a I E) R^AFLY 
 
 OF THE 
 UN IVLR.5ITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 V. 1
 
 WRECK AND RUIN: 
 
 OR, 
 
 MODEM SOCIETY. 
 
 KINAHAN CORNWALLIS, 
 
 adthor of 
 
 'a panorama of the new world"; "two journeys to japan' 
 "new el dorado"; " howard plunkett, or, adrift in life"; 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 " To know thyself, know all the world beside." 
 
 " The proper study of mankind is man." 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 T. C. NEWBY, 30, WELBECK STREET, 
 
 CAVENDISH SQUAKE. 
 1859.
 
 RICHARDS, 37, GREAT QUEEN STREET.
 
 
 PREFACE, 
 
 I HAVE recently published two works of travel ; 
 
 respectively entitled, Two Journeys to Japan ^ 
 
 and A Panorama of the New World ; as also 
 
 a third, entitled Neio El Dorado, which, al- 
 
 "^ though in part a narrative of a visit to the 
 
 New Caledonia territory, was chiefly a history of 
 
 that district now called British Columbia ; and 
 
 >. these were given to the public in such rapid 
 
 I succession, as possibly to have stimulated the 
 
 ^ wonder of those, who, having merely heard of 
 
 5j the books, had never perused them, so as to 
 
 I 
 1
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 make themselves acquainted with the dates and 
 circumstances thereto appertaining. 
 
 I consequently deem it well to here state, that 
 the works referred to were in part written at the 
 time that the travels which they relate were 
 made, and that their earlier publication was only 
 deferred in consequence of my absence from 
 England. Originally I had intended compre- 
 hending the whole under one title (viz., The 
 Cosmopolite, which work I advertised as pre- 
 paring for publication, in four volumes, on the 
 fiy-leaf of my novel Howard Plimkett, issued 
 prior to any of those mentioned), but the cir- 
 cumstance of a more than ordinary amount of 
 public interest being suddenly directed towards 
 British Columbia, and, subsequently Japan, 
 induced a change of plan on my part, and a 
 separate publication of those portions of the work 
 having reference to those countries ; hence the
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 circumstance of my publishing three books 
 instead of one. 
 
 I am again, and that quickly, in the field ; but 
 as the author of a novel, I need offer no ex- 
 planation. 
 
 I am even yet young in literature, and there- 
 fore have to gain new readers rather than to 
 weary old ones. 
 
 Had I been a Bulwer, or a Dickens, I should 
 not have hurried my literary offspring into the 
 world so rapidly ; but being an author com- 
 paratively unknown, I have written and pub- 
 lished regardless of all consequences other than 
 public approbation, founded on the exposition of 
 TRUTH, and the defence of right and virtue ; 
 for this, and these, however, I have worked 
 with a spirit that has often afforded me little less 
 than delight, and never shall I regret the labour 
 which I have so bestowed.
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 I have grappled with those subjects to which 
 in my several works I have adverted, with a 
 honest purpose — a free and unbiassed disposition 
 — unprejudiced — impartial, and I am solaced by 
 the happy reflection that I have never written a 
 word it will ever be my wish to retract, nor 
 yet expressed a sentiment which I would not 
 willingly echo on the brink of eternity. 
 
 " I am in the place where I am demanded oi 
 conscience to speak the truth ; therefore the 
 truth I speak, impugn it whoso list." 
 
 " Mag7ia est Veritas, et prm^oalehit!'^
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 CHAPTEE T. 
 
 Gay and exhilarating was the morning 
 that lit up the landscape as seen from the 
 thinly populated settlement of Bagdad on 
 the twenty-third day of July, in the year 
 eighteen hundred and fifty-one of the 
 Christian eera. 
 
 It was at the hour of ten o'clock on 
 the morning mentioned, that, as Simon 
 E-adley reconnoitred through a rude and 
 gaping porthole in his barricaded house, 
 he beheld the approach of a party of men, 
 armed and mounted, whose number he 
 discovered, as they drew nearer, to be 
 not less than sixteen, perhaps twenty.
 
 Z WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 Not on the banks of the Tigris, by the 
 ruins of ancient Babylon and the mighty 
 Tower of Babel, where sat the Saracen 
 caliphs of old, is our scene now laid ; 
 this our modern Bagdad is to be found 
 far out on the American continent, where 
 but a few years gone the red man reigned 
 supreme, and where in a few years hence 
 the din of civilisation will resound in 
 yet more noisy clamour, for the giant strides 
 of commerce and the white man are fast 
 treading down the forest and the wigwam, 
 building up cities as they go, and while 
 hurrying the savage to destruction, reaping 
 awide the glorious fruits of enterprize, and 
 instead of the ^Eolian voices of the wilder- 
 ness, making alive the landscape wdth the 
 language — the far-spread tongue of Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Bagdad is embosomed in a beautiful re- 
 gion of Georgia, extending over an ample 
 valley, bounded to the westward by a chain 
 of declivious hills, overgrown with shrub
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 3 
 
 and underwood ; above which, here and 
 there an oak rears its lofty head and spreads 
 its brawny arms in luxuriant freedom. To 
 the eastward of the village, fast emerging 
 upon a prairie-like plain, the Savannah river 
 winds in tranquil tide, its banks undulating 
 and irregular, lending a pleasing antithesis 
 to the scene, which is horizoned far as the 
 eye can pierce with the exuberant foliage of 
 an almost primeval forest. The ambient 
 space, the patchy but picturesque verdure 
 presented to the gaze in every direction, the 
 primitive aspect of the varied habitations 
 that irregularly stud the prospect, together 
 with the more gigantic features of Nature 
 that bound and diversify the distant view, 
 all tend to impress the civilised beholder 
 with feelings of admiration ; and while it 
 prompts him with the love and the ardour 
 of a pioneer, makes him think of its 
 blighted — yea, departed race of promoge- 
 nial rulers be he a philanthropist, and 
 imbues his thoughts with, as well as presents
 
 4 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 to his vision, a brilliant and nigh boundless 
 picture of the future, if a romancer. 
 
 Such is Bagdad, and here, within its un- 
 defined precincts, at the distance of about 
 a mile from any other dwelling, stood the 
 house of our sketch. It was backed by a 
 well-stocked orchard, skirted by uncleared 
 waste land, and lay totally hidden from the 
 other habitations of men by intervening 
 groups of colossal pine trees. A rude foot- 
 walk, furrowed on either side with marks 
 indicative of the occasional passage of cart 
 wheels, led from the house in the direction 
 of the high road, where the district became 
 more populous and the view more exten- 
 sive, by virtue of its being less thickly tim- 
 bered than around the homestead of Simon 
 Radley. 
 
 " Wife," spoke the latter, calmly, as he 
 eyed the cavalcade alluded to, addressing 
 a woman of great natural beauty, whose 
 blue eyes flashed and whose rosy lips half 
 revealed the pearly teeth they had before
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 5 
 
 hidden, as if in desperation, at the very tone 
 of his voice. 
 
 " What, husband]" she ejaculated, half 
 gaspingly, and advancing towards him, with 
 a child, evidently unweaned, in her arms. 
 
 " Here they are," continued he ; " but if 
 I guess correctly, they'll be somewhere else 
 pretty soon." 
 
 His wife grasped his arm and appeal- 
 ingly endeavoured, with tears in her eyes, 
 to dissuade him from hostilities ; but no, 
 he was invincible even to the prayer of her 
 who had shared both his fortunes and his 
 bed. She was his second wife, and though 
 in the twenty-sixth year of her age, she 
 was his junior by fifteen such periods. 
 
 "Father! father! look out, look out!" 
 suddenly shouted a voice from the other 
 end of the house ; and almost simultane- 
 ously the figure of the speaker, a boy, about 
 thirteen years of age, with a very russet 
 Ribstone pippin sort of countenance, rushed 
 forward in a somewhat rampant state of
 
 6 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 excitement, exclaiming : " They're closing 
 up ; look out." In reply to this, Simon 
 calmly answered, w^hile a relentless sneer 
 pervaded his every look : 
 
 " I guess they are ; pretty thick too." 
 Then, turning to his wife, who still held 
 his arm imploringly, and with an anxious 
 look, beneath which her bosom of volup- 
 tuous mould heaved fitfully, he said : " Keep 
 quiet, Minni ; put the child down, and — " 
 Here he was stopped by another appeal 
 from the mother. 
 
 " Don't fire, Simon ! Oh, husband ! for 
 the sake of heaven, and your poor dear 
 children, don't shoot ; if you do, we shall 
 be all killed." At this moment a lad, a 
 year or two older than the one just intro- 
 duced, and carrying two loaded revolvers, 
 emerged from a sort of storehouse, the 
 door of which opened within view of the 
 party in an opposite direction to that in 
 which his brother, for such was the other 
 one, had come from.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 7 
 
 " Here they come, Ned !" said the father, 
 addressing the elder boy and loosing him- 
 self from the supplicatory grasp of his 
 wife, who continued her entreaties in the 
 most earnest and beseeching manner, but 
 to which his countenance bore evidence 
 that he was determined not to yield. " To 
 your post, John; quick!" spoke he, ad- 
 dressing the younger boy, who had been 
 already called for by some individual as 
 yet unseen, but who subsequently turned 
 out to be his brother Richard, the elder of 
 the three. " Now to work," said Simon ; 
 " and I very much calculate I'll make it 
 pretty smart for them." Here he eyed a 
 row of eight revolvers, which lay ready 
 capped on a wooden siding, within arm's 
 reach. The wife, seeing that all attempts 
 to dissuade her husband from his plan of 
 defence by powder and bullet failed, sat 
 down at a short distance from the porthole, 
 while her infant, unconscious of the sur- 
 rounding danger, lay clasped to her bosom,
 
 8 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 imbibing its lacteal meal, with one small 
 hand half clutching the parent breast — a 
 true emblem of innocence, it knew not of 
 the bitter tears its unhappy mother was 
 then shedding; tears, however, which, 
 though bitter, fell like pearls from a casket 
 of jewels. 
 
 The cavalcade had by this time halted 
 at a short distance from, and in front of, 
 the house. One of its number advanced to 
 parley, but at the same moment a shot was 
 fired by Simon from his impregnable am- 
 buscade, which, after passing through the 
 leg of the object of his aim, killed the horse 
 he rode dead on the spot ; it again, in its 
 fall, crushing the body as well as breaking 
 the already wounded limb of its rider.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It is necessary to here account for the war- 
 like operations just detailed, and before 
 proceeding farther with the narrative, to 
 divulge the cause of attack on the one hand, 
 and of so obstinately prepared a defence on 
 the other. Know, therefore, O reader, that 
 the farmers occupying territory at Bagdad, 
 had, for some months previous to the date 
 mentioned, been suffering from the depre- 
 dations of what they designated a band of 
 thieves, and that Simon Radley, being one 
 of those suspected as belonging to the said 
 band, had been ordered to quit the place by 
 a deputation of " Regulators," a well-known 
 class in the United States, being individuals 
 chosen by a community, to regulate, as their 
 name implies, the affairs of the district in
 
 10 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 which they live, and over which they preside 
 as social watchmen and executors general 
 of Lynch law. Simon E^adley had, as we 
 have named, had it notified that he would 
 be required to change his place of residence 
 by finally leaving Bagdad on a certain 
 fixed day, which had expired forty-eight 
 hours previous to that on which we first in- 
 troduced him. Others had received a similar 
 notification, with which they had duly com- 
 plied, knowing it to be useless to hold out 
 against the many ; but as regards Simon 
 Iladley, although having made the promise 
 that he would take his departure from the 
 settlement as desired, he subsequently re- 
 solved within his own mind that he would 
 do no such thing, but would shoot down 
 every man who attempted to oust him. 
 Hence the tragical resistance in which we 
 left him engaged ; a movement on his part 
 which, it may be remarked, the Regulators 
 had little anticipated. 
 
 Let us recur to our former scene with-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 11 
 
 in and without the porthole, and tell 
 of the horrors there enacted. After the 
 first shot had been fired with the fatal 
 effect stated, another in rapid succession 
 was discharged, full into the breast of 
 another of the regulators, a tall thin man, 
 deficient in muscle, but furnished with a 
 prodigious crop of lanky black hair, who, 
 on being hit, wheeled his horse rapidly 
 round, and crying out to his comrades to 
 " scatter," galloped off a short distance and 
 then fell to the ground, dead. The firing 
 continued hot and rapid and with terrible 
 fatality, from the house, for some seconds, 
 perhaps minutes. The party scattered as 
 quickly as possible, but left four more of 
 their number stretched upon the field, one 
 of whom was mortally wounded. Three 
 horses were also shot down dead. In the 
 thick of the firing, the one last mentioned, 
 satisfied that he was " done for", yet deter- 
 mined, ere the life-blood ebbed too far, to 
 revenge himself: yes, revenge himself on
 
 12 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 the brink of eternity — crawled to a stump 
 near the porthole referred to, and resting his 
 gun upon it, while the hot blood trickled 
 from his soon to be lifeless body, pulled the 
 trigger of one barrel, which discharged its 
 contents full into the face and throat of 
 Simon Radley, tearing away the windpipe. 
 The latter, on receiving the charge, in- 
 stinctively sprang into the air, and fell back, 
 dead. His wife uttered a shrill, agonizing 
 cry, and moved towards him, crossing the 
 porthole on her way ; at that moment the 
 author of her husband's death fired oif his 
 second barrel, and at the same instant ex- 
 pired, with his hands still clenching his gun. 
 This latter shot proved itself as fatal in its 
 effect as the first ; for it was lodged in the 
 left side of E-adley's wife, as well as in the 
 legs of the child which she held clasped in 
 her arms. The former died almost instan- 
 taneously with the mangled infant clutched 
 in her embrace. 
 
 One regulator, Theophilus Brooks, now
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 13 
 
 stood alone in front of the house, defending 
 the wounded. 
 
 On finding his father and mother struck 
 dead, the elder son, E-ichard, became despe- 
 rate, and drawing the bolts of a door leading 
 out under a short verandah facing the scene 
 of carnage, suddenly fired direct at the 
 head of Brooks, which shot, however, merely 
 had the effect of providing his hat with a 
 brace of ventilators. 
 
 The regulator, in return, blazed away 
 on the instant, and lodged a bullet in the 
 right temple of his assailant, who of course 
 fell dead ; but not without having simul- 
 taneously wounded Brooks in the legs, which 
 compelled him to lie down. In the mean- 
 time, the two younger boys, and only sur- 
 vivors of the house of Radley, were giving 
 way to grief and sobs over the bodies of 
 their dead parents and the wounded infant, 
 whose legs they found to be completely 
 shattered. 
 
 Outside of the house there was no human
 
 14 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 sound to be heard but the groans of the 
 suffering, and no human thing to be seen 
 but their tortured bodies and those of the 
 slain, which lay strewn about in gory dis- 
 order, together with the carcases of more 
 than a dozen horses, the whole forming a 
 lamentable spectacle, at once dire and re- 
 volting. 
 
 Of the consequences resulting from this 
 battle of Bagdad we shall learn anon ; 
 let us, in the meantime, proceed to make 
 the acquaintance of all concerned. Life is 
 full of incident — the world is full of people, 
 even so is our book. Amen.
 
 15 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 In a noble and somewhat detached London 
 mansion, on the northern side of Cavendish 
 Square, there resided, at a period twenty 
 years antecedent to that from which this 
 story takes its commencement, a wealthy 
 baronet, one Sir Wyndham Berkeley. 
 
 Sir Wyndham was a proud man, who 
 prided himself upon his ancestral descent, 
 and next to that upon his money, beyond 
 which, however, he took no care for him- 
 self or the world. He was now in his 
 forty-fifth year, during the latter sixteen of 
 which he had been a widower. He had 
 married, while in his twenty-second year, 
 Jane, the second daughter of the fifth Earl 
 of Desborough ; three years after which, 
 how^ever, she yielded up the breath of life
 
 16 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 and calmly forsook this vale of the flesh, 
 leaving behind an only daughter, Caroline, 
 who was then in the first months of in- 
 fancy, the unconscious season of life's early 
 dawn. That daughter was now a blooming 
 beauty in her seventeenth year, before com- 
 pleting which, however, she eloped with 
 her dancing master, one Victor Trelawney, 
 a name which it may be mentioned he had 
 assumed, no doubt thinking it better suited 
 to his profession than the somewhat more 
 familiar, though popular one, which it had 
 been his lot to originally inherit. 
 
 Victor Trelawny was a man of agreeable, 
 not to say of fascinating address, — a com- 
 mon feature, however, with the professors 
 of the Terpsichorean art. He had acted a 
 great many parts on the stage of life, and 
 it had been his lot to share in many strange, 
 and at times eventful escapades during a 
 certain portion of his life, when he consti- 
 tuted one of that highly dexterous and ac- 
 complished corps commonly known as the
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 17 
 
 swell -mob of London. He had been privy 
 to many forgeries and swindling transac- 
 tions in which he was never discovered, 
 and on the whole had passed through life 
 and arrived at his twenty-seventh year with 
 little or no interruption. He had evaded 
 detection, and the perseveringly vigilant 
 eye of the law to his entire satisfaction; 
 but disinclined to pursue further an adven- 
 turous and vicious career which would con- 
 tinue to render him so despicable to the 
 world, he resumed the occupation in which 
 he was a fashionable adept, and having 
 taken up a first class position at the western 
 end of London, he announced himself in 
 terms which would have done credit to the 
 dancing - master - general for all England, 
 and which, in combination with tact, re- 
 sulted in procuring for him a certain 
 amount of practice in the houses of the 
 higher classes, where he displayed so much 
 agility in the much-admired shaking, twist- 
 ing, sliding, and whirling movement of his 
 
 c
 
 18. WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 legs, arms, and body, that he eventually 
 danced himself into an extended connexion, 
 and so on into the mansion of Sir Wyndham 
 Berkeley. 
 
 Thus have we briefly sketched the ca- 
 reer of one who soon afterwards had ne- 
 gociated a fugitive alliance in matrimony 
 with the daughter of that much-incensed 
 baronet, the consequences resulting from 
 which fugitive marriage are destined to fill 
 up an important part of the work before 
 us.
 
 19 
 
 CHAPTEH IV. 
 
 Ten months after the occurrence of the 
 event last-named, the wife of Victor Tre- 
 lawney gave birth to our hero in a small 
 blue- shuttered, blue-doored cottage, in a 
 narrow, smoke-filled street, lined with two 
 rows of such habitations, each being the 
 exact type of its neighbour. The street 
 was situated in the borough of Southwark, 
 and stretched from the upper part of the 
 Blackfriars Road, in an easterly direction, 
 till a cross street, wearing an aspect alto- 
 gether similar, bounded its length, but in 
 nowise relieved its wretchedness of look. 
 This was a region alone tenanted by the 
 very poor; and the only child of the 
 wealthy baronet of Cavendish Square and 
 Templetown Castle, Yorkshire, could now,
 
 20 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 indeed, be classed in that category, and no 
 other. 
 
 Seven months after her unfortunate 
 marriage, Victor Trelawney had been con- 
 victed of forgery at the Old Bailey, and 
 sentenced to transportation for life, and 
 from that time she had been helpless ; for 
 her husband, as might be expected in the 
 case of a dancing-master, had left her 
 utterly unprovided for. Her father, as a 
 matter of course, had " cut" her since the 
 time of the rash flight ; and, moreover, she 
 was too noble-minded to have asked, under 
 the circumstances, for the slightest assist- 
 ance at his hands. She knew his disposi- 
 tion, and with this knowledge, appreciated 
 the malignity of the hatred with which he 
 had regarded her since the time of her 
 elopement. She knew that they were for 
 ever lost to each other, and that the chief 
 wish of her parent was to hear of her 
 death. 
 
 As the period of her accouchement drew
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 21 
 
 near, she was prevailed upon by those of her 
 husband's friends with whom she resided to 
 make application to her father for assist- 
 ance ; but no, she was too proud, too noble, 
 too unflinching in her original determination 
 to do that; and when a lying-in hospital 
 was heartlessly suggested, she made her way 
 into the streets, and with the last few shil- 
 lings she was possessed of, took a lodging in 
 the cottage referred to, towards which she 
 was attracted by a rude ticket in the win- 
 dow to that effect, and which she found 
 to be inhabited by a laundress, as old and as 
 poor as she looked shrivelled and wretched; 
 but the home of that widowed and witch- 
 visaged woman was a haven of rest for her, 
 and she hailed it as an oasis in the wilder- 
 ness of London, as a mariner long at sea 
 hails the first peep of the looked-for land. 
 Old Sally Dykes, as she was called by the 
 neighbours, was something of a midwife as 
 well as a laundress, and moreover, having 
 been a mother herself, though now child-
 
 22 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 less, she sympatliized with the condition of 
 her new lodger, and promised all the aid 
 and shelter which she and her house could 
 afford. Four days afterwards a child was 
 born, and our never-baptised hero com- 
 menced his career upon earth. 
 
 " Bless me, what a fine boy to be sure, 
 eh ; aint he ? " said Sally Dykes, the mid- 
 wife, as she dandled him up and down in 
 her arms to the delight of the mother, a few 
 days after her accouchement. 
 
 " Ah ! he's a lovely child ; but I wish 
 he'd never been born," observed the wife 
 of Trelawney in reply. " I wish he had 
 never been born," she repeated sorrow- 
 fully ; and ere the words had escaped her 
 lips she burst into tears. 
 
 It was one dark and windy night in 
 September. Autumn had lent a rich yet 
 melancholy glow to the landscape, but the 
 fallen leaves that were now blown rudely 
 across the park walks and suburban lanes, 
 reminded the passer-by of the end of all
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 23 
 
 things ; while the restless sighing, and the 
 inconstant rushing of the wind, told a tale 
 of coming winter as it flew about old 
 country gables and ivy- mantled towers, 
 and whistled plaintively down city chimneys, 
 with its ghastly whining and its treacherous 
 pant, searching the habitations of men, and 
 drifting across the open landscape, Avhere 
 the billowy waving of the rye fields, and 
 the rustling sounds of the many-voiced 
 trees, lent animation to the prospect. 
 
 It was night — nine o'clock at night — when 
 Caroline Trelawney took her way from the 
 blue doored, blue shuttered cottage in which 
 she had given birth to our hero. Nobody 
 saw her go out. She left her child sleeping 
 on her humble bed. Old Sally Dykes was 
 out attending on a sick woman in a neigh- 
 bouring street, and Caroline and her infant 
 child alone remained in the cottage. There 
 was very little fire in the grate of the front 
 room, and no candle illumined the darkness 
 which reigned within and without the apart-
 
 24 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 ment. A sob occasionally broke ominously 
 to life from the mother. The old woman 
 was not able to, nor would she have allowed 
 her, to support her and her child — there 
 was nothing that she could do suggested 
 itself to her. She felt wretched and heart- 
 broken. She despaired. So, putting on her 
 bonnet and shawl, she left the house for 
 the first time since her confinement, and 
 took her way in the direction of the bridge. 
 She walked slowly and unsteadily along, 
 for she was still weak, so that it was not 
 for nearly half-an-hour afterwards that she 
 reached it. She paused when half-way 
 across, and looked over. She saw the 
 black tide rolling beneath and between the 
 arches ; and the white foam rushing over 
 the shallows or breakers on either sidfe 
 aUuringly attracted her gaze. At one 
 moment she turned away with a shudder, 
 but the next instant, without even looking 
 round to see whether she was observed, she 
 plunged over, head first, uttering a wild
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 25 
 
 shriek, which had scarce died away when 
 the heavy splash of her body in the water 
 broke upon the ear of a passer-by. This 
 was the last of the wife of Victor Tre- 
 lawney, for although drags and such like 
 were promptly put into requisition, the 
 body was never recovered. 
 
 Great was the wonder of old Sally Dykes 
 on her return to the cottage, to find that 
 Mrs. Trelawney was absent from her bed, 
 and, moreover, from the cottage. " Bless 
 me, yes," observed the old woman aloud, in 
 consultation with herself, " and there's her 
 bonnet gone ; yes, there's her shawl gone 
 too. Bless me, where could she have gone 
 to at this time of night ? If this aint mys- 
 terious," she continued; "if this aint myste- 
 rious, I say I don't know what is. Where 
 could she have got to ] Bless me, if ever I 
 did ; here it is nearly twelve o'clock ; well, 
 to be sure." At this stage she opened the 
 door and went out to peep in at the windows 
 of various neighbours ; but she found all in
 
 26 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 bed, save at Jack Scragg, the cobbler's, with 
 whom, and wife, she immediately sought an 
 interview, and consulted on the strange 
 disappearance of her lodger and patient. 
 
 "She belong to fine folks, doesen she]" 
 asked the cobbler, after the introductory 
 part of the conversation had passed. 
 
 " Yes, oh ! yes, very fine indeed ; why 
 her father's a lord, and her mother's a 
 duchess, I heerd on her sayin," answered 
 Sally Dykes. 
 
 " Oh ! that's all gammon — all gammon," 
 said the cobbler, laughing ironically. 
 
 " Well, she's something very fine, I don't 
 know exactly ; but it's as I say," continued 
 the mummy-looking professor of the art of 
 midwifery. 
 
 " Maybe she's gone to her own place," 
 suggested the cobbler. 
 
 " Well, poor thing, she wanted to if she 
 has, that's all I've to say, for she hasn't a 
 halfpenny of money ; and, poor thing, she's 
 been a grievin' all through."
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 27 
 
 This, and a great deal more of such 
 conversation, passed between the midwife 
 and the cobbler. The wife of the latter 
 was in bed, and said but little before 
 Sally took her departure, and then only 
 to wonder and ruminate about her absent 
 lodger still farther. 
 
 " Oh ! she'll be back soon, she's left the 
 child," observed the old woman to herself; 
 but, alas, such prophesy was vain, for no 
 tidings of Mrs. Trelawney ever gratified 
 the ears of the skeleton widow.
 
 28 
 
 CHAPTER y. 
 
 Ten years after the banishment of Victor 
 Trelawney to that floral region called Bo- 
 tany Bay, situated in the salubrious clime 
 of New South Wales, Australia, that indi- 
 vidual, then a prisoner undergoing penal 
 servitude, succeeded in making his escape, as 
 many had done before him, from the custody 
 of his keepers, no doubt feeling thoroughly 
 sick of working in the " chain-gang," and 
 the unwelcome duties of quarrying, stone- 
 breaking, and road-making, ever attendant 
 on the daily life of a convict. He, as is 
 common in such cases, made direct off into 
 the " bush," and there soon found succour 
 in the company of several congenial spirits, 
 also " runaway convicts," but now better 
 known as " bushrangers," — men who prac-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 29 
 
 tised the art of highway robbery and as- 
 sassination as their profession and means 
 of livelihood, and did it as boldly, though 
 perhaps not as politely, as their brethren of 
 yore on the high roads of England, and 
 particularly, if we may judge from tra- 
 ditional report, in the neighbourhood of 
 Hounslow Heath. 
 
 The bushranger's life is a bold, exciting, 
 and adventurous one; and were it not 
 for the sin of the thing, — were he making 
 foray against a foreign enemy instead of 
 against his fellow-countrymen, the life 
 would be an enviable one. As it is, how- 
 ever, the avocation is a despicable one, 
 and the bushranger is at once both the 
 terror and the bane of the settler. Many 
 a gallop and many a run for life, — many 
 a hand to hand combat with parties of 
 stockkeepers and detachments of police, was 
 it the lot of Victor Trelawney and his 
 companions in the wilderness, to experience 
 during the two years which he spent as a
 
 30 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 prowler over the wilds of that nigh un- 
 peopled country. Night after night, month 
 after month, with no roof but the canopy 
 of heaven, wandered the outlaws. The 
 rustling of giant trees wooed them to 
 slumber ; and the crackling of burning logs 
 ever characterised their camping ground. 
 Theirs was a romantic life ; isolated from 
 the rest of civilised mankind, and only 
 occasionally herding or holding intercourse 
 with the aborigines, their bodies inured to 
 every change and exposure, and their 
 minds continually plotting and impelling 
 them on to -deeds of unscrupulous daring, 
 they outrivalled in their untiring prowess 
 the buccaneers, or, in fact, any other hostile 
 wayfarers of either old or modern times. 
 
 At length Victor Trelawney and his party 
 of six men, of whom "Black Prince", a cele- 
 brated bushranger, for whose body, dead 
 or alive, the government had long offered 
 a reward of a hundred pounds, were pounced 
 upon by the police one night when com-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 31 
 
 fortably seated round their " Bush " fire, 
 engaged, each with a short black pipe in 
 his mouth, in cooking damper and roasting 
 mutton ; sheep or cattle plentifully abound- 
 ing wherever they went ; that is, within 
 twenty or thirty miles, — a short distance in 
 the eyes of a well mounted Australian, 
 whether he be bushranger or stockman. 
 
 When the police presented themselves, 
 there was no loss of the customary presence 
 of mind displayed by the bushrangers. 
 True, there was a rush to arms, and a re- 
 treat, but this was instinctive as the police 
 were amongst them. Had the latter been 
 seen to advance sooner than they were, 
 they would have stood their ground and 
 fought, though with unequal numbers. 
 As it was, they had no time to fire, but 
 "Black Prince" levelled his piece at one 
 that advanced to make him prisoner, and 
 shot him dead off his horse ; which latter 
 immediately took fright, and galloped off. 
 "Black Prince" almost simultaneously with
 
 32 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 his first shot, fired a second from his 
 revolver, into the breast of one who had 
 made Victor prisoner. At the same moment, 
 a bullet whizzed through his hair, scarring 
 his ear ; seeing that resistance would be 
 futile and fatal, he ran off, receiving a shot 
 from behind, which passed through his 
 coat sleeve on the way, rapidly followed by 
 Victor, who, released by " Black Prince's" 
 shot, darted after him in a state of the 
 wildest excitement. They had entered a 
 dense scrub, where no horse could follow 
 them; and quickly, with practised man- 
 oeuvre, they took a course most calculated 
 to puzzle and perplex their followers, and 
 soon threaded their way into the open 
 forest. "D — it, there's the horse," spake 
 " Black Prince," alluding to the one we 
 have seen gallop from under his dead rider, 
 as he ran on in company with Victor. "On 
 to him, he'll bear us both," and in less than 
 a minute afterwards, the horse was gallop- 
 ing away in the direction of the mountains,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 33 
 
 the safe refuge of pursued bushrangers, 
 with whose geography the former of the 
 two men, and leader of the captured gang, 
 was in every way familiar. 
 
 On and on they galloped, the strong 
 horse bounding over the grass-grown, leaf- 
 strewn ground, picturesquely besprinkled 
 with the lofty she oak and gnarled gum- 
 tree. Victor held his breath and listened, 
 and then drew it audibly, and listened 
 again in the same breathless suspense as 
 the horse hurried them along towards the 
 rocky passes of the Liverpool Mountains. 
 For thirty miles the horse was kept at gal- 
 loping speed. The men then dismounted 
 to climb the mountain, and lead their ex- 
 hausted steed to follow with them ; but 
 no ! the poor beast gasped and struggled to 
 regain his breath, but alas ! in vain ; he 
 threw up his head with a gurgling, panting 
 snort, and fell dead at the feet of the 
 fugitives. 
 
 "By heaven! he's dead," ejaculated Prince, 
 
 D
 
 34 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 — " Bad omen ; it won't do to let them see 
 this ; we must keep to the north, Turpin," 
 such being the name bestowed upon Victor 
 by his compeers ; and, quick to the word, 
 the carcase was left behind, and the two men 
 hurried up the mountain side, and were 
 very soon lost amongst the crags, still pur- 
 suing their way, through the black night, 
 in the direction named by the captain of 
 the captured gang. 
 
 Let us recur to the scene of bivouac at 
 the time of attack. Two horsemen imme- 
 diately went in pursuit of the two fugitives, 
 but little suspecting that the horse which 
 we have sketched as so unhappily yielding 
 up the ghost at the foot of the mountains, 
 had borne them away — took quite an op- 
 posite direction in their search to that 
 in which the horse was fast galloping, 
 and of course were unsuccessful in the 
 capture, greatly to their own disgust. The 
 police, of whom there were originally seven, 
 had two of their number killed by the shots
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 35 
 
 fired by Black Prince, the remaining five 
 bushrangers being unable to use their arms, 
 owing to the suddenness of the attack. 
 The four prisoners were conveyed, hand- 
 cuffed, to Sydney, where they were tried 
 three weeks afterwards, and sentenced to be 
 hanged ; which sentence was duly carried 
 out, by the four culprits being suspended, 
 each from his gibbet, one dark morning in 
 the otherwise bright month of ^November, 
 constituting at once a revolting spectacle, 
 and a disgrace to civilisation ; for capital 
 punishment, especially when performed by 
 the rope, is something more than barbarous, 
 and on the present occasion the very ele- 
 ments seemed to frown upon so horrible a 
 work of man, — so degrading — yea, sick- 
 ening, a scene.
 
