight in days of yore — 
 Mark Gilbert, bound in the olden time to Thomas Curzon of 
 the Golden Fleece. These gentlemen, like himself, were now 
 emancipated from their 'Prentice thraldom, and served as 
 journeymen ; but they were, in humble emulation of his great 
 example, bold and daring spirits, and aspired to a distin- 
 guished state in great political events. Hence their con- 
 nection with the Protestant Association of England, sane- 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 337 
 
 tioned by the name of Lord George Gordon; and hence 
 their present visit to The Boot. 
 
 '^ Gentlemen ! " said Mr. Tappertit, taking off his hat as a 
 great general might in addressing his troops. "Well met. 
 My lord does me and you the honor to send his compliinents 
 per self." 
 
 " You've seen my lord too, have you ? " said Dennis. " / 
 see him this afternoon." 
 
 " My duty called me to the Lobby when our shop shut up ; 
 and I saw him there, sir," Mr. Tappertit replied, as he and 
 his lieutenants took their seats. " How do jjou do ? " 
 
 " Lively, master, lively," said the fellow. " Here's a new 
 brother, regularly put down in black and white by Muster 
 Gashford ; a credit to the cause ; one of the stick-at-nothing 
 sort ; one arter my own heart. D'y^ see him ? Has he got 
 the looks of a man that'll do, do you think ? " he cried, as 
 he slapped Hugh on the back. 
 
 " Looks or no looks," said Hugh, with a drunken flourish 
 of his arm, " I'm the man you w^ant. I hate the Papists, 
 every one of 'em. They hate me and I hate them. They do 
 me all the harm they can, and I'll do them all the harm / 
 can. Hurrah ! " 
 
 " Was there ever," said Dennis, looking round the room, 
 when the echo of his boisterous voice had died away ; '^ was 
 there ever such a game boy ! Why, I mean to say, brothers, 
 that if Muster Gashford had gone a hundred mile and got 
 together fifty men of the common run, tliey wouldn't have 
 been worth this one." 
 
 The greater part of the company implicitly subscribed to 
 this opinion, and testified their faith in Hugh, by nods and 
 looks of great significance. Mr. Tappertit sat and contem- 
 plated him for a long time in silence, as if he suspended his 
 judgment ; then drew a little nearer to him, and eyed him 
 over more carefully ; then went close up to him, and took him 
 apart into a dark corner. 
 
 " I say," he began, with a thoughtful brow, " haven't I seen 
 you before ? " 
 
 "It's like you may," said Hugh, in his careless way. "I 
 don't know ; shouldn't wonder." 
 
338 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 "No, but it's very easily settled," returned Sim. "Look 
 at me. Did you ever see me before ? You wouldn't be likely 
 to forget it, you know, if you ever did. Look at me. Don't 
 be afraid ; I won't do you any harm. Take a good look — 
 steady now." 
 
 The encouraging way in which Mr. Tappertit made this 
 request, and coupled it with an assurance that he needn't be 
 frightened, amused Hugh mightily — so much indeed, that he 
 saw nothing at all of the small man before him, through 
 closing his eyes in a fit of hearty laughter, which shook his 
 great broad sides until they ached again. 
 
 "' Come ! " said Mr. Tappertit, growing a little impatient 
 under this disrespectful treatment. "Do you know me, 
 feller ? " 
 
 " Not I," cried Hugh. " Ha ha ha ! Not I ! But I should 
 like to." 
 
 "And yet I'd have wagered a seven-shilling piece," said 
 Mr. Tappertit, folding his arms, and confronting him with his 
 legs wide apart and firmly planted on the ground, "'that you 
 once were hostler at the Maypole." 
 
 Hugh opened his eyes on hearing this, and looked at him 
 in great surprise, 
 
 " — And so you were, too," said Mr. Tappertit, pushing 
 him away, with a condescending playfulness. "When did 
 7717/ eyes ever deceive — unless it was a young woman ! Don't 
 you know me now ? " 
 
 " Why it ain't " — Hugh faltered. 
 
 "Ain't it?" said Mr. Tappertit. "Are you sure of that? 
 You remember G. Varden, don't you ? " 
 
 Certainly Hugh did, and he remembered D. Varden too ; 
 but that he didn't tell him. 
 
 "You remember coming down there, before I was out of 
 my time, to ask after a vagabond that had bolted oif, and left 
 his disconsolate father a prey to the bitterest emotions, and 
 all the rest of it — don't you ? " said Mr. Tappertit. 
 
 " Of course I do ! " cried Hugh. " And I saw you there." 
 
 " Saw me there ! " said Mr. Tappertit. " Yes, I should 
 think you did see me there. The place would be troubled to 
 go on without me. Don't you remember my thinking you 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 339 
 
 liked the vagabond, and on that account going to quarrel with 
 you ; and then finding you detested him worse than poison, 
 going to drink with you ? Don't you remember that ? " 
 
 " To be sure ! " cried Hugh. 
 
 " Well ! and are you in the same mind now ? " said Mr. 
 Tappertit. 
 
 " Yes ! " roared Hugh. 
 
 " You speak like a man," said Mr. Tappertit, " and I'll 
 shake hands with you." With these conciliatory expressions 
 he suited the action to the word; and Hugh meeting his 
 advances readily, they performed the ceremony with a show 
 of great heartiness. 
 
 " I find," said Mr. Tappertit, looking round on the assem- 
 bled guests, "that brother What's-his-name and I are old 
 acquaintance. — You never heard anything more of that 
 rascal, I suppose, eh ? " 
 
 "jSTot a syllable," replied Hugh. "I never want to. I 
 don't believe I ever shall. He's dead long ago, I hope." 
 
 " It's to be hoped, for the sake of mankind in general and 
 the happiness of society, that he is," said Mr. Tappertit, 
 rubbing his palm upon his legs, and looking at it between 
 whiles. " Is your other hand at all cleaner ? Much the 
 same. Well, I'll owe you another shake. We'll suppose it 
 done, if you've no objection." 
 
 Hugh laughed again, and with such thorough abandon- 
 ment to his mad humor, that his limbs seemed dislocated, 
 and his whole frame in danger of tumbling to pieces ; but 
 j\[r. Tappertit, so far from receiving this extreme merriment 
 with any irritation, was pleased to regard it with the utmost 
 favor, and even to join in it, so far as one of his gravity and 
 station could, with any regard to that decency and decorum 
 which men in high places are expected to maintain. 
 
 ^Ir. Tappertit did not stop here, as many public characters 
 might have done, but calling up his brace of lieutenants, 
 introduced Hugh to them with high commendation ; declaring 
 him to be a man who, at such times as those in which they 
 lived, could not be too much cherished. Further, he did him 
 the honor to remark, that he would be an acquisition of 
 which even the United Bulldogs might be proud ; and finding, 
 
340 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 upon sounding him, that he was quite ready and willing to 
 enter the society (for lie was not at all particular, and would 
 have leagued himself that night with anything, or anybody, 
 for any purpose whatsoever), caused the necessary prelimi- 
 naries to be gone into upon the spot. This tribute to his 
 great merit delighted no man more than Mr. Dennis, as he 
 himself proclaimed with several rare and surprising oaths ; 
 and indeed it gave unmingled satisfaction to the whole 
 assembly. 
 
 "Make anything you like of me!" cried Hugh, flourishing 
 the can he had emptied more than once. " Put me on any 
 duty you please. I'm your man. I'll do it. Here's my 
 captain — here's my leader. Ha ha ha! Let him give me 
 the word of command, and I'll fight the whole Parliament 
 House single-handed, or set a lighted torch to the King's 
 Throne itself ! " With that, he smote Mr. Tappertit on the 
 back with such violence that his little body seemed to shrink 
 into a mere nothing ; and roared again until the very found- 
 lings near at hand were startled in their beds. 
 
 In fact, a sense of something whimsical in their companion- 
 ship seemed to have taken entire possession of his rude brain. 
 The bare fact of being patronized by a great man whom he 
 could have crushed with one hand, appeared in his eyes so 
 eccentric and humorous, that a kind of ferocious merriment 
 gained the mastery over him, and quite subdued his brutal 
 nature. He roared and roared again ; toasted ^Ir. Tappertit 
 a hundred times ; declared himself a Bulldog to the core ; 
 and vowed to be faithful to him to the last drop of blood in 
 his veins. 
 
 All these compliments Mr. Tappertit received as matters of 
 course — flattering enough in their way, but entirely attrib- 
 utable to his vast superiority. His dignified self-possession 
 only delighted Hugh the more ; and in a word, this giant and 
 dwarf struck up a friendship which bade fair to be of long 
 continuance, as the one held it to be his right to command, 
 and the other considered it an exquisite pleasantry to obey. 
 Nor was Hugh by any means a passive follower, who scrupled 
 to act without precise and definite orders ; for when Mr. Tap- 
 pertit mounted on an empty cask which stood by way of 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 341 
 
 rostrum in the room, and volunteered a speech upon the 
 alarming crisis then at nand, he placed himself beside the 
 orator, and though he grinned from ear to ear at every word 
 he said, threw out such expressive hints to scoffers in the 
 management of his cudgel, that those who were at first the 
 most disposed to interrupt, became remarkably attentive, and 
 were the loudest in their approbation. 
 
 It was not all noise and jest, however, at The Boot, nor 
 were the whole party listeners to the speech. There were 
 some men at the other end of the room (which was a long, 
 low-roofed chamber) in earnest conversation all the time ; and 
 when any of this group went out, fresh people were sure to 
 come in soon afterwards and sit down in their places, as 
 though the others had relieved them on some watch or duty ; 
 which it was pretty clear they did, for these changes took 
 place by the clock, at intervals of half an hour. These per- 
 sons whispered very much among themselves, and kept aloof, 
 and often looked round, as jealous of their speech being 
 overheard ; some two or three among them entered in books 
 what seemed to be reports from the others ; when they were 
 not thus employed, one of them would turn to the newspapers 
 which were strewn upon the table, and from the St. James's 
 Chronicle, the Herald, Chronicle, or Public Advertiser, would 
 read to the rest in a low voice some passage having reference 
 to the topic in which they were all so deeply interested. But 
 the great attraction was a pamphlet called the Thunderer, 
 which espoused their own opinions, and was supposed at that 
 time to emanate directly from the Association. This was 
 always in request ; and whether read aloud, to an eager knot 
 of listeners, or by some solitary man, was certain to be 
 followed by stormy talking and excited looks. 
 
 In the midst of all his merriment, and admiration of his 
 captain, Hugh was made sensible by these and other tokens, 
 of the presence of an air of mystery, akin to that which had 
 so much impressed him out of doors. It was impossible to 
 discard a sense that something serious was going on, and that 
 under the noisy revel of the public-house, there lurked unseen 
 and dangerous matter. Little affected by this, liowever, he 
 was perfectly satisfied witli his quarters, and would have 
 
342 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 remained there till morning, but that his conductor rose soon 
 after midnight, to go home ; Mr. Tappertit following his 
 example, left him no excuse to sta3^ So they all three left 
 the house together : roaring a aSTo-Popery song until the fields 
 resounded with the dismal noise. 
 
 "Cheer up, captain! " cried Hugh, when they had roared 
 themselves out of breath, " Another stave ! '' 
 
 Mr. Tappertit, nothing loath, began again ; and so the 
 three went staggering on, arm in arm, shouting like madmen, 
 and defying the watch with great valor. Indeed this did not 
 require any unusual bravery or boldness, as the watchmen 
 of that time, being selected for the office on account of exces- 
 sive age and extraordinary infirmity, had a custom of shutting 
 themselves up tight in their boxes on the first symptoms of 
 disturbance, and remaining there until they disappeared. In 
 these proceedings, ^Ir. Dennis, who had a gruff voice and 
 lungs of considerable power, distinguished himself very much, 
 and acquired great credit with his two companions. 
 
 "What a queer fellow you are!" said Mr. Tappertit. 
 "You're so precious sly and close. Why don't you ever tell 
 what trade you're of ? " 
 
 "Answer the captain instantly," cried Hugh, beating his 
 hat down on his head ; "' wh}' don't you ever tell what trade 
 you're of ? " 
 
 "I'm of as gen-teel a calling, brother, as any man in 
 England — as light a business as any gentleman could 
 desire." 
 
 "Was you 'prenticed to it?" asked Mr. Tappertit. 
 
 " No. Natural genius," said Mr. Dennis. " No 'prenticing. 
 It come by natur'. ]\ruster Gashford knows my calling. Look 
 at that hand of mine — many and many a job that hand has 
 done, with a neatness and dex-terity, never known afore. 
 When I look at that hand," said Mr. Dennis, shaking it in 
 the air, "and remember the helegant bits of work it has 
 turned off, I feel quite molloncholy to think it should ever 
 grow old and feeble. But sich is life ! " 
 
 He heaved a deep sigh as he indulged in these reflections, 
 and putting his fingers with an absent air on Hugh's throat, 
 and particularly under his left ear, as if he were stud^^ing the 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 343 
 
 anatomical development of that part of his frame, shook his 
 head in a despondent manner and actually shed tears. 
 
 "You're a kind of artist, I suppose — eh!" said Mr. 
 Tappertit. 
 
 "Yes," rejoined Dennis; "yes — I may call myself a artist 
 — a fancy workman — art improves natur' — that's my motto." 
 
 " And what do you call this ? " said jMr. Tappertit taking 
 his stick out of his hand. 
 
 " That's my portrait atop," Dennis replied ; "' d'ye think 
 it's like ? " 
 
 "Why — it's a little too handsome," said Mr. Tappertit. 
 "Who did it? You?" 
 
 " I ! " repeated Dennis, gazing fondly on his image. " I 
 wish I had the talent. That was carved by a friend of mine, 
 as is now no more. The very day afore he died, he cut that 
 Avith his pocket-knife from memory ! ' 1*11 die game,' says 
 my friend, 'and my last moments shall be dewoted to making 
 Dennis's picter.' That's it." 
 
 " That was a queer fancy, wasn't it ? " said Mr. Tappertit. 
 
 "It was a queer fancy," rejoined the other, breathing on 
 his fictitious nose, and polishing it with the cuff of his coat, 
 "but he was a queer subject altogether — a kind of gypsy — 
 one of the finest, stand-up men you ever see. Ah ! He told 
 me some things that would startle you a bit, did that friend 
 of mine, on the morning when he died." 
 
 " You were with him at the time, were you ? " said Mr. 
 Tappertit. 
 
 " Yes," he answered with a curious look, "' 1 was there. 
 Oh ! yes certainly, I was there. He wouldn't have gone off 
 half as comfortable without me. I had been with tliree or 
 four of his family under the same circumstances. They were 
 all fine fellows." 
 
 "'They must have been fond of you," remarked 'Mr. Tap- 
 pertit, looking at him sideways. 
 
 "I don't know that they was exactly fond of me," said 
 Dennis, with a little hesitation, "but they all had me near 
 'em when they departed. I come in for their wardrobes, too. 
 This very handkercher tliat you see round my neck, belonged 
 to him that I've been speaking of — him as did that likeness." 
 
344 BARNABT RUDGE. 
 
 Mr. Tappertit glanced at the article referred to, and 
 appeared to think that the deceased's ideas of dress were of 
 a peculiar and by no means an expensive kind. He made no 
 remark upon the point, however, and suffered his mysterious 
 companion to proceed without interruption. 
 
 " These smalls," said Dennis, rubbing his legs ; '' these very 
 smalls — they belonged to a friend of mine that's left off sich 
 incumbrances forever : this coat too — I've often walked 
 behind this coat, in the streets, and wondered whether it 
 would ever come to me : this pair of shoes have danced a 
 hornpipe for another man, afore my eyes, full half a dozen 
 times at least : and as to my hat," he said, taking it off, and 
 whirling it round upon his fist — " Lord ! I've seen this hat 
 go up Holborn on the box of a hackney-coach — ah, many and 
 many a day ! " 
 
 " You don't mean to say their old wearers are all dead, I 
 hope ? " said Mr. Tappertit, falling a little distance from him, 
 as he spoke. 
 
 " Every one of 'em," replied Dennis. " Every man 
 Jack!" 
 
 There was something so very ghastly in this circumstance, 
 and it appeared to account, in such a very strange and dismal 
 manner, for his faded dress which, in this new aspect, seemed 
 discolored by the earth from graves — that Mr. Tappertit 
 abruptly found he was going another way, and, stopping 
 short, bade him good-night with the utmost heartiness. As 
 they happened to be near the Old Bailey, and Mr. Dennis 
 knew there were turnkeys in the lodge with whom he could 
 pass the night, and discuss professional subjects of common 
 interest among them before a rousing fire, and over a social 
 glass, he separated from his companions without any great 
 regret, and warmly shaking hands with Hugh, and making an 
 early appointment for their meeting at The Boot, left them 
 to pursue their road. 
 
 ^' That's a strange sort of man," said Mr. Tappertit, watch- 
 ing the hackney-coachman's hat as it went bobbing down the 
 street. "I don't know what to make of him. Why can't he 
 have his smalls made to order, or wear live clothes at any 
 rate ? " 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 345 
 
 " He's a lucky man, captain," cried Hugh. ^' I should like 
 to have such friends as his." 
 
 '• I hope he don't get 'em to make their wills, and then 
 knock 'em on the head," said Mr. Tappertit, musing. " But 
 come. The United B.'s expect me. On ! — What's the 
 matter ? " 
 
 " I quite forgot," said Hugh, who had started at the strik- 
 ing of a neighboring clock. '• I have somebody to see to-night 
 — I must turn back directly. The drinking and singing put 
 it out of my head. It's well I remembered it ! " 
 
 Mr. Tappertit looked at him as though he were about to 
 give utterance to some very majestic sentiments in reference 
 to this act of desertion, but as it was clear, from Hugh's hasty 
 manner, that the engagement was one of a pressing nature, 
 he graciously forbore, and gave him his permission to depart 
 immediately, which Hugh acknowledged with a roar of 
 laughter. 
 
 " Good-night, captain ! " he cried. '• I am yours to the 
 death, remember ! " 
 
 ^' Farewell ! " said jVIr. Tappertit, waving his hand. " Be 
 bold and vigilant ! " 
 
 "No Popery, captain !" roared Hugh. 
 
 "England in blood first!" cried his desperate leader. 
 Whereat Hugh cheered and laughed, and ran off like a 
 greyhound. 
 
 " That man will prove a credit to my corps," said Simon, 
 turning thoughtfully upon his heel. " And let me see. In 
 an altered state of society — which must ensue if we break out 
 and are victorious — when the locksmith's chikl is mine, Miggs 
 must be got rid of somehow, or she'll poison the tea-kettle 
 one evening when I'm out. He might marry Miggs, if 
 he was drunk enough. It shall be done. I'll make a note 
 of it." 
 
346 BARNABY BULGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Little thinking of the plan for his happy settlement in 
 life which had suggested itself to the teeming brain of his 
 provident commander, Hugh made no pause until Saint 
 Dunstan's giants struck the hour above him, when he worked 
 the handle of a pump which stood hard by, with great vigor, 
 and thrusting his head under the spout, let the water gush 
 upon him until a little stream ran down from every uncombed 
 hair, and he was wet to the waist. Considerably refreshed 
 by this ablution, both in mind and body, and almost sobered 
 for the time, he dried himself as he best could ; then crossed 
 the road, and plied the knocker of the Middle Temple gate. 
 
 The night porter looked through a small grating in the 
 portal with a surly eye, and cried " Halloa ! " which greeting 
 Hugh returned in kind, and bade him open quickly. 
 
 " We don't sell beer here/' cried the man ; " what else do 
 you want ? " 
 
 '• To come in,'' Hugh replied, with a kick at the door. 
 
 " Where to go to ? " 
 
 " Paper-Buildings." 
 
 " Whose chambers ? " 
 
 "Sir John Chester's. '^ Each of which answers, he em- 
 phasized with another kick. 
 
 After a little growling on the other side, the gate was 
 opened, and he passed in ; undergoing a close inspection from 
 the porter as he did so. 
 
 " You wanting Sir John, at this time of night!" said the 
 man. 
 
 " Ay ! " said Hugh. " I ! What of that ? " 
 
 " Why, I must go with you and see that you do, for I don't 
 believe it." 
 
 " Come along then." 
 
BARNABT RUDGE. 347 
 
 Eying him with suspicious looks, the man, ^vith key and 
 lantern, walked on at his side, and attended him to Sir John 
 Chester's door, at which Hugh gave one knock, tliat echoed 
 through the dark staircase like a ghostly summons, and made 
 the dull light tremble in the drow^sy lamp. 
 
 '^ Do you think he wants me now ? " said Hugh. 
 
 Before the man had time to answer, a footstep was heard 
 within, a light appeared, and Sir John, in his dressing-gown 
 and slippers, opened the door. 
 
 " I ask your pardon, Sir John," said the porter pulling off 
 his hat. " Here's a young man says he w^ants to speak to 
 you. It's late for strangers. I thought it best to see that all 
 was right." 
 
 " Aha ! " cried Sir John, raising his eyebrows. '• It's you, 
 messenger, is it ? Go in. Quite right, friend, I commend 
 your prudence highly. Thank you. God bless you. Good- 
 night." 
 
 To be commended, thanked, God-blessed, and bade good- 
 night by one who carried " Sir " before his name, and wrote 
 himself ISLP. to boot, was something for a porter. He with- 
 drew with much humilit}' and reverence. Sir John followed 
 his late visitor into the dressing-room, and sitting in his easy- 
 chair before the fire, and moving it so that he could see him 
 as he stood, hat in hand, beside the door, looked at him from 
 head to foot. 
 
 The old face, calm and pleasant as ever ; the complexion, 
 •quite juvenile in its bloom and clearness ; the same smile ; 
 the wonted precision and elegance of dress ; the white, well- 
 ordered teeth ; the delicate hands ; the composed and quiet 
 manner; everything as it used to be: no marks of age or 
 passion, envy, hate, or discontent : all unruffled and serene, 
 and quite delightful to behold. 
 
 He wrote himself INI.T. — but liow ? Why, thus. It was 
 a proud family — more proud, indeed, tlian wealthy. He had 
 stood in danger of arrest ; of bailiffs, and a jail — a vulgar 
 jail, to wliich the common people with small incomes went. 
 Gentlemen of ancient liouses have no privilege of exemption 
 from such cruel laws — unless they are of one great house, and 
 then the}' have. A proud man of his stock and kindrod had 
 
348 SARy-ABY BUDGE. 
 
 the means of sending him there. He offered — not indeed to 
 pay his debts, but to let him sit for a close borough until his 
 own son came of age, which, if he lived, would come to pass 
 in twenty years. It was quite as good as an Insolvent Act, 
 and infinitely more genteel. So Sir John Chester was a 
 member of Parliament. 
 
 But how Sir John ? Xothing so simple, or so easy. One 
 touch with a sword of state, and the transformation is effected. 
 John Chester, Esquire, M.P., attended court — went up wdth 
 an address — headed a deputation. Such elegance of manner, 
 so many graces of deportment, such powers of conversation, 
 could never pass unnoticed. Mr. was too common for such 
 merit. A man so gentlemanly should have been — but Fortune 
 is capricious — born a Duke : just as some dukes should have 
 been born laborers. He caught the fancy of the king, knelt 
 down a grub, and rose a butterfl3^ John Chester, Esquire, 
 was knighted and became Sir John. 
 
 "I thought when you left me this evening, my esteemed 
 acquaintance." said Sir John after a pretty long silence, " that 
 you intended to return with all despatch ? " 
 
 " So I did, :Master." 
 
 " And so you have ? " he retorted, glancing at his watch. 
 " Is that what you would say ? " 
 
 Instead of replying, Hugh changed the leg on which he 
 leaned, shuffled his cap from one hand to the other, looked at 
 the ground, the wall, the ceiling, and finally at Sir John him- 
 self; before whose pleasant face he lowered his eyes again,- 
 and fixed them on the floor. 
 
 " And how have you been employing yourself in the mean 
 while ? " quoth Sir John, lazily crossing his legs. " Where 
 have you been ? what harm have you been doing ? " 
 
 "Xo harm at all, Master," growled Hugh, with humility. 
 " I have only done as you ordered." 
 
 " As I what ? " returned Sir John. 
 
 " Well then," said Hugh uneasily, "as you advised, or said 
 I ought, or said I might, or said that you would do, if you was 
 me. Don't be so hard upon me, master." 
 
 Something like an expression of triumph in the perfect 
 control he had established over this rou2:h instrument, 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 349 
 
 appeared in the knight's face for an instant ; but it vanished 
 directly, as he said — paring his nails while speaking, — 
 
 " When you say I ordered you, my good fellow, you imply 
 that I directed you to do something for me — something I 
 wanted done — something for my own ends and purposes — 
 you see ? Now I am sure I needn't enlarge upon the extreme 
 absurdity of such an idea, however unintentional ; so please " 
 — and here he turned his eyes upon him — "to be more 
 guarded. Will you ? " 
 
 "I meant to give you no offence," said Hugh. "I don't 
 know what to say. You catch me up so very short." 
 
 "You will be caught up much shorter, my good friend — 
 infinitely shorter — one of these days, depend uj^on it," replied 
 his patron, calmly. " By-the-by, instead of wondering why 
 you have been so long, my wonder should be why you came 
 at all. Wliy did you ? " 
 
 " You know, master," said Hugh, " that I couldn't read the 
 bill I found, and that supposing it to be something particular 
 from the way it was wrapped up, I brought it here." 
 
 " And could you ask no one else to read it. Bruin ? " said 
 Sir John. 
 
 "No one that I could trust with secrets, master. Since 
 Barnaby Rudge was lost sight of for good and all — and that's 
 five year ago — I haven't talked with any one but you." 
 
 " You have done me honor, I am sure." 
 
 "I have come to and fro, master, all through that time, 
 when there was anything to tell, because I knew that you'd 
 be angry with me if I stayed away," said Hugh, blurting the 
 words out, after an embarrassed silence; "and because I 
 wished to please you, if I could, and not to have you go against 
 me. There. That's the true reason why I came to-night. 
 You know that, master, I am sure." 
 
 " You are a specious fellow," returned Sir John, fixing his 
 eyes upon him, " and carry two faces under your hood, as well 
 as the best. Didn't you give me in this room, this evening, 
 any other reason ; no dislike of anybody who lias slighted you, 
 lately, on all occasions, abused you, treated you witli rudeness ; 
 acted towards you, more as if you were a mongrel dog tlian a 
 man like himself ? " 
 
350 BABNABY BUDGE, 
 
 " To be sure 1 did ! " cried Hugh, his passion rising, as the 
 other meant it should; "and I say it all over now, again. 
 I'd do anything to have some revenge on him — anything. 
 And when you told me that he and all the Catholics would 
 suffer from those wlio joined together under that handbill, I 
 said I'd make one of 'em, if their master was the devil himself. 
 I am one of 'em. See whether I am as good as my word and 
 turn out to be among the foremost, or no. I mayn't have 
 much head, master, but I've head enough to remember those 
 that use me ill. You shall see, and so shall he, and so shall 
 hundreds more, how my spirit backs me when the time comes. 
 My bark is nothing to my bite. Some that I know, had 
 better have a wild lion among 'em than me, when I am fairly 
 loose — they had ! " 
 
 The knight looked at him with a smile of far deeper mean- 
 ing than ordinary ; and pointing to the old cupboard, followed 
 him with his eyes while he filled and drank a glass of liquor ; 
 and smiled when his back was turned, with deeper meaning 
 yet. 
 
 " You are in a blustering mood, my friend," he said, when 
 Hugh confronted him again. 
 
 " Not I, master ! " cried Hugh. " I don't say half I mean. 
 I can't. I haven't got the gift. There are talkers enough 
 among us ; I'll be one of the doers." 
 
 ''Oh ! you have joined those fellows then ? " said Sir John, 
 with an air of most profound indifference. 
 
 " Yes. I went up to the house you told me of, and got put 
 down upon the muster. There was another man there named 
 Dennis " — 
 
 " Dennis, eh ! " cried Sir John, laughing. '' Ay, ay ! a 
 pleasant fellow, I believe ? " 
 
 "A roaring dog, master — one after my own heart — hot 
 upon the matter too — red hot." 
 
 " So I have heard," replied Sir John carelessly. " You 
 don't happen to know his trade, do you ? " 
 
 " He wouldn't say," cried Hugh. " He keeps it secret." 
 
 " Ha ha ! " laughed Sir John. " A strange fancy — a weak- 
 ness with some persons — you'll know it one day, I dare 
 swear." 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 351 
 
 " We're intimate already," said Hugh. 
 
 " Quite natural ! And have been drinking together, eh ? " 
 pursued Sir John. " Did you say what place you went to in 
 company, when you left Lord George's ? " 
 
 Hugh had not said or thought of saying, but he told him ; 
 and this inquiry being followed by a long train of questions, 
 he related all that had passed both in and out of doors, the 
 kind of people he had seen, their numbers, state of feeling, 
 mode of conversation, apparent expectations and intentions. 
 His questioning was so artfully contrived, that he seemed even 
 in his own eyes to volunteer all this information rather than 
 to have it Avrested from him ; and he was brought to this state 
 of feeling so naturally, that when Mr. Chester yawned at 
 length and declared himself quite wearied out, he made a 
 rough kind of excuse for having talked so much. 
 
 "There — get you gone," said Sir John, holding the door 
 open in his hand. '• You have made a pretty evening's work. 
 I told you not to do this. You may get into trouble. You'll 
 have an opportunity of revenging yourself on your proud 
 friend Haredale, though, and for that, you'd hazard anything 
 I suppose ? " 
 
 " I would," retorted Hugh, stopping in his passage out and 
 looking back ; " but what do / risk ! What do I stand a 
 chance of losing, master ? Friends, home ? A fig for 'em 
 all ; I have none ; they are nothing to me. Give me a good 
 scuffle ; let me pay off old scores in a bold riot where there 
 are men to stand by me ; and then use me as you like — it 
 don't matter much to me what the end is ! " 
 
 '' What have you done with that paper ?" said Sir John. 
 
 " I have it here, master." 
 
 "Drop it again as 3'ou go along; it's as well not to keep 
 such things about you." 
 
 Hugh nodded, and touching his cap with an air of as mucli 
 respect as he could summon up, departed. 
 
 Sir John, fastening the doors behind him, went back to his 
 dressing-room, and sat down once again before the fire, at 
 which he gazed for a long time, in earnest meditation. 
 
 " This happens fortunately," he said, breaking into a smile, 
 "and promises well. Let me see. ^Fy relative and I, who 
 
352 BABNABY BUBGK. 
 
 are the most Protestant fellows in the world, give our worst 
 wishes to the Roman Catholic cause ; and to Saville, who 
 introduces their bill, I have a personal objection besides ; but 
 as each of us has himself for the first article in his creed, we 
 cannot commit ourselves by joining with a very extravagant 
 madman, such as this Gordon most undoubtedly is. Kow, 
 really, to foment his disturbances in secret, through the 
 medium of such a very apt instrument as my savage friend 
 here, may further our real ends ; and to express at all becom- 
 ing seasons, in moderate and polite terms, a disapprobation of 
 his proceedings, though we agree with him in principle, will 
 certainly be to gain a character for honesty and uprightness 
 of purpose, which cannot fail to do us infinite service, and to 
 raise us into some importance. Good ! So much for public 
 grounds. As to private considerations, I confess that if these 
 vagabonds would make some riotous demonstration (which does 
 not appear impossible), and ivould inflict some little chastise- 
 ment on Haredale as a not inactive man among his sect, it 
 would be extremely agreeable to my feelings, and would amuse 
 me beyond measure. Good again ! Perhaps better ! " 
 
 When he came to this point, he took a pinch of snulf : then 
 beginning slowly to undress, he resumed his meditations, by 
 saying with a smile, — 
 
 " I fear, I do fear exceedingly, that my friend is following 
 fast in the footsteps of his mother. His intimacy with Mr. 
 Dennis is very ominous. But I have no doubt he must have 
 come to that end any way. If 1 lend him a helping hand, 
 the only difference is, that he may, upon the whole, possibly 
 drink a few gallons, or punclreons, or hogsheads, less in this 
 life than he otherwise would. It's no business of mine. 
 It's a matter of very small importance ! " 
 
 So he took another pinch of snuff, and went to bed. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 353 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 From the workshop of the Golden Key there issued forth 
 a tinkling sound, so merry and good-humored, that it 
 suggested the idea of some one working blithely, and made 
 quite pleasant music, ^o man who hammered on at a dull 
 monotonous dut}', could have brought such cheerful notes from 
 steel and iron ; none but a chirping, healthy, honest-hearted 
 fellow, who made the best of everything, and felt kindly 
 towards everybody, could have done it for an instant. He 
 might have been a coppersmith, and still been musical. If 
 he had sat in a jolting wagon, full of rods of iron, it seemed 
 as if he would have brought some harmony out of it. 
 
 Tink, tink, tink — clear as a silver bell, and audible at every 
 pause of the streets' harsher noises, as though it said, " I 
 don't care ; nothing puts me out ; I am resolved to be happy." 
 Women scolded, children squalled, heavy carts went rumbling 
 by, horrible cries proceeded from the lungs of hawkers ; still 
 it struck in again, no higher, no lower, no louder, no softer; 
 not thrusting itself on people's notice a bit the more for having 
 been outdone by louder sounds — tink, tink, tink, tink, tink. 
 
 It was a perfect embodiment of the still small voice, free 
 from all cold, hoarseness, huskiness, or unhealthiness of any 
 kind ; foot-passengers slackened their pace, and were disposed 
 to linger near it ; neighbors who had got up splenetic that 
 morning, felt good-humor stealing on them as they heard it, 
 and by degrees became quite sprightly ; mothers danced their 
 babies to its ringing ; still the same magical tink, tink, tink, 
 came gayly from the workshop of the Golden Key. 
 
 Who but the locksmith could liave made such nuisic ! A 
 gleam of sun shining through tlie unsashed window, aiul 
 checkering tlie dark workshop with a broad patch of light, 
 fell full upon him, as though attracted by his sunny heart. 
 
354 BAENABY BUDGE. 
 
 There he stood working at his anvil, his face all radiant with 
 exercise and gladness, his sleeves turned up, his wig pushed 
 off his shining forehead — the easiest, freest, happiest man in 
 all the world. Beside him sat a sleek cat, purring and 
 winking in the light, and falling every now and then into an 
 idle doze, as from excess of comfort. Toby looked on from a 
 tall bench hard by ; one beaming smile, from his broad nut- 
 brown face down to the slack-baked buckles in his shoes. The 
 very locks that hung around had something jovial in their 
 rust, and seemed like gouty gentlemen of hearty natures, 
 disposed to joke on their infirmities. There was nothing 
 surly or severe in the whole scene. It seemed impossible that 
 any one of the innumerable keys could fit a churlish strong- 
 box or a prison door. Cellars of beer and wine, rooms where 
 there were fires, books, gossip, and cheering laughter — these 
 were their proper sphere of action. Places of distrust and 
 cruelty, and restraint, they would have left quadruple-locked 
 forever. 
 
 Tink, tink, tink. The locksmith paused at last, and wiped 
 his brow. The silence roused the cat, who, jumping softly 
 down, crept to the door, and watched with tiger eyes a bird- 
 cage in an opposite window. Gabriel lifted Toby to his 
 mouth, and took a hearty draught. 
 
 Then, as he stood upright, with his head flung back, and 
 his portly chest thrown out, you would have seen that 
 Gabriel's lower man was clothed in military gear. Glancing 
 at the wall beyond, there might have been espied, hanging on 
 their several pegs, a cap and feather, broad-sword, sash, and 
 coat of scarlet ; which any man learned in such matters would 
 have known from their make and pattern to be the uniform 
 of a sergeant in the Koyal East-London Volunteers. 
 
 As the locksmith put his mug down, empty, on the bench, 
 whence it had smiled on him before, he glanced at these 
 articles with a laughing eye, and looking at them with his 
 head a little on one side, as though he would get them all 
 into a focus, said, leaning on his hammer, — 
 
 " Time was, now, I remember, when I was like to run mad 
 with the desire to wear a coat of that color. If any one, 
 (except my father) had called me a fool for my pains, how I 
 
BARXABY BUDGE. 355 
 
 should have fired and fumed ! But what a fool I must have 
 been, sure-ly ! " 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed Mrs. Varden, who had entered unobserved. 
 " A fool indeed. A man at your time of life, Varden, should 
 know better now." 
 
 "^Yhy, what a ridiculous woman you are, Martha," said 
 the locksmith, turning round with a smile. 
 
 "Certainly," replied Mrs. V. with great demureness. "Of 
 course I am. I know that, Varden. Thank you." 
 
 " I mean " — began the locksmith. 
 
 " Yes," said his wife, " I know what you mean. You 
 speak quite plain enough to be understood, Varden. It's 
 very kind of you to adapt yourself to my capacity, I am sure." 
 
 "Tut, tut, Martha," rejoined the locksmith; "don't take 
 offence at nothing. I mean, how strange it is of you to run 
 down volunteering, when it's done to defend you and all the 
 other women, and our own fireside and everybody else's, in 
 case of need." 
 
 "It's unchristian," cried Mrs. Varden, shaking her head. 
 
 " Unchristian ! " said the locksmith. " Why, what the 
 devil " — 
 
 Mrs. Varden looked at the ceiling, as in expectation that 
 the consequence of this profanity would be the immediate 
 descent of the four-post bedstead on the second floor, together 
 with the best sitting-room on the first ; but no visible judg- 
 ment occurring, she heaved a deep sigh, and begged her 
 husband, in a tone of resignation, to go on, and by all means 
 to blaspheme as much as possible, because he knew she 
 liked it. 
 
 The locksmith did for a moment seem disposed to gratify 
 her, but he gave a great gulp, and mildly rejoined, — 
 
 " I was going to say, what on earth do you call it unchris- 
 tian for? Which would be most unchristian, Martha — to sit 
 quietly down and let our houses be sacked by a foreign army, 
 or to turn out like men and drive 'em off ? Shouldn't I be a 
 nice sort of a Christian, if I crept into a corner of my own 
 chimney and looked on while a parcel of whiskered savages 
 bore off Dolly — or you ? " 
 
 When he said " or you," Mrs. Varden, despite herself, 
 
356 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 relaxed into a smile. There was something complimentary 
 in the idea. " In such a state of things as that, indeed " — 
 she simpered. 
 
 "As that!" repeated the locksmith. "Well, that would 
 be the state of things directly. Even Miggs would go. 
 Some black tambourine-plaj-er, with a great turban on, would 
 be bearing Jier off, and, unless the tambourine-player was 
 proof against kicking and scratching, it's my belief he'd have 
 the worst of it. Ha, ha, ha! I'd forgive the tambourine- 
 player. I wouldn't have him interfered with on any account, 
 poor fellow." And here the locksmith laughed again so 
 heartily, that tears came into his eyes — much to Mrs. 
 Varden's indignation, who thought the capture of so sound a 
 Protestant and estimable a private character as jMiggs by a 
 Pagan negro, a circumstance too shocking and awful for con- 
 templation. 
 
 The picture Gabriel had drawn, indeed, threatened serious 
 consequences, and would indubitably have led to them, but 
 luckily at that moment a light footstep crossed the threshold, 
 and Dolly, running in, threw her arms round her old father's 
 neck and hugged him tight. 
 
 " Here she is at last ! " cried Gabriel. " And how well 
 you look, Doll, and how late you are, my darling ! " 
 
 How well she looked ? Well ? Why, if he had exhausted 
 every laudatory adjective in the dictionary, it wouldn't have 
 been praise enough. When and where was there ever such a 
 plump, roguish, comely, bright-eyed, enticing, bewitching, 
 captivating, maddening little puss in all this world, as Dolly ! 
 What was the Dolly of five years ago, to the Dolly of that 
 day ! How many coachmakers, saddlers, cabinet-makers, 
 and professors of other useful arts, had deserted their fathers, 
 mothers, sisters, brothers, and, most of all, their cousins, for 
 the love of her ! How many unknown gentlemen — supposed 
 to be of mighty fortunes, if not titles — had waited round the 
 corner after dark, and tempted Miggs the incorruptible, with 
 golden guineas, to deliver offers of marriage folded up in love- 
 letters ! How many disconsolate fathers and substantial 
 tradesmen had waited on the locksmith for the same purpose, 
 with dismal tales of how their sons had lost their appetites, 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 357 
 
 and taken to shut themselves up in dark bedrooms, and 
 wandering in desolate suburbs with pale faces, and all because 
 of Dolly Varden's loveliness and cruelty ! How many young 
 men, in all previous times of unprecedented steadiness, had 
 turned suddenly wild and wicked for the same reason, and, in 
 an ecstasy of unrequited love, taken to wrench off door- 
 knockers, and invert the boxes of rheumatic watclimen ! 
 How had she recruited the king's service, both by sea and 
 land, through rendering desperate his loving subjects between 
 the ages of eighteen and twenty-five! How many young 
 ladies had publicly professed with tears in their eyes, that for 
 their tastes she was much too short, too tall, too bold, too 
 cold, too stout, too thin, too fair, too dark — too everything but 
 handsome ! How many old ladies, taking counsel together, 
 had thanked Heaven their daughters were not like her, and 
 had hoped she might come to no harm, and had thought she 
 would come to no good, and had wondered what people saw 
 in her, and had arrived at the conclusion that she was "going 
 off" in her looks, or had never come on in them, and that she 
 was a thorough imposition and a popular mistake ! 
 
 And yet here was this same Dolly Yarden, so whimsical 
 and hard to please that she was Dolly Yarden still, all smiles 
 and dimples, and pleasant looks, and caring no more for the 
 fifty or sixty young fellows who at that very moment were 
 breaking their hearts to marry her, than if so many oysters 
 had been crossed in love and opened afterwards. 
 