 36 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 It was not until weeks had elapsed, that 
 Black Prince and Turpin returned upon 
 the journey across country as far as a 
 small station, or township, on the Paramatta 
 river, hearing the native name of Wollon- 
 gongala ; but since less euphoniously bap- 
 tized B , by the colonists, where small 
 
 trading schooners from Port Jackson were 
 occasionally to be met with, and by one of 
 which they hoped to be able to obtain a 
 passage to the latter port, and from thence 
 embark, either as sailors or passengers, as 
 best suited them, for England. 
 
 They were not without money. Prince 
 having eighty, and Turpin sixty pounds ; 
 and fortune favouring them, the little craft,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 37 
 
 "Alice," bore them to Sydney harbour, 
 which they reached three days after their 
 arrival at Wollongongala, and thirty-two 
 hours after their departure from that settle- 
 ment. They did not lag at Sydney, but 
 took passage by the first vessel leaving that 
 port, being, as may be supposed, anxious 
 to make their escape from New South 
 Wales as quickly and as secretly as their 
 ingenuity could devise. The brig, "Whale- 
 chaser," bound for Auckland, New Zealand, 
 happened to be the craft selected ; and at 
 daylight on the morning following the ar- 
 rival of the two men at Sydney cove, the 
 brig spread her canvass and ploughed on 
 before a favourable breeze o'er the billowy 
 waters of the picturesque bay, and, passing 
 through the " Heads," emerged upon the 
 outstretched ocean, and rode gallantly, like 
 a thing of life, towards the island of the 
 Maori and the palm, bearing with her the 
 outlaws.
 
 ss^ 
 
 CHAPTEH VII. 
 
 BusHRANGiNG was out of the question in 
 New Zealand, so Black Prince now doffed 
 his sobriquet, and assumed the name of 
 Charles Winterthorne, while Turpin, acting 
 likewise, announced himself as Theophilus 
 Brooks ; and each, in conjunction, recom- 
 menced the world as settlers and agricul- 
 turists. They erected their hut of bark, 
 branches, and mud ; which, we may remark, 
 looked considerably more unpicturesque, and 
 formed a much less comfortable dwelling- 
 place, than the warree of a native, on a spot 
 where the forest had been cleared thirty or 
 forty feet right and left. Above and beyond 
 them the tangled foliage of the wilderness 
 rose up in impervious density and majestic 
 growth. The fern-like kaikatera, decked
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 39 
 
 out with its blood-red berries, stood up amid 
 tree ferns whose long slender stems shot up 
 through the dense underwood sixty feet 
 high, capped by their delicately spreading 
 fronds, that hung fountain-like in the air. 
 Far above them the oak towered in rude 
 but imposing majesty, giving shade and 
 shelter to those beneath. Hundreds of 
 specimens of arborescent and other gi- 
 gantic leaved ferns, grew up in picturesque 
 beauty, and fascinated the eyes of the set- 
 tlers, as step by step they advanced through 
 the forest. Parasitical climbing plants, 
 boa constrictor-like, curled their luxuriant 
 coils from stem to stem, winding themselves 
 round mammoth trunks and hugging tender 
 saplings, then flinging their long, trailing 
 branches to the earth, and there re-rooting 
 themselves again but to throw out their giant 
 arms and clutch, perhaps, some withered 
 stump, and array it in all the brilliant beauty 
 of their own green leaves and richly coloured 
 blossoms, anon to cast forth their delicate
 
 40 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 festoons, to be shaken by every breeze till they 
 might again embrace. Enormous mistle- 
 toes clung, vampire-like, to various kinds of 
 glim trees. The graceful clematis, with its 
 spangling silver-like stars, brightened the 
 dark recesses of the forest, which was 
 carpeted by the tough network of the 
 karean, together with a flourishing variety 
 of moss and lichens. 
 
 " This is all very well to look at, if you 
 are fond of a little botany," observed Brooks 
 to his mate ; " but it's not Victor Tre- 
 lawney that intends to cut through it." 
 
 From this the reader will be able to form 
 an idea that that personage had not entered 
 heart and soul into the spirit of coloniza- 
 tion ; and consequently he will not be sur- 
 prised when he finds Theophilus Brooks 
 turning his attention to some other, and to 
 him more congenial employment than that 
 of clearing waste land for agricultural pur- 
 poses. This feeling was soon shared in by 
 his companion, and by mutual consent they
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 41 
 
 resolved upon opening a trade with the 
 Maoris in lieu of farming. They gave 
 nails, " fire-water" (a pernicious mixture of 
 adulterated rum), and pieces of flannel, to- 
 gether with a variety of almost valueless 
 ornaments, — things much prized, however, 
 by the Wyeenis (Maori women), — in ex- 
 change for the skins and bones of various 
 animals, oil, flax, gum, and land ; the latter 
 was purchased from the chiefs only, who 
 duly signed away their territory for pieces 
 of cotton cloth, or any other such trifles. 
 Great, however, was the wrath of Tewhero- 
 whero and Rangihaieta, two veteran chief- 
 tains, when they found out the importance 
 of what they had thus done in ignorance, and 
 slaughter often attended the attempt, on 
 the part of some Sydney purchaser and 
 holder of the chieftain's deed of assignment, 
 to take possession of his land ; but of what 
 use was his deed when opposed by the war- 
 like and dauntless savage, who would think 
 as little of killing and eating him as civi- 
 lized man would of swallowing an oyster.
 
 42 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 After two years of unscrupulous trading 
 with the Maoris, Victor, or rather Theo- 
 philus Brooks, resolved, in his own language, 
 to " cut" the blacks ; and accordingly, with 
 three hundred and seventy pounds in his 
 possession, he bade good-bye to his late 
 partner, and took passage by sailing ship 
 direct for London, where he arrived on the 
 12th of December, 1846. Since the month 
 in which Caroline his wife gave birth to 
 our hero, and in which he was shipped on 
 board a transport, he had neither heard nor 
 seen anything of her. No letter telling 
 even of the birth of her child had ever 
 reached him. None had been sent to him. 
 His first mission after landing was to pro- 
 ceed to number forty-four in a street lead- 
 ing out of the Westminster Koad, where his 
 former friend, Sylvanus Scamperwell, with 
 whom his wife was staying at the time of 
 his departure from England, had then re- 
 sided. 
 
 Scamperwell was at that time actor, play-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 43 
 
 Wright, prompter, in fact a theatrical jack 
 of all trades attached to the Surrey Theatre, 
 and inhabited the small house alluded to, 
 at a rental of twenty -five pounds a year, in 
 company with his mother (a sallow-faced 
 woman, of a dropsical tendency, which gave 
 her the appearance of being everlastingly in 
 the family way, as somebody once observed 
 of her), his wife, and two precocious-looking 
 babes his children. Victor knocked at the 
 door, which was opened by a common- 
 looking woman in disorderly attire. 
 
 " Does Mr. Scamperwell live here 1" 
 asked the visitant. 
 
 " No !" answered the woman, eyeing him 
 with distrust. 
 
 " Can you tell me where he has gone to V 
 pursued he ; " he used to live here." 
 
 " I'll ask," said the woman ; and closing 
 the door in the face of the inquirer, she 
 retired to do so. 
 
 " They'll tell you at the corner shop — 
 Booth's," spoke the woman when she reap- 
 peared in a minute or so afterwards.
 
 44 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 " Thank you," said Victor, and forthwith 
 he took his way to the place named. It 
 was a small-ware shop of the half huxter 
 kind. 
 
 " Can you tell me where Mr. Scamper- 
 well — Sylvanus Scamperwell — has gone 
 to 1" asked Victor. " He used to live at 
 number fourteen here; I've been there, 
 but they can't tell me ; they said that you 
 could." 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the elderly woman 
 addressed ; " the Strand Theatre. I don't 
 know his other address, but that will find 
 him." 
 
 " Oh, thank you !" ejaculated the searcher 
 after Mr. Scamperwell; and with a frank 
 " Good morning !" he vanished, and, hiring 
 the first cab he met, drove to the door of 
 the Strand Theatre, w^iere he soon accosted 
 the boxkeeper with — 
 
 " Oh ! can you give me the private ad- 
 dress of Mr. Scamperwell; or, perhaps, 
 he's here — eh '?"
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 45 
 
 " Can't tell you, sir," answered that indi- 
 vidual ; " but if you'll leave a note here, 
 he'll get it." 
 
 Victor was not half satisfied with this, 
 but withdrew shortly afterwards to a neigh- 
 bouring coffee-house, where he penned a 
 few lines to Mr. Scamperwell, announcing 
 his return from transportation, and inquir- 
 ing whether his wife was still alive, and if 
 so, where she was to be found. He ad- 
 dressed his letter from a certain hotel in 
 the vicinity of Cornhill, where he was then 
 staying, and promptly returned to the 
 theatre with the epistle, which he left there. 
 Scamperwell duly received the communica- 
 tion that night, which, as may be supposed, 
 he perused with much astonishment. 
 
 " What was he like V he asked, address- 
 ing the boxkeeper ; " seedy 1" 
 
 " Oh no ! not at all," replied the latter ; 
 " quite a swell, — gold chain and ring." 
 
 " Ah !" ejaculated Scamperwell, with a 
 smile of surprise, and forthwith he set his
 
 46 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 mental machinery to work to see if some- 
 thing could not be made out of him. 
 
 On the morning following, Scamperwell 
 took his way to the " Brazen Nose" Hotel, 
 City, and warmly welcomed the return of 
 his old acquaintance to London and to 
 liberty. 
 
 " Free pardon V asked the visitant. 
 
 " Yes, free pardon," answered Victor, 
 " after more than a dozen years of it." 
 
 " Well, about Mrs. Trelawney," observed 
 Scamperwell. 
 
 " Yes," said Victor, with impatient cu- 
 riosity. 
 
 " The last I heard of her," continued the 
 former, " was after her recovery from the 
 smallpox, four or ^\e years ago." 
 
 " Has she gone back to her father. Sir 
 Wyndham 1" asked the other, with excite- 
 ment of manner. 
 
 " Oh no !" answered the theatrical per- 
 sonage, " he'd never have anything to do 
 with her."
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 4T 
 
 " She's alive then T' observed Trelawney. 
 
 "Oh, yes; she's alive. I don't know 
 w^here she is now, or what she's doing ; 
 but if you like, I can find out for you. 
 She's at Bristol, I believe ; still I can't say 
 certainly ; but as I just said, I can put you 
 on the track of finding her." 
 
 " Just so ! thank you, old fellow," re- 
 sponded Trelawney. 
 
 "Made money out there]" asked Scam- 
 perwell. 
 
 " Yes ; a few hundreds," coolly observed 
 the former; and so the conversation pro- 
 ceeded. It transpired, at the interview, 
 that Scamperwell's wife had died, together 
 with the two children, since the departure 
 of Trelawney for Botany Bay, in 1833 ; 
 and it was also represented by the former, 
 that Mrs. Trelawney had given birth to a 
 son, which had also died, and in early 
 infancy. 
 
 The husband was, as a matter of course, 
 aware that his wife was enceinte at the
 
 48 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 period when he had last seen her ; but, as 
 we have before remarked, had never heard 
 of her accouchement. Neither had Sylvanus 
 Scamperwell. He was guided by Tre- 
 lawney's note, left at the theatre, and he was 
 determined to take advantage of the latter's 
 ignorance regarding the true state of the 
 case. Scamperwell played his nefarious part 
 well. Day by day, he made representations 
 to Trelawney respecting the progress of the 
 search after the lost wife, and succeeded in 
 drawing money for the purpose, as stated, of 
 defraying his expenses into the country, and 
 various other matters. But these were 
 minor acts in the drama, the grand point 
 was the substitution of one Johanna Neill, 
 a woman of ill repute, who had never been 
 married, for the long estranged, and, alas ! 
 departed Caroline. This was a thing more 
 feasible in the eyes of Sylvanus Scamperwell, 
 than may appear to the minds of an ordinary 
 observer. First, the age of the former was 
 nearly equal to that of the latter, had she
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 49 
 
 been still living, and then her make and 
 general appearance was greatly in favour of 
 the deception, while the fact of her having 
 experienced a visitation of the small pox was 
 sufficient to account for any change in the 
 countenance ; moreover, more than fourteen 
 years had elapsed since the time of Tre- 
 lawney's last having seen his wife, and that 
 ere she had undergone maternity. To sum 
 up briefly, the case was " cooked " to such 
 perfection by Scamperwell, and the putative 
 wife was so dexterously put up to every- 
 thing concerning herself as the alleged 
 daughter of Sir Wyndham Berkeley, that 
 Trelawney entertained not the slightest 
 doubt as to her being the Caroline of old ; 
 even if he had it is questionable whether 
 he would have rejected her. He wanted a 
 wife. 
 
 For this piece of diplomacy on the part 
 of Scamperwell, he was rewarded by Johanna 
 Neill to the extent of twenty-five pounds ; 
 while from Trelawney he had succeeded in
 
 50 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 drawing about half that sum ; a very de- 
 sirable addition to his income about this 
 time ; for he was very low in funds, as, in- 
 deed, it was ever his lot to be. 
 
 Shortly after this, the pair, in accordance 
 with the original intention of Trelawney, 
 who now went by the name of Theophilus 
 Brooks, being the one he had adopted after 
 his arrival at New Zealand, took passage, 
 by sailing ship, for New York, with the view 
 of opening for himself a more promising 
 career in the new, than fortune seemed de- 
 stined to allot him in the old world.
 
 51 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Soon after the arrival of Theophilus Brooks 
 at New York, he, to use his own phraseo- 
 logy, turned merchant, and commenced an 
 active trade in wooden nutmegs, and hams 
 to match, together with a variety of things 
 similar : which at the present day are de- 
 nominated under the one general heading 
 of " Yankee curiosities." But Theophilus 
 Brooks was an itinerant trader, journeying 
 from city to city, and village to village; and 
 not, as the term merchant would imply, a 
 man settled down to business and its conse- 
 quent dollars and cents, in some defined 
 place. The life suited his erratic, bush- 
 ranging disposition ; and, as he was no 
 longer fit to be a dancing master, he had 
 turned pedlar. 
 
 UNIVERSITY Ofi 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARt
 
 52 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 The profits, however, resulting from the 
 latter trade, he found to be so agreeably 
 large, that he much preferred it, in a pecu- 
 niary point of view, to his original profes- 
 sorship of the terpsichorean art ; moreover, 
 his putative wife being as unscrupulous as 
 himself, as might be expected from her 
 former mode of life, and having a similar 
 taste for a life ever on the move, became a 
 very useful partner, and rendered him no 
 inconsiderable assistance in promoting his 
 sale of the wooden articles before mentioned, 
 a very fraudulent application of timber in 
 the personation of spice and swine, as will 
 be readily admitted. 
 
 The father of our hero was still carrying- 
 on his trade, but in a more wholesale, and, 
 be it said, legitimate manner, than at the first 
 onset of his American career, when suddenly 
 news of the discovery of gold in California, 
 swept over the United States like a tornado 
 over ocean, arousing the sea of its popu- 
 lation into a boiling fever of excitement,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 53 
 
 and not alone the people of the United 
 States, but of — only to a lesser extent, of 
 course — the whole world. 
 
 Gold was the very thing, with its attend- 
 ant evils and excitement, to allure the soul 
 and body of Trelawney from their customary 
 pursuits. The very name was enough ; it 
 was as the magnet to the steel. So on with 
 the torrent of adventurers rushed he towards 
 the glittering attractions of the auriferous 
 banks of the Sacramento, leaving behind 
 the putative wife to share the fate of wives 
 in general under such circumstances ; for it 
 was considered, and half justly, to be sheer 
 madness to take a woman to such a country 
 at such a time. 
 
 " Gold," was the universal cry ; and the 
 magical word impelled thousands from 
 homes of peace and happiness to wend 
 their way as hungry adventurers to a land 
 in which tumult and disorder held universal 
 sway. 
 
 Time, ever on the wing, rolled months
 
 54 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 away ; steamer after steamer had left New 
 York for Colon, since called Aspinwall, and 
 vice versa, en route, via the isthmus of Pa- 
 nama, to and from the land of treasure, but 
 still no letter arrived from Theophilus 
 Brooks, and his disconsolate better half re- 
 mained ignorant as to his existence or his 
 fate. She was a woman who knew a little 
 more of human nature than most of her sex ; 
 and, moreover, was endowed with a cer- 
 tain daunt] essness of mind and feeling that 
 prompted her to brave anything her fancy or 
 her will suggested. So Mrs. Theophilus 
 Brooks, as she was called, took passage from 
 New York, by the Illinois steamer, for Colon, 
 and having crossed the then pestiferous 
 neck of land which stretches from the tur- 
 bulent Atlantic to the glassy Pacific, partly 
 by boat down the Chagres river, and the 
 remaining part of the journey on the back 
 of a mule, she took steamer again from 
 Panama to San Francisco, at which place 
 she arrived, in company with fifteen hun-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 55 
 
 dred fellow passengers, in less than a 
 fortnight afterwards. 
 
 Great was the social disorganization of 
 a community, reckless by nature as the 
 Americans are; prone to, and giving way 
 to, every excess which mankind can per- 
 petrate, as was then the case in California. 
 Human life was as nothing ; and law, if it 
 did exist, was set at defiance. Retribution, 
 justice, protection, were alone to be found 
 in the revolver and the bullet ; and the 
 evil passions of men were let loose in that 
 vortex of iniquity, that social hell, San 
 Francisco. 
 
 It so happened, that Mrs. Theophilus 
 Brooks had very little trouble in finding 
 her alleged husband after her arrival at the 
 latter city, for he had recently opened a 
 "bar" room, and "set up" a store in a 
 prominent position there, and his name 
 conspicuously figured over the respective 
 doors of his places of business. Six weeks 
 before, he had returned from "Hellgate",
 
 56 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 a celebrated gold district, or " diggings", 
 with sixteen thousand dollars in his pos- 
 session ; and after losing three-fourths of it 
 at the game of " poker", and winning the 
 same back again, plus an additional sum, he 
 embarked in the speculation we now find 
 him engaged in ; that of the bar room or 
 public house, being the most paying con- 
 cern in California. 
 
 " How was it you didn't write'? " asked 
 the pseudo wife, with a rather sharp display 
 of feminine indignation. 
 
 " Why ] because I wasn't ready for you," 
 answered Trelawney. '' This isn't a country 
 for a woman to come to." From this it 
 may be surmised that he could very well 
 have borne with the absence of his pre- 
 sumed partner in matrimony. 
 
 Months more rolled away, and the social 
 disorder was but augmented by the con- 
 tinuous influx of people from all ends of 
 the earth. Theophilus Brooks had now 
 opened a magnificent palace, or rather hell,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 57 
 
 used for gambling purposes, a gorgeous 
 and extensive saloon brilliantly lighted 
 by night, with small tables arranged down 
 either side of it, where sat "bankers", 
 hirers of a table, each with his revolver 
 and bag of gold by his side. Groups of 
 excited gamblers were formed about many, 
 and sometimes all, of the tables ; and not 
 unfrequently the report of firearms was to 
 be heard in that so-called " palace " of 
 enticement. 
 
 A restaurant and cafe were attached, 
 presided over by gauze-covered females, 
 whose voluptuously set-off forms, and co- 
 quettish looks of witchery, were at all 
 times sources of attraction to the herds of 
 gloating diggers, fresh from the mines, who 
 nightly filled these lighted halls. Palace 
 after palace subsequently rose up, and 
 murder after murder stained their precincts, 
 where brawling drunkenness was ever an 
 attendant ; but happily for California, and 
 the world, these dens of vice and iniquity
 
 58 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 have now been interdicted by the law of 
 the State, and the social system of San 
 Francisco has been purified thereby. 
 
 But to the pseudo wife of Theophilus 
 Brooks. She had not been five months in 
 San Francisco before she eloped to the 
 United States with a successful gambler and 
 six thousand dollars of Trelawney's money, 
 leaving behind her a letter stating that she 
 was not his wife ; that it was a mere piece 
 of imposition on the part of Sylvanus Scam- 
 perwell and herself, when such was repre- 
 sented to be the case; and advising him to 
 console himself in the best manner he could, 
 with the remark, that the six thousand dol- 
 lars taken was merely her own share in the 
 original dispensation of timber nutmegs 
 and wooden hams, when they, in partner- 
 ship, wandered together from Indianapolis 
 to Alabama.
 
 59 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It was not long after the occurrence of the 
 event last mentioned, before Trelawney 
 took his own departure from San Francisco 
 by the Panama steamer, en route for New 
 York. Taking up his residence at a board- 
 ing house in the latter city, he was soon 
 brought in contact with young ladies, who, 
 in spite of the disparity of years between 
 them, would have readily embraced the 
 offer of a man of such real and reputed 
 wealth as Theophilus Brooks. He was 
 now in his forty-fourth year, but being of 
 rather a florid complexion, he looked hale, 
 and some years younger than he actually 
 was. American ladies are not very fasti- 
 dious as to antecedents; so that the returned 
 Californian found it a pleasant and by no 
 means difficult task to seek and win a wife,
 
 60 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 which he had been very anxious to do, for 
 the sake of posterity, he having the organ of 
 philoprogenitiveness fully developed, but 
 no oifspring that he yet knew of to call 
 him " father." 
 
 Shortly after the termination of the honey- 
 moon following his marriage — he took it for 
 granted that he should never see or hear of 
 his first wife again — Mr. Theophilus Brooks 
 commenced (in the language of the day) 
 to look about him for a place where he 
 might settle down permanently and culti- 
 vate the dolce far niente in rural felicity and 
 retirement in company with his bride and 
 to be hoped for family. At length the 
 State of Georgia was selected ; and having 
 made several investments in land forming 
 part of that territory, he finally took up 
 his residence at Bagdad, the settlement 
 already sketched in our opening chapter, 
 and where we have introduced him as one 
 of the " Regulators" in that sanguinary 
 scene enacted within and without the 
 barricaded house of Simon Radley.
 
 61 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 Let us here recur to our hero. Days 
 passed by and still no tidings of the missing 
 mother entered the cottage of Sally Dykes. 
 
 " Well, if this isn't the most mysterious 
 thing that I ever seen," soliloquised the 
 old midwife. " Here she's gone and left 
 her child without saying a word. Bless 
 me, if it isn't the strangest thing I ever 
 heard of. Left her child, indeed ! What's 
 to become of it ? I don't know." 
 
 It was not for a week after the disappear- 
 ance of Mrs. Trelawney that Sarah Dykes 
 discovered in the apartment in which the 
 former gave birth to our hero, an envelope, 
 
 addressed Mrs. Trelawney, 44, Street, 
 
 Westminster Road. "Ah! what's this]" 
 ejaculated the old woman half exultingly,
 
 62 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 as she read the inscription, and on that 
 very afternoon she took her way to number 
 
 44, Street, which was no other than 
 
 the house inhabited by the Scamper well 
 family, in the full expectation of hearing 
 everything about the missing " lady". " Ex- 
 cuse me, ma'am," spoke the midwife to 
 Mrs. Scamperwell, who, with a child in her 
 arms, happened to open the door to her. 
 " I've called to see if you know a person — 
 a lady — named Trelawney. Mrs. Tre- 
 lawney ] " 
 
 " Yes ! we know her," answered the 
 childbearer, somewhat gruffly. 
 
 " Can you tell me, then, if you please, 
 where she is nowT' asked the tenant of the 
 blue-shuttered cottage. 
 
 " No ! we don't know anything about 
 her. She was living with us for a time, 
 but she's left, and we don't expect to see 
 her again. Why ] have you something to 
 do with her ] " asked the wife of Scamper- 
 well.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 63 
 
 " Yes, indeed, ma'am, I have ; and I'd 
 like to speak with you about it. She was 
 confined in my house." 
 
 " Oh, indeed," responded Mrs. Scamper- 
 well; "just come inside;" and, prompt to the 
 invitation Sally Dykes entered the house, 
 and was led into a small, flimsily bedecked 
 front parlour, where the two women took 
 each a seat, and the child at this time becom- 
 ing clamorous, the mother performed a cer- 
 tain evolution which instantaneously pacified 
 the infant, for after that it lay with cheek 
 reclining on the parent breast, calmly en- 
 gaged in a deepi drink, which was afterwards 
 succeeded by an equally calm and deep 
 sleep ; such being the chief incidents in the 
 early life of human kind, and apparently, 
 for the time being, the only things for 
 whose performance little children were 
 created. The women had scarcely recom- 
 menced their conversation, when Scamper- 
 well made his appearance. 
 
 " Here's a person about Trelawney's
 
 64 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 wife," said Mrs. Scamperwell, addressing 
 him. 
 
 " Oh, well, what about her V asked he 
 hastily, with an air of perfect disinterest- 
 edness. 
 
 " She's been confined — it's a boy," con- 
 tinued the wife, " she lay-in at this person's 
 house." 
 
 "Oh!" ejaculated Scamperwell, "and 
 how is she ]" 
 
 " Ah, that's the strangest part of it, sir," 
 put in Sally Dykes. "She left my house 
 last Monday night, and I havn't seen nor 
 heard a word of her since, and it's only to- 
 day I found this envelope, which brought 
 me here, thinking I should hear of her." 
 
 " No, we know nothing of her," observed 
 the husband. 
 
 " Dear me, it's very strange. Do you 
 know where her relations live] she told 
 me she was of fine folks," observed the 
 visitant. 
 
 "No; we don't know anything about
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 65 
 
 her relations," answered Scamperwell, 
 promptly and decisively, well knowing that 
 he was uttering a lie. His wife knew better 
 than to contradict him. 
 
 " Bless me, I don't know what I shall do 
 with the child, poor thing !" exclaimed the 
 old woman, and as if overcome by her own 
 good feelings in its behalf, she leaned her 
 forehead on her hand, while her elbow rested 
 on her knee, and the tender sorrow of that 
 poor old widow for the condition of the 
 child which then lay sleeping in her cottage, 
 gushed forth in tears that trickled down 
 her withered cheek, as in the sixty-second 
 year of her age she sat in the house and 
 presence of Sylvanus Scamperwell, the 
 arch falsifier. 
 
 Sally Dykes returned to her humble cot- 
 tage, disappointed and half-heartbroken at 
 not having obtained any clue as to the miss- 
 ing Mrs. Trelawney or her family connexions. 
 " Poor thing !" she ejaculated aloud, but to 
 herself; and alluding to the mother, "I 
 
 F
 
 66 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 wonder where she could have got to. She's 
 either ill or dead, it strikes me, or she 
 wouldn't have left her child here by itself. 
 Poor creature ! she was so distressed that I 
 shouldn't wonder if she's drowned herself. 
 The Lord help her !" And so soliloquised 
 Widow Dykes for weeks, yea months, dur- 
 ing which time the child still remained in 
 the cottage, and grew up under her foster- 
 age. 
 
 The wife of Jack Scragg the cobbler, 
 whom we have before mentioned, and who 
 gave birth to a child some weeks before 
 our hero sprung to life, but which child 
 died six days subsequent to the suicide of 
 Mrs. Trelawney, undertook to suckle it : 
 and well be it said of her that she displayed 
 a motherly interest in its behalf, which was 
 only equalled by the spirit and devotion of 
 Sally Dykes. Where would such benignity 
 — such disinterested compassion and truly 
 zealous philanthropy have been found 
 amongst the middle classes of English so-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 67 
 
 ciety] Echo answers the question, and the 
 response is — nowhere. 
 
 Eight years rolled by, and still the widow 
 inhabited the same blue-shuttered cottage, 
 and still our hero shared it with her, as 
 had been his wont from the first dawn of 
 life. Nothing had ever been heard of Mrs. 
 Trelawney ; and Sally Dykes remained as 
 ignorant as of yore, as to who were the 
 relatives or friends of one whose disappear- 
 ance was so enveloped in mystery, and was 
 even now the chief theme of her daily 
 conversation with " little Harry," as our 
 hero had been named by her. From the 
 time the boy had reached his eighth till he 
 attained his twelfth year, he served as an 
 errand-boy at the shop of a neighbouring 
 grocer, who, in return for the use of his 
 services, gave him board and lodging, and 
 furnished him with such clothes as were 
 necessary for a lad of his station and pur- 
 suits. This was a timely engagement, and 
 one that relieved the old widow of a laro:e
 
 68 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 share of trouble and anxiety ; for she con- 
 sidered that he was fairly launched into 
 the world when Mr. Sliding Weights, the 
 keeper of the shop alluded to, took him 
 into his household. Truly, he might be 
 said to have commenced his active career 
 in life from that day ; but it was not until 
 he had outrun his twelfth year, and volun- 
 tarily forsaken the house and employment 
 of the grocer, that his more adventurous 
 journey, and his association with mankind, 
 may be said to have begun. Then, indeed, 
 he drifted, rude hurricane swept, over 
 the relentless sea of life, and, friendless 
 and alone as he was, buffeted with every 
 assailing wave that crossed his trackless 
 course o'er — here the desert, and there the 
 ocean of the world. 
 
 It so happened that he was, on more 
 than one occasion, sent down to the St. 
 Katherine's docks with messages from his 
 employer, and that on each occasion of 
 his there beholding the forest of masts and
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 69 
 
 rigging, which stood up from the assembled 
 hulls of ships that had ploughed their soli- 
 tary way from many a country and through 
 many a clime, and that now lay disgorging 
 their seaborne cargoes, he was filled with 
 the desire of being carried away in one of 
 them far over the heaving billows of the 
 wild Atlantic, of which he had heard so 
 much, but had never seen ; and while 
 thus viewing the crowded shipping, he re- 
 solved within himself on becoming a sailor. 
 " But how am I to get a ship," he reasoned ; 
 then springing forward as if elated with 
 joy at the prospect of a life on the ocean, 
 he ejaculated, " Oh yes, I'll go to sea — I'll 
 go," — and, Eeader, he did go. Entirely 
 unassisted, the lad of twelve years, after 
 asking on board many ships, was at last 
 taken as a boy on board the barque, Flash 
 of the Heavens, bound for Jamaica; and 
 knowing that both Widow Dykes and his 
 employer were averse to his going to sea, 
 he left his home, and soon afterwards
 
 70 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 quitted the port of London without even 
 bidding good-bye to either. 
 
 " Bless me, Harry's run away ! — I never 
 did see such a thing," talked the old mid- 
 wife to those of her neighbours with whom 
 she was intimate, and they were pretty nu- 
 merous. " Just like his mother, — never 
 said a word about it," continued she. " He's 
 gone to sea, depend on it ; he said he would. 
 He was afraid to tell us. Oh, poor little 
 fellow ! poor child ! gone away without say- 
 ing a word after all these years, and after 
 having brought him up from his very 
 birth," — and here the poor old woman burst 
 into tears; and great was her grief for 
 many a day after the departure of her 
 foster-child, for where, she knew not. 
 
 Twelve months passed away, but they 
 brought in their revolution no tidings of 
 the missing boy. She received, indeed, as 
 had been his annual wont, a visit from Mr. 
 Scamperwell ; but that individual still pro- 
 fessing entire ignorance as to the family
 
 ^ WRECK AND RUIN. 71 
 
 connexions of Mrs. Trelawney, or her ad- 
 venturous son, and being, of course, himself 
 unacquainted with the course taken by our 
 hero, nothing transpired which rendered 
 Widow Dykes in any way wiser than she 
 ever was.
 
 72 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 It was one rosy morning in June, a little 
 more than twelve months after the sudden 
 disappearance of Harry Trelawney from 
 the shop of Mr. Sliding Weights, that a 
 boy, in a sailor's jacket and trousers, made 
 his appearance through the open door of 
 the widow's cottage. 
 
 " Bless my soul and body ! Harry, I do 
 declare !" ejaculated the widow, looking up, 
 and letting fall the poker with which she 
 had been engaged in stirring up the fire, 
 on which stood a rather huge pan, that
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 73 
 
 afterwards turned out to be a stew made of 
 linen, i. e. shirts and collars, which she pre- 
 sided over in her capacity of laundress. 
 
 " Yes, Mother Dykes, it is ;" and in a 
 moment the agitated old creature had him 
 clasped in her arms. 
 
 "Where have you been all this timer' 
 she asked, while the tears of joy on his re- 
 turn chased each other down her furrowed 
 cheek. " Been to sea'? — left his poor foster- 
 mother without even saying a word," con- 
 tinued the kind and motherly-feeling adopt- 
 ress, hugging him all the while in far too 
 fervent a manner to be comfortable for our 
 hero, who at length sat down, and explained 
 everything to her respecting the cause of 
 his silence at the time of departure, and 
 his doings since. 
 