 Dolly hugged her father as has been already stated, and 
 having hugged her mother also, accompanied both into the 
 little parlor where the cloth was already laid for dinner, and 
 where Miss Miggs — a trifle more rigid and bony than of yore 
 — received her with a sort of hysterical gasp, intended for a 
 smile. Into the hands of that young virgin, she delivered her 
 bonnet and walking dress (all of a dreadful, artful, and 
 designing kind), and then said with a laugh, which rivalled 
 the locksmith's music, " How glad I always am to be at home 
 again ! " 
 
 "And how glad we always are, Doll," said her father, 
 putting back the dark liair from her sparkling eyes, "to have 
 you at home. Give me a kiss." 
 
35S BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 If there had been anybody of the male kind there to see her 
 do it — but there was not — it was a nle^C3^ 
 
 "I don't like your being at the Warren," said the lock- 
 smith, " I can't bear to have you out of my sight. And what 
 is the news over yonder, Doll ? " 
 
 " AYhat news there is, I think you know already," replied 
 his daughter. " I am sure you do, though." 
 
 " Ay ? " cried the locksmith. " What's that ? " 
 
 ''Come, come," said Dolly, "you know very well. I want 
 you to tell me why ^Iv. Haredale — oh, how gruff he is again 
 to be sure ! — has been away from home for some days past, 
 and why he is travelling about (we know he is travelling, 
 because of his letters) without telling his own niece why or 
 wherefore." 
 
 " Miss Emma doesn't want to know, I'll swear," returned 
 the locksmith. 
 
 " I don't know that," said Dolly ; " but / do, at any rate. 
 Do tell me. Why is he so secret, and what is this ghost 
 story which nobody is to tell Miss Emma, and which seems 
 to be mixed up with his going away ? Now I see you know 
 by your coloring so." 
 
 " What the story means, or is, or has to do w^ith it, I know 
 no more than you, my dear," returned the locksmith, " except 
 that it's some foolish fear of little Solomon's — which has, 
 indeed, no meaning in it, I suppose. As to Mr. Haredale's 
 journey he goes, as I believe " — 
 
 " Yes," said Dolly. 
 
 "As I believe," resumed the locksmith, pinching her cheek, 
 "on business, Doll. What it may be, is quite another 
 matter. Eead Blue Beard, and don't be too curious, pet ; 
 it's no business of yours or mine, depend upon that; and 
 here's dinner, which is much more to the j^urpose." 
 
 Dolly might have remonstrated against this summary dis- 
 missal of the subject, notwithstanding the appearance of 
 dinner, but at the mention of Blue Beard Mrs. Varden inter- 
 posed, protesting she could not find it in her conscience to sit 
 tamely by, and hear her child recommended to peruse the 
 adventures of a Turk and Mussulman — far less of a fabulous 
 Turk, which she considered that potentate to be. She held 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 359 
 
 that in such stirring and tremendous times as those in which 
 they lived, it would be much more to the purpose if Dolly 
 became a regular subscriber to the Thunderer, where she 
 would have an opportunity of reading Lord George Gordon's 
 speeches word for word, which would be a greater comfort 
 and solace to her, than a hundred and fifty Blue Beards ever 
 could impart. She appealed in support of this proposition to 
 Miss Miggs then in waiting, who said that indeed the peace 
 of mind she had derived from the perusal of that paper 
 generally, but especially of one article of the very last week 
 as ever was, entitled "Great Britain drenched in gore," exceeded 
 all belief ; the same composition, she added, had also wrought 
 such a comforting effect on the mind of a married sister of 
 hers, then resident at Golden Lion Court, number twenty- 
 si vin, second bell-handle on the right hand door-post, that, 
 being in a delicate state of health, and in fact, expecting an 
 addition to her family, she had been seized with fits directly 
 after its perusal, and had raved of the Inquisition ever since ; 
 to the great improvement of her husband and friends. Miss 
 Miggs went on to say that she would recommend all those 
 whose hearts were hardened to hear Lord George themselves, 
 whom she commended first, in respect of his steady Protes- 
 tantism, then of his oratory, then of his eyes, then of his nose, 
 then of his legs, and lastly of his figure generally, which she 
 looked upon as fit for any statue, prince, or angel, to which 
 sentiment ^Irs. Varden fully subscribed. 
 
 iSIrs. Varden having cut in, looked at a box upon the 
 mantel-shelf, painted in imitation of a very red-brick dwelling- 
 house, with a yellow roof ; having at top a real chimney, down 
 which voluntary subscribers dropped their silver, gold, or 
 pence, into the parlor ; and on the door the counterfeit pre- 
 sentment of a brass plate, whereon was legibly inscribed 
 " Protestant Association : " — and looking at it, said, that it 
 was to her a source of poignant misery to think that Varden 
 never had, of all his substance, dropped anything into that 
 temple, save once in secret — as she afterwards discovered — 
 two fragments of tobacco-pipe, which she hoped would not be 
 put down to his last account. That Dolly, she was grieved to 
 say, was no less backward in her contributions, better loving, 
 
360 BAENABY BUDGE. 
 
 as it seemed, to purchase ribbons and such gauds, than to 
 encourage the great cause, then in such heavy tribulation ; 
 and that she did entreat her (her father she much feared could 
 not be moved) not to despise, but imitate, the bright example 
 of Miss Miggs, who flung her wages, as it were, into the very 
 countenance of the Pope, and bruised his features with her 
 quarter's money. 
 
 " Oh, mini," said Miggs, " don't relude to that. I had no 
 intentions, mim, that nobody should know. Such sacrifices 
 as I can make, are quite a widder's mite. It's all I have," 
 cried Miggs wath a great burst of tears — for with her they 
 never came on by degrees — " but it's made up to me in other 
 ways ; it's well made up." 
 
 This was quite true, though not perhaps in the sense that 
 Miggs intended. As she never failed to keep her self-denial 
 full in Mrs. Varden's view, it drew forth so many gifts of caps 
 and gowns and other articles of dress, that upon the whole the 
 red-brick house was perhaps the best investment for her 
 small capital she could possibly have hit upon ; returning her 
 interest, at the rate of seven or eight per cent in money, and 
 fifty at least in personal repute and credit. 
 
 "You needn't cry, Miggs," said Mrs. Varden, herself in 
 tears ; " you needn't be ashamed of it, though your poor mis- 
 tress is on the same side." 
 
 Miggs howled at this remark, in a peculiarly dismal way, 
 and said she know^ed that master hated her. That it was a 
 dreadful thing to live in families and have dislikes, and not 
 give satisfactions. That to make divisions was a thing she 
 could not abear to think of, neither could her feelings let her 
 do it. That if it was master's wishes as she and him should 
 part, it was best they should part, and she hoped he might 
 be the happier for it, and always wishes him well, and that 
 he might find somebody as would meet his dispositions. It 
 w^ould be a hard trial, she said, to part from such a missis, 
 but she could meet any suffering when her conscience told her 
 she was in the rights, and therefore she was willing even to 
 go that lengths. She did not think, she added, that she could 
 long survive the separations, but, as she was hated and looked 
 upon unpleasant, perhaps her dying as soon as possible would 
 
BARNABT BUDGE. 861 
 
 be the best endings for all parties, AVitli this affecting con- 
 clusion, Miss Miggs shed more tears, and sobbed abundant!}'. 
 
 " Can you bear this, Varden ? " said his wife in a solemn 
 voice, laying down her knife and fork. 
 
 "Why, not very well, my dear," rejoined the locksmith, 
 "but I try to keep my temper." 
 
 " Don't let there be words on my account, mim," sobbed 
 Miggs. "It's much the best that we should part. I wouldn't 
 stay — oh, gracious me ! — and make dissensions, not for a 
 annual gold mine, and found in tea and sugar." 
 
 Lest the reader should be at any loss to discover the cause 
 of Miss Miggs's deep emotion, it may be whispered apart that, 
 happening to be listening, as her custom sometimes was, 
 when Gabriel and his wife conversed together, she had heard 
 the locksmith's joke relative to the foreign black who played 
 the tambourine, and bursting with the spiteful feelings 
 which the taunt awoke in her fair breast, exploded in the 
 manner we have witnessed. Matters having arrived at a 
 crisis, the locksmith, as usual, and for the sake of peace and 
 quietness, gave in. 
 
 " What are you crying for, girl ? " he said. "' What's the 
 matter with you ? What are you talking about hatred for ? 
 / don't hate you ; I don't hate anybody. Dry your eyes and 
 make yourself agreeable, in Heaven's name, and let us all be 
 happy while we can." 
 
 The allied powers deeming it good generalship to consider 
 this a sufficient apology on the part of the enemy, and con- 
 fession of having been in the wrong, did dry their eyes and 
 take it in good part. Miss JNIiggs observed that she bore no 
 malice, no not to her greatest foe, whom she rather loved the 
 more indeed, the greater persecution she sustained. ^Irs. 
 Varden approved of this meek and forgiving spirit in liigh 
 terms, and incidentally declared as a closing article of agree- 
 ment, that Dolly should accompany her to the Clerkenwell 
 branch of the association, that very night. This was an 
 extraordinary instance of her great prudence and policy ; 
 having \^({ this end in view from the first, and entertaining 
 a secret misgiving that the locksmith (who was bold when 
 Dolly was in question) would object, she had backed Miss 
 
362 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 ]\Iiggs up to this point, in order that she might have him 
 at a disadvantage. The manoeuvre succeeded so well that 
 Gabriel only made a wry face, and with the warning he had 
 just had, fresh in his mind, did not dare to say one word. 
 
 The difference ended, therefore, in Miggs being presented 
 with a gown by Mrs. Varden and half a crown by Dolly, as 
 if she had eminently distinguished herself in the paths of 
 morality and goodness. Mrs. Y., according to custom, ex- 
 pressed her hope that Yarden would take a lesson from what 
 had passed and learn more generous conduct for the time to 
 come ; and the dinner being now cold and nobody's appetite 
 very much improved by what had passed, they went on with 
 it, as Mrs. Yarden said, '' like Christians." 
 
 As there was to be a grand parade of the Eoyal East 
 London Yolunteers that afternoon, the locksmith did no more 
 work ; but sat down comfortably with his pipe in his mouth, 
 and his arm round his pretty daughter's waist, looking lovingly 
 on Mrs. Y., from time to time, and exhibiting from the crown 
 of his head to the sole of his foot, one smiling surface of good- 
 humor. And to be sure, when it was time to dress him in his 
 regimentals, and Dolly, hanging about him in all kinds of 
 graceful winning ways, helped to button and buckle and brush 
 him up and get him into one of the tightest coats that ever 
 was made by mortal tailor, he was the proudest father in all 
 England. 
 
 "What a handy jade it is!" said the locksmith to Mrs. 
 Yarden, who stood by with folded hands — rather proud of her 
 husband too — while Miggs held his cap and sword at arm's 
 length, as if mistrusting that the latter might run some one 
 through the body of its own accord ; " but never marry a 
 soldier Doll, my dear." 
 
 Dolly didn't ask why not, or say a word, indeed, but 
 stooped her head down very low to tie his sash. 
 
 " I never wear this dress," said honest Gabriel, " but I 
 think of poor Joe Willet. I loved Joe ; he was always a 
 favorite of mine. Poor Joe ! — Dear heart, my girl, don't tie 
 me in so tight." 
 
 Dolly laughed — not like herself at all — the strangest little 
 laugh that could be — and held her head down lower still. 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 363 
 
 "Poor Joe !" resumed the locksmith, muttering to himself; 
 "I always wish he had come to me. I might have made it 
 up between them, if he had. Ah ! old John made a great 
 mistake in his way of acting by that lad — a great mistake. — 
 Have you nearly tied that sash, my dear?" 
 
 What an ill-made sash it was ! There it was, loose again 
 and trailing on the ground. Dolly w^as obliged to kneel down, 
 and recommence at the beginning. 
 
 "N^evermind j^oung Willet, Varden," said his wife frown- 
 ing ; " you might find some one more deserving to talk about, 
 I think." 
 
 Miss Miggs gave a great sniff to the same effect. 
 
 " ]S"ay, Martha," cried the locksmith, " don't let us bear too 
 hard upon him. If the lad is dead indeed, we'll deal kindly 
 by his memory." 
 
 " A runaway and a vagabond ! " said ^Mrs. Varden. 
 
 Miss Miggs expressed her concurrence as before. 
 
 "A runaway, my dear, but not a vagabond," returned the 
 locksmith in a gentle tone. '• He behaved himself well, did 
 Joe — always — and was a handsome, manly fellow. Don't 
 call him a vagabond, Martha." 
 
 Mrs. Varden coughed — and so did ^liggs. 
 
 " He tried hard to gain your good opinion, ^Martha, I can 
 tell you," said the locksmith smiling, and stroking his chin. 
 "Ah! that he did. It seems but yesterday that he followed 
 me out to the Maypole door one night, and begged me not 
 to say how like a boy they used him — say here, at home, he 
 meant, though at the time, I recollect, I didn't understand. 
 ' And how's Miss Dolly, sir ? ' says Joe," pursued the lock- 
 smith, musing sorrowfully, " Ah ! Poor Joe ! " 
 
 " Well, I declare," cried Miggs. " Oh ! Goodness gracious 
 me ! " 
 
 "What's the matter now ?" said Gabriel, turning sharply 
 to her. 
 
 " Why, if here ain't ^liss Dolly," said the handmaid, stoop- 
 ing down to look into her face, "a-giving way to floods of 
 tears. Oh, mini ! oh, sir. Paly it's give me such a turn," 
 cried the susceptible damsel, pressing her hand upon her side 
 to quell the palpitation of her heart, "that you might knock 
 me down with a feather." 
 
364 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 The locksmith, after ghmcing at ^Miss Miggs as if he could 
 have wished to have a feather brought straightway, looked on 
 with a broad stare w^hile Dolly hurried away, followed by 
 that sympathizing young woman : then turning to his wife, 
 stammered out, " Is Dolly ill ? Have / done any thing ? Is 
 it my fault ? " 
 
 " Your fault ! " cried Mrs. V. reproachfully. " There — you 
 had better make haste out." 
 
 " What have I done ? " said poor Gabriel. " It was agreed 
 that Mr. Edward's name was never to be mentioned, and I 
 have not spoken of him, have I? " 
 
 Mrs. Varden merely replied that she had no patience with 
 him, and bounced off after the other two. The unfortunate 
 locksmith wound his sash about him, girded on his sword, put 
 on his cap, and w^alked outT 
 
 " I am not much of a dab at my exercise," he said under 
 his breath, '^ but I shall get into fewer scrapes at that work 
 than at this. Every man came into the world for something ; 
 my department seems to be to make every woman cry without 
 meaning it. It's rather hard ! " 
 
 But he forgot it before he reached the end of the street, and 
 went on with a shining face, nodding to the neighbors, and 
 showering about his friendly greetings like mild spring rain. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 365 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 The Royal East London Volunteers made a brilliant sight 
 that day ; formed into lines, squares, circles, triangles, and 
 what not, to the beating of drums and the streaming of flags ; 
 and performed a vast number of complex evolutions, in all of 
 which Sergeant Varden bore a conspicuous share. Having 
 displayed their military prowess to the utmost in these war- 
 like shows, they marched in glittering order to the Chelsea 
 Bun-house, and regaled in the adjacent taverns until dark. 
 Then at sound of drum they fell in again, and returned amidst 
 the shouting of His Majesty's lieges to the place from whence 
 they came. 
 
 The homeward march being somewhat tardy, — owing to 
 the un-soldierlike behavior of certain corporals, who being 
 gentlemen of sedentary pursuits in private life and excitable 
 out of doors, broke several windows with their bayonets, and 
 rendered it imperative on the commanding officer to deliver 
 them over to a strong guard, with whom they fought at 
 intervals as they came along, — it was nine o'clock when the 
 locksmith reached home. A hackney-coach was waiting near 
 his door ; and as he passed it, Mr. Haredale looked from the 
 window and called him by his name. 
 
 " The sight of you is good for sore eyes, sir," said the lock- 
 smith, stepping up to him. "I wish you had walked in 
 though, rather than waited here." 
 
 " There is nobody at home, I find," Mr. Haredale answered ; 
 " besides, I desired to be as private as I could." 
 
 "Humph!" muttered the locksmith, looking round at his 
 house. " Gone with Simon Tappertit to that precious Branch, 
 no doubt." 
 
 Mr. Haredale invited him to come into the coacli, and, if lie 
 were not tired or anxious to go home, to ride with him a little 
 way that they might have some talk together. Gabriel 
 
366 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 cheerfully complied, and the coachman mounting his box 
 drove off. 
 
 " Varden," said ^Mr. Haredale, after a minute's pause, " you 
 will be amazed to hear what errand I am on ; it will seem a 
 very strange one." 
 
 " I have no doubt it's a reasonable one, sir, and has a mean- 
 ing in it," replied the locksmith; "or it would not be yours 
 at all. Have you just come back to town, sir ? " 
 
 " But half an hour ago." 
 
 " Bringing no news of Barnaby, or his mother ? " said the 
 locksmith dubiously. "Ah! you needn't shake your head, 
 sir. It was a wild-goose chase. I feared that, from the first. 
 You exhausted all reasonable means of discovery when they 
 went away. To begin again after so long a time has passed 
 is hopeless, sir — quite hopeless." 
 
 " Why, where are they ? " he returned impatiently. " Where 
 can they be ? Above ground ? " 
 
 "God knows," rejoined the locksmith, "many that I 
 knew above it five years ago, have their beds under the 
 grass now. And the world is a wide place. It's a hopeless 
 attempt, sir, believe me. We must leave the discovery of this 
 mystery, like all others, to time, and accident, and Heaven's 
 pleasure." 
 
 " Varden, my good fellow," said Mr. Haredale, " I have a 
 deeper meaning in my present anxiety to find them out, than 
 you can fathom. It is not a mere whim ; it is not the casual 
 revival of my old wishes and desires ; but an earnest, solemn 
 purpose. i\[y thoughts and dreams all tend to it, and fix it 
 in my mind. I have no rest by day or night ; I have no peace 
 or quiet ; I am haunted." 
 
 His voice was so altered from its usual tones, and his manner 
 bespoke so much emotion, that Gabriel, in his wonder, could 
 only sit and look towards him in the darkness, and fancy the 
 expression of his face. 
 
 "Do not ask me," continued Mr. Haredale, "to explain 
 myself. If I were to do so, yow would think me the victim 
 of some hideous fancy. It is enough that this is so, and that 
 I cannot — no, I cannot — lie quietly in my bed, without doing 
 what will seem to you incomprehensible." 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 367 
 
 " Since when, sir," said the locksmith after a pause, " has 
 this uneasy feeling been upon you ? " 
 
 Mr. Haredale hesitated for some moments, and then replied : 
 " Since the night of the storm. In short, since the last nine- 
 teenth of March." 
 
 As though he feared that Varden might express surprise, 
 or reason with him, he hastily went on, — 
 
 •'• You will think, I know, I labor under some delusion. 
 Perhaps I do. But it is not a morbid one ; it is a wholesome 
 action of the mind, reasoning on actual occurrences. You 
 know the furniture remains in Mrs. Rudge's house, and that 
 it has been shut up, by my orders, since she went away, save 
 once a week or so, when an old neighbor visits it to scare 
 away the rats. I am on my way there now." 
 
 " For what purpose ? " asked the locksmith. 
 
 " To pass the night there," he replied ; " and not to-night 
 alone, but many nights. This is a secret which I trust to you 
 in case of any unexpected emergency. You will not come, 
 unless in case of strong necessity, to me ; from dusk to broad 
 day, I shall be there. Emma, your daughter, and the rest, 
 suppose me out of London, as I have been until within this 
 hour. Do not undeceive them. This is the errand I am 
 bound upon. I know I may confide it to you, and I rely upon 
 your questioning me no more at this time." 
 
 With that, as if to change the theme, he led the astounded 
 locksmitli back to the night of the Maypole highwayman, to 
 the robbery of Edward Chester, to the reappearance of the 
 man at ^Irs. Rudge's house, and to all the strange circum- 
 stances which afterwards occurred. He even asked him 
 carelessly about the man's height, his face, his figure, whether 
 he was like any one he had ever seen — like Hugh, for in- 
 stance, or any man he had knoA^n at any time — and put 
 many questions of that sort, which the locksmith, considering 
 them as mere devices to engage his attention, and prevent his 
 expressing the astonishment he felt, answered prett}' nuich at 
 random. 
 
 At length, they arrived at the corner of the street in 
 which the house stood, where Mr. Haredale, alighting, dis- 
 missed the coach. *• If you desire to see me safely lodged," 
 
368 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 he said, turning to the locksmith with a gloomy smile, " you 
 can." 
 
 Gabriel, to whom all former marvels had been nothing in 
 comparison with this, followed him along the narrow pave- 
 ment in silence. When they reached the door, Mr. Haredale 
 softly opened it with a key he had about him, and closing it 
 when Varden entered, they were left in thorough darkness. 
 
 They groped their way into the ground-floor room. Here 
 Mr. Haredale struck a light, and kindled a pocket taper he 
 had brought with him for the purpose. It was then, when 
 the flame was full upon him, that the locksmith saw for the 
 first time how haggard, pale, and changed he looked ; how 
 worn and thin he was ; how perfectly his whole appearance 
 coincided with all that he had said so strangely as they rode 
 along. It was not an unnatural impulse in Gabriel, after 
 what he had heard, to note curiously the expression of his 
 eyes. It was perfectly collected and rational ; — so much so, 
 indeed, that he felt ashamed of his momentary suspicion, and 
 drooped his own when Mr. Haredale looked towards him, as if 
 he feared they would betray his thoughts. 
 
 " Will you walk through the house ? " said Mr. Haredale, 
 with a glance towards the window, the crazy shutters of which 
 were closed and fastened. " Speak low." 
 
 There was a kind of awe about the place, which would have 
 rendered it difficult to speak in any other manner. Gabriel 
 whispered " Yes," and followed him up-stairs. 
 
 Everything was just as they had seen it last. There was a 
 sense of closeness from the exclusion of fresh air, and a gloom 
 and heaviness around, as though long imprisonment had made 
 the very silence sad. The homely hangings of the beds and 
 windows had begun to droop ; the dust lay thick upon their 
 dwindling folds ; and damps had made their way through 
 ceiling, wall, and floor. The boards creaked beneath their 
 tread, as if resenting the unaccustomed intrusion; niirble 
 spiders, paralyzed by the taper's glare, checked the motion of 
 their hundred legs upon the wall, or droj^ped like lifeless 
 things upon the ground ; the death-watch ticked ; and the 
 scampering feet of rats and mice rattled behind the wainscot. 
 
 As they looked about them on the decaying furniture, it 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 369 
 
 was strange to find how vividly it presented those to whom it 
 had belonged, and with whom it was once familiar. Grip 
 seemed to perch again upon his high-backed chair ; Barnaby 
 to crouch in his old favorite corner by the fire ; the mother 
 to resume her usual seat, and watch him as of old. Even 
 when they could separate these objects from the phantoms of 
 the mind which they invoked, the latter only glided out of 
 sight, but lingered near them still ; for then they seemed to 
 lurk in closets and behind the doors, ready to start out and 
 suddenly accost them in well-remembered tones. 
 
 They went down-stairs, and again into the room they had 
 just now left. Mr. Haredale unbuckled his sword and laid it 
 on the table, with a pair of pocket pistols, then told the lock- 
 smith he would light him to the door. 
 
 "But this is a dull place, sir," said Gabriel lingering; 
 " may no one share your watch ? " 
 
 He shook his head, and so plainly evinced his wish to be 
 alone, that Gabriel could say no more. In another moment 
 the locksmith was standing in the street, whence he could 
 see that the light once more travelled up-stairs, and soon re- 
 turning to the room below, shone brightly through the chinks 
 in the shutters. 
 
 If ever man were sorely puzzled and perplexed, the lock- 
 smith was, that night. Even when snugly seated by his own 
 fireside, with ^Irs. Varden opposite in a night-cap and night- 
 jacket, and Dolly beside him (in a most distracting dishabille) 
 curling her hair, and smiling as if she had never cried in all 
 her life and never could — even then, with Toby at his elbow 
 and his pipe in his mouth, and IMiggs (but that perhaps was 
 not much) falling asleep in the background, he could not 
 quite discard his wonder and uneasiness. So, in his dreams 
 — still there was Mr. Haredale, haggard and careworn, 
 listening in the solitary house to every sound that stirred, 
 with the taper shining through the chinks until the day 
 should turn it pale and end his lonely watching. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 Next morning brought no satisfaction to the locksmith's 
 thoughts, nor next day, nor the next, nor many others. Often 
 after nightfall he entered the street, and turned his eyes 
 towards the well-known house ; and as surely as he did so, 
 there was the solitary light, still gleaming through the crev- 
 ices of the window-shutter, while all within was motionless, 
 noiseless, cheerless, as a grave. Unwilling to hazard Mr. 
 Haredale's favor by disobejdng his strict injunction, he never 
 ventured to knock at the door or to make his presence known 
 in any way. But whenever strong interest and curiosity 
 attracted him to the spot — which was not seldom — the light 
 was always there. 
 
 If he could have known what passed within, the knowledge 
 would have yielded him no clew to this mysterious vigil. At 
 twilight, Mr. Haredale shut himself up, and at daybreak he 
 came forth. He never missed a night, always came and went 
 alone, and never varied his proceedings in the least degree. 
 
 The manner of his watch was this. At dusk, he entered 
 the house in the same way as when the locksmith bore him 
 company, kindled a light, went through the rooms, and 
 narrowly examined them. That done, he returned to the 
 chamber on the ground floor, and laying his sword and pistols 
 on the table, sat by it until morning. 
 
 He usually had a book Avith him, and often tried to read, 
 but never fixed his eyes or thoughts upon it for five minutes 
 together. The slightest noise without doors, caught his ear ; 
 a step upon the pavement seemed to make his heart leap. 
 
 He was not without some refreshment during the long 
 lonely hours ; generally carrying in his pocket a sandwich of 
 bread and meat, and a small flask of wine. The latter, diluted 
 with large quantities of water, he drank in a heated, feverish 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 371 
 
 way, as though his throat were dried ; but he scarcely ever 
 broke his fast, by so much as a crumb of bread. 
 
 If this voluntary sacrifice of sleep and comfort had its 
 origin, as the locksmith on consideration was disposed to 
 think, in any superstitious expectation of the fulfilment of a 
 dream or vision connected with the event on which he had 
 brooded for so many years, and if he waited for some ghostly 
 visitor who walked abroad when men lay sleeping in their 
 beds, he showed no trace of fear or wavering. His stern 
 features expressed inflexible resolution ; his brows were 
 puckered, and his lips compressed, with deep and settled 
 purpose; and when he started at a noise and listened, it was 
 not with a start of fear but hope, and catching up his sword 
 as though the hour had come at last, he would clutch it in 
 his tight-clinched hand, and listen, with sparkling eyes and 
 eager looks, until it died away. 
 
 These disappointments were numerous, for they ensued on 
 almost every sound, but his constancy was not shaken. Still, 
 every night he was at his post, the same stern, sleepless 
 sentinel ; and still night passed, and morning dawned, and he 
 must watch again. 
 
 This went on for Aveeks ; he had taken a lodging at 
 Vauxhall in which to pass the day and rest himself; and 
 from this place, when the tide served, he usually came to 
 London Bridge from "Westminster by water, in order that he 
 might avoid the busy streets. 
 
 One evening, shortly before twilight, he came his accus- 
 tomed road upon the river's bank, intending to pass through 
 Westminster Hall into Palace Yard, and there take boat to 
 London Bridge as usual. There was a pretty large concourse 
 of people assembled round the Houses of Parliament, looking 
 at the members as they entered and departed, and giving vent 
 to rather noisy demonstrations of approval or dislike, accord- 
 ing to their known opinions. As he made his way among 
 the throng, he heard once or twice the No-Popery cry, which 
 was then becoming pretty familiar to the ears of most men ; 
 but holding it in very slight regard, and observing that the 
 idlers were of the lowest grade, he neitlier thought nor cared 
 about it, but made his way along, with perfect indifference. 
 
372 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 There were many little knots and groups of persons in 
 Westminster Hall: some few looking upward at its noble 
 ceiling, and at the rays of evening light, tinted by the setting 
 sun, which streamed in aslant through its small windows, and 
 growing dimmer by degrees, were quenched in the gathering 
 gloom below ; some, noisy passengers, mechanics going home 
 from work, and otherwise, who hurried quickl}^ through, 
 waking the echoes with their voices, and soon darkening the 
 small door in the distance, as they passed into the street 
 beyond; some, in busy conference together on political or 
 private matters, pacing slowly up and down with eyes that 
 sought the ground, and seeming, by their attitudes, to listen 
 earnestly from head to foot. Here, a dozen squabbling 
 urchins made a very Babel in the air; there, a solitary man, 
 half clerk, half mendicant, paced up and down with hungry 
 dejection in his look and gait: at his elbow passed an errand- 
 lad, swinging his basket round and round, and with his shrill 
 whistle riving the very timbers of the roof; while a more 
 observant schoolboy, half-way through, pocketed his ball, and 
 eyed the distant beadle as he came looming on. It was that 
 time of evening when if you shut your eyes and open them 
 again, the darkness of an hour appears to have gathered in a 
 second. The smooth-worn pavement, dusty with footsteps, 
 still called upon the lofty walls to reiterate the shuffle and 
 the tread of feet unceasingly, save when the closing of some 
 heavy door resounded through the building like a clap of 
 thunder, and drowned all other noises in its rolling sound. 
 
 Mr. Haredale, glancing only at such of these groups as he 
 passed nearest to, and then in a manner betokening that his 
 thoughts were elsewhere, had nearly traversed the Hall, when 
 two persons before him caught his attention. One of these, 
 a gentleman in elegant attire, carried in his hand a cane, 
 which he twirled in a jaunty manner as he loitered on; the 
 other, an obsequious, crouching, fawning figure, listened to 
 what he said — at times throwing in a humble word himself 
 — and, with his shoulders shrugged up to his ears, rubbed his 
 hands submissively^, or answered at intervals by an inclination 
 of the head, half-way between a nod of acquiescence, and a 
 bow of most profound respect. 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 373 
 
 In the abstract there was nothing very remarkable in this 
 pair, for servility waiting on a handsome suit of clothes and a 
 cane — not to speak of gold and silver sticks, or wands of 
 office — is common enough. But there was that about the 
 well-dressed man, yes, and about the other likewise, which 
 struck Mr. Haredale with no pleasant feeling. He hesitated, 
 stopped, and would have stepped aside and turned out of his 
 path, but at the moment, the other two faced about quickly 
 and stumbled upon him before he could avoid them. 
 
 The gentleman with the cane lifted his hat and had begun 
 to tender an apology, which Mr. Haredale had begun as 
 hastily to acknowledge and walk away, when he stopped 
 short and cried, " Haredale ! Gad bless me, this is strange 
 indeed ! " 
 
 " It is," he returned impatiently ; " yes — a " — 
 
 "My dear friend," cried the other, detaining him, "why 
 such great speed ? One minute, Haredale, for the sake of 
 old acquaintance." 
 
 " I am in haste," he said. " Neither of us has sought this 
 meeting. Let it be a brief one. Good-night ! " 
 
 " Fie, fie ! " replied Sir John (for it was he), " how very 
 churlish ! We were speaking of you. Your name was on my 
 lips — perhaps you heard me mention it? No? I am sorry 
 for that. I am really sorry. — You know our friend here, 
 Haredale ; this is really a most remarkable meeting ! " 
 
 The friend, plainly very ill at ease, had made bold to press 
 Sir John's arm, and to give him other significant hints that 
 he was desirous of avoiding this introduction. As it did not 
 suit Sir John's purpose, however, that it should be evaded, he 
 appeared quite unconscious of these silent remonstrances, and 
 inclined his hand towards him, as he spoke, to call attention 
 to him more particularly. 
 
 The friend, therefore, had nothing for it, but to muster 
 up the pleasantest smile he could, and to make a conciliatory 
 bow as ]\[r. Haredale turned his eyes upon him. Seeing that 
 he was recognized, he put out his hand in an awkward and 
 embarrassed manner, which was not mended by its contempt- 
 uous rejection. 
 
 "Mr. Gashford ! " said Haredale, coldly. - It is as I liavi' 
 
374 nARXABY BUDGE. 
 
 heard then. You have left the darkness for the light, sir, 
 and hate those whose opinions you formerly held, with all 
 the bitterness of a renegade. You are an honor, sir, to any 
 cause. 1 wish the one you espouse at present, much joy of 
 the acquisition it has made." 
 
 The secretary rubbed his hands and bowed, as though he 
 would disarm his adversary by humbling himself before him. 
 Sir John Chester again exclaimed, with an air of great 
 gayety, '- Now, really, this is a most remarkable meeting ! " 
 and took a pinch of snuff with his usual self-possession. 
 
 " Mr. Haredale," said Gashford, stealthily raising his eyes, 
 and letting them drop again when they met the other's steady 
 gaze, "is too conscientious, too honorable, too manly, I am 
 sure, to attach unworthy motives to an honest change of opin- 
 ions, even though it implies a doubt of those he holds himself. 
 Mr. Haredale is too just, too generous, too clear-sighted, in 
 his moral vision, to " — 
 
 '' Yes, sir ? " he rejoined with a sarcastic smile, finding 
 that the secretary stopped. " You were saying " — 
 
 Gashford meekly shrugged his shoulders, and looking on 
 the ground again, was silent. 
 
 "No, but let us realh'," interposed Sir John at this junc- 
 ture, " let us really, for a moment, contemplate the very 
 remarkable character of this meeting. Haredale, my dear 
 friend, pardon me if I think you are not sufficiently impressed 
 with its singularity. Here we stand, by no previous appoint- 
 ment or arrangement, three old schoolfellows, in Westminster 
 Hall : three old boarders in a remarkably dull and shady 
 seminary at St. Omer's, Avhere you, being Catholics, and of 
 necessity educated out of England, were brought up : and 
 where I, being a promising young Protestant at that time, 
 was sent to learn the French tongue from a native of Paris ! " 
 
 "Add to the singularity^, Sir John," said Mr. Haredale, 
 " that some of you Protestants of promise are at this moment 
 leagued in yonder building, to prevent our having the sur- 
 passing and unheard-of privilege of teaching our children to 
 read and write — here — in this land, where thousands of us 
 enter your service every year, and to preserve the freedom of 
 which, we die in bloody battles abroad, in heaps ; and that 
 
BARNABY RUDGE. 375 
 
 others of you, to the number of some thousands as I learn, 
 are led on to look on all men of my creed as wolves and beasts 
 of prey, by this man Gashford. Add to it besides, the bare 
 fact that this man lives in society, walks the streets in broad 
 day — I was about to say, holds up his head, but that he does 
 not — and it will be strange, and very strange, I grant you." 
 
 " Oh ! you are hard upon our friend," replied Sir John, 
 with an engaging smile. " You are really very hard upon our 
 friend ! " 
 
 " Let him go on. Sir John," said Gashford, fumbling with 
 his gloves. "Let him go on, I can make allowances. Sir 
 John. I am honored with your good opinion, and I can dis- 
 pense with Mr. Haredale's. ^Ir. Haredale is a sufferer from 
 the penal laws, and I can't expect his favor." 
 
 " You have so much of my favor, sir," retorted Mr. Hare- 
 dale, with a bitter glance at the third party in their conversa- 
 tion, "that I am glad to see you in such good company. You 
 are the essence of your great Association, in yourselves." 
 
 "!N"ow, there you mistake," said Sir John, in his most 
 benignant way. " There — which is a most remarkable cir- 
 cumstance for a man of 3'our punctuality and exactness, 
 Haredale — you fall into an error. I don't belong to the 
 body ; I have an immense respect for its members, but I don't 
 belong to it ; although I am, it is certainly true, the conscien- 
 tious opponent of your being relieved. I feel it my duty to 
 be so ; it is a most unfortunate necessity ; and cost me a 
 bitter struggle. — Will you try this box ? If you don't 
 object to a trifling infusion of a very chaste scent, you'll find 
 its flavor exquisite." 
 
 " I ask your pardon. Sir John," said Mr. Haredale, declin- 
 ing the prott'er with a motion of his hand, " for having ranked 
 you among the humble instruments who are obvious and in 
 all men's sight. I should have done more justice to your 
 genius. Men of your capacity plot in secrecy and safety, and 
 leave exposed posts to the duller wits.'' 
 
 "Don't apologize, for the world," replied Sir John sweetly; 
 "old friends like you and 1, may be allowed some freedoms, 
 or the deuce is in it." 
 
 Gashford, who had been very restless all this time, but had 
 
376 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 not once looked up, now turned to Sir John, and ventured to 
 mutter something to the effect that he must go, or my lord 
 would perhaps be waiting. 
 
 "Don't distress yourself, good sir," said Mr. Haredale, 
 " I'll take my leave, and put you at your ease " — which he 
 was about to do without ceremony, when he was stayed by a 
 buzz and murmur at the upper end of the hall, and, looking 
 in that direction, saw Lord George Gordon coining on, with a 
 crowd of people round him. 
 
 There was a lurking look of triumph, though very differ- 
 ently expressed, in the faces of his two companions, which 
 made it a natural impulse on ^Ir. Haredale's part not to give 
 way before this leader, but to stand there while he passed. 
 He drew himself up, and clasping his hands behind him, 
 looked on with a proud and scornful aspect, while Lord 
 George slowly advanced (for the press was great about him) 
 towards the spot where they were standing. 
 
 He had left the House of Commons but that moment, and 
 had come straight down into the hall, bringing with him, as 
 his custom was, intelligence of what had been said that night 
 in reference to the Papists, and what petitions had been 
 presented in their favor, and who had supported them, and 
 when the bill was to be brought in, and when it would be 
 advisable to present their own Great Protestant petition. All 
 this he told the persons about him in a loud voice, and with 
 great abundance of ungainly gesture. Those who were near- 
 est him made comments to each other, and vented threats 
 and murmurings ; those who were outside the crowd cried 
 " Silence," and " Stand back," or closed in upon the rest, 
 endeavoring to make a forcible exchange of places : and so 
 they came driving on in a very disorderly and irregular way, 
 as it is the manner of a crowd to do. 
 
 When they were very near to where the Secretary, Sir 
 John, and Mr. Haredale stood, Lord George turned round, 
 and, making a few remarks of a sufficiently violent and inco- 
 herent kind, concluded with the usual sentiment, and called 
 for three cheers to back it. AVhile these were in the act of 
 being given with great energy, he extricated himself from the 
 press, and stepped up to Gash ford's side. Both he and Sir 
 
BAENABY BUDGE. 377 
 
 John being well known to the populace, they fell back a 
 little, and left the four standing together. 
 
 "Mr. Haredale, Lord George," said Sir John Chester, seeing 
 that the nobleman regarded him with an inquisitive look. 
 "A Catholic gentleman unfortunately — most unhappily a 
 Catholic — but an esteemed acquaintance of mine, and once 
 of Mr. Gashford's. My dear Haredale, this is Lord George 
 Gordon." 
 
 " I should have known that, had I been ignorant of his 
 lordship's person," said Mr. Haredale. " I hope there is but 
 one gentleman in England who, addressing an ignorant and 
 excited throng, would speak of a large body of his fellow- 
 subjects in such injurious language as I heard this moment. 
 For shame, my lord, for shame ! " 
 
 " I cannot talk to you, sir," replied Lord George in a loud 
 voice, and waving his hand in a disturbed and agitated 
 manner; ^^we have nothing in common." 
 
 "We have much in common — many things — all that the 
 Almighty gave us," said Mr. Haredale ; " and common charity, 
 not to say common-sense and common decency, should teach 
 you to refrain from these proceedings. If every one of those 
 men had arms in their hands at this moment, as they have 
 them in their heads, I would not leave this place without 
 telling you that you disgrace your station." 
 
 "I don't hear you, sir," he replied in the same manner as 
 before ; " I can't hear you. It is indifferent to me what you 
 say. Don't retort, Gashford," for the secretary had made a 
 show of wishing to do so ; "I can hold no communion with 
 the worshippers of idols." 
 
 As he said this, he glanced at Sir John, who lifted liis 
 hands and eyebrows, as if deploring the intemperate conduct 
 of Mr. Haredale, and smiled in admiration of the crowd and 
 of their leader. 
 
 "He retort !" cried Haredale. "Look you here, my lord. 
 Do you know tliis man ? " 
 
 Lord George replied by laying his hand upon the shoulder 
 of his cringing secretary, and viewing him with a smile of 
 confidence. 
 
 This man," said ]\Ir. Haredale, eying liim from top to toe, 
 
 a 'l 
 
378 BAIiNABY RUDGE. 
 
 " who in his boyhood was a thief, and has been from that 
 time to this, a servile, false, and truckling knave : this man, 
 who has crawled and crept through life, wounding the hands 
 he licked, and biting those he fawned upon : this sycophant, 
 who never knew what honor, truth, or courage meant; who 
 robbed his benefactor's daughter of her virtue, and married 
 her to break her heart, and did it, with stripes and cruelty : 
 this creature, who has whined at kitchen windows for the 
 broken food, and begged for halfpence at our chapel doors : 
 this apostle of the faith, whose tender conscience cannot bear 
 the altars where his vicious life was publicly denounced. — Do 
 you know this man ? " 
 
 " Oh, really — you are ver}^, very hard upon our friend ! " 
 exclaimed Sir John. 
 
 *'Let Mr. Haredale go on," said Gashford, upon whose 
 unwholesome face the perspiration had broken out during this 
 speech, in blotches of wet ; '' I don't mind him, Sir John ; 
 it's quite as indifferent to me what he says, as it is to my 
 lord. If he reviles my lord, as you have heard, Sir John, how 
 can I hope to escape ? " 
 
 " Is it not enough, my lord," Mr. Haredale continued, 
 '• that I, as good a gentleman as you, must hold my property, 
 such as it is, by a trick at which the state connives because of 
 these hard laws ; and that we may not teach our youth in 
 schools the common principles of right and wrong ; but must 
 we be denounced and ridden by such men as this ! Here is a 
 man to head your Xo-Popery cry ! For shame. For shame !" 
 
 The infatuated nobleman had glanced more than once at 
 Sir John Chester, as if to inquire whether there was any 
 truth in these statements concerning Gashford, and Sir John 
 had as often plainly answered by a shrug or look, " Oh, dear 
 me ! no." He now said, in the same loud key, and in the 
 same strange manner as before, — 
 
 " I have nothing to say, sir, in reply, and no desire to hear 
 anything more. I beg you won't obtrude your conversation, 
 or these personal attacks, upon me. I shall not be deterred 
 from doing my duty to my country and my countrymen, by 
 any such attempts, whether they proceed from emissaries of 
 the Pope or not, I assure you. Come, Gashford ! " 
 
BAENABY BUDGE. 379 
 
 They had walked on a few paces while speaking, and were 
 now at the Hall-door, through which they passed together. 
 Mr. Haredale, without any leave-taking, turned away to the 
 river stairs, which were close at hand, and hailed the only 
 boatman who remained there. 
 
 But the throng of people — the foremost of whom had 
 heard every word that Lord George Gordon said, and among 
 all of whom the rumor had been rapidly dispersed that the 
 stranger was a papist who was bearding him for his advocacy 
 of the popular cause — came pouring out pell-mell, and, 
 forcing the nobleman, his secretary, and Sir John Chester on 
 before them, so that they appeared to be at their head, 
 crowded to the top of the stairs where Mr. Haredale waited 
 until the boat was ready, and there stood still, leaving him on 
 a little clear space by himself. 
 
 They were not silent, however, though inactive. At first 
 some indistinct mutterings arose among them, which were 
 followed by a hiss or two, and these swelled by degrees into 
 a perfect storm. Then one voice said, '- Down with the 
 Papists ! " and there was a pretty general cheer, but nothing 
 more. After a lull of a few moments, one man cried out, 
 " Stone him ; '- another, " Duck him ; " another, in a stentorian 
 voice, " No Popery ! " This favorite cry the rest re-echoed, 
 and the mob, which might have been two hundred strong, 
 joined in a general shout. 
 
 Mr. Haredale had stood calmly on the brink of the steps, 
 until they made this demonstration, when he looked round 
 contemptuously, and walked at a slow pace down the stairs. 
 He was pretty near the boat, when Gashford, as if without 
 intention, turned about, and directly afterwards a great stone 
 was thrown by some hand, in the crowd, which struck him on 
 the head, and made him stagger like a drunken man. 
 
 The blood sprung freely from the wound, and trickled down 
 his coat. He turned directly, and rusliing up the steps 
 witli a boldness and passion which made them all fall back, 
 demanded, — 
 
 " Who did that ? Show me the man who liit me." 
 
 Not a soul moved ; except some in the rear who slunk off, 
 and, escaping to the other side of the way, looked on like 
 indifferent spectators. 
 
380 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 " Who did that ? " he repeated. " Show me the man who 
 did it. Dog, was it you ? It was your deed, if not your hand 
 — I know you." 
 
 He threw himself on Gashford as he said the words, and 
 hurled him to the ground. There was a sudden motion in 
 the crowd, and some laid hands upon him, but his sword was 
 out, and they fell off again. 
 
 " My lord — Sir John," — he cried, " draw, one of you — you 
 are responsible for this outrage, and I look to you. Draw, if 
 you are gentlemen." With that he struck Sir John upon the 
 breast with the flat of his weapon, and with a burning face 
 and flashing eyes stood upon his guard ; alone, before them 
 all. 
 
 For an instant, for the briefest space of time the mind can 
 readily conceive, there was a change in Sir John's smooth 
 face, such as no man ever saw there. The next moment, he 
 stepped forward, and laid one hand on Mr. Haredale's arm, 
 while with the other he endeavored to appease the crowd. 
 
 " My dear friend, my good Haredale, you are blinded with 
 passion — it's very natural, extremely natural — but you don't 
 know friends from foes." 
 
 " I know them all, sir, I can distinguish well " — he 
 retorted, almost mad with rage. '• Sir John, Lord George — 
 do you hear me ? Are you cowards ? " 
 
 "Never mind, sir," said a man, forcing his way between 
 and pushing him towards the stairs with friendly violence, 
 " never mind asking that. For God's sake, get away. What 
 ca7i you do against this number ? And there are as many 
 more in the next street, who'll be round directly," — indeed 
 they began to pour in as he said the words — " you'd be giddy 
 from that cut, in the first heat of a scuffle. Xow do retire, 
 sir, or take my word for it you'll be worse used than you 
 would be if every man in the crowd was a woman, and that 
 woman Bloody Mary. Come, sir, make haste — as quick as 
 you can." 
 
 jNIr. Haredale, who began to turn faint and sick, felt how 
 sensible this advice was, and descended the steps with his 
 unknown friend's assistance. John Grueby (for John it was), 
 helped him into the boat, and giving her a shove off, which 
 

 GASHFORD STRUCK DOWN. 
 
BAENABY BUDGE. 381 
 
 sent her thirty feet into the tide, bade the waterman pull 
 away like a Briton ; and walked up again as composedly as if 
 he had just landed. 
 
 There was at first a slight disposition on the part of the 
 mob to resent this interference ; but John looking particularly 
 strong and cool, and wearing besides Lord George's livery, 
 they thought better of it, and contented themselves with 
 sending a shower of small missiles about the boat, which 
 plashed harmlessly in the water ; for she had by this time 
 cleared the bridge, and was darting swiftly down the centre 
 of the stream. 
 
 From this amusement, they proceeded to giving Protestant 
 knocks at the doors of private houses, breaking a few lamps, 
 and assaulting some stray constables. But, it being whispered 
 that a detachment of Life Guards had been sent for, they 
 took to their heels with great expedition, and left the street 
 quite clear. 
 
382 BAIiyABY liUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XLIY. 
 
 Whex the concourse separated, and, dividing into chance 
 clusters, drew off in various directions, there still remained 
 upon the scene of the late disturbance, one man. This man 
 was Gashford, who, bruised by his late fall, and hurt in a 
 much greater degree by the indignity he had undergone, and 
 the exposure of which he had been the victim, limped up and 
 down, breathing curses and threats of vengeance. 
 
 It was not the secretary's nature to waste his wrath in 
 words. While he vented the froth of his malevolence in these 
 effusions, he kept a steady eye on two men, who, having dis- 
 appeared with the rest when the alarm w^as spread, had since 
 returned, and were now visible in the moonlight, at no great 
 distance, as they walked to any fro, and talked together. 
 
 He made no move towards them, but waited patiently on 
 the dark side of the street, until the}' were tired of strolling 
 backwards and forwards and walked away in company. Then 
 he followed, but at some distance : keeping them in view, 
 without appearing to have that object, or being seen by them. 
 
 They went up Parliament Street, past Saint Martin's church, 
 and away by Saint Giles's to Tottenham Court Road, at the 
 back of which, upon the western side, was then a place called 
 the Green Lanes. This was a retired spot, not of the choicest 
 kind, leading into the fields. Great heaps of ashes ; stagnant 
 pools, overgrown with rank grass and duckweed ; broken 
 turnstiles ; and the upright posts of palings long since carried 
 off for firewood, which menaced all heedless walkers with their 
 jagged and rusty nails ; were the leading features of the land- 
 scape ; while here and there a donkey, or a ragged horse, 
 tethered to a stake, and cropping off a w^retched meal from the 
 coarse stunted turf, were quite in keeping with the scene, and 
 would have suggested (if the houses had not done so, suffi- 
 ciently, of themselves) how very poor the people were who lived 
 
BAENABY RUDGE. 383 
 
 ill the crazy huts adjacent, and how fool-hardy it might prove 
 for one who carried money, or wore decent clothes, to walk 
 that way alone, unless by daylight. 
 
 Poverty has its whims and shows of taste, as wealth has. 
 Some of these cabins were turreted, some had false windows 
 painted on their rotten walls ; one had a mimic clock upon a 
 crazy tower of four feet high, which screened the chimney ; 
 each in its little patch of ground had a rude seat or arbor. 
 The population dealt in bones, in rags, in broken glass, in 
 old wheels, in birds, and dogs. These, in their several ways 
 of stowage, filled the gardens ; and shedding a perfume, not 
 of the most delicious nature, in the air, filled it besides with 
 yelps, and screams, and howling. 
 
 Into this retreat, the secretary followed the two men whom 
 he had held in sight; and here he saw them safely lodged, in 
 one of the meanest houses, which was but a room, and that of 
 small dimensions. He waited without, until the sound of 
 their voices, joined in a discordant song, assured him they 
 were making merry ; and then approaching the door, by means 
 of a tottering plank which crossed the ditch in front, knocked 
 at it with his hand. 
 
 " Muster Gashford ! " said the man who opened it, taking 
 his pipe from his mouth, in evident surprise. " Why, who'd 
 have thought of this here honor ! AValk in, Muster Gashford 
 — walk in, sir." 
 
 Gashford required no second invitation, and entered with a 
 gracious air. There was a fire in the rusty grate (for though 
 the spring was pretty far advanced, the nights were cold), and 
 on a stool beside it Hugh sat smoking. Dennis placed a chair, 
 his only one, for the secretary, in front of the hearth ; and 
 took his seat again upon the stool he had left when he rose to 
 give the visitor admission. 
 
 " What's in the wind now. Muster Gashford ? " he said, as 
 he resumed his pipe, and looked at him askew. " Any orders 
 from headquarters ? Are we going to begin ? What is it. 
 Muster Gashford?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing, nothing," rejoined the secretary with a 
 friendly nod to Hugh. "We have broken the ice, though. 
 We had a little spurt to-day — eh, Dennis ? " 
 
384 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 "A very little one," growled the hangman. "Not half 
 enough for me." 
 
 " Nor me neither ! " cried Hugh. " Give us something to do 
 with life in it — with life in it, master. Ha, ha ! " 
 
 " Why, you wouldn't," said the secretary, with his worst 
 expression of face, and in his mildest tones, " have anything 
 to do, -with. — with death in it ? " 
 
 " I don't know that," replied Hugh. " I'm open to orders. 
 I don't care ; not I." 
 
 " Nor I ! " vociferated Dennis. 
 
 " Brave fellows ! " said the secretary, in as pastor-like a 
 voice as if he were commending them for some uncommon act 
 of valor and generosity. " By-the-by " — and here he 
 stopped and warmed his hands: then suddenly looked up — 
 " who threw that stone to-day ? " 
 
 Mr. Dennis coughed and shook his head, as who should say, 
 " A mystery indeed ! " Hugh sat and smoked in silence. 
 
 " It was well done ! " said the secretary, warming his hands 
 again. " I should like to know that man." 
 
 "Would you?" said Dennis, after looking at his face to 
 assure himself that he was serious. "Would you like to 
 know that man, Muster Gashford ? " 
 
 " I should indeed," replied the secretary. 
 
 "Why then, Lord love you," said the hangman, in his 
 hoarsest chuckle, as he pointed with his pipe to Hugh, " there 
 he sets. That's the man. ^My stars and halters. Muster 
 Gashford," he added in a whisper, as he drew his stool close 
 to him and jogged him with his elbow, "what a interesting 
 blade he is ! He wants as much holding in as a thorough- 
 bred bulldog. If it hadn't been for me to-day, he'd have had 
 that 'ere Boman down, and made a riot of it, in another 
 minute." 
 
 "And why not ? " cried Hugh in a surly voice, as he over- 
 heard this last remark. " Where's the good of putting things 
 off ? Strike while the iron's hot ; that's what I say." 
 
 " Ah ! " retorted Dennis, shaking his head, with a kind of 
 pity for his friend's ingenuous youth; "but suppose the iron 
 ain't hot, brother ? You must get people's blood up afore you 
 strike, and have 'em in the humor. There wasn't quite 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 385 
 
 enough to provoke 'em to-day, I tell you. If you'd had your 
 way, you'd have spoilt the fun to come, and ruined us." 
 
 " Dennis is quite right," said Gashford, smoothly. " He is 
 perfectly correct. Dennis has great knowledge of the world." 
 
 "I ought to have. Muster Gashford, seeing what a many 
 people I've helped out of it, eh ? " grinned the hangman, 
 whispering the words behind his hand. 
 
 The secretary laughed at this, just as much as Dennis could 
 desire, and when he had done, said, turning to Hugh, — 
 
 "Dennis's policy was mine, as you may have observed. 
 You saw, for instance, how I fell when I was set upon. I 
 made no resistance. I did nothing to provoke an outbreak. 
 Oh dear no ! " 
 
 " No, by the Lord Harry ! " cried Dennis with a noisy 
 laugh, " you went down very quiet, Muster Gashford — and 
 very flat besides. I thinks to myself at the time 'it's all up 
 with IMuster Gashford ! ' I never see a man lay flatter nor 
 more still — with the life in him — than you did to-day. He's 
 a rough 'un to play with, is that 'ere Papist, and that's the 
 fact." 
 
 The secretary's face, as Dennis roared with laughter, and 
 turned his wrinkled eyes on Hugh who did the like, might 
 have furnished a study for the Devil's picture. He sat quite 
 silent until they were serious again, and then said, looking 
 round, — 
 
 " We are very pleasant here ; so very pleasant, Dennis, 
 that but for my lord's particular desire that I should sup with 
 him, and the time being very near at hand, I should be 
 inclined to stay, until it would be hardly safe to go homeward. 
 I come upon a little business — yes, I do — as you supposed. 
 It's very flattering to you ; being this. If we ever should be 
 obliged — and we can't tell, you know — this is a very uncer- 
 tain world " — 
 
 " I believe you, Muster Gashford," interposed the hangman 
 with a grave nod. " The uncertainties as I've seen in refer- 
 ence to this here state of existence, the unexpected contin- 
 gencies as have come about ! — Oh my eye ! " Feeling the 
 subject much too vast for expression, he puffed at his i)ipe 
 again, and looked the rest. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
386 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 "I say," resumed the secretary, in a slow, impressive wa}- ; 
 " we can't tell what may come to pass ; and if we should be 
 obliged against our wills, to have recourse to violence, my 
 lord (who has suffered terribly to-day as far as words can 
 go) consigns to you two — bearing in mind my recommenda- 
 tion of you both, as good stanch men, beyond all doubt and 
 suspicion — the pleasant task of punishing this Haredale. 
 You may do as you please with him or his, provided that you 
 show no mercy, and no quarter, and leave no two beams 
 of his house standing where the builder placed them. You 
 may sack it, burn it, do with it as you like, but it must come 
 down ; it must be razed to the ground ; and he, and all 
 belonging to him, left as shelterless as new-born infants 
 whom their mothers have exposed. Do you understand me ? " 
 said Gashford, pausing and pressing his hands together 
 gently. 
 
 " Understand you, master ! " cried Hugh. ^' You speak 
 plain now. Why, this is hearty ! " 
 
 '• I knew you would like it," said Gashford, shaking him 
 by the hand ; " I thought you would. Good-night ! Don't 
 rise, Dennis : I would rather find my way alone. I may 
 have to make other visits here, and it's pleasant to come and 
 go without disturbing you. I can find my way perfectly well. 
 Good-night ! " 
 
 He was gone, and had shut the door behind him. They 
 looked at each other, and nodded approvingly : Dennis stirred 
 up the fire. 
 
 " This looks a little more like business I " he said. 
 
 "Ay, indeed ! " cried Hugh ; " this suits me ! " 
 
 "I've heerd it said of Muster Gashford," said the hang- 
 man, "that he'd a surprising memory and wonderful firmness 
 — that he never forgot, and never forgave. — Let's drink his 
 health ! " 
 
 Hugh readily complied — pouring no liquor on the floor 
 when he drank this toast — and they pledged the secretary as 
 a man after their own hearts in a bumper. 
 
BAHyAUr IIULGE. 38/ 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 While the worst passions of the worst men were thus 
 working in the dark, and the mantle of religion, assumed to 
 cover the ugliest deformities, threatened to become the sliroud 
 of all that was good and peaceful in society, a circumstance 
 occurred which once more altered the position of two persons 
 from whom this history has long been separated, and to 
 whom it must now return. 
 
 In a small English country town, the inhabitants of which 
 supported themselves by the labor of their hands in plaiting 
 and preparing straw for those who made bonnets and other 
 articles of dress and ornament from that material, — concealed 
 under an assumed name, and living in a quiet poverty which 
 knew no change, no pleasures, and few cares but that of 
 struggling on from day to day in the one great toil for bread, 
 — dwelt Barnaby and his mother. Their poor cottage had 
 known no stranger's foot since they sought the shelter of its 
 roof five years before ; nor had they in all that time held any 
 commerce or communication with the old world from which 
 they had fled. To labor in peace, and devote her labor and 
 her life to her poor son, was all the widow sought. If happiness 
 can be said at any time to be the lot of one on whom a secret 
 sorrow preys, she was happy now. Tranquillity, resignation, 
 and her strong love of him who needed it so much, formed 
 the small circle of her quiet joys ; and while that remained 
 unbroken, she was contented. 
 
 For Barnaby himself, the time which had flown by had 
 passed him like the wind. The daily suns of 3-ears had shed 
 no brighter gleam of reason on his mind ; no dawn had 
 broken on his long, dark night. He would sit sometimes — 
 often for days together — on a low seat by the fire or by the 
 cottage door, busy at work (for he had learned the art his 
 mother plied), and listening, God help him, to the tales she 
 
388 BABNABT BUDGE. 
 
 would repeat as a lure to keep Liiu in her sight. He had no 
 recollection of these little narratives ; the tale of yesterday 
 was new upon the morrow ; but he liked them at the 
 moment; and when the humor held him, would remain 
 patiently within doors, hearing her stories like a little child, 
 and working cheerfully from sunrise until it was too dark to 
 see. 
 
 At other times, — and then their scanty earnings were barely 
 sufficient to furnish them with food, though of the coarsest 
 sort, — he would wander abroad from dawn of da}^ until the 
 twilight deepened into night. Few in that place, even of the 
 children, could be idle, and he had no companions of his own 
 kind. Indeed there were not many who could have kept up 
 with him in his rambles, had there been a legion. But 
 there were a score of vagabond dogs belonging to the 
 neighbors, who served his purpose quite as well. With two 
 or three of these, or sometimes with a full half-dozen barking 
 at his heels, he would sally forth on some long expedition that 
 consumed the day ; and though on their return at nightfall^ 
 the dogs would come home limping and sore-footed, and 
 almost spent with their fatigue, Barnaby was up and off again 
 at sunrise with some new attendants of the same class, with 
 whom he would return in like manner. On all these travels. 
 Grip, in his little basket at his master's back, was a constant 
 member of the party, and, when they set off in fine weather 
 and in high spirits, no dog barked louder than the raven. 
 
 Their pleasures on these excursions were simple enough. 
 A crust of bread and scrap of meat, with water from the 
 brook or spring, sufficed for their repast. Barnaby 's enjoy- 
 ments were, to walk, and run, and leap, till he was tired; 
 then to lie down on the long grass, or by the growing corn, 
 or in the shade of some tall tree, looking upward at the 
 light clouds as they floated over the blue surface of the sky, 
 and listening to the lark as she poured out her brilliant song. 
 There were wild flowers to pluck — the bright red poppy, the 
 gentle harebell, the cowslip, and the rose. There were birds 
 to watch ; fish ; ants ; worms ; hares or rabbits, as they 
 darted across the distant pathway in the wood and so were 
 gone : millions of living things to have an interest in, and lie 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 389 
 
 in wait for, and clap hands and shout in memory of, when 
 they had disappeared. In default of these, or when they 
 wearied, there was the merr}^ sunlight to hunt out, as it crept 
 in aslant through leaves and boughs of trees, and hid far 
 down — deep, deep, in hollow places — like a silver pool, where 
 nodding branches seemed to bathe and sport ; sweet scents of 
 summer air breathing over fields of beans or clover; the 
 perfume of wet leaves or moss ; the life of waving trees, and 
 shadows always changing. When these or any of them tired, 
 or in excess of pleasing tempted him to shut his eyes, there 
 was slumber in the midst of all these soft delights, with the 
 gentle wind murmuring like music in his ears, and everything 
 around melting into one delicious dream. 
 
 Their hut — for it was little more — stood on the outskirts 
 of the town, at a short distance from the high road, but in a 
 secluded place^ where few chance passengers strayed at any 
 season of the year. It had a plot of garden-ground attached, 
 which Barnaby, in fits and starts of working, trimmed, and 
 kept in order. Within doors and without, his mother 
 labored for their common good ; and hail, rain, snow, or 
 sunshine, found no difference in her. 
 
 Though so far removed from the scenes of her past life, 
 and with so little thought or hope of ever visiting them again, 
 she seemed to have a strange desire to know what happened 
 in the busy world. Any old newspaper, or scrap of intelli- 
 gence from London, she caught at with avidity. The excite- 
 ment it produced was not of a pleasurable kind, for her 
 manner at such times expressed the keenest anxiety and dread ; 
 but it never faded in the least degree. Then, and in stormy 
 winter nights, when the wind blew loud and strong, the old 
 expression came into her face, and she would be seized with a 
 fit of trembling, like one who had an ague. But Barnaby 
 noted little of this ; and putting a great constraint upon 
 herself, she usually recovered her accustomed manner before 
 the change had caught his observation. 
 
 Grip was by no means an idle or unprofitable member of 
 the humble household. Partly by dint of Barnaby's tuition, 
 and partly by pursuing a species of self-instruction common 
 to his tribe, and exerting his powers of observation to tlie 
 
390 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 utmost, he had acquired a degree of sagacity which rendered 
 him famous for miles round. His conversational powers and 
 surprising performances were the universal theme; and as 
 many persons came to see the wonderful raven, and none left 
 his exertions unrewarded — when he condescended to exhibit, 
 which was not always, for genius is capricious — his earnings 
 formed an important item in the common stock. Indeed, the 
 bird himself appeared to know his value well; for though 
 he was perfectly free and unrestrained in the presence of 
 Barnaby and his mother, he maintained in public an amazing 
 gravity, and never stooped to any other gratuitous per- 
 formances than biting the ankles of vagabond boys (an 
 exercise in which he much delighted), killing a fowl or two 
 occasionally, and swallowing the dinners of various neigh- 
 boring dogs, of whom the boldest held him in great awe and 
 dread. 
 
 Time had glided on in this way, and nothing had happened 
 to disturb or change their mode of life, when, one summer's 
 night in June, they were in their little garden, resting from 
 the labors of the day. The widow's work was yet upon her 
 knee, and strewn upon the ground about her ; and Barnaby 
 stood leaning on his spade, gazing at the brightness in the 
 west, and singing softly to himself. 
 
 " A brave evening, mother ! If we had, chinking in our 
 pockets, but a few specks of that gold which is piled up 
 yonder in the sky, we should be rich for life." 
 
 "We are better as we are," returned the widow with a 
 quiet smile. ''Let us be contented, and we do not want 
 and need not care to have it, though it lay shining at our 
 feet." 
 
 " Ay ! " said Barnaby, resting with crossed arms on his 
 spade, and looking wistfully at the sunset, "that's well 
 enough, mother ; but gold's a good thing to have. I wish 
 that I knew where to find it. Grip and I could do much with 
 gold, be sure of that." 
 
 " What would you do ? " she asked. 
 
 " What ! A world of things. We'd dress finely — you and 
 I, I mean ; not Grip — keep horses, dogs, wear bright colors 
 and feathers, do no more work, live delicately and at our ease. 
 
BAliNABT BUDGE. 391 
 
 Oh, we'd find uses for it, mother, and uses that would do us 
 good. I would I knew where gold was buried. How hard I'd 
 work to dig it up ! '' 
 
 " You do not know," said his mother, rising from her seat, 
 and laying her hand upon his shoulder, "what men have done 
 to win it, and how they have found, too late, that it glitters 
 briglitest at a distance, and turns quite dim and dull when 
 handled.'' 
 
 '' Ay, ay ; so you say ; so you think," he answered, still 
 looking eagerly in the same direction. '• For all that, mother, 
 I should like to try." 
 
 " Do you not see," she said, " how red it is ? Nothing 
 bears so many stains of blood, as gold. Avoid it. None 
 have such cause to hate its name as we have. Do not so 
 much as think of it, dear love. It has brought such misery 
 and suffering on your head and mine as few have known, and 
 God grant few may have to undergo. I would rather we 
 w6re dead and laid down in our graves, than you should ever 
 come to love it." 
 
 For a moment Barnaby withdrew his eyes and looked at 
 her with wonder. Then, glancing from the redness in the 
 sky to the mark upon his wrist as if he would compare the 
 two, he seemed about to question her with earnestness, when 
 a new object caught his wandering attention, and made him 
 quite forgetful of his purpose. 
 
 This was a man with dusty feet and garments, who stood, 
 bareheaded, behind the hedge that divided their patch or 
 garden from the pathway, and leaned meekly forward as if he 
 sought to mingle with their conversation, and waited for his 
 time to speak. His face was turned" towards the brightness, 
 too, but the light that fell upon it showed that he was blind, 
 and saw it not. 
 
 ''A blessing on those voices ! " said the wayfarer. " I feel 
 the beauty of the night more keenly, wlien I hear them. 
 They are like eyes to me. Will they speak again, and cheer 
 the heart of a poor traveller ? " 
 
 " Have you no guide ? " asked the widow, after a moment's 
 pause. 
 
 " None but that," he answered, i)uinting with liis staff 
 
392 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 towards the sun ; " and sometimes a milder one at night, but 
 she is idle now." 
 
 " Have you travelled far ? " 
 
 " A weary way and long," rejoined the traveller as he 
 shook his head. " A weary, weary, way. I struck my stick 
 just now upon the bucket of your well — be pleased to let me 
 have a draught of water, lady." 
 
 " Why do you call me lady ? " she returned. " I am as 
 poor as you." 
 
 " Your speech is soft and gentle, and I judge by that," 
 replied the man. " The coarsest stuffs and finest silks, are — 
 apart from the sense of touch — alike to me. I cannot judge 
 you by your dress." 
 
 " Come round this way," said Barnaby, who had passed out 
 at the garden gate and now stood close beside him. "Put 
 your hand in mine. You're blind and always in the dark, eh ? 
 Are you frightened in the dark ? Do you see great crowds of 
 faces, now ? Do they grin and chatter ? " 
 
 " Alas ! " returned the other, " I see nothing. Waking or 
 sleeping, nothing." 
 
 Barnaby looked curiously at his eyes, and touching them 
 with his fingers, as an inquisitive child might, led him towards 
 the house. 
 
 " You have come a long distance," said the widow, meet- 
 ing him at the door. How have you found your way so 
 far ? " 
 
 "Use and necessity are good teachers, as I have heard — 
 the best of any," said the blind man, sitting down upon the 
 chair to which Barnaby had led him, and putting his hat and 
 stick upon the red-tiled floor. "May neither you nor your son 
 ever learn under them. They are rough masters." 
 
 " You have wandered from the road, too," said the widow, 
 in a tone of pity. 
 
 " Maybe, maybe," returned the blind man with a sigh, and 
 yet with something of a smile upon his face, " that's likely. 
 Handposts and milestones are dumb, indeed, to me. Thank 
 you the more for this rest, and this refreshing drink ! " 
 
 As he spoke, he raised the mug of water to his mouth. It 
 was clear, and cold, and sparkling, but not to his taste never- 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 393 
 
 theless, or his thirst was not very great, for he only wetted 
 his lips and put it down again. 
 
 He wore, hanging with a long strap round his neck, a kind 
 of scrip or wallet, in which to carry food. The widow set 
 some bread and cheese before him, but he thanked her, and 
 said that through the kindness of the charitable he had broken 
 his fast once since morning, and was not hungry. When he 
 made her this reply, he opened his Avallet, and took out a few 
 pence, which was all it appeared to contain. 
 
 "Might I make bold to ask," he said, turning towards 
 where Barnaby stood looking on, " that one who has the gift 
 of sight, would lay this out for me in bread to keep me on 
 my way ? Heaven's blessing on the young feet that will 
 bestir themselves in aid of one so helpless as a sightless 
 man ! " 
 
 Barnaby looked at his mother, who nodded assent ; in 
 another moment he was gone upon his charitable errand. The 
 blind man sat listening with an attentive face, until long after 
 the sound of his retreating footsteps was inaudible to the 
 widow, and then said, suddenly, and in a very altered tone, — 
 
 " There are various degrees and kinds of blindness, widow. 
 There is the connubial blindness, ma'am, which perhaps you 
 may have observed in the course of your own experience, and 
 which is a kind of wilful and self-bandaging blindness. There 
 is the blindness of party, ma'am, and public men, which is the 
 blindness of a mad bull in the midst of a regiment of soldiers 
 clothed in red. There is the blind confidence of youth, which 
 is the blindness of young kittens, whose eyes have not yet 
 opened on the world ; and there is that physical blindness, 
 ma'am, of which I am, contrairy to my own desire, a most 
 illustrious example. Added to these, ma'am, is that blindness 
 of the intellect, of which we have a specimen in your interest- 
 ing son, and which, having sometimes glimmerings and dawn- 
 ings of the light, is scarcely to be trusted as a total darkness. 
 Therefore, ma'am, I have taken the liberty to get him out of 
 the way for a short time, while you and I confer together, and 
 this precaution arising out of the delicacy of my sentiments 
 towards yourself, you will excuse me, ma'am, I know." 
 
 Having delivered himself of this speech witli many flourishes 
 
394 BAUNABY BUDGE. 
 
 of manner, he drew from beneath his coat a flat stone bottle, 
 and holding the cork between his teeth, qualified his mug of 
 water with a plentiful infusion of the liquor it contained. 
 He politely drained the bumper to her health, and the ladies, 
 and setting it down empty, smacked his lips with infinite 
 relish. 
 
 "I am a citizen of the world, ma'am," said the blind man, 
 corking his bottle, " and if I seem to conduct myself with 
 freedom, it is therefore. You wonder who I am, ma'am, and 
 what has brought me here. Such experience of human nature 
 as I have, leads me to that conclusion, without the aid of eyes 
 by which to read the movements of your soul as depicted in 
 your feminine features. I will satisfy your curiosity imme- 
 diately, ma'am ; im-mediately." With that he slapped his 
 bottle on its broad back, and having put it under his garment 
 as before, crossed his legs and folded his hands, and settled 
 himself in his chair, previous to proceeding any further. 
 
 The change in his manner was so unexpected, the craft and 
 wickedness of his deportment were so much aggravated by his 
 condition — for we are accustomed to see in those who have 
 lost a human sense, something in its place almost divine — 
 and this alteration bred so many fears in her whom he 
 addressed, that she could not pronounce one word. After 
 waiting, as it seemed, for some remark or answer, and waiting 
 in vain, the visitor resumed, — 
 
 "Madam, my name is Stagg. A friend of mine who has 
 desired the honor of meeting with you any time these five 
 years past, has commissioned me to call upon you. I should 
 be glad to whisper that gentleman's name in your ear. — 
 Zounds, ma'am, are you deaf ? Do you hear me say that I 
 should be glad to whisper my friend's name in your ear ? " 
 
 " You need not repeat it," said the widow, with a stifled 
 groan ; " I see too well from whom you come." 
 
 "But as a man of honor, ma'am," said the blind man, 
 striking himself on the breast, " whose credentials must not 
 be disputed, I take leave to say that I will mention that gentle- 
 man's name. Ay, ay," he added, seeming to catch with his 
 quick ear the very motion of her hand, " but not aloud. With 
 your leave, ma'am, I desire the favor of a whisper." 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 395 
 
 She moved towards him, and stooped down. He muttered 
 a word in her ear; and, wringing her hands, she paced up 
 and down the room like one distracted. The blind man, with 
 perfect composure, produced his bottle again, mixed another 
 glassful ; put it up as before ; and, drinking from time to 
 time, followed her with his face in silence. 
 
 "You are slow in conversation, widow," he said after a 
 time, pausing in his draught. '' We shall have to talk before 
 your son." 
 
 " What would you have me do ? " she answered. " What 
 do you want ? " 
 
 "We are poor, widow, we are poor," he retorted, stretching 
 out his right hand, and rubbing his thumb upon its palm. 
 
 " Poor ! " she cried. " And what am I ? " 
 
 " Comparisons are odious," said the blind man. "' I don't 
 know, I don't care. I say that we are poor. My friend's 
 circumstances are indifferent, and so are mine. We must 
 have our rights, widow, or we must be bought off. But you 
 know that, as well as I, so where is the use of talking ? " 
 
 She still walked wildly to and fro. At length, stopping 
 abruptly before him, she said, — 
 
 " Is he near here ? " 
 
 " He is. Close at hand." 
 
 " Then I am lost ! " 
 
 "Not lost, widow," said the blind man, calmly; "only 
 found. Shall I call him ? " 
 
 " Not for the world," she answered with a shudder. 
 
 "Very good," he replied, crossing his legs again, for he 
 had made as though he would rise and walk to the door. 
 " As you please, widow. His presence is not necessary that 
 I know of. Bnt both he and I must live ; to live, we must 
 eat and drink ; to eat and drink, we must have money : — I 
 say no more." 
 
 "Do you know how pinched and destitute I am?" she 
 retorted. " I do not think you do, or can. If you had eyes, 
 and could look around you on this poor place, you would have 
 pity on me. Oh ! let your heart be softened by your own 
 affliction, friend, and have some sympathy with mine." 
 
 The blind man snapped his lingers as he answered, — 
 
396 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 " — Beside the question, ma'am, beside the question. T 
 have the softest heart in the world, but I can't live upon it. 
 Many a gentleman lives well upon a soft head, who would 
 find a heart of the same quality a very great drawback. 
 Listen to me. This is a matter of business, with which 
 sympathies and sentiments have nothing to do. As a mutual 
 friend, I wish to arrange it in a satisfactory manner, if pos- 
 sible ; and thus the case stands. — If you are very poor now, 
 it's your own choice. You have friends who, in case of 
 need, are always ready to help you. My friend is in a more 
 destitute and desolate situation than most men, and you and 
 he being linked together in a common cause, he naturally 
 looks to you to assist him. He has boarded and lodged with 
 me a long time (for as I said just now, I am very soft-hearted), 
 and I quite approve of his entertaining this opinion. You 
 have always had a roof over your head ; he has always been 
 an outcast. You have your son to comfort and assist you ; 
 he has nobody at all. The- advantages must not be all one 
 side. You are in the same boat, and we must divide the bal- 
 last a little more equally." 
 
 She was about to speak, but he checked her and went on. 
 
 " The only way of doing this, is by making up a little purse 
 now and then for my friend ; and that's what I advise. He 
 bears you no malice that I know of, ma'am : so little, that 
 although you have treated him harshly more than once, and 
 driven him, I may say, out of doors, he has that regard for 
 you that I believe, even if you disappointed him now, he 
 would consent to take charge of your son, and to make a man 
 of him." 
 
 He laid a great stress on these latter words, and paused as 
 if to find out what effect they had produced. She only 
 answered by her tears. 
 
 "He is a likely lad," said the blind man, thoughtfully, 
 "for many purposes, and not ill-disposed to try his fortune in 
 a little change and bustle, if I may judge from what I heard 
 of his talk with you to-night. — Come. In a word, my friend 
 has pressing necessity for twenty pounds. You, who can give 
 up an annuity, can get that sum for him. It's a pity you 
 should be troubled. You seem very comfortable here, and 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 397 
 
 it's worth that much to remain so. Twenty pounds, widow, 
 is a moderate demand. You know where to apply for it ; a 
 post will bring it you. — Twenty pounds ! " 
 
 She was about to answer him again, but again he stopped 
 her. 
 
 " Don't say anything hastily ; you might be sorry for it. 
 Think of it a little while. Twenty pounds — of other people's 
 money — how easy ! Turn it over in your mind. I'm in no 
 hurry. Night's coming on, and if I don't sleep here, I shall 
 not go far. Twenty pounds ! Consider of it, ma'am, for 
 twenty minutes ; give each pound a minute ; that's a fair 
 allowance. I'll enjoy the air the while, which is very mild 
 and pleasant in these parts." 
 
 With these words, he groped his way to the door, carrying 
 his chair with him. Then seating himself, under a spreading 
 honeysuckle, and stretching his legs across the threshold so 
 that no person could pass in or out without his knowledge, he 
 took from his pocket a pipe, flint, steel, and tinder-box, and 
 began to smoke. It was a lovely evening, of that gentle kind, 
 and at that time of year, when the twilight is most beautiful. 
 Pausing now and then to let his smoke curl slowly off, and to 
 sniff the grateful fragrance of the flowers, he sat there at his 
 ease — as though the cottage were his proper dwelling, and he 
 had held undisputed possession of it all his life — waiting for 
 the widow's answer and for Barnaby's return. 
 
398 BAByABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 When Barnaby returned with the bread, the sight of the 
 pious old pilgriru smoking his pipe and making himself so 
 thoroughly at home, appeared to surprise even him ; the more 
 so, as that worthy person, instead of putting up the loaf in 
 his wallet as a scarce and precious article, tossed it carelessly 
 on the table, and producing his bottle, bade him sit down and 
 drink. 
 
 " For I carry some comfort you see,'' he said. ^' Taste that. 
 Is it good ? " 
 
 The water stood in Barnaby's eyes as he coughed from the 
 strength of the draught, and answered in the affirmative. 
 
 " Drink some more," said the blind man ; " don't be afraid 
 of it. You don't taste anything like that, often, eh ? " 
 
 " Often ! " cried Barnaby. " Xever ! " 
 
 "Too poor ?" returned the blind man with a sigh. "Ay. 
 That's bad. Your mother, poor soul, would be happier if she 
 was richer, Barnaby." 
 
 "Why, so I tell her — the very thing I told her just before 
 you came to-night, when all that gold was in the sky," said 
 Barnaby, drawing his chair nearer to him, and looking eagerly 
 in his face. " Tell me. Is there any way of being rich, that 
 I c<Duld find out ? " 
 
 " Any way ! A hundred ways." 
 
 " Ay, ay ? " he returned. " Do you say so ? What are 
 they? — ISTay, mother, it's for your sake I ask; not mine; — 
 for yours, indeed. What are they ? " 
 
 The blind man turned his face, on which there was a smile 
 of triumph, to where the widow stood in great distress ; and 
 answered, — 
 
 " Why, they are not to be found out by stay-at-homes, my 
 good friend." 
 
 "By stay-at-homes ! " cried Barnab}', plucking at his sleeve. 
 
BARXABY BUDGE. 399 
 
 ^'But I am not one. Now, there you mistake. I am often 
 out before the sun, and travel home when he has gone to rest. 
 I am away in the woods before the day has reached the shady 
 places, and am often there when the bright moon is peeping 
 through the boughs, and looking down upon the other moon 
 that lives in water. As I walk along, I try to find, among 
 the grass and moss, some of that small money for which she 
 works so hard and used to shed so many tears. As I lie 
 asleep in the shade I dream of it — dream of digging it up in 
 heaps ; and spying it out, hidden under bushes ; and seeing it 
 sparkle, as the dewdrops do, among the leaves. But I never 
 find it. Tell me where it is. I'd go there, if the journey 
 were a whole year long, because I know she would be happier 
 when I came home and brought some with me. Speak again. 
 I'll listen to you if you talk all night." 
 
 The blind man passed his hand lightly over the poor 
 fellow's face, and finding that his elbows were planted on the 
 table, that his chin rested on his two hands, that he leaned 
 eagerly forward, and that his whole manner expressed the 
 utmost interest and anxiety, paused for a minute as though he 
 desired the widow to observe this fully, and then made answer: 
 
 " It's in the world, bold Barnaby, the merry world ; not in 
 solitary places like those you pass your time in, but in 
 crowds, and where there's noise and rattle." 
 
 ''Good! good!" cried Barnaby, rubbing his hands "Yes! 
 I love that. Grip loves it too. It suits us botli. That's 
 brave ! " 
 
 " — The kind of places," said the blind man, "that a young 
 fellow likes, and in which a good son may do more for his 
 mother, and himself to boot, in a month, than he could here 
 in all his life — that is, if he had a friend, you know, and 
 some one to advise with." 
 
 " You hear this, mother ? " cried Barnaby, turning to her 
 with delight. "Never tell me we sliouldn't heed it, if it la}' 
 shining at our feet, Wliy do we heed it so much now ? 
 Why do you toil from morning until night ? " 
 
 "Surely," said tlie blind man, "surrh'. Have you no 
 answer, widow ? Is your mind," he slowly added, - not made 
 up yet V " 
 
400 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 " Let me speak with you," she answered, " apart." 
 
 " Lay your hand upon my sleeve," said Stagg, rising from 
 the table ; " and lead me where you will. Courage, bold 
 Barnaby. We'll talk more of this : I've a fancy for you. 
 Wait there till I come back. Xow, widow." 
 
 She led him out at the door, and into the little garden, 
 where they stopped. 
 
 " You are a fit agent," she said, in a half breathless manner, 
 " and well represent the man who sent you here." 
 
 " I'll tell him that you said so," Stagg retorted. " He has 
 a regard for you, and will respect me the more (if possible) 
 for your praise. We must have our rights, widow." 
 
 '' Rights ! Do you know," she said, " that a word from 
 me" — 
 
 " Why do you stop ? " returned the blind man calmly, 
 after a long pause. '• Do I know that a word from you would 
 place my friend in the last position of the dance of life ? 
 Yes, I do. What of that ? It will never be spoken, widow." 
 
 " You are sure of that ? " 
 
 "Quite — so sure, that I don't come here to discuss the 
 question. I say we must have our rights, or we must be 
 bought off. Keep to that point, or let me return to my young 
 friend, for I have an interest in the lad, and desire to put him 
 in the way of making his fortune. Bah ! you needn't speak," 
 he added hastily ; " I know what you would say : you have 
 hinted at it once already. Have I no feeling for you, because 
 I am blind ? No, I have not. Why do you expect me, being 
 in darkness, to be better than men who have their sight — 
 why should you ? Is the hand of Heaven more manifest in 
 my having no eyes, than in your having two ? It's the cant 
 of you folks to be horrified if a blind man robs, or lies, or 
 steals ; oh yes, it's far worse in him, who can barely live on 
 the few halfpence that are thrown to him in streets, than in 
 you, who can see, and work, and are not dependent on the 
 mercies of the world. A curse on you ! You who have five 
 senses may be wicked at your pleasure ; we who have four, 
 and want the most important, are to live and be moral on our 
 affliction. The true charity and justice of rich to poor, all 
 the world over ! " 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 401 
 
 He paused a moment when he had said these words, and 
 caught the sound of mone}^, jingling in her hand. 
 