 " Dear me, poor child, how glad Nelly 
 Scraggs will be to see thee ! Bless me, and 
 old Sliding Weights, how he'll stare ! Come 
 on !" she exclaimed, taking his hand with 
 the view of leading him to the shop of the
 
 74 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 grocer, and then of exhibiting him to the 
 neighbours. He was the prodigal son. 
 Six weeks after this, he sailed as cabin- 
 boy in the brig Wild Wave^ for Manilla, 
 from which port he was carried to Hong 
 Kong, and from thence back again to Ma- 
 nilla, from which island of Luconia the 
 vessel sailed direct to Queenstown, " to wait 
 orders," and from which port of Inisfail 
 she finally proceeded on to Liverpool, where 
 our hero left her. 
 
 We have thus briefly recounted his doings 
 during the fifteen months following Piis 
 return to London by the barque in which 
 he made his first voyage. He was now in 
 his fifteenth year. He had already met 
 with, in addition to much hard work, many 
 a cruel flogging on board each of the ships 
 in which he had sailed, but more particularly 
 the last. He determined, if possible, to 
 avoid shipping himself in a sailing vessel 
 again. It was his ambition to voyage in a 
 steamer. Weeks, however, passed over
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 75 
 
 him, during which time he led a wretched 
 half-starved existence ; but at length he 
 was engaged as steward's boy on board a 
 Glasgow steamer, which vessel was subse- 
 quently wrecked, not far from the mouth of 
 the Clyde, and our hero, on that occasion, 
 narrowly escaped sharing the melancholy 
 fate of many of her passengers, who there 
 yielded up the breath of life, and perished 
 beneath the inexorable waters. He was 
 carried from the scene of the wreck to 
 " Lanarkshire's great city," on board of a 
 steamer sent for the purpose of conveying 
 the survivors to their destined port. 
 
 His first and chief object after landing, 
 was to obtain, if practicable, re-employ- 
 ment in the service of the Company to 
 which the fated steamer had belonged ; but 
 in this he was unsuccessful. He then di- 
 rected his attention to the ships in harbour, 
 on board one of Avhich he was soon after- 
 wards engaged, again, as cabin-boy. This 
 ship, the Thistle^ was bound for Auckland
 
 '76 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 and New Zealand, and carried both cargo 
 and passengers. She was entirely dismasted, 
 and had her bulwarks carried away in the 
 Bay of Biscay, and was consequently under 
 the necessity of putting into Lisbon for re- 
 pairs, and, lamentable to relate, was subse- 
 quently driven ashore on the island of New 
 Caledonia through stress of weather, and 
 totally wrecked. For months the crew and 
 emigrants remained on this cannibal peopled 
 isle. True, they found a few French set- 
 tlers there, which, however, judging from 
 the character and warlike appearance of 
 the natives, it was surprising they had not 
 massacred. The part of the coast on which 
 the ship drifted was rocky and barren ; 
 while beyond, far as the eye could scan, the 
 scenery was wild in the extreme. It was 
 imposing in its very excess of desolation. 
 
 There were two hundred and three souls 
 on board ; one hundred and seventy-nine 
 of which were landed in safety, the remain- 
 ing number perished while being conveyed
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 77 
 
 to, or in the endeavour to swim ashore, 
 while some were either washed from off, or 
 perished on the wreck. For many days 
 the shore presented a picture too heartrend- 
 ing for description ; and many was the wail 
 that rose up from those bereft of kin, while 
 the mangled bodies of the dead lay strewn 
 along the beach. By and by the aborigines, 
 savage-looking and wild, crowded about 
 the wreck, and, under pretence of burying 
 the bodies carried them away, and after 
 due roasting, fed upon them. 
 
 The Europeans valued their lives too 
 much to remonstrate. The French station 
 lay at the distance of about forty miles 
 higher up the coast. One of the natives 
 pointed to his canoe, and made signs for 
 one or two of the Europeans to get into it ; 
 the captain and chief mate accepted the 
 offer, and were paddled away. 
 
 On the day following, a sailing cutter 
 approached, which was joyfully hailed by 
 the shipwrecked; it proved, as was ex-
 
 78 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 pected, to have been sent by the French 
 settled on the island, with the captain of 
 the broken Thistle on board, who was 
 warmly welcomed on his landing, fears 
 having been entertained for his safety at 
 the hands of the natives since the time of 
 his departure. 
 
 In the course of time the whole of the 
 survivors were removed by a British vessel, 
 sent for that purpose, to their original 
 destination, Auckland. Our hero, as a 
 matter of course, was left to himself, with 
 perfect liberty of action, after being landed 
 on the shores of the far-famed Maori, from 
 which his unknown father had but recently 
 receded towards the port of London, and 
 the presence of Sylvanus Scamperwell, as 
 we have already told. It was not long be- 
 fore he obtained employment, and that in 
 the store of a produce merchant, with whom 
 Charles Winterthorne, alias our old friend 
 Black Prince, had many dealings, and 
 with whom our hero was often brought in 
 contact.
 
 79 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A LITTLE more than twelve months from 
 the time of Sally Dykes' first interview with 
 the Scamperwell family, Mrs. Scamperwell 
 yielded up the ghost, and found rest be- 
 neath the sod, and shortly afterwards her 
 eldest child, a girl, followed in her wake. 
 
 At eleven o'clock, on one Thursday in 
 March, and six months after the occurrence 
 of the latter event, Sylvanus Scamperwell 
 took his way to the house of Sir Wyndham 
 Berkeley in Cavendish Square, and there 
 sought and procured an interview with that 
 dignified baronet.
 
 80 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 Three months antecedent to the time 
 last mentioned, the following advertise- 
 ment, which had not escaped the eye of 
 Mr. Scamperwell, appeared in the second 
 column of The Times newspaper. It was 
 inserted by the Duchess of Yarborough, the 
 maternal aunt of the unfortunate suicide 
 Caroline Trelawney : — 
 
 " Trelawney. Caroline. You are en- 
 treated to call on your aunt Lydia, who 
 will make everything comfortable for you. 
 Do not hesitate to come; all will be for- 
 given and a home offered." 
 
 It was palpable to the mind of Scam- 
 perwell from this advertisement that the 
 mother of our hero, as he had antici- 
 pated, to use his own language, had never 
 turned up among her relatives. 
 
 " I've called upon you, Sir Wyndham," 
 spoke that individual, as he entered the 
 presence of the baronet; " respecting your 
 daughter, sir, or rather, I should say, her 
 child — her son."
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 81 
 
 " Sit down, sir," said the other haughtily 
 and half patronisingly, pointing to a chair. 
 
 " Well, sir, what have you to say*?" asked 
 the baronet, at the same time uttering an 
 audible sigh. 
 
 " Well, sir, it's perhaps a painful thing 
 for you to be told of it, but two years ago 
 Mrs. Trelawney came to our house, and was 
 confined there, and a fortnight or so after 
 it, she went out at ten o'clock at night, 
 against our will, and since that we've 
 neither heard nor seen anything of her; 
 the child has been with us ever since, as 
 we knew none of her relations that we 
 could apply to, and it was only yesterday 
 *that I found out that you were the lady's 
 father, so I have made it my business to 
 come and inform you of the facts." 
 
 Sir Wyndham Berkeley looked con- 
 founded. 
 
 " Are you acquainted with the circum- 
 stances of the case, Mr. — (looking at that 
 individual's handwriting on a piece of card) 
 
 G
 
 82 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 — Mr. Scamperwein " at length asked the 
 baronet. 
 
 "With regard to what, sir!" said the 
 visitant, feigning dulness of comprehension. 
 
 " With regard to Mrs. Trelawney and 
 her husband," was the reply. 
 
 " Nothing more than I heard her say 
 her father was a baronet, and that her hus- 
 band had gone abroad." 
 
 " Ah, you are not aware as to the causes 
 which led to his going abroad T' observed 
 Sir Wyndham. 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Now, sir, will you inform me as to 
 how you became acquainted with my re- 
 lationship towards Mrs. Trelawney, on yes- 
 terday." 
 
 " Well, sir," answered Scamperwell, " I 
 met with a man who had known Mr. Tre- 
 lawney at the time of his marriage, and he 
 told me of her family, and that was the 
 first information I had ever been able to 
 gain on the subject; otherwise, sir, I should
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 83 
 
 have been too happy to have made it my 
 business to have called on you." 
 
 " Had you known this party that you 
 speak of before you saw him yesterday 1" 
 inquired the baronet. 
 
 " No, sir, not before yesterday ; the way 
 it came about was this. I myself am en- 
 gaged at the Surrey Theatre ; but a friend 
 of mine called at our house on Tuesday, 
 and said, ' what do you think '? I came 
 across a man the other day who knew 
 Trelawney and all about him ; knows his 
 wife's relations, and all the rest of him.' 
 I asked him if he knew about Mrs. Tre- 
 lawney, or her child. He said, ' No, that 
 he hadn't heard of them since Trelawney 's 
 going abroad.' So, I said, why a friend of 
 mine is bringing up his son. ' Ha ! indeed,' 
 he replied, ' I should like to see him.' Well, 
 Sir Wyndham," continued Scamperwell, 
 " after hearing this, I went to the man's 
 house and he told me of it." 
 
 We will not detail the conversation
 
 84 WRECK AND RQIN. 
 
 further, but state, that on that very after- 
 noon the baronet communicated personally 
 with his sister-in-law, the Duchess of Yar- 
 borough, who, in company with Sir Wynd- 
 ham, drove forthwith to the address given 
 by Scamperwell, being the same in which 
 Mrs. Dykes had held her first interview 
 with himself and now deceased wife, after 
 the discovery of the envelope before alluded 
 to. The loud and somewhat protracted 
 knocking of Her Grace's plush-covered 
 flunkey at the door of Scam per well's resi- 
 dence, was, after the lapse of some minutes, 
 responded to by the haggard face and 
 ricketty figure of that individual's maternal 
 parent making her appearance at the now 
 open door. The duchess and baronet 
 alighted, and after exchanging a few pre- 
 liminary words of inquiry with Mrs. Scam- 
 perwell, were shown into the small front 
 parlour in which Sally Dykes had sat 
 nearly two years before. 
 
 " Can I see the child, Mrs. Scamperwell?" 
 inquired the duchess.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 85 
 
 " Well ! yes, ma'am, you can ; but he's 
 not very nice just now," answered the 
 supposed foster mother. 
 
 " Oh, never mind that, I should like 
 to see him very much," replied Her Grace. 
 To which the old woman at once complied 
 by word and action, for she at once took 
 her way upstairs, and, after the lapse of 
 about five minutes, made her reappearance 
 in the room, bearing the alleged child of 
 Caroline, the wife of Trelawney, in her 
 arms. 
 
 " Poor little fellow," exclaimed the 
 duchess rising, and advancing to kiss him. 
 
 " He's a nice boy ! " observed Sir Wynd- 
 ham simultaneously. 
 
 " Dear child," continued Her Grace, 
 while old Mrs. Scamperwell played her 
 part well, in talking of its birth and the 
 mysterious disappearance of its mother; 
 of all the trouble she had experienced in 
 rearing it, from such an early stage of 
 infancy, in the midst of which a tear
 
 86 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 trickled down the face of the duchess, and 
 the consummate plotter, Sylvanus Scamper- 
 well, entered the room. His presence re- 
 lieved the old woman at the proper moment. 
 Sir Wyndham bowed to him patronizingly, 
 and introduced him to his companion, who 
 warmly complimented and thanked him, 
 together with his mother, for their dis- 
 interested kindness and generosity towards 
 the child and its now long missing mother. 
 
 It will be seen from the preceding, that 
 Mr. Scamperwell had succeeded in satisfy- 
 ing the baronet that the child referred to 
 was no other than that which his daughter 
 was alleged to have given birth to by her 
 marriage with the since transported Tre- 
 lawney. 
 
 On the day following the visit last 
 mentioned. Sir Wyndham Berkeley drove 
 to the residence of Scamperwell's alleged 
 informer, as given by that personage, to 
 institute inquiries respecting the truth of 
 the representations made by him, of which,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 87 
 
 however, we may remark, the baronet had 
 no doubt, so cleverly had Scamperwell 
 answered the several questions, almost 
 amounting to a cross examination, put to 
 him on the occasion of his visit to that 
 gentleman's residence in Cavendish Square. 
 The interview with the supposed new ac- 
 quaintance of Scamperwell, and old friend 
 of Trelawney, was in every way satisfactory 
 to the baronet, and thoroughly established 
 the entertained fact of the child submitted 
 by old Mrs. Scamperwell on the previous 
 day, being his own grandson. And with 
 this undoubted impression on his mind we 
 will now leave him.
 
 88 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 It will be clearly seen that Mr. Scamper- 
 well, in withholding the information of 
 which he was possessed from Sally Dykes, 
 had in view some ulterior object, which, 
 sooner or later, he expected to be able to 
 profit by. At the time of his first seeing 
 her, no opportunity presented itself of 
 availing himself of the intelligence which 
 she conveyed to him. The time might, 
 however, and no doubt would, arrive when 
 circumstances would enable him to make 
 use of his knowledge thus gained. In the
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 89 
 
 meantime secrecy was his strength. So 
 reasoned Mr. Scamperwell, and no doubt 
 shrewdly, so far as his own fraudulent 
 schemes and intentions were concerned. 
 His wife, as the reader is aware, in the 
 course of events died, and with her their 
 eldest child, the instrument of this de- 
 ception — a boy, a few weeks older than 
 our hero, alone surviving of the progeny 
 resulting from their union. 
 
 " Now is the time for operation," solilo- 
 quised Sylvanus ; and within three months 
 from the period of his wife's death he had 
 submitted his plan to, and thoroughly in- 
 structed, his mother as to the mode of 
 action she was to pursue, of course obtain- 
 ing her consent and assurance of assist- 
 ance. He communicated his intentions to 
 
 one L C , the keeper of a small 
 
 newspaper and cigar shop in Drury Lane, 
 but formerly a private, and eventually a 
 captain, in the British Army, who was, in 
 the language of Scamperwell, up to every-
 
 90 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 thing and ready for anything. To this ex- 
 commander of a company of foot, the latter, 
 after submitting his case, offered the sum 
 of five pounds for the due performance of 
 the stipulated duty set before him, to which 
 that ex-military functionary agreed ; and 
 this was the man to whom Sir Wyndham 
 paid his visit of inquiry as to the facts 
 stated by Mr. Scamperwell. 
 
 The chief and immediate object of the 
 latter in perpetrating this deception, was 
 to obtain money from the father, or some 
 other member of the family, of Caroline 
 Trelawney, in requital for the services of 
 himself and mother in bringing up the 
 child from its earliest infancy, and also to 
 obtain payment of an account, carefully 
 prepared, for the board and lodging of Mrs. 
 Trelawney previous to her accouchement, 
 together with a variety of other expenses 
 attending that event, amounting in all to 
 seventy-five pounds. His next object was 
 to ensure for his motherless child better
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 91 
 
 training, protection, and education, than 
 he could afford ; in fact, have him well 
 brought up, and probably turned out a 
 " Master of Arts" free of all expense. 
 
 " I can claim him at any time," he solilo- 
 quised ; " and it may turn out a good thing 
 for us both." Thus Sylvanus Scamperwell 
 rested satisfied, with his conscience as light 
 as his purse, and himself on easy terms 
 with each. 
 
 To proceed farther with the narrative of 
 our story, the son and heir of our theatrical 
 friend was removed from the house of his 
 father to the residence of the Duchess of 
 Yarborough in Piccadilly, by whom he was 
 adopted as the child of " dear Caroline," 
 which circumstance was accompanied by 
 the presentation of a cheque, bearing her 
 grace's signature, for the sum of £100 to 
 the alleged foster-mother, and another for 
 the amount of the account tendered by her 
 son, drawn by Sir Wyndham in favour of 
 that dexterous individual.
 
 92 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 Oh ! that that baronet, who esteemed 
 himself so shrewd and sagacious; or that 
 Duchess, whose praiseworthy goodness of 
 heart, and enthusiasm of kindness, was so 
 unworthily bestowed, had known that the 
 real object of their solicitude then lay cradled 
 in poverty, nurtured by a poor widow, who 
 struggled with more than a mother's zeal 
 and care, because disinterested, to preserve 
 its frail existence and conduce to its well- 
 being, and that they were the victims of a 
 deception, so clever and complete, as that 
 which had been so unscrupulously consum- 
 mated by Sylvanus Scamperwell and his 
 coadjutors.
 
 93 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 After remaining three years at Auckland, 
 during which time he had more than once 
 witnessed the war-dance of the Maori, with 
 its accompaniment of hideous grimaces, 
 upturned eyes, protruded tongues, bitter 
 smiles, savage grins, shudderings as audible 
 as visible, quiverings of every limb, accom- 
 panied with a loud, wild, recitative chaunt, 
 and concluding with a stamp that made the 
 very ground vibrate, a grand springing into 
 the air mid a chorus of frenzied yells, and 
 a final relapse into silence as sudden as
 
 94 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 impressive, did our hero take passage, with 
 more than fifty pounds in his possession, 
 the produce of his thrift, by a regular ship 
 for London. 
 
 It was in the December of the year 
 1849 that Harry Trelawney again landed 
 on British ground. He forthwith took his 
 way to the cottage of widow Dykes, in the 
 before-mentioned borough of Southwark. 
 
 " Bless my soul and body, after all these 
 years," ejaculated the old midwife, on first 
 seeing him ; " here thou art again," as she 
 embraced him as on his first return from 
 lands beyond the sea. She wept, for be it 
 known her foster-child was, like many 
 others, a bad correspondent, although he 
 could write, which, considering that he had 
 never been to school, was of itself a rarity, 
 and poor Sally had never heard from him 
 since the time of his departure from Glas- 
 gow in the fated Thistle. 
 
 " Here you are, mother," he exclaimed, 
 handing her his small bag of fifty sovereigns,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 95 
 
 his whole earthly possession, for his soul 
 was ever flowing with gratitude. " How 
 have you been since]" he asked, and he 
 himself could not refrain from shedding 
 tears, as heart prompted as those which 
 gushed from the eyes of Sally Dykes. 
 " You've heard nothing since, I suppose '?" 
 he asked, alluding to his missing mother 
 and her family. 
 
 '' No ! nothing, my dear child, nothing ; 
 not a word. Mr. Scamperwell's been here 
 once or twice, but he's not been able to 
 make anything out. You must go and see 
 him, he said so, when you came," observed 
 the old woman, in language as alive with 
 affection and goodwill, as it was ungram- 
 matical. Our hero did visit him, but 
 nothing of note transpired ; and in three 
 weeks after his arrival, he took passage 
 direct for San Francisco, the widow having 
 returned to him the fifty sovereigns, on 
 learning his position and wishes with re- 
 gard to his journeying to California. Even
 
 96 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 England at this time was infected by the 
 gold fever, and thousands were heedlessly 
 rushing off to the shores of the Sacra- 
 mento river, leaving behind them homes of 
 comfort, and even opulence, — on with a 
 bounding rush towards California and the 
 diggings.
 
 97 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 After a tedious passage of five months, 
 the mountains at the entrance of the de- 
 sired bay greeted the view of our hero 
 and his fellow-passengers. Sailing higher, 
 the bay opened expansively to the view, 
 disclosing the site of San Francisco, — 
 the Yerba Buena of the Indian — over 
 which dense masses of smoke rolled heavily 
 to the westward. The town and shipping 
 were undistinguishable, save at certain 
 moments, when a lurid glare lit up the 
 shrouded picture. "The city's on fire," 
 
 H
 
 98 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 ejaculated everybody on deck. " Oh, per- 
 haps it's only furnaces," foolishly suggested 
 a Lancashire man, who had been bred amid 
 their glare in a manufacturing part of his 
 native county. It was evident that the 
 fire was fast dying out by virtue of having 
 no more combustibles to feed upon, and, 
 as they approached the shipping, this fact 
 was the more palpably made manifest. 
 With some difficulty, owing to the fire 
 having extended to and charred the wharves, 
 did our hero, in company with several 
 others, effect a landing. It was during the 
 dry Californian season, and in the year 
 1850. Our hero was, alike with all on 
 board the ship by which he had travelled, 
 a stranger to the country, and moreover, 
 in his case, he was totally unacquainted 
 with its population, but what of that ; he 
 was enterprising, dauntless, and courageous, 
 and with a sound constitution, and pos- 
 sessed of a spirit, young as he was, which 
 would have made him feel at home wher-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 99 
 
 ever he went, or in Avhatever position for- 
 tune might have placed him, he felt in no 
 way disconsolate, or at a loss what he 
 should do. Such a man can live where 
 others starve. 
 
 The new arrivals, as they strolled along 
 the lines which were so recently streets, 
 bordered on either side by piles of ashes, 
 were somewhat struck with the seeming 
 joviality of the straggling multitude. Drays 
 full of planking, and other building mate- 
 rials, were already being driven to and fro 
 amongst the general ruin, and although 
 the embers of the ravaged city had not yet 
 cooled. Gun-barrels lay about in the rub- 
 bish, twisted and knotted into a variety of 
 shapes by the intense heat to which they 
 had been subjected. Tons of nails welded 
 together in the shape of the kegs which 
 had contained them, together with cracked 
 crucibles, exploded tins of preserved meats, 
 collapsed iron-houses, iron fire-proof safes 
 which had burst open, molten glass of
 
 100 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 every colour, — all lay in disordered ruin 
 about the city ; while now and again a 
 complete chaos of table-cutlery, crockery, 
 candlesticks, iron grates, lead, pitch, and 
 fireirons, presented itself to the eye, all 
 melted up together, and bearing evidence 
 of the immense loss of merchandize, as 
 well as tenements, that this the second 
 great Californian fire had entailed upon 
 San Francisco and its population. The 
 latter, however, nothing daunted, displayed 
 their energy in immediate action, and with- 
 in forty hours from the time of the confla- 
 gration, the entire region resounded with 
 the noisy workings of a city of house- 
 builders ; while in two days afterwards 
 dozens of new wooden stores and habita- 
 tions stood up upon the recent wreck. 
 The destruction of the city was, as may be 
 anticipated, anything but universal. The 
 brick portion escaped to a great extent, in- 
 cluding the gambling-houses. 
 
 Taking his way after dark into one of
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 101 
 
 them, the " Eldorado," situated in the 
 Plaza, two sides of which, consisting of brick 
 buildings, were occupied solely for gambling 
 purposes, our hero was almost dazzled 
 by the brilliancy reflected from sparkling 
 chandeliers and mirrors, above which the 
 gilded roof, supported by pillars of glass, 
 ever fascinated the upturned eye ; while 
 the walls, hung with paintings rich in 
 merit, but alone picturing female nudity, 
 rendered the place very fit to entice and 
 entrap, by its voluptuous and luxurious 
 aspect, the crowd of Yankees of all ranks, 
 — niggers, gold-diggers, Mexicans, and 
 Irish workmen, which then crowded its 
 precincts, and through which our hero felt 
 no little difficulty in navigating his way. 
 Tables covered with green cloth were scat- 
 tered over the room, at each of which sat 
 two calm-faced dealers, or bankers, actively 
 and deeply engaged in the game of monte. 
 The centres of the tables were covered with 
 gold ounces, and large nuggets, or " spe-
 
 102 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 cimens," recently brought down from the 
 mines, the quantity of which ounces and 
 nuggets fluctuated, and then increased very 
 rapidly, as our hero looked on. 
 
 The thin Spanish cards alone were 
 used ; and although the dealers were being 
 watched by a hundred eager men who, in 
 revenge for previous losses, would gladly 
 have detected a cheat, and have fallen upon 
 and torn them to pieces, still their eyes 
 were not quick enough to detect the work- 
 ings of the dexterous fingers they so closely 
 eyed. Neither did the bitter and at times 
 savage scrutiny, with which they were re- 
 garded, affect in the slightest degree the 
 repose of their calm unimpassioned fea- 
 tures, as each in his turn gathered in the 
 stakes. The crowd that surrounded each 
 of the tables was clamorous, and the bab- 
 bling roar of discordant voices rose above 
 the loud clang of instrumental music which 
 filled the place. Suddenly a shot was fired 
 within three tables of our hero, and, whiz-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 103 
 
 zing past his head, struck one of the mag- 
 nificent mirrors on the opposite side of the 
 saloon, fracturing it in a hundred directions. 
 There was an instantaneous cessation of 
 play ; and an excited rush of people intent 
 on placing themselves behind pillars and 
 under the bar for personal safety, in the 
 midst of which a second shot was fired, 
 but where the bullet went to no one saw. 
 
 The clamour and uproar, and cries of 
 " don't shoot," coupled with the intoxicated 
 vociferations and yells of a few, rendered 
 the place, '^ hell" as it was at any time, a 
 more confused and complete Babel-bedlam 
 than can be readily imagined. The excite- 
 ment soon grew less ; a wounded man was 
 carried out, and the suspended games were 
 resumed. From a paragraph in the news- 
 paper of the following morning, headed, 
 " Unfortunate Difiiculty," our hero ascer- 
 tained, that " during an altercation at the 
 ' Eldorado,' Mr. had to draw his re- 
 volver in self-defence on a digger, name
 
 104 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 unknown, the result of which had unfor- 
 tunately proved fatal," and this was all 
 that he or anyone else ever heard of it. 
 Neither, be it known, did the man-shooter 
 suffer any inconvenience, legally or socially, 
 in consequence. Each man carried his re- 
 volver and used it; and these weapons 
 were the chief dictators and law-givers of 
 California. 
 
 Early on the following morning our hero, 
 having easily procured employment, might 
 have been seen actively engaged in rebuild- 
 ing the burnt city, that is, in conjunction 
 with hundreds besides himself. A week 
 afterwards we find him an auctioneer's as- 
 sistant, handing round to a parcel of eager 
 customers — men of all nations — samples of 
 the various commodities then under the 
 hammer of the voluble and jocular indivi- 
 dual, who undertook to sell anything, from 
 rancid butter to broken crockery-ware.
 
 105 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 It was not until nearly a year had elapsed 
 that our hero quitted San Francisco for the 
 " Mines," there to try his fortune as a gold 
 digger. This he did by taking passage in 
 a small river-steamer for Stockton, a town 
 situated on the San Joaquin river, and 
 within thirteen hours run from the former 
 city, and from thence by a four-in-hand 
 stage for Sonora, a town centrally situated 
 in the heart of a mining district ; the latter 
 part of the journey, however, owing to the 
 rough rocky country and gulches which
 
 106 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 had to be crossed, was performed in a 
 strong spring waggon, drawn by six tough 
 horses that had travelled across the plains 
 and Rocky Mountains from the States to 
 California. The road here traversed was 
 hilly and primitive ; it was often a mere 
 natural trail, at times skirting a mountain 
 base, with a rapid declination, terminating 
 in a rocky ravine on the opposite side, over 
 which the vehicle jolted, and swayed from 
 side to side like a brig in the trough of a 
 cross sea, during which time each of the 
 passengers would loll their heads and bend 
 their bodies in a manner best calculated to 
 preserve the equilibrium of the said wag- 
 gon, accompanying the same with much 
 ejaculative comment on the roughness of the 
 road. Droves of heavily laden mules, and 
 much noisy disputation between the driver 
 of the waggon and the drivers of similar 
 vehicles returning, as to the right of pass- 
 age over the often narrow pathway, which 
 occasionally became blockaded, were the
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 107 
 
 chief things, apart from still life, that were 
 to be seen or heard during the journey. 
 
 It was dark when our hero and his com- 
 panions reached Sonora ; but night being 
 the most exciting part of the day (to use 
 an Irishism) in California, there was plenty 
 to be seen and done for those who felt in- 
 clined, as everybody seemed to be, to par- 
 ticipate in the prevailing merriment, and 
 add to the clamour which everywhere re- 
 sounded through the main street of Sonora. 
 Gigantic but fragile-looking tenements, 
 easy of combustion, (as was evidenced a few 
 nights afterwards,) lined either side of the 
 street, — -these were the gambling-houses. 
 Glittering chandeliers threw a brilliant 
 light on the piles of gold that lay about 
 on each monte table ; bands of music re- 
 sounded everywhere ; gorgeously set out 
 drinking bars invited thirst ; and crowds 
 of rash diggers, formed round each table, 
 enhanced the blandishing effect of the va- 
 rious saloons. " Gum-ticklers," " cock-
 
 108 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 tails," "hailstones," "stone-fences," "flashes 
 of lightning," and " neck-twisters," were 
 the drinks chiefly in demand, and of 
 which a general absorption was continually 
 going on. 
 
 Our hero had joined a party of three 
 who had previously been at the diggings 
 in the vicinity of Sonora, and consequently, 
 as is usual amongst Americans, they knew 
 almost every man in the place, to all of 
 whom their new mate was introduced, one 
 after the other, in rapid succession during 
 the whole night, shaking hands, as a matter 
 of course, that being the custom at every 
 introduction, and almost as frequently ac- 
 cepting " gum-ticklers," Americans being 
 endlessly liberal in " standing drinks all 
 round." Our hero and his companions at 
 length took their way towards the Ame- 
 rican Hotel, where they each paid a dollar 
 for their beds, and entered their names op- 
 posite the vacant numbers to be found on 
 " the slate." Our hero feeling tired, forth-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 109 
 
 with mounted the staircase in the direction 
 of the sleeping apartment, which turned out 
 to be a long, dimly lighted room, of the 
 same capacity and extent as that below; 
 in which latter, crowds of noisy gamblers 
 were staking their money, and a band of 
 Ethiopian serenaders were making loud and 
 active demonstrations. Ranged in long 
 rows down either side and in the centre of 
 this room, our hero caught sight of a vil- 
 lage of wooden, cross-legged stretchers, 
 with a canvas covering, each being fur- 
 nished with a pillow, in the form of a small 
 bag of hay, and a blue blanket : sheets and 
 mattresses were things not to be expected. 
 Threading his way through the dormitory 
 of a hundred stretchers, the majority of 
 which were occupied by the recumbent 
 figures of exceedingly hairy men, our 
 hero soon reached his chosen number, but 
 to his temporary chagrin found that his 
 allotted gridiron was blanketless, alike with 
 many of the other unoccupied beds. He,
 
 110 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 however, was as sharp as his neighbours — 
 as a year's residence in California was cal- 
 culated to make him, and but a very few 
 moments elapsed before he was comfortably 
 under the cover of three blankets, with his 
 revolver safely lodged under his pillow. In 
 spite of the din and revelry below, Harry 
 Trelawney sank to slumber, after which, 
 unfortunately for him, reprisal in the form 
 of a seizure of his blanketing, took place, 
 and he awoke before daylight to find him- 
 self very chilly and nude. But what of 
 that ; everything is fair in a gold country. 
 
 On the following morning, our hero and 
 his mates* took their way to the mines ; and 
 before evening, the former found himself 
 at the bottom of a shaft, lighted up by a 
 burning tallow candle, with glittering par- 
 ticles of gold shining like stars out of its 
 dark walls. It was his first sight of the 
 metal in its natural bed, and, with a half- 
 enchanted feeling, he viewed it as though 
 he had discovered tlie talisman of perpetual
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. Ill 
 
 wealth; but with successive days of hard 
 work, his ardour abated, and he found that 
 even digging for gold might be slow and 
 unprofitable work. At length, after six 
 months handling of the pick, shovel, and 
 " long tom" (gold- washer), the party was 
 broken up, and the " camp" in which they 
 sojourned given away, tools included, to a 
 new set ; while its late occupants, flushed 
 with success, repaired to San Francisco and 
 " banked " their gold ; our hero's share 
 of which, after deducting all expenses, 
 amounted to 4,600 dollars.
 
 112 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 After a month spent in hunting grizzly 
 bears (by one of which he had the flesh torn 
 from his arm, and, moreover, narrowly 
 escaped destruction), antelope and deer, 
 with an occasional shot at panthers, tiger- 
 cats, wild bulls, and still wilder geese, our 
 hero bade a long adieu to California, and 
 took passage, together with six hundred 
 others, by the steamer Golden Age^ for Pa- 
 nama, and was very much surprised, when 
 he went on board, to find no less a person- 
 age than Mr. Charles Winterthorne, of
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 113 
 
 New Zealand memory, as one of his fellow- 
 passengers. 
 
 " Hilloa ! who on earth would have ex- 
 pected to see you here V ejaculated the 
 latter. 
 
 " And who'd have expected to have seen 
 you here ]" echoed the other. 
 
 " Well, this is knocking about the world 
 with a vengeance !" observed Winterthorne, 
 after shaking hands. " Why, how is it 
 I've never seen you ] How long have you 
 been here V asked he. 
 
 "Oh, more than eighteen months,". was 
 the reply. 
 
 " Made much ]" asked the elder one. 
 
 " Oh yes ! pretty considerable," answered 
 our hero, who had acquired, to some extent, 
 the lingo of his Yankee associates ; for he 
 had lived amongst them at a susceptible 
 age, and would have passed for an American 
 as readily as he would have done for an 
 Irishman, had he been living in the Emerald 
 Isle during the same space of time, for both 
 
 I
 
 114 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 the lingo and the accent are highly con- 
 tagious in youth. 
 
 " How did you get here V asked our 
 hero. 
 
 " Through the States/' was the reply. 
 Here their conversation was interrupted by 
 the vessels starting. 
 
 " Off she goes, slick and slivery," ob- 
 served the last questioner, which he ra- 
 pidly followed up by saying, " We shall 
 have a pretty smooth passage I guess." To 
 which the other responded with, 
 
 " Yes, it looks like it." 
 
 " Let's liquor," said our hero, leading 
 the way down into the saloon. 
 
 " By all the snakes in Africa," ejaculated 
 the ex-bushranger, accepting the invitation, 
 " you're a reg'lar Yankee." 
 
 " I guess I am some," was the response ; 
 " beans and molasses, washed down with 
 ' gin slings,' have made me pretty ' cute ;' 
 so I calculate, that is." This of course was 
 a little harmless bravado on his part, as
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 115 
 
 amusing to one as to the other ; it was 
 rapidly followed by the swallowing of a 
 " spider" each, which beverages were con- 
 sidered very efficacious in keeping the 
 human throat clear of flies. 
 
 Nothing of note occurred during the 
 voyage ; the weather was bright and warm, 
 and the ocean reposed beneath the o'er- 
 hanging blue of the celestial waste in 
 placid beauty. Noise, dirt, and disorder, 
 were however prevalent features on board, 
 together with a never dying clamour of 
 voices, and an apparently unceasing sup- 
 ply of meals from morning till night, each 
 being ushered in with the loud, full, and 
 startling sound of a Chinese gong, which was 
 struck so often during the voyage, that the 
 only wonder to an Irishman on board was, 
 that there was any more music left in it at 
 all at all. 
 
 At length the ragged and scarcely dis- 
 tinguishable pearl islands at the entrance 
 of the Gulf of Panama were passed by.
 
 116 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 and at daylight on the following morning, 
 the flower clad isles which rest like bouquets 
 on the waters, decked out the prospect as 
 the ship glided swimmingly along towards 
 the venerable walls of that crumbling city, 
 from which Pizarro and his ruffian band 
 embarked beneath the Castilian flag, to 
 ravage and desecrate a country whose soil 
 they made red with the gore of its slaugh- 
 tered children. 
 
 Our hero and Winterthorne each mount- 
 ed a mule within two hours of their arrival 
 at Panama, and set off along tortuous paths, 
 walled in by the impervious forest, and 
 through rocky chasms, dangerously narrow 
 to pass through, as far as the village of Gor- 
 gona, where they took a native boat and 
 glided swiftly down the Chagres river, as far 
 as Barbacoes, to which point only the rail- 
 way was then completed. The bright rich 
 green of the foliage, which flourished moun- 
 tainously high in luxuriant growth, charmed 
 the eve in whatever direction it wandered.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 117 
 
 Gigantic palms, ferns, and graceful parasites, 
 the latter decked out with many a flower, 
 grew about everywhere ; and indescribable 
 was the majesty of that undulating forest, 
 unexplored, and unexplorable by man, which 
 overtopped that pestilential river, stretching 
 far away as the travellers rapidly passed 
 down its torpid stream, the great sink of 
 vegetable malaria, to which thousands of 
 adventurous wayfarers have fallen unresist- 
 ing victims — perished in the reckless ardour 
 of their wish for gold, never more to be 
 heard of — aloof from home and country, they 
 met with a wanderer's grave, unheeded and 
 uncared for. 
 
 The long train which stood in waiting for 
 those destined to leave Colon, or rather, 
 Aspinwall, by the New York steamer, was 
 rapidly filled by the crowds, that simul- 
 taneously flocked down the river, in boats 
 from Gorgona, and, shortly after the ap- 
 pointed hour, the order was given to " let 
 her slide," and after a hard barking strug-
 
 118 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 gle, the huge funnelled locomotive put re- 
 volution in the wheels, and slowly, and 
 jokingly, the train rolled along towards 
 Aspinwall ; before reaching which place, 
 however, its leader was put hors de comhai 
 on more than one occasion, while ascending 
 inclined planes, the track being winding and 
 uneven ; which resulted in the passengers, 
 almost to a man, with the agility and viva- 
 ciousness peculiar to Americans in general, 
 and returning Californians in particular, 
 getting out of the carriages and pushing the 
 train, to the conductor's signal of " Now 
 lads, heave together," which application of 
 muscular power set the wheels rolling at a 
 much more rapid rate than the persuasive, 
 or rather horse-power, of the panting engine 
 could have induced. 
 
 Aspinwall, that mushroom of the marsh, 
 was at length reached, and within three 
 hours after the arrival of the six hundred, 
 they, together with our hero and Winter- 
 thorne, had embarked, in great disorder, on
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 119 
 
 board the mail steamer for New York, 
 which vessel, having fired three guns, glided 
 silently out of port, through the black night, 
 and soon became lost to all save ocean.
 
 120 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 The ship stopped at the island of Jamaica 
 for the purpose of coaling and taking in 
 fresh provisions, which gave her passengers 
 an opportunity of strolling about Kingston 
 and admiring the Blue Mountains that 
 loom duskily, in bold and picturesque out- 
 line, vs^ith their undulating slopes and 
 irregular heights within view of the hard- 
 working population of dusty Kingston. 
 
 At about noon on the day following the 
 steamer's departure from Jamaica, sighting 
 the island of Cuba on her way, it was
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 121 
 
 discovered that she had sprung a leak, 
 but where no one seemed to know. The 
 supposition was that she had overstrained 
 herself, there being a very heavy sea run- 
 ning, which was increasing with each suc- 
 cessive hour, owing to the furious gale 
 then blowing. 
 
 The alarm soon spread, and dozens of 
 stalwart Californians volunteered to work 
 the pumps. The vessel at this time was 
 pitching fearfully. Suddenly, and before 
 the men had taken their places at the 
 pumps, a heavy sea, followed by another in 
 rapid succession, swept over the vessel, 
 carrying away the weather bulwarks and 
 extinguishing the fires in the engine room, 
 as well as flooding the lower cabins. 
 Several men were at the same time carried 
 overboard, while communication with the 
 coal bunkers was now found to be entirely 
 cut ofl", so that all hopes to re-get up steam 
 were at once abandoned. 
 
 The ship was now rolling helplessly about
 
 122 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 in the trough of the sea, with one half of her 
 starboard paddle-box torn away, while the 
 elements howled a piteous wail, and the 
 voices of frenzied women and despairing 
 men broke in terrible dissonance over the 
 disordered scene. Weather-beaten miners 
 bound their belts of gold dust round their 
 bodies, while others recklessly threw the 
 produce of years of toil about the saloon 
 floor, lest it's weight might cost them their 
 lives, but no one heeded it ; the love of life 
 now predominated over that of gold; and as 
 the vessel's foundering was every moment 
 anticipated by the anxious and excited 
 hundreds, every one might have been seen 
 with his life belt, — the regulations of these 
 steamers providing one for each pas- 
 senger — lashed round his body. The pumps 
 were being actively worked, but the water 
 was fast gaining upon them, while sea after 
 sea swept over the vessel's decks, carrying 
 every boat^ most of which were already 
 stove, away into the howling gulf beneath.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 123 
 
 Land lay far away ; not a sail was to be 
 seen, while the weather continued so thick, 
 and the sea so mountainous, that but little 
 hope could be entertained of assistance. 
 She was at length struck by a heavy sea, 
 which resounded like thunder against her 
 hull, while, as a wave swept over her decks, 
 she gave one fearful plunge, that brought 
 an universal shriek, a cry of agony from 
 all on board, which was instantaneously 
 drowned by the seething rush of the noisy 
 waters, as they closed over the vessel, fast 
 descending with an arrowy speed to her 
 ocean resting place. For a moment all, 
 save the roar of the elements, was still. 
 Then rose up the scattered masses of gur- 
 gling strugglers, and a scene of horror pre- 
 sented itself too painful for description. 
 Hundreds of living bodies borne up by life 
 belts floated about on the crested ocean ; 
 while many who had lost those hope and body 
 sustainers by the force of the whirlpool, 
 madly snatched at the pieces of wreck,
 
 124 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 that, breaking from the vessel as she sank, 
 leapt above the water, and fell back with a 
 splash ; while others, with the despair of 
 death, frantically clutched their fellows, 
 and, as a natural consequence, sank to- 
 gether. Night, with her black pall, was 
 fast gathering around. The drifting mul- 
 titude were hailing each other in calls of 
 friendship, or cries of despair, while many 
 a gurgling farewell was uttered to the 
 winds. Hope and dismay alternately took 
 possession of their senses, until, either 
 drowned by the ever recurring splash of 
 the waves, or exhausted with their strug- 
 gles, the spirit of life forsook them one by 
 one, and left them floating corses. 
 
 Our hero had been drifting for more 
 than an hour, companionless ; the solitude 
 was appalling as he rose and fell with each 
 surging w^ave, but to find himself alone in 
 the black night. He shouted as long as 
 he was able, in order, if possible, to attract 
 the attention of one of the many who were
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 125 
 
 similarly situated with himself, but in vain. 
 At length a wave threw him against a man, 
 kept afloat like himself, by a life belt. He 
 hailed him, but no voice responded. 
 He confronted a corpse. Midnight suc- 
 ceeded, and with it came rain ; but, alas ! 
 for help, there was none. The water, which 
 for the first few hours had not felt cold, for 
 it was in the month of July, now chilled 
 the body, and one by one the living became 
 dead. Daylight at length dawned, and 
 with it, contrary to expectation, the wind 
 and the rain subsided. The wan light of 
 morning cast its sickly ray upon the waters, 
 revealing to the dim sight of our hero many 
 a floating corpse, and this but added to the 
 ghastliness of the scene. 
 
 In the distance he saw a raft, and near 
 him more than one floating being, whose 
 still unexhausted strength and powers of 
 endurance, enabled them to speak. 
 
 Quickly, as the light spread, a sail, to 
 the joy of all, was discerned, and that at
 
 126 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 no great distance. The survivors were, how- 
 ever, too much enfeebled to manifest the 
 exultation which they felt ; and gradually 
 the sail approached nearer without a single 
 shout of greeting. 
 
 The vessel — it turned out to be an English 
 brig — was first hailed and attracted by the 
 raft, on which were five men ; there were 
 originally sixteen ; after which those sur- 
 vivors within sight were picked up by a 
 boat and hoisted on board, and amongst 
 them, our hero ; after which the vessel pro- 
 ceeded on her journey to New York. On 
 reaching the deck he was unable to stand, 
 or even speak ; but after being put to bed 
 and a little cordial had been administered, 
 he recovered from his extreme prostration, 
 yet it was not until the evening of the 
 day following, that his returning strength 
 enabled him to rise. 
 
 There were, in all, twelve men taken 
 on board, not a woman being found alive ; 
 but three of these subsequently died, and
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 127 
 
 but nine were landed at New York ; and 
 these alone were the survivors of the six 
 hundred who were carried down with the 
 sinking ship. Winterthorne was one, he 
 had a place on the raft, and, consequently, 
 fared better than our hero ; moreover, a 
 keg of rum and a bag of biscuits had been 
 lashed to the raft before the steamer's foun- 
 dering, which had enabled those who were 
 not swept off by the waves to, in the 
 language of the ex-bushranger, " make 
 themselves pretty comfortable." 
 
 *' How about the money, lost it '? " said 
 he, addressing our hero, on the occasion of 
 their first interview on board. 
 
 " No, I slung it round me, " was the re- 
 ply. He might have said, and three thousand 
 dollars beside, which he had picked up from 
 the saloon floor ; but he rightly considered 
 that would be injudicious, lest he might find 
 a claimant on board. 
 
 Winterthorne, less cautious, said, " I've 
 sixty thousand dollars more than I had when
 
 128 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 I left Aspinwall ; " and he spoke the truth. 
 He made no secret of it, and his companions 
 declared that he deserved it for the risk en- 
 tailed by carrying such a weight. The se- 
 cret, however, was that the old Australian 
 had two life-belts on instead of one ; the 
 first being hidden under his coat, which cir- 
 cumstance enabled him to " load himself," 
 without involving his own safety so far as 
 the carriage of weight was concerned in the 
 transaction, which, in his estimation, had 
 " turned out " very profitably indeed.
 
 129 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 In the town of Clifton, overlooking the city 
 of Bristol, fifty -five years before the open- 
 ing period of this our tale, resided one Law- 
 rence Cumberland, formerly a solicitor, but 
 now the proprietor of a private academy. 
 He had married two years previously, and at 
 the age of nineteen, the daughter of an 
 Exeter publican, this being antecedent to 
 his scholastic adventure, and at a time 
 when, to use the language of a class, he 
 was in very low water — in other words, 
 very hard up for funds. With the pub- 
 ic
 
 1.30 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 lican's daughter he received a dowry of 
 two hundred pounds, and with that he felt 
 himself rich, and was enabled to embark in 
 a career for which he esteemed himself 
 highly adapted, but which, in truth, he was 
 not, unless the periodical thrashings he ad- 
 ministered to his scholars, together with 
 the steady discipline he found himself ca- 
 pable of presefving by the sheer force of 
 his own savage nature, might be said to 
 constitute him the heau ideal of what a 
 schoolmaster ought to be. Twelve months 
 after this espousal in matrimony, a child 
 was born, which, being of the masculine 
 gender, was named Arthur, and besprinkled 
 accordingly at the baptismal font. Fifteen 
 months later, Mrs. Lawrence Cumberland, 
 unfortunately for herself, employed a certain 
 surgeon- accoucheur to officiate in assisting 
 another scion of the Cumberland family 
 into the world ; but, instead of doing which, 
 he inadvertently hurried both mother and 
 child out of it, to the great indignation and
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 131 
 
 reasonable disgust oi paterfamilias^ who de- 
 clined paying his fee on the occasion, and 
 moreover threatened him with a prosecu- 
 tion ; and this was the end of the publican's 
 daughter. About this time, Arthur, the sur- 
 viving child, was sent out to be nursed in 
 the family of a country labourer resident a 
 few miles distant. A few months later found 
 the numerous creditors of the widower — 
 for he had been clever enough to get into 
 debt — very clamorous indeed, and to his 
 mind and feelings unpleasantly so, as may 
 in reason be imagined by those who have 
 ever experienced the felicity of a dunning. 
 Mr. Cumberland, having nothing to gain, 
 and moreover nothing to lose, save his 
 liberty, which was now, however, becoming 
 very much endangered, — resolved upon 
 quitting Clifton ; the most judicious expe- 
 dient, it may be observed, that he could 
 under the circumstances of his case have 
 adopted. His scholars, who had never 
 been very numerous, had now dwindled
 
 132 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 away altogether ; for it was during the 
 Christmas vacation ; the boys were all at 
 home, and Mr. Cumberland had received 
 notification in nearly every case of the 
 withdrawal of the urchins, who had re- 
 ceived instruction at his hands in the form 
 of so many sound thrashings during the 
 time of his presidency over them. 
 
 Mr. Cumberland was a native of Ports- 
 mouth, so to that rainy borough of Hamp- 
 shire he took his way, after leaving his 
 academical residence on St. Vincent's Rock; 
 and there, be it known, recommenced prac- 
 tice as an attorney, and, what was still 
 better for him, contracted a second, and, as 
 he thought, a more advantageous marriage, 
 with respect to money, than the first ; for 
 he had allied himself with the daughter of 
 a man who was esteemed wealthy, and who, 
 although a greasy handed provision dealer, 
 was not scorned by the widower, owing to 
 the expected fortune which would accrue 
 to himself and wife at his, the said pro- 
 vision dealer's, hands.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 133 
 
 Mr. Cumberland's new bride was neither 
 physically beautiful nor mentally accom- 
 plished ; but he was satisfied, without, 
 however, being in love with her. The 
 honeymoon — that glad season of the nuptial 
 state — had scarcely passed over, when, to 
 the chagrin of the bridegroom, the father 
 of his spouse was adjudged and proclaimed 
 a bankrupt, with a probability of assets 
 to the amount of half- a- crown in the pound 
 sterling. Soon afterwards, as if to realize 
 the proverb which says " Misfortunes never 
 come alone". Attorney Cumberland was 
 arrested on a ca, sa. issued at Clifton on 
 account of one of his debts there, and 
 the newly married widower was forthwith 
 placed in durance, from which, however, 
 he was liberated, by legal process, eight 
 months afterwards. Three months subse- 
 quent to the period of this his restoration 
 to liberty, his wife No. 2 gave existence to 
 a son ; that son was baptised in the name 
 of William Henry, and was pronounced,
 
 134 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 by its mother in particular, and echoed 
 by half the childless women at Portsea in 
 general, to be " the finest baby that ever 
 was born," Having thus far made the 
 acquaintance of these personages, who are 
 destined to play a conspicuous part in this 
 our drama, w^e will leave them — 
 
 " Part, but to greet again."
 
 135 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 In the town of Nottingham lived, in the 
 year 1834, a certain William Kadley, a 
 maltster, and another, his elder brother, 
 James Radley, a woollen draper. Each was 
 married ; the former having issue two sons — 
 Stephen and Simon — and a daughter, while 
 the latter remained childless. This fact he 
 (James), be it known, much regretted ; but 
 in order to obviate it so far as gaining a 
 perpetuator of his name was concerned, and 
 also, in order to take from the seeming 
 barrenness of his own worldly estate, he
 
 136 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 caused his partner in unproductive matri- 
 mony to act and dress in accordance with 
 the maternal condition she was to feign. 
 This plan was as readily responded to by 
 Mrs. Kadley as it had been eagerly proposed 
 by the husband, whose bed she had been 
 in the habit of sharing for the twelve pre- 
 ceding years ; and accordingly she assumed 
 a growing circumference of bodily aspect, 
 which was pronounced " interesting," and 
 on a certain prearranged night, took to her 
 bed, and, after severe labour, was delivered 
 in the presence of Dr. UptosnufF (whose 
 true name was MacSlab), of a — pillow. 
 A new-born babe, procured from the Not- 
 tingham Lying-in- Hospital, was, however, 
 soon on the spot; and after lying in for 
 more than fifteen days, during which time, 
 owing, as was alleged by Dr. MacSlab, to 
 her nervous state, she preserved strict pri- 
 vacy, Mrs. James Radley again presented 
 herself to the world — a mother. Not a 
 relation besides her husband was in the
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 137 
 
 secret ; and the child, a boy, was duly en- 
 trusted to the care of a wet-nurse, without 
 any suspicion being entertained as to its 
 parentage. Mr. James Radley was a man 
 worth, as people said, his twenty thousand 
 pounds ; and they spoke truly. 
 
 " What a disappointment for William's 
 children ! they thought they'd come in for 
 it all," spoke the neighbours with varia- 
 tions. 
 
 " I wonder that she had a child after so 
 long," observed another. 
 
 " There's no accounting for things now- 
 a-days," said some one else. 
 
 " I shouldn't wonder if she turned to 
 and had half-a-dozen more now," remarked 
 the wife of William, the younger and less 
 wealthy brother ; no doubt feeling a little 
 sorry at seeing such a manifestation of the 
 procreative powers of her sister-in-law. 
 
 " I wonder if it'll live," ruminated 
 William, evidently wishing it dead ; for 
 previous to the announcement of his
 
 138 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 brother's wife being enceinte, he had cal- 
 culated upon inheriting the entire estate 
 of his brother, he being his only relative. 
 A few months after the occurrence of the 
 event last named, Mrs. William Eadley 
 died. Shortly afterwards, Stephen, the 
 elder of her sons, then in his twenty- fifth 
 year, absconded from the service of his 
 employers, to whom he acted as commercial 
 traveller, with a considerable sum of money, 
 which he had embezzled. He left behind, 
 at Nottingham, his wife and child, to whom 
 he forwarded, at the time, the sum of one 
 hundred pounds, after which all trace was 
 lost of him for years. In the meantime 
 the delinquent had established himself as 
 a merchant at Hamburgh, under the name 
 of Lucien de Burgh, where, his first wife 
 being still alive and at Nottingham, he 
 married a second wife, a German by birth, 
 but of French extraction, and the adopted 
 niece of one Madame Rosenthal. She was 
 motherless from infancy, and her father,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 139 
 
 being an alien from his country, she found 
 in her maternal aunt, whose name she 
 adopted, a guardian at once kind and faith- 
 ful. 
 
 She was now in her nineteenth year, 
 and although not far outvying in beauty 
 her fellow-countrywomen in general, she 
 was graceful and accomplished, the only 
 fault of her education being its profound- 
 ness ; for she was versed in Latin, and had 
 a smattering of the more abstruse sciences, 
 things which have a powerful tendency to 
 make women strong-minded, and to dis- 
 possess them of their more genial attributes ; 
 for surely simplicity and dependence are 
 more fascinating in woman than the know- 
 ledge of bygone languages. 
 
 It soon happened that circumstances de- 
 manded De Burgh's attention at Manches- 
 ter, to which town he repaired, alone, 
 deeming the trip to involve little or no risk, 
 so far as his capture was concerned, he being 
 quite unknown in that town. The voyage
 
 140 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 to London, and from thence, by coach, to 
 Manchester, was performed in safety ; but 
 to his great consternation, the first person 
 he confronted after entering the coffee room 
 of the Queen's Hotel, where he had taken 
 up his quarters, was a member of the Not- 
 tingham firm that he had defrauded. 
 
 He was at once recognised and given into 
 custody. On the following morning he was 
 conveyed to his native town of stockings 
 and bobbinets, and having made his ap- 
 pearance before a police magistrate there, 
 was, as the reports say, fully committed for 
 trial. 
 
 His wife was still living, as also his child. 
 " Oh ! my dear Stephen, what made you 
 take the money 1 Oh ! my poor, dear hus- 
 band, you've ruined yourself," spoke she, 
 sobbing mournfully, as she reclined her 
 head upon his shoulder, within the cavern- 
 ous, sepulchral looking cell, in which he was 
 confined on the first day of his arrival, and 
 where she gave way to all the bitterness of
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 141 
 
 heartfelt grief, of which woman's nature is 
 so readily capable. 
 
 *' It's a bad job, Emily, but it can't be 
 helped," replied the husband. 
 
 '' Oh ! the poor child," continued the 
 mother, weeping hysterically, after which 
 she fell, swooning, to the floor. 
 
 At the ensuing assizes, Stephen E-adley 
 had a verdict of guilty pronounced against 
 liim on two separate counts, and he was 
 sentenced to be transported beyond the seas 
 for the term of fourteen years. 
 
 Nothing transpired, either before or after 
 trial, as to the act of bigamy committed at 
 Hamburgh, nor yet as to his business rela- 
 tions at that place, and Stephen Radley left 
 England shortly afterwards, a convict,bound 
 for Botany Bay, then, but now no longer, a 
 penal settlement ; from which, not long after 
 his arrival, he was successful in eff'ecting his 
 escape into the bush. 
 
 Reader, that man is no other than the 
 ex-bushranger, our old friend, Charles
 
 142 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 Winterthorne, the Black Prince, of Aus- 
 tralia. Five years from the time of his 
 brother's conviction, Simon, dissatisfied with 
 his home at Nottingham, embarked, with 
 his wife and two sons, for New York, there 
 to try his fortune in the new world, and 
 build to himself the cot of independence, 
 in the wilderness though it might be.
 
 143 
 
 CHAPTEE XXI. 
 
 After the arrival of our hero and Winter- 
 thorne at New York, there to tell the tale 
 of shipwreck, and their own perilous posi- 
 tion and accidental deliverance ; they each 
 took up their quarters at the New York 
 Hotel, Broadway, preparatory to their in- 
 tended departure for Europe. 
 
 It was on the second morning of their 
 stay there, that Winterthorne, while peru- 
 sing one of the numerous daily newspapers 
 of the place, observed a paragraph making 
 brief mention of the affray at Bagdad which 
 forms the subject of our opening chapter,
 
 144 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 and in which the name of Simon Radley 
 was prominently mentioned. 
 
 " Simon Radley," ejaculated Winter- 
 thorne, with a wondering curiosity, and 
 turning towards our hero, who sat by him. 
 
 " Why, that's my — " he checked him- 
 self; " the name of a relation of mine." 
 
 " What is it V asked the other, leaning 
 over his paper to see what w^as the cause 
 of his friend's perturbation. 
 
 "This:" pointing, "read it." 
 
 Our hero did so. 
 
 " Oh ! perhaps it's not the same ; there 
 are plenty of Radleys in the world," ob- 
 served he, after going over it. 
 
 " Just so : it may be, but something 
 strikes me it is. Simon's not a common 
 name," continued Winterthorne. 
 
 " They've seemingly made bloody work 
 of it," remarked our hero, who had by this 
 time, by virtue of his Californian experience, 
 grown a little used to such like affrays 
 and intelligence.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 145 
 
 *' I've no sympathy left for Lynch law- 
 yers," continued he : " they kill more than 
 they cure. I look upon them as tyrants 
 and murderers. Serve them all right, I 
 say, and I guess others will say the same, 
 if they get it as hot everywhere as they 
 did at that place, Bagdad." 
 
 " They were useful once ; they cleared 
 San Francisco of a bad lot," observed the 
 ex-bushranger. 
 
 " How long is it since your relation 
 came to this country V asked the other. 
 
 " Ah ! I don't know. I didn't know 
 that he was here at all," was the reply. 
 
 " Oh ! then what puts it into your head 
 that this is him ]" 
 
 "Well, the name:" answered Winter- 
 thorne ; " it's as likely as not to be the 
 same ; at any rate I shall just take a run 
 up as far as this Bagdad, and see." 
 
 " Pooh !" ejaculated his companion : but 
 nevertheless he went, and with him jour- 
 neyed our hero. 
 
 L
 
 146 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 On arriving at the railway station nearest 
 Bagdad, Mr. Winterthorne and his com- 
 panion hired a vehicle, chiefly made up of 
 wheels, and were driven direct to the house 
 recently occupied by the defunct Simon 
 Hadley. The house they found to be shut 
 up, and apparently empty, with no evidence 
 of the recent conflict to be seen, save in the 
 neighbouring ground being a little raked 
 up by horse movement. 
 
 " We'll go on to the town : I guess 
 we'll know all about it then," said the 
 driver of the conveyance, who had heard 
 something about the " Lynch lawing," but 
 who was entirely unacquainted with the 
 particulars relative to the aff'ray ; and to the 
 town they went. " A regulator lives here," 
 remarked the driver, pulling up in front of 
 a detached building, with barn-like out- 
 houses standing near. " We'll institute 
 our inquiries ;" and forthwith the three 
 transferred themselves to the ground. At 
 that moment, the door of the house opened,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 147 
 
 and a German girl presented herself: "Is 
 Mr. Brooks inside ?" asked the driver, and 
 almost simultaneously the wife of that in- 
 dividual made her appearance, and invited 
 the party into the house. 
 
 " Mr. Brooks is getting on, the doctor 
 says, as well as can be expected," she ob- 
 served. 
 
 " These gentlemen, Mrs. Brooks, friends 
 of mine," spoke the driver, " want to know 
 something about E^adley, the man they 
 lynch'd : I guess you can tell them." 
 
 " Well, I don't know as I can ; I never 
 knew much- of him, but my husband can 
 tell you all about him. Wait a minute, 
 gentlemen. Sit yourselves down, and I'll 
 tell him." She said this quickly, with a 
 singing swing of the voice, which was 
 melodramatic in its Yankee peculiarity. 
 
 " Tell him to come down," shouted the 
 driver, as she receded en route for the Regu- 
 lator's bedroom. 
 
 "Come down, did you sayV said she,
 
 148 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 turning suddenly round. "Would you 
 come down after being shot in the legs as 
 he was, and coming home all over great big 
 red spots of blood T' after delivering herself 
 of which, in a manner too amazingly musical 
 to be described, she vanished. 
 
 " She's a clipper ! " observed the driver. 
 " Splendid figure head," added our hero. 
 " Slick, slim, and slivery." 
 
 In less than three minutes the wife re- 
 appeared, exclaiming — "He'll see you! 
 come on up to him." And quick to the 
 word Winterthorne and his friend followed 
 the lady upstairs, leaving the driver below. 
 It was a large, airy, and well furnished 
 room into which they were shown, and the 
 wounded Regulator sat in an easy chair 
 fronting a window which overlooked an 
 extensive orchard. 
 
 " This is my husband," said the con- 
 ductress, pointing in the most unmistak- 
 able manner at that individual; which, 
 considering that he was the sole occupant
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 149 
 
 of the room previous to their entrance, 
 seemed to be a proceeding in every way 
 superfluous. The husband bent his head 
 in recognition. 
 
 "What, Charley Winterthorne ! " ejacu- 
 lated he suddenly, to the astonishment of 
 everybody, including the veritable Charley 
 himself. 
 
 "Bless my soul; is that you, Brooks] 
 I never thought of you till this minute ; 
 I'd forgotten the name. How are you, old 
 fellow r' and the two men shook each other 
 heartily by the hand. 
 
 " Allow me to introduce a New Zea- 
 land friend of mine, Mr. Trelawney," 
 said Winterthorne, presenting our hero, 
 who, after the American fashion, shook 
 hands with him instanter. 
 
 We may here remark, that Winterthorne 
 was ignorant of the name under which the 
 father of our hero had been transported, 
 the latter having, with a view to his own 
 safety, and in order to throw off his iden-
 
 150 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 tity, made a fictitious statement in that 
 respect. 
 
 " Trelawney," muttered the Eegulator 
 within himself; but no suspicion of rela- 
 tionship flashed on his mind. 
 
 " An Englishman V said Brooks inter- 
 rogatively, addressing our hero, and, as the 
 reader is aware, his own son. 
 
 " No, a born Yankee," exclaimed Win- 
 terthorne, who sat by. " Can't you tell 
 
 that r 
 
 Our hero smiled at the facetiousness of 
 his companion, and left it uncontradicted ; 
 and the tongue of Mrs. Brooks coming into 
 full play at that very moment, the Regu- 
 lator, under the impression that Mr. Henry 
 Trelawney was a born Yankee, turned 
 his attention to something else. 
 
 " What about this Simon Radley 1 where 
 does he come from 1" asked Winterthorne. 
 
 " I don't know. Youll find three of his 
 children at Scantleberry's'' 
 
 " Two," ejaculated the wife, correctively.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 151 
 
 " Well, two. The young thing died 
 yesterday," continued Brooks, alluding to 
 the child we originally mentioned as having 
 been wounded. 
 
 After a little more conversation, in 
 which renewed expressions of surprise at 
 so unexpected a meeting were exchanged 
 between Brooks and Winterthorne, the 
 visitors withdrew, in order to take their 
 way to the house of Mr. Scantleberry ; pro- 
 mising, however, at the request of Brooks, 
 to return and stay the night at his house. 
 The wheels of the vehicle were again put 
 in motion, and a drive of less than twenty 
 minutes brought them to the door of the 
 desired gentleman's residence. 
 
 He was a regulator, who had very wisely 
 " made off" from within reach of Mr. Simon 
 Kadley's bullets on the occasion of the late 
 affray, and, by so doing, had preserved a 
 beating pulse as well as what is commonly 
 called a whole skin. " Precaution is the 
 better part of valour", was a favourite pro-
 
 152 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 verb of his, in such like desperate cases, in 
 consequence of which it had been said of 
 him, that he was no fool. Certain it was, 
 than an observance of the motto had en- 
 abled him to outlive his companion in arms, 
 -^his compeers in Lynchlawry, — for while 
 many of them now slept beneath the sod, 
 he was, to use a frequent expression of our 
 hero's, " slick and slivery", or in other, 
 although equally loose, phraseology, " alive 
 and kicking". 
 
 An interview with this prudent indivi- 
 dual, whom we may call the model regu- 
 lator, was obtained without delay, and, at 
 the expressed desire of Winterthorne, the 
 two surviving boys were introduced into 
 his presence. 
 
 " Come from England V said he, after a 
 few preliminary remarks from everybody 
 present. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I was born there," answered 
 the elder boy. 
 
 ''Where'? in what parti"
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 153 
 
 " Nottingham," was the reply. 
 
 " By all the snakes in Africa !" ejaculated 
 Winterthorne, turning to our hero, " it's as 
 I told you; nothing else. "Was your 
 brother born there, too V he continued 
 quickly. 
 