 " Well ? " he cried, quickly resuming his former manner. 
 "That should lead to something. The point, widow ? " 
 
 "First answer me one question," she replied. "You say 
 he is close at hand. Has he left London ? " 
 
 " Being close at hand, widow, it would seem he has," 
 returned the blind man. 
 
 " I mean for good. You know that." 
 
 " Yes, for good. The truth is, widow, that his making a 
 longer stay there might have had disagreeable consequences. 
 He has come away for that reason." 
 
 " Listen," said the widow, telling some money out, upon a 
 bench beside them. "Count." 
 
 "Six," said the blind man, listening attentively. "Any 
 more ? " 
 
 " They are the savings " she answered " of five years. Six 
 guineas." 
 
 He put out his hand for one of the coins ; felt it carefully, 
 put it between his teeth, rung it on the bench ; and nodded 
 to her to proceed. 
 
 " These have been scraped together and laid by, lest sick- 
 ness or death should separate my son and me. They have 
 been purchased at the price of much liunger, hard labor, and 
 want of rest. If you ca?i take them — do — on condition that 
 you leave this place upon the instant, and enter no more into 
 that room, where he sits now, expecting your return." 
 
 "Six guineas," said the blind man, shaking his head, 
 "though of the fullest weight that were ever coined, fall 
 very far short of twenty pounds, widow." 
 
 " For such a sum, as you know, I must write to a distant part of 
 the country. To do that,and receive an answer,! must have time." 
 
 " Two days ? " said Stagg. 
 
 " More." 
 
 " Four days ? " 
 
 " A week ! Return on this day week, at the same hour, but 
 not to the house. Wait at the corner of the lane." 
 
 "Of course," said the blind man, with a crafty look, "I 
 shall find you there ? " 
 
402 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 " Where else can I take refuge ? Is it not enough that you 
 have made a beggar of me, and that I have sacrificed my 
 whole store, so hardly earned, to preserve this home ? " 
 
 " Humph ! " said the blind man, after some consideration. 
 '• Set me with my face towards the point you speak of, and in 
 the middle of the road. Is this the spot ? " 
 
 '• It is." 
 
 " On this day week at sunset. And think of him within 
 doors. — For the present, good-night.*' 
 
 She made him no answer, nor did he stop for any. He 
 went slowl}^ awa}^, turning his head from time to time, and 
 stopping to listen, as if he were curious to know whether he 
 was watched by any one. The shadows of night were closing 
 fast around, and he was soon lost in the gloom. It was not, 
 however, until she had traversed the lane from end to end, 
 and made sure that he was gone, that she re-entered the 
 cottage, and hurriedly barred the door and window. 
 
 " Mother I '' said Barnaby. '• What is the matter ? Where 
 is the blind man ? " 
 
 "He is gone." 
 
 " Gone I " he cried, starting up. '- 1 must have more talk 
 with him. Which way did he take ? " 
 
 "I don't know," she answered, folding her arms about him. 
 " You must not go out to-night. There are ghosts and dreams 
 abroad." 
 
 " Ay ? " said Barnab}', in a frightened whisper. 
 
 " It is not safe to stir. We must leave this place to-morrow." 
 
 " This place ! This cottage — and the little garden, mother ! " 
 
 "Yes! To-morrow morning at sunrise. We must travel 
 to London ; lose ourselves in that wide place — there would 
 be some trace of us in any other town — then travel on again, 
 and find some new abode." 
 
 Little persuasion was required to reconcile Barnaby to any- 
 thing that promised change. In another minute, he was wild 
 with delight ; in another, full of grief at the prospect of part- 
 ing with his friends the dogs ; in another, wild again ; then 
 he was fearful of what she had said to prevent his wandering 
 abroad that night, and full of terrors and strange questions. 
 His light-heartedness in the end surmounted all his other 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 403 
 
 feelings, and lying down in his clothes to the end that he 
 might be ready on the morrow, he soon fell fast asleep before 
 the poor turf lire. 
 
 His mother did not close her eyes, but sat beside him, 
 watching. Every breath of wind sounded in her ears like 
 that dreaded footstep at the door, or like that hand upon the 
 latch, and made the calm summer night, a night of horror. 
 At length the welcome day appeared. When she had made 
 the little preparations which were needful for their journey, 
 and had prayed upon her knees with many tears, she roused 
 Barnaby, who jumped up gayly at her summons. 
 
 His clothes were few enough, and to carry Grip was a 
 labor of love. As the sun shed his earliest beams upon the 
 earth, they closed the door of their deserted home, and turned 
 away. The sky was blue and bright. The air was fresh and 
 filled with a thousand perfumes. Barnaby looked upward, 
 and laughed with all his heart. 
 
 But it was a day he usually devoted to a long ramble, and 
 one of the dogs — the ugliest of them all — came bounding up, 
 and jumping round him in the fulness of his joy. He had to 
 bid him go back in a surly tone, and his heart smote him 
 while he did so. The dog retreated ; turned with a half 
 incredulous, half imploring look ; came a little back ; and 
 stopped. 
 
 It was the last appeal of an old companion and a faithful 
 friend — cast off. Barnaby could bear no more, and as he 
 shook his head and waved his playmate home, he burst into 
 tears. 
 
 "Oh, mother, mother, how mournful he will be when he 
 scratches at the door, and finds it always shut ! " 
 
 There was such a sense of home in the thought, that though 
 her own eyes overflowed she would not have obliterated the 
 recollection of it, eitlier from her own mind or from his, fur 
 the wealth of the whole wide world. 
 
404 BAIiXABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 In- the exhaiistless catalogue of Heaven's mercies to man- 
 kind, the power we have of finding some germs of comfort in 
 the hardest trials must ever occupy the foremost place ; not 
 only because it supports and upholds us when we most require 
 to be sustained, but because in this source of consolation there 
 is something, we have reason to believe, of the divine spirit ; 
 something of that goodness which detects amidst our own evil 
 doings, a redeeming quality ; something which, even in our 
 fallen nature, we possess in common with the angels ; which 
 had its being in the old time when they trod the earth, and 
 lingers on it yet, in pity. 
 
 How often, on their journey, did the widow remember with 
 a grateful heart, tliat out of his deprivation Barnaby's cheer- 
 fulness and affection sprung ! How often did she call to mind 
 that but for that, he might have been sullen, morose, unkind, 
 far removed from her — vicious, perhaps, and cruel ! How 
 often had she cause for comfort, in his strength, and hope, 
 and in his simple nature. Those feeble powers of mind which 
 rendered him so soon forgetful of the past, save in brief 
 gleams and flashes, — even they were a comfort now. The 
 world to him was full of happiness ; in every tree, and plant, 
 and flower, in every bird, and beast, and tiny insect whom a 
 breath of summer wind laid low upon the ground, he had 
 delight. His delight was hers ; and where many a wise son 
 would have made her sorroAvful, this poor light-hearted idiot 
 filled her breast with thankfulness and love. 
 
 Their stock of money was low, but from the hoard she had 
 told into the blind man's hand, the widow had withheld one 
 guinea. This, with the few pence she possessed besides, was 
 to two persons of their frugal habits, a goodly sum in bank. 
 Moreover they had Grip in company ; and when they must 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 405 
 
 otherwise have changed the guinea, it was but to make him 
 exhibit outside an alehouse door, or in a village street, or in 
 the grounds or gardens of a mansion of the better sort, and 
 scores, who would have given nothing in charity, were ready 
 to bargain for more amusement from the talking bird. 
 
 One day — for they moved slowly, and, although they had 
 many rides in carts and wagons were on the road a week — 
 Barnaby with Grip upon his shoulder and his mot'her follow- 
 ing, begged permission at a trim lodge to go up to the great 
 house, at the other end of the avenue, and show his raven. 
 The man within was inclined to give them admittance, and 
 was indeed about to do so, when a stout gentleman with a 
 long whip in his hand, and a flushed face which seemed to 
 indicate that he had had his morning's draught, rode up to the 
 gate, and called in a loud voice and with more oaths than the 
 occasion seemed to warrant to have it opened directly. 
 
 " Who hast thou got here ? " said the gentleman angrily, 
 as the man threw the gate wide open, and pulled off his hat, 
 " who are these ? Eh ? ar't a beggar woman ? " 
 
 The widow answered with a courtesy, that they were poor 
 travellers. 
 
 " Vagrants," said the gentleman, " vagrants and vagabonds. 
 Thee wish to be made acquainted with the cage, dost thee — 
 the cage, the stocks, and the whipping-post ? Where dost 
 come from ? " 
 
 She told him in a timid manner, — for he was very loud, 
 hoarse, and red-faced, — and besought liim uot to be angry, 
 for they meant no harm and would go upon their way that 
 moment. 
 
 " Don't be too sure of that," replied the gentleman, '' we 
 don't allow vagrants to roam about this place. I know what 
 thou want'st — stray linen, drying on hedges, and stray 
 poultry, eh ? What hast got in that basket, lazy hound ? " 
 
 "Grip, Grip, Grip — Grip the clever. Grip the wicked, (xrip 
 the knowing — Grip, Grip, Grip," cried the raven, whom 
 Barnaby had shut up on the approach of this stern personage. 
 " I'm a devil I'm a devil I'm a devil. Never say die 
 Hurrah Bow wow wow, Polly i)ut the kettle on we'll all 
 have tea." 
 
406 BAIiyABY liUUGE. 
 
 " Take the virmin out, scoundrel/' said the gentleman, 
 " and let me see him." 
 
 Barnaby, thus condescendingly addressed, produced his bird, 
 but not witliout much fear and trembling, and set him down 
 upon the ground; which he had no sooner done than Grip 
 drew fifty corks at least, and then began to dance ; at the 
 same time eying the gentleman with surprising insolence of 
 manner, and screwing his head so much on one side that he 
 appeared desirous of screwing it off upon the spot. 
 
 The cork-drawing seemed to make a greater impression on 
 the gentleman's mind, than the raven's power of speech, and 
 was indeed particularly adapted to his habits and capacity. 
 He desired to have that done again, but despite his being 
 very peremptory, and notwithstanding that Barnaby coaxed 
 to the utmost, Grip turned a deaf ear to the request, and pre- 
 served a dead silence. 
 
 '• Bring him along," said the gentleman, pointing to the 
 house. But Grip, who had watched the action, anticipated 
 his master, by hopping on before them ; — constantly flapping 
 his wings, and screaming " cook ! " meanwhile, as a hint per- 
 haps that there was company coming, and a small collation 
 would be acceptable. 
 
 Barnaby and his mother walked on, on either side of the 
 gentleman on horseback, who surveyed each of them from 
 time to time in a proud- and coarse manner, and occasionally 
 thundered out some question, the tone of which alarmed 
 Barnaby so much that he could find no answer, and, as a 
 matter of course, could make him no reply. On one of these 
 occasions, when the gentleman appeared disposed to exercise 
 liis horsewhip, the widow ventured to inform him in a low 
 voice and with tears in her eyes, that her son was of weak 
 mind. 
 
 " An idiot, eh ? " said the gentleman, looking at Barnaby 
 as he spoke. " And how long hast been an idiot ? " 
 
 " She knows," was Barnaby's timid answer, pointing to his 
 mother — "I — always, I believe." 
 
 " From his birth," said the widow. 
 
 "I don't believe it," cried the orentleman, "not a bit of it. 
 It's an excuse not to work. There's nothing like flogging 
 
BAliNABY BUDGE. 407 
 
 to cure that disorder. I'd make a difference in him in ten 
 minutes, I'll be bound.''* 
 
 " Heaven has made none in more than twice ten years, sir," 
 said the widow mildly. 
 
 " Then why don't you shut him up ? we pay enough for 
 county institutions, damn 'em, But thou'd rather drag him 
 about to excite charity — of course. Ay, I know thee." 
 
 Now this gentleman had various endearing appellations 
 among his intimate friends. By some he was called " a 
 country gentleman of the true school," by some '• a fine old 
 country gentleman," by some " a sporting gentleman," by 
 some " a thorough-bred Englishman," by some " a genuine 
 John Bull ; " but they all agreed in one respect, and that was, 
 that it was a pity there were not more like him, and that 
 because there were not, the country was going to rack and 
 ruin every day. He was in the commission of the peace, and 
 could write his name almost legibly ; but his greatest quali- 
 fications w^ere, that he was more severe with poachers, was a 
 b9tter shot, a harder rider, had better horses, kept better dogs, 
 could eat more solid food, drink more strong wine, go to bed 
 every night more drunk and get up every morning more 
 sober, than any man in the country. In knowledge of horse- 
 flesh he was almost equal to a farrier, in stable learning he 
 surpassed his own head groom, and in gluttony not a pig on 
 his estate was a match for him. He had no seat in Parliament 
 himself, but he was extremely patriotic, and usually drove his 
 voters up to the poll with his own hands. He was warmly 
 attached to church and state, and never appointed to the 
 living in his gift any but a three-bottle man and a first-rate 
 fox-hunter. He mistrusted the honesty of all poor people 
 who could read and write, and had a secret jealousy of his own 
 wife (a young lady whom he liad married for what his friends 
 called ^'the good old English reason," that her father's property 
 adjoined his own) for possessing those accomplishments in 
 a greater degree than himself. In short, Barnaby being an 
 idiot, and Grip a creature of mere brute instinct, it would be 
 very hard to say what this gentleman was. 
 
 He rode up to the door of a handsome house approached by 
 a great fliglit of steps, where a man was waiting to take his 
 
408 BARXABY RUDGE. 
 
 horse, and led the way into a large hall, which, spacious as it 
 was, was tainted with the fumes of last night's stale debauch. 
 Great-coats, riding-whips, bridles, top-boots, spurs, and such 
 gear, were strewn about on all sides, and formed, with some 
 huge stags' antlers, and a few portraits of dogs and horses, its 
 principal embellishments. 
 
 Throwing himself into a great chair (in which, by-the-by, 
 he often snored away the night, v.'hen he had been, according 
 to his admirers, a finer country gentleman than usual) he 
 bade the man tell his mistress to come down : and presently 
 there appeared, a little flurried, as it seemed, by the unwonted 
 summons, a lady much younger than himself, who had the 
 appearance of being in delicate health, and not too happy. 
 
 '• Here ! Thou'st no delight in following the hounds as an 
 Englishwoman should have," said the gentleman. '• See to this 
 here. That'll please thee perhaps." 
 
 The lady smiled, sat down at a little distance from him, 
 and glanced at Barnaby with a look of pity. 
 
 '• He's an idiot, the woman says," observed the gentleman, 
 shaking his head ; " I don't believe it." 
 
 " Are you his mother ? " asked the lady. 
 
 She answered j^es. 
 
 "What's the use of asking her?^^ said the gentleman, 
 thrusting his hands into his breeches pockets. '• She'll tell 
 thee so, of course. Most likely he's hired, at so much a day. 
 There. Get on. Make him do something." 
 
 Grip having by this time recovered his ilrbanity, conde- 
 scended, at Barnaby's solicitation, to repeat his various 
 phrases of speech, and to go through the whole of his 
 performances with the utmost success. The corks, and the 
 never say die, afforded the gentleman so much delight that 
 he demanded the repetition of this part of the entertainment, 
 until Grip got into his basket, and positively refused to say 
 another word, good or bad. The lady too, was much amused 
 with him ; and -the closing point of his obstinacy so delighted 
 her husband that he burst into a roar of laughter, and 
 demanded his price. 
 
 Barnaby looked as though he didn't understand his 
 meaning. Probably he did not. 
 
BARXABV nUDGE. 4011 
 
 ''His price," said the geiitleiiiaii, rattling the money in his 
 pockets, '• what dost want for liini ? How much ? " 
 
 "He's not to be sokl," replied Barnaby, shutting up the 
 basket in a great hurry, and throwing tlie strap over his 
 shoulder. '• ^Mother, come away." 
 
 " Thou seest how much of an idiot he is, book-learner," 
 said the gentleman, looking scornfully at his wife. " He can 
 make a bargain. What dost want for him, old woman ? " 
 
 " He is my son's constant companion," said the widow. 
 " He is not to be sold, sir, indeed." 
 
 "Not to be sold!" cried the gentleman, growing ten times 
 redder, hoarser, and louder than before. " Not to be sold! " 
 
 " Indeed, no," she answered. " We have never thought of 
 parting with him, sir, I do assure you." 
 
 He was evidently about to make a very passionate retort, 
 when a few murmured words from his wife happening to 
 catch his ear, he turned sharply round, and said, "Eh? 
 What ? " 
 
 "We can hardly expect them to sell the bird, against 
 their own desire," she faltered. " If they prefer to keep 
 him" — 
 
 "Prefer to keep him!" he echoed. "These people, who 
 go tram})ing about the country, a-pilfering and vagabondizing 
 on all hands, prefer to keep a bird, when a landed proprietor 
 and a justice asks his price 1 That old woman's been to 
 school. I know she has. Don't tell me no," lie roared to 
 the widow, " I say, yes." 
 
 Barnaby's mother pleaded guilty to the accusation, ami 
 hoped there was no harm in it. 
 
 " No harm ! " said the gentleman. " No. No harm. 
 No harm, ye old rebel, not a bit of harm. If my clerk was 
 here, I'd set ye in the stocks, I would, or lay ye in jail for 
 prowling up and down, on the lookout for petty larcenies, ye 
 limb of a gypsy. Plere, Simon, put these pilferers out, shove 
 'em into the road, out with 'em ! Ye don't want to sell the 
 bird, ye that come here to beg, don't ye? If they ain't out 
 in double-quick, set the dogs upon 'em ! '' 
 
 They waited for no further dismissal, but tied preci{)itately, 
 leaving the gentleman to storm away by himself (for the poor 
 
410 BAliXABY liUDGK 
 
 lady had already retreated), and making a great many vain 
 attempts to silence Grip, who, excited by the noise, drew 
 corks enough for a city feast as they hurried down the 
 avenue, and appeared to congratulate himself beyond measure 
 on having been the cause of the disturbance. When they 
 had nearly reached the lodge, another servant, emerging from 
 the shrubbery, feigned to be very active in ordering them off, 
 but this man put a crown into the widow's hand, and 
 whispering that his lady se*it it, thrust them gently from the 
 gate. 
 
 This incident only suggested to the widow's mind, when 
 they halted at an alehouse some miles further on, and heard 
 the justice's character as given by his friends, that perhaps 
 something more than capacity of stomach and tastes for the 
 kennel and the stable, were required to form either a perfect 
 countr}^ gentleman, a thorough-bred Englishman, or a genuine 
 John Bull ; and that possibly the terms were sometimes 
 misappropriated, not to say disgraced. She little thought 
 then, that a circumstance so slight would ever influence their 
 future fortunes ; but time and experience enlightened her in 
 this respect. 
 
 " Mother," said Barnaby, as they were sitting next day in 
 a wagon which was to take them to within ten miles of the 
 capital, " we're going to London first, j^ou said. Shall we 
 see that blind man there ? " 
 
 She was about to answer " Heaven forbid ! " but checked 
 herself, and told him jS"o, she thought not ; wh}^ did he ask ? 
 
 " He's a wise man," said Barnaby, with a thoughtful coun- 
 tenance. "I wish that we may meet with him again. What 
 was it that he said of crowds ? That gold was to be found 
 where people crowded, and not among the trees and in such 
 quiet places ? He spoke as if he loved it ; London is a 
 crowded place ; I think we shall meet him there." 
 
 "But why do you desire to see him, love ? " she asked. 
 
 " Because," said Barnaby, looking wistfully at her, " he 
 talked to me about gold, which is a rare thing, and say what 
 you will, a thing you would like to have, I know. And 
 because he came and went away so strangely — just as wiiite- 
 headed old men come sometimes to my bed's foot in the night. 
 
BAByABY BUDGE. 411 
 
 and say what I can't remember when the briglit day returns. 
 He told me he'd come back. I wonder why he broke his 
 word ! " 
 
 " But you never thought of being rich or gay, before, dear 
 Barnaby. You have always been contented." 
 
 He laughed and bade her say that again, then cried, " Ay, 
 ay — oh, yes," and laughed once more. Then something 
 passed that caught his fancy, and the topic wandered from 
 his mind, and was succeeded by another just as fleeting. 
 
 But it was plain from what he had said, and from his 
 returning to the point more than once that day, and on the 
 next that the blind man's visit, and indeed his words, had 
 taken strong possession of his mind. Whether the idea of 
 wealth had occurred to him for the first time on looking at 
 the golden clouds that evening — and images were often pre- 
 sented to his thoughts by outward objects quite as remote and 
 distant ; or whether their poor and humble way of life had 
 suggested it, by contrast, long ago ; or whether the accident 
 (as he would deem it) of the blind man's pursuing the current 
 of his. own remarks, had done so at the m.oment; or he had 
 been impressed by the mere circumstance of the man being 
 blind, and, therefore, unlike any one with whom he had 
 talked before ; it was impossible to tell. She tried every 
 means to discover, but in vain ; and the probability is that 
 Barnaby himself was equally in the dark. 
 
 It filled her with uneasiness to find him harping on this 
 string, but all that she could do, was to lead him quickly to 
 some other subject, and to dismiss it from his brain. To 
 caution him against their visitor, to show any fear or suspicion 
 in reference to him, would only be, she feared, to increase 
 that interest with which Barnaby regarded him, and to 
 strengthen his desire to meet him once again. She hoped, 
 by plunging into the crowd, to rid herself of her terrible 
 pursuer, and then, by journeying to a distance and observing 
 increased caution, if that were possible, to live again unknown, 
 in secrecy and peace. 
 
 They reached, in course of time, their halting-place within 
 ten miles of London, and lay there for the night, after bargain- 
 ing to be carried on for a trifle next day, in a light van whicli 
 
412" BARNABY BULGE. 
 
 was returning empty, and was to start at five o'clock in the 
 morning. The driver was punctual, the road good — save for 
 the dust, the weather being very hot and dry — and at seven 
 in the forenoon of Friday the second of June, one thousand 
 seven hundred and eighty, they alighted at the foot of West- 
 minster Bridge, bade their conductor farewell, and stood 
 alone, together, on the scorching pavement. For the fresh- 
 ness which night sheds upon such busy thoroughfares had 
 already departed, and the sun was shining with uncommon 
 lustre. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 413 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 Uncertain where to go next, and bewildered by the crowd 
 of people who were already astir, they sat down in one of the 
 recesses on the bridge, to rest. They soon became aware that 
 the stream of life was all pouring one way, and that a vast 
 throng of persons were crossing tlie river from the Middlesex 
 to the Surrey shore, in unusual haste and evident excitement. 
 They were, for the most part, in knots of two or three, or 
 sometimes half a dozen ; they spoke little together — many of 
 them were quite silent ; and hurried on as if they had one 
 absorbing object in view, which was common to them all. 
 
 They were surprised to see that nearly every man in this 
 great concourse, wliich still came pouring past, without 
 slackening in the least, wore in his hat a blue cockade ; and 
 that the chance passengers who were not so decorated, 
 appeared timidly anxious to escape observation or attack, and 
 gave them the wall as if they would conciliate them. This, 
 however, was natural enough, considering their inferiority in 
 point of numbers ; for the proportion of those who wore blue 
 cockades, to those who were dressed as usual, was at least 
 forty or fifty to one. There was no quarrelling, however: the 
 blue cockades went swarming on, passing eacli other when 
 they could, and making all the speed that was possible in 
 such a multitude ; and exchanged nothing more than looks, 
 and very often not even those, with such of the passers-by as 
 were not of their number. 
 
 At first, the current of people had been confined to the two 
 pathways, and but a few more eager stragglers kei)t the road. 
 But after half an hour or so, the passage was completely 
 blocked up by the great press, wliich, being now closely 
 wedged together, and impeded by tlie carts and coaches it 
 encountered, moved but slowly, and was sometimes at a stand 
 for five or ten minutes together. 
 
414 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 After the lapse of nearly two hours, the numbers began to 
 diminish visibly, and gradually dwindling away, by little and 
 little, left the bridge quite clear, save that, now and then, 
 some hot and dusty man with the cockade in his hat, and his 
 coat thrown over his shoulder, went panting by, fearful of 
 being too late, or stopped to ask which way his friends had 
 taken, and being directed, hastened on again like one re- 
 freshed. In this comparative solitude, which seemed quite 
 strange and novel after the late crowd, the widow had for the 
 first time an opportunity of inquiring of an old man who came 
 and sat beside them, what was the meaning of that great 
 assemblage. 
 
 "Why, where have jou. come from," he returned, "that 
 you haven't heard of Lord George Gordon's great association ? 
 This is the day that he presents the petition against the 
 Catholics, God bless him ! " 
 
 "' What have all these men to do with that ? " she asked. 
 
 " What have they to do with it ! " the old man replied. 
 " Why, how you talk ! Don't you know his lordship has 
 declared he won't present it to the house at all, unless it is 
 attended to the door by forty thousand good and true men at 
 least ? There's a crowd for you ! " 
 
 " A crowd indeed ! " said Barnaby. " Do you hear that, 
 mother ! " 
 
 "And they're mustering yonder, as I am told," resumed 
 the old man, " nigh upon a hundred thousand strong. Ah ! 
 Let Lord George alone. He knows his power. There'll be 
 a good many faces inside them three windows over there," 
 and he pointed to where the House of Commons overlooked 
 the river, " that'll turn pale when good Lord George gets up 
 this afternoon, and with reason too ! Ay, ay. Let his lord- 
 ship alone. Let him alone. Ife knows ! " And so, with 
 much mumbling and chuckling, and shaking of his forefinger, 
 he rose, with the assistance of his stick, and tottered off. 
 
 "Mother!" said Barnaby, "that's a brave crowd he talks 
 of. Come ! " 
 
 " Not to join it ! " cried his mother. 
 
 " Yes, yes," he answered, plucking at her sleeve. " Why 
 not ? Come ! " 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 415 
 
 "You don't know," she urged, "what mischief they may 
 do, where they may lead you, what their meaning is. Dear 
 Barnaby, for my sake " — 
 
 "For your sake ! " he cried, patting her hand. " Well ! It 
 is for your sake, mother. You remember what the blind man 
 said, about the gold. Here's a brave crowd ! Come ! Or 
 wait till I come back — yes, yes, wait here." 
 
 She tried with all the earnestness her fears engendered, to 
 turn him from his purpose, but in vain. He was stooping 
 down to buckle on his shoe, when a hackney-coach passed 
 them rather quickly, and a voice inside called to the driver to 
 stop. 
 
 "Young man," said a voice within. 
 
 "Who's that ? " cried Barnaby, looking up. 
 
 " Do you wear this ornament ? " returned the stranger, hold- 
 ing out a blue cockade. 
 
 " In Heaven's name, no. Pray do not give it him ! " ex- 
 claimed the widow. 
 
 " Speak for yourself, woman," said the man within the 
 coach, coldly. " Leave the young man to his choice ; he's 
 old enough to make it, and to snap your apron-strings. He 
 knows, without your telling, whether he wears the sign of a 
 loyal Englishman or not." 
 
 Barnaby, trembling with impatience, cried " Yes ! yes, yes, 
 I do," as he had cried a dozen times already. The man 
 threw him a cockade, and crying "Make haste to Saint 
 George's Field's," ordered the coachman to drive on fast ; and 
 left them. 
 
 With hands that trembled with his eagerness to fix the 
 bauble in his hat, Barnaby was adjusting it as he best could, 
 and hurriedly replying to the tears and entreaties of his 
 mother, when two gentlemen passed on the opposite side of 
 the way. Observing them, and seeing how Barnaby was 
 occupied, they stopped, whispered together for an instant, 
 turned back, and came over to them. 
 
 " Why are you sitting here ? '' said one of them, who was 
 dressed in a plain suit of black, wore long lank hair, and 
 carried a great cane. " Why have you not gone with the 
 rest ? " 
 
416 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 "I am going, sir," replied Barnaby, finishing his task, and 
 putting his hat on with an air of pride. " I shall be there 
 directly." 
 
 " Say ' my lord,' young man, when his lordship does you 
 the honor of speaking to you," said the second gentleman 
 mildly. '^ If you don't know Lord George Gordon when you 
 see him, it's high time yow should." 
 
 " Nay, Gashford," said Lord George, as Barnaby pulled off 
 his hat again and made him a low bow, ^4t's no great 
 matter on a day like this, which every Englishman will 
 remember with delight and pride. Put on your hat, friend, 
 and follow us, for you lag behind and are late. It's past ten 
 now. Didn't you know that the hour of assembling was ten 
 o'clock ? " 
 
 Barnaby shook his head and looked vacantly from one to 
 the other. 
 
 " You might have known it, friend," said Gashford, " it was 
 perfectly understood. How came you to be so ill informed ? " 
 
 *^ He cannot tell you, sir," the widow interposed. " It's of 
 no use to ask him. We are but this morning come from a 
 long distance in the country, and know nothing of these 
 matters." 
 
 "The cause has taken a deep root, and has spread its 
 branches far and wide," said Lord George to his secretary. 
 " This is a pleasant hearing I thank Heaven for it." 
 
 " Amen ! " cried Gashford with a solemn face. 
 
 "You do not understand me, my lord," said the widow. 
 "Pardon me, but you cruelly mistake my meaning. We 
 know nothing of these matters. We have no desire or right 
 to join in what you are about to do. This is my son, my 
 poor afflicted son, d^rer to me than my own life. In mercy's 
 name, my lord, go your way alone, and do not tempt him into 
 danger ! " 
 
 " My good woman," said Gashford, " how can you ! — Dear 
 me ! — What do you mean by tempting, and by danger ? Do 
 you think his lordship is a roaring lion, going about and seek- 
 ing whom he may devour ? God bless me ! " 
 
 " No, no, my lord, forgive me," implored the widow, laying 
 both her hands upon his breast, and scarcely knowing what 
 
I ■ 
 I ■ 
 
 .-tU 
 
 
 
BAIiNABT BUDGE. 417 
 
 she did, or said, in the earnestness of her supplication, " but 
 there are reasons why you should hear my earnest, mother's 
 prayer, and leave my son with me. Oh do. He is not in his 
 right senses, he is not, indeed ! " 
 
 "It is a bad sign of the wickedness of these times," said 
 Lord George, evading her touch, and coloring deeply, "that 
 those who cling to the truth and support the right cause, are 
 set down as mad. Have you the heart to say this of your 
 own son, unnatural mother ! " 
 
 " I am astonished at you ! " said Gashf ord with a kind 
 of meek severity. " This is a very sad picture of female 
 depravity." 
 
 " He has surely no appearance," said Lord George, glancing 
 at Barnaby, and whispering in his secretary's ear, "of being 
 deranged ? And even if he had, we must not construe any 
 trifling peculiarity into madness. Which of us " — and here 
 he turned red again — " would be safe, if that were made the 
 law!" 
 
 "' Xot one," replied the secretary ; " in that case, the 
 greater the zeal, the truth, and talent ; the more direct the call 
 from above ; the clearer would be the madness. With re- 
 gard to this young man, my lord," he added, with a lip that 
 slightly curled as he looked at Barnaby, who stood twirling 
 his hat, and stealthily beckoning them to come away, "he is 
 as sensible and self-possessed as any one I ever saw." 
 
 " And you desire to make one of this great body ? " said 
 Lord George, addressing him ; " and intended to make one, 
 did you ? " 
 
 " Yes — yes," said Barnaby, with sparkling eyes. " To be 
 sure I did ! I told her so myself." 
 
 " I see," replied Lord George, with a reproachful glance at 
 the unhappy mother. " I thought so. Follow me and this 
 gentleman, and you shall have your wish." 
 
 Barnaby kissed his mother tenderly on the cheek, and 
 bidding her be of good cheer, for their fortunes were both 
 made now, did as he was desired. She, poor woman, 
 followed too — with how much fear and grief it would be hard 
 to tell. 
 
 They passed quickly througli the Bridge-road, where the 
 voi>. I, 
 
418 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 shops were all shut up (for the passage of the great crowd 
 and the expectation of their return had alarmed the tradesmen 
 for their goods and windows), and where, in the upper 
 stories, all the inhabitants were congregated, looking down 
 into the street below, with faces variously expressive of alarm, 
 of interest, expectancy, and indignation. Some of these 
 applauded, and some hissed; but regardless of these inter- 
 ruptions — for the noise of a vast congregation of people at a 
 little distance, sounded in his ears like the roaring of a sea — 
 Lord George Gordon quickened his pace, and presently arrived 
 before Saint George's Fields. 
 
 They were really fields at that time, and of considerable 
 extent. Here an immense multitude was collected, bearing 
 flags of various kinds and sizes, but all of the same color — 
 blue, like the cockades — some sections marching to and fro in 
 military array, and others drawn up in circles, squares, and 
 lines. A large portion, both of the bodies which paraded the 
 ground, and of those which remained stationary, were occupied 
 in singing hymns or psalms. With whomsoever this origi- 
 nated, it was well done ; for the sound of so many thousand 
 voices in the air must have stirred the heart of any man 
 within him, and could not fail to have a wonderful effect upon 
 enthusiasts, however mistaken. 
 
 Scouts had been posted in advance of the great body, to give 
 notice of their leader's coming. These falling back, the word 
 was quickly passed through the whole host, and for a short 
 interval there ensued a profound and death-like silence, during 
 which the mass was so still and quiet, that the fluttering of a 
 banner caught the eye, and became a circumstance of note. 
 Then they burst into a tremendous shout, into another, and 
 another ; and the air seemed rent and shaken, as if by the 
 discharge of cannon." 
 
 " Gashford ! " cried Lord George, pressing his secretary's 
 arm tight within his own, and speaking with as much emotion 
 in his voice as in his altered face, "I am called indeed, now. 
 T feel and know it. I am the leader of a host. If they sum- 
 moned me at this moment with one voice to lead them on to 
 death, I'd do it — Yes, and fall first myself." 
 
 " It is a proud sight," said the secretary. *' It is a noble 
 
BARNABY BULGE. 419 
 
 day for England, and for the great cause throughout the 
 workl. Such homage^ my lord, as I, an humble but devoted 
 man, can render " — 
 
 " What are you doing ! " cried his master, catching him by 
 both hands ; for he had made a show of kneeling at his feet ; 
 " Do not unfit me, dear Gashford, for the solemn duty of this 
 glorious day" — the tears stood in the eyes of the poor gen- 
 tleman as he said the words. — " Let us go among them ; we 
 have to find a place in some division for this new recruit — 
 give me your hand." 
 
 Gashford slid his cold insidious palm into his master's 
 grasp, and so, hand in hand, and followed still by Barnaby 
 and by his mother too, they mingled with the concourse. 
 
 They had by this time taken to their singing again, and as 
 their leader passed between their ranks, they raised their 
 voices to their utmost. Many of those who were banded 
 together to support the religion of their country, even unto 
 death, had never heard a hymn or psalm in all their lives. But 
 these fellows having for the most part strong lungs, and being 
 naturally fond of singing, chanted any ribaldry or nonsense 
 that occurred to them, feeling pretty certain that it would not 
 be detected in the general chorus, and not caring very much 
 if it were. Many of these voluntaries were sung under the 
 very nose of Lord George Gordon, who, quite unconscious of 
 their burden, passed on with his usual stiff and solemn deport- 
 ment, very much edified and delighted by the pious conduct of 
 his followers. 
 
 So they went on and on, up this line, down that, round the 
 exterior of this circle, and on every side of that hollow square ; 
 and still there were lines, and squares, and circles out of number 
 to review. The day being now intensely hot, and the sun 
 striking down his fiercest rays upon the field, those who 
 carried heavy banners began to groAv faint and weary ; most 
 of the number assembled were fain to pull off their neckcloths, 
 and throw their coats and waistcoats open ; and some, towards 
 the centre, quite overpowered by the excessive heat, which 
 was of course rendered more unendurable by the multitude 
 around them, lay down upon the grass, and offered all tliey 
 had about them for a drink of water. Still, no man left the 
 
420 BAENABY BUDGE. 
 
 ground, not even of those who were so distressed ; still, Lord 
 George, streaming from every pore, went on with Gashford ; 
 and still Barnaby and his mother followed close behind them. 
 
 They had arrived at the top of a long line of some eight 
 hundred men in single file, and Lord George had turned his 
 head to look back, when a loud cry of recognition — in that 
 peculiar and half-stifled tone which a 'voice has, when it is 
 raised in the open air and in the midst of a great concourse of 
 persons — was heard, and a man stepped with a shout of 
 laughter from the rank, and smote Barnaby on the shoulders 
 with his heavy hand. 
 
 " How now ! " he cried. '' Barnaby Rudge ! Why, where 
 have you been hiding for these hundred years ! " 
 
 Barnaby had been thinking within himself that the smell 
 of the trodden grass brought back his old days at cricket, 
 when he was a young boy and played on Chigwell Green. 
 Confused by this sudden and boisterous address, he stared in 
 a bewildered manner at the man, and could scarcely say 
 " What ! Hugh ! " 
 
 " Hugh ! " echoed the other ; " ay, Hugh — Maypole Hugh ! 
 You remember my dog ? He's alive now, and will know you, 
 I warrant. What, you wear the color, do j'ou ? Well done ! 
 Ha, ha, ha ! " 
 
 " You know this young man, I see," said Lord George. 
 
 " Know him, my lord ! as well as I know my own right 
 hand. My captain knows him. We all know him." 
 
 "Will you take him into your division ? " 
 
 " It hasn't in it a better, nor a nimbler, nor a more active 
 man than Barnaby Rudge," said Hugh. '^Show me the 
 man who says it has ! Fall in, Barnaby. He shall march, 
 my lord, between me and Dennis ; and he shall carry," he 
 added, taking a flag from the hand of a tired man who 
 tendered it, " the gayest silken streamer in this valiant 
 army." 
 
 " In the name of God, no I " shrieked the widow, darting 
 forward. "Barnaby — my lord — see — he'll come back — 
 Barnaby — Barnaby ! " 
 
 " Women in the field ! " cried Hugh, stepping between 
 them, and holding her off. " Holloa ! My captain there ! " 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 421 
 
 "What's the matter here ? " cried Simon Tappertit, bustling 
 up in a great heat. " Do you call this order ? " 
 
 "Nothing like it, captain," answered Hugh, still holding 
 her back with his outstretched hand. " It's against all 
 orders. Ladies are carrying off our gallant soldiers from 
 their duty. The word of command, captain I They're filing 
 off the ground. Quick ! " 
 
 "' Close ! *' cried Simon, with the whole power of his lungs. 
 " Form ! IMarch ! " 
 
 She was thrown to the ground ; the whole field was in 
 motion ; Barnaby was whirled away into the heart of a dense 
 mass of men, and she saw him no more. 
 
422 BAEyABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 The mob had been divided from its first assemblage into 
 four divisions ; the London, the Westminster, the Southwark, 
 and the Scotch. Each of these divisions being subdivided 
 into various bodies, and these bodies being drawn up in 
 various forms and figures, the general arrangement was, 
 except to the few chiefs and leaders, as unintelligible as the 
 plan of a great battle to the meanest soldier in the field. It 
 was not without its method, however ; for, in a very short 
 space of time after being put in motion, the crowd had 
 resolved itself into three great parties, and were prepared, as 
 had been arranged, to cross the river by different bridges, and 
 make for the House of Commons in separate detachments. 
 
 At the head of that division which had Westminster Bridge 
 for its approach to the scene of action. Lord George Gordon 
 took his post ; with Gashford at his right hand, and sundry 
 ruffians of most unpromising appearance, forming a kind of 
 staff about him. The conduct of a second party whose route 
 lay by Blackfriars, was intrusted to a committee of manage- 
 ment, including perhaps a dozen men : while the third, which 
 was to go by London Bridge, and through the main streets, 
 in order that their numbers and their serious intentions might 
 be the better known and appreciated by the citizens, were led 
 by Simon Tappertii? (assisted by a few subalterns, selected 
 from the Brotherhood of United Bulldogs), Dennis the hang- 
 man, Hugh, and some others. 
 
 The word of command being given, each of these great 
 bodies took the road assigned to it, and departed on its way, 
 in perfect order and profound silence. That which went 
 through the City greatly exceeded the others in number, and 
 was of such prodigious extent that when the rear began to 
 move, the front was nearly four miles in advance, notwith- 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 423 
 
 standing that the men marched three abreast and followed 
 very close upon each other. 
 
 At the head of this party, in the place where Hugh, in the 
 madness of his humor, had stationed him, and walking 
 between that dangerous companion and the hangman, went 
 Barnaby ; as many a man among the thousands who looked 
 on that day afterwards remembered well. Forgetful of all 
 other things in the ecstasy of the moment, his face flushed 
 and his eyes sparkling with delight, heedless of the weight of 
 the great banner he carried, and mindful only of its flashing 
 in the sun and rustling in the summer breeze, on he went, 
 proud, happy, elated past all telling : — the only light-hearted, 
 undesigning creature, in the whole assembly. 
 
 " What do 3'ou think of this ? " asked Hugh, as they passed 
 through the crowded streets, and looked up at the windows 
 which were thronged with spectators. "They have all turned 
 out to see our flags and streamers ? Eh, Barnaby ? Why, 
 Barnaby's the greatest man of all the pack ! His flag's the 
 largest of the lot, the brightest too. There's nothing in the 
 show like Barnaby. All eyes are turned on him. Pla, ha, 
 ha!" 
 