 " No ; I guess I warn't," answered the 
 Ribston-pippin-faced youth alluded to. 
 
 " I guess not, either ; it doesn't sound 
 like it," observed Winterthorne, laughing. 
 " Well boys, I'm your uncle, that's the fact ; 
 I didn't know it till this minute," continued 
 he, bluntly, to the great astonishment of 
 his hearers. 
 
 " My brother, who was shot, was born at 
 Nottingham. He was older than I am," 
 remarked the elder of the boys. " Our 
 mother died a long time ago," he continued. 
 
 " Who has the key of the house yonder 
 — Eadley's? Can I get into if?" asked 
 Winterthorne, addressing Mr. Eegulator 
 Scantleberry, in a rather excited manner. 
 " I want to see if he has left any papers 
 behind."
 
 154 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 " Yes ; I guess you can. I have the 
 key," responded that gentleman. " Cer- 
 tainly." 
 
 ''Well, when shall we set about if?" 
 asked the other. 
 
 " Straight off, I guess," answered Scantle- 
 berry ; and in less than a quarter of an 
 hour afterwards the whole party, including 
 the boys, were being driven in the Regu- 
 lator's springy equipage, and the other thing 
 on wheels, towards the recently barricaded 
 house of the departed Simon Radley. 
 
 The search had not been long proceeded 
 with, when a canvas bag, half full of letters, 
 was discovered. Winterthorne opened the 
 bag, and looked at them. They were chiefly 
 letters from his relatives, the very things, 
 however, that he had anxiously hoped to 
 find. 
 
 " Can I take these '?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes, I guess so ; yes," answered the 
 obliging Regulator ; and with this much 
 desired booty, being all the documentary
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 155 
 
 evidence they could find, Charles Winter- 
 thorne, and the rest of the party, left the 
 house, and drove to the residence of the 
 wounded Theophilus Brooks.
 
 156 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 On the day following, our hero and Win- 
 
 terthorne left Bagdad en route for New 
 York, the latter promising to keep up a 
 correspondence with Brooks, who was now 
 quite convalescent. 
 
 " It's a strange thing to see people knock 
 together, in the way they do, about the 
 world," remarked Winterthorne. " Here 
 we were together in New Zealand, and met 
 in California. Here again Brooks and I 
 were together in New South Wales, and 
 here he is now a Georgia regulator ; while
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 157 
 
 my own brother, that I left at Nottingham, 
 has been shot at Bagdad, and I should 
 never have known anything about it but 
 for a newspaper paragraph." 
 
 " Had your brother assumed the name 
 of KadleyT' asked his companion, en- 
 deavouring to account for the variation in 
 the brother's name. 
 
 " Yes ! " answered the other. " His 
 mother left him some money." 
 
 This said, our hero rested satisfied, caring 
 not whether such was the truth or no. 
 
 Winterthorne lost his buoyancy of 
 temper and remained thoughtful, as if 
 inwardly digesting the contents of the 
 letters found in the house of Simon Ead- 
 ley, the defunct one, during the whole of 
 the journey back to New York. 
 
 They missed their intended steamer for 
 England at the latter port, which, as a 
 natural consequence, resulted in a post- 
 ponement of the voyage thence, and enabled 
 them, at the suggestion of our hero, to take
 
 158 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 Steamer up the Hudson to Albany, and 
 thence on by rail to the far-famed Niagara, 
 whose ever rolling waters, and their never- 
 ceasing roar, he longed to both see and 
 hear. 
 
 Bold and undulating were the banks of 
 the picturesque river as they were carried 
 swiftly along on board one of the so-called 
 floating palaces of the American waters. 
 The day was bright, and the vivifying rays 
 and invigorating warmth of the sun lit up 
 the varied scenery that ever greeted their 
 view during the entire journey, — here wild 
 and rugged, there rich in thQ treasures of 
 Flora and the many hues of nature, each 
 floweret vying with the other in odoriferous 
 wealth and luxuriant profusion : but let us 
 stop, language cannot paint the beauties 
 that decked out the distance, as seen from 
 that river steamboat. All looked glad and 
 rosy, and nature's lavish hand was every- 
 where made manifest amid the grandeur of 
 the ever changing panorama.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 159 
 
 The two voyagers were, as the reader 
 may well imagine, half enchanted with the 
 scenery : but with regard to the steamboat 
 itself, and the breakfast and dinner therein 
 served to them, the case was very different. 
 There were about a hundred small dishes 
 scattered over the table, each containing a 
 homoeopathic dose of anything but what 
 was wanted, and, in general, pickles. The 
 attendance was bad, the price of refresh- 
 ment high, and the knives, forks, and 
 plates as dirty and as common as those to 
 be found in the Bowery of New York. A 
 "spread" on board a Hudson steamer formed 
 a strong and disagreeable contrast to the 
 same sort of thing in any of the New York 
 hotels, while the vessels themselves, so far 
 as the " queen of rivers" was concerned, 
 were very undeserving of the name ori- 
 ginally bestowed upon their fellow coursers 
 through the more mighty waters of the 
 Mississippi. It was during the latter part 
 of the month of July ; the weather in New
 
 160 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 York for the previous week had been hot 
 and blazing beyond all precedent, but this 
 day, and on the river, it felt cold, and even 
 chilling. 
 
 Trelawney entered into conversation with 
 a portly, middle aged woman on board — a 
 passenger. " I think," observed he, after 
 much mutual interchange of ideas, " that 
 the ladies of the United States are much 
 more beautiful than the English ladies, and 
 that the men of England are much hand- 
 somer than the Yankees." 
 
 " I don't agree with you, sir," replied 
 his vis-d-vis. " I'm an Englishwoman, and 
 my husband's an American, and as fine a 
 man as you'd wish to see ; and in my 
 opinion, the women of the States are a set 
 of half-wizened things, and fade in a few 
 years just as a piece of cheese would." 
 
 " Bad simile, ma'am," remarked Tre- 
 lawney ; " I consider them the most beau- 
 tiful women on the face of the earth, and I 
 guess all but a Britisher will say as I say ;"
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 161 
 
 (A pause.) "Where, ma'am, foj; instance, let 
 me ask, will you see a repulsive coun- 
 tenance down Broadway 1 Nowhere : never, 
 ma'am. And go to England, and the first 
 woman you meet looks as if she'd kick you, 
 or as if she'd been fed on bran and treacle 
 all her life. Ma'am, depend upon it, the 
 English women are not to be compared 
 to their sisters of the United States ; they 
 don't know how to walk even." After 
 which saying of our hero's, the fair lady 
 rose abruptly from her seat on the lower 
 deck, and strutted off with much British 
 indignation, without deigning to speak 
 another word. " She thinks I meant it ;" 
 chuckled he, as she disappeared from his 
 view. " Gad, her mane's up pretty stiff 
 and no mistake." 
 
 The steamer arrived at Albany at four 
 o'clock in the afternoon, having left New 
 York at six in the morning ; but finding 
 that town very dingy looking, and, moreover, 
 smelling very much of pickled pork and 
 
 M
 
 162 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 provisions in general, they took train on the 
 same night for Buffalo, and put up at the 
 " Broadway" ; and on the day following 
 took their way twelve miles further, and 
 were within hearing of the deadened 
 thunder of Niagara. They took their way 
 on foot from the hotel of the latter name, 
 one of many in the town of Niagara, to the 
 world renowned falls. They turned a 
 corner, and suddenly they were within 
 view of the mighty cataract. Their first 
 sensation was one of disappointment ; the 
 river was dark, smooth, and without the 
 slightest swell, both above and below the 
 falls ; the unfluctuating torrent, that rolled 
 over the precipice so evenly, that it might 
 have been mistaken for a painting, alone 
 lent antithesis to the scene, and as they 
 approached nearer, imbued their souls with 
 silent admiration. On on, with an ever 
 ceaseless flow, rolled the waters over the 
 precipice ; for a moment they were con- 
 vulsed with a crested agitation, then glided
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 163 
 
 peacefully down the cliff-banked river as 
 far as the whirlpool beyond, thence onward 
 to the outstretched waste of lake Ontario. 
 
 Our travellers stood on the upper bank 
 and in full view of the great horse shoe 
 fall. A daguerreotype artist approached 
 them as the sun burst forth anew, and 
 proceeded to "fix" them, without much 
 introductory ceremony, for a " view of the 
 falls." In a few moments afterwards he 
 submitted the newly taken picture, with 
 the bodies of our friends in the front 
 ground; our hero readily purchased this 
 for the sum of four dollars. They now 
 took their way down a long steep ladder 
 stretching from the cliffs to the bed of the 
 lower river, where they went on board a 
 small steamer about to proceed under the 
 falls. The steamer rounded the falls, on 
 their very verge, the deck being washed 
 with spray, and each of the passengers 
 covered with a long oil-skin coat, hooded 
 and reaching to the heels. The little
 
 164 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 steamer pitched slightly as she all but 
 sailed under the cataract ; but a yard further 
 down the river all was smooth, and not 
 even a sign of the current was manifest. 
 
 " They are very grand during the winter," 
 observed one of the passengers, in allusion 
 to the falls. " They're hemmed in with 
 snow, white and crystalline, and they plunge 
 down with such thundering majesty amid 
 the desolation, that it adds considerably to 
 the effect of even the most gigantic water- 
 fall in the world. The rainbow which you 
 see playing over them now, looks ten times 
 more beautiful amid the Arctic scenery 
 of December, and you feel spell-bound as 
 you stand and look — you feel ri vetted to 
 the spot; and some have been tempted 
 with such a fascination, that they've jumped 
 over and been dashed to pieces instanter." 
 
 "Ha! they'll not get me to do that," 
 observed our hero ; " times are too good to 
 throw oneself away like that." 
 
 They returned to New York after a stay
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 165 
 
 of two days duration at Niagara, and having 
 wandered up and down between the marble 
 edifices in Broadway, and looked into the 
 oyster and lagar beer cellars, as well as 
 having visited the saloons, theatres, and 
 hotels, which there abound, they took their 
 places in the New York hotel omnibus, 
 and drove to the foot of Canal Street, en 
 route for Liverpool.
 
 166 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 The information contained in the letters 
 which had so readily fallen into the hands 
 of Charles Winterthorne, embraced the 
 death of each of his parents, as well as of 
 his aunt and respected uncle, James Radley. 
 The latter had died without executing a 
 will, and the putative son and heir, with 
 whose existence the reader is already 
 familiar, had inherited the entire estate at 
 the decease of his father. 
 
 Winterthorne's first object, after landing 
 on the shores of the Mersey, was to proceed
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 167 
 
 to his native town. He rightly presumed 
 that the law authorities of Nottingham 
 were utterly unacquainted with the fact of 
 his having made an escape, and that if they 
 were, he incurred no danger in making his 
 presence manifest over the^ graves of his 
 departed kinsmen. He sought interviews 
 with two old friends, one of whom was no 
 other than Dr. MacSlab. Winterthorne, 
 in the character of a returned convict, was 
 not, of course, very anxious to show himself 
 about Nottingham ; and having received 
 confirmation of all contained in the letters, 
 together with the whole history of every- 
 body he had known, his first wife excepted, 
 he quitted the town, promising, at the 
 particular request of Dr. MacSlab, to write 
 to him, and also to return to Nottingham 
 after he had made the continental tour of 
 which he spoke ; in the meantime, the 
 doctor was to use his best endeavours to 
 find out where the missing wife was, 
 without, however, informing her of the
 
 168 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 retnrn of her husband. MacSlab ex- 
 pressed it as his opinion that she had con- 
 tracted a second marriage, and also hinted 
 vaguely at the probability of his, Winter- 
 thorne's, yet succeeding to the property of 
 his uncle, now worth about forty-two 
 thousand pounds, or more than double 
 what it was at the birth of the alleged son, 
 since baptized Christopher. 
 
 Winterthorne rejoined our hero at the 
 Queen^s Hotel, London, according to ar- 
 rangement, a very few hours after the 
 arrival of the former. Trelawney's first 
 visit on the morning following was to the 
 cottage of his nurse, the old midwife 
 of the blue shuttered cottage in Southwark. 
 He had neither heard of nor from her since 
 the time of his departure for California; 
 but while there, he had made her a re* 
 mittance of two hundred dollars. He 
 readily found his way on foot to the de- 
 sired cottage : the door was shut. He 
 lifted the latch, and was about to enter.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 169 
 
 when his eye met that of no other than the 
 object of his visit, Sally Dykes. 
 
 " God bless my soul and body," she 
 ejaculated, laying down the bellows with 
 which she had been trying to force the 
 fire into a blaze, with the view apparently 
 of boiling a small tin kettle of water which 
 rested on the smouldering coals. 
 
 " How do you do, mother ] you see I'm 
 back again," cried Trelawney, advancing 
 towards her. In a moment the old woman 
 had him in her embrace. 
 
 " Oh my poor dear boy," she exclaimed, 
 and the tears of a warm-hearted affection 
 gushed out and rolled down her withered 
 countenance. 
 
 " Did you get my letter, mother V asked 
 he. 
 
 " Yes, my child, I did, indeed;" and she 
 strove to kiss him with very gratitude. 
 
 " That's all right," said he : " and here's 
 some more for you," pulling out a porte 
 monnaie containing twenty sovereigns, 
 which he handed to her.
 
 170 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 "No, no, my child, keep it, I've got 
 plenty, you'll want it yourself, keep it my 
 child," and she pushed it back to him kindly, 
 which, however, he refused to take. 
 
 " I've heard nothing of your poor mo- 
 ther, Harry," spoke the old woman, " no- 
 thing ; Mr. Scamperwell has been here 
 twice, but that's all." 
 
 "How's Nelly Scraggs'? " asked our hero, 
 in allusion to the wife of the cobbler, who 
 had once suckled him. 
 
 " Oh ! poor thing, I don't know; they're 
 living somewhere in the New Cut. I gave 
 her five pounds of the money you sent, as 
 you wished ; but since that they've moved, 
 and I'm getting too old to walk far, so I 
 must wait till they come. Yes," continued 
 the old woman, " I'm drawing towards the 
 grave, Harry ; yes, I shall be seventy-nine 
 next September. If it hadn't been for the 
 money you sent me, I should have made up 
 my mind for the workhouse ; but, please 
 God, I shall be able to keep out of it now."
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 171 
 
 "And," said our hero "while I've strength 
 to earn a penny, or while, as the sailors say, 
 there's a shot in the locker, you shall keep 
 out of it. Oh ! don't think of that, mother, 
 make yourself happy." 
 
 The old woman had a great inclination 
 to exhibit him to the neighbours, in- 
 cluding the old grocer; but to this species of 
 publicity and lionising our hero now enter- 
 tained a great objection. He did not wish to 
 be made a puppet of the day for the gratifi- 
 cation of the cottagers with whom he had 
 mingled in early youth, although he knew 
 them to be each as familiar with his fortunes 
 as Sally Dykes. He rather wished to ob- 
 scure himself from their gaze than other- 
 wise ; for, in truth, he esteemed their 
 acquaintance anything but desirable or 
 recommendatory, and had now begun to 
 soar for a place in the social scale something 
 higher than that in which he had been bred; 
 while the mystery in which his parentage 
 was shrouded only tended to increase his
 
 172 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 self-esteem, and to make him look upon 
 himself as a shuttlecock, flung from the 
 battledore of fortune, yet destined to alight 
 on that favoured ground from which his 
 mother had been estranged, he knew not 
 how, and thus caused him to be launched 
 upon the sea of life deserted and unknown, 
 exposed to the caprice of every blast which 
 poverty and its attendant evils might inflict. 
 "Good bye, mother," he said, as he pressed 
 her hand and kissed her cheek, " I'll see you 
 as soon as I return from France. God bless 
 
 you." 
 
 The old woman uttered her benediction 
 with tears in her eyes, and followed him 
 with her gaze till he had disappeared into 
 the Blackfriars Road, when she shut the 
 door of her humble domicile, and, in com- 
 pany with one of the neighbours, who had 
 been attracted by the visitor, sat down and 
 cried. 
 
 " We may as well start to-morrow," said 
 Winterthorne, addressing our hero, when
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 173 
 
 they met at the hotel, and alluding to their 
 proposed continental tour. 
 
 " Anything you like, my dear," was the 
 facetious answer ; and true to the morrow, 
 they started. 
 
 It was a glorious day in the month of 
 August ; London Bridge was crowded with 
 wheel and passenger traffic, as, indeed, it 
 ever is, and prancing steeds and coroneted 
 carriages had to thread their way in the 
 midst of brewers' drays, hand carts, country 
 carts, cabs, and omnibuses, as they best 
 could ; for in this vortex of men and vehicles 
 they were each put upon that equality of 
 speed which daily resulted in many missing 
 their intended trains, and, moreover, bring- 
 ing many an oath, indicative of impatience, 
 to life, which, had not London Bridge been 
 such a grand artery of circulation between 
 Middlesex and Surrey, would never have 
 been uttered. But the world is full of 
 turmoil, struggling, and confusion, and life 
 is made up of vexation ; so that this great
 
 174 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 city bridge, looked at philosophically, nearly 
 represents, on a Liliputian scale, the mighty 
 stage itself, with its medley of living actors, 
 its bustle, its discord, and its strife. There 
 is no time for moralizing in this our age of 
 Mammon worshippers ; let us, therefore, 
 hurry our travellers along by the Dover 
 train, and give a birdseye view of their 
 wanderings through Europe, leaving behind 
 all the din of London, with its medley of 
 human life, its poverty and its wealth, its 
 magnificence and its squalid wretchedness ; 
 on ! behind the panting breath of that 
 steam-horse, the locomotive, towards the 
 breeze-swept cliffs of Dover.
 
 175 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Messrs. Trelawney and Winterthorne soon 
 reached Calais, from which place, after en- 
 during their full share of annoyance and 
 crushing incidental to the passport ordeal, 
 they took train on the Great Northern 
 Railway of France for Courtrai, passing, on 
 their way, the ancient town of St. Omer, 
 with its Abbey of St. Bertin, and of Lille, 
 with its citadel of seven sieges. Thence, 
 having crossed the Belgian frontier, the 
 train stopped at Valenciennes, where a 
 general opening of trunks and a tumbling
 
 176 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 about of baggage took place, after which 
 the snug, carpet-making town of Tournay 
 was gained, famous as having been captured 
 by Henry the Eighth, who bestowed its 
 bishopric on the then favoured Wolsey. 
 Finally, after much shaking and jolting, in 
 a carriage pulled along at the rate of eigh- 
 teen miles an hour, and after much stopping 
 and showing of tickets, the travellers arrived 
 at their destination. 
 
 " Splendid scenery," observed Winter- 
 thorne, " it reminds me of California." 
 
 " Ravishing," ejaculated his companion, 
 with the Yankee brevity and exaggeration 
 to which he occasionally inclined. 
 
 They stayed a night at one of the two 
 hotels in this the most venerable of Flemish 
 towns, where every inhabitant knows every 
 inhabitant, and each is on the best of terms 
 with his neighbour, and on the following 
 morning they went swinging down the iron 
 road towards Bruges. 
 
 " Plenty of canals here," observed Win-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 177 
 
 terthorne, as they arrived in full view of 
 half a dozen, the highways of boats running 
 throughout Belgium, -and to the Nether- 
 lands. " Here lived the exiled Charles 
 the Second," observed Winterthorne : " but 
 nearly two hundred and twenty years have 
 left the then magnificent and flourishing 
 Bruges, the sombre crumbling town you 
 now behold it." 
 
 " Hear, hear ! where did you learn all 
 that 1" asked our hero banteringly, but his 
 companion made no response ; his counte- 
 nance wore an aspect as sombre as that of 
 the street in which they walked, and his 
 mind was evidently lifted above its ordin- 
 ary level, as with the thoughts of his 
 schoolboy hours, awakened by the historical 
 incident here mentioned, he mentally sur- 
 veyed the past, with a long deep retrospec- 
 tive gaze, noticing every incident of his 
 chequered life and adventurous career. 
 
 Taking their way thirty miles further on, 
 they arrived at Ghent, the birthplace of
 
 178 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 Charles the Fifth. Here the busy bustlmg 
 animated looks of the people, and the 
 lively aspect of the streets, contrasted 
 agreeably, in the eyes of our hero, with the 
 still and gloomy look of Bruges. 
 
 " Splendid view," remarked Winter- 
 thorne, whose reflective moments had 
 passed away at the first sight of Ghent, as 
 he surveyed the town from the Belfroi 
 tower, which commanded a broad view of 
 the panorama of house tops. 
 
 " Queer shaped habitations," observed 
 our hero almost synonymously; after which, 
 much criticism as to the beauty, utility, 
 and architecture of the various unique and 
 curiously formed buildings, ensued. 
 
 Taking their way on to Malines, en route 
 for Brussels, they strolled over its precincts, 
 but found nothing to detain them beyond 
 its cathedral ; the grotesque forms and anti- 
 quated appearance however of the houses, 
 painted gaily as they were, gave a cheerful- 
 ness of aspect to the place, which well re-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 179 
 
 payed them for their two hours stay. With 
 the intention of going direct to Brussels, 
 only a few miles distant, the travellers took 
 their seats hurriedly in a train, which started 
 immediately afterwards, but it was not till 
 their arrival at Antwerp that they dis- 
 covered they had entered the wrong car- 
 riage. 
 
 " It's all the same to us," ejaculated our 
 hero, laughing at the mistake ; " that 
 Malines railway station is enough to con- 
 fuse any English mortal." 
 
 So the travellers took out fresh tickets, 
 or rather paid a second fare, and soon 
 afterwards became temporary denizens of 
 Antwerp. 
 
 " This is one of the finest cathedrals in 
 the world : at least, is considered so ;" ob- 
 served the faithful Asmodeus of our hero, 
 as they arrived in front of the majestic pile 
 of architecture. " Let's come inside ;" and 
 having so entered, and wearied their eyes 
 with staring at the celebrated pictures of
 
 180 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 Rubens which adorned its walls, they took 
 leave of the sacred pile, and with it of the 
 Spanish looking houses which stand up 
 here and there in venerable picturesqueness 
 about the ancient town, and shortly after- 
 wards they were scudding along through 
 the dusky light of departing day towards 
 Brussels. The French looking capital of 
 Belgium was all animation as they drove 
 life and luggage to the Hotel de Flandre. 
 
 On the following morning they strolled 
 out, preparatory to taking places in the 
 four-in-hand stage for Waterloo. 
 
 " How beautifully white the houses are," 
 observed our hero. 
 
 " My eyes, they are — dazzling," re- 
 sponded Winterthorne : who felt the re- 
 flected rays of the sun from their Parian 
 walls afibct his organs of sight somewhat 
 disagreeably. They took their way along 
 the Rue Royale, within view of the Palace 
 of King Leopold, and each vied with the 
 other in eulogising the Belgian capital.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 181 
 
 They visited the Hotel de Ville, in which 
 the abdication of Charles the Fifth took 
 place, as well as the majestic looking 
 cathedral, whose lofty steeple rises high 
 above the noble city in spiral beauty. 
 
 The view obtained from the cathedral, 
 built as it is on an elevation, was strikingly 
 fascinating, and new encomiums broke 
 forth from the lips of each of our tourists, 
 as their eyes wandered over the mighty 
 prospect. 
 
 " Plenty of English here," observed 
 Winterthorne. 
 
 " Yes : there must be, to support an 
 English paper," responded our hero, who 
 had perused the " Brussels Herald" during 
 breakfast. 
 
 After a pleasant drive of eleven miles 
 the village of Waterloo was reached ; thinly 
 peopled and straggling, its historical associ- 
 ations alone give it interest. A mile further 
 on lay the fields on which the great military 
 hosts of Europe dyed the earth with each
 
 182 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 other's blood, a barbarous episode in the 
 history of modern times. 
 
 For the sum of five francs, a guide, resi- 
 dent on the spot, pointed out the particular 
 localities imbued with special interest, and 
 narrated the history of the events of the 
 " Three Days," with a seeming enthusiasm 
 scarcely to be expected of a man who was 
 in the habit of repeating the same story 
 nearly every day of his life. The secret 
 was in the change of audience. 
 
 Returning to Antwerp, our travellers 
 took passage, by steamer, for Rotterdam, and 
 were soon gliding along the Scheldt, with a 
 flat, unexuberant landscape on either side of 
 the river. On arriving at the Dutch frontier 
 there was a general opening and tossing 
 about of luggage. That ceremony over, the 
 paddles were again put in motion, and the 
 vessel continued on her way down the river, 
 which soon grew much broader ; this was 
 owing to the tide being full, causing the 
 water to spread; the bed of the stream was,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 183 
 
 however, alone navigable, and its limits 
 were clearly defined by lines of upstanding 
 branches, fastened down for the purpose of 
 guiding the mariner on his way. A few 
 small islands were passed, and then a seem- 
 ingly boundless tract of the same flat, unin- 
 viting country, which had before cha- 
 racterised the scenery. 
 
 By and by, large trees rose up on the 
 banks of the river, and the vessel arrived at 
 a full stop and landed passengers at Dort. 
 
 There was time to go on shore while the 
 steamer waited, so our travellers took their 
 way through the antiquated and dilapidated 
 town, which is built up close to the water's 
 edge, not unlike Callao, in Peru, where you 
 step out of your boat into your dining room. 
 A vast number of windmills were whirling 
 their huge arms round and round in mazy 
 play, and, in point of numbers, seemed to 
 be to Dort what cathedrals are to Lima. 
 
 The river grew wider as the vessel con- 
 tinued on her way, and, passing the junction
 
 184 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 of the rivers Hotte and Meuse, soon drew 
 up at the noble quay of Hotterdam, the city 
 of the eight days fair ; the nocturnal dancing 
 appertaining to which displays its conse- 
 quences among the female portion of the 
 community after the lapse of a period of 
 months too familiar to be named. 
 
 Our travellers remained but one night at 
 Rotterdam, and, having inspected its canals, 
 which seemed to be running through the 
 city in all directions, with vessels of various 
 sizes, large and small, moored at their sides 
 or passing through drawbridges, and ap- 
 pearing to the eye, at a short distance, as if 
 they were being pulled, hull and rigging, 
 cargo and crew, along the streets, so close 
 was their proximity, — our tourists bade 
 good bye to the busy, cheerful town, and its 
 high but tottering habitations, and took train 
 for the Hague, w^hich lay at a distance of 
 about seventeen miles. 
 
 " This is a fine avenue," observed our 
 hero, as they took their way from the rail-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 185 
 
 way station along the path, lined on either 
 side by tall trees, which leads to the palace, 
 the seat of the Dutch Court. 
 
 " Yes ; pleasant scenery, it reminds me 
 of the avenue in Mount Edgecumbe Park," 
 responded Winterthorne. 
 
 " Splendid square," they each observed, 
 as they entered the Vyverberg. 
 
 " That's the meanest looking palace in 
 Europe for a king, I should say," remarked 
 the latter, as they eyed the royal residence, 
 to which the other answered affirmatively, 
 and walked on over the brick pavement to- 
 wards the National Museum. 
 
 Three hours afterwards, they took train 
 for Amsterdam, passing by the picturesque 
 little town of Haarlem on their way, where, 
 however, they did not remain. Arrived at 
 Amsterdam, the number of canals and 
 bridges which met their view at every turn- 
 ing, was completely confounding, while the 
 number of windmills that flew round in 
 active revolution was only equalled by those
 
 186 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 of Dort. Life and energy was everywhere 
 displayed along the various canals, as well 
 as streets. 
 
 " It's a swampy looking place, this Am- 
 sterdam," observed our hero. 
 
 "Yes; I guess I shouldn't like to live here 
 long, I don't like the look of the houses." 
 
 " Built on piles, are they not 1 " said our 
 hero, interrogatively. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 They spent one night only in the Dutch 
 capital, but — finding nothing of interest to 
 look at but the before- mentioned windmills, 
 canals, and canal bridges, together with the 
 palace, which, they were informed, stood 
 upon thirteen thousand nine hundred and 
 fifty piles — they hurried along by theDutch- 
 Rheims E,ailway for Arnheim, en route for 
 the Rhine. After a three hours' journey, 
 passing Utrecht on their way, they arrived 
 at their destination. They dined, as usual, 
 at the table dliote^ at four o'clock, in view of 
 the Rhine, which is here very narrow ; and,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 187 
 
 subsequently, admired the Dutchwomen, and 
 parted with a reasonable number of guilders, 
 florins, and stivers, which necessity had in- 
 troduced to them as the current coin of 
 Holland. 
 
 " These trees remind me of New York 
 and Cincinnati," observed Winterthorne, in 
 allusion to the number of full-foliaged 
 foresters which grew about the streets, al- 
 most as plentifully as canals and canal 
 bridges intersected them. 
 
 " Yes ; it looks something like Erie as 
 regards trees and water," responded his 
 companion, laughing at the expense of the 
 Dutch. 
 
 " It's a pancake of a country," remarked 
 Mynheer Winterthorne. 
 
 "How? why]" 
 
 " Because it's flat ; what a flat you are 
 not to have known that before," replied 
 the elder traveller, jocularly. 
 
 " Oh ! I did'nt rise early enough for you 
 this morning," was the response.
 
 188 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 On the following morning they took pas- 
 sage, by the Rhine steamer, for Cologne, in 
 search of the picturesque, of which they 
 had heard so much, but, as yet, seen so 
 little ; for the scenery of the Rhine, as seen 
 from Arnheim, bears no likeness to that 
 which, higher up the river, reposes in beau- 
 tiful magnificence and enchanting loveliness 
 far as the wandering gaze can scan.
 
 189 
 
 CHAPTER XXy. 
 
 When we last left Lawrence Cumberland, 
 he had just been presented with a second 
 son at the hands of a second wife, whom 
 he had married at Portsmouth, the place 
 of his nativity. The troubles of the un- 
 fortunate father are familiar to the reader ; 
 how he failed as an attorney, and then as a 
 schoolmaster; and, lastly, how sorely he 
 was disappointed of his bride's expected 
 dowry, and how his honeymoon was blighted 
 by his being arrested for debt and im- 
 prisoned during eight long weary months 
 in the county prison of Hampshire, till
 
 190 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 passing through the inglorious ordeal of 
 bankruptcy, he was restored in poverty to 
 liberty. 
 
 It will be remembered that the only 
 surviving child of his first marriage, Arthur, 
 was sent out to be nursed under the care 
 of a labourer's wife, resident in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Clifton, and with whom he 
 was left when the father fled from the 
 presence of clamorous creditors there as- 
 sembled. 
 
 Lawrence Cumberland, after his discharge 
 from prison, found himself, as many have 
 done besides, at a loss for occupation, and 
 quite ignorant as to what he should or 
 could do. To resume the profession of a 
 lawyer was next to futile, for he had not a 
 client to support him nor yet a friend to 
 sustain him. He had not a relative in the 
 world that he knew of besides his own wife 
 and children, and his native town off'ered 
 him no more succour, and far less scope, than 
 would London itself had he journeyed
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 191 
 
 thither. What was he to do 1 He had a wife 
 and two children to support ; and although 
 an able-bodied man, yet he could not even 
 earn bread for them. His father-in-law, 
 the bankrupt provision dealer, together with 
 the sister of the latter, being the only living 
 relatives of his wife, had emigrated to 
 America during the period of his incar- 
 ceration. Here he stood free from debt, 
 yet utterly destitute. 
 
 " I'd rather," he often said, "be over head 
 and ears in debt than in this way. There's 
 always something to be got when you owe 
 money; but not to owe a shilling, and to 
 be without one, is bad — very bad!" The 
 pangs of hunger had often assailed him ; 
 his landlady had done the same thing for 
 rent. He had arrived at the lowest pitch 
 of despondency, and the highest of despera- 
 tion, when, suddenly, he vanished from 
 Portsea and his garret, and no one knew 
 whither. His wife and child remained 
 behind, and in such a state of perplexity,
 
 192 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 that then, and not till then, the sympathy 
 of the neighbours was entirely in her behalf, 
 and every one began wondering where 
 Lawrence Cumberland could have gone to. 
 Another chapter will tell.
 
 193 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 After proceeding about twenty miles up 
 the Khine, our hero and his companion 
 arrived at Emmerich, which, being in the 
 Prussian territory, a general examination 
 of baggage took place, to the great disgust 
 of Winterthorne, who had a great antipathy 
 against having his effects " overhauled" as 
 he termed it. After a voyage of about 
 eighteen hours from Arnheim, and a night 
 passed on the saloon floor, for beds were 
 things not supplied on board, our travellers 
 arrived at Cologne, where, after inspecting
 
 194 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 its still unfinished cathedral, its sumptuous 
 hotels, and bridge of boats across the 
 Rhine, they took train for Bonn, twelve 
 miles distant by railway, but more than 
 double that by the river. The chief cha- 
 racteristic of Bonn was the universality of 
 tobacco smoking, a pipe being in the 
 mouth of every man in the streets, of what- 
 ever age, and his constant companion both 
 by night and day. Students abounded 
 thickly, for Bonn has a university, which is 
 deservedly famed throughout Prussia. 
 
 On the same day Bonn was left behind, 
 and the ascent of the Ehine continued. 
 The scenery as they advanced was every- 
 where beautiful ; and as they approached 
 Coblentz, the many winding bends of the 
 river revealing an ever changing aspect of 
 mountain and brushwood, and high over- 
 hanging trees clothing barrenness as it 
 were in a festive array, anon to disclose 
 scenes of happy luxuriance, where the 
 hand of man vied with that of nature, in
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 195 
 
 enhancing the variegated beauty of the 
 picture, charmed the eye wherever it wan- 
 dered. Crumbling ruins of ancient castles, 
 and other architectural remains of the past, 
 flourishing vineries terraced in shelving 
 luxuriance, and at this season, for it was 
 August, heavily hung with the favoured 
 fruit, succeeded one after the other, backed 
 in the distance by a panorama of hills and 
 mountains, which lent fascination to the 
 passing view. The mouth of the Moselle 
 reached, Coblentz, with its strong fortifica- 
 tions, w^as made manifest. 
 
 After taking up their quarters at one of 
 the half dozen hotels which there face the 
 Rhine, and overlook the town and fortress 
 of Ehrenbreitstein, which hotel they found 
 to be fully occupied by tourists of all 
 countries, they retired, and enjoyed the 
 luxury of a superior toilet than had been 
 afforded them since leaving Holland. From 
 Coblentz, our travellers proceeded up the 
 river to Biberich, passing by the ancient
 
 196 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 and huddled up streetless village of Boppart; 
 numerous places however of lesser import 
 met the view, while the boldness of the 
 mountain scenery captivated the gaze, 
 till, nearing the town first mentioned, the 
 river expanded in width, studded with 
 islands, while a wide open territory, highly 
 cultivated, was spread out far as the gaze 
 could carry. The steamer here landed the 
 greater portion of her passengers, there 
 being a railway stretching between Frank- 
 fort-on-the-Maine and this place. Pro- 
 ceeding a mile further on, the city of 
 Mayence, the Magontiacum of the Romans, 
 presented itself on the left bank. All old 
 towns have their cathedrals, and so has 
 this ; but, beyond that and the fortifications, 
 there is nothing to excite the ardour or 
 curiosity of the sight-seer in the dilapidated 
 city of Mayence. Continuing on their 
 journey, they passed several floating mills, 
 the paddles of which were driven slowly 
 round by the force of the river's current.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 197 
 
 The scenery here was bald and un- 
 interesting, and so continued as far as 
 Mannheim. 
 
 " These streets remind me of Melbourne, 
 all running in parallel lines," remarked 
 Winterthorne. 
 
 "Well, they're clean enough for Chester," 
 responded the other. 
 
 On the day following their arrival at 
 Mannheim, they left behind its square and 
 boulevards, its clouds of sparrows and 
 swallows, and took train for Frankfort, 
 where they took up their quarters at the 
 Hotel de Bussie, the gorgeous fittings of 
 which were duly appreciated by both our 
 hero and his companion. The narrow streets 
 with their dingy houses, forming the old 
 town, were explored, alike with the more 
 wide and cheerful streets, and magnificent 
 architecture of the new town. 
 
 Three hours journey by railway from 
 Frankfort, brought our tourists to Heidel- 
 berg, the city of five bombardments, with
 
 198 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 its mountains and its river, its single street, 
 nearly three miles long, and its venerable 
 castle, overlooking a picturesque scene, too 
 beautiful to be left unappreciated by the 
 visitor. Half an hour's journey further by 
 railway, brought them to Baden-Baden, the 
 most picturesquely situated town in Europe, 
 with its surrounding undulations of hill 
 and valley, its unmethodically arranged 
 streets, its green trees and its flowing river, 
 all in beautiful antitheses. 
 
 They put up at the Hotel de Russie (num- 
 ber two), and it was not long before they 
 found their way to the " Conversationshaus," 
 where the wheels of the roulette ta^l^s were 
 in active play, and the spirit of^'^gambling 
 seemed to be peculiarly rife amongst the 
 hundreds who were participators in, or 
 spectators of, the sport. 
 
 " I'll stake a single," said Winterthorne, 
 " come on, try your luck ; this beats 
 California." 
 
 Our hero readily joined in the play, but
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 199 
 
 with a low stake. They had each partici- 
 pated, to a small extent, in the gambling 
 habits of Californians, while resident in that 
 country, and they were consequently not 
 treading on new ground. 
 
 " They're a set of blacklegs here, — we 
 must look sharp," observed Winterthorne, 
 setting down a second stake, the first having 
 gone the way of all money. 
 
 They each won on the second venture, 
 but after three hours play they had lost 
 twenty-five pounds between them. 
 
 " Let's try again," urged our hero on th,e 
 day following ; so to play again they went, 
 each staking a sovereign on the first " go." 
 They lost. The same amount again. They 
 lost. The stake was doubled. They won. 
 The partnership which had previously 
 subsisted between them was now dissolved, 
 and they continued their play during the 
 whole of the evening ; the result being that 
 Winterthorne won an amount equal to 
 ninety-six pounds, and our hero a little
 
 200 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 under fifty pounds sterling. This was 
 to them a gratifying end of the perilous 
 game. 
 
 " Now," said Winterthorne, " take my 
 advice, Trelawney, and don't play any more. 
 You've won. Play again, and you lose." 
 
 Fortunately the latter acted on the advice 
 of his elder companion, and so escaped 
 from Baden-Baden and its irresistible gam- 
 bling tables — which have hurried suicide 
 and ruin to so many — a gainer by the visit, 
 instead of, as is the general result, a loser 
 by a participation in their attractions. 
 Leaving behind the dungeons and varied 
 fascinations of Baden-Baden, the successful 
 gamesters went on to Basle, the nearest 
 town after entering the Swiss territory. 
 There the Bhine rushed noisily between the 
 arches of the huge wooden bridge which 
 spans its breadth, and forms the great high- 
 way between the parts of the town on 
 either side of the river. 
 
 Bright and beautiful, grand and glorious,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 201 
 
 was the sunrise and the sunset which greeted 
 the eyes of the visitors on the day 
 following their arrival. The charming sky 
 of Switzerland, itself suffused with many a 
 tint of fleeting colour, dyed the theatric 
 scenery with its rich efl'ulgence, as Phoebus 
 declined in the west, and all nature glowed 
 in fascinating array. Blue and ethereal 
 w^as the sky by day, with here and there a 
 scarce visible downy cloud floating across 
 its fair expanse. 
 
 On the morning of the second day after 
 their arrival, they took diligence for Zurich. 
 
 Picturesque scenery, here rugged and 
 mountainous and there soft and sylvan, met 
 the eyes of the travellers along the whole 
 route. Full fruited orchards, unenclosed 
 and still unpillaged, were passed by, and 
 the aspect of nature was everywhere lovely. 
 Forty miles from Basle an eminence was 
 reached, and the passengers vacated their 
 seats in the diligence in order to enable the 
 horses to pull it up to tlio summit. Tliolatter
 
 202 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 reached, lo ! a mighty panorama of moun- 
 tains, snow-capped and bristling, met, 
 in dazzling magnificence, the astonished 
 gaze, towering, in Alpine grandeur and 
 rugged outline, far away, till outlost in the 
 enchanting distance. 
 
 " What captivating splendour, what a 
 magnificent display of all that's intoxica- 
 ting," observed our hero, after gazing for a 
 moment in silent admiration. 
 
 " I hope you won't get drunk upon it," 
 quoth his companion ; "I see it's making you 
 a little magniloquent already." 
 
 " Positively, I'm enraptured with its 
 beauty; bold and gigantic, this is just the 
 scenery I like," continued our hero, still 
 gazing on the Alps as, mile by mile the dili- 
 gence continued on its way as far as Baden, 
 from which place they took railway train 
 to Zurich ; and, after a journey of eight 
 hours, they were comfortably located at the 
 Hotel Belle Vue, which, built on the bank of 
 the lake, overlooked a prospect rich in the
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 203 
 
 native beauty of Switzerland. Half-shadowy 
 boats glided over and crossed each other on 
 the tranquil lake of Zurich. Open country, 
 through whose luxuriant foliage many a 
 fantastic cottage might be seen, backed, in 
 the distance, by mountains whose cultivated 
 inclines were rich in flowers and fruits and 
 over which a spirit of repose ever reigned, 
 met the gaze in every direction. Its aspect 
 was not rugged, or bold, or wild, such as 
 was the first view of the Alps : it had no- 
 thing of the sublime which belongs to the 
 more gigantic features of topography, but it 
 was lovely to dwell upon ; bright, balmy, 
 and rural, its very peacefulness made the 
 soul pensive with admiration.
 
 204 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 " He has committed suicide, depend upon 
 it," said the wife of Lawrence Cumberland, 
 a few days after the strange disappearance 
 of that individual ; " he said it was enough 
 to drive him to it. He's done it off the pier, 
 depend on it," she continued, with tears in 
 her eyes. " Poor fellow, I knew he took it 
 greatly to heart." 
 
 The neighbours coincided with her view 
 of the case, as in no other way could they 
 reasonably account for his bodily absence. 
 He was, therefore, unanimously pronounced
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 205 
 
 (lead, and that without anybody answering 
 to his description having been picked up, 
 Portsmouth being a place where a man can 
 easily consign himself to a watery grave 
 without much chance of being discovered. 
 Mrs. Cumberland, after subsisting on the 
 kindness of her neighbours for a short time, 
 took a place as general servant at the Red 
 Lion Inn, at which place she enjoyed the 
 privilege of keeping her child. 
 
 Three years rolled away without bringing 
 any tidings of the missing husband, or alter- 
 ing the position of the so-called widow. 
 She was kindly treated by those with whom 
 she lived, and, in consequence of her being 
 the daughter of the once reputed wealthy 
 provision dealer, — whose bankruptcy, how- 
 ever, and its attendant disclosures, had ren- 
 dered him odious in the eyes of those who 
 had before respected him; — we say in conse- 
 quence of this, and the fact of her bus- 
 hand's misfortunes, she had enlisted the 
 sympathy of those with whom she was con-
 
 206 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 cerneci on her behalf; and not being herself 
 an educated woman of refined feelings, 
 manner, or appearance, she lived very com- 
 fortably, more so, indeed, than it had been 
 her unhappy lot to do since the days of her 
 honeymoon. 
 
 Three years more eddyed by, and Mrs. 
 Cumberland, then in her twenty-seventh 
 year only, was married to the barman at the 
 E-ed Lion ; the act being considered, by 
 those who knew of it, to be, under the cir- 
 cumstances, quite justifiable ; for nothing 
 had been heard of the long absent one, and 
 the belief, without a doubt, was that he had 
 gurgled in death on the very night of his 
 mysterious disappearance. 
 
 Reader, we are working out the minor 
 points in an important picture of English 
 life. Let us here pause in the midst of our 
 plot.
 
 207 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Leaving behind the busy town of Zurich, 
 on the morning following their arrival, our 
 hero and Winterthorne took their way by 
 steamer up the lake as far as Horgen, 
 where they took diligence to Zug, passing 
 over the summit of a lofty hill on their 
 way, which commanded an extensive view 
 of the country stretching towards Zurich, 
 with its gardens and vineries, its villas, and 
 its foliage all reflected in the expansive 
 mirror of the lake beneath ; while all be- 
 yond was backed far as the eye could scan
 
 208 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 with the forest clad mountains of beautiful 
 Switzerland. Descending onward through 
 a picturesque valley, and after a two hours' 
 drive Zug was reached. An hour's steam 
 across the blue lake of the latter name 
 brought our travellers to Arth, above 
 which the Eigi mountain, with its downy 
 ultramarine tint, loomed loftily. After the 
 lapse of about an hour, they set forth 
 towards the mountain, on horseback, the 
 animals having been hired for the journey, at 
 eleven francs each. More than a dozen 
 men and women of various tongues were 
 their contemporaries on the occasion, all 
 being mounted for the ascent. The scenery 
 at times disclosed through the chasms and 
 passes of the mountain, during the upward 
 journey, was refreshing and beautiful in 
 the extreme ; the plain beneath, with its 
 cottages, its plantations, and its orchards; 
 and away to the west the mirror-like lake 
 set in a vast frame of mountains, fascinated 
 the downward gaze of the tourists, and con-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 209 
 
 siderably enhanced the pleasure of moun- 
 tain climbing. Precipitous cliffs were 
 reached, to look down from which would have 
 involved giddiness. Children however were 
 found playing, and cattle grazing in the 
 most seemingly perilous positions. Ravine 
 succeeded ravine, and the valley beneath 
 became lost to the view, as the travellers 
 continued on their perilous way by many a 
 yawning abyss terrible to look upon. 
 
 " I can hear the rushing of the water 
 below," observed our hero, as he passed 
 by one of these deep gulfs. 
 
 " Everything seems dangerously grand up 
 here," remarked Winterthorne ; at that 
 moment the foot of his horse slipped on the 
 brink of a ravine ; he turned pale at the 
 instant, and a few seconds afterwards, 
 actually shivered at the danger he had ex- 
 perienced. Still ascending, they passed no 
 less a thing than a sort of miniature mo- 
 nastery — a catholic chapel. Where on the 
 mountain the congregation was to be ga- 
 
 p
 
 210 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 thered from, was a puzzle to everybody ; 
 but there it stood, grim, stately, and de- 
 serted, the most unique of churches, and 
 without doubt the one nearest heaven of 
 any in Europe. 
 
 Here the path curved abruptly, and the 
 travellers caught view of a party of about 
 twenty, which had commenced the ascent 
 a little earlier than themselves. Some were 
 on foot, while two or three ladies of the 
 number were being carried up in chairs, 
 after the fashion adopted in travelling over 
 the elevated plains of the Andes. Then the 
 rocks threw back clear and loud the echoes 
 of the guides' whip cracks. Cottages and 
 cascades, and the murmur of rushing rivu- 
 lets, succeeded one after the other, and 
 trees, in a plenitude of foliage, were pre- 
 sented to the view, at an altitude of five 
 thousand feet above the table land. On 
 still further, goats and stunted cattle were 
 grazing on a field-like flat of the mountain, 
 where also stood a hotel of no inconsiderable
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 211 
 
 size. Five hundred feet more and they 
 gained the summit, where the imposing 
 grandeur of the Alps, with their dazzling 
 glaciers, their snow capped brows, and 
 silent majesty, burst upon the bewildered 
 gaze of our hero in yet more fascinating 
 splendour and magnificence, than did the 
 first view of the Alpine panorama from the 
 hill, on the way between Basle and Zurich. 
 
 There, in all their stern sublimity, rugged 
 and wild, and bold, reposed the irregular 
 sea of pinnacles ; here barren and dark, 
 there crested with the snows of centuries ; 
 while the verdure of the valley far down in 
 the distance but enhanced the charm of 
 the mighty picture, more beautiful than had 
 ever before gladdened the sight or inspired 
 the mind of Harry Trelawney. 
 
 Here, on the lofty head of E,igi, stood a 
 second and still larger hotel than that pre- 
 viously seen — the Rigi Kulm. Our tra- 
 vellers entered it ; they found, to their 
 astonishment, that its saloon was crowded
 
 212 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 with visitors, people of all ages and nations. 
 At eight o'clock supper was spread, and 
 nearly a hundred assembled together and 
 partook of it, amid a Babel of voices and of 
 languages. 
 
 " ' Life on a mountain top ; ' that wouldn't 
 be a bad name for a book," remarked our 
 hero to his companion, as they sat together 
 at the table d'hote. 
 
 " No ! nor would it be a bad subject, 
 judging from this," responded the other; 
 " for of all the talkers that I ever heard 
 talk, I never heard talkers talk as these 
 talkers talk." 
 
 " Say that again." 
 
 " That's my prize oratory" ; was the 
 reply ; " repetition never agrees with it." 
 
 They slept, as a matter of course, at the 
 Rigi Kulm. At five o'clock on the 
 ensuing morning, they were awoke by the 
 sonorous music of a full toned gong, and 
 the noise incidental to much getting out of 
 bed, and pattering of feet throughout the 
 hotel.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 213 
 
 "The place is on fire!" ejaculated our 
 hero. 
 
 " The heavens are on fire, you mean," 
 rejoined Winterthorne, looking out of an 
 adjoining window. " Sunrise on the moun- 
 tains," exclaimed he, with a voice of glee, 
 and jumping into what the Americans 
 would call his pantaloons, or, still more 
 commonly, "pants," he bounded out of the 
 dormitory, and, passing through the saloon, 
 appeared on the mountain, amongst an 
 agitated group of individuals of either sex, 
 who were even less clad than himself, and 
 forming, on the whole, as ludicrous a col- 
 lection as the ex-bushranger had ever seen. 
 They presented as fine a sight of its kind as 
 that of which they were the spectators. 
 Our hero rapidly followed, together with 
 an eager crowd, one member of which had 
 so far forgotten himself as to rush out of 
 his room in puris naturalihus, but suddenly 
 recollecting where he was, he beat a retreat 
 even more rapid than had been his dehut.
 
 214 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 amid cries of " Catch him," and imaginary 
 pinches from all sides. 
 
 Far down in the valley beneath, the lines 
 of dusky vermilion that stretched along the 
 horizon, followed rapidly by an amber 
 radiance, and a subdued yet golden efful- 
 gence, told of the rising orb, so soon to 
 gladden the face of nature with its vivifying 
 rays and ever welcome light. A few 
 moments more, and Phoebus in his majesty 
 shone forth, after which appearance of his, 
 the motley, grotesque, and ridiculously 
 arrayed specimens of humanity that had 
 assembled on the hill to welcome him, 
 absquatulated, or, in other words, hastily 
 reentered the hotel, amid gathering clouds 
 of mist. At nine o'clock, our travellers 
 commenced the descent, on the Lucerne 
 side of the mountain, and on foot, the 
 mist having rapidly dispersed. They 
 met with much of the rugged and ragged 
 on their way, in the shape of crags and 
 beggars, and arrived after much jolting in
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 215 
 
 as shaky and shaken a condition as the 
 three hours journey down may be con- 
 sidered likely to have induced. 
 
 The same day they took steamer for 
 Lucerne, and over its somewhat gloomy 
 lake, shut in as it is by frowning mountains, 
 they were swiftly paddled towards the 
 Hotel des Suisses, which, facing the watery 
 expanse, denotes the site of that picturesque 
 town of Switzerland, overlooked on the one 
 side by E.igi and Pilatus, and on the other 
 by Schwytz and Engelberg. Our travellers 
 slept the night at Lucerne, and on the 
 following morning took their way on foot 
 towards Surgen, from which they started 
 for the celebrated glacier of E-osenlaui, 
 passing on their way through Meyringen, 
 and over a rough undulating country, 
 decked out with verdure and occasional 
 groves of fir and pine. The scenery at all 
 times mountainous, occasionally disclosed a 
 showery cascade or a brawling rivulet, 
 while orchards, rich in their mellow and
 
 216 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 blushing fruit, and a sprinkling of grace- 
 fully formed cottages, added a pleasing 
 antithesis to the varied landscape, as mile 
 by mile the two men journeyed. By and 
 bye the roar of descending waters, the 
 musical thunder of a cataract, was heard, 
 and they arrived within full view of 
 the triple waterfall of E-eichenbach, with 
 its mist of spray and ever sounding never 
 ceasing torrent. Then onwards towards 
 Rosenlaui ; and after gazing down the 
 fissures of the great glacier, and mutually 
 expressing their wonder as to how so large 
 a block of ice was ever formed, they took 
 their way towards Grindelwald, glad to 
 escape from the frigid atmosphere around. 
 
 Our hero narrowly escaped death while 
 walking over one of the Grindelwald glaciers, 
 in consequence of his foot slipping, which 
 nearly precipitated him into a yawning 
 crevasse or chasm, in the ice, where certain 
 and sudden death would have inevitably 
 awaited him.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 217 
 
 Taking their way, by voiture ("a kind of 
 gig), to Inteiiachen, the towering majesty 
 of the Bernese Alps rose up before them, 
 and the amphitheatric aspect of the town 
 and surrounding country, which called forth 
 the laudatory eloquence of our hero, was as 
 magnificent as any of the views to be ob- 
 tained in Switzerland. They put up at the 
 Hotel des Alpes, where they remained two 
 days, during which time the colossal form 
 of the Jungfrau mountain loomed high in 
 the distance ; and, in the absence of mist, 
 was clearly seen from Interlachen. Crowds 
 of English were found located in the hotels 
 of the place ; and, next to them in point of 
 numbers, figured the gentlemen of black 
 cloth and velvet collars, we mean the 
 Yankees, and that in the politest sense of 
 the term. They were all reckless, noisy, 
 and lavish in their expenditure, and acquit- 
 ted themselves, with honour to their coun- 
 try, as " the smartest nation in all creation." 
 
 They then took passage by steamer along
 
 218 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 the lake of Thun, as far as the town of 
 the latter name, and thence by diligence to 
 Berne, which they reached after a three 
 hours' drive. 
 
 After parading its piazzas and visiting 
 its cathedral, they proceeded on to Vevay, 
 from which place they visited the castle of 
 Chillon, distant about seven miles. With 
 all the curiosity which such a place was cal- 
 culated to inspire, they followed their guide 
 through its cloisters and its cells ; they read 
 celebrated names scratched on its pillars, 
 and meditated gloomily on its torture room; 
 but as neither of them understood French 
 or German, the languages alone spoken by 
 the guide, they went away ignorant of the 
 minute detail into which that functionary 
 had entered. 
 
 From the banks of lake Leman the friends 
 took diligence for Martigny, which unat- 
 tractive town, however, they soon left be- 
 hind, and went on to Leukerbad, celebrated 
 for its hot baths and springs. Here they
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 219 
 
 saw elegantes^ of either sex, sitting for con- 
 secutive hours up to the chin in water, 
 each engaged in conversation, draught play- 
 ing, sewing, or reading, as the case hap- 
 pened. Such a mingling of the sexes, in 
 such close proximity, in the one watery pit, 
 with their coffee drinking and energetic 
 disputations, their floating tables and sub- 
 merged bodies, was at once ludicrous and 
 laughable to behold. Our travellers from 
 this made the best of their way towards 
 Mount St. Bernard, which they ascended 
 on the backs of mules. They slept one 
 night there, praised the monks' wine ; and, 
 having dropped their contribution into the 
 hospice money box, departed, somewhat 
 chilly and undated. By the aid of mules 
 and diligences they at length arrived at 
 Chamounix. The mighty dome of Mont 
 Blanc, with its crest of perennial snow and 
 its majestic outline, barren and rocky, as 
 there it stood up into the clouds in all its 
 colossal pride, charmed the eyes and won
 
 220 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 the admiration of the travellers ; but Mont 
 Blanc, the so-called " monarch of moun- 
 tains," is too familiar, and its surrounding 
 scenery and heights have been too largely 
 dilated upon by those who have beheld and 
 climbed them years ago, to render it neces- 
 sary to here describe a picture, which is 
 ever grand in the native beauty of Savoy. 
 Our travellers did not ascend the far-famed 
 mount ; but, on the morning following their 
 arrival, commenced the ascent, on mules, of 
 its smaller neighbour, Montanvert, which is 
 surmounted by the Mer de Glace, rising 
 nine thousand feet above the sea-level. 
 
 After walking over the enormous glacier, 
 and satisfying themselves that there was no 
 summit beyond, they followed their guide 
 down, on foot, as far as the small inn, on 
 the head of Montanvert, where they had 
 left their mules ; and, within six hours from 
 the time of starting, were again in Cha- 
 mounix, from which place they took dili- 
 gence on the day following for Geneva.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 221 
 
 Built upon two gradually sloping hills, 
 watered by the Rhone, and commanding a 
 wide and pleasing view of its picturesque 
 lake, with its trees and cheerful streets, its 
 suburban gardens, wealthy in the gifts of 
 Flora, and its busy steamers, Geneva was 
 well hailed by the passing sojourners. 
 
 From Geneva they took diligence for 
 Chalons, thence on to Paris, and, finally, to 
 London ; thus ending a continental tour, as 
 rapidly made as it had proved delightful to 
 Harry Trelawney, and his companion, 
 Charles Winterthorne.
 
 222 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Three sovereigns only had ever been paid 
 by Mr. Cumberland for the care and main- 
 tenance of his son Arthur in the family of 
 the Gloucestershire labourer ; but still the 
 boy continued to share the humble man's 
 cottage and his board, and was as much 
 cared for, so far as the scanty means of the 
 place would allow, as though the six shil- 
 lings a week, promised by his father, came 
 punctually to hand. The wife of the noble 
 hearted rustic loved that motherless child 
 as though he were her own offspring, and
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 223 
 
 between Arthur Cumberland and her own 
 two children there was no distinction ; they 
 were each locked together in the one bro- 
 therhood of affection. True, as he grew up 
 he had to work as the children of the poor 
 are obliged to do, whether in town or 
 country ; but it evinced a praiseworthy 
 generosity which is seldom to be found 
 amongst the middle ranks of English society, 
 and which cannot be too highly lauded in 
 these days of selfishness and bare-faced 
 hypocrisy, to thus bring up from the cradle 
 as it were, to manhood, this scion of the 
 ruined house of Cumberland. The child 
 had been left on their hands ; they knew not 
 where the father had gone to when he left 
 Clifton on account of his debts there. 
 Some time after his liberation from prison, 
 they heard of his incarceration, and for the 
 first time ; but after that all was a blank so 
 far as the knowledge of the whereabouts 
 or existence of Lawrence Cumberland, the 
 schoolmaster, was concerned.
 
 224 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 Thus the boy grew up, without ever, 
 within memory, having seen either of his 
 parents. Up to his tenth year he had 
 been occupied in the general drudgery of a 
 farm and country life; but at that stage 
 of his early career he was taken into the 
 service of one farmer Simpson, whose home- 
 stead stood in the vicinity of the labourer's 
 cottage, and by whom the latter was oc- 
 casionally employed. The farmer became 
 partial towards him ; taught him to read 
 and write, and during the hours of evening 
 gave him the means of gratifying his taste 
 for reading, which he eagerly cultivated 
 during the two years of his stay with that 
 grower of corn and cattle. Where did he 
 go to afterwards ] He went, stick in hand, 
 with a knapsack across his shoulder, on 
 the high road towards London. 
 
 The fortunes of Arthur Cumberland here 
 commenced. He had quitted his place 
 simply because he was tired of it; he 
 longed for change. He had read much,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 225 
 
 and heard more, about the great city ; he 
 was full of youthful ardour, and loDged for 
 more stirring adventure than was ever likely 
 to befall him at farmer Simpson's. He 
 trudged along with a light heart and a 
 merry soul, with his newly drawn wages, 
 the earnings of two years, in his pockets. 
 Six golden guineas — what wealth ! What 
 could he not do with so much money 1 He 
 felt himself independent of the world. 
 Reader, was he not a bold lad for his age ] 
 He had bidden good bye to no one, nor 
 informed a soul of his intentions. He had 
 often been heard to talk of London, and 
 how he should like to go there. It seemed 
 to be the imagined El Dorado of his happi- 
 ness and ambition ; but no one for a mo- 
 ment supposed that young Arthur intended 
 setting out on such a pilgrimage as he had 
 now undertaken. It was supposed, that 
 when he had received his wages he would 
 have handed them over to John Rose, the 
 cottager, who had "reared him"; or else 
 
 Q
 
 226 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 that they would be deposited with farmer 
 Simpson's wife, who acted as a substitute 
 for what we now call savings banks towards 
 such of the employes as desired it. 
 
 It was, therefore, a matter of no little 
 surprise when it was discovered that the 
 boy referred to was nowhere to be found 
 about the village ; and amongst the goblins 
 of the place — for the peasantry of England 
 are the most egregious boors on the face of 
 earth — a still greater sensation when a re- 
 port arrived that young Cumberland had 
 been seen marching along, after the fashion 
 of a raw recruit, or a sickle-slung Tipperary 
 boy, in the direction of the metropolis. 
 
 " Ged ! he sed he'd go," observed one. 
 
 " Wage and smock — sharp," said another. 
 
 " Well ! if ever I did — only to think of 
 it," spake the farmer's wife ; and the daring 
 enterprize of the lad became the chief topic 
 of conversation among those concerned 
 for several succeeding days. 
 
 " It's my opinion, we shall never see any 
 more of him," quoth farmer Simpson.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 227 
 
 " Ah ! wait a bit ; he'll come back to his 
 oats yet, I'll warrant," continued the lady- 
 last mentioned. But, in spite of her ex- 
 pression of warranty, no Arthur Cumber- 
 land returned ; and, after the lapse of weeks, 
 he was, to use the language employed, 
 entirely "given over" by the people at the 
 farm ; but with regard to the labourer and 
 his family, they still hoped, if not to see 
 him, at any rate to hear of him at some 
 future time, for he had often promised that 
 when he was able to earn his own living 
 he would not lag in contributing his mite 
 to those who had cherished him through 
 infancy to his twelfth year of life, and they 
 forgave him the act of thus abruptly quitting 
 the scene of his early labours, and their 
 blessing accompanied him on his uncertain 
 journey. 
 
 Let us recur to the adventurous boy. 
 On the evening of the day following that 
 on which he had started, he reached 
 London. It was in the month of Novem-
 
 228 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 ber, and the weather was bright and genial 
 for the season, but snow and sleet, rain or 
 fog, would have been alike braved by the 
 dauntless lad, had such things prevailed, 
 and hope, and the glowing ardour of a first 
 vague ambition, would have carried him 
 on with step elastic and spirit unflagged, 
 through the undefinable wilderness of the 
 great city ; with which possessions, and a 
 trifle less than the before mentioned six 
 guineas in his pocket, he now entered the 
 mighty vortex. What part in the great 
 drama of London life could it be expected 
 the unsophisticated country lad of fourteen 
 years could there enact ] He was alone 
 amid the crowd, an insignificant puppet in 
 the hands of fortune. People turned 
 round as they passed, to look at his swag, 
 still suspended across his shoulder, which 
 gave him a rawness of appearance, and 
 was strongly indicative of a rusticity 
 seldom to be seen in London beyond the 
 precincts of Covent Garden Market, and
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 229 
 
 then not in the native freshness cha- 
 racterised by the young adventurer of our 
 sketch. But this agricultural rusticity of 
 look and appendage was quickly changed 
 under the influence of the metropolitan 
 atmosphere. The kit, knapsack, or swag, 
 as the reader chooses to call it, was 
 deposited at a lodging and coffee house of 
 a low class in the neighbourhood of Drury 
 Lane, where the new arrival took up his 
 temporary abode. He was a shrewd clever 
 lad, and accordingly kept secret the fact of 
 his having any money about him; it was 
 naturally supposed that he had only a few 
 pence, with which to pay for his night's 
 lodging ; for, indeed, had it been known 
 that a thing so helpless had been possessed 
 of gold, the chances would have been 
 greatly against Arthur Cumberland's having 
 anything but the memory of it left on the 
 morning following. 
 
 In London, as well as in any other city or 
 town, it was, and is by no means a difficult
 
 230 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 thing for a boy, such as the one under our 
 notice, to procure employment — the means 
 of bread. A well educated man, if friendless 
 and moneyless, may tread the streets wearily 
 until he drop with fatigue, or retire to his 
 garret, and die through starvation, without a 
 thought being bestowed upon him. He may 
 answer advertisements, or otherwise become 
 a candidate for employment, for a whole 
 year, were he able to hold out so long, 
 without being successful in his endeavours ; 
 he may struggle and starve till he finds his 
 frame overcome by disease, and at the last 
 moment himself the inmate of a hospital, 
 from which he is never destined to emerge ; 
 but with regard to an able bodied lad, the 
 case is different; he is more easily and 
 readily provided for. He is a cheaper in- 
 strument than a man proper, and the 
 chances are a hundred to one in his favour. 
 Therefore, it was that, our hero, on the 
 morning following his entry into London, 
 took his way along the Strand, and, with
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 231 
 
 five guineas in his stocking, and the re- 
 mainder wrapped up in his pocket, he 
 zealously looked about, and bestirred him- 
 self to get what he called a place. 
 
 He had not proceeded far, when a paper 
 in the window of a shoe shop attracted his 
 attention. 
 