 "Don't make that din, brother," growled the hangman, 
 glancing with no very approving eyes at Barnaby as he spoke : 
 "I hope he don't tliink there's nothing to be done, but 
 carrying that there piece of blue rag, like a boy at a breaking- 
 up. You're ready for action, I hope, eh ? You, I mean," he 
 added, nudging Barnaby roughly with his elbow. " What are 
 you staring at ? Why don't you speak ? " 
 
 Barnaby had been gazing at his flag, and looked vacantly 
 from his questioner to Hugh. 
 
 " He don't understand your way," said the latter. '• Here, 
 I'll explain it to him. Barnaby, old boy, attend to me." 
 
 " I'll attend," said Barnaby, looking anxiously round : 
 '' but I wish I could see her somewhere." 
 
 "See wlio ? " demanded Dennis in a gruff tone. "You 
 ain't in love, I hope, brother ? That ain't tlie sort of tiling 
 for us, you know. AVe mustn't have no love here." 
 
 " She would be ])roud indeed to see me now, eh, Hugh ? " 
 said Barnaby. "AN'ouldn't it make her glad to see me at the 
 
424 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 head of this large show ? She'd cry with joy, I know she 
 would. Where can she be. She never sees me at my best, 
 and what do I care to be gay and fine if she^s not by ? " 
 
 " Why, what palaver's this ? " asked ]Mr. Dennis with 
 supreme disdain. "We ain't got no sentimental members 
 among us, I hope." 
 
 " Don't be uneasy, brother," cried Hugh, " he's only talk- 
 ing of his mother." 
 
 "Of his what ?" said jNIr. Dennis with a strong oath. 
 
 "His mother." 
 
 " And have I combined myself with this here section, and 
 turned out on this here memorable da}^, to hear men talk 
 about their mothers ! " growled Mr. Dennis with extreme 
 disgust. " The notion of a man's sweetheart's bad enough, 
 but a man's mother !" — and here his disgust was so extreme 
 that he spat upon the ground, and could say no more. 
 
 "Barnaby's right," cried Hugh with a grin, "and I say 
 it. Lookee, bold lad. If she's not here to see, it's because 
 I've provided for her, and sent half a dozen gentlemen, every 
 one of 'em with a blue flag (but not half as line as yours), to 
 take her, in state, to a grand house all hung round with gold 
 and silver banners, and everything else you please, where 
 she'll wait till you come, and want for nothing." 
 
 " Ay ! " said Barnaby, his face beaming with delight : 
 " have you indeed ? That's a good hearing. That's fine ! 
 Kind Hugh ! " 
 
 "But nothing to what will come, bless you," retorted 
 Hugh, with a wink at Dennis, who regarded his new com- 
 panion in arms with great astonishment. 
 
 "' Xo, indeed ? " cried Barnaby. 
 
 " ISTothing at all," said Hugh. " Money, cocked hats and 
 feathers, red coats and gold lace ; all the fine things there are, 
 ever w^ere, or will be ; will belong to us if we are true to that 
 noble gentleman — the best man in the world — carry our flags 
 for a few daj'S, and keep 'em safe. That's all we've got to do." 
 
 " Is that all ? " cried Barnaby with glistening e3^es, as he 
 clutched his pole the tighter ; " I warrant you I keep this one 
 safe, then. You have put it in good hands. You know me, 
 Hugh. Nobody shall w^rest this flag away." 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 425 
 
 "Well said!" cried Hugh. ^^Ha, ha! Nobly said! 
 That's the old stout Barnaby, that I have climbed and leaj^ed 
 with, many and many a day — I knew I was not mistaken in 
 Barnaby. — Don't you see man," he added in a whisper, as he 
 slipped to the other side of Dennis, " that the lad's a natural, 
 and can be got to do anything, if you take him the right 
 way. Letting alone the fun he is, he's worth a dozen men, 
 in earnest, as you'd find if you tried a fall with him. Leave 
 him to me. You shall soon see whether he's of use or not." 
 
 Mr. Dennis received these explanatory remarks with many 
 nods and winks, and softened his behavior towards Barnaby 
 from that moment. Hugh, laying his finger on his nose, 
 stepped back into his former place, and they proceeded in 
 silence. 
 
 It was between two and three o'clock in the afternoon when 
 the three great parties met at Westminster, and, uniting into 
 one huge mass, raised a tremendous shout. This was not only 
 doiie in token of their presence, but as a signal to those on 
 whom the task devolved, that it was time to take possession 
 of the lobbies of both Houses, and of the various avenues of 
 approach, and of the gallery stairs. To the last-named place, 
 Hugh and Dennis, still with their pupil between them, rushed 
 straightway ; Barnaby having given his flag into the hands 
 of one of their own party, who kept them at the outer door. 
 Their followers pressing on behind, they were borne as on a 
 great wave to the very doors of the gallery, whence it was 
 impossible to retreat, even if they had been so inclined, by 
 reason of the throng which choked up the passages. It is a 
 familiar expression in describing a great crowd, that a person 
 might have walked upon the people's heads. In this case it 
 was actually done; for a boy who had by some means got 
 among the concourse, and was in imminent danger of suffoca- 
 tion, climbed to the shoulders of a man beside him and 
 walked upon the people's hats and heads into the open street ; 
 traversing in his passage the whole length of two staircases 
 and a long gallery. Nor was the swarm without less dense ; 
 for a basket wliich had been tossed into the crowd, was jerked 
 from head to head, and shoulder to slioulder, and went spin- 
 ning and whirling on above them, until it was lost to view, 
 
426 BARNABT RUDGE. 
 
 without ever once falling in among tliem or coming near the 
 ground. 
 
 Through this vast throng, sprinkled doubtless here and 
 there with honest zealots, but composed for the most part 
 of the very scum and refuse of London, whose growth was 
 fostered by bad criminal laws, bad prison regulations, and the 
 worst conceivable police, such of the members of both Houses 
 of Parliament as had not taken the precaution to be already 
 at their posts, were compelled to fight and force their way. 
 Their carriages were stopped and broken ; the wheels 
 wrenched off ; the glasses shivered to atoms ; the panels 
 beaten in ; drivers, footmen, and masters, pulled from their 
 seats and rolled in the mud. Lords, commoners, and reverend 
 bishops, with little distinction of person or party, were 
 kicked and pinched and hustled ; passed from hand to hand 
 through various stages of ill-usage ; and sent to their fellow- 
 senators at last with their clothes hanging in ribbons about 
 them, their bagwigs torn off, themselves speechless and 
 breathless, and their persons covered with the powder which 
 had been cuffed and beaten out of their hair. One lord w^as 
 so long in the hands of the populace, that the Peers as a 
 body resolved to sally forth and rescue him, and were in the 
 act of doing so, when he hapjiily api;)eared among them cov- 
 ered with dirt and bruises, and hardly to be recognized by 
 those who knew him best. The noise and uproar were on 
 the increase every moment. The air was filled with execrations, 
 hoots, and bowlings. The mob raged and roared like a mad 
 monster as it was, unceasingly, and each new outrage served 
 to swell its fury. 
 
 Within doors, matters were even yet more threatening. 
 Lord George — preceded by a man who carried the immense 
 petition on a porter's knot through the lobby to the door of 
 the House of Commons, where it was received by two officers 
 of the house who rolled it up to the table ready for presenta- 
 tion — had taken his seat at an early hour, before the Speaker 
 went to prayers. His followers pouring in at the same time, 
 the lobby and all the avenues were immediately filled, as we 
 have seen. Thus the members were not only attacked in 
 their passage through the streets, but were set upon within 
 
OUTSIDE THE GALLERY. 
 
BARNABY RUDGE. 427 
 
 the very walls of Parliament ; while the tumult, both within 
 and without, was so great, that those who attempted to speak 
 could scarcely hear their own voices : far less consult upon 
 the course it would be wise to take in such extremity, or 
 animate each other to dignified and firm resistance. So sure 
 as any member, just arrived, with dress disordered and 
 dishevelled hair, came struggling through the crowd in the 
 lobby, it yelled and screamed in triumph ; and when the door 
 of the House partially and cautiously opened by those within 
 for his admission, gave them a momentary glimpse of the 
 interior, they grew more wild and savage, like beasts at the 
 sight of prey, and made a rush against the portal, which 
 strained its locks and bolts in their staples, and shook the 
 very beams. 
 
 The strangers' gallery, which was immediately above the 
 door of the House, had been ordered to be closed on the first 
 rumor of disturbance, and was empty ; save that now and 
 then Lord George took his seat there, for the convenience of 
 coming to the head of the stairs which led to it, and repeating 
 to the people what had passed within. It was on these stairs 
 that Barnaby, Hugh, and Dennis were posted. There were 
 two flights, short, steep, and narrow, running parallel to each 
 other, and leading to two little doors communicating with a 
 low passage which opened on the gallery. Between them 
 was a kind of well, or unglazed skylight, for the admission of 
 light and air into the lobby, which might be some eighteen or 
 twenty feet below. 
 
 Upon one of these little staircases — not that at the head 
 of which Lord George appeared from time to time, but the 
 other — Gashford stood with his elbow on the banister, and 
 his cheek resting on his hand, with his usual crafty aspect. 
 Whenever he varied this attitude in the slightest degree — 
 so much as by the gentlest motion of his arm — the uproar was 
 certain to increase, not merely there, but in the lobby below ; 
 from which place, no doubt, some man who acted as fugleman 
 to the rest, was constantly looking up and watching him. 
 
 "Order!'' cried Hugh, in a voice whicli made itself heard 
 even above the roar and tumult, as Lord George appeared at 
 the top of the staircase. '' News ! News from my lord ! '' 
 
428 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 The noise continued, notwithstanding his appearance, until 
 Gashford looked round. There was silence immediately — 
 even among the people in the passages without, and on the 
 other staircases, who could neither see nor hear, but to whom, 
 notwithstanding, the signal was conveyed with marvellous 
 rapidity. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Lord George, who was very pale and 
 agitated, '•' We must be firm. They talk of delays, but we 
 must have no delays. They talk of taking your petition into 
 consideration next Tuesday, but we must have it considered 
 now. Present appearances look bad for our success, but we 
 must succeed and will ! " 
 
 " We must succeed and will ! " echoed the crowd. And so 
 among their shouts and cheers and other cries, he bowed to 
 them and retired, and presently came back again. There was 
 another gesture from Gashford, and a dead silence directly. 
 
 "I am afraid," he said, this time, "that we have little 
 reason, gentlemen, to hope for any redress from the proceed- 
 ings of Parliament. But we must redress our own grievances, 
 we must meet again, we must put our trust in Providence, 
 and it will bless our endeavors." 
 
 This speech being a little more temperate than the last, 
 was not so favorably received. When the noise and exaspera- 
 tion were at their height, he came back once more, and told 
 them that the alarm had gone forth for man}- miles round ; 
 that when the King heard of their assembling together in 
 that great body, he had no doubt His Majesty would send 
 down private orders to have their wishes complied with ; and 
 — with the manner of his speech as childish, irresolute, and 
 uncertain as his matter — was proceeding in this strain, when 
 two gentlemen suddenly appeared at the door where he stood, 
 and pressing past him and coming a step or two lower down 
 upon the stairs, confronted the people. 
 
 The boldness of this action quite took them by surprise. 
 They were not the less disconcerted, when one of the gentle- 
 men, turning to Lord George, spoke thus — in a loud voice 
 that they might hear him well, but quite coolly and collectedly. 
 
 " You may tell these people, if you please, my lord, that I 
 am General Conway of whom they have heard; and that I 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 429 
 
 oppose this petition, and all their proceedings, and 3'ours. 
 I am a soldier, 3*011 may tell them, and I will protect the 
 freedom of this place with m^^ sword. You see, my lord, that 
 the members of this House are all in arms to-day ; you know 
 that the entrance to it is a narrow one : you cannot be igno- 
 rant that there are men within these walls who are deter- 
 mined to defend that pass to the last, and before whom many 
 lives must fall if your adherents persevere. Have a care 
 what you do." 
 
 "And my Lord George," said the other gentleman, address- 
 ing him in like manner, '• I desire them to hear this, from me 
 — Colonel Gordon — your near relation. If a man among 
 this crowd, whose uproar strikes us deaf, crosses the threshold 
 of the House of Commons, I swear to run my sword that 
 moment — not into his, but into your bod}^ ! " 
 4 With that they stepped back again, keeping their faces 
 towards the crowd ; took each an arm of the misguided noble- 
 man ; drew him into the passage, and shut the door ; which 
 they directly locked and fastened on the inside. 
 
 This was so quickly done, and the demeanor of both gentle- 
 men — who were not young men either — was so gallant and 
 resolute, that the crowd faltered and stared at each other with 
 irresolute and timid looks. INIany tried to turn towards the 
 door ; some of the faintest-hearted cried that the}- had best go 
 back, and called to those behind to give way ; and the panic 
 and confusion were increasing rapidly;, when Gashford whis- 
 pered Hugh. 
 
 '• What now ! " Hugh roared aloud, turning towards them. 
 " Why go back ? Where can you do better than here, boys ! 
 One good rush against these doors and one below at the same 
 time, will do the business. Eush on, then ! As to the door 
 below, let those stand back who are afraid. Let those who 
 are not afraid, try who shall be the first to pass it. Here 
 goes. Look out down there ! " 
 
 Without the delay of an instant, he threw himself lu-adlong 
 over the banisters into the lobV)y below. He liad hardly 
 touched the ground when Larnaljy was at his side. The 
 chaplain's assistant, and some members who were imploring 
 the people to retire, immediately withdrew; and then, with a 
 
430 BAEXABY BUDGE. 
 
 great shout, both crowds threw themselves against the doors 
 pell-mell, and besieged the House in earnest. 
 
 At that moment, when a second onset must have brought 
 them into collision with those who stood on the defensive 
 within, in which case great loss of life and bloodshed would 
 inevitably have ensued, — the hindmost portion of the crowd 
 gave way, and the rumor spread from mouth to mouth that a 
 messenger had been despatched by water for the military, 
 who were forming in the street. Fearful of ^sustaining a 
 charge in the narrow passages in which they were so closely 
 wedged together, the throng poured out as impetuously as 
 they had flocked in. As the whole stream turned at once, 
 Barnaby and Hugh went with it ; and so, fighting and 
 struggling and trampling on fallen men and being trampled 
 on in turn themselves, they and the whole mass floated by 
 degrees into the open street, where a large detachment of tlije 
 Guards, both horse and foot, came hurrying up ; clearing the 
 ground before them so rapidly that the people seemed to melt 
 away as they advanced. 
 
 The word of command to halt being given, the soldiers 
 formed across the street ; the rioters, breathless and exhausted 
 with their late exertions, formed likewise, though in a very 
 irregular and disorderly manner. The commanding officer 
 rode hastily into the open space between the two bodies 
 accompanied by a magistrate and an officer of the House of 
 Commons, for whose accommodation a couple of troopers had 
 hastily dismounted. The Kiot Act was read, but not a man 
 stirred. 
 
 In the first rank of the insurgents, Barnaby and Hugh 
 stood side by side. Somebody had thrust into Barnaby's 
 hands when he came out into the street, his precious flag ; 
 which, being now rolled up and tied round the pole, looked 
 like a giant quarter-staff as he grasped it firmly and stood 
 upon his guard. If ever man believed with his whole heart 
 and soul that he was engaged in a just cause, and that he was 
 bound to stand by his leader to the last, poor Barnaby believed 
 it of himself and Lord George Gordon. 
 
 After an ineffectual attempt to make himself heard, the 
 magistrate crave the word and the Horse Guards came riding 
 
BAENABY BUDGE. 431 
 
 in among the crowd. But, even then, he galloped here and 
 there, exhorting the people to disperse ; and although heav}- 
 stones were thrown at the men, and some were desperately 
 cut and bruised, they had no orders but to make prisoners of 
 such of the rioters as were the most active, and to drive the 
 people back with the flat of their sabres. As the horses came . 
 in among them, the throng gave way at many points, and the 
 Guards, following up their advantage, were rapidly clearing 
 the ground, when two or three of the foremost, who were in 
 a manner cut off from the rest by the people closing round 
 them, made straight towards Barnaby and Hugh, who had no 
 doubt been pointed out as the two men who dropped into the 
 lobby : laying about them now with some effect, and inflicting 
 on the more turbulent of their opponents, a few slight flesh 
 wounds, under the influence of which a man dropped, here 
 and there, into the arms of his fellows, amid much groaning 
 and confusion. 
 
 At the sight of gashed and bloody faces, seen for a moment 
 in the crowd, then hidden by the press around them, Barnaby 
 turned pale and sick. But he stood his ground, and grasping 
 his pole more firmly yet, kept his eye fixed upon the nearest 
 soldier — nodding his head meanwhile, as Hugh, with a 
 scowling visage, whispered in his ear. 
 
 The soldier came spurring on, making his horse rear as the 
 people pressed about him, cutting at the hands of those who 
 would have grasped his rein and forced his charger back, and 
 waving to his comrades to follow — and still Barnaby, without 
 retreating an inch, waited for his coming. Some called to 
 him to fly, and some were in the very act of closing round 
 him, to prevent his being taken, when the pole swept the air 
 above the people's heads, and the man's saddle was empty in 
 an instant. 
 
 Then, he and Hugh turned and fled ; tlie crowd opening to 
 let tliem pass, and closing up again so quickly that there was 
 no clew to the course they had taken. Panting for breath, 
 hot, dusty, and exhausted witli fatigue, they reached the river- 
 side in safety, and getting into a boat with all despatch were 
 soon out of any immediate danger. 
 
 As tliey glided down tlic river, thry ])l;iinly licanl llu' 
 
432 BARXABT RVDGE. 
 
 people cheering ; and supposing they might have forced the 
 sohliers to retreat, lay upon their oars for a few minutes, 
 uncertain whether to return or not. But the crowd passing 
 along Westminster Bridge, soon assured them that the popu- 
 lace were dispersing ; and Hugh rightly guessed from this, 
 that they had cheered the magistrate for offering to dismiss 
 the military on condition of their immediate departure to their 
 several homes, and that he and Barnaby were better where 
 they were. He advised, therefore, that they should proceed 
 to Blackfriars, and, going ashore at the bridge, make the best 
 of their way to The Boot ; where there was not only good 
 entertainment and safe lodging, but where they would cer- 
 tainly be joined by many of their late companions. Barnaby 
 assenting, they decided on this course of action, and pulled 
 for Blackfriars accordingly. 
 
 They landed at a critical time,, and fortunately for them- 
 selves at the right moment. For, coming into Fleet Street, 
 they found it in an unusual stir ; and inquiring the cause, 
 were told that a body of Horse Guards had just galloped past, 
 and that they were escorting some rioters whom they had 
 made prisoners, to Xewgate for safety. Xot at all ill-pleased 
 to have so narrowly escaped the cavalcade, they lost no more 
 time in asking questions, but hurried to The Boot with as 
 much speed as Hugh considered it prudent to make, without 
 appearing singular or attracting an inconvenient share of 
 public notice. 
 
BAliyABV Rl'DGE. Ao[ 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 They were among the first to reach the tavern, but they 
 had not been there many minutes, when several groups of 
 men who had formed part of the crowd, came straggling in. 
 Among them were Simon Tappertit and Mr. Dennis ; both of 
 whom, but especially the latter, greeted Barnaby with the 
 utmost warmth, and paid him many compliments on the 
 prowess he had shown. 
 
 "Which," said Dennis, with an oath, as he rested his 
 bludgeon in a corner with his hat upon it, and took his seat 
 at the same table with them, '-it does me good to think of. 
 There was a opportunity ! But it led to nothing. For my 
 part, I don't know what would. There's no spirit among the 
 people in these here times. Bring something to eat and drink 
 here. I'm disgusted with humanity." 
 
 " On what account ? " asked ^Ir. Tappertit, who had been 
 quenching his fiery face in a half-gallon can. ''Don't you 
 consider this a good beginning, mister ? " 
 
 " Give me security that it ain't a ending," rejoined the 
 hangman. " When that soldier went down, we might have 
 made London ours ; but no ; — we stand, and gape, and look 
 on — the justice (I wish he had had a bullet in each eye, as he 
 would have had, if we'd gone to work my way) says, ' My 
 lads, if you'll give me your word to disperse, I'll order off 
 the military,' — our people sets up a hurrah, throws up tlie 
 game with the winning cards in their hands, and skulks away 
 like a pack of tame curs as they are. Ah," said the hang- 
 man, in a tone of deep disgust, " it makes me blush for my 
 feller-creeturs. I wish I had been born a ox, I do ! " 
 
 " You'd have been quite as agreeable a cliaracter if you liad 
 been, I think," returned Simon Tappertit, going out in a lofty 
 manner. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
434 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 *' Don't be too sure of that," rejoined the hangman, calling 
 after him ; " if I was a horned animal at the present moment, 
 with the smallest grain of sense, " I'd toss every man in this 
 compain^, excepting them two," meaning Hugh and Barnaby, 
 " for his manner of conducting himself this day." 
 
 With which mournful review of their proceedings, Mr. 
 Dennis sought consolation in cold boiled beef and beer; but 
 without at all relaxing the grim and dissatisfied expression of 
 his face, the gloom of which was rather deepened than dissi- 
 pated by their grateful influence. 
 
 The company who were thus libelled might have retaliated 
 by strong words, if not by blows, but they were dispirited and 
 worn out. The greater part of them had fasted since ]norn- 
 ing ; all had suffered extremely from the excessive heat ; and 
 between the day's shouting, exertion, and excitement, many 
 had quite lost their voices, and so much of their strength that 
 they could hardly stand. Then they were uncertain what to 
 do next, fearful of the consequences of what they had done 
 already, and sensible that after all they had carried no point, 
 but had indeed left matters worse than they had found them. 
 Of those who had come to The Boot, many dropped off within 
 an hour; such of them as were really honest and sincere, 
 never, after the morning's experience, to return, or to hold 
 any communication with their late companions. Otliers 
 remained but to refresh themselves, and then went home de- 
 sponding; others who had theretofore been regular in their 
 attendance, avoided the place altogether. The half-dozen 
 prisoners whom the Guards had taken, were magnified by 
 report into half a hundred at least ; and their friends, being 
 faint and sober, so slackened in their energy, and so drooped 
 beneath these dispiriting influences, that by eight o'clock in 
 the evening, Dennis, Hugh, and Barnaby, were left alone. 
 Even they were fast asleep upon the benches, when Gashford's 
 entrance roused them. 
 
 '•Oh! You are here then?" said the secretary. "Dear 
 me ! " 
 
 "Why, where should we be. Muster Gashford!" Dennis 
 rejoined as he rose into a sitting posture. 
 
 " Oh, nowhere, nowhere," he returned with excessive mild- 
 
BAR NAB Y BUDGE. 435 
 
 ness. "The streets are filled with blue cockades. I rather 
 thought you might have been among them. I am glad you 
 are not." 
 
 " You have orders for us, master, then ? " said Hugh. 
 
 "Oh, dear, no. Not I. No orders, my good fellow. 
 What orders should I have ? You are not in my service." 
 
 " Muster Gashford ! " remonstrated Dennis, " we belong to 
 the cause, don't we ? " 
 
 " The cause ! " repeated the secretary, looking at him in a 
 sort of abstraction. " There is no cause. The cause is lost." 
 
 " Lost ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes. You have heard, I suppose ? The petition is 
 rejected by a hundred and ninety-two, to six. It's quite final. 
 \Ve might have spared ourselves some trouble. That, and 
 my lord's vexation, are the only circumstances I regret. I 
 am quite satisfied in all other respects." 
 
 As he said this, he took a penknife from his pocket, and 
 putting his hat upon his knee, began to busy himself in ripping 
 off the blue cockade which he had worn all day ; at the same 
 time humming a psalm tune which had been very popular in 
 the morning, and dwelling on it with a gentle regret. 
 
 His two adherents looked at each other, and at him, as if 
 they were at a loss how to pursue the subject. At length 
 Hugh, after some elbowing and winking between himself and 
 Mr. Dennis, ventured to stay his hand, and to ask him why 
 he meddled with that ribbon in his hat. 
 
 "Because," said the secretary, looking up with something 
 between a snarl and a smile, " because to sit still and wear it, 
 or fall asleep and wear it, or run away and wear it, is a 
 mockery. That's all, friend." 
 
 " What would you have us do, master ! " cried Hugh. 
 
 "Nothing," returned Gashford, shrugging his shoulders; 
 " nothing. When my lord was reproached and threatened for 
 standing by you, I, as a prudent man, would liave had you 
 do notliing. When the soldiers were trampling you under 
 their horses' feet, I would have had you do notliing. When 
 one of them was struck down by a daring hand, and I saw 
 confusion and dismay in all their faces, I would liave had you 
 do nothing — just what you did, in short. This is the young 
 
436 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 man who had so little prudence and so much boldness. Ah ! 
 I am sorry for him." 
 
 "'' Sorry, master ! '' cried Hugh. 
 
 " Sorry, Muster Gashford ! " echoed Dennis. 
 
 '•'In case there should be a proclamation out to-morrow, 
 offering five hundred pounds, or some such trifle, for his 
 apprehension ; and in case it should include another man who 
 dropped into the lobby from the stairs above," said Gashford, 
 coldly ; '•' still, do nothing." 
 
 '^ Fire and fury, master ! " cried Hugh, starting up. 
 "What have we done that you should talk to us like this ! " 
 
 " Nothing," returned Gashford with a sneer. '• If you are 
 cast into prison ; if the young man " — here he looked hard 
 at Barnaby's attentive face — "is dragged from us and from 
 his friends ; perhaps from people Avhom he loves, and whom 
 his death would kill ; is thrown into jail, brought out and 
 hanged before their eyes ; still, do nothing. You'll find it 
 your best policy, I have no doubt." 
 
 " Come on ! " cried Hugh, stfiding towards the door. 
 " Dennis — Barnaby — come on ! " 
 
 " Where ? To do Avhat ? " said Gashford, slipping past 
 him, and standing with his back against it. 
 
 " Anywhere ! Anything I " cried Hugh. "' Stand aside, 
 master, or the window will serve our turn as well. Let us 
 out ! " 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! You are of such — of such an impetuous 
 nature," said Gashford, changing his manner for one of the 
 utmost good-fellowship and the pleasantest railler}^ ; " you are 
 such- an excitable creature — but you'll drink with me before 
 you go ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes — certainly," growled Deniiis, drawing his sleeve 
 across his thirsty lips. "No malice, brother. Drink with 
 Muster Gashford ! " 
 
 Hugh wiped his heated brow, and relaxed into a smile. 
 The artful secretary laughed outright. 
 
 " Some liquor here ! Be quick, or he'll not stop, even for 
 that. He is a man of such desperate ardor I " said the 
 smooth secretar}^, whom iNIr. Dennis corroborated with sundry 
 nods and muttered oaths — " Once roused, he is a fellow of 
 such fierce determination ! " 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 437 
 
 Hugh poised his sturdy arm aloft, and clapping Barnaby 
 on the back, bade hirn fear nothing. They shook hands 
 together — poor Barnaby evidently possessed with the idea 
 that he was among the most virtuous and disinterested heroes 
 in the world — and Gashf ord laughed again. 
 
 '' I hear," he said smoothl}^, as he stood among them with 
 a great measure of liquor in his hand, and filled their glasses 
 as quickly and as often as they chose, " I hear — but I cannot 
 say whether it be true or false — that the men who are 
 loitering in the streets to-night are half disposed to pull down 
 a Komish chapel or two, and that they only want leaders. I 
 even heard mention of those in Duke Street, Lincoln's-Inn 
 Fields, and in Warwick Street, Golden Square ; but common 
 report, you know — You are not going ? " 
 
 " — To do nothing, master, eh?" cried Hugh. "Xo jails 
 and halter for Barnaby and me. They must be frightened 
 out of that. Leaders are wanted, are they ? Xow, boys ! " 
 
 " A most impetuous fellow ! " cried the secretary. " Ha, 
 ha! A courageous, boisterous, most vehement fellow! A 
 man who " — 
 
 There was no need to finish the sentence, for they had 
 rushed out of the house, and were far beyond hearing. He 
 stopped in the middle of a laugh, listened, drew on his gloves, 
 and, clasping his hands behind him, paced the deserted room 
 for a long time, then bent his steps towards the busy town, 
 and walked into the streets. 
 
 They were filled with people, for the rumor of that day's 
 proceedings had made a great noise. Those persons who did 
 not care to leave home, were at their doors or windows, and 
 one topic of discourse prevailed on every side. Some reported 
 that the riots were effectually put down ; others that they had 
 broken out again : some said that Lord George Gordon had 
 been sent under a strong guard to the Tower ; others, that an 
 attempt had been made upon the King's life, that the soldiers 
 had been again called out, and that the noise of musketry in 
 a distant part of the town had been plainly heard within an 
 hour. As it grew darker, these stories became more direful 
 and mysterious ; and often, when some frightened ])assenger 
 ran past with tidings tliat the rioters were not far off, and 
 
438 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 were coming up, the doors were shut and barred, lower 
 windows made secure, and as much consternation engendered 
 as if the city were invaded by a foreign army. 
 
 Gashford walked stealthily about, listening to all he heard, 
 and diffusing or confirming, whenever he had an opportunity, 
 such false intelligence as suited his own purpose ; and, busily 
 occupied in this way, turned into Holborn for the twentieth 
 time, Avhen a great many women and children came flying 
 along the street — often panting and looking back — and the 
 confused murmur of numerous voices struck upon his ear. 
 Assured by these tokens, and by the red light which began to 
 flash upon the houses on either side, that some of his friends 
 were indeed approaching, he begged a moment's shelter at a 
 door which opened as he passed, and running with some 
 other persons to an upper window, looked out upon the 
 crowd. 
 
 They had torches among them, and the chief faces were 
 distinctly visible. That they had been engaged in the destruc- 
 tion of some building was sufficiently apparent, and that it 
 was a Catholic place of worship was evident from the spoils 
 they bore as trophies, which were easily recognizable for the 
 vestments of priests, and rich fragments of altar furniture. 
 Covered with soot, and dirt, and dust, and lime ; their 
 garments torn to rags; their hair hanging wildly about them; 
 their hands and faces jagged and bleeding with the wounds of 
 rusty nails ; Barnaby, Hugh, and Dennis hurried on before 
 them all, like hideous madmen. After them, the dense 
 throng came fighting on; some singing; some shouting in 
 triumph; some quarrelling among themselves ; some menacing 
 the spectators as they passed ; some with great wooden 
 fragments, on which they spent their rage as if they had been 
 alive, rending them limb from limb, and hurling the scattered 
 morsels high into the air ; some in a drunken state, uncon- 
 scious of the hurts they had received from falling bricks, and 
 stones, and beams; one borne upon a shutter, in the very 
 midst, covered with a dingy cloth, a senseless, ghastly heap. 
 Thus — a vision of coarse faces, with here and there a blot of 
 flaring smoky light ; a dream of demon heads and savage 
 eyes, and sticks and iron bars uplifted in the air, and whirled 
 
BAENABT BUDGE. 439 
 
 about ; a bewildering horror, in which so much was seen, 
 and yet so little, which seemed so long and yet so short, in 
 which there were so many phantoms, not to be forgotten all 
 through life, and yet so many things that could not be 
 observed in one distracting glimpse — it flitted onward and 
 was gone. 
 
 As it passed away upon its work of wrath and ruin, a 
 piercing scream was heard. A knot of persons ran towards 
 the spot ; Gashford, who just then emerged into the street, 
 among them. He was on the outskirts of the little concourse, 
 and could not see or hear what passed within ; but one who 
 had a better place, informed him that a widow woman had 
 descried her son among the rioters. 
 
 "Is that all?" said the secretary, turning his face 
 homewards. " Well ! I think this looks a little more like 
 business ! " 
 
440 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 Promising as these outrages were to Gashforcl's view, and 
 much like business as they looked, they extended that night 
 no farther. The soldiers were again called out, again they 
 took half a dozen prisoners, and again the crowd dispersed 
 after a short and bloodless scuffle. Hot and drunken though 
 they were, they had not yet broken all bounds and set all law 
 and government at defiance. Something of their habitual 
 deference to the authority erected by society for its own 
 preservation yet remained among them, and had its majesty 
 been vindicated in time, the secretary would have had to 
 digest a bitter disappointment. 
 
 By midnight, the streets were clear and quiet, and, save 
 that there stood in two parts of the town, a heap of nodding 
 walls and pile of rubbish, where there had been at sunset a 
 rich and handsome building, everything wore its usual aspect. 
 Even the Catholic gentry and tradesmen, of whom there were 
 many, resident in different parts of the City and its suburbs, 
 had no fear for their lives or property, and but little indig- 
 nation for the wrong they had already sustained in the 
 plunder and destruction of their temples of worship. An 
 honest confidence in the government under whose protection 
 they had lived for many years, and a well-founded reliance on 
 the good feeling and right thinking of the great mass of 
 the community, Avith whom, notwithstanding their religious 
 differences, they were every day in habits of confidential 
 affectionate, and friendly intercourse, reassured them, even 
 under the excesses that had been committed ; and convinced 
 them that they who were Protestants in anything but the 
 name, were no more to be considered as abetters of these 
 disgraceful occurrences, than they themselves were chargeable 
 with the uses of the block, the rack, the gibbet, and the stake, 
 in cruel Mary's reign. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 4Ai 
 
 The clock was on the stroke of one, when Gabriel Varden 
 with his lady and Miss Miggs, sat waiting in the little parlor. 
 This fact; the toppling wicks of the dull, wasted candles; the 
 silence that prevailed ; and above all the nightcaps of both 
 maid and matron, were sufficient evidence that they had been 
 prepared for bed some time ago, and had some strong reason 
 for sitting up so far beyond their usual hour. 
 
 If any other corroborative testimony had been required, it 
 would have been abundantly furnished in the actions of Miss 
 Miggs, who, having arrived at that restless state and sensitive 
 condition of the nervous system which are the result of long 
 watching, did, by a constant rubbing and tweaking of her 
 nose, a perpetual change of position (arising from the sudden 
 growth of imaginary knots and knobs in her chair), a frequent 
 friction of her eyebrows, the incessant recurrence of a small 
 cough, a small groan, a gasp, a sigh, a sniff, a spasmodic 
 start, and by other demonstrations of that nature, so file down 
 and rasp, as it were, the patience of the locksmith, that after 
 looking at her in silence for some time, he at last broke out 
 into this apostrophe, — 
 
 " Miggs, my good girl, go to bed — do go to bed. You're 
 really worse than the dripping of a hundred water-buts 
 outside the window, or the scratching of as many mice behind 
 the wainscot. I can't bear it. Do go to bed, .Miggs. To 
 oblige me — do." 
 
 " You haven't got nothing to untie, sir," returned Miss 
 Miggs, " and therefore your requests does not surprise me. 
 But Missis has — and while you set up, mini " — she added, 
 turning to the locksmith's wife, "I couldn't, no not if 
 twenty times the quantity of cold water was aperiently 
 running down my back at this moment, go to ])ed witli a 
 quiet spirit. 
 
 Having spoken these words, Miss Miggs made divers efforts 
 to rub her shoulders in an impossible place, and shivered 
 from head to foot; thereby giving the behoklers to understand 
 that the imaginary cascade was still in full flow, but tliat a 
 sense of duty upheld her under that, and all other sufferings, 
 and nerved her to endurance. 
 
 Mrs. Varden being too sleo})y to speak, and .Miss .Miggs 
 
442 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 having, as the phrase is, said her say, the locksmith had 
 nothing for it but to sigh and be as quiet as he could. 
 
 But to be quiet with such a basilisk before him, was 
 impossible. ^ If he looked another way, it was worse to feel 
 that she was rubbing her cheek, or twitching her ear, or 
 winking her eye, or making all kinds of extraordinary shapes 
 with her nose, than to see her do it. If she was for a moment 
 free from any of these complaints, it was only because of her 
 foot being asleep, or of her arm having got the fidgets, or of 
 her leg being doubled up with the cramp, or of some other 
 horrible disorder which racked her whole frame. If she did 
 enjoy a moment's ease, then with her eyes shut and her mouth 
 wide open, she would be seen to sit very stiff and upright in 
 her chair ; then to nod a little way forward, and stop with 
 a jerk; then to nod a little farther forward, and stop with 
 another jerk ; then to recover herself ; then to come forward 
 again — lower, — lower — lower — by very slow degrees until 
 just as it seemed impossible that she could preserve her 
 balance for another instant, and the locksmith was about to 
 call out in an agony to save her from dashing down upon her 
 forehead and fracturing her skull, then all of a sudden and 
 without the smallest notice, she w^ould come upright and rigid 
 again with her eyes open, and in her countenance an expression 
 of defiance, sleepy but yet most obstinate, which plainly said 
 " I've never once closed ' em since I looked at you last, and 
 I'll take my oath of it ! " 
 
 At length, after the clock had struck two, there was a 
 sound at the street door, as if somebody had fallen against 
 the knocker by accident. Miss Miggs immediately jumping 
 up and clapping her hands, cried with a drowsy mingling of 
 the sacred and profane, " Ally Looyer, mim ! there's 
 Simmuns's knock ! " 
 
 " Who's there ? " said Gabriel. 
 
 " Me ! " cried the well-known voice of Mr. Tappertit. 
 Gabriel opened the door, and gave him admission. 
 
 He did not cut a very insinuating figure ; for a man of 
 his stature suffers in a crowd ; and having been active in 
 yesterday morning's work, his dress was literally crushed 
 from head to foot ; his hat being beaten out of all shape, and 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 443 
 
 his shoes trodden down at heel like slippers. His coat 
 fluttered in strips about him, the buckles Avere torn away 
 both from his knees and feet, half his neckerchief was gone, 
 and the bosom of his shirt was rent to tatters. Yet notwith- 
 standing all these personal disadvantages ; despite his being 
 very weak from heat and fatigue ; and so begrimed with mud 
 and dust that he might have been in a ca^e, for anything of 
 the real texture (either of his skin or apparel) that the eye 
 could discern ; he stalked haughtily into the parlor, and 
 throwing himself into a chair, and endeavoring to thrust his 
 hands into the pockets of his small clothes, which were turned 
 inside out and displayed upon his legs, like tassels, surveyed 
 the household with a gloomy dignity. 
 
 " Simon," said the locksmith gravely, " How comes it that 
 you return home at this time of night, and in this condition ? 
 Give me an assurance that you have not been among the 
 rioters, and I am satisfied." 
 
 *^Sir," replied ^Ir. Tappertit, with a contemptuous look, 
 "I wonder at your assurance in making such demands." 
 
 "You have been drinking," said the locksmith. 
 
 "As a general principle, and in the most offensive sense of 
 the words, sir," returned his journeyman with great self- 
 possession, "1 consider you a liar. In that last observation 
 you have unintentionally — unintentionally, sir — struck upon 
 the truth." 
 
 "Martha," said the locksmith, turning to his wife, and 
 shaking his head sorrowfully, while a smile at the absurd 
 figure before him still played upon his open face, " I trust it 
 may turn out that this poor lad is not the victim of the knaves 
 and fools we have so often had words about, and who have 
 done so much harm to-day. If lie lias been at Warwick Street 
 or Duke Street to-niglit" — 
 
 "He has been at neither, sir," cried Mr. Tappertit in a 
 loud voice, which he suddenly dropped into a wliisper as he 
 repeated, with eyes fixed upon the locksmith, "he lias been 
 at neither." 
 
 "I am glad of it, with all my heart," said the locksmith in 
 a serious tone ; " for if he had been, and it could b«' ])n)ved 
 against him, Martha, your Great Association would have Ikm'm 
 
444 BARNABT liUDGE. 
 
 to him the cart that draws men to the gallows and leaves 
 them hanging in the air. It would, as sure as we're alive ! " 
 
 Mrs. Varden was too mucli scared by Simon's altered manner 
 and appearance, and by the accounts of the rioters which had 
 reached her ears that night, to offer any retort, or to have 
 recourse to her usual matrimonial policy. Miss Miggs wrung 
 her hands, and wept. 
 
 "He was not at Duke Street or at Warwick Street, G. 
 Varden," said Simon, sternl}^ : " but he ^cas at Westminster. 
 Perhaps, sir, he kicked a county member, perhaps, sir, he 
 tapped a lord — you may stare, sir I repeat it — blood flowed 
 from noses, and perhaps he tapped a lord. Who knows ? 
 This," he added, putting his hand into his waistcoat pocket, 
 and taking out a large tooth, at the sight of which both 
 Miggs and Mrs. Varden screamed, "this was a bishop's. 
 Beware, G. Varden ! " 
 
 "Now, I would rather," said the locksmith hastily, "have 
 paid live hundred pounds, than had this come to pass. You 
 idiot, do you know what peril you stand in ? " 
 
 "I know it, sir," replied his journeyman, "'and it is my 
 glory. I was there, everybody saw me there. I was con- 
 spicuous, and prominent. I will abide the consequences." 
 
 The locksmith, really disturbed and agitated, paced to and 
 fro in silence — glancing at his former 'prentice every now and 
 then — and at length stopping before him, said, — 
 
 " Get to bed, and sleep for a couple of hours that you may 
 wake penitent, and with some of your senses about you. Be 
 sorry for what you have done, and we will try to save you. 
 If I call him by live o'clock," said Varden, turning hurriedly 
 to his wife, "and he washes himself clean and changes his 
 dress, he may get to the Tower Stairs, and away by the 
 Gravesend tide-boat, before any search is made for him. 
 From there he can easily get on to Canterbury, where your 
 cousin will give him work till this storm has blown over. I 
 am not sure that I do right in screening him from the punish- 
 ment he deserves, but he has lived in this house, man and boy, 
 for a dozen years, and I should be sorry if for this one day's 
 work he made a miserable end. Lock the front door, Miggs, 
 and show no light towards the street when you go up-stairs. 
 Quick, Simon ! Get to bed ! " 
 
BARN A BY BUDGE. 445 
 
 "And do jou suppose, sir/' retorted Mr. Tappertit, with a 
 thickness and slowness of speech which contrasted forcibly 
 with the rapidity and earnestness of his kind-hearted master 
 — " and do you suppose, sir, that I am base and mean enough 
 to accept your servile proposition ? — ^Miscreant ! " 
 
 "Whatever you please, Sim, but get to bed. Every minute 
 is of consequence. The light here, Miggs ! " 
 
 " Yes yes, oh do ! Go to bed directly," cried the two 
 women together.' 
 