 " Wanted, a stout active lad :" it was 
 just the thing for him. He went in, and, 
 skipping the dialogue, was engaged at half- 
 a- crown a week wages, with the addition of 
 board and lodging on the premises. Here 
 was fortune in a moment. How glad he 
 felt when he had thus found, as it were, a 
 home, cannot be here realized. He quickly 
 removed his travelling appurtenances from 
 the lodging house, and became installed in 
 his new office ; and although it was only 
 that of a boot black and errand boy, he felt 
 glad and thankful. Having thus far con- 
 ducted the son and heir of Lawrence Cum- 
 berland on his passage through life, we will 
 here leave him. He is yet to stand forth 
 prominently in our drama.
 
 232 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Trelawney arrived in London with the full 
 intention of doing something, but what that 
 something might be he as yet knew not. 
 His first object was to locate himself in a 
 comfortable home. With this view he 
 penned an advertisement illustrative of his 
 desire to meet with board and residence in 
 a private family ; and, soon after its publi- 
 cation in the Times ^ he had the felicity of 
 receiving one hundred and twenty- six an- 
 swers. It was a work of some labour to 
 read them all, and having read them, to
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 233 
 
 make a selection ; and, after making a se- 
 lection, it was another great task, involving 
 a considerable amount in cab fare or pedes- 
 trious exercise, to make the. necessary calls, 
 for the residences of the various writers, of 
 whom gentlemen of the medical profession 
 formed a full fifth, were scattered in various 
 directions about the great city. 
 
 His first day's search he found to be very 
 fatiguing, and the distance he had travel- 
 led, and the bewilderment he had experi- 
 enced, out of all proportion with the num- 
 ber of calls that he had made, only three ; 
 none of which gained him that for which 
 he sought. On the second day the case 
 was different. After having in vain gone 
 up one street and down another in search 
 of some particular Place, or one of the 
 many Terraces with which he had to deal, 
 and the discovery of which he found to 
 be next to impossible, he arrived at the 
 corner of Westbourne Terrace, and was in 
 the act of inquiring of a passing pedestrian
 
 234 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 the way to Eastbourne Terrace, when a 
 little active-eyed woman, of antiquated 
 appearance, with dangling curls of grey 
 hair hanging on either side of her venerable 
 face, stopped as she overheard the directions 
 as to route given to our hero, and kindly vo- 
 lunteered to pioneer the way to the desired 
 Terrace, in which she announced herself as 
 a resident. 
 
 " What number, may I ask, do you wish 
 fori" said she, as they walked along. 
 
 " Fifty-five," answered our hero. 
 
 " Dear me, it's very strange," she said, 
 after a moment's pause; "that's my house." 
 
 " Indeed ! " ejaculated her companion. 
 
 '.' What might you want '? " she asked 
 politely, and in a tone calculated to lessen 
 the efi*ect of a question so direct. 
 
 " Oh ! I received a note from you about 
 board and residence," he replied. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the lady with the most 
 gracious obsequience, and accelerating her 
 speed of locomotion, so much was she im-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 235 
 
 pelled by the ruling spirit of gain, to reach 
 the house and show him the rooms. 
 
 " We are quite independent," she re- 
 marked, after arriving in her own drawing- 
 room, which was furnished in the plainest 
 possible manner, with chairs whose bot- 
 toms, from their appearance, our hero pre- 
 sumed to be of straw ; but which, according 
 to a subsequent statement of the old lady's, 
 turned out to be of something else. 
 
 " Mr. De Snag cannot see you to-day, 
 sir," said she, " but the doctor says he'll not 
 require him any more after to-morrow." 
 
 " He's been ill, then," observed our hero. 
 
 " Yes ; he's had to undergo an operation. 
 Didn't I tell you ] I'm so forgetful. But 
 you'll find everything very exact, sir. Five 
 towels a week I find ; and if you want more 
 I charge for them ; " and so talked Mrs. 
 De Snag, with whom our hero had arranged 
 to take up his residence, giving payment 
 at the rate of ninety-five pounds a year. 
 
 " How would you like it paid ] " asked 
 he.
 
 236 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 " Oh, quarterly. We don't think it's 
 respectable any other way." 
 
 The result of this interview was, that our 
 hero took up his residence at the house of 
 the De Snags two days afterwards ; it was 
 not, however, for three days after that that 
 the old lady knocked at his bedroom door 
 for the purpose of introducing her now in 
 every way convalescent husband to him. 
 
 "Oh! Mr. De Snag, Mr. Trelawney. 
 I've brought him to you," said she, alluding 
 to a ricketty, pudgy-bodied, muscle-moving 
 faced man ; who commenced bobbing his 
 head and bending his body, automaton 
 fashion, to an extent which was laughable ; 
 and who moved his feet and his hands as if 
 he wished to disconnect them entirely from 
 his other man, and whose bodily manner 
 was altogether so shuffling and rampant, that 
 Trelawney's face was in as much danger of 
 being hit by the erratic movements of the 
 former, as his toes were of being trodden 
 upon by the latter. The old man, for he
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 237 
 
 was evidently past sixty, and, as his guest 
 thought, troubled with the St. Vitus dance, 
 uttered a few words of a congratulatory 
 kind, with the natural politeness of a French- 
 man ; but they were so disconnected and 
 indistinct, as well as of such questionable 
 grammar, that their meaning was only to 
 be interpreted by the gestures of the spQ^ker. 
 This meeting took place on the stair 
 landing, and in front of Trelawney's bed- 
 room door. The latter, after expressing his 
 happiness in his recovery and restoration to 
 the world beyond his bedroom, held out his 
 hand, which the other seized and shook up 
 and down as if it had been a pump handle, 
 and as if he did not know at what stage to 
 let it go again, for it was not for some se- 
 conds that Trelawney released himself from 
 the awkward grasp of the unwieldy French- 
 man : after which the latter shuffled off, 
 bowing and bobbing as at first, and with 
 him went his slim, grey headed, pinch vi- 
 saged, heavy nosed partner, in childless
 
 238 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 matrimony. The dinner was meagrely sup- 
 plied, and two hours afterwards, i. ^., at 
 eight o'clock, tea followed ; after absorbing 
 which beverage, Trelawney retired into his 
 bedroom, to prepare and arrange plans for 
 his future guidance. 
 
 Winterthorne had left London soon after 
 their arrival from the continent, with the 
 expressed intention of proceeding to Not- 
 tingham, and confronting, according to 
 promise, his former friend. Dr. MacSlab. 
 He was expecting his return daily. 
 
 Trelawney opened his portmanteau, pul- 
 led out a cash box, and after inspecting its 
 contents, replaced it, with the ejaculation, 
 " Five hundred and ten pounds ; " such 
 being the amount therein contained, in the 
 form of a deposit note for three hundred, 
 lodged in the bank of Sir John Green Saul, 
 Gates, and Co., Fleet Street, and ten sove- 
 reigns. This was the balance of his entire 
 fortune, gained in California, and very well 
 off he felt himself. His ambition was to
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 239 
 
 be called to the bar. With the view, there- 
 fore, of instituting the preliminary inquiries, 
 he took his way to Gray's Inn on the morn- 
 ing following. 
 
 " Are you a university man ] " asked the 
 clerk in the steward's office, " I ask you be- 
 cause you'll have a fee less to pay if you 
 are." 
 
 " No, I am not," answered the applicant. 
 
 " Oh ! are you of any profession ] " 
 
 " None," was the answer, " as yet. A 
 profession is the very thing that I want," and 
 he smiled peculiarly. 
 
 " Oh ! well, I'll fill up one of the forms 
 for you. What name shall I sayl" resumed 
 the clerk, pen in hand. 
 
 " Harry Trelawney," replied the candi- 
 date for a wig and gown. 
 
 " Residence ] " 
 
 " Fifty-five, Eastbourne Terrace." 
 
 '' Father's name "? " continued the clerk. 
 
 Our hero for the moment was non-plussed, 
 but he promptly answered, and without 
 much hesitation, " Edward Trelawney."
 
 240 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 " First son ] " 
 
 " Yes," replied the ex- digger, who felt a 
 little out of his element in having to answer 
 such questions. 
 
 " Profession and place of residence of 
 father 1 " continued the clerk. 
 
 " I'm hanged if I know," he ejaculated 
 within himself, with a puzzled feeling, and 
 almost as quickly uttered, " merchant, Con- 
 stantinople;" all which particulars, together 
 with his own age, were legibly filled into a 
 printed form. 
 
 " You must procure the signatures of 
 two barristers in recommendation, and get a 
 householder as bondsman for you," said the 
 clerk, as he handed the now folded docu- 
 ment to the legal aspirant. 
 
 " Is there any charge ] " inquired he, to 
 which the clerk answered, " Not any," and 
 he left the Inn, feeling wiser than he had 
 ever done before. 
 
 " I know of neither a householder nor 
 barristers that will sign for me," he reasoned;
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 241 
 
 but, knowing the force and value of money, 
 and that by virtue of it they could be easily 
 procured, he did not allow that difficulty to 
 stand in his way to what he adjudged emi- 
 nence. The same evening he represented 
 his requirement of a householder as bonds- 
 man, to the old couple with whom he lived, 
 and, thinking according to the motto that 
 nothing was to be had without being asked 
 for, he asked his French host whether he 
 would sign for him in the matter ; but that 
 individual manifested so much painful 
 anxiety and amazement in consequence, that 
 Trelawney at once dismissed the matter by 
 saying that as Monsieur De Snag was not 
 a naturalised Englishman, it would be 
 better that he should not have anything to 
 do with it; notwithstanding which, however, 
 the voluntary exile from his country, fol- 
 lowed him up into his bedroom, and after 
 gasping " Oh ! Monsieur Trelawney," and 
 then burst into tears and sank sobbing on to 
 a neighbouring chair.
 
 242 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 Trelawney was unable to divine the cause 
 of such a strange ebullition of feeling. 
 
 "The man's mad," he thought; and after 
 in vain trying to get a word of explanation 
 from the half convulsed De Snag, he ran 
 down stairs to inquire of his wife if any- 
 thing was the matter with Monsieur. 
 
 " No ; what's he doing ] " said Madame. 
 " He's in a high state of grief about 
 something, I can't get a word out of 
 him," answered the other. " Is it about 
 that Gray's Inn affair, do you thinks' he 
 asked. 
 
 " I dare say, he's so very nervous, the 
 least thing puts him out ; where is he ] " 
 
 "In my room," answered Trelawney; and 
 the old companion in barren matrimony 
 took her way up stairs to rouse De Snag, 
 as she called him, from his lethargy of sor- 
 row, or to appease his frenzy of grief, as the 
 case might be. 
 
 " He's so sorry that he's not able to do 
 what you wanted," observed the old woman,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 243 
 
 who, when they had reached the bedroom 
 alluded to, found that Monsieur had retired 
 from its precincts. 
 
 He had gone up to his own dressing-room, 
 whither she followed him. 
 
 " Come, De Snag, get up ; don't sit there, 
 crying ; the gentleman doesn't want you to 
 do anything. Come, get up." 
 
 " Oh ! no, oh ! no, let me alone," Tre- 
 lawney heard the old man cry, in a sobbing 
 childish manner, and as if withdrawing his 
 hand from that of his wife's. 
 
 " Very well, I'll leave you there," and in 
 the dark, as shehad found him, she left him. 
 
 " He's in his dotage, poor sinner," quoth 
 Trelawney, to himself. 
 
 By and by, clumsy footsteps, accompanied 
 by a shuffling of body and panting of breath, 
 the usual evidences of De Snag's approach, 
 were heard descending the stairs. 
 
 Trelawney opened the door of his dress- 
 ing-room, and caught a glimpse of the un- 
 wieldy figure, moving in the darkness. 
 
 " Monsieur," ejaculated he.
 
 244 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 The old fellow turned round to the call, 
 and wiping his eyes with his coat sleeve 
 and hands, came and shook hands with his 
 lodger, who so far pacified him, that after 
 giving expression to many apologies and re- 
 grets that he was unable to oblige his new 
 friend, he took his way down stairs in a 
 somewhat more satisfied mood than before. 
 
 On the day following our hero took his 
 way to Gray's Inn. and having stated his 
 position as a stranger in London, he was 
 referred to a certain attorney, who procured 
 him the necessary bondsman, together with 
 the recommendatory signatures of two mem- 
 bers of the bar, in return for the sum of 
 ten guineas. 
 
 The preliminary fees, amounting to about 
 twenty-five pounds, were paid on the day 
 afterwards, and in due course, after the lapse 
 of three days, the Benchers having signed 
 approval, Harry Trelawney, Esquire, was 
 entered as a student for the English bar, 
 of the honourable Society of Gray's Inn.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 245 
 
 " A hundred and thirty pounds and eigh- 
 teen months dinners, and I'm called," 
 reasoned he ; and forthwith set to reading 
 Chitty and Coke, which books he obtained 
 from the Inn library. 
 
 Thus he was fairly entered for a profes- 
 sion which was to at once give him a locus 
 standi in society, as well as, in his opinion, 
 to lead him on to glory hereafter.
 
 246 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Forty years prior to the period treated of 
 in the last chapter, Arthur Cumberland 
 had been called to the bar by the same 
 honourable Society of Gray's Inn. The 
 latter offered greater facilities than either 
 the Temple or Lincoln's Inn, both on the 
 score of economy, the fees being smaller, 
 and also by virtue of no preliminary ex- 
 amination of candidates previous to ad- 
 mission being required, thereby proving 
 itself very convenient to would-be barristers 
 in general, and our friend and hero in
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 24f 
 
 particular. Arthur Cumberland was thrifty, 
 shrewd, ardent, and persevering. From 
 being a boot black and errand boy at the 
 shop in the Strand, he had transferred 
 himself to the shop of a grocer, at five 
 shillings a week wages, in addition to board 
 and lodging. From this he had entered 
 the service of a bookseller and stationer in 
 Cheapside, which place was not only more 
 lucrative than either of the others, but 
 afforded him the means of gratifying his 
 taste for reading, and also of initiating 
 himself by force of contact with a more 
 intelligent set of beings than he was thrown 
 among during his servitude either at the 
 grocer's or the shoemaker's. 
 
 Mr. Richard Sharpe, the aforementioned 
 stationer, his employer, was a widower and 
 childless. He had not a relative that he 
 cared about in the world. 
 
 Four years passed over the head of Arthur 
 from the time of his entering the service of 
 the Cheapside bookseller. The former had
 
 248 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 much improved, both in manners, appear- 
 ance, and education, having attended a 
 City Night School, during the greater part 
 of the time, while the latter had treated 
 him in the kindest manner, and manifested 
 a regard for him which was friendly, if not 
 fatherly. 
 
 The ambition of the bookseller's assistant 
 was to be able to sit in wig and gown in 
 Westminster Hall. Old Sharpe had often 
 conversed with him on the subject of his 
 past, present, and future career, and knew 
 the tastes, desires, and natural bent of his 
 youthful proiegL 
 
 " You shall be a barrister," exclaimed 
 the grey-headed widower, on one occasion : 
 " I'll pay for you ; you've talents, and may 
 shine ; perhaps be a judge some day : who 
 knows ] More unlikely things have hap- 
 pened." The good man, however, was not 
 destined to see the work carried out. He 
 called young Cumberland to his bedroom 
 one dull morning in January. " Arthur,"
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 249 
 
 he said, " I'm very ill ; send for Mr. Giles," 
 meaning his attorney, " and the doctor : 
 I'm afraid I'm going, Arthur. It can't be 
 helped; I'm an old man." Thus with a 
 resolute presence of mind, in the prospect 
 of approaching death, the venerable sta- 
 tioner of Cheapside commissioned his fa- 
 voured employe. 
 
 " I'll leave you enough to get on with. 
 I'll leave you two thousand pounds, Ar- 
 thur," continued the enfeebled benefactor. 
 
 The attorney and doctor arrived ; the 
 former inserted the item of two thousand 
 pounds in the will of Richard Sharpe, and 
 such was his last testament; the doctor 
 prescribed, and told him to keep quiet ; and 
 the city bookseller remained in his room 
 till the time of his death, which occurred 
 sixteen days afterwards. 
 
 Thus briefly have we ushered in an 
 event in the life of Arthur Cumberland, 
 which was the turning-point in his career. 
 The funeral over, the money was promptly
 
 250 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 paid, and the recipient of the generous 
 bounty of the late stationer of Cheapside, 
 betook himself to chambers in Gray's Inn, 
 of which honourable society he became a 
 member, and diligently began to make ac- 
 quaintance with various standard works in 
 which he was destined to be examined, 
 prior to being called to the enviable posi- 
 tion of a barrister-at-law. 
 
 About this time he paid a visit to the 
 village in Gloucestershire, for the first time 
 since his abrupt departure therefrom. He 
 congratulated every one whom he had for- 
 merly known, and warmly greeted those 
 with whom he had passed the first eleven 
 years of his lifetime. The labourer, his 
 wife and family, still lived, as they had 
 done, in the same cottage, and under the 
 same circumstances as when he left the 
 village six years before. There was no 
 alteration in the aspect of the place; but 
 people had married and died, and children 
 had been born among the villagers. Ar-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 251 
 
 thur received the grateful homage of his 
 faithful nurse, when he handed her fifty- 
 pounds in part payment, as he rightly con- 
 sidered, of the debt of his father to those 
 who had cherished him during his years of 
 helplessness. He was lavish in his small 
 gifts of money to the children about the 
 place ; and by his sumptuousness of manner, 
 appearance, and pocket, quite astonished 
 the country folks in general, and farmer 
 Simpson in particular. 
 
 " Bless me, what a fine gentleman that 
 lad's turned out," said the wife of the latter 
 wonderingly; "how's he gotten the money; 
 he's given old Rose fifty pound, and shil- 
 lins to the children all about the village." 
 
 The fact is Arthur Cumberland wished 
 to astonish the natives ; and by his money 
 and altered look, his cocked hat, sword, and 
 silver buckled shoes, he efi'ectually did it. 
 He was the marvel as well as the lion of the 
 whole community, and when he left by 
 post-chaise on the day after his arrival, a
 
 252 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 chorus of hurrahs saluted him from all 
 sides, the sound of which seemed to linger 
 in his ears during the entire journey to 
 London. He moralized on the way, think- 
 ing on his improved position since last 
 travelling the very same journey on foot, 
 with his kit across his shoulder. No news 
 of his father or anyone connected with him 
 had been heard of at the village. He had, 
 as we have said, never seen that parent 
 within memory, nor his mother, for she 
 had died ere he had well outrun his first 
 year's existence. He knew, by report, 
 that his father, originally a lawyer, had 
 been a schoolmaster at Clifton, and that 
 subsequently he had been imprisoned for 
 debt ; but all beyond was hidden ; he was 
 as ignorant as to in whom or where he 
 could find a relative, as any of those among 
 whom he had been bred up and nurtured. 
 Conflicting and anxious thoughts took pos- 
 session of him for awhile, but as he was 
 borne rapidly across the landscape towards 
 
 Vjfc
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 253 
 
 the scene of his future studies and labours, 
 which were to lead him, as he thought, and 
 we will not say untruly, to honour and 
 eminence, he dispelled the flaky visions of 
 his pedigree, and justly considering himself 
 a deserted orphan, he dismissed the subject 
 with half a sneer of reproach, something in 
 the spirit of " I care for nobody, nobody 
 cares for me." 
 
 He put up at a roadside inn for the night, 
 and resuming his journey early on the fol- 
 lowing morning, entered London at about 
 mid -day.
 
 254 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 We last parted with the supposed widow 
 of Lawrence Cumberland, immediately after 
 the performance of a second marriage, 
 between herself and the barman at the 
 " Red Lion", Portsmouth, and nearly seven 
 years after the mysterious disappearance of 
 the fortune forsaken ex-attorney, whose end 
 was proclaimed by all who knew him to 
 have been that of a suicide. The name of 
 this second husband was Dykes — Samuel 
 Dykes. Six years more rolled away with- 
 out altering in the least the fortunes of
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 255 
 
 these humble plodders, in the byways of 
 life ; but shortly afterwards, Dykes, the 
 barman, having by some means rendered 
 himself obnoxious to the landlord of the 
 " Red Lion," quitted that individual's 
 service, and feeling, to use his own lan- 
 guage, disgusted with Portsmouth, resolved 
 to repair to the metropolis, and there offi- 
 ciate in some other " Red Lion," " Blue 
 Post," or " Star and Garter," as the case 
 might be, and his wife with him. 
 
 William Henry, his stepson, accompanied 
 them on the journey. He was then in his 
 fourteenth year, and for a lad of his age, 
 had received a fair education, having 
 attended school regularly from his seventh 
 year, his mother priding herself on her boy's 
 attainments. Dykes did not allow much 
 time to elapse after his arrival in London, 
 before he located himself in a similar 
 situation to that which he had held at 
 Portsmouth, while his stepson, who had 
 not hitherto been engaged in any occupa-
 
 256 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 tion, succeeded, by means of an advertise- 
 ment, in obtaining employment as office 
 boy, or junior clerk, in the counting house 
 of a city firm, his salary for the first six 
 months being at the option of his em- 
 ployers. After a lapse of about a year, 
 security to the extent of a hundred pounds 
 was required, by the latter ; and in order to 
 meet their views. Dykes, the stepfather, 
 deposited his entire earthly fortune, fifty 
 pounds, in addition to a bond for a like 
 sum ; this was done as a guarantee for the 
 lad's honesty, with regard to any money he 
 might be required to handle. A very few 
 weeks after this, he, in an evil hour, ab- 
 sconded from the service alluded to, with 
 the sum of forty pounds odd. This, as 
 might be expected, greatly discomfited the 
 stepfather, as well as the boy's mother, 
 causing the former to vow vengeance 
 against him, and the latter to shed those 
 tears of bitter disappointment and regret, 
 which a parent alone can experience.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 257 
 
 No criminal proceedings were commenced 
 against the' erring and ungrateful fugitive 
 by his late employers, owing to their having 
 the means of reimbursing themselves in 
 their own hands. The trifling difference 
 between the amount embezzled and the 
 sum lodged, was paid over to Mr. Dykes, 
 and so ended his connexion with the affairs 
 of one whom he never afterwards either saw 
 or heard of. Nobody knew where the 
 young scamp had gone to, and his mother 
 wondered in vain as to what had become of 
 him. At length, after the lapse of nearly 
 two years, and five weeks after the death of 
 Dykes himself, she received a letter, bear- 
 ing the Leeds post mark, and containing 
 the information that her son, William 
 Henry Cumberland, had died four days 
 previously in that town, and that he had 
 been respectably buried at the expense of the 
 writer, one Peter Grimshaw by signature. 
 
 This was a mere 7nise, in order to get 
 some money out of Mrs. Dykes, adopted by
 
 258 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 one of the confederates of this sinful lad 
 William, who was, as the reader may have 
 already surmised, no other than Victor 
 Trelawney, the hero of the elopement, 
 whose early career we had occasion to 
 allude to at the time of his introduction ; 
 but when Mr. Peter Grimshaw waited on 
 Mrs. Dykes, after that gentleman's arrival 
 in London, he found her, to use his own 
 expression, in such low water, that she was 
 unable to recompense him for so dis- 
 interested a task as the burial of her only 
 son, and he would have confessed to the 
 deception when he found she was without 
 money, and recently bereaved of her second 
 husband, but that he had no wish to brand 
 himself a liar. The reported death and 
 burial of even that unworthy son, caused 
 her a pang of intense grief; for she had 
 hoped to see him return a penitent ere 
 long, when she could again clasp him in 
 her motherly embrace, and forgive his 
 youthful rashness, but now there was no
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 259 
 
 hope ; he had sunk to the grave unre- 
 conciled with her, and she was left alone in 
 the world. Bitterly she wept for that young 
 castaway, who, led on by his elder com- 
 panions, was still following the unhappy 
 and disreputable career of a common thief. 
 There is no doubt but that the evil instincts 
 of the boy had been developed by the asso- 
 ciations of his life in London ; and that the 
 love of money, which has been truly said to 
 be the root of all evil, overcame any innate 
 feeling of honesty he was possessed of. 
 
 Honesty, however, as interpreted by 
 civilised mankind, or rather, man in his ar- 
 tificial state, is merely a conventional rule ; 
 for, surely, if all had enough, no one would 
 have occasion to appropriate that which be- 
 longeth to his fellow, neither would there 
 be temptation to violate the simple rights 
 of each individual; for a spirit of mutual 
 goodwill would exist, and all things would 
 be as much the property of one as of 
 another. But money, that cursed institu-
 
 260 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 tion introduced by civilisation, has nar- 
 rowed the liberty of both our thought and 
 action, and left the savage in the primeval 
 wilderness a more noble creature than any 
 of us who act in the grand puppetshow of 
 society — of pounds, shillings and pence, and 
 their infinite accessories, in this our year of 
 Christianity, eighteen hundred and fifty- 
 nine, when everyone mistrusts his neigh- 
 bour, and cold unfriendly isolation is the 
 system of the age ; — when maidens live on 
 in perpetual celibacy, because they are so 
 penned up, that no opportunity is afforded 
 them of coming in contact with a suitable 
 helpmate; and when men, unable to procure 
 wives, or support the proper ideal of " an 
 establishment," revel away their youth and 
 manhood in pernicious debauchery. Why 
 is this ] Why is society so unhappily con- 
 stituted 1 Surely a more healthful tone 
 and moral would characterise the middle 
 and upper classes of the empire in which 
 we live, if the shackles and fetters of society
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 261 
 
 were set loose, thus granting more freedom 
 of intercourse, and lessening that feeling of 
 mutual mistrust which is the grand mistake 
 and social evil of our day, leading to miser- 
 able isolation on the one side, and ruinous 
 profligacy on the other ; for, in the words of 
 Scripture, man was not born to live alone, 
 neither, as a natural consequence, was 
 woman. 
 
 Oh ! old maids and bachelors of England, 
 in what generation will ye mend your ways, 
 and consider that money is the evil and not 
 the blessing of life ; and that what goes to 
 support each of you. in your years of 
 maidenhood or bachelorhood, would just as 
 well, if not better, sustain you if amalga- 
 mated together, even as yourselves in the 
 bonds of holy matrimony 1 The poet says : 
 
 " And is there not a dismal void in life 
 Without that thing of joy — a loving wife 
 To shed her glory ever round the sphere 
 In which she lives, and maketh life more dear 
 Than those who never knew such bliss can telU" 
 
 And the poet speaks truly ; mayhap he 
 was married himself!
 
 262 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 We have already mentioned that immedi- 
 ately after the return of our hero and Win- 
 terthorne from their continental tour, the 
 latter took his way to Nottingham, in ac- 
 cordance with his promise to Dr. MacSlab, 
 the respected accoucheur entrusted with the 
 care of Mrs. Radley, during the period of 
 her delivery of the pillow before mentioned, 
 which latter was superseded shortly after- 
 wards by the pink body of a fine male 
 child, that had just emerged into active 
 life elsewhere, and which was subsequently
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 263 
 
 held up to all the stocking weavers in Not- 
 tingham as the son and heir of Henry 
 Radley. 
 
 Winterthorne was seated in the library 
 and studio of Dr. MacSlab. 
 
 " Now about your late uncle's property," 
 spoke the latter, in a confidential tone, after 
 informing him that he had been unable to 
 gain any intelligence of the missing wife, 
 " what will you give if I get it you ] " 
 
 " Get it me ! why, how do you mean ] " 
 exclaimed the other, with surprise. 
 
 " Well, never mind ; I'll tell you after- 
 wards. Will you give half? " continued 
 the prescription writer. 
 
 " Well, it depends upon circumstances ; 
 but I see no chance of getting it unless 
 this youngster dies off without a will." 
 
 "If I prove in a court of law," resumed 
 the doctor, emphatically, and shaking his 
 fist, " that that boy Joseph has no right 
 w^hatever to the property he has just in- 
 herited, and get the estate transferred to
 
 264 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 yourself, what then will you give meV 
 Here he paused, and each gazed intently at 
 the other. " I can do it," continued Mac 
 SlabjWith an air of authoritative importance; 
 and so saying he sank back in his large 
 leather, brass-nailed, arm chair, and anxious- 
 ly, yet with a calm look, awaited a reply. 
 
 " You surprise me. Gad! I'm quite taken 
 aback, as the sailors say," said Winter- 
 thorne, with much curiosity of gesture. 
 " Tell us all about it, doctor." 
 
 " Well, I don't mind, as I said, if you'll 
 go halves, and give me your guarantee that 
 you'll profit by my knowledge, and enter an 
 action of ejectment ; a writ of right, I think 
 it's called, against the young man now in 
 possession." 
 
 " Ah ! doctor, I'm sorry you're a Scotch- 
 man ; you're too good a bargainer for me ; 
 why, half — that's an awful slice for commis- 
 sion ; whereas if this chap died I might 
 get "- 
 
 At this crisis, MacSlab, who had been
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 265 
 
 leaning forward with his hands on the table, 
 uttered a vociferous mew and forced laugh, 
 after which he fell back in his chair, with a 
 whistle indicative of contemptuous ridicule 
 at the idea of the man before him being so 
 absurd as for a moment to entertain the 
 slightest expectation of even the possibility 
 of such a thing ever occurring. 
 
 Winterthorne was half angry at the doc- 
 tor's display of seeming derision. " You 
 may laugh and whistle, Dr. MacSlab ; but 
 111 tell you what — more unlikely things have 
 occurred. Then, supposing he was to die 
 to-night — die to-night I say — " 
 
 " Yes," put in the accoucheur. 
 
 " Well, then," resumed the other — 
 
 " Hoot ! tush ! " exclaimed the doctor, 
 suddenly and interruptingly, with the view 
 of checking an argument so unfavourable to 
 his negociation ; " suppose I was to be 
 turned into a bullfinch." 
 
 " Not very likely," replied the other. 
 " But, confound it, you haven't told me
 
 266 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 your grounds for upsetting the claim of 
 young Radley. How do you mean to do 
 it — choke him 1 " On hearing this the 
 countenance of Dr. MacSlab grew red and 
 angry. 
 
 " Sir, I cannot allow such an insinuation 
 as that to be uttered against me, and I 
 request that you retract it instantaneously." 
 
 " Pardon, pardon, doctor. Nothing 
 meant," answered the visitor. 
 
 " You retract it then ] " 
 
 " "With all my heart and every bit of 
 my lungs." 
 
 " Well, then, let me tell you, that the 
 means are at my own command, and that 
 they would be applied, not surreptitiously, 
 but legally — in a court of law most likely ; 
 but as I should have to make declarations 
 on oath, and subject myself to a great deal 
 of annoyance and trouble in consequence, 
 and as I am the only one who is in a 
 position to advance, or even make known 
 your claim, I do not feel disposed to enter
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 261 
 
 into the matter unless I receive an ample 
 consideration for so doing." 
 
 " Very fair ; all very fair, doctor. But 
 suppose you get a thousand pounds of it." 
 
 The doctor here gave a look too black 
 and scornful for description. 
 
 " What ! for bringing you twenty thou- 
 sand pounds'? No ! Duncan MacSlab 
 knows better than to do that ; " and he rose 
 up from his huge heavy chair with the look 
 of an injured man. Then changing his 
 mood suddenly, he said : — " Give me a 
 guarantee for eight thousand pounds, and 
 I promise you that the entire estate of the 
 late James Radley shall be yours ; but not 
 a farthing less will I ever take. If you 
 don't choose to give it, say so, and we'll 
 have done with the matter." 
 
 " Well then, doctor, tell me the process 
 you would adopt for ousting him, or what 
 plea you would put in." 
 
 "That is known only to myself; and 
 unless you feel disposed to accede to my 
 proposal, it remains secret."
 
 268 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 Winterthorne here put some questions 
 bearing further on the subject, but they 
 were stopped by MacSlab, who said — 
 
 " I have said all that I ever intend say- 
 ing, unless you are willing to accept my 
 offer. You'd not find one man in a thou- 
 sand who would do it under the circum- 
 stances : however, you've only yourself to 
 consider. But recollect, that if you don't 
 get the money through me, you'll never 
 get it at all." 
 
 "Well, I'll consider!" said Winter- 
 thorne, " and call again." 
 
 " Very well !" answered MacSlab. " You 
 can take supper here, if you like ; I shall 
 be glad to see you." 
 
 "Thank you! I'll do so then. What 
 timer' 
 
 " Eight o'clock," was the reply ; and the 
 two men parted with a mutual shake of the 
 hand, the one curious, wondering and con- 
 fused, the other calm, collected, and greedy 
 in the expectation of making his desired 
 harvest.
 
 269 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 WiNTERTHORNE punctually attended at the 
 supper table in company with MacSlab and. 
 a certain elderly gentleman, who was in- 
 troduced as Mr. Croker; there were no 
 others, for the shrewd practitioner was 
 a widower and childless. He and his 
 two servants, in the shape of a boy in 
 buttons and an old female cook, alone in- 
 habited the house in which he dwelt, over 
 whose outer walls green-leaved ivy grew 
 from out of venerable and matted stalks ; 
 amongst which the sparrows chirruped, and
 
 270 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 in and out of which they flew with many a 
 twitter, from the first blush of the laughing 
 morn, ere the spinning- jennies were in mo- 
 tion, till the sun had sunk down in the west, 
 and the weavers had ceased their labours in 
 the good old stocking and bobbing making 
 town of Nottingham. 
 