 Mr. Tappertit stood upon his feet, and pushing his chair 
 away to show that lie needed no assistance, answered, swaying 
 himself to an fro, and managing his head as if it had no 
 connection Avhatever with his body : — 
 
 "You spoke of Miggs, sir — Miggs may be smothered!" * 
 
 " Oh Simmun ! " ejaculated that young lady in a faint 
 voice. " Oh mini ! Oh sir ! Oh goodness gracious, what a 
 turn he has give me ! " 
 
 "This family may all be smothered, sir," returned ^Ir. 
 Tappertit, after glancing at her with a smile of ineffable 
 disdain, "excepting Mrs. V. 1 have come here, sir, for her 
 sake, this night. Mrs. Varden, take this piece of paper. It's 
 a protection, ma'am. You may need it." 
 
 With these words he held out at arm's length, a dirty, 
 crumpled scrap of writing. The locksmith took it from him, 
 opened it, and read as follows : — 
 
 All good friends to our cause, I hope will be particular, and do no 
 injury to the property of any true Protestant. I am well assured that 
 the proprietor of this house is a stanch and worthy friend to the cause. 
 
 George G ok don. 
 
 " What's this ? " said the locksmith, with an altered face. 
 
 " Something that'll do you good service, young feller," 
 replied his journeyman, "as you'll hud. Keep that safe, 
 and where you can lay your hand upon it in an instant. 
 And chalk 'No Popery ' on your door to-morrow night, and 
 for a week to come — that's all." 
 
 "This is a genuine document," said the locksmith, "I 
 know, for I have seen the hand before. What threat does it 
 im])ly ? What devil is abroad '.' " 
 
446 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 "A fiery devil," retorted Sim; "a flaming furious devil. 
 Don't you put yourself in its way, or you're done for, my 
 buck. Be warned in time, G. Yarden. Farewell ! " 
 
 But here the two women threw themselves in his way — 
 especially ]\Iiss Miggs, who fell upon him with such fervor 
 that she pinned him against the wall — and conjured him in 
 moving words not to go forth till he was sober ; to listen to 
 reason ; to think of it ; to take some rest, and then determine. 
 
 " I tell you," said Mr. Tappertit, " that my mind is made 
 up. My bleeding country calls me and I go ! Miggs, if you 
 don't get out of the way, I'll pinch you." 
 
 Miss Miggs, still clinging to the rebel, screamed once 
 vociferously — but whether in the distraction of her mind, or 
 because of his having executed his threat, is uncertain. 
 
 '• Kelease me," said Simon, struggling to free himself from 
 her chaste, but spider-like embrace. " Let me go ! I have 
 made arrangements for you in an altered state of society, and 
 mean to provide for j^ou comfortably in life — there ! Will 
 that satisfy you ? " 
 
 " Oh Simmum ! " cried Miss Miggs. '' Oh my blessed 
 Simmun ! Oh mini ! what are my feelings at this conflicting 
 moment ! " 
 
 Of a rather turbulent description, it would seem ; for her 
 nightcap had been knocked off in the scuffle, and she was on 
 her knees npon the floor, making a strange revelation of blue 
 and yellow curl-papers, straggling locks of hair, tags of 
 staylaces, and strings of it's impossible to say what ; panting 
 for breath, clasping her hands, turning her eyes upwards, 
 shedding abundance of tears, and exhibiting various other 
 symptoms of the actutest mental suffering. 
 
 "Heave," said Simon, turning to his master, with an utter 
 disregard of Miggs's maidenly affliction, "a box of things up- 
 stairs. Do what you like with 'em. /don't want 'em. I'm 
 never coming back here, any more. Provide yourself, sir, 
 with a journeyman ; I'm my country's journeyman ; hence- 
 forward that's my line of business." 
 
 " Be what you like in two hours' time, but now go up to 
 bed," returned the locksmith, planting himself in the doorway. 
 " Do you hear me ? Go to bed ! " 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 447 
 
 "I hear you, and defy you, Varden," rejoined Simon 
 Tappertit. '-Tliis night, sir, I have been in the country, 
 planning an expedition which shall fill your bell-hanging soul 
 with wonder and dismay. The plot demands iny utmost 
 energy. Let me pass ! " 
 
 " I'll knock you down if you come near the door,*' replied 
 the locksmith. '•' You had better go to bed ! " 
 
 Simon made no answer, but gathering himself up as 
 straight as he could, plunged head foremost at his old master, 
 and the two went driving out into the workshop together, 
 plying their hands and feet so briskly that they looked like 
 half a dozen, while Miggs and Mrs. Varden screamed for 
 twelve. 
 
 It would have been easy for Yarden to knock his old 
 'prentice down, and bind him hand and foot ; but as he was 
 loath to hurt him in his then defenceless state, he contented 
 himself with parrying his blows when he could, taking them 
 in perfect good part when he could not, and keei)ing between 
 him and the door, until a favorable opportunity should present 
 itself for forcing him to retreat up-stairs, and shutting him 
 up in his own room. But, in the goodness of his heart, he 
 calculated too much upon his adversary's weakness, and forgot 
 that drunken men who have lost the power of walking 
 steadily, can often run. Watching his time, Simon Tappertit 
 made a cunning show of falling back, staggered unexpectedly 
 forward, brushed past him, opened the door (he knew the 
 trick of that lock well), and darted down the street like a 
 mad dog. The locksmith paused for a moment in the excess 
 of his astonishment, and then gave chase. 
 
 It was an excellent season for a run, for at that silent liour 
 the streets were deserted, the air was cool, and the Hying 
 figure before him distinctly visible at a great distance, as it 
 sped away, witli a long gaunt shadow following at its heels. 
 But the sliort-winded locksmith had no chance against a man 
 of Sim's youth and spare figure, tliough the day had been 
 when he (jould have run liim down in no time. The si)ace 
 between them rapidly increased, and as the rays of the rising 
 sun streamed upon Simon in the act of turning a distant 
 corner, Gabriel Yarden was fain to give up, and sit down 0:1 
 
448 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 a door-step to fetch his breath. Simon meanwhile, without 
 once stopping, fled at the same degree of swiftness to The 
 Boot, where, as he well knew, some of his company were 
 lying, and at which respectable hostelry — for he had already 
 acquired the distinction of being in great peril of the law — a 
 friendly watch liad been expecting him all night, and was 
 even now on the lookout for his coming. 
 
 " Go thy ways, Sim, go thy ways," said the locksmith, as 
 soon as he could speak. " I have done my best for thee, poor 
 lad, and would have saved thee, but the rope is round thy 
 neck, I fear." 
 
 So saying, and shaking his head in a very sorrowful and 
 disconsolate manner, he turned back, and soon re-entered his 
 own house, where Mrs. Varden and the faithful Miggs had 
 been anxiously expecting his return. 
 
 Now Mrs. Varden (and by consequence Miss Miggs like- 
 wise) was impressed with a secret misgiving that she had 
 done wrong ; that she had, to the utmost of her small means, 
 aided and abetted the growth of disturbances, the end of which 
 it was impossible to foresee ; that she had led remotely to the 
 scene which had just passed ; and that the locksmith's time 
 for triumph and reproach had now arrived indeed. And so 
 strongly did Mrs. Varden feel this, and so crestfallen was she 
 in consequence, that while her husband was pursuing their 
 lost journeyman, she secreted under her chair the little red- 
 brick dwelling-house with the yellow roof, lest it should fur- 
 nish new occasion for reference to the painful theme; and 
 now hid the same still more, with the skirts of her dress. 
 
 But it happened that the locksmith had been thinking of 
 this very article on his way home, and that, coming into the 
 room and not seeing it, he at once demanded where it was. 
 
 Mrs. Varden had no resource but to produce it, which she 
 did with many tears, and broken protestations that if she 
 could have known — 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Varden, " of course — I know that. I 
 don't mean to reproach you, my dear. But recollect from 
 this time that all good things perverted to evil purposes, are 
 worse than those which are naturally bad. A thoroughly 
 wicked woman is wicked indeed. When reli<:ion groes wrong, 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 449 
 
 she is very wrong, for tlie same reason. Let us say no more 
 about it, my dear/' 
 
 So he dropped the red-brick dwelling-house on the floor, 
 and setting his heel upon it, crushed it into pieces. The 
 halfpence, and sixpences, and other voluntary contributions, 
 rolled about in all directions, but nobody offered to touch 
 them or to take them up. 
 
 " That," said the locksmith, " is easily disposed of, and I 
 would to Heaven that everything growing out of the same 
 society could be settled as easily." 
 
 " It happens very fortunately, Varden," said his wife with 
 her handkerchief to her eyes, '' that in case any more dis- 
 turbances should happen — which I hope not ; I sincerely 
 hope not " — 
 
 " I hope so too, my dear." 
 
 " — That in case any should occur, we have the piece of 
 paper which that poor misguided young man brought." 
 
 " Ay, to be sure,'' said the locksmith, turning quickly round, 
 " Where is that piece of paper ? " 
 
 Mrs. Varden stood aghast as he took it from her out- 
 stretched hand, tore it into fragments, and threw them under 
 the grate. 
 
 " Not use it ? " she said. 
 
 "Use it!" cried the locksmith. ^' Xo ! Let them come 
 and pull the roof about our ears ; let them burn us out of 
 house and home ; I'd neither have the protection of their 
 leader, nor chalk their howl upon my door, though, for not 
 doing it, they shot me on my own threshold. Use it ! Let 
 them come and do their worst. The tirst man who crosses 
 my door-step on such an errand as theirs, had better be a 
 hundred miles away. Let him look to it. The others may 
 have their will. I wouldn't beg or buy them off, if, instead 
 of every pound of iron in the place, there was a hundred 
 weight of gold. Get you to bed, Martha. I sliall take down 
 the shutters and go to work." 
 
 " So early ! " said his wife. 
 
 "Ay," replied the locksmith, clieerily, "so early. Come 
 when they may, they shall not find us skulking and hiding 
 as if we feared to take our portion of the light of day, and 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
450 BARNABT EUJDGE. 
 
 left it all to them. So pleasant dreams to you, mj dear, and 
 cheerful sleep ! " 
 
 With that he gave his wife a hearty kiss, and bade her 
 delay no- longer, or it would be time to rise before she lay 
 down to rest. Mrs. Varden quite amiably and meekly walked 
 up-stairs, followed by Miggs, who, although a good deal sub- 
 dued, could not refrain from sundry stimulative coughs and 
 sniffs by the way, or from holding up her hands in astonish- 
 ment at the daring conduct of master. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 451 
 
 CHAPTER LIT. 
 
 A MOB is usually a creature of very mysterious existence, 
 particularly in a large city. Where it comes from or whither 
 it goes, few men can tell. Assembling and dispersing with 
 equal suddenness, it is as difficult to follow to its various 
 sources as the sea itself ; nor does the parallel stop here, for 
 the ocean is not more fickle and uncertain, more terrible when 
 roused, more unreasonable, or more cruel. 
 
 The people who were boisterous at Westminster upon the 
 Friday morning, and were eagerly bent upon the work of 
 devastation in Duke Street and Warwick Street at night, were, 
 in the mass, the same. Allowing for the chance accessions of 
 which any crowd is morally sure in a town where there must 
 always be a large number of idle and profligate persons, one 
 and the same mob was at both places. Yet they spread 
 themselves in various directions when they dispersed in the 
 afternoon, made no appointment for re-assembling, had no 
 definite purpose or design, and indeed, for anything they 
 knew, were scattered beyond the hope of future union. 
 
 At The Boot, which, as has been shown, was in a manner 
 the headquarters of the rioters, there were not, upon this 
 Friday night, a dozen people. Some slept in the stable and 
 outhouses, some in the common room, some two or three in 
 beds. The rest were in their usual homes or haunts. Perhaps 
 not a score in all lay in the adjacent fields and lanes, and 
 under haystacks, or near the warmth of brick-kilns, who had 
 not their accustomed place of rest beneath tlie open sky. As 
 to the public ways within the town, they had their ordinary 
 nightl}^ occupants, and no others ; tlie usual amount of vice 
 and wretchedness, ])ut no more. 
 
 The experience of one evening, however, liad tauglit the 
 reckless leaders of disturbance, that they liad but to sliow 
 
452 BARXABY BUDGE. 
 
 themselves in the streets, to be immediately surrounded by- 
 materials which they could only have kept together when their 
 aid was not required, at great risk, expense and trouble. 
 Once possessed of this secret, they were as confident as if 
 twenty thousand men, devoted to their will, liad been encamped 
 about them, and assumed a confidence which could not have 
 been surpassed, though that had really been the case. All day 
 Saturday they remained quiet. On Sunday they rather studied 
 how to keep their men within call, and in full hope, than to fol- 
 low out, by any very fierce measure, their first day's proceedings. 
 
 " I hope,-' said Dennis, as, with a loud yawn, he raised his 
 body from a heap of straw on which he had been sleeping, 
 and supporting liis head upon his hand, appealing to Hugh on 
 Sunday morning, " that Muster Gashford allows some rest ? 
 Perhaps he'd have us at work again already, eh ? " 
 
 '' It's not his way to let matters drop, you may be sure of 
 that," growled Hugh in answer. "I'm in no humor to stir 
 yet, though. I'm as stiff as a dead body, and as full of ugly 
 scratches as if I had been fighting all day yesterday with wild 
 cats." 
 
 "You've so much enthusiasm, that's it," said Dennis, 
 looking with great admiration at the uncombed head, matted 
 beard, and torn hands and face of the wild figure before him ; 
 " you're such a devil of a fellow. You hurt yourself a hundred 
 times more than you need, because 3'ou will be foremost in 
 everything, and will do more than the rest." 
 
 " For the matter of that," returned Hugh, shaking back his 
 ragged hair and glancing towards the door of the stable in 
 which they lay ; " there's one yonder as good as me. What 
 did I tell you about him ? Did I say he was worth a dozen, 
 when you doubted him ? " 
 
 Mr. Dennis rolled lazily over upon his breast, and resting 
 his chin upon his hand in imitation of the attitude in which 
 Hugh la}', said, as he, too, looked towards the door, — 
 
 "Ay, ay, you knew him brother, you knew him. But who'd 
 suppose to look at that chap now, that he could be the man he 
 is ! Isn't it a thousand cruel pities, brother, that instead of 
 taking his nat'ral rest and qualifying himself for further exer- 
 tions in this here /lonorable cause, he should be playing at 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 453 
 
 soldiers like a boy ? And his cleanliness too ! " said Mr. 
 Dennis, who certainly had no reason to entertain a fellow- 
 feeling with anybody who was particular on that score ; "what 
 weaknesses he's guilty of, with respect to his cleanliness ! At 
 five o'clock this morning, there he was at the pump, though 
 any one would think he had gone through enough, the day 
 before yesterday, to be pretty fast asleep at that time. But 
 no — when I woke for a minute or two, there he was at the 
 pump, and if you'd have seen him sticking them peacock's 
 feathers into his hat when he'd done washing — ah ! I'm sorry 
 he's such a imperfect character, but the best on us is incom- 
 plete in some pint of view or another." 
 
 The subject of this dialogue and of these concluding remarks, 
 which were uttered in a tone of philosophical meditation, was, 
 as the reader will have divined, no other than Barnaby, who, 
 with his flag in his hand, stood sentry in the little patch of 
 sunlight at the distant door, or walked to and fro outside, 
 singing softly to himself, and keeping time to the music of 
 some clear church-bells. Whether he stood still, leaning with 
 both hands on the flag-staff, or, bearing it upon his shoulder, 
 paced slowly up and down, the careful arrangement of his 
 poor dress, and his erect and lofty bearing, showed how high 
 a sense he had of the great importance of his trust, and how 
 happy and how proud it made him. To Hugh and his com- 
 panion, who lay in a dark corner of the gloomy shed, he, and 
 the sunlight, and the peaceful Sabbath sound to which he 
 made response, seemed like a bright picture framed by the 
 door, and set off by the stable's blackness. The whole formed 
 such a contrast to themselves, as they lay wallowing, like some 
 obscene animals, in their squalor and wickedness on the two 
 heaps of straw, that for a few moments the}' looked on without 
 speaking, and felt almost ashamed. 
 
 '•Ah !" said Hugh at length, carrying it off with a laugh : 
 "He's a rare fellow is Barnaby, and can do more, with less 
 rest, or meat, or drink, than any of us. As to his soldiering, 
 /put him on duty there." 
 
 "Then there was a object in it, and a projter good one too. 
 I'll be sworn," retorted Dennis witli a broad grin, and an (»:ith 
 of the same quality. " Wluit was it, brotlicr ?" 
 
454 BAHyABY BUDGE. 
 
 "Why, you see," said Hugh, crawling a little nearer to him,, 
 "that our noble captain 3'onder, caine in yesterday morning 
 rather the worse for liquor, and was — like you and me — 
 ditto last night." 
 
 Dennis looked to where Simon Tappertit lay coiled upon a 
 truss of hay, snoring profoundly", and nodded. 
 
 "And our noble captain," continued Hugh with another 
 laugh, "our noble captain and I have planned for to-morrow 
 a roaring expedition, with good profit in it." 
 
 " Again, the papists ? " asked Dennis, rubbing his hands. 
 
 "Ay, against the papists — against one of 'em at least, that 
 some of us, and I for one, owe a good heavy grudge to." 
 
 "Not IMuster Gashford's friend that he spoke to us about in 
 my house, eh ? " said Dennis, brimful of pleasant expectation. 
 
 "The same man," said Hugh. 
 
 " That's your sort," cried Mr. Dennis, gayly shaking hands 
 with him, " that's the kind of game. Let's have revenges and 
 injuries, and all that, and we shall get on twice as fast. IS'ow 
 you talk, indeed ! " 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! The captain," added Hugh, "' has thoughts of 
 carrying off a woman in the bustle, and — ha, ha, ha ! — and 
 so have I ! " 
 
 Mr. Dennis received this part of the scheme with a wry face, 
 observing that as a general principle he objected to women 
 altogether, as being unsafe and slippery persons, on whom 
 there was no calculating with any certainty, and who were 
 never in the same mind for four and twenty hours at a stretch. 
 He might have expatiated on this suggestive theme at much 
 greater length, but that it occurred to him to ask what con- 
 nection existed between the proposed expedition and Barnaby's 
 being posted at the stable door as sentry ; to which Hugh cau- 
 tiously replied in these words, — 
 
 "Wh}"^, the people we mean to visit, were friends of his, 
 once upon a time, and I know that much of him to feel pretty 
 sure that if he thought we were going to do them any harm, 
 he'd be no friend to our side, but would lend a ready hand to 
 the other. So I've persuaded him (for I know him of old) 
 that Lord George has picked him out to guard this place to- 
 morrow while we're away, and that it's a great honor — and 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 45o 
 
 so he's on duty now, and as proud of it as if he was a general. 
 Ha, ha ! What do you say to nie for a careful man as well as 
 a d^vil of a one ? " 
 
 Mr. Dennis exhausted himself in compliments, and then 
 added, — 
 
 '•'But about the expedition itself" — 
 
 '•About that," said Hugh, '"you shall hear all particulars 
 from me and the great captain conjointly and both together — 
 for see, he's waking up. Rouse yourself, lion-heart. Ha, ha ! 
 Put a good face upon it, and drink again. Another hair of the 
 dog that bit you, captain ! Call for drink ! There's enough 
 of gold and silver cups and candlesticks buried underneath my 
 bed," he added, rolling back the straw, and pointing to where 
 the ground was newly turned, " to pay for it, if it was a score 
 of casks full. Drink, captain ! " 
 
 Mr. Tappertit received these jovial promptings with a very 
 bad grace, being much the worse, both in mind and body, for 
 his' two nights of debauch, and but indifferently able to stand 
 upon his legs. With Hugh's assistance, however, he contrived 
 to stagger to the pump ; and having refreshed himself with an 
 abundant draught of cold water, and a copious shower of the 
 same refreshing liquid on his head and face, he ordered some 
 rum and milk to be served ; and upon that innocent beverage 
 and some biscuits and cheese made a pretty hearty meal. That 
 done, he disposed himself in an easy attitude on the ground 
 beside his two companions (who were carousing after their 
 own tastes), and proceeded to enlighten Mr. Dennis in refer- 
 ence to to-morrow's project. 
 
 That their conversation was an interesting one, was rendered 
 manifest by its length, and by the close attention of all three. 
 That it was not of an oppressively grave character, but was 
 enlivened by various pleasantries arising out of the subject, 
 was clear from their loud and frequent roars of laughter, which 
 startled Barnaby on his post, and made him wonder at their 
 levity. But he was not summoned to join them, until they 
 had eaten, and drunk, and slept, and talked togetlier for some 
 hours ; not, indeed, until the twilight ; when they informed 
 him that they were about to make a slight demonstration in 
 the streets — just to kec}) the people's hands in, i's it w.is 
 
456 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 Sunday night, and the public might otherwise be disappointed 
 — and that he was free to accompany them if he would. 
 
 Without the slightest preparation, saving that they carried 
 clubs and wore the blue cockade, they sallied out into the 
 streets ; and, with no more settled design than that of doing 
 as much mischief as they could, paraded them at random. 
 Their numbers rapidly increasing, they soon divided into 
 parties ; and agreeing to meet by and by, in the fields near 
 Welbeck Street, scoured the town in various directions. The 
 largest bod}', and that which augmented with the greatest 
 rapidity, was the one to which Hugh and Barnaby belonged. 
 This took its way towards Moorfields, where there was a rich 
 chapel, and in which neighborhood several Catholic families 
 were known to reside. 
 
 Beginning with the private houses so occupied, they broke 
 open the doors and windows ; and while they destroyed the 
 furniture and left but the bare walls, made a sharp search for 
 tools and engines of destruction, such as hammers, pokers, 
 axes, saws, and such like instruments. Many of the rioters 
 made belts of cord, of handkerchiefs, or any material they 
 found at hand, and wore these weapons as openly as pioneers 
 upon a field-day. There was not the least disguise or con- 
 cealment — indeed, on this night, very little excitement or 
 hurry. From the chapels, they tore down and took away the 
 very altars, benches, pulpits, pews, and flooring ; from the 
 dwelling-houses, the very wainscoting and stairs. This Sun- 
 day evening's recreation they pursued like mere workmen 
 who had a certain task to do, and did it. Fifty resolute men 
 might have turned them at any moment ; a single company 
 of soldiers could have scattered them like dust ; but no man 
 interposed, no authority restrained them, and, except by the 
 terrified persons who fled from their approach, they were as 
 little heeded as if they were pursuing their lawful occupa- 
 tions with the utmost sobriety and good conduct. 
 
 In the same manner they marched to the place of rendez- 
 vous agreed upon, made great fires in the fields, and reserving 
 the most valuable of their spoils, burned the rest. Priestly 
 garments, images of saints, rich stuffs and ornaments, altar- 
 furniture and household goods, were cast into the flames, and 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 457 
 
 shed a glare on the whole country round ; but they danced, 
 and howled, and roared about tliese fires till they were tired, 
 and were never for an instant checked. 
 
 As the main body filed off from this scene of action, and 
 passed down Welbeck Street they came upon Gashford, who 
 had been a witness of their proceedings, and was walking 
 stealthily along the pavement. Keeping up with liim, and 
 yet not seeming to speak, Hugh muttered in his ear, — 
 
 " Is this better, master ? " 
 
 " No," said Gashford. " It is not." 
 
 " What would you have ? " said Hugh. " Fevers are never 
 at their height at once. They must go on by degrees." 
 
 " I would have you," said Gashford, pinching his arm with 
 such malevolence that his nails seemed to meet in the skin : 
 " I would have you put some meaning into your work. Fools ! 
 Can you make no better bonfires than of rags and scraps ? 
 Can you burn nothing whole ? " 
 
 " A little patience, master," said Hugh. " Wait a but few 
 hours, and you shall see. Look for a redness in the sky to- 
 morrow night." 
 
 With that, he fell back into his place beside Barnaby ; and 
 when the secretary looked after him, both were lost iu the 
 crowd. 
 
458 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 The next clay was ushered in by merry peals of bells, and 
 by the firing of the Tower guns ; flags were hoisted on many 
 of the church-steeples ; the usual demonstrations were made, 
 in honor of the anniversary of the King's birthday ; and 
 every man went about his pleasure or business, as if the city 
 were in perfect order, and there were no half-smouldering 
 embers in its secret places which on the approach of night 
 would kindle up again, and scatter ruin and dismay abroad. 
 The leaders of the riot, rendered still more daring by the 
 success of last night and by the booty they had acquired, kept 
 steadily together, and only thought of imj)licating the mass of 
 their followers so deeply that no hope of pardon or reward 
 might tempt them to betray their more notorious confederates 
 into the hands of justice. 
 
 Indeed, the sense of having gone too far to be forgiven, 
 held the timid together no less than the bold. Many, who 
 would readily have pointed out the foremost rioters and given 
 evidence against them, felt that escape by that means was 
 hopeless, when their every act had been observed by scores of 
 people who had taken no part in the disturbances ; who had 
 suffered in their persons, peace, or property, by the outrages 
 of the mob ; who would be most willing witnesses ; and whom 
 the government would, no doubt, prefer to any King's evidence 
 that might be offered. Many of this class had deserted their 
 usual occupations on the Saturday morning ; some, had been 
 seen by their employers, active in the tumult ; others, knew 
 they must he suspected, and that they would be discharged if 
 they returned ; others, had been desperate from the beginning^ 
 and comforted themselves with the homely proverb, that, being 
 hanged at all, they might as well be hanged for a sheep as a 
 lamb. They all hoped and believed, in a greater or less 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 459 
 
 degree, that the government they seemed to have paralyzed, 
 would, in its terror, come to terms with them in the end, and 
 suffer them to make their own conditions. The least sanguine 
 among them reasoned with himself that, at the worst, they 
 were too many to be all punished, and that he had as f^ood a 
 chance of escape as any other man. The great mass never 
 reasoned or thought at all, but were stimulated by their own 
 headlong passions, by poverty, by ignorance, by the love of 
 mischief, and the hope of plunder. 
 
 One other circumstance is worthy of remark ; and that is 
 that from the moment of their first outbreak at ^^'estminster 
 every symptom of order or preconcerted arrangement among 
 them, vanished. When they divided into parties and ran to 
 different quarters of the town, it was on the spontaneous 
 suggestion of the moment. Each party swelled as it went 
 along, like rivers as they roll towards the sea ; new leaders 
 sprang up as they were wanted, disappeared when the neces- 
 sity Avas over, and reappeared at the next crisis. Each tumult 
 took shape and form, from the circumstances of the moment ; 
 sober workmen going home from their day's labor, were seen 
 to cast down their baskets of tools and become rioters in an 
 instant; mere boys on errands did the like. In a word, a 
 moral plague ran through the city. The noise, and hurry, 
 and excitement, had for hundreds and hundreds an attraction 
 they had no firmness to resist. The contagion spread, like a 
 dread fever : an infectious madness, as yet not near its height, 
 seized on new victims every hour, and society began to tremble 
 at their ravings. 
 
 It was between two and three o'clock in the afternoon when 
 Gashford looked into the lair described in the last chaptt'r, 
 and seeing only Barnaby and Dennis there, inquired for 
 Hugh. 
 
 He was out, Barnaby told him ; had gone out more than an 
 hour ago ; and had not yet returned. 
 
 "Dennis!" said the smiling secretary, in his snu)otliest 
 voice, as he sat down cross-legged on a barivl, '• Dennis ! " 
 
 The hangman struggled into a sitting posture directly, and 
 with his eyes wide o])en, looked towards liim. 
 
 "How do you do, ])('nnis? " said (iasliford, noddiiij:^. "1 
 
460 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 hope you have suffered no inconvenience from jour late exer- 
 tions, Dennis ? " 
 
 " I always will say of you Cluster Gashford," returned the 
 hangman, staring at him, '• that that 'ere quiet way of yours 
 might almost wake a dead man. It is," he added with a 
 muttered oath — still staring at him in a thoughtful manner 
 — " so awful sly ! " 
 
 " So distinct, eh Dennis ? " 
 
 "Distinct!" he answered, scratching his head, and keeping 
 his eyes upon the secretary's face ; " I seem to hear it. Muster 
 Gashford, in my wery bones." 
 
 "1 am very glad your sense of hearing is so sharp, and 
 that I succeed in making myself so intelligible," said Gash- 
 ford, in his unvarying, even tone. " Where is your friend ? " 
 
 j\[r. Dennis looked round as in expectation 'of beholding 
 him asleep upon his bed of straw ; then remembering that he 
 had seen him go out, replied, — 
 
 " I can't say where he is, Muster Gashford, I expected him 
 back afore now. I hope it isn't time that we was busy, 
 Muster Gashford ? " 
 
 "' Nay," said the secretary, " who should know that as well 
 as you ? How can I tell you, Dennis ? You are perfect 
 master of your own actions, you knoAV, and accountable to 
 nobody — except sometimes to the law, eh ? " 
 
 Dennis, who was very much baffled by the cool matter-of- 
 course manner of this reply, recovered his self-possession on 
 his professional pursuits being referred to, and pointing 
 towards Barnaby, shook his head and frowned. 
 
 " Hush ! " cried Barnaby. 
 
 " Ah ! Do hush about that. Muster Gashford," said the 
 hangman in a low voice, "pop'lar prejudices — you always 
 forget — well, Barnaby, my lad, what's the matter ? " 
 
 "I hear him coming," he answered: "Hark! Do you 
 mark that ? That's his foot ! Bless you, I know his step, 
 and his dog's too. Tramp, tramp, pit-pat, on they come 
 together, and, ha, ha, ha ! — and here they are ! " he cried 
 joyfully, welcoming Hugh with both hands, and then patting 
 him fondly on the back, as if instead of being the rough com- 
 panion he was, he had been one of the most prepossessing of 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 461 
 
 men. '• Here lie is, and safe tuo ! I am glad to see liim back 
 again, old Hugh ! " 
 
 "I'm a Turk if he don't give me a warmer welcome always 
 than any man of sense," said Hugh, shaking hands with him 
 with a kind of ferocious friendship, strange enough to see. 
 " How are you, boy ? " 
 
 " Hearty ! " cried Barnaby, waving his hat. " Ha ha ha ! 
 And merry too, Hugh ! And ready to do anything for the 
 good cause, and the right, and to help the kind, mild, pale- 
 faced gentleman — the lord they used so ill — eh, Hugh ? " 
 
 " Ay ! " returned his friend, dropping his hand, and looking 
 at Gashford for an instant with a changed expression before 
 he spoke to him. " Good-day, master ! " 
 
 " And good-day to you," replied the secretary, nursing his 
 leg. " And many good days — whole years of them, I hope. 
 You are heated." 
 
 "So would you have been, master," said Hugh, wiping his 
 face, " if you'd been running here as fast as I have." 
 
 " You know the news, then ? Yes, I supposed you would 
 have heard it." 
 
 " JSTews ! what news ! " 
 
 " You don't ? " cried Gashford, raising his eyebrows with 
 an exclamation of surprise. " Dear me ! Come ; then I am 
 the first to make you acquainted with your distinguished 
 position after all. Do you see the King's Arms a-top ? " lie 
 smilingly asked, as he took a large paper from his pocket, 
 unfolded it, and held it out for Hugh's inspection. 
 
 " Well ! " said Hugh. " What's that to me ? " 
 
 "Much. A great deal," replied the secretary. " Read it." 
 
 " I told you, the first time I saw you, that I couldn't read," 
 said Hugh, impatiently. " What in the Devil's name's inside 
 of it ? " 
 
 " It is a proclamation from the King in Council,'' said 
 Gashford, " dated to-day, and offering a reward of five hun- 
 dred pounds — five hundred pounds is a great deal of money, 
 and a large temptation to some people — to any one wlio will 
 discover the person or persons most active in demolishing 
 those chapels on Saturday niglit." 
 
 "Is that all ? " cried Hugli, with an indifferent air. "I 
 knew of that." 
 
462 BARNABT BUDGE. 
 
 " Truly I might have known you did," said Gashford, smil- 
 ing and folding up the document again. "Your friend, I 
 might have guessed — indeed I did guess — was sure to tell 
 you." 
 
 " My friend ! " stammered Hugh, with an unsuccessful effort 
 to appear surprised. " What friend ? " 
 
 " Tut tut — do you suppose I don't know where you have 
 been ? " retorted Gashford, rubbing his hands, and beating 
 the back of one on the palm of the other, and looking at him 
 with a cunning eye. "How dull you think me ! Shall I say 
 his name ? " 
 
 " No," said Hugh, with a hasty glance towards Dennis. 
 
 "You have also heard from him, no doubt," resumed the 
 secretary, after a moment's pause, "' that the rioters who have 
 been taken (poor fellows) are committed for trial, and that 
 some very active witnesses have had the temerity to appear 
 against them. Among others" — and here he clinched his 
 teeth, as if he would suppress, by force, some violent words 
 that rose upon his tongue ; and spoke very slowly. " Among 
 others, a gentleman who saw the work going on in Warwick 
 Street ; a Catholic gentleman ; one Haredale." 
 
 Hugh would have prevented his uttering the word, but it 
 was out already. Hearing the name, Barnaby turned swiftly 
 round. 
 
 " Duty, duty, bold Barnaby ! " cried Hugh, assuming his 
 wildest and most rapid manner, and thrusting into his hand 
 his staff and flag which leaned against the wall. "Mount 
 guard without loss of time, for we are off upon our expedition. 
 Up, Dennis, and get ready ! Take care that no one turns the 
 straw upon my bed, brave Barnaby ; we know what's under- 
 neath it — eh ? Now, master, quick ! What you have to say, 
 say speedily, for the little captain and a cluster of 'em are in 
 the fields, and only waiting for us. Sharp's the Avord, and 
 strike's the action. Quick ! " 
 
 Barnaby was not proof against this bustle and despatch. 
 The look of mingled astonishment and anger which had 
 appeared in liis face when he turned towards them, faded from 
 it as the words passed from his memory, like breath from a 
 polished mirror ; and grasping the weapon which Hugh forced 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 4G3 
 
 upon him, he proudly took his station at the door, beyond 
 their hearing. 
 
 "You might have spoiled our plans, master," said Hugh. 
 " You, too, of all men ! " 
 
 " Who would have supposed that he would be so quick ? " 
 urged Gashford. 
 
 " He's as quick sometimes — I don't mean with his hands, 
 for that you know, but with his head — as you, or any man," 
 said Hugh. " Dennis, it's time we were going ; they're wait- 
 ing for us ; I came to tell you. Reach me my stick and belt. 
 Here! Lend a hand, master. Fling this over my shoulder, 
 and buckle it behind, will you ? " 
 
 "Brisk as ever!" said the secretary, adjusting it for him 
 as he desired. 
 
 "A man need be brisk to-day; there's brisk work afoot." 
 
 " There is, is there ? " said Gashford. He said it with 
 such a provoking assumption of ignorance, that Hugh, looking 
 over his slioulder and angrily down upon him, replied, — 
 
 " Is there ! You know there is ! Who knows better than 
 you, master, that the first great step to be taken is to make 
 examples of these witnesses, and frighten all men from appear- 
 ing against us or any of our body, any more ? " 
 
 "There's one we know of," returned Gashford, with an 
 expressive smile, " who is at least as well informed upon that 
 subject as you or I." 
 
 " If we mean the same gentleman, as I suppose we do," 
 Hugh rejoined softly, " I tell you this — he's as good and 
 quick information about everything as " — here he paused 
 and looked round, as if to make quite sure that the person in 
 question was not within hearing — " as Old Nick himself. 
 Have you done that, master ? How slow you are ! " 
 
 "It's quite fast now," said Gashford, rising. "I say — 
 you didn't find that your friend disapproved of to-day's little 
 expedition? Ha ha ha! It is fortunate it jumps so well 
 with the witness's policy ; for once planned, it must liave been 
 carried out. And now you are going, eh ? " 
 
 "Xow we are going, master!" Hugh replied. -Any part- 
 ing words ? " 
 
 " Oh dear, no," said ( Jasliford sweetly. " None ! " 
 
464 BAByABY BUDGE. 
 
 " You're sure ? " cried Hugh, nudging the grinning Dennis. 
 
 " Quite sure, eh, Muster Gashford ? " chuckled the hangman. 
 
 Gash ford paused a moment, struggling with his caution 
 and his malice ; then putting himself between the two men, 
 and laying a hand upon the arm of each, said, in a cramped 
 whisper, — 
 
 " Do not, my good friends — I am sure you will not — 
 forget our talk one night — in your house, .Dennis — about 
 this person. Xo mercy, no quarter, no two beams of his 
 house to be left standing where the builder placed them. 
 Fire, the saying goes, is a good servant, but a bad master. 
 Make it his master; he deserves no better. But I am sure 
 you will be firm, I am sure you will be very resolute, I am 
 sure you will remember that he thirsts for your lives, and 
 those of all your brave companions. If you ever acted like 
 stanch fellows, you will do so to-day. Won't you, Dennis — 
 won't you, Hugh ? " 
 
 The two looked at him, and at each other ; then bursting 
 into a roar of laughter, brandished their staves above their 
 heads, shook hands, and hurried out. 
 
 AYhen they had been gone a little time, Gashford followed. 
 They were yet in sight, and hastening to that part of the 
 adjacent fields in which their fellows had already mustered; 
 Hugh was looking back, and flourishing his hat to Barnaby, 
 who, delighted with his trust, replied in the same manner, 
 and then resumed his pacing up and down before the stable- 
 door, where his feet had worn a path alread}'. And when 
 Gashford himself was far distant, and looked back, for the last 
 time, he was still walking to and fro, with the same measured 
 tread ; the most devoted and the blithest champion that ever 
 maintained a post, and felt his heart lifted up with a brave 
 sense of duty, and determination to defend it to the last. 
 
 Smiling at the simplicit}^ of the poor idiot, Gashford betook 
 himself to Welbeck Street by a different path from that 
 which he knew the rioters would take, and sitting down 
 behind a curtain in one of the upper windows of Lord 
 George Gordon's house, waited impatiently for their coming. 
 They were so long, that although he knew it had been settled 
 they should come that way, he had a misgiving they must 
 

 GASHFORD WATCHING FOR SIGNS OF THE BURNING OF THE WARREN. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 465 
 
 have changed their plans and taken some other route. But at 
 length the roar of voices was heard in the neighboring fields, 
 and soon afterwards they came thronging past, in a great 
 body. 
 
 However, they were not all, nor nearly all, in one body, 
 but were, as he soon found, divided into four parties, each of 
 which stopped before the house to give three cheers, and then 
 went on ; the leaders crying out in what direction they were 
 going, and calling on the spectators to join them. The first 
 detachment, carrying, by way of banners, some relics of the 
 havoc they had made in Moorfields, proclaimed that they were 
 on their way to Chelsea, whence they would return in the 
 same order, to make of the spoil they bore, a great bonfire, 
 near at hand. The second gave out that they were bound for 
 Wapping, to destroy a chapel ; the third, that their place of 
 destination was East Smithfield, and their object the same. 
 All this was done in broad, bright summer day. Gay car- 
 riages and chairs stopped to let them pass, or turned back 
 to avoid them ; people on foot stood aside in doorways, or 
 perhaps knocked and begged permission to stand at a window, 
 or in the hall, until the rioters had passed : but nobody inter- 
 fered with them; and when they had gone by, everything 
 went on as usual. 
 
 There still remained the fourth body, and for that the 
 secretary looked with a most intense eagerness. At last it 
 came up. It was numerous, and composed of picked men ; 
 for as he gazed down among them, he recognized many 
 upturned faces which he knew well — those of Simon Tap- 
 pertit, Hugh, and Dennis in the front, of course. Tliey 
 halted and cheered, as the others had done ; but when they 
 moved again, they did not, like them, proclaim wliat design 
 they had. Hugh merely raised his hat upon the bludgeon he 
 carried, and glancing at a spectator on tlie opposite side of 
 the way, was gone. 
 
 Gashford followed the direction of his glance instinctively, 
 and saw, standing on the pavement, and wearing the blue 
 cockade. Sir John Chester. He held his hat an inch or two 
 above his head to propitiate the mob; ami, resting gracefully 
 on his cane, smiling pleasantly, and displaying his dress and 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
466 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 person to the very best advantage, looked on in the most 
 tranquil state imaginable. For all that, and quick and dex- 
 terous as he was, Gashford had seen him recognize Hugh 
 with the air of a patron. He had no longer any eyes for the 
 crowd, but fixed his keen regards upon Sir John. 
 
 He stood in the same place and posture, until the last man 
 in the concourse had turned the corner of the street ; then 
 very deliberately took the blue cockade out of his hat; put 
 it carefully in his pocket, ready for the next emerge;icy ; 
 refreshed himself with a pinch of snuff ; put up his box ; and 
 was walking slowly off, when a passing carriage stopped, and 
 a lady's hand let down the glass. Sir John's hat was off 
 again immediately. After a minute's conversation at the 
 carriage window, in which it was apparent that he w^as vastly 
 entertaining on the subject of the mob, he stepped lightly in, 
 and was driven away. 
 
 The secretary smiled, but he had other thoughts to dwell 
 upon, and soon dismissed the topic. Dinner was brought 
 him, but he sent it down untasted ; and, in restless pacings 
 up and down the room, and constant glances at the clock, and 
 many futile efforts to sit down and read, or go to sleep, or 
 look out of the window^, consumed four weary hours. When 
 the dial told him thus much time had crept away, he stole 
 up-stairs to the top of the house, and coming out upon the 
 roof, sat dow^n, with his face towards the sea. 
 