 The supper was amply and substantially 
 served ; old ale, port, sherry, and Scotch 
 whiskey, constituting the drinks ; and a 
 cold ham and chickens, together with a col- 
 lar of brawn and some prime old Stilton, 
 the chief eatables. The doctor, after hastily 
 discussing a small platter of oatmeal por- 
 ridge which was laid before him, partook 
 heartily of the other consumeables, after 
 which he called for hot water and made 
 himself a tumbler of the stiffest of punch. 
 The others followed his example. Hitherto 
 not a word had been said about the affair 
 of the morning. 
 
 " Well, Eadley," broke out the host, 
 " have you thought over that matter ] "
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 271 
 
 " Yes ; a little," was the reply. 
 
 " Is this gentleman, Mr. Croker, in your 
 confidence with regard to it '? " asked he. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, you can speak out, Mr. 
 Croker 's an old friend." 
 
 " Will you undertake, I say, to give me 
 eight thousand pounds if I put you in pos- 
 session 1 " 
 
 "Suppose we say five,'' said Winterthorne, 
 alias Radley, with a half intoxicated laugh, 
 for he had been imbibing liberally through- 
 out the day, and the mixture of beer, sherry, 
 port, and whiskey-punch, consumed at the 
 supper table, was beginning to tell upon 
 his eyes and words. 
 
 " He's coming round," thought MacSlab, 
 with an inward chuckle, as he passed the 
 whiskey towards his intended prey, accom- 
 panied with the remark, " mix for yourself, 
 Radley." 
 
 The latter forthwith acted on the sug- 
 gestion and concocted another tumbler, 
 which he drank off at three sips, eulogizing
 
 272 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 awhile what the doctor called " the dew off 
 Ben Nevis." 
 
 " You're a fool if you don't take the 
 doctor's offer," remarked the guest, Croker, 
 who was by profession a solicitor, and one, 
 moreover, very much in want of practice. 
 
 " Gad ! I think with you," answered the 
 ex-convict, lifting his tumbler with the in- 
 tention of drinking therefrom. 
 
 "You'd better finish with it," said Croker, 
 in a low whisper, " for I think the doctor's 
 half inclined to withdraw from having 
 aught to do with it." 
 
 Winter thorne looked up and ejaculated 
 " Very well." 
 
 MacSlab rose from his chair and said, 
 " I'll get the paper," with which view he 
 left the room, and returned again after the 
 lapse of about five minutes ; in the mean- 
 time Croker had been impressing him with 
 the advantages which would result from the 
 arrangement, not the least attractive of 
 which was the immediate possession of ready 
 money to the extent of thousands.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 273 
 
 Win terthorne continued to mix and drink, 
 and when the note of agreement was handed 
 to him, it seemed so simple, and said so 
 little, that he appended his signature to it 
 as desired ; after which Croker signed as 
 presiding witness, and the affair was com- 
 pleted. 
 
 " Now tell me all about it," said the 
 husband of two wives. 
 
 "Well," commenced MacSlab, "the 
 thing is very simple and straightforward ; 
 it is that the now acknowledged heir, 
 Frederick Radley, is not the child of either 
 your late aunt or uncle, and that the 
 whole thing was a deception, as she never 
 was in the family way. The child belongs 
 to a woman now living, and I can prove 
 the whole thing ; the consequence is, that 
 the property will go to the next of kin, and 
 the present inheritor not being in any way 
 related, will have to relinquish everything 
 belonging to the estate." 
 
 " By Jove! that's strange,but lunderstood 
 
 T
 
 274 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 that you attended her in (hiccup) con- 
 finement." 
 
 "-That, sir, is what enables and em- 
 powers me to act in this matter," answered 
 the Scotchman, quite unabashed at being 
 discovered as the primary instrument of 
 the deception. 
 
 ^' Just so : I see, you — you" (hiccup). 
 
 "Pass the whiskey, Mr. Croker," bel- 
 lowed the practitioner, shortly after which 
 the latter pointed to a miniature time-piece, 
 and said, " It's eleven o'clock, gentlemen ;" 
 which, being accepted in the sense of " Go 
 home — I want to go to bed;" the heir 
 expectant to the estates of the defunct 
 Eadley took his leave, with the promise 
 that he would call at noon on the day 
 following. The attorney and the porridge- 
 eater still lingered together.
 
 275 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Arthur Cumberland zealously prosecuted 
 his studies in the even then dingy cham- 
 bers of Gray's Inn ; and after the lapse of 
 two years, he was called to the bar by that 
 honourable society, and at the early age of 
 twenty-two. He was possessed of oratorical 
 abilities, and his natural talents generally 
 were of a high order ; they were the only 
 weapons he had to fight his way with 
 against his many competitors, who had 
 both wealth and connections on their side. 
 He was friendless, and although not without
 
 276 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 money, for he had after his visit to the 
 village in Gloucestershire been as thrifty 
 and economical as circumstances would 
 admit of, and had a considerable portion of 
 the legacy of two thousand pounds still 
 remaining ; still it was not sufficient to 
 enable him to make a show with, and he 
 rightly judged that the more prudent plan 
 would be to live a quiet life, upon the 
 money he already had, until such time as 
 he forced his way in the profession; for 
 practice he was determined to get, in spite 
 of every obstacle. 
 
 For the first two years he found a 
 barrister's life difficult and uninviting 
 enough to daunt a less heroic spirit than his 
 own, but perseverance at length gave him 
 an opportunity of displaying his powers. 
 It so happened that the leading counsel in 
 a case which attracted a considerable 
 amount of public interest, and in which 
 Cumberland was also engaged, was com- 
 pelled, by sudden indisposition, to leave
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 277 
 
 the court. The junior thereupon took the 
 reins into his own hand, and both by his 
 admirable tact and management, as well as 
 his potent eloquence, so completely frus- 
 trated and baffled his opponents, that the 
 jury, contrary to all previous expectation, 
 gave their verdict in favour of the client so 
 ably advocated by him. After this achieve- 
 ment, brief followed brief in flattering, not 
 to say profitable numbers, and Arthur 
 Cumberland had gained for himself a name. 
 Truly law is a lottery, and the best talker 
 often gains the prize.
 
 278 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXVI. 
 
 WiNTERTHORNE had been absent from 
 London a little more than a week, during 
 which time he had written twice to his 
 friend, our hero, hinting vaguely that he 
 was in expectation of being declared legal 
 successor to his late uncle's estate, when, 
 at the hour of 9 p.m., the visitors' bell 
 attached to the house of Monsieur De Snag, 
 in Eastbourne Terrace, was pulled into a 
 state of tingling agitation, which being in 
 the mind of the presiding housemaid in 
 particular, and all those who heard it in
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 279 
 
 general, indicative of the outer presence of 
 some one desirous of communicating with 
 herself, or others, took her way from the 
 kitchen to the street door, and in reply to 
 
 " Is Mr. Trelawney at home 1 " 
 
 To which she answered, "Yes, sir!" 
 ushered in the once stern rover over the 
 Australian wilderness, who had just arrived 
 from Nottingham. 
 
 " Mr. "Winterthorne, sir," said the maid. 
 
 " Ask him up." And in a moment more 
 the friends were together. 
 
 " Well, old fellow, how have you been 
 getting onT' said the boarder in the house 
 of the eccentric De Snag, the most curious 
 of men and the most strange of Frenchmen. 
 
 " That's just what I want to tell you," 
 was the reply. " By Jove ! it's the queerest 
 thing alive." 
 
 " What is it ! a scale-backed armadillo V' 
 asked Trelawney facetiously. 
 
 " No ! confound it — still life — about this 
 property affair. By Jove" — and here he
 
 280 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 burst into a laugh made up of wonder and 
 gratification — " it may turn out a good 
 thing for me though," he continued. 
 
 "Fire away! Tell us all about it," 
 urged Trelawney. 
 
 " Well, look here. My aunt, near twenty 
 years ago, gave out that she was enceinte, 
 as they call it. Well, after that she gave 
 birth to a son — that is, she shammed it — 
 but it wasn't hers at all. She was never in 
 the family way in her life." 
 
 "Hurray!" ejaculated the other, laugh- 
 ing at so novel a discovery. 
 
 " She was freighted with a pillow instead. 
 But the strangest part of the business is, 
 that old MacSlab, the doctor — who, by the 
 by, delivered her on the occasion — should 
 have turned the thing so capitally to his 
 own advantage as he is now doing. Gad ! 
 he's to have eight thousand out of the 
 twenty for peaching. The mother of the 
 child's still living in Sheffield ; father un- 
 known. Notice of ejectment has been
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 281 
 
 served to-day ; and, by Jove ! what a sen- 
 sation there'll be." 
 
 " Wonders never cease," ejaculated Tre- 
 lawney. " You'll have some tin then soon." 
 
 " Oui, monsieur ; I guess I shall rather," 
 answered Winterthorne, with an ironical 
 Yankeeism of tone, but with much self 
 congratulation of manner. 
 
 " Well, here's luck to you, old boy," 
 spoke our hero, nodding and quaffing a glass 
 of sherry. 
 
 " Thank you ; same to you, Trelawney, 
 maybe you'll be Lord Chancellor some day." 
 
 The other laughed ; " That's like telling 
 a chicken in embryo that it may turn out a 
 fighting cock. Ah ! I must wait till I'm 
 hatched." 
 
 "When will that be I should like to 
 know 1 I considered you a pretty old chicken 
 already," said Winterthorne. 
 
 " When I've eaten half a dozen dinners 
 and fingered Coke, old boy." 
 
 " Fingered what '? " said the other ; " gad,
 
 282 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 I'd rather finger the dinners than the coke 
 any day ; " at which they both laughed, and 
 simultaneously imbibed the produce of 
 some bygone vintage. 
 
 " How do you like your quarters here ] " 
 asked Winterthorne. 
 
 " Oh ! pretty well ; but I don't think I 
 shall stay the quarter out, I shall take 
 chambers at the Inn," was the response. 
 " They're two of the queerest images that 
 ever allied themselves together in holy ma- 
 trimony that keep the house; one can't speak 
 English and the other can't speak French. 
 Monsieur is always talking about his wife's 
 barrenness, and Madame about her miscar- 
 riages ; so that what with the one and what 
 with the other, it's a puzzle to make them 
 out." 
 
 " How very jolly," observed the arrival 
 from Nottingham, " let's go down and have 
 a look at them." 
 
 "Very well," responded Trelawney,"come 
 along," and the two descended, not to the
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 283 
 
 drawing room, but to the dining room, the 
 De Snags, as the reader is aware, being 
 people of by no means fashionable type, and 
 seldom or never having even a visitor to call 
 upon them. They gave infinitesimally 
 small orders to their tradesmen, whose 
 carts called daily and whose bills were paid 
 quarterly, i. e., the day after the old couple 
 had paid their accustomed call at the Bank 
 of England, where they faithfully received 
 the never failing three per cent, on their 
 money invested in consols, with which in- 
 terest, carefully distributed over each other's 
 persons, they waddled home again, and 
 twaddled as they went. 
 
 "Mr. Winterthorne,— Mrs. De Snag," 
 spoke Trelawney, as he entered the dining 
 room, and presented his friend. "Monsieur 
 De Snag," he continued, extending the in- 
 troduction to the old gentleman, who forth- 
 with bowed, staggered, danced, and nodded, 
 with much twitching, and a variety of 
 nervous gesticulations, and tried to speak,
 
 284 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 but had seemingly lost command of utter- 
 ance, for he only mumbled something 
 which seemed to yearn from the very re- 
 cesses of his animal cosmogony. 
 
 " Chair, sir, cha-a," he at length 
 ejaculated. " Glad to see you, sir," but the 
 latter was not understood by Winterthorne, 
 who was guided solely by gesture, and who 
 extricated his hand from the grasp of the 
 Frenchman's as soon as he well could ; for 
 the latter shook it about and held it so 
 long, and in such a menacing attitude, 
 meanwhile treading on his toes, as he moved 
 his feet about in irregular agitation, that 
 the guest, in spite of his friend's previous 
 observations on the character of their host, 
 began to feel suspicious that Monsieur De 
 Snag was either an assassin or a madman. 
 
 " Take tea, sir," she asked, addressing 
 Winterthorne ; " we're later than usual to 
 night — (here she stopped cutting the bread, 
 and rubbed her eyes.) " Yes : (here she 
 made a smirk.) " I've been asleep — I'm
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 285 
 
 sure I shouldn't say so (another and an 
 audible laugh.) " It's a very bad thing to 
 do, I know (smirk again) ; but you see I 
 cannot sleep after four o'clock in the 
 morning" (Baugh-hiccup.) 
 
 Trelawney, being quick of ear and com- 
 prehension, had soon familiarised himself, as 
 well as an Englishman ever could, with the 
 jargon of the Frenchman, who, notwith- 
 standing his having been more than twenty 
 years in England, was less acquainted with 
 its language than many of his countrymen 
 who had never been a month on the island 
 in their lives. 
 
 " You see I'm a foreigner, sir," said De 
 Snag. 
 
 " No ; I'm an Englishman," answered 
 Winterthorne 
 
 " Hum ! Hah — well," gasped and gesticu- 
 lated the Frenchman. " I have no children, 
 here, sir. One daughter in Jarmany," he 
 continued. 
 
 Winterthorne felt rather puzzled to
 
 286 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 answer this question ; he thought that the 
 question as to offspring was put to himself, 
 and a vision of his second wife, married at 
 Hamburgh, rose up before him ; and feel- 
 ing such talk to be a bore, as well to listen 
 to as to answer, he merely nodded. 
 
 " We expect her over here next month," 
 observed the old lady. " Mr. De Snag's 
 daughter by his first marriage. She lives 
 with her aunt at Hambro'." 
 
 "Oh ! indeed ; it's a nice place, Hambro', 
 I lived there myself sometime," remarked 
 Winterthorne ; " but it's a long time ago 
 now." 
 
 " She's been with Madame Rosenthal since 
 she was a child," continued the old lady. 
 
 A gleam of lurid fire, as it were, flashed 
 across the mind of Winterthorne at the 
 mention of the name " Madame Kosenthal." 
 He inadvertently ejaculated, " Does her 
 niece go by that name 1 " 
 
 " No ; Mrs. De Burgh. She's a widow — 
 at least her husband's never been heard of
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 287 
 
 since a year of their marriage. Oh ! it's 
 such a strange thing, Mr. De Snag can tell 
 you all about it," concluded the old lady. 
 
 Winterthorne, with trembling limbs, and 
 pallid countenance, sat motionless in his 
 chair, with eyes intently fixed on his in- 
 formant. His motion attracted attention ; 
 but its cause it would have been hard to 
 suppose any of those present could for a 
 moment have suspected. 
 
 " Did you know any one of that name T' 
 asked the hostess. 
 
 " Not intimately," answered Winter- 
 thorne with an efi'ort. 
 
 " Hah — he — hah," gasped the old gentle- 
 man, in his usual suffbcating manner, and 
 making a periodical pull at the old black 
 stock which tightly circled his throat, 
 
 " I have an engagement at ten," ob- 
 served Winterthorne, regaining his self- 
 possession, as far as the speaking point. 
 " And I want to get rest to night, for I've 
 had no sleep much for the last week, and
 
 288 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 I've felt quite shaky all day." He shook 
 hands with the old couple and his friend, 
 and promised to call on the next day ; a 
 minute afterwards he was treading the 
 Paddington pavement with a rapid and 
 nervous step in the direction of the park. 
 His mind was crowded and blotted with a 
 confusion of thought, and vague ideas of 
 coming good or evil flew across his mental 
 vision, involving him in a strange and in- 
 definable perplexity of things ominous. 
 He felt bewildered, and seemed unable to 
 account for it ; and he had arrived at a full 
 stop in the street without being aware of it, 
 till the sound of " Cab, sir V from a passing 
 Hansom aroused him to his waking senses, 
 and he mechanically entered the vehicle ; 
 nor was it for some moments that the 
 driver was able to learn where he wished 
 to be driven to. Such was the efl'ect of the 
 first and unexpected intelligence of his 
 second wife upon the person of Charles 
 Winterthorne, alias Eadley.
 
 289 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 It is long since we left the child of Syl- 
 vanus Scamperwell, then newly in the 
 house of its adoptress, her Grace the 
 Duchess of Yarborough. Be it, therefore, 
 known, that soon after he had thus un- 
 consciously found a place in the home and 
 affections of the supposed aunt of his 
 mother, a controversy ensued between Sir 
 Wyndham Berkeley, the so-called grand- 
 father, and the former, which was sub- 
 sequently joined in by the duke himself, 
 respecting the naming and baptism of the 
 
 u
 
 290 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 young struggler who had been so un- 
 expectedly discovered and passed into their 
 hands by the machinations of that arch 
 medium and theatrical buiFoon Scamper- 
 well, whose professional avocations led him 
 to be called the lightning-greaser and wave- 
 bruiser alternately. 
 
 " The child is unbaptized, and ought not 
 to remain so any longer," remarked her 
 grace to the baronet three weeks after 
 the adoption, as they sat together in the 
 Yarborough mansion. 
 
 It must be here understood that this 
 assertion was made on the good faith of 
 Mr. Scamperwell's statement to that effect. 
 
 " I was thinking of Wyndham Adolphus 
 for him," continued the duchess ; '' but 
 then there's the surname to be considered 
 of." 
 
 "Just so," replied Sir Wyndham. "Were 
 they really married, do you thinkl " asked he, 
 alluding to his late daughter and the dancing 
 master ; " that's what I wish to find out.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 291 
 
 That Mr. Scamperwell appears to be quite 
 unacquainted with the details of the un- 
 happy affair." Here he paused. "If the man 
 married her — bad as he may be — the off- 
 spring of that union ought, regardless of 
 every disadvantage, to bear his name. 
 Then, the most that can be said, would be, 
 that the marriage was an unfortunate one — 
 the result of a foolish elopement; but if 
 the lad has a name, not the one of his 
 father, bestowed upon him, it will stamp 
 him with illegitimacy ; which, if they really 
 were married, as I myself believe, would be 
 erroneous policy. I'm endeavouring to 
 ascertain that fact at the present time, and 
 meanwhile, I think the most judicious plan 
 would be to postpone the decision on that 
 point." 
 
 " Well, don't let us be long about it, 
 Berkeley," responded the lady : " the 
 sooner a thing of that kind is decided upon 
 the better. I consider it our duty." 
 
 " Yes, yes," broke in the baronet ; " Mr.
 
 292 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 Scamperwell is to communicate with me 
 on the subject of his inquiries as to place 
 of marriage to-morrow, and it may be that 
 by that time he will have ascertained some 
 facts concerning — concerning the — hem — 
 matter." The conversation here meandered 
 in another direction. 
 
 Punctually on the morrow, Sylvanus 
 Scamperwell made his report, which was, 
 that so far as he had been able to trace, no 
 marriage had ever been solemnized between 
 Victor Trelawney and the baronet's daughter. 
 This intelligence was communicated to the 
 duchess, who thought an advertisement, 
 addressed " to parish clerks and others," 
 offering a fee on the production of the 
 marriage certificate, would be the most 
 judicious plan to pursue ; but against this 
 the baronet stoutly rebelled, saying that he 
 had no wish to parade his daughter's shame 
 before the world, and remained so strong 
 in his objection, that the duchess was over- 
 ruled on the advertisement point.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 293 
 
 " Give him his father's name," at length 
 said the grandfather. " George Augustus 
 Trelawney, whether married or not, it 
 makes no difference in the eyes of God." 
 So in that name was the son of Scamperwell 
 rebaptized, and grew up a flourishing 
 parasite.
 
 294 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIIL 
 
 There was much laughing and talking in 
 the house of Monsieur De Snag on a cer- 
 tain night nearly a month following that on 
 which Winterthorne had made his first ap- 
 pearance beneath the roof which sheltered 
 the queer old Frenchman and his agile 
 bride, whose slim proportions and restless 
 activity of muscle belonged rather to girl- 
 hood than the downhill age of sixty-three. 
 The old couple had a friend who popped in 
 just in time for a cup of tea, as Mr. De 
 Snag observed, and who was introduced to
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 295 
 
 Trelawney as the son of an old schoolfellow 
 of De Snag's ; and, moreover, as an artist — 
 a sculptor. 
 
 Mr. Beeswing, for such was his name, 
 was a half auburn, half red-headed indi- 
 vidual, who, when he laughed, so creased 
 his countenance and noisily gesticulated, 
 that he became at once the best of laughing- 
 stocks himself; in other words, his merri- 
 ment was of a very contagious kind ; he 
 possessed the gift of laughing louder and 
 under a more seemingly intoxicating amount 
 of transitory bliss and happiness than any 
 man, woman, or child, that Harry Trelawney 
 had ever the felicity of hearing in the course 
 of his entire peregrinations, either in the 
 old world or the new* 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha, ha, a-a-a-e-e-e," until his 
 voice appeared to be lost in echo, would 
 this red haired artist give vent to his mirth 
 and merriment, and full play to his risible 
 organs. 
 
 " We have no children, Bella," said the
 
 296 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 old Frenchman to his wife, in a would-be 
 facetious manner ; it was amusing to see 
 him, and still more so to hear him. 
 
 " No ; two disappointments though," re- 
 torted the wife. 
 
 At this Beeswing, vulgarly surnamed 
 the carroty, exploded into a perfect furore 
 of delight, which lasted through at least 
 half a dozen peals of the most uproarious 
 laughter, which also exercised its customary 
 effect in making everybody else laugh, and 
 even the old blower shook with it as he sat 
 on his always to him uneasy chair. 
 
 " What a laugher he is, to be sure," re- 
 marked the old lady, after she had herself 
 finished laughing at her own expense, and 
 addressing Trelawney. 
 
 " Now Mrs. De Snag, tell us all about 
 your loves ; your old loves I mean," said 
 the visitor, " you know all about it I can 
 see," and here he laughed so energetically 
 that the old lady's good natured response, 
 " I'm sure I don't," was lost ; and that he,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 297 
 
 the red haired gentleman, canted the con- 
 tents of the teacup which he held over the 
 legs of the grinning De Snag. 
 
 The effect of this last was almost awful, 
 the old gasper bellowed like a wild beast, 
 and, jumping oif his chair, trod on the toes 
 of Trelawney, who, also having a cup in 
 his hand, jerked it so much that splash went 
 the tea over the collar and down the neck 
 of De Snag, which caused him to immedi- 
 ately yell out anew, and in a still more 
 piercing key, and at the same time to fall 
 sideways against the mantelpiece, where his 
 own cup, being jutting a little over the side, 
 was knocked broadside over the saucer; 
 this but the more distracted and added to 
 the confusion of the Frenchman, and as an 
 entertaining display of cause and effect so 
 completely overcame any powers of gravity 
 possessed by Beeswing, that that ridiculous 
 artist broke into renewed laughter, which 
 waxed loud and furious for at least thirty 
 seconds, by which time the face of De Snag,
 
 398 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 as he leant coughing and gasping against 
 the marble chimney piece, had assumed the 
 most pitiable aspect that countenance ever 
 wore. 
 
 " I never heard of such a thing," resumed 
 Madame, after wiping down the pantaloons 
 of her injured husband, who rapidly fol- 
 lowed it up by unbuckling his stock, which 
 proceeding seemed to occasion him great 
 agony, and throwing off his wet collar. " My 
 nieces complain of having no lovers ; I tell 
 them when I was their age I'd always two 
 or three gentlemen after me." 
 
 " Here ; look here," gasped the husband, 
 interrupting her. " Bella, look here," he 
 again articulated, in his usual suffocating 
 manner, and directing her attention to the 
 lower part of his shirt front — which he 
 had succeeded in pulling out of his waist- 
 coat, and up from the recesses still farther 
 down — which bore evident signs of the re- 
 cent application of wet tea. 
 
 " Well, De Snag, I'm sure!" said the wife,
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 299 
 
 reprovingly, which caused that individual 
 to turn round to Trelawney, and apologize 
 for undressing before him ; of Beeswing he 
 took no notice, in fact that good humoured 
 artist seemed to be one of the privileged 
 order of " beings harmless," for he laughed 
 out his regret and excuse for the mishap, 
 and seemed on the whole to have considered 
 it capital fun ; and, moreover, to have occa- 
 sioned but little personal displeasure, how- 
 ever much bodily discomfort with regard to 
 De Snag, on the part of either of the three 
 others present. His ringing laugh seemed 
 to act as a balm and set>off against every 
 calamity. 
 
 "Well, go on about your lovers," said 
 the artist, with a merry grimace; " never 
 mind De Snag." 
 
 To this the old lady uttered a juvenile 
 laughing " Tut," and seemed well pleased 
 in the recollection of the past, notwith- 
 standing the agony still pictured in the eyes 
 and lips of her spouse. " Oh ! such a lot
 
 300 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 of them to be sure," continued she, smirk- 
 ing, " I ought not to say lot. How many- 
 lovers had I, De Snagl" she said, addressing 
 that moaning and still unnaturalized scion 
 of Gaul. 
 
 " What 1 " said he, " what ? " 
 
 " Dear me, how deaf you are to be sure ; 
 I asked you how many lovers you had — I 
 mean I had ? " 
 
 At this Beeswing burst into a clamorous 
 agitation of laughter, during which De 
 Snag answered" Me; how should I know]" 
 
 " Well, let me see ; there was, first, the 
 midshipman ; middy, we used to call him ; 
 he used to take me out for a drive, and then 
 father was so angry that he put a stop to it." 
 Here she broke into a giggle under the in- 
 fluence of some secret thought in connection 
 therewith, and said, " Dear me, I shall never 
 forget that night. Then there was the 
 grocer's son ; he used to bring me such 
 quantities of grapes and figs; stole them out 
 of his father's shop, I suppose." Here she
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 301 
 
 again laughed, and so did Beeswing. "Then 
 there was Mr. Porter, but he turned out to 
 have no money. Then there was the coal 
 merchant; everything was arranged with 
 him, but he wanted the money settled upon 
 himself; but I said no, so the match was 
 broken off after all. Yes ; the wedding 
 dress and cake — all were bought. Then I 
 was engaged for six years to Mr. Stonor ; 
 at least we thought it was all right ; but 
 when it came to the point he said he only 
 considered it platonic." 
 
 This was fit food for Beeswing, and off he 
 went, echoing on the way. 
 
 " Yes ! that was a sad loss for me," con- 
 tinued the old lady, never heeding the 
 laughter, unless it was to enjoy or partici- 
 pate in it. " Six years lost that was. Then 
 there was Mr. Biddle, who painted that," 
 pointing to a half-size portrait of herself, 
 which hung up, " and afterwards died in 
 the madhouse ; he had no money either ; 
 then there was the other artist," pointing
 
 302 WRECK AND KUIN. 
 
 to a smaller picture, '' who did that. He 
 wasn't in a position to marry, so my father 
 told him, No. ' Well,' he said, ' I leave 
 England for ever,' and he fell upon his 
 knees, and, after saying good bye, left the 
 house, and nobody's seen him since." 
 
 " Well, madam, I think you had a pretty 
 good share," observed Beeswing facetiously. 
 " Go on, don't allow me to interrupt you." 
 
 " He — ha — he," gasped De Snag. 
 
 " Well, then there was Mr. Jones, a 
 merchant's clerk — he wouldn't do either." 
 
 " Dear me, I'm shocked," ejaculated 
 Beeswing. 
 
 " That's the one that wouldn't go away, 
 but always followed me to church, and 
 kept sending me bouquets, and notes blotted 
 with tears." 
 
 " Why don't you laugh, you old sinner ]" 
 exclaimed Beeswing, clapping the old 
 Frenchman on the back, in a manner 
 calculated to knock the remaining breath 
 completely out of him.
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 303 
 
 To this De Snag tried to laugh, but only- 
 whimpered. 
 
 " Then there was Mr. De Snag, and 
 while he was wishing to have me, another 
 that I'd known a long time before came 
 back ; but as soon as he saw Mr. De Snag 
 sitting at the fire, he saw how we were, and 
 never entered the house again : he was so 
 disappointed." 
 
 " Why he might have gone in and cut 
 De Snag out," suggested Beeswing. To 
 this madam laughed and said, 
 
 " No ; he took it too much to heart," 
 
 " Lamentable," uttered the artist. 
 
 " I knew what Mr. De Snag wanted, 
 although he 'never said anything." 
 
 " Clever woman !" ejaculated Beeswing. 
 
 " Oh, no, he only sat over the fire, look- 
 ing : he never said anything, oh, no." 
 
 " He ha! He ha!" gasped the individual 
 alluded to, and Beeswing forthwith clapped 
 him on the shoulder, which had the effect 
 of causing him to gasp again.
 
 304 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 " But my nieces, they tell me," continued 
 she, " have no lovers at all ; I never 
 heard of such a thing." 
 
 " Well, then, let's marry them," sug- 
 gested Beeswing, which even the old buffer 
 laughed at and understood. 
 
 " Come, Monsieur, get up old boy, and 
 stir yourself; give us your opinion on 
 something — the pleasures of matrimony, 
 for instance." 
 
 " Mrs. De Snag will tell you better than 
 myself," answered the locomotive, at which 
 Beeswing laughed and made gesticulations, 
 generally for upwards of half a minute. 
 
 " Well, Mrs. De Snag, what have you to 
 say on that subject 1" urged the artist. 
 The old lady laughed and twittered and 
 answered, 
 
 " Nothing ; I'm sure." 
 
 *' Matrimony's a barren subject with 
 you apparently," observed Beeswing ; im- 
 mediately after saying which he detected 
 the personal nature of his remark, and com-
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 305 
 
 menced laughing in an under breath ; but 
 finding it impossible to curtail his ex- 
 hibition of feeling, he broke out in his 
 usual loud and boisterous key. 
 
 " It's very bad when there come no 
 children," ejaculated the hitherto silent De 
 Snag. 
 
 " Two disappointments though," spoke the 
 wife almost mechanically, and forgetting 
 that she had made use of exactly the same 
 remark before during the evening. 
 
 " Well, that's a satisfaction :" observed 
 Beeswing laughing. 
 
 " Let's talk about music," said madame, 
 with impatient disgust. " Come up, and 
 I'll play you a quadrille and polka : that's 
 all that I can play," she continued, and led 
 the way, candle in hand, up to the drawing 
 room, which wore a very dingy and empty 
 appearance, and in one corner of which a 
 wheezy old piano stood up, together with a 
 quantity of very common furniture, in- 
 cluding the before-mentioned straw hot-
 
 306 WRECK AND RUIN. 
 
 tomed-looking chairs, the whole presided 
 over by a large barber's cloth sort of bag, 
 which held within its drooping form a 
 chandelier, which was never used, and hung 
 dustily from the ceiling. 
 
 After the quadrille was played. Beeswing 
 said, " Now I know you're fond of a dance, 
 come on," and he placed himself in a 
 dancing attitude. 
 
 Up jumped the old woman, like a skele- 
 ton on springs ; " But who 's to playT' said 
 she. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Trelawney. You can do a 
 polka, eh ] " said he. 
 
 " I can dance one, but I question my 
 ability for playing one," was the answer. 
 
 "Oh! never mind, lire away;" and Tre- 
 lawney actually sat down and commenced 
 hitting the keys at a fearful rate, guided 
 solely by ear, to which the red haired artist 
 and the sprightly old woman danced madly 
 about the room, upsetting De Snag into 
 various chairs as they passed him, and
 
 WRECK AND RUIN. 307 
 
 causing that worthy buffer to yell, moan, 
 and expostulate, in a manner at once voci- 
 ferous and ludicrous. 
 
 "We'll call that the thunderer," said 
 Beeswing, alluding to the polka just played, 
 " thank you, Mr. Trelawney. Now then, 
 I'll play. Dance with Mr. Trelawney." 
 
 " Oh ! no, thank you," declined the other, 
 " I don't care for dancing unless in an as- 
 sembly room." 
 
 " Oh ! Jerusalem ! " ejaculated Beeswing 
 to himself. 
 
 At that moment a loud ring of the street 
 door bell took place, and no less a personage 
 than Mrs. De Burgh, just arrived from Ham- 
 bro', was announced. She had not been 
 expected till the day following. All was 
 bustle and confusion, coupled with no end 
 of excitement and gymnastics on the part of 
 the oldFrenclnnan, who wriggled off to meet 
 her in a perfect convulsion of delight. 
 
 END OF VOLUME I.