 Heedless of the fresh air that blew upon his heated brow^, 
 of the pleasant meadows from which he turned, of the piles 
 of roofs and chimne3"s upon which he looked, of the smoke 
 and rising mist he vainly sought to pierce, of the shrill cries 
 of children at their evening sports, the distant hum and tur- 
 moil of the town, the cheerful country breath that rustled 
 past to meet it, and to droop, and die; he watched, and 
 watched, till it was dark — save for the specks of light that 
 twinkled in the streets below and far away — and, as the 
 darkness deepened, strained his gaze and grew more eager 
 yet. 
 
 "Nothing but gloom in that direction, still!" he muttered 
 restlessly. " Dog ! wiiere is the redness in the sky, you 
 promised me ! " 
 
BAUyABY liUDGE. 46 < 
 
 CHAPTER Liy. 
 
 Rumors of the prevailing disturbances had, by this time, 
 begun to be pretty generally circulated through the towns 
 and villages round London, and the tidings were everywhere 
 received with that appetite for the marvellous and love of 
 the terrible which have probably been among the natural 
 characteristics of mankind since the creation of the world. 
 These accounts, however, appeared, to many persons at that 
 day — as they would to us at the present, but that we know 
 them to be matter of history — so monstrous and improbable, 
 that a great number of those who were resident at a distance, 
 and who were credulous enough on other points, were really 
 unable to bring their minds to believe that such things could 
 be ; and rejected the intelligence they received on all hands, 
 as wholly fabulous and absurd. 
 
 Mr. Willet — not so much, perhaps, on account of his 
 having argued and settled the matter with himself, as by 
 reason of his constitutional obstinacy — was one of those 
 who positively refused to entertain the current topic for a 
 moment. On this very evening, and perhaps at the very 
 time when Gashford kept his solitary watch, old John was 
 so red in the face with perpetually shaking his head in con- 
 tradiction of his three ancient cronies and pot companions, 
 that he was quite a phenomenon to behold, and lighted up the 
 Maypole Porch wherein they sat together, like a monstrous 
 carbuncle in a fairy tale. 
 
 "Do you think, sir," said Mr. Willet, looking hard at 
 Solomon Daisy — for it was his custom in cases of personal 
 altercation to fasten upon the smallest man in tlie part}' — 
 "do you think sir, that Pm a born fool ? " 
 
 "No, no, Johnny," returned Solomon, h)oking round 
 upon the little circle of which he formed a i»art : "' We 
 
468 nAliNABY liULGE. 
 
 all know better than that. You're no fool, Johnny. No, 
 no ! " 
 
 Mr. Cobb and Mr. Parkes shook their heads in unison, 
 muttering " No, no, Johnny, not you ! " But as such compli- 
 ments had usually the effect of making Mr. Willet rather 
 more dogged than before, he surveyed them with a look of 
 deep disdain, and returned for answer, — 
 
 "Then what do you mean by coming here, and telling me 
 that this evening you're a-going to walk up to London 
 together — you three — you — and have the evidence of your 
 own senses ? Ain't," said ]Mr. Willet, putting his pipe in his 
 mouth with an air of solemn disgust, "ain"t the evidence of 
 7711/ senses enough for you ? " 
 
 " But we haven't got it, Johnny," pleaded Parkes, humbly. 
 
 "You haven't got it, sir ? " repeated Mr. Willet, eying him 
 from top to toe. " You haven't got it, sir ? You have got it, 
 sir. Don't I tell you that His blessed Majesty King George 
 the Third would no more stand a rioting and rollicking in his 
 streets, than he'd stand being crowed over by his own 
 Parliament ? " 
 
 "Yes, Johnny, but that's your sense — not your senses," 
 said the adventurous Mr. Parkes. 
 
 " How do you know," retorted John with great dignity. 
 " You're a-contradictiug pretty free, joii are, sir. How do 
 you know which it is ? I'm not aware I ever told you, sir." 
 
 Mr. Parkes, finding himself in the position of having got 
 into metaphysics without exactly seeing his way out of them, 
 stammered forth an apology and retreated from the argument. 
 There then ensued a silence of some ten minutes or a quarter 
 of an hour, at the expiration of which period Mr. Willet was 
 observed to rumble and shake with laughter, and presently 
 remarked, in reference to his late adversary, " that he hoped 
 he had tackled him enough." Thereupon, Messrs. Cobb and 
 Daisy laughed, and nodded, and Parkes was looked upon as 
 thoroughly and effectually put down. 
 
 " Do you suppose if all this was true, that Mr. Haredale 
 would be constantly away from home, as he is ? " said John 
 after another silence. " Do you think he wouldn't be afraid 
 to leave his house with them two young women in it, and 
 only a couple of men, or so ? " 
 
BAItNABY RUDGE. 469 
 
 " Ay, but then you know," returned Solomon Daisy, " his 
 house is a goodish way out of London, and they do say that 
 the rioters won't go more than two mile, or three at farthest, 
 off the stones. Besides, you know, some of the Catholic 
 gentlefolks have actually sent trinkets and such-like down 
 here for safety — at least, so the story goes." 
 
 ^' The story goes ! " said Mr. Willet testily. '•' Yes, sir. 
 The story goes that you saw a ghost last March. But nobody 
 believes it." 
 
 " "Well !" said Solomon, rising, to divert the attention of 
 his two friends, who tittered at this retort : " believed or 
 disbelieved, it's true ; and true or not, if we mean to go to 
 London, we must be going at once. So shake hands, Johnny, 
 and good-night." 
 
 " I shall shake hands," returned the landlord, putting his 
 into his pockets, " with no man as goes to London on such 
 nonsensical errands." 
 
 The three cronies were therefore reduced to the necessity of 
 shaking his elbows ; having performed that ceremony, and 
 brought from the house their hats, and sticks, and great-coats, 
 they bade him good-night and departed; promising to bring 
 him on the morrow full and true accounts of the real state of 
 the city, and if it were quiet, to give him the full merit of liis 
 victory. 
 
 John Willet looked after them, as they plodded along the 
 road in the rich glow of a summer evening ; and knocking 
 the ashes out of his pipe, laughed inwardly at their folly, until 
 his sides were sore. When he had quite exhausted himself — 
 which took some time, for he laughed as slowly as he thought 
 and spoke — he sat himself comfortably with his back to the 
 house, put his legs upon the bench, tiicn his apron over his 
 face, and fell sound asleep. 
 
 How long he slept, matters not ; but it was for no brief 
 space, for when he awoke, the rich light had faded, the 
 sombre hues of night were falling fast upon the landscape, 
 and a few bright stars were already twinkling overhead. 
 The birds were all at roost, the daisies on the green liad closed 
 their fairy hoods, the honeysuckle twining round tlie porch 
 exhaled its perfume in a twofold degree, as though it lost its 
 
470 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 coyness at that silent time and loved to shed its fragrance on 
 the night; the ivy scarcely stirred its deep green leaves. 
 How tranquil and how beautiful it was ! 
 
 Was there no sound in the air, besides the gentle rustling 
 of the trees and the grasshopper's merry chirp ? Hark ! 
 Something very faint and distant, not unlike the murmuring 
 in a sea-shell. Now it grew louder, fainter now, and now it 
 altogether died away. Presently, it came again, subsided, 
 came once more, grew louder, fainter — swelled into a roar. 
 It was on the road, and varied with its windings. All at once 
 it burst into a distinct sound — the voices, and the tramping 
 feet of many men. 
 
 It is questionable whether old John Willet, even then, would 
 have thought of the rioters, but for the cries of his cook and 
 housemaid, who ran screaming up-stairs and locked themselves 
 into one of the old garrets, — shrieking dismally when they had 
 done so, by way of rendering their place of refuge perfectly 
 secret and secure. These two females did afterwards depone 
 that Mr. Willet in his consternation uttered but one word, and 
 called that up the stairs in a stentorian voice, six distinct 
 times. But as this word was a monosyllable, which, however 
 inoffensive when applied to the quadruped it denotes, is highly 
 reprehensible when used in connection with females of unim- 
 peachable character, many persons were inclined to believe 
 that the young women labored under some hallucination 
 caused by excessive fear ; and that their ears deceived them. 
 
 Be this as it may, John Willet, in whom the very utter- 
 most extent of dull-headed perplexity supplied the place of 
 courage, stationed himself in the porch, and waited for their 
 coming up. Once, it dimly occurred to him that there was a 
 kind of door to the house, which had a lock and bolts ; and at 
 the same time some shadowy ideas of shutters to the lower 
 windows, flitted through his brain. But he stood stock still, 
 looking down^the road in the direction in which the noise was 
 rapidly advancing, and did not so much as take his hands out 
 of his pockets. 
 
 He had not to wait long. A dark mass, looming through a 
 cloud of dust, soon became visible ; the mob quickened their 
 pace ; shouting and whooping like savages, they came rushing 
 
BARNABV BUDGE. 471 
 
 on pell-mell ; and in a few seconds he was bandied from hand 
 to hand, in the heart of a crowd of men. 
 
 " Holloa ! " cried a voice he knew, as the man who spoke 
 came cleaving through the throng. "Where is he? 
 Give him to me. Don't hurt him. How now, old Jack ! 
 Ha ha ha ! " 
 
 Mr. Willet looked at him, and saw it was Hugh ; but he 
 said nothing, and thought nothing. 
 
 " These lads are thirsty and must drink ! " cried Hugh, 
 thrusting him back towards the house. "Bustle, Jack, 
 bustle. Show us the best — the very best — the over-proof 
 that you keep for your own drinking, Jack ! " 
 
 John faintly articulated the words, " Who's to pay ? " 
 
 " He says ' Who's to pay ! ' " cried Hugh with a roar of 
 laughter which w^as loudly echoed by the crowd. Then turn- 
 ing to John, he added, " Pay ! Why, nobody." 
 
 John stared round at the mass of faces — some grinning, 
 some fierce, some lighted up by torches, some indistinct, some 
 dusky and shadowy : some looking at him, some at his house, 
 some at each other — and while he was, as he thought, in the 
 very act of doing so, found himself, without any consciousness 
 of having moved, in the bar ; sitting down in an arm-chair, 
 aud watching the destruction of his property, as if it were 
 some queer play or entertainment, of an astonishing and 
 stupefying nature, but having no reference to himself — that 
 he could make out — at all. 
 
 Yes. Here was the bar — the bar that the boldest never 
 entered without special invitation — the sanctuary, the mj'stery, 
 the hallowed ground : here it was, crammed with men, clubs, 
 sticks, torches, pistols ; filled with a deafening noise, oaths, 
 shouts, screams, hootings ; changed all at once into a bear- 
 garden, a madhouse, an infernal temple : men darting in and 
 out, by door and window, smasliing tlie glass, turning the 
 taps, drinking liquor out of china punclibowls, sitting astride 
 of casks, smoking private and personal pipes, cutting down the 
 sacred grove of lemons, hacking and liewing at the celebrated 
 cheese, breaking open inviolable drawers, putting things in 
 their pockets which didn't belong to them, dividing his own 
 money before his own eyes, wantonly wasting, breaking, 
 
472 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 pulling down and tearing up : nothing quiet, nothing private : 
 men everywhere — above, below, overhead, in the bedrooms, 
 in the kitchen, in the yard, in the stables — clambering in at 
 windows when there were doors wide open ; dropping out of 
 windows when the stairs were hand}^; leaping over the 
 banisters into chasms of passages : new faces and figures pre- 
 senting themselves every instant — some yelling, some singing, 
 some fighting, some breaking glass and crockery, some laying 
 the dust with the liquor they couldn't drink, some ringing the 
 bells till they pulled them down, others beating them with 
 pokers till they beat tliem into fragments : more men still — 
 more, more, more — swarming on like insects : noise, smoke, 
 light, darkness, frolic, anger, laughter, groans, plunder, fear, 
 and rain ! 
 
 Nearly all the time while John looked on at this bewil- 
 dering scene, Hugh kept near him ; and though he was the 
 loudest, wildest, most destructive villain there, he saved his 
 old master's bones a score of times. Nay, even when Mr. 
 Tappertit, excited by liquor, came up, and in assertion of his 
 prerogative politely kicked John Willet on the shins, Hugh 
 bade him return the compliment ; and if old John had had 
 sufficient i^resence of mind to understand this whispered 
 direction, and to profit by it, he might no doubt, under Hugh's 
 protection, have done so with impunity. 
 
 At length the band began to reassemble outside the house, 
 and to call to those within, to join them, for they were losing 
 time. These murmurs increasing, and attaining a high pitch, 
 Hugh, and some of those who yet lingered in the bar, and 
 who plainly were the leaders of the troop, took counsel 
 together, apart, as to what was to be done with John, to keep 
 him quiet until their Ciiigwell work was over. Some pro- 
 posed to set the house on fire and leave him in it ; others, 
 that he should be reduced to a state of temporary insensibility, 
 by knocking on the head ; others, that he should be sworn to 
 sit where he was until to-morrow at the same hour ; others 
 again, that he should be gagged and taken off with them, 
 under a sufficient guard. All these propositions being over- 
 ruled, it was concluded, at last, to bind him in his chair, and 
 the word was passed for Dennis. 
 
BAllNABY BUDGE. 473 
 
 " Look'ee here, Jack I " said Hugh, striding up to him : 
 "We're going to tie you, hand and foot, but otherwise you 
 won't be hurt. D'ye hear ? " 
 
 John Willet looked at another man, as if he didn't know 
 which was the speaker, and muttered something about an 
 ordinary every Sunday at two o'clock. 
 
 " You won't be hurt I tell you. Jack — do you hear me ? " 
 roared Hugh, impressing the assurance upon him by means 
 of a heavy blow on the back. " He's so dead scared, he's 
 wool-gathering, I think. Give him a drop of something to 
 drink here. Hand over, one of you." 
 
 A glass of liquor being passed forward, Hugh poured the 
 contents down old John's throat. Mr. Willet feebly smacked 
 his lips, thrust his hand into his pocket, and inquired what 
 what was to pa}' ; adding as he looked vacantly round, that he 
 believed there was a trifle of broken glass — 
 
 " He's out of his senses for the time, it's my belief," said 
 Hugh, after shaking him, without any visible effect upon his 
 system, until his ke3's rattled in his pocket. " Where's that 
 Dennis ? " 
 
 The word was again passed, and presently ^Ir. Dennis with 
 a long cord bound about his middle, something after the 
 manner of a friar, came hurrying in, attended by a body- 
 guard of half a dozen of his men. 
 
 " Come ! Be alive here ! " cried Hugh, stamping his foot 
 upon the ground. " jMake haste ! " 
 
 Dennis, with a wink and a nod, unwound the cord from 
 about his person, and raising his eyes to tlie ceiling, looked 
 all over it, and round the walls and cornice, with a curious 
 eye ; then shook his head. 
 
 "Move, man, can't you!" cried Hugh, with another impa- 
 tient stamp of his foot. "Are we to wait here till the 
 cry has gone for ten miles round, and our work's inter- 
 rupted ? " 
 
 "It's all very fine talking, brother,'' answered Dennis, 
 stepping towards him ; "but unless " — and here he whispered 
 in his ear — "unless we do it over the door, it can't be done 
 at all in this here room." 
 
 " What can't ? " Hugh demanded. 
 
474 BARNABY RUDGE. 
 
 "What can't!" retorted Dennis. "Why, the old man 
 can't." 
 
 " Why, you weren't going to hang him ! " cried Hugh. 
 
 " No, brother ? " returned the hangman, with a stare. 
 " What else ? " 
 
 Hugh made no answer, but snatching the rope from his 
 companion's hand, proceeded to bind old John himself ; but 
 his very first move was so bungling and unskilful, that Mr. 
 Dennis entreated, almost with tears in his eyes, that he might 
 be permitted to perform the duty. Hugh consenting, he 
 achieved it in a twinkling. 
 
 "There!" he said, looking mournfully at John Willet, 
 who displayed no more emotion in his bonds than he had 
 shown out of them. " That's what I call pretty, and work- 
 manlike. He's quite a picter now. But, brother, just a 
 word with you — now that he's ready trussed, as one may say, 
 wouldn't it be better for all parties if we was to work him 
 off? It would read uncommon well in the newspapers, it 
 would indeed. The public would think a great deal more 
 on us ! " 
 
 Hugh, inferring what his companion meant, rather from 
 his gestures than his technical mode of expressing himself (to 
 wliich, as he was ignorant of his calling, he wanted the clew), 
 rejected this proposition for the second time, and gave the 
 word " Forward ! " which was echoed by a hundred voices 
 from without. 
 
 " To the Warren ! " shouted Dennis as he ran out, followed 
 by the rest. "' A witness' house, my lads ! " 
 
 A loud yell followed, and the whole throng hurried off, 
 mad for pillage and destruction. Hugh lingered behind for a 
 few moments to stimulate himself with more drink, and to' 
 set all the taps running, a few of which had accidentally been 
 spared; then, glancing round the despoiled and plundered 
 room, through whose shattered window the rioters had thrust 
 the Maypole itself, — for even that had been sawn down, — 
 lighted a torch, clapped the mute and motionless John Willet 
 on the back, and waving his light above his head, and uttering 
 a fierce shout, hastened after his companions. 
 
BARNABY BUDGE, 475 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 John Willet, left alone in his dismantled bar, continued 
 to sit staring about him ; awake as to his eyes, certainly, but 
 with all his powers of reason and reflection in a sound and 
 dreamless sleep. He looked round upon the room which had 
 been for years, and was within an hour ago, the pride of his 
 heart ; and not a muscle of his face was moved. The night, 
 without, looked black and cold through the dreary gaps in 
 the casement ; the precious liquids, noH' nearly leaked away, 
 dripped with a hollow sound upon the floor; the Maypole 
 peered ruefully in through the broken window, like the 
 bowsprit of a wrecked ship ; the ground might have been the 
 bottom of the sea, it was so strewn with precious fragments. 
 Currents of air rushed in, as the old doors jarred and creaked 
 upon their hinges ; the candles flickered and guttered down, 
 and made long winding-sheets ; the cheery deep-red curtains 
 flapped and fluttered idly in the wind ; even the. stout Dutch 
 kegs, overthrown and lying empty in dark corners, seemed 
 the mere husks of good fellows whose jollity had departed, 
 and who could kindle with a friendly glow no more. John 
 saw this desolation, and yet saw it not. He was perfectly 
 contented to sit there, staring at it, and felt no more in- 
 dignation or discomfort in his bonds than if they had been 
 robes of honor. So far as he was personally concerned, old 
 Time lay snoring, and the world stood still. 
 
 Save for the dripping from the barrels, the rustling of such 
 light fragments of destruction as the wind affected, and the 
 dull creaking of the open doors, all was profoundly quiet : 
 indeed, these sounds, like the ticking of the deatli-watch in 
 the night, only made tlie silence they invaded deeper and 
 more apparent. But quiet or noisy, it was all one to John. 
 If a train of heavy artillery could have come up and com- 
 
476 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 menced ball practice outside the window, it would have been 
 all the same to him. He was a long way beyond surprise. 
 A ghost couldn't have overtaken him. 
 
 By and by he heard a footstep — a hurried, and yet cautious 
 footstep — coming on towards the house. It stopped, advanced 
 again, then seemed to go quite round it. Having done that, 
 it came beneath the window, and a head looked in. 
 
 It was strongly relieved against the darkness outside by the 
 glare of the guttering candles. A pale, worn, withered face ; 
 the eyes — but that was owing to its gaunt condition — un- 
 naturally large and bright ; the hair, a grizzled black. It gave 
 a searching glance all round the room, and a deep voice said, — 
 
 '• Are you alone in this house ? " 
 
 John made no sign, though the question was repeated twice, 
 and he heard it distinctly. After a moment's pause, the man 
 got in at the window. John was not at all surprised at this, 
 either. There had been so much getting in and out of window 
 in the course of the last hour or so, that he had quite forgotten 
 the door, and seemed to have lived among such exercises from 
 infancy. 
 
 The man wore a large, dark, faded cloak, and a slouched 
 hat ; he walked up close to John, and looked at him. John 
 returned the compliment v/ith interest. 
 
 '- How long have you been sitting thus ? " said the man. 
 
 John considered, but nothing came of it. 
 
 " Which way have the party gone ? " 
 
 Some wandering speculations relative to the fashion of the 
 stranger's boots, got into Mr. Willet's mind b}' some accident 
 or other, but they got out again in a hurry, and left him in 
 his former state. 
 
 " You would do well to speak," said the man : " you may 
 keep a whole skin, though you have nothing else left that can 
 be hurt. Which way have the party gone ? " 
 
 " That ! " said John, finding his voice all at once, and 
 nodding with perfect good faith — he couldn't point ; he was 
 so tightly bound — in exactly the opposite direction to the 
 right one. 
 
 "You lie!" said the man angrily, and with a threatening 
 gesture. I came that way. You would betray me." 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 477 
 
 It was so evident that John's imperturbability was not 
 assumed, but was the result of the late proceedings under his 
 roof, that the man stayed his hand in the very act of striking 
 him, and turned away. 
 
 John looked after him without so much as a twitch in a 
 single nerve of his face. He seized a glass, and holding it 
 under one of the little casks until a few drops were collected, 
 drank them greedily off ; then throwing it down upon the 
 floor impatiently, he took the vessel in his hands and drained 
 it into his throat. Some scraps of bread and meat were scat- 
 tered about, and on these he fell next; eating them with 
 voracity, and pausing every now and then to listen for some 
 fancied noise outside. When he had refreshed himself in this 
 manner with violent haste, and raised another barrel to his 
 lips, he pulled his hat upon his brow as though he were about 
 to leave the house, and turned to John. 
 
 " Where are your servants ? '* 
 
 Mr. Millet indistinctly remembered to have heard the rioters 
 calling to them to throw the key of the room in which they 
 were, out of window, for their keeping. He therefore replied, 
 "Locked up." 
 
 " Well for them if they remain quiet, and well for you if 
 you do the like," said the man. " Now show me the way the 
 party went." 
 
 This time Mr. Willet indicated it correctly. The man was 
 hurrying to the door, when suddenly there came towards them 
 on the wind, the loud and rapid tolling of an alarm bell, and 
 then a bright and vivid glare streamed up, which illumined, 
 not only the whole chamber, but all the country. 
 
 It was not the sudden change from darkness to this dreadful 
 light, it was not the sound of distant shrieks and shouts of 
 triumph, it was not this dread invasion of the serenity and 
 peace of night, that drove the man back as though a thunder- 
 bolt had struck him. It was the Bell. If the ghastliest 
 shape the human mind has ever pictured in its wildest dreams 
 had risen up before him, he could not liave staggered back- 
 ward from its touch, as he did from the first sound of that 
 loud iron voice. With eyes that started from his head, liis 
 limbs convulsed, his face most horrible to see, he raised one 
 
478 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 arm high up into the air, and holding something visionary 
 back and down, with his other hand, drove at it as though he 
 held a knife and stabbed it to the heart. He clutched his 
 hair, and stopped his ears, and travelled madly round and 
 round ; then gave a frightful cry, and with it rushed away : 
 still, still, the Bell tolled on and seemed to follow him — 
 louder and louder, hotter and hotter 3'et. The glare grew 
 brighter, the roar of voices deeper ; the crash of heavy bodies 
 falling shook the air ; briglit streams of sparks rose up into 
 the sky; but louder than them all — rising faster far, to 
 Heaven — a million times more fierce and furious — pouring 
 forth dreadful secrets after its long silence — speaking the 
 language of the dead — the Bell — the Bell! 
 
 What hunt of spectres could surpass that dread pursuit and 
 flight ! Had there been a legion of them on his track, he 
 could have better borne it. They would have had a beginning 
 and an end, but here all space was full. The one pursuing 
 voice was everywhere : it sounded in the earth, the air ; 
 shook the long grass, and howled among the trembling trees. 
 The echoes caught it up, the owls hooted as it flew upon the 
 breeze, the nightingale was silent and hid herself among the 
 thickest boughs : it seemed to goad and urge the angry fire, 
 and lash it into madness ; everything was steeped in one pre- 
 vailing red ; the glow was everywhere ; nature was drenched 
 in blood : still the remorseless crying of that awful voice — the 
 Bell, the Bell ! 
 
 It ceased ; but not in his ears. The knell was at his heart. 
 No work of man had ever voice like that which sounded there, 
 and warned him that it cried unceasingly to Heaven. Who 
 could hear that bell, and not know what it said ! There was 
 murder in its every note — cruel, relentless, savage murder — 
 the murder of a confiding man, by one who held his every 
 trust. Its ringing summoned phantoms from their graves. 
 What face was that, in which a friendly smile changed to a 
 look of half incredulous horror, which stiffened for a moment 
 into one of pain, then changed again into an imploring glance 
 at Heaven, and so fell idly down with upturned eyes, like the 
 dead stags he had often peeped at when a little child : shrink- 
 ing and shuddering — there was a dreadful thing to think of 
 
BARN A BY BUDGE. 479 
 
 now ! — and clinging to an apron as he looked ! He sank 
 upon the ground, and grovelling down as if he would dig 
 himself a place to hide in, covered his face and ears : but no, 
 no, no — a hundred walls and roofs of brass would not shut 
 out that bell, for in it spoke the wrathful voice of God, and 
 from that voice, the whole wide universe could not afford a 
 refuge ! 
 
 While he rushed up and down, not knowing where to turn, 
 and while he lay crouching there, the work went briskly on 
 indeed. When they left the Maypole, the rioters formed into 
 a solid body, and advanced at a quick pace towards the 
 Warren. Rumor of their approach having gone before, they 
 found the garden doors fast closed, the windows made secure, 
 and the house profoundly dark : not a light being visible in 
 any portion of the building. After some fruitless ringing at 
 the bells, and beating at the iron gates, they drew off a few 
 paces to reconnoitre, and confer upon the course it would be 
 best to take. 
 
 Very little conference was needed, when all were bent upon 
 one desperate purpose, infuriated with liquor, and flushed 
 with successful riot. The word being given to surround the 
 house, some climbed the gates, or dropped into the shallow 
 trench and scaled the garden wall, while others pulled down 
 the solid iron fence, and while they made a breach to enter 
 by, made deadly weapons of the bars. The house being com- 
 pletely encircled, a small number of men were despatched to 
 break open a tool-shed in the garden ; and during their 
 absence on this errand, the remainder contented themselves 
 with knocking violently at the doors, and calling to those 
 within, to come down and open them on peril of their lives. 
 
 No answer being returned to this repeated summons, and 
 the detachment who had been sent away, coming back with 
 an accession of pickaxes, spades, and hoes, they, — together 
 with those who had such arms already, or carried (as many 
 did) axes, poles, and crow-bars, — struggled into the foremost 
 rank, ready to beset the doors and windows. They had not 
 at this time more than a dozen lighted torches among them ; 
 but when these preparations were completed, flaming links 
 were distributed and passed from hand to hand with such 
 
480 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 rapidity, that, in a minute's time, at least two-thirds of the 
 whole roaring mass bore, each man in his hand, a blazing 
 brand. Whirling these about their heads they raised a loud 
 shout, and fell to work upon the doors and windows. 
 
 Amidst the clattering of heavy blows, the rattling of broken 
 glass, the cries and execrations of the mob, and all the din 
 and turmoil of the scene, Hugh and his friends kept together 
 at the turret door where Mr. Haredale had last admitted him 
 and old John Willet ; and spent their united force on that. 
 It was a strong old oaken door, guarded by good bolts and a 
 heavy bar, but it soon went crashing in upon the narrow stairs 
 behind, and made, as it were, a platform to facilitate their 
 tearing up into the rooms above. Almost at the same moment, 
 a dozen other points were forced, and at every one the crowd 
 poured in like water. 
 
 A few armed servant-men were posted in the hall, and 
 when the rioters forced an entrance there, they fired some 
 half a dozen shots. But these taking no effect, and tlie con- 
 course coming on like an army of devils, they only thought of 
 consulting their own safety, and retreated, echoing their 
 assailants' cries, and hoping in the confusion to be taken for 
 rioters themselves ; in which stratagem they succeeded, with 
 the exception of one old man who was never heard of again, 
 and was said to have had his brains beaten out with an iron 
 bar (one of his fellows reported that he had seen the old man 
 fall), and to have been afterwards burned in the flames. 
 
 The besiegers being now in complete possession of the 
 house spread themselves over it from garret to cellar, and 
 plied their demon labors fiercely. While some small parties 
 kindled bonfires underneath the windows, others broke up the 
 furniture and cast the fragments down to feed the flames 
 below ; where the apertures in the wall (windows no longer) 
 were large enough, they threw out tables, chests of drawers, 
 beds, mirrors, pictures, and flung them whole into the fire ; 
 while every fresh addition to the blazing masses was received 
 with shouts, and howls, and yells, which added new and 
 dismal terrors to the conflagration. Those who haJ axes and 
 had spent their fury on the movables, chopped and tore down 
 the doors and window-frames, broke up the flooring, hewed 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 481 
 
 away the rafters, and buried men who lingered in the upper 
 rooms, in heaps of ruins. Some searched the drawers, the 
 chests, the boxes, writing-desks, and closets, for jewels, plate, 
 and money ; while others, less mindful of gain and more mad 
 for destruction, cast their whole contents into the court-yard 
 without examination, and called to those below, to, heap them 
 on the blaze. Men who had been into the cellars, and had 
 staved the casks, rushed to and fro stark mad, setting fire to 
 all they saw — often to the dresses of their own friends — and 
 kindling the building in so many parts that some had no time 
 for escape, and were seen, with drooping hands and blackened 
 faces, hanging senseless on the window-sills to which they had 
 crawled, until they were sucked and drawn into the burning 
 gulf. The more the fire crackled and raged, the wilder and 
 more cruel the men grew ; as though moving in that element 
 they became fiends, and changed their earthly nature for the 
 qualities that give delight in hell. 
 
 The burning pile, revealing rooms and passages red hot, 
 through gaps made in the crumbling walls : the tributary 
 fires that licked the outer bricks and stones, with their long 
 forked tongues, and ran up to meet the glowing mass within ; 
 the shining of the flames upon the villains who looked on and 
 fed them ; the roaring of the angry blaze, so bright and high 
 that it seemed in its rapacity to have swallowed up the very 
 smoke ; the living flakes the wind bore rapidly away and 
 hurried on with, like a storm of fiery snow; the noiseless 
 breaking of great beams of wood, which fell like feathers on 
 the heap of ashes, and crumbled in the very act to sparks and 
 powder; the lurid tinge that overspread the sky, and the 
 darkness, very deep by contrast, which prevailed around ; the 
 exposure to the coarse, common gaze, of every little nook 
 which usages of home had made a sacred place, and the 
 destruction by rude hands of every little household favorite 
 which old associations made a dear and precious thing : all 
 this taking place — not among pitying looks and friendly 
 murmurs of compassion, but brutal shouts and exultations, 
 which seemed to make the very rats who stood by the old 
 house too long, creatures with some claim upon the pity and 
 regard of those its roof had sheltered : — combined to form a 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
482 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 scene never to be forgotten by those who saw it and were not 
 actors in the work, so long as life endured. 
 
 And who were they? The alarm-bell rang — and it was 
 pulled by no faint or hesitating hands — for a long time ; but 
 not a soul was seen. Some of the insurgents said that when 
 it ceased, they heard the shrieks of women, and saw some 
 garments fluttering in the air, as a party of men bore away 
 no unresisting burdens. No one could say that this was true 
 or false, in such an uproar ; but where was Hugh ? Who 
 among them had seen him, since the forcing of the doors ? 
 The cry spread through the body. Where was Hugh ! 
 
 " Here I " he hoarsely cried, appearing from the darkness ; 
 out of breath, and blackened with the smoke. "We have 
 done all we can ; the fire is burning itself out ; and even the 
 corners where it hasn't spread, are nothing but heaps of ruins. 
 Disperse, my lads, while the coast's clear; get back by 
 different ways ; and meet as usual ! " With that, he dis- 
 appeared again, — contrary to his wont, for he was always 
 first to advance, and last to go away, — leaving them to follow 
 homewards as they would. 
 
 It was not an easy task to draw off such a throng. If 
 Bedlam gates had been flung open wide, there would not 
 have issued forth such maniacs as the frenzy of that night 
 had made. There were men there who danced and trampled 
 on the beds of flowers as though they trod down human 
 enemies, and wrenched them from the stalks, like savages 
 who twisted human necks. There were men who cast their 
 lighted torches in the air, and suffered them to fall upon 
 their heads and faces, blistering the skin with deep unseemly 
 burns. There were men who rushed up to the fire, and 
 paddled in it with their hands as if in water ; and others who 
 were restrained by force from plunging in, to gratify their 
 deadly longing. On the skull of one drunken lad — not 
 twenty, by his looks — who lay upon the ground with a bottle 
 to his mouth, the lead from the roof came streaming down in 
 a shower of liquid fire, white hot ; melting his head like wax. 
 When the scattered parties were collected, men — living yet, 
 but singed as with hot irons — were plucked out of the cellars, 
 and carried off upon the shoulders of others, who strove to 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 483 
 
 wake them as they went along, with ribakl jokes, and left 
 them, dead, in the passages of hospitals. But of all the 
 howling throng not one learned mercy from, or sickened at, 
 these sights ; nor was the fierce, besotted, senseless rage of 
 one man glutted. 
 
 Slowly, and in small clusters, with hoarse hurrahs and 
 repetitions of their usual cry, the assembly dropped away. 
 The last few red-eyed stragglers reeled after those who had 
 gone before ; the distant noise of men calling to each other, 
 and whistling for others whom they missed, grew fainter and 
 fainter ; at length even these sounds died away, and silence 
 reigned alone. 
 
 Silence indeed ! The glare of the flames had sunk into a 
 fitful flashing light ; and the gentle stars, invisible till now, 
 looked down upon tlie blackening heap. A dull smoke hung 
 upon the ruin, as though to hide it from those eyes of Heaven ; 
 and the wind forebore to move it. Bare walls, roof open to 
 the sky — chambers, where the beloved dead had, many and 
 many a fair day, risen to new life and energy ; where so 
 many dear ones had been sad and merry ; which were con- 
 nected with so many thoughts and hopes, regrets and changes 
 — all gone. Nothing left but a dull and dreary blank — a 
 smouldering heap of dust and ashes — tiie silence and solitude 
 of utter desolation. 
 
484 BAENABY BUDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER LVL 
 
 The Maypole cronies, little dreaming of the change so soon 
 to come upon their favorite haunt, struck through the Forest 
 path upon their way to London ; and avoiding the main road, 
 which was hot and dusty, kept to the by-paths and the 
 fields. As they drew nearer to their destination, they began 
 to make inquiries of the people whom they passed, concerning 
 the riots, and the truth or falsehood of the stories they had 
 heard. The answers went far beyond any intelligence that 
 had spread to quiet Chigwell. One man told them that that 
 afternoon the Guards, conveying to Newgate some rioters who 
 had been re-examined, had been set upon by the mob and 
 compelled to retreat ; another, that the houses of two witnesses 
 near Clare Market were about to be pulled down when he 
 came away ; another, that Sir George Saville's house in 
 Leicester Fields was to be burned that night, and that it 
 would go hard with Sir George if he fell into the people's 
 hands, as it was he who had brought in the Catholic bill. All 
 accounts agreed that the mob were out, in stronger numbers 
 and more numerous parties than had yet appeared; that the 
 streets were unsafe ; that no man's house or life was worth an 
 hour's purchase ; that the public consternation was increasing 
 every moment ; and that many families had already fled the 
 city. One fellow who wore the popular color, damned them 
 for not having cockades in their hats, and bade them set a 
 good watch to-morrow night upon the prison doors, for the 
 locks would have a straining ; another asked if they were 
 fire-proof, that they walked abroad without the distinguishing 
 mark of all good and true men; and a third who rode on 
 horseback, and was quite alone, ordered them to throw, each 
 man a shilling, in his hat, towards the support of the rioters. 
 Although they were afraid to refuse compliance with this 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 485 
 
 demand, and were much alarmed by these reports, they 
 agreed, having come so far, to go forward and see the real 
 state of things with their own eyes. So they pushed on 
 quicker, as men do who are excited by portentous news ; and 
 ruminating on what they had heard, spoke little to each other. 
 
 It was now night, and as they came nearer to the city, they 
 had dismal confirmation of this intelligence in three great 
 fires, all close together, which burned fiercely and were gloomily 
 reflected in the sky. Arriving in the immediate suburbs, 
 they found that almost every house had chalked upon its door 
 in large characters " No Popery," that the shops were shut, 
 and that alarm and anxiety were depicted in every face they 
 passed. 
 
 Noting these things with a degree of apprehension which 
 neither of the three cared to impart, in its full extent, to his 
 companions, they came to a turnpike gate, which was shut. 
 They were passing through the turnstile on the path, when a 
 horseman rode up from London at a hard gallop, and called 
 to the toll-keeper in a voice of great agitation, to open quickly 
 in the name of God. 
 
 The adjuration was so earnest, and vehement, that the man, 
 with a lantern in his hand, came running out — toll-keeper 
 though he was — and was about to throw the gate open, when 
 happening to look behind him, he exclaimed, " Good Heaven, 
 what's that ! Another fire ! " 
 
 At this, the three turned their heads, and saw in the 
 distance — straight in the direction whence they had come — 
 a broad sheet of flame, casting a threatening liglit upon the 
 clouds, which glimmered as though the conflagration were 
 behind them, and showed like a wrathful sunset. 
 
 " ]\[y mind misgives me," said the horseman, ^' or I know 
 from what far building those flames come. Don't stand 
 aghast, my good fellow. Open the gate ! " 
 
 "Sir," cried the man, laying his hand upon his horse's 
 bridle as he let him through: "I know you now, sir; be 
 advised by me ; do not go on. I saw them pass, and know 
 what kind of men they are You will be murdered." 
 
 "So be it!" said the horseman, looking intently towards 
 the fire, and not at him wlio spoke. 
 
486 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 "But sir — sir/' cried the man, grasping at his rein more 
 tightlj^ yet, " if you do go on, wear the blue riband. Here, 
 sir," he added, taking one from his own hat, " it's necessity, 
 not choice, that makes me wear it : it's love of life and home, 
 sir. Wear it for this one night, sir; only for this one night." 
 
 '' Do ! " cried the three friends, pressing round his horse. 
 '•' Mr. Haredale — worthy sir — good gentleman — pray be 
 persuaded." 
 
 " \Yho's that ? " cried Mr. Haredale, stooping down to 
 look " Did I hear Daisy's voice ? " 
 
 "You did, sir," cried the little man. "Do be persuaded, 
 sir. This gentleman says very true. Your life may hang 
 upon it." 
 
 " Are you," said Mr. Haredale abruptly, " afraid to come 
 with me ? " 
 
 "I, sir? — X-n-no." 
 
 "Put that riband in your hat. If we meet the rioters, 
 swear that I took you prisoner for wearing it. I will tell 
 them so with my own lips ; for as I hope for mercy when I 
 die, I will take no quarter from them, nor shall they have 
 quarter from me, if we come hand to hand to-night. Up 
 here — behind me — quick ! Clasp me tight round the body, 
 and fear nothing." 
 
 In an instant they were riding away, at full gallop, in a 
 dense cloud of dust, and speeding on, like hunters in a dream. 
 
 It was well the good horse knew the road he traversed, for 
 never once — no, never once in all the journey — did 'Mr. 
 Haredale cast his eyes upon the ground, or turn them, for an 
 instant, from the light towards which they sped so madly. 
 Once he said in a low voice " It is my house," but that was 
 the only time he spoke. When they came to dark and 
 doubtful places, he never forgot to put his hand upon the 
 little man to hold him more securely in his seat, but he 
 kept his head erect and his eyes fixed on the fire, then, and 
 always. 
 
 The road was dangerous enough, for they went the nearest 
 way — headlong — far from the highway — by lonely lanes 
 and paths, where wagon-wheels had worn deep ruts ; where 
 hedge and ditch hemmed in the narrow strip of ground; and 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 487 
 
 tall trees; arching overhead, made it profoundly dark. But 
 on, on, on, with neither stop nor stumble, till they reached 
 the Maypole door, and could plainly see that the fire began to 
 fade, as if for want of fuel. 
 
 "Down — for one moment — for but one moment," said 
 Mr. Haredale, helping Daisy to the ground, and following 
 himself. "Willet — AVillet — where are my niece and ser- 
 vants — Willet ! " 
 
 Crying to him distractedly, he rushed into the bar. — The 
 landlord bound and fastened to his chair; the place dis- 
 mantled, stripped, and pulled about his ears ; — nobody could 
 have taken shelter here. 
 
 He was a strong man, accustomed to restrain himself, and 
 suppress his strong emotions ; but this preparation for what 
 was to follow — though he had seen that fire burning, and 
 knew that his house must be razed to the ground — was more 
 than he could bear. He covered his face with his hands for a 
 moment, and turned away his head. 
 
 " Johnny, Johnny," said Solomon — and the simple-hearted 
 fellow cried outright, and wrung his hands — " Oh dear old 
 Johnny, here's a change ! That the Maypole bar should 
 come to this, and we should live to see it ! The old Warren 
 too, Johnny — Mr. Haredale — oh, Johnny, what a piteous 
 sight this is ! " 
 
 Pointing to Mr. Haredale as he said these words, little 
 Solomon Daisy put his elbows on the back of Mr. Willet's 
 chair, and fairly blubbered on his shoulder. 
 
 While Solomon was speaking, old John sat, mute as a 
 stock-fish, staring at him with an unearthly glare, and dis- 
 playing, by every possible sympton, entire and complete 
 unconsciousness. But when Solomon was silent again, John 
 followed, with his great round eyes, the direction of his 
 looks, and did appear to have some dawning distant notion 
 that somebody had come to see him. 
 
 "You know us, don't you, Johnny ? " said the little clerk, 
 rapping himself on the breast. " Daisy, you know — Chig- 
 well Church — bell-ringer — little desk on Sundays — eh, 
 Johnny ? " 
 
 Mr. Willet reflected for a few moments, and then muttered, 
 
488 BABNABY BUDGE. 
 
 as it were mechanically : '' Let us sing to the praise and 
 glory of " — 
 
 " Yes, to be sure," cried the little man, hastily ; '" that's it 
 — that's me, Johnny. You're all right now, ain't you? Say 
 you're all right, Johnny." 
 
 " All riglit ? " pondered Mr. Willet, as if that were a 
 matter entirely between himself and his conscience. "All 
 riglit ? Ah ! " 
 
 "They haven't been misusing you with sticks, or pokers, 
 or any other blunt instruments, — have they, Johnny ? " 
 asked Solomon, with a very anxious glance at Mr. Willet's 
 head. " They didn't beat you, did they ? " 
 
 John knitted his brow ; looked downwards, as if he were 
 mentally engaged in some arithmetical calculation ; then 
 upwards, as if the total would not come at his call; then at 
 Solomon Daisy, from his eyebrow to his shoe-buckle; then 
 ver}^ slowly round the bar. And then a great, round, leaden- 
 looking, and not at all transparent tear, came rolling out of 
 each eye, and he said, as he shook his head, — 
 
 " If they'd only had the goodness to murder me, I'd have 
 th«,nked 'em kindly." 
 
 " No, no, no, don't say that, Johnny," whimpered his little 
 friend. "It's very, very bad, but not quite so bad as that. 
 No, no ! " 
 
 " Look'ee here, sir ! " cried John, turning his rueful eyes 
 on ]\[r. Haredale, who had dropped on one knee, and was 
 hastily beginning to untie his bonds. "Look'ee here, sir! 
 The very Maypole — the old dumb Maypole — stares in at 
 the winder, as if it said, ' John Willet, John Willet, let's go 
 and pitch ourselves in the nighest pool of water as is deep 
 enough to hold us ; for our day is over ! ' " 
 
 "' Don't, Johnny, don't," cried his friend : no less affected 
 by this mournful effort of Mr. Willet's imagination, than by 
 the sepulchral tone in which he had spoken for the INIaypole. 
 "Please don't, Johnny!" 
 
 "Your loss is great, and yonv misfortune a heavy one," 
 said Mr. Haredale, looking restlessly towards the door : "and 
 this is not a time to comfort you. If it were, I am in no 
 condition to do so. Before I leave you, tell me one thing, 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 489 
 
 and try to tell me plainly, I implore you. Have you seeu or 
 heard of Emma ? " 
 
 " No ! " said Mr. Willet. 
 
 " Nor any one but these bloodhounds ? '' 
 
 "No!" 
 
 " They rode away, I trust in Heaven, before these dreadful 
 scenes began," said Mr. Haredale, who, between his agitation, 
 his eagerness to mount his horse again, and the dexterity 
 with which the cords were tied, had scarcely yet undone one 
 knot. "A knife, Daisy ! " 
 
 " You didn't," said John, looking about, as though he had 
 lost his pocket-handkerchief or some such slight article — 
 "either of you gentlemen — see a — a coffin anywheres, did 
 you ? " 
 
 " Willet ! " cried Mr. Haredale. Solomon dropped the 
 knife, and instantly becoming limp from head to foot, ex- 
 claimed, " Good gracious ! " 
 
 " — Because," said John, not at all regarding them, "a 
 dead man called a little time ago, on his way yonder. I 
 could have told you what name was on the plate, if he had 
 brought his coffin with him, and left it behind. If he didn't, 
 it don't signify." 
 
 His landlord, who had listened to these words with breath- 
 less attention, started that moment to his feet ; and, without a 
 word, drew Solomon Daisy to the door, mounted his horse, 
 took him up behind again, and flew rather than galloped 
 towards the pile of ruins, which that day's sun had shone 
 upon, a stately house. Mr. Willet stared after them, listened, 
 looked down upon himself to make quite sure that he was 
 still unbound, and, without any manifestation of impatience, 
 disappointment, or surprise, gently relapsed into the condition 
 from which he had so imperfectly recovered. 
 
 Mr. Haredale tied his horse to the trunk of a tree, and 
 grasping his companion's arm, stole softly along the footpath, 
 and into what liad been the garden of his liouse. He stopped 
 for an instant to look upon its smoking walls, and at the stars 
 that shone through roof and floor upon the heap of crumbling 
 ashes. Solomon glanced timidly in his face, but his lips were 
 tightly pressed together, a resolute and stern expression sat 
 
490 BARXABY BUDGE. 
 
 upon his brow, and not a tear, a look, or gesture indicating 
 grief, escaped him. 
 
 He drew his sword : felt for a moment in his breast, as 
 though he carried other arms about him ; then grasping 
 Solomon hj the wrist again, went with a cautious step all 
 round the house. He looked into every doorway and gap in 
 the wall ; retraced his steps at every rustling of the air among 
 the leaves ; and searched in every shadowed nook with out- 
 stretched hands. Thus they made the circuit of the building : 
 but they returned to the spot from which they had set out, 
 without encountering any human being, or finding the least 
 trace of any concealed straggler. 
 
 After a short pause, Mr. Haredale shouted twice or thrice. 
 Then cried aloud, '• Is there any one in hiding here, who 
 knows my voice ! There is nothing to fear now. If any of 
 my people are here, I entreat them to answer ! " He called 
 them all by name ; his voice was echoed in many mournful 
 tones ; then all was silent as before. 
 
 They were standing near the foot of the turret, where the 
 alarm-bell hung. The fire had raged there, and the floors 
 had been sawn, and hewn, and beaten down, besides. It was 
 open to the night ; but a part of the staircase still remained, 
 winding upward from a great mound of dust and cinders. 
 Fragments of the jagged and broken steps offered an insecure 
 and gidd}' footing here and there, and then were lost again, 
 behind protruding angles of the wall, or in the deep shadows 
 cast upon it by other portions of the ruin ; for by this time 
 the moon had risen, and shone brightly. 
 
 As they stood here, listening to the echoes as they died 
 away, and hoping in vain to hear a voice they knew, some of 
 the ashes in this turret slipped and rolled down. Startled by 
 the least noise in that melancholy place, Solomon looked up 
 at his companion's face, and saw that he had turned towards 
 the spot, and that he watched and listened keenly. 
 
 He covered the little man's mouth with his hand, and 
 looked again. Instantly, with kindling eyes, he bade him on 
 his life keep still, and neither speak nor move. Then holding 
 his breath, and stooping down, he stole into the turret, with 
 his drawn sword in his hand, and disappeared. 
 

BARNABY BUDGE. 491 
 
 Terrified to be left there by himself, under such desolate 
 circumstances, and after all he had seen and heard that night, 
 Solomon would have followed, but there had been something 
 in Mr. Haredale's manner and his IcTok, the recollection of 
 which held him spellbound. He stood rooted to the spat; 
 and scarcely venturing to breathe, looked up with mingled 
 fear and wonder. 
 
 Again the ashes slipped and rolled — very, very softly — 
 again — and then again, as though the}^ crumbled underneath 
 the tread of a stealthy foot. And now a figure was dimly 
 visible ; climbing very softly ; and often stopping to look 
 down ; now it pursued its difficult way ; and now it was 
 hidden from the view again. 
 
 It emerged once more, into the shadowy and uncertain 
 light — higher now, but not much, for the way was steep and 
 toilsome, and its progress very slow. AVhat phantom of the 
 brain did he pursue ; and why did he look down so con- 
 •stantly. He knew he was alone ? Surely his mind was not 
 affected by that night's loss and agony. He was not about to 
 throw himself headlong from the summit of the tottering 
 wall. Solomon turned sick, and clasped his hands. His 
 limbs trembled beneath him, and a cold sweat broke out upon 
 his pallid face. 
 
 If he complied with Mr. Haredale's last injunction now, it 
 was because he had not the power to speak or move. He 
 strained his gaze, and fixed it on a patch of moonlight, into 
 which, if he continued to ascend, he must soon emerge. 
 When he appeared there, he would try to call to him. 
 
 Again the ashes slipped and crumbled ; some stones rolled 
 down, and fell with a dull, heavy sound upon the ground 
 below. He kept his eyes upon the piece of moonlight. The 
 figure was coming on, for its shadow was already thrown 
 upon the wall. Now it appeared — and now looktnl round at 
 him — and now — 
 
 The horror-stricken clerk uttered a scream that pierced the 
 air, and cried '' The ghost ! The ghost ! " 
 
 Long before the echo of his cry had died away, another 
 form ruslied out into the light, flung itself upon the foremost 
 one, knelt down upon its breast, and clutched its throat with 
 both hands. 
 
492 BARNABT RUDGE. 
 
 " Villain ! " cried Mr. Haredale, in a terrible voice — for it 
 was he. "Dead and buried, as all men supposed through 
 your infernal arts, but reserved by Heaven for this — at last — 
 at last — I have you. You, whose hands are red with my 
 brother's blood, and that of his faithful servant, shed to 
 conceal your own atrocious guilt — You, Eudge, double mur- 
 derer and monster, I arrest you in the name of God, who has 
 delivered you into my hands. Xo. Though you had the 
 strength of twenty men," he added, as the murderer writhed 
 and struggled, " you could not escape me, or loosen my grasp 
 to-night ! " 
 
BARNABY RUDGE. 493 
 
 CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 Barnaby, armed as we have seen, continued to pace up and 
 down before the stable-door ; glad to be alone again, and 
 heartily rejoicing in the unaccustomed silence and tranquillity. 
 After the whirl of noise and riot in which the last two days 
 had been passed, the pleasures of solitude and peace were 
 enhanced a thousand-fold. He felt quite happy ; and as he 
 leaned upon his staff and mused, a bright smile overspread 
 his face, and none but cheerful visions floated into his brain. 
 
 Had he no thoughts of her, whose sole delight he was, and 
 whom he had unconsciously plunged in such bitter sorrow, and 
 such deep affliction ? Oh yes. She was at the heart of all his 
 cheerful hopes and proud reflections. It was she whom all 
 this honor and distinction were to gladden ; the joy and 
 profit were for her. What delight it' gave her to hear of the 
 bravery of her poor boy ! Ah ! He would have known that, 
 without Hugh's telling him. And what a precious thing it 
 was to know she lived so happily, and heard with so much 
 pride (he pictured to himself her look when they told her) that 
 he was in such high esteem : bold among the boldest, and 
 trusted before them all. And when these frays were over, 
 and the good lord had conquered his enemies, and they were 
 all at peace again, and he and she were rich, what happiness 
 they would have in talking of these troubled times when he 
 was a great soldier : and when they sat alone togetlier in the 
 tranquil twilight, and she had no longer reason to be anxious 
 for the morrow, wliat pleasure woukl ne have in the reflection 
 that this was his doing — his — poor foolish Karnaby's ; and 
 in patting her on the cheek, and saying with a merry laugh, 
 " Am I silly now, mother — am I silly now ? " 
 
 With a. lighter heart and step, and eyes the brighter for 
 the happy tear that dimmed them for a moment, r>arnaby 
 
494 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 resumed his walk ; and singing gayly to himself, kept guard 
 upon his quiet post. 
 
 His comrade Grip, the partner of his watch, though fond of 
 basking in the snnshine, preferred to-day to walk about the 
 stable ; having a great deal to do in the way of scattering the 
 straw, hiding under it such small articles as had been casually 
 left about, and haunting Hugh's bed, to which he seemed to 
 have taken a particular attachment. Sometimes Barnaby 
 looked in and called him, and then he came hopping out ; but 
 he merely did this as a concession to his master's weakness, 
 and soon returned again to his own grave pursuits : peering 
 into the straw Avith his bill, and rapidly covering up the place, 
 as if, Midas-like, he were whispering secrets to the earth and 
 burying them ; constantly busying himself upon the sly ; and 
 affecting, whenever Barnaby came past, to look up in the 
 clouds and have nothing whatever on his mind : in short, con- 
 ducting himself, in many respects, in a more than usually 
 thoughtful, deep, and mysterious manner. 
 
 As the day crept on, Barnaby, who had no directions for- 
 bidding him to eat and drink upon his post, but had been, on 
 the contrary, supplied with a bottle of beer and a basket of 
 provisions, determined to break his fast, which he had not 
 done since morning. To this end, he sat down on the ground 
 before the door, and putting his staff across his knees in case 
 of alarm or surprise, summoned Grip to dinner. 
 
 This call, the bird obeyed with great alacrity ^ crying, as 
 he sidled up to his master, "I'm a devil, I'm a Polly, I'm a 
 kettle, I'm a Protestant, Xo Popery ! " Having learned this 
 latter sentiment from the gentry among whom he had lived 
 of late, he delivered it with uncommon emphasis. 
 
 "Well said. Grip!" cried his master, as he fed him with 
 the daintiest bits. " Well said, old boy ! " 
 
 "Xever say die, bow wow wow, keep up your spirits. Grip 
 Grip Grip, Holloa! We'll all have tea, I'm a Protestant 
 kettle, No Popery ! " cried the raven. 
 
 " Gordon forever, Grip ! " cried Barnaby. 
 
 The raven, placing his head upon the ground, looked at his 
 master sideways, as though he would have said, "Say that 
 again ! " Perfectly understanding his desire, Barnaby repeated 
 
BABNABT BUDGE. 495 
 
 the phrase a great many times. The bird listened with pro- 
 found attention ; sometimes repeating the popular cry in a 
 low voice, as if to compare the two, and try if it would at all 
 help him to this new accomplishment ; sometimes flapping his 
 wings, or barking; and sometimes in a kind of desperation 
 drawing a multitude of corks, with extraordinary viciousness. 
 
 Barnaby was so intent upon his favorite, that he was not 
 at flrst aware of the approach of two persons on horseback, 
 who were riding at a footpace, and coming straight towards 
 his post. When he perceived them, however, which he did 
 when they were within some fifty yards of him, he jumped 
 hastily up, and ordering Grip within doors, stood with both 
 hands on his staff, waiting until he should know whether they 
 were friends or foes. 
 
 He had hardly done so, when he observed that those who 
 advanced were a gentleman and his servant; almost at the 
 same moment he recognized Lord George Gordon, before 
 whom he stood uncovered, with his eyes turned towards the 
 ground. 
 
 "Good day!" said Lord George, not reining in his horse 
 until he was close beside him. "Well!" 
 
 " All quiet, sir, all safe ! " cried Barnaby. " The rest are 
 away — they went by that path — that one. A grand party ! " 
 
 " Ay ? " said Lord George, looking thoughtfully at him. 
 " And you ? " 
 
 "Oh! They left me here to watch — to mount guard — to 
 keep everything secure till they come back. I'll do it, sir, 
 for your sake. You're a good gentleman ; a kind gentleman 
 — ay, you are. There are many against you, but we'll be a 
 match for them, never fear ! " 
 
 " What's that ? " said Lord George — pointing to the raven 
 who was peeping out of the stable-door — but still looking 
 thoughtfully, and in some perplexity, it seemed, at Barnaby. 
 
 "Why, don't you know ! " retorted Barnaby, with a wonder- 
 ing laugh. "Not know what he is! A bird, to be sure. My 
 bird — my friend — Grip." 
 
 "A devil, a kettle, a Grip, a Tolly, a Protestant, no 
 Popery ! " cried the raven. 
 
 "Though, indeed," added Barnaby, laying his liand upon 
 
49G BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 the ueck of Lord George's horse, and speaking softly : " you 
 had good reason to ask me what he is, for sometimes it puzzles 
 
 me and I am used to him — to think he's only a bird. He's 
 
 my brother, Grip is — always with me — always talking — 
 always merry — eh. Grip ? " 
 
 The raven answered by an affectionate croak, and hopping 
 on his master's arm, which he held downward for that pur- 
 pose, submitted with an air of perfect indifference to be 
 fondled, and turned his restless, curious eye, now upon Lord 
 George and now upon his man. 
 
 Lord George, biting his nails in a discomfited manner, 
 regarded Barnaby for some time in silence ; then beckoning 
 to his servant, said, — 
 
 " Come hither, John." 
 
 John Grueby touched his hat, and came. 
 
 " Have you ever seen this young man before ? " his master 
 asked, in a low voice. 
 
 "Twice, my lord," said John. "1 see him in the crowd 
 last night and Saturday." 
 
 " Did — did it seem to you that his manner was at all wild 
 or strange ? " Lord George demanded, faltering. 
 
 "Mad," said John, with emphatic brevity, 
 
 " And why do you think him mad, sir ? " said his master, 
 speaking in a peevish tone. " Don't use that word too freely. 
 Why do you think him mad ? " 
 
 "My lord," John Grueby answered, "look at his dress, look 
 at his eyes, look at his restless way, hear him cry, 'No 
 Popery ! ' Mad, my lord." 
 
 " So because one man dresses unlike another," returned his 
 angry master, glancing at himself, "and happens to differ 
 from other men in his carriage and manner, and to advocate a 
 great cause which the corrupt and irreligious desert, he is to 
 be accounted mad, is he ? " 
 
 "Stark, staring, raving, roaring mad, my lord," returned 
 the unmoved John. 
 
 " Do you say this to my face ? " cried his master, turning 
 sharply upon him. 
 
 " To any man, my lord, who asks me," answered John. 
 
 "Mr. Gashford, I find, was right," said Lord George; "I 
 
BABNABT BUDGE. 497 
 
 thought him prejudiced, though I ought to have known a man 
 like him better than to have supposed it possible ! " 
 
 "I shall never have Mr. Gashford's good word, my lord," 
 replied John, touching his hat respectfully, "and I don't 
 covet it." 
 
 "You are an ill-conditioned, most ungrateful fellow," said 
 Lord George : " a spy, for anything I know. Mr. Gashford 
 is perfectly correct, as I might liave felt convinced he was. I 
 have done wrong to retain you in my service. It is a tacit 
 insult to him as my choice and confidential friend to do so, 
 remembering the cause you sided with, on the day he was 
 maligned at Westminster. You will leave me to-night — nay, 
 as soon as we reach home. The sooner the better." 
 
 ''If it comes to that, I say so too, my lord. Let Mr. 
 Gashford have his will. As to my being a spy, my lord, you 
 know me better than to believe it, I am sure, I don't know 
 much about causes. My cause is the cause of one man against 
 two hundred ; and I hope it always will be." 
 
 "You have said quite enough," returned Lord George, 
 motioning him to go back. " I desire to hear no more." 
 
 "If you'll let me add another word, my lord," returned 
 John Grueby, " I'd give this silly fellow a caution not to stay 
 here by himself. The proclamation is in a good many hands 
 already, and it's well known that he was concerned in the 
 business it relates to. He had better get to a place of safety 
 if he can, poor creature." 
 
 " You hear what this man says ? " cried Lord George, 
 addressing Barnaby, who had looked on and wondered while 
 this dialogue passed. "He thinks you may be afraid to 
 remain upon your post, and are kept here perhaps against 
 your will. What do you say ? " 
 
 "I think, young man," said John, in explanation, "that 
 tlie soldiers may turn out and take you ; and that if they do, 
 you will certainly be hung by the neck till you're dead — dead 
 — dead. And I think you'd better go from here, as fast as 
 you can. That's what / think." 
 
 "He's a coward. Grip, a coward!" cried IJarnaby, putting 
 the raven on the ground, and sliouldering his staff. "Let 
 them come ! Gordon forever ! Let them come ! " 
 
 VOJv. I. 
 
498 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 '' Ay I '' said Lord George, " let them I Let us see who will 
 venture to attack a power like ours ; the solemn league of 
 a whole people. This a madman ! You have said well, very 
 well. I am proud to be the leader of such men as j^ou." 
 
 Barnaby's heart swelled within his bosom as he heard these 
 words. He took Lord George's hand and carried it to his 
 lips ; patted his horse's crest, as if the affection and admira- 
 tion he had conceived for the man extended to the animal he 
 rode ; then unfurled his flag, and proudly waving it, resumed 
 his pacing up and down. 
 
 Lord George, with a kindling eye and glowing cheek, took 
 off his hat, and flourishing it above his head, bade him 
 exultingly Farewell ! — then cantered off at a brisk pace ; after 
 glancing angrily round to see that his servant followed. 
 Honest John set spurs to his horse and rode after his master, 
 but not before he had again warned Barnaby to retreat, with 
 many significant gestures, which indeed he continued to 
 make, and Barnaby to resist, until the windings of the road 
 concealed them from each other's view. 
 
 Left to himself again with a still higher sense of the 
 importance of his post, and stimulated to enthusiasm by the 
 special notice and encouragement of his leader, Barnaby 
 walked to and fro in a delicious trance rather than as a 
 waking man. The sunshine which prevailed around was in 
 his mind. He had but one desire ungratified. If she could 
 only see him now. 
 
 The day wore on ; its heat was gently giving place to the 
 cool of evening ; a light wind sprung up, fanning his long 
 hair, and making the banner rustle pleasantly above his head. 
 There was a freedom and freshness in the sound and in the 
 time, which chimed exactly with his mood. He was happier 
 than ever. 
 
 He was leaning on his staff looking towards the declining 
 sun, and reflecting with a smile that he stood sentinel at that 
 moment over buried gold, when two or three figures appeared 
 in the distance, making towards the house at a rapid pace, and 
 motioning with their hands as though they urged its inmates 
 to retreat from some approaching dainger. As they drew 
 nearer, they became more earnest in their gestures ; and they 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 499 
 
 were no sooner within hearing, than the foremost among them 
 cried that the soldiers were coming up. 
 
 At these words Barnaby furled his flag, and tied it round 
 the pole. His heart beat high while he did so, but he had no 
 more fear or thought of retreating than the pole itself. The 
 friendly stragglers hurried past him, after giving him notice 
 of his danger, and quickly passed into the house, where the 
 utmost confusion immediately prevailed. As those within 
 hastily closed the windows and the doors, they urged him by 
 looks and signs to fly without loss of time, and called to him 
 many times to do so ; but he only shook his head indignantly 
 in answer, and stood the firmer on his post. Finding that he 
 was not to be persuaded, they took care of themselves ; and 
 leaving the place with only one old woman in it, speedily 
 withdrew. 
 
 As yet there had been no symptom of the news having any 
 better foundation than in the fears of those who brought it, 
 but The Boot had not been deserted five minutes, when there 
 appeared coming across the fields, a body of men who, it was 
 easy to see, by the glitter of their arms and ornaments in the 
 sun, and by their orderly and regular mode of advancing — for 
 they came on as one man — were soldiers. In a very little 
 time, Barnaby knew that they were a strong detachment of 
 the Foot Guards, having along with them two gentlemen in 
 private clothes, and a small party of Horse ; the latter brought 
 up the rear, and were not in number more than six or eight. 
 
 They advanced steadily ; neither quickening their pace as 
 they came nearer, nor raising any cry, nor showing the least 
 emotion or anxiety. Though this was a matter of course in 
 the case of regular troops, even to Barnaby there was some- 
 thing particularly impressive and disconcerting in it to one 
 accustomed to the noise and tumult of an undisciplined mob. 
 For all that, he stood his ground not a whit the less resolutely, 
 and looked on undismayed. 
 
 Presently, they marched into the yard, and halted. The 
 commanding oflicer despatched a messenger to the horsemen, 
 one of whom came riding back. Some words passed between 
 them, and they glanced at Barnaby ; who well remembered 
 the man he had unliorsed at Westminster, and saw him now 
 
500 BARNABY BUDGE. 
 
 before his eyes. The man being speedily dismissed, saluted, 
 and rode back to his comrades, who were drawn up apart at a 
 short distance. 
 
 The officer then gave the word to prime and load. The 
 heavy ringing of the musket-stocks upon the ground, and the 
 sharp and rapid rattling of the ramrods in their barrels, were a 
 kind of relief to Barnaby, deadly though he knew the purport 
 of such sounds to be. When this was done, other commands 
 were given, and the soldiers instantaneously formed in single 
 file all round the house and stables ; completely encircling 
 them in every part, at a distance, perhaps, of some half-dozen 
 yards ; at least that seemed in Barnaby's eyes to be about 
 the space left between himself and those who confronted 
 him. The horsemen remained drawn up by themselves as 
 before. 
 
 The two gentlemen in private clothes who had kept aloof, 
 now rode forward, one on either side the officer. The procla- 
 mation having been produced and read by one of them, the 
 officer called on Barnaby to surrender. 
 
 He made no answer, but stepping within the door, before 
 which he had kept guard, held his pole crosswise to protect it. 
 In the midst of a profound silence,. he was again called upon 
 to yield. 
 
 Still he offered no reply. Indeed he had enough to do, to 
 run his eye backward and forward along the half-dozen men 
 who immediately fronted him, and settle hurriedly within 
 himself at which of them he would strike first, when they 
 pressed on him. He caught the eye of one in the centre, and 
 resolved to hew that fellow down, though he died for it. 
 
 Again there was a dead silence, and again the same voice 
 called upon him to deliver himself up. 
 
 Next moment he was back in the stable, dealing blows 
 about him like a madman. Two of the men lay stretched at 
 his feet : the one he had marked, dropped first — he had a 
 thought for that, even in the hot blood and hurry of the strug- 
 gle. Another blow — another. Down, mastered, wounded in 
 the breast b}^ a heavy blow from the but-end of a gun (he 
 saw the weapon in the act of falling) — breathless — and a 
 prisoner. 
 
-|^^#: f 
 
 
BABNABY BUDGE. 501 
 
 An exclamation of surprise from the officer recalled him, in 
 some degree, to himself. He looked round, Grip, after work- 
 ing in secret all the afternoon, and with redoubled vigor while 
 everybody's attention was distracted, had plucked away the 
 straw from Hugh's bed, and turned up the loose ground with 
 his iron bill. The hole had been recklessly filled to the brim, 
 and was merely sprinkled with earth. Golden cups, spoons, 
 candlesticks coined guineas — all the riches were revealed. 
 
 They brought spades and a sack ; dug up everything that 
 was hidden there ; and carried away more than two men could 
 lift. They handcuffed him and bound his arms, searched him, 
 and took away all he had. Xobody questioned or reproached 
 him, or seemed to have much curiosity about him. The two 
 men he had stunned were carried off by their companions 
 in the same business-like way in which everything else was 
 done. Finally, he was left under a guard of four soldiers 
 with lixed bayonets, while the officer directed in person 
 the' search of the house and the other buildings connected 
 with it. 
 
 This was soon completed. The soldiers formed again in the 
 yard ; he was marched out with his guard about him ; and 
 ordered to fall in where a space was left. The others closed 
 up all round, and so they moved away, with the prisoner in 
 the centre. 
 
 When they came into the streets, he felt he was a sight ; 
 and looking up as they passed quickly along, could see people 
 running to the windows a little too late, and throwing up the 
 sashes to look after him. Sometimes he met a staring face 
 beyond the heads above him, or under the arms of his con- 
 ductors, or peering down upon him from a wagon top or coach 
 box; but this Avas all he saw, being surrounded by so many 
 men. The very noises of the streets seemed muffled and sub- 
 dued ; and the air came stale and hot upon him, like the sickly 
 breath of an oven. 
 
 Tramp, tramp. Tramp, tramp. Heads erect, shoulders 
 square, every man stepping in exact time — all so orderly and 
 regular — nobody looking at liim — nobody seeming conscious 
 of his presence, — he could hardly believe he was a Prisoner. 
 But at the word, though only tliought, not spoken, he felt the 
 
502 BAENABY BUDGE. 
 
 handcuffs galling his wrists, the cord pressing his arms to his 
 sides : the loaded guns levelled at his head ; and those cold, 
 bright, sharp, shining points turned towards him : the mere 
 looking down at which, now that he was bound and helpless, 
 made the warm current of his life run cold. 
 
BAIiNABY BUDGE. 503 
 
 CHAPTER LVIII. 
 
 They were not long in reaching the barracks, for the officer 
 who commanded the party was desirous to avoid rousing the 
 people by the display of military force in the streets, and was 
 humanely anxious to give as little opportunity as possible for 
 any attempt at rescue ; knowing that it must lead to blood- 
 shed and loss of life, and that if the civil authorities by whom 
 he was accompanied, empowered him to order his men to fire, 
 many innocent persons would probably fall, whom curiosity 
 or idleness had attracted to the spot. He therefore led the 
 party briskly on, avoiding with a merciful prudence the more 
 public and crowded thoroughfares, and pursuing those which 
 he deemed least likely to be infested by disorderly persons. 
 This wise proceeding not only enabled them to gain their 
 quarters without any interruption, but completely baffled a 
 body of rioters who had assembled in one of the main streets, 
 through which it was considered certain they would pass, and 
 who remained gathered together for the purpose of releasing 
 the prisoner from their hands, long after they had deposited 
 him in a place of security, closed the barrack gates, and set a 
 double guard at every entrance for its better protection. 
 
 Arrived at this place, poor Barnaby was marched into a 
 stone-floored room, where there was a very powerful smell of 
 tobacco, a strong thorough draught of air, and a great wooden 
 bedstead, large enough for a score of men. Several soldiers 
 in undress were lounging about, or eating from tin cans ; 
 military accoutrements dangled on rows of pegs .along the 
 whitewashed wall ; and some half-dozen men lay fast asleep 
 upon their backs, snoring in concert. After remaining here 
 just long enough to note these things, he was marched out 
 again, and conveyed across the parade-ground to another ])C)r- 
 tion of the building. 
 
504 BAIiNABY BUDGE. 
 
 Perhaps a man never sees so much at a ghmce as when he 
 is in a situation of extremity. The chances are a hundred to 
 one, that if Barnaby had lounged in at the gate to look about 
 him, he would have lounged out again with a very imperfect 
 idea of the place, and would have remembered very little 
 about it. But as he was taken handcuffed across the gravelled 
 area, nothing escaped his notice. The dry, arid look of the 
 dusty square, and of the bare brick building ; the clothes 
 hanging at some of the windows ; and the men in their shirt- 
 sleeves and braces, lolling with half their bodies out of the 
 others ; the green sun-blinds at the officers' quarters, and the 
 little scanty trees in front ; the drummer-boys practising in a 
 distant courtyard ; the men on drill on the parade ; the two 
 soldiers carrying a basket between them, who winked to each 
 other as he went by, and slyly pointed to their throats ; the 
 spruce Sergeant who hurried past with a cane in his hand, 
 and under his arm a clasped book with a vellum cover ; the 
 fellows in the ground-floor rooms, furbushing and brushing up 
 their different articles of dress, who stopped to look at him, 
 and whose voices as they spoke together echoed loudly 
 through the empty galleries and passages ; — everything, down 
 to the stand of muskets before the guard-house, and the drum 
 with a pipe-clayed belt attached, in one corner, impressed 
 itself upon his observation, as though he had noticed them in 
 the same place a hundred times, or had been a whole day 
 among them, in place of one brief hurried minute. 
 
 He was taken into a small paved back yard, and there they 
 opened a great door, plated with iron, and pierced some five 
 feet above the ground with a few holes to let in air and light. 
 Into this dungeon he was walked straightway ; and having 
 locked him up there, and placed a sentry over him, they left 
 him to his meditations. 
 
 The cell, or black hole, for it had those words painted on 
 the door, was very dark, and having recently accommodated a 
 drunken deserter, by no means clean. Barnaby felt his way 
 to some straw at the farther end, and looking towards the 
 door, tried to accustom himself to the gloom, which, com- 
 ing from the bright sunshine out of doors, was not an easy 
 task. 
 
BAHNABT BUDGE. 505 
 
 There was a kind of portico or colonnade outside, and this 
 obstructed even the little light that at the best could have 
 found its way through the small apertures in the door. The 
 footsteps of the sentinel echoed monotonously as he paced its 
 stone pavement to and fro (reminding Barnaby of the watch 
 he had so lately kept himself) ; and as he passed and repassed 
 the door, he made the cell for an instant so black by the inter- 
 position of his body, that his going away again seemed like 
 the appearance of a new ray of light, and was quite a circum- 
 stance to look for. 
 
 When the prisoner had sat some time upon the ground, 
 gazing at the chinks, and listening to the advancing and 
 receding footsteps of his guard, the man stood still upon his 
 post. Barnaby, quite unable to think, or to speculate on what 
 would be done with him, had been lulled into a kind of 
 doze by his regular pace ; but his stopping roused him ; and 
 then he became aware that two men were in conversation 
 under the colonnade, and very near the door of his cell. 
 
 How long they had been talking there, he could not tell, 
 for he had fallen into an unconsciousness of his real position, 
 and when the footsteps ceased, was answering aloud some 
 question which seemed to have been put to him by Hugh in 
 the stable, though of the fancied purport, either of question 
 or reply, notwithstanding that he awoke with the latter on 
 his lips he had no recollection whatever. The first words that 
 reached his ears, were these, — 
 
 " Why is he brought here then, if he has to be taken away 
 again, so soon ? " 
 
 " Why where would 3-ou have him go ! Damme, he's not as 
 safe anywhere as among the king's troops, is he ? What 
 tvould you do with him ? Would you hand him over to a 
 pack of cowardly civilians, that shake in their shoes till they 
 wear the soles out, with trembling at the threats of the raga- 
 muffins he belongs to ? " 
 
 " That's true enough." 
 
 "True enough! — I'll tell you what. I wish, Tom Green, 
 that I was a commissioned instead of a non-commissioned 
 officer, and that I had the command of two companies — only 
 two companies — of my own regiment. Call me out to stop 
 
506 BARN A BY RUDGE. 
 
 these riots — give me the needful authority, and half a dozen 
 rounds of ball cartridge " — 
 
 "Ay!" said the other voice, "That's all very well, but 
 they won't give the needful authority. If the magistrate 
 won't give the word, what's the officer to do ? " 
 
 oSTot very well knowing, as it seemed, how to overcome this 
 difficulty, the other man contented himself with damning the 
 magistrates. 
 
 " With all my heart," said his friend. 
 
 "Where's the use of a magistrate?" returned the other 
 voice. "What's a magistrate in this case, but an impertinent, 
 unnecessary, unconstitutional sort of interference ? Here's a 
 proclamation. Here's a man referred to in that proclama- 
 tion. Here's proof against him, and a witness on the spot. 
 Damme ! Take him out and shoot him, sir. Who wants a 
 magistrate ? " 
 
 " When does he go before Sir John Fielding ? " asked the 
 man who had spoken first. 
 
 "' To-night at eight o'clock," returned the other. " Mark 
 what follows. The magistrate commits him to Kewgate. 
 Our people take him to Newgate. The rioters pelt our peo- 
 ple. Our people retire before the rioters. Stones are thrown, 
 insults are offered, not a shot's fired. Why ? Because of the 
 magistrates. Damn the magistrates ! " 
 
 When he had in some degree relieved his mind by cursing 
 the magistrates in various other forms of speech, the man was 
 silent, save for a low growling, still having reference to those 
 authorities, which from time to time escaped him. 
 
 Barnaby, Avho had wit enough to know that this conversa- 
 tion concerned, and very nearly concerned, himself, remained 
 perfectly quiet until they ceased to speak, when he groped 
 his way to the door, and peeping through the air-holes, tried 
 to make out what kind of men they were, to whom he had 
 been listening. 
 
 The one who condemned the civil power in such strong 
 terms, was a sergeant — engaged just then, as the streaming 
 ribbons in his cap announced, on the recruiting service. He 
 stood leaning sideways against a pillar nearly opposite the 
 door, and as he growled to himself, drew figures on the 
 
BARNABY BUDGE. 507 
 
 pavement with his caiie. The other man had his back 
 towards the dungeon, and Barnaby could only see his form. 
 To judge from that he was a gallant, manly, handsome 
 fellow, but he had lost his left arm. It had been taken oft' 
 between the elbow and the shoulder, and his empty coat 
 sleeve hung across his breast. 
 
 It was probably this circumstance which gave him an 
 interest beyond any that his companion could boast of, and 
 attracted Barnaby's attention. There was something soldierly 
 in his bearing, and he wore a jaunty cap and jacket. Perhaps 
 he had been in the service at one time or other. If he had, 
 it could not have been very long ago, for he was but a young 
 fellow now. 
 
 "Well, well," he said thoughtfully; "let the fault be 
 where it may, it makes a man sorrowful to come back to old 
 England, and see her in this condition." 
 
 " I suppose the pigs will join 'em next," said the sergeant, 
 with an imprecation on the rioters, "now that the birds have 
 set 'em the example." 
 
 " The birds ! " repeated Tom Green. 
 
 "Ah — birds," said the sergeant testily; "that's English, 
 ain't it ? " 
 
 "I don't know what you mean." 
 
 " Go to the guard-house, and see. You'll find a bird there, 
 that's got their cry as pat as any of 'em, and bawls 'No 
 Popery,' like a man — or like a devil, as he says he is. I 
 shouldn't wonder. The devil's loose in London somewhere. 
 Damme if I wouldn't twist his neck round, on the chance, if 
 I had vi7/ way." 
 
 The young man had taken two or three steps away, as if to 
 go and see this creature, when he was arrested by the voice 
 of Barnaby. 
 
 " It's mine," he called out, half laughing and half weeping 
 — "my pet, my friend Grip. Ha ha ha! Don't hurt him, he 
 has done no harm. I taught him; it's my fault. Let me 
 have him, if you please. He's the only friend I have left 
 now. He'll not dance, or talk, or whistle for you, I know ; 
 but he will for me, because he knows me, and loves me — 
 though you wouldn't think it — very well. You wouldn't 
 
508 BARXABY BUDGE. 
 
 hurt a bird, I'm sure. You're a brave soldier, sir, and 
 wouldn't harm a woman or a child — no, no, nor a poor bird, 
 I'm certain." 
 
 This latter adjuration was addressed to the sergeant, whom 
 Barnaby judged from his red coat to be high in office, and 
 able to seal Grip's destiny by a word. But that gentleman, 
 in reply, surlily damned him for a thief and rebel as he was, 
 and with many disinterested imprecations on his own eyes, 
 liver, blood, and body, assured him that if it rested with him 
 to decide, he would put a final stopper on the bird, and his 
 master too. 
 
 '' You talk boldly to a caged man," said Barnaby, in anger. 
 "If I was on the other side of the door and there w^ere none 
 to part us, you'd change your note — ay, you may toss your 
 head — you would! Kill the bird — do. Kill anything you 
 can, and so revenge yourself on those who with their bare 
 hands untied could do as much to you ! " 
 
 Having vented his defiance, he flung himself into the fur- 
 thest corner of his prison, and muttering, " Good-by, Grip — 
 good-by, dear old Grip ! " shed tears for the first time since 
 he had been taken captive ; and hid his face in the straw. 
 
 He had had some fancy at first, that the one-armed man 
 would help him, or would give him a kind word in answer. 
 He hardly knew why, but he hoped and thought so. The 
 young fellow had stopped when he called out, and checking 
 himself in the very act of turning round, stood listening to 
 every word he said. Perhaps he built his feeble trust on 
 this ; perhaps on his being young, and having a frank and 
 honest manner. However that might be, he built on sand. 
 The other went away directly he had finished speaking, 
 and neither answered him, nor returned. Xo matter. They 
 were all against him here ; he might have known as much. 
 Good-by, old Grip, good-by ! 
 
 After some time, they came and unlocked tlie door, and 
 called to him to come out. He rose directly, and complied, 
 for he would not have them think he was subdued or fright- 
 ened. He walked out like a man, and looked from face to 
 face. 
 
 None of them returned his gaze or seemed to notice it. 
 
BARNABY AND GRIP IN PRISON. 
 
liATiXAIiY nvi)(;K. 509 
 
 They marched him back to the parade by the way they had 
 brought him, and there they halted, among a body of sokliers, 
 at least twice as numerous as that which had taken him 
 prisoner in the afternoon. The officer he had seen before, 
 bade him in a few brief words take notice that if he attempted 
 to escape, no matter how favorable a chance he might suppose 
 he had, certain of the men had orders to fire upon him, that 
 moment. They then closed round him as before, and marched 
 him off again. 
 
 In the same unbroken order they arrived at Kow Street, 
 followed and beset on all sides by a crowd which was contin- 
 ually increasing. Here he was placed before a blind gentle- 
 man and asked if he wished to say anything. Not he. What 
 had he got to tell them ? After a very little talking, which 
 he was careless of and quite indifferent to, they told him he 
 was to go to Newgate, and took him away. 
 
 He went out into the street, so surrounded and hemmed in 
 on every side by soldiers, that he could see nothing: but he 
 knew there was a great crowd of people, by the murmur; and 
 that they were not friendly to the soldiers, was soon rendered 
 evident by their yells and hisses. How often and how eagerly 
 he listened for the voice of Hugh ! No. There was not a 
 voice he knew among them all. Was Hugh a prisoner too ? 
 Was there no hope ! 
 
 As they came nearer and nearer to the prison, the hootings 
 of the people grew more violent ; stones were thrown ; and 
 every now and then, a rush was made against the soldiers, 
 winch they staggered under. One of them, close before him, 
 smarting under a blow upon the temple, levelled his musket, 
 but the officer struck it upwards with his sword, and ordered 
 him on peril of his life to desist. This was the last thing he 
 saw with any distinctness, for directly afterwards he was 
 tossed about, and beaten to and fro, as though in a tem])est- 
 uous sea. But go where lie would, there were the same guards 
 about him. Twice or tlirice he was thrown down, and so 
 were they ; but even then, lie could not elude their vigilance 
 for a moment. They were up again, and had closed al)()ut 
 him, before he, with his wrists so tightly bound, could scram- 
 ble to his feet. Fenced in thus, he felt himself hoisted to 
 
510 liABXABY JiUDGE. 
 
 the top of a low flight of steps, and then for a moment he 
 caught a glimpse of the fighting in the crowd, and of a few 
 red coats sprinkled together, here and there, struggling to 
 rejoin their fellows. Next moment, everything was dark 
 and gloomy, and he was standing in the prison lobby ; the 
 centre of a group of men. 
 
 A smith was speedily in attendance, who riveted upon him 
 a set of heavy irons. Stumbling on as well as he could, 
 beneath the unusual burden of these fetters, he was conducted 
 to a strong stone cell, where, fastening the door with locks, 
 and bolts, and chains, they left him, well secured; having 
 first, unseen by him, thrust in Grip, who, with his head 
 drooping and his deep black plumes rough and rumpled, 
 appeared to comprehend and to partake, his master's fallen 
 fortunes. 
 
 THE END OF VOL. L 
 
I 
 
 //,^MCr" I iT^^Vd: